#i should start tagging these with like days?

[lucyandthepen]

get you alone | ljn ( m )

ideally, jeno should have his hands full with teaching. (un)fortunately, he only seems to have his head full of you.

pairing: tutor!jeno x reader verse: college au rating: r ( minors, do not interact! ) warnings & tags: jeno is a college algebra math tutor & reader is failing, written in lapslock, not beta’d in any shape or form so please excuse mistakes, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, folks), piv, oral (f!receiving), use of pet names (kitten, angel, sweetheart), praise, reader calls jeno ‘sunbae’ until she doesn’t, size kink i guess if u squint! word count: 8.5k

a/n : actually this was written for a different fandom but i’ve decided to make it a jeno fic bc idk why not! first time writing in a different perspective so it’s a bit odd for me & i can't say i fw with this style nor am i particularly proud of this fic but she is ... sumn! also i fear i have a thing for the math tutor trope but that’s neither here nor there AHA enjoy !! 

if you liked it, please consider reblogging to support (especially because this may get flagged for mature content)!

there wasn’t anything special about your case; at least, that’s what jeno had thought when he picked up your request before he met you. before he met you, you were just another student trying to demystify the painfully enigmatic art of getting through college algebra. before he met you, he had already tagged this case as another charity stint — a good way to get brownie points with the dean’s office and the mathematics and natural sciences department. in fact, thinking of all his tutoring cases as community service made them somewhat palatable, if not a little forgettable. he was quite sure, at the time, that you’d be in and out — both of the tutoring center and his memory. such was the case with most of his other tutees, anyway. 

he hadn’t expected you to be… well, you — a pretty little thing, with your sweet smile and your wide doe eyes. on the first day, you’d stood out; you’d arrived at the tutoring center’s lobby in a short dress, knit cardigan, and coquettish makeup, as if every fiber of your being were bidding the spring a solid farewell. multiple heads had turned, including his, as you came up to the front desk and asked for one lee jeno for college algebra. you were eager for summer, jeno had learned as you broke the ice little by little, in part because you looked forward to visiting okinawa with your family, but also because you were eager to get your first semester out of the way. that much, you had in common with most of his other students — almost all of the ones seeking help in college algebra only took it as a depressing core requirement of whatever degree they were doing. you, specifically, were focusing on fashion design; that very vividly explained your attention to your looks. this mathematics class was a thorn in your side, a mandatory thing that was simply supposed to get you through later business-oriented classes in your degree program. for jeno, however, college algebra had become the perfect excuse from the moment he’d laid eyes on you. 

the more time he spends with you, the more he thinks you’re exactly his taste. it starts off with little things he finds attractive, things he picks up while he’s watching you fill out the practice sheets he’s prepared for you on quadratic equations or while trying to get you to understand logarithms — your neat, tiny handwriting, almost like print; your habit of boxing your final answers in firm strokes, even if they’re hopelessly wrong; your colored tabs, cascading down the page side of your textbook. but as the weeks wear on, he sees all the little things in between — the way your long eyelashes quiver when you stop and close your eyes as you think for the answer, the upturn of your plush lips when you have the same answer on the practice sheet as he does, the deepening of your artificial blush with a natural hue when you realize you don’t know the answers to his gentle questions. he notices that you refuse to wear anything longer than a knee-length skirt despite the still-strong winds, notices that your tiny palms are always smooth and pink, that your hair always smells of coconut milk. these are things he can’t help but jot down in his memory — that was exactly what you were, after all: memorable. 

and the more he remembers about you, the more jeno wants you. yet he’s never made a move, never given so much as a hint of his interest, not only because there are prying eyes all around the building but also because you have never so much as shown a smidge of desire back. in fact, he has to wonder if you’ve ever thought of him in a different capacity — not as a tutor, but as a man. if you have, you’ve never made that obvious; you always talk to him respectfully, the little wall you’ve erected between the both of you remaining steady, and you never let your eyes linger on his face for longer than it takes for him to explain what you don’t know. jeno has had his fair share of female students, and in all of them, he’s seen the same kind of hunger — to few, he’s catered to their whims, if only to pass the time, if only for his own benefit. but you, with your ribbons in your hair and your sweet, sweet mouth, have never once shown that same kind of desire. 

he doesn’t know if it frustrates him, but he does know one thing — it makes him want you all the more. 

he wants you even now, as you sit across from him, dolled up as usual. even now, as your eyes take on a glassy sheen of defeat, your cheeks puffing out in the way that tells him you’re admonishing yourself once again, he craves you — maddeningly so. and he realizes that it doesn’t really matter if you're not the one to fall first, as long as he can still have you. 

“time out,” you beg, your fingers meeting the palm of your hand to signal a break. “my brain feels like it’s going to explode.”

“you just had a break ten minutes ago,” jeno reminds you, though there’s a lighthearted amusement to his voice that makes you smile sheepishly. “at this rate, you’ll be on more breaks than you’ll be taking the time to actually learn.”

“i’m trying,” you groan, your fingers curling against your forehead as you bump your head against your fist. “i just don’t think i’m cut out for this polynomial whatever — trial and error bullshit.” 

“you’ll hate me for saying this — but you’ll never know unless you keep trying.” 

“funny.” your sigh rustles the papers in front of you gently. “how do you do it, sunbae?”

“hm?” 

“you’re not only good at this stuff, but you’re so good you’re able to take the time to teach people like me.” 

“strengths and weaknesses — it’s the natural way of the world.” jeno smiles gently at you, and he notes how his chest feels tighter when you return the sentiment shyly. “i could never do what you’re doing in your own degree, try as i might. anyway, you’ll get there. i won’t let you become my first ever failed project, you know.”

“i wouldn’t want to let you down either, sunbae, but—” the back end of your pencil taps lightly against the surface of the table. “it just feels hopeless. i can’t focus on anything. it’s so… so abstract, and everyone here is talking all at once, and i don’t even know what i’m ever going to get out of this class in the long run.” 

even when you’re dejected, you look pretty; your bottom lip juts out naturally when you whine like this, and for a moment, jeno can’t say anything in response. he’s too busy wondering what your mouth would feel like on his — on him. when he snaps himself out of his brief reverie, he notices you’re looking around at everyone else — and he has to agree that with the noise level in this whole building, it isn’t the most conducive site for learning, especially when the learner is already so averse to the subject matter.

“i can’t help much in the way of it being too abstract,” he says kindly. “but it’s not a requirement for us to have our sessions here. i know it can be quite distracting, all these voices flying around, so why don’t you look for a place that better suits you, and we can start meeting there instead? the more comfortable you are in your environment, the better you’ll be able to absorb the material, i’m sure.” 

“you think?” your pencil comes to a slow halt as you refocus on him, a thoughtful light glimmering behind your gaze. “yeah — yeah, i actually wouldn’t mind that. then, i’ll look for a different place for us to meet, and we can start there next week. how does that sound?”

“whatever suits you suits me,” he responds easily. 

he lowers his gaze immediately after you flash him a blinding grin; there are far too many people here, as you both very well know, and if he keeps looking at you and your pretty little expressions any longer, he might just give them something to actually look at. 

it had been your idea, not his, so why did jeno feel like he’d dragged you into a compromising situation?

you’d texted him over the weekend that your search for a new venue had been absolutely fruitless; every cafe and study space you’d been to was either too expensive or equally as packed with people, if not both. jeno had seen the preview to your message, but he hadn’t been prepared for what it read out in full when he’d actually opened it. 

sunbae, would it be too difficult to just meet at my apartment? i attached a map, so let me know!

it wouldn’t be too difficult; logistics-wise, it was walking distance from campus and almost directly across the train station he takes home. it also definitely promised an environment you were comfortable in, and you wouldn’t have to worry about excess noise from any other tutoring groups. no, the difficulty really only lied in himself — you two, all alone, would certainly mean his mind would be up to no good for the two hours every monday, wednesday, and thursday you would be together. 

but for your sake, he’d try to rein it in, with the operative word being try. 

your place is as neat and as pretty as you are; he doesn’t know if you’ve cleaned up for him, or if you’re naturally this organized, but he likes it all the same. it smells of toasted marshmallow and expensive perfume, and all your furniture matches. jeno supposes he likes that in a woman — someone able to care for herself, someone who cares about herself. and you’re always just as neat and pretty to match, with your hair always styled sweetly, your makeup always enhancing your features. 

the problem is that now that he’s in here, where you live, and where you spend most of your time, jeno’s mind seems to wander too much towards thoughts about what you do in private. he rejects studying on the couch, not just because it’s bad for posture and concentration but also because he can’t help but imagine you pressed into the cushions by his hand. he suggests the small dining table you have, but on the second meeting at your place, he starts thinking about what you might look like seated on the table, your ass hanging over the edge and his face buried between your thighs. whenever you look up to ask him something, he drinks in your lovely, made-up face again, and starts wondering what your makeup would look like ruined before he interrupts that trainwreck of a thought with the answer to your question. 

by the end of the week, jeno’s defenses are all but shot, and he realizes that this situation might be optimal for you, but it definitely isn’t doing him and his now constantly straining cock any great favors. 

he supposes that your performance has somewhat improved; you’re less likely to trail off when you’re thinking and can actually do practice sets for a lot longer without all the noise and hubbub around you. your only real hindrance is yourself and your frustration; you have a habit of giving into your carelessness that sends you spiraling into despair, and it doesn’t help that when you press your cheek against the surface of your dining table and whine, the comfort jeno offers is noticeably delayed because he’s too busy thinking about his cock between your lips. 

“my dad’s going to kill me if i fail this midterm,” you grumble, stabbing the practice sheet with your pencil; it skids sideways, and jeno robotically fixes it back into proper alignment for you, careful not to brush against the arm that’s folded inwards, supporting your chin. “he only agreed to let me take this degree because of the business aspect of it. as if i’ll need to know about—” you check the header of the worksheet. “domain and range when i’m doing actual design work.”

“you’ll never know what might be useful later on in life. i definitely thought this was nonsense back in high school — and then i got this job.” 

“and now you’re rolling in dough?” you smile slightly. jeno chuckles. 

“i’m a long way away from having myself a scrooge mcduck golden pool, but i make enough to get by very comfortably, thanks to this.” 

“thanks to me, you mean.”

“you’re not my only student,” he snorts, pinching your elbow; you cry out exaggeratedly. “focus up. the hour’s almost over, and you should have finished with this much earlier.”

“can you leave it as homework?”

“not a chance.”

you blow out a sharp puff of air. “my mom used to do this thing where she’d give me rewards if i did well with my homework. i wish i’d still get something out of this.” 

“what kind of rewards did she give you?” 

“chocolates — candy, or sometimes we’d go out for milk tea together, if i did a particularly good job.”

“this is math tutoring, not a trip to the dentist,” jeno says, amused. 

“a trip to the dentist would be more enjoyable,” you mutter under your breath, picking up your pencil and doodling an angry face next to the number you’re only halfway through solving. “this totally blows.” 

“try to finish this before the hour’s up, and i’ll see if i can get you something nice. out of my own paycheck,” he stresses, prodding at your cheek to shift your attention back to the paper. he doesn’t miss the fact that your eyes light up, childish as the promise is. 

he doesn’t know if that’s really what motivates you, but you do manage to finish the worksheet with a few minutes to spare before the clock hits seven, and that earns you some light, solo applause. it isn’t much by way of true praise, but you flush with pride all the same. jeno packs his things in silence as you get yourself a glass of water, and you see him to the door. only there does he notice your eager eyes, your expectant smile. 

“what’s going through that pretty little head of yours?”

“are you really going to give me a reward? i did great today, you know,” you respond bluntly. 

“you were serious about that?” he laughs. 

“absolutely. i earned it.” you raise a slim finger, wagging it in his face. he trails it with his gaze, no shortage of amusement in his eyes. “next monday, i want something sweet.”

jeno takes in the sight of you, keeping your door open with your hip; he wonders if you know what you’re doing to him, what you’re asking of him — if you even know there’s nothing that could possibly be sweeter than you at this very moment. he drinks in the sight of your feigned haughty expression on your pretty features, the unnervingly low dip of your tank top, the tempting hemline of your shorts, and feels like you must be aware of what he’s going to do next. 

“if it’s something sweet you want, you don’t have to wait until next week.” 

he does it before he can think it through — surely, there’s nothing too harmful about a quick kiss? he angles your chin upward with his thumb and forefinger before you can even react to his words, and he tastes you like that for the first time. you’re just as soft and as sweet as he’d imagined, if not more so. 

when jeno pulls away, you step back; there’s shock written all over your face, your mouth still hanging open slightly. your voice is gentle, shaky when you start speaking. 

“sunbae, wha—”

“see you next week. rest up over the weekend, or there’ll be consequences.” 

he finds it easy to joke with you now, even after what he’s done — finds it easy to wave goodbye with nonchalance as he walks to the elevator, now that he’s gotten one thing out of his system. the look on your face, the growing blush across the bridge of your nose and your temples is indication enough for jeno to feel confident — if you hadn’t thought about him that way before, you were sure to spend the next few days doing exactly that. 

it’s exactly a week before your midterm exam, and jeno notices you’re less than focused. 

he’d let you stew over the weekend, not expecting much by way of communication; indeed, his phone hadn’t once been jostled by your texts. he’d taken that silence to assume that you’d been wrapped up in thoughts of the kiss he’d left you with, and you did not disappoint on that front; the next monday saw you fidgety, flushed, and constantly faltering in your words. you asked less questions, which normally indicated a problem, but today, he’d let it slide; you definitely had a little too much on that pretty little brain of yours. 

he notices you’re still dolled up — your eyelids are shimmery, and your lips are glossy; you’re wearing a tennis skirt that hits all the right buttons for him, too. it’s true that you’re always pretty well-dressed and put together, but today somehow feels different. if before, jeno had always seen you dressed up simply to look good, today it feels a little more like you’re dressed up to look good for him. he knows it’s a little bit egotistical to assume as much, but he also doesn’t miss the side glances you throw at him when you think he’s not looking at you answering your textbook or the way your cheeks glow when you make the slightest bit of eye contact. 

still, you try to focus as much as you can; it’s adorable, in fact, to see all your valiant efforts to appear unperturbed. he figures he’ll play along for as long as you will — what matters to him, after all, is that you’re in the game to begin with. you complain less today, focus on your worksheets, and jeno even manages to witness the sight of your forehead creasing up as you concentrate on a particularly difficult item. you’re adorable, in the kind of way that makes him want to pin you down and have his way with you. 

you finish your work without a fuss today; you only actually asked for his help twice, which was a feat in and of itself. and again, when the session is over, you walk him to the door.

this time, when you linger, he waits; you’re clearly not good at hiding your true intentions, as it’s become clear you have something you want to say. as you try to piece your thoughts together, jeno reaches into his backpack’s front pocket and extracts today’s gift — an actual chocolate bar, albeit a rather run of the mill one. 

“what’s this?” you ask, your thought process clearly derailed as confusion takes over your features. 

“your reward. for a good job last week and today — you said you wanted one, didn’t you?” 

“but i thought—” you stop yourself, your mouth opening and closing, suddenly wordless. jeno grins. 

“not good enough? i picked that up from a convenience store on my way here, so it definitely isn’t anything special, but i thought it would at least be a good motivator.”

you’re turning red, and there’s turmoil in your eyes — he enjoys this, he realizes, the way he flusters you. if he had known this would be the result, he would have made a move much sooner. you shift your weight from one foot to the other, back and forth, obviously weighing out your options too. finally, you say, “alright.”

“you seem disappointed.”

“i’m not.”

“i’ll get you a better brand next time, if you really don’t like it.” 

“it’s not that.”

“so what is it?” he doesn’t expect you to say it, and you don’t defy expectations; your bottom lip just quivers, and jeno chuckles low under his breath, stepping forward just past your doorway, just a little bit closer to you. “don’t tell me you wanted something completely different?”

you don’t say so, but he knows; he can tell by the way you tilt your head back, the way your lips part slightly, the gloss still trailing along the seam. he can tell by the way your torso arches just a little bit closer, almost like an accident. he can tell by the way your eyes bore into his, almost pleading. 

“what you did last week…” you start, but your voice trails off into nothing soon after. he chuckles again.

“ah, that. i might have gotten ahead of myself.” 

“was that all?” you press.

“and what would you do, if it wasn’t?”

“well — do you always like to play games?”

“i have a penchant for playing with my food before i eat it, if that answers your question.” he smiles down at your still-reddening face. “i was giving you a reward, as you wanted. i came up short on options then and there. you’ll let it slide this once, won’t you?”

“you did that just because i did well last week?”

“of course.”

“well, i did well today, too.” 

“you did, and that’s why you have this.” he gestures to the chocolate bar in your hand. 

“i don’t want this.” your voice is stubborn now, heated and frustrated, and you stuff the chocolate back into his hand. you must not like having to ask for something so blatantly — it’s too bad jeno wants to hear it in those exact words. 

“tell me what you really want, then.” 

you’re still unable to find the words, but your hands do the talking for you; they press into his shoulders and give you leverage to tiptoe until you’re just close enough to his lips. but you don’t close that gap, your mouth quivering only inches away from his, and oh, jeno wants to toy with you, but you’re just too irresistible this close to him. his warm palms press against your jaw, keeping your face steady as he closes the gap, and this time, he doesn’t just get a brief taste of you — jeno claims your lips with the thirst of a man who’s stumbled upon an oasis in the desert. 

you must have thought about this moment long and hard over the weekend, because the nonchalant side of you that’s turned a blind eye to him is completely gone; he drinks in your soft noises and short, breathless gasps — all signs of your eagerness — until he’s drunk on the taste of you. the deeper the kiss gets, the less you can keep up, but you try, and jeno always likes rewarding your efforts, his wide tongue taut and flush against your tiny one in the sweet, warm cavern of your mouth. he licks every inch of it, leaves the mild nicotine taste of himself there, before he pulls away slowly. your eyes are still closed when he creates distance, fluttering open in a happy haze a few seconds later. 

“good enough for you?” he murmurs, tucking a soft lock of hair behind your ear. you hum in assent through your dazed smile, and jeno knows he won’t be the only one looking forward to this coming wednesday.

you’d done really well today.

jeno’s proud of you — prouder than he’s been of most of his students in his career here at the university, actually. you’d finally answered a worksheet almost perfectly, save for a couple of numbers where you’d forgotten to round up, and those things are absolutely negligible at this point (by his books, anyway). you’ve been on your best behavior yet, avoiding all forms of complaint, and he knows fully well why, but he won’t criticize you for your hard work all the same, no matter the motivation behind it. 

in fact, you’ve done so good that he doesn’t wait until he’s about to leave to give you your sweet reward — which is why, twenty minutes before he’s meant to go, he’s got you on your couch, your legs spread, each one hooked over his shoulders. 

truth be told, you’d been good way before the lesson had started; you’d answered the door in a crop top and the tiniest pair of shorts you’ve dared to wear yet — all clothes that you couldn’t yet wear outside yet, given the weather. selfishly, jeno is thankful for this fact, and if he had to list down other things he’s thankful for, just off the top of his head, it’s that you no longer meet in the tutoring center and that your apartment’s walls seem thick and well-reinforced. 

“sunbae, don’t tease me.” your silly little whining voice makes its first appearance of the day, but all jeno does is smile — it’s an almost wicked expression, set firmly between your thighs. “you said i did really well today. don’t tell me you’re backing out on rewarding me?”

“not at all, sweetheart,” he hums, pressing a small kiss to your inner thigh. he likes seeing you shiver at the contact, likes the way you’re chewing on your lip in what appears to be slight agitation. “just thinking of how much of a reward you deserve.” 

in all honesty, jeno would like to take every bit of you now; you’re already so ready for him, anyway. he can smell the faint perfume of your arousal, can see the way you’re anticipating the most from him, and a part of him doesn’t want to deny you of that. the larger part of him has dreamed of burying his cock into you, anyway, and why wouldn’t he do that? but something also tells him to wait — or, rather, to make you wait, to make you want him just a little more. 

and so, he decides.

his mouth finds your skin again, pressing kisses up your thigh; they get wetter, hotter as his mouth moves up, until his nose and lips are buried against your clothed core. you squirm in response, but his grip on your thighs keeps you relatively steady, even as his tongue presses against thin fabric. the wet muscle pushes sharp against your tiny entrance, the tip meeting slight resistance against your shorts and panties, but he finds a way, burying half his tongue in alongside damp cloth. 

you’re already wet like this, and so needy that it might be possible for jeno to get you off just like this, still clothed, but the hunger in him spikes once you call out to him. 

“sunbae, please…”

with a groan, his fingers yank the fabric aside, exposing your pussy to the warmth of his breathing. it’s as pink, as pretty, as tiny as the rest of you, as fuckable as he’d imagined it would be, and he wastes no time in pressing his tongue flat against your folds, dragging it up in a wide, messy stripe; the muscle only tenses when it bumps against your clit, his tongue flicking upwards to tease it. 

you’re so reactive, even at the slightest things — you whimper, you squeeze your eyes shut, you squirm. you’re begging to be fucked, and jeno’s cock is strained tight against his jeans, but your taste is so addicting that he can’t help but dive back in. his tongue eases between your folds now, spreading them apart until they’re lewd and sticky with his saliva, and the nub of your clit has grown so pronounced now — so pert and lovely that he can’t help but purse his lips around it and suck with excess force. 

“sunbae — f—fuck,” you mewl; you almost sound tearful. “f—feels so good…”

jeno wants to tell you how fucking good you taste, how beautiful the sounds you’re making are, but his mouth is too busy; his teeth rake down your cunt lightly, earning him a jerk of your hips, and he has to place pressure down on your thighs again to make sure you’re still enough for him to slip his tongue into your cunt. 

he can tell even just by that how tight you’d be around him; your walls are warm around his tongue, and there’s a pressure against the muscle that tells him how good it’d feel for his cock to take its place. as if to simulate his desires, he presses his tongue deeper in, fucks you shallowly with its wetness until your whimpers become little sobs, broken and choked back. his thumb drags across your slit then settles against your clit, and he can feel the thrum of your pulse against the pad of his finger, beckoning him. he complies, easily, thumb tracing circles around the nub that start off slow, only for him to ramp up the pace alongside his tongue. 

you’re easily at fault for that; the way you whine for him, call him sunbae, tell him how good it feels over and over — why wouldn’t he want more of you? 

he’s not sure which of you really earns the sweet reward today; you cum on his tongue, your cunt trembling against his mouth and your fingers threaded into his hair, but he’s the one who comes out licking his lips like he’s had the best treat of his damn life.

come the middle of next week, jeno finds himself face to face with a test paper — one already clearly marked, with a number circled on the top-right corner. ninety. a stellar grade for anyone, and especially for you. 

you know it, and you look absolutely triumphant; you’re practically shining as you perch on your little dining table, your perfectly manicured finger jabbing at the score in emphasis. 

“flying colors, wouldn’t you say?” 

“color me impressed,” jeno replies smoothly, a genuine smile of pride tugging at his lips; he turns the page over, scanning your responses. you still draw your parabolas a little on the small side, making them a bit difficult to discern, and you’ve still got the habit of not rounding your answers up, but this is tremendous work, and he’ll be the first to praise you for it. “your dad must be filled to the brim with joy now, right?”

“i haven’t told him yet. you were the first.”

“well, i’m proud of you, sweetheart.” 

“proud enough to give me a reward?” 

he looks down at you in feigned thoughtfulness. here you sit, back in your little tennis skirt, looking up at him with hopeful eyes under those long, curled lashes. for someone who spent the first half of this semester acting ostensibly nonchalant, you’d very easily shown your true colors soon after — not that he really minds. in fact, he’s taken a decided kind of liking to how eager and willing you’ve come to be. 

“we’ve only just started our session, though,” he hums out, an idle thumb grazing his chin as he watches your expression turn from bright to cloudy, the beginnings of strategy darkening your gaze. it’s not like he wants to say no; he has no real intention to. but seeing you squirm in want makes him feel good about his decision to hold out a little longer — never mind the ache in his cock even then. “don’t we usually leave the rewards for a later time?” 

“i was thinking — since it’s the start of a new lesson —” 

“we wouldn’t want you falling behind from the start, would we?”

“i promise i won’t,” you pout. “i promise i’ll put in my best effort next time.” 

“next time? sweetheart, don’t tell me you’re thinking to get off scot-free today…” jeno trails off, his hand falling to the nearest surface it can reach — which, logic seems to dictate, is your soft, milky thigh. he feels you tense under his palm, and he bites back a smile, keeping his expression level. “i just don’t know.”

your small hands grip at the front of his shirt, and he hears you, for the first time, doing something he’s always wanted to hear you do. 

“please, sunbae?”

how could he say no to you? he hadn’t really planned on it, had only wanted to see you do this, but it’s still too much and beyond his expectation — your misty gaze, your quivering lip. it’s almost laughable that you don’t think he’d notice the way you shift yourself so that his hand, still warm against your thigh, slides up your skin, the hem of your skirt bunched up in the junction between his thumb and forefinger.

jeno chuckles — isn’t this exactly where and how he’s always wanted you? “how could you ask me like that and expect me to refuse, angel? in that case, i have no real choice but to dedicate all our time today to your reward.” 

your breathing hitches — in anticipation, in desire, in excitement — as his hand continues its trail upward, deliberately now, fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties. his head dips down, rests into the crook of your neck, and he inhales the thick, sweet scent of your perfume, your shampoo, of you and all that he’ll take from you. 

“just remember, you asked for this,” he murmurs against your skin. “so i’m going to take every bit of you until there’s nothing left for anyone else.” 

you’re so willing, so ready even before he can get his full bearings; your hips are rising slightly off the table, and jeno feels like it’s you that’s telling him to move faster. he tugs down your panties, letting gravity take its course until they’re a tiny puddle of fabric on the floor, and he slots himself between your legs. like this, you have no choice but to spread, and you do so without hesitation, your knees locking against his sides as he pulls you in for a tight, hungry kiss. there’s that taste of you he loves, that clean, sweet buzz that draws him in, and his hands are bruisingly tight on your waist as he reclaims your lips. 

you already look dazed when he pulls away, which is always cute, but a little unfair — jeno wants you to be aware still when he takes you, and damn, if he doesn’t want to take you right fucking now. he kisses you again, harder and more demanding, as if willing your attention back to him, while his hands explore you — run up your thighs, fingers brushing against the plush curve of your ass. it’s not enough, not by a long shot, and he’s pushing the waistline of your skirt up your stomach with his hands, letting his warmth transfer onto your skin; he chuckles as your stomach sucks inward at his touch, just as you let out a gasp against his lips.

and he wants desperately to hear that noise again; in fact, he wants to know what you sound like in every capacity. his mouth works down your neck, pleased to find that suckling wet and languid on a spot just above your collarbone has you writhing and whimpering. are you sensitive or touch-starved? whatever the reason, he wants to draw all of that out of you, his hands drawing back down to hook under your thighs. jeno drags you to the edge of the table, until your bare cunt is flush against the front of his jeans, and he lets you feel him — a brief tease of what’s to come. 

“i’m s—so wet already,” you whisper, as if he doesn’t know — as if you know it’s exactly what he wants to hear anyway. “sunbae, please, i need you.”

“not that,” he murmurs, his teeth grazing your collarbone as he speaks. “not sunbae. jeno. call me jeno, angel.”

“jeno,” you exhale shakily, and it’s music to his ears — as if the last thing holding him back from you had shattered. 

“that’s it — what a good girl,” he purrs, his hips rocking forward against your pussy before they retract, leaving just enough space for his hand to slip between. slender fingers trail down your folds, sticky and slick. “you are all wet for me, aren’t you? ready to take me deep inside?” 

even the way you nod, a tiny movement of assent, drives him wild, yet a part of him still wants to test the limit of your patience, his middle finger stretching to circle your entrance. 

“wouldn’t want to shock your tiny little pussy, though, would i? will you let me stretch you out first, kitten?”

“yes,” you mewl, sounding almost tearful. “anything— anything, please.”

jeno drinks in the long, drawn-out keen you set free when his digit sinks into you; he’s already felt your walls against his tongue, but a small part of him is still surprised at just how tight you are. that same part nags that he might not fit easily into you, but whatever that voice is is easily drowned out by a more assertive promise — he’ll make it fit. 

“can’t tell you how much i’ve wanted to feel your pretty little hole around my cock,” he presses on, his finger pushing deeper in; he feels you tense a delicious kind of tightness, as if it’s almost too much for you. is it? “ever since that first day you came into the tutoring center, dressed up all cute — did you do that on purpose, sweetheart?”

“yes,” you admit, breathless; the syllable is lengthened into a weak moan as jeno pumps his finger into you, slow, deep strokes that tease your tacky walls open. “wanted — wanted to make a good impression…”

“and you did, didn’t you? kept looking so sweet for me, so pretty every single time — got me thinking about all the ways i wanted to have you. got me so fucking hard every time we’d meet — is that what you wanted?”

jeno doesn’t give you much room to respond, but he can make his own answers to appease himself anyway; he reclaims your lips, already eager for another taste of you, and you comply with the same amount of desire, your soft whimpers melting against his teeth. in the space of pseudo silence, wet, messy noises, he manages to tease another digit into you, and you cry out against his lips as it pushes in, joining the first in how deep it reaches. he absorbs that too, takes in every minute sound you make, relishes the way you pulse around his fingers. even without the noises, he can tell your pleasure’s heightening, with the way you clench around him, your hips rocking pitifully as you’re eager to rut against his palm. 

“look at you now.” he’s selfish, but he doesn’t care — he wants to ruin you, and if the telltale squelch of your cunt as he fucks his fingers into it isn’t indication enough, then the way your mouth hangs open as he pulls away, letting his name fall freely from your lips, definitely is. “legs spread, all desperate to feel good for me. what a needy little kitten you are. this good enough for you, angel?”

you shake your head, only to squeal as he pulls you closer, his fingers shoving deeper into you; your hips are re-angled, allowing him to brush the pads of his digits against the rough, sweet spot, and he feels triumph bloom in his chest as you throw your head back, teary eyes squeezed shut.

“no, no, no,” you babble, and he can see the bob of your throat as you swallow hard, clutching at sense to make words. “want — need your cock, want to cum on your cock so badly, jeno — want you to fuck me, stretch me open, please —”

“greedy, aren’t you?” he murmurs, leaning in to nip at the spot he’d left reddened above your collarbone. “go on then — show me how much you want it. show me what a good girl you are, and cum on my fingers.” 

“but—” 

“come on, angel,” he urges above the squelching noises, increasing surely in volume. his fingers meet resistance when they spread apart inside you, but all it does is create a delicious friction that has you squirming in his hold. “don’t hold back. let me see you fall apart.” 

and you do, so prettily, your eyes rolling back and your voice unrestrained. jeno’s fingers ride you through your orgasm, pumping deep and steady despite how slick you’ve gotten, your juices coating his hand and wrist. he watches the flush rise to your neck, stopping at your cheeks, watches the heaving of your chest, the shine of your skin from a thin sheen of sweat, and he doesn’t want to let you come down from this high, but his cock is aching — practically bursting from his jeans — and all he can do is make the silent vow that the next time you look like this, he’ll be balls deep in you. 

“that’s my girl,” he coos gently, watching the tension slip from your shoulders; his free hand is at the small of your back quickly, easing you down as your torso falls back, and you’re laying on the table. “pretty little thing, aren’t you? cumming so sweetly for me.” 

“jeno,” you groan out weakly, your tiny hand clasping around his wrist. “cock — i want your cock, please—” 

“can’t wait?” he’s indecent for sounding amused, but even that does nothing to stay his arousal; how eager you are simply makes him want you all the more. “okay, angel — since you asked so nicely.” 

a slight twinge of disappointment runs through him as he pulls his fingers out, but it’s quickly buried by the feeling he gets once he gives you a clear sweep of a once-over; how slutty you look, still half-dressed but already half-ruined, your thighs shaking in an effort to keep them open for him, the remnants of your last climax still leaking out of your hole. the sight of you has him so distracted that unbuttoning and unzipping his pants feels like a fever dream of an act; he barely notices what he’s doing until he’s already bare in front of you, and alertness has crawled halfway back into your consciousness as you push yourself up on your elbows to look at him.

“it’s so—” you have the decency to blush, though there’s a pleased look on your face that tells him you’re not really embarrassed. “i didn’t think you’d be this big.” 

“does that worry you?”

“i’ve never had anyone… this big.” pride blooms in his chest — good, he thinks, because if he can’t be as memorable as your first, then he’ll take being the most in something as a prize. “i don’t think — will it fit?”

“does it matter?” he chuckles, and your blush deepens. “no matter what — you’ll take all of me in, won’t you?”

you chew on your bottom lip, as if considering your options, but to jeno, there’s really only one choice — the correct one, and you make it when you nod your head. 

“it’ll feel good, though, you know,” he muses. his hand wrapped around his base, he lines himself up with you, the tip grazing against your folds. “even better than just now.”

with just a little more pressure, he has his shaft flush against you; his girth sits against your slit, the tip pressed against your clit, and he starts to rock his hips — into his fist, against your cunt. your hips quiver, and a shiver runs through you as your pleasure spikes again, but he can tell it isn’t enough. your bottom lip is back between your teeth, and your eyes are flitting between his face and his cock. jeno reaches out, eases your lip out from between your teeth, strokes it gently, almost tenderly. 

“say it,” he commands in a soft, silky voice. 

“fuck me, jeno,” you breathe out, barely missing a beat. “fuck me, fuck my pussy, please.”

and if you ask that desperately, he’ll waste no time; he draws his hips back, dragging his cock down until he’s aligned with your entrance. his eyes are trained on your face, even when he pushes in, so that he can take in your expression — the widening of your eyes as his tip breaches the first wave of resistance, the way your mouth falls agape as his fingers dig hard into your flesh. he’s never seen a prettier sight in his life.

“stretched you out already, but you’re still so fucking tight,” his voice is a soft, melodious croon, a stark contrast to the way he’s forcing past your tightness. “tight and wet, like a good girl.” 

“so big,” you whimper, your fingers stretched far enough to tickle the front of his shirt. “can’t — can’t take it.” 

“of course you can, angel.” jeno doesn’t give you the time to brace yourself fully before he’s rocking his hips in a little more sharply, his cock now halfway into you. your fingers curl into a little fist, immediately flying back to block the noise from your mouth. “ah ah. don’t get shy on me now; you’ve been so noisy for me all this time.”

but he doesn’t really mind the way you clap your palm over your mouth to muffle your high-pitched squeal as he thrusts in fully, the adjustment period after the last movement close to nothing; he’s too busy focusing on how good you feel around him, how warm and wet your insides are. this is heaven, easily, and jeno wants to stay here for as long as he can. 

“god, you’re fucking tight,” he repeats, an appreciatory gaze running over where you’re joined. his thumb stretches over your folds, rubbing them — something of an apology, perhaps, although all it does is stimulate you more, and you shiver at the extra contact. “how deep is it, baby?”

“can feel you here,” you mumble out, your small hand pressing just above your pelvis. he feels the tightness multiply as you place pressure, even just for a moment. “your cock’s so much deeper than anyone else.” 

your hand falls away, limp, as he draws his hips back; you inhale, long and deep, before letting it out as a broken moan when he pushes back in. it drives him crazy, to start off this slow, when all he wants is to find a pace that has you sobbing, but the resistance of your pussy against his length isn’t easy to ignore. jeno works you open, his jaw set and his grip tight against your frame, and it isn’t long before he’s picking up speed, the slap of his flesh against yours fueling him exponentially, mingling with your cries, steadily increasing in volume. 

“that’s it. let everyone hear you,” he eggs on, his thumb now circling tight around your clit; your legs are quivering, threatening to close, but he keeps you steady, one arm wrapped around your thigh. his thrusts grow rougher, more deliberate, and when he looks up from where you’re joined back to your face, he sees your expression as a mixture of incredulity and ecstasy. a thin line of drool hangs from the corner of your mouth, your pretty pink lip gloss smeared, and fuck if he doesn’t want to make sure you look like this every single time he comes over. “let them know who’s fucking you good, angel.”

“j— jeno!” your voice hitches, lilts up as he presses in at a different, deeper angle, and he almost cums right then and there from the way your walls pulse around him. “your cock feels so good, fucking me just right— more, god, more—” 

he complies without hesitation, gathering both your thighs and pushing them closer to your chest; you look even lewder like this, folded in half with your sopping cunt presented to him like it’s all his to take, and it is, isn’t it? there’s an increase in the intensity, the vigor in which he pumps his cock into you, and he knows he’s brushing repeatedly against your spot by the way you’re blubbering his name out in a way that suggests you sincerely think no one else in this building can hear you. 

“that’s my girl,” he hums approvingly, though there’s a thickness in his voice that has him sounding a little more strained. “such a good girl, with your cunt all nice and sloppy for me. do you like it when i go this deep? does it feel good when i fuck you where no one else can?” 

“yes!” you sob out, your hands crumpling the end of your skirt up into tight fists. “jeno, i— cum, i need to cum again, please—”

“i’ve got you, kitten,” his tone is reassuring, a stark contrast to the rigor of his hips. “don’t have to hang on for me, you know; always love seeing you fall apart.” 

“m’close, so close —” 

“let go, then,” he urges, his blunt nails digging into your flesh. “let me feel that sweet cunt cum on my cock.” 

you comply without hesitation, though if you’d done it willingly, he can’t really tell; he has to pin your hips down to stop you from bucking up and causing him to slip out, and you writhe against him as you sob in ecstasy, your walls fluttering before they clench. stray tears leak from your eyes, squeezed shut, and jeno wants nothing more than to eat you up like this — broken, fucked out. 

you’re not even fully down from your high when he feels it — that sudden wrenching in his gut that tells him he’s about to follow suit. with a low groan, he peels your thighs apart again, lets you watch him as he bullies straight into your leaking hole. your voice is a staccato, punctuating every deep, sharp thrust into you, and it’s exactly to that melody that he wants to get off. 

“tell me where you want it, angel.” he doesn’t trust his voice, sharp and short as it is now. “should i mark your pretty face? your stomach?”

“want it against my pussy,” you whisper out, and jeno almost loses his mind as he watches you spread your folds apart with your forefinger and middle finger, inviting him. “make a mess of it, sunbae.”

he’s barely able to pull out before he’s spilling against you; he ruts against your slit, coating your folds and the insides of your thighs in thick, creamy white. you hold your legs apart for as long as you can until they start to tremble, and he catches them and gently eases them down. 

when you sit up to kiss him, you’re still demanding; he feels your hips rock closer, your sticky cunt pressing against the underside of his cock.

“not enough,” you murmur against his lips, and jeno chuckles as you bind your hands around his neck. 

“don’t worry, kitten,” he hums back. “we’ve got all afternoon.”

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Another celebration ficlet. The ask for this one somehow got deleted from the inbox, but I know it was sent by @weirdandabsurd42 - hope you enjoy! 🥰

On being seen

Rated: T

Words: 990

Tags: Post-Vecna; Injury; Hospitals; Hair loss; Referenced parental death; Hurt/comfort; Steve Harrington is a sweetheart; Pre-Steddie

“Brought you these,” Dustin says, stacking some books on the bedside table. Eddie spots The Hobbit at the top of the pile. “They’re mine, but you can keep them until …” 

“Until what?” Eddie asks. His voice is a thin rasp, grating on shredded vocal cords. “Until they unearth my home from that interdimensional sinkhole? Fat fucking chance, huh?” 

Dustin swallows, hiding his face under his cap. Guilt churns in Eddie’s gut like acid. His left hand - the one that’s not hooked to the beeping machines - flies up to fiddle with his hair, only to come up blank. 

Oh, right. They cut it off during the surgery. It’s gone, just like half his face and jaw. 

“You should go,” he says. “s getting dark and your mom will want you home.” 

Dustin looks up, eyes bright. “But-” 

Eddie shakes his head as well as the bandages will let him. “C’mon, I need my beauty sleep. I promise I won’t go anywhere.” 

Dustin hesitates and Eddie’s afraid he’ll start to argue, or worse, plead. But then, the kid sighs, rising from his chair. 

“Okay. See you tomorrow.” 

Eddie raises his hand for a wave, pausing when he catches sight of his bare fingers. 

“Henderson?” 

Dustin turns in the door, face gaunt in the sterile light of the hospital corridor. 

“You haven't heard about…?” 

Eddie wiggles his hand. Dustin’s expression morphs into one of regret.

“Sorry,” he says. “I asked the nurses, but there were so many emergencies. Maybe they got thrown in the trash or something.” 

Eddie nods. Tries to tug at his hair again. “Yeah. Okay.” 

Dustin shuffles uncomfortably. “Listen, I could-” 

“I said it's okay, Henderson. Good night.” 

Dustin sighs. “Night, Eddie.” 

The beeping of the machines follows Eddie into his dreams, where it turns into the shrieks of the swarm.

*

When he startles awake, it's dark outside his window. 

There's a figure in the chair beside his bed, backlit by the heart monitor.

“Fuck, Henderson,” Eddie groans. “I told you to go home.” 

The figure jerks upright with a snort. 

“Shit,” it mumbles. “Sorry, ‘m awake.” 

It’s not Dustin.

Eddie freezes, terror sinking into his every limb like lead. The noise of the machines drowns under the roar of his own blood in his ears. 

“Hey,” says the figure, voice low and soothing, and he realizes a bit belatedly that he made a sound - a raw, terrified thing, like a trapped animal. “Hey, it’s okay. Eddie, it’s me. It’s Steve.” 

A hand reaches for his. It’s warm and strong and so much bigger than his own. He jerks away so violently he almost pulls the iv-cord from his arm. 

“No,” he rasps. “Don’t touch me. Get away from me.” 

Steve flinches, hand falling limply into his own lap. Eddie can’t see his expression in the dark. Doesn’t want to see. Doesn’t want Steve to see him, not like this. Hurt and bare and small with nothing left to hide behind.  

Neither of them speaks or moves for a while, the slowly calming heart monitor the only sound in the room. 

“I’m sorry,” Steve says at length. “I just … I’ll go. Just wanted to give these back.” 

He rummages for something in his pocket, then holds out his open palm - carefully, like an offering. Eddie’s breath catches in his ruined throat. 

“Where’d you find these?” 

“Um,” Steve shuffles in his seat. “Saw them lying on the nurse’s desk the other day. Sorry I didn’t return them sooner, things have been sorta crazy out there.” 

Eddie doesn’t say anything, just snatches the rings. He attempts to slip them on, but he can’t use his right hand, and his fingers haven't stopped trembling since he first woke up. Nerve damage, the doctors said. He fumbles and drops the rings, but Steve is there to scoop them up before they can fall to the ground. 

“Here, let me.” 

Eddie watches, frozen in place, heart in his throat, as Steve slips the rings onto the fingers of his left hand. Cross on the index finger, boar in the middle, skull on his ring finger. His breath tickles the skin of Eddie’s wrist. 

“This one's special, right?” 

Eddie blinks out of his stupor. Steve has taken a hold of his right hand, infinitely careful to not disturb the needles and cords, and slipped the last ring back on. The delicate one with the dark, oval stone.

Eddie nods. His voice won't obey him, but this time, it has nothing to do with his injuries. 

“My mom's.” 

Steve hums in understanding, and Eddie knows he doesn’t need to say more. 

“Tell me about her?” 

Not a request. An offer. Eddie squints at Steve’s shadowy face as he settles back in his chair. 

“Why?” 

Steve shrugs. “You’re one of us. I’d like to know more about you.” 

Eddie can’t help it, he needs to laugh. It burns in his throat and sends tears to his eyes. He tries to tug a strand of hair in front of his face to hide them and grasps only at thin air. 

“Not sure what to tell you, big boy. Not a whole lot left of me, is there?” 

“You’re brave and kind and tough,” Steve says, and Eddie’s mouth goes dry. “You’re great with the kids, and an amazing musician, and you were willing to die for a town that hates your guts. I think that’s a whole lot. The outside stuff will come back.” 

Some of it already has, Eddie thinks, fingertips rubbing against the familiar shape of his rings. 

“Her name was Elizabeth,” he says. “She died when I was seven.” 

Steve listens for a long while, not interrupting once. He doesn’t switch on the light. He doesn’t need to, Eddie thinks. He feels more seen than he has in a long while, sitting here in the dark, allowing Steve to get to know him. 

Somehow, it isn’t as scary as he thought it would be.

More celebration ficlets

[hysterotic]

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐦 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 :

ft: baji, mikey, chifuyu, kazutora, hanma.

thought this would be fun to do n it really was! if you want me to do other characters lmk!

𝐛𝐚𝐣𝐢 𝐤𝐞𝐢𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐞 :

-super private account, he has over 1k+ requests, feels like your the chosen one when he accepts and follows you back

-does not post, ever. sometimes forgets he even has that app until they tag him in photos

-when he does post (stories) it’s either about a cat or him a bloody mess after a fight (bruised knuckles hand pics, a selfie of him smiling with a bloody nose) and sometimes even the shit he burns

-he doesn’t know how to take photos or bothers to try so it’s usually blurry

-doesn’t pose, just stares at the camera with it angled down, sometimes his hair would cover his face so he pushes it back — that’s the most “posing” he’d do, and an occasional sexxxyyyy tongue in cheek.. i love how he’s unaware over how hot he is

-if you really wanna see his face you’ll have to check mikey’s, chifuyu’s or kazutora’s posts.

𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 :

-the way he does it is so strange

-you would think he’s being nonchalant and his attention is hard to get but it’s not that at all

-you’d post just for him to see, anticipating to see him view your story or like it but he’s the last person to do so.

-and when he does interact it’s not the way you want it, not even a story like, at that point you’d assume he skipped it.

-he didn’t, he never did, he stared at you for 10 minutes straight, replaying your story over and over and over or just staring at your post without even liking it

-he would reply to your selfie that you took ages to get a good angle with a “where are you”… is that genuinely all he has to say to that? 😭 and you’d respond with the location of where you were to try to start a convo with and he wouldn’t even see it.

-the man would leave you on delivered for DAYS but not on purpose, he’s just simply not on instagram, and it drives you crazy.

-y’know what’s crazy though? you’d walk past him / approach him the next day and he would bring up your selfie and how you looked in it.

“you look good with those dark lips you did yesterday.” he says as his finger circles over your lips, pointing out the dark lipliner look you posted on your story.

“really? i was trying out a new look, i wasn’t so sure about that one..”

“you should do that more often.”

-or maybe when you post about a new piercing you got or maybe a drastic change on your hair color, you’d check who viewed it and you wouldn’t even see him in there and it’s already been 24 hours.

-that is until he approaches you the next day as if he’s been searching for you.

-“didn’t think you’d have the guts to do that.” he says as he eyes your new piercing/hair dye. “thought my eyes were deceivin’ me when matsuno showed me those photos.”

-after that you realized that he does pay attention, he just doesn’t show it on social media.

𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐝 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐫𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐨 (𝐦𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐲) :

-posts so much that he floods your timeline, but it’s so worth it cause his posts are extremely funny.

-he doesn’t care if his pictures match with one another, if he likes it he posts it.

-you’d be shocked once you find out that he doesn’t take the pictures, it’s usually emma, takemichi or the twins.

-him (next to the twins) is the most hilarious to have on social media, you look forward to seeing his stories cause you know it’s gonna be chaotic.

-you’d find him under his friends’s comments, bullying or pointing himself out in the photo. “the mysterious guy that took the photo is reaaalll handsome, not you tho.” “who’s the sexy guy in the middle”

-often live streams on random occasions, gets excited when he sees you in it and announces it to the gang, “they joined!!” or secretly points you out to them, holding back a smile once he sees you in the chat, “look who joined” and angles the camera towards whoever’s next to him that knows about you (mostly draken).

𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 :

-you know you posted something funny or cool when he likes it, you’d lowkey feel proud of yourself.

-when you reply to his story or text him he responds with a video of himself (not necessarily talking or doing anything, just looking down at the camera and showing you where he is, most of the time he’s eating during those) or a voice note of him responding to whatever you said cause he doesn’t feel like typing.

-interactive if he likes you enough, you’d find him tagging you on your plushie that he stole from you, or tagging you on his hair when it’s you who did it for him. “my personal hairstylist.”, posts mirror selfies of himself in your room too.

-whenever he sees you posting that your out somewhere without his knowledge/without him being there he’d reply to your story with a “you went without me?” “how come i wasn’t invited”

𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐝 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐲𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐨

-posts the things around him more than himself = lots of cats and friends (takemichi & keisuke)

-the closest thing to him remotely posting himself is when peke j is laying on his face with the caption “an entire bed to himself and this is where he sleeps.”

-either that or a video of him facing the camera for 2 seconds then turns it towards baji doing whatever he does.

-reposts a bunch of cats for adoption.

𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 :

-you started interacting with him after seeing him post peke j, indicating that you LOVE cats.

-that gives him the chance to talk to you more, either sending you cat reels or peke j with the caption “he misses you.”

-he’d send a reel of a cat being stupid with the caption “reminded me of you.” “ok chifuyu.”

-your favorite is when he (rarely) sends you a voice note responding to what you said, you LOVED how deep his voice was and he? doesn’t? get? it?

-will always like your stories no matter what you posted, when you do post a selfie he’d respond with a “hey.” he’s so cute

𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐝 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

𝐤𝐚𝐳𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐚 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐲𝐚

-his photos are genuinely so pleasing to look at, he doesn’t post much since he’s more of a highlight/story person. (also a tiktok person, i imagine him being tiktok famous)

-you’ll see a lot of pre-shower pics or pics of his neck tatt that he loves to show off too much.

-has a special highlight for his friends (mostly baji) and a highlight for the band he’s in whenever they actually do preform, sometimes he’d post himself playing with the guitar.

𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 :

-and that’s what you slid up on, his guitar videos

-AFTER he started commenting on your selfies, cause who are you to be chasing over a guy who never interacted with you?

-“😵‍💫” under your comments.. like does he genuinely think this is flirting..

-they’re annoyingly subtle, keeping his nonchalant facade til he shows the crazy

-doesn’t take long for him to add you to his close friends where he actually posts way more often than you thought.

-sometimes when you’d post something funny he’d reply with that fuckass skull emoji

-then you started doing it back, interacting to his guitar videos, asking if he could play a certain guitar solo

-he made sure you knew that he’s only doing this cause it’s you, whatever that means..

-after a lil bit of subtle back and forth flirting he posted a photo of the band captioning that they’re gonna perform at a warehouse, then dms you asking if you’d like to come and see his very own guitar solo live.

-you would neverrrr say no to that type of offer, eye fucking the guitarist as he plays his solo? yes please

-then the day comes, you post a cuuteee outfit that you’re gonna be wearing at the warehouse concert before you leave. kazutora, chilling backstage on his phone, opening your story and seeing you in that fit.

-now he’s bold

-replying to your story “ima rip that off of you when i see you.”

-very much the type to be bold out of nowhere when he’s about to meet you, making you twice as nervous to see him now.

𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐝 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐦𝐚 𝐬𝐡𝐮𝐣𝐢

-another only story/highlight poster

-posts consists of dangerous stunts or his bruises after a fight, he’d drop locations of gang fights for people to stop by and watch

-got banned from instagram multiple times

-how he managed to find you is by asking around for your @ after seeing you in someone’s posts/story

𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 :

-“seen it, you can delete it now.”

-“what are you doing wearing that out for?”

-“just send it to me if you want my attention that bad”

-the type to only interact when you post something related to your body

-acts like you two are dating already with the way he comments under your posts

-the type to steal your phone and posts himself for every guy in your following to see

𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐝 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

[andersonfilms]

ღ ELECTRAPLAYER ✶ SEVEN INCHES DEEP !

series masterlist collab series w/ the talented, sweet baby — @abbyscherry

tags. eighteen+, strap sex (abby!r), daddy kink, breeding kink, masc!reader but can be read by all, part of a series but can be read on it’s own.

you're gripping her hair like she's your favorite vice, cock stretching her pretty pussy, even prettier ass recoiling against you. toned back arched for you as she moans like a whore. only down side is you can't see the effect you're having on her pretty face. the moans abby continues to let out are enough to hold you over until you can see her sun-kissed skin cheeks again, hundreds of adorable freckles decorating her nose with the soft bend. the one you adore more than the stars in the sky. 

you’d been staring at her all night the day before, entranced with her beauty yet again. it’d just been the two of you, a starry skin, and her. the empty beer bottles kissing the plush grass had her singing, saying some stupid joke but caused you to have a belly laugh. incredibly loud, obnoxious even, but it makes her laugh even harder. 

the sun couldn’t hold their own against her shine. the brightest star you’ve ever known. the sick feeling comes back in moments like these, afraid of the unknown. what if it doesn’t work? nagging and deafening, the thought picks at your brain like zombies off a dead carcass. all of this could end in a moment, just like the rest but you try to believe otherwise when she does shine with blissful ignorance. 

you want to sit in it with her. 

sometimes, it’s hard to believe she’s just yours. there’s not a single soul but you to take care of her, praise her, worship her. every bit of her is for you, but tonight she’s stubborn. batting her eyelashes, give you fuck me eyes. the little brat knew it would work too. 

“is this what you wanted? fucking begging me all day to be fucked. texting me, calling me all day while i train, fuck, making me lose my focus.” you pull harder on her golden hair. a fist full of her hair, a whimpering slut — you can practically see the drool. “and sending me the video of your tits in the shower, slippery and soapy. low fucking blow.” 

“daddy, i just needed you. m’sorry, i—” you slap her ass, effectively shutting her up. well…her words only. abby moans instead, muffled by the sheets beneath her. “what? you’re fucking sorry? had to cut my day early because of you. what was so important it couldn’t wait?” 

“i don’t want to say. it’s really embarrassing.” she shyly remarks. 

“babygirl, i’m seven inches in your pussy. don’t think there should be any more secrets between us.” you slap her ass again and abby  knows what it means. 

better fess up or there’s much more painful punishments to come. 

honestly, abby ponders for a moment. almost taking them up on the offer but her need to cum far outweighs the bratty little devil resting on her shoulder. even if she hadn’t made the decision for herself, you would have gotten abby there. 

your pace increases, fucking her harder, faster. “talking back to me isn’t a smart move. you and i both know it.” you can hear just how wet she is; every thrust sends her closer and closer to what she craves. the pleasure is practically on her tongue. pink, raw lips pleading for the craving she can never satiate. not with you. 

the confession threatening to fall from her tongue, but she bites on it. rather taking the pinching in her mouth than admit she’s wrong. with anyone else, she’s always gotten her way. but with you, you effectively know how to shut her right the fuck up. 

“tell me what i want to hear. what’s in this pretty head angel? hm? does daddy need to fuck your harder? y’know i will.” without prompt, you start piston fucking into her, the flimsy headboard beating against the wall. her moans growing louder, heavier, sluttier. 

“f-fuck, daddy. shit, shit, shit.” abby can’t stop whining, her thighs shaking controllably, back arching ever further, if it was even possible. “please? fuck, i-, need you to spill, daddy. please need to be stuffed full of your cum.” without any buffer you’re pulling her hair so hard, abby’s back collides with your chest. 

your cock filling her up even deeper as you continue to fuck her. she almost pulls your hair out from the root, before her neck to bitting into your neck, sucking, before she lets her tongue soothe over the mark. 

it’s obvious, you’re so close to cumming. you can hardly stand and fuck, the base of the harness is rubbing against your clit. god, combined with abby’s moans. you’re close. 

“fuck yeah? wanna have my babies baby? want me knock you up? pump you full of cum until you just can’t fucking take anymore?” 

“please, god, daddy i-, i’m going to come. can i come? please? fuck, need to come all over your cock. please say yes. god, daddy?” 

the last words are a nail in her coffin. 

“c’mon babygirl. show me how much you want me to breed you. need to know how worthy you are of my cum. my babies. fucking show me how much of a dirty slut you are.” you press your lips on her ear, kissing it softly. “that's right. just for daddy."

hope you enjoyed! mwah mwah!

[smoooothoperator]

What Was I Made For?

01: Crossfire

Charles Leclerc x driver!OC (Dafne Morelli)

childhood enemies, forced proximity, accidental pregnancy, enemies to lovers

a/n: Hi!!! First chapter! Are you guys excited? What do you think that will happen?

Masterlist

previous part

If you want to be tagged don't forget to message me!

Every way of feedback is very welcomed

Monza. One of the two most important races for Ferrari in the calendar.

And my home race as well. 

The weather is still warm at the end of August, the sky is blue and every house has a Ferrari flag hanging from their windows. Every person that lives in Milano or in Italy knows that this weekend is important, that this weekend is their weekend.

“Do you think they will give you a chance to be the priority today?” 

Erica, my older sister by only two years. She was completely different from me, with blonde hair and skin easily tanned. She always came to my races, being the one that takes care of my flights and to rent cars to have during the weekend. Not like Soleil, who was actually a little version of me and my nutritionist.

“I mean, I'm ahead of Leclerc. They should” I said, shrugging my shoulders as I ate my breakfast. “The only person in front of me is Max, I don't think they want to risk and fuck up things right if front of all the Tifosi. They are idiots, but not that much to make me and Charles switch positions just because I'm the second driver”

Erica looked at me with a smile, nodding as she tied the strap of her dress in the back of her neck. Every time she came to the races she made sure to be dressed with the colors of the team, always wearing red since I was contracted by Ferrari and then white, red and black when I was in Haas. Today, for my homerace, she was wearing a nice cherry red dress from Meshki, a brand I made collabs with some months ago. 

“If they were smart they would do a good job and instead of letting Charles fight, they would order him to defend you from Lando” Soleil pointed, helping Erica to tie the dress. “Is not the first time they order you do that for him, and for once that you are in front of him they should give you a chance”

“I just want to end on the podium, that is the goal today” I sighed. “What Charles does is all his business”

“At least you should talk about the strategy…” Soleil sighed. “Only to make things clear. This is your home race, he should respect that”

“Hah! Sure” I laughed. “It was my home race last year too and he didn’t think twice to overtake me in the last lap even if his engineer was screaming in his ears to not do that. That’s even more cruel that overtaking me in the middle of the race” 

“But last year you two didn't have a warning like this year” Erica sighed. 

“Whatever, he’ll be an asshole anyway”

My sisters looked at each other and rolled their eyes, probably tired of the rivalry between Charles and I. But they don’t understand, they don’t understand how it feels to always be challenged by him since the first time he saw me. It was like he was a bully and I was his victim.

“You two are twenty six, when will be the day you two fix things?” Erica asked. 

“When one of us dies” I stated, making both of my sisters groan.

“Drama queen” Soleil sighed.

“Yes I am”

Getting out of the hotel was something that took us half an hour, being stopped by fans that waited for the drivers to start their way to the track. They called my name and the nickname they gave me when I got famous.

“Princepessa”

The good thing about being half Italian was that they didn't care if my other half was British. They cared about my Italian roots, feeling proud that someone from their country is driving for Ferrari. A Tifosi driving for the Tifosi.

“Today will be your day” a fan said. “You'll win this race”

I smiled at them, letting them put the friendship bracelets on my wrists and taking pictures with them, somehow wanting to believe all the words they said.

Some meters in front of me was Charles, signing caps and shirts on his way to the car. I recognized Andrea (his personal trainer), Joris (his photographer) and then a girl, probably his new fling. They were waiting for him already inside of the car, the three of them looking down at their phones.

“Is that his new girl?” I whispered to Erica, looking at the car Charles was walking to.

“I think so, she was in the hospitality yesterday” Erica answered, nodding. “I would say she's nice, but the only things she did was make tons of Tik Tok videos and pictures for her Instagram”

“Are we gossiping about his new girl?” Soleil smiled, stepping between us. “She's not nice. She thought I was one of the restaurant crew and just ordered me to bring her a coffee! And her manners? Uhg, non existent”

“His taste in women is really suspicious” I joked, looking at that girl, who actually looked like me.

The three of us walked towards the car that was waiting for us, walking in front of Charles' car and looking at the girl that was sitting in the front seat on the passenger seat. She was looking at her phone, recording a Tik Tok probably, while Joris and Andrea tried to not make obvious eye rolls.

“Yeah, neither his friends like her” Erica pointed.

I sighed, walking to the driver seat of my rented car and got it, turning on the engine while my sisters got in the car. People noticed us and started to wave at me, all of them holding the shirts and and even flags and waving them as I drove next to them.

“They want you to win” Soleil said excitedly, watching the Tifosi wave their hands.

“They want Ferrari to win” I corrected. “They don't care of it's me or Charles”

I heard them sigh and I just shrugged my shoulders, driving towards the track while the police guided us, somehow making sure neither Charles or myself suffered an accident before arriving.

If we have an accident during the race it’s no longer their problem.

After I parked the car, I saw Charles parking right next to mine, opening the door and looking at me. He sighed, rolling his eyes when I waved at him and immediately placed his hand on the back of the girl that was with him in this race.

I walked with my sisters, just a little faster to enter the paddock first, and when I looked at his girl I nearly laughed right on his face.

She was dressed with a top that only covered her front side and a skirt that had an opening on the side and let you see all her leg. 

“I think you went to the wrong place” I smiled at that girl. “Coachella was on April and Tomorrowland was on July”

“It's fashion” she frowned, her voice sounding too high. “You wouldn't understand”

“I do understand. At least I went to the Met Gala” I smiled, walking away and pressing my Paddock Pass on the ID scanner.

I could feel Charles' eyes on my back, probably thinking about ways of how to take me off of the track in a few hours, or how to poison my lunch. He would do anything to make sure I won't perform better than him.

Cameras and reporters followed me, making my sisters walk some feet behind me, taking pictures of me and asking things related to the race, which I always replied with the same answer.

“I'll do everything I can to win. It's an important race for me and for the team”

When they were satisfied with my answer and after they had enough pictures of me, they walked away to focus on other drivers that were around the paddock too.

As soon as the red building was close enough, the media managers and content creators of the team started to fly around me and soon after Charles, asking questions and doing the trends that were famous on social media.

Let's start the act.

The smile on my face was half real, half fake. Having Charles near while we were inside of the hospitality meant that the rivalry we had since kids had to be left outside the building, making us act friendly and fake just to make the team and sponsors happy.

“Hey Daf!” 

He knows I hate that nickname. He knows that every time he called me like that I ended up screaming at him, telling him that he's not allowed to call me that way, only one person and he is dead.

“Charlie!” I smiled, fakely, watching how he fought to not roll his eyes or look daggers at me. “Those jeans again? How many of them do you have?”

In moments like this I enjoyed teasing him, giving him nicknames he hated and making sure he couldn't fight me. 

“This jeans, dear Dafne, are my lucky jeans” he said, smiling. 

“Mhm, I wonder when are you going to burn them” I said. “But seems that your girl has the same taste as you, now makes sense”

I saw him clench his jaw and fists, taking deep breaths and looking at him with his eyes furrowed. He knows he can't do anything, so he simply smiles and nods, walking away to his room followed by that girl.

“What was her name?” I asked Soleil. “She has face of Karen”

“I think it's actually Karen” she laughed. “I wonder where he met her”

“I'm sure it was on Raya” I chuckled. “Maybe a summer fling that stayed for too long and he doesn't even know how to say no to her”

“I don't know who I should feel sorry for” Soleil sighed. “Him because she clearly is with him for the money, or her because she will probably be replaced soon”

I shrugged my shoulders and looked at the room with his number on the door, wondering what they would be doing. Ignoring each other? Her looking at the phone and taking pictures while Charles got changed? Probably that, or she would even be using him to take pictures of her so she could post them on Instagram, hinting that she's with him.

“Whatever, they are adults” I sighed, getting up. 

When I opened the door of my room and sighed, hearing how they talked, or most likely argued.

“What is her fucking problem? Why did she talk like that to me?” that girl exclaimed. “How dare she?”

“Come on, it wasn't that bad, Melanie…”

“Are you going to defend her or me?” her voice was too high, piercing into my ears. “Charles!”

“What! Fuck off, Melanie! You knew where you were coming, don't cry now. I told you what clothes you had to pack and, as always, you did whatever you wanted” he groaned, and I could hear how he closed the door of his closet.

“God, sometimes you are so stupid”

“Whatever”

I smiled, changing my clothes to my racing suit and folding my clothes, stretching my back and arms before walking out of the room, just at the same time as Charles. His jaw was clenched and I could see the vein of his temple a little swollen, something that always happened whenever he was angry or stressed, and probably now would be both reasons.

“Next time you bring a girl, make sure she knows where she's coming” I whispered.

“What about you won't open your mouth next time I bring a girl?” he frowned. “You are giving me a headache”

“Oh really? That's nice!” I smiled, winking at him and walking away. “You should have a painkiller, anyway”

“What I should have is a good race without you in front of me” he groaned.

“Too bad it won't be possible” I said. “Get used to it, I plan of being in front of you as much as I can”

That smile. 

God, I hated that smile.

I hated that she always knew what to say and how. 

“We'll see soon” I frowned.

She rolled her eyes and walked away, making me follow her with my eyes. Melanie walked out of the room and stood next to me, never letting go of her phone.

“Should I go to the balcony? I think there are nice views of the… How do you call it?” she said, making me take a deep breath and fake a smile.

“Paddock” I said.

“Oh yeah! That” she smiled.

“Look” I sighed. “I have things to do, I'm not your photographer”

Before she could say something I already was walking away towards the restaurant, sitting on a table and looking at my phone. Just a small lunch before doing interviews and then getting ready for the race, an ice bath and some stretch outs.

“Where did you leave that girl?”

I turned around and sighed when I recognized Erica's voice. She sat next to me and placed the cup of coffee in front of me.

Dafne's older sister always tried to be out of our  arguments. When we were kids, she always avoided our fights and stood away with my brother and Jules, ignoring us. I always believed that Jules and her would end up together, and somehow maybe they were for some time.

Maybe that's why she always tried to befriend me too, to make me feel that Jules was here too, and for her to have someone that reminds her of Jules.

“Last time I saw her she was asking me to take pictures of her” I sighed, grabbing the cup and drinking it slowly. “She was getting annoying”

“And why did you bring her, then?” she sighed. “I thought you were smarter”

“Did Dafne send you so she could just use this against me later?” I said looking at her, watching how she shook her head and smiled weakly.

“I came here because I care for you, Charles. I don't care if my sister and you can't stand each other” she said, resting her back on the chair and crossing her arms in front of her chest. My eyes went to the small tattoo of her wrist, one of many she has. The little 17 was facing me.

“A guy has his needs” I sighed. “And she was there on vacations”

“Sure, but you know what she has been doing while you were out of the hospitality?” she sighed, but I already knew the answer. “She thinks she's your girlfriend, Charles, only because you let her be in your bed”

“And what if she is?” I frowned, and somehow that tattoo got darker than it already was.

Jules would be disappointed, right?

“Look, I just…” I sighed, but immediately shook my head. “You wouldn't understand”

Of course she wouldn't. Because I don't understand it either.

“Then explain it to me, hm? I might be Dafne's sister, but I'm your friend too” she said. 

“Not now, okay?” I sighed. “I have things to do, a race to make”

“Alright” she sighed. “Good luck today, Charlie. Just… don't kill my sister”

She stood up and walked away, not after she messed my hair softly.

Jules and her would have made a really beautiful couple.

I took a deep breath and sighed, getting up and walking to my room again. I looked inside Dafne's room and frowned when I saw a fruit basket on her table, finding a big amount of peaches on it.

“Fuck” I sighed, walking in and grabbing that fruit.

I might hate her, but I don't wish her death.

“What are you doing?”

I tensed and took a deep breath, turning around and finding Dafne leaning on the door frame, watching me with the peaches in my hands. 

“Nothing” I said. 

“Putting a fruit you know I'm allergic to in a basket?” she frowned. “I thought you were stupid, but this? This is crossing the line”

“No! Hey!” I frowned. Did she really think I put them on purpose? “I just grabbed them because I know you are allergic to the peel of the peach, asshole. You are welcome”

Before she could say anything I walked out of her room and went to mine, locking the door and groaning. 

The Italian anthem echoed through the stands of Monza, reverberating in my chest as I stood in front of the grid. My heart pounded in time with the fervent claps and chants of the Tifosi, their energy a palpable force lifting me higher. The sea of red around the circuit was a sight to behold, with their flags waving, faces painted, the roar of their passion almost louder than the melody of the anthem.

This was my home, my people, and today, I was going to give them a race to remember.

After the final notes finished, I walked back to my car, in the first line of the grid, next to the navy blue Red Bull. No one was in front of me, the only car to beat was the Red Bull. I looked to the car behind it, the other red one of the grid, Charles’ car. I felt his eyes on me, and the only thing I did was put on my helmet and remember that today was my day, not his.

This is my race.

The formation lap felt like an eternity, each second stretching as I warmed up the tires, feeling the grip, the balance of the car. As we lined up on the grid once more, the tension was almost unbearable.

Five lights.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

Lights out.

I launched off the line, my tires gripping perfectly as I sped towards the first chicane. Max had a strong start, but I was right on his tail, the slipstream pulling me closer. Behind me, I could feel Charles trying to find an opening, but I shut the door firmly at every opportunity.

Lap after lap, I pushed harder, feeling the car’s every response. I stayed within striking distance of Max, waiting for my chance. And then, halfway through the race, it came. Max made a slight error going into the Parabolica, his line not as clean as usual. It was all the invitation I needed.

I dived down the inside, my heart in my throat, and for a moment, we were side by side. But I had the better exit, my car flying past him down the main straight as the tifosi erupted in a deafening cheer. The lead was mine.

Now it was a matter of maintaining it. Every lap felt like a battle, not just with the track but with my own nerves. I could feel Charles gaining behind me, his pace relentless. But I focused forward, hitting every apex, every braking zone perfectly. The laps ticked down, and with each one, my confidence grew.

The final lap was a blur. I could feel the tears in my eyes, barely letting me see the track, but I kept driving, pushing and turning the wheel until I crossed the finish line. 

“Dafne Morelli, you are a race winner!”

I did it. I finally did it.

As I parked the car in the pit lane and got out of the car, I heard the roar of the crowd, all of them waving the Italian flag over their heads. I saw my team, all dressed in red and jumping, cham¡nting my name. I felt pats on my back and helmet, some drivers coming to congratulate me.

But I felt that gaze too, the one that always burned me alive whenever I won him.

And it felt so satisfying knowing that I won against Charles Leclerc.

taglist

@racinggirl @elisysd @alltoomaples @ssprayberrythings @rach3164 @yvonne-dump @deliciousfestsalad @janeh22 @hc-dutch @ninifee1802 @kakorrhaphiphobia @ssararuffoni @itsjustkhaos @scaramou @tapedeck-hearts @apollosfavkiddo @sltwins

[try-set-me-on-fire]

Tagged by @eddiebabygirldiaz for seven sentence Sunday! Here’s uhhhhh more than that from a buddietommy vacation threesome fic-

The day is hot enough that Buck is curled up like a bug on the dock between them. He’d stayed in the water longer than Tommy or Eddie had, and had swum out further than either of them, so when he’d crawled back up onto the old wood planks he’d chugged an entire water bottle and promptly passed out. Eddie glances down at his bare torso, just starting to get a little pink.

“Should probably get sunscreen on him again.”

Tommy snorts as he leans backwards, stretching out to grab the spray can. “And you’re worried you’ve forgotten how to be a dad.”

“Fuck off,” Eddie says as Buck, still asleep, makes a similar sound when Tommy mists him all over with cold sunscreen. “It’s been months, man, that’s so long for a kid, who knows what he’s even into now-”

“Minecraft, right?” Tommy says as he smooths his hand over a few places the sunscreen pooled on his boyfriend’s back. “Wasn’t he on a video call with you and Buck about it for like three hours on Friday? Something about- uh- command blocks?”

Eddie is mildly impressed Tommy remembers the word — maybe — because he certainly doesn’t. Buck had only been slightly better at following along than he had as they’d squinted at the probably impressive pixels on the laptop screen. “I don’t know, I just feel like…” Every morning, still, he wakes up and thinks he needs to get Chris’ breakfast started. Whole parts of his being are wired around taking care of his kid, but since he’s been gone Eddie has been trying — in fits and starts and most of the time guiltily — to figure out what the rest of him is for. It’s part of what got him into the whole mess in the first place, chasing after the dreams of a 19 year old who got those dreams from his parents. A nice wife (but they never liked her, did they) and a good job (but firefighting is too dangerous, isn’t it) and a picket fence (one closer to home, Eddie, you’ve gone too far away.) So he owed it to Chris, owed it to himself, to figure out what the fuck he actually wants, so he doesn’t keep twisting himself into knots and taking out everyone around him when the line breaks. He’s not sure he’s any closer to whatever that is — other than it’s unlikely to include a wife of any kind — but in the time he’s taken trying, what if other things got lost in the upheaval? “I keep thinking I’ll just- not remember to do something. Forget how field trip permissions slips work, or not know what shoe size he wears, or- I don’t know. Anything. I won’t pack his lunch and it won’t be the end of the world but he’ll be hungry that day.”

Tommy leans back on his palms and looks across at him, quiet and thoughtful for a few moments in that way he has, like he’s thinking through every possible response before he speaks. He is, maybe; he’d confessed to Eddie that he’d spoken too quickly when he was younger, is embarrassed about a lot of the dumb shit he’d said, so he tries to take his time with his words now. “Eddie. You took us up here this weekend to check and make sure this place is accessible to take your kid to this summer. And- I get that’s a big thing, a big gesture, and maybe you’re worried about messing up the small stuff, but… You’ve still got his favorite kind of jelly in the fridge that nobody else eats. You love him, and he knows that. You’re gonna do fine.” He shrugs. “And he’s almost fourteen, if you forget to hand him lunch he’s gonna let you know.”

Eddie huffs a small laugh. “Yeah, I guess he will.” He groans a little, shaking his head. “Fourteen years old, that’s fucking crazy. I don’t feel old enough for that to be true.”

Tommy rolls his neck so it audibly cracks. “Yeah, yeah, you whippersnapper.”

Eddie grins at him. “You feeling the exercise, old man? Need to go lay down?” He cackles and leans away as Tommy grabs the can and sprays a burst of sunscreen at him.

Between them Buck grunts at the commotion, and rolls towards Eddie. He presses his face into the meat of his bare side above his trunks, and wraps his long arms around his torso. Eddie glances up at Tommy, who just looks fondly amused. “Uh. Wrong guy, there, bud.”

Buck stills, and then pulls back a little to squint up at him. Eddie’s not particularly ticklish, but something like goosebump are shivering across the skin of his stomach where Buck’s forearm rests against him. He has to actively try not to shudder as Buck pulls back and rolls the other way, Eddie watching hypnotized as he gives Tommy the same treatment. Buck presses a little kiss onto Tommy’s hip, in the spot he had just been cuddled into on Eddie, and Eddie’s mouth goes dry.

Tommy lets out a little breath, and Eddie doesn’t think he’ll be able to use the sun as an excuse for how pink he’s gotten as his eyes snap up to the other man’s face. Except- he’d been expecting a raised eyebrow, a flat mouth, some visual indicator of disapproval, that this is one step Buckandeddie too far, that all the rest of their codependent lives have been fine, a platonic kind of care built over years of being there for each other through the worst of the worst, but now the uncomfortable answer to what Eddie wants, the uncomfortable answer he’s been trying to avoid because it's something he cannot have, has been found out and the messy insides of him will have once again ruined something good. But what he finds is a tiny little smile and heavy eyes that-

Well, they don’t look disapproving in the slightest.

“You guys hungry?” Buck mutters, words muffled by Tommy’s skin. “We should go start the grill.”

Tommy’s little smile gets wide and lazy, eyes still stuck on Eddie. “I could eat,” he says.

Tagging @iinryer @shitouttabuck @butchdiaz @chronicowboy @homerforsure @rewritetheending @bigfootsmom if you have anything you want to share!

[flowery-mess]

Noah meeting you at your work (sales assistant in retail)

Noah is a tall man, that's a fact

And finding good fitting jeans for him is really hard

He always went to Zara or Bershka or any other basic clothes shop

He always managed to buy jeans that were at least his length, but had to tie them in the waist

So he decided that visiting a specialized shop with jeans, where someone would help him and he didn't have to try on 50 jeans he chose himself, is a great idea

So on his off day he went to his local mall and found a little jean shop

He noticed you straight away, he saw you talking with another man about what colors you have in the type of jeans he chose

He looked around for a bit, but then you approached him with a smile and 'hello, how can I help you?'

You asked, but you already knew what he's looking for

Well, he didn't know what he's looking for (because most men don't fucking know)

He just told you he need jeans that fit nicely and are long enough for him

You were thinking about slim fit, 30 or 31 in waist and 34 or 36 for length

You gave him few pieces to try

Every time your fingers touched his you felt something in your tummy

He kept staring at you, when you were explaining types of jeans you have

That means he didn't really listen what you were saying

When Noah went to try what you handed to him, you made your way behind the cash desk where your colleagues started making fun of your slight blushed cheeks and how you two looked at each other like teenagers

They were pressuring you into giving him your number or ask for his

But you found it unprofessional and were scared of rejection

You went to check with him if the size and type fits

When he came out of the fitting room with the jeans on, you felt something in your tummy (or maybe lower) again

He came in with sweatpants shorts so you didn't see his legs and ass before

But with those jeans hugging him in the right places you couldn't stop staring

To be honest you stare at everyone's ass when they try jeans, that's part of the job, but looking at this handsome man's ass felt embarrasing

He tried different sizes, types and colors and he chose three pairs to buy

You two kept smiling at each other and kept stealing glances

He paid and then left the shop

Your colleagues were making fun of you for the rest of the shift, because you kept day dreaming about Noah

You two were too lost in each others eyes that neither of you noticed that Noah gave you wrong size that he later paid for

He noticed it back home

And he was embarrased

He didn't know if he should come back and exchange it for the right items

He thought about it for a few days, but after he asked Jesse for the 10th time for an opinion Jesse said 'Mate if you don't go back there tomorrow, I will, and I'll make sure she never forgets who you are.'

Which meant he would go there and embarras the hell out of Noah

So the next day he came back like a little puppy

'I'm sorry I took the wrong size when I was here on Monday.'

You didn't mind that, you were happy he came on the day you were at work

You said no worries and helped him find the right size

This time your interaction was more smooth, with some small talk

When you did the exchange on your cash register, he apologized for the 10th time

And before you thought about what you're going to say, you said 'It's no problem, it happens, but if you insist on apologizing you can take me out.'

For a few seconds you both stood there like 🧍🏼‍♀️🧍🏽

'I'm so sorry, that was really inappropriate, I'm sorry.'

'If you insist on applogozing, you can let me take you out for dinner.' he used your words and turned the situation around with a smirk on his face

You said yes, also said 'I'm sorry' few more times

You two exchanged numbers and set up a date for your dinner

Your colleagues were laughing behind the corner at you interaction and then just said that at least you two will have a cute story for your kids

Taglist: @somewhere-diamond @reyadawn

You are the first ones that asked to be tagged in something I post, THANK YOU💗

[thesimpsbasement]

Nanami finding out you're asexual

•tags/warnings: hurt/comfort, gn!reader, established relationship,makeout sesh,talk of sex but no smut,reader has bad past experiences

Finally you had a day off from work.The past couple Days have been stressful for you,assignments left and right,major projects every week it took everything out of you and it was thanks to Nanami's convincing that you can now lay in bed all day. He always took such good care of you that sometimes you wonder how you managed to find such a man.Maybe luck was finally in your favor.

Your ears perk up when you hear the creak of the front door.You immediately get up,rushing towards it, knowing your boyfriend just came home.”Kento! Welcome back”You greet the man as you wrap your arms around him.”Hey dear”he smiles at you,kissing your forehead as he takes off his shoes. “How was work?”you ask as you help him out of his coat,hanging it in the hanger by the door.”Nothing much, same old, would rather hear about your day” he says,kissing your cheek this time.”Well I took your advice and relaxed,mainly sat in bed and slept because I needed to catch up,more than one all nighters in a row can really make you value sleep” you rant as both of you walk towards the living room.”That so? I'm glad at least you slept. Maybe I should nag you more since you seem to listen to me when I do, "he teases,cupping your cheek. You roll your eyes playfully,feeling butterflies in your stomach as you feel his warm hand on your cheek.Even after months of dating, it felt like this was your first time seeing the man.

Nanami leans in again,this time connecting his lips with yours.He lets out a hum,gently pushing you on the couch,hand behind your head as he pulls you in deeper.Your eyes close,moving your lips in sync with his,your arms wrapping around his shoulders.You let out a gasp when you feel him bite your bottom lip,allowing him access as he slides his tongue in.Your cheeks are tinted red as the kiss turns more and more heated. Nanami's hand slips under your shirt,palm touching your skin as he moves higher towards your chest.Your eyes widen as you pull away from the makeout session,your hand gripping his wrist “W-Wait!” You pant,eyes staring at his hand.Nanami is quick to retract his hand,eyes scanning your features. “I'm sorry dear, I didn't mean to,I should've asked you first” he immediately starts apologizing,giving you some distance.” It's fine Ken,I'm okay” you reassure him “I'm sorry”.

Your sudden apology made the man raise an eyebrow “what for? You didn't do anything wrong sweetheart, I'm not going to force myself on you,we'll only be intimate when you're ready,I'm not going to touch you until I have your consent” Nanami says,his words alone making you teary eyed. ‘We'll be intimate whenever you're ready." Those words played back in your head over and over.He doesn't know. He doesn't know that you'll never want to be intimate in that sense. “Kento…” you trail off,feeling as if your words are stuck in your throat. ‘Come on ___ you have to do it,the sooner you tell him the less it'll hurt when he leaves’ you tell yourself.”Can we…talk? It's important”.

Kento nods,sitting properly on the couch by your side,full attention on you “I'm listening”.You gulp,unable to look at him in the eye “This is going to be uhm I guess disappointing but….I never want to have sex” you admitted with bated breath “and before you say anything it's not you or something you did I just…don't want to have sex,in general, with anyone …ever” you continue, Nanami listening quietly and attentively “Might be a lot to take in but I understand if you're gonna leave for someone else who can fulfill those desires,you wouldn't be the firsthand he hears this Nanami is quick to stop you “Hold on there,let's take this slow alright?” he tries to calm you down “First I'm not disappointed, alright? I'm fine with not having intercourse as long as you're happy,I value you and your health more than I value lust” He says,noticing you staring at the floor “sweetheart..look at me please” You lift your head to meet his eyes,your face is scrunched up,eyes glassy as tears threaten to spill “Oh honey..come here” He cooes,pulling you in a gentle embrace,not to tight but enough to keep you grounded “I'm never going to leave ,especially not over some silly thing like ,I love you for you, I feel in love with that charming personality,your kindness,your laugh,the way your face lights up when you smile,I'd be a fool to throw such a precious treasure away for mere pleasure” his words makes your tears fall as you cling to him “stop talking you're making it worse” you say through sniffles.Nanami chuckles as he pets your back “I'm just being honest”.

After some time,you finally calm down as you rub away any remaining tears.”You really mean what you said earlier?” You ask,still holding onto him. “Of course,now mind telling me what made you think of such silly ideas?” He inquired.You sigh as you lift your head from his chest “Past partners…they weren't exactly fond of the idea of no sexual relationship” you start explaining “they thoughts I was broken or had some unresolved trauma with intimacy but that's not it ,I'm just asexual but they call me a prude, one even started treating me like some kid but one things they all had in common was that they left because of this and I was worried you'd think the same but over time I felt guilty,like I was holding you back ,you're such a great guy and you deserve better” Nanami holds your hands in his before he starts talking “you don't have to worry your pretty little head about any of that,you're definitely not holding me back dearest,this is the happiest I've ever been,truly there's no one else like you out there,besides,sex isn't the only form of intimacy, so I'll be fine, as long as it's you” you sometimes wonder how his words always make you smile.”The people that left you are idiots and quite frankly probably didn't love you that much if they left so easily,don't waste your breath on fools like them,focus on the present” Nanami tells you,kissing your forehead.”mhmm thank you” you smile at him,tackling him in a hug as you pepper his face with kisses “no need to thank me,but I'm certainly not going to complain about the kisses” he chuckles,every kiss making his cheeks heat and his heart racing.

Eventually you stop your attack of kisses,getting up. “You just got back from work so you must be hungry right? Well good news! Made you something extra special so hope you'll enjoy!” you say,taking his hand as you drag him to the kitchen.Kento chuckles,letting you lead the way.

Yeah, he loves you, alright. No way in hell he'll ever leave such a precious thing.

[spaceprincessem]

seven sentence sunday

oh hi everyone it's me. haven't really been writing much recently just small self-indulgent things, but slowly working on the buddie mockingjay au again so that is what i have for you today. the goal is to get it done before s8 so fingers crossed. thank you for all the tags this week i really appreciate it! thanks today to @spotsandsocks @devirnis @sibylsleaves @eddiebabygirldiaz for today (also maybe someday ill finish the presumed missing fic but today is not that day)

Now he needs to become their leader, the face, the embodiment of the revolution — the Mockingjay. Sometimes he wonders if they forget that he’s only seventeen years old. “We need the Districts to know that you are alive and well,” Abby adds when Sue finishes her pitch, “to unite them against our common enemy.” Eddie lets it sit for a moment, his fingers twitching to reach for the pearl burning a hole in his pocket. “No.” He finally says. Neither look surprised by his answer, in fact Sue looks downright determined, like she’s finally found a challenge worthy of her game making abilities.  “Eddie,” she says in a voice that’s supposed to be calm and soothing, but it grates at his nerves, “the Districts are only going to rally behind someone that started this revolution.” “Then you should have saved Buck!” Eddie yells, hand slamming down onto the table.

it's probably late to tag but @shortsighted-owl @colonoscopys @monsterrae1 @loserdiaz @hoodie-buck @weewootruck

[agentwhalesong]

One Step At A Time

Words: 1,484

Rating: not sure; contains adult topics, so Mature?

ao3 link

(Tagging @today-in-fic)

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

She’d only given in because she was lonely.

Their relationship was weird these days; conversation was never an option. It was just sex, rough sex, against the wall, onto office tables or bent over the back of his couch. Their couch. No, his couch. Her mind used to discern things better when there was only anger in the air, when he wouldn’t accept a single touch of her hand on his. She couldn’t even tell when that anger turned into some sort of addictive lust or who started it all, but now here they were, in a limbo of loveless, hot sex whenever they saw each other.

Was it really loveless though?

His arms around her stomach as he kept on spooning her didn’t indicate so.

Maybe he just forgot they shouldn’t be like this, that two months ago she had built a wall between them by saying ‘no more’ as she rolled her skirt back down her legs and hid her tears.

So yes, she’d only given in this time because she was lonely, not because they had never fallen out of love with each other, even in their darkest days.

She wasn’t supposed to have stayed though. This road was headed to mess town and she wasn’t ready for mess yet. What she didn’t realize — at least not completely — was that she’d long arrived in mess town and was almost a permanent citizen.

Her hand was still over his, stroking it absentmindedly as thoughts ran through her mind at warping speed. Old habits die hard; some old habits never truly die.

Slowly, she unwrapped herself from his arms, not sure if he had woken or not. It didn’t matter anyway.

She picked up her clothes and walked to the bathroom they had once shared, but that she was seeing for the first time in more than a year. As she closed the door behind her, her heart stopped. Her old toothbrush, the one she had forgotten to take when she moved out, was right there in the toothbrush holder, as if untouched.

What was she supposed to think of it? He couldn’t possibly not have seen it. It was next to his, next to the tube of toothpaste squeezed right in the middle — something she had never been able to change in him. Maybe that was the problem, she had tried to change him too much.

She sighed. All these emotions didn’t belong here, in her mind, in his house, in their house, in her more-than-one-year-old toothbrush. Why now? Why had she given in?

It had been the first time they had actually talked; it was why she had given in. It hadn’t been small talk that always led to sex for some unexplained reason. It had been a simple, but meaningful conversation about life and losing time and getting old that had dissolved all of her determination and made her take his hand and follow him upstairs.

“Scully, are you okay in there?” came his muffled voice from outside the bathroom.

It was only then that she realized she had been staring at their toothbrushes for many more minutes than she should have.

She opened her mouth to say ‘yes, I’m fine’, but what got out was completely different.

“Why is my toothbrush still here?”

She heard him sigh, but he didn’t speak.

He didn’t want to answer, that was fine. Why should he? Why had she asked that stupid question anyway? Maybe it wasn’t even her toothbrush, but somebody else’s. Truth was that she didn’t know if there was somebody else. She never thought to ask.

“Can I come in?” he finally asked.

Her reply came in a whisper, but he heard her.

Although she didn’t turn around when he entered, their eyes locked through the mirror.

“I wasn’t expecting you would see it,” he said quietly. “I left it there as a reminder.”

“A reminder?”

“That you left. At the time I just needed to feed my anger and that was the only thing you didn’t take with you. I used to look at it and curse myself, sometimes curse you.”

She averted her gaze to her own reflection, saw her own eyes watering as her heart raced and ached. He continued.

“I threw it away once, that time when you came to check on me and we had sex for the first time before… this, whatever this is, started. I was angry that you seemed to regret what we’d just done, so I threw it in the trash can. I picked it up again a couple of hours later, though.”

“Why?” she asked, not hiding her tears anymore and looking at his eyes through the mirror again. “If this is so painful to you, why do you keep on holding on?”

She knew the question wasn’t about him and her toothbrush, but about him and her, about their inability to let each other go for good. He knew it too.

“Because at some point it stopped hurting. It became hope.”

His words hit deep, crushing her facade at once.

“Damn you, Mulder! You need to stop doing this to me!”

Her exclamation, although said in a low voice, made her body react. She lowered her head, supported herself with her hands on the sink, allowed herself to weep.

She felt his hands gently grab her hair from around her neck and turn it into a sort of low ponytail, before letting it fall on her back, away from her tears.

“I’m sorry I made you break your promise of not sleeping with me again. I’ll leave you alone from now on.” He turned around, but she couldn’t let him go.

“Please, don’t.”

He stopped by the door, turned his body only half around, while she turned completely and walked to him.

Her arms went around his waist so quickly that it took him a while to hug her back. But when he did, it felt like nothing else mattered.

She couldn’t say how long they just stood there in that position or when her tears subsided. She just knew that at some point he whispered against her hair, uncomplicated words for a complex relationship.

 “Let’s just go to bed and pretend it’s like old times”.

She let herself be carried and then cuddled, despite her mind shouting that she should just go home. They had sex once more — a first since chaos started to reign — and that made it incredibly difficult to obey the voices in her head.

She ended up staying through the night because, in the end, they weren’t pretending it was like old times. For once, they were in the present, not trying to retrieve what had been lost. They were the Scully and Mulder who didn’t know exactly how to deal with everything, but also the Scully and Mulder who were at least trying — no matter how unconventional their way of trying was.

She woke up before him the following morning, and when he opened his eyes she was already half dressed. His hoarse voice was what made her look over her shoulder and then turn to face him.

“I thought you were going to stay at least for breakfast”

She shook her head slightly.

“That is not who we are anymore, is it?”

He shook his head slightly also, and then closed his eyes. If falling asleep again or just lost in thoughts, she couldn’t tell.

She was already putting on her shoes when he suddenly broke the silence.

“Who are we now?”

She sighed, not sure what to say, and then sat on a spot beside him on the bed.

“I think we are trying to figure that out.”

She wanted to tell him all the feelings that were stirring her insides, that last night had been sweet and sad and something else, maybe a sparkle of forgiveness from both sides. Instead, she just put her hand over his and stroked it a little, wordlessly.

Then she stood up and headed for the door, already expecting the tears that usually came with the silent goodbyes.

“Scully?”

She turned around, somewhat afraid of what he was about to say. But fear turned into tenderness as he spoke.

“You look beautiful.”

She smiled in spite of herself, the first smile while with him in the past year or so. He smiled back, melting a little more of the ice on that wall of hers.

Without another word, she made her way out of the bedroom and then out of the house. She was already in her car when she realized — the tears she was expecting never came.

Maybe she would call him one of these days. Maybe they would talk again. Maybe they would become something similar to what they had once been. For now, she only held on to the smile on his face and his heartwarming words. One step at a time.

[angstigone]

𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐬𝐚𝐲 (𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐲 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲) (𝟑/𝟒)

the title is a lyric from the song 'give me everything' by pitbull (feat ne-yo and afrojack)

𝗚𝗼𝗷𝗼 𝗦𝗮𝘁𝗼𝗿𝗼𝘂 𝘅 𝗛𝗮𝗶𝗯𝗮𝗿𝗮! 𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 (𝗕𝗿𝗶𝗱𝗴𝗲𝗿𝘁𝗼𝗻 𝗔𝗨)

𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 (𝟭): 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗜 𝗺𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗵𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗺𝗲 (𝗶𝗳 𝗜 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱) 𝘁𝗼𝗻𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 (𝟐) 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐈 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 (𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮) 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 (𝟑): '𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 (𝐧𝐨𝐭) 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰

(A/N): hello there, lovelies!

before going any further I'd just like to put this disclaimer that I am absolutely not responsible for any emotional damages that will come from reading this chapter and I apologize for any possible trauma unlocked.

I am sorry.

with this being said as always, I'd love to hear your opinions through reblogs and comments, as they do make me write faster and better and I am going to be tagging @ffsg0jo and @arcielee!

also last night I got hit by an extreme yearning for nanami and an idea for a regency/bridgerton au for his as well, so pls be warned and let me know whether you liked the idea (it's very 'princess and the pauper' barbie, because - according to me - that's the movie with the best prince).

have a nice day!

SUMMARY: when all your and your husband's secrets comes finally up.

You had never thought throughout your life that it’d be Satorou Gojo who would be feeling awkward being stared down by your beloved brother while you sat beside your mother and recounted to her the wonders of your new position, starting from the wondrous gardens you could wander into, any day to your heart’s content. «… you should visit us before the good season ends, Haibara» you muttered softly as both your brother and husband startled and after a meaningful look they both resulted into a merciful submission. 

WARNINGS: angst, mention of past child abuse and familial complexities, slight toxic behaviors between reader and gojo, mention and discussion of sex (not graphic) and a character suggesting that reader put on weight (although not in a mean way), geto suguru being #1 shipper of this, she/her pronouns, afab character, regency/bridgerton au.

It felt silly how happy you now felt after the utter sadness that you had gone throughout your first day of marriage, as you lightly pushed your husband away from your gowns; he had meant to hide his face underneath while the carriage came to an halt, signaling further that Satorou’s misbehavior was done for the day.

«Enough, Satorou!» you further conveyed your displeasure although it did little as you felt your cheeks burn lightly with the strain that happiness took upon your mouth «… we have arrived! What… what would your staff say if their first sight of me, you bride, was to be defiled by your dirty hands?».

«My hands aren’t dirty» it shouldn’t surprise you, by now, that Satorou took offense also upon this comment «… and I’d say that’d be a rather… amusing and entertaining way to introduce yourself».

And just like that the scoundrel was beneath your skirts, barely kissing upon a thigh before you closed your legs swiftly and kicked lightly to his abdomen to ensure that he’d get the clear indication that such thing wouldn't be happening anytime soon. 

Not at least till you were in the safety of your bedrooms.

Since the first night of marriage, and Satorou’s desire to be soft with you, you had found yourself enjoying greatly your wifely duties; you were addicted upon them as Satorou gently slithered between your legs and kissed up and down your legs till you flustered and told him to ‘rush through it’.

“Rush?” he had questioned, almost offended, as one of his hands slightly bent a knee to the side to further expose yourself to his glacial gaze “... why would I do such a stupid thing, when I have you right where I want you?”.

Although the act, itself, was painful in part, you had grown to feel quite… satisfied and pleasured as Satorou would always ensure your own … gratification, whether it came from his own, his hands or his mouth, a devilish thing that had you definitely in less than proper situations.

Still, you didn’t wish for that to be the first impression to his own staff and underlings.

In all truth, you felt nervous: you weren’t all too sure of Satorou’s own feelings although he had made sure to show you, not just by performing his ‘husbandly’ duties, but also laying next to you comfortably in bed, tangled hands and breathy soft words whispered right in your ears.

“You are a dream, my lady”.

“My sweet, sweet darling wife”.

“You make such pretty noises, my little darling”.

«Well, I don’t think that it’d be entertaining for anybody truly but you» you huffed, forgetting how cute Satorou found it as he dismissed your annoyance with a light smirk, albeit he did raise up to sit where he was supposed to you while he asked to the carriage driver for a moment «… hey! No! Don’t stall! Or they’ll think…».

«… that I wish to spend time with my newly-wed wife?» he made it sound so simple and innocent, although you worried about your new status as his countess. 

It was a huge jump to move from a lady onto such a title and seeing the rumors that spread across town around your hasty marriage, you weren’t particularly eager to discover what it meant all too soon.

«Darling, my sweet sweet darling… what concerns you?».

And he kindly went so smooth the expression wrinkles that appeared right on your bows.

It was in such situations that you wondered whether your mother was right, about this being the time that Gojo fell for you. 

And you did as well.

«It’s just… it feels, like… a big jump to become a … countess» you admitted, as your words felt so utterly stupid «… what … what if … I do worry about what others are going to say, especially as I…».

«Why do you care?».

In another situation, you’d have thought Gojo to be utterly arrogant with his assumption, buthis tone felt genuine as if he truly couldn’t fathom why she might care for others’ opinion. 

As if such a thought didn’t occur to him, which might be in part truthful since he was never concerned with others’ opinions.

Otherwise they wouldn’t have been here to begin with.

«I…» and worst of all: you didn’t have an immediate reply for him. 

In all truth, you couldn’t even fathom why you had been nervous to begin with, and when you finally came up with it, you couldn’t help but fluster upon realizing that you cared for others’ opinions because of how it might reflect on Satorou.

«… if you can’t find a reason after being questioned, I am sure that you shouldn’t take it with such a strong consideration» Satorou deliberated as if it wasn’t obvious, grabbing her hand while his other reached for the handle of the carriage and you were the one stalling, pulling on the hand in your own.

«Please…!» you pleaded unsure «… I just… well, I do worry of… my worst behavior befalling onto you… my… my…».

«If the next word befalling your mouth is ‘husband’, I will shove my head between my thighs again to teach you a lesson».

You flustered immediately at his bold declaration as you hid your head swiftly in your hands turning away from him.

«… and please… if anything, I don’t think that anything that you do might make me worse in their eyes. Most of them have been with me since I was a young child and my sole amusement was bothering and pranking them».

The thought of a mischievous child, a small blueyed one had you almost open your mouth in awe as you felt a slight glee at the soft confession made by your husband.

«I just… it’s just… not… I never thought I’d be here».

«Me neither» Satorou admitted gently, although the tense softness in his tone implied that he wasn’t annoyed with such a result «… but I have known you for a good chunk of your life and I do know you to be lively, gentle and smart».

«You knew me as a child» you couldn’t help but slightly protest «… and you didn’t particularly like me».

«A pity and a misjudgement on my part» Gojo joked lightly, although as soon as he noticed your dampened mood he went to add more seriously «… I might not have known you that well, but I could already see that you’d become somebody insanely too good. And then you grew up to be a wonderful woman and even though it’s true - we don’t know each other very well -, I do… believe that you’d make a wonderful lady of the household».

Why did this man that you had known - truly - for so little seemed to know you better than yourself?

He seemed to know how to make you cry, long for him and comfort you.

Was it maybe meant for you to be husband and wife?

«And if you ever falter, my dear…».

Oh you perfectly knew that tone as you readied yourself for any comment.

«… don’t worry, I’ll help you through it. I won’t punish you too harshly, fear not».

And with a mischievous look that got you wondering what he entailed for ‘punishing’ you, he went to open the door and you were promptly faced with the entirety of the Gojo’s household staff. 

The maids were all prim and proper while the men had their heads lowered not meeting your eyes as Satorou brought you to the main entrance right as an elderly woman moved forward.

«It’s good for you to be back, master Gojo».

«No need for such honorifics, granny»-

It shouldn’t have surprised you that your husband could be disrespectful also to his own staff, although the woman didn’t register any annoyance nor offense while her eyes swiftly moved upon you. 

You flustered and felt your cheeks heat up as you underwent ‘the examination’.

Thankfully the older woman didn’t find you lacking. 

Nor extraordinary.

«… my lovely bride, the former young lady Haibara».

«Her ladyship» the woman bowed, although with the same reverence she reserved towards Gojo and you could only guess you had yet to earn it «… hope the journey wasn’t long. We heard of the storm and of your extra-stop».

«Why are you asking her such a thing?» Satorou complained lightly «… and I’ll have you know that the journey was dreadful and I couldn’t wait to be home. In my own bed. And not in the sopping, wet…».

«It was fine» you quieted Satorou’s monologue, and earned a slight smile from the older lady «… although as my lord husband said I am glad to be ho… to be here».

You caught yourself in the mistake as you were yet unsure whether you could call this place your own ‘home’. 

Whether it'd be disrespectful.

Either way the head of the staff didn’t comment on your faux-pas, instead breathing heavily and gesturing for the staff to start collecting your luggage as she started to speak again.

«… I have already assigned a personal maid to you, my lady. Haina is a kind girl and she shall be at your utter service. I shall fetch her after I have given you a tour of the mansion and…».

«I shall take you onto such a task» Satorou butted in as he shouldered past the older woman, much to your displeasure since you were worried you might be believed as rude for disrupting her plan. 

Instead as you turned to at least a soft ‘I am sorry’, you found a complacent smile on her face as she didn’t protest any further and Satorou brought you alongside himself.

For a tour you saw so little as you were, instead, brought into what seemed like a private alcove and as you were halfway through asking for an explanation, your husband’s lips were pressed tenderly against your own while his hands went to grab your waist. 

«Satorou!» you tried to chastise him, earning little to no reaction, as Satorou kept pressing his lips to your own,almost childishly «… we are supposed to be proper! On a tour!».

«And I am giving you a tour!» Satorou protested, almost offended and for a moment you thought that you had just been in bad faith, as he meant to show you something and just kissed you in the heat of the moment «… of all the best places to sneak away when things around the manor get boring, this way you know where to come when you little, pretty head gets all overwhelmed, alright, my darling?».

If anybody else - such as your own brother - had ever spoken to you with such a patronizing tone, you’d have immediately shut them down. 

Instead with Satorou - as if his own personality was rubbing off onto you - you couldn’t help but giggle in defeat as you went to press your own lips to his, while you felt his hand moving from your waist onto raising your dress.

In that moment, you could care less about what the staff thought of their new countess.

«… and then raising the taxes would ensure a better and more stable situation for the spring festival».

Satorou inevitably droned out the chatter of his advisors as they went onto the current situation of the estate, since they had requested this reunion to ensure that he’d be updated about the state of his affairs.

As if  he wasn’t always updated, enough that he seemed to know everything going on.

Nothing went unnoticed in his domain, as if he had eyes behind his head.

Although right now he could care less of having everything under control as his gaze trailed after where you and Haina, your personal maid, were chatting about anything.

A blanket laid down on the gorgeous gardens of his estate as you enjoyed the slight heat of the incoming spring under the watchful gaze of Ina, his old nanny and current head of the staff.

You were wearing a pale pink dress that suited your skin tone. 

You wore your hair down as you oftentimes did whenever you wouldn’t be leaving the estate grounds and you looked honestly thriving.

Never Satorou Gojo would have believed that marriage would have suited him, but right now with the way you were eagerly explaining some game on a board to Haina, he couldn’t help but believe that there might be an exception sometimes.

«My lord?» his attention still was requested on other matters, as one of his advisors called him out. 

A grin on the man’s face as if he thought to have caught Gojo in a mistake and the white haired count retorted with one of his own.

«… did we.. did we distract you?».

On his deathbed, his father had told not to trust anybody.

Not a single advisor.

“They are just dirty little fucking parasites just waiting for the right moment to snatch up everything you built” he had told Satorou, while holding his hand, a gesture that had startled the younger boy he had been as his father hadn’t ever been that affectionate “... you can only trust family so be sure to choose attentively and…”.

“And I shall never have such a thing” Satorou had spat out as he had swiftly sent his father’s hand flying down “... I have no intention to pursue the continuation of your lineage. Our dynasty dies with me”.

«No, you didn’t» he counterattacked swiftly the advisor’s insinuation who looked at him like the cat who got the milk as he didn’t think that his count was being truthful «… what’s distracting me is the idea of you wishing to raise the taxes right by the spring festival! It’d make them all hate us even more… not to talk about the fact that it’s counterproductive to have our dearest subjects have nothing to show in a festival because we took everything away, don’t you think?».

The advisor was pale, as Satorou hadn’t only effectively fought him off but also won.

Spectacoriously so.

«… we shall, if anything, lower the taxes. On the behalf of the new countess» he commented as he knew such a move would have won many hearts and this would have gotten you definitely more at ease, as since first coming into your role your nervousness hadn’t left you, no matter his assurance and calm. 

You worried about whether you were liked enough and proper by the standards, having oftentimes sought out the governess and Haina for any help in settlements and organization, especially as your arrival had been so close to the spring festival.

You had sent Gojo away from his bed one night as he kept on distracting you with languid and soft kisses. 

“I have urgent business to attend” you had ushered him away as Satorou - the lovesick fool - let himself be dragged away.

“Isn’t your husband a matter to attend to?” he had teased you just to see the embarrassment heat you up wholly as you wore a slightly sheer pinkish nightgown that he had wished to rip from the moment that he had seen upon entering your chambers. 

He had kept his parents’ traditions of a separate bedroom, if anything to let you have the time to settle and calm although he’d often visit you and sleep in the same bed.

“... what a prudish wife I have found for myself”.

“Satorou!” you had whined as a slight doubting gaze appeared upon your face “... I shall attend to you. Just… just later”.

Oh, how he loved your bashfulness!

He had slept with you just two times, the first on the night at the tavern with your soft mewls of innocence being ripped away as he tried to hold himself back; what he had felt for you in the garden couldn’t be compared to the intensity perceived in that moment when every gentle kiss you pressed to his cheeks reeking of gratitude had him as inflamed as an heated touch.

The second time had been in the house as you had been the one to seek him out gently as he was at his desk dealing with some of the unfinished business that he had left behind to join the ball season.

“... can we… can we do it again?” your shyness had been rewarded by Satorou through a gentle surrender of his own as he let you do as you pleased with his body, cackling at your eagerness mixed with nervousness “... do you think I shall be soon with child?”.

“Oh” the memory was immediately soured by Satorou’s denial for such a thing although he hadn’t worded it properly taken by the panic at the discovery that you might want children “... I can’t… you see I…”.

You had seemed shocked and Satorou had thought this the moment when you left him, when you saw him as the crook he was and regretted the marriage, but instead your eyes had saddened not soured.

“I am sorry” you had spoken gently as your hand had caressed his arm, while Satorou thought he should have been the one to tell you so.

“Why, my love?” he aimed to seek out the further reasoning behind your mercy, as he had gently caressed your cheeks already feeling a slight dampness.

“... children are blessings and I had always hoped to give to my children a sibling as I was to Yo” you had spoken gently and earnestly and Satorou had felt a pang of pain in his chest “... either way I don’t… I don’t mind, Satorou”.

“Do you?” he had sought out confirmation “... truly?”.

And you had nodded eagerly, cuddling yourself closer to him.

“I don’t mind it being just the two of us, you know?” you had even giggled so cutely that for a moment Satorou had felt in heaven “... and in the end if you can’t have children…there isn’t much to be done”.

And it had hit Satorou that you thought he couldn’t have - biologically - children, not because he refused to spend his seed into you as he was too stubborn to go back against a binding vow murmured with hatred towards his father to spite the Gojo dynasty.

You had fallen asleep in his arms while he had stayed awake, thinking that the incoming morning he had to tell you that you had misunderstood him and he was too selfish to give you what you wished for. 

Still, he hadn’t been able to bring himself as you gently woke up in his arms, kissing the open palm of his hand and saying how happy you were with each other.

He had told himself, he’d tell you. 

Eventually.

He didn’t enjoy the thought of lying and withholding the truth, but with time passing he couldn’t help but feel like his eventual punishment would have become tenfold.

Oh avoidance.

«If the matter is closed…».

Such dark thoughts had him aching for you, as he saw that you and Haina had raised up from your spot, probably going inside for your afternoon bath since the following day you were to leave the Gojo residence to visit your family. 

He wasn’t eager to know the sensation of Haibara’s eyes stabbing him but he also could tell just how traumatic being uprooted into your new place could be and he wished for you to be close to your family, since you had one that loved you so much.

«… actually there are more… ahem… matters that require your atten…» the advisor who had tried to have him make a faux-pas spoke again, and this time Gojo didn’t withhold the subtle hatred in his gaze.

«If the matter is as stupid as the one you brought forward, I think that such things can wait for my return».

For now he was far more interested in discovering whether he’d be in time to catch you before you slipped in your bath or he’d join you directly. 

You had never thought throughout your life that it’d be Satorou Gojo who would be feeling awkward being stared down by your beloved brother while you sat beside your mother and recounted to her the wonders of your new position, starting from the wondrous gardens you could wander into, any day to your heart’s content.

«… you should visit us before the good season ends, Haibara» you muttered softly as both your brother and husband startled and after a meaningful look they both resulted into a merciful submission. 

You’d have laughed, hadn’t it been that you had sworn to yourself that you’d behave in front of your family as you had a devious plan for Lady Murasaki.

Gojo had informed you that he’d be leaving you for a few hours as he had a few matters to attend to in the city and you had told him that such a thing didn’t bother you.

“I’ll visit some friends I have left behind” you had insisted as he was worried that you’d feel alone “... and if I do feel all too lonely, my brother will be more than happy to keep me company”.

In all truth, you wouldn’t have gone to any friends, but you’d have met the typist to have the latest pamphlet out, a clear answer to those who had doubted your marriage to count Gojo. 

You couldn’t help but pinprick of slight guilt at not only going behind Gojo’s back but also because you had yet to reveal to him your identity of Lady Murasaki but how could you though?

Throughout your career as a pamphleteer you had insulted and made fun of him and the thought of ruining your steady pace in the marriage right when it felt so blooming was heartbreaking and nerve wracking.

No, this was a secret you’d have taken to the grave.

Or so you had hoped as you rushed through the busy street of the industrial part of town, clad in a thick woolen coat to conceal your identity, to meet right in time the printer.

So taken by your worry to be on time you hadn’t noticed when a burly black haired lord had bumped right into you, lightly cursing underneath your breath while the gentleman you had clashed into giggled, clearly having heard what you had said but most importantly revealing to be none other than your husband’s partner-in-crime, Suguru Geto.

You startled, especially as a look of surprise settled on the man’s face as he recognized you.

No, no this couldn’t be happening.

You didn’t have a proper excuse for why you were on this side of the town as it’d have contrasted with your promise to meet with friends that you had told Gojo. 

What if Geto told him that he had met you? 

How could you justify yourself?

«Lady Hai… I mean countess» he curtsied to you gentlemanly, further having you in a flurry of panic as you tried to come up with a proper excuse for your presence there.

Saying that you had lost yourself would have been far too unbelievable and you had no reason or purpose to be there, unlike him who had just exited what seemed like a bawdy tavern.

«What a delightful surprise!».

«Truly» you suppressed your unease through gritted teeth «… I am in a ru…».

«I had meant to ask Satorou how you were settling» and yet the black-haired man completely ignored your necessity pushing you in place by kindly helping you up as he kept the distance at an arm’s length «… after all that mess with your brother and the duel… I had worried that you might be… well, that the marriage might be doomed from the start. Especially as Satorou seemed so nervous, I had to give him a few words of encouragement to have him still his overthinking…».

«I am indebted to you for that» you muttered attentive to keep the obvious annoyance you felt to yourself as the memory of your marriage ceremony wasn’t the brightest in your mind with you and Satorou being at each other’s back, turned and worried «… now if you could just let me throu…».

«Why in such a rush?» oh that shit-eating grin, you’d have loved to write a peculiar column onto it on your pamphlets.

Wait, you actually had and that had you slightly smirking.

«… I didn’t know that you had any business in such a place».

Oh, how easily he had caught you, still you tried for the unease not to be shown on your face, as not to further compromise your situation.

As you were halfway through giving a meek answer, you noticed that lord Geto’s attention was caught by something on the ground and as you shifted your gaze on the dirtied floor you realized that your book had fallen and all the original pamphlet drafts were now in part scattered to the ground, much to your horror. 

That just worsened when you saw the lord gentlemanly dipping down to collect the papers before you could stop him.

«Oh you must be mailing letters, aren’t …» and then you knew for sure that you had been caught «… what… what… why are these papers signed by none other than Lady Murasaki?».

You knew that there must be some kind of lie that would have gotten you out of this situation but you were in much too shock to properly react as Geto gently but sternly grabbed your arm and brought you in the first secluded pastry nearby, before he started to hiss angrily.

«You… you are lady Murasaki?».

Well, you couldn’t blame his anger, as you had oftentimes made fun of his pompous behavior at balls, although it startled what he said next.

«… does… does Satorou know about it?».

Your silence was an answer enough and Geto lightly grimaced before he started again:

«Do you… how can you keep such a secret from him?».

The way he sounded almost paternalistically had you finally snap out of your trance as you regarded him with a tight glare.

«That’s neither your own or his business!».

«Oh but it is» Ghetto seethed lowly «… do you… do you have any idea whatLlady Murasaki had done to him or me?».

You startled at the obvious accusation before again regaining your tight defense.

«None that can be brushed off easily within a few seasons» you said haughtily «… what about the ladies that you and Satorou made fun of? Or fooled for nothing but the pleasure of your own egos!».

«I’d be careful of how you speak about such matters, especially as one of those men is your husband» Geto said cuttingly and albeit you were trying not to raise anything you couldn’t help but feel a slight guilt at the reminder that you had oftentimes belittled Satorou in your tireades.

Still, it couldn’t be that bad, could it?

Satorou had an ego for days and in truth, everybody would have forgiven him for the most heinous of shit, simply because he was… Satorou Gojo.

You, yourself, found it extremely difficult to be mad at him for the way he had behaved when you were both younger and yet, here you were betraying him by posting again as lady Murasaki.

«… and you have no idea how much of the damage you have done by creating this little persona».

Oh that was enough: your ethics might be flawed but you wouldn’t have let yourself be so harshly spoken to by a scoundrel such as Suguru Geto:

«You have no idea of how little freedom we women have. And how much you men behave as our own masters. So, let me have this little freedom: to warn women of the ridiculous dangers of high society before it’s too late».

Geto seemed definitely taken aback by your spiel, although he was quick to continue your verbal sparring:

«You have little to no idea of what you have caused,Llady Murasaki» being called by your pen name had you definitely scrunching your eyebrows «… you have truly no right to write… such… heinous things!».

«And yet… are they untrue?» you held Geto’s gaze knowing that he couldn’t deny the truth, although he still huffed and finally declared.

«You have to tell Satorou».

«Not at all» Lady Murasaki was your own creation, and if you didn’t wish Satorou to know, you wouldn’t have told him.

«You do» Geto insisted as he sent a slight look your way, although not one of haughtiness or reprimand but genuine concern «… if he discovers it any other way… it’d be… it’d be bad».

«Satorou… Satorou isn’t like that».

You don’t think that your husband would have hurt you in anyway an husband might but somehow you knew that Geto’s words would be true: if Satorou discovered about this, he’d definitely… be hurt and such a thought had you… terribly guilty.

«… what… it’ll hurt to know, now».

«And it won’t lessen the pain with time, if you don’t tell him» Geto promptly insisted «… I’ll give you a month then you have to tell him, understood?»

You couldn’t help but be utterly offended at Geto’s audacity to tell you what to do, as he wasn’t your father nor your husband and although he was looking out for a friend, he had also put his nose in business that didn’t concern him.

Still, it also hit you the finality with which Geto spoke: he wasn’t bluffing, he’d have told Gojo.

The thought terrified you, although deep down you felt a sort of contentment at finally having a way to liberate yourself from the heavy weight of your second identity, especially before it became all too troublesome.

«I… I’ll tell him» you promised your voice slightly wavering «… but after the spring festival».

«I’ll agree to that» Geto muttered much more calmly «… but first I… can I ask you what got you to start writing such things? I… I have known you and your brother for a bit and I didn’t…».

«… didn’t think I was capable of writing such things?» you shot back slightly smiling sadly «… well I… in all truth, I think that I did it because you didn’t think myself capable of doing such things. I… you always thought me to be some naive little child and it was also… my way of regaining power over a life on which I didn’t have control».

«But… but you are a countess now!» Geto harshly protested, although there was a bit of disbelief as if he couldn’t believe that she had felt this way and instead of angering you, you felt  a bit pacified by his comment.

«Don’t… don’t… mistake my words… I am happy with… Satorou… but… but I never had a choice in what I wanted. Nor my life, nor my debut and especially not my marriage. I am lucky that it worked out, but for all those ladies who are too naive for the world and stuck in horrible matches?» you couldn’t help but smile a bit awkwardly as you felt silly at revealing such things «… well, I wished to simply warn them».

The silence that fell between you and Geto wasn’t uncomfortable, if anything there was a slight exchange of thoughts that couldn’t be said out loud.

«And if anything… my last pamphlet was about how happy the newest countess had been with her love match. Is it the time that Gojo Satorou settles?» you joked feigning a wondrous surprise as Geto laughed lowly.

«Ever think that you’ll put a good word for me?» he asked gently albeit a bit humorously.

«Oh don’t even think about it!».

Satorou had always been peculiarly nosy with the things of others, and his governess had always insisted that such a thing would have him in trouble.

He couldn’t certainly expect that such a thing would happen in the worst time possible.

The spring festival had been a success, much to your obvious comfort as you smiled happily accepting the townspeople flowers and compliments while Satorou stood by your side gently, letting you for once shine as he hadn’t ever realized till this moment just how little you tended to make yourself feel for others. 

He wouldn’t have accepted such a thing from now, he had thought upon realizing such a fact.

You were flustered and sweet as you came back home in the carriage, your hands threaded together as you recounted every little detail possible, as if he hadn’t been right there by your side. It made him happy that you were as well and somehow glad for this marriage of convenience, as for the first time he felt like it might work. 

That it might still give him a family although on his happiness a slight concern appeared as he worried not only for the lie he had given to you but also that - as always - his apparent happiness might be destroyed by a shadow of the past.

He dreaded that he had yet to tell you the truth about why he couldn’t have children and although he had grown to enjoy your time spent together, he hadn’t yet been able to be vulnerable to you, shooting down any inquiry of your own towards his family. 

You didn’t seem to take it to heart but for how long would this go before you took offense and realized that your husband was far too closed off and impenetrable?

As for you, you seemed quite the open book, hence he was startled upon stumbling on your desk in something that wasn’t decidedly your usual correspondence.

He hadn’t meant, in all truth, to snoop around, instead searching for a document that he had left in your room the previous night as he had spent - as always, the night with you - any semblance of duty being forgotten upon the sight of your rosy cheeks at the glass of wine that you had taken at dinner as you boldly commanded him around having fallen into your role as a countess.

He had startled when after the act, you had gently brought him close to you and shyly told him that you’d never hurt him.

“Not on purpose, you must know” and you had been close to saying anything that had Gojo wandering but you hadn’t added anything, snuggling in his naked chest instead.

As he looked around for the document, he had noticed it being laid upon your desk, probably from the place where he had stuck it, as you were far more orderly than him but his eyes were taken aback when he read your elegant calligraphy.

“It is without a doubt that the match between the count and countess has proved to be quite the talk of the season. Especially bad mouth if I may say. Are people of the ton so jealous that they haven’t been ensnared by a pair of pretty eyes and a smart mouth?

Enough poison towards sweet and naive lady Haibara, she must know no less…”.

He had known that tone perfectly, as it had been the one of the lady that had tormented him thoroughly: Lady Murasaki, the court gossiper and his harshest enemy, who turned out to be none other than his own wife.

He startled at the realization, releasing at once the paper and although he knew that it was a terrible idea he snooped around his wife’s room till he found a box that revealed a small treasure: the original drafts of the pamphlet further pointing out one single solution: that his wife was none other than lady Murasaki.

“Is this the season that count Gojo delights us by putting himself off the market? The ton could use a bit of less gaudiness in its seasons!”.

“Whenever lord Geto and count Gojo are together, the recipe for disaster has already started”.

“It is certainly without a doubt that if you can train a horse to stand on its lower legs, you can also train count Gojo to become a proper husband”.

Your satyre wasn’t as stinging as some of the comments that Gojo had ever received form his own parents or preceptors and had it been anybody but you, he’d have laughed at the ridiculous way in which you had described. 

Still, it was you… his own wife who had written such staggering comments and it had him definitely feeling a bit crushed…

… betrayed.

Why… why had you written such things?

And why had you agreed to marry him? 

Certainly to save your brother, but you had also agreed upon his help, which had thrown the two of you in this mess.

His head was spinning and it didn’t happen often for Satorou Gojo to feel this way.

He wished to confront you, to speak directly with you but at the same time, the thought that you had… you thought of him this way had him further retreating into himself. 

After all, hadn’t his father said that he shouldn’t have trusted anybody? 

He should have known that applied to family as well, as his own dreams of domesticity were promptly disrupted.

Maybe respecting his vow would be easier than he thought.

You couldn’t help but lightly grimace as Haina adjusted the dress upon you since the slight happiness of your marriage had you a bit chubbier on your stomach. 

Not that you minded as the recent worries definitely had you starving, since Gojo had become quite distant to you in the latest period, blaming it onto incoming matters, which you understood. 

He was count and you were countess, but the way he didn’t let you in anymore as he had at the start of your marriage was almost… painful.

And it didn’t help you with the thought of telling him about the fact that you were lady Murasaki. 

The spring festival had passed and although Geto had accepted to give you a further day you didn’t know how to breach the topic when your husband seemed so distant. 

Had he… had he grown bored with you, already?

«My lady, not that… but did you put on some weight?» albeit enjoying Haina’s gentle and quiet nature, she could be quite nosy and a tad brash «… I merely ask because… well, it’s been a few months since your… your marriage and it wouldn’t be… it wouldn’t be unsightly for you to be with child». 

Immediately your frown deepened and Haina noticed that she had spoken wrongly.

«Not that… not that you are ugly or… anything, her ladyship! You are as pretty as the day he brought you home and if anything men just simply enjoy a bit more to hold…».

«We can’t have children» you spat out although you weren’t sure whether Gojo would have allowed you to tell anybody else «… I… the lord can’t give me children. That’s why I frowned not at your words, Haina. Although thank you for comforting me».

Haina seemed taken aback and for a moment you worried whether she’d have tried to awkwardly comfort you again, before a slight fluster filled her face.

«… who… who told you such a thing, my lady?».

You startled at her slight noisiness and the way she seemed to doubt your words.

«The count, of course».

«Well, then I… mean… it is a surprise I…».

The two of you were startled when a door slammed open revealing Mrs. Kinawa, the governess who had greeted you upon your arrival with Gojo, and who oftentimes came to you as a mother duck with a wandering duckling afraid of dipping its toes in the water.

«What’s this nonsense I am hearing?» although you enjoyed her presence, you felt like oftentimes this woman would be brusque - and no differently from Haina quite nosy. 

You regarded her with a slight embarrassment as she went on while Haina was quick to try to finish your dressing if anything to avoid the burden of a conversation that was changing.

«… the count doesn’t have a problem in that department. I have been with him since he was a child and I’d have known if any terrible sickness had struck him down. Gods, if anything I’d have cheered».

«But…!» you went to protest lightly, not believing that Gojo would lie to you about such a matter; and why would he «… that’s what he told me! And I… I don’t mean to well, I don’t mean to bother you Mrs. Kinawa or undermine you but…».

«Has he inserted himself inside of you girl?» you startled at the crass and bold words of the older woman, regarding her with a slight fear while Haina pretended not to have heard you as she dashed with the dirtied towels out of the room although you wouldn’t have been surprised if you caught her snooping around the door «… do tell me, this way we can assure ourselves that that scoundrel at least does his marital duties».

«He … has» you felt a slight fluster in admitting, especially as Gojo was your first man. And the sole one, probably «… it has… happened a few times… but I… maybe it isn’t… it isn’t that he can’t… rise to the occasion».

«As long as his seed is spent on you, darling girl, it’ll do just fine» again those startling words although this time it was for a very different reason: Gojo… he… he didn’t spill himself into you. 

He’d be crying about how close he was and immediately push himself away from you. 

You hadn’t thought anything of the pearly white liquid that oftentimes stained his hands and the sheets, thinking that maybe he thought it far impure for his wife as you had always been told - in the rudimental anatomy lessons you had been given- that you’d be with child the moment that he … inserted himself into you.

«… girl, don’t tell me that you don’t know how the act is done. You have been married for a few good months!».

«I… I… back at home I… I wasn’t taught about it, I just… well, I do know the… bases but… something… does he… does he need to spend himself into… me for me to bear a child?» because if that was what was needed it now was obvious why you weren’t with child, yet. 

And that Gojo had lied to you.

You felt your head heavy with all these thoughts as you tried to be rational, thinking that maybe he hadn’t meant to or there must be a further medical explanation that neither you nor Mrs. Kinawa could reach and the best way was to confront him, which you did once the dressing was finished and the governess informed you further about the nature of sex, as you felt extremely awkward and stupid. for having believed Gojo.

If he had lied to you, you couldn’t help but feel… further betrayed. He had known… your lack of expertise and taken advantage of it. 

Still, for what reason? 

Had he told you that he didn’t wish for children - which you didn’t believe at all - you’d have maybe hidden your desire for them. 

Still, it should have been your choice together, not his own solely.

By the time you exited your rooms you were startled with the rage you felt, which hadn’t inhabited your body for a long time since being married to Satorou, startling him as you opened the door to his studio, uncaring that he didn’t wish to be disturbed.

«What’s the matter?» he asked, concern lacing his beautiful eyes and for a moment you held hesitation for your words: you had your own secrets and he had his, it was only right that you felt like a hypocrite for your indignation, although such a situation couldn’t go on.

If he told you about why he didn’t wish for children with you, you’d have told him about lady Murasaki.

«I have heard… an interesting conversation about… well, about the fact that you have lied to me about your inability to…» you flustered although the rage in your body shook you lightly with emboldened confidence «… conceive».

He seemed startled like a child caught in the act and it all crumbled onto you: for the entire road to his studio, you had thought that this had to be a mistake in having understood him on your part. 

That he hadn’t lied to you and that maybe things could be fixed but faced with his obvious lie, you felt your breath stall and your heart stammer.

«You… you lied to me».

«Close the door» he was quick to say, instead of coming close to you and consoling you although you immediately noticed that his hand had gripped onto the desk tightly and his body seemed shaken by a tension as well. 

Still, he held nothing of his usual tenderness. 

Was it possible that his entire change of demeanor had been because of worrying he’d be caught in his lie?

You complied with his order although the moment that the door was closed you ushered closer to him with an angered tone:

«Why… why did you lie to me?!» you asked as he kept on being dejected, although in his eyes there was something akin to an utter sadness.

«I don’t think that you should be asking honesty out of me when you were the first one that lied» he promptly shot back and before you had the time to process, he went onto adding «… Lady Murasaki».

For the second time in a day you felt the earth beneath your feet unsteady as you immediately thought who might have told him; you doubted that Geto would have lied to you, although Gojo was his best friend. He was an honorable lord and it’d have just hurt Gojo further to discover the news from him and not you. As he was right now.

This also explained his mood of the past few weeks as everything settled in place.

  «I’d… I’d have told you» it did little to ease the guilt in her chest, as he regarded her like a liar «… would you?».

«Would you have really told me that you are the woman behind the pen that made fun of me and my friend?» he went on, shooting back poisonously as you felt like you couldn’t blame him fully for the obvious distaste he had for your alter ego, although you were stalled from what he said next «… was this… a way for you to get better intel around me and make me a further fool than I already am?».

You startled at his booming tone and especially accusation although you were quick to shoot back.

«Do you think I had a choice in it?» you counterattacked, as your fists came to your side while Gojo still stayed behind the desk, a physical and emotional barrier «… I… I… I was forced into this, as much as you!».

«And you thought to make a horrible situation into a better one, didn’t you».

You couldn’t… truly blame Gojo for his mistrust, especially after the talk with Geto and the knowledge that Satorou wasn’t as… awful as you had pictured him.

He had started to open up with you about himself and you had thought that love might blossom. Instead, here you were screaming at each other because of the lies you held.

«… and about the children, I… that’s why I didn’t want to marry you! I swore on my father’s deathbed that his wretched legacy of lies, loveless relationships and abuse would end with me. I’d never take a wife nor bear a child and I intend to do so, because as I have noticed such things only bring an unhappy life».

Although you had no right to feel hurt at Satorou’s words, you still felt it.

You had lied to him and at least withheld the truth and he had done so as well, although his own crime came with the heavy weight of a loveless family and hadn’t you been feeling so angry, hurt and sad, you’d have happily clutched into your arms, comforting him for the child he could have never been.

«Yet, I can’t go back on my vow, at least to you. So, I shall not share your bed from now on».

You were startled at Satorou’s decision that nothing could ever change. 

No chance of resolving this among you anymore.

«No…» you were simply able to whine as you tried to get past the desk to throw your arms at him and plead «… Satorou, I… I am sorry for not having told you…».

«Are you sorry for your words, though?».

You were fixed with a gaze of ice promptly and it had you shivering out of the coldness of it.

You worried that it might freeze you on the spot.

«… because I don’t think that I… I don’t think that I can ever see you as more than her. You.. you might be my wife in name but you… we are nothing to each other».

And you were too struck to speak again as you slightly crouched down while Satorou passed by you as if he hadn’t noticed your obvious distress. 

As if he couldn’t care less, which you thought must be the truth.

You had lost your husband, in the span of a few moments and although you hadn’t wanted him in the first place, you wept as if you had lost everything.

credits for dividers: @/saradika-graphics

[mrsackermannx]

lies | ino takuma

tags: angry (argument) sex, intruder role play, unprotected sex, sorcerer ino/non-sorcerer girlfriend, degradation kink, soft ending, not beta read.

authors note: @p00pdev1l jazz i meant to send this to you on asks and then it got super long but i swoon at the thought of being ino’s non- sorcerer gf idk there’s something about it didbdksjsksj. ive not uploaded any writing for so long bc there’s sm different ways and things i want to write and idk how to start idk…this lowkey is it i suppose. i miss writing hehe been so busy but yeh ENJOY MY DEPRAVITY.

- - -

You love your life with Ino, and he loves his life with you. No matter what a curse throws at him, he knows as soon as he sees you at the end of the day that it’ll all be worth it.

But it’s one night that he comes home especially roughed up…

You’re watching TV, but you hear him shuffling into your apartment, carefully locking up behind him, taking off his shoes. “Hello pretty girl,” he murmurs, voice almost hoarse. He leans over you to kiss your forehead. “I'm off to bed, you should too…”

You’re tired of the whispering phone calls, the leaving you to run away god knows where in the middle of dinner, you’re sick of not being able to tell your friends what Ino does exactly?

All these lies, all this mystery. You call him out on it and it leads to a fight…

It’s your sharp, “I’ve been waiting up for you,” that hits him right in the gut.

“Baby, I tell you not to.”

“Tell me?”

“i meant ask, baby,” his voice lowers, almost breaking from exhaustion. He's so close to snapping. Too close.“I mean ask—so-please, not now.”

His usually sunny demeanour is all gone. He’s working so hard for the recognition of so many people, you being one of them. He wants to be good enough, he wants to exorcise as many curses as he can. He has his own goals, his own vision of the future he wants you in. But he’s so fucking exhausted right now.

He’s not usually like this, he’s usually so reactive it’s almost unbearable. So you push and push.

“I don't even know what you do. What kind of guy are you? Who have I been dating-“

“What. What did you just say?”

You blink twice.

He’s never raised his voice at you like this before. It’s not that it scares you but it ignites something in you, stroking something dark and shameful.

He cages you against the wall, glaring at you. He smells like Ino, looks like Ino, caramel hair tousled and tucked behind each ear. As usual, so devastatingly, boyishly handsome, but his energy is sharper, his grin gone.

“Telling me you don’t know who I am? Huh? Then why the fuck do you let me inside you every night when I come home? If I’m so bad? If I’m this bad guy you don’t know? You let a stranger touch you? Huh?”

“Takuma-“

He gives you such a pointed stare your words escape you. One arm cages you below him whilst the other cups your chin. “You think I’m some kind of bad guy? Don’t you know me by now? Haven’t we been through enough?”

This is necessary communication, he knows it, you know it. But that doesn’t stop the suffocating tension crackling between you two any less bearable.

“I know you’re a good guy, in how you treat me, who you are, but I have no idea who you are sometimes and it’s— it’s, something that i-i…”

You’re getting choked up, but you’re also overheating. Ino is never like this, never so the opposite of himself, never so full of darkness and not his light.

But you guessed it was a good thing you weren’t afraid of the dark, or the man you loved so dearly in front of you.

“What?”

“-it scares me,” you blurt.

“But you like being scared.”

His voice is rough, teetering on the line between restraint and pure lust. He's neither asking nor stating.

“You like it when I come home in the dead of night.” He cups your pussy, your silk nightdress bunching against his palm, he clicks his tongue at the heat. “Sneaking in beside you, you practically baring your pussy for me to use, abuse and—fuck, until you’re begging for more, and more-“

“Takuma,” you whimper into his chest, he smells so like him, he strokes through your hair like he always does, so full of love. He’s holding your most intimate part of you like he owns you, you suppose he does. You suppose you’ve been in the palm of his hand from the moment you met him.

“Not so innocent then are you? When you’re taking my cock in your cunt in the middle of the night? Begging for it, begging for me to wreck this tight little-“

“Takuma! Please.”

He alternates pressure on your clit, over and over, feeling your drip down his fingers.

“I bet you’d like my mask too? Wouldn’t you?”

His hand wraps around your throat, contrasting the way his thumb was smoothing across your jaw. You always felt so special with Ino, like his lover, regardless of whether you were fighting.

“What mask?” Your voice was so shaky you barely recognised it. His hand mapped down his torso to his pocket. Then he slipped on a black mask with nothing but holes for his eyes. “So, this? This is who you are?”

He hated this. He hated you thinking he was some bad guy, some good for nothing criminal.

“Who do you want me to be?” he edged closer, his voice slow and dripping with something dangerous, something that made your pupils dilate, and your pulse run.

“How about tonight I be the bad guy you want me to be,” he drawled. His hands skimmed up and down your sides, admiring…staking their claim on what was beneath them.

“Take me, Takuma.”

A small smile tugged at his lips.

“Fuck you?” he shoved his knee between your thighs, “Or take you?” He squeezed your neck until you moaned, “You and your control? Your body? Your soul.”

“Both.”

It was a blur before you processed that Ino had you flipped against the wall. That he was already brushing your entrance with his cock and then teasing you against it. The head of him almost slipped in, over and over. But he had you flailing and whimpering like a desperate mess instead.

“Shush now, pretty girl. I don’t care if your boyfriend comes home. I’m using this cunt as my own anyway.”

“Oh my—fuck.”

That was it. Your control, your pain, you let it all go. You let it free, you let the wild throbbing in your core take over. You would have fallen to the floor without the wall and Ino standing firm behind you. You gave into your sinful desires.

He trailed his hands down your body, then in a movement so unexpected you cried out as he tore apart your night dress. “Let's hope your boyfriend doesn’t come home to you getting fucked like this, angel.”

He thrusts into you in one brutal slam. “Fuck I love ruining good girls like you,” he sounded so undone that it had you close to breaking, moaning with every slam into your pussy.

“Your cunts are made to be broken into like this, waiting for every drop of cum, squeezing me so tight like that. Fluttering on cock that you’ve been craving so badly, you—pretty —little—slut.”

It’s a primal fucking, and Ino seems to take everything out on you, but you submit so easily you’re succumbing to pleasure you’ve never felt. The things he says are dark and twisted, but the way he holds you is anything but, he holds you like you’re precious, even if he calls you his slut, to him you’re his angel.

When you start to match his rhythm, bucking out your hips to take in more of him, he comes so powerfully you feel his tears slide your back. Panting and groaning out your name, “I love you,” his voice shakes, and he’s breathless as he locks you in his arms.

“You’re so precious to me. More than my own life. More than any goal. I’ll tell you anything, and everything.”

You’re overcome, reeling from your orgasm, but nevertheless you accept his embrace just as tight. “I love you, Takuma.”

“I love you,” he chants, for a while. Until you’re sleeping, bodies coiled together, his hand in your hair. And it feels good. Too good to have finally told you everything.

[jowrites]

At Her Mercy - Lee Heeseung

TW: FLUFF. SMUT. Heeseung is obsessed. SMUT. oral(f recieving) squirting, missionary, sex talk, kisisng, groping, hickeys, uhm yeah? unprotected sex. Enjoy!

Deep cut. If there was one way to describe her it would be a deep cut. She was like a deep cut on his skin that stung and never seemed to get better. No matter how many bandages you would put on it, it would still be deep and leave a pretty scar. He didn’t mind, he wouldn’t even try to heal it or fix it. He wanted all of it: the blood, the pain, he wanted it all. Because if it meant she stayed and never left, he would gladly take it.

Heeseung doesn’t remember when he started liking her. He remembers seeing her walk by and he could smell her perfume, it was sweet unlike anything he’s smelled before. It wasn’t like candy, it was more like he was being transported into a fairytale. When he turned around and watched her waltz off, greeting her friend who embraced her, he could see just how beautiful she was. It made sense for her aroma to compliment her features the way it did. And since then, he would steal every glance he could her way and admire her very being. Everyone knew about his obsession with her. He was the Captain of the Basketball team after all, and everyone else was dying for his attention yet he always seemed to be staring at somebody else. And she wouldn’t give him the time of day. 

“Did you hear about YN?” His best friend, Jake, came up to him.

“No? What about her?” He asked.

“She broke up with her boyfriend.”

Oh. 

This was actually the first time he heard she had a boyfriend. So that explains it. Why she never faltered or gave him the time of day when he just craved her attention. She had someone else she was wasting her time on. Heeseung chuckled to himself, in disbelief that someone would be dumb enough to fumble someone like her. Jake has heard him rant about his liking towards YN, just how perfect she was. Jake would just listen as his friend raved on and on about his crush, letting him fanboy and relish in his fantasies.

With this newfound information, Heeseung decided it was the perfect time to finally go for her. One thing about Heeseung, he never lost. And he never stopped, he never gave up, and he would never give up until he had her. 

****************

“Tell me why we’re going again? Don’t you have a book report due or something?” Sunoo said, unamused and bored as he laid on YN’s bed.

“I finished it,” YN said as she tossed some clothes onto the bed. 

“Ugh, nerd,” Sunoo said, rolling his eyes at his friend.

YN stood in her pink lace lingerie as she went through her wardrobe trying to find an outfit for a party they were invited to. Of course, she had to drag her best friend along despite his protests. He was not very thrilled to be tagging along, he much rather preferred to stay home and watch movies and eat as much food as he had access to. Parties weren’t his thing. 

“Fine, if we’re going I’m going to get super drunk and you can’t stop me!” Sunoo said, standing up and going across the hallway to his own room to change. YN smiled in victory, she knew Sunoo couldn’t say no to her, and as much as he hated parties, he liked drama and there was always drama at parties.

“Should I wear a bra or go braless?” YN yelled from her room.

“It depends on what you’re wearing, you can just wear your bra as a shirt and put your jean jacket on and jeans. It looks cute like that,” Sunoo said, coming out and quickly buttoning up his own shirt. “Yeah, definitely wear that, your tits look amazing.”

“You don’t think it’s too much? You can literally see my nipples,” YN said, looking at how the lace was so see through, her whole chest was on full display for the eyes to see.

“Only if people look close enough, which they definitely will but who cares? Boobs are great.”

YN shrugged and found some bell bottoms and buttoned them up, finishing the outfit with a jean jacket that matched the jeans. She already had her makeup and hair done, quickly touching up her lipgloss and grabbing her keys and phone.

“Are you ready? Let's go.”

***************

When YN and Sunoo got to the party, the party was already full of life. Music was blasting, people were going in and out, someone was already throwing up in the bushes by the porch. YN scanned the room, smiling at some of her friends who approached her and Sunoo, Sunoo quickly greeting them as they dragged the two to get some drinks. All eyes were on YN, girls digging their eyes at her in envy and men watching her like she was the best slack of meat they’ve ever seen. Heeseung immediately took note when his friends pointed her out. Not once were his eyes leaving her figure. 

“Don’t you ever get tired of it?” Her friend, Yena, asked as YN took her first shot.

“Tired of what?” YN asked.

“All the stares? I know it would make me uncomfortable,” Yena said.

“You just learn to ignore it,” YN shrugged her shoulders as she poured Sunoo a drink.

“Thank you, lovely,” Sunoo said, kissing her cheek. “She has me to scare off any predators.”

“No offense Sunoo, but you’re not very intimidating,” Yena said.

“Oh, no he is. Sunoo can be very terrifying,” YN defended. “He can rip you to shreds with his words, that’s scarier.”

“Don’t get on my bad side, sweetheart. I don’t play nice,” Sunoo winked and Yena chuckled and rolled her eyes.

“Whose bad side do I have to worry about?”

Yena’s eyes went wide as Sunoo and YN turned around at the noise. Heeseung stood behind them, coming up and invading YNs space as he grabbed a cup, towering over her and not once leaving eye contact.

“Oh great, another one,” Sunoo said, rolling his eyes and downing his drink. “Mind making me one, Captain?”

“Do you want me to make you one?” Heeseung asked YN, ignoring Sunoo as Sunoo rolled his eyes and scoffed.

“No but you can make Sunoo one,” YN said, grabbing Sunoo’s cup and handing it to Heeseung.

“Of course, love,” He said, his breath landing on her face filling her senses.

“I’m just gonna go…” Yena said, grabbing their friend Yeji and leaving the bar. Sunoo folded his arms over his chest and watched with a bored expression as Heeseung slowly made their drinks. Sunoo noticed as Heeseung kept glancing at YN, and it was embarrassing. YN was looking around the bar in search of her favorite beverage, letting out a “AHA!” When she found one, grabbing two white claws out of the mini fridge and opened one.  She took a straw from the table next to everything and began to sip on her drink in content.

“You prefer white claws over hard liquor?” Heeseung asked.

“I’m not much of a drinker,” She replied. 

“She’s not allowed unless we’re home,” Sunoo said as he took his drink from Heeseung, Heeseung glaring at him.

“She’s an adult, she doesn’t need a babysitter,” Heeseung said in annoyance.

“Oh trust me, she does when she drinks. Let’s go, babe, I’m bored,” Sunoo said, eyeing Heeseung up and down and grabbing YNs hand and walking off. 

YN followed, giving a small wave to Heeseung but not giving him another glance. Heeseung’s jaw clenched, downing his drink and crushing the cup and walking the opposite direction. He walked back to his friends and sulked in the corner as he watched YN dance with Sunoo. He could see her chest on full display as she moved her body, swaying to the music. He could still smell her perfume from his spot in the corner as he watched her. 

Throughout the night, Sunoo became more and more drunk. He laughed with his friend, giving her small kisses on her face, and expressing his love and gratitude for her. YN would smile and just encourage him to drink water. She Loved her best friend and he was a fun drunk, but he was also a very touchy drunk and she didn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea. Heeseung was watching the scene all night, his jaw clenching all night every time Sunoo’s lips found YNs skin. Why couldn’t that be him?

YN decided it was time to go. She was barely able to hold up Sunoo in his state, wrapping an arm around him and trying to usher him out. Heeseung watched as Sunoo almost lost all balance and dragging YN down with him. He knew it was time to step in then.

“Do you need help?” Heeseung came up, grabbed Sunoo and YN looked up at him with sorry eyes.

“If you don’t mind? He’s a lot bigger than me,” YN said.

“Of course, I have a car,” He said.

“Are you sober enough to drive?” She asked.

“Oh trust me, Sunoo pretty much made me lose my vibe,” He said.

“Yeah, sorry about him, he gets really protective,” YN said.

“It’s okay, I’d be protective over you too if I could. Let’s get him to my car.”

YN nodded, helping Heeseung drag a very drunk Sunoo out of the house and down the road where Heeseung’s black Jeep was. After they helped Sunoo in the back, Heeseung opened the passenger door for YN, her body rubbing up on him as he helped her in. His eyes never once left her frame as she sat in. He rushed to the other side and leaned over, grabbing the seatbelt for her, his face inches from hers causing her to gasp. He slowly buckled her seatbelt for her, noticing as heat rushed on her cheeks. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” she whispered.

“I wanted to.”

YN was feeling conflict. She of course knew of Heeseung and his infatuation with her, but she never felt the need to act on it. She knew about heeseung and his reputation, and she didn’t want to be just one of his girls so she always kept to herself and minded her business. Even being in his car, taking in his scent and being in his presence like this had her mind screaming at her. She wasn’t anyone's toy to mess with. 

“Where should I take him?” Heeseung asked as he started the car.

“Oh, just back to our apartment,” YN said. “I’ll show you where, it’s not far from campus.”

Heeseung nodded, not realizing her and Sunoo lived together. I guess it made sense since they were best friends. He lived alone of course, his parents buying him his own place when he went off to University. He preferred it that way, having his privacy. He wondered if it bothered Sunoo hearing as her ex-boyfriend touched her behind doors. Just thinking about it made his knuckles go white as he squeezed the steering wheel. 

As Heeseung pulled up in front of their apartment, he parked and turned off the engine, quickly rushing out and opening the passenger door again for her. She thanked him and opened the back where Sunoo was passed out. YN sighed in defeat, shaking her head at the sight. Heeseung helped her grab Sunoo, both of them helping him out of the backseat and Heeseung holding most of his weight as YN tried to balance him. She gave his cheeks a few smacks, hoping it would sober him up enough to walk with them. It didn’t.

YN led Heeseung towards the elevators and together they managed to make it to her apartment and help Sunoo in his bed. YN shook her head at her friend, quickly tucking him in and leaving a water bottle on his night stand and bringing his bin closer to the side just in case he had issues in the middle of the night. When YN closed his door, she noticed Heeseung was still there, his arms folded over his chest as he stood in her kitchen, lost in thought.

“Thank you, Heeseung. You have no idea how much you made tonight easier for me,” YN said, giving him a smile. “Would you like some water before you leave?”

No, but I’d like you.

“No, no I’m fine, thank you,” Heeseung straightened up and smiled. 

“Okay well, I definitely owe you a coffee or something to repay you,” she said.

“How about you come to my game next Friday? I’d love for you to be there,” Heeseung suggested.

“Oh, next Friday?” YN rubbed her neck, thinking about how to get out of this.

“Come on, it won’t be so bad. Plus, you’ll get to see the star of the basketball team in action,” Heeseung winked, making a blush form on her face.

“Ah, and here I thought you weren’t going to be full of yourself,” YN teased.

“I have every reason to be, if you come you’d understand,” He said.

“Okay, I’ll try to make it. I don’t like basketball though, it’s boring,” YN said and Heeseung gasped, pretending to be hurt.

“I am completely offended,” He said as YN and him started walking down the hall to the door.

“I said what I said,” She stuck out her tongue and he laughed. 

“I’ll see you around, YN,” He said. “Also, don’t be a stranger, I don’t bite.”

*********************

The buzzer buzzed causing an uproar in the stands. Cheers began around her as she sat there looking at the score. Heeseung threw the last shot, making it into the hoop and winning the game. The game was over, 80-91 was the finishing score as her University team won. The cheers were loud, causing YN to flinch in annoyance, turning to her best friend who sat there annoyed and holding his fingers in his ears to cover out the noise. He gave her a glare and she just chuckled at him, pinching his cheeks and him attempting to bite her fingers. The whole time, Heeseung was watching her. The swelling in his chest is getting bigger and bigger. Throughout the game he couldn’t take his eyes off her. He watched her as she looked at him in amazement, watching the ball go from side to side. 

“Good shot, man! You did it!” One of his teammates said as Heeseung quickly waved them off, walking over to the side of where his crush was sitting. She looked at him and saw him just staring at her, waving her to come over to him. She shook her head, standing up and shrugging. He nodded for her to meet him on the sides and she sighed, nodding back. She waited for the crowds to scurry off as she grabbed Sunoo and brought him down to the court. Sunoo was the most annoyed he’s ever been. He hated basketball and couldn’t believe YN dragged him to one of the games, Heeseung’s to be exact.

“This is so fucking annoying,” Sunoo complained. 

Heeseung emerged from the side again, a towel around his neck as he finished wiping his sweat.

“You came, I’m glad you did,” Heeseung pulled YN in for a hug, catching her off guard.

“Ew! You’re so sweaty!” YN said, pushing him back a bit as Sunoo fake gagged.

“Disgusting,” Sunoo said. “Okay, you saw him, let’s go.”

“Wait, Sunoo don’t be so rude,” YN said, giving Sunoo a look as Sunoo just scoffed.

“Yeah, Sunoo, don’t be so rude,” Heeseung said, mocking Sunoo as Sunoo glared at him.

“Look, we all know your intentions here and I hate to be the bearer of bad news but YN is way too good for you,” Sunoo said.

“Sunoo!” YN said, scolding her friend and nudging him.

“What? It’s true. He’s trying to get in your pants and remember? You said you’d never-” Sunoo began to say just as YN shut him up with her hand.

“He hasn’t done anything to you, stop being so rude! He helped me last week with you so you should actually be thanking him,” YN said.

“Geez, just how much do you hate me?” Heeseung asked Sunoo, venom in his voice.

“Thank you for helping, now let’s go YN!” Sunoo said, grabbing his friend.

“No! Wait!” Heeseung said, grabbing her hand and pushing YN behind him. “I don’t know what I did to you but I’d like to talk to YN alone, please.”

“Sunoo, I think you should go,” YN said.

“I’m just looking out for you,” Sunoo said, hurt in his voice.

“I appreciate that but you’re being very mean and Heeseung hasn’t done anything to deserve that kind of attitude,” YN said. “If you can’t be nice then don’t say anything at all.”

“Fine, fine. Look, I’m sorry for being a dick,” Sunoo said, defeated.

“It’s all good, just can I have my moment with her now?” Heeseung asked and Sunoo sighed, looking between YN and heeseung. YN could see the worry in his eyes before nodding and backing off. 

“I’ll see you at home, okay? Call me, seriously call me if you need anything,” Sunoo said and YN nodded.

“I can handle myself, Sun. I’ll see you at home.”

Sunoo then walked off, taking one more glance as he left the court. He wanted to always protect YN from the big bad wolf, and he knew Heeseung was the baddest of them all. He has seen YN be hurt time and time again, having to be there to witness and watch her get hurt. He only wanted what was best for his best friend. He always managed to scare people away, even going so close as to starting rumors of them together to keep him at peace. He has no romantic feelings for her, but he would do what he could to keep the predators at bay. The way he heard people talk about her made him extremely uncomfortable, and even though she said it didn’t bother her, he knew it did. 

“I’m really, really sorry about him. I really was not expecting Sunoo to act like that,” YN apologized as Heeseung just laughed.

“No, no I get it. I have a reputation and it’s not a very good one,” Heeseung said and YN nodded.

“Yeah, can’t say I haven’t heard,” she said. “You are a really talented player by the way. Congratulations!”

Heeseung winced at her words, annoyance filling his chest. He regretted everything now, at that moment. He used girls around him to try to take his mind off of her, wishing their bodies were her. Of course, he was left unsatisfied and mostly feeling empty. He wanted her so bad and now he could sense that using the girls was just a big mistake, because now she wanted nothing to do with him. And it was only his fault.

“Would you ever give me a chance?” He said, ignoring her statement.

“What do you mean?” She asked.

“I know I have a reputation, YN, a pretty sick one at that. But please, when I tell you those girls meant nothing to me, absolutely nothing, I mean it. I have watched you, I have admired you, and I have tried chasing you and you never once gave me the time of day. But I’m here, in front of you and I’m begging you to please, please give me a chance,” He pleaded, his hands coming up to hold her shoulders, him looking directly in her eyes.

“Heeseung, I-I had no idea,” YN said.

“Please tell me I didn’t fuck up my chance, please, please!” He begged, searching her eyes as a gasp left her lips. 

She really had no idea, and as she looked at him there she wanted to just hold him in her arms and reassure him it was okay. But why was she frozen in place? She didn’t know what to think, her heart wanted to be loved by him, deep down she was glad he wanted her and craved her attention, but the other part was still screaming at her to run so she wouldn’t get hurt. What if he hurts her? Just use her in the end?

“I don’t want to be one of your girls you use and just toss away,” she said.

“No, no, YN,” He said. “Please, give me a chance to show you that I have been and am still completely at your mercy. Let me prove it to you, please.”

“Okay.”

********************

The next day YN woke up to flowers arriving at her door, with small love notes on them. And the following week she woke up to the same thing, again with love letters. For the past month this was happening every week, flower arrangements starting to decorate her apartment. She kept every note and would read them every night. Her interactions with Heeseung were frequent, Sunoo even being impressed with his courting of his best friend, and how Heeseung seemed to be completely at her will. Heeseung would ditch his friends to hangout with them, always holding her books or bag for her if she needed it, anything she mentioned Heeseung would get it for her. Sunoo couldn’t believe just how much of a simp the Basketball Captain was for his best friend. 

It was a Saturday morning when Sunoo heard a knock on their door. YN wasn’t up yet and Sunoo was an early riser. He walked over and opened the door, seeing the big flowers in his face as a smiling Heeseung popped out from behind.

“Oh God,” Sunoo said. “I think we get it.”

“I can’t give my woman some flowers?” Heeseung said as he followed Sunoo in their apartment, placing the flowers down on their small table.

“We’re running out of room, Heeseung. You know what’s an amazing gift? Soju,” Sunoo suggested.

“Yeah, because I’d like to help YN carry you to bed again,” Heeseung teased.

“I stand corrected, you and YN are made for each other. Lame asses,” Sunoo said. “She’s still asleep.”

Sunoo walked to the door then, grabbing his things and leaving Heeseung alone just standing there. Heeseung was starting to get used to Sunoo’s behavior and attitude. Sunoo was sassy and unpredictable. He never mentioned what he was doing or why, he just did. So him leaving Heeseung alone didn’t really surprise him or phase him. 

Heeseung walked down the hallway and silently opened the door to YNs room. He peeked inside, quietly walking in and closing the door behind him. He went over to the bed where he saw her small curled up figure, something he found endearing everytime she fell asleep with him. She grabbed things and always curled up in her sleep. She would mumble things as well and sometimes he would wake up and she was laying sideways. The way this woman had his heart in chains. He was a complete slave for her, her very being was the reason for his existence. 

He got in bed next to her, sitting up against her head board, her body began to move and she mumbled. He moved some of her hair out of her face, her head chasing the feeling as she began waking up. 

“Heeseung?” she mumbled out, still in a dreamlike state.

“Shh, go to sleep, pretty,” Heeseung hushed her. “I’ll be right here.”

“Lay with me?” She asked and he got up, removing his jeans and shirt, and getting back in bed with her. He pulled her body towards him, hugging her and trapping her frame to his. She turned over, their chests touching as she wrapped her arms around him, nuzzling her face into his neck.

“Hmmm, so nice. This is nice,” she mumbled out, a smile going on her face.

“You’re so perfect for me, go back to sleep, love. I’m right here.”

Heeseung fell asleep then. He came over early because he wanted to take her to breakfast, but he’d skip breakfast any day if it meant he got to hold her in bed and sleep next to her. It didn’t take long for him to fall into his dreams, dreaming over caressing her and holding her. He didn’t even need to dream because he was already living his reality. When YN woke up, she was wrapped in Heeseungs arms, not really remembering how he got here. She thought everything was a dream and when she came face to face with his sleeping form, she was glad it wasn’t.

She lifted her fingers and began to trace his face. He looked so peaceful and beautiful when he slept. She could get used to this.

“You know, if you wanted to take a picture, I’d let you take as many as you’d like,” Heeseung mumbled out, not opening his eyes and causing fits of giggles to come out of her mouth.

“I’ll do that later, for now I just want to stare,” she said and he smiled.

“Stare all you want, sweetheart, my face is yours,” he said.

“When did you get here?” she asked.

“Earlier, but you looked so cute I didn’t want to disturb you,” he said, opening his eyes and staring at her.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi,” he said back, both of them just smiling at each other.

They just stared at each other, YN could feel how Heeseung’s chest began to beat faster as she rubbed circles on his skin. Heeseung then realized how close she was, the flush in her cheeks and her tired eyes waking up more and more. He couldn’t help himself, he leaned in quickly and filled the small gap, kissing her lips in a passionate kiss. She moved her lips with his, her fingers gentle on his jaw as their mouths moved in sync. She moaned into the kiss and something in heeseung ignited. 

Heeseung quickly rolled over on top of her, not breaking the kiss. His tongue slipped in her mouth, his kiss getting more and more aggressive. He bit her lips, sucking on them and trailing kisses down her neck. He began sucking on the skin of her neck and collarbone as she lifted her neck up to give him more access. Heat rushed to her core and she could feel herself getting wetter by each touch. 

“Tell me to stop,” Heeseung said, his hands trailing down her sides, going under the large shirt and feeling the skin on her hip, playing with the lace of her panties.

“Don’t,” she said, sighing and Heeseung lifted up, looking down at her.

“Are you sure?” he asked and she nodded.

“Please,” she brought his lips down to hers. “Touch me.”

Heeseung didn’t need to be told twice. He quickly kissed back, lifting up a little and removing her shirt in one go. Her breasts were on full display for him to see, the skin on her neck and collarbone already to color from his actions. He leaned back down and crashed his lips to her with a hungry growl. He kneaded her breasts, squeezing and pinching her nipples, causing small yelps to come out of her mouth. Every reaction he got he felt his erection grow. 

“Baby, look at what you do to me,” he took her hand in his and brought it to his erection where she began to palm through his boxers. 

“More, Heeseung I want more.”

Heeseung trailed kisses down her stomach, his hand placed between her legs and feeling the wetness in between. He pressed his thumb inside, pushing her panties inside. She bucked her hips and moaned at the feeling, her body moving up and down along with his pushing trying to gain some relief. 

“Fuck, you’re so wet.”

Heeseung became impatient then, he grabbed her panties and quickly forced them down as he became face to face with her heat. He gave her thighs a few bites as he lifted her legs over his shoulder and he licked her cunt from top to bottom. She moaned at his actions, him not once taking his eyes off her as he shoved his tongue deep inside. Her body jolted up as she sighed. Heeseung began to abuse her center with his mouth, eating her out like this was his last meal. Her body was shaking, moving side to side and she rode his face. Moans and curses were coming from her mouth as he continued, her wetness and his saliva falling on the bed and everywhere it would get.

He pressed down on her middle, sticking two fingers in and pumping them as he licked her up. She felt the pit in her stomach then, as Heeseung continued giving her core all his attention. 

“Hee, I’m-fuck! Gonna cum!”

“Baby, cum for me. Let me taste you.”

With one more press on her middle, her body convulsed and her legs began to shake. He felt her release all over his tongue, her squirting directly into his mouth and he sucked every bit of it. He pulled his fingers out, sucking and letting her ride out her high.

“Oh my God!” She cried, tears coming from her eyes as her body still shook from her intense orgasm. 

Heeseung leaned back on his knees, watching as her body convulsed and was coming down from her high. He leaned up, taking her lips in his and letting her taste herself. She moaned, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him closer. 

“God, that was so sexy.”

He removed his boxers then, hissing as he grabbed his cock in his hands and pumped himself, feeling the precum leak from his tip. He placed himself between her folds, going up and down and teasing her. She stared into his eyes, nodding as he gave her a quick kiss and pushed his cock in between her core. He pushed all the way in, a gasp leaving her lips before she closed her eyes shut and bit her lips. 

“Baby, you can take it all. God, fuck! You’re so tight!”

He pushed in deeper, hearing her whine from the stretch. He was big. The biggest she’s had and she wasn’t sure if she could handle it. But he didn’t stop. He kissed the tears from her eyes as he finally bottomed out, not moving and letting her adjust. He peppered her face with kisses as she nodded, signaling him to move. He did, pulling out halfway before thrusting all the way in, getting a yelp from her as her body jolted. 

“It’s so big, Hee. Fuck!”

“You got this, let me make you feel good.”

She nodded as he began thrusting in and out, picking up his speed. Her body started matching his movements, her back arching as she began moaning in pleasure. He grabbed her hands and held them over her head as he leaned back, taking her hip and thrusting his hips into her. He looked down where they met, watching in awe as his cock moved in and out of her cunt, seeing their juices mix perfectly together. He looked at her face and saw pleasure as she moaned and whispered profanities. Her breasts bounced with each thrust, his own moans mixing with hers. 

His eyes closed shut as he leaned his head back before looking back down and seeing her look up at him, her eyes glossy as she tried to focus on him. He could feel himself close to release and knew she was close too. He felt her cunt clenching around him as she moaned out for him.

“Cum with me, cum! Fuck! So tight!”

Once he said that she squeezed him deeper, taking him as he hit just the right spot for her. His thrusts slowed as he stilled, releasing inside her and filling her up. She cried out, her eyes rolling in the back of her head as she saw stars. Her cunt sucked him in as she felt him release deep inside, her own release happening along with his. He collapsed on top of her, slowly moving and riding out their highs. Their bodies were gasping for air, him not caring as he grabbed her face and brought her lips to his in a passionate kiss. 

“Baby, that was way better than just some fantasy,” he said, chuckling to himself.

“Mmm, well you don’t need to fantasize anymore,” She said, kissing his lips. “You can come to me now.”

“Since you’re giving me permission, I’d like to take you every day, every night, every morning,” he said, kissing her lips and trailing more kisses down her neck. “I’m completely yours.”

“Thank you for being so patient with me,” she said.

“No, thank you for letting me love you. And I promise to love you and cherish you, like I said, I’m at your mercy.”

[aayakashii]

I wrote this in like 2 hours so I apologize if it's bad but!!! I was struck with inspiration and had to write it + I am a sucker for fics abt dancing because I'm a dancer so ✋️ ANYWAYS

Pairing: Romeo Lucci x MC

Tags: PINING; romeo doesnt accept his feelings; gender neutral MC; the song that is mentioned in this fic is this one

the house never loses

The casino had closed for the night.

Fragments of life were scattered on the floor – pieces of glass, candy wrappers, dirtied pills, crushed beer cans.

Romeo curled his lips in disgust.

Everyone was distasteful. Brute, graceless little things that only served to be his source of income. Couldn't even clean up after themselves, the mindless sheep, blinded by the possibility of being rich quickly.

He wasnt really one to judge, but at least he was smart.

He knew he had to win. He had to be the dealer, the house, no matter the situation. He would never be the customer.

That was how things fall apart.

You lose control, someone else pull the strings of your life and then you trip – and fall. And lose, lose, lose. One bet after the other, golden coins falling through the cracks of the floor underneath you, forever out of reach.

No, he couldn't be anything else besides the dealer, he wouldn't allow otherwise. He had his family as a bitter example of steps he should not follow.

Still, under this position of power, he saw all the grimy beings that walked on this godforsaken place – traitors and hypocrites that tried to hide their greed behind a mask – and he hated them all.

"Dirty pricks that can't even pick up after themselves", he thought, kicking another empty beer can.

He wouldn't clean it, however. Obviously. He had his pawns to do that for him and today, specifically, he had the worthless honor student do that job for him.

He sighed, massaging his forehead to ease the wrinkle between his brows.

"Honor, my ass", he mumbled, remembering how they messed up yet another prototype order earlier that day, which landed them the merciless job of cleaning the casino after it was closed.

Romeo clicked his tongue, remembering the faces of the rest of the staff once they realized they would have a night off at the expense of someone else.

In the end, it was a dog eat dog situation. He wouldn't be surprised if people started sabotaging them just to get more days off. He put this sudden conclusion at the back of his mind, patting himself on the back for being so smart and way ahead of everyone around him. Then, he stepped on a cigarette butt and stained the burgundy carpet with its ashes.

"Where the fuck is that basic bitch?" he groaned, kicking the cigarette butt under one of the poker tables, maneuvering faster between all the stools, readying himself to give them the scolding of a lifetime.

He expects excellency from himself – it's only natural he expects the same from everyone around him, although this habit always seems to leave him disappointed.

Romeo's ears perked up as he stomped his way towards the back of the casino.

It housed the bar area, with a small stage for (now rare) jazz performances – after Sinostra was banned from leaving the campus, it also meant people from outside were also banned from coming in. Believe it or not, there aren't many jazz musicians among university students.

The bar stood behind matte glass doors that kept the sound muffled for those that wanted to drown their sorrows away after losing one too many games.

Romeo made his way to the entrance of the bar, as his ears picked up a few stray music notes coming from the inside of the place. He readied himself to scold whatever student was inside after closing hours – after all, if they wanted to use the space, then they should pay for it. It's only obvious.

He opened the door quietly, in order to catch them by surprise, squinting as he tried to assess who was inside despite the permanent mist of cigarette smoke that hung in the air.

The song came from a phone that stood on the bar counter, the words too jumbled and distorted by the busted speakers, but with a melancholy that touched him still.

He opened his mouth to call out whoever was inside, yet the words stuck on his tongue like cheap candy.

The first thing he saw were the arms.

The arms moved slowly, as if they were swimming in honey. Fingers grasped the thick air that surrounded them and seemed to mold it into a silk veil that surrounded their body.

Then, he saw the legs.

Softly, silently, they carried their body through slow twirls. They lifted one of them up, bare foot en pointe, landing it graciously to once again turn around themselves.

And finally, he saw their face.

Eyes half lidded in pure concentration, they saw nothing but the world they created for themselves as they danced.

The words died inside Romeo's mouth as he saw his worthless honor student dance to the song.

He gulped harshily as he watched them grab their own chest, suffering silently for some estranged lover they were probably seeing in their mind's eye as they danced.

Romeo felt his own heart race, his purple eyes going red and teary as he tried not to blink, so he wouldn't miss any moment. His stomach twisted inside out – or, at least, it was how he felt it – as he wondered if they were thinking of anyone specific while they looked so desperately in love.

His breath hitched at the thought and he discarded it in a pile of things he would rather not think about, on the corners of his mind.

They threw their arms out slowly, as if they wanted to hug the entire world – or fly away from it, only to lose it all while they bring their hands to their face, in theatrical despair.

Romeo wondered how it would feel to be the one in between their arms and loved so desperately, and the thought was too big, to persistent to be put aside.

His hands twitched as he tried to take a step inside and ask who was it that they thought of as they ran their hands on their lips and body, but as he heard the song grow into its highest peak, Romeo instinctively closed the door, before he could see whether or not that secret performance would have a happy ending or a sad one.

He rested his head against the glass, feeling the coolness of it spread on his flushed face.

Romeo put his hand against his heart, feeling the fast beats in contrast with the muffled and slow ending of the song inside, and breathed deeply, realizing he had been holding his breath like a predator does with a prey on the wild.

"Romeo?" their voice sounded shaky and scared, as if they had just been caught committing a crime. As if they were his prey.

Romeo cleared his throat and opened the door once again, this time fierce and quickly.

"Ah, there you are, you BB." they winced as he yelled the insulting abbreviation "I was looking for you. Didn't you see how dirty the casino is? You are supposed to clean everything, not just this place."

Romeo saw as they pursed their lips, looking down, an expression of annoyance and sadness making itself clear on their face.

"I- I know. I was just finishing here." They lied, dejected.

"Well. I expect this place to be spotless by tomorrow. I don't care if you need to spend all night here. Just do your job!"

"Yes, Romeo." they sighed loudly, picking up a broom, and then walked briskly past him, frustratingly avoiding him as much as possible.

Deep inside, however, he knew he couldn't possibly blame them. Not with the venom he spits on their face at every single encounter.

Romeo kept looking inside of the room, staring at the phone they left on the bar counter, consciously refusing to observe them as they walked somewhere else inside the casino.

He refused to look at them as they moved graciously between the tables; refused to think about the faint scent of vanilla mixed with cigarette and sweat on their body; refused to acknowledge his racing heart; and refused to look them in their eyes for too long.

Romeo refused to lose control of his own strings.

After all, he was the dealer, he was the house.

He wasn't supposed to lose.

[pinkcherryblossomphonecase]

A unwanted reminder

(TW: Unhealthy relationships, SA, not getting over abuse. Please do skip this one if you feel uncomfortable.)

(The people I tag so thay can hate me more for making Cooper suffer once again: @tatsuhikoshibusawa @oscarsgallery @lets-play-a-game @soonyouwillgo )

A hotel room. I should be able to stay in here for a while, while Master and Sigma spend time together for a few days. They wanted me out of the house, which I don't mind. But where I'm staying for the time I do mind. Something about this hotel room sends me chills.

I can't remember the exact last time I was in one. Expect for who I was with. Him.

Of course it was him I was with.

It always was.

It became a routine, one that has been perfected. Master- X would always take me to his important business trips and meetings. I was just a little doll for show after all, a butler to do minor work for him during these trips. Not that I minded, it was same old boring work that I would do in the manor. Except in a hotel room....

Snap out of it, Cooper. He's dead now. You finally killed him and became free from his control and bond. X is forever gone, so stop thinking about him.

Just stop thinking about him..... yet the memories are still there to haunt me. Plaguing my mind as I stepped into the hotel room.

I take a shaky breath as I step in and took off my shoes. Being here alone feels so odd. It doesn't feel right, like I need someone with me. Why? Is it because I'm alone for once? On my own with no one to keep my company?

Perhaps it's the memories again that remind me of the unfortunate times I had in any hotel room that I can remember. Ones I cannot forget no matter how hard I try to. Being there will always be something there to remind me.

I look around the room, taking it all in. It's a fancy little hotel room, having all your standard stuff you would expect and one bed for me to rest on. The lightning is warm and inviting, but that welcoming feeling is killed when I turned towards the bathroom.

The dark room gave off a eery mist and even when I turned on the light, it barely gave the room any comfort. That's when I wish left the lights off when my eyes fall upon a hanging white robe for me to us.

My breathing hitched once I saw it, and my hand gripped the door handle. Those unwanted memories started to return when I wanted to start crying. No, why must they return now? Those are a thing of a past. I don't have to remember. I don't have to.

But I can still hear his voice. I can still picture the day we came back exhausted and tired from work. His soft voice mumbled to me, "Cooper let's take a bath together." And so we did that day. The warm water soothing us both. My head resting against his chest. Us washing each other. Him just touching me in all the wrong places.....

Even to this day, I can't take a bath on my own without forgetting about how it all felt to be touched like that by him. I can't wear white robes anymore because a feeling of dread stirs up in my gut every time I see one. Every time I did wear one was for X.... and even those memories still play on repeat when I'm alone for too long.

The white robe before me I wish to rip it and burn it away from my sight. Too many times I had to wear one for him. Too many times I felt good in bed with him. Too many times I sung out his name. I hate it.

I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I HATE IT!

I hate this. I don't like this. I want to get rid of these memories, even if it means if I have to bash my head against the wall. I don't want to be reminded anymore. I want to finally move on and live without the remainder of how disgusting I was. How I felt disgusted every time.

Yet that robe taunts me. The whiteness of it reminding me that I will never be pure again. It's mocking me, shaming me for something that I did not want. For something that wasn't in my choice or control.

It taunts me that I'll be stuck back in the same old lifestyle one day. Maybe that's why I hate it the most. It's like if I put it on I'll be back to my old roots.....

It feels unfair though.... by now I'm supposed to be free. He's gone now, he won't ever bother me again. I'm free from him physically, yet never free from him in my memories....

As long as I see a white robe, I'll always still be chained to those memories....

[slytherinboysappreciation]

SMUT REQ LESGOOOOO

Male reader and Tom are from the Wool's orphanage and they grow together, so ofc it would be natural for Tom to think that they would end up together, right? To have reader standing beside him as he becomes the Dark Lord? Wrong. Reader never considered him more than a best friend or a brother that should be protected. So when there's a rumor abt reader dating someone Tom was furious, he went to search reader to confirm the rumor (which is not true) but alas, he's too furious to listen so he fuck him dumb, and Tom started speaking parseltongue while getting it on

Bruh idk how to explain this lmao, English is hard 😔 But hey u can make the setting for this one when Tom was alr a Dark Lord (daddy) or when he's in the 7th year.

Rumor - T. R. x male!Reader

A/N: I’m so sorry for taking so long to get to this 😅 My writing motivation has been a little skewed lately. However, I did it! And I hope you like it!

I changed the parseltongue part to him speaking it when he gets angry enough because it just helped the story along more. I hope that’s okay.

It’s unedited with no use of Y/N. I think I tagged everything, but let me know if I missed something please! 💛

And of course, this fic contains explicit sexual content so ABSOLUTELY NO MINORS!!!!

CW: Possessiveness; mentioned failed love confessions; angst; a mention of horcruxes; anger, lots of anger; murder mention; Tom gets a bit physical with reader; dubcon touching; dubcon sexual content, (consent is there, but not referenced); handjob; doggy style, I think?; Tom ties reader’s hands with a belt; anal sex; anal penetration; no lube mentioned; dirty talk; aftercare; slightly fluffy ending; also, this takes place after Hogwarts so Tom and Reader are both of age!!!!

1676 words

You were Tom Riddle’s best friend.

Everyone knew it. He’d made sure of it as soon as your friendship had been born. You were his friend. First and foremost, above anything else.

You were his. His friend. His follower. Almost his lover even.

Not anymore.

From as far back as he could remember until his seventh year of school, you’d been by Tom’s side. The two of you grew up together. Shared classes together. Practiced dark magic spells together.

And then graduation came and ruined everything.

He hadn’t meant it to. When he’d confessed to you, he’d thought you’d felt the same. Thought you’d felt the spark between you. The feverish heat that came with late night talks and too long glances.

But no.

You hadn’t seen Tom as anything more than a friend. Even worse, you’d called him your little brother. It had made him sick, to think that all that time he’d been pining after you, you’d never even looked his way.

So he’d cut you out of his life. Carved you out of his heart and left a bleeding hole there instead.

It hurt every day you weren’t there.

But he’s stronger now. He has Abraxas and Bellatrix to take your place.

He never finds himself clutching his chest, gripping so hard his knuckles turn white from how strong the pain is of missing you. Never. Not even once.

Not even making a horcrux hurt as badly as missing you.

But Tom was content. He was fine. He had other followers who were just as loyal as you’d been. He didn’t need you anymore.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

It all changed the moment your name fell from Abraxas’ lips.

Tom’s head snaps up immediately, eyes cold and intense. “What did you say?”

Abraxas blanches, as if realizing his mistake. “My Lord. I just— I didn’t mean—“

“What did you say?” Tom’s voice is low, almost a hiss of warning.

“I— I said that Lestrange saw him out with someone. A— A woman, it looked like.”

The fury is slow building, but its intensity could’ve fueled countless more murders. Tom rises slowly. He stands, his aura sucking the life out of the room.

“I will return.”

With that, he sweeps out of the room, a cold blaze of fury and betrayal following in his wake.

Neither Abraxas or Bellatrix try to follow.

He finds you in your house. Whether he knocked or not, you’re surprised to see him all the same.

“Tom?” You stare in bafflement, maybe even awe.

He’s not surprised. Tom’s been told many times of his physical beauty, something that only heightened over the years. And it’s been many years since he’s seen you.

You look… very much the same as ever. New hairstyle, perhaps. Your face has matured a bit, making you look a little older. But you’re still you.

“Hello.” He spits out, barely able to hold back the rage and flood of feelings that fill his mind. Anger, betrayal, hurt; as if the rejection had been mere moments ago.

“What are you—“

“Who was she?” Tom demands, interrupting you. You blink.

“Huh? Who was who?”

Tom grabs your shoulder, his fingers digging into your shirt. “The woman you were with.” His voice is venom, pure anger in his tone. His voice shakes with it as he speaks. “Lestrange saw you with someone. Who. Was. She?”

You blink, visibly confused. Then your expression clears. “Oh. Her? She’s just a friend.”

“I don’t believe you. Who. Is. She?” Tom grabs your other shoulder, barely holding back from shaking you.

“A-Aurora Greengrass,” you stammer out, looking even more startled by his anger. “I swear, we’re just friends—“

‘Just friends.’

That’s exactly what you’d called Tom’s relationship with you. A ‘just friends’ thing.

He doesn’t even listen to the rest of your words. Blind to everything but the fury in his veins, he starts rummaging through your shirt pocket. Looking for something. Anything to prove you wrong.

He only finds a pack of cigs and an old lighter.

He tosses them to the side and hauls you over to the nearest wall. Slamming you against it and holding you firmly in place with one hand. “Who is she to you?”

You stammer, unable to form words. Tom grips your shoulder tighter, pressing closer to you. “Answer me!”

“I— I can’t understand what you’re saying!” You cower in the face of his anger. “I can’t understand— Ahhh!”

You yelp and shudder as Tom’s hand grazes your groin. He ignores your reaction and digs into your pants’ pockets, looking for anything at all. There’s nothing but fabric and a single money bill.

Still, his hand continues to search, roaming from pocket to pocket like something will appear. Nothing does.

It only heightens his anger, makes his jaw clench with fury. His words coming out in a hiss. “Is she your lover? Your wife? Or is she just another useless little toy for you?”

You let out a pathetic little moan, hips jolting a bit. Tom’s vaguely aware that his hand has stopped wandering where it’s supposed to be. But he can’t be bothered to look.

“Answer me!” He spits out. “Who is she to you, really?”

“I can’t—“ Your voice comes out as a pathetic whine. “Tom, please! I— I can’t understand you!”

Your hips jolt again and Tom finally looks down. He’s groping you, hand wandering across your half-formed hard on. Unconsciously feeling you up.

And you’re not pushing him away.

In fact, you’re stifling a moan, resting your head back against the wall. Eyes half closed. As if you’re… enjoying this.

A plan forms in his mind. A wicked, wicked plan. If you’re not willing to answer him… he’ll just have to fuck the answer out of you.

“Couch,” he hisses, “Now!”

He yanks you after him, relishing the way you stumble. You don’t deserve his kindness right now; what you need is to be fucked dumb.

Tom pushes you down against the couch and reaches for your belt. You don’t even protest. You just whimper softly and let him do what he wants.

He pulls your cock out, sliding his thumb along the tip. You moan and arch up, precum coating his thumb.

“T-Tom!” You gasp as he fists your cock, gripping tight enough to make you see stars. Your hips thrust up automatically, fucking into the sweet pressure of his hand.

“Shut up!” Tom hisses, eyes narrowing. He starts to move his hand and you choke with pleasure.

“I can’t— fuck!” Your head is thrown back against the couch, hands gripping the cushions tight enough to make your knuckles white.

You moan and writhe under Tom as he guides his hand along your cock, shifting and changing the pressure until he finds what makes you gasp.

And then, he pulls back.

Making you almost sob from the loss.

You reach for him, voice cracking pathetically. “Tom, please…!”

He bats your hands away, manhandling you until you’re kneeling on the couch. Pants around your ankles.

You grip the back of the couch tightly, practically clinging to it as Tom undoes his own belt. He grabs your hands, looping the thick leather around them. Pinning your hands together. You’re tied up now, unable to free your hands.

Tom frees his own cock, lining himself up with your asshole. You shudder and whimper, face flushed red. “Please!”

“Needy little bastard,” Tom hisses. “Can barely even wait for me.”

You just moan and press back against him. “Fuck, that’s so hot…”

Slowly, Tom sinks into you. Inch by glorious inch, he slides his cock into your greedy little hole. You clench hotly around him, making his breathing stutter.

You feel divine.

Hot and tight and perfect.

He bottoms out, cock buried deep inside you. He grips your shoulders, resting his forehead against your back in an effort to keep from cumming on the spot.

You’re a moaning mess, soft pleading babbles mixed with whimpers and gasps. Tom can barely understand you, you’re so incoherent.

It’s exactly what he wants. You fucked out enough that you forget how to speak.

Finally, he starts to move. In and out, each thrust getting faster and more aggressive. Slowly building up until you’re sobbing underneath him, mindlessly whining with pleasure.

You look glorious. Perfect.

It’s like a dream come true, you underneath him finally, just like it was always meant to be.

The thought makes his hips stutter and he grips your cock. He won’t last long like this; you’re clenching around him too tightly.

With a couple good firm strokes, you’re spilling onto the couch, cumming with a loud cry.

Not even moments later, Tom thrusts into your ass, filling you up with a gasp of his own. He shudders and leans against you again, struggling to catch his breath.

Slowly, he pulls out of you, absently rubbing along your back. The rage is gone from him, leaving him feeling tired and drained.

“Are you…” Alright doesn’t seem like the right word for the situation.

But you just moan softly. Roll over onto your back and gaze up at him with dreamy eyes. “Fuck yeah…”

Tom chuckles softly, almost tenderly. He can’t help it. It’s you.

Gently, he undoes his belt around your hands. They flop uselessly to your sides, as boneless as the rest of you. You just melt into a puddle of dreamy gazes and soft smiles.

He literally fucked you dumb.

As you continue to bask in the afterglow of your fucking, clarity starts to return to Tom. This is his opportunity. His chance to look around and see what you’ve been doing with your life since he cut you out of his.

But…

Gazing down at you…

Tom settles himself on the couch next to you and pulls you into his arms. You happily snuggle into him, burying your face in his neck.

Snooping can wait.

It’s been forever since he had you all to himself like this.

And he’s planning on taking advantage of every moment he can get.