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cloudwisp · 2 months

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𝐬𝐲𝐥𝐮𝐬 · 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐦

contents: smut. minors dni 18+. reader wears a nightgown to subtly get the message across. attempt at seduction. lots of teasing and kissing. first time with him. size difference. fingering. borderline overstimulation. vaginal penetration. mostly sweet lovemaking but implications of leading to rougher sex. sylus has a huge dick (he is standing at 6’2 after all). 2.9k wc.

꒰ note ᰔ based off of this arranged marriage sylus x wife!reader post but can be read as a standalone. smut writing is never one of my strengths but I had fun with this one!! and I can only hope it’s an enjoyable read to those who were anticipating a sequel 🤍꒱

“Doing a little late night reading?” Sylus glances at your form through his peripheral as you enter his bedroom with a light skip in your steps. He’s perched at the end of his bed with a high profile report in hand, and with a tilt of your head and prying eyes you hover over the document between his fingers as you stand before him. You skim through a few lines before he tosses it aside, murmuring that it’s nothing of importance when something more interesting happens to catch his attention and you feel the heat of his gaze doing you a once-over.

Your cheeks warm and you feel a tad shyness wash over you when he quietly appraises your body clad in a gorgeous silk slip with lace embellishments. He hums in appreciation, a slow smirk curling on his lips before he reaches out to grasp your waist and pull you forward onto his lap. He secures one arm around you to keep you in place and his thumb sweeps over the delicate sleepwear and the bare skin of your thigh in a soft, languid motion. “You’ll catch a cold in just your nightgown, kitten. Or did you wear it for me?”

“Maybe I just wanted to change into something a little more comfortable.” You respond with a coy smile and playful shrug of your shoulder which causes the thin strap to fall from just a whisper of movement. He enjoys your little display and act of innocence if this is your way of telling him that you want to deepen the relationship through shared intimacy like normal marital couples do during this time of night. And truthfully, he’s been waiting far too long for this moment to come but he didn’t expect you to offer yourself on a silver platter. What a sweet and precious wife you are.

“I’m sure you could find something more suitable than a flimsy nightgown.” His knuckles brush up along your arm and hooks the fallen strap around his finger to slide it back into its proper place. “But then, perhaps you wanted to tease me, too?”

You click your tongue in disappointment. No matter what you do he was always two steps ahead of you—it’s thoughtful yet infuriating especially when you want him to act more surprised. “Nothing ever gets passed by you, it seems.”

His large hand slips under the lace trimmings of your nightgown and moves closest to your backside for a firm squeeze. “You should know by now how badly I want you, sweetheart. And with you sitting in my lap, looking breathtaking like that. I’m tempted to just rip this little thing off of you.”

You purse your lips into a small pout that’s adorable to him and grunt in disapproval. “What if this night dress is one of my favorites? Don’t I get a say in what you can and can’t tear?”

He arches a brow as though to challenge you by putting the theory into practice. You keep forgetting that he could read you like an open book, and he loves nothing more than proving you wrong at every chance. “Are you saying you wouldn’t enjoy it if I did? I’ll buy you new ones. Better ones.”

You mull over at the thought. “Sounds troublesome. I’ll have to keep making these frequent shopping trips.”

“I just mean the nightgown is in the way of me seeing all of you. You’re more than welcome to wear it any other time, but right now… I want it off.”

“Well, it’s only fair you make the next move.” He groans lowly when you shift your weight in his lap and rest your head against him. You drag your manicured finger down his chest and gently flick at the silver chain looped between his collar. “I did come all this way just for you.”

He understood your meaning and leans down close enough so his warm breath fans over your lips when he tilts your chin to look at him. “If you want me to take off my clothes, you’ll have to undress me yourself.” The soft spoken words in his deep voice send a tingle to the back of your brain, and the lingering kiss he places on the corner of your mouth adds a fluttering sensation in your stomach.

“Still making me work for it? And here I thought I would be cherished and wouldn’t even need to lift a finger.” You bring yourself upright and shove him down onto the bed to climb over him and straddle him. He gives you a knowing smirk at the sound of your cute gasp when you feel just how hard he is for you against your clothed cunt. You make quick work of undoing the underlay of buttons tucked beneath the thick fabric of his tailored dress shirt and remove it entirely to reveal every bit of lean muscle. His build akin to that of a spectacularly sculpted marble statue down to the details of his veins on his strong arms.

“Making you work for it is half the fun, kitten. But just remember who will be putting in the most work tonight.” His hand wanders up your thigh again and moves along the curve of your waist, the expensive silk bunches under his touch and he gropes the fullness of your breast. You feel the strap loosen around your shoulder once more. “Are you liking what you’re seeing? You’re allowed to mark what’s yours, you know. But I’d like to be able to mark you as mine too, wife.” His hungry eyes slowly roam over your matching panties and midriff before he returns your gaze.

Your smaller hand covers his knuckles meanwhile his thumb brushes across your nipple and he revels in the feeling of the bud hardening over the material. “You’re just always so straightforward, aren’t you?” You sensually wrap your finger around the other strap that’s perfectly intact and at your cue Sylus glides his hand down to the small of your back and watches as the dress cascades down to your midsection.

“And you’re so beautiful.” You’re a heavenly sight to behold with the way his amorous stare commits your very existence to his memory, particularly the swell of your lovely breasts that’s heavy with lust and begging for more of his attention. He gently reaches for your wrist and his fingers smooth under your palm to bring your hand up to his face. His thumb runs over the wedding band that binds you to him laying a light kiss against your knuckles, then places your hand over his shoulder waiting for your next move.

You don’t waste another second closing the distance between you two and crash your lips against his for a needy and desperate kiss. Your fingers tangle into his silver locks and your heat grinds against him hoping for some semblance of relief from the ache that’s building inside you. You feel him envelop your breasts fully with each caress and tender squeeze and a little bit of nipple play.

Sylus tastes faintly of sweet, tannic notes from the lingering aftertaste of red wine as your tongue meets his through parted lips. His arms and hands alternate between hugging your body and grip tightening on your hips, bucking himself up into your heat. You feel yourself needing more, wanting more and being closer to him so you hurriedly unbuckle his belt and suddenly the sound of fabric tearing reaches your ears.

You muffle in surprise against his lips and push him back just enough to see him wearing a smug expression. “I should’ve known you’d go against my wishes.” You scoff in disbelief and yet there’s a grin playing across your features that betrays your earlier words. You hate to admit he was right from the start—that you’d find the ripping more attractive instead of being carefully unwrapped like you both have all the patience in the world.

Sylus discards the now ruined piece of clothing aside. He lifts you with ease and your back embraces the cool sheets when he drops you down on the mattress and returns to his full height. “I was never one to follow rules. Besides, you look perfect like this.” You support yourself up on your elbows to follow his movements, and any smart comeback you have dies in your throat when he picks up where you left off by unfastening his belt and stripping out of his trousers. His boxer briefs follow suit and he thinks it’s adorable how you look mesmerized from this performance alone.

Your eyes settle on his huge cock. Almost gawking at it and you unconsciously clench your thighs together. It’s perfectly proportioned to the rest of him—long and notably thicker with an upward center curve and a few prominent veins here and there. He flushes a pretty shade of red that’s gradient from the head down and his pubes are neatly trimmed.

“You don’t have to look so scared, kitten.” He rasps an amused chuckle, and he feels you tense slightly when his hand scales up along your knee to your inner thigh and he dips his fingers between your legs. “I’ll take my time with you so you can handle me.”

Your breath hitches when he feels how drenched you are through your panties. He offers a gratified hum, his handsome face and broad shoulders become your main focus as he closes in on you. “Spread your legs wider.” He murmurs into your ear, and as soon as you give him more access he delves into your mouth for a bruising kiss and chases you down onto the bed. His ministrations on your clit feel absolutely sinful yet so wonderful and your arm wrap around his back meanwhile your hand explores the muscled panels of his upper body and the areas that are within your reach.

A string of saliva connects you both then disappears as your lips come apart. But he doesn’t stray far when the exquisite look on your face is a breath away and he pulls your panties aside to collect your arousal with two digits sliding through your puffy folds. Your lustful sounds escape in a warm exhale as soon as he slowly inserts his thick fingers into your tight pussy, and you’re quite the vision arching your back so tastefully.

“Mmh, that f-feels so good, Sylus.” Your eyes glaze over when he steadily pumps in and out of you, curling so deliciously at your sweet spot and he marvels at the way your cunt is greedily sucking in his fingers. There’s nothing else like him, the way he stretches you and reaches the deeper parts and hits the bits you can’t yourself. He adores the breathless sighs and mewls of his name when he pushes you to the edge even more while kissing you senselessly.

“You sound beautiful. I love the way my name tastes on your lips.” You can feel him smirk against you, but you’re too immersed in your pleasure to respond in words that aren’t broken syllables. He trails open-mouth kisses down to your jawline and along the column of your neck, grazing his teeth and softly sucking on your skin until hues of velvet purple form. Your head burrows into the soft cushion of the mattress, hips squirming as your hand clutches onto his forearm from tension coiling inside you.

“M’gonna come soon, Sy—!” Your pretty moans and pants grow heavier each second, and he loves feeling your body quiver when you’re pressed under him. He’s still knuckles deep inside you with every intention of bringing you up to heaven and back down to him. After all, he doesn’t believe in doing things halfway but can’t pass an opportunity to tease his darling wife.

“You’re getting so close already? I barely got started with you, sweetie.” He chuckles lowly yet his cock twitches as precum oozes and leaks down from the slit of his tip. “Don’t hold it in now. Let go and come for me.”

He’s met with your gorgeous o-face when the euphoric bliss courses through your entire body as your walls tighten around his fingers. Your moans turn into squeals and you try to shove his hand away to soften your orgasm but he doesn’t budge from being much stronger than you. The feeling is more than you can handle when your thighs clamp together to stop his movements. But you don’t want the addictive sensation to leave just yet when he borderline overstimulates you, turning you into a trembling and writhing mess.

You barely have a moment to catch your breath when a chortle escapes you from watching him bring his fingers coated in your cum to his mouth for a curious taste. “Mm. Sweet, just as I thought. You did great, kitten.” He leans down to plant a chaste kiss on your forehead, and the first wave of your drawn-out release slowly ebbs away. “Don’t you think you deserve one more?” Sylus pulls your soaked panties down your legs and casts them aside, leaving you completely bare under his gaze.

“I should hope so. Been wanting for you to stuff me with your fat cock tonight.” You’re still a little breathless when your finger glides down his toned chest in a sensual and playful manner. He makes a content hum at the sound of that with an upward quirk of his lips.

“What a bold and resilient wife I have on my hands. As long as I have you, I’ll never be bored again.” He gladly hoists your leg to wrap around his waist and spits down, giving himself a few strokes making it slick before aligning himself to your dripping cunt. His precum mixes with the remnants of your previous climax with the heavy drag of his tip from your opening up along your clit. He revels in the way your body responds with a little spasm. “I won’t have you going back on your words now.”

The flutter of your lashes steers away from his deep and enigmatic eyes, a nervous gnaw of your lower lips as you anticipate the painful stretch from taking him. “Go slow, okay? Because you know…” He knew you were implying about his sheer size, and you feel him grab hold of your hand and press your interlaced hand against the bed beside your head.

He captures your swollen lips that feel entirely too sweet and intimate, replacing your worries with a gentle tangle of his encompassing love and adoration that seeps into your soul. “I wouldn’t dream about hurting you. That’s a promise. But you have to let me in first.” Your breath hitches when his aching tip probes your entrance, yet the tension doesn’t leave your body until he tells you to focus on him with the exchange of kisses laced with a growing insistence. “You’ll let me know if it hurts, kitten? I want to make you feel good.”

With that said, your sharp nails dig into his shoulder blade and draw red lines at the burning stretch that feels too much yet so good at the same time. Your soft sighs and whimpers fill the hazy room and he’s fucking you slowly with just the tip to help ease the initial discomfort. He searches your face every now and again making sure you’re okay before he continues, letting out a guttural moan when he slips in a little more with each thrust until he carves his way into you completely.

“You’re in too deep—hah. Feel so full and good.” You shudder when he stills his movements, throbbing cock nestled inside you to the hilt and kissing your cervix. There’s a carnal desire brewing in his stomach seeing you pinned under his weight keeping him nice and warm. He wouldn’t mind spending the entire night with you, any plans and commitments he had prior be damned the moment you swayed in through the double doors. “Want you to m-move, please.”

The sound of your polite begging makes him twitch involuntarily, and he could only imagine what desperate pleas you have in store for him tonight and he’s looking forward to it. When your pretty lips implore him to fuck you faster and harder he won’t be able to hold back. After all, he has always been ready and waiting to give himself to you that aligns with your willingness to accept him. There is no love purer than his, this craving he has reserved only for you. “You know you only have to ask, and I’ll give you everything you want. Just be careful what you wish for, sweetie.”

Sylus chuckles at your cute whine shortly after—such a needy little thing you are. He falls into a sweet and slow rhythm that makes you feel each thrust, the head of his dick down to its shape and following the shaft that caresses the underside of your pleasure endings so incredibly good. Your legs wrap around his back and you pull him in deeper because close just isn’t close enough for you. You need to feel the heat of his body sear against your skin as you hold him, and in turn you feel him squeeze your interlaced hand. “Tonight, you’re all mine. Forget anyone else in the world but me.”

#ᨳ ₊˚ 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐩.𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 #sylus #sylus x reader #sylus smut #l&ds x reader #love and deepspace x reader #sylus love and deepspace #lnds sylus #sylus lnd #sylus l&ds #lads sylus #l&ds sylus #love and deepspace

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charliemwrites · 2 months

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Part 5 of Mister(s) Steal Your Girl

Long awaited, but no Johnny smut just yet. Soon, I promise. (And Kyle will be back. It's been so long since he's gotten to smooch our dear reader.)

Also! A little reminder than you can check the queue to see what I plan to post for next. I try to update it often as the worms wiggle. Next I plan to do the final chapter of Greater Bad. (Unless I get my not-so-secret, no-longer-a-surprise oneshot out first)

Lastly! Please note that I wrote the "posts" from his perspective. So inconsistencies with the actual story and any grammar/spelling errors were purposeful or for "authenticity".

Content: Brandon.

r/CakeEater _OnBrand_ I asked my fiancé for an open relationship before marriage. It worked. A while ago I posted on r/adultery about the affairs (yes, multiple) I was having behind my then-gf’s back. We’d already been dating for ~4 years and I was seeing one of my coworkers (my “work wife”) regularly and one of her coworkers on and off. People on my other post were critical and called me all sorts of things like selfish and pig. I know it’s not traditional, but I genuinely don’t think I could ever be satisfied by one woman. My work wife (Rachel) and fiance’s coworker (Lucy) provide things my fiancé just can’t but I still love my fiancé. She’s the woman I’m going to spend the rest of my life with. When I posted on r/adultery I was trying to figure out how to propose without her finding out. I knew she’d expect me to help with stuff and possibly want to look at my phone more often. It would have been harder to sneak off to meet up with Lucy or Rachel with wedding planning and I was sick of being stressed she would find out. Some nicer people on the post suggested I ask for an open relationship. I took their advice and sat her down to sell the idea. It’s a good thing I’m so good at sales (top 3% in my company for 5 years in a row) because she agreed. Yes, actually agreed. At first she got kind of pale and her eyes got really big and blank. I thought for sure she was about to start crying and run off. Maybe even kick me out. She doesn’t really get angry but she gets upset and it freaks me out. After I explained everything about how good it would be for us though, she agreed. This is my official unlimited hallpass. I’ve been seeing Rachel on weekends and Lucy once or twice during the week for drinks. Tonight I’m going to sign up for every dating site I can. Tinder, Bumble, Hinge. If anyone has other suggestions, I’ll check those out too. Fiance has been kind of off but I think it’s just an adjustment period. Sometimes I can tell she’s been crying but she hasn’t come to me about it so she’s probably just being emotional about all the changes. At least she’s got our house to focus on while she gets used to things. I feel a little bad about running out every night but she’s just so mopey and sad all the time and it’s not enjoyable to be around. I know she probably feels like I’m abandoning her a little but once she starts getting back to normal I’ll spend time with her again. You really can have your cake (all the cakes heh) and eat them too. Edit: no, I never told her that I already had Lucy and Rachel and I’m not going to. What good would it do? She’s already agreed to an open relationship and telling her that I didn’t have permission first would just hurt her for no reason.

Kyle’s been gone for two (long, lonely) weeks when he finally gets a chance to call. So far, he’s only been able to send scattered texts at odd hours. Always something sweet – telling you he’s alright, or that he’s thinking of you. Sometimes you even catch him for a brief exchange before he apologizes and “goes dark” again.

Not that you begrudge it. This is part and parcel of dating him and you knew that going in. You’re not complaining when he’s putting his life on the line so that the public can live in blissful peace.

That doesn’t stop you from missing him though. His hugs, his smile. Getting his voice - even roughened by distance - is a nice compromise though.

“How have you been holding up, chickadee?” he asks after the initial reassurance that he’s whole and hale.

“Easier this time!” you answer proudly. “I know what to expect with you gone and Johnny’s good company.”

“Yeah?” he asks, sounding pleased.

You can just imagine him now, leaning his hip against the nearest surface, arms crossed over his broad chest. He tends to duck his head when he smiles, and you unintentionally grin to yourself, thinking of him hiding into his phone. God, you miss him.

“Mhmm! We found a board game bar that you’re going to love. Oh, and we’re going to the Hay Festival this weekend.”

He hums. “I’m sorry I can’t be there to take you, luv, but I knew Johnny would be good to you.”

More than good to you, really. There’s not been a day he doesn’t call to check up on you - if he doesn’t see you in person, that is. Dinner, movies, coffee. He’s somehow both a gentleman and an incorrigible flirt, but only with you. He’s nothing more than polite to anyone else, keeping his focus on you and whatever the two of you are doing.

You don’t know what to do with the undivided attention. If you didn’t know better…

“You two are getting close,” Kyle observes.

“I think so,” you admit, then hesitate. “Is… that okay?”

“‘Course, luv. I’m glad.”

You blink. “You are?”

“He’s my best mate and you’re my best girl.”

An odd pang of anxiety pierces your chest. Johnny calls you that too. His “best girl.” You love hearing it - but maybe you shouldn’t?

“It… doesn’t bother you? That we’re spending so much time together.”

He snorts softly, but it’s not derisive. It’s a noise he makes whenever he thinks you’re being silly, but his voice comes out soft and warm. Not an ounce of condescension.

“No, baby, I’m not fussed. You spend your time with whoever you want, however you want. Yeah?”

Your chest floods with warmth. “Okay.”

“There’s a love. I’ve got a brief, so I have to go. I’ll call soon as I can.”

“Be safe, Ky.”

“Do my best. Give Soap a smooch for us, aye?”

You blink as he hangs up. That’s a new one.

You ponder over it while packing on Thursday night. Was it just a joke? A tease at the little crush you’ve developed for Johnny?

Because it is a crush, you know it is. It’s impossible not to be attracted to him. Not with that smile, that laugh, the goofy humor and sweet mannerisms. He still sends you flowers every few weeks - just as the previous ones are about to die. It’s so thoughtful; you’ve started feeling a bit warm every time you look at them.

But you feel greedy, being even remotely interested in anyone else. You have Kyle and Brandon (even if you two are going through a… patch) and that should be enough for you. Shouldn’t it? You’ve never been with more than one person at a time before; it took you weeks to shake the compulsory guilt when you first met Kyle. It feels almost unforgivably audacious to want Johnny too, especially since he’s Kyle’s best mate.

Still… Kyle’s not a jealous or passive-aggressive guy. You’ve been with him long enough now that you know he’d just tell you outright if he was unhappy about something. And he’s been with you long enough that he can surely tell you’re more than a bit fond of Johnny.

Maybe that’s why he made the joke about “smooching” him.

Regardless, you want to talk to him about it. Things always make sense when you think out loud to him. His levelheaded and practical approach to difficult topics always straightens your panic spirals out into neat lines.

Plus, it’s not as comforting to hold your own hand. (God, when is he getting back?)

“Where are you going?”

You blink up at Brandon, folded pajamas in hand.

“The Hay Festival,” you answer.

Speaking of - you slip past him into the bathroom. He doesn’t follow, rooted to the spot spinning his phone around in his hands.

“Alone?”

You snort. “Of course not, I’m going with a friend.”

The allergy pills are at the bottom of the medicine basket beneath the sink. You really need to organize it the next time Johnny’s too busy to hang out. There’s no way you need three bottles of paracetamol.

“I need that suitcase.”

You toss the bottle in and pivot for the dresser. “What for?”

He shifts, eyes sliding away. “An… overnight.”

Ah. That’s what he’s calling it now?

You snatch a few (too many) pairs of underwear from the dresser.

“Just bring them here,” you say over your shoulder.

There’s a long, tense beat of silence but you’re too busy rummaging for socks to break it first. Will it be too warm for thigh-highs? Eh, you’ll go with the sheer ones; the little lace roses match one of your dresses anyway.

“Bring who here?” Brandon asks slowly.

When you turn, he looks paler than usual. You shrug, trying to project casual comfort.

This is a totally normal and reasonable conversation to have. Just a couple in an open relationship, discussing a stranger coming to the house for a shag. Nothing to make a fuss over.

“Whoever you need the suitcase for? I know you’ve had people over before anyway, and I’ll be gone all weekend.”

He stutters, color returning to his face in bright pink blooms. “Why do you think I’ve had people over before?”

You arch an eyebrow. “I do the laundry, remember? And there was lipstick on one of the wine glasses.”

That had sent you into a tizzy at the time, disgusted that some stranger was in your bed, with your fiancé. You washed the sheets twice on the hottest setting and tossed in a bit of bleach for good measure. Hadn’t been able to look at him the whole week - not that he was there much to not look at.

Now, though, you seem to have adjusted to the idea, even if you’re still not thrilled. Brandon can have his… whoever over, and you’ll goof around with Johnny in Wales.

“Just toss the bedding in the wash afterwards,” you add.

“I thought you do the laundry,” he sniffs.

“I’m not traveling all day just to do chores when I get home,” you answer. He does a double take like you’ve started speaking a new language. “You’ll be here all weekend, I’m sure you’ll have time.”

He opens his mouth, and you can tell already that he’s about to argue - though you don’t really know what about. It’s not like he can’t do laundry or dishes, after all. He lived alone before you moved in together.

Thankfully, his phone distracts him before he can form the words. He spins away to tap at the screen and shuffles out of the room, shoulders till tense. You go back to packing and teasing Johnny about the amount of hair gel he’ll bring.

Friday afternoon can’t come fast enough. Even though you’ve taken a half day from work, the few hours seem to drag. You’re practically daydreaming about the food and drinks, music and activities. There’s a baker’s dozen art stalls you want to check out as well, and a gift to pick out for Kyle…

“Hope yer thinkin’ o’ me when ye make tha’ face.”

Your head snaps around so fast, you nearly give yourself whiplash. Johnny grins down at you in all his casually handsome glory – ripped jeans, green tee, and brown boots. Angels are singing somewhere, you think. Or maybe that’s just your nosy coworkers ogling from their own cubicles.

The reality of him sinks in a moment later and you leap up from your cushy chair – and right into his arms. He’s like a furnace compared to the cool, conditioned air of your office, a welcome source of warmth for your chilly fingers.

“What are you doing here?” you giggle. “Who let a rowdy guy like you in?”

He smells like bergamot and pine. It takes active thought to resist pressing your face into the crook of his neck. It looks cozy there.

As always, he squeezes you a bit tighter just before letting go.

“Hey now, Marcy’s a discerning lady. She knows a fine gentleman when she sees one.”

You snort, belied by the smile curling your lips. “She may need new glass then.”

“Och, don’t go talkin’ poor about my second-best gal now.”

“Is it that easy to get in your good graces?” you scoff, glancing at the time on your computer. It’s later than you expected; no wonder he came up to retrieve you. You spent so long daydreaming that you’ve lost track of time.

“Aw don’ be green, dove, you’re still my number one. Send ye flowers ‘n all.”

You roll your eyes at him. “Yeah, and now I’m wondering just how special that is.”

He stands close, proclaiming his case for how obviously special you are while you shut everything down for the weekend. You’re only half listening to the bit, admittedly. Mostly just basking in your excitement for the mini road trip and the weekend to come. You have no doubt that it’s going to be fun, even if it would be better with Kyle along too.

“Where are you headed off to?” Lucy asks.

“Hay Festival,” you answer shortly.

You’ve never been a big fan of Lucy, but lately she’s been insufferable. Talking over you during meetings, leaving you out of emails, throwing away papers at the printer. (Okay, you haven’t seen her do that last one, but you know.) Worst of all, she can help but make backhanded comments about every flower delivery.

“You’re not taking Brandon?” she simpers. “Something wrong?”

“He’s hanging out with a friend this weekend too,” you correct, “and he doesn’t like hay.”

“Shame that,” Johnny adds, sounding like it’s not a shame at all.

You haven’t told him much about Brandon – but you’re sure that Kyle has. From the face Johnny makes the rare times your fiancé comes up in conversation, he doesn’t think much of Brandon.

“Have fun you two!” your manager, Selene, calls.

You wave and shoot Lucy one last, unimpressed glance before stepping onto the elevator with Johnny.

r/CakeEater _OnBrand_ My fiancé is going on a weekend getaway with another man. I’ve posted in r/adultery and r/cakeeater before. I’m not looking for judgement or insults here. I really just want advice.

A little context: my fiancé and I are in an open relationship and it’s been like this for a few months now. I originally asked her to ope the relationship and for a while she was weird about it but lately she’s been getting sbetter. I thought she was finally getting used to me going out with other women and things were getting back to normal.

A few weeks ago, I noticed she was on her phone more. Like, all the time. Even at dinner when she used to be really picky about phones at the table. One day I came home from work and she was talking on the phone to someone. Giggling and laughing. When I turned the corner she was kind of blushing too. It kind of bothered me but I figured she was talking to a friend and just hot from cooking or something.

Lucy texted me pissed off one day, asking why I was sending my fiancé flowers but not her. I told her I hadn’t sent any flowers. I think they’re way too expensive for how long they realistically last and that they take up a lot of unnecessary space. But I thought it was weird that someone was sending my fiancé flowers and got kind of uncomfortable. That’s a pretty romantic gesture and her family isn’t the type to randomly send flowers either.

I tried taking her out on a date but she was all mopey again and turned her phone to ‘do not disturb’ so I wouldn’t even see if she was texting someone. We don’t have much to talk about now. I love her but she’s not a good storyteller or into very interesting things. All her ‘funny stories’ are just mundane things that happen during the day. We’ve run out of interesting topics about because we’ve been together so long. (That’s why I like having more than one partner.)

Yesterday she randomly started packing for a trip. I don’t even think she was planning to tell me until I asked her. She was packing a bunch of cute clothes too. Like dresses and tights and things like that. Stuff she only used to wear on our dates. I asked who she was going with and she just said ‘a friend’ which is weird because she would usually say the name of someone even if I don’t remember who they are.

Well today Lucy sent me a picture of my fiancé leaving her job with some guy. I couldn’t see his face because he was turned away, but I could see the side of my fiancé’s face and she was smiling at him. I got this awful sinking feeling in my chest like it was hard to breathe. It took me a few minutes to process that she’s going away for a weekend with a complete stranger.

Doesn’t she know how dangerous that is? Where did she even meet this guy? They’ll be gone all weekend so are they sharing a room? A bed? I nearly threw up thinking all these things as I called her.

I asked her to cancel her plans and come home. She seemed confused and reminded me that her plans were with someone else and it would be rude to ditch last minute. I told her I wanted to spend the weekend with her and that I’d been missing her. She seemed surprised and said that she’d see me on Sunday night, but she was looking forward to the festival with her ‘friend’ and wanted to go. As a last ditch effort I asked if her friend was more important than me, nearly begging at that point. She must have heard the desperation in my voice, but she just told me that she was already on the road and it was too late.

My fiancé doesn’t like lying but it’s hard to believe this guy was just a friend. Even if she sees him as a friend I know how men think and I doubt he sees her the same way.

She said some other weird stuff before she left about having someone over while she was gone. I don’t get it. How could she just casually invite someone else into our house like that? Has she had other people over? Is she dating now?

I’m not sure what to do. I don’t like that she put this trip over me. Should I talk to her about how bad this makes me feel? Should I call again and tell her to come home more forcefully? Am I blowing all of this out of proportion?

Edit: she doesn’t know that I’ve been seeing Lucy. I haven’t told my fiancé about any of the women I’ve been seeing. (mostly just Lucy and Rachel. I’ve done a lot of texting through apps and gone on a bunch of first place, but most women don’t put out right away and I usually can’t be bothered to get to know them better). Even then, I wouldn’t tell her about lucy. They don’t get along and never have. It would cause a lot of unnecessary drama.

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#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #misters steal your girl #kyle gaz x reader #john soap mactavish #healthy polyamory #brandon the crash dummy

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gay-dorito-dust · 5 months

Note

Any characters of your choosing, but how would some of the hsr characters act with a partner who loves physical touch but is too shy to initiate?

Argenti:

More then willing to initiate the physical contact if you were too shy to do so, after all it was the least he could do for you, and Argenti would do a lot for you without having to be asked.

‘All you are to do is ask my beloved rose.’ He says as he helps by gently guiding you into hugging him, smiling when you press yourself up against him and pressing your face into his chest.

‘I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable.’ Was your response and Argenti couldn’t help but chuckle as your thoughtfulness as he presses a kiss to your head.

‘No such thing.’ He says as he holds you against him as you both took this moment to indulge in the another. ‘I’d very much rather you express yourself however you see fit, as I’ll accept your love and affection in all it’s forms it may take because at the end of the day that love belongs to someone I love very dearly.’ He finishes and you couldn’t help but burrow your head into his neck.

‘You’re too good for me sometimes.’ You mutter against him as you felt him chuckle.

‘I can say the same for you, my beloved flower.’ Argenti replied. ‘It’s hard not to when you’ve been nothing but a beacon of hope and love for me, even in my most dire of times. Your touch alone puts me back together again and makes me stronger then ever.’ He adds as he feels you clinging onto him for dear life as he whispered in your ear to say;

‘So please don’t be dissuaded from ever touching me when it’s brought me nothing but the happiest of emotions.’

Blade:

Stays silent.

Will not move an inch.

He sees what you’re trying to do from the corner of his eyes, but won’t do anything unless you have well and truly given up on trying to initiate contact. And it isn’t until then does he huff indignantly and grabs one of your hands and puts it against one side of his face, holding it there as he stared at you with his ruby red eyes.

‘Was this what you were trying to do?’ He asks despite already knowing the answer.

‘I didn’t want you to feel as though you were pressured into to let me touch you solely because I’m your partner.’ You replied as you were about to pull your hand away from him, when you felt him tighten his grip on your hand. ‘Don’t you think I would’ve said something by now if I did?’ He rebutted with a raised brow and you felt a little silly.

Blade never failed in letting it be known if you were doing something he didn’t quite like. He didn’t need to say much but his silence followed by a certain look in his eye were more than enough to tell you that you’d better stop while you were ahead.

‘True.’ You muttered as you instinctively began stroking his cheek with your thumb, not realising that Blade was pushing more of himself into your hand, much like a cat would when scratched between the ears and humming in content. He looked cute as he did handsome in that moment where his face looked the closest it ever could to peaceful in a long time.

‘If it means anything, your touch is the least painful thing I’ve experienced in my life as far as I’m aware.’ Blade says, finally letting go of your wrist as you placed your other against the side of his face and began stroking the skin there. You then heard him groan in content, a sound of which filled you with both warmth and joy in knowing that your touch helps him find peace, even if it was a small and temporary amount, but still peace none the less.

Aventurine:

Bastard man straight up teases you for being too shy to hold his hand.

‘Hmm? Is someone too shy to even hold my hand? How devastating that must be for you.’ He’d say before grabbing your hand and pressing his palm against yours. ‘It’s as easy as this.’ He continues before intertwining his fingers with yours, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand for added effect.

‘See? That wasn’t so bad was it?’ He asked teasingly, throughly taking enjoyment in all this, when deep down he loved nothing more than to feel you holding his hand at long last. ‘Nope, not at all.’ You replied, feeling your heart going a mile an hour when you felt him squeeze your hand, followed by the caress of his thumb against the back of your hand.

‘Then don’t be afraid to hold my hand in the future, I don’t bite but I’d think you would enjoy that a bit too much even if I did.’ He teases, which was followed by boisterous laughter.

Aventurine may act like he wasn’t phased at all by your touch, when in reality he was begging for more but didn’t feel as though he was deserving of asking for such a thing. He may talk a big game but is equally as hesitant to physical affection as you were for the exact same reasonings.

He silently encourages your need to touch him by doing things that suggested that he wanted it just as badly as you, seeing as how words failed him in moments where he’s wanting something he’s made himself believe he couldn’t have. After all in his own eyes aventurine was a loser, a coward, a fraud, a cheater unworthy of any ounce of kindness nor love but the moment he felt you hold him, his mind goes blank and all he can focus on was his you hands held him as though he were porcelain.

It was his favourite feeling and whenever he sees you hesitating in giving him that oasis from his own mind, he’s quick in making himself believe that you’ve realised that he wasn’t worth your affection, and tries to force you into giving it to him by teasing you and guiding your hands to where he needed to feel your touch most; which was his face.

Aventurine may not admit it out load but he can’t fathom living without your touch, he’d probably go mad but for now he’ll keep a hold of your hand for the remainder of the day.

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thecoochiefairy · 4 months

Text

𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖈𝖔𝖔𝖈𝖍𝖎𝖊𝖋𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖞

━━ 𝑟𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑒 .ᐟ getou.

warnings 𑄽𑄺 13.4K word count. filmed sex, suguru getou, third person omniscient pov, black woman, black girls, vaginal penetration, nasty mf sex, rough, lil bit of sweet talkin’, hair pulling, squirting, creaming, oral [f] [m], choking, praising, LOTS and i mean LOTS of dirty talk, a lil degrading, slapping, condomless sex, kissing, pet names, spanking, aggressive suguru, lil bit of sweet suguru, suguru makes that girl lose her mf mind on that dick, minors aren’t welcome!

song to play while listening; 𝑝𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑜𝑠 ; 𝑏𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑓𝑎𝑖𝑦𝑎𝑧

━━ 𝒄𝙤𝒐𝙘𝒉𝙞𝒆𝙛𝒂𝙞𝒓𝙮 𝙩𝒉𝙤𝒖𝙜𝒉𝙩𝒔 .ᐟ okay y’all, i know it’s long. i’m sorry. IM SORRY! but, mocha said this is her favorite one, so i hope it might be y’all’s favorite too. ngl, i love it as well. it’s sweet, it’s nasty. it’s perfect. enjoy babies 🫶🏽

“IT’S BADDIE-BADDIE SHOT O’ CLOCK!”

Ears ring from the music blaring within her head, red bottom heel buzzing from the vibrations the floor carries. It’s not that she didn’t enjoy spending time with her friends, but this was the last place she wanted to be.

Clubbing wasn’t necessarily her thing. More so her friend's enjoyment, but to make up for lost time she agreed to this outing. It wasn’t the worst thing in the world. She held her drink close to her body, nodding her head softly to the music as her friends cheered out. She watched as the bottle girls appeared in front of them, swinging giddily to the beat of the song.

This had been her only day off in almost a month, working back to back doubles at her clinic. Her friends always complained that she needed to get out more—she just wished that they actually did something she enjoyed, rather than her being too nice to say the club was a bit overwhelming.

Drink after drink was being offered to her by every man within the building, her friends shooting her down each time she declined. She wasn’t interested in any of them, no matter what they offered. A dance, money, sex— her mind was elsewhere.

She kept a smile along her face as everyone in her section continued to yell in enjoyment, raising her drink as they cheered for her once again. The minute the song changed, she took that as a moment to duck off. She muttered to her best friend, “Gonna grab something out of my car,” she offered to go with her, and she shook her head that she’d be fine.

The cool air outside almost felt refreshing, as if she’d just come up for air out of the ocean. Birds chirp within the night. Any sound was better to her ears than the chaos that ensued inside the club, a sigh passing her lips as she dug her hand within her purse, searching for her lighter.

Instead of retrieving her lighter, she gripped her phone that conveniently buzzed as she touched it. She turned the screen towards her face, reading the unwanted message.

FROM:

smalldickbitchassmothafucka.

MESSAGE:

wya?

She rolled her eyes instantly, shoving the phone deep within her purse. She successfully retrieved what she was actually looking for, finding her pink cigarette box, pressing the button along the side as an equally pink bud released from the top. She pressed it in between her lips, fully focused as she searched for her lighter. Nothing.

She became more antsy as the air swooped around her, fishing around her purse deeper as she continued to search. A thought runs across her mind to completely dump the contents of her purse along the ground, knowing that was overzealous. She groans as she can’t seem to find it. Had she left it at home?

Her eyes then follow over to the light bursting open in her vision as the door swings out, quickly returning back to darkness as a body now stands a couple of feet away from her. A broken light above them flickers down onto a tall man. Cigarette poking in between the plush of his lips, even being in darkness, she sees him. He was horrifyingly attractive. Tattoos roam under the black top he wears, the shirt seemingly supposed to have an oversized look but it mistakenly clung to his hard upper body. Gauges swinging in his ears, low bun dropping tendrils around his face as he lights the end of his cigarette, shaking the fire off the tip as he inhales quickly. She drinks in his appearance. Eyebrow piercing glinting under the dim light, midnight black hair that complimented his olive skin, piercing eyebrows that give him a natural frown. Jesus.

She usually could see attractive men and go about her day. But something about him clung to her, moth to a flame as she stared at him. He was beautiful. The only thing that took her out of her staring was her phone buzzing in her purse again. She opens it, eyes dropping down to the lit screen.

FROM:

smalldickbitchassmothafucka.

MESSAGE:

ik you’re at the club. let me pull up to your section.

She turns her phone over in her purse, other hand still holding her box of cigarettes. She usually wasn’t the type to approach a stranger in any scenario, but it wasn’t gonna kill her to ask, nor would it kill her if he said no. She takes a deep breath, taking a couple of steps towards him as she asks, “Sorry—you gotta’ light?”

His figure was tall and well toned more up close. His eyes shifted over to her, smoke coming out of his nose similar to a dragon as he stared down at her smaller frame. The way that she drank in his appearance wasn’t the way he consumed hers. She stood in front of him, pretty as can be. Light brown skin, onyx curls that wrapped around the fullness of her baby face and heart shaped russet lips. Her eyebrows were darker than the night, arched over the wisps of lashes that lined the edge of her eyelids. Her face was almost feline under the dim light. Dark brown eyes glowing viciously at him, coaxing his attention. Between the brown lip liner and mauve color scheme she mixed together, nose having a tiny amount of pink blush on it, it all enhanced her beauty in a way that gave her a great amount of appeal. If it wasn’t her face, it definitely was the heavily detailed dress she wore, clinging to a preposterous figure as it was a long sleeved, deep v neck design dipping down her chest to show the valley of her taut breast. Her nipples poke through the multicolored material as if saying hello to him, fabric clasping around her child bearing hips, fat ass, skidding down to the dangerously tall red bottoms she wears. She was sexy if he couldn’t think of another word.

“Yeah,” his deep voice rang in her mind, reaching somewhere in her body—maybe nudging her clit—as her brain scattered fantasies of hearing that voice in her ear. She shook the thought away as quickly as it came, watching as he leans forward, flicking the lighter as he cuffs his large hand over it. Her body leans into him as she successfully lights the end of the cigarette, pressing her two fingers around it as she inhaled, letting the smoke fill the space.

In her own way of saying thank you, she attempts to spark a conversation as she mutters, “Trying to knock my habit. I seem to be failing.”

The man chuckles softly, a sly smile growing across his lips, “Same here. Shit is too expensive.”

As he watched her take in a long inhale from the cigar, his dark eyes would scan over the rest of her body.

“What’s an innocent girl doing out here alone? Tryna’ get away from the loud music?”

“Innocent?” She raises an eyebrow, a glint of amusement in her eye, “How presumptive. Just needed a moment of silence, not much of a club person,” she explains.

His deep chuckle was smooth in her chest, shaking logic off of her shoulders as she felt a little too captivated in wanting to hear everything he had to say. He’d give her another charming smile before he nodded his head, “Too bad, pretty little doll like you shouldn’t be smoking like an old ass man. Sure you aren’t out here hiding from a crazy ex or something?”

What a damn flirt, she thinks. Nonetheless it causes her to chuckle, “Mm, not quite. I’m actually here with my best friends. It was easier to come out here, I wasn't trying to bring down the mood with my shitty one.”

Her eyes knock down to her phone that buzzes again, a roll coming to her eyes as she doesn’t read the message this time. The man in front of her seemed to be studying her, almost. He sees as she refuses to look at her phone.

He’d raise his eyebrows, “I didn’t peg you to be a liar.”

“You shouldn’t peg a stranger to tell you any type of truth,” she’s quick, he thinks, a smile back along his lips as he turns his face towards the night.

“Entertain me, then. You gotta’ man?” He flatly asks.

“Had one. You’re nosey, it’s cute.”

“It’s an occupational hazard,” his eyes flick down her body, “I’d like to think I’m making conversation. You’re good at fuckin’ around before giving a solid answer,” he tells her, bringing his lighter back out as he flicks it on for the end of his cigarette.

She leans back against the building, noticing the intense stare he gives her, almost like he wanted to pin her along the wall.

“Ex-boyfriend. Almost a month now.”

He’d give a nod of his head upon hearing her response. After taking a long exhale of the cigar from his lips, he’d glance down at her again, “Must’ve been a fuckin’ idiot. The bastard cheated or something?”

She turns her head towards him, silence as she hears what could’ve been a compliment, “With my co-worker, actually. Called me crying that her car broke down and I asked him to give her a ride to my apartment. He had my car. Next thing I knew, she was riding him,” she shrugs, hearing as he sucks his teeth, “It’s okay. I’m trying to be a big girl about it.”

“I’ll kill him for you,” his voice is serious.

She lets out another breath, laughing softly as she says, “He’d be dead if my intent was to kill him.”

“That’s a damn shame. You should be angry,” he tells her, scanning her face that rids any emotion from the comment. She’s quiet.

She shrugs, “Could just be a coping mechanism. We were together for a while. NowI just feel—stuck…”

She feels like she’s over sharing. She shakes her head, changing the subject as she asks, “So what are you doing out here by yourself? You’re not a creep, are you?”

A deep chuckle comes from under his breath, “A man can’t take a smoke break?”

“Not if he’s preying on innocent women, scathing for their vulnerability,” she scans his face, his amusement to her words unbearably attractive as he shows his bone straight smile to laugh.

“And you say I’m the cute one,” He exhaled the smoke, watching as the puffs quickly got taken up by the soft wind before it scattered in every direction.

Although he seems to brush off her slightly rude comment, she snapped only because he was digging the surface of her emotions. She didn’t like that. She let out a breath as she tried to correct herself, “Sorry, love. Didn’t mean to offend. I’ve heard there are monsters crawling the city at night,” she tries to joke, “But I am voluntarily smoking beside you. So I can’t really call you anything.”

“Need me to protect you?” He taunts.

“Absolutely not. Maybe you’re projecting, sure you’re not the one in need of saving?”

He eyes her, “Funny. To answer your question, I’m here with some friends—I needed a moment to myself.”

“Doesn’t answer on whether you need saving or not.”

“You seem to have a big imagination,” he then points out, flicking his cigarette onto the ground, raising himself off of the wall as he steps closer to her.

“Bigger than a child’s,” she agrees, “I’ll always be a believer in spooky things,” she states, twisting the cigarette within her fingers.

“I could be one of those monsters,” he shrugs, body towering her frame as he now fully stands.

She continues to lean along the wall, a small laugh falling from her lips as the nicotine makes her slightly buzzed, eyeing him in a way she hadn’t before. Her phone buzzed in her purse again. He was close to her, his cologne drowning in her nose as he placed his arm along the side of her body against the wall.

“Are you scared?” He asks, his voice low, deep.

She shakes her head, trying to suppress her smile as she says, “Nope.”

“Good.”

It was true. At that moment, she felt nothing. All she could see was this attractive man in front of her, the tendrils of his hair close to her face. He’s trouble. On the other hand she thinks—should’ve had a goddamn lighter.

Right on time, the door to the club then swings open. Eyes look around outside, successfully finding her friend as she holds her phone to her ear, “Here her ass goes. Earth to the birthday girl! I’ve called you three times, Star. ’The hell have you been doing out here?” She eyes the man with a frown, bringing her focus back to her friend.

His eyebrows slightly raise at that, yet he keeps his eyes on her. An evil grin reappears atop of that eerily straight smile as he smugly states, “Looks like your smoke break is over, birthday girl.”

She sighs, “Unfortunately. And your name was?”

“Suguru,” he replies, the name sounding sexy falling from his lips. A brief thought wonders what it’d sound like falling out of her own mouth.

“Nice to meet you,” she hums, “Thanks for the light.”

She dropped her cigarette along the ground, digging her thin heel into the object before making her way inside, his eyes knocking down to her ass, “No problem,” leaving him outside by himself.

The rest of the night was better than she expected it to be. Her mood was up a bit more—specifically after a couple shots of Dussè—an outgoing personality now fitting along with the rest of her friends as they sang her happy birthday. She could admit, the rest of the night also included her constantly making eyes at Suguru, his presence reaching from the other side of the club even as he distractedly spoke to his friends. She felt him staring. Her phone buzzed in the corner of their section, Star and her friends now tipsily rapping out to ‘Fake Jammin’ by Sexxy Redd, the alcohol in her system providing a confidence as as bent over the table, swinging her hips to the song, dipping down sultrily, careless of the eyes that followed her body. And yes, she knew he was looking. As she continued to giggle and dance with her friends, she curiously looked over to see if he was watching. Of course he was.

Yeah, okay. He thought to himself.

The night eventually came to an end, the DJ announcing that the club was closing with it being four-thirty in the morning. Star’s feet were aching in her heels as she trudged behind her friends through the front door, her body feeling the presence of the man she’d met outside behind her, even in the chaos of other people walking. She refused to look back. Even with her feet hurting, she was still a little floaty from her previous shots, a giddiness that couldn't ruin her happiness. Her other friends trailed behind her, two of them holding onto each other as they were drunk, her best friend also being the only other sober one.

“We woke up in the kitchen saying ‘How the hell did this shit happen? Oh baby!” One friend sings behind her, seemingly becoming more intoxicated as she shouts out the lyrics.

“Last thing I remember is our beautiful bodies grinding up in that club—“ the other sings, clinging onto her friends arm as they sing in unison, “DRUNK IN LOVEE!”

“You think they’re gonna throw up?” Star asks, trying to hide her laugh as they belt out the chorus.

“God I hope not,” her best friend sighs, eyes on the screen of her phone as she throws her purse up her shoulder, “Big-E just texted me, said he wants me to pull up on him.”

“Who?” Star frowns deeply.

Her best friend frowns back, “Don’t do that. You know that’s my lil’ play thing!”

“Oh girl, you mean Emmanuel? The one that steals cars?” She ignores the arm that shoves her away, laughing at her best friend's irritation, “Please call that man by his government. I am not calling his ass by that stupid ass street name.”

“It’s cute!”

Star rolls her eyes, “Ghetto. You’re tryna’ go over there right now?”

She nods her head in reply, “Imma’ drop off dumb and dumber to my house before I go, let them raid my kitchen and sober themselves up. You’ good to drive home?”

“Yeah, I’m good—“

At the mention of her car, she halts as she sees her blood red Camaro, a bright yellow catching her eye as she sees not just one—but two boots on her back wheels. Her energy quickly falters, anger seeping up her spine as she picks up her dress, darting closer to her car as she spits, “Motherfucker.”

“Oh hell,” her best friend curses, “I thought you paid to park?”

“I did! Fuckin’ forty dollars just so I could be close to the door, the bouncer told me it was fine! That stupid ass nig—“

“Calm down. What are you gonna’ do?”

“I don’t fucking know. I have a night shift later on. This is so stupid!” She exclaims, leaning along her vehicle as she runs her fingers through her hair exasperatedly.

Almost like clockwork, Suguru appeared behind her after overhearing the conversation between Star and her friends, seeing as she was now fuming about the boot on her wheels. He gave a nod to his own friends as he made his way over to the bodies standing around her vehicle, a small hint of amusement on his face as he asked, “Everything alright?”

“Hell no. Motherfuckers put a boot on my damn car.”

“Damn. That’s crazy,” he tells her.

She narrows her eyes at the unnecessary comment, feeling her pressure spiking at the shit-eating grin upon his face. She then states, “Did you need something? Cause’ unless you got Triple A in your back pocket, imma’ ask you to get the fuck away from my car.”

“Hm, I didn’t know Triple A took boots off of cars,” he replies, tilting his head sarcastically.

Her eye twitches. Just as she’s about to go off on him, one of her drunken friends cuts her off as she drops her face to get a look at him, eyeing his body up and down as she asks, “Where the hell you’ from? It damn sure ain’t Louisiana.”

He smirks towards her as he replies, “Kyoto, Japan. Moved out here when I was younger, I stayed to help rebuild the businesses needing repair from Hurricane Katrina.”

“Oooh, that’s what you do for work?” The other friend also slurs.

“Imma’ architect, love. So yes.”

“Oooh, a working man. I like that,” the two friends both play off of each other, moaning together.

Star’s annoyance nearly clouds at the top of her head, Suguru enjoying the way her face becomes red, full cheeks fuming as she stares at him. She looked adorable.

“Your friends are funny,” he chuckles.

“Then get their numbers. You seem to be interested,” she fires back.

“Cute,” he eyes her, “I want you though.”

“So? Get in line. You ain’t the only one.”

“I wasn’t asking,” he tells her, large frame hovering over hers as he stares down. Unfortunately she was slightly mesmerized. What a fucking-goddamn flirt, she thinks again.

“I’ll take you home, babydoll. Since you seem to be stuck here anyway.”

“Nuh-uh! Hell no. You’ fine and all, but nobody knows your big headed ass. Try again, make your way back to your lil’ boy band,” her best friend cuts off.

Star shrugs, “I don’t know you.”

He’d glance down at her, shrugging his shoulders with his hands shoved in pockets before he’d gaze down into her friends eyes, “I understand. How about I give you my information?”

“Oop! He’s good,” the drunk friend comments.

“Whew, fine as hell, too!,” the other muttered, drunkenly giggling amongst each other.

Her best friend still has her arms crossed with narrowed eyes as she replies, “That sounds good and all, but no. Let’s go, Star.”

Star lets out a breath, seeing that irregardless of his playful nature, he becomes serious as he speaks of her safety. It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to get a ride home from an attractive man, that’s all it was going to be. She then turns to her best friend, “Actually, it’s okay. He can take me home. I know you wanna go to your little sneaky links house and end the night off with him. You have my location, I’ll be fine. Go to Big-E’s house, or whatever the fuck his name is.”

“Big-E?” Suguru frowns, Star quickly reminds, “Hush.”

“You sure?” Her best friend frowns.

“Positive.”

She then looks back at Suguru as she says, “She has a gun. Just so you know.”

“You’ll have my information, she has her gun. She’ll be good,” he promises.

Her best friend apprehensively stares between the two, sighing out as she says, “Fine. Keep your phone close to you at all times, so god help me I will chop you up into little pieces if you don’t answer me,” she threatens, pulling her into a hug.

“I’ll hand you the knife,” Star chuckles, tightening the embrace.

“Let me get these dumbasses home,” she sighs, “I love you.”

“I love you more,” Star replies, the two girls behind them giggling as they wave to Suguru, “Byeeeee.”

He waves shyly, chuckling as they pull each other along to the car. Once the two are now left alone, Star looks to him as she says, “You think you’re so cute, huh?”

“I am. My mom tells me all the time,” he replies, “So, Big-E? That’s a cool name.”

“I’m ignoring you,” she mutters, going towards her car as she begins to pull her work clothes out of the backseat.

“Can you call me Big-S?”

“I will fuckin’ shoot you.”

The first thirty minutes of the car ride had been silent. Star had her eyes forward, her mind stressing over the fact that her car had a boot on it, her phone wouldn’t stop buzzing, and she was now receiving a ride from an ungodly hot stranger that slightly annoyed her. Her feet also ached. But she needed something to uplift her spirits. The wind rushed through her hair as he drove a sleek black Challenger, customizing it to look almost retro as it had a drop top, headlights a lime green color as it shined onto the street.

“Nice car,” she compliments softly.

He turns his head towards her, “So she does speak.”

“You can just say thank you.”

“Thank you,” he replies, “Wanna see how fast it goes?”

“No—“

She squeals out as he presses his foot on the gas, igniting the engine as he speeds faster down the road. She grips onto the door with a now red face. Suguru chuckles, the car engine growing louder as he presses his foot down.

“Relax, pretty. I’m a good driver, Never had an accident,” he would reassure, looking back at the road, “You mentioned having a night shift. Where do you work?”

“I’m an uh—Phlebotomist,” she tells him, shrieking lightly as he goes even faster, “Would you stop it?!Don’t be an ass, speeding down the highway and killing me won't make your dick any bigger!”

His laughter grew as she would shriek when he continued to drive even faster, taking corners just to tease her more, “I’m just tryna’ lighten up your night a bit, it is your birthday.”

“Or just slow down?” She suggested. Her eyes fall down to her phone that vibrates once again, body becoming irritated at the familiar number.

FROM:

smalldickbitchassmothafucka.

MESSAGE:

you ignoring me fr?

She flips the phone on her lap. Suguru catches this movement, looking down as he asks, “Ex tryna’ contact you again?”

“Unfortunately,” she mutters.

“Why not just block him?”

She thinks on that question, trying to figure out whether she wants to be honest with him—or honest with herself, really.

“I like the attention. But I don’t want to talk to him,” she shrugs.

He raises an eyebrow, “Isn't that a little petty?”

“Petty? Might be. I enjoy seeing him suffer a bit—if he’s even suffering. He’s probably calling me, laid up with some bitch as we speak,” a roughness is in her voice, almost like jealousy. She could admit that the idea bothered her a bit.

Suguru keeps his eyes on the road in front of them, “Maybe he is. Why do you give a fuck, though? He doesn’t deserve you. You’re a fuckin’ ten, he’s an idiot.”

She feels her face become warm, not sure why his words make her a little flustered. She usually had control in these situations. She then says, “I didn’t ask for a therapy session.”

“Not trying to give you one,” he frowned, “If you truly didn’t care, you would’ve cut contact. Saying you enjoy the attention sounds like bullshit. You still have some sort of feelings for him.”

“You really are nosey, aren’t you?” She scrunches her face.

“You went from your whole body shriveling up when he texts to you getting upset over the possibility that he is with someone else. Which is it?”

“Would you rather me shoot you in your ass, or shove my foot up there? Which is it?” She mocks, back to being annoyed with him.

“I hit a nerve,” he points out, “You could’ve just told me to drop the subject.”

“Threatening to shoot you should have sufficed that I wanted the conversation to end,” she sneers.

Their relationship was an extreme sore spot for her. She wasn’t sure if feelings were still there, or she was bitter from being hurt—nonetheless, she didn’t want to hear the truth. He couldn’t help but still think she was incredibly cute even when upset with him. As he continues to drive, the car is back to being silent. The streets are completely empty as her eyes stare out the window. Suguru then halted, twisting the wheel as he began to spin the vehicle.

Her wide eyes shifted to him as she asked, “What are you doing?”

A mischief is now in his eyes as he looks at her. He presses his foot along the gas, the car beginning to swerve faster as it flew backwards. He’s doing donuts. At first, she’s completely terrified. She cries, “Hey! Stop it!” Her hair flying all around her face, wind smacking her body.

“I told your ass to relax,” he places his hand along her thigh, reassuringly squeezing as he takes his other hand, turning the wheel in the direction he wants to go.

The car begins to spin faster. Her heart nearly falls in her ass. But as it continues, it feels almost as if she’s on a rollercoaster. Her stomach dropped in a way that made her feel ticklish. It felt like her entire body weighed nothing, and she was flowing through the air like a bird. Her curiosity got the best of her as the music within the car boomed along her skin, her head slightly tilting outside of the car, hair flying in the opposite direction, air swooping along her scalp. She faintly giggles.

The air felt good in her face, pulling her unruly curls out of it as the street lights shined along her expression. In that same second she jumped from curiosity to fearlessness. She shuffled onto her knees as she leaned her upper body out of the car and yelled out, releasing all the pent up energy within her body, whether it was good or bad.

Suguru grinned as he saw her beginning to enjoy herself. He would glance over at her, watching as she would lean out the car to yell, Cheshire grin along her face. Her frame was beautiful as she bent over, his mind aching to touch her, feeling the peace that radiated off her body. It sounded stupid to say, but at that moment she felt— free. She brought her head back into the car and laughed, seeing as Suguru reversed the vehicle back on the road, howling as he sped down the street.

“Look at you, so pretty when you’re not mad.”

“Shut up,” she rolled her eyes, biting her own mouth as she didn’t want to smile.

He poked her cheek, “I see that smile, you can’t hide it. Now I wanna make you smile all the time.”

She keeps her eyes to her lap, shaking her head at his words. Damn. She hated how good he was. Her mind has that floaty feeling she had when she first exited the club, body tingling as Suguru reached for her thigh again. He dragged his fingers up as he searched for her hand, pulling her towards himself as he kissed her palm, muttering, “You’re sweet, doll,” holding their intertwined fingers in his own lap. Something shifted in her chest.

They had finally made it to her apartment after almost an hour of driving. Although, she could admit that she was glad to have that hour with him. Silence greets them again, her free hand patting lightly along her lap as she tries to find her words. She couldn’t lie, he was patient —despite the multiple occasions where she almost crashed out. She felt like she needed to grow fond of the word sweet and take action.

“Um—do you wanna come inside for breakfast? My treat,” she offers, “I mean—I feel like I owe you something—if you want. Just—yes or no, please?” She stuttered out, wanting to kick herself.

For the first time, he catches her being…nervous? Those same round cheeks that he couldn’t stop staring at were warm within her face, no blush needed for her skin as she was doing it naturally.

A smirk grew in his face as he decided he wouldn’t make fun of her for it, “That’s fine.”

“That’s fine? That’s like saying, ‘sure’ like you just do it cause it seems convenient—“

“Star. I want to. Stop fussing, brat.”

She rolls her eyes, “I’m not a damn brat. Just needed clarification,” she grumbles.

“Can you feed a man, babydoll? I got needs,” he touches his stomach, groaning dramatically.

She’d never had another man in her house besides her ex in years. Although she wanted to play along with him, her awkwardness was beginning to return. She nodded her head, “Good. Yeah. Good. Okay,” she muttered, now wanting to full on roundhouse kick herself.

He grabs her things for her as she gets out of the car, Star’s nonexistent ass hairs standing up as he follows her up the stairs into her small apartment. Pink decor and stuffed animals laid all around the living room.

“Don’t say shit about my girly ass house, healing my inner child,” she defends, locking the door behind him. Her apartment almost seemed too small with him in it, his large frame damn near covering the entire house.

He’d glance around the room, feeling a little taken back by the large amounts of pink decor and toys, Suguru finding himself even more interested the more he saw. He let out a chuckle, “I wasn’t gonna say anything.”

He’d lean against the wall as the two of them stood inside, glancing down at his towering height, her apartment being so tiny that he almost had to kneel down to not reach the ceiling.

“Kuromi?” She then calls.

Before Suguru could ask who she was calling for, a pitch black pit-bull came flying out of her bedroom, beelining straight for him. As intimidating as the dog looked, the large animal pants excitedly at the scent of a new guest within the house, rubbing her body against him happily.

“Don’t worry. She’s harmless, as much as I want her to be the most terrifying guard dog. I think she secretly wants to be a cat, rubbing up against you like that,” Star can’t help but smile.

The dog was adorable. He let out another chuckle as he looked, crouching down with his hand extended, “Hey, girl. Come here.”

“You better stop, she falls in love easily,” Star warns as she sees them becoming acquainted, “Anything in particular you want for breakfast? I’ll cook anything but bacon, me or Kuromi don’t do pork,” she explained, patting her dog as she jumped up beside her, excitedly yelping at her presence.

“Why don’t you do pork?”

Star presses her lips together, sighing out as she hates telling this story, “Well…there was a petting zoo at my job one time and I took Kuromi with me cause they said other animals were allowed. And—well, she ate one of the pigs. It was so sad,” she frowns, her eyes coming up as she sees him trying to hold in his laugh, “Hey! Not funny,” she pouts.

Suguru’s eyes widened in curiosity at her answer to his question, before immediately letting out a laugh. His laugh would only continue further “Why the hell would you bring your dog to a petting zoo?”

“I just wanted her to see other animals,” she continues to pout, moving her face away as he gently touches her chin in comfort.

He’d look down at her as she pouted, unable to hold back from gently caressing her chin with his palm. He found himself being a little intrigued at the look she seemed to frequently make, Suguru leaning forward, “Your pouts are adorable, y’know that? I’ve never seen anyone who pouts and tantrums as much as you do.”

“I do not tantrum, dickhead. Just complain more often than others,” she corrects, making her way towards the kitchen, beginning to search around as she stated, “Just for that you’re getting a damn omelet. No choices for you!”

She bent over into the fridge, never noticing his eyes that continuously knocked down to her ass any opportunity he had to do so. He followed behind her as he leaned onto the counter, “What if I’m allergic to eggs? What if I was looking forward to having pancakes or something?”

“Then I hope you have an epipen! Should’ve thought about that before you basically called me a toddler,” she retorts, diving into the fridge for the ingredients she needed, placing them on the counter.

He found himself amused by her attitude. He’d lean over her shoulder slightly as she brought out the ingredients she needed, letting a grin grow on his lips as he spoke into her ear, “Keep talking shit and I’ll put you over my knee to spank your ass like a damn toddler.”

She blows her hair out of her face, feeling a chill run through her body at his close proximity. She brushes him off as she then mutters, “Womp womp. Whatever, anyways, ooh! I have turkey bacon, is that okay?”

He exhales, “Perfectly fine, baby. Let’s hope you cook as good as you look.”

“Don’t be tryna’ kiss my ass now cause you want a good breakfast. Besides, I’m the best omelet maker in this century. In this galaxy, you’ll see,” she nods her head, grabbing for a pan and whisking spoon.

“Are you even alive if you haven’t had an omelet from Star?” He taunts.

Star winks, “Exactly. You’re smart. I like men with big sexy brains.”

As she begins cracking the eggs into a bowl, her phone buzzes for the thousandth time tonight. She unfortunately had the ability to see the screen since it was facing upward, briefly reading over the message, honestly wishing she hadn’t.

FROM:

smalldickbitchassmothafucka.

MESSAGE:

imma come over there when i get off work. i wanna talk to you. i fucked up.

“Do you need me to block his ass for you? You seem to be fuckin’ hardheaded,” Suguru speaks, Star looking behind herself as she catches an irritation in his voice.

“He’s just pissed that I’m ignoring him. He’ll stop eventually.”

“He’s been texting you since four in the morning, probably even before that. It’s damn near seven now. The more you ignore him, the more he’s gonna seek out your response.”

“Are you putting on your therapist hat again? I don’t think I asked for another session,” she furrowed her eyebrows towards him.

“I don’t need to wear my therapist hat to understand how an ex’s shitty behavior works, baby. You’re an enabler.”

She let out a breath as she asked, “Hand me an egg, please?” Reflexively blowing her hair out of her face as she tried to ignore his comment.

He raised a brow at the sudden change of subject, his hand beginning to move to pick up one of the eggs before he’d tease, “Say please again. Much sweeter in your pretty voice.”

“Hand me the fucking egg, jackass?” She corrects herself, smiling as she does so.

“Good girl. You’re better behaved than before,” he then hands her the egg, Star snatching it out of his palm.

Star begins to play music from her phone, ignoring the multiple messages as she places it back down, continuing to cook. Silence comes back between the two as Suguru begins looking around her apartment, catching younger pictures of her, family portraits, small things that made him grin. As he continued to her bedroom, he noticed a phone holder mounted along her wall across from the bed, frowning at the randomly placed adapter.

“What’s this for?” He asks, Star leaning herself out of the kitchen as she follows his eyes to her bedroom, “Hm?”

As she made eye contact with the familiar piece of equipment, an influx of memories came flooding into her mind. She couldn’t debate whether they were fond memories. She wipes her hands with a paper towel, annoyed at the blood filling her cheeks as she replies, “We uh…use to record ourselves…y’know. Or I’d record something for him,” she says quietly.

His brows would raise a little as he heard her explain what it had been used for, his lips curling into a teasing smirk.

“Don’t smile like that. It’s creepy,” she turned back into the kitchen, continuing to crack another egg into the bowl as she was planning to mix the yolk with seasoning.

“That’s not very nice, doll. I didn’t even make fun of you this time.”

“Your face told it all,” she grumbled.

“How about you make your signature omelet so good it completely masks my thoughts?” He’s back to his taunting, entertained by how riled up it makes her.

“Maybe I should poison it then, hm?” She suggests politely.

“Will it give me the shits or make me sleepy?”

She presses her lips together, a small chuckle leaving her mouth at that as she giggles, “You’re so dumb.”

The soft music playing was a comfort to her. With all of their innocent flirting, Star didn’t realize just how much she was intriguing Suguru. All of the times she had an attitude with him, snapped at him, her smile, her sexy laugh, all of it was being jotted down in his head. He was like a ticking time bomb ready to blow up at any second. Fortunately for her, his time capsule had began when they first met. Unfortunately, his time capsule had just now run out. As she began to stir the egg yolk, her eyes hadn’t noticed as Suguru watched her every move. His vision had darkened, tunneling in on her. Specifically on her dress and the way her body curved within it.

Her innocence had gotten the best of her, in her own world as she happily spoke, “You’re gonna love the taste of these, promise.”

“What do you taste like?”

The words fall from his lips quickly. It spiked up her spine like he’d lit a match, making sure that she wasn’t crazy and that she’d heard his words correctly.

Her eyes turn towards him as she says, “I—huh?—“

She squealed lightly as he picked her up by the hips, placing her roughly on the kitchen counter. Her face goes completely hot, unable to say anything against his dark eyes. He would laugh darkly at her reaction, taking in the way her cheeks flushed brightly as he placed her onto the countertop with such ease. His eyes would wander over her now exposed thighs, hands gripping the skin as he moved to stand in between them, “Are you always this pretty when you’re flustered, Star?”

“Flustered? I—well—“

His lips are along her throat, Star’s hand flying upward and gripping tightly along his neck as he sucks along the skin like it’d be his last time ever doing so. Her entire body melted at his touch. She couldn’t think of the last time she’d felt this type of pleasure, her eyes fluttered shut, a whimper leaving her mouth before she could think about suppressing it.

He would feel her grip him tightly as she let out a light whimper, a grin spreading wide on his face hearing the noise fall from her mouth. He would press another few kisses onto her throat, his mouth trailing up until he lightly nipped at her ear, tugging it between his teeth as he whispered to her, “Fuck. You’re so sensitive, baby. You’re already falling apart.”

She didn’t know where these feelings came from, but it was like a river rushing through a dam, crumbling the wall as her body was now immensely aroused. She wanted him to touch her in ways no one else hadn’t. No one else couldn’t. Her phone began to buzz again, her eyes looking over to it, suddenly being pulled away as Suguru gripped her chin, harshly pulling her mouth to his.

He would be brought out of his own thoughts, feeling her begin to look away as the sound of her phone echoed through the room again. A low growl would come from his chest as he began to pull her chin back towards him, his mouth deepening the kiss. His hands would move up, grabbing onto her hips as he pulled her forward towards him, pressing her body more firmly against his own. His kiss was different. It was passionate, all while being completely lustful. His tongue was within her mouth, damn near removing the tonsils from her throat as he swirled it around, holding her by her chin dominantly.

His tongue explored the inside of her mouth as he groaned softly, loving the taste she had. She was sweeter than she looked. He would move one of his hands down to her thigh, giving her skin a light pinch between his fingers, Star gasping softly as he hoisted her against him, wrapping her legs around his waist. In that vast moment he also used one of his hands to grab her phone. He continued to kiss her, digging his fingers into her scalp as he jerked her head back, yanking her face upwards to suck along the skin of her throat. The feeling was so overwhelming, her eyes closed as she dug her teeth into her lip.

She barely had a conscience to notice as he placed her phone within the holder against the wall, her ears then registering as he turned on the camera, pressing the record button.

She looked up to him as she said, “What are you…”

He would chuckle at her questioning tone, his lips moving down along her jawline as he replied, “I wanna see how pretty you look on camera. You like being watched, doll?”

“No,” she immediately lies. Her entire being was interested in his offer, but she refused to let herself fall that easily. Her breath hitched as his hand fell down to her ass, gripping the skin in his palm as he harshly spanked her at her response.

“Don’t fuckin’ lie to me. Be honest and give me permission before I do anything else to you,” he demands.

She was at a loss for words. When she realized that he was more worried about her consent than anything else, she nodded her head, “Yes, I like being watched,” coming so soft from her plush lips, pulling him forward into another kiss.

She’d never had a man be so forward with her, eyes catching her face within the camera as he laid her along the end of the bed, her eyes only able to see his broad back within the camera as he gripped his shirt from behind, removing it to reveal an inked up back.

His eyes would glance into the camera that was pointed at the two of them, his grin slowly growing into a full smirk as he saw her expression. His arms flexed around him, showing off the ink that was along his back before he’d pull the shirt off fully, tossing it to the floor as he turned back around and kneeled down in front of her.

Her eyes watched him. Her entire frame jumped as he yanked her to the end of the bed, tossing her legs over his shoulders. She then heard him mutter, “Fuck that,” twisting her around so her back was now facing the camera, his body leaning against the front of the bed. She was now sitting along the top of his face, legs hoisted above his broad shoulders.

He groans, digging his fingers into her skin as he pushes her dress up, his eyes catching sight of the name, ‘Angel’ tattooed along her ass cheek. He arrogantly chuckles, Star gasping lightly as he spanks right above the name, gripping the trembling skin within his palm as he groans, “Imma’ eat your pussy so fucking good.”

He instantly wraps his lips around her clit as he pulls her down, grunting as he tastes her, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he does so. She was like candy to an addict, a reward that wasn’t so easily given to him. He wanted to drown in her. A demon out of hell he was, sucking along Star’s clit as he dragged his tongue through the entirety of her, twisting his head from side to side as he delved deeper, relishing her scent melodically.

She sucked in a breath, knees shifting on the edge of the bed as he held her by the back of her thighs, his eyes locking up to hers in a way that had her release a cruel exhale.

“I’m g—gonna fall—“

She nearly slipped, his strong arms catching her legs, locking them up over his shoulders, allowing her to lean halfway on the bed. He guided, “Control your hips, baby. I’m doing the rest. You’re so fuckin’ wet. I want more,” he grunts, nuzzling his lips against her clit, nudging the sensitive flesh as he lapped his tongue up and down, gripping her skin tighter as he commanded, “Give me more.”

“Suguru,” she whimpered. He realized up until now that this was her first time saying his name, the sound so foreign among her tongue that it ignited him even further. Her back arched, deepening her core along his face, shuddering out another gasp. His tongue worked along her sensitive folds in teasing strokes, dragging down until he met with her squelching hole, tongue fitting perfectly inside of her as he pushed within the velvet of her walls.

Star’s mouth broke open as she moaned, gripping her hand in his hair that framed along the edge of the bed. He ground her hips along his face with desperation. It was as if he were starving, making out with her core in a way that had his lips and jaw soaked, head knocking up and down as he grunted against her.

He locked his mouth along her clit again, Star shudderingly gasping and whining peevishly that she tugged his hair, eyes tightly shut as he dirtily spit along her opening and watching as her chest palpitated, running his tongue along the entirety of her pussy and slowly pushing his head forward, suckling against her. He dirtily kissed her clit, eyeing it dangerously from above before spitting on it again, hungrily taking it back into his mouth. He devoured her. She gripped the dark streams until her knuckles blushed a crimson red, blood flow coursing through her veins immaculately.

Her eyes briefly made their way behind herself, seeing the outline of her body atop of his face, her vision able to see as his tongue plasters upward and onto her core, her eyes quickly falling back to the opposite direction as he stings another spank to her ass, “Pussy is so pretty, baby. Like fuckin’ art,” he groans.

He went from pressing kisses along her inner thighs just to get a look at her core glistening tempestuously, to his tongue again running along the entirety of her, taking in the rosy color against his taste buds, groaning tumultuously at how something so vulgar was deliriously alluring. Star’s lower abdomen trembled at the merciless action. Her hips swirled slightly as she whimpered gratifyingly when he ran his index and middle finger along her clit, running down her core before he sunk his fingers inside of her, scissoring her opening. Suguru listened as she prettily moaned in his ears from the harsh actions, her nails shoving into his hair as he inhaled her honey streamed scent and delectable taste, a mixture of inebriety that Suguru desired for.

She thought for a second, maybe he hated her. Maybe he wanted to do some type of torture upon her. Had to. His long tongue, slick with saliva lengthens out as he grips the bottom of her thighs, bouncing her up and down against his face, grunting each time his tongue pokes at her g-spot. Star reaches back as he grips for his arm, whimpering as Suguru shoves her hand away, spanking her for even touching him.

“Put your fuckin’ hand down.”

“Suguru, please. I’m gonna cum.”

“Then make a mess on me.”

The sound of her opening sounds wet, sticky and spurting out as she creams just from his mouth, Suguru arrogantly chuckling as he spreads his tongue for the camera, “Yeah, yeah. Too fuckin’ good to me, creaming on my tongue. Imagine how you’ll look on my dick. I’m gonna fuck you stupid.”

She believes him, too. Star holds her breath as he pulls her body upwards, his back now fully against the bed’s banister as he sat up against it. He was quick, twisting her hair within his fist as he guided her pretty face towards him, locking her within a kiss that she had to exhale for. He pulls her back from his lips, “Such a fuckin’ brat,” Star is already knowing, reaching for the hem of his pants as she pulls them off, her eyes not expecting something so heavy and veiny to slap along his belly button. Her mouth goes agape.

He watches her within the camera, her silhouette beautiful to his eyes, back arching as she kneels towards him, lashes fluttering against her full cheeks as her breath hitches from the hold he has along her hair. She wraps her lips around his tip, pink and soft within her mouth as she slides her mouth down, letting him sink deeper within her throat until she coughs, humming with her eyes rolled to the back of her head. Suguru’s eyes never leave the sight of her on video, curls shifting in his fist as Star bobs her head up and down, whimpering out as she begins to move her neck faster, desperately wanting every inch of him within her throat.

“All you needed was something in that fuckin’ filthy mouth of yours,” he grunts, watching as she wraps her hands around the bottom that her mouth can’t reach, moaning softly as she massages his balls with her fingers. His intense stare at her darkens, “This is all you wanted, huh? Spit on my dick, don’t need you crying that I’m tearing you apart. Need you to take every inch of me.”

Shut up, shut up, she thinks, his words making her more wet by the second, gasping against him as he spanks her again, rushing his hand up to the back of her neck as he pushes her face down. Her arousal practically drips along the bed. Star’s lips begin to burn, her throat entirely full as his tip knocks at the top of her mouth, almost feeling empty each time he pulls out to slam back in.

“I’m so fuckin’ horny,” she whimpers, Suguru chuckling as he pulls her face up to his, “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she admits, carelessly so, opening her mouth as she sucks him back down her throat, slamming her lips down the front of his hips, Suguru grunting out, abdomen tightening.

“Fuck. C’mere,” he pulls her up, smashing their lips together roughly. Star pouts along his mouth as he stopped her, whining again as he feels her pout, bringing his hand as he gently slaps her face, “Needy ass,” he grits his teeth, pulling her on top of his lap.

His tip is prodding at her opening. Her back arches as she raises her hips away from him, feeling his tip fat against her tiny hole. Suguru takes himself within his hand, using the other as he holds her hip above him, sinking his tip into her, stretching her out as his girth was just as large as his length. It felt almost cruel. She fought with her dress as her body became extremely hot, Suguru taking his hands as he effortlessly shredded the material, her mind too gone to even become upset.

He then gripped her chin, forcing her to look behind herself and into the camera. Her cheeks were warm as he did so, trying to turn back towards his eyes, unable to do so as he shook his head.

“Don’t look at me, babydoll. I want you to watch yourself as you ride me,” his tone had turned seductive as he spoke to her, his hands moving up to her waist before he’d add with a chuckle, “Put on a fuckin’ show for me,” he sinks her down further, Star’s eyes tightly shutting as his dick engulfed her entire body, a deep pinch of pleasure mixed with pain as she fully dropped down, whimpering as his balls slapped her thighs.

His eyes washed over her body without clothing, a figure more beautiful than he could imagine. Her large breast and brown areolas were made to look at, nipples shaking as he adjusted himself inside of her. Star can only stare at the name tatted on her skin for a moment. Suguru runs his fingers along the skin, gripping as he slams his palm down against it once more. She has no time to react as he’s pulling her hips up, dropping her down slowly, agonizing at this point. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head, moaning out as she looked up to her face, blown with lust.

His grin grew into a full smirk as his hips began to move against hers, her moan echoing in his ears as he heard it. He’d chuckle softly at her reaction. His tongue would run along his bottom lip, his hands sliding up along her waist before he’d pull her body firmly onto his own, pulling his arms under her legs as he kept his fingers against the skin of her ass, pulling her up fast, dropping her down slowly. Star’s mouth parted, listening as their skin smacked in contact, eyes rolling to the back of her head as she stuttered, “O—oh my fuckin’ god, Suguru.”

“You want me so badly…fuckin’ hell. Your pussy keeps…pulling me in…” he talks in between her stretched core meeting his hips, skin clapping louder than before.

She seemed to lose herself in the heat, unable to listen as he spoke along her neck, “Oh shit,” pulling her down harder, skin melting together like velcro, snatching away from each other each time he placed her in the air, pulling her roughly back down, the balls of her feet swinging in the air as he was in full control of her. His face moves to press into her shoulder, his teeth finding her skin as he’d bite down along her neck and jawline.

His own face was within the camera now, keeping her lips above his skin so he could still hear every sound falling from her lips. She dug her fingers into his neck as her arms were wrapped around his shoulders, only able to groan deeply from his ruthless strokes, a pain that was so sweet to the touch.

His eyes would glance upwards, watching the way they rocked together in the camera that was still running, his smirk growing wider as he told her, “Eyes here. Now,” Star looking into his dark expression, mouth still open in shock of how good he was fucking her, how deep he was inside of her. She whimpers quietly, “Yeah, yeah,” eyes dropping to watch the monster that halfway pulls out, stretching her every time he shoves back in. Alabaster arousal paints his dick the more he pulls out, Star whimpering again, “Hitting my fuckin’ g-spot, baby,” and he smirks, “Pull my dick in more, yeah, yeah,” her walls clamping down on him, sucking him in like she never wanted to let go.

His teeth clamp down on her neck as he’d continue to bite and suck softly at her skin. He’d give another rough bite onto her, not stopping his hips from meeting her own, a moment of silence almost coming between them, their ears listening as she gushes on his dick, slick noises wavering between their bodies heavenly. He was evil, now taking both of his palms as he locked his fingers together around her lower back, gripping as he pulled her up, harshly dropping her down. The camera caught her entire face. She whined, “Baby,” the sound being captured as he kissed her lips, never stopping his movement.

He’d chuckle, “‘Baby?’ You’re falling apart,” his tongue pushing into her mouth and sliding across hers. He didn’t stop moving his hips, hands now sliding up along her back to tangle in her hair, locking his fingers back together as he has a trap along her curls. He’d groan against the kiss, mouth dominating her own as she whimpered, music against his lips that he wanted on replay.

His hands slid along her back, tangling more into hair as he was now bouncing her down onto his hips. Her eyes were to the back of her head, choking out cries against his mouth, moaning in ways she hadn’t before. Her reactions were all in the arrogance of his expression, her body pooling into his hands as she completely submitted to him. He’d groan again, a cocky expression on his face as he felt her submissive manner, his hands pulling at her hair to keep his mouth against hers. His tongue would slide across hers again as his eyes locked onto her own, a smirk playing on his mouth as his hips continued to rock. He’d pull his lips from hers, chuckling breathlessly as he’d command, “Tell me how much you like this shit.”

“Yes, baby. I like it so much. So much,” she softly cried, “I’m so…” she gasped within his mouth, his hand coming along her throat as he twisted her face towards the camera, slamming her hips down to meet his, “Don’t go mute on me, doll,” he’d tease with a chuckle, watching the way his hand had her face directed at the camera, the force slamming her hips down onto his own causing her to cry out again. His fingers tightened around her jaw, keeping her facing the camera as he whispered lowly, “Finish your sentences, big girl.”

She didn’t even remember, she was so lost within him. She admitted, “You’re making me feel so fuckin’ good…so good, Suguru…”

“That’s such a good girl,” he coos, his hand sliding from her jaw as his fingers tangled in her hair again, his mouth pressing into her shoulder as he’d start placing a series of marks along her skin. His hips would start to rock roughly against hers. He groans out, “Look at how fuckin’ pretty you are.”

“You’re so pretty too, baby…” she whimpers mindlessly, “So fucking hot,” she whimpers deeply.

“You’re gonna make me get a big ego with all of that praise, baby,” he’d tease again, pulling her hair gently and groaning lowly. His hands slide along her back, fingers digging into her flesh as he continued rocking into her, her voice only able to be heard within the camera, Suguru keeping his face directly into the phone as she whined, “It’s already big…”

She probably sounded like a bimbo at this point. Star placed the bottom of her feet beside his legs, placing her hands on his arms, hair falling against her face as she poked her ass upwards, moving her own hips as she dropped down, bouncing as she hiccuped whines from doing so. “So fucking big baby, yes, stretching my pussy—” her voice is high, feminine, dumb. She knew it’d make him more arrogant. She didn't care.

He raises an eyebrow, smirk deadly as he places his hand along her throat, shoving her down to bounce harder as he spoke, “Look at you, bouncing and creaming on my dick like a fuckin’ slut. You look so pretty on camera, baby. Fuckin’ supermodel. Needy ass supermodel,” slapping his palm along the cheek of her face again, knocking her sense down more and more.

His hands move back under her thighs, locking his fingers together as he gains his control back, Star whining louder as he smacks her down onto his hips, a short pain rupturing up her spine, pleasure always overriding it. It felt so good. The camera was now focused on her, his own body not being seen at all, the only other thing being seen was his strong grip on her waist as he’d reply with a breathy tone, “You feel it, baby?” His tip reached for her insides, searching for her soul.

“I feel it,” she cries out, whining like a baby, dropping down onto his hips, gripping for his arm as she pulls it up to her throat, begging for him to squeeze without verbally asking.

He’d chuckle again, shaking his head at her whining, fingers nonetheless tightening around her throat as he added the pressure she wanted. He sees as tears collect in her eyes, mouth drooling as she sniffles out a senseless giggle. His mouth would move up to her throat, panting breathlessly against the area, tongue sticking out as he drags along the skin, “Feel that, doll?”

“I feel everything baby, every single thing,” she gasps, listening as their skin harshly makes contact, “You’re so sweet, baby…giving me what I want…”

“I’ll give you anything you want, doll,“ he’d groan, his hips rocking up to hers as she’d come down onto him, the sound of their bodies slamming together echoing in his ears. He’d groan again, his fingers tightening ever so slightly as he’d mutter breathlessly, “You’re taking me so fuckin’ good. I know I’m stretching you out.“

“Give me more then,” she groans, “Please. Please. I’m begging, baby.”

“You want more?“ He’d chuckle as they continued to rock together, his voice breathless as he’d speak, “How can I say no when you’re begging so nicely?”He’d groan, “You’re gonna have to help me out though, doll.”

“Tell me what to do,” she begs, gasping more than before.

His grip on her neck would loosen as he’d release, moving his fingers down along the center of her chest and towards her stomach, a smirk crossing his mouth as he’d mutter, “Lean back.”

She easily complied, placing her hands along his thighs as she leaned backwards. His hands would slide over her stomach again, his nails leaving light scrape marks along her skin as he’d continue, “Keep your back arched for me, baby. Can you do that? For me?“

She nodded her head, keeping herself more arched, breath shuddering as her hair fell along her eyes. She gasps softly as he takes a hold of her legs, placing them directly on the sides of his head as they were pointing upwards in the air, dropping her down against his hips, dick slamming up to her in a different angle. Her arms shook as she pulled her hips up so they weren’t sitting on his legs, eyes in the back of her head as her body sloppily dragged with him, moaning viciously at his movements.

“You’re such a good girl, Star,” he gruffly tells her, her unruly curls shadowing her eyes. Her plump lips parted as she moaned out, “Such a good girl for you, I promise. I’ll always be your good girl,” she moaned, sounding incredibly insane, she knew that. She still didn’t care.

“Keep talking like that and you’re gonna make me act crazy, baby,“ he’d groan. His mouth came forward, sucking on her nipple before he’d pulled away, a light mark left behind in the place of his mouth.

“You wanna be marked up by me, baby? Leave a couple of tattoos for you?” He asks her.

“Yes,” she whispers, eyes still in the back of her head, “Would love it so much, thank you, baby,” she whimpered, body trembling with every movement he gives her.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty like this,“ he’d groan out, his hands giving her hair a light tug. His eyes would run along her body, biting his bottom lip as he’d mutter breathlessly, “Look at those pretty marks. So pretty all over your skin.”

“Lemme’ give you one, baby,” she begged, “Wanna feel your hair. Love your hair,” she complimented, staring over his beautiful features, the low bun within his hair still attempting to hold up, despite their activity.

He’d chuckle with a groan, smirking at her words before he’d release his grip on her hair, nodding as he’d reply with a breathy tone, “You can touch me, baby. I know you like my hair.” He’d brush a strand of hair from his face, watching her hands as they moved through it, biting down on his bottom lip.

She brought her hands into his dark hair, tugging lightly as she sucked the skin of his neck, eyes rolling as he was still dropping her down roughly along his hips, lips nearly falling off of his skin from the movement.

“You’re so damn talented with your mouth, baby,” he’d groan, the light tug on his hair bringing another groan from his chest. His hands slide along the skin of her abdomen, hips bucking upwards into her as he’d continue to let Star mark him with hickeys, his head falling forward. His breath would waft past her ear, words coming out in a groan as he’d whisper, “What am I gonna do with you?”

“Ruin me,” she gasped deeply, looking into his eyes, “You’re ruining me,” she cried out.

His breath hitches, a groan escaping him again as he’d feel his hips twitching upwards into hers, his expression growing dark as he’d listen to her words. He’d give a chuckle against her skin before biting down on her again as he’d reply with a breathy tone, “I’m gonna make you fuckin’ obsessed.”

“Do you feel good, baby? Please tell me you do,” she begged, kissing his lips softly, feeling her body relaxing in his, taking every movement he gives her.

“Baby, I feel fuckin’ amazing,“ he’d groan, his words being muttered against her lips as he’d slide his tongue into her mouth again, letting it tangle with hers. His hands would once again tangle in her hair, tugging on the dark tresses as he’d pressed her lips harder against his own, his breath wafting out against her face, “I feel so, so good, baby.”

“Gonna make me sore, baby…” she whimpered out, holding onto his hair, whimpers grunting into sobs as he brought them back to their original position, bouncing her up and down.

“I’ll tear your fuckin’ pussy apart,” he grunts out, hips bucking upwards as he’d listen to her whiney tone. He was getting close, it wouldn’t be much longer for him with the way her cries were echoing.

But no. That’s not how he wanted her to finish. He suddenly twisted their positions, his body leaned back against the wall of the bed, her legs now under his as she was facing the opposite of him. Her expression was now directly into the camera. She was almost sitting along his lap from behind, eyes rolling to the back of her head as he angled his dick, pushing it deep back into her, his fist collecting hair as he pulled her back onto him with that leverage, fierce and quick.

Her eyes were to the back of her head, his own expression looking dark as he now held her body against his own from the new angle. His hands would grip her waist, pulling her down onto him as he’d groaned out, his chest rising and falling in heavier huffs as his breath wafted around her shoulder, “Look at you, baby. All pretty and ruined, crying and whining for me. Gonna make you think about me all the time.”

His breath would waft against her skin as he muttered out a low groan, hips meeting hers with powerful thrusts. She was back to crying again, mascara running down her face as her mouth parted open at his thrusts, shocked moans jutting out from her lips, fists tightening along the sheets as she arched her back for him, the angle taking him deeper than before. She was in hell.

“Can’t, Suguru…” she cried out, gasping as she whined, makeup ruined as pleasure raptured along her body. He didn’t stop, continuously pulling her back, her eyes going down as she could only stare at herself in the camera.

“You can, doll,” He’d groan. He then sat himself up, one foot along the bed as he twisted her hair tighter within his hold, tongue running along the skin of her back before biting down on the flesh. His mouth would continue sucking at her skin as he’d groan again, his breath wafting to her ear as he snatched her back, “You don’t have a fuckin’ choice.”

“Babyyyy…” she whined out, looking back at him as he slammed her down onto his hips, crying in insanity for him. She dug her hands into the bed, trying to keep up with him, her mascara ridden face unable to look at her own expression.

His hand would grip tightly onto her hair, holding her in place as he spoke deeply, “Say you like it, doll.”

“I love it. I love it so fuckin’ much,” she continuously whined, keeping her eyes on his that were behind her, her face in her shoulder as she groaned out, shuddering cries against him.

He’d groan again, his nails digging into her skin as he pulled her down onto his hips again, his own moving up into hers as he’d moan his own pleasure against her skin.

“That’s my baby,” he’d tell her, his hands pulling at her hair again, trying to keep her facing the camera, “You look so pretty, baby. So pretty.”

At this point, she could only nod her head, agreeing as her voice was lost, crying softly as she gripped the sheets, trying to keep up with him.

“You’re gonna be mine, baby,“ he’d groan out, his breath wafting into her ear as he’d continue to groan, “You’re gonna be obsessed with me. You’re all mine. Say it. Say it, brat.”

Her eyes were rolled back as if she was possessed, babbling out incoherent sounds as she relaxed beneath him, lazily gripping the sheets, hips moving back and forth by his doing. She groaned softly, “I’m gonna be yours. Obsessed with you. Wanna be yours,” she hiccuped, as crazy as it even sounded.

“That’s my girl,“ his breath wafting once again as his body started to shiver from how close he was, his grip on her hair tightening again, “Say some more. Keep saying it, baby. Say it for me.”

“Gonna belong to you. Gonna think about you. Always think about this moment,” she bites her lip, sniffling as she grunts, “Gonna think about how you handled me. Never gonna forget it,” she promises, voice soft, meaning every word.

He kept his pace going, listening to her words before pulling her head up to kiss at the skin of her shoulder, a grunt of frustration and need as he replied, “Yeah. Look at you,” his hips were starting to stutter. He was close.

“Gonna let me fuck you like this again?” He asks.

“Yes. Yes. Yes,” she promised, nodding her head fiercely, feeling as her stomach begins to tremble, his breath along her neck from behind. He chuckled at her repetition.

He pushed her back down along the sheets, keeping her in perfect view of the camera, his sculpted body only showing from below as he pulled out of her, slamming in harshly as he spoke, “Say you’ve never had it this good,” pulling her face up, having her expression directly in the camera.

“N—never had it this good, baby. Never fuckin’ will if it isn’t you,” she grits her teeth, becoming more wet as she digs her fingers into the sheets, slamming her hips back to meet his.

“Damn,” he bites his lip, darkly chuckling, “Say that shit again. Promise me you won’t forget.”

“Won’t fucking forget.”

“I’m gonna make you fuckin’ crazy,” he strokes deeper, one hand holding her hair, the other spanking her ass as she swirls her hips, “Yeah, show me all that shit you were doing at the club.”

She bites her lip, laughing sultrily as she does so, slamming her hips down as she whimpers, “Like that?” It makes him grunt, spanking her painfully as he snatches her hips back, “Just like that. You’re gonna love it here.”

“Fuckin’ love it now,” she bites her lip, grinding her hips, whining them around before dropping them back down against his length.

He’d groan at the drop of her hips, his body shivering as his own hips started to tremble more violently, his hand would release her hair to slide along her body, tracing over small tattoos along her spine as he’d groan, “Tell me you love me, baby. Let me hear you say it, doll.”

This. She knew it sounded insane. She’d just met this man, and maybe they were speaking so crazy to one another because of the moment. But he had successfully completed his mission—her soul was within his palms, and she wasn’t getting it back.

He slammed her hips down onto him, her mouth lightly shouting as she said, “Yeah, yeahhh. I love you and your dick so fuckin’ much, Suguru,” gasping deeply from that.

“Say it again,” he groaned, his own body starting to tremble, his own release nearing as those perfect little words came from her gorgeous little mouth, “Say it more, baby. Let me hear you say it, keep saying it…say it until your damn voice breaks, doll.”

Her voice had broken. She cried out, “Love it. Love you. Yes. Yes. Yes,” through every connection of their hips, her orgasm ripping through her body so harshly that she screamed, keeping her eyes down as she did so. He yanked her face up, forcing her to watch herself release, yanking her back until she could feel him in her stomach. She cried, tears pouring along the sheets of the bed.

He’d chuckle, his hands tugging at her hair again as he’d groan out again, her screams bringing him to his climax as well, hips still rocking into hers as a groan escaped his chest, “That’s my girl…say you’re mine…” he’d groan, his eyes watching intensely at her expression in the recording as she’d cry out his name.

“All yours, Suguru…” she sobbed mercilessly, trembling through her orgasm.

He moaned softly as his own release continued, his breath wafting out in heavy huffs before he’d chuckle again, his head falling forward to rest softly on her shoulder, his own body trembling from the aftermath of his release. He’d groan again as he’d speak, his words muttering lowly in her ear, “That’s a good fuckin’ girl.”

She panted against him, her body nearly going limp within his arms, his strong hands catching her in an instant. He pulled out from her which made her body tense, twisting her around as he grunted, “Give me your mouth,” pushing his tongue past her lips as he kissed her. She relaxed under his mouth—as usual. She then pulled her face down embarrassingly as she pressed it into his chest, whimpering as she couldn’t look at herself in the camera anymore.

Once he’d finally ridden out his own release, his arms would loop around her, holding her in a protective manner in his lap as he’d pressed light kisses along the skin of her shoulder, mumbling softly, “You did so good, baby.”

She whimpered again at his touch, her body sensitive as she pushed her face farther into his chest, embarrassed to even look at him. He’d chuckle again, his hands massaging comforting circles into her skin as he’d pull her chin over, his thumb lifting her face up so she’d look into his eyes as he’d speak, “Don’t get shy on me now, doll. I was finally getting to look at that pretty face.”

“Don’t be mean,” she muttered, face still within his chest, moving into his shoulder.

He’d chuckle as she’d move to his shoulder, placing light kisses along her hair as he’d speak, “I’m just teasing, baby…but damn, you look so pretty when you whine.”

She smacks his arm, feeling that makes him laugh. She let out a breath as she exhaled, “I wanna shower.”

“I think we could use a shower. Clean up the mess you made. Should’ve had your ass squirting and crying—“

“Do you have a damn off button?” She glares up at him.

His laugh grew louder, his body shaking softly as he’d give a small shrug, “Sorry, pretty. I’m always like this, I can’t help it,” tilting his head slightly as he’d add, “You’re gonna have to get used to it.”

“Seems like it, since I sold my soul to you,” she grumbled.

“Don’t make deals with devils then.”

She narrowed her eyes on him, wondering how much of that statement was actually true. But damn, he was fine. She'd have to figure that out another time.

She rolled her eyes, “I’m gonna go feed Kuromi. Meet me in the shower, dick.”

She ignores his chuckle as he smacks her ass on the way out, “You’re gonna have to put ‘Suguru’—or ‘Big-S’, still optional—on the other cheek next!” Ignoring him as she embarrassingly wraps a towel around her body, speeding out of the room to go to the kitchen. She should’ve finished that damn omelet.

She didn’t even realize her phone was still on the wall, nor the fact that she didn’t have it—but Suguru did. Time passed as they were now in the shower together, Star giggling as he trapped her along the wall, desperately kissing her neck. She turned her head, kissing her newfound quest, handprint pressed along the heat of the shower as she moaned, eyes tightly shutting as he slid back into her from behind.

….She also never noticed as her phone had stopped buzzing. The last text was sent from her, after all.

FROM:

star.

TO:

smalldickbitchassmothafucka.

MESSAGE:

*attachment, 1 video*

stop texting. she’s busy.

#black stories #reading #writers on tumblr #black #getou suguru x black female character #getou suguru smut #geto suguru #jjk suguru #getou suguru x reader #jujutsu kaisen suguru #jjk x black reader #black characters #black women

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mrchiipchrome · 5 months

Text

Work

W.C. - 1.2 k

a/n: I’ve been having so much fun dealing with migraines, a break up, exams and getting an eye infection that I’ve totally forgot to write, so take this as a sort of apology:)

———————

It wasn’t hard to be the best footballer in the world’s girlfriend. All things considered, life with Aitana was pretty good, amazing even, if it weren’t for Aitana’s incessant need to ask people if they were employed.

It started small, when Aitana first met your family in Sweden, she had asked your brother whether he worked or not, happy when he started raving about his work, happy to find someone as passionate about their work as her.

Since that interaction it seemed like she searched that passion out in every interaction she had, going as far as to climb over rows of seats in order to speak to people.

She was nothing short of a social butterfly, and you were her anti-social caterpillar. The Swede in you was drawn to the Spanish affectionate nature even if it was vastly different from your own.

Your tiny girlfriend was as much of a magician on the pitch as she was off it, her ability to simply vanish the second you took your eyes off her was quite impressive, but not very enjoyable on your part. You almost had to invest in a private investigator to figure out how she did it, the way she always fooled you simply driving you crazy to the point of oblivion.

Still, you loved her strange habits simply for the fortune of having her, having her in every way imaginable.

You loved getting to hold her even as she squirmed to get away, kisses raining down on her face after a long game, using your substantially taller frame to put some space between her feet and the ground so that she wouldn’t be able to get away.

———————

Your muscles ache as your feet thump against the ground, the last game before a small break one of great performances, you yourself slipping 4 goals past the keeper, all of them assisted by your wonderful girlfriend.

Still, despite your obviously tired appearance, you were still ushered away to the corner of the pitch for an interview, being handed a man of the match award for your efforts during the game. This meant that your girlfriend was left unsupervised, your tired mind mixed with needing to seem professional before the camera completely taking up all your attention, meaning you didn’t immediately notice your girlfriend beelining for the stands.

“So, how does it feel to be back in the squad after the hamstring injury?” The reporter looks at you intently, trying her hardest to stare into your soul, or that’s at least what it seems like.

“Yeah, I mean it’s always special to be part of this squad, I’m not even going to lie and say that it’s been easy sitting on the bench when all I wanted was to jump on the field and score again but ultimately I got through it. I’m really happy with the performance as well, my beautiful girlfriend assisted all my goals so that makes it even better.” You smile widely when you mention your girlfriend, seeing through half-lidded eyes as the reporter's smile drops before she plasters it back on.

‘No need to be unprofessional now’ you think to yourself, looking away from her in search of that girlfriend to see if she could save you from the creepy situation.

But in your attempt to catch your girlfriend’s attention, you see her about to climb over the railings to talk to fans. You know that it’s dangerous, not only because of the altitude, but also because you never knew the intentions of some fans.

Somewhere in the background you can hear the reporter speaking to you, but you don’t pay her any mind, simply getting more anxious the longer you are standing there.

“It has to be special to be back with your teammates-”

“Perdón!” Is all you’re able to get out before you take off in Aitana’s direction, your legs no longer aching thankfully enough.

Your hands latch around her hips, tugging her softly away from the railing like you would a cat that had burrowed its claws into the couch. Aitana yelps as she looks back at you suspiciously, her hands coming down to rest on your shoulders when she realized that she didn’t have any plan of escape, seemingly just accepting her fate.

There are multiple cameras pointed at you, including the social media manager’s, so you just know that the interaction would find itself on the internet by the time you would be sitting in the bus.

Strangely enough, you didn’t mind that fact all that much, liking that the world would see how much you loved your girlfriend, maybe it would discourage reporters from trying to shoot their shot with you.

“Hey there pretty lady, whatchu’ doin’?” Aitana smiles at you innocently, acting like she totally didn’t try to climb over the railings. She presses a quick kiss to your cold cheek, enjoying the way your face darkens a few shades, the red spreading up your cheeks like food coloring in water.

It leads her to continue, kisses soon being placed on every single space on your face, with you soon blending in with the tomatoes you were growing in your garden.

“You are very cute.” She whispers lowly, her eyes flitting over your face as she smiles, keeping the words between the two of you like it was a secret only meant for your ears. Perhaps it was, you never knew with Aitana.

“And you are trying to distract me from the fact that you were totally trying to climb up into the stands. You’re lucky to be adorable, because Jona is one more abandoned interview away from benching me.” You boop her nose, shifting her body around so that your left arm was the only thing holding her body up, her arms still around your shoulders.

Walking back towards the interviewer, her professional smile drops from her face the second she sees Aitana perched on your arm, but nonetheless you approach her civilly. Aitana smiles brightly at the camera soon pointed at her again, media training mixed with the attention she’s getting from you being the perfect situation for the camera.

“Hola, lo siento, this one was getting herself into trouble. Had to get her out, don’t want the gaffer to bench the superstar now do we?” You motion towards Aitana with your head, the girl still sitting perched atop your arm slapping the back of your head lightly. Switching her around again, you quickly put her down back on her own feet, Aitana’s arms coming down to wrap around your waist tightly, almost possessive in a way.

“Thank you for today, that was all we needed. Here’s your man of the match trophy.” You get handed the trophy, turning to your girlfriend to brag, only to find her gone once more, her small body shooting across the pitch to get as much space between you two as she could.

It was almost as if you could see into the future as she jumps up and throws herself over the railings, giggling madly along the way.

You start to laugh too, the high speed chase the biggest highlight of the day, because not even scoring 4 goals could overshadow spending even a second laughing with your girl.

And even though Mapi would be teasing you for weeks about the absolute lovesick actions that day, you wouldn’t have it any different, besides you had more than enough ammunition to be able to blackmail her for eternity, so it didn’t really matter anyways.

#woso #woso x reader #barcelona femeni #woso imagines #barcelona femeni x reader #aitana bonmati #aitana bonmati x reader #stay tuned for the Alessia fic it’s currently at 9.6 k words:)

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nmakii · 7 months

Text

‘Can I ask you to do something about Alastor×reader? About y/n being a modern girl (2023-2024), and she often has strange gestures or words towards Alastor. One time she talked to him in modern language, making him confused and very curious. (You can expand the situation as you like, sorry my English is not very good)’

NEW IS ALWAYS BETTER!

— alastor x modern!reader (platonic or romantic!)

— alastor calls reader “good girl” so mostly fem!coded

— I WROTE THIS AND THEN IT GOT DELETED I MIGHT KMS.

alastor gets slangs that are common such as LOL, WTF, IDK but doesn’t get some that aren’t as common like LMFAO, IDRC, or WTAF since they’re just making them longer, so it’s quite useless…

he also doesn’t quite get shortcuts for words. one time you left him a note “lol brb rq imma b back in like 20 min. j gon pick smt up” most of it was honestly gibberish to him, but at the very least, he understood you’ll be back in 20 minutes.

gets really angry when you say things like “stop reaching, gooner. you’re just pissed that you’re a beta.” because; one, you’re blatantly disrespecting the radio demon and telling him to shut up. and two, he doesn’t get what any of that meant. what’s a gooner?

also gets annoyed often when you start singing songs like “i’m the alpha, i’m the leader” or “sticking out your gyatt for the rizzler” because, it’s a reflection on modern society and how music quality in modern times have plummeted significantly.

what happened to those beautiful songs such as “the man i love”? has it been replaced by this rizzler nonsense??? honestly, you’re giving alastor more and more reasons to dislike modernity… you’re lucky he finds your company enjoyable

in a desperate attempt to connect with you, he asked angel about your humor, hoping he’d understand. alastor knows that if anything, velvette would know. but, he’d rather get beaten by lucifer than ask the vees for help…

sadly for him, angel is just as confused. although, he at least knew what this alpha bullshit was, vaguely explaining furries and the alpha-beta-omegaverse to him…

you were in the hotel den, scrolling on social media as alastor walked in. “s/o, be a dear and fetch me some chicken breasts from the butcher, would you? i’d like to prepare something for tonight’s dinner.” alastor smiled

“hmm… nah. go do it yourself, furry” you giggled brattishly. “hahah… what did you call me?” alastor asked sternly, his face now close with yours, antlers increasing only slightly in size. “ah…” you stuttered.

alastor was never this mad when you said stuff like that, what was so different today? maybe he was in a bad mood? “ah… ill get it…” you conceded, using your hands to lightly push alastor away, lest he decides you’ll be for dinner…………

alastor snickered before patting you on the head. “good girl. don’t call me that again, this old dog can still learn new tricks, y’know?” he teasingly sang out. “huh?” you asked. “did you learn what a furry is?” you bit your lip, holding back your laughter.

“indeed, i did. horrifying that you’d think i would indulge in such hobbies…” he sighed, looking a little uncomfortable through his stressed smile. “what..? i don’t think you’re a furry, alastor. it’s not that deep. furry is just something that i used to laugh about with my friends back on earth.” you shallowly laughed, copying his actions by rubbing his hair.

he has to admit, that little mistranslation was a little funny looking back on it. but, he is a little disheartened that he got you scared over nothing. you were just having your fun and he got all pissed off. he’d definitely try to instead ask you about your slang as to prevent such a thing again…

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #hasbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #hasbin hotel

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bigfatbimbo · 9 days

Text

I love you like an Alcoholic

2.1k words,, Bill x Reader

a/n — You did it, you saved the town.

warnings — NSFW, dom!reader, sub!Bill, toxic relationships, book of bill time era, orgasm denial, ambiguous superpowers, NOT PROOFREAD**

summary — Bill goes to his incredibly powerful (moreso than him) business partner, you, to try to get him out of theraprism. Things take a turn.

“I had to pull a lot of strings for this Bill,” you cross your legs and lean back in your thrown.

Bill straightens his bow-tie, “Well toots, what if I told you I can make it worth your while?”

You breathe and then get up from your chair, “I’d tell you to stop floating in my lair. It’s distracting.”

Snapping your fingers, a bar appears in your otherwise empty room. While pouring yourself a drink, you can feel Bills eye-roll from across the room.

With a tip of his hat, his more human form appears, and sits down at the bar stool next to you. “Better?”

“Could do with more abs.”

He laughs but doesn’t change his appearance, “So, y/n. We go way back, right? I’m not gonna sugar code it, you’ve always been one of my favorites to do business with, doll. Wanna know why?”

“The fact i’m always so interested in what you have to say?”

His eye practically twitched at your indifference. Your attention was never payed in full. “Ha! Don’t flatter your self, pal. No, i’ll tell you why: did you know out of everyone in the galaxy, you’re the only equal I do business with?”

Your eyebrow arches, “equal?”

“Humor me,” he doesn’t give you the chance to reply before continuing. “Now, given my current position in ‘necessary therapy’—“ he makes a point of doing obnoxious air quotes, “—I don’t have much to occupy my days. And we both know i’d be of better use to you out here, right?”

You took another sip of your wine before getting up from the bar and walking over to your throne. The bar disappears behind you, leaving cipher ass-flat on the ground.

“Oh come on—“ His open eye turns red momentarily, before he dusts himself off, “Look, it’s hard being a god, y/n, I know that much. With that responsibility, I think a business partner would do you good. And all you’d have to do is bail me out, that’s practically no downside for you at all, buddy.”

Your patience had been wearing thin, and without further consideration you let out a larger grown from your chair, “Cipher, you’re a liability. I don’t want you. I’m honestly struggling to find enjoyment in sharing a drink with you, despite our history.”

A flick of your hand lifts him off his feet and brings him over to you, “Thought you had a no floating policy, eh?” There’s no fear in his voice, but there is in his eye. He’s losing.

“I’m gonna make this clear to you. You’re gonna take your disgusting human form, and you’re gonna march your happy ass back to theraprism, and you’re gonna stay there. Want my advice? Stop being so damn pathetic.”

A portal opens to take him back and he struggles in your invisible grasp, “No, wait! Please, I’ll do anything, just wait!”

A human form was already a disadvantage, one he’d accepted in order to strike a deal, but a disadvantage still. And he hadn’t had any contact in a long time, aside from various psychiatrists telling him what’s ’wrong with him.’

So, you being someone he has history with could have contributed to his annoyingly human problem. Maybe it was the excitement, your attention or the lack there of, but something terrible happened at that moment.

“Jesus, Bill. You really have hit rock bottom,” You murmur to yourself as you pull his floating body closer to you, your fingers dance around the bulge without touching it.

“Hey, hey, watch it— Your the one that made me have this stupid fleshbag, anyways— cut that out!” He struggled in the air, finding that he just couldn’t turn back into his normal form. You’re doing, he’d assume.

To his dismay, you giggle and lean back, “Well now i’m enjoying myself. Now this I could help with, Cipher,”

“Ah, ah pass! Just get me down from here and—“ Back to prison? He’d have to swallow his pride on this one. And besides, it’s not like he wouldn’t like it… “Whatever you want, doll. I’m here all night.”

You examine him further, “Is that so?”

Before he can answer, you drop him to his knees in front of you. “Ow! Careful with the merchandise, sweetheart. I’m not in mint condition these days— ah!”

Your foot presses down lightly on the bulge in his pants, and your fingers grab onto his chin, “Been a minute since we’ve done this. Huh, Cipher?”

He nods, going to say something, before you interject, “So i’d be good if I was you, baby.”

You press down on his hard-on with more pressure, watching Ciphers face flicker, biting his lip, before letting on a whimper.

Despite not being his first encounter, so to speak, with you of this nature, it never failed to eat as his pride. And furthermore, despite this, it felt good. If Bill was anything, he was selfish. He could admit he was letting it happen for himself, instead of in spite of himself. So it can’t be that humiliating?

But in this position, there’s always shame.

“Y/n — give me a break—“ He breathed, eye twitching.

You rolled your eyes and snapped your fingers, with that, his pants were gone and his dick was exposed. That’s another thing he could do without: your unpredictability

“Next time, say please. Asshole.” You say, lifting him up with your powers once more.

“Wow, buddy. I’m not the one being the jerk here—“ It came out quick, as Bill words often did. But these ones he regretted immediately.

Your eyebrows furrowed, “Tough crowd?” He felt a sensation tugging at the base of his dick, indicating the start of mind games that wouldn’t end anytime soon.

He backtracked. Play it off. “Yeesh, you’re a tough crowd! Did I say jerk? You heard me wrong, I meant lovely— Ah, wait! Wait!”

A wave of pleasure flooded his senses abruptly, followed by a short pinch of pain, similar to what a mortal feels when they prick their finger on a piece of metal. Does that happen a lot? They’re all so clutsy, can’t be that out of the ordinary—

“Smooth talk your way out and maybe I’ll lighten the blow, yeah?” You smile cruelly, hand dangling out, flexing as if teasing what you could do to him.

“I— I know we’ve had our disagreements but I— augh!” A spike of pain, his eye rolled back a bit, “You— I’ve always admired your work— Yes! Respected you even, you’re an idol, sweetheart, ah, yes!”

With each compliment a burst of pleasure would go through him, landing at his unnatural dick, now leaking with precum. He was nearly babbling, but he was as aware of that as he was aware of the fact it was dearly encouraged.

“Very good, Billy. You’re too sweet, really.” Your voice was smooth and you bit your lip, watching him writhe with pleasure mid-air.

“A-anything for you, toots! Ah, more, more!”

He didn’t notice he said anything wrong this time until it was too late, but your face had noticeably darkened at the statement.

“That’s awful demanding for someone in your position, dontcha’ think?” You weren’t actually mad, of course you weren’t. But you loved to you with him, and you took every opportunity. One of the reasons Bill tried to avoid you when he could; you were far too similar people, dealing in cruelty for the sake of entertainment.

“Wha- No wait!” The attention to his dick ceased to exist, and he was left with only aching for attention again, despite the fact you never gave anything physical in the first place.

All mind games. “That’s- That’s not fair!”

“I’d watch who you were talking too, baby,” You flick your hand, spreading out his body parts mid air, hard leaking cock protruding out, crying for any kind of sensation.

“You know what I can do. I’m sure I don’t have to remind you,” You sigh expectantly.

Bill tried to speak to defend himself, to talk his way out, but he found his ability to gone.

“I can make you do what I want, Cipher. Can make you feel whatever I want. Extraordinary pain—“ He cries out for a split second, eye flashing with fear, “—Or overwhelming pleasure.”

This time his eye rolled back, and he moans in wonderful agony, unable to move expect for wriggling his body parts weakly. His dick twitched.

“You like that feeling?”

He nods weakly, eyes fogging up, letting a small whimper escape.

“Don’t want me to hurt you?” Another nod, “Want me to make you feel good? Think you deserve it?”

“Ah— y/n, I need…” He swallows, revising his words in his mind, “Please, I need this.”

It’s true, Bill had never reached such a low in his entire existence. And he wasn’t sure if this interaction was pushing him further down or making him feel better. Now, however, he was struggling to think.

“Aw, baby. You have taken your punishment well? Been having a rough time too..” Your tone switched to something softer, almost to a condescending note.

His pathetic appearance did him justice, he pretended this was on purpose.

Either way, a whine slipped from his throat and he shut his eyes, playing into it. You cooed in response, bringing him closer to you in order to run your hand along the side of his cheek.

A spurt of pleasure shoots through his dick once more, and now he can’t help but yearn for something more. “Touch me— I need it— Please.” He threw in, trying to help his chances, despite the struggle at forming a coherent thought other than need.

“Hm,” You consider. Finally you reach out, running a finger along the base of his cock, to the tip. “You really want me to?”

He nodded desperately, mouth falling open to let out a small whine. Swear bedded his hot, red face, and dripped down, make his multiple chins glisten. Ugh, you preferred him further away. His already greasy looking hair was now slick against his forehead, and his eyes were glazed over.

You slowly shift all of your fingers onto his shaft and then saintly drag them up and down for the first few strokes. A gutteral whimper falls from Ciphers mouth, “Oh, yes!”

“What do we say, baby?” You ask, grip tightening suddenly as if to bring him back to reality, but not too tight.

“Ah— Thank you!” He’d almost forgotten to detest you for making him say that. And he’d almost forgotten to remind himself to be mad after he was done feeling good.

He used to daydream about taking you down after these sessions. Rising to power and having you at his feet. But now he only wants to keep your attention on him. Now it’s all he can think about.

You continue to stroke his leaking cock, leaning in to kiss his cheek fat, “Good boy.”

He moaned, “Don’t do that-“

“I’m not patronizing you. I mean it, you’re acting better than usual and i’m glad. Maybe you’re more desperate, or touch-starved, but you’re doing good. I’m proud of you, sweetheart.”

“Ah—“ He would have came right there if he could. And in the most literal sense, he couldn’t. You weren’t letting him. “Please, let me come. I can’t do this, have mercy, I’ll do anything—“

“I don’t know, I’m having a good time. Why should I?” Another desperate need to release wipes over him, an uncontrollable need that was actively being controlled.

Despite himself, he teared up. His fingers rose to touch his face, which he realized, was now damp with falling tears, “No, no, no! I can’t- I’ve never- Human bodies— I need to. Please!”

You look at him and smile.

“I’ve been good,” He reminded you.

With that, you have in. Your other hand moved away to snap your fingers, a gesture that wasn’t need to carry out the action, but to show that he’d earned his reward.

“Yes! Thank you! Oh gods— Oh-“ He leaned back, finally having the orgasm that was being withheld from him. And god, it felt good.

You felt good, and he hated that.

#gravity falls x reader #bill cipher x reader #gravity falls x you #gravity falls #gravity falls imagines #dom reader #sub male character #bill cipher imagines #bill cipher smut #bill cipher #x reader

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linghxr · 2 months

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Tips for finding Chinese-language media you like

I’m sure some of you started studying Chinese because of Chinese webnovels or dramas. But for others (myself included), it's challenging to find enjoyable Chinese-language media. Here are my tips! I will mostly mention TV shows, but these tips apply to other types of media as well. They can apply to other languages too.

Tip 1 - Start with something similar (but not identical) to content you already like.

My entry to Chinese TV shows was idol survival shows like Produce 101/Chuang and Idol Producer/Youth With You. I used to watch the US version of The Voice and The X Factor, so I was already interested in singing/performing competition shows. Yes, China has its own version of The Voice (or at least it did). But why would I struggle through watching the Chinese version when I could watch the English version effortlessly? On the other hand, idol survival shows didn't have a direct equivalent in English. Once I got hooked on them, I had no choice but to keep consuming Chinese media.

Tip 2 - Don’t force yourself to consume popular media that you don’t enjoy.

The first Chinese scripted shows/dramas I tried were iPartment and Love O2O, both very popular shows. But I didn’t like them and had to force myself to keep watching. Eventually I abandoned them. After that, I basically didn’t watch any Chinese shows for 2+ years. I wrongly thought that I didn’t like any Chinese shows or there were no good ones—definitely untrue! In retrospect, those shows are not the types of shows that I tend to watch in any language, so they were really poor choices. By forcing myself to watch something that I didn’t like, I was just wasting my time and sapping my motivation.

Tip 3 - Be willing to invest time at the start.

I won’t lie, it’s a large time investment to find the first few pieces of media that you really like. But after that, it gets so much easier. Especially with Chinese-language media, it’s not as popular as Korean and Japanese media, so you might not know where to start. Luckily, Chinese-language media is becoming more readily accessible! Open YouTube/Spotify/Netflix, etc. and invest some time upfront trying different things until you find what sticks. There may be some duds (like me with iPartment and LoveO2O), but don’t give up! Keep looking, cause it will pay off in the long run.

Tip 4 - Don’t let embarrassment get in your way.

It’s important to find media that you truly enjoy so you’ll feel motivated to spend time with it every day. So keep an open mind when exploring formats and genres that may be unfamiliar to you. I used to be embarrassed about watching Chinese idol survival shows, so I hid them from friends and family. I learned later that my friends are actually really receptive and willing to watch with me, even though they don’t speak the language! You don’t need to announce your favorite media to the world, but please don’t let embarrassment get in the way of your enjoyment and your language learning goals!

Tip 5 - Use what you like to strategically branch out to new mediums.

You can take advantage of adaptations and other connections to expand to new mediums. While watching idol survival shows, I would look up the songs’ original artists—that’s how I got into Chinese music! When I decided to give dramas another try, I watched Someday or One Day after seeing the ending theme song covered on Youth With You. Another drama, The Disappearing Child, starred actors I knew from the show Sisters Who Make Waves. When I decided to tackle webnovels, I read the original webnovel of Reset, since I loved the drama adaptation. This is the perfect way to expand your repertoire.

#study tips and advice #chinese #mandarin #mandarin chinese #chinese language #studyblr #langblr #learning languages #language learning #chinese langblr #mandarin langblr #languageblr

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little-diable · 1 year

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First Impression – Billy Butcher (smut)

I'm back on my Billy bullshit, y'all just have to endure it. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader needs a date to a gathering, and since Hughie can't keep any of her secrets, she finds herself tangled in a fake dating situation with Billy

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, choking, fake dating, friends to lovers, the reader has awful parents

Pairing: Billy Butcher x fem!reader (2.5k words)

“Just say it.” Billy’s voice echoed through her kitchen, darkening eyes set on her frame. An expression torn between embarrassment and annoyance tugged on her features, forcing a sigh to leave (y/n). She momentarily turned her back on Billy, allowing her eyes to flutter close while she took a deep breath. “C’mon doll, spit it out, I don’t have much time eh?”

“Fucking Hughie.” The words left her like a whisper, making a breeze into a storm so furious no people surrounding her were safe. “Look, just forget it, okay? I’ll figure it out.”

“No, that’s not the way we do it, and you know it.” A somewhat amused smirk began to widen on Billy’s lips, hand running along his beard as he kept watching her. It felt like he was interrogating her, which he kind of was, though not because of any supe mess they were tangled in, but because Hughie couldn't keep his fucking mouth shut.

“Fine. I need a date for a family thing, I’m done with being looked down on because I apparently can’t keep a man for long.” Billy’s raspy chuckles flushed another wave of embarrassment through her, body finding shelter on the kitchen chair vis-a-vis his. Billy studied her for a few more moments, dragging out the passing by seconds he clearly found enjoyment in.

“And you want me to be your date? Could have just said so, love.” He leaned back in his chair with a satisfied smirk, arms crossed in front of his chest. (Y/n) fought against the angry groan wanting to leave her, making a silent promise that she’d strangle Hughie the next time she crossed paths with him.

“I don’t want you as my date.” She stared him down, eyes challenging his without needing to speak any further words. Both knew that Billy had her trapped, both knew that Hughie knew all about the emotions both harboured, emotions not shared with one another once.

“Why don’t I believe that? But, you sure you want your parents to meet me?” Amusement dripped from Billy’s words, slowly rising to his feet to round the table, hand finding her chin before (y/n) could pick up on his movements. “I wouldn’t make the best impression as your boyfriend, would I?”

“You’re a fucking cunt, Billy, but Hughie’s right, you’re my best shot.” His thumb ran along her lower lip, tongue kissing his teeth as he pondered over her words for a few beats of his calmly pounding heart.

“Well, what’s in for me then?”

……

“Fuck, doll, you want me to concentrate on anything while you wear this?” Billy’s eyes wandered down her frame, taking in the dress she was wearing, fingers aching to feel the fabric. His cock twitched in his dress pants, begging to feel her close, wanting to bury himself inside of her as she’d choke on his name.

The memory of their first night together haunted Billy whenever he got a few minutes to let his thoughts wander, caught up in the sounds she had produced, her whimpers, moans, and the sweetest call of his name. Fuck, he wasn’t proud to admit that he had fucked his hand to the thought of her whenever he needed a quick relief ever since that night – something he had been aching for since he had been fortunate enough to bury his face between her tights.

“Don’t give me that look, Butcher, otherwise we won’t make it to my parents' house.” Her chuckles left him smirking, hand taking hers as he walked her to the car, helping her inside. She didn’t pick up on the “Would that be so bad?” leaving Billy, unable to let go of the memories of (y/n)’s naked body thumping through his mind like a shot of Compound V.

The drive went by too quickly, though (y/n)‘s eyes kept flickering down to the hand placed on her knee, thumb stroking circles into the fabric. The heat his touch pushed through her left her trembling, wondering if it was humanly possible to feel whatever she was now held hostage by.

“So, you always run around dressed up like this when meeting your parents?” Billie’s teasing grin had an all too familiar touch to it, and yet she still wasn’t used to seeing it directed at her. She had always envied those that managed to gain his attention for longer than just a few seconds, painfully oblivious to the way he stared at her for minutes whenever she wasn't looking.

“You‘ll understand once you meet them.”

……

“Fuck me, how did you turn out like this with an upbringing this fancy?” Billy murmured the words against her skin, breath fanning her neck as he held her close. Their eyes wandered through their surroundings, taking in the strangers that filled her parents' mansion. (Y/n) barely recognised any of the people walking past her and Billy, not sparing the two a glance.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She turned around in his grasp, eyes finding his as she sipped on her champagne, hand finding the back of his neck. He looked undeniably handsome, the suit hugged his frame perfectly, an unfamiliar, welcomed view, even though (y/n) would always prefer his Hawaiian shirts.

“Oi, you know exactly what that means, eh?” His smirk left her giggling, eyes rolling as she murmured a soft “You cunt”. Their bickering was interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat, forcing (y/n) to meet two pairs of all too familiar, curious eyes. Her parents stared at her and Billy, all too obviously wondering who the man was.

“Mom, dad, it’s good to see you.” She shared a quick hug with them, nothing warm nor soft, perfectly matching the rather distanced relationship she and her parents had never worked on. “That’s William Butcher, my boyfriend.”

“Nice to meet you.” Billy shook their hands before his hand found his way back to (y/n)’s waist, softly squeezing her side. He could tell that she didn’t feel comfortable, counting the passing by seconds till they could leave without her parents noticing.

“Well, it was time for you to finally settle down. Let's hope you won't mess it up this time. You two should come visit soon, now, if you’ll excuse us.” With an almost pained gaze she watched her parents disappear, blending in with the big crowd all too easily. Only the pressure Billy used to squeeze her waist managed to rip (y/n) out of her thoughts, forced to blink away her tears before she dared to meet his dark eyes. He studied her for a few seconds as if he was looking at a painting, trying to decipher symbols, trying to match meanings to colours.

Wordlessly Billy began to pull her through the crowd, fingers interlaced to keep her close. The chilly air wrapped itself around them like a translucent veil, hugging their limbs as they walked through the quiet garden. (Y/n) wasn’t used to feeling Billy close, at least not this close, and yet it felt as if she had dared to taste the forbidden fruit, already addicted, unable to work against the crush she had harboured for endless weeks by now.

“You okay?” His murmurs broke the comfortable silence, hand finding (y/n)’s warm cheek. Their eyes didn’t dare break contact, forced closer together till not even a piece of paper would fit between them. Billy had always been gentle with her, not daring to toss her around like the rest of his crew, but the way he looked at her in this very moment was unfamiliar, nothing she could pinpoint.

“I’m used to it, it keeps on hurting, but I’ll be alright. Thank you though.” A few more moments passed before Billy closed the gap between them, lips finding hers. Her surprised gasp rumbled through her, vibrating on the lips that moved in sync with hers. (Y/n)’s hands found his neck, toying with the dark hairs she had pulled that night when he had fucked her into oblivion, making her forget her own name.

“Want to get out of here, doll?”

……

The door to her apartment fell close with a thud, sound swallowed by the moan leaving (y/n) as Billy hungrily kissed her. His hands worked on her dress, letting the fabric fall to the ground, with his suit jacket following moments later. Wordlessly she guided him into her bedroom, thoughts set on the orgasms he’d push through her system that night, desperate for any kind of distraction.

Both parted to allow Billy to undress, giving (y/n)’s eyes the chance to wander up and down his frame, already aching for his touch, needing to feel his hands on her skin, between her thighs and on her chest. With only their underwear clinging to their frames, they found one another again in her bed, sharing kisses as Billy pressed her against the mattress, trapping her.

“Won’t be gentle with you tonight, doll, hope you know that.” She could only moan in response, begging him to leave his marks, to remind her of the power he held over her. Billy’s mouth found her collarbones, kissing them as his hands worked on her bra, freeing her breasts. Ever since they had slept with one another all these weeks ago, (y/n) had tried to mimic his touch whenever she was needy for another high, and yet she had never managed to take care of herself the way Billy could. His big hands worked on her breasts, tugging on her hardening nipples, sucking on them to force a few more moans out of her.

She felt his cock pressing against her thighs, aching to feel her wrapped around him, to feel her close. Though before (y/n) could even dare to think of touching him, Billy murmured her name, commanding her to hold still.

“Hands over your head where I can see them, tonight is all about you, doll.” A whine of protest left her, a sound Billy couldn’t help but chuckle at. His eyes kept staring her down as he worked on her panties, pulling them down her leg to gain access to her dripping folds. “You’re soaked, baby. All for me, huh?”

“Fuck yes, just for you.” The second his tongue brushed her folds, (y/n) threw her head back, allowing her body to produce the most sinful sounds. Her heart was racing in her chest, working on the adrenaline he pushed through her, leaving her trembling beneath him. Billy’s tongue worked in wicked ways, pushing her closer to the edge in no time as he dug his fingers into her skin to keep her close.

“How many can you take, eh? Two? Three?” (Y/n) couldn’t reply, eyes squeezed shut in order to stop herself from giving in, not yet ready to let this moment pass. Without another warning, Billy pushed two fingers into her tightness, spreading her walls like his cock would do in a few minutes. His name rolled off her tongue like a prayer, and yet the moment was too sinful for any god to hear the call, letting the devil darken the clouds above them. “Atta girl, so good for me, don’t know how I’ve managed to refrain from fucking you for the past weeks.”

She wanted to reply, wanted to tell him that she had struggled just as much, and yet no words managed to push past her lips. All (y/n) could do was choke on her gasps, on the whines he coaxed out of her, about to let go. But Billy knew her body all too well, letting go of her before she could fall from the cliff, allowing the heavenly feeling to rush through her.

“Condom?” (Y/n) pointed towards her nightstand, watching him pull the silvery packet free as she was catching her breath, trying to find words she could use to curse him, hating him from pulling away too soon. Her lust drunken eyes watched Billy free his cock, rolling the condom down his twitching cock, aligning himself with her heat.

One of his hands found her throat, keeping her pinned to the mattress as he pushed into her, forcing her walls to adjust to his girth. Both moaned in unison, foreheads pressed together in a desperate try to ground themselves. Their hearts kept skipping beats, unable to hold back as Billy started moving, building a ruthless pace that made (y/n) claw her fingernails into his shoulder.

Their bodies moved together, skin meeting with every thrust that pushed them closer to the edge. Billy’s hand tightened its grip on her throat, heightening her senses, making her blood rush in her ears. (Y/n)’s gasps for air left him smirking, finding a sick sense of satisfaction in the way he had her trapped, how easily he could guide her body like he was owning her.

“Billy,” she moaned his name, glassy eyes finding his, begging him to keep on going. “Fuck I’m close.” The sensation he had ripped from her moments ago was back, flushing through her system like a drug, pushing her towards the edge once again. He didn’t reply, kept ruthlessly snapping his hips against hers, not daring to let go just yet.

“Look at you, drunk on my cock, so desperate for me.” His words left her groaning, eyes fluttering close as her orgasm washed through her without another warning. With a smirk tugging on his lips, Billy watched her come undone, fucking her through the sensation till his own orgasm started to rock through him.

Their trembling bodies stayed connected for a few more moments, trying to catch their breaths before Billy parted from her. He got rid of the condom, wordlessly cleaning her up with a towel, careful not to put pressure on the marks his lips and fingers have left on her skin.

“You okay?” He kissed her, arm finding her waist to pull her close. She nodded her head as a content sigh left her, head placed on his chest. His fingers drew shapes into her skin, letting his thoughts wander till her soft whispers interrupted them.

“Will you leave again?” (Y/n) could still remember the morning she had woken without him near, disappearing in the middle of the night. Back then she hadn’t been able to bite down her hurt, feeling used by the man she couldn’t help but long for.

“Do you want me to?” Their eyes met as (y/n) tilted her head towards him, hand cupping his bearded cheek. She gave it a few seconds before she softly kissed him, murmuring a quiet “Never”.

#Billy Butcher smut #Billy Butcher imagine #Billy Butcher x reader #the boys

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tinytennisskirt · 23 days

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From Pain to Promise

Summary: based on a dialogue request- Art has been in love with you since he met you at twelve. He's been pining for six years, so it kills him when you get a boyfriend over the summer. He's your friend, he's supposed to be happy for you. Instead, he's just hurt. And jealous. Too blinded by it to see the way your boyfriend is really treating you. After a climactic event outside of a party, you're freed from it all. And Art is right there, waiting, the way he's always been.

MAJOR WARNINGS: violence, abusive relationships, mentions of unwanted sex/attempts at unwanted sex. a fight. mentions of injuries, nothing too graphic, just bruises.

Warnings: pining, yearning, angst, jealousy, mentions of drinking, a kiss. badly edited.

Kat Zimmerman had nothing on you, that was for sure. Only a few nights after his little learning experience with Patrick, you came into the boy’s lives and their worlds were forever changed. Art’s more so. It was that one fateful day when you were picking out a tennis racket, the new girl at MRTA, and those two little boys knew they had to befriend you before Jake Dalton did. Both little boys, stumbling over each other, made their way over to the rackets and said hi, overlapping pre-pubescent voices telling you their names. And you smiled, hair braided, cheeks pink and rosy, exchanging their names for yours.

And you were friends. That’s how it was. You were friends. You, Patrick, and Art. But more so you and Art because Patrick didn’t know how he felt about being friends with girls. Especially when you were such a girl. Patrick didn’t have a painful little boy crush on you the way Art did. You told Art his hair would be perfect for pigtails and he’d let you do what you wanted, clips and bows and all, just so you’d touch him. He bragged to Patrick later that night. Patrick just laughed at him. “She put bows in your hair, dude. That doesn’t count as touching.” He was humbled.

Patrick did feel a little different when fourteen rolled around and you had boobs, but Art was the same, if not deeper in it for you. You remained their friend. You were always around, playing with Art’s hair on the bleachers or studying with them, making sure they actually paid attention. You went to all of Art’s games and maybe, for a few split seconds, he thought maybe you liked him back. But it’s a tale as old as time. He couldn’t ever be sure, so why would he tell you and potentially ruin everything? If he told you and it wasn’t reciprocated, he could say goodbye to all the casual touching and the things you granted him somewhat platonically.

Patrick was one of the only people who knew how bad Art had it because even after their first little incident, Patrick had once or twice heard or walked in on Art masturbating and it was a little obvious who he was thinking about. It was fine, it was nothing new.

One thing was so very clear and that this was all just pining. Pining after you, pulling strings to be closer to you, to hang out with you. Cancelling plans, switching partners, everything. He’d go insane when your hand brushed his, he was there for you every time you needed him. And by twelfth grade, he could say he loved you. It’d been six years of pining, he knew it to be true. So when you called him over the summer to say you had a boyfriend, it just about killed him.

“He’s really nice and he’s a tennis enjoyer, but not a player. It’s refreshing to find someone who doesn’t know every single term and I get to be the smart one for once,” you gushed to him. He was your best friend after all. You’d been friends, best friends, for six years. Art was glad you managed six years without any real crushes for more than a day and he could handle those because they weren’t real, but this was very real. Or you said so. “God, I can’t believe it, he just asked for my number two weeks ago and now we’ve been together a week. It’s so surreal.”

“That’s great, I’m happy for you,” Art said through clenched teeth. Six years of wanting you and this guy asked for your number and had you as his girlfriend in under a week. He wondered if you’d kissed him. He remembered when you had your first kiss just after his. Just about killed him though he’d just kissed Amy White two days before and bragged about it. He hoped it would make you jealous, but you had your own beau. This was worse than that. You were going to Stanford with him in a month or two, he thought if there was any time to make that change and tell you, it would be when he saw you next. And there wouldn’t be any college dating scandals and maybe he could live happily and find some girl to forget you with, though he knew he couldn’t.

“So it’s serious?”

“Very. I’m excited.” Just about took him out.

He didn’t eat for maybe two days. Would have been longer if Patrick didn’t come over and force-feed him nachos. Art told him the whole situation and Patrick, who had, of course, been rooting for you and Art since finding out Art liked you, was pretty pissed off about it. The two went back and forth just emphasizing ‘six years’. Six years of what? Six years of you hugging him and playing with his hair, going to movies with him, helping him study, spending time with him alone for you to just go and find some guy on a whim? And start dating him? You were all Art had wanted and it was then that he confessed that he was probably in love with you to Patrick. Patrick wasn’t surprised, then went and stole some beers from a friend, saying they needed to drink about it.

You still called as you usually did and Art never got to really feel himself heal when every phone call was an update and a fresh wound. The poor boy was yours and you weren’t his. There was nothing he could say to change that, he was a good friend. And he wanted you to be happy, so he kept his mouth shut. You talked about dates and how good of a kisser he was though you wished he used less tongue sometimes and every word was a papercut that added up to a bigger hurt. He had never wanted anyone the same way he wanted you and he was so sure he couldn’t. He buried his face in his pillow and got so frustrated it drove him to tears. His stomach hurt constantly and he felt like his heart was being pulled down to his stomach.

He was a little scared of how he’d act when you talked to him in person. He just finished settling into campus, his dorm room. You’d done the same with the agreement to meet him for coffee at the campus diner. You were still you, he noted, still painfully beautiful. And you were two months into dating this guy Greg. He sounded like a dick. You said he liked country music and he wasn’t going to post-secondary, he was older and going to a trade school. An asshole. Art did his best to change the topic.

“Mmm, so they have campus events all the time, they’re showing E.T. this Friday if you want to go.” You said. “We should.”

“We should talk them into playing Mac and Me after. A real movie.”

“Shut up, oh my god.” You laughed. Your laugh was one of his favourite things. He found it just a little painful to be here with you, knowing you couldn’t be the way you used to be now that you had a boyfriend. “Do you want to come with me to E.T. or not though, I’m terrified of new people.”

“No, yeah, I’ll go,” he nodded.

Your boyfriend visited on Thursday, so he didn’t see you then. Usually, you called him regardless of being on the same campus, but you didn’t. And then when you said you’d meet Art on Friday, you didn’t show up until the movie was half over. Art sat there, watching the movie on a stupid lawn chair with stupid Reece's Pieces and you came and joined him, apologetic. Said you were with Greg and Art could only imagine what that meant. It was too dark for him to notice how red your wrist was.

It was Art’s first step to breaking. The movie finished and he walked you back to your dorm. “Just saying, if you have plans with your boyfriend, don’t make plans with me. I’m not that kind of guy,” he reasoned, heading up the stairs with you. He tried not to sound bitter. He was only half-bitter anyway, he was mostly genuine.

You sighed, rubbing your left eye just a little. “I know, I’m sorry.”

“Does he know about me?” You were quiet. Too quiet. “Y/N?”

You bite your lip, “He knows we’re friends. He doesn��t know the full extent and he doesn’t need to! There’s nothing to worry about, but I just don’t want to worry him. He knows you’re my friend, he doesn’t know… everything.”

Art pressed his hand to his forehead, “I’m a secret, that’s crazy, that’s… fine, I guess. I don’t want to ruin anything for you.”

“You couldn’t.” You told him. “He’s secure. He’s good. And I’m sorry again for being late, I’ll make it up to you with coffee tomorrow if you’ll let me.”

Art nodded in response. How could he not forgive you? How could you stand here and be so beautiful and so apologetic and have him not forgive you? So he swallowed all his words for the thousandth time. “Coffee sounds good. Bring doughnuts. Campus library?”

“Campus library…”

“3 pm?”

“Perfect. See you then.” You kept your sleeve over your wrist which was still pinkened. “I really am sorry, Art.”

He smiled just a little, forced, “It’s okay. I promise. But I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight, Y/N.”

You said goodnight back and slipped into your dorm room again. Greg had gone out to the local bar, he didn’t come back until 2am when he said he’d be back at 12. Came back drunk and wanting to kiss you quite badly, smelling awfully of whiskey and weed.

Art wanted to forgive you for it all, but he felt like he couldn’t. Maybe he was bitter. He was bitter that you found someone and he didn’t, he was bitter that you had someone who wasn’t him. He’d yet to meet Greg, but he wondered if you smiled at him with your eyes... or when something funny was said if you'd lean into his shoulder while laughing. He wondered if you were the same, or if it felt the same when you were alone with him- like you could say anything and be unjudged. And that any darkness could be made a joke and made better just by talking for hours. He wondered if Greg had any of that the way he had. But Greg probably had that and more and Art would have to deal with that. He felt his heart physically slow its beating as it slowly, but surely, was beginning to crack.

You met Art the next day and of course, he noticed the hickey on your neck. It made his stomach do flips and tie itself in knots and he wanted to get up and leave, but you had the doughnuts and coffee. And he was supposed to be happy for you. He had to remind himself of that. He looked at you, the way you tucked your hair behind your ear and laughed and engaged with what he had said and you were still the most gorgeous girl on the planet. Nothing could or ever would change that. He was still head over heels and he couldn’t help it. He would call himself pathetic, he would degrade himself for still wanting you, but after six years, he couldn’t get away from it.

Greg was over quite a bit. You never called when he was around. You said you’d come hang out when Patrick was in town but you were late again, said you tripped down the stairs and the boys thought it was some excuse for sex with Greg, but you had the injuries to prove it, so neither of them could really be mad. “It hurts like a bitch,” you huffed, sitting down with them. “But it’s fine. We should drink tonight.”

“Your dorm room or mine?” Art replied, a smile on his face. He was happy about an excuse to drink, he was happy you weren’t late because of Greg, and he was happy you were here.

Your eyes widened and you answered much too quickly. “Yours.”

The three of you headed back to Art’s dorm. You lay on his bed, checking your phone every minute or so. It looked like you were getting an abundance of messages, but you were never texting back. Your phone rang twice before you silenced it. The boys chalked it up to Greg and the obsessions of an early relationship, but it wasn’t that early. At one point you tossed your phone off the end of his bed and on top of Art’s laundry. “Please, please, please, pass the vodka,” you enthused. Art and Patrick chuckled, watching you take a pretty large swig.

“Might want to slow down,” Patrick said, looking at Art, then back at you. You were out of the three of you, the person who hardly ever drank. And here you were chugging it like water. “Don’t want to return you to your boyfriend off your ass.”

“It’s fine,” you replied. “He’s fine, it’s all fine.”

“Yeah, I see that,” Patrick replied, taking the vodka back from you. Art grabbed it out of his hand and took a swig equal to yours, trying to drown out the way he was feeling. You were in his bed, talking about your boyfriend. It was fucked. And it felt awful. He looked at you, clouded by alcohol and god, he wished he kissed you in high school. He wished he told you how he felt. If he had, maybe you wouldn’t be so far out of reach. It took him all his strength not to tell you that while drunk. Instead he just laid on the bed next to you, laughing with you about some stupid shit Patrick said.

“This is why you’re not in college, Pat,” you laughed, out of breath. You had turned on your side, your hand was resting on Art’s upper arm. Patrick just groaned, laughing as he turned his head down to the floor. Art was too aware of your hand on his arm. The way it moved up and down almost the way a person would soothe another, but it was you. And this never meant anything, so why should Art let himself believe it did now?

“You’re so smart, tell us how good you are with context clues, go-” Patrick teased. But your eyes met the clock on Art’s desk. Your eyes widened a little. You’d lost track of time.

“Oh my god,” you said, a little bit of panic in your voice. “It’s almost midnight, fuck, I have to go.” You jolted upright and literally climbed over Art to get off his bed. “I’m so sorry, guys, I’ll see you tomorrow, please text me.” You grabbed your phone and your bag and in seconds you were gone.

Art just shut his eyes and sighed. “I feel that,” Patrick nodded. “What the fuck was that?”

“Greg beckons,” Art replied bitingly. “Can’t be late to see Greg!”

“Fucking Greg,” Patrick grunted. “You want the vodka back?”

“Yes please,” Art groaned, covering his face with his pillow.

You returned a little tipsy to Greg, who was tipsier. You used to think he was really great. He was funny and nice and he helped you drown out your feelings for Art. It felt like a step forward, progressive, real. Like a real relationship. One you knew you needed so maybe liking Art with no proof he liked you back would be easier. It was for a moment, but bliss is temporary.

“You’re back, doll,” Greg said, greeting you on messed up bedsheets, not even bothering to meet you halfway. “I’ve had a night. C’mere, I missed you.” You’re afraid to say you’re tired and you just want to sleep. You slink into bed with him. He smells like whiskey again. It’s stronger, more potent, and he needs a shower. The second you’re in bed with him, he’s on top of you. “So why don’t you tell me why you didn’t answer my fucking texts, huh? Or when I called you four fucking times. You know how embarrassing to call your girl and she doesn’t pick up, huh? Had to do that four fucking times in front of my friends, were you trying to embarrass me?” His hand is tight on your arm, leaving bruises, the other hand is on your hair as he keeps himself propped up. It’s pulling and you feel the headache starting.

“N-no, I’m sorry,” you manage. “Greg, you’re hurting me, you’re pulling my hair.”

“Thought you liked that?” He smirked. Not once had you ever liked having your hair pulled. Not once had you ever said that to him in any context.

“You’re hurting me!” You repeated. His hand eased out of your hair but his grip on your arm turned into a grip on your shoulder, just as hard. It hurt. You could feel it bruised already. “Greg, off, please.”

He made a noise sort of like a whine, his breath horrible. “But I missed you, thought we could have some fun when you came back.” He kissed you. He kissed you. He kissed you. You didn’t want to kiss him, you wanted air, you didn’t want his hand down your waistband. “Don’t fight, pretty, come on. I know you want this.”

No, you didn’t. You didn’t let it get so far without a fight. You were left to sleep alone as he stormed out. You tended to the injuries from earlier, the ‘stairs’ incident, plus the new injuries you’d have to make stories for because you’d be hanging out with Art and Patrick again. But the bruise that was already forming on your cheekbone looked bad enough that you texted Art saying you couldn’t make it tomorrow and you cried into your knees.

Makeup didn’t do a very good job, especially when every time something healed, there was something new. You did see Art a few days later when Greg had gone ‘fishing’ with a friend. The bruise on your cheek had faded, but not enough. Makeup hardly fixed it either. “Ball to the face,” you sighed, pressing your lips into a straight line when Art noticed it. He grimaced. “I mean at least my partner has upped her miles per hour but it’s…”

“Ouch,”

“Yeah,” you chuckled, walking next to him. “So I was thinking maybe we could hang out Tuesday night.”

He looked at you, “You have something in mind?” As if he could say no.

“Yes, actually. It’s like an improv show thing, it’ll probably be awful. We can get candy and make fun of them behind their backs.” You smiled just a little.

He grinned, bowing his head just a little, “Sounds perfect.”

“Thought so,” you laughed, nudging him a little so he walked off the sidewalk and onto the grass. He tried to nudge you back, but you dodged him and he nearly tripped down the hill you were walking next to. You laughed, but it only laughed so long as his expression turned into the determination to get you back for it. He chased you down the hill until it became a rolling matter, both of you falling into the lush grass and rolling down the last bit of it. He rolled into you, turning it into a chaotic tumble that slowed to a halt with him on top of you. Art breathed out hard, eyes meeting yours, his breath smelling like the mint gum he was chewing. You smiled first with your eyes and then the grin spread up your face. “Ouch,” you mumbled, almost a whisper. His eyes lingered on yours, his face hovering just above you.

His eyes flickered from your eyes to your lips and his brain told him to move, but he didn’t want to. But he had to. You were taken. It would be wrong. But you didn’t move either. You were both breathing hard, smiling at your compromising position until Art did move. Though maybe you didn’t want him to. “You’re okay?”

“I will be,” you replied. He helped you up and once again, your faces were just inches apart. It was dangerous, wanting you.

Greg threatened obscene things in the face of if you ever were to leave him. He’d tell your secrets, said he’d end his life, said he’d hurt you. You cried. A lot. For hours, later. He was terrifying. You cried so hard your eyes were completely bloodshot the next day. Your girlfriends were concerned, but you played it off as allergies.

You saw Art another day and it was good to talk to him about everything and nothing. He was a good distraction from the throbbing pain in your ribs from Greg’s reaction to you mentioning a celebrity crush. He had been drunk. Too drunk. And you couldn’t get away fast enough.

Tuesday rolled around. You kept your hair down to hide the bruise on your temple. It still ached, along with where your hair was pulled once again when you refused to have sex with Greg again. He was sitting bitter on your bed, angry still. You put on your jean shorts and a t-shirt. “Where you going dressed like that?”

You looked up, “Like what?”

“Why the fuck do you instantly talk back? What’s your fucking problem. I’m asking you where you think you’re going dressed like a slut?”

Your eyebrows furrowed, “Just getting dessert with Bea from my tennis program. She’s got this-”

“Go change.”

You weren’t looking for a fight. You put on jeans and a sweater. It made you five minutes late to meet Art and you hated it. You looked at Art with sadness in your eyes and he recognized it but didn’t know what it was. “Are you okay?” He knew you.

“Yeah, can we just… go make fun of bad improv?”

“I brought the gummy worms,” he nodded. You leaned slightly against him as you walked down to the outdoor theatre. You were glad to be out for the evening. Glad to be away from Greg and his anger and his hurtful words and the way he treated you. Art was the calm. He was the safety. He didn’t even know it, but he was what kept you going. If you ever got away from Greg, maybe you’d tell Art how you felt. As the feelings for Greg dissipated, your feelings for Art resurfaced.

“The clown bit was actually so good,” you laughed, walking back up the steps of the campus theatre. ”Reminded me of what Patrick said the first time we got high.”

His eyes widened and he swallowed the gummy worm he was eating, “Mm- I was thinking the same thing. It was him for sure.”

“You think I’d be a good clown?”

“Mmm, no.” He shook his head. “Your feet aren’t big enough.”

“And yours are?”

“One, who said anything about me being a clown and two, big feet are supposed to mean something, right?”

You laughed, “Shut up, so boyish.”

His hand brushed your upper arm, just slightly, and you were all too aware of it. In fact, you were all-too aware of how close you walked to him. It was always an unconscious thing. A forever type thing, always walking close, always leaning against each other in the cafeteria lines, always near each other- never near enough. He then nudged your arm again, this time on purpose, so you opened your hand so that he could dump a few more gummy worms in it and you just smiled. It had never, not once, been more apparent that finding someone to replace your feelings for Art was a mistake. Not when this boy, blonde curls and crooked grin was putting a pile of gummy worms in your hand. Wordlessly. Seamlessly. He just got you and the feeling to kiss him right there, right then was overwhelming. And wrong.

It was wrong. You pressed your lips together for a moment before eating a gummy worm. If your boyfriend was around he’d smack them right out of your hand saying you don’t need more sugar. Maybe that’s why he was so bitter, you thought. Lack of sugar. You tried not to think too hard about the urges Art brought with him. He was so lovely, he was such an escape, and he was only your best friend. It was all he could be. You had no idea he was fighting the very same urge, paying extra attention to the fact he didn’t even have to ask you to open your hand, you just knew. But it was wrong. You had a boyfriend.

You said goodbye to Art at the entrance to your building, rather than your dorm. If Greg heard you talking out there, you’d be in for something for sure. “Thanks for coming out with me tonight-” you started. “I needed it.”

Art’s hands slunk into his pocket and he tilted his head just a little, “Yeah, about that. You’re doing okay?”

“Oh, yeah, my mood lately has been down, it’s nothing big. I’m just extra appreciative of anything that brings it back up.”

His eyes were understanding and a little apologetic. “If you want we can do something tomorrow? See a movie or play Scrabble or something stupid. We can get takeout? Takeout and going through Patrick’s Facebook and making fun of him.”

That made you grin. You scrunched your nose just a little, “That sounds good! Really good. I’ll call you tomorrow and I’ll let you know. I have to check with Greg.” Of course you did. Greg. Fuck. “But I’ll call you, I promise.”

“Okay,” he nodded. His gaze lingered on your lips. He wished they wouldn’t. He wished his mind wasn’t on who you were going back to after he said goodbye. He walked back to his dorm room in this perpetual state of angst and longing. There was no pain like it. Ever. In any part of his life he’d never known a greater emotional turmoil. You weren’t his. And he loved you, he didn’t even like you, he loved you and he knew it and you didn’t and there was nothing he could do.

He went back to his dorm and got into bed in his jeans and his shoes, not bothering to turn the light off, not bothering to pull the covers over himself. He just hugged his pillow and thought about you and it and everything until he fell asleep. You didn’t have that luxury.

“You’re late,” Greg said, sitting on your bed. He’d been smoking in your room, you could smell it. Potent and cheap, assaulting your nose. You’d give anything to walk out and not return, but this room was yours. If you left now, he’d have you back in your room with some threat or worse. “Care to tell me why?”

“I thought I was home early?” You set your bag down on the chair. “You said 11.”

“I said 10:30,” he replied.

“Did you?”

“Did I stutter?”

“No. Look, I’m tired, can we just go to bed?”

“Of course we can, doll,” he smirked a little bit evilly. You sighed, running your hand over the back of your neck. He wanted to fuck you. And you wanted to go to bed. “Come over here.”

“Greg, I’m tired,”

“Too tired?”

“Yes. I’m too tired. I’m just going to wash my face and go to bed.”

“Fuck you.”

“Greg, that’s uncalled for.” You said, standing your ground, just a little. “I’m just tired.”

He shook his head, “Yeah? You go out for hours and come back and don’t even want to fuck. Sounds an awful lot like you’re getting your fill somewhere else. Hm?”

You pressed your hand to your temple, “It means I’m tired, god, Greg, I’m not cheating.” And some voice in your head told you that you wished you were. “Please.” You slipped into the bathroom, locking the door, just in case. You washed your face and changed into your pajamas before getting in bed next to his heavy scent. As he wrapped an arm around your waist you thought maybe you could tune him out, but his hand slipped over your chest, coming to rest with your breast in his hand. You couldn’t pretend anything. He was himself. Even if you wished it was someone else, it wasn’t.

The next morning, he was gone. Where to? You had no idea. You were just glad. You spent the morning with windows open, cleaning your things, wiping down surfaces and sorting laundry, spraying air freshener. And it dawned on you to call Art. Greg wasn’t around. You hadn’t asked him, but you would make some excuse, maybe.

“Hey!” You greeted him, laying back on your bed, fresh sheets beneath you. “You still want to get takeout and make fun of Patrick’s facebook?”

Art walked to the side of the tennis court, his partner yelling at him to make it quick. He smiled, sitting on the bleachers. “Yeah, if you’re up for it. My dorm, around seven? Does that work?” His smile grew to a grin.

“That works,” you replied, smiling too. “Who is yelling at you right now?”

“My partner for singles today,” he answered with a chuckle. “He’s telling me to get back on the court.”

“Doesn’t he know you’re super busy making super important plans?”

He looked at his partner, frustrated in waiting on the court. “That’s what I’m saying.”

“Right?” You rolled onto your stomach. “I’ll let you get back to him, I’ll see you later, Art.”

“See you later, Y/N,” he said. You wished he didn’t have to go. You had nothing to do, Greg wasn’t around. Patrick was touring for another week before he came back around here. You decided to go out and meet up with some girlfriends for the afternoon. It was nice to be out and unbothered by having a set time to be home. There was no pressure. Greg didn’t call or text, not once, and it was a strange sort of peace. You talked to your friends about tennis and classes and their current crushes and it was fun and it was good. You retired back to your dorm around six thirty, showered, and did a little makeup. You were just about to leave to meet Art when Greg walked in.

It was like the light was sucked out of the room along with all the air. Or the fresh air. He smelled gross. He tasted worse, kissing you disgustingly. “Hey baby, I missed you,” he slurred. He needed to shave. “Where you headed?”

“Bea’s,” you replied. “She’s having a movie night.”

“Stay,” he breathed. “Missed you all day. Need to feel you.” He disgusted you. Hands on your chest with the door not even closed yet from his entry. “Come on, doll. Said no yesterday, can’t say no today.”

“No.”

“Don’t give me that attitude, come on. I’m being nice.”

“Greg, I have plans, I’m going to be late,” you tried to laugh it off nervously, but his hand was around your wrist in seconds. “Greg, please. Come on.”

He narrowed his eyes, “You’re staying. Bea can fucking wait. Don’t your little friends know that I’m more important than them? Jesus christ, the company you keep.”

You avoided his gaze. His hand slipped down to undo his belt. You debated running. He’d catch you, he was fast. You debated an argument. You didn’t want to fuck him, you didn’t want to have sex with him. He was expecting it more than wanting it. Like all you were was some object, some toy, some possession. His eyes were dark with lust and his words laced with alcohol. You were afraid of him. “Greg, I have to go. I’ll be back around eleven.”

“You’re not fucking going,” Greg made it known. Flat out. He shut the door behind him.

“I am. I made the plans, I can’t bail.”

“For me, yes you fucking can.” He said, pushing you back onto the bed. “Come on, Y/N. You’ll like it soon enough.”

“No. Greg. I’m serious. I have to go.”

“You know better than to talk back to me,” he warned. As if you were a dog. Or a child. “You don’t fucking listen? You’re not going out. Cut the attitude before you regret it.”

“Greg.”

“What did I fucking say?” He yelled, then dropped his voice. It was nasty, his breath, his tone. “I’m gonna fuck you and you’re gonna like it.”

“No-” his blow came like lightning through your body. A shock. A volt. And then the sting. “Greg, please-” another. And more. And then he left again. You couldn’t move. You didn’t want to, it hurt. Your ribs ached, your head pulsed. Your lip was bleeding. What could you do but cry and cry and cry? You wanted to call Art, you really did, but you knew if you cried on the phone he’d come over here and with Greg on the loose, it wasn’t a good idea. So you curled up into a ball and cried yourself to sleep.

Art sat in his dorm room waiting all night for you. Until about 2 am, when he gave up calling and texting and went to bed. You called him the next morning and he didn’t pick up.

You couldn’t reschedule for any day nearby because of your fat lip and new bruises. Greg came back and apologized like usual, dismissing the purple and blue on your face. His doing. His work. When he was in the bathroom, you called Art again, leaving a quiet voicemail.

“Art, I’m so sorry about my no-show last night. Something came up and I couldn’t make it and I’m so sorry I didn’t call or text. I feel like such an asshole. But next week, for sure. We’ll do whatever you want, my treat. I want to make it up to you, I feel terrible about this. Please call or text me when you get this. I’m sorry.”

Art gazed over his screen. He wasn’t sure how to feel. Loving you was choking him out and these no-shows and being late and canceling, it was just… too much. You were you and you were everything he could ever want, but you had other priorities, it seemed. He could want you all he wanted, wish for you as often as he could, but you didn’t wish the same. That was all he knew, not knowing the whole truth. Not calling him that night was one of the hardest things to do, but it was for safety.

You couldn’t even see Art if you wanted to for a few days. Not until the bruises faded enough to be covered by clever concealer. You wanted so desperately to go over to his dorm. You wanted to see your friends. Anything to feel better. Anything to get out of this fucking room, but you called in sick to your classes and worked on the material in your room, completely unable to really exist in the outside world. It was just you and Greg in this tiny little room. And he didn’t stop the aggression. You couldn’t escape it.

You called Art again when he left for an hour or two to go to the bar. You had stifled your crying, feeling so completely alone, needing to hear his voice. Maybe he’d save you for even a moment. He was the light, he made things better.

He picked up this time. “Hey.” It was singular, a little quiet.

“Art, hi,” you said. You weren’t sure why you were so overwhelmed with emotion at his simple greeting. “Did you get my messages? I left a voicemail, god, I’m so sorry for the other night. We made plans and I made a commitment but I got tangled up. I wanted to call, I’m so sorry I didn’t.” You gushed. “I understand if you’re angry. I know I promised you I wouldn’t do what I did, but you have to believe I didn’t mean to. And I’m really sorry.”

He was quiet for a moment. “I know.” He wasn’t sure what to say. What you did wasn’t okay, but it was you, so he’d always forgive. “I get it.” But he didn’t. “You have a boyfriend, I can’t expect you to be free all the time. It’s fine.” But it wasn’t.

“Art, really, I-”

“I forgive you. Just call me next time? Please.” His words were so easy, it hurt you. “I heard your voicemail, if you still want to make it up to me, I’m free Friday night. There’s a party, Patrick wants to go. You should come with us.”

You squeezed your eyes shut. A party would be hard to lie about. But it was Art and he was asking and you so desperately wanted to see him that you agreed. You agreed. And the conversation mellowed into something normal. Your usual conversation and banter, slight teases, and warm words. And it felt better. You had plans for Friday and that was that. You wouldn’t let anything or anyone stop you this time.

Getting ready for the party with Greg around sucked. You did your makeup modestly, you couldn’t look too nice or he’d stop you from leaving. The concealer didn't quite cover the bruise, but your lip had healed over pretty nicely. The dim lighting would be your friend for sure. You put on a long skirt over a mid-length one. You couldn’t be too careful, he once called a skirt slightly above the knee slutty. And you wore a dollar store t-shirt over your black tank top.

“Where are you going?” Greg asked.

“Sleepover at Bea’s, remember?” You said. You loved lying to him. It was the best you could get away with. “You said I could go.”

“Yeah. It’s fine. Talk to you later.” He didn’t make you stay or make you kiss him goodbye, which was a relief. You walked over to Art’s dorm with what felt like pep in your step. You didn’t have to be home at any certain time, you were free to roam, to have fun. Greg wouldn’t know. Greg couldn’t know. Patrick let you into Art’s room. He’d been debriefed on the stunt you pulled, but he couldn’t hold it against you.

“You look like you’re going to church,” he remarked, looking over your outfit.

Art peered over from where he sat, “Amish?”

You chuckled, pulling the shirt off over your head. Both boys were a little taken aback as you tossed the shirt to Art’s laundry. “Not quite.” You undid the button on the side of your skirt and took that off as well, revealing the shorter skirt underneath. You were beautiful, Art thought. He always thought it. But that was because you always were. Wanting you was hard and disruptive and wrong, he reminded himself. But you stood there and everything reminded him of just how fucked he was. Head over heels for a taken girl. Both of them were too distracted to pay attention to the covered-up bruise on your outer thighs. They didn’t pay close enough attention to the multitude of bracelets that covered the bruised fingerprints on your wrist. Your face was another story. Another lie.

Art’s mouth was just a little open, watching you shed the outer layer of clothes. Patrick tossed you a shooter. “So what’s with the coverup?”

You thought he meant your makeup over the bruise on your face and you held your breath for a half-second. He meant the clothes. “Oh, Greg wouldn’t like me out in a skirt and tank top.” You tried not to cringe at the words. Were they telling?

“Why does Greg have a say in that?” Patrick replied, leaning forward in his chair just a little. Art looked away, he had to. His face would say something he didn’t want you to know. Patrick was overstepping, he couldn’t bear that either.

You unscrewed the cap of the shooter, “He’s not… I don’t know. But I don’t give a fuck, I’m going out anyway,” you said, trying to ignore that line of questioning. “I’m in the skirt and the shirt. Thoughts?” You did a little spin. Art couldn’t take his eyes off of you. You were so perfect it hurt. It hurt.

“Hot.” Patrick nodded. He unscrewed his own shooter, standing and grabbing one to pass to Art. Art pushed past his thoughts and the three of you did a little ‘cheers’, downing the small bottles. You would take hot. Hot was good. Hot was the opposite of how you were feeling. Greg made you feel so gross, it was hard to be anything else. And with staying cooped up in your room, bruised and marinating in the feeling of being ugly- so hot was good. He said what Art was thinking. It was a little less than he thought, but it was a good summary.

The three of you headed out soon after, drinking on the way. You were leaning on Art as you walked, the three of you laughing at some inside joke. Your laugh was beautiful and rang out in the street. With the soft buzz of alcohol in his head, on his skin, you were an angel. You were always an angel, bathed in streetlight. And your hand was around his bare forearm and boundaries with you were always blurry but this felt odd. He was enjoying it, it was wrong, but he was letting it pass with the excuse of the alcohol. Your hand was so soft on his skin, the perfect temperature, perfect everything. When were you not perfect?

“Okay so Patrick is set on bringing a girl back- but bringing a girl back where?” You laughed, turning onto one of the little pathways between the rented residencies.

“I don’t think he’s thought that far ahead,” Art chuckled, nudging Patrick just a little. Patrick raised his hands in surrender, both hands filled with shooters. His pockets were also full. “You were going to say my dorm room, weren’t you?”

“Nasty,” you teased. “Poor Art. He sleeps in that bed, you know.”

“Uh-huh. You’re one to talk, you’ve always got some form of hickey on your neck, you don’t even try to hide it. Me, nasty? You.” Your hand immediately flew to the side of your neck. “Sit with that one.”

Art’s heart always fell at the mention of it. Every time, without fail. You moved away from him just slightly at the mention. You would usually have a retort to something like that. But you didn’t. Your hand just stayed on the side of your neck, covering the fingerprint bruises you didn’t know were visible. You pulled your hair over it. “Pass me another shooter, please.”

Art, sweet, feeling pretty shitty over the way he was viewing you, stayed quiet. Mostly. Until you were just outside the party. Patrick pat him on the shoulder, heading in right away. Art, sweet, stopped you with the extension of his arm. “You’re quiet.” He said.

“So were you,” you replied.

“Just wondering if you’re okay?” He said. Posing it as a question. “You’ve seemed upset since we were at mine, I just wanted to know before we go in there and it’s too loud and I get too drunk to ask.”

“You’ve never been too drunk you ask,” you smiled. You were standing a little bit close to him, your toes inches from touching. “You got soooo drunk at the Miller’s party last year and you still asked me if I was having fun. I wasn’t and we left and you threw up, remember?”

“I don’t,” he chuckled, eyes soft. But he nodded, “You’re okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. I need more to drink and I want to find Bea and dance. My plans. Your plans?”

“Drink and save women from Patrick,” he nodded, his grin coming back.

You, just a little clouded from alcohol, pressed your palm to the side of his face just for a second. “You’re a saint, Art Donaldson.” He felt his skin flush. Your hand slipped away and went down his forearm once again, pulling him into the party. It was natural you let go of him, Art made a beeline for Patrick who was already talking to some girl. She was weird, flirted with Art too once he showed up.

You needed to lie to Greg more often, you thought, taking a shot from some girl you shared a 3pm class with. Bea’s hands on your hips, dancing together, hands raised over your heads. This was living, this was uncontrolled, unbridled by any abuse, any threat. You could have fun and not feel guilty about it after. Greg had too much trust in a girl he hit. You felt- though you weren’t- free. Just a little bit.

Art watched you with Bea, watched the way you moved. He was out of it. Just a little. Not too drunk at all. But enough. Numb, watching you. Hard, watching you. He hid a little behind Patrick to hide it, watching your hips sway, watching how close you and your best friend were. He couldn’t have cared less about Bea. Just you.

He should have told you he liked you in high school. Not saying anything had to be one of the biggest regrets of his entire life. You were perfect for him in every way and you were warm and inviting and you were witty and fun and you knew each other like the backs of your hands and it would have been worth it to tell you. He knew that, looking at you, that it would have been easiest to tell you when he still could. He was bitter about it. A missed chance. Patrick told him he’d regret it and watching you under purple lights, he knew Patrick had been right. It was all bullshit.

Patrick suddenly grabbed Art’s arm pretty hard, yanking him closer, “That guy over there. That’s Greg, right?” He said, voice low even in the loudness of the party. He gestured over to the guy in the weird sweater and jeans, leaned up against the wall, arm hanging above a short hardly-dressed girl. Faces close. So close. Noses touching kind of close.

“Oh, fuck,” Art breathed, eyes locked on them, watching Greg’s hand touch just under this girl’s chin. You didn’t know Greg was there, that was apparent. But of course, the dirtbag was. Art’s heart pounded hard in his chest. He looked back at Patrick, whose expression was filled with hatred. As it should be because what the fuck? Regardless of how much he was rooting for Art, always rooting for Art, Greg was still the guy you were with. Your boyfriend. And he was with someone else.

“I need a reason not to fuck him up right now,” Patrick said. “What the fuck do we do?”

“I don’t know.” Art answered truthfully. “She doesn’t know he’s here, he doesn’t know she’s here.”

Patrick shook his head, tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek, visibly pissed off. At least Patrick could be pissed off, Art’s stomach was just in knots. It was almost nonsensical. No way he would cheat on you. You? You were everything, you were gorgeous in all ways and you had a personality. How could he cheat? He looked back over at Greg in a liplock with this other girl and the anger did rise, but his eyes fell back on you and it eased. This was fucked all around. Every bit of this was fucked up. “We have to tell her, we can’t keep it to ourselves.”

“I agree but how are we going to say it? We’re in a crowd of people, it’s not exactly fun news.”

“Fucking asshole. I’m pissed. He’s slobbering all over that girl like a fucking dog. You know, I should…”

Art couldn’t keep listening to Patrick’s rant. He didn’t even want to look back at Greg. But Greg was very obviously invested in his cheating schemes. Art wondered how long he’d been doing it to you. How long had this guy been cheating? Did you not satisfy him? How could you not satisfy him, you sported hickeys so often and you were late to meet up and it was all sickening, but it didn’t add up. This guy was the world's most unsatisfied, apparently. It, he, was disgusting. Art felt his face crinkle up just thinking about it, but he had to now. Your feelings were in the balance here.

“- in the face. Knock his goatee right off. Art. Art, I’m telling her.”

“Patrick, give me a fucking second,” Art said, holding a hand up. He looked back at you, Bea pouring a shot in your mouth. You were smiling. Grinning. And you were beautiful and he hated the idea that you’d stop soon. Fuck. Neither of you deserved this. Not you, not Art. “We’ll tell her it’s time to go and then we’ll tell her outside, no bullshit.”

Patrick nodded, “This is bad.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m so fucking angry.”

“I know.” Art’s heart was leaping out of his chest. He held his hand out and Patrick dug in his pocket for a stronger shooter. Art drank it all quickly, letting it burn his throat. His heart didn’t slow even a bit. “Fuck.”

Patrick leaned over to the girl who he’d just been talking to, saying something about having to leave. Art watched her roll her eyes and walk away. It was fair, she’d been standing there for a bit listening to him trash talk your boyfriend. Art rubbed his eyes, trying to sober up just a little, but after that shooter, it was a little bit pointless. Regret seemed to be a theme around here. “He’s gone.” Patrick said. Art let the fuzz from rubbing his eyes melt and sure enough, Greg wasn’t where he was before. Just a little panicked, he set his eyes on you. There he was, towering over you, rage in his eyes. It was clear to Art what was going through your head, he knew you too well, you were cowering. Patrick was still scanning the crowd for Greg, but Art watched as Greg’s fingers locked onto your upper arm and he yanked you so hard that your shoulder went funny for a second.

Art, a little shocked, watching him drag you out of sight. And he launched into action. He started into the sea of people dancing, drinking, leaving Patrick behind. Patrick was faced the other way, by the time Art was absorbed into the crowd, it was a little late to find even him. Art pushed through people, trying to keep his sight on you, but he lost you in it. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he mumbled. He’d never seen anyone grab anyone the way Greg just grabbed you. It was violent and harsh and the way it happened, it couldn’t have been good in any way. He pushed through people, accidentally pushing a guy as he passed him, the guy went to push back but Art just darted out of the way. He made his way to the door, you weren’t around it, so you had to have left.

“Art Donaldson, my man,” one of his tennis buddies greeted him, stepped in front of him and Art just stepped around him, trying to find you. You, where were you? His heart rate was raised higher than he’d ever felt it. Rapid, as if he’d run a mile. He ran out onto the street, looking around, but there wasn’t any sight of you. What he would do when he found you, he had no idea, he just knew he needed to find you. Nobody just grabbed someone like that with good intentions.

Greg wasn’t a good guy and he knew that, he just thought it was his bias. That maybe he was overreacting, but it didn’t look so much that way now. “Greg, please!” You yelled from his left. Art turned his head to see two figures head into one of the thin alleyways between buildings. He could hear a man speaking back to you, Greg, obviously, but his voice was too much of a growl to understand. Art started jogging toward the sound, cautiously. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, okay, I’m sorry I lied,” you cried out.

“Little fucking whore. Lie to me to go party with your friends? Dance on some fucking guy, cheat one me? That’s what you wanted?” Art’s heart was about to break his ribs. He ran just a little faster.

“No, fuck, Greg, stop! I was with Bea, I was with Bea!”

“At a fucking party. If you wanted to be a slut you could have said so. Fucking lying to me, you’re disgusting. Fucking bitch.”

“Greg!”

“Don’t even start talking back to me now! You’re a lying, cheating whore who deserves to be treated like one!”

Art was almost there, he wasn’t sure what he’d do. “Greg, don’t fucking touch me. I’m dead serious, I’ll scream. Get off me, get off me you asshole!”

The sound of the blow made Art’s entire body go cold. He felt himself drain of colour, he felt his heart stop for just a second. It was a sickening noise. The entirety of him tensed up to a point he felt like a coiled spring, his chest tight, ribs pressing in. He hit you, that was the sound of him hitting you, he hit you. Art made it over and came at Greg with a surprising force, shoving him off of you and onto the ground. He was drunk, it was easy to do. Your hand grabbed Art’s upper arm, but missed as Art’s body followed through with the movement.

“What the fuck?!” Greg exclaimed. You moved behind Art, backward, away. Tears streamed down your face, you were choking on sobs, cradling the side of your face with one hand and your upper arm with the other. Art stepped back with you. He was so angry he himself couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t look at you, he kept his eyes on Greg, breathing hard. Shoving was tame, shoving him off of you was going to have to be enough, Art wasn’t violent. The shock of all this hadn’t settled, it wouldn’t settle. “Who the fuck are you, tough guy?” Greg advanced on Art who was nimble, but between anti-car poles, stuck. Shoved against the wall, he just avoided having his head hit the wall by putting his hand up.

“Art!” You yelled. “Greg, stop! GREG!” You screamed, you hoped someone would come. You hoped someone would call the cops.

“Art fucking Donaldson, huh?” Greg smirked, face close to Art’s. “You been fucking my girlfriend? Hm? This the one, Y/N, really? Just friends my ass, you probably came here with him.”

“Fuck you,” Art seethed. Greg was bigger than him.

“Get off of him, Greg, I’m begging you, don’t hurt him!”

Greg fumed, “Used me to get over him, huh? Big-eared, fuckass, twinkie little pretty boy, here?”

“Shut up!” You yelled. Your head pounded, your skin stung. “Stop. Now. I’ll call the police, I’ll get someone to call the police, Greg, get off of him!”

Art shoved Greg backward again, but he just walked right back. “I don’t want to fight you.” Art said, his eyes dark. “Fuck off. Leave her alone, fuck off.”

“He’s playing prince charming, Y/N. You’ve been fucking him on the side. Yeah, that’s why you never put out, you slut. Getting his pathetic skinny boy dick on the side.” Art kneed Greg in the groin, pushing him off again and stepping over to you. “Oh, you’re fucking dead.” His eyes burned with rage and he came at Art with a pouncing force, grabbing him and bringing him down to the ground. You screamed, watching Greg tackle Art to the pavement. The brawl began, Greg holding Art down, trying to punch him but being blocked. Art wasn’t violent, he was avoiding hurting Greg. For you. For your sake. You had no choice, you had to intervene. What was a few more bruises? You tried to push Greg off, but he kept at it, trying to hurt Art.

“Hey! Hey, what the fuck!” It was Patrick and he dragged you out of this with too much ease, putting you to the side and going right back to push Greg off of Art and onto his back. A bystander behind Patrick had their phone out, calling 911, thank god. You watched in pure shock, Art get punched in the shoulder rather than the head and in a swift blow, Patrick punched Greg in the jaw. And he went limp. You grabbed Art, you grabbed whatever you could on him, his shirt, his opposite shoulder, on your knees. He looked at you with eyes sadder than you’d ever seen them. You moved closer.

His hand reached up to your face desperately but also gently, despite the adrenaline pumping through his veins. “You’re okay? You’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” you nodded a little too much, looking him over just as he looked you over, noting the way your cheekbone was bleeding. He really hit you. “God, are you okay? I’m so sorry, Art, I’m so sorry.” You were crying a steady stream of tears, lip trembling, and you were still so beautiful.

“Don’t be sorry, don’t be sorry,” he said, trying to wipe your tears a little more desperately than he had just done. “He hit you, he hurt you, how-”

“I wanted to tell you. I was scared. I was so scared he’d do something awful. I don’t love him, I don’t want him, I want you. I want you, I’ve wanted you.” You blurted, sobbing just a little more. Art messily moved your hair out of your face. “Art, I-” You were crying so hard, it was hard to breathe. “I couldn’t leave him.” You looked over at Patrick shaking his hand out, at Greg’s unconscious self. Hands gentle, he turned your head away from it.

Art’s lips were just a little parted, eyes looking over the damage to your face. “How long has he been?”

“A long time,” you swallowed hard. “Three months in, maybe two- two and a half.” You said, biting your lip trying to stop crying. “I wanted to leave him. I wanted to so badly, but I couldn’t. He’s- he’s why I didn’t show up those times, I wanted to be there, but he’d… he was… I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry, you have nothing to be sorry for, this isn’t your fault,” he said, bracing you with soft hands. “It’s okay. He’s not getting close to you ever again, Patrick is making sure of that.”

“He was right about the using him part, I was using him to get over you and it was- wrong. It was wrong and he started hurting me and then it was too late to get out.”

In the heat of the moment, your ‘I want you’s had slipped past him. He wanted to make sure you were okay, he wasn’t focused on that. You were blurting things out, he’d missed it. His eyebrows furrowed, he lowered his head just a bit, “Over me? What do you mean?” His judgment also wasn’t the best. But it didn’t matter. You sat up just a little, still clinging onto his clothes, hands shaking. With Greg out, going to be out of the picture the words just spilled from your mouth. Rolling off your tongue in light of what was soon to be true freedom.

“I’ve wanted you forever, god, it kills me that I never said anything. It’s you, it’s been you, I don’t know why I thought I could ever try and be with anyone to forget that. It’s just, you’ve never…”

“What? No, no. I’ve liked you since I met you, we were twelve, it was bad and it’s been you. You never said anything either-” the sound of a cop car approaching interrupted. “You liked me?”

“Yes! So much. Too much, sometimes. God, I’m so stupid.” You were crying still, even more now. “You just… you never said anything, so I never said anything and then I got stuck, but it never stopped. It’s bad, it’s so bad, I probably love you, it’s awful.” The alcohol was still running the conversation.

“That is awful,” Art chuckled just a little bit. On the pavement with you, cop car approaching, lights flashing. This conversation would be over in a minute. Your eyes met his, sad, angry, mutual thoughts and mutual expressions.

“It’s bad?” You smiled just a little through your tears.

He grinned just a little, “I've been in love with you for as long as I've known what being in love feels like”

Art’s thumb wiped your tears with a little less desperation now. His heart and yours were still beating hard. “That’s so bad, that’s six years,”

“I know.” He said, grinning his wide crooked grin. The conversation had strayed from the real problem, but it was a good distraction. A welcomed one, in fact. Proof that things could and would be better. “It’s okay. Are you going to be okay?”

“I’m going to be okay,” you nodded. The policemen, two of them walked over and began their spiel, asking about what happened and Art helped you to your feet. The night was still young, the persecution was easy to figure and a diary you kept detailing his abuse was a great help to the case. You, Patrick, and Art all spent the night at the police station with forms and questions and people trying to get a grasp on the situation. A blurry security camera was also a great amount of help. Greg was charged properly, put away. It was easy to see who was the real problem. You sat with ice to your face in one of the police chairs, being offered therapy and counseling and numbers to call for trauma and crisis. Everyone was so sweet, one of the policewomen held your hand for a good while until it stopped shaking.

You still cried a lot. Sorry that everyone had to go through this just because you couldn’t leave a guy. Just because you had tried to forget your feelings for Art in someone else. But the words, ‘it’s not your fault’ were thrown around a lot. And that you’d be safe. And it felt good to know. You’d sobered back up, obviously. So did the boys. You had the most extensive questioning, the boys waited in the main room.

“All the excuses, the ball to the face, the stairs…” Patrick sighed heavily, staring forward into a void.

“It was him.” Art nodded. “I feel like such an idiot, how the fuck did I not know? I know her better than myself, she hid it and I didn’t want to think about her and Greg. It was… it hurt.” He admit. Patrick looked over at Art.

“He’s gone. He won’t hurt her again. If he tries, best believe I’m doing more than knocking his ass out. I can’t fucking believe this shit. I’m glad I got off, but jesus fucking christ, I wish I’d done enough to be behind those bars.”

“No you don’t,” Art sighed, leaning forward into his hands. “Fuck. I didn’t even fight back.”

“You’re not that kind of guy,” Patrick reasoned. “Which is fine. You got him off her, that was all you needed to do.”

“I guess, but… fuck.”

“She told you she wanted you,” He reminded Art with a slight sly smile on his lips. He gave Art a gentle little push off the shoulder. As if Art had been able to stop thinking about it. He’d sobered up just the same and the confession might have been badly timed, but at least it happened. He meant it, he hoped you did too. He was trying not to let it eat him alive alongside the fact your now-ex hit you and he hadn’t known. Maybe he missed the other clues? How did he not know? “She likes you too. It’s all you’ve wanted.”

“I know,” Art sighed. “After that, though?”

“Means she’s yours.”

Art looked up and met Patrick’s eyes, trying to verify if he meant it. As if Patrick was the dictator. But Patrick was only the reality. The gravity of the situation hung above him, but you were in front of him, free from the questioning. Your cheeks were pink and tear-stained still and your eyelashes were still wet. Patrick tipped his head toward you to gesture to Art and the second Art saw you, he was on his feet. His eyes were wide like a doe’s, hands in his pockets.

He met you halfway down the blue-painted precinct hallways. Your eyes said more than words did as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He pulled you in the rest of the way into a hug that had more sincerity and life than the walls had ever seen. His arms wrapped around your waist, grabbing onto the fabric of your shirt on your sides, holding you tight and close. He kissed your shoulder, his chin resting in your hair. “I’m glad you’re okay.” He mumbled. You shut your eyes for a moment, allowing him to envelop you in his arms. He held you so tight, it felt like he was keeping you from falling to pieces. It would take you a while to get over all of this, but right now, it felt like you’d be okay.

He was refreshingly cold, the precinct was warm and you’d been upset, so of course you were warm. He held you for a minute or maybe five. Nobody had to use the hallway and anyone who did just went back around. Patrick didn’t watch, instead, he went to the counter to ask about getting a ride back to campus.

Eventually, you pulled away from the hug. Not entirely, just almost. His arms slid over your back, his grip just loosening, not leaving. In fact you didn’t get very far in pulling away. Your heart beat fast in your chest. Even in the upset, even after the fact, Art was still your peace. He was quiet and he held you as long as you needed him to. He was always there and you knew he would be. With everything that happened just then, with that confession… Your forehead pressed against his. Gentle. Safe. You were safe. You felt safer here, like this, than you did in that room with the officers who asked you so many things.

You looked at him through your eyelashes. He must have read your mind, he must have known you too well. With a tilt of your heads, your lips met. There was the slightest, softest bit of hesitation, but it was soothed over in seconds, your hand sliding to cup Art’s cheek. He pulled you back in with slow, easy hands that didn’t grab too hard. The kiss was patient, calculated, and warm. It sent what felt like tiny sparks through all of your veins leaving goosebumps in their wake. It felt like completion, like a satisfying end to a movie, like putting a book back on the shelf after reading it. It was easy to kiss him, your heart slowed for the first time as his pace matched yours. However, out of understanding, the kiss wasn’t too long. Maybe a minute, nothing more.

You’d been through something. He couldn’t be the one to fix all of that, but he’d be there for you until it felt better. Stepping in now felt wrong, felt like it was one thing to another. You needed the time to yourself. Art didn’t kiss you again for another five months. All of which were spent the way they usually were, aside from being a little closer than usual and hanging out so much more. You were free to do as you pleased. Free to see him. Free to stay home- and you spent a good amount of your time alone healing. Physically and mentally.

Patrick was often around to help you laugh it off, but when you needed to cry, Art was always right there. After some time, you were feeling like yourself again. And you were laughing too much, smiling all the time again, spinning in a new skirt and crashing into Art. Who you then kissed, after so much time thinking about it, replaying it, wanting it again. It was finally okay to do so. After seven years, it was only fitting that he welcomed it, fully, and entirely. You were giggling, your lips pressed to his, and he knew it was okay. There was no bruise on your cheekbone to be cautious of, both of his hands held your face, your head tilted back just a little as he kissed you the way you were meant to be kissed. The way Greg couldn’t. It would never mean so much.

Greg was in your past, but Art was your past. And your future, now. Because now that you had each other, neither of you was going to let go. He promised you that between kisses. You promised it back.

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#challengers #art donaldson #patrick zweig #tinytennisskirt #challengers x reader #challengers fic #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson fluff #art donaldson fic #art donaldson angst #art donaldson imagine #challengers fanfic

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zesty4zenin · 11 days

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I’m pretty sure I sent one- but nonetheless! I remember exactly. Can you do a Yandere! Yuji oneshot? It’s much like your teen Gojo one, but instead reader was originally a transfer student from the USA and came to Jujutsu tech to learn more but then had to go back home? If that makes any sense whatsoever, I’ve had this idea for a while now!

“𝐌𝐲 𝐀𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭.” YANDERE!YUJI ITADORI X GENDER NEUTRAL!READER

SYPNOSIS: Yuji meets the American transfer student and can’t help but come to love them! But what happens when he finds out they have to go back home?

WARNINGS: emotional manipulation, and that’s it!

A/N: it made sense, dw!! Thanks for the request ^^ also I felt like I made Yuji like softish yandere, not too crazy lol

IT WAS another day at Jujutsu Tech for Yuji. Same routine as usual—learn how to control his cursed energy, fool around a little bit, then continue training. Afterward, he’d finish school, hang out with Nobara and Megumi, and go back to his dorm to sleep.

It was a routine he followed every day, yet Yuji didn’t dislike it. In fact, he found it enjoyable, even comforting. There was always something fun about their banter and training sessions.

But sometimes, a small part of him wished for something different. A new face among the first years, someone to add a spark to their already dynamic group. Don’t get him wrong, he liked Nobara and Megumi. They were his friends. He just… wanted to meet someone new.

And that’s exactly what happened.

One day, as Yuji was walking into class, he spotted Nobara and Megumi talking quietly in the corner. Their heads were close together, and they seemed deep in conversation. Curiosity piqued, Yuji strolled over, plopping down between the two of them with a bright grin.

“What’re you guys talking about?” Yuji asked, eyes darting between them.

Nobara huffed, leaning back in her seat. "We’re getting a new student," she said, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger. "Gojo-sensei wouldn’t shut up about it before he left to go get them."

Yuji’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. "A new student? Seriously? I didn’t hear anything about that!" His voice was laced with excitement as he leaned forward. "Did Gojo-sensei say anything else? Like, who they are or what they can do?"

Megumi shrugged, his usual stoic expression in place. "No details yet. Just that they’d be joining our class."

Nobara rolled her eyes. "Knowing Gojo, he’s probably making it more dramatic than it needs to be. But still… it’ll be interesting to see what they’re like."

Yuji’s mind buzzed with possibilities. Who could this new student be? Would they be strong? Fun to hang out with? His excitement grew, though he couldn’t shake a strange, underlying feeling that this new arrival would change things.

Yuji barely had time to ask another question before the door slid open, revealing Gojo with his usual carefree smile plastered on his face. But this time, he wasn’t alone. Standing beside him was someone new—someone Yuji had never seen before.

“Alright, everyone!” Gojo announced, his voice carrying through the room. “I’d like to introduce you to your new classmate! They’re from the USA, so play nice.”

Yuji’s eyes immediately locked onto you, and the world seemed to slow down for a moment. You stood there, quietly beside Gojo, your expression a little nervous but determined. There was something about you that Yuji couldn’t quite place—maybe it was the way you carried yourself, or maybe it was just the fact that you were new, different.

“This is [Your Name]. They’ve come a long way, so let’s make them feel welcome!” Gojo said, giving you a gentle nudge forward.

“Hi,” you greeted softly, your voice drawing Yuji’s attention even more. The way you spoke was different, a little unfamiliar, but it intrigued him.

Nobara waved lazily, “Cool, nice to meet you. Don’t mess up on the first day, okay?” she teased.

Megumi gave a small nod, but Yuji was still staring at you, his mind whirling. USA? That was cool! But more than that, something strange was happening—his heart was pounding in his chest, a little faster than normal. A warm, almost uncomfortable feeling spread through him, and for the first time in a long time, Yuji felt… off-balance.

What is this? Yuji thought, blinking as he tried to calm the weird sensation creeping up on him. He’d never felt this way before, not even with all the excitement in his life. He swallowed, his throat dry, as he wondered if this was what people meant by "love at first sight." Could it really be happening to him? Right now?

Gojo clapped his hands, snapping Yuji out of his thoughts. “Alright, take a seat, and we’ll get started. Yuji, maybe you can show them around later?”

Yuji felt his face flush. "Uh, yeah! I’d—uh—I’d love to!" he blurted out, his voice cracking slightly. Nobara shot him a strange look, but Yuji couldn’t focus on anything other than you and the rapid thudding of his heart.

As you made your way to sit down, Yuji couldn't stop stealing glances in your direction. There was something about your presence that pulled him in, something magnetic. He couldn’t explain it, but he was determined to get to know you.

Could this really be love?

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

A few days had passed since you arrived at Jujutsu Tech, and Yuji had quickly become your unofficial guide. Wherever you went, he wasn’t far behind, always smiling and eager to help. It was as if he had taken it upon himself to make sure you felt comfortable—and he did so with relentless enthusiasm.

"Hey! Do you wanna check out the training grounds after class?" Yuji asked one afternoon, his voice full of energy as usual. "I could show you some of my moves, and maybe you could show me what you’ve got!"

You smiled politely, nodding. "Sure, sounds good," you said, though your mind drifted to the fact that you hadn’t had a moment alone in days. Not that Yuji was unpleasant, but his constant presence had started to feel a bit… overwhelming.

During those few days, Yuji had been like a shadow, always around, always talking. He showed you everything—where Gojo liked to disappear to, the best spots to train, even introducing you to his favorite movie, Human Earthworm.

That one had been… interesting, to say the least. You’d sat through the whole thing with a tight-lipped smile, nodding along as Yuji excitedly explained each ridiculous plot point. But truth be told, you found the movie more than a little icky. The thought of saying that out loud, however, seemed like it would crush Yuji’s spirits, so you kept it to yourself.

Now, as the days passed, it had become clear that Yuji was spending more time with you than with Nobara and Megumi. The two of them had even made jokes about it.

"Looks like you’ve been replaced," Nobara had teased Megumi earlier that morning, crossing her arms and giving a knowing smirk. "Yuji’s got a new best friend."

Megumi had just shrugged, as stoic as ever. "It’s not like he was ever that quiet around us, but now… it’s a bit much, don’t you think?"

But to Yuji, spending all his time with you just felt right. He wasn’t even fully aware of how much he had gravitated toward you; it just happened. Whether it was showing you around the school, helping you with assignments, or introducing you to his favorite snacks, Yuji had become your constant companion.

One day, while walking through the courtyard, Yuji beamed at you, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "I don’t know if I’ve said it yet, but I’m really glad you came to Jujutsu Tech. It’s been… different, in a good way, y’know?"

You chuckled softly, trying to match his enthusiasm. "Yeah, it’s been nice. I’m starting to feel more comfortable here."

That made Yuji’s grin widen. "Good! ‘Cause I’m not going anywhere! If you ever need anything, I’m here, okay?" His voice had a hint of something deeper, something that almost bordered on possessive, but his tone remained cheerful enough for you to brush it off.

"Thanks, Yuji. I appreciate it." You smiled back, though a small part of you couldn’t help but wonder if his constant hovering would ever let up. Still, his heart was in the right place, and you couldn’t bring yourself to ask for space—not when he looked so genuinely happy to be around you.

Yuji’s grin stayed plastered on his face as the two of you continued walking through the courtyard. He shoved his hands in his pockets, glancing over at you every few seconds like he was making sure you were still there. “You know,” he started, his voice more casual now, “I’ve been thinking. Maybe after class, we could catch another movie. I’ve got a list of my favorites—ones I think you’ll really like.”

You couldn’t help but laugh lightly, remembering the last time. “Another one? I’m still recovering from Human Earthworm.”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, okay, maybe that one was a bit much for a first pick. But I swear, the others are better! Way less icky, promise.”

"Sure, I’m game," you agreed, though you mentally prepared yourself for whatever bizarre film he had in store next. Yuji’s excitement was contagious, and despite your reservations, you couldn’t say no to him. His energy was something you’d come to expect, and part of you didn’t mind indulging him.

Yuji’s face lit up. "Great! I’ll pick a good one this time, I swear! It’ll be something you actually like." His gaze softened for a moment as he added, "I want you to have fun, y’know? Since you’ve been spending all your time with me… I don’t want to, like, bore you or anything."

You looked at him, a little surprised by his sudden concern. "You’re not boring, Yuji," you reassured him, offering a warm smile. "I appreciate you showing me around and everything. It’s been… nice having someone like you around."

His eyes seemed to brighten at that, his cheeks flushing slightly. “Really? That’s… that’s great!” He practically beamed at you, looking like a puppy who’d just been given the best compliment of his life. “I was kinda worried, y’know? That maybe I was… uh… hanging around too much. But if you don’t mind, then I guess it’s all good!”

You hesitated for a split second before nodding. "Yeah, it’s fine. You’re just being helpful."

“Exactly!” he said, his voice picking up again with enthusiasm. “I just wanna help! I mean, I know being new here can be tough, so if I can make it easier for you, then I’m all in.”

As he talked, you couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes lingered on you a bit longer than usual, like he was soaking up every word you said. There was something more in his gaze, something intense, but it was masked by his usual cheerfulness.

Before you could dwell on it, Yuji clapped his hands together. “Alright, so it’s a movie night then! I’ll grab some snacks, and we’ll meet up after class. You’re gonna love it, trust me!”

"Sounds like a plan," you said, trying to match his excitement, though a small part of you wondered just how long this constant attention would last. But as Yuji bounced beside you, clearly thrilled at the idea of spending more time together, you decided to push the thought aside.

At least for now.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

A few months later, Yuji entered the classroom, a bright grin on his face as usual. He was in a good mood—he always was when he knew he’d get to spend the day with you. These past months had been incredible for him. You two had grown closer, and he’d spent nearly every waking moment with you.

But as he walked in, something stopped him in his tracks. Across the room, you were standing with Nobara, her arms wrapped around you in a tight hug. A little further away, Megumi was shaking your hand, his expression calm but respectful.

Yuji’s brow furrowed. What was going on? His heart gave an uncomfortable lurch, and he felt the familiar knot of jealousy coil in his chest. Why are they so close to you? Nobara's arms around you, Megumi's hand in yours—he didn't like it. But he forced himself to keep a smile on his face as he made his way over.

“Hey!” Yuji called out, his voice slightly too cheerful as he approached the group. “What’s going on here?” He tried to keep his tone light, but the jealousy simmering beneath the surface was hard to hide. He clenched his fists at his sides, making sure to smile as if everything was fine. But inside, a storm was brewing.

You turned to face him, and Yuji’s stomach dropped when he saw the look on your face. There was a hint of sadness in your eyes, something he didn’t quite understand. He could feel his heart racing, a nervous energy starting to fill him as he waited for your answer.

“Yuji, I…” you started, your voice softer than usual. “I’m going back to the USA. I’ve decided that I’ve learned enough here, and it’s time for me to head home.”

Yuji felt like the ground had just been ripped out from beneath him. His heart clenched painfully, and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe. He tried to keep the smile on his face, but it faltered as your words sunk in.

“You’re… leaving?” he asked, his voice cracking despite his efforts to keep it steady. “But… why? You were doing great here. You don’t have to go…”

You smiled gently, your expression filled with understanding but also finality. “Yeah, but I think it’s time. I’ve learned a lot, and I’ve enjoyed my time here, but… it’s time to go back.”

Yuji felt something inside him break, like a small piece of himself had been shattered. He tried to speak, to argue, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he stood there, staring at you, his mind racing as he tried to make sense of it all.

"But… what about… us?" he finally asked, his voice barely a whisper. His mind flashed through the memories of the time you'd spent together—every laugh, every smile, every moment he’d spent at your side. He couldn’t imagine Jujutsu Tech without you. He didn’t want to. You can't just leave. Not now. Not when I…

You sighed, your expression soft. “I’ll still keep in touch. It’s not like we’ll never see each other again. This isn’t goodbye forever.”

But to Yuji, it felt like it. He could feel his heart sinking, a hollow ache spreading through his chest. He forced a smile, nodding as if he understood. “Yeah… yeah, of course. I mean, I’m happy for you,” he said, though his voice sounded distant to his own ears.

Nobara, still beside you, gave Yuji a sympathetic glance. “Hey, don’t be so down. They’ll visit, right? It’s not like we’re losing them completely.”

But to Yuji, it felt like losing everything.

“I’ll… I’ll catch up with you later,” Yuji mumbled, backing away before anyone could see the cracks forming in his usually bright demeanor. He turned and quickly left the room, the weight of your departure pressing down on him harder with each step.

As he walked down the hall, the reality hit him all at once. You were leaving. And no matter how much time you’d spent together, no matter how close you’d become, there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Yuji walked aimlessly through the hallways, his mind a chaotic swirl of emotions. Every step felt heavier than the last, each breath more labored. He couldn’t believe it. You were leaving. The reality of it crushed him with an intensity he hadn’t anticipated. He replayed every moment of your time together, each smile and laugh, trying to convince himself that it had all meant something.

As he stood at a crossroads in his thoughts, one realization cut through the fog of his anguish—he couldn’t imagine his life without you. The time you had spent together wasn’t just a fleeting connection; it had grown into something deeper, something he couldn’t simply let go.

In his mind, you were his. All the moments, all the time you’d spent together, it couldn’t have meant nothing. You have to be his, Yuji thought desperately. You have to stay.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

After school, he walked with purpose, his resolve firm. He knew where you were—your dorm room. He was going to see you, to make sure you knew how much you meant to him, how he couldn’t bear the thought of losing you.

As he approached your dorm, he took a deep breath and knocked on the door, his heart pounding with a mix of fear and determination. He needed to talk to you, to make you understand how important you were to him, to convince you that leaving wasn’t an option.

The door was slightly ajar, and he pushed it open, stepping inside. The room was quiet, the only sound the soft rustle of your belongings. You were sitting by your desk, going through some papers, seemingly lost in thought.

Yuji took a moment to collect himself, standing in the doorway as he looked at you. The sight of you in your dorm room, surrounded by your things, made his heart ache even more. He took another step forward, his voice trembling but filled with determination.

“Hey,” he started, his tone softer than he intended. “Can we talk?”

You looked up from your desk, surprised to see Yuji standing in your doorway. His face was a mix of determination and vulnerability that immediately caught your attention. You nodded, setting aside the papers and gesturing for him to come in.

“Sure, Yuji. What’s up?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady despite the apprehension you felt.

Yuji stepped inside, closing the door behind him. His eyes were intense, and there was a desperation in his expression that you hadn’t seen before. “I… I just wanted to talk about what you said earlier,” he began, his voice wavering slightly. “About you leaving.”

You sighed, feeling a pang of guilt as you met his gaze. “Yuji, I’ve made up my mind. It’s time for me to go back home. I’ve learned a lot here, and I think it’s best for me.”

Yuji shook his head, his eyes pleading. “No, you don’t understand. You can’t just leave. Not like this.”

“Why not?” you asked, trying to keep the conversation grounded. “It’s my decision, Yuji. It’s what I think is best for me.”

“But… what about us?” Yuji said, stepping closer. “All the time we’ve spent together—doesn’t that mean anything to you? Doesn’t it matter that we’ve grown so close?”

You hesitated, feeling the weight of his words. “Of course it matters. But sometimes, we have to make tough choices. This is mine.”

Yuji’s eyes filled with tears, and he took another step closer, his voice trembling. “I can’t… I can’t imagine my life without you. You mean so much to me. Every day with you has been… incredible. I don’t want to lose that.”

You looked away, feeling your resolve beginning to waver. “Yuji, I… I don’t know what to say.”

Yuji reached out and gently took your hand, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. “Please, don’t go. I need you here. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. I’ve fallen in love with you.”

His confession hit you like a tidal wave, and you tried to process the intensity of his words. Yuji’s grip tightened on your hand, and he pulled you closer. His eyes searched yours, filled with an earnest, almost desperate longing.

“Yuji,” you whispered, feeling the heat of his emotions. “This isn’t fair…”

“I know,” Yuji said, his voice breaking. “But I can’t help how I feel. I need you. I need you to stay.”

He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours with a gentle, almost pleading touch. The kiss was soft, but there was an undeniable intensity in it—a mixture of his desperation and his deep affection. Your mind raced as you felt the warmth of his lips, and for a moment, the world outside seemed to disappear.

When he pulled back, his eyes were still locked on yours, filled with a hope that made your heart ache. “Please,” he repeated softly. “Stay with me.”

You felt your defenses crumble under the weight of his emotions. The kiss had stirred something inside you, a mix of affection and confusion. You were torn between your decision and the impact Yuji’s words—and actions—had on you.

With a heavy sigh, you nodded slowly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Okay, Yuji. I’ll stay.”

Yuji’s face lit up with a mixture of relief and joy, his tears giving way to a bright, hopeful smile. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly as if afraid you might slip away. The intensity of his embrace and the depth of his emotions were overwhelming, and you found yourself caught up in the storm of his love and need.

As he held you, Yuji felt a fragile sense of victory, his heart still racing from the raw vulnerability he had shown. He had managed to sway you, to keep you by his side, even if it meant pushing the boundaries of what was fair.

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment settle over you. “Okay, I’ll tell Gojo-sensei that I’m staying,” you said softly, trying to offer a sense of finality to your decision.

Yuji’s face lit up with unrestrained happiness. He practically glowed with relief, his eyes sparkling with a mix of joy and triumph. “Really? That’s… that’s amazing!” he exclaimed, his voice full of gratitude and relief. He wrapped his arms around your waist and leaned in, his face pressing against your neck in a gesture of affection and possessiveness.

You felt the warmth of his body against yours, his embrace both comforting and confining. It was clear how much this meant to him, how desperate he had been to keep you here. You reached for your phone, trying to maintain your composure as you dialed Gojo’s number.

As you waited for Gojo to pick up, Yuji’s nuzzling became more insistent. His breath tickled your neck, and his grip tightened, almost as if he were afraid you might slip away at any moment. The closeness of his body made it hard to focus on anything but him.

Gojo’s voice came through the phone, interrupting the moment. “Hey, [Your Name], what’s up?”

“Gojo-sensei,” you began, your voice wavering slightly as you tried to sound composed. “I’ve decided to stay here. I want to continue my training at Jujutsu Tech.”

There was a brief silence on the other end of the line before Gojo responded with a note of surprise. “Oh? That’s… unexpected. Are you sure? I thought you were set on leaving.”

“Yes,” you said, more firmly now. “I’ve thought it over and decided it’s best for me to stay.”

“Alright,” Gojo said, his tone accepting though still a bit puzzled. “If that’s what you want, then I’m glad to hear it. I’ll let everyone know.”

You ended the call and set your phone down, feeling Yuji’s embrace tightening even more. He seemed to be in a state of bliss, his head resting against your shoulder as he let out a contented sigh.

“You have no idea how happy I am,” Yuji murmured, his voice muffled by your neck. “I was so scared you’d leave. I couldn’t… I couldn’t bear it.”

As you stood there, feeling Yuji’s warmth enveloping you, a shiver ran down your spine. A small part of you was uneasy, a nagging feeling that something wasn’t quite right. But the intense emotion Yuji was showing you, combined with the sudden shift in your plans, made it hard to focus on anything but the present moment.

What you didn’t realize, however, was that Yuji had taken steps to ensure that you couldn’t leave if you wanted to. While you were making your decision, he had discreetly taken your passport and any other important documents you might need to travel. His love for you had driven him to secure you in ways that you hadn’t yet discovered.

For Yuji, this wasn’t just about convincing you to stay. In his mind, you were his, and he had done what he felt was necessary to make sure you would never leave. His embrace, his contentment, and his possessiveness were all part of a plan to keep you close, ensuring that no matter what, you would remain by his side forever.

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