#and I feel like they have as much right to be here as I do! they're just critters! looking for a place to chill!

[crunchchute]

my attempt at a bunch of my fav artists styles :] idea by sootnuki!!

i would love to do more but this was already a huge challenge

if any artist here dislikes this/is uncomfortable with it/any reason i can take it down or turn off reblogs etc. otherwise i hope its ok 🫡 im not gonna tag anyone just gonna let it do its thing in the wild lol

[2hightocare]

APOCALYPSE!

Synopsis: In which your boyfriend loves doing corny things with you… he also loves doing you.

Genre: established relationship.

Pairings: boyfriend!jungkook x fem!reader

warnings: smut.. car sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up bro) creampie, praise, size kink, belly bulge, cussing, fluff at beginning and end, banter between couple, oral, overstimulation, squirting, making out, reader crying out of pleasure, choking, spanking, dirty talking, reader fucked ‘dumb’, mentions of ot7, they’re so corny it’s sickening.

author note 🗒️: wrote majority of this shit being faded as fuck so forgive me if it’s ass and ignore the mistakes (I’ll get to them eventually) js wanted to thank everyone for 3k🤍… writers block has been an thing these pasts months so sorry that I haven’t posted anything new. Here’s more of kuwtb oc and jk dating era 🤍

“I should’ve brought my glasses,” you whisper, a loud laugh ripping out of Jungkook's chest. “I can’t see anything, baby.” You turn to your side before swatting him on the chest— a pout displayed on your face, before going back to your original position, looking up at the dark milky way.

“We were having a cute moment, and you just blurt that out,” your boyfriend quips, his eyes focused on your side profile. A small smile tugs on his lips as he sees you scrunch up your nose, shaking your head slightly.

“You’re so right, we are so corny.” You playfully stick your tongue out with a small “yuck,” before bursting into a giggle when Jungkook tickles your side.

“‘Can we lay on the grass and look at the stars?’” Jungkook mocks your voice, changing his tone into a much more high-pitched version to match yours.

“Stop! I wanted to have a moment like Noah and Allie,” you puff, a smile threatening to come out.

“Baby, you know they look at the traffic lights and not the stars, right?” Jungkook raises an eyebrow at you.

“Of course I know, but I feel like we would actually get run over. Plus, I like you too much to just let you get run over.” You shrug, your fingers pulling on the grass on the floor. Your eyes connect to the sky as Jungkook stares at your side profile— taking in every imperfection and turning it into another reason why he loves you.

“Like?” he asks, his thumb running over your bottom lip before tilting your head to the side by your chin, making you look at him.

Your heartbeat skyrockets as he stares into your eyes, the twinkle in them prettier than the stars you were just trying to see. Your stomach lights up as if millions of fireworks exploded in heart-shaped sparkles.

“Love.” You correct yourself, rolling your eyes playfully.

“That’s better.” Jungkook clicks his tongue, pursing his lips out. You let out a giggle, dropping a small chaste kiss on his lips before turning back to the sky with a goofy smile on your face.

“You believe in aliens?” you ask, cracking a smile from Jungkook's face— his dimple carving into his skin as he bites his bottom lip, trying to contain the biggest smile.

“Fuck yeah.” Jungkook nods excitedly.

“We are literally a rock when it comes to the whole universe. There’s gotta be something out there.” Jungkook explains, expanding his arms and pointing to the sky, as you nod happily beside him.

“I agree, my mom said she saw one of those spaceships or whatever they’re called,” you pipe in, turning to your side to face your boyfriend.

“You mean a UFO, baby?” Jungkook's face scrunches in adoration.

“UFO?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Unidentified flying object,” he explains, scooting closer to you— dropping his head to your bare stomach.

“I like spaceships better.” You shrug, and he laughs, adjusting himself slightly. Your fingers find their way into his fluffy hair, combing through it. He moans slightly, melting into your touch, closing his eyes, and dropping a gentle kiss on your abdomen.

“What would you do if an alien kidnapped you?” Jungkook asks, his voice muffled.

“Funny for you to think I would allow it,” you say nonchalantly.

You both could hear a hairpin drop from how quiet you both went before breaking out into a fit of laughter. “Smartass.” Jungkook laughs, jokingly biting your stomach and earning a small squeal from you.

Your laughs die down after a while, replaced by silence, the only sounds being your guys breathing. Your eyes flutter shut with a smile, small goosebumps raising on your arms as Jungkook runs his fingertips on your belly— outlining ‘mine’.

“Tell me about your books,” Jungkook murmurs against your bare skin.

“Wanna know about my current read?” you ask, your fingers tugging softly on his hair, making him look up at you.

“I wanna know everything about you, baby,” Jungkook coos.

“Corny.” You scrunch your nose, placing a palm over his face and pushing softly backward, making him laugh. “Tell me about the thick-ass book I bought you two days ago.” Your boyfriend drops kisses all over your stomach.

“The dragon one?” you poke his cheek, before letting your finger play with his lip ring.

“There’s dragons?” Jungkook gasps, looking up at you.

“Yeah, and they have sex,” you say with a smothering giggle, whispering the last words in a hushed tone, making Jungkook's eyes widen.

“That’s enough, baby.” Your boyfriend raises an eyebrow before shaking his head, changing the topic to the latest drama, including Eunbi and Yoongi.

“Lora and I saw them coming out of the guest room while you were doing cartwheels with Taehyung,” Jungkook chuckles, the amusement on his face rubbing off on you.

“You’re lying,” you gasp, your jaw dropping open.

“I honestly didn’t see it coming.” Jungkook bites his lip, containing a smile. “Do you think Yoongi is the sub?” he continues before bursting out in a laugh, you following along.

"It's going to rain," you observe after a while, noticing a lightning strike in the dark sky. Jungkook hums in agreement before sitting up. He holds out his palm for you to take, which you do, and pulls you up onto his lap in a quick, soft motion.

You immediately wrap your arms around his neck, adjusting on his lap and straddling him. His thumbs rub circles on your bare thighs.

"I want another tattoo," Jungkook murmurs, his lips pressing kisses along your collarbone and neck. You nod slightly, enjoying the sensation of his lips against your skin.

"Where?" you ask, holding his head in place with your palms. He bites his bottom lip, looking up at you with dilated pupils.

"My forehead, and it'll be your name," Jungkook says with a grin, making you roll your eyes playfully.

"You're annoying," you retort, pushing his head backwards, making him gasp dramatically.

"I think it'll look good, you know? Just got to pick a cool font," Jungkook jokes, poking your side, sending you squirming on his lap.

"You're never ever getting my name tattooed on you," you shoot him a glare, which he only responds to by sucking in his lips and widening his eyes before shrugging.

"I think your lips tattooed on my hip bone would be hot," Jungkook wiggles his eyebrows.

"You're crazy," you pout, scrunching your nose as he gives your cheek a kiss.

"Yeah?" Your boyfriend smirks, his hands gripping the sides of your waist, squeezing softly, pulling you closer to him.

"I could go a fair bit crazy over you, baby." His lips brush against yours.

Suddenly, the air is knocked out of your lungs when his lips crash against yours. It doesn't matter how many times he has kissed you; you just can't control the utter madness of butterflies swarming your stomach. The fuzzy feeling fills your senses with every touch of his fingertips on your hot skin. The warmth of his touch, the softness of his lips against yours, all conspire to make your heart flutter with the same giddy excitement as the very first time.

His touch is electric, sending shivers cascading down your spine as his fingers trace the curve of your jaw, his hand gently cradling your face. With a tender yet insistent pressure, he deepens the kiss, his lips parting yours in a silent invitation.

You can feel the heat of his body pressed against yours as you move your hips against his. A soft moan slips past your lips into Jungkook's mouth as he guides your hips on his hardened length.

Jungkook's hand travels up, tangling in your hair, small, light rain drops start to fall down from the dark sky.

"Car?" he says in between kisses. You nod, moaning at the sensation of his lips on your collarbone, leaving purple, reddish marks.

You could never get tired of the way Jungkook looked at you, his eyes shimmery with a mix of love, need, and adoration. It was intoxicating, making you forget all your problems. The universe could have collapsed around you, and you would only care about his mouth on yours.

Everything about him was perfect, his scent, his touch, his voice, those beautiful lips, the way he looked at you, as if you were the only one that mattered in his world.

"Yes, car," you agree, breathy and disheveled.

In a swift motion, Jungkook stood and lifted you, carrying you to the car as you wrapped your legs around his waist. It wasn't until you reached the car that he broke the intense kiss, leaving your lips tingling with desire.

With a wicked grin, Jungkook, laid you on the backseat of his car. Jungkook’s fingers found the hem of your crop top, lifting it up, and you helped by throwing your hands over your head- revealing your lacy black bra.

A soft moan fell from your lips as he freed your breasts from the lace, by tugging downwards.

Your soft moans echoed within the car when your boyfriend cups your tits, massaging and kneading, your nipples hardening.

His lips found your jaw, kissing your neck— his eyes darted up to meet yours before his lips met the peak of your nipple, hot breath, then suckling gently, keeping his gaze locked before shifting his attention to the other breast.

Moaning, you bit your lip, head falling back from the sensation. Jungkook loved how responsive you are, the way your nails dig into his upper back.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful.” Jungkook moans, his calloused hands grip your waist in place to stop you from squirming on the leather seat.

He leaned in close, planting a trail of soft kisses along your neck and shoulders. “Mine.” Your boyfriend whispered into your skin.

You licked your lips, not able to find the words to say what you wanted, as all your thoughts were consumed by lust. Your back arched, encouraging the caresses he was giving. His hand grabbed the back of your head, pulling you closer. His lips met yours, deep and hungry, claiming your mouth as his. You let out a soft moan, your hands finding their way to his face.

“Spread your legs princess.” Jungkook says, his voice deep and gentle— he taps on your inner thigh.

You hum softly, watching your boyfriend work on the zipper and buttons from your denim shorts. Jungkook pulls down your shorts down your legs— your panties following quick after.

“Look how pretty this pussy is,” Jungkook chuckled, his eyes making contact with yours raising an eyebrow. He runs a finger down your slit making you choke out a desperate whine.

“Feels good baby?” He says, he adjusts himself— pushing your legs back, giving him more space to be face to face with your dripping core. You only moan in response when he drops a soft kiss on your clit.

You couldn’t help the whimpers that escaped your lips, He smiled against your heat, He licked his lips as he slowly parted your folds with his thumbs, revealing your glistening clit. He took it into his mouth, sucking and swirling his tongue around it. You let out a desperate moan, your hips bucking in desperation.

He started flicking his tongue against your clit, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. Your back arched, grinding your pussy against his tongue, feeling it flick deep inside your folds.

“Ngh, right there,” You dug your nails into his hair, your toes curling.

“Right here baby?” Jungkook smirked, inserting two fingers into your sopping hole. You couldn't help but moan and nod, as his fingers curled inside you, hitting your sweet spot perfectly.

“Ass up, princess.” he ordered. Without needing to be told twice, you did as you were told, with wobbly legs you flip around. He roughly grabbed one cheek, squeezing it and spreading you, giving him a view of your tight, puckered hole.

Jungkooks cock twitches in his pants as he watches your holes clench over nothing. “Feeling empty?” He chuckles, a rough hand makes contact with your ass with a hard smack— your back arches. You let out a loud squeal, pleasure and pain mixing together.

He lets out a low growl, his cock straining against his pants, Jungkook moans as he watches your wetness begin to drip down your thighs onto his seats.

“Actually, do you want to tell me about the dragons you were reading about?” Jungkook jokes behind you making you snap your head backwards with a glare.

“You’re annoying.” You pout, Jungkook eyes twinkle with amusement— he bites down on his bottom lip containing the smile that is threatening to spill out. “Annoying? I have you spread out in front of me baby… your pussy is literally dripping.” Jungkook tilts his head to the side cheekily.

Your boyfriend taps on your ass for you to turn around.

He didn’t have to tell you twice as you flip around, before reaching for the waistband of his sweatpants. You pull down on the waistband, pulling down his jeans alongside his boxers. His cock springs out, the head red and aching.

Jungkook watches you wrap your hand over his thick length, giving a slow pump causing him to blow out a sigh. Jungkook stops you before you connect your lips with his cock.

“As much as I want you to give me the head of my life, I fucking need to be inside your pretty pussy right now baby.” Jungkook rushes out, tugging on your loose hair backwards.

You pout at him. “Let me fuck you.” Jungkook whispers, the grip on your hair tighten pulling you upwards— his lips milliliters away from your face.

“Fuck me.” You whimper.

The moment the words left your mouth jungkook is picking you up and placing you on top of your lap. You’re leaning your back against Jungkook's chest, your legs spread open on each side of his big thighs. His arm is snaked around your waist pulling you closer into him.

“Cramps?” Jungkook whispers into your neck, “not yet.” You joke, he shakes his head with a small laugh before you wrap your hand around his cock aligning it to your entrance.

“Going to take my cock like a good girl?” He guided your hand, aligning it to your dripping entrance. He rubbed the tip of his cock against your pussy before pushing his cock inside you. You feel the familiar pressure as he slowly slid his length inside you, your pussy sucking him in.

“So big.. fuck.” You moan, your pussy clenching around him making him moan against your ear. “If you keep doing that I’m going to cum.” He chuckled.

You dipped down onto his cock, his cock hitting your cervix when you completely sat down on it. Your legs shake beside you, his hands fastly grip underneath your thighs.

“All up my belly.” You moan, arching your back against him.

The sight of his cock inside you, buried up to the hilt, made him moan. "You're so tight," he half-whispered, half-growled against the shell of your ear, the roughness of his voice only fueling the intense passion that already burned through your veins.

He wove his fingers into your hair, guiding your head with an almost possessive need as he tilted you to give him better access to your lips. Jungkook crashed his mouth against yours, his tongue invading, claiming. His eyes closed for a moment as he savored the sensation of your wet, tight pussy engulfing him completely.

He groaned as you lifted yourself, his cock popping out momentarily before sliding back in when you slammed down on it, your cervix meeting his tip with each movement. It was a merciless, primal form of pleasure, your wetness coating his length with every thrust.

His eyes remained locked on you as you got lost in the sensation of his thick length filling you up, throaty moans leaving your lips as you moved on top of him, grinding down onto his cock, your hips moving in a circular motion. Jungkook couldn't help the low growl that left his throat

He pulled you back up, forcing you to bounce on his rigid cock, watching as your full lips parted in an ecstatic moan. The sway of your hips in time with the motion of his cock sliding in and out of you was so fucking erotic it was almost a crime.

You gasped, leaning back just enough to give Jungkook better access to your exposed neck. His cock hitting your g-spot repeatedly which each bounce.

Jungkook's hips bucked up, meeting your bounces, desperate to get as deep as he could, to fill you up completely. The sensation was almost overpowering. A familiar heat was building inside you, a sweet ache that craved release.

Your eyes rolled back, waves of pleasure overwhelmed you.

His hips pumped faster, his cock buried deep inside you, stretching you in the most exquisite way. Jungkook took your lips in another deep, greedy kiss, muffling the sounds of your cries as you rocked your hips wildly, trying to take him as deep as you could, desperate to reach that peak that felt so tantalizingly close.

“I can’t.” You cry, "That's it, baby, feel every inch." He urged you on.

The thrusts grew rougher, deafening the world around you except for the sound of your moans, his grunts, the soft squelching of your bodies coming together and the rain pouring outside.

The pressure built and built, coiling tighter and tighter until you could no longer contain it. Your entire body trembled as you came undone, shattering the quiet of the car with a lustful cry. Your pussy clamped down around Jungkook's cock,

"Cum for me, baby," he whispered, his voice hoarse with lust.

You let out a loud whine as his cock slipped out of you. Your body continued to rock back and forth, the ache of denial from not having his cock buried inside you being too much to bear. You glanced down between your legs, flushed when you noticed the stickiness that coated your inner thighs.

Jungkook picked up your trembling body and placed your back onto the leather seat. “Gon’ fuck you missionary so I can see your pretty face when I fill you up with my cum.” Your boyfriend growls.

Jungkook wasted no time, returning home, his cock sliding inside you once more as you let out a needy moan.

His thrusts were relentless, deep, and hard, driving himself into you. The way your pussy immediately clenched around him, took him in so greedily, made him groan, his eyes locked on yours.

A hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing just enough to keep you eager for air. “H-harder,” you pant, your voice growing hoarse as his grip tightened.

The car rocked beneath the force of his thrusts, the sounds of wet slaps echoed, mixed with your cries of pleasure, your head tossing back, your eyes rolling back at the ferocity of his thrusts, the sensations building once more, the climax burning beneath your skin.

"Harder...fuck, harder," you cried out, your voice high-pitched and desperate. Jungkook chuckled, releasing his hold on your throat, you gasp as you inhale deeply for air.

Jungkook fingers find their way to your clit once more, his thumb rubbing it in circles while he continues to thrust into your soaked cunt.

The mix of the insistent pressure on your clit and the rough thrusts was too much, a wave of pure pleasure crashing over you, your pussy gripping his cock, your body pulsing around him. Jungkook pulled out, watching with a devilish grin as your pussy squirted all over the two of you.

Jungkook slapped his cock on your swollen clit— watching your pussy spasm with spurts of juices, before pushing his cock back into you.

The sensation of being filled once more, the echo of your screams, bouncing off the car roof, and the overwhelming orgasm had left you lightheaded. You clung to Jungkook, panting, drool sliding down your chin.

"Fuck, you're so wet for me..." He groaned in pleasure, the sensation of your slick walls gripping him, almost drowning him.

"You... fuck me so good, baby," you panted, the words slurred, your voice bordering on sounding completely fucked-dumb. Your body shuddering, your pussy spasming around his cock, your orgasm brewing fast. Jungkook's hips sped up, his cock pulsing inside you.

Suddenly, your back arched, your vision filled with a white haze as another orgasm crashed over you. The delicious agony coursed through your body, your pussy clenching down on his cock, Jungkook grunted, feeling you contract around him, the sensation sending him over the edge. His cock pumped inside you, the warmth of his seed filling you up completely. He moaned against your neck, his heart pounding, lost in the sensation of having you completely wrapped around him

"Fuck, baby," he groaned, his jaw clenching, his eyes closed as he rode out the intense wave of ecstasy. His breath hitched, his hips jerking, before he collapsed against you, his cock still throbbing inside you, spent.

Your body continued to tremble, the aftershocks of the powerful climax lingering. Your heart raced, your breaths coming in ragged pants, sweat beading on your forehead.

With a low growl, Jungkook slowly pulled out of you leaving you feeling impossibly empty. The slick sound of his withdrawal accompanied by a heated chuckle of his.

Jungkook looked down, the sight of your pussy dripping with his cum— your wet pussy gaping, waiting for him to fill you once again.

Jungkook watched, captivated by the scene, as you reached down to collect his cum, watching as you pushed it back inside.

“Fuck.. that was hot.” Jungkook groaned, his lips landed on your face, trails of wet kisses from your forehead, down to your nose, your cheeks, and finally landing on your lips. The storm outside, the rain and thunder providing the soundtrack to your post-coital bliss.

Your limp, spent body sprawled over his car seats, your heart still racing, your breaths coming in shallow pants. You gazed up at him, the sweat on his forehead, the flush on his cheeks, the lust still in his eyes, his breathing heavy. A hand cupped your cheek, his fingers gently stroking your jawline as his lips moved against yours in a tender kiss.

Jungkook traced his fingers along your jawline, pushing a lock of hair behind your ear.

"You good, baby?" He asked, the tenderness in his voice, an unexpected warmth to the intensity of what had just happened.

Your eyes fluttered open, looking up at him and giving a slow, lazy smile. "Yeah, just a bit sore," you responded, blatantly referring to the aching between your legs.

"You're cute, baby," Jungkook whispered into your lips, the simple remark warming you, leaving your heart fluttering. You hummed in content.

The two of you lay there, naked, your skin still glistening from sweat, the weight of the storm outside more comforting than daunting. Your breaths slowly returning to normal.

A beat of silence permeated the car until Jungkook finally broke it, his voice brimming with mirth. "So... do you think we fucked better than the dragons from your book?"

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | fake marriage au [18+]

in holy matriphony ch2. you may now kiss the bride!!

ᰔ pairing. fake marriage au - neighbor&realtor!gojo x nurse!reader (ft. choso x reader & suguru x reader)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is your extremely annoying next-door-neighbor who you're pretty sure is the most insufferable man you've ever met. given the fact that you exclusively work the night shift at a chaotic emergency dept, just got broken up with your boyfriend of seven years, n have been taking care of your sick mom ever since her multitude of diagnoses, yet somehow your neighbor is the main source of stress in your life should speak volumes. but when your mother's medical bills start to skyrocket more than you can manage, and you learn that said neighbor of yours has the best private health insurance in the country, you ask him to enter a matrimonial agreement with you for the spousal benefits all in the name of saving a few hundred thousand dollars. but you'll have to see if suffering cohabitation w him is worth any amount of money.

ᰔ genre/tags. fluff, smut, angst, enemies to lovers (sort of), annoyances to lovers (that's more like it), small town romance, fake marriage, next door neighbors, lots of bickering, suburban shenanigans, slow burn, mutual pining, mild love triangle(s), gojo likes to play house but you don't, hatred for the american healthcare system, gojo always forgets to mow the lawn, jealousy, an insane amount of profanity; btw gojo in this fic is in his early 30s n reader is in her late 20s

ᰔ warnings. reader in this fic has a sick mother w alzheimer's & cancer so there is secondary medical angst!!

ᰔ chapter. 2/x (probably 10)

ᰔ words. 16.8k (i be yappin)

a/n. AHHH thanks very much for 2k followers!! yippeee :”) i had a lot of fun writing this chapter of ihm i feel like there’s a lot of silly but a lot of angsty too and i got to set up a lot of secondary plot lines in this chapter which was fun. i really hope you enjoy!! see ya at the bottom!!

nav. ch1 :: ch2 :: ch3 (pending)

“Can you chop down that stupid avocado tree of yours already? It keeps dropping its devilish spawn all over my herb garden.”

“Wow. Good afternoon to you too.”

Gojo scratches the back of his head from where he’s opened the front door of his house, standing in his pajamas and you briefly glance down at his bunny slippers before looking back up at him with a ridiculing face before pushing past him into his house.

Gojo’s house is almost the exact mirror of yours, as are most houses in the neighborhood, but it’s been a while since you’ve been inside of it and so you take an indulgent look. A cozy family room to the side, which you see he’s decorated with a coffee table and a loveseat, and the staircase is visible from the entrance. A modest dining table sits where the carpet turns into wood, and you’ve noticed he’s made the effort to place real hardwood on his floors contrary to the laminate in yours. Ok, show off. Your eyes take in the paintings on the wall, and you remember how his house almost looks fake, like in the way he sets up props in open houses he’s showing for clients, as if someone lives here and yet somehow there’s no real living proof of it.

And because it’s pretty much the exact same layout as your house, you know exactly where the pantry room is, and you grab a bunch of Doritos and Pocky from his secret snack drawer.

“Oh yes, go right ahead. Please,” he says sarcastically as he leans against a support pillar near the dining room and watches you stuff your face with his snacks.

“So,” you say, muffled, “did you grab the paperwork?”

“No, I didn’t.” He glances at his watch. “My friend’s a family law lawyer, and he’s gonna be here soon to help us out with the prenup.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh my god, you’re being serious about the prenup? You really think I’m trying to gold dig at the cobwebs of your bank account? How little self respect do you think I have?”

“...do you really want me to answer that questi–”

The doorbell ringing startles you, and you quickly wipe at your face to clear any crumbs before setting the wrappers in your hands onto a bookshelf as you watch Gojo head to the door and open it.

You hear another distinct masculine voice ring in the air as Gojo exchanges pleasantries with him in the form of a handshake and a familiar hug with a few pats on the back, and then the angle Gojo twists his body reveals the man standing outside the door. He’s a bit shorter than Gojo with a lean build, clad in a fiercely formal black suit and tie with polished shoes. His hair is well-kept, short and raven black, and his eyes are sunken with what you can only imagine is fatigue. And it’s kinda hot to you, unfortunately, after years of working the night shift, you’re starting to find dark circles under people’s eyes to be extremely attractive.

“Uh, y/n, this is my friend, Higurama. Hiromi Higurama,” Gojo says, gesturing between the two of you,  “and Hiromi, this is y/n. My obnoxious neighbor. Careful though, if you get too close she’ll bite off your fingers.”

“I’ll bite off a different appendage of yours if you don’t shut the fuck up,” you snarl at him, and Higurama takes a step inside the house to greet you with an outstretched hand. 

“Hi, it’s lovely to meet you,” he says, and you’re a little startled by the politeness, but aptly shake his hand and nod before squawking out a likewise!!

You look past Higurama at Gojo who’s got an eyebrow raised at you, and then your eyes are on Higurama again as you watch him set his briefcase down on the dining table. “Are we ready to discuss?” he asks, brown eyes darting between the two of you. You nod and take a seat across from him, and Gojo first grabs everyone some glasses of water before he takes a seat at the head.

“So,” Higurama starts, “I take it you two are madly in love and would like to enter a marital agreement to declare your affections for one another in the court of law under just circumstances?”

You blink at him. “Y-Yes. Very just circumstances. Nothing shady going on here, we are indeed very madly in love and would like to get married.”

“Why the fuck would you say it like that?” Gojo chirps in but not before sighing. 

“T-The way he asked was really nerve wracking!!” you counter. And then your eyes widen when you look at Higurama again, who has a slightly amused tug to his lips. “...oh, you already know this marriage is a fraud.”

“I was just testing you,” he casually says, “in case they mention any suspicions in court. Seems you should just let Satoru do the talking.”

You pout a little and sink further into your seat, then bring the glass of water up to your lips. 

“Well, in any case,” Higurama says, and then he goes on into the details of what to expect in the courtroom. He pulls out paperwork for the marriage license application and starts to walk the two of you through the prenuptial agreement. 

“It’s my understanding you’re both desiring a prenup for this marriage?” Hugurama asks, brow furrowed slightly as he rustles through the endless papers in front of him that he was drowning in.

You briefly glance at Gojo, who’s also looking through all the papers with a concentrated look on his face, his features tense and he’s slightly worrying his bottom lip through his teeth. He’s thinking way harder about this whole prenup thing than you would, and you realize he’s genuinely taking this very seriously. 

“Um, yes,” you acquiesce, suddenly feeling a little guilty. And you remember who’s the one in need of the favor here. “I’m okay with the prenup.”

Higurama tells you two about the implications of the prenup, what can and cannot be included under state laws, and stresses the importance of full financial disclosure and fairness in the agreement to ensure its enforceability in the event of a divorce. Basically, don’t fucking lie about anything or else you two could sue each other to hell for it should divorce occur. You both agree, and you’re feeling sick to your stomach with anticipation. 

“Alright,” Higurama interjects your thoughts, “I will begin to draft the document then. Let’s start with assets.”

Gojo drones on about his tangibles, intangibles, cash equivalents, stocks, yada yada and you open up with yours too, but you can barely hear anything you’re saying and you can hardly hear what anyone else is saying either because you’re just dreadfully awaiting for Higurama to finally bring up—

“How about debts?” he asks, mindlessly as he types away on his laptop, as if the question doesn’t make you want to throw up. 

Your breathing picks up in speed, and you’re nervously fidgeting your hands over the surface of the table. You glance over at Gojo again, this time startled to find his eyes are on you too. His gaze briefly flickers to the shuffling of your fingers, then it meets yours again as he tilts his head slightly in a silent ask of you good?

“Uh–” you start, when you feel Higurama’s eyes on you too now that the silence has stretched on for too long, “I’m…well, I’m in a bit of…debt. From nursing school, a little bit from undergrad still, actually…”

“Okay,” Higurama says, “how much would you approximate? I’ll need the official loan statements soon, though.”

“Well, I’m paying off slowly…but last month I have around seventy-thousand still to pay off.”

“Alright,” Higurama accepts, “and you, Satoru? Student loans?”

“Oh, I don’t have any,” he says, “I paid them off a while ago.”

You feel like you’re being opened apart at the seams, and suddenly feel ashamed.

“Alright, what about other debts? Credit card debts? Any loans to know about?”

You figured you just needed to rip the bandaid off.

“Um,” you say, “I’m about three hundred thousand dollars in medical debt from my mother’s treatment loans.”

The room goes quiet, there’s no more rustling of papers or the mechanical jumping of keys on a keyboard, hell, even the birds outside stopped chirping to display their disbelief. 

“Wha–” Gojo starts, like he can’t help it, before he catches himself out of politeness, but he’s still looking at you with concern and shock. “y/n…what happened?”

You look over at Higurama too, and he’s completely turned away from the document he was drafting on his laptop, full attention on you, and his brow is creased with the same amount of concern. And you feel like you’re in therapy. You also feel like you’re about to cry.

“Well…it’s just,” you start, throat feeling raw, “my mom couldn’t qualify for medical loans because of years of poor credit, and insufficient income, and her cancer treatments became really costly, and so–” you suck a breath in, because your voice cracks slightly at the end. You were not about to cry in front of them right now. “And so I decided to cosign on her loans so she could receive treatment, and stuff kept coming up, and I had to work reduced hours for a couple of years when she was first diagnosed, and…some payments got away from me, and so then…there was interest, and…it’s…I guess over five years, things just…accumulated.”

They both sit there in stunned silence, shifting uncomfortably in their seats, like they understand your situation is so fucked in its entirety that they can barely even bear to put themselves through the trouble of even imagining themselves in your shoes, let alone fathom that you’re living in them.

Higurama clears his throat and redirects his attention to the computer. “That’s… no problem for the prenup. Thank you for being honest.”

“Hey,” Gojo interjects, and his hand reaches out to lay over your fidgeting hands over the table. His eyes are serious. “Why didn’t you–” he starts, and his face softens slightly when you can’t help the small sheen of tears that reaches your eyes, “...why didn’t you say anything about this? I mean, anytime we’ve talked.”

It’s your turn to look at him with a tense expression, and you slowly withdraw your hands from the hold of his palm to place them in your lap under the table. “Uh, why would I share about my financial woes to my neighbor? Don’t most people just act like shit’s normal with their neighbors?”

“I guess, but I didn’t know it was that ba–”

Higurama’s phone starts to ring, and he glances at the Caller ID before sighing slightly. “Sorry, I have another client I need to see soon. We’ll have to wrap this up, but I’ll continue drafting this document. Please send me your relevant statements for any loans and–” he glances at you, “...associated debts.” He starts to gather his things at the table, then neatly tucks his papers into his briefcase before placing his laptop in there too. He reaches to shake Gojo’s hand first, then shakes yours, and holds onto your hand a second longer to gather your attention. His eyes are almost solemn.

“I truly hope your mother gets better soon,” he says to you, tone contrite. 

You slowly nod and thank him, and then Gojo goes to see him out the door.

The house feels quiet when Gojo closes the front entrance, and he stays facing the door for a few seconds before slowly turning around to face you, back leaning against it as he crosses his arms in front of his chest, and just when he opens his mouth to speak, you cut him off.

“I really–” you say, “...I really don’t want to talk about it.”

His face contorts into confusion, and it looks like he’s about to protest, but you allow yourself to show the slightest amount of the hurt and the worry on your face, and he realizes that means he shouldn’t try to push it.

“Okay,” he says, and quietly. 

Things are awkward in the air for a second, so you waltz over to the window and watch through it as Higurama gets into his car, some type of sleek old black Mercedes Benz but it’s polished to perfection, and you let out a content sigh.

“What?” Gojo asks you, tone a little short. 

“Ohhh, nothing,” you say, bringing your hands up to cup your cheeks to feel their warmth as you take in the image of Higurama’s slender legs in his business attire, “I just…” you sigh again, “I just loooove men in suits. I wish I knew more men that wore them often.”

A beat of silence. “Um. I wear them often?”

You turn on your heel to face him. “Yeah, but you wear them in, like, a slutty way. Higurama,” you say, pointing with your thumb facing the window, “wears them in the actually respectable workplace way. Hence why it’s hotter on him.”

He scoffs. “And yet you’re always staring at my ass from afar when I’m wearing my tailored trousers.” 

“I seriously wonder what it’s like to be so fucking delusional all the time,” you shake your head at him and he looks like he’s got a comeback on his tongue but you sshhhhhhhh him and walk back into the heart of the house. You look over your shoulder briefly, and see Gojo’s standing where you were standing at the window a few seconds ago, looking out onto the street, and he’s grumbling something under his breath you can’t quite hear. And then you hear the sound of Higurama’s car driving away. 

You circle around the dining table, and take a seat to look through the marriage paperwork Higurama left behind for the two of you to fill out.

“Bring the paperwork over to the kitchen island,” you hear Gojo say as he makes his way to the kitchen, “I’ll fix us some coffee.”

The island has a seated side to it with bar stools that raise high and turn in fully 360 degree fashion, so you swirl around in your seat to make yourself dizzy while Gojo brews some coffee with his espresso machine. 

“Mm…smells nice,” you comment, still swirling.

“Milk? Sugar?” he asks you, and you stop swirling to answer him.

It’s not the first time you’ve been to Gojo’s house. When he first moved in next door, you brought him a plate of cookies as a welcome to the neighborhood! gift and he had invited you inside and fixed you a cup of coffee then too. The house was mostly empty back then, he’s made a lot of good work in filling it with furniture in that sort of IKEA catalog fashion, and you can clown on him for it all you want, but it still looks nicer than most homes you’ve been in. Anyways, you only visited him in his house a couple times after that before you realized you hated him. Because he blasts loud music at the most random times, which you’re convinced he’s just trying to show off the sound system he probably spent an unnecessary amount of money on, not to mention an unnecessary amount of time installing. He also always forgets to mow his fucking lawn, and it drives you nuts because then the weeds spread over into your lawn, but it’s not like it matters because you hardly mow yours either, but still. And that fucking boat. That fucking boat he keeps right at the edge of your driveway that taunts you and your ability to pull into garages after every single one of your dreadful night shifts. One of these days, you might just steal it and drive it into the ocean so it drowns. Wait, boats don’t drown. That’s the point of boats. They’re buoyant. It’s okay, you’ll find another way to get rid of it. The boat, you mean. 

“Here you go,” he says, sliding a cup of coffee to you across the island. You peer inside at the brown liquid, and the scent alone awakens your senses.

“So, logistics,” you say.

“Logistics,” he repeats after you as he stirs a spoon in his mug. 

“We need to make this believable,” you say to him, “otherwise the marriage could be invalidated, and we could face criminal charges, and I could lose the insurance benefits for my mom, and potentially get sued by said insurance companies, and get thrown into jail for life, and—”

“And how much sleep have you lost thinking about this?” he asks you with a sigh as he brings his mug up to take a sip. 

“I’m being serious, Satoru,” you say to him, “I…would just rather err on the side of caution. It’s a small town, people talk. And sometimes those people know the law.” You shudder.

“Who the fuck is out there that would be so pissed about us getting married just so you can help out your sick mom?” he asks.

Your eyes flicker downwards slightly in consideration. You can think of one person, at least. And when you look up at him, you’re surprised to see there’s a similar look on his face, as if he could think of a particular one person too. But before you can dwell more on the expression on his face, he grabs the paperwork in front of you and looks through some of it. “You should get started on your paperwork. Higurama filled most of mine out for me already, so you’re the one he’s waiting on.”

You groan and stretch your arm out across the island counter, then lay your head on your upper arm. “Sigh, why couldn’t he have done that for meee tooooo.”

“Probably because he doesn’t know you?” Gojo snorts. He’s silent for a moment as he takes another sip. You can’t see his face. “So,” he starts, “I mean. If we’re going to make this believable, which, to be honest, I don’t think a single person in this neighborhood would find us getting married believable, but still, if we were to try making it believable, wouldn’t it make sense for us to, uh, I don’t know, live together? Like what regular married couples do.”

“I am appalled you would even suggest that.”

“It’s going to look like we’re just faking it if we don’t at least cohabitate together,” he tells you.

“We can’t do that,” you sigh, “I bet you’d try to touch me inappropriately.”

“What???” 

“Yeahhh, I don’t know, you just—...you just seem like a guy with very little self control.”

“...y’know what? This is over. I’m calling off this engagement,” he says, and he walks over to the dining table with his coffee cup in hand and you lift your head up off your arm in a panic.

“Wha–...no!! Wait!!” you say, grabbing all the paperwork off the island and bringing it to the dining table where he’s taken a seat. “Please marry me. I need it so bad.”

“Woah,” he says, looking up at you, and there’s a darker glint to his eyes. “You need it so bad? Can you say that again?”

You curl up the papers in your hands into a makeshift hollow pole and whack him across the head with it. “This is exactly why I think you would touch me inappropriately.”

He grumbles slightly as he nurses the spot you whacked him with two of his fingers rubbing the area, and then he fixes his hair with a comb of his hand through it. The sleeve of his shirt drops a little from the movement, and you can see the muscles of his arm flex, then your eyes are quickly darting away so he doesn’t catch the line of your gaze on him. What the fuck. That was weird. You blame ovulation. 

“Alright, fine,” he says, and he grabs the papers out of your hand, “also don’t bend these. It bothers me.” 

You circle back to the kitchen to grab your abandoned coffee cup, and then bring it to the dining table to sit down with him at it. He places your half of the papers in front of you. You glance down at the first few boxes to fill out, and you already feel like giving up.

You glance up at him for a distraction. “Aren’t you going to ask me how long I want you to be married to me for?” you ask him.

“Uh, how long do you want me to be married to you for?”

“Forever,” you say. To scare him.

“Yeah, right.” He waves his hand in the air dismissively. 

You sulk because it didn’t scare him. “Six months.”

“More plausible.”

“Really,” you say earnestly, “six months.”

He looks up at you now, a curious expression on his face. “Why specifically six months?”

Your eyes find the color of your coffee fascinating once again. “I don’t want to put my mother in hospice for too long. I’ll miss her,” you say, “it’s just…something I’m trying out for now. And to just get a bit of a caretaking break, and also so I can pick up more shifts at the hospital to work on paying off my debt. It’s just…temporary.”

His shoulders roll back once and he sits up a little straighter, holding up one of the pieces of paper to study it better while he clicks his pen. “Alright. Whatever works for you.”

You twiddle with your hands again, blinking a little in consideration as a few moments pass by. “Uh…about living together. That’s fine. I suppose.”

His eyes widen slightly. “Really?”

“Yeah. But no touching,” you point at him with a strict finger.

He tilts his head back up to the ceiling in annoyance. There’s a roll in the muscles of his throat as his jaw goes slack. You squirm in your chair a little. Ovulation, you think. 

“I’m not going to touch you, y/n,” he assures you when his chin tips back down. You just stare at him for a few seconds as he seems to be in thought about something, and then his eyes meet yours. “Whose house are we going to live in?”

“Mine,” you say, “yours looks like a shitty catalog. It’s lame.”

“True,” he says, “yours feels homey. I like that.”

You’re a little taken aback by his words, and then purse your lips together. Your sort of go-to thanks expression reserved for him. “So, are you gonna sell your house then?”

“Huh? No way,” he shakes his head, “I’ll just see if I can rent it out for now.” He shakes his head even more. “I mean, god no, I wouldn’t be caught dead selling a house. Not with these market conditions. You know how much it’s already risen in equity within just the past few months alone? In five years from now—”

While Gojo continues to drone on about the lunacy of not holding onto property in this housing market, your eyes widen slightly at his words, like your body realizes a truth to what he’s saying before your mind does.

And then that’s when it hits you.

How you can help pull yourself out of debt.

You slam your coffee mug down on the table with a little more fierceness than you probably should’ve.

“Hey,” he scolds you, “can you be careful with that?”

“We’re not going to live in my house,” you say, ignoring him, “we’re gonna live in yours.”

“Huh?” he responds, “...but I thought you said mine looks like a catalog.”

“A shitty catalog.”

“Did you need to specify?”

“We’re not going to live in my house,” you tell him, with resolve, “because I’m gonna sell my house.”

He sits up a little straighter at your words. “Like, the house next door?”

“Mhm,” you nod.

He sighs. “Were you even listening to me? It’s so much more worth it to–”

“I don’t care,” you cut him off, “I need the money now. Not five years from now.” Your eyes glance down at your hands, and your tone becomes quiet. “I…I don’t even know if my mom has five years left to live.”

A silence settles in the room, and you see in your periphery that Gojo’s stiff and still, like he’s barely allowing himself to breathe as if you’d find it abrasive, and when you look over at him, his expression is soft.

“I know,” he says. “It sounds like a plan.”

“Will you help me sell it?” you ask him. “I’d…need a realtor.”

“Sure,” he easily agrees.

“Okay…” you say, and take a sip of lukewarm coffee, as if you haven’t just decided on an extremely major life decision. “Um. I’ll go get the paperwork then. From my house.”

“Oh. Right now?” he asks you, and he leans forward in his seat a little to get a closer look at your face. “I mean, don’t you want some time to think about it before putting it on the market? We can wait for a little bit.”

“No. That’s okay,” you say, standing up from your chair, “I’ll…go get the paperwork.”

He nods at you slowly, but his eyes are observant, and you ignore it to keep up the momentum of this decision that was definitely the right decision by all means and one that you should not be hesitating on at all as it is such an epiphany that can help clear your debilitating financial burdens. 

“Drive safe,” he says to you when you grab your purse off the coffee table in the family room.

“Ha ha. Very funny.”

The outside air is breezy, it’s a nice day with the sun shining down and sparkling off of sprinkler dew drops on overgrown grass, and you hop across with a pep in your step as you make it to your house next door. You’re always quiet when opening the door, because you never know when your mom is sleeping or not, and since her bedroom is downstairs, she’s privy to noises. Once you’re inside, you check to make sure she’s sleeping with a small creak open of her door, only to find that she’s sitting on her rocking chair and looking through a box of paintings.

Your heart twists at the sight, and you gently knock the door with your knuckles.

She glances up at you, and you can always tell from just the look in her eyes if she recognizes you or not. Because they’re warm and gentle when she does, but they see right past you to the wall when she doesn’t.

“Hello,” she says, “can I help you?”

You come up to her and kneel down beside her, placing a hand up on the rocking chair arm rest while she looks down at you.

“Hi, mom. It’s me. Your daughter,” you gentle reintroduce yourself. It’s what her neurologist suggested you do anytime she can’t remember you, but it rips away a piece of your soul each time.

Her eyes still see past you, abstract, empty with no feeling as she wraps her head around your words. “I am no one’s mother,” she tells you, tone sounding sharp and like she’s a moment away from terror.

“That’s okay,” you quickly remediate, feeling hollow inside from her words but you always had to be the sane one, so you direct her attention to the box in her lap. “What are you looking at?”

“Oh, I just found these paintings!” she exclaims. “I thought they were wonderful. Do you know who drew them?”

You smile up at her. “You did.”

“Me?” she blinks at you. The wrinkles in her forehead crumple with surprise, “oh, no, dear, I could not paint such things with detail. Look at me!” She holds her hand up. “My hand is trembling!”

She’s getting weaker. You make a mental note to bring it up to her doctor.

“You used to hold a paint brush like it was just an extension of your hand,” you tell her, picking up one of the paintings out of the box, “you were an art teacher, mom.”

“Don’t call me mom,” she says to you, that sharp tone from earlier cutting through to your soul. “I am no one’s mother.” Her eyes shimmer with a light sheen of tears.

You stare at her, brow pinching together with hurt, but you bite back the part of you that wants to beg her to remember you, to take one close look at you, and see you with warmth and not emptiness. But she sees past you all the same.

“Can you do something for me?” you whisper to her.

“Yes?” she asks.

“Could you please lay down? You need some rest.”

“Are you my nurse?” she asks.

You breathe in deep. “Yes.”

“Am I…” she glances briefly at her reflection in the vanity mirror, her eyes flitting up to the head scarf on her head that covers the absence of hair, “am I sick?”

You exhale. “Yes. You need rest.”

“Oh…” she acknowledges, “why, yes. I do feel…a little frail.”

“I know,” you comment, and you put the box down on the floor then help her up onto her feet slowly by holding onto her arm, and you guide her to sit on the bed and take her medications. She then lays down, and you nod at her reassuringly before you head out the door and close it behind you.

Your lip trembles with the threat of a sob as you stare straight forward at the wall in the dimness of the hallway. But a harsh bite to the plush of it ceases the quiver.

You make your way up the stairs to go grab that binder you had with the mortgage and house information, plus some of your recent utility bills. Except the binder is hard to locate, and you’re rummaging through the cabinets in your closet, the drawer of your nightstand, you’re even looking underneath the bed. But when you lift your head up from under it, still kneeling on the carpet, and glance at the wall, you notice something.

48’’ eight yrs. what a big girl! 

46’’ seven yrs. big jump

41’’ six yrs.

37’’ five yrs. my little princess

…

..

–all written in graphite pencil, scribbled up the wall where you would stand tall against as a kid, your mom marking your height at every birthday. And your eyes start to well with tears. 

This was your childhood home. With magical corners tucked away where you used to play hide and seek with your dad, with your old bedroom you used to play in with dolls and have tea parties with all your stuffed animals. There’s still a stain of fruit juice on the carpet underneath the rug that you never told your mom about because you knew she would be mad at you and would scrub it out, but it was in the shape of a heart and when you were a kid, you thought that meant you would find your prince charming some day. This house holds so many memories, like birthday parties and Christmas Eve and the sunflower patch in the backyard where you laid Sniffles to rest.

And it holds the familiarity of you that seems to be slipping through your mother’s fingers with each passing day, all those memories you created with her now solely yours to keep and no longer to share. But you realize at this moment that you’re not alone. This house still holds those memories with you.

Your eyes flicker to the graphite pencil marks on the wall again, and the tears flow freely.

In the moments where she cannot remember that you are her baby, this house remembers for her.

Your sleeve wipes at the dampness on your cheeks.

But it’s never enough, is it? And it’s never that easy, either. Life was never that easy, and you don’t always have the choices you might think you do.

You find the binder, and grab all the utility bills too, and head downstairs. You pass by your mother’s room with softness and sleuth, and guilt in your heart when you realize what you’ve chosen to do. There’s no pep to your step when you make it back to Gojo’s.

•┈┈┈••✦☽✦••┈┈┈•

“Sooo,” Gojo says, after about twenty minutes of looking through all the house paperwork in the binder at the dining table, “your mom transferred ownership of the house to you as a gift deed when she was diagnosed?”

“Mhm,” you say.

“She paid off quite a bit of it,” he comments as he looks through banking statements, “but still not enough to pay off your medical debt, unfortunately.”

You sigh. “I know. It was never really a house she could afford anyways. She just received it from the divorce, and I remember we were supposed to downsize, but…she didn’t want to.”

“I see,” Gojo comments, “well, it’s alright, it would still help you a lot for sure. How many years are left for your solar panel lease?” He has a pen in hand and a custom realtor notepad in front of him with his messy handwriting all over it. 

“It’s new,” you say, “still got thirty years left.”

“Jeez, okay. How much per month?”

You scavenge through the bills on your table. “Ummm um um ummm…….”

“You should really…get more organized.”

“You should really mind your fucking business.” You find the bill. “$285 per month.”

“Okay,” he scribbles it down, “does it offset your electricity bill?”

Your shoulders sulk. “A little bit.”

“Yeah, it might scare some buyers away.”

You sigh. “Oh and then the HOA too.”

“HOA?” he looks up at you with a puzzled expression on his face. “We don’t have an HOA in this neighborhood.”

“We don’t?” you blink at him. “Then who have I been sending $195 dollars to every month?”

“…….....you’ve seriously gotta be some special kind of stupid.”

After panicking for five minutes while checking your credit cards for fraudulent activity, Gojo gets done cutting up an apple for you. 

“Here,” he says, sliding the plate to you, “since you look like you’re about to faint. Knowing you, it’s probably just low blood sugar.”

You dramatically sigh and sink in your chair. “I can’t believe I spent the last three years paying an HOA that doesn’t even exist…”

“Hey, on the bright side, there’s some dude out there on an exotic vacation that’s very thrilled by your idiocracy right now.”

You shoot him a look. And then you hang your head low to drink your extremely cold coffee that you were still nursing, before downing it all in one go. Your eyes catch the marriage paperwork that Gojo was reviewing earlier, and you see Higurama’s pre-filled in information that he typed onto the papers before printing them for him. 

“Hm,” you hum, “it says here that you’ve been married before. You might want to get that fixed before we submit these.”

He stands up from the table, two of his fingers hooking onto the handle of his coffee cup, and he glances into yours to make sure it’s empty, briefly flicking his eyes to you and you shake your head for no, no more coffee, thanks before he wraps his other two fingers around the handle of your mug as well. The clink of the two porcelain mugs in his hand startles you a little as he walks past you to the kitchen sink. “There’s nothing to fix about that,” he says, his tone level and easy, “it’s true. I’ve been married before.”

Your eyes widen at his confession, and you quickly twist your torso in your chair to stare at him. Or at least, the back of him as he turns the faucet on and begins to rinse out coffee mugs. 

Married? Before? There are so many questions swimming through your head right now, ones that you desperately want answers to, biggest of all perhaps being now who the fuck would actually want to marry him??? for real??? you’re telling me this self obsessed dork proposed to a real life woman with a pulse and she actually said ‘yes’ to him??? who was this woman, and which psych ward did he find her from??? 

But he’s so quiet from where he stands, broad shoulders less pushed back like they usually are, and something tells you he wouldn’t entertain any of those questions from you right now. A glance at the paperwork, though, tells you the divorce was recent. Less than a year ago. Around the time he moved in next door. 

He still has his back facing you, and you try to sneakily catch a glimpse at more info under the Wife section on the prior marriages form. You can see the paper says maiden name: Inoue and you’re just about to sneak a peak at the first name when—

“You want to stay for dinner?” he asks when he turns around, leaning back against the sink counter. “I’m ordering pizza tonight.”

You’re surprised by the sudden invitation, and shuffle the papers over one another again. “Oh–that’s…that’s okay.” You glance at the clock he has hanging on the wall. “I’ve got work in a couple of hours, so…I should really get going. Have a few errands to run before then.”

“Okay, so, we’ll…talk later?”

“Yeah, later,” you stand up from your chair, and for some reason, the air feels a little heavier to you now. “Uh…” you start, awkwardly scoffing a little, “wow. Bachelor life again, then, huh? Probably just–...probably just beer and pizza every night?”

He purses his lips together, humoring you with a small laugh that comes out as a scoff through his nostrils. “No. Not really. I only order pizza when I close a sale on a house. My way of celebrating.”

“Oh,” you respond, “I see.”

“I’ll walk you to your car,” he says.

“I live next door,” you remind him.

His eyes widen slightly. “Oh. Right.”

“H-Hope the traffic’s not too bad!” you joke.

His laugh comes more genuine now. “You’re stupid.”

You head towards the door, and when he opens it for you, there’s a chill of air outside and it’s darker now, hues of dark gray, purple and a slight orange still present on the horizon paint the sky and you step outside then turn on your heel to face him.

“Um. Congrats, by the way. On the sale,” you tell him, “enjoy your night. And I’ll see you this weekend?”

“Huh?” He raises an eyebrow. “What’s happening this weekend?”

“We–” you scoff, “we’re getting married this weekend?”

“Oh!” he exclaims, tense, “right, yes, see you this weekend. For marriage. Of us.”

You roll your eyes and make your way down the concrete pavement that leads its way to his house, and leads its way away from it too. And when you walk back to your house, it’s not with a sulk, but it’s not with a pep in your step either. You just feel…neutral.

•┈┈┈••✦☽✦••┈┈┈•

“So, tell me about this fake husband of yours,” Hana says, leaning against your work-on-wheels as you attempt to catch up on charting notes with 4 hours and 15 minutes and 53 seconds left on your shift (it’s not like you were counting though).

“Yeah, in a sec,” you mumble as you punch in keys.

6/2/2024 0344: patient placed on 5150 hold on 5/31 at 1745, continually monitored by ED tech. all objects have been removed from pt’s room to prevent any danger to self or others. however patient accessed hand sanitizer dispenser on the wall at roughly 0320 and ingested all the hand sanitizer. notified MD of toxic ingestion, follow up plan is to coordinate care with poison control. no further orders at this time

“Okay, what were you saying?” you look up at Hana again and rub the tired out of your eye with a balled up hand, along with all the mascara. 

“Your fake husband!! Tell me about him!!” she chirps, shaking your work-on-wheels in excitement and the blur of your computer screen makes you feel dizzy.

“Shhhhh,” you hiss at her, “keep your voice down when we discuss illegal activities.”

She rolls her eyes. “Why are you always so paranoid? I’m already sick and tired of you charting incessantly every five seconds to save yourself from medical lawsuits that you haven’t even been accused of.”

“In a medical lawsuit, the chart is the law, Hana,” you say eerily with a shiver, and her words remind you to continue your detailed charting. “Never forget that.”

She sighs. Her gaze travels across to the other end of the emergency department, and you assume she’s staring at the asses of the EMT boys again, so you glance over your shoulder too. 

Except instead, you see the worst person on the planet.

Well, second worst as of right now.

The worst person title was reserved for someone else.

Approaching from down the hall is Yuna, your ex-best friend, a bounce in her step as she walks with a sort of allure as her hips rock side to side, her mile-high ponytail swaying in beat with the rhythm as well, and the ashy blond highlights in her hair hypnotize anyone she waltzes by. 

She was the kind of nurse that all the other nurses are jealous of. Always has cute little accessories and stickers on their badge, is wearing the fancy FIGS scrub sets that hug her sporty curves in all the right places, paired with those little shoes with the ankle socks, and she most definitely gets her water goal in for the day because she’s always sucking on the straw of her periwinkle Stanley cup around the ED all night just like she sucked the cum out of your boyfriend of seven years just twenty-four hours after the two of you had broken up–

“y/n,” she casually calls your name, leaning her elbow up on the cubicle divider of the nursing station. “It’s time for you to take your break. I’ll watch your patients.”

“I’m not taking my break,” you say, trying to relax the grit to your teeth which makes your eye twitch out of frustration instead. “Now get the fuck away from me before I call a Code Black.”

She sighs, rolling her eyes and smacking loudly on her gum. “Yaga said you have to take your thirty tonight. Something about how you haven’t clocked out for a break in more than two months and the hospital could get sued for that.”

“The hospital has way bigger cases they should be biting their nails about getting sued over,” Hana snorts just to butt in on conversation.

“C’mon,” Yuna says, her fingers reaching out to touch the handle of your work-on-wheels, purposefully stretched so that you can eye the perfect sparkly manicure to her nails. You curl your fingers into the skin of your palms to hide your gel polish that’s long started to scrape off. “Go clock out.”

“I’d rather die than listen to a single fucking thing you tell me to do,” you tell her, plain and simple.

“y/n!” a loud masculine voice calls from the other end of the Emergency Department, and all three of you visibly shrink a little in your stances out of fear. Head nurse Yaga. “Take your break, or I’ll be damned to let you set another foot in this hospital!!” he’s yelling at you all the way from the entrance to the CT scanner.

“But–”

“Now!!!!!”

Your eyes flicker to Yuna, who has an amused look on her face and a tilt to her head, and then you’re grumbling before logging out of your computer then stepping away from it. “Draw a CBC & chem on Beds 24 and 28 at 4 AM sharp,” you grumble to her, and she just gives you one of those tight-skinned smiles. 

The break room is empty, with shades of beige on the walls and even more depressing shades of gray on the lockers. There are all sorts of things pasted on the walls, like photos from staff Halloween and Christmas parties, drawings that pediatric patients have made in appreciation of their nurses, and employee information that Yaga’s constantly shoving in everyone’s faces. 

Okay, the backstory with Yuna. Pretty simple. You two had been best friends since high school, like inseparable best friends. Y’know, sneaking out late at night to use fake IDs at the bar, cover for the other when you’re busy losing your virginity to your high school boyfriend in the most dishonorable way possible, rooming together in college, sobbing and crying through all of nursing school together, ride or die type of friendship that you think you’d only find once in a lifetime. Except turns out your best friend, who you’d considered a sister, had eyes for your boyfriend since you started dating him in college, and the second that dickwad dumped you, you catch her sucking him off in the back of his Toyota Camry when you go to pick your stuff up from his place. Yeah, ouch. You lost the two closest people in your life, all in the matter of twenty-four hours, so pardon yourself for being a bit bitter about it. 

But being bitter is the coping mechanism. The real way you feel comes in the form of tears prickling in your eyes and the pain in your throat as you try to swallow away the knot that’s suffocating you from the inside out. A type of loneliness that leaves you stranded even in a room full of people. But at the very least, this room is empty, so no one has to see the crack in your resolve.

There’s no time on a thirty-minute lunch break to have a full mental breakdown, so you sparsely wipe at your tears and head back to your shift.

•┈┈┈••✦☽✦••┈┈┈•

If you want to know who actually holds the worst person on the planet title right now, well, you run into him on a Tuesday afternoon while on a grocery run after you just woke up from barely sufficient post night shift sleep. Bitter and drugged by Melatonin was not a state of being you needed to be in right now, but you’re out of orange juice and you’re having Vitamin C withdrawals which warrants a trip to the store. Unfortunately, the town only has one grocery store, which means you were bound to run into pestering ex-boyfriends at least once every full moon. 

“Get the fuck out of my way, Choso,” you snarl at the man who’s walking backwards ahead of your grocery cart, trying to stop you in your tracks so you’d just chill out and listen to him for a second.

“Can you just chill out and listen to me for a second?” he asks you, irritation evident in his voice like you’re being the difficult one here.

“I already told you that I quite literally never want to see your stupid ugly face ever again for as long as I live,” you say, and you ram your grocery cart forward with so much force the metal hits his knees and he doubles over the basket indignantly with a groan.

He seems like he’s had enough of you evading him, so he jams his foot under the wheel to keep you from moving forward, and you’re scowling at him and struggling against his foot-stop but to no avail. 

You briefly consider abandoning your cart all together and just bee-lining for the exit, but he’s a cop, so he’d easily be able to tackle you to the ground if you tried.

“What do you want?” you snarl, impatiently tapping your foot with every miserable passing second spent in his presence. 

“I just–” He sighs, “I just want to talk. And to know how you’re doing. You won’t pick up any of my calls.”

“Huh?” You blink at him. “I’ve had you blocked for the past two weeks. You shouldn’t even be able to call me.”

His eyebrows raise. “Really?...who have I been dialing then?” 

“Fuck if I know,” you shrug, and you use his moment of confusion to swerve your cart off to the side and make your way down the refrigerator aisle. Ohhh, dulce de leche gelato sounds nice, and it’s on sale. You grab a jar. 

Choso’s trailing behind you as you eye price tags and sale signs in the open chill of the yogurt section. “Babe–”

“Don’t–” you immediately cut him off, spinning fast on your heel and he stops himself just in time from crashing right into you. You hold your index finger up in the air between the two of you with a clench to your jaw so tight it feels sore, and through gritted teeth you say, “don’t call me babe.”

He rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry. It’s habit.”

Indeed, habit. Seven years of him calling you babe, or baby, or boobie (idk don’t ask). Your favorite though? Babydoll. He’d always call you that when he’d make sweet, sweet love to you while you were wearing his favorite flimsy little piece of lingerie–babydolls. Even now, the memories have your cheeks feeling hot. But he doesn’t get to call you babe anymore, and he doesn’t get to fuck you anymore, or talk to you anymore, or breathe in your general direction anymore, because he betrayed you. He wasted your time, and then he betrayed you.

Seven years of your sexual prime, where you could’ve been fucking hunky firefighters and bisexual Europeans, wasted on a man you weren’t even going to marry in the end anyways. Now you’re pushing thirty, and the idea of having to date again makes your skin crawl with anxiety that turns into fury because your doom is all caused by the man in front of you.

Whatever, forget about the sex and the impending loss of a woman’s novelty within society for a second. You loved him. A part of you still loves him. You wanted to marry this man. You thought you were going to spend the rest of your life with this man. Little sheriff deputy’s wife, Mrs. Kamo, the perfect number of letters to get on a bejeweled license plate. You had envisioned all the cute little quotes of adoration that would be imprinted on your wedding reception’s custom-made doily napkins with everyone that’s ever meant anything to you sitting at the table, ready to celebrate the love that you thought was real and true and brave and strong and one that would last forever.

But he abandoned you when you were at your lowest. And he fell into the arms of the one person you thought you could turn to crying when the relationship crashed and burned in the first place. And the problem with living in a small town is that everyone knows everybody’s business, so now you’re just the woman that wasted her youth on a man that played her like a broken fiddle. Utterly heartbroken, and humiliated. 

So, yeah, he doesn’t get to call you babe anymore.

“Listen here, asshole,” you say, stabbing him in the chest with your finger, so he can feel even a fraction of the pain you’ve felt in the past three weeks, “I couldn't care less if you live today, or die tomorrow. So if you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave me alone. Or I’ll file for a restraining order.”

“Really?” he says, brows pulled tight together in disbelief, like he just can’t understand what he’s done to make you act this way, and quite frankly, that only makes it sting even worse, “after everything we’ve been through, you’re just going to throw away the past seven years?”

“What the fuck are you saying?!” you all but snap at him, and an elderly couple that’s passing by flinches a little from the noise and you wince in apology before glaring at Choso again. Your voice is hushed this time. “You’re the one that broke up with me, but I’m the one that’s throwing it all away??”

He purses his lips together, and you notice how dark the circles under his eyes are. He shuts them tightly and leans back away from you, which makes you realize how much he was leaning into your space just a second ago. “I know that we…aren’t dating anymore. But, I mean, c’mon, y/n, it’s me. Just because we’re not together anymore, doesn’t mean that I don’t still…care. I want to know how your mom’s doing, and how treatment has been for her, and–” he glances up at the ceiling briefly, as if to mislead you into thinking that the next thing he says is just as nonchalantly desired as the other things he listed, “and I want to know how you’re doing, too.”

“You don’t deserve to know how I’m doing. Continue to wallow in your pathetic self righteousness, or go run with your tail between your legs to that two-faced rat I used to call a best friend. Either way, I don’t give a damn,” you say, in a way that very much sounds like you give a damn unfortunately, and spin on your heel to continue pushing your cart down to the juice section.

“Yuna and I–” you hear him say behind you, and just the mention of her name on his tongue makes your heart ache in your chest, to the point you need to place a flat palm over it just to alleviate the pain, “I–...I broke things off with her yesterday.”

Fuck. Pretend like you’re not fazed by that info. Pretend like you’re not fazed by that info.

“Okay? Whatever,” you barely manage to say.

He’s silent for a moment behind you. The wheels of your cart squeak as they roll. 

“I mean, we’re not together anymore. I’m not seeing her anymore,” he clarifies, as if he didn’t believe you heard him right the first time.

“Cool,” you comment, tone colder this time, since you had the practice round. 

“You don’t–” Choso starts, a rattle of hurt and confusion in his voice, “you don’t care about that?”

“Nope.” 

He reaches out to grab your wrist, and the contact burns through your skin, like something so familiar yet so foreign. You turn your head to look at him. 

“I…” he starts, and you can see his chest rising and falling with more intensity. Oh god. Please. Please don’t say it. You’re not sure you can handle hearing it. “I really miss you.”

Damn it, he said it.

Your posture relaxes slightly when you take a long look at him. You finally notice his hair has gotten longer in just the three weeks you’ve been apart, layered locks curling at the end of his neck, and it’s the first time you’ve noticed such a small detail because you were so used to spending everyday with him. He spent most of the week at your house, since the two of you could never formally move in with one another after your mother was diagnosed and it was easier for him to come by to yours so you could continue to keep an eye on her. There’s no option to live on your own and start your own life when you’re taking care of someone sick. They become your priority, not yourself, but you’d still make every single sacrifice you’ve made for your mother over and over again in a heartbeat if you had to relive the past five years. 

But that meant that you never had a real and true chance to live the life that you wanted with Choso. A place just for the two of you, lived in intimate solitude and not with the cries of your mother down the hall when she feels too sick to get up out of bed or when she cannot remember her own name. But you had never been this far apart from him to where you notice his hair is an inch longer than it was the last time you saw him. He was never that far away, as he is now. And you’ve just now realized it.  

“I don’t,” you start, swallowing the lump in your throat and your voice quivers ever so slightly when you speak, “I don’t care that you miss me.” You take a deep breath. “I’m getting married this weekend.”

His face entirely relaxes, like a calm before the storm, before it twists with so much confusion and incredulity and shock and–was that horror on his face?

“What?” he practically spats out, “it’s only been three weeks since we broke up!”

“Uhh,” you glance up at the ceiling of the store, just in time for an employee to make an announcement on the overhead for a manager at checkout lane 2 please, and then you glance back down at him, “I was having an affair while we were dating.” An easy lie. 

He scowls. “Yeah fucking right. There’s no way you’d cheat on me.”

His words burn bitter. The fact that he couldn’t even fathom you hurting him the same way he hurt you makes you clench your teeth. Because he knew you were better than he was, and that you were too good for him, and yet he still wasted your honor.

His friends, who used to be yours too, have probably fed him lies since the breakup. Like it’s okay, man. You broke up with her before you got involved with someone else. You didn’t do anything wrong.

But you say bullshit to all of that. Because after seven years of being together, you can’t just cold turkey a relationship like that to sleep with someone else, and then claim it’s not cheating. Technicalities like that were no vindication if the betrayal hurt all the same in the end. Because it still felt like you got cheated on regardless.

“Whatever. I don’t need to explain myself to you,” you tell him, “I’m getting married this weekend, so I really don’t give a damn about anything between us anymore. It’s over.”

“Who are you marrying?” he asks, suddenly breaking a sweat over the news like he’s starting to suspect you’re actually being serious.

“My neighbor.”

His face twists with disgust. “Old man Jenkins? He’s eighty-four years old.”

You roll your eyes. “Not the one on my left, you idiot. My neighbor to my right.”

The corner of his mouth tugs up in a ridiculing smirk, and the sight of it makes your skin crawl. He scoffs. “There’s no way. You hate that guy.”

“It’s true. I’m marrying him.”

“Seriously??” He guffaws at you, leaning in closer to you and you lean away until your back is resting on the handle of your shopping cart. “The obnoxious realtor I once heard you talking in your sleep about how much you want to murder him and then dump him in a lake?”

“What?! I talk in my sleep?!” you gasp.

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah. You have for years.”

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me that?!”

He looks annoyed. “Because you’re such a hypochondriac. You would’ve thought you had a brain tumor or something, and I’d have to deal with the paranoia that follows suit.”

“Choso,” you say to him with a strict tone, jutting your hip out to the side in preparation to scold, “my mother has Alzheimer’s, which is genetic, and I was having an abnormal neurological symptom for years which has studies to show is an early indication of dementia and you just chose not to tell me because you didn’t want to be annoyed?!”

“See?” he gestures to you, “you’re doing it right now. How did we go from just sleep talking to ‘I might have dementia’?” 

“We,” you point between you and him, “are never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever getting back together. If there’s one thing you can pull through that stupid skull of yours, make it that.”

“Excuse me,” you hear a tiny voice squeak out, and you turn to your right to see a little kid trying to push past the two of you to grab a box of GoGurt in the Yogurt section. You move your cart forward by bumping it with your butt to get out of the kid’s way, and Choso circles around to the front of your cart before you start moving forward again. Like he’s literally stopping you from moving on from him. 

“You’re lying about marrying this guy,” Choso says like it’s a fact. In typical cop gaslighting fashion. “You’re just saying that to make me jealous.”

You roll your eyes. “No. I’m just that hot and gorgeous that I made a man fall in love with me in three weeks.”

“He’s in love with you?” he asks.

“Duh, he wants to marry me. When you dumped me, I found comforting solace in my next-door-neighbor, and we fell into bed with one another, and now he feels the obligation to provide for me for the rest of my life. What’s so hard to believe about that? You didn’t find abrupt matrimony odd when we binged all three seasons of Bridgerton two months ago.”

“That show is set in the fuckin’ regency era,” he hisses at you, “look around. There’s plastic bags of Hot Cheetos with Red 40 in them everywhere. Does this look like the 1800s to you?”

You have to be careful with him. He’s a cop, who could arrest you for medical insurance fraud, and would also have a personal vendetta against your marriage because boo hoo he misses you. But yes, he was right, you did want to make him jealous, and you just can’t help it.

“Well, me and him have a love that no one else can understand, so suck it. I’m marrying him, and he’s super into me, and he can’t wait to spend the rest of his life with me, and he desperately wants to put babies in me, and–”

“And where’s the ring he gave you, then?”

Fuck. You briefly flick your gaze down to your left hand and note the daunting absence of a shiny diamond on your ring finger. Note to self, Gojo needs to buy you a ring.

“I left it at home,” you mumble.

“Uh-huh, as all newly engaged women who have been waiting for a ring all their life would do.”

That pisses you off. Because you were waiting your whole life for him to put a ring on your finger, and he never did. 

“Go fuck a fleshlight,” you snarl at him, unfortunately in earshot of the GoGurt kid and his mom shoots you a nasty look, but you’re a jaded woman after everything you’ve been through and you ram your cart into Choso so hard you swear you could’ve cracked his knee caps, and he doubles over in enough pain for you to have the time to leave him stranded there as you push your cart all the way to the end of the store. 

You finally make it to the orange juice section, the one thing you needed, although your cart is filled with things you didn’t need, because that’s always how these grocery runs go. You try to take a few breaths to calm down the fast beating in your heart after that confrontation with Choso. You’re not good with confrontation, even though it might seem like you are, but you’re just putting on a face. Acting strong, when really all you want to do is curl up into a ball and cry. But there are bills to pay, and images to upkeep, and orange juice to replenish. 

Your hand reaches out for the handle on the refrigerator door, but just before you curl your fingers around it, another hand beats you to it. It’s a large and masculine hand, with veins disappearing into the cuffed felted fabric of a suit jacket, and the knuckles turn a shade lighter than the olive skin around them when the fingers flex around the handle. 

You glance up at the person standing next to you, who you register towers over you in height. He has long, sleek black hair that shimmers under fluorescent lighting, some of which is tied up and out of his face, while the rest cascades over his back. But there’s tendrils of hair falling over the left side of his face, barely distracting you through the intensity of purple in his eyes when he glances at you.

“Ah, apologies,” he says, and the way he speaks is so calm and gentle, different from the intimidating aura he holds himself with. He retreats his hand from the handle.

“Oh, that’s–” you find yourself stuttering, “...that’s okay.” You grab the handle and open it, the chill rush of the fridge hitting you as your eyes peruse the selection of orange juice cartons while his eyes remain on you. You awkwardly glance at him again. “Sorry, d-did you also need to get orange juice?”

He nods. “Yes, I did.”

Not a man of many words, you think to yourself. Or maybe just around people he’s just met.

Your eyes catch the familiar labeling of your go-to orange juice, the one with no pulp and has added Vitamins D and E (basically the one for children), but you realize there’s only one left. You grab it anyway and put it in your cart. When you glance up at the handsome stranger beside you, there’s a slight look of amusement on his face.

“Seems we both have the same taste in orange juice,” he comments. 

“Oh no,” you say with a small laugh, “I’m sorry. It’s the last one.” Your eyes widen. “You–…you can have it, if you want–”

“Oh, no, no,” he shakes his head, long hair swaying with the motion as he holds his hands up in front of himself, “please. I will just find a nearby store.”

You tilt your head. “Oh there’s no other stores nearby…unless you get on the highway for at least twenty minutes. It’s a…small town.”

His lax expression finally cracks into one of subtle surprise. “That’s interesting.”

“Are you…new to town?” you ask.

He nods with a small smile on his face. “Indeed. Well, just visiting. I’m from New York.”

“Oh! Wow, that’s a long way from here.” You briefly register that he does look like a city man. Upscale restaurants, skyline views, premium outlets. The subtle fragrance of his cologne smells expensive too. “What are you up to while visiting?” You mentally facepalm yourself for asking personal questions, but he seems mysterious and you like peeling the layers back on people like him.

His expression drops, turning almost solemn and his eye contact that was previously very direct is suddenly averted elsewhere, “Just…visiting some old friends.” There is no elaboration.

“Ahh…I see,” you say, picking up on the hint that he has no more words to give you. “Well…I’ll be taking the orange juice…maybe try one with pulp?” you suggest a little cheekily. 

His lips tug upwards in a lopsided smile, one you’d call a smirk if you weren’t so mesmerized to define it as one, “I’ll think about it.”

You hum slightly in polite acknowledgement of him, then push your cart back towards the heart of the store without a word of goodbye.

Odd stranger, who’s good at giving misleading answers. You wonder what life he’s come here to escape. 

•┈┈┈••✦☽✦••┈┈┈•

It’s a bright, picturesque Sunday morning, with children laughing and squealing out on the streets in front of your house as they ride their scooters up hot pavement while their parents catch up on PTA drama on the lawns. You’re standing in front of your full length mirror, trying on dress #3 for your little meeting with the courthouse today. And by little meeting, you mean your wedding. You’re getting married today.

The dress you have on falls to below your knees and has buttons all the way from the hem right up to the base of your neck, where the collared neckline wraps around you like a noose. Suffocating, way too prim and proper, although it’d make your grandma very happy and adored to see you should you show up to church service in it. 

Your bed is cluttered with clothes you’ve thrown across it as you try to find a good dress. Your hands move with impatience as you skim through the rack of your closet for another dress to try on, since you’re starting to push the time a little too much. You’ve only got ten minutes before you need to leave. 

A dress tucked in the corner of your closet catches your eye and you pull it out. It’s a cream-colored milk maid dress with an underskirt to puff out the A-line silhouette, length down to your shins that would be oh-so-flattering with a cute pair of heels. There are small red flowers adorning the pattern, with tiny green leaf details as well. It was cute and sweet and feminine, something you haven’t worn in a long time unlike your usual monotonous hospital scrubs, stained sweatpants and adult onesies.

It was the dress your friend Sana convinced you to buy when you thought you were going to get engaged. In the first two years of your relationship with Choso, you two talked about marriage non-stop. You both had just graduated college when you first started dating, and it felt like your lives were finally starting. At the end of the second year you two had been together for, after Christmas dinner with your family, he pulled you into his arms and you squealed with glee as he spinned you around in your childhood bedroom upstairs and told you how much he wanted to marry you, and that he was going to propose in the new year.

Your mother was diagnosed with cancer in January, and he never brought up marriage ever again. 

He still stayed with you for five years after that though, and swiftly dodged every single question you ever asked him about his impending proposal. For five years, you were fed every excuse in the book. And in hindsight, you feel like an idiot for staying, and for still holding out hope, when what you were really holding onto was heartbreak. The feeling of not being enough, like someone was just tolerating you, and not loving you. It was easy to ignore at times, given how occupied you were with driving your mother to chemotherapy appointments and reading up on books about which diet works best to slow down the development of Alzheimer’s because your mother started showing signs of dementia just two months after the cancer diagnosis. But in those moments of freedom, where you had a moment to breathe, all you could breathe was a suffocating smoke. Because you stopped feeling wanted or loved in between all of it.

But there was a trip he planned for the two of you to Greece. It was after your mother had first successfully gotten into remission. A gasp of fresh air amongst all the pain and suffering, and you could only assume that he wanted to celebrate by taking you on a trip. Sana was convinced he was going to propose to you on this trip, and you wondered if maybe he was just waiting until your mother felt better before he proposed so that the two of you could enjoy being newly engaged without the pressure or worry. Sana took you shopping, and you bought this dress, one that clings to your form in a way that made you feel beautiful. Made you feel wanted. Made you feel worthy of being loved. Because all other parts of yourself had been overlooked and paid no attention, but you thought a dress could save you. 

He never proposed. You left Greece with an extra suitcase of souvenirs, but without a ring on your finger or even a compliment on how beautiful you should’ve looked to him standing there on that beach with this cream-colored dress on, arm wrapped around his. And it was at that point you became numb, and you existed in limbo for the remaining four years of your relationship. Until he finally did what you silently begged him to do, with every sullen look in your eyes when you glanced at him. Maybe it was a self-fulfilling prophecy, what he did to you. Something you willed him into because you didn’t have the strength to leave, and so he had to.

You hold the dress up to your form in the mirror. It’d still fit you, and it’s far too pretty to have only worn once. But you’ve been numb for so long now, you don’t even remember what it’s like to feel pretty in a dress. You unbutton yourself out of dress #3 and step into failed proposal dress #4, and as you slowly zip up the back of the dress, you’re met with resistance. 

Fuck.

The last thing you need right now is a weight-related meltdown.

You tug up on the zipper even more, harshly, to the point you hear a stitch rip and you gasp and try to do it slowly so as not to completely tear the dress apart. But it’s not fitting. It should fit. You just assume the zip is stuck, or it’s too rigid after years of no wear.

You’re about to do another colossal yank upwards that could potentially dislocate your shoulder when you jump at the sound of your phone chiming with a notification. And then multiple.

“What...the hell…do you want…” you sigh to nobody, swiping your hands across the pile of dress fabric on your bed to find your phone, and when you do, you quickly tap on the screen to see the messages.

|| 11:32AM neighbor (avocado tree): Hey, are we still getting married today?

First of all, wild fucking thing to nonchalantly ask.

|| 11:32AM neighbor (avocado tree): Your car’s still parked out front, so I wasn’t sure if you’ve left yet. I was just about to leave, and then the thought occurred to me that we should probably carpool?

|| 11:35AM neighbor (avocado tree): But just wanted to verify, are you sure you want to go through with this? You’re not having cold feet? Won’t be a runaway bride? I’m not gonna be left at the altar, wondering where I went wrong?

You roll your eyes, breathing heavily still from the struggle of zipping up your dress.

|| 11:36AM You: yes, we are still getting married. I just can’t zip up my dress for the life of me 

It takes him a whole minute to respond.

|| 11:38AM neighbor (avocado tree): Do you need help?

You blink at your phone screen. Help? What kind of help? Helping you zip up your dress?

You look over your shoulder to the full length mirror, eyeing your back. The dress was zipped up to just above the small of your back, with the rest of it flayed open to reveal the expanse of your skin. Setting your phone down, you roll your shoulders back once and flex your fingers to try again in securing this dress, but to no avail. You curse yourself for not having the flexibility, and to be honest, you’re not even sure if you can take the dress off anymore to get into something else with the way the zipper won’t budge neither up nor down. Well. You’re just going to have to wear this dress for the rest of your life now. A scary predicament.

You pick your phone up again.

|| 11:41AM You: yes

It only takes about two minutes for him to text you that he’s at your front door, a surprisingly considerate gesture considering your mother is sleeping downstairs so it’s good he didn’t ring the doorbell, and you tiptoe your way down and over the creaky floorboards of the stairs to the front entrance. 

You slowly crack the door open only a couple inches, hiding yourself from him behind it as you peek at him. “Hi.”

“Hey,” he says, and he glances at his watch. “We’ve got to hurry.”

You nod, and take note of his appearance. He’s wearing a dark fitted navy suit over a white dress shirt, which to your surprise, doesn’t have the top two buttons sluttily undone for once. His suit pants are perfectly tailored to his ankles and you can barely see the exposed fabric of black socks before they disappear into his polished Oxfords. He looks like he’s going to a wedding. Oh wait, he is. 

He raises an eyebrow at you when you refuse to reveal yourself by stepping away from behind the door. Even his hair is particularly kept and proper, swept off to the side slightly in a way that makes him look younger and you feel nervous from the intensity of those eyes, which are usually somewhat hidden by the fringe of his snowy hair, now look at you unwaveringly with no obstruction. You feel like you’re seeing him in a completely new light, and for some reason, it makes you cower behind the door even more. 

“Uh, are you going to let me in?” he asks you, his foot tapping lightly on the welcome! mat. 

“Yes,” you say, but you make no movement to prove your word. 

“y/n,” he says, “we need to get going.”

You sigh, tapping your fingers against the stained glass window of your front door to release some nerves before hesitantly stepping to the side and pulling the door open all the way, then you’re standing in front of him in full view. You catch a glimpse of the black tie hanging from his neck that’s secured all the way up to the collar of his shirt, before you finally look at his face.

Those striking eyes of his round slowly until he’s looking at you wide-eyed, blinking in some sort of dazed surprise as his gaze eventually sweeps down your entire form to take in the sight of you standing barefoot on wooden floor in your cream-colored dress, and you swear you see the muscles in his jaw jump. His brow furrows like he can’t believe what he’s seeing.

“You–” he starts, that shocked blinking still taking place on his face, and you grasp the fabric of your dress in front of you from the anticipation of what he’ll say, “...you look beautiful.”

A silence settles between the two of you as he continues to roam his eyes all down you like there’s nothing that could stop him from doing it, and you feel heat in your cheeks from his compliment. It’s just a silly little cream-colored dress. One that didn’t look pretty on a beach in Greece, so why would it look beautiful on you  here right now? While you’re standing at the dusty front entrance of a decades old house? He’s bullshitting you.

“You know you don’t have to compliment me, you know that, right?” you squeak out, trying to keep your tone level and easy to fight back the raw feeling in your throat, “this isn’t a first look. There are no photographers around to capture your reaction. We’re not actually getting married.”

“But–” 

“Can you just help me with the dress?” you cut him off so he doesn’t say anything else that makes you feel pretty right now.

“...sure,” he agrees, and he steps inside your house. You start to walk upstairs, and he follows suit, and you suddenly feel his eyes on your back so you turn around and walk up the stairs backwards while facing him.

“I don’t understand the concept of first looks anyway,” he says out of nowhere to cut the silence, “isn’t it a bad omen to see your partner before getting married?”

“That’s such an outdated superstition,” you tell him as your feet finally press firmly flat at the top of the stairs. 

One of his feet is placed next to where you’re standing up straight at the top, while the other is still on the third step down. And it’s like he’s kneeling on one knee in front of you as he looks up at you. After a moment of deep breathing on your part, you finally step away from the top of the stairs so he can finish walking up them too.

“I don’t know what happened,” you say to him as you make it to the front of your full length mirror, “I was just trying to zip it up but it got stuck. And it’s not unzipping either.”

He comes up behind you, and you can see in the mirror that he’s put a decent amount of space between the two of you from the way his arms are reached out in front of him just to access the zipper. He tugs up on it.

“Hm. It…” he struggles with it, “it seems…” he yanks again, “jammed?”

“Fudge,” you mutter under your breath (more ladylike perhaps, as opposed to fuck) and you sulk your shoulders. “But will it close at all, do you think?”

He takes a step closer to you, and his cologne has the fragrance of woody oak with undertones of citrus, like something expensive and sophisticated. His hand sweeps your hair off to the side and over your shoulder to the front so he has a better view, fingers brushing against the nape of your neck from the motion and you try to fight the shiver. A glance to the mirror, and you see his eyes are set on the exposed skin. He tugs to pull your dress together, and is able to cross the fabrics. “Yeah, it should. I think just hold your breath for a second? I’m going to try to see if zipping it down helps unjam it.” 

“Okay,” you say softly, and he eyes you in the mirror at the sudden subservience. 

You try to hold your breath as he tugs down on the zipper, and you hear the metallic click when he succeeds in unjamming it before he zips it down just an inch. You can feel the small of your back exposed to cool air from the motion. 

He’s suddenly frozen entirely behind you, the knuckle of his index finger brushing against your skin as he continues to pinch the zipper between it and his thumb. You feel his slow exhale on the back of your neck. You’re too scared to look at his expression in the mirror.

“Sa–” you stutter through a gasp, “Satoru.”

“Sorry,” he says quietly, and then he’s shifting on his feet once before slowly attempting to zip the dress up. 

He’s met with a slight resistance just underneath your shoulder blades. “Hey. Just hold your breath.”

“I’m trying to,” you tell him, almost whining, because it’s hard to stop breathing when your heart is beating fast and it needs the oxygen supply.

“Do you want to try on a different dress?” he asks you.

“No,” you immediately answer him. You’re not sure why, but the idea of wearing this dress for the rest of your life doesn’t scare you anymore. In fact, you never want to take it off.

Your hands twiddle with the flimsy string at your collarbone that you tied to connect the fabric across your chest, and then you realize. “Oh…maybe I need to–” you tug at the end of the string, “undo this? That might make it looser?” You finally glance at the mirror to seek his approval of your suggestion.

His eyes meet yours, and when he sees what you’re referring to, his eyes widen. “But that would–”

“Just don’t look,” you say simply.

You two remain looking at one another in the mirror, and you see his chest heaving slightly through the tightening of his dress shirt against the expansion of his breathing. Like you’re asking the impossible of him.

“Or I’ll kill you,” you say.

He sighs, and his eyes flit down to your zipper again. You swear you feel his hand tremble slightly. “Alright.”

You pull on the end of the string, watching him in the mirror to make sure his eyes don’t wander, and the fabric covering your breasts falls open, but you use a hand to still sparsely cover your skin with the cloth where you can. In the reflection, you see his jaw clench but his eyes remain on the zipper, and only briefly flicker to the bed once. Then he’s zipping up your dress with ease. 

You quickly tie the string above your chest once more to cover yourself up, and then spin to face the mirror, petting down the fabric of your dress and throwing your hair back over your shoulder. It was a snug fit, but at least it still fit. 

He’s a step behind you with his hands shoved in his suit pockets, looking at your face with a slight tilt to his head like he’s studying you in the mirror just as much as you’re studying yourself. And then he pulls his hand out of his pocket to glance at his watch again. “It’s almost noon,” he says. 

“What?!” you bark at him. “We’re fucking late!!! Why didn’t you say anything?!?!”

“Huh??” he baffles. “I’ve been trying to tell you we need to rush this entire time.”

“Oh my god, oh my god,” you say, pacing your room to find your things in a scurry, picking your purse up and then grabbing your Manila folder of paperwork from your desk, and you try to walk past him to the door when you trip over the five pairs of shoes that you had been trying on earlier, almost twisting your ankle, and you gasp then grab onto his suit jacket for purchase before his arm attempts to reach out to hold you upright but to no avail since you tug on him as you fall straight backwards onto your bed and bring him down with you. 

His hands sink into the soft mattress on both sides of your head, wrists tickled by your hair, as he hovers over you, and your fingers quickly curl into little balls at your chest as you shrink underneath him, looking up at his surprised expression, likely from having to suddenly brace himself from falling right on top of you.

You both look at each other, blinking as you come down from the sudden chaos, and his tie that’s hanging from his neck brushes against your knuckle and falls over your hand to graze the skin above your breasts. His eyes briefly flicker to the sight, and he catches himself only to stare at your lips instead.

Even through thick layers of fabric, you can see the thick curves of the muscles in his arms, pulled taut from how he’s holding himself up over you. And for once, you wish the buttons of his shirt were undone, so you can see what he’s hiding underneath. The hair he had swept up above his eyes now falls freely with gravity, soft tufts that dangle above you and shadow over the blue of his eyes as he looks at you with a furrowed brow that–...that makes him look handsome. 

You must be ovulating.

No, wait, you finished ovulating a couple days ago.

Oh god.

Was your next door neighbor hot this entire time?

There was simply no way. 

You refuse to believe it.

You’re laying still like a deer in highlights, motionless underneath him, before he curls his arm around your waist to bring you up with him as he stands up straight, and you only spend a moment pressed up against him before you get yourself out of his grasp by pushing flat palms against his chest, and then the two of you are in proper distance from one another once again.

“D-Don’t ever do something like that ever again,” you stutter, shimmying your hips slightly to pull the snug fabric down your waist from where it had risen up.

“I didn’t do anything,” he grumbles, and he runs a hand through his hair. Now it looks like it always does, no longer prim in style.

“Whatever, let’s just go.” You slip your feet into one of the pairs of heels sprawled across on the floor, and then you head straight for the door. “You drive.”

You hear him sigh behind you. “Yes ma’am.”

•┈┈┈••✦☽✦••┈┈┈•

The courthouse is bustling with people when you two arrive but Gojo’s pleasantly able to pull into an open curbside parking spot right in front of the entrance. You’re surprised when he comes around to the passenger side to open the door for you, and you swat his hand away when he offers it to you too, but you probably should’ve taken it, since you almost twist your ankle for the second time today as you step out onto the curb and get used to walking in heels again like a newborn fawn.

“Should’ve taken my hand,” he says to you, smile turned upwards into a smirk as he watches you struggle while he’s a few steps ahead of you.

“Give it to me then,” you grit through your teeth as you wobble, giving up your pride to avoid adding yet another medical bill to the list of debts in your name.

“Nah,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets, “too late. Lost your chance.” You curse his entire lineage in your head.

You two make it inside the courtroom, and the first person you look for is Hana, whose head you catch at the front row much to your pleasant surprise since she is your sole witness to sign on the marriage certificate today. But in your study of the room to find her, you notice that there are a lot of other people in here as well.

“Don’t tell me…Did you invite people??” you ask Gojo, grabbing onto his sleeve to get his attention and also for balance, but he doesn’t need to know that latter part.

He glances down at you. “No? Why would I invite people to my fake wedding?”

Your eyes peruse the room once again, and you realize that most of them are just old retired people with nothing better to do on a Sunday than visit the courtroom. Some are elderly couples, eyeing you and Gojo as you two make your way down the aisle with sweetness in their eyes like awwwwwww to be a young couple in love once more <3 while they wait for the judge to call on their hundreds of unpaid parking tickets because they don’t know how to access an internet portal.

“D-Do you have the marriage license?” you squeak out to Gojo, who has now adjusted his walking speed to match yours.

“No, I left it at home,” he tells you in a flat tone. “Of course I brought the marriage license.”

“I was just checking, jeez…” you grumble.

Gojo hands the clerk the folder he was holding in his hand, and you hand in yours too.

Oh god. Your peripheral vision already recognizes him before your brain can, but you see an extremely familiar silhouette standing guard off to the side of the Judge’s bench, and your gaze immediately snaps in that direction.

Choso stands there, in his Sheriff Deputy’s uniform, his thumbs tucked into his vest as he puffs his chest out in assertion of his oh so important duty securing the courthouse on a Summer Sunday from any devastating danger, such as an elderly man not wanting to pay a parking ticket and then proceeding to charge towards the judge at 2 MPH, and you can’t help but roll your eyes from his attitude and scowl at him. Of course he pulled some strings and saw when you were getting allegedly married and decided to show up on that exact day. Whatever. You’ll pay him no mind. As long as he doesn’t speak now.

You and Gojo walk back to the lower desk in front of the Judge’s Bench.

“Ah! y/n, hello my dear, how are you?” the judge calls out to you.

“Hi Judge Jun,” you say meekly with a small wave, your voice echoing in the room, “good, and yourself?”

6/4/2024 1232: Judge Jun is a 72 y/o man with a past medical history of hypertension, hypercholesterolemia, hyperglycemia, GERD, liver cirrhosis and COPD, who endorses a social history of frequent tobacco usage and occasional alcohol consumption. Patient presents to the ED with chief complaint of chest pain, onset two hours ago after he drank three bottles of beer, and—

“Much better since you took care of me last week!” he humphs, patting his stomach.

You snap out of your automatic charting that was droning on in your head on reflex from how many times Judge Jun has shown up to the ED for acute chest pain which almost always ends up just being beer-induced GERD.

“At the hospital!” you clarify, “for taking care of you at the hospital!”

The man laughs heartily from where he sits up at the raised platform bench. “Yes! And Mr. Gojo! Nice to see you as well.”

You flit your eyes to Gojo, like you know him too? He only briefly spares you a sidewards glance before looking back at Judge Jun. “Likewise, sir.”

You postulate he scammed the fuck out of the man into signing a forty-year lease on a condo in the shady part of town, and you’ll leave it at that.

“I have to say, I am a little shocked by this matrimonial partnership!” Judge Jun chimes in. “But do you both swear to enter this marriage under just circumstances? I will need verbal affirmation from you both.”

Gojo raises his hand up in the air to swear on it, and you remember that he’s possibly done this before. Y’know how people have a courtroom wedding before a real wedding, something like that. And maybe that’s why he knows to raise his hand, because you didn’t even know you were supposed to raise your hand until now.

A real wedding. Something you’ve pictured a lot in your head, and so much more different than the arrangement you find yourself in right now. And because the pain of imagining yourself tying the knot with someone is too much right now, especially when the man you thought you were going to marry stands in uniform five feet away from you and probably doesn’t even recognize the dress you’re wearing right now, you glance over to Gojo and you try to imagine what a real wedding would’ve been like for him. Since he’s done it before.

He probably had a tacky wedding, like in a barn with barrels of beer used as tables with barely flickering string lights hung across wooden planks high on a triangular ceiling. The reception and the ceremony likely happened under the same roof, because he seems like the minimalist type, more focused on the feelings behind it and all, and not the grandeur.

Or maybe he was into the grandeur. Maybe he had a wedding on a skyline penthouse in the city, wearing expensive cologne like the one he’s wearing now, and a Dior suit he got custom made because it was a once in a lifetime occasion so why not? The image becomes a little too vivid in your head now, where you can picture this woman he’s marrying too. Pretty, tall just like him, wearing a ball gown white dress. He would’ve told her she looked beautiful, too. He would’ve told her he can’t wait to spend the rest of his life with her. Vows uttered shakingly into the microphone at an altar while the sun is setting far into the sky, shimmering off of high building windows until the air is golden and it reflects off of his and his soon-to-be wife’s face. And when they’ve professed their love for one another, he grabs her by the waist and dips her in a kiss, for the perfect picture against the perfect backdrop in front of all the perfect little people because there probably was a photographer at that event, wanting to capture the moment.

You snap out of the dazed moment when a loud voice calls out your name, and in a shock, you glance back up at Judge Jun who’s looking at you with slight irritation.

“Huh?” you squeak out, and then turn to look at Gojo, who’s got a look of mild concern on his face as he raises an eyebrow at you.

“Please swear that this marriage is under just circumstances,” Judge Jun states with a cadence that indicates he’s commanded this of you multiple times already.

“Oh!” you stand up straight, “I—…I’m sorry.” You hold your hand up. “Yes, I swear this marriage is under just circumstances.” Just like Higurama had you practice. He’d be proud. Phew, the hard part was over.

The rest of the ceremony goes by in a rather fast blur, and it’s a little awkward when you both have to tell Judge Jun that you don’t have any vows to exchange at the moment when he offers the time for them, but Gojo comes up with some lie about how the real vows will be at our formal ceremony, and Judge Jun seems entirely satisfied and a little too ecstatic by the answer before allowing you two and Hana to sign the marriage certificate.

“And rings?” Judge Jun asks as he peers down through his glasses to the paper he was holding at his desk. “We can now make time for the exchange of rings.”

You’re prepared for Gojo to come up with another lie about how the real rings will be at our formal ceremony, but you see him shuffling with something in his pocket in your periphery. Hm? You glance down at his hip, and you see him pull something shiny out.

He turns to face you, and he holds his hand out to you with an up-facing palm. You blink at him and then glance down at his hand. And then you look up and blink at him, and then glance down his hand. And then you look up and blink at him, and then gl—

“Give me your hand,” he says to you, a little hushed and rushed.

“Why???” you ask, baffled.

“So I can put a ring on your finger?” he says, like it’s the most casual thing. Like getting a ring slipped onto your fourth finger is the most casual Sunday for you, when it’s something you’ve dreamt of your whole entire life.

You finally take a long hard look at the ring he’s holding in his right hand. It shimmers with every glint of light in the courtroom off of every angle, no doubtedly precisely cut diamond from a jeweler who really cares about their craft, and you swear you’ve saved a similar looking ring to one of your Pinterest wedding boards before.

You hesitantly bring your hand up and hover it over his.

“Your left hand, silly,” he tells you.

“Oh, right,” you say, and hand him your left one instead.

He holds it in his hand that is much warmer than yours, and it’s so tender, the way he gently slips the ring onto your finger. It fits with ease, perfection actually, and you can’t help raising your hand up in the air, spreading your fingers weakly as you admire the stone now sitting above your knuckle. It’s pretty.

You feel Gojo’s eyes on you, as he’s halted in frame, and you glance past your hand to look at his face. You dislike him. You do. You should. He’s your annoying as fuck next-door-neighbor. So then why does your heart feel like it could burst right now?

A glimmer of silver catches your eye, and you look down at his hands as he slips a silver ring onto his left hand while facing you before he turns to face the front again, signaling the end of the ring exchange, except you didn’t get to put it on his hand. He didn’t give you the chance.

“Alright! Wonderful!” Judge Jun exclaims, whose eyesight is probably too poor to have seen that it wasn’t even a proper ring exchange. “With the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife!”

There is scattered applause across the courtroom, a few cheers as well, as you two stand in front of the court of law in holy matrimony.

Judge Jun glances at Gojo. “Well, young man, you may now kiss the bride!”

“Oh—…that—” you stutter, “that’s not necessa—”

“Okay,” Gojo says, more to affirm Judge Jun than in acknowledgement of your protest, and in a series of what feels like just one motion, he wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you two him and then he—

He kisses you.

He kisses you like it’s real, like there’s history, like it’s a pure thing meant to last and not something you quite literally put a time stamp on. The kiss muffles the small sound that comes from your throat, your hands held up in the air in some slight surrender before they slowly settle on his shoulders as he bends you backwards over his forearm to deepen the kiss and the cheers surrounding you grow with a fervor that has your cheeks burning red but for some reason you don’t want it to end—

And then he pulls away from you, eyes darting across the features of your face in close proximity as he exhales slowly, like a release, and it feels like the two of you are the only ones in this room before he glances at your lips one last time and then he releases his hold on you. You stand shocked, and briefly glance at Choso, who looks like he’s about to burst a fuse off the top of his head.

What.

What.

What?

And just like that, you were married to your insufferable next-door neighbor.

.

.

.

[end of chapter 2]

a/n. thank youuu soooo so much for reading this chapter of ihm!! i’m kinda liking the writing style i’ve adopted for this series, it’s kinda lax n lenient sort of like a stream of consciousness and i hope it doesn’t come of too crass of informal lol i’m just playing around w some writing styles rn. ANYWHO i hope you enjoyed!! btw i picture choso as long-hair choso in any modern au (and not pigtails choso) so if you see me describing his hair in the way that i do, that’s why lol. love you all so much, hope to see you in the next one <3

➸ you're all caught up!

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meme of the chapter:

[hoshigray]

hellooo! i had an idea i wanted to add onto the sukuna smut you had where he was rebellious student and she was the student body. i was thinking about the reader taking charge of sukuna even after he talked about how she would be under him.

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: omfg FINALLY i have time to do this req!! second part to this request.

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Sukuna x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern setting; Sukuna and you are college seniors - degradation (bitch, slut, whore) - impact play (spanking) - prone bone + cowgirl positions - breast play + nipple play - cervix fucking- dick piercing (frenulum) - unprotected sex (psa: don't be silly; wrap the willy) - creampies - overstimulation - clitoral play (friction/grinding) - pet names (brat, good girl, pet, princess, woman) - implied blackmail - Sukuna being a sadist fuck, per usual - mention of drool/spit.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.2k

“—Khhh! Ahaaa, fuuck, ‘Ryoo, slow do—Ahhnn!!”

“Nnnmm…Heh, dumb pet; think you have any right to tell me what to do…”

Being the president of the student body entails many responsibilities. It’s a highly respectable title expected to be exhibited by the poisest of souls—a soul that you behold and have been recognized with for the past four years of your college life. 

Senior year, a time that was supposed to be a smooth sail, unexpectedly brought its own set of challenges. Despite meticulously planning your major and minor courses, the final year turned out to be a juggling act, with five classes and the added responsibilities of extracurriculars and student government. But at the very least, it’s nothing you- student president- can’t handle.

What is one thing you can’t handle, however, is the man who has you all naked and sweating on his red satin sheets.

Sukuna has you face down to the mattress, a hand on your head to keep your cheek smooshed to the silky sheet, while the other pins you down by the waist. From behind, he ruts into your bare ass with a rough pace, jackhammering his cock into your wet cunt that’s already stuffed with his come from the rounds prior. 

Being in a situation like this is not what you envisioned would happen in your last year of college — let alone with the likes of him. You’d rather wring your own neck than be within arm’s length of Ryōmen Sukuna’s perimeter. The named senior has been on your shit list for the past three years, fucking delinquent, only doing what he wants for his pleasure, rules be damned. 

The exact aspect goes along with you, too; the only reason why you’re allowing this bastard to touch you like this is because of the material he has to bring your reputation down—all these years of hard work threatened to crumble down because of some inappropriate pictures and videos of you. To him, he could care less about releasing them and seeing your life diminish before his very eyes. As for you, you couldn’t let that happen, unable to sleep at night knowing the man you hate with your very being has shit on you for his petty enjoyment. 

So here you are, in the sole bedroom of his apartment, stripped of your clothes, your titles, and your dignity. All bare and nude for this vile man to see and use you as he sees fit in the most raunchy ways. I hate this so much...

“Hey, whore. Quit squirmin’ around like that, and let me finish you off.”

Sukuna slaps your ass for the tenth time that night, the skin of your butt hot and stinging with pain from the impacts and pinches of his nails. The sore feeling spreads with the crash of his pelvis slamming on your rear and his girthy dick churning the velvety texture of your insides. Each pound rocks you to submission, drool exiting your lips to the sheets and sticks to your chin. You’re sure you look like an idiot, all tousled because of his rough demeanor. Too angry with yourself that you fight the tears. I hate this so fucking much…

“—Ohhh!!” You wail out, eyes rolling up to your skull from the brush of your cervix. “Nnoohh!! F-Fuuuck! Ahaahnn...!”

The man above you snickers wickedly. “Keheh, look at you, crying like a real bitch in heat.” Another slap to your asscheek has you scream some more; your vocals are dragged out by his fingernails, piercing your inflamed skin. “Shit, can never get enough of this tight pussy. Never expected someone like you to be so good at wringing cock, prez.”

“Mmmph…! Go f–fuck yer’self, Ryōmen…” Even if he has your head pinned, your persistence furls you to throw a glare his way. 

But it only humors the tattooed senior above you. “And bore myself when there’s a perfect piece of ass that can take me?” He slams his pelvis harshly and jabs to your cervix by the tip prompts tears to strike down. “Though you were smarter than that, woman.”

You grit your teeth when Sukuna increases the speed of his thrusts; the piercing of his frenulum rubs on your inner walls without fail. Toes curl from another hard smack to your butt, nearly biting the skin of your bottom lip from yet another twinge of pain. 

“Taaah, ughhh, ohmyGoood…!” You can sense your cunt begin to throb–your orgasm is about to hit. “Su’kunaa, please slow downnn, I’m so–I’m gonna…Mmfffaaa!!”

Shocks tingle up your spine with the climb of your climax crashing down, your vagina contracting around the girthy length burrowing deep inside you. Howls are expressed with a euphoric tone despite the soreness of your poor, aching body. And Sukuna groans at the feeling of you clamping onto him, using slow movements of his hips to enjoy the contraction.

“Hnngh..! Dumb brat, thinkin’ you’re free to cum without my say-so.” A playful slap to your butt has you jolt, your figure still sensitive with your hazy high. It’s not like I didn’t tell you to slow down, you asshole. You sharply gasp at the withdrawal of his member, and his load exudes out with a sloppy force that messes your inner thighs. He then bends to your ear, his cold, sweaty chest sticking to your back. “Dirty slut chasin’ for yer own release. Have you no shame, princess?”

Stop talking to me… You were disgusted by the shudder you felt as he licked your ear.

“Thanks to you, I’m still hard,” he rubs his solid dick on the crevice of your ass, his come-coated member erotically grinding on the soft flesh. “Now stay fucking still ‘till I’m done with you—”

Rarely does Sukuna find himself perplexed. One moment, he’s proudly stationed above you. Then, you surprised him by rolling him to his back in a flash. The action takes him aback–somewhat amazed you could take his weight–and he sees your figure come over with your legs on either side of his waist. 

Now, you were on top of him—a rarity that neither of you expected.

Pinkish orange brows remain neutral, yet his piercing scarlet eyes bore holes into your frame. “And just the hell do you think you’re doing?” 

“What it looks like I’m doing.” You reply with a tiny malice — enough you knew wouldn’t get you into too much trouble with the man you’re on top of. Your hand grasps on Sukuna’s cock and strokes the erect limb. “I’m finishing you off.”

Did you gulp at the motion of a single brow being lifted? Of course you did. Albeit you were stubbornly confident, you’d be a fool if you weren’t frightened. Yet the man sneered after a few brief seconds. “Is that right? The president thinks they can do all the work, huh.” You observed Sukuna bringing his hands to relax behind his head, “Well, what are you waitin’ for? Take care of your fellow student, Miss Prez.”

I hate his ass so fucking much—you can only express your disdain through your inner dialogue, wanting nothing but to wipe that evil sneer off his tattooed face. Yet you know that’s not what’s expected of you now. So, with a gulp and a slow inhale, your hips are pulled up by yourself, and your hand guides the pulsing length in your grasp to your leaking slit. 

You gasp at the contact of his glans kissing your labia, the sight of the some dripping from your vagina sticking to Sukuna’s girth was too repulsive to the eye. Humiliation continues to shrink your core at the display before you. “Don’t keep me waiting, woman. Or I’ll go back and do the job myself, seeing you’re too scared.” The salmon-haired man doesn’t flinch at your scowl. 

“Don’t rush me, Ryōmen,” you threaten with gritted teeth, chewing on your bottom lip as you bring your ass down to take in the fat tip once more. The pain has you wince for a few seconds, hoping to God that the man below doesn’t get too impatient enough to slam you down on his cock himself because you know he wouldn’t give a damn if you’d be in pain or not.

But it does enter you; a sharp gasp erupted out of your frame at the scrape of his frenulum piercing back inside. Your hands involuntarily find something to keep your balance steady, using his chest to do the job.

As for Sukuna, his crimson eyes were honed in on you, taking in every detail of your expressions, your shaky voice, and the twitches of your body as your cunt swallowed every inch of his shaft back into your warmth until you reached the very hilt. “Good girl,” he scoffs at the sudden squeeze of your walls on him. “Don’t get a little praise get to your head; start moving, pet.”

You release a gradual sigh, and your hips begin to move. Your nerves are still under the effects of the recent climax, so your inner walls are still keen as every graze of Sukuna’s tip and piercing has you tremble like a leaf. It almost makes you scared to move entirely, thinking one wrong move will break you. 

“C’mon, Y/n,” you gasp at Sukna’s hands, finding your exposed chest to grope. “Is this the best you can do? With those slow-ass hips?”

You knew he meant to entice you, yet it was working. Your waist gauges the speed of your rhythm, now bouncing on Sukuna’s length with a purpose despite your sensitive nerves having you mewl. And your shrills come out slurred at the rough tweak of your nipples. This fool has no gentle bone in his body, using your sore body in whatever interests him. 

“Mmnngh, yeah, like that,” Sukuna purrs, fondling your breasts with fingers hungry for their flesh to play and tease. “Harder” wasn’t something to question—a simple demand you had to indulge in. You flatten your mouth as you bring your hips down more to the point that the skin of your ass hits his groin and thighs. “Harder,” he commands again, your hips now slamming hard down on him, and you shake at the poke of your cervix, nails digging into his pectorals. And the black-marked man snickers at the display. “Harder.”

You couldn’t keep your frame upright; another pound of your hips onto him caused another poke of your cervix, resulting in you losing your balance and your body falling onto Sukuna’s, who barks a laugh. “Tah, pathetic, can’t even stay upright when taking my cock.” And to make it worse, he criticizes you, his hands now moving to your butt to squeeze and slap onto. “I like the view, though. Not every day do I see a pretty face above me like this.” You scream at the buck of his hips, his dick rubbing on your G-spot with precision. “Just need some help to ease your incompetence, princess.” 

Oh, you hated how close your face was to his; if you weren’t so dazed, you’d spit at him. “—Tch, s-shut up, ‘Kunaa! Go die—Eeyaahh!” Another slap on your asscheek and graze on the upper wall of your cunt has you shrieking.

“Not a chance,” his face gets closer to yours. “Wouldn’t give you the satisfaction…” And then your moan is muffled with the addition of his lips onto yours, the Ryōmen Sukuna kissing you.

When the night couldn’t get any worse, here is Sukuna shoving his tongue into your mouth, exchanging his saliva with yours as your tongue swirls with his before he sucks on it. Fucking sickening, the nerve of this fucker! You hate how passionate the kiss became as his thrusts coincided with yours, getting faster and faster as your teeth clashed with his. My God, just fucking cum already!

You decided it was time to end this session once and for all, the pace of your hips going erratic. Every bounce of your ass came with a twinge of your cunt around Sukuna’s member; the groans he expresses into your lips are just what you’re looking for. And the more you bend forward, the friction of your clitoris grinding on his pelvis gets better. At least you’re getting some pleasure out of this…

You knew he was close to chasing his orgasm the moment his ruts to your cunt synced with yours, so it’s no surprise his fingers grip your butt and keep you grounded on him as he spills another load into you. Fuck, you can feel his cock pulsating inside you, and you can only imagine how messy it looks down there once you’re finally off of him.

Even as he’s experiencing the shocks and trembles of his release, Sukuna doesn’t break the kiss until the very end. A hand comes to the back of your head, keeping your face and mouth on him, deepen the kiss and take your breath away (literally). And once your bodies calm down, his lips finally withdraw from yours, leaving you two panting heavily among yourselves. Spit connects to your lips, but you quickly break the link with your hand covering your mouth.

“Ya know,” Sukuna breathlessly chuckles while his other hand kneads the flesh of your butt. “Think you’re startin’ to enjoy this just as much as I am.”

Eyes narrow at his words, and you turn to the side to spit his saliva out of your mouth. You wipe your mouth with a tiny grin. “You fucking wish…”

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ header edit done by me + dividers by @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more.

[surielstea]

Cancelled Plans

Based on this request.

Pairing: Modern!Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: In an attempt to get over her foolish crush on her roommate Azriel, Reader schedules a date with someone else but Azriel gets awfully clingy when she tries to leave.

Warnings: Smut | minors dni | fingering | teasing | oral (f receiving) | answering a call while receiving oral so semi public (?) | jealous Az

5.1k words

My dazzling black dress looked as if it was made for me specifically. The way it hugged every dip and curve, flared in all the right places. It was beyond just flattering, it made me look angelic yet sinful at the same time.

I spot Azriel on the couch when I enter the sitting room, his long legs stretched out in front of him as he reads from a novel with a worn cover that I've seen him reread a multitude of times.

He flicks his eyes up from his overused book to glance at me, then returns to his page. Then he visibly freezes and looks back to me, needing a double take to make sure what he saw registered correctly. He snapped his book shut when I flashed him a beaming smile.

"Where are you going?" He immediately interrogated, sitting up from his position.

I do a small twirl, showing off. "I have a date," I shrug and he stands, brows lowered. It was always hard to read my roommate's expressions but he had clearly been distraught at the information I gave him. "What? Don't think I'm capable of having anyone interested in me?" I joke and he narrows his eyes at me conspicuously.

"Just confused as to who you think deserves to see you dressed like this," His eyes rake down my figure, dropping all the way to my heels that wrapped up my ankles, slowly moving up the slit in the side of the dress that exposed most of my thigh, my waist, my chest, lingering at the cleavage there for a moment, then finally back up to my eyes.

"It's none of your business," I cross my arms and he tilts his head, unimpressed. I swore he could read me like the pages of his favorite book. "Okay fine," I fold beneath his piercing gaze. "I'm going to dinner with a guy named Nelm and he's super nice so don't—" He doesn't let me finish as he cuts me off with a sudden laugh and I flush in embarrassment. "He's nice, Az," I defend while he suppresses the rest of his laugh, resulting in a thin-lipped smile.

"Nelm cannot be a real name," He says like he refused to even fathom the idea of it.

"Well it is, and I'm going to be late so if you'll excuse me," I spin on my heel, away from him and towards the front door.

"You promised yesterday we'd watch a horror movie tonight," He croons in a sing-song tone that makes me cast a glance back to him with a guilty frown.

"I'll be back later tonight, we'll watch it then," I say, reaching for the doorknob but being mentally stopped by the feeling of something being lost. "Forgetting something?" Azriel hums, holding up my purse, the strap dangling from his finger tauntingly. I groaned, looking at the male.

"Give it." I sigh.

"Try and take it," He shrugs, holding the purse up above his head while taking three long strides forward and closing the distance between us. I look up at him with cold eyes which he only smiles at whilst I silently curse his tall height.

"Az, c'mon I'm going to be late," I claim and he only smirks at the idea.

"Late to what?" Cassian's familiar voice asks from the other side of the room and I jump, looking past Azriel and to my other roommate who was coming down the hallway shirtless, Nesta beside him, appearing to be wearing nothing but his stolen shirt. She practically lived here as much as the rest of us so I didn't bat an eye at the sharp-featured female.

"Great, let's get everyone involved in my love life," I murmur sarcastically while Azriel turns sideways to face both me and his brother.

"She's going on a date with some guy named Nelm," He explains and I glare up at him.

"Horrible name," Nesta mumbles as she enters the kitchen, Cassian trailing behind her.

"He's making it sound worse than it is," I claim and Azriel looks down at me pointedly.

"I only told them what you told me, it's your mind making it seem worse than it is," Azriel retorts and I clamp my mouth shut, knowing he was right.

"Well he's kind, and he's taking me to dinner," I look to Cassian and Nesta like I was someone on trial and they were the jury. "And I'm going to be late, so give me my purse," I take my gaze back to Azriel.

"I don't want to," He shrugs. We pause for a moment at the heaviness that sentence holds. Earlier he had made a taunting game of it, but now he simply just didn’t want me to leave, not for fun, but because he wanted me to stay and watch a stupid scary movie with him.

I was trying to get over him with this date, move on from my ridiculous crush and he was making it awfully difficult. It didn't help that we've made out a couple of times in a few desperate moments while we were both at our lows. But it was never more than lips, always just kissing, we made that line clear and we've both been walking along it for too long.

Nevertheless, my crush wasn't going away, and having it on my roommate of all people was not fun, especially when I saw him walk around shirtless, or roaming the house after showering with a towel loosely wrapped around his hips, hair still dripping water down onto his abdomen—

"How'd you even meet this guy anyway?" Cassian tore me from my straying imagination. Azriel and I both whip our heads towards him.

"Mor set us up," I shrug with a bashful expression.

"Oh," Cassian grimaced, Azriel matching his look of disgust.

"What?" I scowl at both of them, confused as to what's so wrong with that.

"Well Mor playing Cupid is similar to her solstice presents," Cassian attempts to explain.

"She means well, but the outcome is always, laughable," Azriel expands and I frown, looking to the floor in slight defeat, wondering how I would tear myself from this one. I huff and look back at the two males.

"Well he's not laughable, and it's just one date. I think I'll manage," I argue, waving Cassian off. Nesta pulls at his arm and he nods, following her back down the hall.

"Right, good luck then," He calls back and I smile in triumph, bringing my gaze back up to Azriel.

He stares down at me for a moment, mirroring my stubbornness with his pointed look.

"Alright, fine," He sighs, lowering my purse and placing it in my outstretched hands with a tentativeness I nearly didn't catch.

"Thank you," I reach for the doorknob, but I turn back to him for a moment before opening the door, my eyes lingering on pools of hazel.

"Have fun," He shoos and I offer him a grateful smile. "I'm sorry I made you late to dinner with your dad," He added beneath his breath and my smile dropped into a glare.

"It's a date, Azriel. I have a date," I restate but his smirk doesn't falter.

He looks to the door behind me, to my hand on the knob, then back to my eyes, as if anticipating my leave, but I didn't make the move. To be honest I'd much rather stay here and watch that horror movie I promised him than go to dinner with a guy named Nelm.

"Right, a date," He nods, crossing his arms, still waiting for me to take my departure.

"I know the concept of asking a girl out is foreign to you, but I think you can grasp it," I taunt and he chuckles, the amused sound making my stomach flip.

"I know how to ask a girl out," He claims and I smirk, because perhaps prodding his fragile ego was much more fun than any old dinner date.

"I don't believe you," My hand leaves the doorknob only to cross my arms over my chest and his smile widens.

"Yeah?" He leans against the door, indicating that I won't be leaving any time soon now that his weight is pressed against it. I nod. "Do you want to get dinner with me instead of a guy named Nelm?" He tilted his head and I swallowed thickly. Was he genuinely asking me out or just continuing this game I started? "Or we could watch that movie you promised me?" He proposed and my cheeks flushed pink.

"Yes," I blurt out and his brows raise a fraction in both shock and amusement. Gods this was embarrassing.

"Yes to dinner, or to the movie?" He tilts his head, his smirk widening.

"Would you think less of me if I blew off my date just to watch a horror movie with you?" I say, my voice just above a whisper.

"Never." He grabs my hand and pulls me away from the front door, towards the couch.

"Wait I have to change." I pull away from his grasp.

"But you look pretty," He grabs my purse, holding me back from leaving yet again.

"But I'm uncomfortable," I groan but he only tugs at my purse and pulls me closer.

"Just take it off, I won't watch," He closes his eyes and turns his head away from me.

"I'm not stripping down just because you're clingy," I huff and he opens one eye, looking at me with a scrunched nose, his stubbornness outmatched.

"Here." He grabs the hem of his shirt and takes it off with ease, leaving his chest bare.

"You can wear mine," He tosses the fabric at me. I sigh and place the shirt down on the couch.

"All because you want to see me naked," I mumble, dropping my hold on the purse and he sets himself on the couch, closing his eyes just as he promised.

I turn around anyway, unzipping my dress from the side and shrugging it off, allowing it to dip from my shoulders and then pool at the floor.

"Uh, can you hand me your shirt," I murmur, afraid to turn around.

"You were going to let a guy named Nelm see you in that?" He said and I whirled around, staring at him with wide eyes.

"You said you'd shut your eyes!" I grab the shirt in his hands.

"Forget the dress, no one deserves to see you in this," He ignored my exclamation and grabbed me by the backs of my thighs, and pulled me closer, staring up at me in my black lingerie that fit me just as well as my dress.

"You weren't going to let some other guy see you in this were you?" He questions with a certain possessiveness to his voice as I shrug the shirt on, pulling it over my head. Then down past my hips.

"Why does it matter? I'm not going anymore anyways." I plop on the couch beside him, crossing my arms over my chest defensively.

"No," He smiles. "You're not."

"Just start the movie." I swing my feet over his lap and he does as says, letting the TV play while dimming the lights.

I still felt exposed despite Azriel’s shirt loosely around my body. Gods, it smelt so strongly of him, and now he was left shirtless and it made me helpless.

I reached over and grabbed a blanket from the armrest, spreading it out over me while readjusting so I was lying down, my thighs now on Azriel's lap.

"You seem comfortable," He remarks, his tone clipped and I look at him with a glare, still upset he made me cancel my date. "Oh c'mon, you can't be mad at me forever," He sighs, leaning down so his bare chest was pressed to my back. "I know how much you love to cuddle," He croons, using my own weaknesses against me. "Besides, who's going to protect you when all the jump scares start to happen?" He suggests and a shiver ran down my spine at the thought.

I hated horror movies, Azriel always made me watch them since they were his favorite. The sadistic freak laughed whenever I jolted at a scary moment.

I pout, burrowing deeper into the throw pillow.

"Fine, but only if you cuddle me too," I offer and he smiles, laying down fully behind me, our legs tangling as his hand snakes around my waist and pulls me further into his chest. I smile at the feeling. How was I ever supposed to get over him while he was actively pressing me into him while I wore his shirt?

I distracted myself with the movie, but it was hard not to think about him while he stroked the side of my waist with his thumb, silently soothing me during tense parts of the movie.

I was in the middle of imaging how good it'd feel to lose the barrier of the shirt and have skin to skin contact when the killer appeared on screen all of a sudden and I jumped, my entire body tensing as I grabbed his hand that was tucked beneath my head and put it in front of my eyes.

"You're alright," He whispers, a slight amusement to his tone that reassured me. "You're fine," He hums, intertwining my hand with his and pulling them away from my line of sight.

I shiver at the feeling of his hand clasped in mine, how intimate it was in such a quiet moment like this. "You cold?" He asks his lips just beside my ear with the position we were in. I nod, using that as my excuse. "Yeah?" He purrs and I swallow thickly, clenching my legs together at all the lewd thoughts developing in my mind at the single word. I needed help.

I nod again and his hand on my waist dipped down beneath the blanket. I stopped breathing for a minute as he slipped his hand beneath the hem of my shirt, his palm rubbing up the side of my stomach, then returning to gripping my waist with his large, warm hand. "Better?" He whispers and I swore that time I could feel his lips against my ear. I fight back my need to mount him and simply nod instead.

"Mhm," I murmur, tightening my grip on his other hand.

Now that I could feel every twitch and movement of his hand I couldn't think of anything else. The movie didn't even scare me anymore, I was too entranced with him to focus on anything else. I wanted him to feel me everywhere. His calloused fingertips brushed against my soft skin, creating a friction I couldn't erase from my mind. I slowly grab his wrist with my free hand and boldly guide his grip upward, his fingers coming to my breast and cupping it in his hand.

He doesn't say anything, stays perfectly quiet as he gropes my breast in his hand and I let out a soft sigh, my hand in his tightening at the satisfying feeling.

He begins to massage my clothed breast in his hand, with little hesitation in his movements with the action and I respond to his touch by leaning into his chest, the curve of my ass pressing to his hips. He dips his head down, his lips meeting the crook of my shoulder.

His kisses trail up my neck then back down as quiet, soft sounds escape from the base of my throat and I prayed he couldn't hear them. His hand leaves my breast and mortification dawns over me. He was going to pull away, going to call me stupid for having a crush on him since he was my roommate.

But he didn't pull away and he still didn't speak. He just continued to lower his hand until it slipped beneath the blankets, and ever so slowly cupped my heat. I let out a soft gasp, clenching my legs shut.

"This alright love?" He purrs into the shell of my ear and I nod.

"Please," I mutter and he smiles into my neck at the desperation in my tone. He rubs his fingers through my folds, the cloth of my underwear doing nothing to keep his hands dry as my arousal seeps through and soaks him anyway. I clench around nothing at the sensation, his finger pads finding my clit and circling it harshly. I flip onto my back, looking up at him with pleading eyes and gripping his free hand with mine.

He smiles down at me, slowly pressing his fingers to my most sensitive area. "Please, Az," I murmur.

"Please what?" He taunts and I pout, not wanting to say it. But he doesn't waver.

"I want your fingers," I confess. "Inside of me, please Az," I finished and his smirk widened, leaning down and capturing my lips with his.

"Look at how nice you asked, was that so hard?" He hummed and I shook my head no. He grants me a smile as his fingers hook under my waistband and he tugs my panties off, bringing them down to my knees and I thrash them the rest of the way off.

He cups my bare heat in his hand and my breath hitched. He presses his lips to mine again. He could feel how much I wanted him I was so wet. "Az," I sigh out softly as his thumb pressed to my clit. I grind down onto his palm, needing more friction. He meets my silent request by beginning to dive two of his fingers through my folds, coating them in my slick and preparing them for entrance.

I let out a breathy mewl as he flicks his thumb over my clit in a particularly stimulating way, making my legs fall open wider. He admired this, humming against my lips and slipping his tongue inside as I opened my mouth to moan his name.

His fingers slowly come down to my entrance, tracing it dauntingly and I stifle a whine, needing him to fill me entirely. I kissed him hard instead of begging, allowing him to explore every expanse of my mouth as he ever so slowly pushed two of his fingers into my slit. I clenched around him at the feeling, how godly it felt when he rubbed against my elastic walls, stretching them on his hand as he began curling his fingers at just the right angle, pressing against that sensitive bundle of nerves nestled deep inside of me.

"There," I clench his other hand in mine, my nails digging into the back of his palm as he continues the lethal movements. I grit my teeth at how damned perfect it felt as he began to speed up, scissoring his fingers against it and creating an entirely new feeling.

Heat washed over me in waves, ebbing and flowing against me as my orgasm built, rapidly approaching.

"Azriel," I whimpered against his lips and he smirked.

"I love hearing my name moaned from your lips," He admitted, his fingers continuing to make a mess of me. "My pretty girl," He admired, his gaze finding mine. My brows creased at the name, and the possession that came with it.

"Yours," I whispered and he nodded, confirming it.

"All mine." He kissed my lips once more, his hand continuing its relentless pace as he flicked his fingers over that bundle, toying with it as I desperately chased my release.

His thumb returned to my clit, rubbing it harshly and I mewled, pulling away from his lips in favor of tilting my head back into the pillow, reveling in the heat running through my veins. "M'close," I warn in a soft tone and he presses a tender kiss to my cheek, then goes down to my jaw with a trail of the same gentleness.

"I know baby, go ahead, make a mess on my hand," He allows and can only obey, anything else would be downright masochistic.

I'm met with a white-hot pleasure that blinded me for longer than a moment, my eyes rolling back as my climax consumes me entirely, bringing both satisfaction and a craving for more simultaneously.

Once my body returns to its reality he removes his fingers from my cunt, now drenched with my dripping arousal. He smiles, bringing his hand up to his lips and licking up the wet expanse of his fingers, gathering my release on his tongue. He groaned as if the taste was revolutionary. "Gods, you're sweeter than I imagined," He confesses and my brows raise slightly.

"Imagined?" I pant out, still wrung from my intense orgasm.

He simply nods, flipping over me so he was settled between my bare thighs. "But I think I need to taste it firsthand," He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to my sternum before beginning his descent, trailing delicate kisses down my stomach as he guides my legs over his shoulders, his head now trapped between my knees.

He rubs up and down my thighs, settling himself between them as he reaches the hood of my clit, dancing his tongue down it and without warning digging the pink muscle into my overstimulated clit.

I gasped, my hands going into his hair, grasping as he began kissing down my folds, soaking the lower half of his face. He wastes no time, eager to feel me writhe against his tongue.

I stare down at him in anticipation and he holds the eye contact. His hazel gaze was intense, so passion-filled that it gave me hope that this was more than just a one-time thing.

"Please," I mutter.

"Keep your eyes on me, alright love?" His breath was hot against my puffy pussy, it had been so distracting that I almost didn't hear what he said. But I nodded.

"Okay," I said shakily and before I knew it he leaned down, his lips meeting my entrance as his tongue entered my cunt with ease from him stretching me out with his fingers previously.

I gasped at the sensation, his tongue expertly flicking inside of me as he forced the impressive length of it inside of me.

"Az," I gripe, arching my back and digging my head into the pillows as I pull at his dark locks. He continues the wicked action against my core despite my thighs clamping around his head. He didn't seem to care if he lost oxygen, all he wanted was to taste me deeper and provide me more pleasure until I was finding release on his tongue alone.

I could barely breathe, my legs jolting as he continued his exquisite torture against my throbbing entrance.

"Azriel, right there—" My words are cut off by the familiar ringing of my phone, and it was easily compared to my alarm because it had taken me out of my dream. He looks up at me from between my thighs, his eyes glinting with devilry.

"Pick it up," He coos, and my brows bunch.

"Are you crazy?" I whisper shout at him as if the phone might understand me.

"For you," He purrs, leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss to my clit. I grip the cushion of the couch at the return of pleasure but the incessant ringing continues and it takes me right out of it again. "Pick it up, or I'll stop." He threatens and I glare at him but he's unwavering. I groan, stretching my arm out to the side and grabbing my purse off the coffee table.

I keep my glare pinned on him as I fish my phone out of the side pocket. The screen lights up with Nelm's contact and my eyes widen, I turn the phone towards Azriel, showing him that I could most definitely not pick this call up. He nods encouragingly and I shake my head rapidly, my brows creased. He begins to pull away from between my legs but I wrap my legs around his neck. "Fuck you," I grit out.

"I plan on it." He smirks against my heat while I bring my phone to my ear, and answer the call.

"Hey, what's up?" I try to mask my voice to be as casual as possible, despite my roommate being between my bare legs.

"Where are you? It's half past seven," He said, slightly irked but I was too busy looking down at Azriel to notice.

"Oh no, was our date tonight?" I gasp in faux shock and Azriel smiles, his eyes lighting with what I knew would be a horrible idea.

"Uh, yeah. I texted you yesterday making sure we were still on?" Nelm said through the other line and I gritted my teeth. I'm so fucked.

"Something came up and texting you slipped my mind—" My breath hitched as Azriel's lips joined with my cunt. I look down at him with panic, mouthing 'no' at him but he doesn't listen.

"Are you alright?" He asked and I felt guilty because he genuinely seemed worried for me.

"Oh— I'm fine just," I struggle to come up with an excuse while Azriel was fucking the thoughts out of me with his tongue.

"Just an emergency happ— happened with my, uhm my roommate," I choke out and Azriel just looks up at me innocently, his hands gripping my thighs as he rolls his long tongue inside of me at a certain spot and I have to fight a moan from slipping past my lips.

"Oh, alright well I can stick around for a while if you think you'll be able to make it?" Nelm suggests from the other end of the line and I curse myself for ever leading this poor guy on when I was clearly not ready for any serious relationship while actively living with my crush.

"I'm so sorry but maybe we can reschedule— fuck," My words turn into curses as Azriel bites at my sensitive clit, silently telling me that my chances of going out with anyone but him were never going to happen. He soothes the bite with the flat of his tongue, circling it directly after with tight, rough movements. I arch into his face, writing into the mattress as I fight my moans off.

"That's fine, when are you free?" Nelm asks and I grit my teeth, shoving my head into the pillows.

"Mm, you know what? I'll just, I can text you my schedule and— and gods, I, I'll let you know when I'm free," I voice, my tone coming off all too whiny as I let a few moans slip through.

"Okay, good luck with whatever your roommate's emergency is." He mumbles, a slight sourness to his tone but who wouldn't be upset after someone flaked on them?

"Yeah, thanks— bye," I grit through my teeth and quickly pull the phone from my ear and hang up the phone.

A loud moan immediately escapes from my throat as soon as the phone shuts off. I let it slip from my hand and fall to the floor absentmindedly as Azriel continues his cruel work at my clit.

I grab him by the hair and pull him away from my heat. "Why did you do that to me?" I pant out, my cheeks flushing with humiliation. He only grins, his lips coated in my slick as his dimples make an appearance.

"Had to show him what's mine," He says, his eyes dark as he leans down once more, flicking his tongue through my folds greedily.

"And I hate sharing," He confesses, diving back into my pussy, his lips sealing against my entrance as he continued fucking me with his tongue, flicking it in and out of me, alternating between my clit and entrance creating an overwhelming amount of stimulation. I pull at his hair and he delights in the pain. I clench my legs around him tighter and I didn't even get the chance to warn him before I teeter over that edge and cum on his tongue.

I pant out for air but it's lost on me as my second climax greets me, hitting me much harder than the last and threatening to knock me out. I swore my ears started ringing for a moment as my vision went fuzzy. Pleasure bloomed through me in the most intense way, still buzzing at my fingertips as he pulled away from my cunt and slowly kissed up my stomach, my sternum, my neck, all the way back to my lips and once he got there I regained all of my senses and enough energy to kiss him back.

His hand came up to my jaw, thumb stroking along it with a soft touch like I was the most precious thing in the world. He pulls away, looking down at me with a prideful smirk.

"My pretty girl." He admired and something in his gaze told me this was so much more than just a hookup.

"You were jealous," I say and he smirks, placing a soft kiss on my lips and allowing me to taste myself once more.

"Of course I was," He murmurs, pulling away less than an inch, his nose still brushing against mine. "But can you blame me?" He asked. "I can't just watch the girl I'm in love with go on a date with some asshole named Nelm," He grumbled and I discarded the insult towards the kind man, focusing on his confession. Heat stained my cheeks in slight shock.

"You're in love with me?" I murmur in slight shock and he shakes his head in disbelief.

"Ever since I can remember." He admits and a small smile spreads over my lips. "Sorry, if that scares you." His voice turns soft and I can't help but crumble in his hold.

"No, I'm in love with you too," I say slightly nervously, and dimples grace his features.

"Oh, thank god." He sighs then leans down and presses his lips to mine harshly, holding a level of confidence that wasn't there before.

"Why don't we take this to the bedroom?" He suggests as he pulls away and my grin widens, I wrap my hands around the back of his neck excitedly.

"You have no idea how long I've waited to hear you say that," I hum, my legs wrapping around his hips.

"I think I have some idea," He says, his hips pressing into mine and at his words, I realize he's referring to his clothed bulge straining against his pants and rubbing against my folds. I flash a devilish smile.

"Then what are you waiting for?"

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[ponderingmoonlight]

Slow kissing turning into aggressively making out with JJK men

Pairing: Gojo x fem!reader; Sukuna x fem!reader; Toji x fem!reader

Word Count: 3,5k

Warnings: no sexual content but it's getting heated y'all, not proofread because I wrote that in my break lol

Notes: no one asked for this but I delivered it anyway hehe

Gojo Satoru

It’s hard to keep your mind focused when it’s him who’s sitting next to you. Him, with the cheekiest mouth you’ve ever witnessed. Him, who always picks on you whenever he gets the chance. Him, who makes it all too clear for everyone around him that he’s the strongest.

Because that’s who Satoru Gojo is. Unlike you, an average jujutsu sorcerer who just happened to slide into the same year as him.

“Satoru, stop teasing her”, Suguru mumbles to his right, gazer flickering over your obvious uncomfortable face.

If there’s one thing you hate, it’s attention. Especially attention coming from someone who always bathes in the looks of others, who has no problem with standing in the spotlight constantly.

“I’m not teasing (y/n). I was just telling her that she looks great today. Is a man not allowed to voice his opinion around here?”, Satoru replies while pulling you in his arm and stroking your hair a little too harsh.

And despite the stinging fact that you are nothing compared against him, you can’t help but get excited when he enters the room, you can’t stop your heart from almost beating out of your chest when he touches you. Oh, it makes no sense that you fell for him. Especially you out of all girls around jujutsu high. How dumb to even dream of him liking you back someday when he’s surrounded by charismatic and jaw-dropping gorgeous women each and every day.

 “(y/n) doesn’t look comfortable at all, though”, Suguru comments dryly.

Your cheeks redden instantly when both their gazes hit you with full force, eyeing you up and down until you see stars. It really shouldn’t make you this nervous to be around both of them. Why is it so damn hard for you to be the center of attention for a brief second?

“Get going Suguru, I have a mission for you. What are you doing there with (y/n)? I told you over and over again to leave that poor girl alone, dumbass.”

May the ground swallow you whole. Why is your teacher suddenly appearing as well? And most importantly: If he takes Suguru with him, does that mean…?

“I-I…should get going as well!”, you stutter while jumping up so urgently that a wave of nausea hits you.

Maybe it’s nothing but coincidence but somehow, you managed to never be alone with Satoru in a room. He must be weirded out by you already, there is absolutely no reason to risk him getting freaked out by your strange behavior around others.

“Why in such a hurry, (y/n)? Only Suguru has to go on a mission. Both of us are free today”, Satoru purrs next to you.

When his hand grabs yours and pulls you back down into your seat, there is no chance to escape. You stare blankly at your feet, sweaty palms now digging into your thighs. Without Suguru, you’re on your own. No distraction, no possibility to escape his stinging gaze and attention.

You should be excited about finally getting some time alone with your crush. After all, you laid your eyes on him even before joining jujutsu high. Being the daughter of a wealthy and usual mighty jujutsu sorcerer family meant always staying in contact with the family who inherited the honored one. When you were little, you enjoyed Satoru’s company because he never asked too much questions about you and always seemed unbothered by the stinging fact that you are weak. And surprisingly, his interest in you never wavered until this day.

You, on the other hand…

“You look like you’re sharing the room with a special grade curse. It’s just me, your best friend, the one and only Gojo Satoru! Why so nervous, (y/n)?”

Since you started to develop feelings for him like the dumbass you are, everything changed. Just the sheer thought of sharing a room with him alone sends shivers down your spine, feeling his gaze sticking onto you forces you to get all nervous and to act like an idiot.

You really are one hopeless loser.

“Actually, I’ve been waiting quite some time to finally catch you alone again. It seems like you’re avoiding that like the plague.”

Because you do. Being alone with him means risking that you’ll act all weird and maybe freaking him out forever. Even though you’ll never be with him, you don’t want to lose the connection you have with Satoru. No, you’d rather love him from afar than risking it all.

“Really?”, you mumble while staring blanky at your sweaty hands.

“We’ve been friends for so long.”

He slides closer, forces your heart to skip a beat.

“Right.”

“But two or three years ago, you started avoiding me and I wondered why.”

You swallow hard, eyes widen in sheer horror. “Right.”

“Until I realized.”

Your eyes drift towards his, meet the bright blue ocean of his uncovered orbs. Did he find out? No way, you always made sure to never let anyone know, to keep your feelings to yourself. How would he even get the idea that-

“You love me, right?”

Time stands still, you don’t dare to move a single inch. He knows. Gojo Satoru knows. But how? When? You are physically unable to ask him any of those questions. Instead, you sit next to him like his prey in desperate hope that he’ll lose interest in you if you don’t move.

“You love me, right?”

His piercing look almost kills you from the inside. No, you can’t escape him. There is no way you’ll get out of this room without answering him.

“Right”, you whimper.

“Oh thank god.”

You don’t have any time to react. Before you even realize what happens, he pulls you in and kisses you. Slowly, tenderly, soft and sweet.

Satoru Gojo.

He…kisses you?

For a second, you forget how to exist. This has to be a dream you never dared to allow, so far away from reality that you’d shake your head over the sheer thought. But the way he wraps his arm around your waist and places his hand in your nape is oh too real.

No, this isn’t a dream. Satoru is kissing you at this very moment.

“I had my eyes on you for what feels like forever. But when you stopped meeting me alone and avoiding me, I thought that I might have done something to upset you until I realized that you actually feel the same way”, he mumbles against your lips.

You can’t answer. Instead, you allow your shaky hands to rest against his broad chest. Oh, he feels just as good as you secretly imagined, his intoxicating smell tingling in your nose and making your senses go crazy.

Your lips start moving cautiously against his. In your whole life, you were never kissed, there was never a boy besides Satoru who caught your interest. And now it’s him. It’s really him who moves in synch with you, who places soft kisses against your desperate lips.

So desperate. You grab the fabric of the uniform tighter, make sure that he doesn’t escape. When you get used to the feeling of this sensation, your mouth starts moving faster on its own. You close your eyes, give in to the feeling that starts growing louder and louder inside your burning chest. All those years, you refused to even think about him. All those years, you buried your feelings six feet under. But now everything comes back to the surface. Now it seems like the control over your mind and body slips out of your fingers in the most delicate way.

Out of instinct, you grab his neck and pull him even closer. Your mouths collapse with each other over and over again, so heated that you fail to breathe. You slide onto his lap, allow your tongue to intertwine with his. Oh, you never expected this to feel so good, you never knew you were capable of feeling such a sensation.

When Satoru whimpers inside your mouth, you threaten to lose yourself completely. His hands roam around your body without an aim while you hold onto his strong arms for dear life. Unforgivingly, without any mercy, your lips crash into each other until you see stars.

“Fuck”, he breathes out.

Satoru is the first who gives up and releases his puffy lips from yours. Panting heavy, both of you stare at each other. Did this really happen? Did you really make out with Gojo Satoru like that? You, out of all people? Sheer embarrassment rushes over you like a wave. Out of instinct, you try to cover your face with your hands, to escape his strong gaze.

“No, don’t you ever hide yourself from me. Not after what we’ve just done. You are…absolutely gorgeous”, he murmurs.

“And I think I need to do that again.”

Sukuna

Your skin burns in sheer sensation where his fingertips tease you, his lips moving against your mouth oh too sweet.

What a coincidence that you met Ryomen Sukuna here at Shibuya. What a coincidence you’re now sitting on top of him while his mouth roams around yours so innocently. Soft kisses with Sukuna are something you never imagined the king of curses to enjoy. No, you imagined him rough in every minor aspect of his life, especially when it comes to his lover. Well, apparently that isn’t true. Right now, his lips brush over yours as if you’re porcelain that’s about to break, as if you are the most precious thing to ever exist.

“I don’t have that much time for you”, he mumbles into your parted lips.

“Why not?”, you pout while outlining his strong arms with your fingers.

Oh so gently, he starts placing soft kisses onto your cheek, your forehead, your ear. So tenderly that it feels like a soft breeze of warm air caressing you, so utterly peaceful that you’d never believe that this is actually him.  

“I have something to do here. Who knows when I’m able to gain control over that brat again.”

His low voice vibrates through your whole body. Truth is, you missed your lover way too much to let go of him now. You haven’t seen each other for what feels like forever. Each and every night, you craved his touch, waited for the perfect opportunity to get him back. There is no way in hell you’ll let him go like that now after sharing only a few warm kisses.

You don’t give him an answer. Instead, you let your hips fall onto his provocatively, keeping his head in place while your tongue begins a play you know all too well.

Because even though the king of courses has an unexpected weak spot for slow and sweet kisses, you know exactly what drives him over the edge, what he needs to lose his mind to your mouth.

Your lips crash against his without any mercy, tongue teasing him so violently that a moan escapes the usual so composed man. A curse who never even thought about love and affection, a man destined to kill each and everyone who stands in his way.

Except you. Somehow you managed to light a fire inside him that cannot be put out without your help. Or better, your kisses.

“I missed you”, you purr between two passionate kisses.

“So so much.”

Automatically, he pulls you even closer, allows his muscular frame to collide with yours. Ryomen Sukuna melts like butter in your hands.

And you love it.

“What are you doing to me”, he mutters into your mouth.

“You want me to leave?”

You part your lips from his ever so slightly. One innocent movement, just the sheer thought of pulling away from him with an outcome you know so well.

In an instant, you feel Sukuna’s arms wrapped around you even tighter while his tongue teases you until you can’t breathe anymore.

“Who said you’re allowed to leave?”, he grumbles.

“Stay right here”, he hisses while shoving his tongue into your mouth again.

His hands grab your face when he suddenly starts slowing down his movements again.

“Please”, he adds along with a soft kiss on your forehead.

Toji Fushiguro

You are screwed. Completely fucked, lost, in big trouble.

And the man who’s responsible for all that mess is grinning right into your face.

To be honest, you heard rumors about him. A man who isn’t able to produce cursed energy, who is so unbelievably strong despite it. A bounty hunter who kills jujutsu sorcerers when it’s decently paid, nothing but a troublemaker.

And hot. God, just the way he smirks at you makes your knees go weak-

Focus, this is goddamn serious.

“Would you mind removing that blade from my friend?”, you question dryly.

Now is not the time to thirst over someone who just pierced through your comrade. Well, the honored one, to be exact.

“Why? He’s your boyfriend?”, the man bites back with his sensual low voice.

“Hell no”, you reply a little too quick and disgusted.

“But I still care about him enough to ask you this.”

The unknown force of a man tilts his head before pulling the blade out of Gojo.

“I don’t need your help, (y/n).”

“You sure about that? Let me take over.”

“You? Don’t be ridiculous.”

Gojo’s stupid comment makes your blood boil almost instantly. Who does this guy even think he is? Just because he was lucky enough to get born with immense powers doesn’t mean you aren’t a decent jujutsu sorcerer yourself. Apart from the stinging fact that you are a woman.

And you’re definitely able to feel the stranger’s eyes all over you.

“Are you hard of hearing? Get lost and make sure Riko arrives at Tengen-sama’s safe”, you hiss through gritted teeth.

“And missing all the fun and fighting? Hell no.”

“Being alone with ya actually doesn’t sound bad”, the stranger replies with a smirk.

“What the hell would you want from her?”

“Seems like your dumb blue eyes aren’t useful after all, brat.”

Oh, how much you try to stop yourself from grinning ear to ear like an idiot and your cheeks to blush.

“Was that a compliment?”

It doesn’t matter, though. You can’t fuck this mission up. Something about his appearance tells you more than urgently that if that man gets close to Riko…

You have to prevent this. No matter what it costs.

“Depends. Did it work?”, the stranger replies.

Fuck, you hate the way your heart almost beats out of your chest. Or…do you?

“Who knows”, you purr.

His eyes all over you, take in your appearance with so much force that you feel like fainting for a second. Is that man flirting with you?

“I’m the one you’re fighting against.”

“I’m not interested in a spoiled brat like you. Get lost.”

He makes it look so easy. Grabbing Gojo by the throat mid-air, slamming his body into multiple nearby buildings. All of this without a single spark of cursed energy. All of this only by the sheer force of his muscular arms. Fuck, those forearms…

“So, watcha say, princess? Are ya in for chilling together?”

You feel like dying and flying at the same time. That fucking man was able to send Gojo straight to heaven with one arm. There is no doubt in the fact that he’d be able to kill you without you even noticing a single thing.

You bite your lip when your eyes start wandering around his toned torso and tight black shirt. But isn’t it your mission to do everything possible in order to keep Riko save? Especially when it means getting physical with a man like him. His eyes tell you that you need to keep him entertained if you stick to your plan. What could a girl like you possibly offer a guy like him?

“Depends on your definition of chilling. I’m not staying here for nothing.”

This is a dangerous game. One wrong movement, one unwise word and you’re dead without even Gojo being able to protect you.

“First tell me what’s yours. Any hidden talents apart from that whole jujutsu stuff?”

He roams around you like a hunter around its prey, eyes getting darker and darker each time they meet your gaze. Oh, this question definitely points to places you’ve never been before, so dirty and rough that you never allowed your thoughts to travel there.

“Maybe we need to find out”, you hum.

Your voice doesn’t sound like yours anymore. Like in trance, you give the unknown man in front of you dirty looks. This is for the mission exclusively.

Right?

“I know you’re trying to distract me. But fuck that and have some fine before I kill that brat.”

You force yourself to breathe out slowly and controlled. Of course, he wouldn’t fall for that. Someone who’s here to kill the plasma vessel and managed to slice through Gojo like through butter isn’t someone to be messed with.

Like in slow motion, you watch as he draws closer. He builds himself up in front of you with his shadow hanging over you threatful.

But those lips. Those oh so kissable lips paired with that handsome face of his.

“Scared?”, he mutters while mocking down at you.

A deep breath in. A deep breath out. Before you’re able to convince yourself otherwise, you press your lips against his.

Almost instantly, he grabs you by the waist and pulls you closer. But apart from the rough kiss you expected, his lips caress yours in the softest way possible. Gently, he holds onto your face while embracing you in a way you’ve never felt before.

Fuck, why does this have to be so good? Why was everything you expected from that man a steamy make-out session?

Your knees threaten so fail you when every minor movement of his mouth sends shivers down your spine. This shouldn’t feel so good, you shouldn’t melt like butter in his rough hands.

But you can’t help it.

“You definitely taste good”, he mumbles into your parted lips.

Your cheeks heat up in an instant. If someone would have told you you’d end up making out with a hot stranger to stop him from killing Riko and Gojo today, you would have called them insane.

And yet, here you are. Getting showered in soft kisses and held in a way you’ve never felt before.

“Gimme more, princess.”

Slowly but surely, the urge to feel him even closer, better, faster becomes unbearable. You grab him by his hair and pull him down while your mouth picks up the pace on its own. This isn’t enough. You need to feel him better than this.

“Fuck.”

A moan escapes your lips before you can stop it, hands wandering around his body without an aim. Oh, your lips never swelled up like that, never burned in such a sensation before. Fuck slow-kissing, fuck holding yourself back. Why would you ditch that opportunity when it’s clear that he wants you as well?

The stranger’s arms wrapped themselves around you tightly, leave you no room to escape. Over and over, your lips collide with each other until you feel dizzy.

“Sorry for interrupting your little make out session, but are you out of your fucking mind, (y/n)?”

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck.

You know that voice all too well.

“Huh, should have killed you right on the spot”, the stranger remarks with his dark eyes still set on you.

“What a waste of time. Wait for me here, princess. I’ll be back when I killed that brat and the vessel.”

He lets go of you as sudden as he grabbed you, leaves your body aching for his touch and your mind racing back and forth.

“You can’t kill them!”, you shout after him.

“And I don’t even know your name.”

“The name’s Toji Fushiguro, princess.”

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[5sospenguinqueen]

Bedtime Stories Pt 2 | Daniel Ricciardo x Author! Reader

Summary: Daniel made a silly little comment that lost him everything. Over a year later, he tries his hardest to fix his mistakes.

Warnings: Swearing. A tiny smidge of angst but mainly fluff. Redemption for Daniel.

Female reader with various faceclaims (pics found on pinterest). Takes place in 2023. For the purpose of the this, Daniel has been with AlphaTauri the whole time.

Part 1

Main Masterlist

━━━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━━━

28•05•2023

danielricciardo just posted

liked by redbullracing, YourUserName and others

danielricciardo monaco, always a delight. P11. so close to the points but racing through your streets feels like being on a podium

4,337 comments

landonorris and whose attention are we trying to grab with that sexy last pic 👀

→ danielricciardo only yours, mate 

→ User1 don’t act like you’re not dying inside because y/n liked this 

→ User2 relax, they never unfollowed each other 🙄

maxverstappen1 you’ll get them next time, mate

→ danielricciardo fancy giving me a tow?

→ maxverstappen1 never

→ User3 i love their friendship so much

User4 um, did anyone see that y/n liked and then unliked this post 

→ User5 omg yes! sis was caught stalking and we love her for it 

→ User6 i too would thirst over my ex if he looked like that 

kellypiquet we were watching the whole time

liked by danielricciardo

→ User7 what a weird comment to make?

→ User8 who’s we, kelly? 

→ User9 what does this mean? 

 

━━━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━━━

04•06•2023

Tweet 1

User10 @ kikiki babe did you hit your head? is that why you were in the ER? they broke up

User11 @ kikiki maybe ask them to do a head scan whilst you're there 'cause ain't no way you saw here there

→ User12 literally. like why would she even be in spain right now?

Tweet 2

User11 i think we might have to apologise to @ kikiki

→ User10 can we really trust the wag page though? They did report that Lando was having a secret love child the other week..?

Tweet 3

User13 asking the real questions because she's not even hinted that she’s been writing so it’s not like she’s on a book tour or anything?

→ User14 some people are saying she could be on vacation but please, why would mother choose a holiday destination during a time that she knows is a GP?

User15 guys, guys, I think our sacrifice circle worked 

→ User16 please, please, 🕯️🕯️

User 17 how poetic would it be though if they got back together  during the spanish GP when they broke up at the spanish GP a year ago 

User18 shouldn’t you know these answers, and that she was in spain, if you're her so-called updates page

━━━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━━━

22•08•2023

YourUserName just posted

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc and others

YourUserName some big news approaching 

6,349 comments

kellypiquet i can’t wait, my beautiful girl 

→ YourUserName thank you for being my #1 support

→ kellypiquet thank you for letting me help plan

→ User1 what does this mean? 

→ User2 miss piquet stop being so cryptic on socials 

maxverstappen1 i’m very excited 

→ YourUserName did kelly force you to write that because i could feel the excitement oozing through the screen

→ maxverstappen1 i wanted to say something worse 

→ YourUserName i hope she leaves you

→ kellypiquet behave, you two! 

→ User3 i live for max and y/n terrorising each other, even without danny ric being around to encourage it

bloomsburypublishing we look forward to the end result

User4 i’m sorry but is this a soft launch?

User5 who is that in the last slide, miss y/n?

→ User6 the inspiration behind a new romance we hope

User7 don’t be shy. tag him 

User8 soft launches have recently become my least favourite thing

charles_leclerc are you perhaps writing my next plane read

→ YourUserName depends how long the flight is 

→ User9 confirmation of a new book ya’ll!! everyone say thank you charles

User10 i like to be edged by her books, not by her hiding her man

User11 don't try and distract us with news of a new book, we wanna know who the feet belong to!

━━━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━━━

01•09•2023

danielricciardo just posted

liked by maxverstapen1, yukitsunoda0511 and others

danielricciardo ciao a tutti. lovely sightseeing in beautiful Italy

6,445 comments

User12 you’re telling me that i’m currently in the same country as THE daniel ricciardo?

kellypiquet i’m still trying to recover from that hike

→ User13 kelly and max went on a double date with daniel and the new girl?!

→ User14 omg please be y/n. i can’t imagine kelly agreeing to it otherwise

User15 i know he's trying to distract us with his beauty but we see the last slide, daniel. we see it

pierregasly so you’re telling me that you were in milan and didn’t bother to come and see me? that’s it. i'm ending our friendship

→ danielricciardo i’m sorry, mate. i was doing more important things

→ pierregasly clearly ;)

User16 someone check on y/n, please

→ User17 babe is clearly having the time of her life in italy (yes, i'm delusional)

User18 does nobody find it odd that he’s posting a soft launch not long after y/n posted a soft launch

→ User19 i know! it’s only been three weeks since hers and he’s posting one

→ User20 i can’t decide whether they’re soft launching each other or he’s trying to make her jealous by flaunting a new relationship as well

→ User21 it HAS to be each other or i will die

━━━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━━━

15•10•2023

lando.jpg just posted

liked by YourUserName, danielricciardo and others

lando.jpg so i attended this event… and no, it’s not mine before you all freak out

8,223 comments

charles_leclerc it was a beautiful day ❤️

alexandrasaintmleux i’m so thankful to have been a part of such wonderful memories

kellypiquet the most beautiful bride i have ever seen

maxverstappen1 this was a nicer caption than i expected from you

→ danielricciardo agreed

→ landonorris i take offence to that

User1 guys do we think kelly and max got married? they’ve both comments on this?

→ User2 yes but so did charles and alex so…

→ User3 plus, i know kelly is stunning but do we really think she would call herself the most beautiful bride in 3rd person?

georgerussell63 i’m surprised you remember much after the state you were in

→ landonorris excuse you but most of that was just pure happiness

hulkhulkenberg an amazing day

estebanocon so happy to have been a part of this

alex_albon how’s the hangover, mate

→ landonorris i didn’t drink that much!

→ georgerussell63 tell that to the bouquet that you puked on

→ landonorris i caught it so it was mine anyway

carlossainz55 beautiful photos. she’ll love those

→ User4 who’s she?!

lewishamilton🤍🩵

fernandoalo_official congratulations to the happy couple

User5 the entire grid are commenting on this post, clearly having been in attendance. who IS IT?

pierregasly c’était une belle mariée

liked by YourUserName

User6 guys, y/n’s name on socials just changed from y/l/n to ricciardo

liked by danielricciardo

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03•04•2024

YourUserName just posted with danielricciardo

liked by kellypiquet, maxverstappen1 and others

YourUserName my husband helped with this project. baby ric coming aug 2024

9,550 comments

kellypiquet you will be the most beautiful mother. i’m so honoured to be part of this with you 💕

→ YourUserName stop you’re going to make me cry. you’ll be the most perfect godmother

→ kellypiquet i still think you should've married me instead

maxverstappen1 i call godfather

→ landonorris no you don’t get to call godfather! you already got to be a groomsman

→ maxverstappen1 yeah because who helped get them back together

→ YourUserName kelly

→ danielricciardo me

→ YourUserName no, babe

danielricciardo and before you all ask, no I haven’t stopped crying since she told me

→ kellypiquet me too, dan, me too

maxverstappen1 on a serious note, i am very happy for the two of you. y/n will be a wonderful mother, and daniel, he’ll be there also

charles_leclerc i am so excited. alex keeps telling me to stop buying baby things for you guys but i just don’t listen

→ YourUserName well at least you can safely say that uncle charl bought little mcqueen’s love

→ User7 uncle charl!!!!

lewishamilton congratulations, you two. y/n looks amazing

fernandoalo_official how lovely 💚

User8 omg it WAS their wedding lando attended!!!!!

hulkhulkenberg baby ricciardo!!

pierregasly congratulations. i can’t wait to be uncle GASSLYYYYYY

alex_albon welcome baby ricciardo

→ lilymhe it’s not an alien, alex. you don’t have to greet it so formally

redbullracing we’re all so excited for the upcoming grid baby. working on a racer stroller right this minute

→ mclaren you stole our gift idea!

→ redbullracing you stole our driver!

carlossainz55 congratulations y/n and daniel 😄

mercedesamgf1 what wonderful news 🍼

landonorris i’m just so glad i can go back to calling you mum and dad without daniel wanting to drive his car into the barrier

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Please don’t hate me for this! I did say from the beginning that Part 2s would be redemption.

I’ve had this planned and written since before Part 1 was published so when half of you then asked for her to get with another driver/move on, I was like noooooo I’ve already planned their baby 😂

As always. Requests welcome. If you have requested, I promise I’m not ignoring it, it’s been added to my queue

Baby Fever Angst Part 1s

Max’s Version | Lando's Version | Lance’s Version

Charles’ Version | Oscar’s Version

Tag list

@bibissparkles @barcelonaloverf1life @rlalliehayes @dullypully @softtina @callsignwidow @lav3nder-haze @minkyungseokie @luvrrish @fall-bambi @evans-dejong @sadsierra2 @justdreamersdream @spookystitchery @dark-night-sky-99 @majusialikesfastcars @luckyladycreator2 @bborra @mrosales16 @reguluscrystals @tvdtw4ever @alwaysclassyeagle @gigicisneros @spanishcorndogs @thecubanator2 @goldenharrysworld @awritingtree @jxnellat @sbrn0905 @hc-dutch @buckybarnessweetheart @ironmaiden1313 @dreamercrowd @yourbane @reguluscrystals @peachiicherries @g-l-o-b-e-w-h-o-r-e @weekendlusting @leclercsluvs @hannannannannannah @lifeless-firefly @sinofwriting @exotic-iris13 @imperfect-paragon @dan3avocado @barcelonaloverf1life @avillagesperson @hard4ndsoft @justzluv @laneyspaulding19 @danielshoe @chocolatefanunknown @redcrescentmoons

Sorry if I missed anyone!

[woso-dreamzzz]

Shots III

Magdalena Eriksson x Child!Reader

Fridolina Rolfö x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You need a flu shot

"So they just jab it in?" Frido asks over dinner, mouth open and eyes wide.

"Yeah," Magda says, nodding furiously," Needle out and just jabbed in." She demonstrates with her hand. "It's the worst. It hurts her super bad."

"That's awful. You'd think they'd find a pain-free version to deliver vaccines. But she's all caught up, right?"

Magda shakes her head. "I forgot to take her to get her flu shot before we left Germany. Pernille's so mad at me."

"But we're only in camp, right? There's no way she's going to sick. I mean-"

Frido's cut off by a loud sneeze from Filippa followed by a brutal round of coughing.

"Pernille's going to kill you."

Magda groans, burying her head in her hands. "I've arranged with the team doctors to give Princesse her shot here."

"But..." Frido frowns. "She won't like it here anymore if we make her get shots!"

"I think that's Pernille's plan," Magda replies," If we give Princesse shots here then she'll stop wanting to come. It's genius."

"It's rude."

"Still genius though."

Frido sighs loudly, shaking her head. "I can't believe you put us in this position, Magda! Why couldn't you have just taken her to get her shot in Germany?"

"It slipped my mind!"

"Well now she's going to slip away from Sweden!" Frido continues," We can't let her start going back to Denmark! She'll want to play for their team soon enough! We can't lose her!"

"I know!" Magda replies," But I also don't want to lose Princesse privileges and that will definitely happen if we don't take her to get her shot."

"This is awful," Frido bemoans," I can't believe it's come to this."

Zećira, who had been silent through the entire conversation, sighs. "You're so dramatic."

Dramatic or not, Magda is forced to take you to get your flu shot. Pernille might actually kill her if she doesn't and Frido tags along for the ride, supposedly to remind you of all the great things Sweden has that Denmark hasn't like IKEA and Zećira.

"I know Zećira is here," You tell Frido as Magda leads you into the doctor's office," She's always here."

"I know," Frido says," But just remember how much you like being taught by Zećira."

"I know that!" You say, cheeks puffed out in annoyance," You're being weird!"

Before Frido can defend herself though, Magda hauls you up onto the little bed set up in the room.

"So," The nice doctor man says," Just a flu shot, is that right?"

"That's right."

"Morsa forgot to take me when we were in Germany," You tell him, much to Magda's embarrassment," Momma yelled at her for ages and ages and ages and ages-"

"She's never had a reaction to them before?" The doctor asks Magda.

"-And ages and ages and ages-"

"No reactions," Magda confirms, feeling a sense of nausea creeping in," She's always been fine with them."

"-And ages and ages!" You finish," And Morsa had to sleep on the sofa and I took her space in the Big Bed!"

The nice doctor man smiles at you. "That sounds cool." He wheels himself closer. "Can you open your mouth for me, please?"

You do as you're told and he inspects your throat before moving his hands to check your neck hasn't swelled up. He checks your temperature too and whatever he finds satisfies him because he wheels away to get the medicine Morsa said you were getting given today.

Frido has to hold her breath. it's been a long time since she's had to have any shots herself. She's forgotten what they look like.

Tears already start building in her eyes as the doctor brings out the syringe, uncapping the top.

It doesn't look sharp. In fact it doesn't look like any needle Frido's ever seen before and that makes it so much worse.

It doesn't look like it would easily go into skin so it's definitely going to hurt you a lot.

She sucks in a ragged gasp for air before holding her breath again.

"Have you ever had this done before?" The nice doctor man asks and you nod your head.

"Momma took me last year!"

"And did it look like this?"

You study it for a moment. "Uh-huh."

"Well, it looks like you're a pro. You ready?"

"Yes."

To Frido and Magda's horror, he positions the syringe in your nose, releasing the vaccine quickly before turning to do the same with your other nostril.

"I...I think I feel sick," Frido says, clutching her tummy.

She doesn't know why you're not crying. It must have hurt much more to have the needle jabbed into your nose twice.

She had no idea doctors were working out ways to make kids hate having shots even more.

"All done!" The doctor says," Would you like a sticker?"

"Yes, please!"

You choose a sticker with a kitten on it, slamming it straight onto your shirt before jumping down from the bed.

Frido and Magda are still clutching each other, traumatised from what they've just witnessed.

You frown. "You're both being weird. It was just a spray."

Magda freezes. "Huh?"

"I makes my nose all tingly but I'm fine!" You give them both a beaming smile.

"A spray?"

"Yes," The doctor says," We've started to move away from giving young children actually injections to help against flu. The nasal spray is much more effective...and painless."

[racew1nn3rs]

─ 𝘚𝘌𝘊𝘙𝘌𝘛𝘚, 𝘚𝘌𝘊𝘙𝘌𝘛𝘚 🫀

max verstappen x singer!fem reader // smau

⤷ summary: when max verstappen starts commenting on the posts of the beloved singer y/n l/n, fans are confused but enthusiastic at the new friendship. what they could never expect is just how long they've been 'friends'...

based on this request <3

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liked by sabrinacarpenter, maxverstappen1, and 46,908 others

tagged sabrinacarpenter

ynusername my new album is now officially out on all platforms! thank you so so much for all of the love and support, and special thanks to sab for her feature on the song <33 love u bb girl 🫦🫦 now that the album's out, tour next!!! see you all soon!

23,560 comments

user1 THE ALBUM OUT. THIS IS NOT A DRILL PEOPLE THIS IS NOT A DRILL.

user2 i cannot be normal about this i fear

user3 ik her back hurts from CARRYING the music industry on her back 😩

user4 hey so WHO TF IS SO AMERICAN ABOUT?? A LOVE SONG

user5 y/n writing a love song in god's year of 2024... wow

user6 y/n in the top 10 charts, fork found in kitchen

user7 sabrina and y/n are never beating the gf allegations

ynusername damn right we're not 😏

user7 HOLY SHIR HOKY SHIT HOKST SHUT

user8 y/n's in love and it's not with me, hanging myself as we speak

user9 the comment is gonna get reported but so real op

user8 can't a woman hang herself in peace 😣

user10 album's such a banger i had this shit bumpin at my grandmas funeral 🙏🏼 rest in piece nancy 🕊️💪🏻

user11 OH MY GOD???

user12 rest in piece nancy you would've loved make you mine 😔

ynusername oh my god please tell me your joking

user10 sorry queen the grind never stops

ynusername NO SHOT

maxverstappen1 great album! 👍🏼

user13 why does he text like my father 🧍🏻‍♀️

user14 brother eughh

user15 what da hell is a polar bear doin in arlington texas

ynusername thank you max!!!

user16 y/n l/n to redbull in 2025

user17 hellurrrrr who is this man in ur likes y/n

user18 f1 driver!!

user17 Y/N NO ATHELETES PLEAEJEWK 🫵

user18 tour content soon??? i'm sat

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user19 bro looks like he snuck onto earth, get his ass outta here

user20 grammy-award winner, vogue cover model, new york university graduate and Some Fucking Guy

user21 not y'all coming to her defense like the mighty morphin power rangers 💀💀 he's literally a world class athete and she writes pop music

user20 17.172.224.47

user21 IS THAT MY IP ADDRESS??

user20 melinda charleton

user22 IS THAT HIS MOTHER'S NAME!!?1?1!

user20 you want me to do you too???

user22 no we good 😃

user23 ruth bader ginsberg did not die for this

user24 now wtf does this have to do with babe ruth 🤨

user25 WHOOOOO 😧

user24 ... that wasn't right was it

user26 now let's be fr he does NAWT have a chance

user27 have u seen the marble-carved  goddesses these men pull, i fear he does 😔

user28 please no i feel ill

user29 TWO???? OH HELL NAW

user30 two might be pushing it, only one was confirmed

user31 jesus christ

user32 first taylor, now this

user33 yall, all he commented was great album 💀💀 yall are LEAPING to conclusions

user34 what can i say it's an art

user35 i do not see 👁️👄👁️

user36 no like 💀💀 im in your walls

user37 haha max verstappen!! right!!! (theres a sniper at ur location)

user38 omg ur so right 🤩 it is about him (i have a bomb strapped to my chest)

user39 i dont mean to sound stupid, idk who that man is, if i saw him on the streets i wouldnt know a thing 🥱

user40 this is so random too like what 😭

user41 the power of kindness won't work here, i have to throw him off a building

user42 i used to be a max verslsjjwwo lover 🤩 now im just a max verslsjjwwo hater 😔

user43 NURSE 🫵 SHE'S OUT AGAIN

user44 why would u put that into the universe 😧

user45 alright, lets get you to bed grandma

user46 mari stop being delusion and go touch grass 🧍🏻‍♀️

user47 ENOUGHHHH

user48 ain't no way in hell 😭

user49 ik ur feet hurt from all this jumping to conclusions babe

user50 lets leave the parkour to the athletes 😃

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liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris, and 54,789 others

ynusername italy thanks for letting me be inside you (; it was such a lovely show, expect me back asap!!!!

15,267 comments

user51 IT WAS SO GOOD I THNK I BLACKED OUT THE WHOLE TIME THO

user52 oh!

user51 oh so now this isn't a safe space

user53 LANDO AND MAX IN TGE LIKES??? NO NO NO NO

user54 ABORT ABORT ABORT

user55 y'all are doing too much 🙄 she's one of the top artists in the world, i think it's safe to say they might like her music

user56 the second picture 🧎🏻‍♀️do you need a stool cause i can kneel and be really quiet

user57 y/n fans be normal challenge (impossible!!!) (never done before)

user56 WOMP WOMP

maxverstappen1 wonderful show! 🙏🏼 you are so talented

ynusername ty max (: im glad you could come see me

user57 ain't NO WAYYYYYY

user59 THIS IS SIXKENJNG IM GONNA PUKE

sabrinacarpenter my gf looking sexy 🫦🫦🫦

ynusername only for u bbg 🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️

user60 BOOOO 🗣️ GET A ROOM

user61 do y'all need a third!!!!

user62 mamma mia pizza pasta mozzerella moment

user63 i just put u on a watchlist

user62 🧍🏻‍♀️

landonorris RAHHHHHH 🦅🫵🗣️‼️

ynusername RAHHH RAHHH RAHHH RISE POWER POWER 💪🏻‼️

user63 what the fuck

user64 OH GOD WHAT IF SHES DATING HIM????

ynusername brother eughhhh

landonorris WHAT THE FUCK????

user65 SINCE WHEN IS SHE FRIENDS WITH F1 DRIVERS HOW MANY CHAPTWRS DID I MISS

user66 apparently we all went into a universal coma while she was out galavanting cause idk how else this could've happened

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maxverstappen1 posted to his story!

(caption: beautiful show)

22,456 replies

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user67 someone save my girl bro, she don't know any better 😭

user68 it's like a little kid trying to touch the hot stove, LIKE STOP THAT!! DON'T DO THAT

user69 am i the only one who thinks they'd be cute together....

user70 YES!?!?

user71 there is literally no fucking way he bagged her

user72 losing y/n to european f1 driver would be the biggest american tragedy since 2001

user73 i had to read this shit twice, op what r u waffling abt 🫵😧

user74 can't even be nonchalant about this one bro, i'm chalanting hard asf

user75 we do not care

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liked by redbullracing, f1, and 78,567 others

tagged maxverstappen1

ynusername first time in monaco, safe to say i enjoyed myself! so happy to see you shine this time my love<3

25,788 comments

user76 oh. my. fucking. god

user77 THEYRE FUCKING DATING OH MYFODNSJ

user78 THAT SHOULD BE MEEEE HOLDING YOUR HAND THAT SHOULD BE MEEE MAKING YOU LAUGHHH 🎤

user79 i'm in mourning

sabrinacarpenter CHEATER 🫵

ynusername BABY IT'S NOT WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE, IT WAS JUST ONE TIME 😣😣😣 IT WAS A MISTAKE

maxverstappen1 we've been dating for 2 years??

sabrinacarpenter SHUT UP FAST & FURIOUS NO ONE ASKED YOU

user80 i'm sorry 😃 two Y EARS

user81 i feel like i just got dumped. y/n don't do this, the kids need you 😔

maxverstappen1 i got p1 for you, i love you 🫶🏼

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hope you all enjoyed! please let me know your thoughts and feel free to leave a request for me to write something for your fav <3

[m4ttslvr]

˳ ៚ Stars

cocky sub!matt x fem!reader

summary: your boyfriend matt can’t resist you when you wear those tiny shorts around him, even if his brothers may hear you get devoured by him

warnings: oral fem!receiving, pet names, matt the munch!!

“FUCK!” you scream at the monitor in front of you where someone just shot you and made you lose the game for everyone.

“y/n! i told you he was right behind you!” chris yells through your headset.

“chris don’t yell at her, you literally had the shot and missed it dumbass” nick defends you.

you groan loudly in annoyance at yourself, “sorry guys, can we try again?”

“ok let me get a snack and a drink first” nick says. “get me something too!” chris tells him.

you were about to ask for a snack as well, instead you yelp when you are quickly spun around in your chair.

you are met with your boyfriend matt looking down at you. “matt!” you protest with a giggle, playfully slapping his arm.

he doesn’t react much, his eyes are trained on your exposed thighs which seem to have him in a trance.

“m’sorry, you just look so delicious” matt says in a whisper, his gaze unwavering. your cheeks go red as he spreads your legs with an eager grip, and kneels in front of you. “just want a taste, please?” he looks up at you with puppy eyes that make you melt into his chair.

he places a hot kiss on the sensitive skin of your inner thigh that makes you jump a little and you quickly snap his head up by his hair. “matt we can’t right now, i’m on a game with your brothers” you whisper, covering your mic with your other hand.

he looks up at you with blown out eyes that are glazed over with desire. “don’t care” he whines, his long fingers pulling at the hem of your red booty shorts. “pretty please?” he asks, with a pout.

you really didn’t have the strength to say no when he was looking up at you like that. your body was already hot with desire and your pussy was getting wetter by the second.

"ok" you say softly, with your heart pounding in your chest. a smile spreads across his face and he licks his lips before sucking at your sensitive skin. you softly moan low in your throat. before you get too lost in the pleasure of matt’s touch, you reach to take off your headset.

you’re stopped by matt's tattooed arm, your wrist in his hand. you look at him wide eyed, he calmly shakes his head at you. "you're gonna keep playing" he says, more of a command than a statement. your heart is racing now but you nod anyway.

matt slides his strong hands under your knees pulling you closer to him until the gaming chair is pressed against his chest. he then raises your legs and places them over his shoulders.

“mmm you’re soaking through your shorts baby” he says in a cocky tone, biting his lip to hide his proud smirk.

you jump when his brothers yell something at you through the headset. you forgot they were there.

you feel matt lick you through your shorts as you’re about to answer. “y-yeah, i’m here” your voice more high pitched and shaky than you intended.

nick and matt are complaining about how bad you’re playing but you can’t find it in you to care when your boyfriend is slipping your shorts off agonizingly slow.

your eyes are glued to the veins on his hands and the feeling of his fingertips sliding down your hot thighs is making your breathing ragged.

matt’s biting back a smirk watching you squirm. “patient” he mouths and you might just cry because of how desperate he’s making you.

chris is begging in a really loud voice you on the other line to play as good as you usually do which matt hears. he places your hands on the keyboard signaling for you to play. you’re expression is dumbfounded but you’ll do anything matt wants you to do right now.

“go on baby, play nice” matt says with an encouraging wink while he slides a finger down the witness of your panties. his touch tickles your clit ever so softly and he adds a bit of pressure at your entrance— the air in the room heavy.

you can only nod as you try to play the game. you’re trying to concentrate on chris’ instructions and when you’re finally starting to shoot straight, matt pulls your panties to the side and blows on your exposed cunt, making you gasp into the mic.

“what?” chris asks, thinking it’s a reaction to the game. “answer” matt commands steadily, his eyes trained on your leaking and pulsating pussy.

you try to come up with something on the spot “a shooter behind the—“ you’re cut off by matt’s mouth attacking your pussy without warning. “oh!” you squeal in surprise and pleasure.

“behind what?” both nick and chris ask into the your ears. your hands pressed random buttons on the keyboard making your avatar run towards a random bush. matt digs his tongue into your entrance, your walls instantly clenching around it desperate to be filled with it.

“there mm— there” your mind short circuiting and muscle memory kicking in, you are encouraging matt going down on you but his brothers think you’re telling them there’s a shooter behind a bush.

“there’s nobody here” nick says confused. matt is now licking up and down between your folds, brushing your clit and your hole with every glide of his tongue. you were now biting your hand trying to muffle your moans.

“focus y/n, take it and come on” chris says into your ears and your brain short circuits again, taking what chris said as a sexual command instead of what he actually meant, which was him handing your avatar a gun. before you can register what you’re doing you moan an “mhmm” as a reply.

your eyes go wide when you realize what you did and there’s silence on the other line, you feel embarrassment wash over you in a wave of heat down your entire body. matt doesn’t stop working his mouth on you, he is lost in your taste.

you hear someone clear their throat on your headset and then they start having a conversation about strategies for the game.

you’re thankful they don’t address it and they’re not questioning you anymore because matt has just started pumping two of his long fingers into you— all coherent thoughts gone and your back arched in pleasure.

matt was relentless shaking his head side to side, his tongue flicking your clit back and forth. you are grinding down on his fingers now, your jaw slack, desperately chasing your high.

the hand that was over your mouth goes to hold onto the armrest of the chair so you don’t fall off the chair. but that was a mistake since another flounder escaped your lips, this time louder than before.

you try to disguise it as a reaction to the game, coughing and gasping as if something shocking happened in the game. “you good y/n?” chris voice says into your ears.

“fuck! s-someone’s shooting— at— me” you manage to say, while your boobs are bouncing from the strength in which matt is fucking you with his tongue. you watch matt’s low lidded eyes follow your breasts up and down.

“…what? where?” chris asks.

you’re breathing hard through your nose, so you don’t pant all over the mic and into matt’s brother’s ears.

“you’re way behind or something, we don’t see you?” nick says.

you try your hardest to click the right buttons and get it together, “m’good now” you manage to say.

“..okay” nick says, clearly worried about my playing skills.

matt reaches for your tank top with his free hand and tugs at it. you’re lost in the feeling of his lips on you that you don’t register what he’s asking. he stops devouring you pulling a sound of protest form you, “off” he says tugging at your shirt.

you get it this time and quickly strip, your boobs jiggling as they’re released from your tight tank top. matt’s hand immediately starts playing with your breast, squeezing and playing with your nipples. the stimulation becoming overwhelming, you felt your orgasm close.

with your vision blurry due to your low eyelids, you barely saw on the screen that his brothers had lost this round making you sigh in relief.

“wanna go another round y/n?,” chris asks immediately. you can’t form words at the moment with matt abusing your pussy so you can only make a noise of disapproval.

“pleaseeee?” chris begs. you can’t help that his words go straight to your pussy, making it throb even harder against matt’s lips.

you pulled at matt’s curls, the chair rocking back and forth. you were staring to feel like you were being too rough, but your worry is discarded when matt grips you from your waist and grinds you down even harder onto his face.

“you can do it, come on y/n” chris encourages you, his words having a whole different meaning for you at the moment.

his voice sounds almost identical to matt’s through the headset and it’s turning you on impossibly more.

“please please please please” chris goes on in a whiny voice.

you can’t take it anymore and you reach for the mute button. you’re lucky that you did because a second later matt curves his tongue and fingers inside you, making you moan matt’s name loudly and release all into his mouth.

matt wastes no time sucking up your juices, the feeling overstimulating your spent cunt making you see stars.

a/n: in honor of streamer matt making a comeback! ;3

₊━ִ─ LEV ᡴꪫㅤ·⠀·

[screampied]

HIHI VEGAS!! HOW ARE YA DOING?!

i’ve had this idea for a while and i was wondering if u could write it!!

trying to get off while your husband (geto or nanami) were gone on a mission that took a few days and you started to get frustrated because you couldn’t no matter how much you tried but little did you know he was standing at the door way to your shared room watching try so hard?! and after he confronted you about it he made you get off multiple times and you even squirted for the first time once or twice?!!

nanami catching you playing with yourself — ★.

cw. fem! reader, husband nanami, brief cunnılingus, praise, first time squırt, mdni. an. hii i’m okay!

with brows frustratingly furrowed and a tangled few fingers of yours curled into your sopping cunt, you whine. it’s been a few days since nanami left for a mission and truth be told—you missed him, dearly. more than anything though, you missed his beloved touch. only your husband knew how to make you moan with something as simple as physical touch. he knew you—more importantly, he knew your body. trembly legs of yours sprawl wide open whilst you’re in the midst of trying to locate your concealed g-spot. alas, it’s so cute because regardless of how many attempts you tried, you could never do it like he could. you’re struggling, coating the entirety of your digits with your slit before you slump back in detestation defeat.

a pout goes against your lips as you swear underneath your breath. yet little did you know, nanami was leaning against the door. “aw, sweetheart,” he murmurs in a soft voice, and you jolt immediately once you realize he’s been watching this entire time. you felt a sudden wave of hotness set against your skin like wind, embarrassment overtaking you. dragging his feet against the wooden floor, he tugs on his tie. “havin’ fun?” and once you pout more, he leans down to plant a kiss on your forehead. you shake your head and he chortles. “ohh, i see. poor baby couldn’t even do it right. but don’t worry, kento’s here—let’s pick up where you left off, yeah?”

his words were so so smooth, just his dialogue alone was enough for you to get off. nanami had a way with words for sure. he could say anything in his deep, tantalizing voice and you’d be creaming in an instant. that’s one of the many things he’s always loved about you though.

“o- okay,” you inhale a single sharp breath, having your wrist already bent to a ninety degree angle. two pathetic fingers of yours pull out and he gazes at the soaking mess of a scene. “i know ‘m supposed ‘ta wait ‘till you get home but i was bored, ‘ken. missed you so bad.”

“baby, ‘s okay,” he reassures with a warm smile, grabbing ahold of your wrist.

his touch, you were still a bit sensitive. as his fingers dance against your skin for a few seconds, you felt that familiar throbbing pool of heat introduce itself. a school of pulsing convulsions rupture out of you so haphazardly that it’s almost splitting you from the inside out. you’re panting out of your full, heavy lungs, and that’s when nanami plants a tender kiss near the beloved crown of your head. “missed you more. ‘n don’t worry that pretty head. ‘sides, you know you can call me right?”

“but— but you’d be working,” you mumble, watching as he slowly spreads your legs further.

nanami gingerly brings a hand between your thighs, a thumb stroking against your puffy swollen clit.

swollen to the very entrance, it’s drooling, dribbling sloppily with your anticipating arousal so much that he feels the inevitable tent arise in his slacks. he’d only been watching for a good five minutes—but he couldn’t stand to see his precious baby struggle. the least he could do was teach you right. as you’re still moaning up a storm, you conclude your sentence with a sweet and shaky, “didn’t wanna disturb you.”

“next time, call me,” and his voice was pitchy.

a fair amount of raspy baritone drags around his words before he inches his head down towards your thighs. softly, he grips your left leg before languidly giving your cunt three passionate kisses. those kisses were tender—entirely sloppy, his chin rubs against your folds and you whine, already feeling your arch.

you whimper out his name in pleasure with a featuring hand immediately digging through his mahogany messy strands.

“doesn’t matter if ‘m on my break or not, i’ll always make time for you. if you play with yourself baby—play with her, i wanna hear it too.”

the most kindest eyes meets your gaze for another time—they then flicker down towards your pussy before he swiftly whistles against it. “wheww, she’s all hot ‘n ready, isn’t she,” and speaking of hot, the air feels substantially thick. so thick that you could cut right through the weightless wind with a knife.

nanami lets off a gruff groan, reaching for his pants before yanking down his dress slacks. “sweetheart, i find it cute though. just the image of you not knowing how to finger yourself properly. thought i showed you how, remember?”

with a heaving gasp, your legs were laid all out for him on display as if your body was a canvas. showing off for him as if you were a mere museum piece.

in which—to be honest, you were.

his special, priceless museum piece.

“i— i tried,” you babble, the feverish air of his warm breath aerating against your folds makes you twitch. despite him being so patient and gentle with you—understanding even, he’s still a bit of a tease. he can’t help it. your sharp breathy pants only intensifies the more each millisecond seconds passes and progresses. all the while you’re trying to match your irregular breathing patterns, a clammy hand of yours combs through his umber, unkempt slick back. “can’t do it like you, kento. my fingers are too weak.”

“aw, ‘s okay. guess you jus’ need more training then,” he guffaws with the most kindhearted, gentle expression. that soon fades once you whine, feeling nanami’s plump, perfect lips surprise your cunt with a needy brief nibble.

the moment his rotating tongue swirls against your entrance its over. it’s so slick and,

already . .

you start to coat his chin with your wetness. it’s shimmery, shining against the window pane that had sun ricocheting against the class. so effortlessly pretty. with your quavering legs being all in the air practically, you grind your hips against his face as you’re laid back.

as countless whimpers mercilessly snatch out from your dry throat, you then start to feel the soft fading stubble of nanami’s against your pussy. briefly, it tickles against your skin before it grabs out a louder bundle of moans. the stimulation of his faint facial hair smearing against your entrance makes you pulse more than you’d initially realize. long, lengthy lashes of his flutter shut and as he’s buried between your thighs—seconds go by before he then gathers out two fingers.

his thickset index and a middle finger, both long and you only ached for them to be inside. you didn’t wanna wait anymore— all you knew was that you needed him.

badly, as if your life depended on it.

nanami’s fingers were so slender lengthy, staggering inches. already, you were losing your train of thought . . imagining his long fingers stirring the insides of your cunt, clamping down against your walls. as youre in your own erotic little phantasm, you try to think of it all. nanami praising you how good you’re doing, how soaked you are—even talking you through it in that warm, alluring voice.

as you’re entrapped in your own thoughts, it makes you suck your teeth in wanting desire. your imagery would only soon turn real within a few sloppy seconds.

“stay with me, silly girl,” he purrs, a teasing smile contorting against his lips. it’s a stretch—merely, with a swatting tiny smack against your cunt, you’re brought right back to reality. you moan, trailing your hooded eyes back down at him and he flashes you a warm, innocent smile. prying his mouth away momentarily, he prods an index finger against your entrance— watching as it slowly makes its way in. slowly, it seeps into your drenched cunt and you whine out a mewl. your sweet noises ring through his ears before he inserts another one. nanami mimics a bowling ball grip with his wrist, a low raspy, “oooh,” slithering out of his throat before he gives your pussy another kiss. a french kiss against your folds—deep, sloppy, and strictly passionate. your glutinous slick glosses against his lips—his chin and below, and it’s nothing but a pleasing sight to see.

lewd, but salaciously pleasing,

“seeee. all you had to do, sweetheart,” he murmurs in a hoarse tone.

hearing the sloshing slopping squelches your own cunt makes, he gets more aroused. you’re not helping the growing boner he’s got. still, nanami’s got the perfect angle, it’s almost too perfect.

two hands of yours drag near your neglected breasts—fondling with them as you bite your lip. once the bit skin gnashes against the keen edges of your teeth, you mom again. jerking further back, your lips slither cutely into an ‘o.’ chuckling, nanami then starts to ease both digits in and out. thrust after thrust—he starts off slow so you can adjust. he’s fingered you before, countless times even. but with him, it always seemed like the first time. it was that good.

its rhythm was enticing,

the crazed stimulation has your so brain fuzzy that you could barely comprehend anything but the soft padded tips of nanami’s thick fingers. “my, you’re quite the soaker today,” he continues to speak, and he lolls his tongue against your folds. your taste was his ultimate favorite—no matter how many times he’d get a quick slurp, he was never satisfied.

well—he was, but nanami kento was a perhaps a bit of a greedy man. he always wanted more of you.

every single time,

raising a brow, he grows curious once you suddenly sit up, pulling him towards you.

landing with an oof, he plops flat on his back. a hand runs through his messy hair as he cranes his neck to get a good look at you. you’re so breathtaking when you try to get what you want.

nanami doesn’t even bother to ask any questions, he always finds it cute whenever you try to have your way with him. keyword, try.

“well, excuse me,” and he spots the cute feral look in your dilated irises. you’re needy, still feeling your cunt twitch between your thighs, you crawl towards his lap to straddle him. “hm. w- what’s this?”

“wanna ride you,” was all your quavering lips could ramble out. nanami’s signature cologne scent was loud. as you make your way closer towards him, it was the only thing you could make out. his musk, his known, manly musk that never failed to give you obscene whiplash. nanami glances at the adorably ethereal sparkle in your eyes and his big hands glue onto your hips. sliding your laced panties to the crevices of your thighs, you spring out his weighty cock. “need you, ‘ken.”

“s… so impatient today, huh,” nanami softly smiles, allowing you to feel all over his body. despite him wearing mission clothes still, your hands felt his bulging muscles poke out through the piles of fabric.

once his hardened dick’s out, you moan—leaning into his neck, a hand of yours giving it a few solid pumps. nanami hisses, pulling you closer to him before you arise your jittery hips. “but- but my love,” he swallows, peppering a few kisses near the crook of your neck. “are ya sure you can handle it? you barely—”

“i can take it, ‘ken.”

famous last words—

you said you could take him, but it was the mere opposite. perhaps you’d let your horniness overtake you, because as you’re trying to barrel his fat tip inside, your legs tremor. it’s like the calm before the storm—your legs vibrate and twitch, preparing to erupt and quiver like a predicted earthquake. as you’re tightly holding onto his pent up shoulders, you whine, the peeling head of his plump cock smears itself against your soddened opening.

you’re trying to squeeze him in but he’s just so fucking so big.

your mouth then starts to open wider, voluntarily growing agape and sweet harmonic babbles of moans only escape through. it’s like you’re singing almost, except but in a much more lewd way.

it feels warm—a scorching hot type of warm.

regardless, it feels good even with you trying to take his size. you don’t get far, the head of his dick was so wide that again, you’re in awing rhapsody. you’re trying to have your cunt envelop his heat— feel him bottom out inside of you yet abruptly out of nowhere, you start to gush out.

it happens randomly. you’re not prepared, he didn’t even make his way inside. barely just the tip and here you were squirting all down his length. the sudden orgasm that drags out your throat was so long, it was pretty and bounced off the thin walls of the bedroom. a shrilling moan rudely ripples out from your esophagus as you make a cute attempt at thrusting forward. even still, you were determined to ride him—but still, it was no use. nanami grows a bit flustered at how you collapse into his chest, rubbing your head against him. he pats your head, a soft smile returning to his lips. “s- shiiit,” you croak out, sucking against the tender skin of his collar bone. nanami’s holding you firm and steady, a hand soothingly caressing down your back. the simple gesture alone calms you down, albeit you’re still shaking on his lap. your hips rapidly stutter over him, and you’re still feeling various piles of rapturing nirvana send you into a complete, euphoric trance. “k- ken, fuuuck.”

“i know princess,” he kisses against your earlobe, your narrow slitting entrance just dying to be stuffed.

you’ve never been more soaked—out of all the times, you’ve never made this much of a mess. you never squirted before, and it was a mesmerizing feeling. your legs felt like mush, still shaking and your cunt’s still trying to get over itself— throbbing and pulsing to it’s beating content. concise minuscule tears of sweat race down the sides of nanami’s thinly arched brows. a hand of his then grabs a fair chunk of your ass, making you rock against him before he lowly whispers to soothe your zealous state. your fervent was through the roof— it was a feeling you couldn’t describe let alone put into words. all you knew was that you wanted to do that again. as you’re still twitching a bit, nanami chuckles, bringing your hand up to his mouth to kiss it. “it’s okay, it’s okay,” and a smile creeps onto his face the moment you bury your face into his neck.

oh, you’re embarrassed. you thought you could ride him but instead you barely even lasted a few seconds. nanami was quite compassionate though—he holds you close in his arms, pressing another kiss against your collarbone. “don’t be shy. i never minded a little mess anyway.”

at his lewd, filthy words—you’re whining. you wanted him so bad and you wanted more. you bring your desperate lips towards his face to kiss him and happily, he returns the favor. a tongue of his collides with yours before a hand of his gently wraps around your throat. with moving muscles tangoing together, swaying in harmony—his hands continue to wander every inch of your body. nanami likes to take in your curves, the very curvature of your pretty physique—each spot his fingers locates and reaches, it sends you continuous new shivers every time. pulling away after a while to breathe, nanami then makes you lie on your back again. as he’s hovering over you, he leans down to kiss near your tummy. “don’t worry, wifey,” he shushes in a loving tone—his eyes filling up with even more adoring tenderness for you. you were just so pretty like this, exposed and underneath him. your body was like art to him. “i got you,” he coos, and as he raises your leg slowly, creating a damp trail of kisses from your knee to your ankle, he aligns his cock against your drooling slit. “kento’s got you,” he repeats in a sweet purr. “now let your husband take it from here. lie back— yeah, atta girl.”

[webshooterrr9]

dbf!miguel staying over

i mean....... i had to eventually...

w.c: 2.6k

content warning: alcohol usage, age gap (reader is 21, Miguel is 35), smut, unprotected PiV sex (wrap it before you tap it!), slight dom/sub dynamic but not really because mig is such a sweetie and reader is sassy af, teasing because mig is secretly a meanie :(, not really tho he wants it just as much as her, big scary men whimpering!!!

sorry for y'all who don't speak spanish cuz i didn't feel like adding translations because it messed up the look but dw most of it is in english

Miguel and your father have been friends since college.

When your dad needed help with homework, Miguel was there. When your dad needed someone to pass to during the game, Miguel was there. When your dad mourned the loss of your mom, taken from the world too soon, Miguel was there. There were countless nights where Miguel would tutor your dad on subjects he struggled with after missing classes to take care of you: the angel he was gifted with in high school. Although he admits you came into his life a bit too early for comfort, he has always loved and prioritized you. And Miguel quickly became your dad’s best friend because, although he never met you, he could tell just how much your father cared about you.

And so he was always there for your dad. All through college and beyond.

It wasn’t until you started college that Miguel had the pleasure of meeting you. Your dad had planned a hangout with the three of you, telling you about how important it is to have a good friend on your side, how it helped him when times got tough.

And now you’re 21 - sitting on your childhood bed after coming home from college for the summer. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been thinking about Miguel since you’ve been home. When you met him three years ago, you were somewhat intimidated by him. How could you not? Look at the sheer size of that man. But you came to know through your school breaks that he was a lot more laid-back than you previously thought. You hate to admit it, but you’ve developed a slight crush on him. It’s stupid, you know, but how could you possibly resist those deep brown eyes and that smooth baritone voice that pulls you in every time?

Knock knock “Chiquita?”

You recognized that silky tone. It was Miguel.

“Yeah?” you say, putting your phone to the side. “Come in.” The doorknob twists and your door slowly creeps open. Behind it was that beautiful man: soft brown curls, slightly hidden by a backwards cap, a strong nose, dusty jeans that hug his legs just right, and a plain white tee with a gold cross dangling from a chain around his neck. Your dad’s best friend. Miguel.

He steps into your room and lingers by the door, a lazy smile across his face.  Dios… he was something else.

“¿Qué estás haciendo, mami? Haven’t seen you in a while.”

You sit up straighter, trying not to look as lousy as you feel. He came in here looking like a goddamn Roman god and you’re just sitting in your pjs. “Just scrolling,” you reply. “Trying to enjoy my time without homework.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Your papi invited me over,” he says, stepping further into the room. “Just to catch up and share a few Modelos.”

You watch his arms cross over his chest, the sleeves of his tee tightening around his huge arms. “Doesn’t explain why you’re in here,” you say. “Shouldn’t you be out back with him, then?”

“What, ¿no puedo saludar a la hija de mi amigo?" he laughs. “That’s not fair.” he adds with a fake pout that makes you giggle.

“I didn’t say that,” you smile. He walks over and sits on the edge of your bed. You notice his watch gleam in the sunlight filtering through your windows. “Did you come here from work? Your shirt is dirty as hell.”

“You know how it is, beba. Being a blue collar worker is a tough job.”

You snort. “Please, being a mechanic is hardly blue collar work. You stay inside a garage all day.”

“My customers would beg to differ,” Miguel says. “You should see how many señoras come into my garage looking for a replacement for their shitty husbands.”

“Makes me feel like they’re tryna put a ring on it.” he wiggles his calloused fingers in front of you for added effect.

“Well, it makes sense,” you say. “You’re about their age anyway.”

“Oye!” he laughs. “I’m thirty-five, thank you very much. Not even close to their age.”

You roll your eyes. “Whatever you say, viejo.”

The sun had set an hour ago and he hadn’t gone home yet.

Despite the amount of times Miguel offered to leave, not wanting to overstay his welcome, your father insisted he stay for “ten more minutes” and handed him another beer each time. The sound of the two men laughing from the living room kept you awake. It normally wouldn’t bother you, since you’re a night owl anyway, but you have plans with your friend tomorrow that you have to wake up early for.

You exit the comfort of your bedroom and head into the living room where you find Miguel and your dad chatting loudly on the couch. Miguel’s arm is draped over the back of the sofa, which accentuates his already defined chest - not to mention the dim lamp light casting beautiful shadows on his face.

“Ah, mija, there you are!” your father exclaims, very drunkenly. “I was wondering where you were. No te he visto en todo el día!”

“Lo siento, papi.” You reply, leaning against the wall. Miguel’s stare feels hot on your skin. You can see him through your peripheral vision, looking as handsome as ever.

“Es tarde en la noche, chiquita.” Miguel says, his words coming out slower due to all the Modelo in his system. “Why are you still up?”

“That’s exactly why I came in here; to tell you two to shut up.”

“¡Oye! Watch your mouth, mija.” your dad says sternly, while Miguel just chuckles.

“Sorry, pequeña,” Miguel says, setting his beer down on the coffee table. “We’ll keep it down. But don’t swear at your padre, yeah? Respect your elders.”

“Uh huh.” you shrug, waving the two men goodbye as you retire to your bedroom. You were sure that Miguel would still be there when you woke up in the morning, but hopefully he’ll be passed out by then and not still chatting with your dad.

----

You fall asleep almost immediately. The newly-installed fan in your room helped rid the summer heat and cool your bedroom to a comfortable temperature, while still allowing you to snuggle up under the blankets. A band tee and plain panties is all you wore, which was normal for you unless you were staying at a friend's house - at which point you’d obviously throw on some shorts. The moon shining through your windows acts as a sort of night-light, and you’re soothed to sleep by the crickets outside and the less-deafening sound of chatter from your living room.

Your alarm wakes you up around 8am, which is earlier than you normally start your day. As you go to turn off the noise, you hear a tired groan come from behind you. “Mmph… turn that off.”

You flinch and turn around, covering yourself with your blankets at the stranger in your bed. But it wasn’t a stranger. It was Miguel.

“Miguel!” you whisper-shout, nudging his shoulder. “What the hell are you doing in here?”

He huffs and pushes his face into your pillow, and this is your first chance to get a good look at him. He’s shirtless, of course, but his muscular frame isn’t what draws you to him. His hair is tousled from sleep in a way you haven’t seen before, a grumpy pout peeking out from the pillow he’s buried his face in. He still has his gold chain around his neck, but he seems to have discarded his hat and jeans - which you see laying on your floor. You knew this man was gorgeous… but this was the most stunning you’ve ever seen him. The morning light only makes it better.

“Tu papá durmió en el sofá,” he mumbled, the sleepiness of his voice making him sound more attractive than ever. “And his room was too hot to sleep in.”

“That doesn’t explain why you decided to crawl into my bed unannounced.” you say.

He turns his head to look at you, and one of his arms slides under his pillow to prop himself up. “Cálmate, princesa. You had tons of room and it was cool in here.”

“God, you’re annoying.”

You sit up and brush the hair out of your face, trying to wake yourself up so that you can get ready. Miguel sleepily snakes an arm around your waist and pulls you back down. Your head flops on the pillow and messes up your hair once again.

“Quédate, mami. Sleep with me.” he mumbles, closing his eyes once more.

“E-Excuse me!?” Oh you were definitely blushing now. No way he just said that! You knew that he didn’t actually mean it like that… but you also knew that he wasn’t dumb. Whether his intentions were pure or not, you knew that he worded it that way on purpose. Was your silly little crush reciprocated?

He hugs you closer to him, pulling you flush against his bare chest. The cold metal of his necklace makes you shiver, especially in contrast with how hot his body is. Temperature, you mean.

“You heard me.” he doubles down.

“Do you even-”

“I know what I said, chiquita.” Miguel opens his eyes now - the lazy drawl of his voice becoming more awake and purposeful. His gaze on you is unbearable. You could feel the intensity of his stare. “And I know what I meant.”

You stare at him in silence. How could you speak? The man who you’ve had a crush on since you started college was in your bed, half naked, making a move on you. Part of you thinks that he’s waited long enough to finally do this, but another part of you feels some sort of guilt. He’s over a decade older than you, and a family friend no less. You can see through his eyes that he feels similarly, but his passion is overpowering any sense of guilt. Besides, you’re both adults. How bad could it be?

He leans over you, pinning you down onto your own mattress. A position that’s typically domineering, and yet, you can see his gaze soften uncharacteristically for him. He brushes a strand of loose hair away from your face.

“Que linda…” he mumbles, eyes trailing all over your face. “Eres tan hermosa.”

Miguel leans his face closer to yours, his gold cross dangling from his neck and touching yours. You can feel his warm breath ghosting over your lips. You’re stunned but also… excited?

“Miguel.”

“Yes?”

“Quiero sentirte.” you whisper, your eyes meeting his. You hear his breath catch in his throat. “Tócame. Hazme el amor.”

He chuckles, a flirty pout crossing his face. “Oh, pobrecita…” he grins, tracing your jawline with his dexterous fingers. Your face tilts up closer to his, your lips brushing as he speaks. “You know I can’t do that.”

...

What?

“Why not?” he can visibly hear the disappointment in your voice. It almost makes him feel bad, especially with how beautiful you look in the morning light.

“Don’t wanna wake your papi, nena.” he caresses your face once more, leaning back a little so he can look at your face properly. “I can’t make you scream while everyone else is asleep. We have to keep this a secret. But where’s the fun in sex if I can’t hear your pretty whines, hm?”

You smack his chest. “Oh fuck off, Mig. Come here.”

Before he can respond, you grab him by his necklace and drag him down to your lips. The moment your mouths connect, it’s like fireworks going off in his head. He swears you taste better than any bizcocho he’s ever had. Miguel holds your waist as you tangle your hands through his hair, and he lets out a soft groan. His hips involuntarily rut against your thigh, and he decides he can’t take it anymore.

His hand dips between the two of you to tug your panties down, freeing your skin to his touch. His thumb lazily circles your clit, while the other calloused hand is still resting on your hips. He feels like he’s in heaven, feeling you squirm underneath him, but he knows this is only the start of the fun you’ll have together. He swallows every sound you make with his lips on yours, his tongue fighting with yours for control. He pulls his hands back once he’s sure that you’re wet and ready. You two are gasping for air by the time your lips part, and his deep eyes look into yours with a silent plea. You nod your head desperately.

Miguel makes quick work of removing what little clothes he had left on his lower body before sinking into your warmth, slowly but surely. You gasp.

He leans his forehead against yours, savoring the moment of stillness. It’s like you two are in your own little bubble - no one else can interfere. He kisses you lovingly as he starts to move, silencing any moans or sighs you might have that others could hear. You’re just for him, no one else can experience you. His thrusts are slow, but agonizingly deep. You feel it deep in your core, kissing your cervix with every push of his hips forward.

“God…” he whines. “You feel so fucking good. So good for me, baby.” You arch against him, your hands dragging along his back for support. He glances down at where your two bodies connect, and the sight almost makes him pass out. “Que cosita más linda, mami.” he whispers.

“Damelo… please..” you whine, scrunching your eyes shut with all the pleasure you feel.

“I am, nena, I am. It’s all for you, princesa. I promise.”

His pace speeds up a little more, but he’s still pushing into you just as deep, “Show me you love it, baby. Mírame.”

You meet his gaze with glassy eyes, breathing heavily and nails digging into his back. You wrap your legs around his slim waist and he throws his head back at the tighter feel. “That’s it, baby. Así así…”

He’s rutting into you wildly, chasing his high. You look down to watch as his dick disappears into your cunt. The wet sounds of his hips smacking yours clouds your mind. Each roll of his hips brings you closer to the edge. “You’re so pretty, muñeca. So so pretty f’me.”

His large hands sneak under your t-shirt and grope your tits, squeezing and caressing in a way that makes you hazy. “Want you to look at me while I fill you up. Can you do that for me, baby?”

You nod your head frantically, scratching the skin of his shoulders. You’ve never wanted anything more. The two of you are getting dangerously close to climax, and you swear you can hear him whimper.

“God, baby, feels so fucking good. No puedo más, no puedo más…!”

A squeal escapes you as he spills into your heat, with your own crescendo arriving shortly after. There’s a creamy white ring around his base as he starts to slow the roll of his hips. Miguel eventually stills and collapses, hugging you close in the same sort of cuddle as before, but still resting inside you.

After the exhaustion wears off, you pull back to stare into his eyes. A hand comes up to cup his face, rubbing his flushed cheek gently. “That was fucking amazing, Mig. I haven’t felt that good in so long.”

He laughs softly, returning your affectionate gaze. “Do you think your papi heard us?”

“Definitely not.” you giggle. “He’s a heavy sleeper.”

“That’s good.” Miguel holds you for a few more minutes, just silently staring at you. You can’t even imagine how blissed out you must look right now, but it’s all so gorgeous to him. “Eres increíble, mi vida.”

You hum in delight, stroking his cheeks once more. “You too, mi cielo.”

... you're gonna have to cancel your plans for today.

sort of switched to Miguel's pov in the last section cuz i wanted to experiment :))))

i hope you guys liked it!! dbf!miguel inspiration from @mybvalentine

and yes... he's a mechanic. it just suits him ok??

----

webshooterrr9

[cherryredstars]

hello cherry this is my first time requesting something :)))) i was wondering if you could do a miguel x reader where y/n and miguel get into a big fight because miguel hasn’t been home / hasn’t been letting the reader know when he isn’t going to be there and after their fight y/n goes out to the club to let off some steam with her friends and it turns out miguel is at the club for a business meeting and he spots her and gets a bit possessive (feel free to add anything else you’d like hehehe that’s what im mainly been thinking about )

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: Possessiveness, Suggestive, Slight Praise, Dom!Miguel Vibes

A/N: Hello, love! I hope you enjoy!

Unedited

You were still fuming when he left.

Your cheeks puffed in agitation, glaring at him from the couch as he walked out the door. Horrible timing if you ask him. One second the two of you are fighting about how he barely has time for you with all these meetings, and the next he’s asking for a rain check because he’ll be late for a business conference. Really helping him out there.

It’s left him annoyed the whole meeting, resisting the urge to bang his head against the table and rub his face until it peels off. In all honesty, he doesn’t really need to be part of this meeting. He’s only here for looks, not even expected to know what the meeting is about or add any input. He could be at home, laying on the couch between your legs as he laps at the liquid gold between your thighs as an apology.

Miguel lets out a heavy sigh, the noise getting lost with the loud music that’s giving him a headache. His eyes wonder from the table of men, turning his head to peer over the railing surrounding the balcony of the VIP section. His eyes scan the mass of people, taking in the writhing mass. At his age, things like clubs have lost their appeal, but he knows this place would be something you would like. You’d love to dance to these songs, too.

Miguel hums to himself, making a mental note to take you here sometime soon. His eyes are about to go back to the meeting when he spots a familiar face in the crowd. Or, multiple faces. His eyes zero in on you, your face turned to talk to your friend behind you. The strobe lights light your face in different neon colors, and he straightens up. His eyes stay on you as you walk through the crowd, a drink in one hand and the other slapped over the top as you walk. Good girl.

Miguel is content to have you have this time with the girls, knowing after fights like this you need something to take your mind off of things. But his eyes stray to a group of men near the bar leering over at your group of friends, one of the sleazy fucks gaining courage to walk towards you. Miguel’s expression sours, and he fixes his suit jacket as he stands up. The group instantly stops talking, focusing on Miguel.

“Where are you going?” One of his coworkers ask, brows furrowing in confusion.

Miguel doesn’t spare him a glance, adjusting the cuffs of his suit. “Bathroom.”

The group continues to watch him, slowly turning back to each other and continuing the conversation. Miguel turns his back to them as he leaves, his eyes sticking to where you and your group stand. He can see the fuck walking towards you, and he grumbles when he realizes he’ll get to you first. Once he descends the stairs, it gets slightly harder to spot you. But it isn’t an impossible task with his abnormal height, and he can still make out the vague area you’re in. The crowd parts easily for his intimidating build, and soon enough he’s a few feet away from you.

As expected the sleaze is already with you, mouth moving way too much as he talks to you. Your brow is furrowed in annoyance, and you glare at the man as he talks. Miguel can’t make out what he’s saying, but he can tell you aren’t interested in his shit. Miguel’s stare hardens when the man leans forward, getting into your personal space and whispers something to you.

Miguel reaches you right as you lift your hand to slap him. Miguel’s front presses into your back, his hands acting fast as one wraps around your wrist and the other around your neck to tilt your head up. Your face shoots up to stare at him, the glare in your eyes softening slightly at the sight of him. Miguel’s thumb strokes the pulse point on your neck, calming you down as he stares at the man in front of you.

“Down girl,” he mumbles to you, slowly lowering your hand so it rests at your side.

You make a sound similar to a scoff, but you don’t resist. Your body melts into him, and you turn to hug him when he lets go of your neck. The man looks between the two of you and scoffs, walking off with an irritated grumble once he realizes he’s not getting lucky with you. Miguel watches him go, his large hand stroking your hair.

Once he’s completely gone you pull away from Miguel. That glare is back on your face, and you cross your arms as you stare at him.

“I’m not some dog.” You sass, tilting your chin up.

Miguel hums. uninterested. His hand comes to grab your cheeks, squeezing them together so your lips pucker. The furrow in your brow grows deeper, and Miguel’s mouth twitches at the corner.

“Of course not, mamí,” he agrees. “But you are a brat.”

You begin to grumble a protest but Miguel pinches your cheeks tighter.

“Ah-“ he cuts you off. “Behave and have fun, yeah? I’ll come get you when my meeting’s done.”

Your lips jut out further with a pout, and your grumble something inaudible before nodding reluctantly. Miguel hums, leaning down and pressing a quick kiss to your lips.

“Good girl. I’ll be back”

He lets go of your face, pressing a kiss to your forehead before giving you a once over and leaving. You watch him go, trying to ignore the ache between your thighs.

You hate that fucker.

[corvidcrossbow]

It's late when I'm writing this and I'm sleepy and I'm (again) thinking about Daryl falling asleep during sex.

Not in a mean way; say like he comes home from a run pretty late in the evening or night, you get him some food then help him through a shower and maybe a massage that ends in both your clothes gone and missionary.

Your bodies are about as intertwined as they could be; your legs hooked behind his back, arms around his neck and shoulders, his arms curled around your torso and head buried into your chest and crook of your neck.

He keeps murmuring about how much he missed you, how warm you feel, how good you smell, how soft your skin is; just how much he loves you. His thrusts are slow, almost lazy, kisses accompanying his words of admiration.

He's purring again, completely lost in you, melting into the feeling of your body beneath his cause it's the most comfortable thing to ever exist. His body's on autopilot to maintain his movements, but eventually his brain drifts a little too far to keep it up and he just falls asleep in your hold.

You whisper his name just once to check his consciousness, confirming that he's gone, then smile to yourself and resist your chuckle as to not rouse him. You brush hair back from his face, tenderly tucking it behind his ear with sweet little goodnights and a kiss to his forehead; to which he subconsciously cuddles closer to you. You watch him for a little, then fall asleep yourself.

Daryl groggily wakes up a couple hours later (he practically never sleeps more than a few hours without waking up), disoriented from drifting off mid action. Awareness trickles back to him, remembering what he was doing, only now pulling out of you and shuffling to the space in bed beside you, accidentally waking you in the process.

He tries to get you to go back to sleep, but is a little distant which just wakes you more. Truth is; he's embarrassed. In his perspective – from things he's heard and been told – falling asleep during sex is not only bad, but insulting: essentially saying you're disinterested and find it so boring you snooze.

Of course you catch onto this without him even needing to say it, but still persuade him to explain it himself since it's part of working with him on getting better at freely expressing his feelings and being honest. He keeps apologizing, saying he didn’t mean it like that at all and he was just really beat from the run; if you wanted to restart right now he's willing (he definitely feels like he disappointed you and assumes you're upset with him) (again that stems from preconceptions, not actually you)

So you shift up against him, wrapping him back in your arms and saying you understand he was really tired, and that's okay. He didn't hurt your feelings at all. In fact, you love that; the fact he fell asleep – that he felt so safe and comfortable with you, even during such a vulnerable thing, that he fell asleep.

He's confused. I mean… you were having sex, and seemed to be enjoying it, then his exhaustion essentially ‘ruined’ the moment, and your pleasure (this was early on enough in your relationship that he's still wrapping his mind around the fact you're in love with him, and not the sex – you love that too obviously, but that's not why you're with him. He struggles a lot with seeing relationships as 50/50, rather more 75/25, or 90/10 even, where he's most of the weight. It all stems from his upbringing and experiences, and feels he has a debt to be constantly repaying you simply because you're claiming you love him – he just feels like if he's not meeting expectations he set, he's not good enough, and if he's ‘fumbling’ in something as crucial as sex that's a major problem) (I gotta stop that here or ima get off track)

But anyway, you continue to correct and reassure him, running fingers through the roots of his hair, holding him to you and periodically peppering kisses to his head, temple, jawline and such while you speak, lulling him to rest again.

It takes him a little while to accept that what you say is true, as do most things you reassure him about. A lot of the earlier chunk of your relationship was spent undoing the intricate knots of negative thinking patterns and thoughts that wove into his mind throughout his life – all this being one of them.

He comes to accept it eventually, along with other things, and can now just cuddle up with you in intimate positions, but not actually having sex, and fall asleep in each other's embrace.

Yes your Honor, I am guilty of loving non-sexual cockwarming where you just stay like that to feel connected 😔🤞

(I swear I will post a req fic soon I needa lock in 🗿)

[silent-stories]

𝐃𝐈𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓

Pairing: JJ x Reader

Summary: lying in bed with jj, you see the bruises on his stomach.

"You know that you snore?" You ask the boy lying in your bed, next to you, one arm under the pillow and the other thrown lazily around your waist.

That morning, it's hot in your room, but it's not the unbearable hot of the days that makes you want to rip off your skin and find a place with free air conditioning, but the heat that makes you want to stay in bed late before having a cold coffee and go for a walk by the sea with your favorite person.

The sun's rays filter through the open window and in the distance you can hear the ocean waves crashing against the reef.

A soft chuckle escapes JJ's parted lips as a pair of ocean-colored eyes meet yours. "Good morning to you too." His voice is husky but his tone is clearly amused, his hair messy.

It is indeed, a good day, when you wake up in your bed with him next to you but that would be too cheesy to say so early in the morning.

You can't help but smile and before you know it he has you pushed against him and his lips are on yours.

He always tastes like weed, alcohol and the sea.

As he wrap his arm around your waist, the sheet slides off his body, revealing his bare chest and your gaze falls on the bruises on his rib cage, like it did the night before. This time, however, you can't help but observe the dark blue and purple marks on his skin for more than a few seconds.

He looks at you for a moment after breaking the kiss, noticing what caught your attention and with a huff, he drops onto the bed next to you. The matress springs make a slight creak.

"Don't." He says.

"What?"

"Don't look at me like that. I'm fine." His eyes are fixed on the ceiling.

You slowly reach out, your fingertips grazing his stomach, delicately tracing the soft outlines of the bruises there.

"I fell, I-"

"Yeah. I know" You want to be mad because he persists in not opening up to you but the look into his eyes lost in the void stops you every time.

You both know you're lying and you both know the other is doing the same.

"You know you can stay here right? Whenever you want."

Your tone is soft as you ask that, turning towards him, resting your elbow on the mattress and settling your head on your hand, looking at his profile: the shape of his lips, the blue of his eyes in the sunlight streaming through the window, a few strands of blonde hair falling on his forehead.

"If... you have any kind of problem, you're welcome here. Any time of the day or night, Jay. You know that, right?"

You only realize you're still tracing imaginary patterns on his skin when you feel his fingers meet yours, his hand on his stomach to find yours and lace your fingers together.

When he finally turns his head towards you, there's a slight smile on his lips and it's not his usual sarcastic smirk or the grin he shows to John B when he is talking about Sarah or when he manages to escape from a cop. It's softer, more sincere.

"I know."

You stare into his clear eyes for a moment and decide to believe him.

You sigh, “okay.”

You don't know how much your offer means to him, you don't know that every other girl he's laid in bed with in the past never cared about a busted lip or a scratch on an arm unless it was ruining his pretty face.

You don't know that if he had been any other girl that morning he wouldn't have stayed in your bed but would have left before the sun even rose.

With you it was different. You cared. And for the first time, he cared too.

Your room wasn't like his house or even like the chateau. It was becoming his favorite place so quickly that it almost amazed him.

And you were becoming his favorite person, but that didn't surprise him that much.

It was getting impossible not to love the sound of your laughter and the way you could reassure him with a simple touch.

"Thank you." He whispers.

You smile and reach out to brush the blonde hair out of his eyes.

His hand was still holding yours.

[scribblesofagoonerr]

— Where's dumb and dumber?

here's pt. 4 of chaos fc, this is honestly so much fun to write and its' a nice break from the angsty stuff as well, cos' I really can't be dealing with any of it right now!

thanks to @alotofpockets as always for helping me out with ideas along the way and giving me the confidence to post!

pairings: kim little x reader, kyra cooney cross x reader, awfc x reader

summary: reader and kyra continue to try and cause trouble down under, however, some of the girls are quick to realise before its' too late.

also, reader is a protective guarddog when it comes to her best friend getting hurt.

"Come on Kimmy, it was harmless fun!" You exclaim, trailing through the hotel after the long bus ride back from the open traning session and it was safe to say that your Captain was still pretty miffed about what had happened in the changing rooms.

Well, if the looks from the Scots' women were anything to go by then, yeah, you were definitely still in trouble.

"Harlmess or not, I told you to not cause anymore trouble!" Kim states in a firm tone of voice, stopping in her step to turn and look at you, "I feel like I can't even leave you alone for 5 minutes without you gettin' into trouble!"

"I don't see what the big deal is," You can't help but huff and wonder if your Captain is being slightly dramatic.

That was definitely the wrong answer to say, if the look that the older Scots' was anything to go by.

"The big deal?" Kim scoffs and shakes her head, "The big deal is that I'm really gettin' fed up with the constant immature behaviour-- When are you going to grow up, Y/N!?" She snaps.

This is probably the point in which you should say something sensible...

"Where's the fun in that though?"

Or not then.

You watch as your Captains' eyes widen in disbelief before shes' shaking her head, "Thank God we're going back to London in a few days!" She mutters before she pinches the bridge of her nose, "Enough of the pranks, now! I mean it, Y/N. You so much as pull another prank and I'm phoning Leah again to let her know of the recent trouble you've gotten yourself into!"

Without so much as another word, Kim storms off in another direction and your left dumbfound, feeling more than guilty for causing your skipper a near nervous breakdown from the trouble you've been causing.

"Leprachauns' out for revenge," Your partner in crime leans in and whispers, careful to not get caught as shes' under the watchful eye of Steph still, so you can guess that she got a grilling about things as well.

Plus, Caitlin as well most likely, after all it was her girlfriend that got the brunt of the prank that backfired on the wrong victim.

"Yeah, I'd say we're toast whenever she catches up to us," You tell her in a hushed whisper as she wince when your eye catches the Irish defender, who your certain is definitely still holding a grudge about what happened.

"How much trouble did you get in with Kim this time?" Kyra wonders, curiously.

"Eh its' nothin' I can't handle, but she did threaten to call Leah again," Your face pales at the thought of the blonde hearing what else you had been up to. "What did Steph say to you?" You ask.

"Pretty much to not do it again, you know? Blah, blah, blah," Kyra relays what said back as she rolls her eyes. "Caitlin wasn't too happy either about things, considering its' her misses." She states, amusedly.

"Oops," You can't help but surpress the giggle that slips out of your mouth. "Guess we've gotta tone it down on the pranks for a bit." You murmer in realisation.

No way did you want to deal with an angry blonde yelling at you down the phone again, needless to say you were going to try and keep a low profile for now at least.

"Where's the fun in that though?" Kyra jokes as she slides her phone out of her pocket and starts to scroll through her Instagram feed, "Hey, Y/N-- Have you seen these?" With that being said, she not so politely shoves her phone in your face.

"Wha-- No way, seriously?" You can't help but crack up laughing as you watch the fan edit replay over fans' speculating that you and Kyra being together as more than just friends, "There's no way that people are believing this!" You exclaim.

Kyra can't stifle her laughter as she nods, "I know, right? We're just friends!" She finds humour in the situation; Your used to fans freaking out about things, but seeing the interaction between you both and immediately labelling it as a relationship was just hilarious to even see.

"We're nothing but chaotic, platonic little shit best friends," You grin as you playfully throw your arm around the older girl and lock her in a head lock. "Hey! I have an idea, let's just give the fans what they want!" You exclaim as an idea pops into your head.

Kyra manages to wrangle herself out of your grasp and scrunches her face up, "Ew. No offence, Y/N/N, but I don't see you that way. I'm not kissing you." She states.

"Wha-- No, not like that you idiot. Lets' just wind them up!" You roll your eyes as you pull your phone out of your pocket, tapping on your Instagram and hold it in front of you both as you playfully plant a kiss on the older girls' cheek, "Ere', smile!"

"Right, so when we get to the stadium we'll-- Oh hold on a second!" Kyra's quick to get distracted in the middle of her explanation, leaving the piece of paper with varies scribbles out in plain sight for anyone else to walk past and see it.

Definitely not careful enough to hide it.

A certain blonde is able to find them easy enough.

"What're they up to now?" Alessia furrows her eyebrow as she lifts up the piece of paper, skeptical of being caught victim to another one of your pranks after watching the latest mayhem unfold with the Irish being the one to pay the price, "Vic, have you seen this?" She motions to the Dutch player.

"Seen what?" Vic asks, confused.

"This," Alessia mumers, gesturing to the paper that she holds up in her hand. "I can't really understand it-- Butterfingers and pancake? Are they, like, yeah I'm confused." The blondes' at a loss, trying to wrap her head around the explanation of the writing on the paper.

Vic isn't able to understand it either by her puzzled facial expression, "What the-- Are they baking a cake?" She questions, confused.

"I... I don't know," Alessia is clearly stumped over what it means as she looks around for someone who might understand it clearly, "Katie! Come look at this a second, please?" She gestures in the direction for the Irish girl to join the conversation.

"What's up?" Katie wonders, walking over to the two girls. "What you got there?" She asks, confused as she glances at the paper in her hands that Vic hands to her.

"We don't know. We can't understand it," Vic admits, confused.

"Butterfingers and pancake," Katie repeats, bewildered. "What... Whos' is this?" She asks, at a loss of what to even make of this right now.

"Kyra left it on the bench," Alessia answers.

Katies' eyes widen in realisation, "It's another prank." She mutters, searching round the room for the two culprits, who are strangely quiet right now. "Caitlin! Have you seen dumb and dumber?" She questions.

"Who're we talkin' about, right now?" Caitlin questions, laughing in amusement.

"Y/N and Kyra," Katie states, motioning to the paper that she holds in her hand. "I think they're up to something again." She adds.

"Oh you mean the English and Aussie pest," Caitlin jokes, walking over to join the three of them as she eyes' the paper in her girlfriends hands, "Seriously? Not again." She grumbles, shaking her head.

"I say that we let Kim know what's going on," Katie declares, looking around for the older Scots' women. "Kim!" She got the attention of the captain.

"Ye', what's up?" Kim looks over in the Irish girls' direction.

Katie wordessly hands the paper over to the Scottish women with an amused expression plastered on her face, "Thought I'd give you the heads up, Cap." She jokes.

Taking in the notes on the paper, Kims' left looking bewildered and lost for words, "Just one day," She mutters to herself, at her wits' end the troublemaker duo.

"What'd they do?" Steph chimes in, being near to the Scots' women.

"Take a look yourself," Katie jokes, glancing to the paper.

"Oh boy," Steph exhales a sigh as she reads over it, "What the hell does butterfingers and pancake mean?" She asks, confused.

"I don't know, but I know it means they're up to no good," Kim mutters, exhaling a sigh.

"Steph and I will have a word with Kyra and we'll leave Y/N to you," Caitlin reassures the older Scots' woman as she pats her on the shoulder before trying to spot out the Australian girl, "Kyra, over here!" She speaks aloud to get her attention.

"Wha-- I didn't do out!" Kyra exclaims in protest, throwing her hands up in the air.

"Not yet you haven't, we're putting a stop to it before it happens," Steph chimes in, shaking her head as she slings her arm around the girl.

"Y/N, come here!" Kim shouts aloud to get your attention from across the room.

"Busted," You mutter to yourself and slump over to meet the stern look of your captain, suddenly having a sense of dejavu about this certain situation. "Whatever you think I did, I didn't do." You state.

"What's this?" Kim holds up the paper note in her hand.

"Er, well its' a piece of paper. Was that supposed to be a trick question?" You question, sarcastically.

By the look on the older womens' face, you should know that she is not messing around and you should most definitely refrain from any further sarcastic comment.

However, you just can't help yourself sometimes.

"You know what I mean," Kim deadpans, pursing her lips. "Whatever this is, it stops right now!" Your captain is promptly wagging her finger in front of your face.

"I don't know what your on about," You mumble, trying to play innocent. "I don't even know what that is." You add, continuing to play dumb about it all.

"Yes you do, Y/N-- The girls found it, I know its' a prank and I'm telling you to pack it in right now!" Kim lectures; You have to admit that she really can be scary sometimes, and its' nothing to do with her height.

"Snitches," You murmer under your breath as you can't help but glare at the girls around the room.

"You should be gettin' ready for the match, not planning any of this dumb pranks-- Carry on and I'll have you benched!" Kim continues to scold you, mentioning about the upcoming match you're currently supposed to be getting ready for to play against the All Stars. "Stop muckin' around and get ready right now, do you understand?"

You swallow the lump in your throat and shuffle in your spot, "Yes Kim, I understand." You mumble, although you can't help but stare down at the floor.

Sure enough the lecture is enough to scare you to try and not cause any more chaos, besides that can wait for after the match at least for now.

"So, Tiny threatened to have me benched if I pull another prank," You murmer to your best friend after you finish getting ready for the match.

"I just got a right earful from Floof and Veggie," Kyra huffs in agreement as she finishes tying up the laces on the boots. "They found the papers." She adds in realisation.

"No shit, only cos' you left them aside for anyone to see!" You exclaim, glaring at the older Aussie girl.

"It weren't my fault I got distracted!" Kyras' quick to protest as she throws her hands up in mock surrender.

"Well either way, I have to keep on her good side now or shes' gonna call Malfoy!" You tell her, huffing and slumping your shoulders; You really didn't want to endure a certain blonde defender lecturing you down the phone at all.

"Malfoy?" Kyra questions, confused.

You nod in agreement, already reaching for your phone to explain the reason behind the newfound nickname for the centre back, "Yep, new nickname for the English skip, cos' I seen the comments about her new haircut and they're hilarious comparing her to a draco malfoy wannabee," You tap on the former picture that the girls had taken back in London and show the older girl. "See?" You smirk in amusement.

"That's brilliant!" Kyra can't help but burst out laughing, "Your right, suits' her well!" She adds in agreement with your name for the stern english captain.

"Come on, lets' go girls. We need to line up!" Kim motions the pair of them out of the changing rooms with the rest of the girls.

"Comin'!" You shout in response, the two of you both dwadling to join the rest of the girls.

Kim spins around and eyes you both skeptically, "Remember what I said? No trouble!" She warns.

"You got it, Cap. No trouble whatsoever!" You grin in agreement, eager to stay on the Scot womens' good side for the time being.

"I mean it," Kim states.

"I know, I know. I'll be on my best behaviour, don't yer' worry!" You agree, signalling a mock salute as you join the end of the line, ready to head on to the pitch to face the All Stars.

"Agh!" You know you should be focusing on the game, however, its' impossible with what is currently going on right now.

Seagulls, feral birds that you're terrified off.

"God damn this ball-- They keep deflating!" Katie exclaims, motioning to the ref for the need to change the ball again, meanwhile you're still trying to not have a complete meltdown about the severe amount of seagulls flying around the pitch.

"Kimmy, help me! Somebody, anybody, help me!" You dart around the pitch like a maniac, to try and avoid them.

"Y/N, calm down! You're fine!" Kim tries to reassure you, all while trying to keep her focus on the game that you're currently playing on the pitch.

You shake your head and your not afraid to admit you were deeply scared of this birds, "I'm not fine! There's... Theres' birds, everywhere!" You exclaim.

"Y/N, they're harlmess..." Steph chimes in, mostly amused with your freak out on the pitch.

"No, no, they're fuckin' not!" You shout aloud in fear, doing your best to try and duck down as one flies in your direction. "Why the heck are they flying so low?" You question in horror.

"Y/N, focus on the game!" Caitlin chuckles, shaking her head.

"I... I can't! There everywhere, Caitlin!" Your downright petrified of these birds, however, your team all seem to find the situation amusing.

Kim pinches the bridge of her nose and shakes her head, "Good lord," She mutters to herself as she moves to gain possession of the ball. "Ere' Y/N!" She shouts in your direction to pass you the ball seeing as your stood in a spot that's open.

Dodging the pesky seagulls, you swoop in towards the direction of the ball and kick it towards Mini Viv who then is able to knock it to Alessia, whos' remaining unmarked and shes' able to head it in the back of the net to give your team to advantage to take the lead and be 1 nil up.

"G'wan, Lessi!" You exclaim, running towards the blonde to dive on her in celebration for the wonderful goal she had scored. "Lessi Russo with the stunning header!"

"Shut up you idiot," Alessia chuckles and swats the back of your head.

Taking the opportunity to enjoy the moment, your focus is switched back to the game in hand, wanting to at least have the chance to score another goal before the end of the game.

However, your fear for the certain birds turned into anger at the very minute that you watched your counter partner be involved in a particulary nasty foul and land on the ground.

"What the-- Nah seriously, ref? What the actual fuck!" Your throwing your hands in air in protest, outraged how the player on the opposite team was able to get away with it. "Are you blind!? Your an absolute idiot to not see that!"

You can admit that you might have been a slight bit more angrier with your words than you should have been.

Thank God it is just a friendly and no yellow cards can be given out.

"Kyra!" You are quick to rush to her side, the fear for the older Aussie girl whos' now being seen by the medical team. "Are you okay?" You question, concerned.

"Ow," Kyra murmers, wincing in pain.

Breathing a sigh of relief that she seems to be fine, given the cheeky grin she gave to the camera when she was being seen by the medical team, you stood up and turned to look at the player in anger.

"What the actual fuck-- Are you that stupid to hurt her like that?" You just see red, getting up in their face and pushing them back roughly. "You'rea fuckin' idiot!" You seeth.

"Y/N, cool it!" Kims' quick to try and reign in your outburst on the pitch,  trying to grab a hold of your upper bicep and drag you away from the situation before you make it worse for yourself. "What the hell are you playing at? Are you purposely looking for a way to cause trouble-- Control your anger!" She states, firmly.

"They hurt Kyra," You murmer, looking over to check in on your best friend. "They didn't even care about it either!" You motion to the player, who seemed completely unphased about the foul.

"Relax, Y/N. Kyra's fine, you need to control your temper," Kim states, sternly as she shook her head. "Your lucky this is just a friendly, or you'd have been sent off already!"

"They... They hurt Kyra," You repeat, not entirely happy that the player got away with it like she did.

It seems like your outburst on the pitch was more of a reason for Jonas, or as you'd kindly labelled him, Thanos to sub you off in replacement from one of the young guns; Initially, you were annoyed about it, however, you were soon joined by Kyra, so at least the two of you could chat on the bench.

"Are you alright?" You try and see if Kyra's actually okay, depsite the fact the medical team had seen to her on the pitch and even went to so much trouble as bring a stretcher on.

"I'm fine, relax, guard dog," Kyra jokes, plonking herself down in a seat beside you. "You know, fans' seeing your outburst like that is just gonna give them more reason to speculate them rumours." She jokes.

"Let them speculate all they want. I'm just a protective best friend," You grumble in response, not liking the fact of seeing the Aussie girl go down on the pitch at all.

© scribblesofagoonerr