#and said “You're going to sweat your balls off” | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

heartshapedmisery · 1 month

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𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐧 𝐮𝐩 | art donaldson

summary ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ art is your tennis coach, but after he tells you to "loosen up" a bit, you're not sure if your boundaries are strictly professional anymore.

warnings ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ MINORS DNI ! ( 18+ ) | language, graphic smut, unprotected sex ( wrap it before u tap it y'all ), soft!dom!art, sub!reader, sexual tension, art gives reader a massage, praise kink, p in v sex, fingering, if i missed anything, please let me know!

word count ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ 3.2k +

pairing ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ standford!art donaldson x fem!stanford!reader

author’s note ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ saw challengers the other day .... its all i can think about rn so i made a fic! hope u enjoy! also i know nothing about physical therapy so if this makes no sense I'm sorry

publishing date ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ may 5th, 2024 | © HEARTSHAPEDMISERY

tags ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ @madnessandobsession @hashtagtobefuckinghonest @mitskilover23

A bead of sweat rolled down your temple as your feet carried you quickly across the tennis court, your eyes refusing to leave the bright yellow ball that was coming towards you from the opposite side of the net.

"Keep your eye on the ball, sweetheart!" Art barked, a few blonde strands of his hair falling in his eyes as he watched you simply miss the ball once again.

The nickname caught you off guard, dismantling your focus and causing you to falter your movements. Your arm swung out far enough, but your racket was just below the ball, allowing it to fly right over it and hit the concrete behind you. A tinge of pain seared through your right shoulder, making you wince.

"Shit!" You grumbled in annoyance, your eyes refusing to meet Art's since you knew he would scold you for your miss.

You threw the racket in your hand down at your feet, irritated that you hadn't kept the ball going back and forth between you and Art for more than 2 times in your last 5 tries.

Your mind was somewhere else; normally you were a beast on the court, dominating your competition (all thanks to Art). Today, not so much.

"What was that, the 6th time?" Art scoffed, waving his racket about in the air. "What's wrong with your shoulder?" he pointed his racket in your direction, a look of concern written on his face.

You didn't answer him, walking off the court over to the bench and grabbing your water bottle. He followed you, taking the bottle from your hand when you were done and squirting the liquid into his mouth. Your eyes watched him carefully, following the water droplets as a few fell from the corner of his mouth.

"You're tense, I can see it all over you when you're moving around out there," he said, motioning to your shoulders and neck. Your eyes caught the way his polo clung to his toned chest, sweat starting to seep through from his constant movement.

"I'm fine," you told him, shrugging his words off. "Just a little distracted, is all."

A lopsided grin cracked across his face, not buying your excuses.

"Come here," he motioned for you to move towards him, which you hesitantly responded to before walking to him. Carefully, his hands grabbed your shoulders and spun you around, your back meeting his front harsher than you had expected.

Your heartbeat quickly picked up, the feeling of his hands on your bare shoulders felt hot and heavy on your skin.

This wasn't the first time Art has caught you off guard like this. You had noticed over the past few months how touchy he could be, whether he was correcting your form or bidding you good job after a match with a rub on the back.

And no matter how much you denied it, you couldn't help but love every second of it. Despite being your coach, he had an effect on you that no one else did. He drove you wild, but of course, he never realized that.

At least, you thought he didn't.

"Your shoulders are very tight, especially your right one. That's why you're not getting a lot of movement," he spoke softly in your ear, his fingers running up the sides of your arms before finally gripping your shoulders. His fingers squeezed your flesh gently, burning against your skin enough to make you let out a sigh he undoubtedly heard.

"You need to loosen up a little bit, sweetheart. All this stress is messing you up, and we can't have that." his voice was smooth and sultry, a total contrast to what it had been only moments before on the court.

His fingers kneaded at the muscles at the top of your back, working out all of the kinks and knots that inhabited your shoulders. Your eyes quickly fell shut as you leaned into his touch, getting lost in the feeling of his hands on you.

"Ah," you breathed out, the feeling of his thumb reaching a spot that unraveled the tension in your right shoulder. "Right there."

You couldn't see it, but a wide smile bloomed across his face at your words, his thumb moving to massage the muscle deeper than before. You let out a breath groan, which (as much as he hated to admit it) indubitably went straight to his lower half.

He didn't expect you to be so responsive to his touch. It surprised him, but that didn't mean he was opposed to it.

"Yeah?" He breathed. "Does that feel better?"

He knew exactly what he was doing, even though you were so oblivious to his shenanigans.

"Yes," you groaned, allowing your head to fall back slightly. You breathed in deeply as he continued his work at your muscles, watching you revel in the relief at the top of your back.

To anyone else, his actions only looked like a coach helping his player work out an injury. But to you and Art, this was months of tension finally boiling over. The way his hands worked across your skin, the pleasurable sighs you let out. It was the two of you crossing a boundary you had never expected to abandon.

"Art!" a voice sounded from the opposite side of the court, making your eyes snap open. His hands stopped their movements, but he didn't remove them from your shoulders as he looked over his shoulder at whoever was trying to get his attention.

It was Mike, the Athletic Director at Stanford.

"Mike," he stated, greeting him with a nod. His voice almost sounded disappointed, not appreciating that he had interrupted the two of you. "What can I do you for?"

His hands finally left your shoulders, your skin feeling dull and light from their wake. You quickly snapped yourself back to reality, brushing away the hot feeling in your chest as you watched the exchange between Art and Mike.

"I just have some paperwork for you to fill out for the semester," he said, "Won't take long."

You watched Art's expression lighten, giving him a slight nod before agreeing to meet him in his office and Mike dismissing himself from the court.

Your gaze met Art's as he turned back to grab his gym bag off the bench and slung it over his shoulder. You watched him carefully, before taking your own bag off the bench.

"Put some ice on that shoulder," he pointed to your right side as he slipped his Ray Bans onto his face to shield his eyes from the sun. "I'll come check on it later, okay?"

You nodded, your mind already racing at the thought. You watched him as he walked away from your view, a feeling of excitement and confusion bubbling in your chest.

You didn't see him again until after lunch. You had been wandering around your small apartment in nothing but a tank top and pajama shorts (due to the blistering California heat outside) with a bag of ice taped around your shoulder, trying to keep your mind occupied until Art arrived.

Your afternoon classes had been canceled so you decided to take it easy at home, trying to keep your arm relaxed as much as possible.

When you heard a simple knock at your door, the feeling from earlier that morning had returned, rising in your chest and making your neck hot at the thought of him. He stood nonchalantly at your door when you swung it open, greeting him with a warm smile.

"Hey," you said, moving out of the way to let him in. He sent you a small smile back, following you into your tiny living room.

"How's the shoulder?" he rasped, taking a look at the ice pack on your arm that was starting to leak.

"Pretty good, hasn't really changed much. Still a little sore, though." you told him honestly, still confused as to why you had tweaked it so bad.

"Mind if I take a look at it?" he asked, gently running his hand up the side of your arm. The sensation sent chills down your spine as you nodded simply. He had to stop doing that or else you were going to go crazy.

"Here, sit down between my legs with your back towards me," he motioned to the couch, sitting behind you before moving to remove the athletic tape from the ice pack. You could feel his warmth behind you, his breath hot against your shoulder as he peered at your injury.

Your breath hitched as you felt his finger hook under the right strap of your tank top, your head turning slightly to catch his eye.

"Do you mind if I move this down?" he asked gently, eager to make sure you were okay with him touching you like this. You nodded, a little quicker than you had anticipated.

"Yeah, that's fine," you breathed, before turning back around. Carefully, he pulled the strap down, exposing your bare shoulder to him. Your eyes fluttered shut at the feeling of his calloused hands against your smooth skin, his fingers slowly beginning to knead at your muscles.

"I feel a lot of tension here still," he told you, his hand gently moving to raise your arm up slightly over your head. You felt a pop in your joints, an instant feeling of relief washing through your shoulder. A breathy moan escaped your lips at the movement, grateful that it felt better already.

"Shit," you breathed, thankful for his skillful hands. "That feels good."

Art let out a breathy laugh, making your heart swell. "Lean back against me, I want to try something."

You followed his instructions, your back meeting his toned chest, sinking into his embrace. The smell of his cologne invaded your senses, making you sigh.

Carefully, he wrapped his arm around your collarbone, his left hand laying flat against the front of your shoulder while his right hand gripped the back of your bicep where your arm met your shoulder.

His hands were slow and gentle but still had you unwinding more with each movement. His left hand gently pushed your shoulder back as his right pushed your arm forward, earning another pop in your joints.

"Oh my god," you groaned under your breath, your hand subconsciously moving to grip his muscular forearm without realizing it.

"That's it, sweetheart," he cooed in your ear as you let out a sigh of relief. "Does that feel better?"

'So much better," you told him honestly, still holding onto his arm. Your eyes quickly fell down to it, an idea circling in your mind before your hand slowly began to move. He watched you carefully, his eyes following your freshly manicured hand moved to settle over his, before carefully moving his hand down your chest.

"But I think I'm still a little tense, Art," you breathed, biting your lip as his fingers ghosted over your hardened nipple before you moved it down further to your abdomen. His mind finally caught on to what you were trying to get at, a sly smirk cracking across his face.

"Could you help me?" you whispered, settling his hand on your lower stomach, dangerously close to where you wanted him most.

He didn't respond, his hand simply moving from underneath yours and allowing his fingers to slip underneath the waistband of your skimpy shorts, your breath hitching. He moved his free hand from your arm and down to your thigh, gently spreading them apart.

You felt him exhale a deep breath, before finally answering your request. "Of course. Anything to help my star player."

His fingers broke the barrier of your panties just as the words left his mouth, dipping into your soaked core without warning. You let out a moan as his lips pressed gentle kisses to your bare shoulder before moving up your neck and settling just below your ear.

His middle and ring fingers played at your clit, rubbing it gently before dipping back into you, curling his fingers inside of you sweetly.

A moan sounded from your plump lips, your head falling back on his shoulder. Your hand gripped his bicep as he continued to give you what you wanted, writhing in pleasure at his movements.

You could feel his hard-on press into your back as you sunk into his embrace, turning you on even more.

"How does that feel, baby?" he rasped, kissing your temple as he could feel you beginning to unravel on his fingers. "Is this what you wanted?"

You whimpered, biting your lip as you nodded your head. "Yes!"

As his fingers moved quickly inside of you, you felt his free hand wrap around your torso before moving up to your chest, his fingers ghosting over your hardened nipple.

"Please, Art," you whimpered, so close to your high. He took your words as a sign to keep going and allowed his fingers to fondle your breast, which sent you over the edge.

"Fuck, I'm-" you whined, your words caught dead in your throat as your orgasm washed over you, a defeated moan sounding from your chest.

He was mesmerized as he watched you, the way your head kicked back against his chest and you gripped his thigh as you came down from your climax. The pure ecstasy was seeping from you, and it drove him wild that he brought you to this state.

Carefully, he removed his fingers from your soaked core, bringing them to his mouth before sucking them clean. Your head snapped around to watch him, going feral at the way he reveled at the taste of you. You couldn't tear your eyes away from him.

Your hands cupped the sides of his head, your fingers running through his blonde locks of hair. His eyes fell on your wet, plump lips before he smashed his own against them without warning.

A whine of approval sounded from the back of your throat, your body quickly crawling into his lap, straddling him as you sunk deeper into the kiss. His hands ran up the sides of your thighs before settling on the flesh of your ass, squeezing it as he held your core down against his hard-on.

His lips finally pulled away from yours, both of you out of breath as you met each other's gaze once again. He was quick to attack your neck, leaving sloppy and wet kisses all over your skin as he rocked your hips over his erection for any sort of release he could get.

Your fingers tugged at the hair at the nape of his neck, earning a low groan to sound from his chest, which went straight to your core. You were growing impatient, pulling away from him in order to tug your tank top over your head. His eyes fell to your bare chest, a look of pure lust haunting them.

You quickly stood up from his lap to remove your shorts along with your underwear, giving him the opportunity to rid himself of his clothes as well. Your eyes nearly bugged out of your head as his hard-on slapped against his lower stomach once he pulled his boxers off, his tip reddened and already leaking with precum.

"Come here, baby," he said soothingly, his hands pulling you back into his lap once more, your bare chest flush with his. Your faces were inches apart, your lips parted as you watched him reach between your bodies and grasp his cock, slowly giving it a few pumps before he aligned himself with your core.

You raised your hips a little, hovering over him to allow him to guide himself into you, a deep moan ripping from your chest when you finally sank down on him.

"Fuck," he groaned, the feeling of your wet core overriding his senses. You stretched around him so sweetly, taking him so well he couldn't help but moan.

Your hands settled comfortably on his shoulders, using them to help stabilize yourself as you began to rock your hips into a steady motion. You couldn't help but bite your lip, unable to keep your moans from falling out of your mouth.

He filled you to the brim, reaching a part of you deep inside that had never fully been satisfied. It made you ecstatic; you couldn't get enough of him.

"Fuck me, Art," you moaned, pulling at the hair at the nape of his neck. "Fuck me hard."

He let out a shaky breath at your bluntness but obeyed you nonetheless. His hands gripped your hips roughly before he began a steady pace of fucking up into you, making you reel your head back in pleasure.

"Look at you, taking me so well," he moaned in between whimpers of pleasure, gripping your hips harder as he quickened his thrusts. You were a blubbering mess at this point, your head falling to the crook of his shoulder to muffle your cries.

His arm wrapped around your torso to keep you steady, his free hand moving to rake through your hair and pull your head back up to meet his gaze. He watched you intently as tears formed in your eyes, your orgasm not too far away.

"So pretty," he cooed, cupping your face. "All for me, right?"

"I'm yours, Art," you whimpered, clawing at his bicep as you felt yourself tipping over the edge. "All yours. Fuck, I'm close!"

Your moans were like music to his ears, sounding so melodic as your eyes fluttered shut in lust. With a few quick final thrusts, your second orgasm washed over you, making you writhe with pleasure as a nearly pornographic moan ripped from your chest.

He gripped your hips as he stilled his movements, his eyes intently watching you as your face contorted with your climax. He nearly came at the sight, letting out a shaky moan as you slumped back against him, completely fucked out.

"Fuck," you breathed, looking up at him as he panted heavily, a lazy smile on his face.

Suddenly, you remembered he hadn't come yet, and your body was already sliding off of him and sinking to your knees between his legs before you could even think otherwise.

"Wait, no you don't have to-" he assured you as he sat up, but you were already shushing him and taking him into your hand, gently pumping him as you gripped his thigh for leverage.

His eyes were blown out with lust as he watched you jerk him off, relaxing into your touch as a whimper escaped his throat. You looked so sexy sitting in between his legs, so eager to help him reach his climax. It didn't take long before he was letting out a guttural groan and painting your chest with his release.

His chest heaved up and down as he pulled himself back together, taking in your appearance before him. He never wanted to forget you like this; your face flushed and dewey with sweat from the orgasm he had just given you.

"Sorry, baby," he breathed, sitting up to grab your tank top and wipe you clean with it. You sent him a small smile, thankful for the gesture before you got back on the couch next to him and curled into his side. He grabbed the blanket that was hanging over the back of the couch and laid it over the two of you, trying to make you as comfortable as possible.

The sudden realization that you had just fucked your tennis coach began to seep into your brain as you felt the warmth of his skin on yours, goosebumps running down your spine at the thought.

Fuck, this was going to make for an interesting practice tomorrow. . .

#art donaldson #art donaldson smut #mike faist #challengers #scarlet was here!#mike faist smut

3K notes · View notes

haeryna · 5 months

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the purest shade of white ↪ okkotsu yuuta x reader ⸙͎｡˚⋆ 𓋼

summary: yuuta looks almost like an angel, you think to yourself grimly, as you shift on the balls of your feet. you haven't seen your best friend in a couple years now, not since he left for africa. too bad he's attempting to kill the kouhai that you're trying to protect.

tw: manga spoilers! anime watchers, do not read. mild angst but happy ending. starts at the beginning of ch. 139. naoya zenin is here and he is his classic asshole self. reader is in the same grade as yuuta, both in age and in terms of cursed energy. swearing because reader is a bad bitch. mildly suggestive. unironic use of "senpai" and "kouhai." slight descriptions of blood and injury, everyone is subjected to the author's attempts at writing dialogue and fight scenes. not proofread but at this point that shouldn't be a surprise. it is blatantly obvious that the writer also does not know how to end stories

notes: thank you for 100 new friends! :) poll is technically still up but i'm impatient and yuuta was winning by a pretty decent margin so here it is lol. divider by @/saradika-graphics!

"Yuuji!" you yelp, slicing the head off a curse with a clean stroke of your katana. Purple ichor splatters to the ground as you whirl, searching for the familiar head of pink hair. "Stay close to me!"

Behind you, Choso grunts with exertion, sending out another bolt of Piercing Blood. Panting, you weave through the curses, letting their corpses fall behind you. Yuuji, where is Yuuji?

As the last body falls, you can't but let out an exasperated huff at the sheepish grin on Yuuji's face. "Don't scare me like that," you chide. "How am I supposed to protect you if I can't even find you?" Yuuji opens his mouth to protest but you shake your head. "I made a promise," you tell him, pain rippling through your heart dully. Gojo-sensei was long gone, stolen away by one of the people he had loved most in the world. Grimacing, you sheathe your katana, mindful of the blood that stains your palms, as you try to ignore the memory of his words all those months ago.

If anything happens, I need you to protect Itadori Yuuji. I know they're going to pull something on him once I'm not there to back him up.

"Senpai, what should-"

Yuuji immediately tenses as your hand flies to the grip of your katana. "I smell a rat," you mutter, nose wrinkling as you turn to face Naoya Zenin, standing atop a bridge. He bares his teeth at you in semblance of a smile. "How perceptive as always," he mocks.

"Cut the bullshit," you snap, hand still resting on the pommel. "What do you want?"

"Fushiguro Megumi," is his rather bland response, and you shift your feet into the opening steps of Flowing River.

"What do you want with Fushiguro?" Yuuji yells, and the way Naoya's face twists makes you want to vomit.

"I think I'll have him die."

Cursed energy fills your body as you leap. Naoya's resounding cackle burns through your ears as you swing, barely grazing his shoulder. Before you can push forward off your feet, a heavy presence rests on your shoulders, locking you in place. All four of you freeze. Yuuji and Choso look horrified, and Naoya looks as though he's broken out into a cold sweat. But you know this feeling, feel it settle back into your body as if it never left.

Okkotsu Yuuta steps out from the building ledge, dark eyes unreadable. Your body sings. Yuuta, Yuuta, Yuuta! His hair has grown longer, bangs sweeping over his forehead, eyebags a little darker than they used to be. You can feel Rika's presence, swirling around you in a mass of death and decay. You're used to it. You've grown to crave it, even. His eyes meet yours, and for a split second, his facade cracks. Confusion, fear, and...regret?

Yuuta leaps, slamming into concrete and sending shockwaves deep into your bones. "Who's with Itadori?" God, even his voice is different, so different from the boy who said goodbye to you so long ago. You open your mouth to speak, but Choso beats you to it, brows furrowed.

"So you're Yuuji's executioner."

Blood turns to ice in your veins, and you can tell by the pained expression Yuuta has that you aren't hiding your emotions as well as you think you are. Naoya laughs. "I was going to tell you that, but you were being too emotional like the bitch you are."

"Who're you?"

Yuuta's voice is cold, but as Naoya babbles on, you can feel the horror settle thickly into your chest. Choso and Yuuji are talking behind you but it feels like you're underwater, you're sinking, drowning, and Yuuta must have come to a conclusion because all of a sudden he's surging forward-

You move before you can even think, steel clashing against steel. "Yuuji," you say, through gritted teeth. "Run."

A horrible grating noise fills the air as you let cursed energy flow through your body, shoving Yuuta's sword away from yourself. "I won't let you kill him," you hiss, body already shifting into Jagged Bolt. Yuuta's eyes flash as you surge forward, katana in hand.

"How would you describe my cursed technique?" you had asked Gojo, mindlessly swinging your feet. Gojo hums.

"Have you ever heard of Newton's Law's of Motion?"

You had crinkled your nose at that. "No?"

"An object in motion, stays in motion. Except you are the object. And your cursed energy is the motion." You remember how Gojo's lips curved slightly. "In other words, once you start, nobody can stop you."

You're crying, you realize with a start, as you cut a line into Yuuta's chest. Moisture seeps from your eyes as you twist your forearm into a parry, katanas sparking with each strike. Belatedly, you sense that Yuuji, your foolish, stupid, loyal kouhai has stayed, trading strikes with his fists between the precise movements of your blade. Your heart drops as Yuuta reaches for the ring on his finger.

No. No!

He twists it, and Rika appears behind you. Claws sink into your shoulder and you let out a cry of pain as she flips you into the ground.

"Be nice, Rika," Yuuta chides, as you hit the concrete. Blood spurts from your mouth as you choke, fingers clawing at the ground desperately for your katana. A piece of scaffolding is practically crushing your legs; instinctively, you know that if you try to break through it, you'll tear your limbs right off.

As Rika holds Yuuji up, you lunge desperately, uncaring of what you have to sacrifice. Inumaki's arm, the way half of Nobara's face had been practically ripped out of her skull, the remains of Nanami-san, the way that you were the one to find Maki's charred body-

I can't lose anyone else.

You scream as Yuuta pierces Yuuji's chest with his katana, cursed energy building in your legs as you prepare to shoot forward. Yuuta turns, eyes filled with an unidentifiable emotion as he sees you about to tear yourself in half just to reach Yuuji.

With a wave of his hand, Rika dives for you, and everything goes dark.

Yuuta had known you were special from the day he'd first met you. That spring, when Gojo-sensei had dropped him (and Rika) into a class of unsuspecting first years, he remembers that out of the four of them, you had moved so gracefully that he hadn't processed the katana in your hand until you'd pressed it against your throat.

"Gojo-sensei," you'd hissed. "What is this?"

While Maki, Inumaki, and Panda had been subsequently bruised up by Rika, you had dodged every single one of her movements until Rika had been (barely) called back by Yuuta.

"Another Special Grade," Gojo had hummed. "Just like you, hm?"

Special Grade?

What he hadn't realized then, he realized later; you weren't just special to him, but to the entire rest of the Jujutsu World as well. Special Grade Sorcerers were rare, Maki had told him. "You only have it because of Rika," she'd scoffed, "but she deserves it."

You quickly became one of his closest friends. You were fast enough to dodge Rika's ire, even laughing whenever she tried. You'd shown Yuuta kindness that he didn't think he deserved. You broke him out of his shell enough so that when he left for Africa, he felt as though he was standing with his own strength. His first katana had been the sister blade of your own, forged from the same metal by the same hands. The way your eyes had lit up when you saw it was a memory he cherished.

Somberly, Yuuta eyes the chains encasing your wrists and ankles, each decorated with the slips of protective paper that would nullify your cursed energy. Most sorcerers required only one. You required at least twenty.

He knows you, knows the way you always take the strawberry daifuku, leaving him the red bean ones even though he knows you prefer the red bean. He knows that you push yourself hard, harder than he's ever seen anyone work. But most of all, he knows your loyalty, how once your heart finally lets someone in, you'll never let them go.

Did you miss him like he missed you?

The chains are more for your own protection. He needs you to hear him out before you attempt to end his life for a second time. Yuuta knows now that Gojo must have asked you the same thing he'd asked him; to keep Itadori Yuji safe from the whims of the higher ups. Gojo, being the forgetful bastard he was, probably didn't alert you to the fact that he'd gone to Yuuta for help as well. Crouching, Yuuta eyes your body with a sad tilt of his lips. The injuries you'd sustained were immense, and it had taken quite a bit of his own cursed energy to reverse.

Will you forgive him?

You're asleep, breath hitching every so often. Yuuta wonders what you're dreaming of, before pushing the thought away. Tenderly, he cups your face in the palm of his hand, calloused fingers stroking your cheek.

"You need to wake up now," he murmurs, as your eyes flutter open, first in dazed confusion, before sharpening into panic.

"I'll miss you!" you'd cried, as you clung to Yuuta under the shade of the large oak. You were the first person he had told about his departure to Africa, and you took it hard. Yuuta had stood frozen as the first of your tears had dripped down your cheeks. It was the first time he'd seen you cry.

"I'll be back before you know it," he'd murmured, pressing a featherlight kiss to the top of your head. You'd looked up to him, eyes teary.

"Promise?"

"I promise," he'd said, interlocking his pinky with your own. A love like Yuuta's is a dangerous thing, you know, but in this moment you feel nothing but safe.

The first sensation you feel upon awakening is the dull ache in your (miraculously still attached) legs. The second is the warmth on your cheek. Yuuta is standing above you, hand gently resting against your face. Immediately you lunge forward, teeth bared. The rattle of chains stops you, and you swear. Of course he would have taken precautions. Yuuta looks almost hurt as you violently shake off his touch.

"Don't touch me, I swear to god I'm going to rip you apart."

Yuuta says your name sadly, but you're practically trembling with rage.

"He was just a kid, with the kind of power we wield, why the fuck would you listen to the higher ups?"

Yuuta echoes your name a bit more firmly, but you ignore him, tears building in your eyes.

"You're no better than the rest of them are you, you're just-"

"Senpai!"

Your heart stops as Yuuji pokes his head out from around the corner. They must have brought you back to Jujutsu Tech, you think distractedly. Just how long were you out?

"Yuuji!" you cry out, scanning his body for any injuries. He seems to be uninjured, but most importantly, he's alive. Tears fall down your cheeks. "Are you alright?"

Yuuji appears horrified by the sudden outburst as he hastily holds up his hands. "I'm fine, senpai, really, I'm sorry for worrying you. Okkotsu-san is actually on our side, I swear! It was a binding vow, that's why he had to actually kill me, but he did some really cool Reverse Technique shit and I'm all good now!"

Warily, you eye Yuuta, whose expression resembles that of a kicked puppy. "Okkotsu Yuuta," you say, voice hard. "Let me out of these chains right fucking now."

With a wave of his hand, the papers attached to the chains fall to the floor. Yuuta looks dejected as he looks away from you. "I'm so sor-"

Before he can finish you immediate tackle him into a hug, knocking the both of you into the floor as you bury your face into the soft slope of his neck. "You're such an idiot," you sob, unable to hide the rush of emotions going through you. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Tentatively, Yuuta wraps his arms around you, and you melt, pressing yourself closer to his body. "To be honest, I think Gojo-sensei is to blame. I think he forgot to mention to either of us that he asked us to do the exact same thing."

You let out a hiccupping laugh. "Of course he did. That forgetful asshole."

The sigh Yuuta lets out is shaky as he nuzzles the top of your head. "I'm so, so sorry," he tells you earnestly. "I must have scared you, and Rika's mad at me for making me hurt you like that. I think she likes you, even though she pretends not to."

You look up at him, really look at him, and see the look of adoration in his eyes as he stares back down at you. Thankfully Yuuji's escaped long ago, most likely understanding that you two would need privacy. "You came back," you whisper, and Yuuta's resulting smile makes your heart skip a beat.

"I promised you, didn't I?"

Before you can stop yourself, you pull Yuuta down for a searing kiss. He's so soft, and you nip at the plush of his bottom lip teasingly, pulling a whine from his throat. His large hands grip your hips, and in retaliation, you grab a fistful of his hair and tug. The breathy noise he makes goes straight between your thighs. You know he can feel your smile against his lips.

"I missed you," you breathe, pulling away. Yuuta looks dazed, lips kiss swollen, pupils so dilated that you can barely see the soft brown of his eyes.

"I love you," he blurts out, and your resulting laugh is airy as you press another chaste kiss to his lips.

"I've always loved you, Yuuta," you admit. "During Shibuya, I thought I wasn't going to make it. You were the only thing keeping me going."

The look in his eyes is fierce as he tugs you back into him, enveloping you in his arms. "You'll never have to worry about that again. You have my entire life. Where you go, I'll follow, and if I die, not even Death would be able to separate me from your side."

"Those sound a lot like wedding vows, don't you think?"

Yuuta's blush covers his entire face and you grin, pressing one last kiss to his lips. "Come on now. We have kids we need to protect."

As Yuuta leads you to where the others have convened, even under the dark circumstances you're in, the warmth of his hand clutching yours fills you with a giddiness you hadn't experienced in months. The sentiment is quickly dashed as soon as Maki opens her mouth.

"Fucking finally. Inumaki owes me 3,000 yen."

#haerinwrites #jjk x reader #jjk x reader angst #jjk x reader fluff #jjk angst #jjk fluff #yuta x reader #yuuta x reader #yuta okkotsu x reader #yuuta okkotsu x reader #i'm actually maki with the fucking finally #i love friends to lovers !!

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angelplummie · 1 month

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art humping your thigh while you're too busy analyzing his recent matches <33

mhm. u sit with your laptop in bed while art kisses your neck. he’s supposed to be watching too but he’s sleepy, he doesn’t wanna watch anymore, he wants to feel. he presses his lips to the base of your neck, just above your collar bone. you tilt your jaw up to allow his way with you, but you keep your eyes trained on the screen.

“you kept missing on thursday because you centre yourself to the left just a bit. he always hit it to the right and you had to scramble.”

“mm.”

his voice reverberated in your throat as his lips stayed against you.

“i don’t know if you’re playing this guy again, but it’s something to keep in mind.”

“ok.”

he moves over you, shifting his weight till both of his legs are either side of one of yours. he holds your shoulder like a child holds a teddy bear.

his head nestles into your neck, his hair tickles your chin, and you sigh.

“art im trying to help you. they’re fucking you. i don’t want to watch my husband get fucked on the court.”

“can you help me somewhere else?”

you readjust so you can see the laptop better, and kiss his scalp.

“help yourself.”

on the video, art lunges forward, his lean body extending as he grunts like a man and pounds the ball away. sweat pours from every pore on his forehead, chest, arms, and he shines in the sun. it cuts to his competitor, who grazes the ball with his racket to no avail.

in your bed, art presses down onto you, dragging himself backwards. he mewls, hoping to get more of your attention. instead of acknowledging him you pet his hair with a lazy wrist, eyes never leaving the screen. he was playing better now. he won the match after all, but it was still important to review his performance. if he got too comfortable he would start slipping. you needed him on a tight leash if he was going to keep crushing.

he rotates his hips, each time crushing your thigh with a force that must be painful to him. each layer of clothes that separated his flesh from yours slid against the other, the phantom of your touch driving him to desperation.

“you did well for this last set.”

“yeah?”

he pushed himself forward, and drew himself back raking his throbbing groin against your lower thigh. his breath shuddered on your chest. he was working up a rhythm, a dragging, quivering, breathless rhythm.

“yeah. no notes, donaldson.”

“hmm. thank you.”

“are you hard?”

“obviously.”

“i’m not helping you.”

“obviously.”

you laugh. you swirl your fingers in his cropped blonde hair.

“you can do it. i believe in you.”

he doesn’t reply, just groans. his knee was bent, and he held himself up ever so slightly so as to drive himself against you with the most force he could. in his shorts was a sticky, leaking cock, rubbed sensitive. in your panties was a wet, aching pussy. but one of you needed to think of his career.

on the video he sat down, a rest period, with his shirt off, leaning back with his legs spread.

“oh, fuck,” he said, teeth clenched.

you could feel the long thick imprint of his cock, and through all the fabric you could still feel it twitch. you sighed and closed the laptop as his humping quickened and his knee raised further between your legs. as he drove himself down upon you, he knocked his knee to the throbbing of your clit. you breathed deeply.

“you did a good job on thursday. i’m proud of you.”

“thank you. thank you.”

your hand moved to his back, tight from digging his fingers into your shoulder for purchase. he slammed his hips down, making a fwop fabric sounds. you grunted airily.

“that’s enough,” you breathed.

his hips stilled on top of you, pressed to you. he lifted his head, lips parted and cheekbones pink.

“you have a match tommorow. use it.”

#art donaldson smut #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson #challengers #challengers x reader #challengers smut #older art donaldson smut #30s art donaldson smut #edging kink #i’m going insane

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yuutx · 1 month

Text

ೀ ׅ ۫ . 𝐀𝐖𝐇, 𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐘 𝐁𝐎𝐘 ! (𝒞𝐻𝒪𝒮𝒪 𝒦𝒜𝑀𝒪)

choso kamo x f!reader ﾉ 18+ content. ﾉ nsfw ﾉ shibari ﾉ dacryphilia ﾉ multiple orgasms ﾉ dirty talk ﾉ spitting in his mouth ﾉ prostrate vibrator ( m ) ﾉ hair pulling ﾉ dirty talk ﾉ begging ﾉ msub + fdom ﾉ not proofread ! ૮꒰ྀི ´ ꒳ ` ྀི꒱ა

jjk manga spoliers : i was so upsetti when i saw choso died soo um . . in order 4 all of us choso lovers 2 take our minds off of it, here's a lil pick-me-up ! art credits go to @/n9c4z on danbooru ♡ + ↻ are rlly appreciated ! !

"Look at you, baby boy.. such a pretty little thing.." You cooed, running your fingertips up his thigh, stopping right below his ass, digging your nails into his flesh. Choso whimpered, his thighs trembling, his cheeks flushed a pretty shade of red. He was on his knees, his chest pressed against the floor, his wrists bound together behind his back, the ropes wrapped around his arms and chest, digging into his skin, creating pretty little indentations on his soft pale skin. His hair was a mess, tangled and sticking to his forehead, his lips parted as he panted, his eyes half-lidded, tears streaming down his face, soft sobs escaping his throat. You leaned over him, pressing a gentle kiss to his temple, before pulling back and giving his ass a sharp slap, a strangled moan leaving his mouth.

"Look at how wet you are.." You said softly, moving your hand between his legs, sliding your fingers over his slit, teasing the head of his cock, a whimper slipping past his lips. His cock was shiny and sticky with his own arousal, the tip glistening, the slit leaking precum. His balls were drawn up tight, the skin stretched taut. He was dripping onto the floor, his whole body trembling, his toes curling.

"So wet and messy for me.." You whispered, grabbing a handful of his ass, spreading his cheeks apart, admiring his tight little hole, the rim red, puffy and viably twitching, the muscles clenching and unclenching around the vibrator that was buried inside of him. You smiled, giving his ass another firm slap, before leaning forward and licking a stripe along his taint, feeling him shiver underneath you. "You're so beautiful like this, all tied up and spread out for me." You said, wrapping your fingers around the base of the vibrator, turning it up a few notches, watching his hole stretch around the toy as it began to buzz. "All mine to do with as I please.." You mused, grabbing his cock, giving it a rough tug, his body jerking in response, a broken moan leaving his lips. You slid your hand up his back, tangling your fingers into his hair, pulling his head up, forcing him to look at you, your grip tightening as you pulled harder.

Choso's eyes rolled back, his jaw slack, a stream of drool dribbling down his chin. He was a complete and utter mess, his hair matted, his face covered in a mixture of sweat and tears, his cheeks stained pink. He was shaking, his legs weak, barely able to hold himself up, his muscles strained and trembling, his entire body drenched in sweat. He was gasping, his breath ragged and labored, his lungs burning, his throat raw from the constant screaming and crying. He couldn't think straight, his mind clouded, his thoughts incoherent and jumbled, his vision blurred. He was barely able to string together a coherent thought, his words reduced to nothing more than incoherent whines and moans, his words slurred and sluggish, his tongue heavy in his mouth. "M-mm..mm-more, plea-please, please, pleaseplease.." he managed to choke out, his body convulsing as his balls constricted, a spurt of cum shooting out of his slit, landing on the floor. "I-I n-n-need t-t-to, mm, cum, p-please, pleasepleaseplease, need-t-to c-c-c-c-um.." He begged, his voice hoarse, his words trailing off, his eyes rolling back in his head, even more so when he felt gooey saliva land in his mouth, a gurgled moan leaving his throat as he swallowed the thick glob, his body shuddering.

You let go of his hair, pushing his face down into the ground, watching him sink to his knees, his ass raised high, the vibrator still buzzing, causing his legs to quiver and his hips to buck, his cock bouncing as it slapped against his stomach. He was a whimpering, sobbing mess, his body limp and pliable, his limbs unable to move, his mind hazy and fuzzy, his body feeling like it was on fire. He did his best to remain upright, his knees spreading further apart, his ass cheeks parting, the vibrator moving deeper inside of him, rubbing against his prostate, sending wave after wave of pleasure coursing through his veins. "Mmh, mommyyyy.. mommy, p-please.." Choso moaned, his voice muffled by the ground. He was so close to cumming, his cock throbbing, aching for release, his balls tightening, his stomach clenching, the pressure building and building, until finally he felt his cock swell, his orgasm hitting him hard, his hips bucking forward as he came, thick ropes of hot cum coating the floor beneath him, his cock pulsating and twitching. His body went slack, his legs giving out, his knees sliding across the ground, his arms limp at his sides, his entire body sagging, a long drawn out moan escaping his mouth, his voice hoarse, his throat raw.

The vibrator continued to hum inside of him, his hole clenching and unclenching around the toy, milking his prostate. Choso's hips moved involuntarily, his ass swaying from side to side, his body moving on its own, his cock already half hard, the tip still oozing precum. "H-hhm…mm.. turn it off..p-ple-ase.." he gasped, his voice raspy, his body twitching, his limbs tingling, his skin tingling. "P-pleas-e.. I-I can't…" He whimpered, his eyes fluttering shut, his head falling forward, his shoulders slumped. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his breathing erratic, his heart hammering inside his chest. He felt dizzy, the room spinning around him, his vision blurring. "M-mommy.. please.." He begged, his eyes snapping open, his mouth opening wide, a scream ripping from his throat, a fresh wave of tears falling from his eyes, his body writhing and thrashing on the ground, the vibrations intensifying as you turned it up further, the toy pressed firmly against his prostate. "N-ngh, no! S-sto-p! Hnn.. aaah.. n-no!" Choso cried out, his ass rippling, his body rocking forward, his knees sliding further apart, his head dropping down, his hands balling into fists, his nails digging into the flesh of his palms. "Mmmph, I-I can't.. hol..hold back-!" He sobbed, his legs tensing up, his spine curving, his toes curling, his teeth clamping down on his bottom lip. "I'm g-gonna.. c-c-cu-um! I'm gonna cu-um..! Mmm- Cumm-cumming again! Nnnhg.. mmn, fuck! Ffffuck!"

He was completely helpless, unable to control his body, the pleasure too intense, too overwhelming, his mind and body completely and utterly consumed by ecstasy, his nerves tingling, every muscle in his body screaming for release, his body writhing and twisting, his limbs jerking uncontrollably. His cock pulsated and throbbed, continuous spurts of pearly arousal shooting from his slit, the floor beneath him becoming slippery. He was making a mess everywhere, the puddle beneath him growing larger, his thighs and calves drenched. "Aaaah-ha.. ha-ahh.. ahnnn-h-haaah!" Choso wailed as he came down from his high, his cock pulsating and throbbing, the vibrator continuing to hum, the sound reverberating throughout the room, his ears ringing, his body shaking violently. "N-nggh, I c-c-can't h-hand-le it..!" He stuttered, his voice cracking, his vision blurred, tears streaming down his cheeks. He was panting heavily, a gasp of relief escaping his mouth as the vibrator was removed, his hole clenching and unclenching, a shudder rippling through his soul. His arms and legs were numb, his fingers tingling, his knees bruised from where he had been kneeling. "Oh.." he mumbled, his eyes fluttering shut, his heart rate slowing, his breathing evening out, a quiet sigh leaving his lips.

"Poor thing, you're absolutely filthy.." You tutted, running your fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp. Choso whined softly, his face heating up, his cheeks burning, a deep crimson flush covering his entire face. "So messy.." You added, trailing your fingertips down his back, tracing the outline of his spine, pressing down slightly. He flinched, a whimper escaping his mouth, his body tensing up. You leaned down, your breath hot against his ear. "I'll clean you up, don't worry.."

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peachigummi · 10 days

Text

finally! .☘︎ ݁˖ mattheo riddle.

summary: just silly little roommates, that "hate" each other. one of pansy's infamous drinks help loosen things up during slytherin game night.

pairing: mattheo x fem! reader

warnings: mostly fluff?, slight intoxication by a potion similar to amortentia? but like i said...it helps loosens up some tension...not to spoil but to provide the warning, ~sigh~ smut as in hand job, oral (giving), swallowing (would be a cum dumpster easy for this guy) fingering, unprotected p in v (bro just loves the pull out method...for now 🤭 just wait until he wants to be a father...go see my arranged marriage story for that HA!), implied aftercare.

note: just the type of thing you'll imagine when you're trying to fall asleep. a delulu scenario a day keeps the doctor away.

word count: 8.9k (it builds up to the smut alright!)

(slightly not really proofread…again)

reblogs & comments are begged for tbh. dont make me beg like how mattheo will be hehehehahhah

｡.｡:+* ﾟ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡:+* ﾟ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡.｡:+*ﾟ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡:+*ﾟ

You were at your bed, enjoying the quiet of the evening, until you felt the doorknob rattle before opening. You couldn’t help but take a deep breath and roll your eyes, it was at this point a natural reflex.

Mattheo walked in, decked out in his quidditch gear. He took off his gloves, tossing them on this desk. He glanced over at you, walking over and then leaning over your shoulder to see what you were reading.

You closed your book half way, keeping your finger in between to keep your place, you looked at him before turning to your side, “buzz off Riddle.” You opened the book again to continue reading.

Mattheo chuckled, raising an eyebrow, shaking his head. He took the book from your hand, closing it and placing it on the bedside table, “aww, is that how you say hi to your favorite roommate?~”

You scoff, and sit up to get your book from the table, “Hiii MaTthEooo” You say fakely, you looked him over, “I’m assuming you guys didn’t win? You would have been going out for drinks if you did.” You huffed.

Mattheo rolled his eyes at your sarcasm, crossing his arms over his chest and sighing.

“Yea, we didn’t win. The other team cheated anyway. But you’re right, Y/N, if we won I would’ve been out for a couple shots.” He smirked, sitting down at his bed, still looking at you.

“Too bad, so sad.” you made a fake crying look, using your balled up fists to your face to mock him, “go shower you stink. Like bad!” you plug your nose, opening your book once more. You wanted to get lost in the mystery romance you had been reading, you were almost finished.

Mattheo just gathered a fresh set of clothes and headed to the shared bathroom.

｡.｡:+* ﾟ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡:+* ﾟ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡.｡*ﾟ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡ﾟ

He later came out with just his sweats and was in the act of putting his shirt on, you couldn’t help but glance over at him. He was definitely toned, with nice biceps and forearms because of the sport. He noticed you looking at him, “My, my, were you just checkin’ me out?” he teased, he sat on his bed. He flexed his arms for you, winking.

“I wasn’t. It's just that you still look dirty.” It was all you could come up with, your eyes returned to the page in front of you but you couldn’t focus.

He laughed again, grinning like an idiot, he knew you weren’t staring at him because of that, he quickly went back to your bedside, snatching your book out of your hands, “dirty in what way, ~love?” He questioned jokingly, leaning forward over you with a smirk.

You groaned, grabbing one of your pillows to smack him in the face. He took a step back laughing. You reached over in your nightstand and took out some headphones, maybe if you were to play music you can tune mattheo out.

“That won’t work on me!” he loudly said other music, snatching your headphones off your head and dropping on the bedside table.

“GOD Mattheo!” You say annoyed, “don’t you have something better to do!?”

He smiled to himself, but backed up into his bed, he loved to annoy you, it was entertaining. “Nope. I'm bored and don't know what to do. That’s why I'm playing with you, Y/N.”

“Go look for Teddy, Enzo, Draco, FUCK go to one of your girlfriends’ room.” I groan into my hands.

He snickered as you said the last one raising an eyebrow and grinning widely, he knew how much you actually didn’t want him to go into another girl’s dorm room. He shook his head, sitting up straight, “Nah, pissing you off is way more fun.” He looked you up and down, “Would you be jealous if I did?”

“No. The only jealousy I feel is because they have peace and quiet in their rooms right now.” you were growing quite frustrated at Mattheo.

He loved seeing you like this, he knew exactly how to press your buttons like no one else, “Uh huh, that’s all? You’re not even a little tiny bit jealous of someone else having my attention?”

“Why would I be? I’m begging you to go give it to someone else. Make them feed you the attention you need.”

He rolled his eyes, acting offended. “Damn you’re harsh. You’re sure you’re not just hiding your attraction for me?”

You wanted to scream but instead you snatched your book and headphones from your table. You weren’t going to entertain him any longer. You left the room, making sure to slam the door as you did so. You went down and found an empty couch that faced a window. There were only a handful of people around, they were all just studying or chatting. With a sigh you slipped your headphones, looking out the window. It had been raining, and the reflection of the fireplace danced with the droplets.

Mattheo had sat there on his bed for a second after you left, contemplating on whether he should follow you or not. He eventually decided to, knowing he’d go crazy out of boredom if he stayed in the room. He silently followed you down to the common room.

He spotted you sitting at a couch, his eyes wandered over your figure as his thoughts traveled to various places.

He sat down on a separate couch quietly. He leaned back, crossing his legs and sort of watched you. Mattheo hated to admit it, but he found you quite pretty. He wouldn’t say that out loud though, it was much more fun to make you angry.

You tried to focus on your book, but you couldn't. You were exhausted because of Mattheo. You carefully laid down, listening to the muggle music. Paying attention to the lyrics until your eyes got heavy and you drifted off to sleep.

Mattheo didn’t expect you to fall asleep when he didn’t see you sit up after a while. He snuck quietly behind the couch you were laying on and watched you. Suddenly there was a tap on his shoulder, it was Theodore.

“Whatcha-” he began but mattheo hit him to shut up.

“Don’t wake her up.”

Theodore leaned over too, noticing Y/N sleeping. He gave Mattheo a funny look, seeing how he was admiring you just a second ago when he thought no one was watching.

“Since when do you care?” he whispered, holding back a laugh.

Mattheo raised an eyebrow, turning back to look at Theo, “shut up. I don’t care…it just that she looks cute when she sleeps…shut up!” he hissed, a small blush forming on his cheeks as he said that aloud, hoping theo didn’t notice.

“Say whaaat?” Theo acted shocked, rolling his eyes. “Just carry her back to your guy’s dorm. I don’t trust her being out here in the common room. Too many sneaky bastards ready to play tricks.”

Theo was right, it wouldn’t be the first time someone pulled a stupid trick on a defenseless sleeping student. “Yeah yeah, just shut up. I’m doing it, just grab her things. Will you?”

Mattheo was able to lift you with ease, holding you like a damn princess. He couldn’t help thinking about you in that way, like he was rescuing you.

Theodore just followed Mattheo has he climbed up the stairs back into your shared dorm. He laid your possessions on your desk, “night Mattheo.” He said leaving.

Mattheo nodded at him, laying you down on your bed. He took your blanket to cover you. He ran a hand through his hair, looking to the door and closing it. He brought his attention back to you. How on earth did someone look so damn adorable when sleeping?

｡.｡:+* ﾟ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡:+* ﾟ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡.｡*ﾟ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡:+ reng

You began to stir a little bit, you let out a faint pained moan. Your face scrunched minutely, your hands grabbing hold of your bed sheets. Knuckles turning white. It would have been hard to miss, but Mattheo had been watching over you for a while now, so he noticed the change immediately.

He quickly sat up from his bed, pulling his legs forward. He was immediately concerned, he stood up and walked over to your bed. He knelt down beside you, staring. You let out another whimper.

Mattheo reached over, gently shaking your shoulder, wondering if you were having another nightmare, “hey hey, Y/N. are you okay?” He mumbled not trying to frighten you more.

You immediately woke up to his touch, you were still just as afraid, still believing you were dreaming. You sat up quickly, looking down at Mattheo, then the room. “how..I swear I fell asleep on the couch..”

“Yeah you did. I carried you back here. Theo and I both didn’t trust others to not play a truck on you while you slept.” He quickly explained.

“You..carried me?” You looked at him in disbelief. How did you not wake to that? He smirked, nodding, he took it as a compliment to his strength. “How long were you watching me, weirdo?” You tried to play along with him in an attempt to shake your fear away.

He rolled his eyes, grinning faintly at your comment, but he saw through it. Mattheo could tell you were still afraid, but he egged you on. “Long enough to see your boogers.”

You let out a small laugh, but turning to check your nose. “Shut up..just go back to sleep.” You say quietly, “but can you leave the light on…just for tonight.”

“Are you scared of the dark or something now?” He wanted to laugh, but didn’t want to make you feel bad.

“No..it's just that. I sometimes suffer from sleep paralysis. It’s usually figures of my parents. They watch me from the foot of my bed.” You shut up, “I don’t know why I'm telling you this.” You turned back to your side, facing away from Mattheo, pulling your blanket up to your chin.

“No please, tell me more…” He meant it, he was interested but also kind of creeped out. He looked between you and the foot of your bed half expecting to see your parents too. He started to feel guilt, knowing what was to come. But he thought, if you talked about it, it might make you feel better. “This isn’t the first time I've seen you have a nightmare. Why do you think you see figures of your parents..?” He questioned quietly, his voice lacking any sarcasm.

“I don't know, '' You whispered back, “I try to wake up from it, but I just can’t move. It feels like I'm being stepped on. I try to convince myself every time, that there’s no way they could have escaped Azkaban…that there’s no way they would just be there… staring at me.”

Mattheo sighed, he didn’t understand why he began to strongly feel the need to comfort you. He usually didn’t care about other people’s feelings, maybe it was guilt. That his father probably had something to do with your parents being locked away. “Do they ever do anything?”

“It’s usually just staring at me..other times they choke me out..or they just wail loudly. It’s always something about how I didn't help them enough…” you felt your voice shake, you felt like crying but you just cleared your throat. You closed your eyes to try and think about nice things, like your book.

Hearing you explain that made Mattheo’s heart ache.

“I need to see a therapist.” You let out a small pathetic laugh when mattheo stayed quiet.

Mattheo clenched his jaw, he hated hearing how frightened you sounded. He saw how you tried to laugh it off but he could tell how bad this was affecting you. He hated that this was going on behind the scenes to you…why did he hate that it was happening to you of all people. “Why don’t you?” He genuinely asked.

You shrug, you knew mattheo was still right next to you, judging by how close his voice was. With your back still to him, you lifted a corner of your blanket out to him, without a word.

Mattheo raised an eyebrow when you lifted your blanket to him, he was confused until he realized that you were silently telling him to get into your bed. His eyes widened slightly, and he didn’t move at first. He thought it over quickly, slowly and cautiously getting into your bed pulling the blanket over him as well. He was laying on his back, careful not to touch you.

He wanted to break the tension and laugh, but you beat him to it as you flipped around to face him, “no funny business Mattheo, I mean it.”

He smiled faintly but nodded, he watched your face, “don’t worry…I won't try anything.” He mumbled, “why don’t you scooch closer? Might make you feel better…”

You only reached out to grab his arm to hold. It felt so warm and muscular. You could feel his breathing through the movement of the bed. Its rhythm helped put you back at ease. You closed your eyes once more.

Mattheo smiled to himself, when you grabbed hold of his arm it made his heart beat faster. He didn’t mind though, looking at you, you looked like a little koala cuddling into him. He hesitated tucking your hair back, but he did with a shaky hand. His mind was racing. He watched you drift to sleep, with the light from the lamp illuminating your face. Why was he suddenly finding himself finding you cute.. and pretty.. and endearing..and-

“Thank you mattheo.” you mumbled.

His heart skipped, he was surprised that you managed to say that before falling asleep, “you’re safe princess.” he said quietly.

You thought your mind was still playing tricks on you, but you swore he just called you princess. You couldn’t help but smile. You didn’t have sleep paralysis for the rest of that night. And not once did you let go of his arm.

｡.｡:+* ﾟ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡:+* ﾟ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡*ﾟ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡:+

The next morning you woke up and noticed that you were still holding onto him, you felt your face blush. You looked over at Mattheo, he was still sleeping…and he looked handsome. His expression was relaxed. He looked so different, there was no hint of his usual cocky smirk or snarky expression. It was replaced with peace. His un-cuddled arm was resting on his stomach.

It was the weekend, so neither of us needed to be up so early. He must have been tired after his match and then for having to watch me half of the night. You curiously inhaled him, his cologne wasn’t terribly strong, but it was there and it smelled good. Comforting even. You closed your eyes deciding to sleep in a little longer.

It felt like you just made that decision, when there was a knock at your door. You didn’t move until the person knocked again. You lightly shook Mattheo, in a small panic. “Mattheo..” you whispered.

He woke up, grumbled faintly in his half asleep state. He slowly and groggily opened his eyes, “whaaa..?” He slurred out, Mattheo lifted his free arm and rubbed his eyes. The knocking continued to be heard.

“Off my bed.” You say rolling over him, going to the door. You wouldn’t dare open it until Mattheo either got up or moved to his own bed.

He rolled his eyes, groaning in annoyance as you climbed over him to reach the door. He sat up and reluctantly stood from the bed, stretched his arms above his head, yawning. He walked to his bed and unceremoniously got into it, he laid on his stomach this time. Letting out a relaxed sigh, looking at the door.

You opened the door, it was Theodore, “Hii teddyy!” you say, “what can we help you with?” You rub your eye. You left the door to open wider so he could come inside if he wanted to. You moved to your desk, pulling out a hair brush. You were curious as to why there was music playing downstairs, when you glanced at the window. It was evening, that surprised you. How long did you really sleep for?!

Theo smiled at you, but his face twisted into a sly grin as he took in the scene in front of him. He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe. He was studying how you were just now brushing your hair out, and Mattheo was still in bed. “Sorry for walking in on both of your beauty sleeps.” He joked curiously.

“No it’s fine, it was about time we woke up…” you blushed, thinking about what Theo's conclusion was coming to, “I think I would have slept the whole day through and through. It helps when that guy isn’t talking your ear off.” You gestured to Mattheo with the brush.

“Yeah, he doesn’t tend to be quiet at all.” Theo laughed, he looked at Mattheo, he was looking at you annoyed. Theo went to sit on your bed, “Game night is starting downstairs, thought you guys might want to join. Maybe your whole day might not have gone to waste after all.”

“Can I shower first?” You asked, gathering an outfit.

“Of course, we’re still setting up waiting for more people to show.”

You exchanged a look with Mattheo, wordlessly acknowledging how we slept. It was a silent swear, to not ever mention it to anyone. We shared mutual friends, but we didn’t need them bugging or teasing us about it. He just stared back, confirming his part to keep the secret. You headed into the bathroom.

Mattheo turned to look at Theo, who had a faint smirk on his face. “Don’t.” He simply said to him

Theo dropped his smirk, “I didn’t even say anything!” He laid on your bed, spreading out laughing.

Mattheo rolled his eyes, getting up to change, muttering “You didn’t have to say anything.”

“So nothing happened?” Theo hugged your pillow, kicking his feet mimicking a girl wanting to gossip. It got Mattheo to crack and laugh.

“No. Nothing happened, Nott.”

“Okay i’ll drop it.” Theo still gave him a side eye and a wink, “you still called her cute last night. Don’t forget that I heard you slip that out.”

Mattheo froze, going over to him on your bed. He grabbed theo’s ankle and dragged him onto the floor starting a play fight.

You finally got out of the shower, dressed in some comfortable oversized jeans but with a small top. You were finishing rubbing on a scented lotion on your arms. The two boys quickly got up off the ground, brushing themselves off. Mattheo couldn't help but stare at you, seeing your casual outfit and how pretty you looked. He pushed theo out of the way, also as an attempt to hide the blush that was creeping on his face. He was the first to walk out of your dorm room. Theo followed after him, with you last to shut the door.

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Pansy was standing on a table balancing two jugs and another by her feet, she was in the middle of making an announcement.

Theodore watched her in awe, “please tell me she’s made something good this time around.” Mattheo agreed with him, he was starting to get excited and he needed a good drink to freshen up.

“I will be pouring each of you a drink from a random jug I have concocted! Just to spice up tonight’s games. One is mixed with a teenie bit of truth serum,” There was a mumble in the small crowd, she continued with a sweet smile at the reaction, “the other is spiked with a love potion. And last but not least, a regular drink! You won't know which one i’ll give you, it’ll take a couple of minutes to kick in!” The commotion in the room started to peak as people lined up, Theodore shoved his way to the front, “me first!”

You laughed, watching pansy pour drinks either in cups or directly in the participants mouths. When it was your turn she let you smell the jug, she smiled at you. Knowing that you were one of the best potions students there were, there wouldn’t be a chance to fool you. It was just the regular drink and you asked her to just pour you a cup so you can enjoy it slowly.

You went to sit by Theodore, taking a sip. “Oh this is delicious…do you feel anything yet Teddy?” You looked over at where Mattheo was, he was in the front of the line having Pansy pour directly into his mouth. He gave her a wink before sitting down with us.

“I don't feel anything right now..”

“Yeah I have no clue as to what I got.” Mattheo chimed in.

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It was your turn for dare or dare (like truth or dare, but it got boring after everyone kept choosing truth, knowing the serum was helping some of them blurt out anything.)

Lorenzo had appointed himself to be the host of the game, choosing what everyone had to do. He was good at it, too good, until he dared you to go have seven minutes in heaven with Mattheo. It made the circle of people holler, knowing that you both were roommates that were just constantly annoyed with each other.

“Easy.” you said nonchalantly, just because you would be stuck in a closet together, doesn’t exactly mean you have to do anything. You both shared a dorm already and nothing happened. You stood up to head into the appointed closet.

Mattheo shot Lorenzo a glare, he would have to get him back later. He slowly got up to follow you, he opened the door to the closet, “ladies first.”

You both got into the closet, it was a lot smaller than you expected. “Merlin… Mattheo..can you move a little bit more?” You thought that by having your back to him, it would be the best option but it wasn’t. Your ass was just pressed deeply into his lap, you could have swore you felt a twitch.

He let out a huff, he wasn’t doing much better given how much larger his frame was compared to yours. Mattheo closed his eyes as he felt you grinding on him, trying to not let out any sounds, “Just…fucking..” He managed to flip you around so that you were straddling one of his legs. He breathed out, thinking it would provide him some relief but it only felt worse not having you pressed against him, “better?” He grumbled.

“Yeah better…” You couldn’t meet his eyes, “We can just stay like this…no one has to know we didn’t do anything… win win..” You whisper, laying your head on his chest.

Mattheo tried to concentrate on what you were saying, but it was hard when you were straddling half of him. He was sure you could hear how fast his heart was beating. He cursed his body for giving this reaction. He swallowed, clearing his throat slightly, trying to remain composed, but still sounding a bit bit breathless. “Yeah that's a good idea.”

Your arms were already growing tired of having them pressed to the sides of the closet, so you decided to rest them on his chest. You gauged his reaction, “sorry, is this okay? I feel like i'm losing circulation.” You let out a small laugh.

You noticed how he hitched his breath, he tried to relax his muscles under your touch. He shrugged slightly at your question, “it’s fine. No big deal.”

There was a thud on the door, and then someone must have gotten slapped, “shut up.” They giggled, someone must be pressing their ear to the door to try and listen to us.

Mattheo started to really feel annoyed, knowing someone was trying to eavesdrop on what was happening in the closet. He desperately wished he would make some room between you and him, but he know it wouldn’t solve his current problem he was facing.

“So uh..do you know what drink you ended up getting…it’s been a couple of minutes so the effects should be starting to show.” You tippy toed to whisper in his ear, so the outside wouldn’t be able to hear.

He let out an exasperated gasp, feeling your warm breath against his neck. He wanted to press your body closer against his but he fought the thought, “Yeah..yeah i think i know what one i got.” His voice was slightly strained. He was trying with all his might to remain calm with you being so damn close to him.

You looked expectantly at him to finish his thought. He looked down at you as you looked up. His eyes slightly turned darker, “I got the love one.” he muttered, feeling himself lose his battle.

Your eyes widened, you knew the feeling of a love potion, or at least the ones Pansy made. It didn’t make you fall in love with anyone directly, but it just made you lust. It was like a burning sensation, the need to be touched. There would be no relief until…your needs were met in a..very specific way… to say the least.

Mattheo could practically see the realization come over your face at his words. There was another thump against the door, followed with more giggles. He clenched his fists.

“Is it hurting?” You pull back from him, knowing the contact you were making with him would be driving him crazy. “Maybe you can ask one of your many girls to help you..”

His body involuntarily protested at the distance you tried to make. He gave you a peeved look, not having a desire to ask any of them for this sort of help. He scoffed, his eyes burning into yours, “No. I don't want any of them.”

“Yadda yadda.. They come to you. You don’t go to them.” You waved him off, “It’s going to be a long night for you if you don’t do something…I can leave the dorm tonight to yourself. To leave…you to it? I could probably sleep over at pansy’s” You were the one now yapping out of nervousness.

Mattheo’s patience was starting to wear down as he was slowly being replaced by an overwhelming need to be touched by you, and only you. There was a ringing in his head. He shook his head in response, his voice slightly harsh as he spoke, “No. You shouldn’t have leave your own damn dorm.”

Your eyes snapped back to his when he gave you attitude…but also you kind of liked it in this context. You saw it as an opportunity to annoy him as payback for all the times he bothered you, “you don't want to touch yourself at least?” You whispered carefully into his ear so the person outside wouldn't hear, “I don’t exactly want to hear your grunts if I'm in the same room.” You laughed.

“I’m not fucking doing that.”

“Big bad tough Mattheo Riddle at it again huh? If you want to thug it out, then so be it.” I laughed again until he buckled his knee up my legs and into my core, rubbing against it. You yelped as you snapped to look at him, and he had the most smug look on his face.

There was a loud knocking on the door, “Times up.” It was Lorenzo, he opened the door quickly. You nearly jumped right out of there, rushing back to your seat next to Theo. “Man you guys are boring!! I was expecting some heat in there.”

Mattheo let out a sharp exhale when you got off of him, already missing the feeling. He pushed Enzo to the side, “Dickhead.” He tried to cool his body back down and act as normal as possible. He kept staring at you.

Enzo just shot his friend a look at how he was acting, he thought he was doing him a favor. He just shook his head and went back to the circle, motioning who was next to do and telling that person their dare.

You kept feeling mattheo glance at you, and it made you blush. You thought about how his knee was rubbing against you, and how good it had felt. When you thought about that, you needed to call it a night. “I had fun guys…i’ll see you in the morning. I’m going to head to bed. Night.” They said goodnight to you, continuing on with the game.

Once back in your dorm, you journaled for a bit. You couldn’t help but think again to Mattheo, you looked over at his bed and wondered if Mattheo would give up and give into sleeping over at a girl’s dorm.

Mattheo stayed downstairs for a while longer, trying to force himself to not feel what he did. After an hour, or so he couldn’t take it anymore and begrudgingly ford himself to get up from the couch and head upstairs to your shared dorm. He pushed opened the door to the room, looking towards your bed first thing to see if you were awake.

You looked up from your book. You had to admit you were impressed by his endurance, “Hey..”

His eyes widened faintly as he saw that you had still been awake, “hey y/n…” He replied keeping his eyes on you and he moved to his bed.

“How’s the potion’s effects?” You looked at the time, “It should be wearing down…is it?”

He plopped down onto the bed, holding his pillow close. Only to realize it was your pillow, the one you threw at his face yesterday. You hadn’t noticed it, thank Salazar. He was so desperate for you that he would just take this. “No. It hasn't.” He felt like it only got more powerful as it went on. He inhaled into your pillow, trying not to groan. It smelled just like your lotion, sweet and strong.

“Can you lock the door…” You motion.

His eyes shot up from the pillow excitedly, Mattheo didn’t bother to even get up to lock it her just quickly grabbed his wand from the nightstand and casted a locking charm to the handle. “Why’d you ask me to lock it?” He tried to calm himself down, looking over at you.

You shrug, “I don't want any drunk person to find refuge in here?” It was a good lie.

Mattheo wasn’t stupid, he knew that wasn’t the reasoning behind your request. But the fact that you didn’t want to admit it, intrigued him to the max. He played along with you.

“Fair enough.” He went back to hugging your pillow underneath him.

“Goodnight Mattheo.” You closed your book, setting it down and turning off the light.

Mattheo tried to hide his disappointment, maybe he was reading into you wrong because he was just so damn horny, “night.” he watched the curved your body had in the darkness. Silently wishing so badly that you would ask him to join you in your bed again.

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You actually tried to sleep, but you kept hearing Mattheo shift uncomfortably in his bed. It as starting to annoy you, you hated that you were starting to feel bad about how this potion was torturing him. The effects shouldn’t have lasted this long. You thought about how he did help you out when you had sleep paralysis. “Mattheo…” you whispered.

Mattheo shivered as he heard you whisper his name, he bit back a gasp. He fought with himself for a moment, his body already starting to crave you again even if it was just for a chat. “Y-Yeah?” He said back quietly, staring at your direction through the darkness of the room.

“Just ask me to help you already.”

He felt a rush of both shock and relief at your words. The words got caught in his throat, “Can..you help me?”

“Only because you helped me last night. So this way, are we even okay?” I huffed sitting up, tossing my blanket to the side, “don’t be so damn afraid to ask for some help.”

“I’m sorry…” It was all he could manage, he was so turned on by how you were taking initiative for him. He was a mess. And you both could clearly tell, “Please…just…please touch me please..” He buzzed with excitement at the thought of you touching him again.

You couldn’t help but be taken back by surprise, you never heard him beg. It wasn’t like him, but you enjoyed the sound of it. You went into his bed this time. But you started to get nervous yourself as you pressed your body against his. He instantly got closer to you, forcing you to get rid of your nerves.

“Y/N…please..” Mattheo nearly cried out. You started to softly touch where you knew he needed it the most. He let out a small groan escape his lips. You looked at his face that was barely lit up by the moonlight, your own heart was racing. You never would have imagined yourself doing this to him.

Mattheo’s cock kept twitching in your hand, his eyes were shut tightly. He was feeling his body immediately melt to your touch. Your touch felt better than anything to his over-sensitized body. He felt himself getting lost in it. “Oh..” He whispered under his breath. His body moving against your hand, a small thrust that told you to give him more.

“Wouldn’t it be kind of funny if I were to just stop?” You teased him, laughing lightly. You still kept going at the motion despite your words.

He let out a estranged and slightly annoyed laugh, “Don’t you fucking dare.” He silently hated the fact that you were going to choose to tease him now out of all times.

“Don’t stop please.” He nearly cried out when he felt you let go of him, his eyes opened to look at yours to see what you were doing.

“I want you to watch me..” You whispered. You pulled his blanket down to the foot of the bed. He couldn’t help but smile at you, his irritation easing as he realized what you were doing to do. You moved to sit in between his legs. You slid down his pants to his thighs, his dick springing out to slap his belly button. You couldn't help but stare, he smirked at your look. He held it up for you to take in your hands. He let out a sigh, using his pillow to prop himself up to watch you. Your hands only made him look and feel bigger, giving him an ego boost. “Mattheo, I didn't know you were packing like this.” He let out a shaky laugh, bucking his hips.

You moved one of your hands to rub his tip, that simple motion already earned you a whimper. There was no need to spit on it, his precum was already all over himself. You gently started to stroke him, slowly. Enjoying how you were making him feel. You wanted to admire his cock, but you also wanted to see Mattheo’s expressions.

“Ah, shit. That feels good, darling.”

You began to twist your hand over his tip, bringing his precum down more. His dick was glistening just by himself. You began to notice how you were salivating, you wanted to taste him, you were curious as to how much you would be able to fit in his mouth. You saw it as a fun challenge, it had been such a long time since you had dick yourself. It only turned you on more knowing it was your own roommate, Mattheo.

“C’mere.” Mattheo beaconed, leaning over to grab the back of your neck. Pulling you in so he could kiss you. He was so needy he wanted more of you. He was starting to imagine how pretty your lips would look around his cock. He bit at your lip and you cried out. It had hurt and you knew it drew blood, but neither of you cared to check up on it, you still kept kissing each other. You continued to play with him and he was moaning into your mouth.

“Keep going. Keep going.” He held your face, “fuck youre so pretty. I’m going to mark you up good.” He pushed your face to the side, attacking your jawline. Licking at it before going down your neck. He sucked on it harshly, making sure to leave deep purple marks that would take weeks to fade. You didn’t dare stop him. It felt too good.

“Mattheo..” You breathed out. Your breaths were really starting to get shallow, you felt your panties getting wet.

Mattheo lifted up your cropped shirt, so that your breasts were exposed to him, “not wearing a bra? Perfect.” He growled caressing your breasts, licking at your nipple. He tugged on one with his teeth while he squeezed the other. You were beginning to get too focused on his actions, and he felt you stop stroking him. He pinched your nipple, “keep stroking. I didn’t tell you to stop.” How was he being so needy yet dominating at the same time. You continued playing with him, twisting your arm. He grabbed your jaw, “say you’re sorry.”

“I’m sorry mattheo…” You let out.

“Sorry for what?” he kissed you briefly, pulling back for you to answer him.

“Sorry for getting distracted.”

“Good girl, now suck it.” He looked pleased with your words, he gently pushed you down. You did not protest the choice one bit. You laid on your stomach in between his legs once more. You pumped him a couple more times before pulling it into your mouth.

It took everything in Mattheo’s will power to not buck his hips into your mouth, he wanted to fuck that pretty mouth of yours. But he refrained, he wanted to see how you would please him.

You immediately tasted his precum, it was still continuously leaking from his tip. It was intoxicating, it tasted amazing. It made you smile, you looked up at him from underneath your lashes. He was staring intently on you, biting his own lip at your sight, “stick your ass up for me, princess.” You did as you were told, “so beautiful.”

You took his dick out of your mouth, and he whined at the action. But you ignored it, you went to kiss his shaft, licking the veins that were there. You went further down to take both his balls in your mouth, still using one hand to twist his dick. This sent him into a frenzy of curses.

“Shit - ah - fuck. Goddammit. Y/N…shit fuck who ever taught you to do this.” He threw his head back laughing, but also there was irritation in his voice “no forreal im going to - ah - kick whoevers ass taught you this.”

You just rolled your eyes, continuing with your actions. You went back to suck on his dick, you tried your best to deep throat his whole dick but it was impossible. You had to stroke whatever wouldn't fit in your mouth. You kept gagging, spit running down your chin. “I love that sound.” he breathed out, his fingers finding their way to the back of your hair, he tried pushing himself further into you. You kicked your feet, needing to breathe. He pulled out for a quick second seeing your reaction, he looked sorry for a split second, but he quickly regained himself and shoved his dick back in your mouth.

You noticed how his breathing began to get labored, and his buckling was out of rhythm. You closed your eyes to concentrate, holding onto his thighs. When you felt his hot seed fill your mouth. There was so much of it, “shit Y/N..i’m sos s so srorry.” he moaned out you couldn't tell if he was being sincere or not, “I didn’t mean to cum just yet. I-I didn’t mean to just cum in your mouth without warning.”

You pulled back, with your hand under your chin, catching anything you weren’t able to swallow, “Matty it’s okay really. No big deal.” You slurped up the rest of the cum that was on your hand. Mattheo widened his eyes at your action. He slowly sat up, he let out a shaky exhale. His mind was still clouded with arousal.

You got off of him, heading to the bathroom to brush your teeth. He felt kind of guilty, having a bit of post nut clarity. He started to blush.

“Are you feeling better?” you came back out with a wet wipe, handing it over to him.

“Y-yeah. I feel a lot…better now..” He rubbed the back of his neck, cleaning himself and pulling his pants back up, “thank you..it means a lot…”

“I’m glad.” You crawled back into your own bed, trying to catch your breath. You were a bit shaken from the events. You couldn’t help your own blush. You thought back to how big he was.. and how he tasted..how he sounded… how he was kissing you. You rubbed at where the hickies would start to form. You pulled the blanket higher, you needed some relief…and you knew you could do it quietly.

Mattheo watched you, his breathing slowly returning back to normal as he spoke up, “Hey…can I ask you something?”

“Yeah what’s up?” You turn to him, your heart speeding up again.

He paused for a moment, silently gathering his confidence as he swallowed the growing lump in his throat, he took a shaky breath before speaking again. A hint of hesitation in his voice, “...Can you..come back to my bed?”

“I-I thought you were feeling better?” You blushed thinking he wanted more.

He let out a slightly frustrated sigh, “Ah yeah um.. I am feeling better… but I don’t want you to think I only wanted this because of that stupid drink.”

“Okay..sure..” you got out of your bed once more, and made your way over to his.

Mattheo felt an instant wave of relief wash over his body as you returned back to him. He lifted the blanket back up to cover the both of you. You were both laying on your backs, staring at the ceiling. It was quiet apart from both your breathing. His mind was clouded with all kinds of thoughts.

“Can I ask you a question now?” You broke the silence, you only turned your head to him.

His eyes instantly flicked over to yours as you spoke, “Go ahead.”

“Did you expect me to help you?” I paused to clarify, “I mean…I know you don’t like doing to girls, they go to you blah blah…but why didn’t you want to ask me for help?”

“I..I didn’t want to come off as desperate, I guess? It’s usually the girls who are begging me for things…not the other way around.” He laughed.

“I guess I don’t apply to being those girls?”

He felt a pang of something in his chest at those words, he let out a sigh, “It’s not like that…you’re different.”

You couldn't help but roll your eyes, “I guess. Yeah, I'm your roommate of seven years.”

“Yes, I'm fully aware of that fact. But that’s not what I meant.” He hated how this was taking a turn.

“What do you mean then, Riddle.” You scoff and turn your back to him, really? after what you just did with him. “I got the impression that I was never more than just your annoying roommate..until recently.”

His stomach was starting to tie up in knots, “I…I’ve always always thought of you as more than an annoying roommate…You just wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

He felt nervous, he pulled you closer to him so he could spoon you. He tightened his grip on your waist so you wouldn’t be able to leave at what he was about to confess, “..promise you won’t get mad at me when I tell you?”

“Matty…just spit it out. We don’t have much time left in the year.”you blushed, thinking how things could have been completely different.

“Truth is. I’ve been kind of in love with you ever since third year.” It came out in a whisper, but his mouth was right next to your ear. It made you shiver. “I didn’t want to make it any more than what it was because -”

“- because if things didn’t go well… that’s still four years being stuck with each other?”

“Yes and no..I didn’t make a move on it because I thought you hated me for what my father did to your parents…. And I was scared of rejection for that.”

You own mind was going to a million different places at once.

Mattheo started to get nervous at your silence, “did you ever have feelings for me..?” He said this, tracing circles around your skin.

“Yes.” You paused, “It’s hard not to be in love with you.” He hadn’t said anything back to that, “So what do we do with this information now?”

In reality Mattheo was just dumbfounded that he wasted so much time and effort on other people, when you had actually reciprocated his feelings. He felt his heart swell, “well first and most importantly, I want you as mine.” He paused his voice taking a softer side, he reached down in between your pants to play with the edge of your panties, “...not just mine for the night. I want you to myself…no more other partners for either of us.”

You held your breath at his action and words, “easy. Next?”

He let out a small hum thinking. Mattheo moved his hand further down, and you opened your legs a bit. He smiled into your neck at this action, he felt how wet you were. He felt bad for keeping you waiting, going through a rollercoaster of emotions. “Secondly…I want to kiss you again, properly this time… and I mean without having to come up with an excuse to do it.”

“You never really needed an excuse…you just had to do it.” You smiled turning your head to him, your breathing picking up pace as you felt his fingers start to explore your pussy.

“Is that so?” He questioned with a teasing smirk, his lips now only inches away from yours.

“Must I always be the first to make the move?” You asked but also you just crashed your lips to his, maybe a little too eager…but you were being patient for a little too long for your own liking.

Mattheo let out a soft gasp of surprise, he instantly returned the kiss. He started to rub your clit from behind with a new found purpose. You slipped off your pants so you could open your legs wider for him, your own desperation growing.

“You’re so wet for me…you got this way just by pleasing me?”

“Yes Mattheo.” it was all you can manage to say, you were embarrassed by how fast you were going to cum yourself. The tension build up probably helped with that. With the arm that was under you, he moved it so that one was playing with your clit. The other switched so he could finger you from behind. He at first only slipped one finger inside, “it’s so warm in here.” He wiggled it teasing you. You were starting to shake, moaning his name out. You felt his cock twitch behind you again, you couldn’t believe he was already able to get hard again after cuming just less than half an hour ago.

Mattheo went to kiss your shoulders again, you were starting to get overwhelmed with all the sensations you were feeling. There was too much to focus on, Mattheo felt your pussy clench around his single digit, it only encouraged him knowing you were feeling amazing. He pulled out his finger, “open up, taste yourself sweetheart.” You sucked on his finger, and he dipped the same finger back into your core, pulling it out. Making you whine but this time he stuck it into his own mouth. It made you blush, “mmm” Without a proper warning you Mattheo felt a slip in two fingers this time. He curled them feeling your gummy walls. He was relentless with his pace, making you unravel in minutes. You gripped his wrist for him to stop with his movements, silently begging for mercy.

Your pussy was pulsating around his fingers repeatedly, this got him excited, “that’s going to feel amazing on my cock.” As you recovered from your high, he pulled his pants off once more. He pulled you so that you were straddling his lap, hovering over his dick. “You think you can take it, Y/N?”

You nodded, “I’m gonna take it, Matty.” You swatted his hand away from it, he let go letting it lay flat on his stomach. He loved how determined you were being. You rubbed your pussy over it, he sucked in his breath at the feeling. You were using your own cum as lube. You were picking up your pace when Mattheo’s hands gripped at your hips, digging harshly, “enough. let me inside you already.” Once again you were hovering over his lap, he held you up by your ass for assistance. You let just his tip slip inside and he groaned, “please please please, c’mon give me that pretty little pussy.” With that you sat straight on it. Not letting yourself adjust, this caused both you and mattheo to moan. You kind of regretted it, it hurt.

He laughed, his dick twitching side of you, “baby why would you do that?”

“I don't know…” You bit his shoulder, shaking your head, you moved your hips up to redo that. But Mattheo pushed you back down, you cried out in pain, “Mattheo!”

He winced as you bit him again, “what! You came down on me like that, so now I'm going to force you to take it. My dick is not going to take another second of not being buried inside you. I promise to go slow.” He kissed your forehead, you trusted him. He didn’t move you for another couple of seconds, but he did play with your clit again in the meantime. That did help you relax and he started to move slowly, especially with your guidance as to what was too much for you. With teamwork, you were both able to turn your pain into pleasure. Mattheo shook his head, “don’t do that again, princess. You were much too eager. But I love that.”

He started to move faster, fucking your sopping wet core. You leaned back, propping yourself with your hands on his thighs. He loved seeing your pussy take him in, “i’m going to rearrange your insides.” You slapped your hand over your mouth. “No no no, i want to hear you.” he reached over to pull you onto him. He grabbed both your hands, holding them behind your back as he bucked into you. You moaned directly into his ear, making him go faster. You were reaching your second high and he knew it. He pushed you up, stopping. “Matty -- why !?”

“Ride me. Work for your orgasm.” He put his hands behind his head, watching you intently as you worked yourself up again, using his dick to feel good. He loved watching you, you looked so beautiful to him, watching your tits bounce. How you closed your eyes in pleasure, how you bit your lip. He loved looking at the marks he was leaving on you. Others would notice and see he has claimed you.

“Mattheo..Matt-..Mattheo i'm going to come around you.” He huffed, he knew you weren’t lying he could feel you clench around his dick this time instead of his fingers. He helped you reach your high as he noticed you started to lose your pace. He put one hand behind your lower back, the other pushing on your lower belly, making you feel extra full. “Oh my goood” this made you roll your eyes.

“Good girl, come for me. I'm so proud of you.” you fell on top of him, shaking. This shaking made him reach his own high, “shit Y/N. on your knees now. Fuck i-”

Despite how fucked out you were, you were to able to move to the ground, you stuck your tongue out for him, he stood up and stroked his cock on your tongue. He gripped on your hair, releasing his hot cum. There was still so much of it, some landed directly in your mouth and the rest on your face. “Ah fuck that was amazing, darling.” You swallowed once you thought he was totally empty. He held out a hand for you to take, you took it to stand up but your legs were shaking too much. Mattheo laughed lightly at the sight. So he picked you up and brought you to the bathroom. He began running the shower, “May I have this shower with my girlfriend?” You could only smile and nod, your brain was still trying to catch up.

It was safe to say you both only ended up sharing one bed for the rest of the year. The other remained untouched.

#mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo x reader #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo x you #mattheo riddle blurb #harry potter #slytherin #slytherin boys #slytherin boys smut #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle scenarios #harry potter smut #theodore nott #lorenzo berkshire #pansy parkinson

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sceletaflores · 27 days

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college!pervy!patrick stealing your underwear 18+

it's pure fucking luck when it happens.

art wouldn't stop complaining about having to take his dirty laundry to the communal room on his dorm floor that housed all the washers and dryers. patrick doesn't know why the fuck he offered to take it up for him in the first place, to shut art up? to make him happy?

who gives a shit anyways cause while he's taking arts stupidly full hamper to the laundry room and following the half-assed directions given to him, he bumps right into someone as soon as he steps foot through the already open door. when he cranes his head around the edge of art's hamper he nearly jumps with fucking joy at what, or more-so who, greets him.

he knew who you were already. art wouldn't stop blowing up his phone with texts about "the hot new chick with an out of this world backhand and a killer fucking rack!". so as soon as he got off the bus in cali and stepped foot in art's cushy dorm room he obviously demanded he take him to one of your matches, and holy fucking shit.

you absolutely obliterate the poor girl on the opposite side of the net. running her up and down the court like a chicken with its head cut off while you stay calm and collected.

he could come just watching your perfect form as you hammer another excellent serve at your opponent, but something has to be said for the fucking outfit you're wearing. the tight tank of your dress does show off your, now proven, killer fucking rack but goddamn that skirt should be illegal. even the flowy pleated fabric can't hide the thick curve of your ass underneath, bouncing as you take off to chase after the ball.

he's white knuckling the edges of his seat the entire match, using every ounce of willpower in his body to not pop a boner in the middle of the fucking stands and even more willpower to not look over at the smug fucking grin plastered on art's face as he watches him. safe to say, you've been on his mind ever since.

now, you stand in front of him holding your own hamper with an apologetic smile on your face.

"shit, i'm so sorry. i didn't even see you." you say, way too chipper for 9 a.m on a sunday.

patrick is the epitome of a cocky, arrogant asshole. he has girls in nearly every state practically begging to choke on his dick without him so much as raising a finger in their direction. he's beyond smooth. he has every sleazy line known to man on the tip of his tongue at all times, yet when he goes to speak he can't manage anything besides a weak mutter of, "s'alright." he mentally punches himself in the balls for letting your bambi eyes and dick sucking lips get the better of him.

you give him a nod and one last friendly smile before stepping around him and making your way down the hallway. patrick watches in damn near agony as you go, ponytail swinging behind you in time with the sway of your hips.

patrick lets out an all suffering groan, dropping his head to his chest in defeat. "fucking dumbass.' he admonishes himself quietly, letting himself wallow in misery before making to take a step forward when suddenly he spots something out of the corner of his eye.

it takes him a few seconds to register just what he's staring at, but when it clicks he nearly has a fucking heart attack. there on the floor lays a pair of lacy white panties, your lacy white panties. it takes him all of a millisecond to drop art's hamper on the floor carelessly and practically dive to snatch them up. as soon as his fingers touch the fabric he can feel himself chubbing up in his sweats. he runs his fingertips over the hem, feeling the familiar rough texture that was snug against your body so recently makes sparks go off near the base of his spine.

when patrick hears lively conversation and footsteps heading his way he shoves the panties in his pocket and snatches art's hamper off the floor to start haphazardly shoving his clothes in the washer.

when he finally re-enters art's dorm room he's met with his best friends face staring at him suspiciously. "what the fuck took you so long?" art questions, brow raised as he watches patrick stumble over to his bed and plop down a little too roughly. patrick's reply is simple.

“got lost."

it's only later, when he's back on the train heading for his latest stop and digging into his pocket in search of his lighter that he feels it. the lacy fabric of your panties still stuffed deep into his pocket. his breath hitches in his throat and before he knows what he's doing he's up like a shot and speed walking to the back of the cart.

he's in the bathroom a mere five seconds before he's ripping his fly down and furiously stroking his hard as steel cock in a cramped train bathroom he can barely stand up fully in. it takes an embarrassingly short amount of time before he's busting in the fucking sink with your dainty white panties balled up in his fist and held against his nose as he inhales so heavily he might fucking pass out.

patrick has already found, and requested you, on facebook by the time he makes it back to his seat.

-------------

taglist!

@yuenity @callsign-artemis @ebodebo (who each put up with me ranting about this so wonderfully love you guys mwah)

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jojissalsa · 7 months

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husband!leon drabble

hear me out, cause i have an idea :3 (yes this is a drabble but also kinda long...)

cw: housewife kink, very slight condescension, praise, oral, breeding kink, ya get the gist. (minors do not interact, go touch grass.)

i cannot get my mind off husband!leon, like... at all, i feel like he'd love to pamper you. you need your hair trimmed? when and where. going somewhere special? he'll immediately take you shopping. his favorite is when you wanna get your nails done, he'll just hand you that sleek black credit card. i mean, it's not like he doesn't have the money. he has to deal with the worst horrors this shitty world could conjure up, so all he wants at the end of the day is to see your pretty smile.

it's all he can think about at work. everyone notices how distracted he seems, constantly checking his phone for possible pictures or any kind of update. he's so glad he doesn't have much work to do that day, so he can be home before you. and when you finally unlock the door he has to stop himself from running to you like an excited dog happy to see his owner.

and you know he's excited, as much as he tries to hide it as you walk over to the couch where he's sitting, plopping down right next to him and nuzzling into his side. "you like 'em?" you hold out your hand, a smug smirk on your face as he takes your hand. "it's pretty.." he whispers in awe, a loving expression on your face. usually he's the type to wanna lay on your chest, having your nails graze his scalp so he can finally relax. he knows you love it too, like he's a big lap dog you can watch movies with.

he feels a lil different tonight though, maybe he's just pent up, but all he can think about is your pretty, delicate hand wrapped around his cock, your lipstick smeared around your mouth and making rings on the length of his cock. and you know he's thinking about something, because he moves his hand up yours before grabbing your wrist and pressing your palm against his cock.

"feel that? that's what you do to me, so damn sweet. you and that needy cunt is all i can think about. c'mere, wanna see those pretty hands jerk me off." you don't waste any time moving your head into his lap as he pulls down his sweats, your hands finding their place at the base of his cock and cupping his balls, your tongue already lapping at his tip, savoring the taste of his pre-cum. he looks so fucking hot like this, legs spread, arm resting on the back of the couch while his hand moves down your back and under your leggings, determined to feel more of you. you're always such a good girl when you sink your mouth lower on his cock, tip hitting the back of your throat which makes his hips buck and his head tilt back as he groans.

"i got so lucky, pretty wife that knows how to suck dick. so eager for me to touch you, huh? need my fingers to fill up that tight pussy, don't you, honey? can't answer with a mouthful of cock, can you?" leon can never help himself, he has to be a little smug, because he landed such a hot piece of ass and he's more than confident about you belonging to him completely. how you stop everything you're doing to please him. how can he not pay back the favor? he pulls your leggings down to your thighs along with your panties, coating his fingers in your slick before slipping his fingers inside your welcoming pussy. you clench around his thick fingers when you feel the cold metal of his wedding band, and it only makes him smile wider.

like i said, he really does love to pamper you. make you feel pretty all the time, because you are. you may not think you are all the time, but he sure as shit does. pretty enough to carry his baby, too. "such a pretty girl, you'd look even more beautiful with my baby inside you." you whimper around his cock, pulling your head up to stroke him so you can catch your breath. "like that one, hmm? you always walk around looking like a fucking milf, so damn sexy with those tight jeans and cute heels i buy for you." you knew he was a family man, wanted at least two kids, but damn he did not have to make the idea sound that fucking hot.

and you let him, he could give you a whole bloodline and you'd do it with a smile. letting him fuck his huge load of cum into your tight cunt, those pretty nails digging into his back as your legs keep him pumping his cum inside you. "atta girl, can't wait to see that pregnancy test. gonna keep you here and take good care of you, promise." he lets you come back down to reality as he leans up, getting a good view of your blissed out smile, humming contently as you look up at him. "you won't have to lift a single finger with me around, trust me."

#leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy #older leon kennedy #leon kennedy death island #leon kennedy x fem reader #leon resident evil #im so mentally ill abt him

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poppy-metal · 17 days

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what if i said the words step dad patrick……….. fucking ur mum for a place to stay when he finds your cute little college ass and oh look! you’re into tennis! he can show you some stuff if you like, he used to play art donaldson and win………..

why would you say this to me. what have u done what have you wrought. wow this got away from me and i ended up giving us a whole backstory here my bad fr.

i imagine you're visiting home from college - a prestigious one - not excited, in the least. probably a horrible relationship with your mother, father nonexistent, out of the picture. probably got into tennis as just a hobby, but it turned into a way to channel all your anger and resentment built up towards your mother - how she never pays attention to you, how money and jewelry and the next man who'll blow smoke up her ass to leech off her, is more important to her than you are. every slam of your racket against the ball is you smashing a vase in your picture perfect mansion.

so, no, you're not happy to be coming back for the summer but all your friends are going back home and you dont want to be the one girl on campus who wont go back home - you dont want to be that girl. you're perfect over there, you're good. no one knows you hate your mother and mourn a father you dont even know the name of. no one knows you feel so alone it empties your chest out sometimes, leaves you with a pit that feels like its rotting you inside out. you're good at tennis, and you're cool and you're friendly and you have men falling all over you. they never fill that void, but its nice to feel desired. even if their age stifles you. irritates you. immaturity grinds your gears.

so, no, you're not eager to throw all that pretend and comfort away for the summer. lugging your suitcases up the pristine driveway with a scowl already in place. wondering if your mother will even notice you entering the door. probably not. probably she's already out, or making plans to be so.

anyway, you're miffed and moody and not at all prepared for when a man jogs up to you. you startle when a hand, a very tan hand connected to a strong arm - arm that has fine hair, and veins and muscles you can see - intercepts you to take the handle of your suitcase. you look up.

you look up to see the hottest man you've ever seen in your life grinning down at you. dark curls damp with sweat, heat kissed skin, freckles and seagreen eyes. tall and broad, and soaked in sweat. his tank top is practically see through, you can see through. right to his equally strong chest, which is hairy and tan looking - two twin nipples peaking, red and flushed. you throat feels dry. "uh."

"fuck, hey." he lets go of your suitcase to shake your hand. you limply let him. hes smiling at you in a practiced sort of way, almost like hes nervous. odd since hes clearly older than you. but hes trespassing, so maybe thats why. "i wanted to get cleaned up before i met you, but you're early, huh. i was just on the court - here let me."

he takes the handle of your luggage again. he seems to know you already and you squint. a familiar feeling of irritation filling you. hes not so different looking from all the help your mother has hired over the years, pool boys and yardworkers and the like. young men she could ogle. although this man does seem older - he's definitely ogle worthy. more than.

your mouth twists in a sneer. you haven't even gotten into your house and you're already dealing with your mothers shit. you can't be fucked.

"rule number one," you snap, curt, jerking your luggage back from his grip. you try to stand tall, but he still easily towers above you. no matter. you're still above him in station. "dont fucking touch my stuff."

you flick your hair behind your shoulder as you make to walk by him. you hear his sharp inhale of suprise. curious since you're definitely sure your mother has degraded him in many ways by now. he should be used to be talked down to. maybe its his first day.

he comes up in front of you again, walking backwards as you walk forwards, with a kind of ease that irritates you. he holds his hands up, placating, still smirking, which irritates you even more - "got it. got. you know she warned me about you - didn't think you'd try to bite my fucking head off so soon, though."

something in your gut sours. not new, then. your mother has spoken to.... the help, about you? this makes you uncomfortable. prickly and hot like you just found out someone had been talking shit about you behind your back. your hackles rise.

you stop in your tracks. glare at him.

"my mother spoke to you about me?"

his eyebrows - he has annoyingly smooth eyebrows, annoyingly long lashes too - lift, as if to say, 'fucking duh.' he makes a so and so motion with his hand, you glimpse a ring on one of his fingers. "here and there."

your grip around the handle of your suitcase burns its so tight. you think you could melt it with your anger if you concentrated long enough.

"and? what did the bitch say?"

a shocked laugh leaves his lips at your curse. your eyes narrow because you dont find it funny and because the longer you are around him the more you notice about him and the more attractive he noticeably is becomes apparent to you. when he lifts a hand to run it through his hair, the muscles in his arm bunch and flex under his skin - which is still very much gleaming with sweat.

"man, its fucking bad with you. the mommy issues -" he has this little smirk, one that lifts one side of his mouth more than the other. "- she said you were a fucking brat, that i shouldn't bother with trying to make a good first impression. i can kinda see why now."

yeah, you really dont appreciate his attitude. hes hot and all, but he's spoken way out of turn and you're done entertaining it. you want to go inside and flop onto your bed and scream.

you take a step forward and poke him in the chest with a manicured nail - he looks down at it, like, oh hey - sharply. "just because you have a pretty face and a big dick my moms probably sucked more than once, doesn't mean you're fuck all to me. you're still just the help. you can remember that when you're cleaning up my shit." you take your hand away, trying and failing not to smile like a bitch when his lips part in shock at your words, knocking his - fucking broad - shoulder with yours as you walk past him. you pause at the steps to turn just a little. he's looking at you with this unreadable expression, but if you'd have to guess you'd say it closely resembles amusement. "and I'd like a smoothie. have it brought up to me ASAP or I'll make your life here hell, got it?"

you raise an eyebrow.

his mouth finally snaps shut. you hate that he still looks amused. his lips just barely quirking. he works his jaw like he wants to say something but thinks better of it, biting his bottom lip instead as he looks up at you with those green eyes.

"got it."

its sometime later when you wake up. head a fucking rats nest. you've just managed to drag yourself out of bed and to the chair in your vanity, working a pink brush through what you can of your locks when your door flings open.

you dont even look up from the mirror. only one person wouldn't respect the privacy of a closed door and what it means.

"hello, mother." you say cooly, not taking your eyes from the mirror. you try to smooth the brush through your end strands first, coaxing your hair into submission. she's probably here to rub something in your face under the guise of saying hello. a new car she'd bought, a new boyfriend she has, a new vacation home she rented in malibu, ect.

her perfume fills your nostrils with its potent stench as she sashays into the room - your room - and perches her ass on your vanity, rudely jostling several trinkets there. your eye twitches. you brush some more of your hair.

"hello, my darling girl."

her voice is faux sweet. the pet name makes you want to flinch, recoil from its fake meaningfulness from her cold lips. they dont mean anything coming from her. you're not her darling anything. she'd treat a purse more fondly than you. yet, she calls you these sweet things sometimes. you think because it amuses her to play the part of a doting mother. she did always love acting.

you dont say anything more. work the brush. easy and slow wins the race. you remember when you used to be so frustrated with your hair you'd yank the brush through it in a rush, until your scalp bled from the stinging yanks. you'd lose clumps. an act of self harm, your therapist had told you. anxiety of not being perfect. you'd forgotten to put hair serum in your hair to make it easier to deal with before you'd fallen asleep. you shouldn't forget such things. your meeting with that man had rattled you.

"i have some wonderful news."

your mother drums her fingers on your dresser. you imagine her fingers as a witches, long and spindly. no amount of cream and lotion could hide her aging. that made your lips quirk.

"oh? what is it?"

"I've met someone."

not new. you barely restrain the urge to roll your eyes. brush some more hair. you've worked mid way to the top now. almost to the roots.

"have you." you couldn't sound more bored if you tried. really, you couldn't.

"i have." she lets out a swoony breath - "oh, hes wonderful, darling. he's different from the others. treats me like a woman ought to be treated - not that i expect you to know - and its going so well."

you've heard it all before.

"why, he's asked me to marry him!"

you hairbrush stills. you look at your mother for the first time. shes beaming. you feel sick all at once when you look down to her hand - see the ring she's flashing at you, gaudy and dramatic.

"i bought it for myself, of course. he's not the richest man - but he's wonderful! I'd like you to meet him - "

your memory flits back to hours ago, when the man you'd assumed was the help had lifted his arm, hand sifting through his hair and you'd caught a flash of something around his finger - silver in constant with his tan skin - a ring.

your lips part at the same time your brush snags on its first tangle, and footrests, heavy, thumping, a mans, approach your room. your mothers puttering is like static to you now, your eyes flitting from her to the door - and there he is. filling your doorframe. leaning against it with a kind of confidence like he belongs there. like the house is his.

"- eet patrick zweig." your mothers voice comes back to you. you imagine her mouth splitting open from how wide shes smiling - teeth flashing at you like a horse. "my husband. your new stepdad!"

she leans back against him and he wraps and arm around her easily. drops a kiss to her stiff hair, but he doesn't take his eyes off you when he does. everything about him is screaming cat that got the cream. his eyes are twinkling. his cheeks dimpling with a barely hidden grin.

"and." your mother claps. so fucking full of energy, the old bat. "he plays tennis!!! isn't that the most beautiful thing - he used to play with that - oh whats his name, honey -"

"art donaldson." patricks voice is thick and smooth. easy like syrup. he's still looking at you. pinning you with his gaze like you're one of those taxidermied bugs with its wings splayed open on display. "yeah, we used to play together. beat him a couple times."

"him, yes! oh, i told him all about your crush. dont flush, sweetheart, you had his posters in your room! and i thought- wouldn't it just be so fun if patrick and you trained together during the summer! oh, i know I've just been a mess over the years." she puts a hand to her heart - where it would be if she had one, that is - "bringing men in and out of our home. i can only imagine how lost you've felt without a proper male figure in your life. well, no more."

she pats patricks chest. hes opted out of a tank top for a soft cotton top. it hugs his frame too well.

"patrick here is all the father figure you'll need. thing's are really going to change around here, button. we'll be a family."

"a family." you echo, hollow.

"of course." patrick nods. he wants to grin so fucking had you can tell. "oh - and here you go - " he hands you a smoothie he'd been holding, you take it numbly. humiliation burns through you at the memory of how you'd talked to him before. when you'd assumed he was the help. "- that smoothie you wanted."

you stare at him. not sure what to make of any of this. your pride is shot to shit, you're embarrassed, you're angry, you're you're you're -

"and dont worry, babe." he jostles your mother under his arm. he's still. looking at you. you can see what the emotion was now - from before - worse than amusement. fucking glee. he's eating this shit up. "we'll get along just fine. won't we?"

no. no you absolutely fucking wont.

but saying that wont get you anywhere. not just yet. you set your smoothie down and try to smile. it feels wooden. this feels like a chess game suddenly, and hes knocked down one of your knights. and you have to try not to fucking scramble as you jump to defend your queen.

"sure." great move. real intimidating. that'll show him.

"yeah." he smiles at you - kisses the side of your moms head. "why don't you get dinner started, hm?"

you try not to gape as your mother preens and flushes like a housewife. your mother cooking. in the kitchen? preforming labor? doing tasks? willingly? you watch her flit out the room in a daze, wondering if fairies are real and one of them has bodysnatched your mother.

its just patrick and you now. the air in the room thickens with that fact, and you swallow. you've never felt this out of place. never felt so blindsided. not in awhile. you'd made sure of that. taken deliberate steps to adorn armor to prevent yourself from feeling this way. from feeling small. from feeling like the barely adult that you are, freshly nineteen and still so fucking confused and raw and scrambled about everything in your life. not at all like the 30 something in front of you who is a fucking man. a full adult. a full frontal lober. who's been through shit, you can tell, by the callouses on his palms, the hair on his body, his stubble, and the enormity of him in your space. in your little girl room that's still all pink ribbons and plushies on your bed and fairy lights strewn everywhere. he feels like the big bad wolf leering down at your straw fucking house, seconds away from blowing that shit to the ground.

you say nothing.

he crosses his arms and takes his time looking at you. you feel every touch of his eyes on your body, suddenly aware of how little you're wearing. just a sheer nightgown. you feel your nipples pebbling under the fabric that's definitely fucking see through and swallow.

"so."

he lets that hang in the air.

and what can you fucking say? you haven't had the time to recalibrate. you hairs still a mess.

"so.... what?"

you want to stand up - make the playing feild more even except thats a fucking joke because hes taller than you regardless. you feel pinned to the spot anyway, your muscles locked in place in your little chair. like you haven't been given permission to move. its the oddest feeling.

"she's right you know." he tells you, and he eases off the door frame, comes closer so you have to crane your neck up to look up at him. you feel demeaned. and yet, you dont look away. "things are different around here - they have been for awhile now."

you find some semblance of your fucking fire. try to hold your little straw house together. glare up at him.

"you can swing your dick around all you want and make my mom cook and clean for you but you're not the boss of me. you're not my dad."

he just looks at you. folds his lips together. his tongue peeks out to run against the front row of his teeth, wolfish.

the lean in is so jarring you nearly fall out of your chair. you do let out a squeak, jolting as your space is invaded suddenly by him, his arms braced on either side of you, one gripping the neck of your chair. his breath smells like spearmint and the chain around his neck swings back and forth as he gets in your face.

he straightens back up. casually like he didn't just rock your whole world off its fucking axis.

"you think I haven't dealt with you before? i fucking was you - spoiled little rich kid with mommy issues and no fucking daddy. s'that why you think you can stick your fucking nose up at me? dont try to play the game with the man who wrote the fucking rulebook. your display back there at being a big girl was cute, I'll give you that, but it ends there. this is my fucking house now. my fucking rules. and as long as you want to park your polished little ass here in your princess castle you'll listen to me." he does grin then, "I'm your daddy now."

"we cool?"

what can you do?

"we're cool."

he just blew your fucking straw house down.

#ask #frens <3 #and. the match begins #WHATS READERS NEXT MOVE I WONDER I WONDER #patrick zweig x reader #no smut bc i ended up getting lost in the sauce w backstory and lore and tension #challengers x reader #challengers #patrick zweig

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seichv · 8 months

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“you're squirming a lot for someone who swore they could take it.”

SATORU had your legs thrown over his shoulders as he pounded into you senselessly, one of his big, slender hands made its way down to your clit, rubbing circles on it, causing you to jolt. whiny moans constantly slipped past your lips, and your vision was going black. “so f-fucking good, satoruuu…” both his hands tightly grabbed your thighs now, throwing his head back as a loud groan emits from his chest. his face inched closer to yours as his icy gaze pierced directly into yours. “mhm… feels good, yeah?”

the lewd, wet noises made it all even nastier… his eyes shifted down to watch how tightly your sopping cunt was clenching around him, and he couldn't help but be amused at the view. “haah… you hear that? pussy’s talking to me, huh?” his face still had barely any distance from yours, his eyes were flooded with that lecherous look inside of them… the head of his dick kept reaching that sweet spot inside of you, he was slamming into you like he's fucking a fleshlight.

his strokes were just cruel, he mumbled “uh-huh” with every few moans that came from you. “o-oh my goddd… satoru–!” you couldn't feel an inch of your body, except for just how fucking deep inside he was, balls slapping against your ass leaving the skin there bright red. you had no way to escape no matter how much you thrashed around, he was practically fucking you into the sheets.

“gonna cum for me, baby?” his breath fanned against your face as he spoke, your brows knitting together, complete gibberish was all you were speaking, you made all sorts of grunts and moans that were far from a coherent answer. your legs were spasming and shaking, sweat glistening on your forehead. one of his hands sneaked up to your neck and firmly wrapped around it, saliva dripping onto his hand from your mouth that was hung open widely, your tongue almost lolling out, it looked pornworthy. “i asked you a question, pretty girl.”

“s-shutting your mouth won't be a bad idea.” you replied, slowly coming undone as his hand around your throat tightened its hold, not enough to prevent your breathing but enough to get your eyes rolling to the back of your head. “what was that?” the sound of his voice alone makes you lose yourself, you started to feel your skin tingling with that familiar feeling in your stomach as he practically broke you with each snap his hips made into yours.

“i said shut–” satoru cuts you off with a harsh thrust, your nails almost tearing the sheets from how hard you dug your nails into them as you yelped. he hums, with a wide grin spread across his face that made you want to slap him, even though it was sexy as fuck. your insides began to churn up as you pathetically whined beneath him.

“watch that pretty mouth, sweetheart.”

his cock drilled inside of you at a mean pace, you were going feral with not an inch of composure left. you felt satoru contracting and twitching inside your walls, they were hugging him so good he felt like he was in a trance. you watched his expression, his chest rumbling with loud, shaky groans. the pleasure continuously grew in your core, the ache between your legs overwhelming. you gushed your fluids onto him with a loud cry, your nerves all over the place as your entire body gave out. “oh fuuck—!” he fucked you through your orgasm, working his way to his own release.

“fuuuck…” he shoots his load deep inside of you, holding onto both sides of your waist for dear life as he quivered… beads of sweat trickled down his neck, huffing as he takes a moment to slowly gather his breath. you hear a squelch as he slowly pulls out of your pussy, his eyes following his cum spilling out and running down your folds. he leans down beside you to caress your cheek.

his hands traveled down your thighs as he whispered, chuckling at your fucked out expression and the way your eyes were barely staying open. one of your hands slid down to your pussy, your fingers coating in the mess that was down there. you felt how stretched out you were, your gaping hole making the nastiest sounds just from a simple touch. you sighed, your eyelids going heavy.

maybe you shouldn't watch your mouth more often.

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artificial-transmutations · 2 months

Text

Finally Together

When Jerry called, I could immediately tell something was very wrong. He was holding an ice pack up to his face and looked deranged overall.

"Jerry? What the hell happened to you?"

"Oh, hey. Yeah. This." he pointed at his face. "That's a long story."

"Let me see!" I demanded. You see, Jerry was, most definitely, my bff - my very best, very gay friend. And he had a talent for getting into trouble, sadly.

He slowly lowered the ice pack and I gasped. His right eye was swollen shut, and his face was covered in bruises.

"How..."

"Well, there was this guy. He was kinda hot, and totally my type, but, you know, straight as an arrow. At least *now* I know that." Even despite his bruises, Jerry raised his eyebrows in the cutest way possible - one of the traits I admired about them.

Yes, I should mention, I kiiiind of had a tiny little crush on Jerry. Or perhaps a gigantic one. You always want the ones you can't have, right? In my case, I was a woman - which was enough to disqualify myself rather finally.

"...and? Did he hit you?" I asked, even though I already suspected the answer.

"Yeah. I was just talking to him, trying to subtly find out his orientation. You know how it goes. Apparently, I wasn't too subtle about it, though, and he kind of escalated all over my face. It's no big deal, now I know."

Jerry smiled, but I could clearly see that it caused him pain to do so. It nearly broke my heart.

"It is a big deal." I answered. "That's horrible. You are worth so much more than this. Where did it happen? Did you call the police?"

"It was in the gym. Keith - that's the guy - works there, so, I guess, I need a new gym." Jerry joked. "And no, I didn't call the police, it's just... it's alright, okay Mathilda?"

I was not convinced but decided to let it go. Jerry was just a so sweet and innocent guy, he wouldn't even cause someone trouble if that someone punched in his face. I, on the other hand, was fuming. That was not a way to treat my bff! I would have really liked to kick that Keith's ass right now.

I chatted a bit more with Jerry before he had to go and promised him to come over that evening.

To be quite honest, I didn't plan to do anything, but when I was walking to Jerry's apartment in the afternoon, I passed his gym. I didn't even know it was on the way, because I honestly never paid attention to it much. But now that I saw it on the way, I couldn't help it. I would go in there and just tell the manager that one of their employees was a homophobic asshole. Just a little push in the right direction.

I entered the gym. It looked quite standard, but I couldn't see any manager or anyone else to talk to, for that matter, so I just went in there. It was quite empty, which was not surprising at this time of the day. There was, however, a young, muscular man doing push-ups. It was quite disgusting, actually, with all the sweat dripping down his body and a musky, penetrant smell was filling the room.

He stood up and greeted me.

"Hi, there. You're not a member, are you?"

"I'm not." I said. I felt like adding a "sorry" or something but decided against it. Instead, I clutched my handbag tighter.

"So, what can I do for you, ma'am?" He had that smug grin of an urge driven man who seemed to undress me with his gaze. I shuddered in disgust, but still, I straightened my back.

"Well, actually, I'm here to make a complaint."

"A complaint? About what?"

"Your staff."

"Oh? Do you have an issue with someone working here?"

"Well, yes. I just learned that one of your trainers, Keith was the name, I think, assaulted a customer. That is a terrible way to treat people, and I will not stand for it."

The guy laughed and flashed me a superior grin while he nonchalantly readjusted his groin. Free balling of course. Ugh. Can you spell 'toxic masculinity'?

"Look, honey. Whoever told you that, they lied to you. Keith would never hit a girl, especially not a pretty one."

I felt my face reddening from anger.

"First off, I'm not your honey, and secondly, it wasn't a girl but a guy."

The guy raised his eyebrows. "Really? A guy, huh?"

"Yes. He is my very good friend, and it's not funny at all."

"Hmm. Yeah, I think I remember the guy, some fruity fag who needed to be told a lesson."

Then it dawned on me. The disgusting guy in front of me was the man that had hurt Jerry.

"You're the one who did it! How dare you!" I exclaimed and tried to slap his face.

Before I could land a hit, though, he grabbed my wrist with an iron grip and grinned like a predator.

"Ah, ah. I wouldn't try that, if I were you. Would be a shame, if something were to happen to your pretty face, too."

I withdrew my hand and trembled from disgust.

"Ugh. You're just such a disgusting... jock."

In hindsight, I had no idea what happened, but perhaps some benevolent spirit or sprite was listening. In any case, Keith all of a sudden got a really strange expression on his face and looked really pale for a moment. And then... he suddenly looked even paler, like white paper or cloth. I will never be able to forget the expression of surprise on his face, as his body kind of... collapsed in on himself. His muscular torso diminished, and his arms and legs twisted and fused into thin rubber strips. But his face... His face contorted into a white fabric pouch that was completely devoid of any features within seconds. It had only taken a few moments, but Keith had disappeared.

I looked around first, but nobody else was in the gym right now. I carefully stepped closer and inspected what was left of Keith. Inside his black, damp gym shorts that was lying on the ground, I could see a pair of men's underwear, I believe it was called a jockstrap: A large fabric pouch held by rubber bands - designed to just cover the genitals, although, judging by the size of the pouch, rather large genitals. Now, as Keith had demonstrated quite clearly just a few moments ago, he had certainly not be wearing any underwear - and I had seen what had happened to his face.

With pointed fingers, careful not to touch the damp gym shorts and almost gagging from the strong smell, I picked up the piece of underwear. I had almost thrown it away again, when I noticed that it, too, was covered in sweat and stink. However, the piece of underwear that had once been a man held a strange fascination to me. I lifted it up to my face, to have a closer look, but didn't consider the consequences. When I breathed in, my nose was filled with the overwhelmingly strong and manly smell of sweaty, unwashed genitals, and it triggered something inside of me. All of a sudden, I felt tingly all over and groaned. My body felt weird all of a sudden. It was like that disgusting smell was all around me, enveloping me, pushing me to... change, somehow.

In horror, I felt my feet swelling up in my shoes. It wasn't painful, but it felt like I had been wearing boots that were way too small. The pressure was quickly getting unbearable and painful until my canvas shoes and thin socks couldn't take it anymore. First on the left and then, shortly after, on the right side, the toes of massive feet burst out from the footwear. The pressure subsided, and it felt fine again.

The changes didn't stop, though. Now that my feet had broken free from their restraints, my legs were the next to follow. A ripping sound heralded the death of my tights, as my legs gained mass and muscles. It looked almost comically how the threads of my tights were ripped apart, strand for strand. At the same time, I watched, as my hands grew larger. Gone were my delicate fingers, replaced by thick sausage-like appendages. Those new finger weren't carefully manicured but instead, I was now sporting short, ugly nails that would have been fitting for a lumberjack, rather than a girl.

While my legs were still growing, and I was getting visibly taller, my arms were next to follow. My blouse didn't even stand a chance as the arms did not only grew longer but most importantly, stronger. My biceps swelled like I visited the gym every day and, to my horror, I saw a tattoo forming on my right arm that reminded me a lot of the one Keith had had. I didn't have much time to think about it, though, as a new force practically ripped my blouse apart: My torso was pushing outward in all directions. My shoulders widened considerably, and my bra snapped from the strain. At first, I thought my boobs were growing, but it was quite the opposite. They were receding into my body, being replaced by even more massive and decidedly male pecs. Below them, a ripple went through my stomach, leaving behind the cobblestone road of abs.

The changes had met up at my midsection now and I was afraid of what was going to happen next. Sure enough, my skin-tight summer trousers bulged forward as something pressed against them from the inside.

"No..." I groaned, with a lower voice than I was used to, and tried to push whatever was appearing back into my midsection, but it was no use. With another ripping sound, a penis emerged from between my legs, quickly followed by a pair of testicles that pushed the ruined trousers down and settled in between my tree trunk-like thighs.

My head started swimming. That was wrong, that was so wrong. But the changes just went on. An Adam's apple formed in my throat, further lowering my voice, and my face reformed. It became squarer, and my jawbones became more pronounced. At the same time, my beautiful long hair receded into a short masculine cut. However, as hair disappeared on top of my head, it grew elsewhere. Or, should I say everywhere. Disgusting, wiry body hair grew in on my arms and legs and even on top of my enormous feet and the back of my hands. My chest was coated by a layer of short and coarse hair, and a treasure trail led down my midsection, where it disappeared into a thick pubic bush.

Speaking of bushes, two more formed in the large area of my armpits. Ugh. I was hairy like a fucking monkey. The only well-groomed bit of body hair was on my face, in the short beard that I could see in the gym mirror.

I could hardly believe my eyes. Staring back at me from the reflection was no one else but Keith. *I* was a splitting image of Keith now, only naked aside from the tatters of my clothes. I wanted to scream, but all that came out was a low grunt.

Okay, Mathilda, no reason for panic, I told myself. I would just... Go see a doctor. Yes. There had to be an explanation. This could be treated.

I took a step towards the exit and stumbled over the remains of my coughing. Oh, right, I was still naked.

The only piece of clothing was Keith's gym shorts. Well, his gym shorts and Keith himself, who was a piece of underwear now. I looked between the shorts and the underwear. On the one hand, I really didn't want to wear what had just been Keith, but on the other hand... I certainly wasn't going without any underwear. Everyone would be able to see the outline of my current genitals. Yuck.

So, lacking other options, I pulled on the white piece of underwear. It was, unsurprisingly, very sweaty, and it clung to my junk. I grimaced, but it was better than the alternative. My ass was still largely uncovered, but that was not as bad as the front side. I had to admit that my new equipment filled out the pouch pretty well.

I quickly shook my head and pulled on the gym shorts as well. It felt weird not to cover my chest, but that was probably acceptable in my current state.

Perhaps I could ask Jerry if I could borrow some men's clothing from him.

Oh my, Jerry. He was probably waiting for me. I grabbed my handbag and fled the gym.

Walking felt weird. Of course, regardless of my looks, I was still a woman, so I took small steps and refused to spread my legs too much while walking. It was very awkward. The sun was shining down and although it wasn't all *that* hot, I found myself starting to sweat. How disgusting was that? It was like those stupid mountains of muscle were producing so much heat that my skin was soon glistening with sweat and my armpits started to smell. I tested it by lifting an arm and taking a whiff. Ugh. I needed a shower, badly. I probably would be able to use Jerry's.

Jerry... I saw his face right in front of me in my mind. The cute smile, the adorable brown eyes, the cute little dimples on his cheeks when he grinned.

A strange feeling came over me from my groin area. What was going on down there? When I looked down, the ample bulge of my cock had become even bigger, probably tenting out the pouch that had been Keith's face. I groaned. Men were so primitive. All it took was one sexy thought and bam, erection.

Still, I couldn't deny that it felt pretty good. I checked it anyone on the street was looking before I felt the outline of the cock through the layers of clothing with my big hand. The touch made me moan, and I felt my member throb.

That's when I experienced the weirdest feeling. As the sweat from my groin mixed with the fluids seeping out of the cock head and were absorbed by the jockstrap, all of a sudden, I felt the presence of Keith - the real Keith. It was like a strong mental attack, to get his body back, but I fought back. It was not *his* body, it was mine, even though it may have looked like Keith right now.

It was the strangest experience. I could practically *feel* his thoughts and emotions. The humiliation from being wrapped around, well, *my* cock and balls, I could even taste and smell an echo of what he was tasting and smelling, including the weird taste of precum that had mixed into the face-pouch recently.

It wasn't easy, but I repelled Keith's mind and kind of stuffed it back into the underwear. When I continued my walk, I didn't even notice that I know walked like a man: With long, powerful strides and enough room for my balls.

Luckily, my cock had calmed down a bit by now, and I ran the rest of the way, just to make sure. I was glistening with more sweat when I finally arrived at Jerry's apartment and rang the bell. Ugh. That musk was so bad, I just hoped I could hop under the shower right away.

However, when Jerry opened the door, we were both stunned for a moment. I because Jerry looked even better in reality than when I imagined him. Foreign hormones flooded my system, coming from my balls and I just stood there for a moment. Of course, I had a crush on Jerry before, but right now, in this moment, I realized for the first time that now, Jerry wasn't quite as unreachable as before.

Jerry, on the other hand, backed away, an expression of fear on his face.

"Keith, what... Is this some kind of joke?"

I was taken aback by his reaction.

"No! It's not... It's me, Mathilda!"

"Who?"

"Mathilda, your best friend."

Jerry stared at me, confusion on his face.

"What are you talking about Keith? Wasn't it enough for you to bash my face in? Do you want to humiliate me now?"

"No, please. Listen, Jerry, you're my friend, and I would never hurt you."

He scoffed. "Oh really? My black eye says otherwise."

I could feel myself getting upset from all the testosterone and took a deep breath.

"I can explain. Please, Jerry, hear me out."

He looked at me skeptically.

"Fine. I'll listen."

With that, he let me into his apartment.

"Okay, first of all, can I take off these gym shorts? They are really really disgusting and sweaty, and they are clinging to my legs. Yuck!"

"Uh, oookay." Jerry looked even more confused but allowed it.

Gladly, I got rid of the stinking shorts and threw them at the ground, far away from me. Jerry frowned but was apparently more captured by my now only jockstrap-clad body that I sat down on his couch. I admit I wanted to get rid of the jockstrap, too, but then I would have been completely naked in my friend's living room.

The thought was oddly exciting, and I felt my cock raise in reaction.

I just hoped that Jerry wouldn't notice my state of arousal, even though there wasn't much fabric left to hide it, but I quickly spoke.

"So, Jerry, it's really me. Remember the time when we watched Star Trek: Voyager and had a pillow fight, and you beat me easily, even though I am taller and stronger?"

"How would you know about that, Keith?" Jerry crossed his arms. He had obviously noticed my midsection problem, which was throbbing now, leading to another wet spot on the piece of underwear.

"I'm telling you, I am Ma..."

Suddenly, I grabbed my head. There it was again. Keith had reacted to my arousal and was fighting for control of *my* body again. It was weaker this time, though, and although it took me a few moments, I pushed him back between my legs, where he belonged.

Finally, I spread my legs, man-spreading without even thinking about it and giving the whole world in general and Jerry in particular a good view of my massive groin. A smirk formed on my face. Having such a big cock was something to be proud of.

"...Mathilda." I finished my sentence, although I found the name rather unfitting for a stud like me. "I just kind of... transformed into Keith's body, but it's still the same old man as always. Woman, I mean."

"Uh... what?"

I smiled and stood up, slowly, so he could see all the muscles I had gained. I was taller, too, taller than Jerry even.

"But tell me, do you like what you see?" My cock was throbbing like mad now. God, I needed to have this man!

"Uuuh... uhm... yes? Yes."

I chuckled. "Well, Jerry. I don't know how to get back to my original body yet, but do you want to... touch this one?" I gently took his hand and placed it on my chest.

Jerry didn't react at first, but then he started caressing my chest. It felt great, and he moaned, too.

Another small spurt of precum spilled into my underwear and again, Keith acted up. It was even weaker this time, and I had no trouble staying in control. I did notice something else though. Apparently, Keith was enjoying this a lot, way more than a straight man should. He was almost addicted to my cock fluids by now, and he mentally lapped at my organ submissively. And he exhibited a longing for Jerry that appeared to be too deep-rooted to have developed recently. Well, good for him, because as my jockstrap, he would have a front row seat in what happened next.

"Mathilda, is it really... okay?" Jerry asked, barely being able to restrain himself.

"Yes Jerry." I said while looking into his eyes. "It's more than okay. It's perfect. And it's Matthew from now on, okay?"

I took a deep breath, breathing in my wonderful musky smell, and I watched Jerry do the same. And when I kissed him, I couldn't wait to tear his clothes off and plow his cute little ass with my mighty cock while my lucky jockstrap was watching.

#female to male tf #muscle transformation #straight to gay #inanimate transformation #sweat #musk #man stink #romance

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makeyoumine69 · 4 months

Text

Memory Reboot

PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x gn!Reader

SUMMARY: You work at P&P, and one day you come into Bateman's office and witness his breakdown. Your attempts to comfort him only increase his obsession with you, and without realizing it, you push this man to his limits. The outburst that finds you both in a club called the Tunnel will change your lives forever and irrevocably.

CONTAINS: Smut, angst, obsessive behavior, desperate-touch-starved Patrick, masturbating, oral sex (reader receiving), aggressive foreplay, dirty talk, body worship, teasing, biting, drug usage, pet names.

WORDS: 3k

SONG REC: VØJ, Narvent - Memory Reboot

A/N: This is for my dear @iron-flavored-lipgloss! It was such a pleasure for me to write this for you! Enjoy!

LINKS: [MASTERLIST] 🪓 [EDIT]

gif by @tvandfilm

Patrick Bateman. What kind of a mess was this man? Chaotic, impulsive, pathetic? Or all of the above?

Smirking, you went to his office to deliver some documents you needed him to sign, but when you got there, you noticed that Jean — his lovely blonde assistant — was absent and the door to his office was suspiciously half open. It was strange, to say the least, but you just shrugged your shoulders and stood there for a while when you heard a loud thud coming through the door — the sound almost made you jump in surprise. 'What the hell?' You wondered as you approached the door, turning around to see if Jean was coming, but there was no sign of her. With measured steps you got closer to the hole in the open door and just peeked in out of curiosity, but the scene you saw was not what you expected — Bateman, all flushed and covered in sweat, was storming around his office, his hands desperately fumbling with his tie as if it was choking him.

Your reaction was quick, and you didn't even notice as you opened the door and stepped inside. "Bateman? Are you okay?"

The man stopped shaking the moment he heard your voice and leaned down on his desk. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I came to get your signature on some of my docs when I heard you crying,” you grinned, watching his face go pale. "What's wrong, Bateman? Did you miss your facial?" The way he balled his hands made you laugh. "But really, did something happen?"

"Yes," Patrick replied, looking at you and running his hand through his disheveled hair. "I mean...no...nothing happened…" You saw his lips tremble a little each time he spoke. "Gimme the docs."

Frowning in confusion, you pulled out a napkin and handed it to him instead, meeting his scornful gaze. "You're sweating…” You placed the white piece of cloth on his desk, only now noticing a small jar that you were sure was full of pills. "Maybe I should ask Jean to bring you some coffee? You look really sick..."

"No!" Bateman suddenly blurted out, pointing his finger at you. "I asked Jean to take the day off..."

"Hey, hey, relax," you raised your hands defensively. "Relax, I was just trying to help."

Slowly, you placed the folder of documents on his wooden desk, which he grabbed almost immediately, and your hands touched for a brief moment, and Bateman didn't flinch, and neither did you.

"Take a seat." Patrick muttered incoherently.

"What?"

"Sit," he repeated irritably. "And wait."

His tumultuous behavior actually frightened you, but you did as he said and sat down in the chair opposite him. ‘My God, he really is mental, Tim was right.’

"What are these pills? Some vitamins?" You tried to keep the conversation alive, not even knowing why, as you watched his long, thin fingers floating across the pages.

Your question made him stop and look up at you. "That's none of your business, (y/n). I asked you to sit and wait, not ask me stupid questions."

‘Why does he look so cute when he's so angry?’ The thought brought a smile to your face, but then you zipped up your mouth theatrically and Bateman's office went silent for a while. And you used it to admire his perfect jawline, even though his brown hair was messy now, it looked so inviting to touch anyway.

"Is that all?" Bateman asked suddenly, arching his eyebrows and interrupting your train of thought.

"Uh, what?"

A prominent line appeared on Patrick's forehead — a testament to his annoyance. "Are you deaf or something?"

"Lemme see them," you pointed at the documents. "I want to make sure you put your cute sign on every page." Your playful tone made the line between Patrick's eyebrows even more noticeable. "I don't want to come back here."

Bateman didn't even try to jab back, his face still pale and sweaty, his eyes nothing but dark voids — oh, how fucking empty they were. Sighing heavily, Patrick raised his gaze when he heard the chair creak as you got up and walked around his desk. The sudden cut in the distance between the two of you was something Patrick didn't seem to be ready for, as his hands nervously gripped the armrests, but you pretended not to notice.

"We all feel down sometimes," you murmured over his ear, literally sensing the tension radiating from his body. "And that's okay." Placing your hand on his broad shoulder, you leaned down to look at the documents, surreptitiously inhaling the scent of his perfume mixed with his sweat. ‘Fuck, what am I doing?’

"I didn't know you had a part-time job as a therapist," he grumbled, examining your palm, wondering if he was going to kill you here and now, or keep you in here forever. "Listen, I have a reservation at Barcadia..."

"Mmm, Barcadia? Really?"

Bateman nodded and finally removed your hand. "Yes, I'm having lunch with Coutrney."

"I wonder what Luis thinks of these lunches with his fiancé." You picked up the folder and stepped back from his armchair. "You don't feel guilty about sleeping with Coutrney behind his back, do you?"

Gritting his perfectly white teeth, the brown-haired man abruptly got up from his desk and stormed toward you, surely intending to yell at you or say something rude, but the moment he stopped directly across from you and your eyes met, Bateman's expression suddenly became lost and confused. "Just stop," he finally managed to mutter. "Stop poking around in my fucking head…" As you noticed his pupils widening, things were no longer funny to you. "Understand?"

‘Well, maybe turning it into a joke is not a bad plan,’ you hummed and nodded. "Sure, Bateman," you sneered a little nervously. "I'm just reading this book Timothy gave me," you slowly turned and walked to the door. "The book about Human Psychology." That was surely a joke, but judging by the serious look Patrick gave you, he didn't seem to get it.

"Tim gave you... a book?" He repeated, frowning in confusion and disbelief.

When you opened the door, you paused for a second, wanting to say something smart at the end. "Oh yeah. Why don't you ask him about it? Maybe he can recommend some books about... human relationships or something." And with that, you smiled in satisfaction at seeing Bateman's face quiver with anger before you left his office, leaving him with a raging tempest in his chest.

Later that day, Patrick couldn't sleep because his mind was so full of different thoughts, but the only thing they had in common was that they were all connected to you. You, you, you. The sound of running water echoed off the marble walls of his lavish bathroom as Bateman stood in the shower, enjoying the way the strong streams of cold water hit his back. Huffing, Patrick desperately scrubbed his skin as if it would help him get rid of the thoughts of you that haunted him the day he first met you — you were so cheeky, so sweet, everyone loved you and wanted to hang out with you. How fucking cute. Patrick groaned as he felt a throb at the base of his hard cock, God, he felt like it was hard all the time and no sex could help him with that because all those people, they weren't you.

"Argh, fuck," he groaned as he finally allowed himself to touch his twitching dick and give it a few strokes.

"F-fuck..." Bateman pumped his length rhythmically, recoiling at the memories of today, the way you put your hand on his shoulder, the warmth of your breath on the back of his neck. And what would it feel like if you had placed your hand on his chest, or run it over his abdomen and then down?

"Uh, a-ahhh," the man moaned louder, shaking uncontrollably from the orgasm building at the base of his spine. "(Y/n), your hands feel so good on me, oh-shit…" Patrick had to lean against the shower wall as his legs buckled from the intense waves of ecstasy as he cummed with your name on his trembling lips, the water still running down his sculpted body, washing his cum off, but he was still so hard.

"Reading books on psychology," Bateman chuckled, tilting his head. "What an idiot." His nervous giggle bounced across the shower, but soon the laughter turned to a low wail. "Pathetic…”

Time flowed like sand through your fingers, and you couldn't even remember how many days had passed since your visit to Bateman's office, but since then something had changed between the two of you, but you both couldn't understand what exactly had changed, or maybe you didn't want to try to understand. To be fair, it was so fucking annoying that when you found out that Tim, David, Craig and Patrick were going to the Tunnel, you saw it as your chance to dot the T's, no matter how the evening would end.

When you arrived at the club, it was so crowded that it took you a while to find the group of yuppies sitting on the plush couches next to the dance floor, jamming to the music and drinking their cocktails.

As you approached, Craig was the first to spot you. "Woah, woah, look who it is!" His cheeky remark caused everyone to look at you, including Bateman, whose teeth were visibly clenched around his cigar at that moment.

"Hey, guys! Enjoying the music I see?" You smiled, fixing your hair briefly from the sudden rush of panic. ‘Damn it, stay calm! Why am I so nervous?’

Timothy winked at you and raised his glass. "Did you come alone or..." he stopped abruptly when he noticed someone behind your back. "Hey, is that Paul Allen?"

‘Shit, shit, shit. That was so much easier in my head than it is in reality.’ You chewed on your cheek, and while the men were guessing whether they really saw Paul Allen or not, a sudden idea came to your mind, but you hated it before you even started to bring it to life. "Do you have a gram?" You asked without thinking, hoping they would say no.

"I do," Bateman's voice came out of nowhere and you almost screamed in your head, but you had to keep your composure. "But you will owe me." As he said this, you came closer to where he was sitting with a playful smile on your face and took a seat next to him. "Wait, we are not going to do coke here."

"Hey, why not?" David chuckled and took out his business card holder. "What's wrong with it?

"Oh God, look at that cheeky bastard," Craig pressed a palm to his face. "Van Patten decided to be a bad boy today."

The men laughed and high-fived each other before Bateman whispered in your ear, making you almost jump. "Follow me." Those two simple words made you obey like you were under a spell.

As the two of you made your way to the bathroom where people in the Tunnel usually did coke, your heart pounded to the heavy beat of the music, or even faster. Patrick went first, his elegant silhouette like a shining star in the midnight sky — so eye-catching and mesmerizing that it wasn't surprising that a lot of people turned around to look at him, but you didn't care as soon you would be alone with him. ‘Just you and me, Bateman.’

The bathroom was surprisingly empty today. The last time you were there, you had to wait almost half an hour to get into the free stall, but now luck seemed to be on your side. As you stepped into one, Patrick pulled out his business card holder and rolled the $100 bill; you did the same, watching as Bateman made lines of coke with his platinum AmEx card.

"I have to say, you look much better." You commented briefly.

The man was about to lean over to snort the white powder, but your words made him freeze. "Huh," he chuckled abruptly and brushed away a stray lock of hair. "I was just reading some books about... relationships," Patrick grimaced, drawing out the last word with a cocky grin. "It changed my mind." Before you could say anything, Patrick was snorting the coke, holding the rolled-up bill to his nostril while holding another down with his thumb.

"Very funny," you mumbled, tapping the rolled note against the inside of your palm. "Where was your wit when I walked into your office a week ago?"

Bateman coughed quietly and threw his head back for a moment to clean his nose. "What does this have to do with anything?"

Rolling your eyes, you moved closer to his business card holder to inhale the white line of powder that had been left there, your mood was already off, and at some point you even began to regret coming to Tunnel tonight. Though it wasn't your first time doing coke, you felt so dizzy as the drug began to intoxicate your system that you almost fell to the floor if you hadn't bumped into Bateman's chest, leaving a white stain on the lapel of his Valentino suit.

"Hey! What the fuck!" Patrick blurted out, ready to push you off, but the way you grabbed his shoulders stirred something strange inside him, something he was fighting all the time. "Have you ever done coke?"

You coughed several times, blinked nervously, and only then did you let him go. "Sorry..." you gasped and leaned against the wall of the stall behind your back. "It's been a while."

"You stained my jacket."

"God! I'm sorry, okay?"

"No," Bateman replied, brushing off. "Not okay."

"What do you mean?" You asked confusedly, batting your eyelashes and breathing heavily.

Patrick dropped his head for a second before looking at you again, your faces dangerously close. "I'm not okay."

You licked your lips nervously. "Why?"

Instead of saying anything, the man pulled you against his massive frame, giving you no time to react as his hot mouth covered yours; it was difficult to call it a kiss, it was more like the act of claiming — his strong arms trapping you between the wall and his muscular body while yours hovered motionlessly like whips. When Bateman released you, he tugged at your lower lip and licked it with a wet, obscene sound. "Because...because of this."

Panting, you stood in shock for a moment before nodding and touching your wet lips. "Yes," you put both hands on his chest, exploring it slowly but boldly, causing him to close his eyes for a second. "I don't think I'm okay either." After whispering it in his ear, you slid your tongue down his bare neck, right over the mole, and when you heard him grunting, you lowered your hand to his belt, playing teasingly with the buckle.

"Lower," Bateman husked, and when you didn't listen, he grabbed your hand and lowered it himself — the outline of his fully erected cock eliciting a muffled moan to break out of your cramped throat. "Ahhh-fuck."

"God, you're so needy," you murmured against his neck, busy undoing his belt. "So touchy."

It only took a few seconds for you to undo his pants and let his taut dick pop out of his underwear. ‘Mmhhm, his cock is so perfect, just as I expected,’ you smiled to yourself, and in the next moment you were stroking his throbbing length, smearing his slick pre-cum around his swollen tip without any shame or fear of getting caught.

"(Y/n)," Patrick hissed as he pressed you against the wall with his weight, his hands sneaking down your back to grope your ass. "Be quiet," the man ordered when he heard your soft moans. "Keep quiet and undo this." Bateman pointed to your bottom and just the thought of what he was about to do to you almost made you cum.

"Why?" You gave him a foxy grin and tightened your grip on his dick, forcing Patrick to hold his breath.

"Just...just do what I say..."

"Okay, honey."

"Don't call me that!" He uttered and squeezed your ass painfully, your bodies grinding against each other, making you hot and sweaty.

"Patrick..." You attempted to kiss him, but he turned away.

In one swift motion, the man reached your neck and aggressively nipped at the throbbing artery. "Shut up! Just shut up and undo this fucking..."

You didn't let him finish his tantrum as you caught his lips with yours, increasing the tempo of the jacking, and you could feel he was so damn close. But since he was so insistent, you undid the lower part of your garment, and everything that happened next was like one of your recent dreams. Bateman, flushed and panting, crouched down, his cock slipping out of your grasp, but the next second his fierce mouth found its way between your legs as he began to suck on your sensitive flesh with sheer greed and passion, not forgetting to pump his dick and growl softly against your skin.

"Ohh, Pat-Patrick," you gasped, tugging at his brown hair, dishevelling it, but neither of you cared. "I'm gonna cum if you don't stop..."

"Mmm-fuck, you taste so sweet," Patrick pressed his face closer to your core, his free hand nailing you to the wall to hold you in place. "You're shaking like a fucking whore."

Chucking, you yanked at his hair a little harder. "And you're devouring me like a starved man, are you starved, Bateman? How long have you been... so fucking s-starved?" You hiccupped as he redoubled his efforts, lapping at your crotch and jerking himself off. "F-fuck, I'm... I'm gonna..."

The loud footsteps made you both stop in your tracks, and when you heard people coming into the bathroom, you stalled completely, only to quickly fix your clothes and then pretend nothing had happened as you left the stall. Later, as you were washing your hands, Patrick stood behind you and you met his eyes in the mirror. "Are you leaving or..." You asked briefly as he handed you your twisted bill.

"Yeah," Bateman straightened his jacket and wiped his mouth with a paper towel before opening the door. "You better forget about it. Believe me."

‘And now I feel like I need a memory reboot.’

Chapter 2 is here! 💗✌

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

#american psycho #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x you #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x you #slasher smut #patrick bateman smut #patrick bateman headcanon #christian bale smut #christian bale x reader #patrick bateman reader #christian bale #patrick bateman imagines #patrick bateman x male reader #gn reader

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mewhenimanangel · 2 months

Text

reporting live, paige bueckers

— synopsis. you meet paige when you’re assigned to report on the uconn v. iowa game. twoshot!

notes ౨ৎ: i’ve never wrote for a real person before it feels so strange…but there’s like no fics on here i had to take matters into my own hands.

also yes im rewriting history to make uconn win!

next ౨ৎ

you checked yourself out in the mirror, fixing your outfit - low rise black work pants with a white button down that showed a small sliver of your stomach with black sling back heels.

you tossed your hair around to fix it making sure it was in perfect shape. after all, your job was pretty dependent on looks.

you worked as a reporter for the city's top news agency and tonight you would be attending the uconn versus iowa women's basketball game.

you were also pretty active on social media and managed to make some money that way, you were more than grateful for your lifestyle.

you called your friend, devon , to make sure she was on her way to get you knowing you absolutely could not be late tonight.

she answered the phone and you sighed a breath of relief when it sounded like she was in fact on her way.

"hey girll, are you excited for tonight? pretty big story" she said, bustling city noise behind her.

"yeah i'm excited to interview uconn after they beat iowa's ass" you smirked when you heard her gasp on the other side. "they so will not! my girlfriend caitlin's gonna pull through"

"nah, paige buckets got that easily" you scoffed as you packed your bag, ready to head downstairs out of your apartment.

your bosses had assigned you to tonight's game and hooked you up with two court-side tickets for you and a guest, along with the camera crew.

you of course had to invite your best friend to go with you.

you stepped outside the building and watched as her car pulled up outside.

"ugh i can't believe i get to see caitlin clark up close" devon squealed as you got yourself situated in the car. "ugh be calm, you literally have a boyfriend." you joked. "okay and?" she laughed as she drove off.

once you were at the stadium, you and devon met at with your crew as you found your seats inside.

the game wasn't due to start for another fourty or so minutes but it was already packed inside.

you were glad women's basketball was finally getting the recognition it deserved after you and your mom had been fans of it almost your whole life. you even played a little bit in high school.

you and devon got snacks before sitting down and getting yourselves comfortable.

it didn't feel long until the players came out and the game was started. aliyah and hailey jump started the game before kk threw the ball back at paige.

the game was a close one and you made sure to follow it closely. throughout the game you did side interviews with other players and people attending the game, which was all just leading up to the end of game interviews.

it was the final quarter and you made sure to pay close attention.

it all came down to the last few seconds when paige threw the ball off caitlin's back to catch it again and land the ball in the net, giving uconn the winning score!

you and your crew sat up as you turned your reporter accent on "there you have it folks, uconn has won this round and will advance to the final game against south carolina. what an amazing job tonight by these wonderful ladies on both teams. win or lose, it was a great watch and i'm cheering for everyone's next move."

once you were sure the cameras were off you turned around to devon and threw your hands in the air.

"bitch i told you! i tolddd you paige had this game" you squealed. "ughhh you're so annoying why are you always right" she groaned.

a few minutes later you popped some mouthwash melts and fixed your makeup before you were to interview paige.

your hands were sweating like crazy. you never wanted to come off as an insane fan girl but you were obsessed with paige.

your cameraman followed you as you walked over to paige and she turned around. "hi" she smiled and shook your hand. "hi, are you ready?" you asked her. "yeah" she smiled. you gave your cameraman a thumbs up as he turned the camera on.

you turned to paige, who was already staring at you and you took a deep breath. you're usually never nervous to interview people but god the way she was looking at you.

her eyes were trained on yours and she had a little smirk on her face, her face was glistening from the tiring game she just played and she licked her lips waiting for you to ask your first question.

you cleared your throat "i'm here with paige bueckers, who just made the winning move in the highly anticipated iowa versus uconn game! tell me paige, how did it feel to take the winning shot?" you turned the microphone to her.

she rubbed her chin "ah it was really nerve racking to be honest i mean. i could feel my team counting on me and i knew i really had to pull through and get us out on top" she answered, eyes focusing back on you.

"yeah but that was a tough shot wasn't it?" you watched her eyes drop down to scan you before meeting yours again. "yeah but i knew i could make it in for sure"

"right, bueckers get buckets i don't know what to tell y'all" you joked to the camera. paige laughed.

"yeah for sure but i really owe it all to my team" she continued before kk came up behind her. "yupppppp WE GOING TO THE TITLE GAME" she threw her arms around you and paige and the threw of you jumped in excitement before running to find her other teammates.

you laughed it off before continuing for the camera "well there you have it, paige it was lovely to talk to you. congratulations on the winning game! make sure those of you at home tune in to the final game taking place in just a few days." you signed off the camera before your crew stopped filming.

you turned to paige and dropped the reporter voice. "it was nice to meet you by the way" you smiled. "i could say the same" her eyes never left yours and you bit your cheek to hide a smile.

"well i should let you go celebrate, congratulations, have a good night!" you said, beginning to walk away.

"bye it was nice to meet you" she said before you fully walked away.

you walked over to devon who was waiting on the side. "i know damn well your heart is racing"

"shut up" you smirked.

#nia writes ࿐#paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers #paige buckets #uconn huskies #uconn wbb #uconn women’s basketball #nika muhl #kk arnold #bueckers get buckets

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woso-dreamzzz · 5 months

Text

Illness

Barcelona Femení x Teen!Reader

Summary: You hide an illness

If you weren't delirious with a fever and sweating bullets, you would have described this moment as the most embarrassing moment of your life.

The semi-final El Clásico was one of the most important of the season and it was such bad luck that you had fallen ill the week before. It was most likely the flu but you never went to any doctor to get it checked out. Instead, you hunkered down in your apartment and refused to leave until you got better.

Only, you never did get fully better. Your immune system was as strong as a wall of feathers so you just decided to channel your inner Oscar winner and pretend you were fine.

You arrived at training every day after taking enough painkillers to fell an ox and hydrate yourself to the point that you were sure that your bladder had to force itself to grow.

It paid off though because you were part of the squad going to Madrid and you caught up on sleep during the train ride so could keep up your façade all the way up to the match day.

Your head was pounding as you finally stepped onto the pitch about ten minutes after half time, sliding easily into Lucy's position as the ball went back into play.

Thankfully, football was an instinct rather than a conscious thought at this point and even with a banging headache, achy limbs and a blocked nose, you played without much issue.

"Hey," Irene said as you took a little break from running to walk over to the corner that was being set up," You okay? You're slower than usual today."

You fanned yourself with your jersey. "Just a little hot."

She gave you an odd look. "It isn't that hot. You haven't been on the pitch for long."

You gave her a shrug and lied straight to her face," Really? I guess I'm just running warm today." You picked up the pace and slotted yourself between Athenea and Olga.

It was almost slow motion as Salma sent a cross into the box. Olga tried to push you forward and away while Athenea's elbow stabbed you straight in the eye.

You dropped like a brick backwards into Olga, who surprised by your sudden weight, dropped you on the floor. Your head banged painfully against the grass and you groaned.

There was a slight ringing in your ears but you couldn't focus on anything but the desperate churning of your stomach. You squeezed your eyes tight to try to stem the swirling but it just made stars explode behind your eyelids as your face throbbed from Athenea's elbow.

Your stomach bubbled up and you felt a hand on your shoulder.

"Hey, kid, you okay?" It was Irene and she jostled you slightly.

That was what did it and you rolled over onto your stomach just in time to surrender your dinner.

You burst into tears, sobbing into the grass.

"Holy shit, y/n," Mariona said," You're burning up! Are you sick?"

"You're sick?!"

You continued to cry into the grass. With your usual caretaker (Alexia) out of the team for the rest of the month, it meant Irene was in charge of you.

You couldn't decide if you would rather Alexia at this moment.

"Go away," You cried into the grass.

"Can't do that," Ingrid said as she crouched over you," The medics are coming to get you."

You turned your head to look at her.

"She got you good, huh?" Ingrid said, her fingers ghosting over your swollen eye.

"Ingrid," You croaked out," My head hurts."

"I'm sure. That was a nasty fall."

"Hurt before that too."

She made a sympathetic noise as she helped you sit up for the medics to have a proper look at you.

You were escorted straight off when they checked the dilation of your pupils.

Lucy trailed back with you along with Marta, who looked to already be on the phone with Alexia. You knew your caretaker would be watching the match so it wasn't a surprise that she had already called someone the moment you went down.

"Got quite the shiner there," Lucy commented as she inspected your bruised eye," Trying to look like Mapi?"

"At least it isn't bleeding," You said before descending into a coughing fit, thumping at your chest to try and regain your breath.

Lucy laughed but quietened when Marta held the phone out to you. You tried to ignore the sinking feeling you felt when you saw Alexia's contact picture.

You cleared your throat.

"Hola?"

"I knew it!" Alexia declared.

"Know what?" You tried to play dumb even though your whole body protested.

"When I saw you yesterday and you told me you were back to full health! I knew you were lying to me! You're still sick!"

"Barely." Your defence didn't help when you started coughing again.

"You sound horrible," Alexia said bluntly," You're not playing the final. I'll have you benched."

"I'll be benched anyway. I've got a bruise the size of my fucking country on my eye and a concussion, probably."

"We'll have a talk about hiding illness when you get home," Alexia said," And I'll have to leave a message for your captain."

You would have rolled your eyes if it didn't cause a whole new pain to shoot through your skull. Your nose was all blocked up again so the pressure in your head was only mounting. "You're my captain."

"Your national captain."

"Oh, what? You can't tell Leah! She'll go barmy! I'll be lectured for hours!"

"You're being lectured regardless, by me," Alexia said," Now, rest up, drinks lots and I'll see you in a few days."

You didn't even get the chance to watch the end of the match because Marta forced you back to the hotel and into your room.

"No screens," She said when you moved to turn on the tv.

"Well, what else am I meant to do?" You complained, blowing out your nose.

"Well, for one, you can use the bucket on the floor if you feel like you're going to be sick."

"I'm not going to throw up."

"You threw up on the pitch." Marta just had to remind you of the most embarrassing moment of your life and your cheeks flushed red out of embarrassment now instead of your fever.

"But I won't now."

Marta didn't get time to respond because the door to your room got thrown open and Patri sprawled herself next to you on the bed.

"Welcome back to the land of the living," She teased, dumping some chocolate onto your lap.

"Patri," Marta groaned," She's sick and injured. She needs rest."

"She needs company. She's still human. You can't just lock her in her room like she's Rapunzel."

Marta rolled her eyes and swatted at Patri. "She doesn't need you hindering her recovery. Go on, out with you."

"Nah," Patri said as she got comfortable," I think I'll stay here. Besides, y/n wants me to stay."

You sent Marta your most pathetic and sad look.

"Please, Marta?" You begged," I promise she'll help me. It'll be nice to have some company."

Marta sighed deeply. "Fine but just for now. This all might change by the time Alexia gets her."

You groaned and flopped back to lay against your pillows properly. "Don't remind me."

#woso x reader #barcelona femeni x reader #barca femeni x reader #barcelona femeni #barca femeni #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso

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writingsonsaturn · 3 months

Note

Tim and Y/n are high school sweethearts but they go there separate ways not because they want to but for some reason, and y/n moves to LA (maybe sometime after the break up with Rachel) and meets tim again after she calls 9-1-1 for help and they reconnect - you're an amazing writer

rekindled love - tim bradford

{ masterlist }

🪐: i’m so sorry it took me so long to write this, i made it a little longer to make up for it so pls forgive me lol :)

word count: 1.8k

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

Senior year was the beginning to the end, Tim had talked to you about joining the military and The moment your eyes met Tim’s freshmen year during first period you knew your heart was his.

Your secret crush developed as you continued to stare and daydream about his pretty face, your friends all laughed at you and practically screamed at you to finally make a move on him.

“He doesn’t even know who I am! Why would I make a move?” you had groaned over the phone.

“Y/n, babe, I need you to be serious. That man has the biggest crush on you! He barely even knows what class he’s in because he’s too busy gawking at you” your friend, Darla, argued with a roll of her eyes.

After the much needed push to finally get the ball rolling, you had sat next to Tim in class. Unbeknownst to you his heart had started racing, hands began to profusely sweat, and mouth became dry at the simple thought of you being next to him.

The class was long, and boring. That was until Tim asked “are you understanding any of this?” you were surprised, and slightly caught off guard.

“Honestly, no, but i personally enjoy a good game of pretend” your witt had caught his attention, he smiled and looked back at his paper seemingly writing something down.

Your gaze was curious, looking over his shoulder. “Ms. L/n, please keep your eyes towards me” your teacher had declared loudly, causing your cheeks to heat up.

Tim had looked at you once the teacher's prying eyes had left you two alone, he slyly slid over a note.

“Here’s my number, call me?” the note had read, you smiled and put the note in your backpack.

Your eager body was nearly out of the seat before the bell could even make the first ring, hurriedly running out of the school halls, ignoring the confused calls of your name spoken by your friends.

The rest was history after that, late night calls began and he started picking you up in the mornings for school. Tim bragged about you to his friends, and you to yours.

you told him about a writing program you had been accepted into. You both were happy for each other, but deep down both of you knew that long distance wouldn’t be something that could work for you two at the moment.

Graduation night you and Tim went out to the coast, sitting on the sand and taking in the serene atmosphere. “I really don’t want to go” you broke the silence tearfully, the impact of the moment finally hitting you.

“Neither do I” he agreed, putting his arm around your shoulders.

You both sat there, tears streaming down your faces in quiet acceptance.

You both had said your goodbyes, the hug lasting longer than usually knowing it would be the last one. “I’ll find you again” he whispered in your ear, and kissed your forehead, leaving you with his love.

You looked around your now empty apartment, the heavy brown boxes filled with your life already on its journey to Los Angeles.

Your job had offered you a chance to move offices, you took the chance to finally move back to your hometown. Your life was seemingly perfect, you had a well paying job, a beautiful high rise apartment in the upper east side, you were living the dream.

Although your heart never seemed aligned with your head, it stayed where you left it. The ache never left your bones, the longing for the once in a lifetime love you had experienced.

While you sat in the back of your cab, your mind wandered off, running away with different thoughts and daydreams. Tim was a recurring image in each of those daydreams and thoughts, you wondered if you’d see him again, if he still thought about you the way you thought about him.

The simple thought of seeing Tim again made your stomach flip and heart pump faster than you could have prepared for. That feeling only enlarged when the airport came into sight, you knew the idea of seeing Tim again was a mere fantasy as you hadn't heard from him or keep up with how his life had been. You both agreed it was better to make a clean cut, seeing each other live their respective lives without one another would just be another grueling stab to the heart.

You didn’t even know if Tim still lived in California, all of these old, decrepit feelings were clawing their way out of their tomb. You simply just shook your head, hoping to scramble the memories, and quickly made your way inside the airport.

The flight was as nice as a flight could be, you would've gotten first class but you didn't feel like selling any organs. You were lucky enough to get a window seat and a nice older woman who gave you little sweets that she claimed would help pop your ears.

You were greeted by your mother, who was gracious enough to pick you up at 11:30pm on a weekday. “Mom!” you squealed, hugging her tightly with excitement, you only had your bare necessities with you so you didn't have to go to baggage claim.

You and your mom walked out arm and arm, you talked about your long flight and she mentioned how excited your dad was to see you again. Your parents were letting you crash at their place for tonight while you waited for the moving trucks to arrive.

As soon as you got to your parents house and greeted your dad, you went right up to your old room and immediately went to sleep, not worrying about your skin care or taking a shower.

Once you had woken up, you were met with the comforting smell of your mothers cooking. You got yourself off the bed and walked into your bathroom, hoping that a nice warm shower would rid you of the suffocating airplane stench. The warmth of the water melted into your sore muscles, while the steam rolled through your stuffed sinuses.

You took a couple of deep breaths before getting out, wiping the steam of the mirror before getting ready.

“Oh how i've missed your cooking” you exhaled as you reached the kitchen, your dad spoke from the dining room table “you gonna need help moving in?”

“No, the moving dudes will help with all of that pops” you patted his shoulder while grabbing a piece of bacon, “I’ll be able to stop by sometime next week after i've gotten settled in, and my work hours situated” you explained, your parents smiled at you “we’re glad you’re home, y/n.”

When the moving company had finished their job, you finally were able to take a moment and breath. You were once again exhausted but still needed to eat dinner, you weren't in the mood to cook, let alone were you willing to dig through all your boxes to find your kitchen utensils. You pulled out your phone and ordered take out, as you waited you unpacked the box with your bed sheets and made your bed sleepable.

Your house was in a dainty little neighborhood, it was older architecture with beautiful accents and all around wonderful. When the room had been unpacked to your standards, your next battle was to unpack your bathroom.

The doorbell rang, you quickly made your way towards the door. You tipped the driver and said your thanks closing the door. You were thankful they packed you plastic silverware and dug into the mouth watering food in front of you.

You decided to call it a night after a little more unpacking here and there, but you had tired yourself out and you were ready to go to bed.

You flinched awake at a loud clashing coming from downstairs, you sat up quickly thinking it might just be home alone jitters until the loud crash was heard again. You knew better than to try and investigate the noise so you quietly tiptoed to your bedroom door and locked it, then went into the conjoined bathroom also turning and locking it before hiding in your tub and dialing 911.

“911, what's your emergency?” the voice on the other line asked, “There’s someone in my house.” your shaking voice answered, fear present in your speech, “Okay, and what is your address?” she questioned “4758 garden road.” “Okay, and do you know where this person is located?” she asked for clarification “I think he's in the kitchen” you tried to stay calm but the adrenaline and fear were catching up to you.

The 911 operator stayed on the phone with you until the police arrived and arrested the intruder, you hung up the phone when you heard a knock and an announcement stating it was the police. You hurried to the door, unlocking it and ready to profusely thank the officer who had possibly just saved your life. “Oh thank god, i thought i was going to-” you abruptly paused when you noticed who you were thanking.

“Y/n?” you heard Tim’s voice call your name, you almost thought you were hallucinating out of fear. “Tim?” you replied, all the emotions you were holding in waiting for the cops to show up spewed out.

“It’s okay, it's okay, you’re safe now” Tim comforted you, your shaking form easily fit into his body. He held onto you, also in shock at seeing your face after so much time had passed, he knew he needed to get a statement from you but he just can't seem to let you go.

When he had gotten you to calm down, he took you to the precinct to get a statement from you. “So you became a cop” you tried to make small talk, your voice nasally and hoarse from crying. “Yeah, i did” Tim responded, putting paper on a clipboard “when did you come back to town?” he continued as he tried to make you comfortable.

You and Tim went over your written statement, and after that you caught up on life. You talked to him about your time in New York, and he told you about his time spent in the army and how he went on to become a cop.

It had felt natural, like the flame rekindled as if it had never been put out.

Before you left the station Tim slipped you a note and a quick smile before going back to his duties and having another officer drive you home, you read the note “Here’s my number, Call me?”

You felt the same excitement you had the first time you read those words, and still were just as eager to get home and call him.

#reader insert #the rookie #tim bradford x reader #tim bradford #tim bradford fluff #tim bradford x you

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