#and i kept getting almost failing grades | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

manicpixiedreamkira · 1 month ago

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kigatsukeba

part one | chapter index

megumi x reader, aged up!megumi (and others), early twenties, working as sorcerers, post shinjuku showdown arc but megumi doesn't have his face scars, megumi trying and failing to be in control of his feelings, gojo's gone, bonded through trauma, friends to fwb to lovers, drinking/getting drunk, jealousy, confusing feelings, megumi sucks at feelings, miscommunication, misinterpretation, megumi being stubborn, reader being clueless, slowish burn, idiots in love, jerking off, a bit of size kink ngl, megumi is older here so he’s taller (like 6'2?), he's also buffer (he's toji's son guys, c'mon), reader is described as smaller/shorter than him, takuma ino mentioned, smut, unprotected piv, nasty sex (multiple times), but also love making, confessions, aftercare, a bit of angst, but there's fluff here too, megumi's down bad, not beta'd

a.n: let me know if i missed anything, hope y'all like this one <3

w.c: 11,228

Megumi Fushiguro didn’t jerk off.

Not because he was a prude, or shy, or hadn’t thought about it—he had. He was a twenty-something man with a healthy sex drive and more than a few opportunities to take the edge off.

But he didn’t need to.

He was disciplined. In control. Raised with restraint wired into his spine like steel. If the need got bad enough, there were hookups—casual, clean, quiet. No mess, no entanglements. No reason to wrap his own fingers around his cock like some desperate teenager.

Until tonight.

Until your scent sank into the sterile hotel air, soft and lingering. Until it clung to the couch cushions beside him, where you’d been tucked up against a throw pillow with your damp hair dripping onto your shoulders, skin still flushed from the shower. Until he could still see the shape of your thighs in the shorts you'd worn to bed, still hear your laughter under the glow of the movie you'd picked—some dumb action thing you swore was "a cult classic."

Until all of that stayed behind when you left.

The door to your room had clicked shut almost an hour ago. The suite had gone quiet. And still, the ghost of you lingered.

So now, Megumi had his cock in his hand.

Fingers curled tight, dragging up the flushed length of it, slow and frustrated. The head was red, slick with precum, veins straining against the weight of his restraint. His teeth dug into his lower lip so hard he tasted blood.

He hated this.

Hated the way his brain conjured the image of you, lazy and smiling, your bare legs stretched across the ottoman while you licked popcorn salt from your thumb. Hated the way your scent was everywhere. Hated that your name was on the tip of his tongue, curling like a curse.

His hips jerked against his fist, and he choked down a sound—something dark, desperate, pathetic. The walls were thin. You were right there.

And this—this was humiliating.

He squeezed harder.

God, he hated himself.

—

It was supposed to be a special-grade curse—dangerous enough that two full-fledged sorcerers were dispatched without question—but someone had definitely screwed up the classification. By the time you and Megumi arrived, it was clear the threat was barely even worth a second-year’s time. A third-grade curse, at best. One of you could’ve handled it solo, easy.

Still, neither of you complained. It was Shizuoka—quiet, a little more suburban than Tokyo, with the ocean close enough that the air smelled fresher. The hotel they’d booked for you was nicer than expected too, tucked a little away from the touristy parts, the restaurant downstairs good enough that you decided to make a night of it.

After the clean-up and the paperwork, you and Megumi shared dinner at the hotel restaurant, lingering over fresh sushi and grilled fish, sipping tea and half-heartedly talking about work. Mostly, though, you caught up. Missions had kept you both busy in different parts of the country lately—you hadn’t seen him in nearly two months.

It was easy, like it always was. He didn’t have to force conversation with you. Didn’t have to pretend to be anyone but himself. You laughed about old missions, filled him in on some dumb drama with other sorcerers at Jujutsu High, told him about the new cat you adopted. He listened, really listened, watching you from under the messy fringe of his hair with something almost soft in his eyes.

If he noticed how the curve of your mouth distracted him, he didn’t say anything.

If you noticed how he looked at you a little too long, you didn’t either.

Later, after dinner, you both showered and changed into comfortable clothes—loose shorts and a tank top for you, sweatpants and a t-shirt for him—and sprawled across the couch in his room to pick a movie.

Now you were lounging sideways with your hair still damp, loosely swept to one side. A blanket was thrown haphazardly over your legs, one foot sticking out. The TV glowed across your skin, casting faint blue shadows that made you look ethereal. Megumi tried not to stare.

“This is the dumbest movie I’ve ever seen,” he said flatly.

You beamed. “Isn’t it amazing?”

He rolled his eyes, but there was no heat behind it. He’d let you pick the movie, like he always did, and like always, you chose something objectively terrible. Over-the-top stunts, cheesy one-liners, paper-thin plot. And yet—he was smiling a little. You made it entertaining. You always did.

“Admit it,” you said, nudging his shin with your toe, “you’re having fun.”

He didn’t answer, which only made you grin wider.

Outside the wide windows, Shizuoka’s lights twinkled against the dark, the city slowing down for the night but never fully asleep. Your mission was done. You had nowhere to be until tomorrow. The world, for once, felt slow.

You yawned and stretched, arms above your head, tank top riding up just slightly before you let them drop again. “Alright. Bedtime. Early train and all that.”

Megumi nodded once, eyes carefully on the TV.

“Night, Fushiguro.”

“Night.”

You stood, gathered your things, and padded off toward the left-side bedroom, the one you’d claimed when you arrived. The door closed softly behind you.

He didn’t move.

Just sat there, rigid, jaw tense, listening to the distant hum of the hallway and the quiet creak of the walls. Thin enough that he could hear you shuffling around, zipping up your overnight bag, plugging in your phone.

Thin enough that if he weren’t so tightly wound, so furious with himself, he might imagine hearing the faint rustle of your sheets as you crawled into bed.

Instead, he pressed his palms to his face, exhaled sharply through his nose, and cursed under his breath.

He needed a shower. A cold one.

—

But he doesn't take a shower.

Instead, thirty minutes later, he’s flat on his back in the dark, one hand buried under the waistband of his sweats, jerking himself off to the thought of you—after making sure to lock his door. It’s not even a coherent fantasy. Just flashes. Snapshots. The sound of your voice. The way your hair stuck to your neck. The shape of your thighs when you shifted positions on the couch. That one time you stretched in front of him in your sports bra before a mission and didn’t even notice he’d stopped talking mid-sentence.

Your smell. That lotion. Sweet and warm and unmistakably you.

He bites back another noise, this one closer to a whimper.

It’s not like this is the first time he’s noticed you. He’s not that blind. He’s seen the way other people look at you—sorcerers, civilians, even cursed spirits in the middle of battle. You’re beautiful. Sharp. Capable. Terrifying when you want to be.

But this is the first time it’s hit him like a goddamn truck.

The first time he’s had to acknowledge how deep it goes. How the fondness has turned into tension, how the teasing has gotten sharper, closer. How your hands linger longer when you pass him a drink. How your voice softens when it’s just the two of you.

His eyes squeeze shut as he strokes faster, chasing the high he doesn't want to admit he needs. His name on your lips. Your lips on his skin. The idea of you slipping into his bed and—

Fuck.

He comes with a stifled grunt, biting down hard on his own wrist to keep the sound from leaking out. His whole body tenses, the aftershocks wracking through him as he lies there, spent and furious and still half-hard because it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough.

He wipes himself off with shaking hands, then lies back against the mattress, chest heaving.

He’s so fucked.

—

The next morning, Megumi was already awake when your alarm buzzed faintly through the wall.

He hadn’t slept.

He’d laid there in the dark for hours, shame prickling under his skin like a fever, staring at the ceiling and replaying every humiliating second over and over in his mind.

The worst part wasn’t that he jerked off.

It was that he couldn’t stop thinking about you even after he came.

It was that it didn’t make it better. It made it worse.

Now, sunlight was creeping pale and soft over the city outside. The train back to Tokyo left in a few hours. And Megumi knew he had to face you.

When you finally emerged from your room—stretching and yawning in an oversized hoodie and leggings, hair still mussed from sleep—Megumi’s stomach twisted painfully. You smiled at him, easy and warm, completely unaware of the disgusting mess he’d made of everything inside his head.

You could have climbed inside his mind right then—he felt that vulnerable, that raw. Like you could peel him open and see every shameful, ugly thought he'd ever had.

He dropped his eyes to the floor immediately.

“Morning,” you said, voice a little scratchy.

He grunted something back that barely qualified as a greeting.

You cocked your head slightly. "We’ve got time before the train—wanna grab breakfast downstairs?"

Your tone was so casual. So normal. Like nothing had changed. And maybe for you, nothing had.

But Megumi couldn’t even look at you.

He shook his head stiffly. "Not hungry," he muttered.

You blinked. "You sure? Their buffet looked—"

"I’m fine."

It came out harsher than he meant. Too harsh. He saw it—the flicker of confusion in your face, the way your mouth pressed into a softer, uncertain line.

Guilt bloomed hot under his ribs.

He felt like throwing up. For touching himself thinking about you. For thinking he could pretend nothing had happened. For hurting you now, too, on top of everything else.

You nodded once, careful, and disappeared back into your room to grab your things.

He hated himself more with every second that passed.

—

The train ride back to Tokyo was miserable.

You tried—god, you tried.

Little things. Commenting on the weather. Pointing out a funny ad in the station. Mentioning how badly you wanted a real breakfast once you got home.

Each time, Megumi answered in one or two clipped words, eyes glued to the window or his phone, refusing to meet your gaze.

He felt your energy falter gradually—like a dimming lightbulb. Confusion first. Then hurt. Then that heavy silence he knew was you giving up.

It made him feel even sicker. But he couldn't fix it. Couldn't find it in himself to risk looking at you again and you seeing everything written on his face.

So he stayed turned away, watching the landscape blur past, counting the minutes until he could get away from you.

Coward.

—

When the train finally pulled into Tokyo Station, Megumi was up and moving before it even fully stopped.

He grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder with a speed that was almost rude. You barely had time to get up before he was halfway down the platform.

"Fushiguro—?" you called, voice cutting through the sea of people.

He half-turned—just enough to throw a glance over his shoulder. Not enough to meet your eyes.

"I’ll see you later," he said quickly. "Thanks for the mission."

And then he was gone—shoulders stiff, disappearing into the morning crowd before you could say anything else.

You stood there for a long second, your bag dangling from your hand, the city roaring around you.

Had you done something wrong?

You replayed the past twenty-four hours in your head, frowning. Dinner had been fine. The movie had been fine. You hadn't fought. Hadn’t said anything weird. Hadn’t—

You sighed, pushing those thoughts down and started moving, blending into the busy city folk.

—

Two weeks went by.

You didn’t see him.

Not at Jujutsu High. Not in the training halls. Not even with Yuuji and Nobara, having lunch at that chinese place they always seemed to be at.

The absence sat heavy in your chest, even though you told yourself it was stupid to care. It wasn’t like you were anything important to him. Just friends. Just mission partners.

And maybe not even that, anymore.

It wasn’t until Yuji’s birthday—March 20th, a Saturday this year—that you finally crossed paths again.

Nobara was throwing a party for him at a loud ramen place near Shibuya. She’d booked a private room, packed with more people than should have fit, all of them loud and happy and shoulder-to-shoulder at the long tables. The air thick with laughter and clattering bowls of noodles.

You were already there, wedged between Aoi and Maki, when Megumi arrived, a few minutes late.

You felt his presence before you even saw him—like your body knew.

He ducked inside the room, hair damp from a shower, wearing a black hoodie half-zipped over a plain t-shirt.

He looked exhausted.

He looked beautiful.

He looked like he wanted to turn right back around and leave the second his eyes landed on you.

You caught the stiff jerk of his shoulders, the way his mouth flattened into a hard line. You turned quickly back to your drink before you could make it worse.

But your chest ached.

—

You weren’t planning on getting drunk.

But a few shots in, it stopped feeling like a decision.

The private room Nobara booked was packed, heavy with the scent of broth and beer, the buzz of a dozen overlapping conversations. Ramen bowls clattered against the wooden tables, servers squeezed between chairs with trays of drinks, and someone had cranked the music up too loud on the old stereo in the corner.

You lost track of how many shots Yuuji poured into your cup. You lost track of how many toasts you cheered to. You stopped caring. Mostly, you drank to drown the sharp, ugly knot in your chest.

Across the table, Megumi sat stiffly, his dark hair falling messy across his forehead. He’d shrugged off his jacket, and the plain black t-shirt he wore clung to the lines of his shoulders, his arms. Even sitting down, he was long and lean, legs sprawled slightly under the table in a way that made him look like he didn’t quite fit in the too-small space.

He wasn't drunk.

He never got drunk.

He'd had a beer, maybe two, the lazy flush of alcohol just barely pinking his cheeks, but that was it. Always controlled. Always careful. Always responsible.

You hated him for it tonight.

You hated the way he sat there, silent and brooding, without so much as looking at you.

So you drank more.

You wore a slip dress tonight—short, backless, the silky fabric clinging to the curve of your hips, dipping low across your spine. It shimmered slightly when you moved, catching the dim restaurant light like liquid metal. Your makeup was heavier than usual too, smoky and dark around your eyes, your mouth glossed and soft.

You knew you looked good.

You wanted Megumi to look.

But if he did, he hid it too well.

Somewhere between your third and fourth drink, Yuuji slung an arm around Megumi's stiff shoulders, laughing too loud.

"What's with the funeral face, Fushiguro?" he teased, breath warm with sake. "It's my birthday, not yours, asshole!"

Megumi shrugged him off without much force, shooting him a withering look.

"Just tired," he muttered.

"Tired of what?" Nobara crowed from across the table, half-sprawled over Maki. "You've been sitting there looking like someone kicked your puppy all night!"

"I don't have a puppy," Megumi said, deadpan.

Yuta leaned in, smiling, voice gentle. "Maybe he just needs another drink."

"I think he needs to get laid," Todo declared, raising his glass with a booming laugh.

The table erupted into laughter. Even Toge, nestled between Panda and a slouching Noritoshi, muttered a muffled "Salmon" into his drink.

You laughed too, a little too loud, the alcohol making everything slosh and sway a little inside you.

When you looked over at Megumi, his jaw was clenched so tightly you thought he might break a tooth.

Good, you thought viciously.

Let him suffer a little.

That's when Ino slid into the empty seat beside you.

Takuma Ino—messy, charming, handsome in that way that didn’t feel serious. He’d hit on you before, more than once, always easy, always harmless. You never thought much about it.

But tonight... you were angry. You were drunk. And Ino was smiling at you like he thought you were the most interesting thing in the room.

"You look incredible," he said, tipping his drink toward you with a lazy wink. The dim restaurant light caught his sharp cheekbones, his strong jaw, the slope of his nose. The shadows made him look sharper, older. Handsomer.

Still—he looked like nothing next to Megumi.

That only made you angrier.

You smiled back at Ino, slow and syrupy, letting your hand trail lightly down his arm.

"Do I?" you said, leaning in, letting the neckline of your dress slip a little lower.

Across the room, Megumi’s hand tightened around his beer bottle so hard his knuckles went white.

He told himself to ignore it. He told himself you were drunk, you didn't mean anything by it. He told himself he didn’t care.

And for a few minutes, he almost managed.

Until he saw Ino’s hand slide lower on your back—fingers brushing the bare skin where your dress dipped scandalously low.

Until he saw you tilt your head back and laugh at something Ino whispered against your ear.

Something sharp and ancient tore through Megumi’s chest. He was moving before he realized it.

One second you were laughing into Ino's shoulder—the next, a large, strong hand clamped around your wrist, pulling you to your feet.

"Hey—!" Ino protested, half-rising from his seat.

Megumi didn’t even glance at him. His grip was firm but not painful, his body radiating a heat and fury you could feel down to your bones.

"She's done for tonight," he said curtly.

No one argued. Not even Ino.

Too much of something simmered under Megumi’s voice. Too much promise of violence.

You stumbled a little as he pulled you toward the door, your head spinning. Your heels clicked clumsily against the wood floor.

"Fushiguro," you slurred, trying to pull your hand free, "what the fuck are you—"

"Be quiet," he muttered under his breath.

Your heart stumbled.

Not because of the words. But because of the way he said them—low, rough, desperate.

You shut up.

Megumi didn’t let go of your wrist until you reached the sidewalk, the noise of the restaurant fading behind you. Only then did he stop, his chest heaving slightly, his hand dropping away like he was afraid of burning himself.

The second the restaurant door closed behind you, your skin prickled with cold, the flimsy silk of your backless dress no match for the crisp breeze rolling in from the river. You hugged your arms tightly to yourself, wobbling slightly on your heels as the alcohol buzz settled deeper into your bones.

You swayed slightly, like you were going to fall. He caught you instinctively, hands steadying you at your waist—but the second you were upright again, he snatched them back like he couldn't stand to touch you.

You stared up at him—blinking, confused, still dizzy with alcohol.

He was tall.

Much taller than you, the way he loomed over you without even trying—broad-shouldered, all lean, restrained strength wrapped in soft cotton and dark denim.

You had to tip your head back to meet his eyes.

And he was looking at you like you were a problem he didn’t know how to fix. Something dark flickered across his face—something he quickly, ruthlessly shoved down.

The night air bit sharper against your skin now, sobering you just enough to register the awful silence stretching between you.

Megumi still hadn’t said a word, still as stone and gaze trained on the pavement. Just a shadow in the orange wash of the streetlight, broad-shouldered and silent, his expression unreadable.

You turned your head slowly to face him, your voice sharp and slurred with anger.

"You dragged me out of there," you bit out, voice louder than you intended, "and you can’t even look at me?"

Megumi flinched almost imperceptibly—like your words physically hurt—jaw clenched. His hands were shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket, and even now, in his rigid silence, he couldn’t bring himself to meet your eyes.

"You’re drunk," he said shortly. "You don't know what you're saying."

"Fuck you, Megumi," you snapped, chest heaving. "I know exactly what I'm saying."

He raked a hand through his hair, rough, frustrated. For a moment, you thought he might actually say something—something real—but still, nothing. No answer. Not even a flicker of emotion.

You gave a bitter, breathy laugh and turned away from him, hugging yourself tighter. A shiver rattled your shoulders.

And then, quietly, there was the rustle of fabric behind you.

He stripped off his jacket in one swift movement, draping it over your shoulders without looking at you. His hands brushed your upper arms only briefly, barely even touching, but it was enough to send a warm pulse through your chest.

The heavy fabric smelled like him—cedar, clean soap, something faintly citrusy underneath.

You looked up at him in surprise.

Even now—especially now—he couldn’t stand to see you shivering on the street because of him.

You tugged it closer instinctively.

It covered most of your slip dress, the silky hem barely peeking out from underneath, hiding the vulnerable expanse of your bare back and thighs.

You blinked.

“Thanks,” you muttered, mostly to the sidewalk.

Megumi’s face was a mask. But inside, he was screaming. He didn’t even trust himself to touch you again. Didn’t even want to risk it.

You crossed your arms against the cold, his jacket still warm from his body. It was only then you realized—in his rush to pull you out—you’d left everything behind. Your jacket, your purse, your phone... even your damn house keys.

Panic flickered up your spine, quick and mean.

"You made me leave all my stuff behind," you said accusingly, your words wobbling. "What am I supposed to do now, genius?"

Megumi's shoulders stiffened.

"I’ll figure it out," he muttered.

You wanted to hit him. You wanted to scream.

—

She was cold because of you, Megumi thought. She was standing here without a jacket because you pulled her out without giving her the chance to grab her things. Because you couldn’t stomach watching Ino touch her.

Because you couldn’t do a single fucking thing without messing it up.

You shifted uncomfortably beneath the weight of his coat, and Megumi glanced back toward the restaurant—jaw tight, throat working.

You’d left everything. Your phone. Your purse. Your house keys. Even your damn jacket.

He could take you back, let you go in, get what you needed. You deserved that, at the very least.

But he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

The thought of Ino still sitting at that table—smirking, buzzed, smug, maybe even brave enough to pull you back down beside him—sent a hard, nauseous twist through Megumi’s stomach.

He didn’t trust himself not to lose it.

So he pulled out his phone instead, typing out a quick message to Nobara:

[ hey. she left her shit at the restaurant. grab it before you go? i’ll pick it up in the morning. ]

A moment later, the read receipt popped up.

[ sure. you owe me. ]

He slid the phone back into his pocket and looked at you.

You stared at him, confused and blinking through the drunken haze.

He didn’t answer.

A minute later, he ordered a cab.

—

The car rolled up to the curb a few minutes later.

Megumi opened the door, gesturing stiffly for you to get in first. You stumbled, nearly missing the step up into the backseat. The ravenette was there instantly, steadying you with a hand on your lower back—but he jerked away again like he'd been burned the second you were inside.

He gave the driver his address without hesitation.

You blinked at him, still confused.

"My place," he said shortly. "You’re not getting into your apartment without keys."

You opened your mouth to argue, but the seat was warm and you were so tired, and it was so much easier to just slump against the window and close your eyes.

—

The ride was short but suffocating.

You could feel Megumi beside you, rigid as a statue, tension rolling off him in waves. His hands stayed firmly planted on his thighs the entire time, clenched into white-knuckled fists.

When the cab pulled up to his building, Megumi got out first, circling quickly around to your door.

You hesitated before climbing out, legs wobbly in your heels, the cold sinking deeper through your skin despite his jacket wrapped around you.

"Goddammit," Megumi muttered under his breath.

The stairs to his apartment loomed ahead.

You squared your shoulders, stubborn, trying to prove some kind of point. But your heel caught on the very first step and the world lurched sideways beneath you, your ankle buckling.

Strong hands caught you before you could hit the ground.

Megumi exhaled through his nose, long and slow.

"You're impossible," he muttered under his breath.

You blinked up at him, dizzy. “You’re the one who—”

“I know,” he bit out, frustrated. “I know.”

Before you could say anything else, he bent low, one arm behind your knees, the other at your back—and lifted you.

“Megumi—”

“Just—don’t.” His tone was tight. Controlled. But there was heat simmering underneath, wild and cracked and guilty as hell.

You wanted to fight him. You wanted to cry. You hated how safe you felt, pressed against him—despite your rage, despite your confusion—curling unconsciously closer, cheek resting against the steady rise and fall of his chest.

He smelled like cedar and clean soap. Like safety. Like someone you’d once known well and now couldn’t reach.

He didn’t look down at you once—carring you all the way to the third floor, barely breathing heavily, his jaw locked tight.

At his door, he shifted you higher against his chest with a grunt and somehow managed to fish out his keys. The door swung open, spilling the familiar, clean scent of his apartment into the hallway.

He set you down carefully just inside the entryway.

The moment your feet hit the ground, you swayed dangerously again.

With a frustrated sigh, Megumi guided you toward the couch, his hand at your waist, keeping you upright.

You collapsed into the cushions with a groan, burying your face in his jacket still draped around your shoulders.

He hovered for a second, clearly unsure what to do.

You lifted your head just enough to glare at him, mascara smudged slightly beneath your eyes.

"Why do you even care?" you muttered, voice raw. "You don't even like me anymore."

Megumi tensed.

"You don't even look at me," you mumbled. "You don't talk to me. You don’t want me around."

The words hung between you—heavy, accusing, bitter.

He opened his mouth.

Closed it.

A beat passed. Then two.

You laughed, short and sharp, and turned your face away from him.

“Thought so,” you whispered, curling into the couch.

You didn’t see the way he looked at you after. Didn’t see the way his fingers curled tight at his sides like he wanted to reach for you—but wouldn’t let himself.

You were already asleep.

—

The first thing you noticed when you woke up was the smell.

Crisp, clean, familiar—cedar and soap and something warm underneath.

The second thing was that you weren’t on the couch anymore.

You blinked against the low citylight leaking through the curtains, heart thudding heavily in your ears as you sat up slowly. Megumi’s bed was bigger than yours—neat, sparse, a simple navy comforter tucked tight around you. His jacket had slipped halfway off your shoulders in your sleep, cool silk brushing against your skin.

You were still in your dress. Barefoot.

The room was silent. Heavy.

You pushed the jacket back up around your shoulders and slipped out of the bed, the cool floor making you shiver.

Somewhere past the half-open door, you heard it—the faint, broken rhythm of someone's breathing.

Careful, quiet, you padded down the short hallway until you reached the living room.

And there he was.

Megumi sat hunched on the couch, elbows braced against his knees, head cradled in his hands. The thin cotton of his t-shirt stretched across his broad shoulders, the tense line of his back rigid with something you couldn't quite name. His legs were spread wide, his long frame taking up most of the space—a tall, powerful body crammed uncomfortably into a small seat he clearly hadn’t been able to sleep in.

For a second, you just watched him.

He was so much bigger now than when you’d first met years ago—taller, broader in every sense. Even folded over like this, he still took up too much space. It hit you all at once: how much he'd grown, how different he was, how painfully far away he seemed now.

"Megumi?" you called softly.

He jerked upright, hands flying off his head, his whole body tensing like he'd been caught doing something wrong.

His face—God, his face.

There was a flush blooming under his cheekbones, hot and sharp against his pale skin. His mouth pressed into a hard, thin line, and he couldn't meet your eyes.

"You should be resting," he murmured, voice low.

You took a tentative step closer. "I woke up and... I was confused. Why did you move me to your bed?"

He hesitated, fingers clenching into fists. "You were uncomfortable," he muttered, voice rough, not looking at you. "On the couch. Figured... the bed would be better."

You shifted awkwardly, hugging his jacket tighter around yourself. "And you?"

Megumi grimaced. "I'm fine."

You glanced down at the cramped, sagging couch, trying to imagine someone as tall and built as him trying to fold himself into it for the night. Your throat tightened painfully.

"You gave me your bed... and you took this?" you said, voice cracking slightly.

He still wouldn't look at you.

"I—" he started, then broke off, dragging a hand through his hair. "Doesn't matter."

"Doesn't matter?" you repeated, a bitter little laugh escaping before you could stop it. "Then why won’t you even look at me?"

Finally, he did.

And what you saw there—wild guilt, raw frustration, something worse lurking underneath—nearly knocked the breath from your lungs.

You took a step closer, heart hammering.

"What did I do?" you asked, voice wobbling. "Tell me, Megumi. What did I do that's so awful you can't even stand to be around me anymore?"

He flinched, like you’d slapped him.

"Nothing," he said hoarsely. "You didn’t do anything. It’s me."

You shook your head, fighting tears. "Then what? What’s so bad?"

He opened his mouth—and for a long, awful second, no sound came out.

Then, low and broken:

"You're in my bed," he said, almost to himself, like he couldn't believe it. "Wearing that—" his hands clenched tightly, knuckles white. "Smelling like you do. And I can't fucking stop—"

You froze.

Your heart thudded, confused. "Stop what?"

His whole body radiated tension, like he was holding himself together by sheer force of will.

"I can't stop wanting you," Megumi ground out. "Even when I don't have the right to. Even when I know it would ruin everything."

You stared at him, mouth dry, vision swimming.

And that’s when you noticed.

The heavy bulge tenting the front of his jeans, straining against the fabric, painfully obvious now that he was sitting back against the couch cushions. His thighs were spread wide, like even now he couldn’t hide how wrecked he was.

Your stomach twisted sharply. Heat bloomed between your legs—and then just as quickly, cold fear.

Because if he wanted you, why was he acting like this? Why was he avoiding you, treating you like you were some burden he couldn't wait to unload?

The tears you'd been holding back finally slipped free.

Megumi stiffened instantly at the broken sound you made.

"No," he said, alarmed, standing up so fast the couch squeaked. "No, don't—shit, don't cry—"

You stumbled back a step, brushing your cheeks angrily. "You hate me," you said, the words tumbling out half-sob, half-accusation. "You’re disgusted with me and I don’t even know why—"

"I'm not," he said fiercely, crowding closer without even thinking. "I'm not disgusted with you. I could never—"

You hiccuped through a shaky breath, clutching his jacket tighter around your shoulders.

"Then why?"

Megumi raked a hand through his hair again, looking wild, desperate.

"Because I want you," he said, voice ragged. "Because I'm not supposed to. Because you're drunk, and you're hurting, and if I touch you it’s just—it's wrong."

You blinked up at him, tears shining in your wide eyes.

"But you’re hurting me anyway," you whispered.

And that—that—split him wide open.

He cursed under his breath, stepping back like he was physically restraining himself. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides. His chest heaved with every breath.

"I'm sorry," he rasped. "I’m so fucking sorry."

You stared at him, breathing hard, jacket slipping off one bare shoulder.

Megumi’s eyes flicked down—then snapped away, jaw locking tight.

He looked like he was about to break.

"I'm sorry," he said again, quieter this time, almost to himself.

You stood there, wavering, hugging his jacket around your shoulders like an armor. Your lip trembled, your eyes shining, and Megumi thought he might throw up from the way it made his chest tighten painfully.

He took a slow breath, forcing his voice steady.

"Please," he said, the word scraping raw in his throat, "go back to bed. We can... talk in the morning."

You stared at him like you didn’t believe him, like you were trying to read something from his face that he didn’t know how to hide. And maybe you could—maybe you always could, that was the problem—but still, you stayed frozen there, shivering slightly, the silk hem of your dress brushing against your thighs in the draft.

Megumi felt like his body was locked in place. His hands fisted uselessly at his sides, nails biting into the heels of his palms. His cock was still hard—achingly, miserably hard—straining against the waistband of his pants, throbbing in time with his heartbeat.

He deserved it. He deserved to sit there with this shame crawling under his skin, with his body betraying him at the worst possible moment, with the sight of you crying burned into his fucking memory.

He clenched his jaw and forced himself to stay still, to stay silent, to stay contained.

Because if he let himself speak, he knew it wouldn’t come out right. If he let himself move, he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop.

You blinked at him, chest rising and falling in uneven breaths, and Megumi squeezed his eyes shut for a second, trying to pull himself back together.

"Please," he said again, softer now, pleading. "Just... just go back to bed."

Maybe—maybe if you slept, maybe if you forgot enough of tonight, he could fix it in the morning. Pretend none of this happened. Pretend he was still the responsible one, the one who could be trusted not to ruin everything just because he couldn’t get a fucking grip on himself.

He opened his eyes and found you still standing there.

For a terrible second, he thought you were going to stay, going to push, going to ask him for something he couldn't, shouldn't give you.

But then you blinked slowly, wiped at your cheeks with the sleeve of his jacket, and without a word, turned and padded back down the hallway toward his bedroom.

Megumi stayed frozen in the living room until he heard the soft creak of the mattress as you climbed back into bed.

Then, and only then, did he let himself move.

He sagged onto the couch like the strings holding him up had been cut, head falling into his hands. His cock was still painfully hard, a pulse of need that throbbed through him with every breath, but he didn’t touch himself. He didn’t even consider it.

No.

He deserved this.

He deserved to sit here, miserable and aching, with the weight of his own self-disgust settling heavier and heavier across his shoulders.

Every heartbeat was punishment. Every shallow breath, every twitch of his muscles.

This was what he deserved for letting you get close enough to hurt. For being weak enough to want you. For making you cry.

He stayed like that, head bowed between his hands, until the first pale threads of morning light began to creep through the cracks in the blinds.

—

You woke up slowly.

The first thing you noticed was the dull, pounding ache behind your eyes, like someone had stuffed your skull with cotton and wrapped it too tight. The second was the heavy warmth of the comforter over you, the faint scent of soap and cedar sinking into your skin.

Megumi’s scent.

You shifted, muscles stiff and aching, and only then realized you were still wearing last night's dress—rumpled now, the hem twisted high around your thighs. Megumi’s jacket was still draped over your shoulders, half-off, half-on, swallowing you up in worn fabric and the echo of him.

You pushed yourself upright with a groan, blinking blearily at the morning light bleeding in through the curtains. Everything hurt—your head, your throat, your pride.

And the memories—

They floated up slowly, sickly, filling your chest with something thick and sour.

The fight. The crying. The way Megumi had looked at you—gutted, guilty, refusing to touch you even when you had all but begged for answers.

You pulled his jacket closer around yourself, cold despite the sunlight, your heart thudding unevenly as you swung your legs over the side of the bed.

The apartment was silent.

For a second you just sat there, gathering yourself, dread pooling low and heavy in your stomach.

Then, cautiously, you stood.

Your bare feet made no sound against the floor as you padded toward the door, jacket trailing behind you like a shield. The hallway seemed longer than it had last night, every step loud in your ears.

You found him in the kitchen.

Megumi stood by the counter, his back to you, hunched slightly like he hadn’t slept at all. His hair was a mess, tangled at the roots like he’d run his hands through it a thousand times. His hands were braced on the edge of the sink, knuckles pale with the pressure.

He must have heard you—but he didn’t turn around.

You hovered by the counter, nerves scraping raw inside your skin, your voice catching in your throat.

"Morning," you said, voice hoarse.

He flinched.

It was subtle—just the barest tension running up his shoulders—but you caught it, and it made something twist painfully inside you.

Slowly, Megumi straightened. His fingers drummed once, twice, against the counter before he finally turned to face you.

You almost wished he hadn’t.

There were dark shadows under his eyes, tension carved deep into the lines of his face. He looked—wrecked. Like he’d fought a battle with himself all night and lost.

He opened his mouth—then closed it again, jaw tightening.

You swallowed hard, clutching his jacket tighter around yourself.

"I remember," you said, voice small. "Not everything, but... enough."

A beat of silence stretched between you—long and sharp and unbearable.

Megumi shifted his weight, his broad frame seeming even bigger in the tight space of the kitchen, dwarfing everything. His arms crossed over his chest—defensive, protective, like he was trying to physically hold himself back.

"You were drunk," he said finally, voice rough. "It doesn't matter."

You let out a shaky breath. "It matters to me."

He looked at you then—really looked—and you hated how much it hurt. Hated how much guilt and self-loathing you could see bleeding out of him, barely restrained.

"You’re mad at me," you said quietly, not a question.

"No," he said immediately, too fast, too sharp. "I'm mad at myself."

You blinked, confused.

"I made you cry," Megumi said, the words like gravel dragging out of his chest. "I hurt you. That’s on me."

You took a step closer, careful, feeling the heat radiating off his body even from a foot away.

"You didn’t hurt me," you said. "You just... confused me."

His mouth twisted, bitter and miserable.

"I can’t—I can’t want you like that," he said, voice low and cracked. "It’s not right."

Your breath caught.

"Why?" you whispered.

He turned away again, bracing his hands on the counter, bowing his head.

"Because you’re drunk," he muttered. "Because you’re my friend. Because you deserve better than—"

"Stop," you said, sharper than you meant.

He froze.

You stepped closer until you were right behind him, close enough to touch, close enough to feel the tension vibrating through him like a wire pulled taut.

"I’m sober now," you said. "And I know what I want."

He let out a rough, broken laugh—one that sounded more like a sob.

"It’s not that simple."

"Why not?"

He turned then, so suddenly you flinched. His hands caught your arms—careful, barely touching, like he was afraid he might hurt you just by holding on too tight.

"Because if I let myself have you," he said, voice raw and shaking, "I'll get too greedy."

Your heart slammed against your ribs.

You stared up at him—at the storm raging in his dark eyes, at the way his fingers trembled against your skin—and for the first time in what felt like forever, you saw the truth clearly.

This wasn’t indifference. It wasn’t disgust. It was need.

Fierce and desperate and so long denied that it had festered into something wild inside him.

Your hands lifted without thinking, tangling in the front of his t-shirt.

"I can be greedy too," you whispered.

Megumi made a strangled sound—something halfway between a groan and a curse—and dropped his forehead against yours.

He was trembling.

"You don’t know what you’re asking," he breathed.

"I do."

"You’ll hate me."

"I could never."

Megumi’s breath stuttered against your skin, the heat of him leaking through every careful inch where he wasn't quite touching you. His fingers curled tight in the fabric of your borrowed jacket, and you could feel how badly he was shaking—like he was fighting himself at every breath.

"You'll hate me," he whispered again, voice cracked and low, like the confession cost him something he couldn't get back.

You stared up at him, heart thudding too fast, your mind scrambling to make sense of the words—to shove them into a box you could understand.

Hate him? For what? Was it really that simple?

You swallowed, heart lurching painfully—but you still didn’t quite get it. Didn't see the war he was losing inside his own chest.

Instead, you gave a shaky little laugh, trying to lighten the crackling tension choking the air between you.

"I mean…" you started, teasing, trying for levity, "if you’re just talking about sex, Megumi... we can make that work."

Megumi froze—went so still you thought maybe he'd stopped breathing.

You blinked at him, confused, startled by the sudden intensity in his eyes. Dark, wild, burning like a fuse had finally hit the powder.

"I’m serious," you said quickly, heart hammering harder.

You smiled, a little awkward, a little too bright. "I mean... it's not like I never thought about it," you joked, nudging at the tension with a clumsy, hangover drenched bravery. "You're hot, Megumi. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t... you know. Thought about it. Back in high school. Still do, sometimes. And if this is just... you know, a physical thing, that’s fine. We’re adults. We can be smart about it."

You winced internally the second the words left your mouth—but it was too late. They hung there, stupid and weightless, in the heavy, aching air between you.

Megumi's jaw clenched so hard you saw the muscle jump. His hands flexed uselessly at his sides, like he didn't know what to do with them. His whole body was wound tight, every inch of him vibrating with something you didn’t know how to name.

You thought you did, though.

You thought it was guilt. Fear. Worry about crossing a line you couldn't uncross.

You mistook the devastated look in his eyes for hesitation—for regret—instead of what it really was: need, thick and choking and helpless.

You pressed on before he could retreat fully, heart thudding painfully.

"I'm not gonna freak out," you said quickly, voice softening. "If it's just sex, it's just sex. I don’t want to lose you over something stupid. We’re friends first, right? We can... figure it out."

You meant it. You meant every word. You would rather give him this, would rather let your heart ache quietly in your own chest, than lose him altogether. You could handle it. You could be smart. You could keep it simple if that’s what he needed.

So you smiled—small and earnest and maybe a little shaky—thinking you were offering him something safe.

Megumi made a rough, broken sound in the back of his throat and turned away, raking both hands through his hair like he wanted to tear it out at the roots.

Your stomach twisted, misreading it entirely.

You thought he was trying to resist. You thought he was scared of ruining what you had—the ease, the history, the friendship built over years.

You didn’t realize he was breaking apart because he knew he couldn’t pretend it would ever be casual. Not with you.

Still, you didn't want him to spiral alone in whatever guilt or shame he was carrying.

"Just... think about it," you said, softer now, stepping closer, your fingers brushing lightly over his sleeve. "You don't have to decide right now. I just... I don’t want you to feel bad. I’m not gonna hate you."

He turned his head slightly—just enough that you caught the shadowed edge of his profile. His lips were pressed into a hard, miserable line, like he was swallowing back something sharp and dangerous.

Megumi stared at you like you’d just offered him a loaded gun and told him to aim it at his own heart. Like you didn’t even know what you were asking him to survive.

But he didn’t say anything.

He didn’t correct you.

Maybe he couldn't.

His fingers just flexed uselessly at his sides. His throat bobbed in a rough swallow. His jaw was so tight you could see the muscle ticking in the hollow beneath his ear.

He couldn't breathe around you. Couldn't think. Couldn't even stand there another second without feeling like he was going to tear himself apart.

Finally, he muttered, hoarse and rough, "I need to go get your stuff. Nobara has it."

You blinked at him, a little thrown by the sudden change of subject, but you nodded anyway, giving him a small, shaky smile he didn’t see because he was already reaching for his keys.

"I’ll be quick," he added, already moving toward the door like the apartment was on fire and he needed to escape before he got caught in the blaze. "Stay here. Take a shower. Eat something. Wear whatever you want."

You stared at his back, your heart thudding unevenly, confused and stinging all over.

"After that... I’ll drive you home."

You nodded slowly, even though he wasn’t looking at you.

At the door, Megumi hesitated, one hand braced against the frame, the other clenching around the keys, the metal denting the flesh of his palm.

His shoulders stiffened, and he said, almost too quietly:

"I’m taking the bike. It’ll be faster."

You opened your mouth—not sure what you were going to say—but he cut you off before you could even breathe.

"Your dress," he said, voice tight, still refusing to turn around. "It’s not... it’s not bike-appropriate."

There was something almost broken in the way he said it. Like it wasn’t just about the logistics. Like if you climbed on behind him wearing that little slip of silk and nothing else, he wasn’t sure he'd make it back in one piece.

You stood there frozen, jacket swallowing your frame, lips parted and unsure, while Megumi finally forced himself out the door — pulling it closed behind him with a soft, definitive click.

You stared at the wood a long moment after he was gone, heart hammering hard and helpless in your chest.

The apartment buzzed with silence. Heavy, humming, full of words you hadn't been brave enough to say.

You hugged his jacket closer around yourself—the scent of him sinking into your skin—and let yourself skin to the floor, your knees pulling to your chest, the cold of the hardwood bleeding through your bare legs.

For the first time all morning, you realized:

Maybe you hadn’t understood anything at all.

—

The door clicked shut behind Megumi as he stepped back into his apartment, your bag and jacket slung over one shoulder, a plastic to-go container from the ramen place clutched in his other hand—some mercy from Nobara he hadn’t asked for.

He moved on autopilot at first—slipping the keys back into his pocket, toeing off his shoes—until his gaze caught, snagging helplessly on the figure moving across the kitchen.

Soft morning light spilled through the large window to his balcony, pooling across the counters, catching the slight sway of your body as you shifted from one foot to the other. You moved carefully around the stove, stirring the contents of a pan with a spatula, the buttery smell of cooking eggs soft in the air—smothered under the domesticity you’d stitched into his kitchen like a thread he hadn't noticed pulling tight.

And you were wearing his clothes.

An oversized black t-shirt hung loose on your frame, the neckline dipping slightly but clinging just enough to stay in place, soft cotton brushing the delicate line of your collarbones. His gray sweatpants sat low on your hips, cinched tight with the drawstring, the extra fabric pooling at your ankles in lazy folds, right down to where your socked feet met the floor.

You looked small like that. Warm. Not just because the clothes dwarfed you, but because you made them look soft, lived-in—like you belonged to them. To him.

You glanced up when you heard the door, offering him a cautious, wobbly smile—so soft, so unsure—like you were ready for him to push you away again.

Like you were still trying to give him a safe out.

Megumi’s fingers tightened unconsciously around the strap of your bag.

"Hey," you said, tucking a strand of damp hair behind your ear, voice pitched soft. "I made you something."

You gestured toward the pan, where a half-folded omelette was browning gently at the edges. He could smell it from where he stood—eggs, cheese, something savory and sharp tucked inside.

You remembered. You always remembered the small, stupid things he never said out loud—like how he preferred salty over sweet in the mornings, how heavy breakfasts made him nauseous, how he took his coffee black without ever complaining about it.

The lump that formed in his throat was sudden and vicious.

He forced himself forward, dropping your bag by the door, setting the container carefully on the table without really registering the motion. His body moved on instinct, trying to pretend normalcy, trying to suffocate the riot building under his ribs—one heavy step, then another—until he was close enough to reach you if he dared.

You watched him—guarded but hopeful—twisting your fingers absently in the hem of the too-long t-shirt. Then it hit him.

The scent.

Subtle at first, creeping under the buttery heat of the kitchen, but impossible to miss once it reached him. You smelled like him.

His soap, his shampoo—cedar and musk, brightened faintly by the citrus edge he'd stopped noticing years ago—soaked into your skin, into the damp ends of your hair, familiar in a way that left no oxygen in his lungs.

You had washed yourself in him. You weren't just wearing his clothes. You weren’t just standing in his kitchen. You were wearing him. You were wound into his life now—sewn into places he hadn't even realized were empty until you filled them.

That knowledge sank its claws deep.

It was unbearable.

It was beautiful.

It was going to kill him.

He clenched his fists once at his sides, willing the heat roaring under his skin to die down, to give him some semblance of control—but it was useless. His hands itched to touch you. His mouth ached to say things he shouldn’t even think.

It was worse than before. So much worse.

Because now he knew you wanted him—even if it was just a flicker, a clumsy admission, a casual offer you’d made thinking it would be simple.

You smiled at him again, smaller this time—cautious, uncertain.

The soft curve of your mouth, the way his t-shirt swallowed your frame, the fact that you smelled like his fucking soul—it twisted something brutal deep inside him.

And Megumi knew, in some awful, bone-deep way, that he would take it. He would take whatever you offered him—even if it ripped him apart from the inside out.

Still, he forced himself to move.

"I’m gonna take a shower," he muttered, voice rough and low, already backing toward the hallway. "Then I’ll drive you home."

You opened your mouth—maybe to protest, maybe to ask him something else—but he didn’t give you the chance. He turned away before he could see the look on your face, the soft, confused crumpling of your expression—disappearing down the hallway like a man fleeing a fire he couldn't outrun.

Megumi hated himself for putting that look on your face.

It was cowardice. But if he stayed—if he let himself sit across from you, smelling like him, wearing his clothes, smiling at him like he hadn’t already broken something essential between you—he would crack open entirely.

And there wouldn’t be any putting himself back together after that.

—

The bathroom door clicked closed behind him.

Megumi leaned heavily against it for a second, head bowed, breathing ragged.

He shed his clothes like they were burning him, stepping under the scalding spray without looking at himself in the mirror. The water pounded against his skin, steam curling up around him in thick, smothering clouds—but it did nothing to drown the ache rooted low in his gut.

He scrubbed at his hair, at his skin, trying to wash away the ghost of you—the sweet, clinging imprint of your body in his clothes, your voice still echoing inside his chest.

He couldn’t. He never would.

He twisted the tap off when the water ran cold and grabbed a towel, roughing it over his hair with more force than necessary. His body was tight with frustration—blood still hot and heavy in his veins, his cock stirring half-hard again at the memory of you in his kitchen, socked feet and sweet and his in ways you didn’t even understand.

He wrapped another towel low around his hips and shoved the door open—still toweling his hair dry, eyes half-closed—when he froze.

You were sitting on his bed. Waiting for him.

The comforter was twisted around you, your legs tucked under your body, a stubborn pout blooming on your mouth as you glared at the doorway like it had personally offended you. Your damp hair clung to your temples, messy and soft.

You looked... furious. Frustrated. And so heartbreakingly beautiful he thought he might actually fall to his knees.

Megumi’s brain short-circuited.

He stopped breathing.

You blinked at him, wide-eyed, your gaze catching—and sticking—low on his body, on the way the towel around his hips barely hung there, still damp from the shower, clinging to the hard lines of his waist, the ridges of muscle cut low across his abdomen. Water still beaded at his throat, trailing down the tense lines of his chest.

You swallowed—visibly—your breath hitching.

And then—

The barest flicker of want flashed across your face—raw and unguarded and so blindingly obvious it punched the air from his lungs.

And when your eyes lifted again, locking onto his—

It was over.

His cock hardened instantly—painfully—straining against the towel, throbbing with brutal, humiliating urgency, blood flooding south so fast it left him dizzy.

You caught the movement—the twitch, the thickening at the front of the fabric—and your lips parted, your breath hitching almost silently, thighs pressing together instinctively where you sat on his bed.

Megumi’s whole body locked up.

For a second, neither of you moved. The air was thick, humming, heavy enough to drown in.

And in that frozen heartbeat—

Megumi realized he was done.

There was no guarding himself anymore. No holding back. Not when you looked at him like you wanted him. Not when every trembling, uncertain beat of your heart was written across your face.

He was already drowning. He may as well let you pull him under.

—

He moved before he could think—before caution, before guilt, before anything but you existed in his blood. One step, then another, until he stood at the edge of the bed, the space between you crackling like a live wire.

You blinked up at him, your pout slipping into something softer—questioning, uncertain—but you didn’t move away. You didn’t run.

You just looked at him—chest rising and falling in slow, shallow breaths, damp hair framing your face—waiting.

Megumi dropped the towel from his hips with a dull thud against the floor. There was no ceremony in it—no attempt to hide the way his cock strained heavy and flushed between his thighs, already leaking at the tip, already so hard it hurt. But he didn’t reach for you with it. He didn’t even touch it himself.

You stared—your breath catching sharply in your throat.

The scars were impossible to miss.

But they were there.

They would always be there.

And still—he was beautiful.

More beautiful than anything you’d ever seen.

You leaned back into the bed, your hands curling loosely into the sheets beside you—an unconscious invitation.

He, instead, reached for the hem of the t-shirt you wore—his shirt—curling his fingers carefully into the soft fabric, pausing just long enough for you to nod once, almost imperceptibly.

He peeled it up over your body, baring you inch by inch.

No bra, just smooth, warm skin—the soft swell of your breasts, the gentle slope of your waist. His hands trembled slightly where they brushed your sides, fighting the instinct to grab, to worship, to fall apart.

He tossed the shirt aside without looking, gaze locked on you like you were something sacred.

Then his hands slid lower—slow, reverent—tugging at the waistband of the sweats you’d borrowed.

You lifted your hips automatically, helping him, and the pants slid down easily, crumpling at your ankles. He knelt briefly, steadying himself with one hand on your calf, the other working to peel the fabric free.

That’s when he saw the socks still clinging to your feet.

A muscle ticked sharply in his jaw—something raw and restless flashing across his face.

He hated it—hated leaving anything between you. Hated the barrier of it, the wrongness of something so small when the rest of you was already laid bare before him.

He hooked his fingers into the cuffs, tugging them down carefully one at a time, leaving you completely naked in front of him. Vulnerable. Beautiful.

You shifted slightly, propping yourself up on your elbows, watching him with wide eyes, your breath coming a little faster now.

Megumi sat back on his heels, dragging his gaze up the beautiful lines of your body—the soft curves, the warm flush blooming across your chest, the way your thighs pressed together instinctively under his stare.

That's when he noticed. You weren’t wearing panties.

You must have folded them away with your dress from last night—leaving yourself dressed only in him, in his scent, in his space.

It undid him.

He crawled up onto the bed, straddling your hips lightly, his hands bracing on either side of your head. His hair dripped faintly onto your skin, dark and wild across his forehead, casting shadows across his desperate, wrecked face.

He cupped your cheek, rough thumb brushing your skin, his expression cracking wide open—reverent, starving.

"Need you," he rasped, voice raw, before crushing his mouth to yours.

The kiss was messy—desperate—all teeth and tongue and broken sounds.

You whimpered into him, arching helplessly, your hands flying up to fist into his still-damp hair, pulling him closer, needing more, needing everything.

Megumi groaned low in his chest—a hungry, guttural sound—as he kissed you harder, tilting your head back, his mouth sliding hot and open against yours. He kissed you like he was drowning. Like you were the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth.

"Fuck, baby," he gasped against your mouth, panting, "feel so good... so fucking good."

He kissed down your jawline, your throat, mapping every inch of skin with his lips, his teeth—hungry, possessive. His hands roamed greedily, skimming over your waist, your hips, your ribs—leaving nothing untouched.

"Mine," he whispered against your collarbone—low and rough and barely audible.

You shivered, clutching at his shoulders, nails digging into the hard lines of muscle beneath your palms.

He worshipped your breasts next—kissing over the soft curves, mouthing at your nipples until they peaked under his tongue, drawing gasps and helpless moans from your lips.

"Fuck," Megumi groaned, scraping his teeth lightly against sensitive skin, "could spend forever on you, pretty girl."

Your legs fell open without thinking, hips canting up against him, desperate for more friction, for more of him—anything he would give.

He kissed down your stomach—lingering over the dip of your navel, the soft curve of your hip bones—leaving open-mouthed kisses along the inside of your thighs until you were shaking under him.

"So perfect," he muttered, voice hoarse, hot against your skin. "Gonna make you scream for me, baby. Gonna ruin you."

You whimpered—a broken, wrecked sound—and Megumi’s hands slid under your thighs, spreading you wider, lifting you toward his mouth.

You gasped softly as he bent down, pressing his mouth to the inside of your thigh, inhaling the clean, dizzying scent of your skin. He pressed another kiss higher, then another, slow and deliberate, until his nose brushed the tender crease where your thigh met your hip.

You were already wet—glistening faintly in the low light, the smell of you thick and sweet in the air between you.

And then he buried his mouth against you—tongue flattening against your soaked pussy, licking a slow, filthy stripe up your dripping folds. He groaned against you—the sound vibrating straight into your bones—and licked again, deeper, hungrier.

"You taste..." he muttered into your cunt, voice wrecked, "...fuck, baby, taste so fucking good... like you’re made for me."

You cried out, thighs trembling, head tossing back against the mattress as his mouth worked you open—his tongue fucking into you, circling your clit in devastating patterns that made your whole body shudder.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling, clutching, desperate for something to anchor you.

"Please," you gasped, voice wrecked, "Megumi—!”

You jerked, a soft, but he only held you steady—hands braced under your thighs, locking you in place as he devoured you like a man starved.

"That's it," he rasped against your cunt. "Give it to me. Let me hear you."

His tongue was relentless—flicking, swirling, tracing maddening circles around your clit, dipping down to fuck into your dripping heat and back again. Every sound you made—every breathless little whimper, every shuddering gasp—sank into his blood, pulling him deeper, deeper.

He could have lived with his mouth between your thighs forever.

Could have drowned there, if you let him.

You moaned—high, broken—your hips grinding helplessly into his mouth as he licked you harder, faster, losing himself completely in you.

He rutted against the mattress without even thinking—humping slow, desperate circles against the sheets—chasing the friction he needed like a man starved.

Your fingers twisted into the sheets—into his hair—tugging, clutching, as your thighs trembled around his head.

And Megumi—God, Megumi—he was dizzy with it, overwhelmed by the taste of you, the heat of you, the desperate slick noises filling the air as he licked you messily, sloppily, building you higher and higher until—

You broke—with a soft, shattered cry.

And when you came—when you sobbed his name and clutched his head between your thighs, trembling and wrecked—he followed.

Spilling hot against the mattress, undone by nothing but your taste, your sounds, your smell.

It was messy—his body locking up with the force of it—and it still wasn’t enough. It wasn’t even close to enough.

But he was wrung out. Hollowed. Broken open in a way he didn’t know how to survive.

He slumped forward with a low, exhausted groan, nuzzling his face against your bare hip, arms wrapping loosely around your waist like a lifeline.

You lay there stunned, your body still twitching with aftershocks, your hand falling instinctively to card through his messy, damp hair.

You could feel him trembling still—feel how hard he’d fought to hold himself together and how completely he’d lost, feel the weight of his exhaustion, his surrender.

Still, he didn’t try to fuck you. He didn’t even move to touch himself again—to maybe see if could go another round.

He just pressed closer—snuggling into your skin like he could crawl inside you and stay there forever.

You stared down at him, confusion flickering through the soft haze of afterglow.

Is this... how friends with benefits are supposed to work? you thought vaguely.

Just him... going down on me and falling asleep?

You didn’t understand it.

Didn’t understand how he could be so... so selfless. So unguarded. So Megumi.

But you didn’t push it. Didn’t question it.

You just let your hand drift lower, tracing the broad span of his back—feeling the thick ridges of the scars that marred his ribs, sitting low under his pecs. Another one—brutal, ragged—slashed across his stomach, cutting from one hip to the other, just above his belly button.

You shivered—not from fear, but from memory.

The scars were old now—years healed—but they told stories you couldn’t forget. Stories of possession, of battles he almost didn’t survive.

Your hand hesitated briefly over his stomach, over the brutal scar left where Sukuna’s mouth had once gaped open.

Softly—almost reverently—you smoothed your fingers across it, feeling the uneven texture under your touch.

And when you lifted your gaze, your heart squeezed painfully in your chest.

You knew, if you squinted, you could probably still catch the faint ghost of the ones that had cradled his face—two pale shadows along his right temple, over his eye and along his cheekbone, another one just below his left eye—almost invisible now, healed under Shoko's careful hands.

But they were there.

A ghost of the pain he carried.

A ghost of the boy he had been—and the man he had become.

You tucked the comforter up around his broad shoulders, cocooning both of you in warmth. He stirred slightly—a low, content hum rumbling against your skin—but didn’t wake.

And so you stayed there, tangled together, your fingers gently stroking along the scars and across his soft, dark hair.

Letting him rest. Letting yourself hold onto him, just a little longer.

Wrapped in him. Wrapped in something dangerously close to love.

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dreamer2503 · 1 month ago

Text

Finally, after almost two years, I found what really works for me.

I finally learned and understood what truly helps me manifest everything I want. I'm sharing this because it might help someone who is in the same situation I was in—until yesterday. So, here’s my story with manifestation.

First, during the pandemic, I was a Law of Attraction girl. I tried a lot of methods and techniques, stayed positive every second of the day, but nothing seemed to work. I also discovered shifting during that time, so I've known about shifting since 2020. I tried everything, but nothing worked. I had a lucid dream here and there, but never experienced a real shift to a different reality. For a long time, I believed nothing would ever work.

Years later, I discovered non-dualism, which actually made things worse because I didn’t understand it and thought I was failing. Then, I learned about the Law of Assumption, which I felt much more comfortable with and found easier to understand than non-dualism. But again, I tried everything, and nothing seemed to work. I even felt anxious using techniques like robotic affirmations—but I kept doing them over and over.

I realized I was stuck in a very specific cycle: I’d start trying to manifest something, already thinking it would take forever to show up in the 3D—or maybe not show up at all. By the third or fourth day, I’d start to feel demotivated, anxious, frustrated, and sad because I wasn’t seeing results in the 3D.

This week was tough. I felt frustrated with manifestation and shifting again, and I also got a bad grade in college. Out of desperation, I went back to robotic affirmations. But then I stopped. Yesterday, I took a moment to reflect and asked myself: what actually helps me?

That’s when I realized that every time I had manifested something almost instantly, it was because I used just one affirmation and then let it go. I completely forgot about it. That’s how I manifested my brother (yes, I manifested my younger brother), that’s how I manifested my dog, and yesterday, that’s how I manifested a message I had been waiting for.

Now I understand what the bloggers mean when they say it’s only up to you—that YOU are the key. I finally see how unique each of our journeys is. I was so focused on what worked for others that I didn’t even consider what worked for me. I wanted to be like those people who affirm all day and get everything they want, or those who completely ignore the 3D. But in reality, the 3D actually helps me manifest, because it helps me let go—it distracts me, and then the manifestation shows up (like the message I wanted, which came the same day).

So, my advice is: look within. Forget about the techniques, the methods, the meditations. Focus on yourself. Focus on what works for you, on what has worked in the past. That helped me so much. I feel such relief knowing what works for me—I finally know exactly what to do now.

I hope this helps someone out there. Please keep going. Don’t give up. You have so much to do in this universe, and you deserve everything you want.

P.S.: Sorry if anything is still off—English is my second language.

#shifting reality #loassumption #desired reality #manifesting #manifestation #loa tumblr #loablr #reality shifting #shiftblr #shifting community #law of assumption

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unintentionalseductress · 11 months ago

Note

"I don't know why people complain about sloppy seconds" with pervy professor nanamin after his favorite student shows up to class already creampied by someone else >_< pervy prof nanami drives me crazyyyy

My god people talking to me about pervy professor Nanami are gonna drive me insane, I love him so much. Are you the same anon that participated in the game and mentioned pervy Nanami with the ropes?

(it might be kind of obvious how much I enjoyed writing this. can't help it. I'd be his cum dump if I could).

"I don't know why people complain about sloppy seconds"

--------

You were his student. HIS STUDENT.

Kento knew better than to get involved with you but something just drew him to you like a moth to a flame. Maybe it was how you were so close to graduating but still looked like an innocent doe-eyed thing, your cute little skirts too short, those thigh-high socks you liked to wear so coquettishly inviting.

He knew you had a boyfriend, he'd seen you two hanging around campus, barely hiding his envy as the two of you got handsy and made out shamelessly in view of everyone. It should be HIM gripping your thigh like that. It should be HIS lap that you sat on while you made out. But with gritted teeth he kept his composure, keeping a cool attitude towards you whenever you were in his class.

Today however, he was distracted the moment you came in. You were walking differently, almost gingerly, like you were holding in a breath. You took deliberate, slow steps to your seat, putting your bag down then turned to talk to a friend, leaning your upper body on the desk. He swears you're doing it intentionally to tease him, to make him lose his goddamn mind, and that was when he saw it; your too-short skirt hiked just high enough to flash him a little strip of your adorable pink panties, a stain of moisture visible, bleeding into the back part of the crotch.

Jealousy hits him in the stomach like a strong punch, practically leaving him winded. You had dared have sex right before his class? With that annoying frat boy who was barely keeping a passing grade? And then had the nerve to flaunt your used cunt in his classroom? Oh, that simply wouldn't do. With a huge effort he grits his teeth and starts his lesson, unable to ignore how you kept squirming in your seat, clearly struggling to keep whatever load your boyfriend had given you inside, to keep it from dribbling into your panties and down your thigh...

It was merciful when he was able to dismiss the class. But he called your name. Your heart skips a beat as you hear his gruff voice but you turn around, wide-eyed and sweet looking, and he feels his cock tighten painfully in his pants.

"Kindly close the door and lock it."

Your breath hitches and you feel like your legs are wooden but you follow his instructions and approach him at the front of the class.

"Is something wrong?" Oh you poor, sweet, lamb, standing there without a clue as to what's going on in your professor's head.

"You need to be more careful of your attire," Kento clips out, not failing to observe the way your nipples hardened under your shirt as he spoke. So he did have an effect on you.

"Excuse me?" you ask incredulously. "Who are you to tell me what can and can't wear?"

"I can if half your cunt can be seen from under your skirt. Yes, that's right," he adds with a smirk as your face reddens. "I saw a lot more of you than appropriate. Were you being intentionally provocative, or are you unaware what an inappropriate length all your skirts seem to be?"

"You-you...!" You gasp at him in embarassment and slight shame, but heat pools in your belly at the knowledge that he had been privy to your upskirt flash. "You perverted old man! I'm telling the dean that you're preying on your students!"

"Hmm go right ahead," Kento says smoothly. "And I'll tell him you're flashing your cunt to everyone that will see. With the way you're dressed, I'm sure there will be no questions left. And to make it even more interesting, I might add that there were...questionable body fluids all over your panties. As a concerned professor, I was only expressing my concerns for my student's well-being." The smile on his face could not be more smug and you wanted nothing more than to wipe it off his handsome, chiseled, face.

"Is that all? You wanted to lecture me about my clothes?"

"Are you aware how inappropriate it is to come to class with another man's semen in your cunt?" He grins as you look gobsmacked, spluttering.

"I-but I!"

"You were very uncomfortable for the length of the class. I could see you squirming." The grin is positively wolfish now.

"How dare you! You have no proof."

"Then you wouldn't mind showing me your panties? Since you're so keen on proving your innocence."

His words send a thrill down your spine straight to your clit which throbbed under his scrutinizing eyes. You could've said no. But the predatory way he was looking at you, jealousy barely contained made you want to do something shocking and brash. With a huff, you stand.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Kneel on that desk chair." You do so, feeling a little turned on as you do so, then try not to react as Kento's large hands hike up your skirt, revealing the pink panties that were stained with another man's cum.

"So utterly shameless," he growls before bringing his hand down on your ass, the resounding smack satisfying to his ears as your cheek stained red, your squeal of shock echoing through the classroom. Kento covers your mouth and spanks you again, your squirms futile as the slaps filled the classroom. When your ass was perfectly red and bore signs of his handprints, he stops. There were tears in your eyes and you sniffle.

"Aw, is the little slut crying from getting a much needed punishment? Will you remember not to enter classrooms full of cum from now on?"

You gasp as he pulls the panties off, running his hands over your thigh-high socks, then coming to your front to cruelly pinch your nipples.

"Have you ever been fucked by a real man before?" One of his hands drops to your cunt and traces your lips. You whine and try to move, which only results in your earlier creampie trickling out of your cunt, dripping obscenely onto the chair. Kento's eyes go feral at the sight.

"Shameless cumdumpster of a whore," he whispers into your ear, almost lovingly. "Let me show you what it's like to carry a real man's load."

You hear his zip being undone and you find that you don't want to resist him. Your hot professor wanted to fuck you, and you were damned if you said you hadn't thought about it before. His tip lines with your entrance and he slowly spreads your folds apart, splitting you into two and he fills and stretches you. You whimper at how thick he is, how good he felt inside you.

"I don't know why people complain about sloppy seconds," he growls in your ear as he starts to thrust. "Pussy is all nice and wet and slick. You'd been needing a second fuck today hadn't you?"

You moan as he begins to rut into you with abandon, the noises filling the clasroom. "Professor..."

"Professor..." he repeats in a high-pitched mocking tone, the humiliation adding on to your arousal. "That's right, I'm your professor. And I own your cunt. You think your pathetic keg sucking boyfriend has any idea how to please a woman?"

His fingers find your clit and begin to circle it and you cry out, your vision going hazy.

"That's right...real men not only fuck their whores, they satisfy them too."

He continues to firmly stroke your clit and to your embarrassment, you cum sooner than you thought you would, the orgasm hot and intense, something your boyfriend had never been able to achieve. You sob in delight as your pussy flutters around his cock, setting his teeth on edge.

"That's right. Let it all out you pathetic slut. How many times were you fucked and left dissatisfied? When you could have been on my cock, getting off?" He sloppily thrusts into you, lewd wet noises filling the air, then with a bark, feels his ball tighten satisfyingly before emptying themselves into your pussy, hot ropes of thick cum filling the cavern.

"Don't waste it," he says as he withdraws, watching your hole pucker in an attempt to keep it all inside you.

"Now you can go to the rest of your classes knowing what it means to be properly fucked. Tell your boyfriend I said hi later, when he tries to eat you out and tastes only me."

(I am now horny. Any hot professors need a cunt?)

#thirst game #thirst prompt #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento #nanami kento smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #nanami kento fluff #nanami smut #nanami x reader smut #jjk x reader smut #professor nanami #pervy professor nanami #ncs #ncs scribbles #thirsty weekend

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hearts4hughes · 7 months ago

Text

oh, professor - professor!rafe x student!fem!reader

WARNINGS: smut ; mdni ; p in v ; oral (f receiving) ; degradation ; unprotected sex ; age gap (reader is 22 & rafe is 29)

A/N: i started this writing for someone else, but changed it because it gave off so much rafe energy. all im needing rn is to get attention from professor!rafe

you sit in the dimly lit library. your leg bouncing up and down under the wooden table. it was late— too late for a tutoring lesson, especially one with your professor.

rafe, your professor, sat across from you. his presence was both distracting and irritating. you hate the way his eyes pierce through you, reading every thought you tried to conceal. he is only seven years older, but he wore his authority with a confidence that made your blood boil.

“if you actually paid attention, you would understand the material, y/n.” rafe says, his voice teasing and raspy. you shoot him a glare, your arms crossed over your body.

“i am paying attention,” you retort with a tight lipped smile. the lie leaked from the sides of your lips. how could you focus when every fiber of your being is aware of him?

he leans closer, his scent intoxicating as it fills your nostrils. your heart races in your chest. “then prove it.” he challenges, leaning back with a smirk.

you open your mouth, but nothing comes out. your mind is blank. rafe grins with pride, his cheekbones highlighted by the lightning in the room.

“it’s hard to think when you’re putting me on the spot.” you roll your eyes.

he stifles out a laugh in response.

at the start of your sophomore year at the university of north carolina, you were assigned to professor rafe cameron’s class. he was new to the college, and his arrival spread like a wildfire. he was tall with piercing blue eyes and a muscular body that was evident even under his formal clothes.

from the moment he walked into the classroom, he wore a confident strut in his steps. the girls practically swooned at him. as the semester went on, the outfits the students wore got smaller— each girl trying to catch his attention. however, he kept it professional, not looking lower than he needed to.

it all made you scoff. professors were supposed to be older and wiser than their students. but he was only twenty-nine! how could you truly respect him when he was barely older than you?

you couldn’t, and it didn’t go unnoticed. rafe had noticed you ever since you stumbled into class. his eyes followed you day after day, week after week, but you never shared that interest. you didn’t attempt to flirt with him or invite him to a party, you were totally indifferent. it enticed him.

however, ignoring your professor wasn’t the smartest idea. as a former straight a student, you were failing one class only— his. even though it was unusual for a professor to directly tutor a student, rafe offered to, leaving you no choice if you wanted to keep up your grades.

the tension between you and rafe was palpable. every week the fog surrounding the two became thicker.

“you’re not concentrating.” rafe spoke, breaking the silence. his voice was softer now, almost gentle.

“i’m trying.” your words were dismissive.

he sighs, closing his notebook. “maybe we should take a break.”

you nod in response.

as he stretched his arms above his head, his shirt pulled taut against his abdomen, revealing the outline of his abs. you looked away quickly, a red flush rising to your cheeks.

“why do you do that?”

“do what?” you ask, feigning innocence.

“act like you hate me,” he said, his eyes searching yours. “i know you don’t.”

you scoff. “why should it matter if i like you or not? you're my professor, not my roommate.”

“it begins to matter when your grades plummet.” he says plainly, tilting his head to the side with a smug expression.

you clench your fists by your side. frustration coursed through your veins like a wildfire. “you think you’re so smart, don’t you? you’re only a few years older than me!”

he chuckles, the sound so entrancing it made you gulp. “i’m smart enough to know that you’re scared to admit that you like me. that maybe, just maybe, you find this as intoxicating as i do.”

your heart pounded in your chest. “this is ridiculous.” you mutter under your breath. “i don’t need this, i’ll figure this class out myself.”

his smirk only grew deeper as you rushed out of the door. as the north carolina air hit your skin, it was hard to ignore the pulsating between your legs. looking back towards the library, you scoffed.

the next morning you find yourself back in rafe’s lecture hall. the room is filled with the scent of coffee and the rustle of college students.

you take your usual spot in the middle of the class. as you unpack your books and laptop, a figure sits besides you. you glance at the boy as he smiles, mirroring your action of setting up his academic station.

“hey,” he greeted. “you always sit in these seats, don’t you?” he smirks. “i’m gavin by the way.” you can’t help but blush as he holds out his hand.

you shake his hand, “hi, i’m y/n.” you reply, your hand still lingering in his. “and what can i say, i like routine.” he chuckles at your cheeky comment.

he’s cute with a dirty blonde mop of curls on his head. his eyes brown eyes are doe and kind. his jaw is sharp and his dimples pop when he smiles. he’s the all american perfect boy. the rest of the lecture is harder to focus on as he sits besides you. every so often, he steals glances at you and whispers jokes into your ear.

rafe notices the second the male student sits besides you. he notices how the boy’s gaze lingers on you and your cleavage, and how he’s so desperate for an ounce of attention from you. it makes his body tense and his lungs tight. it’s unbelievably hard to stay on track during the lesson which causes him to end the class fifteen minutes early.

“we’ll pick this up next class. see you all next week.” he clasps his hands together, signaling the end of period.

you stand up, slinging your bag over your shoulder as gavin follows you like a loyal puppy. within steps of the exit, your professor calls out to you.

“y/n, can you stay after class, please?” rafe calls out towards you. his body was stiff and jaw tense. the usual glimmer in his eyes was replaced with a greenish tinge.

girls besides you sneered as you nodded your head, waiting until the rest of the students filtered out before you walked towards him.

“yes, professor?” you said, your voice bitingly sharp.

“we didn’t get to finish our conversation from last night.” he tisked, his eyes raking up and down your body. “you left so abruptly.”

“well, we were done tutoring, so i had no other reason to stay.” the words are sharp off your tongue, only encouraging him more.

he stared deeply into your eyes. his eyes held an ocean filled with lust and secrets. it was as if there was a siren in the waters, singing and drawing you in.

you broke eye contact, allowing your gaze to fall onto the ground. he chuckled as if he had won a bet. your cheeks blushed something fierce.

“make a new friend today?” he asks as he moved his body around his desk. he was now standing directly in front of you, leaning on his desk. his dress shirt pulled against his body, emphasizing his impressively muscular arms.

he is a work of art.

you turn your head, “i’m not sure what you mean.” your voice was shaky and you weren’t sure if it was because of the tension in the atmosphere or the tension between your legs.

“really?” he challenges. “i could have sworn you were talking to that boy during my lecture.”

“it was just a conversation, rafe.” you reply, trying to keep your tone casual. however, your heart rate increased under the confines of your clothing.

he took a step closer, his proximity sending a shiver down your spine. “oh, i’m rafe now? what happened to professor? and it seemed like more than a conversation.” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “i don’t like seeing you flirt with other students.”

you swallow harshly. “yeah? and why’s that?” your words were an attempt to maintain steady, but you knew who was controlling the conversation.

his lips curved into a smirk, his eyes darkening with desire. “you don’t have to pretend with me, y/n.” his voice was soft. he reaches out, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “i know you want this just as badly as i do.”

the fire burning in your core intensified.

“we can’t do this.” your mind was telling you no, but your heart was screaming yes. “y-you’re my professor, and i’m a student.”

“i know.” his voice was sultry. chills traveled along your skin as his finger traced your arm. “i’m no good for you, but doesn’t that make this all so much better?” he leans in, whispering into your ear.

his lips dropped from your earlobe onto the skin of your neck. he sucks along the sensitive skin, biting ever so gently.

“rafe,” you breathe out. he hums in response, his arms wrapping around your body as he pulled you close. “kiss me.”

without any hesitation, his lips landed on yours. his lips were soft, yet demanding, moving against yours in a fiery rhythm. your hands instinctively found their way to his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath the fabric of his shirt. his hands roamed your back, pulling you closer until there was no space left between. the bulge beneath his dress pants began to grow.

you could feel the heat radiating from him, mixing with your own. the kiss depend, his tongue teasing your mouth. a moan escaped you, echoing around the empty classroom. he flipped you around, lifting you up, and sitting you on his desk. your legs separated as he stood in between them.

breaking the kiss, he gazed into your eyes, his lips still a shadow on yours. “do you know how long i’ve wanted to do that?” he whispered, his voice dripping with pure desire.

you were breathless in a haze of pleasure and desire. “what else have you wanted to do?” you look at him through your lashes. your doe, sweet eyes flicking a switch inside of him as he growls in response.

his hands traveled to the hem of your shirt before swiftly ripping it off. you sat clad in a black, lace bra, leaving little to the imagination.

“you’re ethereal.” his words painted a pink flush on your cheeks.

one hand reaches behind your back, unclasping your bra and revealing your perky tits. you gasp as his mouth attaches onto one of your nipples, sucking voraciously.

your legs wrap around his waist as you melt into his touch. every rational thought fled your mind, replaced by a primal need to feel pleasure; to feel him.

“rafe,” your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling every time his tongue swirls around your sensitive nipple. he responded with a moan, dropping to his knees in front of you.

you took in the sight as he unclasped your jeans. his hair was a tousled mess, his lips swollen, face flushed, and eyes hungry with desire.

he pulled the material down your legs, discarding it elsewhere in the room. your matching lace panties made his mouth hang agape.

he looked up at you, “are you sure about this?” you nod, your body squirming in need of touch. he tisked with a grin, “i need words, sweetheart.”

“yes.” the words couldn’t have left your lips faster.

the second he heard your consent, he dropped his head down to your lower body. he began at the edge of your thighs, licking a trail up to your inner thighs. his hands moved with purpose, swirling circles around your legs, but never in the one spot you desperately wanted.

he took his time, savoring each moment as he licked, kissed, and sucked the skin along your thighs and waist.

you wiggled as you grew impatient. he chuckled, taking a hint and suddenly pressing his tongue flat against the thin material of your black panties. your head fell back in pleasure.

he made quick work of pulling your panties to the side and licking a long stripe up your folds. your fingers find their way to his hair, where you tug and pull. that only encourages him more as he begins to lap up your core like a man starved. his nose pushes against your clit as his tongue penetrates deep inside you.

the sight of his handsome face buried between your legs made you whimper, clenching around nothing but his muscle. your juices covered the lower half of his face as he continued to please you.

“taste so much better than i imagined.” he coos, shifting his focus from your hole to your bundle of nerves. you whimpered when his tongue circled around the little nub. he smirked against you.

“i’m gonna-” you interrupted yourself with a gasp as his ring and middle finger entered you. you stretched around his digits, leaving your mouth agape. he pulls away from your legs to look at you as he curls his fingers just the right way.

it wasn’t long before he began pumping his fingers in and out of you at a merciless pace. you felt the knot in your stomach tightening as he continued his assault on your pussy.

and just as you were about to come undone on his fingers, he pulled them out. your eyes shot open and you opened your mouth to argue, but his lips crashed against yours in a hungry battle between tongues. he pulled away with a tisk.

“think i was just going to reward you for being a brat?” he shook his head. “after you flirted with that ass in front of everyone? gotta teach you a lesson, honey.” he undid his buckle and dress pants before allowing them to drop to the ground.

your eyes widened as he freed his thick length from the confines of his boxers. his tip was painfully throbbing, in need of release. he ran his finger over his tip, collecting precum and spreading it across his cock. he hisses at the feeling, only causing the ache between your legs to intensify.

he scoffs as you spread your legs wider for him. “such a needy little slut, huh? need your professors dick that bad? so pathetic.” his words send a shock straight to your core, making your legs twitch. he smirks as he steps between your legs. he grabs himself and teases your entrance. when his tip knocks at your clit that’s when you turn into a cock drunk mess.

“please, rafe. i need you so bad that it hurts.” his smirk widens as you beg. while keeping eye contact, he bottoms out completely in you. you want to scream at the pleasure, but all that falls from your mouth are whiney, pathetic whimpers.

he doesn’t give you time to adjust before thrusting ruthlessly into your sopping cunt. his thick length stretches you out deliciously. his hand drops to your clit, rubbing in circular motions to ease the pain into pleasure.

his hand claps around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your head feel hazy. he continuously pounds into you. his tip kisses your cervix causing you to yell out in pure ecstasy. he smirks as he looks down at your stomach. with each thrust his cock bulges against your skin.

“rafe, it’s too much.” you breathe out, squirming around. his hand tightens around your throat and his other clings to your hips, holding you down as he fucks you.

“you can fucking take it.” he spat, his lips connecting with yours. it’s a clash between teeth and tongues as the knot in your stomach intensifies.

he leans back in his heels, hitting a new angle. his dick hits your g-spot continuously, bringing you to your climax. you cream around his length and it spills onto the floor below you as he doesn’t slow up on his thrusts.

you lay limp, clinging to his biceps as he spills inside of you. you’re thankful that you’re on the pill because nothing ever beat the feeling of his sperm painting your walls. breathlessly, he slows down his strokes. he pulls out, kneeling down and watching your mixed juices spill out of your worn-out core. using his fingers, he pushes his release back into you, marking you as his.

“i think you just earned some extra credit.”

#hearts4hughes #nora’s writings 💐#rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey #drew starkey smut #obx season 4 #obx #outer banks

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ohgodthevoices · 3 months ago

Note

i will literally cry if you do more ushijima fluff ☺️ literally anything would suffice i just need a big ol’ man

I FUCKIN LOVE USHIJIMA YES THANK YOU FOR THIS OPPORTUNITY

tags : flufff, high school + time skip ushijima x reader, intellectually challenged ushijima, not proof-read

wordcount : 1.4k

ushijima was popular in high school sure , but he didn’t have many friends (the lil friends he had are basically just his teammates) so when ushijima was in your class during your last year, you were a bit surprised he sat all alone and spoke to no one unless it’s necessary. he always looked so focused in class , not a single moment of distraction, it was honestly impressive to you how a human was capable of such concentration. you always had a small teeny tiny crush on him, but you thought you were no different from the other girls, after all he was handsome, tall, athletic, respectful and smart (or so you thought)

you looked at him expressionless ,probably because of the shock, when he stood tall and proud infront on your desk showing you his failing grade on his english exam, and asked you to tutor him, you blink staring at the bold red mark 12/100. how does one even get such a bad grade…

“i guess i could do that…when do you want to start ?” you sighed closing your notebook “now.” of course.

ushijima was now forever grateful to you and your late night study sessions at the library, you refused any kind of payment from him, so instead of paying you directly , he would buy snack for your sessions slowly takings notes of your taste and preferences.

the day of the final exams ushijima was more than ready , but before that, he made it his mission to find and give you a sandwich he carefully crafted himself. “you’ll concentrate better if you eat.” his red headed friend behind him was kind of creeping you out , he was watching with barely contained amusement, his red eyes practically staring at your soul “look at him, so domestic now,” he teased, nudging ushijima’s shoulder. “our dear wakatoshi woke up early just to make that for you, y’know. poured his heart and soul into it~”

ushijima seemed unfazed by his friend’s teasing he kept staring at you with the same piercing look he always had, you took the neatly wrapped sandwich with a smile, almost running away after thanking him and wishing him good luck , having one tall guy staring down at you was already intimidating but you couldn’t handle a second…

ushijima had moved on after graduation, focusing on his career as a pro volleyball player, but part of him always wondered what might have happened if he’d said more back then. one rainy evening, he walked into a convenience store after practice, grabbing something to eat, when he saw you—standing in front of the shelves, just like in the old days.

you didn’t notice him at first, but when you turned around, your eyes met. “Y/N…” he hesitated, surprised to see you again. “It’s been a while.” you blinked, taking it all in , seeing a grown man now infront of you, he was somehow ever bigger now, his jersey tight in the right places was highlighting his impressive physique. you quickly look back up at his eyes hoping he didn’t think you were checking him out, not that you weren’t.

a silence fell between you, and then, before he knew it, ushijima blurted out, “I didn’t think I’d see you again. after graduation, i thought i missed my chance. i should’ve said something… I liked having you around.” ushijima felt his heart race, his stomach doing flips, he felt like a high school boy again, the familiar feeling that he was too stupid, too stubborn and scared to identify and admit coming back to him so easily.

ushijima was very logical and simple minded, if his mind told him something he would do it without thinking, so when he asked you to his match tomorrow even he was surprised by his own request

but of course you agreed and you went to watch him, although you arrived a bit late you still had a nice spot he himself reversed for you so you could watch him play. when it was his turn to serve he scanned the crowd for the third time in the first set, he thought you wouldn’t come that he was too forward, too fast again that maybe he said too much by admit the interest he had in you— but your eyes met and you waved at him , since it’s ushijima he wouldn’t dare to show an inch of emotion so he simply nodded at you, but ushijima was fired up, he was determined , if he won this match he’d ask you out

so he ran to find you, escaping any kind of interview or a fan stopping from talking to you while he still had the courage. ushijima was now infront of you catching his breath, his nose red from the cold and his hair still messy and slightly wet from the sweat. he stood there for a moment, eyes locked on yours, the words hanging between you two. “would you… go out with me?” It was simple. It was straightforward. but there was something about the way he said it, the weight of his words, that made your heart flutter. you had never seen ushijima like this before—he was so controlled in every aspect of his life, but this… this was different. he was letting himself be vulnerable.

you agreed to go out with him and both of you tried to make small talk ,both in the cold of the night slightly blushing avoiding the others eyes before you mention the cold and ushijima perked up taking off his adlers jacket giving it to you, ushijima cleared his throat not sure what to do next, but his coach called out to him and he said his goodbyes to you not sure if his coach saved him from more awkwardness or if he deprived him from spending time with you

when you went out with him , you knew he had a goal with this , he was only taking you out before asking you to be his to simply follow the “rules”, you knew him a lil too well to think he’d take you out just for the sake of taking you out. ushijima was taking you out so you could feel more comfortable with him.

and after the third date he asked you , he felt it was safe enough then that he wouldn’t really risk rejection. so you started dating and you finally found yourself holding your high school crush’s hand.

ushijima wasn’t one for expressing himself verbally or physically really, he may not be a man of many words, but when you speak, he listens. bot just nodding along—he remembers everything and that’s why he’s such a good boyfriend , ushijima doesn’t really use social media either, he has a professional account that he doesn’t really manage but that’s about it. however he downloaded tiktok so that he could understand what’s a dyson and why do you want it so badly

he is so protective of you, if you’re walking together, he always positions himself on the side closer to the road. if someone bumps into you too hard, he tenses slightly and subtly shifts closer. if you seem uncomfortable, his presence alone is enough to ward off anyone bothering you.

one of ushijima’s love languages is act of service, so he doesn’t understand when you don’t want him to hold your bag for you , it being “part of the outfit” was just out of his level of understanding.

he naturally walks fast, but if he notices you falling behind, he slows down—without even realizing he’s doing it. if you’re struggling with anything, his first instinct is to help. he just cares so much that if you so much as sniffle, he tells you to wear warmer clothes. If you mention skipping a meal, he looks at you like you just committed a crime and makes sure you eat. It’s not nagging—it’s just ushijima logic: you are important to him → you should take care of yourself → if you don’t, I will

he doesn’t open up easily, but with you, he slowly starts letting his guard down. maybe he shares small pieces of his childhood, or you catch him genuinely smiling—not the usual composed expression, but something real and unguarded. your friends usually question how you could date someone so stoic and “empty” but you couldn’t get mad at them of course they haven’t seen him smile at ai cat singing videos.

ushijima is someone who values his space and time alone, but when it comes to you, he willingly shares that space. sometimes, you’ll find yourself next to him after a stressful day, and he doesn’t say anything—he just sits there. his presence is calming, a silent reassurance that you don’t have to talk, but you’re not alone. he doesn’t realize how much that silence actually means to you.

a/n : i know this is long but istg i can yap forever about him T•T i had to actually stop myself or i would’ve gone forever

#haikyuu #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu fanfiction #ushijima x you #ushijima fanfic #ushijima fluff #ushijima headcanons #ushijima x reader #ushijima #ushijima wakatoshi #haikyuu ushijima #haikyuu one shot #haikyuu fanfic #haikyuu x reader

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backinmyphase · 5 months ago

Text

Failing student! Sukuna who didn't really care about all the missed lessons he had in his record. He didn't, not even when the principle called him into his office. Who cared about what that old hag had to say?

He really didn't care, just until he saw you sitting there with that horrified look as you saw him.

You, the president of the student council, who he had always thought was a stuck up bitch. Always a nerd, always getting good grades, always following the rules. Utterly boring, that's what he thought about you. But still fun to tease.

Failing student! Sukuna who is annoyed as hell with the fact he had to hold a little meeting with miss perfect and the old man. He takes a seat, the only other one which was unfortunately next to you.

"You can't be serious?!" you turned your look to the old man. Your voice was annoyingly high pitched.

"I can't... Not him!"

Now you had his attention. He turned to you, seeing you not even sparing him a glance anymore. "Woah, woah, what's with me, sweetheart?"

You kept ignoring him and just shook your head. "Please, I can tutor anyone else, but not..."

Failing student! Sukuna couldn't help but laugh at your horrified and desperate face as you started pleading with the principle who was just shaking his head. Your pathetic attempts to argue were almost cute.

"If you really want my recommendation for your college application, that's my only condition. Get Sukuna's grades up."

Failing student! Sukuna 's Laughter died down as he realized what that meant.

"Wait a second, I don't need tutoring! And especially not from goody two shoes over here."

"Oh, believe me goody two shoes doesn't want to have anything to do with wannabe bad boy too-"

"Quiet you two!" the old man cleared his throat. "Sukuna, you haven't showed up to two thirds of your classes, you need tutoring. And Y/n if you really want to work for that recommendation you'll help him with that."

"Now get out of my office you two."

Failing student! Sukuna is in disbelief to what the fuck just happened as he and you stood outside of the office. You stood there with crossed arms and a fuming expression he had never expected from you.He just turns around to leave as you let out a groan in frustration.

"So when will our lessons start?"

He scoffs. "Never."

You followed his steps and kept that demanding tone. "Sukuna, you can't just decide that, the principle ordered us-"

"I don't care what that old man says and I especially do not care about that little recommendation of yours." he yawned as he kept his steady steps. "I don't need better grades."

You stop in your tracks and he's almost disappointed by your lack of stubbornness until you say-

"You are that hard of a loser?"

Failing student! Sukuna is immediately turning around to see your smug expression. Flabbergasted at your words, because there was no way the biggest nerd of the school just called him a loser?

"What the fuck did you just say?"

And he doesn't know why but that devious grin that forms on your face is starting to fire something inside of him up.

"You're a loser." you sarcastically sighed. "I mean failing in high school? I don't even know how you achieve something like that."

You giggled. "I mean, you probably couldn't better your grades till the end of the year, even with my help. Let alone ever be better than me."

Failing student! Sukuna doesn't even realize how you had him wrapped around your finger as he glared at your smug grin.

"Of course I could. And you know what?" he took big steps towards you, now towering above you. "I could do it even until next month, sweetheart."

And then you smirk. "If you think so. But to prove it to me..." you let out a dramatic sigh. "I guess you would have to come to my lessons."

"Oh, I will come to your fucking lessons." he didn't know why he was so worked up, but he couldn't help it as he glared at you.

"Perfect. See you tomorrow in the library after class." And with that you just turn around and leave him standing there. Shouting a quick "Don't you dare be late, you loser!" back to him.

Failing student! Sukuna doesn't know what's gotten into him as he watches you leave, but he can't help but start smirking too, because who would've thouth the stuck up president of the student council had such a foul mouth?

It was hot.

#jjk #jjk x reader #sukuna ryomen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #jujutsu sukuna #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #jjk sukuna #jjk ryomen #sukuna x y/n

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keelt9 · 25 days ago

Text

TICK TACK

Masterlist

A/N: I don’t know but yeah, I see Oscar on leading for a while… plus I’m optimistic for the championship.

Should I post part 2? Pt. 2😏

She didn’t mean to fail the last exam, forcing her to sentence her subject and the last semester of her career. Still, there she is sitting as she taps the wooden floor with her best friend giving her all the support she could.

“I still don’t get it.” Gema said seeing down where the last group of students are answering the exam as the other two groups remind up there of the auditorium, waiting.

That’s how Doctor Thurpin works, you fail a test and if you want it back that grade, he gladly will wait for you the next weekend, literally weekend because he, quote, likes the Sunday for a good and refreshing replacement of exam.

“You are so good at this. How do you fail?” Gema sentences looking around the people who are tired and impatient for Mr. Thurpin, started to grade.

Y/N tosses her hair in desperation.

“I DON’T!” The room full of shh as the eagle eyes of Mr. Truphin makes her scream in silence. “It was the GP of Bahrain, I stayed awake until 4 in the morning and I woke up at 7 am.”

She scoffs, still hard to believe how life is playing tricks with her. “At that hour the exam begins, I fall asleep.”

Running and with different shoes, she arrived at a closed classroom hoping for mercy but Mr. Thurpin only pointed to his watch through the windows before waving his hand.

“Talking with Oscar, huh?”

For Gema it is still hard to believe, if three years ago someone told her on a random day she found the one and only Oscar Pastri coming out of the bedroom on the 4th floor of their dormitory as her best friend grabbing his hand, she would call them crazy.

Until her eyes witness. Gema left the dormitory that weekend to spend a few days with her family, Y/N told her she had a lot of homework so she will be staying, she forgot to mention her homework, which is called Oscar Piastri.

Almost a heart attack after, she discovers that weekend her best friend made official the relationship with a boy she met on a casual day, last summer, as she helps her mother in the store they had next to the beach.

“I wish. Actually, I was waiting for his call.” She smiles, lighting up the screen of his phone. “But the press conferences kept him busy.”

A photo of Oscar with his first trophy, the first win.

“By the way, thanks for changing my flight.” Y/N said to tangle her arm with her best friend.

She was supposed to be in the airport taking a flight to Saudi Arabia for the grand prix, instead of waiting for a grade.

Gema takes another gummy. “No worries, I call it good persuasion and family contacts.”

The ringing of the bells announce the end of the exam of the third group, finally Mr. Thurpin will begin to grade under the anxious eyes of his students.

Taking his damn time like he actually doesn't know every answer.

“I'm freaking out.” Y/N whine seeing another text of Oscar.

>I couldn't find you! Dinner later?

She doesn't mean to lie to him, however for Oscar she arrived in Saudi Arabia time, early in the morning.

Watching the free practice and the race from the stands where she said prefers to, otherwise she would freak out hearing him with a lot of numbers and letters on the big screens.

Of course Oscar adapts her choice to the VIP zone, in the stands but in a zone he's able to see her every time he goes down from the car.

But, this Grand Prix is an overwhelming step of what he's capable of doing and he's hungry for the victory. And she doesn't want him being distracted for anything else, of course less for her.

Gema didn't need to read it, the way she hissed as her phone started to spin between her fingers is all she needed for knowing Y/N lied about something.

“He doesn't know, huh?” Gema asks as they hear another person being called for the note.

Y/N let her head down, shaking it. “The race is the most important thing, he must be focused on that.”

Gema has seen how Oscar looks at her, she is essential for him, to be in an important race it’s pure fuel to him.

“You'll be there, don't worry.” Y/N sees her. “Or we can find a way to get you there.”

Gema winks at her.

Oscar is nervous, it's late at night and his message, still with no response, he's not that toxic but it's strange.

The time difference isn't helpful sometimes but she replies no matter the time, this time seems to be the exception.

“All good?” Lando asks as they walk inside of the hotel after dinner together.

Oscar's eyes aren't stuck to his phone but his hand does.

Oscar moves his head around searching among the few people in the lobby.

“Have you seen Y/N?” Oscar asks as Lando smiles seeing his friend so over the clouds.

His non expressive face changes into a breezy smile and bright eyes every time he's with her.

“That clingy, huh?” Lando teases him as he scoffs.

“I haven't seen her, and she hasn't replied, I'm a little worried.” Oscar sees his screen but nothing, just her picture.

Last year, she was in the middle of the paddock doing homework before the qualy, notebook on her lap and headphones over as she heard all the indications to Oscar, she jokes with him saying it’s her favorite playlist. He owes the photo to one of his engineers.

Ok, for Lando that's weird too. Yeah, she isn't the most searched wag of the paddock but she's nice and lovely plus hates to worry Oscar.

Lando thinks for a second, who could find out something, but he doesn't have a clue.

“If you call her?” The lethal eyes of Oscar is the sign of how stupid his question is.

He already called her…right to the voicemail after the third beep.

The elevator doors open even though he is willing to wait for her; he also knows must sleep early.

Dragging his feets to the room he gets ready to go inside of the bed with discomfort all the time.

When his phone rings, Y/N is calling.

“Ba…” Oscar begins but she doesn't let him talk.

“I'm sorry, I lied to you.” She hears anger as the audible sound of wheels against the floor calls for his attention. “I… fuck, I couldn't take the plane on time, and the one I had scheduled is cancel…”

Is not hard to imagine her furious sitting next to her suitcase tired as she keeps looking at the screen where the flight status doesn't change at all.

“Are you alright?” The question of Oscar makes her eyes watery, this isn't exactly she refuses to call him, he will say something that makes her want to cry.

Oscar hears the sniff through the call, wanting badly to hold her but he simply can’t.

After a detailed description of what happened Oscar understood the reason for her silence.

“Love, I already told you if you had more important things to do next day, it’s ok, you don’t need to watch the race.” Oscar said sitting on the bed feeling useless for not being able to do something.

She’s seeing the planes leaving and arriving from the big crystal walls. “Are you trying to get me more mad?”

The same times, she told him that she can’t be with him at every race. She likes to think watching the race is the minimum she can do for him, in a way to be with him even in the distance.

“It’s my fault, ok? You know I don’t have trouble with waking up the next day… This time my alarm doesn’t work as it should.” She slipped on the floor one more time. “I’m sorry I can be with you tomorrow.”

“Can you do one thing for me instead?” Oscar smiles at himself.

Y/N chuckles. “Without a question.”

“Go home, sleep, you probably need it and watch the race tomorrow as you eat something delicious.” She feels her heart squeeze as his tenedernes. “I’ll make sure to fly as soon as I finish everything here. George wouldn't mind giving me a ride.”

She giggles seeing the same status of her flight: cancel.

“I’m…”

Oscar shakes his head and cuts her. “One more apology and I swear to you I’m going to be stressed for tomorrow.”

“NO!” She feels shy when multiple eyes land on her sitting on the floor. “Sleep, and focus on the race, that’s all you need to do.” She breathes in and resigns herself to missing the race. “I’ll be watching you ok?”

Oscar smiles and nods. “I know.”

Y/N plays with the zip of her suitcase. “I love you.” Oscar definitely knows how to comfort her.

“I love you too, I know we’ll be celebrating you at the top… You’re a monster on track Oscar, believe it.”

Oscar closes his eyes, seeing the charm he always carries with him, next to the bed.

In the drivers parade he keeps focus, he talks with some pilots but his mind is control and focus, he knows having Max at his side in the first position it’s always a beating risk, still he’s not afraid.

Getting inside of the room, he changes his clothes in calmness, when a knock on the door distracts him.

Tom, his engineer, appears in the room. “Oscar, let’s go.”

Oscar nods, watching one last time their photo with a pair of tape at the four corners.

“She couldn’t come huh?” Tom knows who Y/N is, he must know the girl who is being so discreet about their relationship, still so unbothered each time she needs to show Oscar how much he cares about him.

“Sometimes I hate the commercial flights!” He shouts in whisper touching the photo before walking to the garage.

With the last indications of the team Oscar goes inside of the car taking mental notes of the telemetry and the indication of the team.

“Ok, Oscar, radio check.” He hears once he’s inside of the car.

“Copy.” He answers, making sure all inside it’s all right.

“Ok Oscar, before we start we want to run one last test.” Oscar sees in front where all the engineers are but any of them turn around, one last test in the last minutes? “We call it missed assistance.”

Oscar scoff. “Is it legal?”

“It’s a valid test with no virtual witness.” Oscar is more intrigued, but they don't ask him more questions.

“Radio check.” Her voice put in alert all the senses of Oscar scanning over and over the garage in the front part.

He giggles. “Copy.”

“That advance is technology, huh?” Oscar is sure she never imagined how much he loves her rambling. “Talking through my phone to the helmet of an F1 driver.”

Oscar let his head back under the cheeky eyes of his team. “Not any formula one driver.”

“Right! Sure, I forgot to specify.” She laughs. “Oscar Pastri helmet, which will result in my boyfriend, it's an out of world experience.”

Oscar laughs, at the other side of the garage Lando is shaking his head before going inside of the car, you don’t have to question yourself who is calling him.

“Now, Tom told me to be short.” She cleared her throat. “Drive safe, focus and it’s useless to say but stay calm, and the most important thing…”

“Have fun.” Even though he refuses to bring that feeling he wishes she could be there to hear those words as she is resting among his arms and her arms around his neck.

“NO.” She raises her voice. “Win that race!”

Oscar laughs harder this time. Even Zak can hear him, looking at Tom who has a proud smile on his face.

“I’m joking.” She stops laughing too. “Have fun, ok?”

“God! I wish you were here.” Oscar whispered.

Before Tom interrupts them. “Ok, baby doves, it’s time, one last word Y/N please.”

“I love you.” Who said it first doesn't even care, the important thing is the last words they heard from each other.

#f1 #oscar piastri x reader #f1 imagine #formula 1 #f1 x reader #oscar piastri fanfic #f1 fanfic #f1 x female reader #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri

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ellieswrldd · 11 months ago

Text

about you

pairing: spiderman!ellie williams x female reader

summary: ellie is living a double life, one of a college student and one of a crime fighting hero. she wants you more than anything but is scared to put you in danger.

content warnings: SMUT 18+ MDNI, oral sex (r!receiving), scissoring, use of alcohol and weed, ellie is kind of a nerdy loser, a little rushed! not proofread

a/n: writing this taught me that i should never try to estimate when i’ll finish something because “posting this week” quickly turned into “posting sometime this month”….sorry lmao. also this is inspired by the 1975 song!!

8:30 am

Good morning New Yorkers!

This was Ellie’s favorite part of the day. A bagel in one hand, the newest edition of Savage Starlight in her other, and her phone playing the morning newscast.

Today is April 12th and it looks like another beautiful day…

Moments like these were the only times she felt at ease. Her university classes kept her busy and when she wasn’t studying or in class, she was off protecting the city.

So, sitting on the rooftop of a building where nobody could bother her was Ellie’s idea of peace.

It was easy to lose track of time while in her spot and Ellie always tried to keep an eye on the time, but it seemed to end the same way almost every day.

We’re starting to see some traffic down by—

The reporter was cut off by Ellie’s loud ringtone. She glanced at the caller ID and sighed softly when she saw it was her best friend Jesse calling.

“Hey man, I’m kinda busy right now—” She said as she took a bite of her bagel.

“Dude where the hell are you? Class started fifteen minutes ago and we have that big lab today!” Jesse whispered-shouted into his phone.

“What are you talking about? I don’t have class on Thursday mornings,” She said.

“Ellie, it’s Friday, we have class today,” Jesse said sharply, clearly irritated by Ellie’s lack of organization. She couldn’t blame him– he always needed her help during labs, and without her, it was likely he’d get a failing grade.

“Oh shit!” Ellie groaned and began tossing her things back into her backpack. “I’m on my way right now, I swear.” She stated with her phone pressed against her ear by her shoulder. Stuffing her face with the last of her bagel, Ellie slid her backpack around her shoulders and stood up.

The streets were beginning to bustle with activity and the sky was bright, New York was awake and ready for the day. Ellie pulled her mask over her face and jumped off the roof, flying towards her class with the flick of her wrist.

—

10 pm

Going out was the last thing on your mind. You were still coping after a messy breakup, and partying didn’t sound like fun. The only reason you found yourself standing in front of a bustling frat house was because Dina had dragged you here. She had made a variety of arguments as to why you needed to come, mostly consisting of “You’ve been too sad, let’s get you laid!” or “I need you to be my wing-woman, Jesse will be there!”. Despite her nagging and desperation, you somehow ended up following her right to the party.

“Dee I don’t feel great, maybe I should just go back home,” You mumbled and tugged at the skirt you wore. It was Dina’s and it was far too short for your liking. In the past, you loved partying and going out with friends, but at the moment all you wanted to do was curl up in your bed.

“Just stay for a little bit, I promise you’ll have fun. It isn’t good for you to rot in bed every day anyways,” Dina linked her arm with yours and gave a soft smile. You sighed and nodded, she had a point.

You stood in the frat, holding a red solo cup close to you. Dina shifted nervously beside you.

“What if he changed his mind? Maybe he doesn’t want to see me,” She crossed her arms.

“Dina, he’ll show up, don’t worry.” You reassured her. “Have another drink, you need to chill out,” She shrugged and poured herself a drink.

“Hey, Dina!” A man greeted your friend loudly, a bright smile on his face. Dina grinned and gave him a quick hug.

“Jesse! I’m so glad you made it, I was starting to think you weren’t going to show,”

“Sorry, Ellie was taking forever to get ready, slowed us down,” He laughed and shifted his gaze to you. “I’m Jesse, you must be y/n,”

“Yeah, Dina’s told me a lot about you,” You glanced past him and looked at the girl standing awkwardly behind him. She was staring down at her phone, her lips pursed, clearly not excited to be there.

“Oh, this is Ellie,” He turned and nudged Ellie with his elbow.

“Hi,” She offered an awkward smile and stood a little straighter. “Sorry, I don’t come to these things very often,” Ellie looked around at the frat, drunk partygoers dancing and screaming, the floor covered in red solo cups and sticky liquids, it wasn’t really her scene.

“That’s alright, it’s nice to meet you,” You shook her hand. “I’m going to go out and get some air,” You shouted into Dina’s ear and she nodded. Waving to Jesse and Ellie, you pushed past the crowds and made your way outside.

The cool air against your skin was a relieving change. You leaned against the wall and took a deep breath. It was nice that Dina was looking out for you, but it was honestly overwhelming.

“Mind if I join you?” You turned to look at Ellie, who stood a few feet away with her hands in her pockets. You simply nodded and tipped your head to the spot next to you. Without all of the flashing lights, you could get a good look at the other girl. A red flannel hung loosely around her frame, her short hair was in a messy half-up half-down style, and her face was covered in light freckles.

Ellie’s eyes lingered on you for a moment before she spoke again. “You look stressed,”

“I guess that’s one word for it,” You chuckled. She dug her hand into her back pocket and pulled out a neatly rolled joint.

“Jesse gave me this, do you want some?” Your eyes lit up a bit at the sight of the joint and you looked back at her.

“How could I say no to such an offer?” Taking the joint, you held it between your glossy lips. “You got a lighter?”

Ellie’s eyes widened slightly as she realized she had been staring at your lips. “Ah— yeah, here,” She took the lighter from her pocket and fumbled with it a few times before she got a steady flame. You leaned in and watched as the end began to burn.

“You don’t smoke much, do you?” You giggled softly as your eyes drifted toward her. She watched you intently and shook her head.

“No, not really,” You breathed out the smoke and offered her the joint.

“Do you want to try?” Your voice was soft and sweet, Ellie couldn’t help but take the joint from your fingers. “Just breathe in slowly and then exhale,” She followed your instructions, still watching you as she took a drag. Coughing, Ellie passed it back.

The two of you passed the joint back and forth in silence, staring up at the night sky until you were able to drown out the loud noise of the party.

“Jesse and Dina are definitely hooking up right now,” You blurted and started laughing.

“Oh my god they totally are,” She shook with laughter. As your shoulders touched Ellie’s and you laughed until your cheeks grew tired, you realized that you were actually having fun. You hadn’t thought about your ex in hours.

Eventually, Ellie offered to walk you back to your dorm, and you accepted gladly.

The walk back was full of mindless giggles and seemingly innocent brushes against one another’s arms. Ellie leaned against the frame of your door as you fumbled with the key.

“Do you want to come inside?” You muttered with a smile once you managed to get the door open. Ellie’s heart pounded at the offer and she could feel heat rush to her cheeks, but she found herself shaking her head no.

“I—I’m sorry, I can’t,” She bit her lip and looked down at her sneakers. “I’ve gotta be up early tomorrow for work, but I’ll see you around, yeah?” You tried not to look disappointed but Ellie could see it on your face almost immediately.

“That’s fine, see ya,” You sighed and closed the door with a small smile.

Ellie could feel her heart sinking, and she almost regretted her words. Almost. She knew better than to get involved with someone while in her position, she could put you in a lot of danger, and it was too risky.

The next few days were rough. Ellie seemed to be actively avoiding you for some unknown reason and it felt like Dina and Jesse were too wrapped up in one another to even notice you. Every time Jesse came over to see Dina, he used the same excuse to cover for Ellie’s absence. “She’s busy studying, couldn’t make it today.”

“Hey, have you seen Ellie lately?” You asked Dina as the two of you walked to class.

“Huh? Oh, no, I haven’t, why?” Dina glanced at her phone before looking back at you.

“Well, I thought we kinda hit it off at the party, but I haven’t seen her since.” You sighed and trained your eyes on your shoes. “I invited her to come inside our dorm, but she said she had work and bolted,”

Dina looked confused. “That’s weird, she doesn’t work in the mornings,” She shrugged. “I can invite her to come with us to that bar tonight, how about that?” Dina bumped her arm against yours.

“Sure, that’s great,” You smiled, relieved to see your best friend was still looking out for you. Her words stuck with you, why would Ellie lie to you? Maybe she was avoiding you.

That night, Dina got ready with you in your shared dorm.

“Did she say she was coming?” You asked nervously as you stared at yourself in the mirror.

“She just liked the message,” Dina snorted and rolled her eyes. “What an ass.”

You sighed. “She’s definitely avoiding me,”

“I’ll have Jesse drag her ass down to the bar if she doesn’t show, don’t worry babe.” Dina pat your shoulder. “Are you ready to go? I think some of the other girls are there already.”

“Oh, yeah.” You took one more glance at yourself. You wore a sparkly fitted dress, one that had been growing dusty in your dresser. It was pretty, but a little loud for your taste. “Let’s go before I change my mind,” Dina laughed and nodded.

The bar was busy already, filled with college students and their fake IDs, overpriced drinks in their hands. Dina ordered the two of you some drinks and you stood beside her at the bar.

You couldn’t help but watch the door as Dina told some exaggerated story. You hated this, the feeling of self-doubt and disappointment that coursed through your body every time a girl let you down. It had only been a few weeks since your last girlfriend dumped you, and yet here you were repeating the same vicious cycle with another girl.

Just as you were about to make an excuse to leave, the door to the bar opened and Ellie strolled in. She was by herself, fidgeting with her hands nervously as she looked around the room.

You turned back to Dina before you could meet Ellie’s gaze. You had decided that if Ellie wanted to speak, she would have to come to you first.

“Hey,” Ellie tapped your shoulder and stood beside you at the bar.

“Hi Ellie,” You gave her a tight-lipped smile and took a sip of your drink. Ellie glanced at her shoes for a moment before speaking again.

“Can we talk?” She asked quietly. Was she nervous?

“Sure, yeah, outside?” Ellie nodded and followed you out.

“Okay, you wanted to talk so let’s talk.” You crossed your arms and faced her once you stood outside.

Ellie took a deep breath and stuffed her hands in her pockets. “I know this is kind of forward, but I like you, and I want to get to know you better, but—”

“But?”

“I’m just,” She sighed, seemingly frustrated. “I can’t, I can’t be around you,”

“What is that supposed to mean?” You scoffed.

Ellie pinched the bridge of her nose as she struggled to think of a reply.

“It’s not a good idea,” She mumbled.

“You’re still not making any sense,”

Ellie hesitated. “Can I show you something?”

“Sure,”

“You seriously can’t tell anyone about this,” Ellie glanced around. “Like anyone, not a single soul,”

“Jesus, I get it, Ellie, I’ll keep whatever secret you’re sharing.”

Ellie nodded and took one more look to make sure nobody was nearby.

“I’m, um, kind of like a superhero of sorts, like I fight criminals and protect people sometimes,” Ellie’s cheeks seemed to burn red as she spoke. “I just— I don’t want you to be put in danger because of it,”

You stared at her for a moment before you laughed. “Is this some kind of joke? That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard! You’re a superhero? Forget it, I’m going home, Ellie,” You turned away and began to walk toward the bar.

Ellie reached out and grabbed your arm. “No, I swear I’m not lying, I can prove it!” She said frantically.

“You can prove it?”

“I can,” She nodded.

“Okay, prove it.” Ellie nodded and offered her hand to you.

“Let’s go to my dorm, I can show you there,”

“Are you trying to get me to sleep with you?” Ellie rolled her eyes.

“Not at the moment, no. Would you just come with me?”

“Alright then, let’s go,”

The walk to Ellie’s dorm wasn’t long, but the tension between you and her made it feel insufferable.

“Here we are,” She nodded toward the building and unlocked the front door. Ellie led you up a few flights of stairs before finally arriving at her room.

Ellie’s dorm room was covered in colorful posters and pictures. A small telescope was leaned against the wall by her window, comic books were stacked high on her nightstand, and some science textbooks were left open on her desk alongside scattered papers and assignments.

“This is cute,” You muttered as you ran a hand along her navy blue bed sheets and looked around the room.

“Oh, thanks. You can just make yourself at home,” She smiled and went to open her closet.

You sat on her bed and watched her rifle through her clothes. “How do you plan on proving this?” You asked, slightly amused by this whole situation.

“Just wait and see, I don’t think you’ll find it funny in a minute.” She said, glancing over her shoulder to look at you. Ellie finally pulled out a hanger covered by a black zip-up cover.

She held the hanger up and unzipped the cover, letting it fall to the floor. Underneath the cover was a bright red and blue suit.

“What is that? Some sort of cosplay outfit?” You snorted.

Ellie narrowed her eyes at you. Without a response, Ellie slipped off her flannel and started tugging her shirt off.

“What are you doing?” You gasped and covered your eyes.

“I’m just changing, don’t cream your pants.” She said sarcastically. Ellie stepped into the suit and pulled it on.

The suit itself seemed good quality, it was a shiny, bright red with black and blue highlights, and it fit her like a second skin. With a closer look, you could see the little details of the suit were designed to resemble a spider web of sorts.

“This is what I wanted to show you,” She said and held out her hands. On each wrist was a complicated gadget that wrapped around her wrist and lay in the palm of her hand.

You reached out to touch the device but Ellie pulled her hands away.

“Don’t touch them, you’ll regret it.” She said with a small smile.

“What do they do?”

“I’ll show you,” She walked across the room to her window and pulled it open. “C’mere,”

You went and stood by her side, an anxious feeling bubbling in your stomach. Ellie reached behind her head and pulled the mask of the suit over her face.

“Do you trust me?” She asked, her arm snaking around your waist.

“Do I have a choice?” Ellie laughed and pulled you closer to her side.

“Hold onto me, and uh— don’t look down,” Before you had time to ask her what that meant, Ellie flicked her wrist and sent the two of you swinging out of her window.

As you flew through the air, all you could hear was the wind blowing past you and the sound of your screams. It was then that you started to believe that Ellie could be telling the truth.

“Ellie Williams put me down right now!” You screamed as you watched the buildings fly past you in a blur.

“Calm down, we’re almost to my spot.”

Ellie slowed down and stopped on a rooftop. She pulled her mask off. “This is my favorite spot in the city.” Ellie helped you find your feet and kept a hand on your lower back. From the rooftop, you could see the glittering lights of the city life and the usual noise seemed to be quieter.

“That’s great and all but I think I might vomit,” You let out a shaky breath and sat down. “You wanna explain what the fuck you just pulled?” You looked up at her.

Ellie grinned and sat next to you. “The nausea will pass, just take deep breaths. As for that,” Ellie showed you the gadget on her wrist. “They’re web shooters, I made them myself. They shoot something similar to spider webs, but much stronger.”

“So what, you’re like a spider-girl or something?”

“Well, when you say it like that you make it sound childish.” Ellie chuckled.

“Okay Spider-Woman, why is this stopping you from taking me out?”

“I’m scared,” She sighed. “I already put myself in so much danger by doing this, do you know how much worse it would be if I had to worry about keeping you safe as well? I can’t guarantee that you’ll be protected from everything I deal with, and I can’t even imagine what it would be like for you if I ended up hurt or worse.”

You stared at her for a moment and reached out to rest your hand on top of hers.

“You’re forgetting that I’m my own person, Ellie, I can make those decisions for myself. You don’t have to protect me, I can do that on my own.”

Ellie, careful not to touch the web-shooter on her palm, squeezed your hand gently. “I want you and I want this so bad, you have no idea,”

“Show me,” You murmured as you turned to face her. Ellie let out a shaky breath and leaned in.

Your lips tasted exactly how Ellie had imagined they would. They were sweet, presumably from the lipgloss you always used, or maybe you just always tasted like cherries, Ellie couldn’t tell, all she knew was that she wanted more.

“Let’s go back to my dorm,” She murmured as her lips chased yours.

“Okay,” You agreed, every thought in your head was focused on Ellie, and suddenly the only thing you cared about was getting that comic-book-looking costume off of her body.

The quick trip back to her dorm wasn’t as scary as the first, though you weren’t sure if you could ever get used to the way your stomach dropped every time she swung.

The moment your feet were on the floor of her dorm, Ellie had you pushed up against the door, her lips traveling down your bare neck. Your hands ran down Ellie’s back in search of a zipper or button to take off the suit, but you grumbled in frustration when you failed to find one.

“How do you take this fuckin’ thing off?” You muttered while Ellie ran her fingers along the hem of your dress. She laughed softly against your skin.

“The zipper is right here,” She whispered into your ear, taking your hand and guiding it to the side of her torso. Hidden beneath her arm and within the detailing of the suit was a tiny zipper.

Your lips met hers again, and while you slowly dragged the zipper down, you let your other hand slide around her waist.

And just before you were able to completely unzip the suit, a loud banging on Ellie’s door startled you both.

“Yo, Ellie, you in there?” It was Jesse, and he sounded very drunk. Your eyes widened as you looked at Ellie, waiting for her to say something.

Ellie held a finger up to her lips and signaled for you to keep quiet. She was sure that if Jesse assumed she wasn’t home, he’d find someone else to bother.

Jesse banged on the door a few times and groaned loudly when he realized Ellie wasn’t answering. You sighed softly once you heard him shuffle away.

“Where were we?” Ellie smiled and pulled you close to her. Finally, you were able to pull down that zipper and the suit came loose enough for Ellie to pull off.

Ellie slid her fingers under the straps of your dress and let them fall down your shoulders. “Can I take this off?” She asked.

You simply nodded.

As if trying to tease, Ellie slid one strap down at a time, then moved onto the zipper, which she pulled down as slowly as she possibly could.

After what felt like years of waiting, your dress fell to the floor, pooling at your feet.

The feeling of Ellie’s skin against your own was everything you needed. She was warm and gentle, even her calloused fingers felt like butter on your skin.

Hungry for more of her, you reached out and ran your fingers along the waistband of her black boyshorts. Everything about her drove you insane, the sight of her in the simple black sports bra and boyshorts that she wore was enough to make you go practically feral.

Ellie followed your lead and copied your moves, tracing the waistband of your panties, then going further and dipping her fingers inside. Ellie could’ve sworn that the gasp you let out when she brushed against your clit was enough to make her cum, god she was already completely soaked just by standing there with you.

“You’re so wet,” She breathed and her fingers slid against your pussy again.

“Fuck,” You whined.

Ellie pulled her fingers from your underwear and licked them clean.

“I gotta have more of you,” Ellie said desperately.

“Then stop talking and do it,” You bit your lip. Your words were the last bit of confirmation she needed. Ellie grabbed your thighs and picked you up with ease.

Just as quickly as you had said those words, Ellie had swept you off your feet and sat you right on her bed. Your legs spread and her head in between them.

She didn’t waste time taking off your panties, she couldn’t stop herself after she had that first taste. Ellie’s lips brushed against your cunt almost hesitantly but soon enough she was diving into you like she was starving. Your hips bucked up against her tongue as you searched desperately for release. Ellie’s hand snaked up around your thighs and held you down, causing you to whine out loudly.

“God, you taste so good…” She groaned against your cunt.

“I’m getting close,” You gasped as you felt Ellie swirl her tongue around your clit.

“We just started, baby,” Ellie chuckled and ran her tongue up along your slit. “Think you can wait a few more minutes? You just look so pretty like this…” She squeezed your thigh and looked up at you with a playful smirk.

You stared at her, stunned by how she could be so dirty when she was the same girl who had been nervous to talk to you at the bar. How could she look so sexy when her chin and nose were both glistening with your slick and her hair was messy from you pulling on it? Was this the same girl who had choked after taking a drag from a joint?

“Please…” You moaned loudly and let your head fall back against the mattress. Ellie pulled away and kissed the inside of your thigh.

“Fine, but only because you asked so nicely,” She smiled and stood up, pulling her underwear down and straddling your hips. “I wanna cum with you…” She mumbled as she leaned down and kissed you gently.

A sharp gasp escaped your lips once you felt Ellie position her cunt against yours. Ellie let out a whiny moan and slowly rolled her hips forward, drawing out a loud sigh from you. Your bodies moved together slowly as if you were performing some heavenly dance.

Her wet folds grinding against yours seemed to stop every thought in your head. You couldn’t recall the last person who had made you feel nearly this good– hell, you could barely form a coherent sentence. You reached out and grabbed Ellie’s hands, intertwining your fingers and squeezing her hands gently.

“God, Ellie I can’t–” You stuttered and squeezed your eyes shut.

“I know, me too…me too,” She groaned and tossed her head back. It wasn’t hard to tell by the way her thighs were beginning to shake or the loud profanities leaving her mouth that Ellie was just as close to orgasm as you were.

It only took a few more moments before you came completely undone. A hot, sudden pleasure overcame you just as Ellie climaxed. As soon as the pleasure lulled, Ellie climbed off you and settled down next to you on the bed.

“I didn’t want it to be like this,” Ellie whispered and turned to look at you.

“What?” You giggled.

“This,” She said and slid her arm around your waist. “I would’ve been more…romantic. Take you out to dinner, maybe show you all my favorite rooftops, I would’ve made this special.”

You cupped her cheek and ran your thumb along her cheekbone. “I think tonight was pretty special. It was the best night I’ve ever had.”

Ellie’s cheeks flushed slightly and a stupid smile tugged at her lips. “Don’t say that, it’ll inflate my ego.”

“Alright then,”

“Hey, promise me you won’t tell anyone about my–”

“Your secret identity? Trust me, I’ll take your secret to the grave.”

“Thank you.” Ellie took your hand and placed a gentle kiss on the back. “I just want to keep you safe,”

“I know,” You sighed.

On her nightstand, Ellie’s phone buzzed. You passed her the phone without hesitation.

‘Active robbery occurring at…’ The headline flashed across her home screen.

You watched as Ellie sat up and started grabbing her clothes off the floor. It had barely been ten minutes since the two of you had finished and she was already getting ready to run off and stop crime.

“I’m so sorry, I just–”

“You have to go,” You smiled and watched her slip into the suit.

“Sorry,” She murmured, leaning down to kiss you before pulling the mask over her face.

“Good luck and be safe,” You waved as she leaped out of the window and swung into the darkness of the night.

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cheesechilifreye · 3 months ago

Text

Dad headcanons that make little to no sense.

Bill

Determined to be better than his father at raising his daughter. After growing up in an abusive home with an absent parent. He doesn’t want her to grow up into what he became.

Unpopular opinion — I believe he eventually realized when she was around a year old that he DID have to straighten up for her. That ment quitting the eBay gig.

Gets incredibly nervous when going to public places with her because he doesn’t want to be labeled a kidnapper.

He can get quite stingy with his collections. But as the years go by he’s only kept his favorites and let her have the rest which he regifted to her through Christmas’s, birthdays, or achievements she’s made.

Encourages her (to an almost extreme level) to try out for EVERYTHING in school so she doesn’t end up boxed in like he was.

If him and his daughter fight he remains aloof around her but in his room has a panic attack.

Hates her friends even if they’re good. Can be very cocky if they end up rotten.

I don’t see Bill ever dating again because of the fear of them abandoning another kid onto him.

Once went 2 weeks without eating so his daughter had enough formula to survive.

Loves her smart ass behavior, hates how she gets into trouble

This man would absolutely rip a school to shreds if they called him out of work because they did something stupid.

Keeps pictures of his daughter hung up around the house. But hates getting his own taken.

Loudest guy at any game or celebration because he’s so proud of her.

Pete

Roughhouses with his kids no matter the gender. It “toughens them up,” as he says.

Pretty sexist when it comes to his kids dating. If his son brings home a girlfriend he’s proud and makes a lot of innuendos. Meanwhile, if his daughter brings home a boyfriend, he’s blatantly planning on murdering him.

Once when his kids were infants they fell asleep on him and he didn’t move. Failing to show up to work cause he was just watching them.

This man has so many half-children. (Like 6. Two of which are twins and mostly boys)

Named them all after horror movie icons or actors/actresses.

Unpopular opinion — Doesn’t care what they watch when they hit 13. But actively shields them from watching rated-r stuff 12 and under.

Makes it a tradition to take their freshly 13 year old kid out to watch their first rated r movie. Even though he doesn’t seem to be too excited, he’s just happy to see their kid look so smug feeling better than the other kids.

Taught them how to fight, cook, and other things at a VERY young age. (Think 5-7) In case one day he didn’t come home.

None of his kids went the football route and he’s very grateful for it. Doesn’t want them to get injured for life.

He’s like the dad who screams at his kids when they aren’t doing a specific dance routine correctly and will LITERALLY perform it.

Man’s pockets are almost empty cause of all the things his kids are in.

Sees his kids as toddlers still (insert Marceline and her dad clip)

Jerry

Terrified to mess it up for his son. The biggest helicopter parent ever.

Comes to every little thing his son does. Even if he doesn’t understand it.

Struggles to bond with his son because of different interests.

Stay-at-home dad. Makes a little money from Magic the gathering competitions.

Picture goofy and max from a goofy movie.

Is gonna bawl his eyes when he drops his son off at college.

Years after the Eltingville discourse (at the comic con) Bill reached out to Jerry to ask if he wanted to attend his daughter’s birthday party. Jerry happily accepted, even if his son was too old.

He once had a fight with his son that lead him into a panic attack where he screamed and called his son, “bill” by accident. Leading him to tell his son about what happened growing up. His son was much more empathetic after this incident.

Jerry cried when he found out his son wrote his 5th grade essay about him.

Tries to make each birthday of his sons better than the last.

Only time he’s ever gotten visibly angry. Was at a football game where his son was getting beat up by a player on the opposing team because of them losing. Jerry had to be held back and dragged off because of the fuss.

He was fine but it scared the hell out of everyone. For reference now everyone knows you don’t mess with his kid.

His son had the habit of gifting him random objects: rocks, gum, sticks. Jerry has them all stored up in the attic. Expect the live animals which he released when his son wasn’t looking.

Caught his son watching studio ghibli movies and felt so proud even though his son was embarrassed.

Josh

Thrilled to be a dad when he heard his wife got pregnant.

Let’s his daughter play with his hair. Didn’t want her messing with a greasy mop so he washes it. (Wanted to set a good example on hygiene as well)

Started to lose weight so he can get to see her grow up.

Very protective of his daughter and her interests.

Dressed up with her for Halloween to match costumes.

Hates Mac and cheese (after his incident in the comics) but his daughter loves it.

Struggles with insecurity but deals with it because of how confident his daughter is.

Woke up to her one day when she was just a year old. To her on his chest just staring in admiration. Cried in the shower that day and made it a daddy-daughter day out.

Embarrasses her in a teasing way.

Half of his collection is in a donation bin and the other half is in his daughter’s room.

Nervous but happy she took after his nerdy side.

He fixes her hair in the morning because he knows the pain of curly hair.

Had a panic attack when they were playing hide and seek and he couldn’t find her. She was under the sink the whole time giggling.

Very boo and sully coded relationship.

Wants to have more kids but isn’t financially stable enough.

Found out MONTHS later his daughter mimicked him a lot when she was a toddler. His walk, his speech, even the way they lay on the couch and watch movies.

His favorite home video is her playing house.

He’s a stern but lenient guy.

Against her dating, period. He knows how awful guys are and doesn’t want her around them.

Dreads the day she goes to high school.

Framed her first drawing of him, his wife and her together.

His daughter inherited his anxiety and eating disorder. He feels awful for it.

Spoils her rotten to an extent.

They love family photos.

#eltingville #dad au #eltingville epilogue #bill dickey #pete dinunzio #jerry stokes #josh levy #self insert #original characters #headcanon #freye ramble

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minhosimthings · 1 year ago

Text

Prideful

Synopsis: You never thought that Lee Heeseung, the man who had proven you wrong in the subject you were best at, would be fucking you on the classroom floor, but here you were.

Pairings: Heeseung × fem!reader, sort of enemies hate sex, includes Sunoo from Enha, and Soojin

Warnings: Smut with plot in the beginning, MINORS DNI, fluffy in the beginning, mention of food, degradation, praise, fingering, oral (f receiving), sex on the floor, unprotected sex (not for you bubs), rough sex, overstimulation, swearing, Heeseung calls reader princess and doll, open ending my babies have fun with that

A/N: idea came into my brain and I thought I'd forget about it and just added it to my wip list but then I was like NOPE IMMA WRITE THIS SHIT. So this makes my third smut for Heeseung (idk why I'm writing only smut for him) enjoy it y'all

Jane Austen once wrote an entire fanfic about enemies to lovers, slow burn, and she thought no one would notice. Well almost no one. Nothing ever gets out of the eyes and pens of literature majors does it? Especially not out of hardcore Jane Austen fans like yourself.

You must have analysed that godforsaken piece of literature atleast a thousand times since you recieved it as a gift for your birthday. And every single time, you failed to understand how such a love could be possible. I mean come on, a man and woman who hate each other, falling in love with each other? Either Jane Austen must have been a reincarnation of Aphrodite, or a madwoman who still kept faith in love.

Your heart nearly exploded when your professor had assigned a full fledged essay-presentation, costing half your grade on Pride and Prejudice. "Explore your opinion!" She had called out cheerfully, "Tell me what your heart truly feels about this beautiful piece and I'll give you a full half grade and no assignments for the rest of the semester." The class gasped in excitement at her words as you pretended to be interested. Internally, you were groaning. Wasting half of your night to make a presentation about a book you hold no love for? The universe really was against you. You picked your books up dejectedly and walked towards the entrance, shoulders hunched and music at a higher level of noise than it should have been at.

"Oh shit!" You cursed, dropping your books at the sudden interruption. A flurry of blue wool flooded in your face, as you leaned down quickly to pick up your fallen books and phone. "I'm so sorry." You apologised not looking up at whoever you crashed into. "It's alright." A voice responded back, and you looked up to see him. Lee Heeseung. You had seen him a few times in class, heard him actually. With his pristine glasses, and his woolen sweaters, he was the definition of a movie nerd. He was actually smart, you had to admit, always quick to respond to the questions that you had no idea about. Best in the class after you, according to your professor. Although his choice of literature slightly weirded you out. You often spotted him sprawled out under a tree, holding Pride and Prejudice to his nose, deeply engrossed in taking in each word.

"Is that The Neighborhood you're listening to?" Heeseung asked, as he handed you your phone, which he had picked up before you had the chance to. "Do you have an ear for them?" You asked, taking the phone from him. His hands felt soft, like the first snow when you were eight. Heeseung shook his and chuckled. "I'm more of a Arctic Monkeys person." You smiled awkwardly and shuffled your feet. "To each his own then."

"Macbeth." Heeseung said, before you could escape from the conversation. "I'm sorry?" You questioned, confused at his sudden outburst. "That line's from Macbeth." Heeseung sent another smile your way, pushing his glasses up from his nose, "Polonius says it, 'To each his own'." You felt a pang of jealousy hit your chest. You didn't know where that line was from. Of course, what normal person would know the origin of a common idiom?

"Cool." Your laugh was not without a tint of awkwardness. "Well-" Heeseung shifted his weight from one foot to the other, "Bye then." "Bye." You bid each other goodbye and rushed off in opposite directions, not wanting to be stuck in another neverending loop of conversation.

"Don't tell me you actually talked with The Lee Heeseung." Your roommate Soojin laughed, accidentally smearing some turquoise nail polish onto your thigh. You quickly wiped it off with a tissue before frowning at Soojin. "It's not a big deal." You scoffed, having another slice of pizza, "I mean he's just a guy. Kinda nerdy actually"

Soojin burst out laughing again, this time shutting her nail polish close. She gasped for air as she pulled out her phone and showed you a picture of a what looked like a frat party. "Girl-" she got up from her leaning position, "Nerdy is the worst way to describe Lee Heeseung. I'm telling you-" she picked up the last slice of pizza, "-he's the playboy representative of this college."

"Oh come on." You scoffed again, getting up to go to the bathroom, "Stop joking around." Soojin shrugged her shoulders as you disappeared into the bathroom. "Whatever you say."

The next day, you strolled into your favourite cafe with your laptop, headphones, a copy of Pride and Prejudice, money in your pocket, a sketchbook, and a positive mindset. Always need one to write an essay right? You were thankful that it wasn't raining today like it had been for the past few weeks.

The cafe was mostly empty, with a few medical students drinking coffee to their death, as they always did. You walked up to the counter, where you saw your friend Sunoo, working his shift.

"Y/N hey!" He flashed his bright smile at you, putting down the glass he had been cleaning. "Hey sun." You clapped back, leaning in front of the counter, "The usual please." Sunoo nodded his head and started to prepare your drink. "So I've heard something." He put on his mischievous smile, one that he often wore when he had gossip on his fingers. "Please tell me it's not about that girl from Chem again." You sighed, as he put a coffee cup down in front of you. "No it's about you dumbass." Sunoo scoffed, taking the money you handed him, "I heard you bumped into Lee Heeseung." You let out a groan at his words, and quickly grabbed your drink, going off to sit in the corner. "Yah take your change!" Sunoo shouted after you to which you shouted back, "Keep it! Your broke ass needs it anyway!"

You didn't get the chance to see Sunoo giving you the stink eye, as you plopped down on the comfortable couch and opened up your laptop. You had prepared a few opening lines the night before, since you had learnt that doing half of an assignment on the day of the announcement is better than starting the next day. Whoever wrote that theory needs to clarify it to you, but hey never pass up a good study tip right?

Immersed by the clacking of the keyboard keys and the pretty syllables decorating your page, you were completely absent from the world around you. Until, you heard a familiar voice, which broke you out of your hypoxia.

Heeseung.

What was he doing here?, You thought, not realising that you were basically staring at him. He was dressed in full black today, a leather jacket adorning his broad shoulders. A single earing dangled from his right ear. He still had his glasses on, which were fogged up completely, courtesy to the weather outside. Chatting away sonderly to Sunoo, as Sunoo prepared his drink in a way familiar to you, Heeseung caught your eye. He waved joyfully to you, akin to a child waving to their best friend. You waved back, not aware of the face you were currently making.

"Hey!" Heeseung said, sitting down in the chair next to you, with his drink in hand, "Working up on the Pride and Prejudice thing?" There were atleast a million other seats empty in the cafe. Why did he have to sit next to you? You didn't really realise how handsome he was, until he was sitting face to face with you. The mere sunlight coming in from the windows seemed to illuminate his face well. "Oh yeah I am." You replied, shooting him a smile, "Same thing?" You asked, wanting to keep the conversation going. Heeseung smiled jovially at you and propped his laptop open. "Yep." He replied and glued his eyes to the screen as you went back to your own work. "The Neighborhood again?" He raised an eyebrow, peeking at your open Spotify. You smiled gently and replied, "Arctic Monkeys?" As if ticking a correct answer, Heeseung laughed and showed you his phone where 'Arabella' was playing. A pretty album cover, you thought, subtle and sleek. "To each his own then?" Heeseung said. You nodded and smiled in response, before dropping your head back down to your laptop.

An hour must have passed like this, both of you hypnotised in writing and editing, and downing the refills of coffee Sunoo was providing you with. You stole tiny glances at Heeseung from time to time. Concentration was a good face on him, his eyebrows furrowed, his hands typing away furiously at the keyboard. He didn't talk to you at all, except for the initial hey and hello. But something about the way he spoke to you in the beginning, about the way he asked if you had a pen, and about the way he said 'Hey you have an eyelash on your nose' made your stomach erupt into butterflies.

Heeseung left before you did and before leaving he had extended a hand out to you. "May the best essay win." He spoke, shaking your hand and showing you his smile. God he never stopped smiling did he? His hand was soft, as was his grip on yours. It felt like how your father would hold your hand when you were little on the crosswalk.

"Girl just ask him out." Sunoo called after you as you were about to leave, "The tension between both of you back there was almost poetic." Even though you laughed at Sunoo's quip, and denied the offer, a part of your mind lingered on Sunoo's words and the way Heeseung spoke to you that afternoon.

The days leading upto the hour of the presentation went fast. Too fast almost. Your mind went over your short conversation with Heeseung atleast a million times, sometimes distracting you from typing. You didn't know where all the red bull cans littered across your room came from, but you remember where you threw every single one of them and why. The presentation was perfect. It must have been checked by your eyes atleast a hundred times. Finally, a time was coming when you would be able to express your true feeling about it. Despise and Trouble ran through your veins as you walked up to the board as your professor called on you to present. The class seemed to hold a tight breath to themselves. Everyone knew you, teacher's pet, best at English, known for using the most difficult metaphores in her essays yet having a straightforward point.

"Shall I begin?" You asked your professor who gave a curt nod and leaned back in her chair, an expectant smile plastered on her face. You returned the smile and turned to your classmates, who seemed most interested in your essay.

"Well to begin with, as one does-" humor was always the best way to start off speeches, which was shown by the subtle laughter of the students, "-I would like to say that Pride and Prejudice may be one of the most despised books I have sitting in my bookcase." You heard gasps around the room as everyone started murmerring. Your professor leaned forward in her chair, her mouth pressed tightly to form a thin line. That's good, you thought, a good way to break into their corneas.

"While most people would disagree with me upon this apparent piece of art, I truly believe that this sort of a romance is highly impossible. And no-dont tell me that this is fiction and in the fictious worlds you can quote unquote 'do whatever you want'." The audience held their breaths back as you continued with your rant. Your professor was watching it all with a smile on her face, knowing that she couldn't disagree with you. After all, you had to present your own opinions no matter how opposite they were to everyone else's.

"Well-" you professor stood up from her chair, as you finished your presentation. It had been a 25 minute rant about the book and by now everyone seemed to be meekly looking at their own essays. "That was brilliant Y/N. Truly brilliant." You professor clapped you on the back, "I must say, you have a flair for arguing in a way no one can find counter-attacks. I wonder why you did not choose law as your major?"

"Because there is another argument to be discussed here."

A cold voice rang through the room, as you were about to laugh at the professor's quip. You spun around on your shoes to face the culprit.

Lee Heeseung.

"Heeseung!" Your professor delightfully responded clapping her hands together, "Well why don't you tell us your opinion then? And we'll see if Y/N can fire back." She sat in her chair again, looking positively delighted at the forthcoming, "A battle of the best wits perhaps!"

Heeseung smiled widely and stepped forward to where you were sitting, plopping down on the opposite chair. Your professor had always kept two chairs facing each other in front of her class, for debates, her reason sounded. And now, as you sat in front of Heeseung and his stupidly handsome smirk, you swore you were going to bring him down.

"First of firsts-" Heeseung began, as everyone's attention caught on you. "-your opinion is speaking from a highly biased perspective." "How so?" You fired back, before he could even breathe, "I had already stated in the beginning, about how this cannot be on a biased perspective, since fiction based in actual words cannot be this animated." Heeseung smiled again, which threw you off track a bit. God he's handsome, you thought, too handsome....

"Of course but must I remind you, that this book was perhaps the first out of many to start with the trope of enemies to lovers?" Why were his eyes like galaxies?, "Jane Austen invented an entire trope, which still remains a genius scan of literature to this day. How could you say it's too animated?"

"Yes but-"

"Furthermore-" Heeseung continued, not giving you the chance to breathe, "inventing new tropes does not break this 'law of literature' as you say. Since there was no law of literature to begin with. So please Miss Y/N-" he leaned forward, looking at you with dangerous eyes, "-don't you dare say that Pride and Prejudice is a worthless piece of literature just because it does not have proof of poetry."

The class let out a breath as you sat frozen in your seat. Someone actually breaking your argument was a first for you.

God, his hair. His pretty curly hair.

You didn't realise how long you'd been staring at Heeseung with widened eyes until your professor clapped her hands together again.

"Well then!" She said cheerfully, effectively breaking you out of your stupor, "I believe this goes for grading both of you an A+. Half of your grade is filled you two! Congratulations!" The class broke out into applause as you thanked her and awkwardly shook hands with Heeseung as the bell rang loudly. "Well class I'll be seeing you next time!" Your professor announced, as everyone started filing out. "Oh Y/N, Heeseung a moment please?"

You stopped your feet from stepping out the door and immediately spun around, marching off towards your professor, seeing Heeseung doing the same. "Yes Professor Kim?" Heeseung responded with those stupid puppy eyes of his before you could. Professor Kim smiled gently at both of you, before pulling out her tablet.

"I need a bit of help from both of you. It'll be sort of a favour to you too." She handed you the tablet, which had a sort of letter open on it. Heeseung leaned from behind you, and put his chin on your shoulder, making your stomach feel clammy. He smelled good too, you thought, like fresh paper.

"An event is being hosted by our Dean for all majors." Professor Kim smiled, "Sort of a career booster you could say. We were instructed to pick two students from our classes to have the assignment of checking essays, and documentations and whatnot pertaining to their majors."

"And you chose to pick us Ma'am? I'm flattered." Heeseung chuckled, as Professor Kim laughed to his quip. "Well you two are my best students." She drawled, "So the assignment I'm giving you is-" she pulled out a huge stack of papers from beneath her desk. It shocked you how quickly they appeared out of nowhere, like magic. "-these are all essays collected by last year's class. I want you to go through them, give them a good critic, and grade them according to you. You will personally grade each one, taking each other's help of course,since it's a group project. And it will lend you a helping hand since you'll be getting a certificate which you can use to get into any company you'd like!"

You and Heeseung glanced at each other and we're relieved to see the same excited expression face back at them. This was a rare opportunity, a diamond of the first water you'd say. And you had to grab it, even If that meant it was with a person you despised with your entire being.

"I'll do it Professor!" You replied positively to which Heeseung also nodded frantically as if to say the same thing. "Great!" Professor Kim clapped her hands together again, "Oh and one rule is you two have to work together in this classroom. Since the Dean wants to provide you with an opportunity to see how workplace relationships doon out."

Your heart dropped to your stomach as you heard her words. You, working with Heeseung in an empty classroom? You would rather have praised Pride and Prejudice.

"Here, the keys." Professor Kim handed you and Heeseung a pair of keys, "You can work in the evening if you want. But make sure to complete it as soon as you can alright? Oh and you can skip classes if you want to do this first, since the Dean is prioritising this before anything else." You nodded in response to her instructions and bowed her goodbye as you and Heeseung walked out.

"So-" Heeseung stuffed his hands in his pockets, "You wanna work on this shit tonight?" "Unless you have any other appointments, sure we can work on it tonight." You responded, coldly, not looking at him in the eye. "Alright then." Heeseung scoffed, "Meet you here at 8?" "Alright." The end of your conversation came a little too fast, you thought, but you couldn't stand looking into his pretty little eyes and talking to him, as if he didn't just embarrass you infront of your entire class a few minutes ago. "Y/N wait!" Heeseung called, running up to you, as you were about to exit the building. "What?" You spun around to face him. "Shouldn't we exchange numbers first?" Heeseung handed you his phone, which had his contact list open. "Why? So you can take me out on a date later?" You shot at him. A smirk tugged on the corner of Heeseung lips, but he resisted, not wanting to anger you more. You looked cute when you were angry in his opinion. "No. Maybe incase you were murdered by someone on the way here, I can call you and scold you on why tardiness is a childish thing to do." Heeseung joked. You smiled sarcastically at him as you handed him his phone back, having typed in your number. "Eight o'clock princess don't you forget now."

Tick tock tick. The clock's quiet sons echoed through the empty class. 'Don't forget.' you scoffed, 'And he's the one who's late.' The time on your watch sounded 8:30 and yet Heeseung wasn't here. You had given up waiting for him, and started on the assignment yourself, already finishing two of the army of papers. You were a hard critic, and it clearly showed in the way you were seeping your eyes through the ink.

"Soojin he's late! I can't come back now!" Your roommate had called you, in the midst of your third paper, complaining about a cockroach in the room. "Just call your boyfriend, and don't be such a pussy it won't hurt you." You scoffed at Soojin, whose scared whimpers were heard clearly through the phone.

"How's the checking going?" Soojin asked, having seemingly calmed down. You groaned and leaned back in your chair, wincing at the crack of your backbone. Your back must have become stiff from the amount of time you had been sitting in that chair. You felt pity for your professors for the first time, having finally been in their shoes.

"Heeseung's not here yet and I'm literally so fed up right now." You complained to Soojin, "That handsome bastard told me not to be late, and now look where I am! Asshole seriously." "He'll turn up, cool down Y/N." Soojin soothed you. You heard a sound of crashing in the background and stifled a laugh, assuming that Soojin must have miraculously jumped from one bed to the other. "I told you he's a playboy." Soojin panted through the phone, "Maybe he's busy fucking some poor girl in his frat house." You rolled your eyes at her statement.

"Please." You scoffed, "He couldn't fuck a girl if he wanted to, with the tiny ass cock he has." Soojin let out a raucous laugh from the other side of the phone. "How the fuck do you know he has a tiny cock?" She chuckled. "Intuition baby." You responded, "And my intuition is never wrong."

"Like how it was on the day of our debate?"

A familiar voice again. But this time, the warmth in it wasn't present. You whipped your head around to the door, where Heeseung stood, leaning against the door and smirking. "Soojin I'll call you back." You cut the call, before Soojin could respond.

"Hey." You called out to Heeseung. "Hey." Heeseung shot back, sitting down on the chair in front of you, spreading his legs wide. An involuntary gulp went through your throat. "What were you saying princess?" He leaned forward, his shirt dropping down slightly, "I have a tiny what now?" The dim lighting of the room, made his eyes look dark, and the leather of his black jacket, gleam more. "I- I wasn't saying anything Heeseung." You responded, turning your chair back to the desk, warmth coming up on your cheeks. Heeseung cocked his head to the side and smirked at your flustered state.

"Really princess?" He smirked, edging closer to you. The smell of his cologne filled your nostrils again. His glasses dropped on his nose, and he hadn't even bother to push them back up. "Heeseung just get to work." You sternly responded, trying to keep your cool. How could you though? When he was so close to you, lips almost touching your ear. "For you information-" Heeseung spoke, turning your attention away from the paper you were working on, "-I had a friend who needed a lift to his dorm, so I ran a little late. But you couldn't wait for me could you princess?" He smirked, laying his hand on top of yours, "Just couldn't wait to critique all those papers like the good girl you are." "He-Heeseung." "Shh don't." Heeseung shushed you, "You want to see how tiny of a cock I really have then hmm?"

"Heeseung we shouldn't." You hesitated, feeling your legs warm up. "No one's gonna know, as long as you don't make a noise alright?" He kissed your neck gently, turning your figure to his, still sitting in the chair. "Oh princess, already wet for me?" He chuckled, toying with the button of your shirt. "Heeseung-" you moaned out, quickly unbuttoning your shirt, as Heeseung took off his jacket and threw it on the desk. You pulled back slightly as your mind came to its proper senses. "Where are you going doll?" Heeseung questioned, hands resting on your thigh, squeezing it from time to time, "Don't worry princess, no one's gonna know."

Heeseung brings his lips down to yours in an instant, wasting no time. You gasp at his sudden actions and he takes advantage of that by entering his tongue into your mouth. You grab at his shoulders while he cups your jaw with both of his hands. Your hands reach his hair, softly tugging at the root and you hear him whine. Heeseung sucks on your bottom lip, catching it between his teeth and pulling it back to look at you. You look up at him and he takes your face in his hands.

“You wanna see my cock baby?” Heeseung asks in a teasing tone as he looks down at you. You could feel the throb in his pants press against your legs as you whimper. “Hee please.” You whine, squirming as he places a kiss between your breasts. Heeseung runs his hands up and down the sides of your body. If he was going to fuck you on the classroom floor right there and then, you were going to let him.

“Oh, you're feeling extra polite today huh? Please, Heeseung.” Heeseung mocks you with a tiny laugh. You groan in embarrassment and hide your face with your hands. Heeseung just lets out another laugh and wraps his hands around your wrists, prying them away from your face. He transfers both of your wrists to one hand, holding them over your head as he uses his other hand to trail his fingers down your body.

“Don’t hide your pretty face now, princess.” Heeseung says nonchalantly as he dips a hand inside your leggings and panties to feel your dripping cunt. His glasses were beginning to fog up slightly as he whipped them off of his face, setting them down on the desk. You clench around nothing when you feel his middle finger dip into your wetness and bring it up to your clit, rubbing slow circles around it. You moan softly as Heeseung teases your clit, never taking his eyes off of your face.

Heeseung begins to rub your clit faster, and you buck your hips up into his fingers. You hear him laugh at your eagerness and he presses soft kisses into your neck. Heeseung takes his fingers off of your clit and he snaps the waistband of your trousers against your pelvis.

“Dirty girl. Never thought you'd be like this.” Heeseung says with a smirk and you dumbly nod your head. The sounds of your heavy breathing and your pussy squelching around his fingers make your legs begin to shake.

Heeseung spits on your cunt to lubricate it even more, and that's what makes you come undone. Your cunt clenches around his fingers, sucking them in as he fingers you through your orgasm.

Heeseung takes his time kissing down your body, letting your need and desperation build by the second. He tugs one nipple and then the other into his mouth, suckling at the perky nubs and massaging your areola between his lips. Your hips are trembling with anticipation, the space between your legs aching to feel Heeseung's kiss.

Stars hover over you, or at least, that’s how it feels. Your eyes are closed, awareness cut off to the world around you except the place Heeseung's face is buried. He devours your cunt like a man starved, swallowing you whole. Heeseung doesn’t come up for air; he doesn’t need to, because all he breathes is you. Your back is arched and arms stretched forward, fingers clutching Heeseung’s hair in fistfuls.

Your thighs are shaking, reflexively clamping around Heeseung's’s face. He keeps forcing them open, demanding full access to your cunt, even as you buck and claw and convulse. Your mouth hangs open in a stupor; a thin line of drool trickles down your cheek and connects to the cold floor beneath you.

Heeseung laps at your slit like he’s never tasted you before, like he never will again. His tongue pads between your lips, upward strokes that end with the tip of his tongue flicking your clit with a firm intensity that has you reeling. Tugging at his hair, trying not to scream his name incoherently, you ride out the longest orgasm you’ve ever had. Tears burn the corners of your eyes, stars bursting in the black sky of your vision. Heeseung doesn’t stop licking your cunt till you release his hair.

“M’gonna fuck you now, okay?” Heeseung says sweetly and you nod your head. He runs his hard cock through your folds, and he catches your clit, making you jerk a little. Heeseung slowly begins to push himself into you and you throw your head back against the hard material of the desk.

“Fuck, knew you’d be tight when I felt you around my fingers.” Heeseung grits out, and he continues to push himself into you until he bottoms out. He starts to move at a slow pace, and he whines when you beg him to move faster. “Fucking whore. Bet you think about me fucking you in class don't you?” Heeseung spits out as he pushes himself harder and deeper into your sloppy cunt. You moan at his words, and you try to reply but all that comes out is a pathetic whimper.

“Hee, I’m gonna cum.” You cry out, and you clench around Heeseung's fat cock.

“ Cum for me princess.” Heeseung. moans out, fucking into you so deep, a ring of your cum and his has formed at the base of his cock. You run your fingers through his hair, harshly tugging on it as you come undone at his expense. Heeseung buries his face into your neck as he cums, sucking at your pulse point. You feel his cum shoot into you and it only prolongs your own orgasm.

After a couple minutes of you two catching your breath, Heeseung takes his face out of your neck and plops down in the chair, pulling you onto his lap. You sit there, dazed for a few seconds, burrowing your head in his chest, his heartbeat reminding you where you were.

"Well that was a whirlwind of emotions." He says at last, when you start to stir from your hypnosis, "You good doll?" You nod slightly and feel Heeseung's arms wrap around you, putting you safely down on the chair, as he put his clothes back on, slowly picking up yours as well.

"Heeseung the assignments." You panic, as he puts your shirt back on you. "It's alright princess." He coos at you, wrapping an arm around your waist, "We can do that in the morning. Let's get you home." He guides you slowly out the door. "So-" he smirks, locking the classroom with his key "Same time, same place tomorrow?"

1K notes · View notes

dolicekiss · 11 months ago

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Hiiiii I love ur writing!!! If it's too much of a bother, I totally wouldn't mind if you don't write this😭😭 I understand that you might be busy with other things, butttt could you write about Martin from Another Round?? Him as reader's teacher (in like uni or something one where reader is legal) and like a punishment sort of thing that's happens to the reader while he's trying to teach them something after school bc they've been falling behind in their grades, and he eventually makes a deal that if they were to do a little "favor" they'd get an A?? Idk I just really like Martin😭😭 If possible, could you make the reader fem?? If not, gender neutral would be greatly appreciated, thank you!!!

- 🫧anon

♡: sorry this was so late, i just finished it and requests r piling up :[ hope u like it anon!

Good Grades

PAIRING: Martin X fem!Reader

CONTENT WARNING: SMUT (18+, mdni), age gap (obviously), unprotected sex, perverted martin, oral (male receiving), degrading, humiliation, hair pulling, biting, filthy martin, power play.

SYNOPSIS: You've always struggled with your history subject, more so when it came down to remembering which historic event took in what year — the numbers screwing you up. It wasn't a surprise when you were called in by your teacher to scold you about your downgrading grades but you didn't know there was a much easier to fix them right up.

You were in a state of panic.

When your teacher had asked you to stay behind, you knew damn well what it was for.

History wasn't one of your strongest suits, especially remembering the numbers. You tried your best to embed your mind with it but you failed at the end.

Your nails scratched the skin around them in anticipation, stomach twisting in nervousness and anxiety knocking at the doors of your brain to allow it in.

You only had to wait for the bell to ring and once it rang, all the students left. Rushing to catch their breaks and some letting out sighs of relief to finally be freed of this soul sucking boring subject.

You were alone with him.

Martin’s gaze captured you as he picked up the papers he'd graded, setting them aside after picking out one.

It had to be yours.

He walked over to you, dragging a chair and sitting down on it in front of you. You could feel your pulse throbbing in your neck, heart hammering rapidly in your ribcage. Your forehead had perspired and you let out a breath.

“What is this, miss?” He asked, holding your paper out for you.

Immediately when you saw the grade of it, you felt like passing out. Martin eyed you as you averted your gaze from him and the piece of paper, looking around.

You had no courage to face your failure.

“I'm asking you something.”

You licked your lips. “A paper.”

Martin leaned back into the chair, thighs spreading open. He sighed. “I know it's a paper and it is your paper, which you almost failed.”

You flinched at his tedious tone, not enjoying how he spoke to you. Truth was, Martin had kept an eye on you for so long. Unbeknownst to you, he always tried to focus more on you and make you learn.

But you didn't want to.

Head anywhere but here, in his class.

“This isn't the first time. If you keep falling, I'll have to kick you out of the class.” It was a threat and your eyes widened immediately, shaking your head.

You leaned forward, the unbuttoned shirt revealing your chest which Martin captured a glance of. His cock stirring in his pants at how your tits pressed together — forming the perfect view for him. “Please, no. You can't do that. Just give me a chance, I'll do anything to fix my grades.”

Martin raised a brow.

Anything you said.

“I'm sorry but there is nothing I can do. I've had enough of this. You never pay attention and you're always chatting with other students.”

You shook your head. “Sir please, I will focus more. I will pay attention.”

Martin eyed you.

You seemed so desperate. He could see the raw desperation in your gaze and something inside him snapped, seeing how your pupils had blown out. He swallowed tightly and after debating with his own mind, he finally came to a conclusion.

He had power over you.

Why not abuse it?

“Get up and lock the door.”

You blinked at his abrupt command but nodded nonetheless, rising up from your seat to lock the door. Once you had snapped the little lock in place, you turned around to look at your teacher.

“Come here." And you obliged again.

Sauntering towards him, your pale skirt flowing by your side when you moved towards him. Nervousness had crawled all the way up to your throat and you licked your lips, in an attempt to wet the chapped skin.

You stood in front of him.

“There's something we can do to fix your grades.” He spoke, voice now a few octaves lower. Your fingers engulfed the material of your skirt as you raised a brow.

Martin reached for your hand, taking it into his. His brown eyes drowning in yours and his lips holding a sweet smile as if he wasn't about to make an immoral offer. “How about you be a good girl for your teacher and suck his cock?”

Your eyes widened in horror.

Pulling your hand out of his grasp, you retreated and stared at him. You'd never thought about your teacher in that sense. Yes, he was very attractive and you had a thing for older men but this was completely unethical and unprofessional.

You inhaled sharply.

Confusion clouded your judgment. You didn't know what to do. The proposal wasn't as bad as your mind was making it appear. Just give him head, get your grades up and work harder next time.

That easy, yeah?

Your knees dipped in front of Martin’s spread thighs and his smile widened. A tent already visible in his crotch. He was so excited, as he would always wonder how your glossy pink lips would feel wrapped around his cock — your tight little throat fighting to make space for his length.

You blinked, profusely as you reached for the zipper of his pants. He noticed the tremor in your hands and smiled softly, loving how innocent you appeared. Your hand managed to unzip his pants and pull out his cock but the moment your fingers caressed his hardened length, Martin hissed.

Your mere touch felt like embers on his skin.

Your eyes widened upon witnessing his gaze, the sheer length and girth of it leaving you completely bemused. How was that even supposed to fit in your mouth? You wondered if you could grow used to his size.

“What you waiting for, pretty girl?”

You looked at him with your pretty eyes as you leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to his tip. It leaked with precum and the salty taste glossed your lips. You ran your tongue over his pink cockhead and then wrapped your lips around him while your hand began to stroke him from his base — upto his length.

Martin slumped into his chair leisurely as his palm opened and rested over your head, forcing you to take him further. His lips fell open as he shuddered, enjoying the warmth your mouth produced around him.

The more you took him into your mouth, the harder it became for you to breathe properly.

You tried to inhale oxygen through your nose, your hands both resting on his parted knees. Martin’s hand pushed you further down on his cock and you fluttered your eyes shut, feeling his cock glide over your tongue and make way into your throat.

“Fuck, such a tight little mouth you've got, baby.” Martin groaned and as you peeled open your lids, you saw a sight before you which made your cunt throb.

A few straight strands had fallen over Martin’s forehead, his lips parted as his chest heaved up and down. Chiseled cheek bones reflexing everytime he let a gasp slip.

You took him deeper, feeling his cock head slip into your throat and you whined, sending vibrations and tremors down his cock into his groin. His cock throbbed and twitched like crazy and you could feel every little movement inside your tight cavern.

Your windpipe felt like it was being crushed and you pulled back from his cock, to take him deeper again.

“You're pretty good at this.” Martin groaned, staring down at you with hazy eyes. “How many cocks have you sucked, hm?”

You shook your head, telling him that this was your first time. Martin thrusted his hips upwards, driving his cock deeper into your throat. He managed to catch a glimpse of his dick print in your throat and lost his restraint.

Callous hands grabbing your head, holding it in place as he began to fuck his cock into your throat. Thrusts harsh and vigorous, your heart galloped in your ribcage. Your eyes fell shut and Martin’s fingers engulfed your hair.

“Look at me. Show me those pretty eyes, baby.” You obliged, fluttering them open. Your lashes coated the apple of your cheeks and tears emerged from your tear glands — droplets sliding down. Martin discarded the chair as he stood up, using his full strength to chase his orgasm.

You sniffled, gagging over his cock. A white ring of spit accumulating around his length from all the choking. Your mouth was covered in drool as well as chin, streams of precum mixed with saliva going down.

Martin’s balls throbbed and his pace fastened, fucking your throat like it was a cunt. You felt a stinging sensation spread in your knees from how long you'd been kneeling on the floor. His stomach was taut and his thrusts grew slightly slow — hinting at his upcoming arousal.

Loud groans and gagging sounds filled the whole of classroom. “Fucking whore. On her knees just to g-get good grades. How desperate can you be.”

Martin was a mess. His forehead was sweaty and then after a harsh thrust in your tight throat, he finally released inside your cum. Though that didn't last long as he pulled out halfway, shooting ropes of cum all over your face. You closed your eyes as the warm liquid stained your face wet.

You breathed like you'd ran a fucking marathon. Shallow breaths being inhaled while Martin stared at you, admiring how his climax covered your cheek. You reached to swipe it off your face, sticking your fingers into your mouth to suck them clean.

“You look fucking pretty like this.” He praised, running his hand over your messy hair.

Your cheeks warmed up. “I-Is that enough? Will you fix my grades now, sir?”

He tilted his head, contemplating you. Lost in complete dilemma before he came to a conclusion. Martin didn't waste time lifting you up from the floor and you yelped — bemused by this abrupt action. He set you over the desk and smiled, causing his smile lines to appear.

“I can't let you go this easily, pretty girl. I need more now.” You blinked and stared at him, knowing what he was hinting at. You'd sucked him dry, there was no way he could regain his strength this quickly but when your gaze lowered and you caught onto his cock hardening, you realised his age did not work as restraints to his desires.

Martin took a step back. “Open your legs, show me that pretty cunt of yours.”

“Sir but you—”

“You want to fail?” He asked, brow raised. Deep voice hiding a threat underneath and you shuddered at the unexpected change of tone.

You nodded your head, face flushed and hair sticking to your skin. Parting open your thighs, you revealed your sticky panties and Martin’s chest rumbled with a primal growl at the sight. Your panties had a wet spot and that only worked to heighten his arousal for you.

His large hands held you open, staring at how your cunt produced more and more essence of desire. Your thighs shuddered when his knuckles caressed them, his hands tugging off your panties and slipping them inside his pocket.

“But..” You complained at the perverted action of your teacher.

Martin grinned at you. “Sh, I might need them for later when my cock becomes hard at the memory of being inside your little pussy.”

Martin didn't even care to prep you. He only held his cock in his hand and rubbed his tip up and down your moist puffy cunt. Then he entered you and the stretch of your pussy made you arch your back. Your palms gripped on the edge of the table as you whimpered.

You were all over the place.

Embarrassment crept up your body like vines when you registered the situation you were in.

Willing to sleep with your older teacher only to achieve good grades. If your parents were to find out, they would look down upon you and you'd probably be expelled from your university but none of that mattered.

You needed good grades and this was the only way.

“Fuck— you've got such a tight little cunt, baby.” Martin moaned, entering you till he's pelvis had pressed up yours. Soft little whimpers escaped you when you were filled to the brim. “I'm gonna fuck you, gonna dumb you down on my cock.”

You sniffled, a lone tear sliding down.

Martin leaned in and captured your lips in a kissing, licking and sucking at yours. A hungry kiss it was but it made your cunt throb around his hard cock.

He started to pull out, only to thrust back inside you with vigor. His hips snapped repeatedly, finally losing all sense of control.

Martin’s hands held your hips, digging into them as he drove himself into the warmth of your sweet cunt. He was fucking hysterical, each thrust delivered with passion and driven by need.

Crying out from pleasure and ecstasy, your body jerked upon feeling his cock nestle into your sweet spot. You reached for his sweaty nape, wrapping both arms around it for support. The desk underneath you quaked whenever Martin would snap his cock into you.

“S-Sir, oh my god. Sir please, someone might h-hear.” You sobbed uncontrollably from the unbridled lust.

Martin brought his hand upto your face and shoved his fingers into your mouth, pressing along your wet tongue. You choked a little but allowed him to shove his fingers down your throat, tips brushing against the palate of your mouth.

“Keep quiet, yeah? Don't want anyone to know you're getting fucked by your teacher for some high grades.” Martin shushed you, staring at you with pure lust swimming in his gaze.

You kept your thighs apart, abdomen shivering from your upcoming climax and your fingernails dug into Martin’s nape, scratching at the skin. He hissed and the pain only increased his strength, thrusting harshly inside you.

You squeezed your eyes shut, your release pounding at your taut stomach and with a loud cry you came all over Martin’s cock. He didn't give you any time to calm down, instead seeing how beautiful you looked when you made a mess on his cock only made him fuck you harder.

He grabbed your leg and pulled it up to his shoulder, leaning down and pressing his body firmly against yours. Martin dug himself deeper inside your tight cunt, as it clamped down on him and the man felt like you would snap him in half.

“You'll fucking cut my dick in half, baby. Relax a little, yeah? I'm close, so fucking close.” He reassured you, pressing onto your stomach to feel his cock push up against your cervix. His length grazing your walls.

He buried his face in your neck, digging his teeth into your skin. Tainting the unmarked canvas of a skin with red and blue.

Martin’s hips stuttered as he felt himself near, soon spilling inside you. His load heavy and filling you up to the brim. Thankfully you were on birth control so it didn't really matter but the feeling of his cum inside you made you twitch.

He pumped into you, emptying himself inside you for the second time but in your puffy cunt. You'd buried your head in his chest and Martin let you, finally getting what he needed from you.

He pulled out from you after you both had calmed down and caught a breath and you whimpered at the loss of contact. The blonde watched your gaping hole release his seed in drops, trailing down and making a mess on his wooden desk.

“Such a pretty, swollen cunt.” He whispered, shoving his cum back inside with his long fingers.

Your walls had grown extremely sensitive and you let out a whine when he did that. His tan skin glistened with sweat, making it appear gold like to the gaze. Hair a mess, similar to yours and his flannel shirt crinkled up. Martin fixed your skirt, pulling it down over your thighs and you realized he had fucked you in your skirt, which made this rendezvous even more hotter.

Your face flushed and sweaty, lips swollen and eyes watery.

Martin wanted to take a picture of how fucked out you looked. But he didn't — it would only cause problems if he was ever caught. Especially by his wife.

“W-Will you fix my grades now?” You asked, once you'd ran a hand through your hair and slid off the table. Lower body barely having any strength to support the upper one.

When you looked up at Martin, your eyes still held remnants of your innocence and he nearly swooned.

He nodded, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips. “With how well you took my cock, I'll fucking give you the highest grade.”

You smiled, pleased with the result. This was all you ever wanted. To pass and not be a failure and knowing your teacher’s weakness made it a whole lot easier for you.

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