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alexiroflife · 3 months

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"red"

MDNI, very suggestive content

satoru gojo x singer!reader

Synopsis: utahime brings satoru and shoko to a bar to watch her friend perform, and satoru is immediately whipped for you the moment you step on stage. utahime warns him, however, not to get close to you, but how could he refuse the way you look at him?

to sum it up: you have a strong effect on men, satoru included, and despite the stories utahime tells him about you, you match other's freak

WC: 15,482

Warning(s): smut smut smut, unprotected sex, dom/switch, vulgar language,

happy 500 followers!! thank you all so much for your love and support, you're all amazing. i can't believe there are already half a thousand of you. here is my gift to you and i hope you enjoy <3

The moment Utahime proposed going out to see her friend perform at a grungy bar smack in the middle of the city, Satoru was incredibly skeptical. Normally, the white haired sorcerer was left in charge of staff outings since, according to him, he had the most creativity out of the group of professors that trekked out into the late night after long, grueling weeks of training their students.

It was a good thing he took charge of their activities, too, since everyone else’s suggestions were always so boring. Nanami’s idea of an entertaining night out wasn’t even to actually go out, but to stay indoors with a cup of tea and a newspaper cracked open over his lap. Yaga tended to lean toward artistic outings, such as pottery barns or knitting classes, solely due to the bias of his cursed technique. Ichiji hardly ever even made any suggestions himself, often allowing other opinions to overpower his own to the point where he didn’t even want to bother chiming in. Shoko only really wanted to visit anywhere that allowed her to drink and smoke, so she wasn’t much of a problem. And Mei Mei, well, Satoru hardly knew what the hell motivated Mei Mei’s interests aside from some means to winning money, and he was never too keen on allowing her rather questionable interests to lead the group out.

While everyone liked to complain when Satoru dragged them along to engage in the things he wanted to do, they normally all ended up enjoying themselves by the time the night was over. Even Utahime, who would have stepped freely into oncoming traffic before admitting that Satoru’s suggestion that she would initially turn her nose up at the beginning of the night brought a smile to her face by the middle of the evening. He had a knack for these kinds of things, bringing his colleagues together socially in the best ways he deemed how.

Nevertheless, the indigo haired woman pushed her luck enough to finally let Satoru relent his control for one single evening when she groaned on and on about how she refused to miss the performance of some woman she hadn’t even bothered to mention until now. Satoru only did so for the sake of gloating purposes in case this so-called friend of hers turned out to be far less engaging than Utahime claimed. He determined that she wouldn’t hear the end of it for as long as the two of them kept in contact from this night going forward.

Tonight, the group had narrowed down to a select few as well. Mei Mei thankfully had duties to attend to elsewhere, Ichiji had to babysit his niece, and Nanami downright turned down the evening completely, leaving only him, Shoko, and Utahime alone to attend this mystery friend’s show.

Utahime had in fact begged Satoru not to tag along once she realized that so few people would be coming and she was not entirely fond of him impeding on what could have been girl time with Ieiri, but he persisted, assuring her that he would be delighted to tag along to see what all the fuss was about. Utahime was horrified, to say the least, but she knew that once Satoru had decided upon involving himself in something, there was no way of turning him elsewhere.

So the three professors trekked on that Friday evening, pushing through busy crowds of people until they approached what Satoru could only describe as a hole in the wall smack in the middle of a row of shops and restaurants. It was a small brick building with a hazy led sign spelling out what he assumed to be the name of the establishment with narrow black doors and the scent of liquor tingling the air as people walked in and out. It was clearly a busy and popular place, well worn by the years and buzzing with visitors. He could hear the overlapping chatter of hundreds through the walls from the outside, loud laughter, the scraping of seats against hardwood floors, and the clinking of beer bottles and flasks.

This wasn’t exactly the type of place he had expected Utahime to take interest in, leading him to only grow more curious about who exactly they were about to see inside this enticing little building.

“This is it?” Shoko asked coolly, twisting her cigarette over to the other side of her mouth as her brown eyes examined the outside.

Utahime hummed, double checking her phone screen displaying a text bubble with an address that she had been following. “Yeah, I guess it is,” she nodded, looking back up.

“Huh,” Satoru said, scratching the back of his head as he examined the spot along with the two women beside him. “Didn’t peg you for the grungy type, Utahime,” he teased. The said woman gritted her teeth, tossing a glare over her shoulder through the side of her eye.

“What the hell do you know about my interests?” she hissed.

Satoru smiled, shrugging. He took the first steps toward the door, grinning smugly at Utahime as he brushed past her. “Enough to know that you’ve always been too much of a goody-two-shoes to come somewhere like here all by yourself.”

Utahime growled, clenching her phone tighter within her grasp as Satoru pushed the door open, the noisiness of the inside immediately blaring out into the atmosphere.

“After you,” he smirked, her eyes twitching.

Shoko patted the woman’s shoulder softly before making her way inside. “Don’t let this idiot sway you with his nonsense, Hime,” she advised with a light smile. “You don’t want him to win, do you?”

That question was enough to get Utahime to straighten herself up, following suit behind the brunette. “Like hell I do,” she grumbled. Satoru snickered, letting the door swing closed behind him once they all made it inside.

Satoru had been right about his earlier observation. It was absolutely packed inside, the space much larger than it looked from standing before the exterior. A series of occupied tables took up the majority of the space, where customers sat and talked vividly, surfaces cluttered by bottles of finished and unfinished alcohol. On the left side of the room, the bar resided with crowds swarming the countertops.

The atmosphere was so dark. If Satoru hadn’t been gifted with his six eyes, he likely would have had to squint to find his way through the dimness. The space was illuminated in a lazy, red glow, specs of golden spouting from the bar for the sake of the bartenders and low hanging lamps swinging over the tables.

At the very front of the room was a small stage, concealed by a thick velvet curtain. A few men dressed in black stood at the floor chattering amongst themselves and gesturing above, likely in charge of managing the performers or the stage functions.

“Well, look at you, Utahime,” Shoko patted the woman on the back enthusiastically, the trio standing at the entrance. “You got some spunk in you.”

“It’s not me, it's (Y/n),” the hazelnut eyed woman rolled her eyes. “She’s the one performing at these places.”

“Then you must have some sick friends we don’t know about.”

“And to think, I had no idea you had any friends outside of your colleagues,” Satoru chimed in, inspiring a vein to bulge in Utahime’s forehead. “So, where is this ‘friend’ of yours? I’m starting to think she isn’t even real.”

“Shut up, Gojo! She’s real!” the sorcerer barked. “She told me her performance slot was at ten. That’s in five minutes.”

“We’d better grab a seat then, huh?”

“She said she had the manager save us one up front. I guess we should go check it out.”

“You guys go ahead,” Ieiri waved her hand. “I’m gonna grab a drink. You want?”

“Nah. You know how I get, so no alcohol for Satoru. But here,” Satoru stopped her with his hand on her shoulder. He dug into the pocket of his pants and handed her his wallet. “Go crazy. The black one’s unlimited.”

Shoko quirked a mischievous brow, snatching the leather wallet between her index and middle finger. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Satoru,” she said. “Utahime? Anything?”

“Just surprise me. I’ll need something to get through being out with this idiot.”

Satoru grinned playfully and Shoko nodded before walking off.

Utahime clicked her tongue, dissatisfied with the fact that she was left alone with the man next to her. Satoru immediately detected her displeasure and smiled, leaning over her shoulder and gesturing his arm forward. “Lead the way.”

“Get away from me.”

Upon spotting a vacant table to the far left in front of the stage, Utahime took the lead as she shuffled awkwardly through the cramped pathways to make her way to the seat. Once the two made it, she spoke shortly with the man standing guard nearby to tell him that she was the expected visitor in which this seat had been reserved for. The man backed off accordingly, recognizing her face from the description he must have been given beforehand.

The two sorcerers sat down across from each other, Satoru leaning back in his wooden seat with a contented exhalation. “This is a nice change of pace,” he said.

“If you’re mocking me, quit it. (Y/n) is very talented and I wouldn’t come here if I didn’t think it would be worth it.”

“About that. I’ve been meaning to ask. Why are we hearing about this (Y/n) person now, all of a sudden? You’ve never mentioned her before.”

“Because she’s a human being with her own line of work separate from sorcery. There’s no need to bring her up when we’re on duty. We all have personal lives,” Utahime spoke flatly, fiddling with her purse with her gaze down and brows angled with irritation.

“But she’s human and she knows about you somehow?” Satoru tilted his head.

“She has an idea of the weird things that go on around this country, if that’s what you mean,” Iori sighed. “Even so, none of it concerns her. She’s got nothing to do with any of this stuff.”

“Where do you know her from?”

“God, you’re so nosy,” Utahime scrunched her nose. She hung her bag by its strap over the back of her chair and leaned back. “We’re old friends, that’s all.”

“‘Old friends?’ Why so vague, Utahime?” the blue eyed man pried, a smirk playing on his lips. “I’m just curious to know about who we’ll be watching, that’s all.”

“Your motives are never that simple. You can shut up and watch without knowing her entire life’s story.”

“Okay. Touchy.”

Utahime grinded her teeth together. “So help me, Gojo, if you don’t behave tonight I’m ripping your hair out in your sleep, strand by strand.”

Satoru gasped dramatically, hands flying to his snowing locks fuzzy with misty dust of red casted down upon him by the ambience. “What?! No! Not my beautiful hair,” he pouted. “You’re so mean to me…”

“I’d hope so.”

Satoru threw his arm over the back of his seat. The lights suddenly flared lethargically, blinking between darkness and red to signify the commencement of a performance. Satoru noticed the way Utahime shifted in her seat immediately, turning her attention upward with a gentle smile reaching her features. Satoru followed her gaze and looked up, supposing that he’d see for himself what all the fuss was about.

The lights finally melted into darkness, blocking out the sea of tables in inky blackness with the only light provided now by the stage. Footsteps came into Satoru’s earshot, and he turned to find Shoko squeezing her way over to them, two drinks and his wallet somehow cradled in her arms. She plopped into the empty seat between Utahime and Satoru with a huff, leaning her body over to set the drinks down carefully. The brunette slid Satoru’s wallet over to him across the table.

“I’ll come back for that later,” she whispered, and Gojo snorted, tucking it away.

A short man with a scruffy beard climbed his way onto the stage from the steps on the far right, a microphone in hand. He stood before the curtain at the edge of the platform, waiting for the chatter to completely die down before he spoke.

“Good evenin’, everyone. Hope we’re all havin’ a good night.”

A few straggling hollers of excitement and a symphony of claps resounded throughout the space in response. Satoru took the opportunity to clap loudly along with everyone else, Utahime shielding her face with her hand in embarrassment.

“Alright, that’s what I like to hear,” the man nodded, grin widening. “Now, I ain’t gonna stand here long. I know what you’re all here for. So just remember to keep your damn ringers off during the performance. That shit gets distracting for our singer. And if you’re already wasted, which I can already tell most of you are-” a few laughs jump out from the crowd. “-don’t go tryin’ to climb onto stage to join her either. I know how some of you can get. Yeah, I’m lookin’ at you in the back.”

Satoru found the statement strange, to say the least. Utahime’s friend must have been incredibly popular within this establishment to spark the kind of attention that inspired men to try to get onto stage with her. Then again, looking around at the crowd, he couldn’t say that he expected much decorum from them.

“Alright, I’m done talkin’. Here she comes folks. You know her, you love her, she makes you wanna risk leavin’ the wife, our very own (Y/n) (L/n)!”

The crowd roared, the very mention of your name enough to bring a few intoxicated stragglers to their feet, cupping their hands around their mouths to whistle and shout for your entrance.

Satoru watched carefully as the announcer left the stage, admittedly intrigued. The overhead stage lights softened, isolating a single spotlight that glared against the ridges in the curtain. The surrounding atmosphere up there mellowed into sultry hues of purple and blue, complementing the recurring overarching red that sank over the space.

The curtains pulled back with a squeak, and there you were.

The white haired man’s brows lifted slowly, subconsciously, when the sight of you revealed itself like a gift on display after a tauntingly slow drag of a satin ribbon between pinched fingers.

You stood beneath the light, fingers clutching the handle of the microphone stand. Your shoulders curved with passion, body hunched into the circular ring around the speaker as though you were drawn to it like it was a piece of you. Your eyes were closed, dark lashes coated with tiny specs of gold from your eyeshadow dusting your smooth cheeks. Your lips, glossed sinfully red, grazed your mic as you took in deep breaths that expanded your bare chest, sweat or glitter glimmering over the shiny (s/c) skin of your collarbone and shoulders, twinkling beneath the overhead beam.

Adorned over your figure was a tight satin dress that accentuated every detail of your body, gliding over the curves of your hips and hugging your waist generously, cutting off over your thighs. Incredibly sheer tights ran over your smooth legs and down to your feet, snug in a pair of shiny heels you wore all too comfortably.

“Holy shit,” Satoru heard Shoko whisper. “That’s (Y/n)?”

Utahime hummed in affirmation. “Yes, it is.”

“She’s fucking hot.”

Satoru couldn’t have agreed more. You were more than hot, you were unnaturally, criminally gorgeous. You stood on that stage, soaking in the all the praise that this dive had to offer as if you had done so a million times over, your air of confidence capturing you in a sultry glow complemented by the way those red lights submerged into your aura like smooth molasses milking into cake batter.

Delicately, you opened your eyes, revealing the maroon glint of your (e/c) irises as they danced over the room warmly. Your lips pressed together into a smooth, seductive smile, reading the room and your audience and what they wanted from you, and you catered simply with the look in your eye and the smallest tilt of your enticing, blood red lips.

Satoru couldn’t look away. You had grabbed his attention, fully, easily.

The warbled blare of a saxophone brought Satoru’s attention to the small band of instruments he had failed to register behind you when the curtains first pulled away. A large man worked his fingers over the instrument beside a sleek black piano that eventually trickled with a flirtatious flutter into the saxophone’s accompaniment. The commotion within the crowd died down as the music rose gradually, tenderly.

You swayed slowly to the lazy melody, tapping your fingers against the mic handle. Your heel tapped against the floor and your hips, fuck your hips, swung gently with the will of the music. All the amusement Satoru once harbored had completely drained from his body. He felt suddenly earnest, consumed by the sight of you complemented by the symphony that followed, and he watched eagerly in anticipation for your lips to part, for sound to fly from your mouth. He awaited your voice with a sense of severity, face blank, eyes slightly wide.

As though he had summoned it, a rich note dragged through the air, deep, earthy, vibrating with soul and captivating ardor. The tune ripped through his ears, floating into the atmosphere like a dove gliding its wings through the air, touching the surface of water and rippling waves. It took several moments before Satoru realized that this blissful sound was coming from you. Your lips puckered ever so gently, brows angling as the space between your lips released the most hypnotizing vibrato he had ever heard in his life.

Chills crawled down his spine from the back of his neck as your voice nearly blended into the glide of the saxophone, slippery yet controlled and achingly sensual. You sang so effortlessly, tone mature and impassioned by your engrossed facial contortions and the subtle movements of your body. Whoops jumped into the air, followed by more claps from stunned listeners, and Satoru couldn’t decide whether he wanted to join them in rejoicing over you or turn around to tell them all to shut the fuck up so he could hear you more clearly.

He was lucky to be so close, watching you within near proximity as your lids lowered over your eyes then lifted with each note and lyric you sang, head turning and face scrunching accordingly. You were so physically reactive to your own voice, to the words that left you, to the people watching and the space you resided. You filled the room with your presence, capturing the building with your intoxicating charm. Your voice was as sexy as you were, and you sang and moved slowly enough for Satoru to take note of every detail.

The sorcerer sat there hypnotized, dizzy from you. He couldn’t even be bothered with turning to look at Shoko or Utahime to see what they were thinking, but due to their rather stiff silence, he assumed that they were in the exact same boat as him and everyone else within the room.

After a minute or so of sluggish bliss, the pianist shifted the tone of the music and played something bright and mischievous. The saxophone quickly adapted, slurring into the uplifted beat. The crowd reacted swiftly and your crimson lips spread to reveal your shiny white teeth, a grin devilish enough to feel as though Satoru wasn’t supposed to be looking.

Your jaw dropped to ease out a loud, booming note that sparked the bar into an uproar, your leg lifting and curving over the mic stand. You leaned forward, pressed the bar into your figure as you allowed that inhumane note to drift yourself forward with a tilted chin as you gaze over the crowd over your nose with those feline, hazy eyes.

Satoru’s eyes gawked over the shimmer of your thin stalkings when you raised your thigh up, the hem of your dress teasing the lace cutoff that cupped over the upper flesh.

Then, you stood back upward, yanking the mic from the stand to strut downstage, wiring dragging in your wake. You crouched down, voice fluttering handsomely through the speakers with your simultaneous and sudden engagement with those below center. You sang as though you were speaking to individual audience members, knees bent and arm dangled over them, head craning as your eyes isolated everyone, face by face.

A shout of your name jumped out as you looked around, and you loved it, responding with a playful wink as you maneuvered yourself into a seated position. Your legs dangled over the ledge, ankle crossing over the other and weight leaning on one hand.

“She’s so good, isn’t she?” Satoru heard Utahime whisper excitedly into Shoko’s direction.

Good was an understatement. You were flawless. A gem. A fucking masterpiece hidden within the confined walls of this establishment.

You were so smooth, shifting about languidly like your body was melting into all the right positions. You were like a drug to survey, seeping through Satoru’s veins and numbing his senses, leaving you to be the only thing within this space that he was perceptually aware of.

He watched you turn to look all around, finally drifting your face into the direction of his table. Your eyes found Utahime first, a glimpse of amiable excitement flickering through your gaze with a twitch in your smile. The said woman waved enthusiastically with a beam. Your smile brightened as you continued singing, (e/c) eyes dancing over Shoko and then finally onto Satoru.

The white haired man stilled under the spotlight of your gaze, your piercing eyes far more intense now that they had connected with him. His skin tingled, sapphire eyes holding your own as something within you sparked, eyes jumping ever so subtly as you took in his frame.

Satoru wasn’t normally easily swayed into speechlessness, let alone nervousness, but damn. Your eyes were practically devouring him whole as they shamelessly roamed over his body, hungrily, as if you were going to pounce on him.

Satoru grew hyper aware of his physical reaction to you in that moment. His heart was pumping steadily yet loudly within his ears and his throat had run dry, Adam’s apple bobbing whilst he tried to appear unfazed by you to no avail. A battle of dominance transpired between your shared eye contact, and he couldn’t deny the fact that you were winning. Your voice floating on in compliance with your gaze wrapped him into a chokehold, burned his peach skin, and for the first time in his life he felt rivaled by a human woman’s natural power outside of his ordinary world of sorcery and chaos.

Your hand supporting your body weight slid out, your figure leaning along with it and your eyes failing to leave Satoru’s even for a second. Your hand carried you until you were laying on your side, hand propping up your cheek and left leg crossed over the other. The blue eyed man’s eyes widened as he took in the manner in which you presented yourself before him, for him. The mic pressed into your soft lips, your gloss grazing the speaker, corners of your mouth curving with sensual delight.

You looked so edible like this, mesmerizing him with your voice like a siren out of sea. Your beautiful legs, your jutted hip, those gorgeous lashes, and lord help him, those juicy red lips that had him seeing stars. Red, Satoru observed, was your color as its shade cradled you and illuminated the frame of your body. He drank in your artistry in awe, the room growing warmer around him with each bat of your lashes and gliding of your fingers down your dress.

Cheers surrounded, but all Satoru could focus on was your face and the sudden ache arousing from his crotch. He glanced down momentarily and caught sight of the growing bulge stretching his nice pants and exhaled heavily. He rested his elbow on the table and slid his hand over his mouth, peering back up at you with blown pupils.

It was going to be a long night.

Your grin twinged with an air of satisfaction when you noticed Satoru’s response to your rather blatant flirting, and you pushed yourself back up. You tilted your head over into the opposite direction slowly, eyes trained on his until the very last second, and then they broke away.

Satoru’s daze shattered when a balled up napkin bounced off of his infinity shield. He turned rigidly to find Utahime glaring at him angrily, lips curled into a disapproving frown. “Don’t even think about it,” she seethed.

Gojo examined her for a moment before a devious smirk crept its way back on his lips. He shifted, crossing his legs to attempt to hide the current problem poking into his pants, and grinned. “No promises,” he mouthed and Utahime groaned, ripping her eyes away from him as if the sight of his face disgusted her.

Your performance ended far too soon for Satoru’s liking. When he looked back up, the accompaniment was dwindling down into the slow pace that it had begun with. You were back on your feet, turning your back to the audience to saunter over to the mic stand. You carefully slid the handle back into its holder, voice soothing into a low, conclusive note that fluttered regally off into a momentary stunned silence.

You stilled, inhaling sharply as the song reached its end. You blinked your eyes, as though reawakening from a daze, and looked up contentedly. Your hands fell to your sides and you awaited applause that came as rapidly as you had aroused the entire room.

Gojo made sure that he was the first to jump to his feet, clapping wildly with a ridiculous grin. Everyone else followed, showering you in praise, compliments, a standing ovation well deserved. Shoko ‘whooped’ next to him, joining in on Satoru’s boisterousness while Utahime clapped a bit more politely with a proud smile.

You gave a little bow, your smile radiant enough to put the sun to shame. You looked over everyone in grateful acknowledgement before turning your attention back to your friend’s table. You took the opportunity to return Utahime’s wave merrily, bringing your fingers to your lips and blowing a kiss to the brown eyed woman.

Satoru and Shoko’s cheers picked up in volume, and your eyes brought themselves back to them. Your shoulders jerked with a soft chuckle, giving the two of them an introductory wave. Satoru brightened when you looked at him again, gazes exchanging an internal, mutual address of one another’s tension.

You drew your top lip down, suppressing a bigger smile as you stared at him. Your gaze traveled downward for half a second and your eyes went big. You were quick to brush a hand over your amused expression and lower your gaze the moment the curtains drew over you and shut, concealing your beauty once more.

Satoru jutted out his bottom lip in momentary befuddlement, looking down to be reminded by his… problem. He was lucky that he was wearing pants that were tighter around his lower waist and crotch area, keeping the print of his dick somewhat compressed, but you had still managed to notice from your view upstage.

Well, more accurately, you had been looking.

Satoru grew ecstatic at the notion.

“You!” Utahime pointed an accusatory finger at the blue eyed man once the applause had died down and chatter arose once more. People began to leave after your show had ended, having only come to watch you sing, and hell, Satoru couldn’t blame them.

Satoru lowered his hands and pointed an innocent finger to his chest. “Me?”

“If you sleep with (Y/n), so help me-”

“Woah, hold on now,” Satoru stopped her. “What makes you think I’m the kind of guy to go around sleeping with strangers?”

“Oh don’t play coy, I saw the way you two were looking at each other earlier,” she rolled her eyes. “I hardly care what you do in your free time- frankly it makes me gag to think about it- but please just leave (Y/n) out of it.”

“Oh come on, it’s not my fault she was looking at me. What’s a guy to do in that situation?” Satoru shrugged. “I’m sorry I can't help my incredibly good looks.”

“I mean it, Gojo.”

“Utahime, let’s be real. She’s your friend. I wouldn’t do anything to mess with her. I’m not the horrible guy you take me for.”

“I don’t think you’re horrible, I think you’re an idiot whose arrogance is going to get you in a world of trouble one day. And I’m not even talking about how you’d affect her, I’m talking about her.”

“Hm? How do you mean?”

“She will eat you alive.”

“Eat me alive?” he repeated curiously. The prospect had only further piqued his interest. “I’ve never heard that one before.”

“Don’t believe me?”

“It’s not that I don’t believe you… I’m just thinking maybe I should see for myself.”

“You’re disgusting.”

Shoko laughed. “Think of it this way, Utahime. If Satoru sleeps with your friend, he’ll be admitting that you chose a great place for us to hang out tonight. After he doubted you, and all.”

Utahime paused, a noble grin reaching her features with the touch of her finger to her chin. “That’s right! He’d have to admit that he was wrong about me. Looks like you’re not the only one who knows how to plan a fun night out, huh?”

Satoru watched the woman gloat in her newfound honor with a blank face. “Jeez, Utahime. I didn’t think you were so obsessed with trivial things like proving me wrong. I was just playing around earlier,” he badgered, successfully rousing her agitation and disrupting her temporary air of victory.

“I can’t stand you!”

“So,” Shoko sighed, turning to observe the flow of people exiting the space as the lights rose once more overhead. “Are we gonna get to meet this girl, or what? She put on a hell of a show.”

“Oh… yeah, hold on,” Utahime pulled out her phone. “She told me before to just wait for her to text saying that we can head backstage. I think she’s in the dressing room.”

Satoru buzzed with the anticipation of seeing you up close. Something about the way you stood up there, the way you presented yourself, the way you looked at him made every fiber in his being tremble with excitement as though you were a celebrity he had only dreamed about gaining the privilege to encounter in person until this very moment.

He looked over his shoulder at all the drunken men who had been hollering your name and brimmed with vanity. Those poor idiots could only ever ponder about speaking with you one on one and seeing you up close, when he was able to saunter his way back to you with absolutely no obstacles in his way. It was foolish of him to sneer down at these non-sorcerers, who had been established as far beneath him the moment he was born, but he couldn’t help the pride that swarmed his chest when he thought about the advantage that he already had with you in comparison.

“Ah, there it is,” Utahime smiled upon seeing your name pop up on her screen. “Alright let’s go. Gojo, keep it together.”

“When have I ever done anything but that,” he grinned.

The three found themselves being led up the stage and behind the curtain by the same guy who had presented your performance. They walked through the narrow right wing and toward a door at the end of the room. The man knocked loudly upon it, announcing to you through the barrier that you had visitors before walking off. Another shiver wracked Satoru’s body when your honey-like voice called out that the door was open.

Utahime turned the knob slowly, peering into the room hesitantly. “(Y/n)?”

The door opened widely, revealing you sitting at a foggy mirror and a beaten leather chair. The surrounding clutter of storage and clothing was enough to show that you had been in this space often despite its rugged, vintage look.

The light of your vanity illuminated the brick space. You looked up when the door fully opened, and that jaw dropping smile graced your red lips again.

“Utahime,” you greeted happily. Iori beamed, rushing into the room to wrap you up in a hug the moment you stood. You let out a surprised huff, easing into her arms and chuckling. “I’m so glad you made it,” you said, rubbing her back.

“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t miss it for the world! The second I knew you were performing here, I came running,” Utahime replied, pulling away to look at you. “You were so amazing out there.”

“Aw, you think so?” you raised your brows, serene grin broadening.

“Absolutely! You made everyone go crazy.”

“I try my best,” you shrugged, eyes darting over to the brunette and the white haired man standing at the doorway. You raised a brow. “I see you brought some friends with you.”

“Ah,” Utahime recalled, releasing you from her grip. “Yes, these are my colleagues. This is Ieiri Shoko and… Gojo Satoru,” she grumbled the latter bitterly, slimming her eyes at his cocky gaze.

You hummed. “Oh yeah?” those eyes of yours flickered over Satoru rather noticeably. “Well, nice to meet you both. I hope you enjoyed the show.”

“Enjoyed it?” Shoko echoed, crossing her arms with a tipsy grin. “We loved it. You’ve got a crazy set of pipes on you. And that dress? Fucking incredible.”

You accepted the compliment genuinely. “Thank you, you’re sweet.”

“How long have you been performing?”

You followed the owner of that voice and found yourself staring into captivating blue hues once more. A small smile rested on his lips and his hands were tucked into his pockets as he looked at you.

You sharpened your gaze and lowered your lids. “Do you mean here or in general?”

He shrugged, glossy lips puckering as if in thought. “Both.”

A glint flickered through your eyes when you responded, leg crossing over the other. “Been performing for ten years, here for one.”

Satoru lifted his chin and parted his lips, humming in understanding. “So you’re a real professional then.”

“I don’t know, what do you think I am?” you asked him.

Gojo immediately picked up on the light banter that you were encouraging, therefore he, so taken by the sight of you, could do nothing but play along. Especially when you proceeded to check him out with absolutely no remorse.

“I think you’re good enough to be with the stars somewhere. On a big stage with a big crowd. Bigger than any of us could imagine.”

Flattery, though common, still seemed to have a rather carnal effect on you. You tilted your head over your shoulder, eyes glistening with intrigue. “Who says I haven’t been?”

You clearly liked to challenge, to push your limits and see if your words and responses were strong enough to make the man before you falter or stumble over his words. If Satoru Gojo were anyone else in this world, he internally conceded that he would have, but he liked this daring persona you harbored. He liked the way that you were aware of the fact that you could bring a man to his knees with a look alone, the way you could shift your words to chip away at someone’s resolve and make them a mess at your feet.

He thought it was so hot.

If Utahime had been right about you earlier, that you would eat him alive if he had been presented the chance to make a proper move on you, he would have let you consume him blissfully.

He wanted you to consume him.

“You’re right,” Satoru chuckled lowly. “If you have, you’d be right where you should be. In the limelight.”

Your smile spread as your locked gaze soaked him in, and Satoru knew that he was set.

“Alright,” Utahime’s voice cut through the thick air. Her expression was bored, having very clearly witnessed what was slowly unveiling before her. While she didn’t approve of it in the slightest, she was hardly the least bit surprised.

Shoko had kept quiet as well, looking between you and Satoru with knowing widened eyes and a tight laugh-suppressing smile.

“(Y/n)? When’s your next show?” Iori asked you, clenching her jaw when her eyes cut through Satoru threateningly. The said man hardly cared, for you were initiating far more of the tension rising between the two of you than he was. After all, Satoru hadn’t been bluffing before when he had questioned the accusation thrown about regarding his sex life. He was a busy man with very little to no free time aside from the few hour block he took out of his Friday evenings to spend time with his fellow sorcerers.

Of course, women were drawn to him, but he found very little interest in entertaining their efforts. In his mind, the act would have been like poking fun at forgotten admirers for the sake of entertainment. It was beneath him, sleeping around, and he hardly trusted anyone enough with his powerful mind and body to be vulnerable with them. Consequently, he kept to himself, flirting around every now and then but never crossing the line between pretty words and physical intimacy.

So to be dragged into your will with little effort had stunned him, more so because he was not opposed to your unspoken invitation in comparison to how he would have normally reacted to someone’s advances. You looked like you were trouble, conniving, gaining control of a room with the tricks of your beauty and your talent. You knew full well that you were an unfathomable treasure, a sex symbol amongst the little world that you had built for yourself, and that alone was dangerous. Satoru knew so because he himself was just as dangerous for the same reasons and far more.

You weren’t even intimidated by his presence, like most human women were. He was abnormally tall with prominent features that stood out like a sore thumb; snowy white locks that glowed blindingly in the sunlight and eyes as vast and blue as the sky above. Normally, people shivered under his gaze, cowered in his wake, but you demanded his submission as though he was just another man, and hell, he couldn’t even be offended because he wanted you just like any other man.

“Usually I perform every Friday,” you started, pulling your eyes from Gojo to look back at Utahime. “But next week they’ve got another guest performing in my place ‘cause I want off. Sometimes I do stuff at the bar in one city over too, but during the weekends. You’re welcome to come check it out whenever. All of you.”

“We’ll definitely have to stop by more often. I can’t believe I’ve been missing you all this time.”

“Aw, don’t worry about it. I can only imagine how swamped you are with work and everything, being a professor and all. Just come when you can, no hard feelings.”

“Do you have a social media handle?” Ieiri asked. You nodded, smiling.

“Yeah, it’s my full name pushed together. You follow me, and I’ll follow you. I love making new friends.”

The brunette immediately exchanged information with you, and just like that, the night was over.

Utahime was the first to bid farewell, claiming that she had to get up early the following morning for some business to attend to that Satoru and Shoko knew as a quick mission orchestrated by Tokyo Jujutsu High. She gave you another tight hug and Shoko followed, telling you that it was great meeting before turning to the door with Utahime. Satoru was the last to leave the room, turning over his shoulder to casually part with you.

You watched him closely, leaning your hip against your vanity with your hand on upon the other. Your red lips pressed together in a stiff smile, desiring eyes watching as you said goodbye, though you knew deep in your gut that this wouldn’t be your last time seeing Satoru Gojo.

On the way out, Satoru stopped in his tracks on the stage steps, standing over the now completely vacant building. Utahime and Shoko walked with their arms linked to the exit, Shoko stopping first when she realized that Satoru was not directly behind them. The women turned, catching sight of him looking around the room calmly.

“Satoru!” Shoko called out. “You coming or what?”

He smiled, lowering his head to look at the brunette from across the room. “Nah,” he sighed contentedly. “I think I’ll take in the ambience a bit more and… ponder over the performance we just watched. Why end the night so early, you know?”

Utahime’s expression fell flat. “It’s a quarter past midnight,” she deadpanned.

“And yet, there’s still so much the night has to offer.”

Shoko snorted, turning back around and waving her hand over her head. “Whatever you say. Text me after you get laid.”

“Like I said, Shoko, you know I’m not that kind of guy!”

Utahime huffed, shaking her head in disdain. “You’re playing with fire, Gojo. We all know you’re the strongest, but you shouldn’t underestimate that woman’s control. She will break you.”

Satoru scoffed, waving the indigo haired woman off. “Please. I’m unbreakable.”

Utahime rolled her eyes and turned her back to the strongest sorcerer of the modern age. “It’s your funeral.”

His funeral, huh?

Satoru never knew himself to be the masochistic type, but somehow, the thought of you metaphorically killing him only made him harder.

You emerged from behind the velvet curtain about ten minutes after Shoko and Utahime left. You were rifling through your purse for the keys to lock up, which the owner usually entrusted you to do when you performed because you were close personal friends.

Your heels clicked and echoed throughout the vacant space, no signs of life aside from the sound of your footsteps. Even so, you knew you weren’t alone before you had even rounded that corner to exit backstage. You could sense the overwhelming presence of that friend of Iori’s who had been ogling over, and you hadn’t been surprised. When you looked up from your bag and saw his tall figure sitting patiently at the same table he had occupied earlier that night, chin propped in his fist and eyes glowing through the dim space to find yours, you lowered your arms knowingly.

“Hate to break it to you, but the show’s over, pretty boy,” you said smugly. “You’ll be waiting in the dark forever until my next one.”

“That’s okay. I was actually waiting for you,” Satoru replied suavely.

“Is that so?” you stepped down the stairs slowly to make your way over to him. “I don’t give autographs, if that’s what you’re looking for. I haven’t made it that big yet.”

“Whattt? No way. I thought you said you’ve been with all kinds of stars before.”

You walked up to the table, slinging your purse off of your arm and tossing it carelessly on the surface. “Don’t get me wrong. One day I will be,” you sighed. “Just not yet.”

“Well, you could’ve fooled me,” Satoru grinned, watching in the dim light as you slid into the seat across from him. “I’ve never seen anyone perform the way you did.”

“You must not get out much,” you teased. “I’m really not all that special in places like these.”

“Okay, we both know that’s bullshit,” Satoru cocked a brow, giving you a look as your grin widened. “You’re unreal on that stage. I’ve been around enough to know that.”

“Clearly,” you chuckled. “I appreciate the flattery, Gojo.”

Your laugh was heavenly, and holy shit, you remembered his name.

“Satoru,” he corrected you, quickly ridding the both of you of any formalities that could have gotten in the way. Your lips parted slightly with fascination, and you caught the way Satoru’s eyes jumped to the motion.

“Right. Satoru,” you tested his first name on your lips, and Satoru thought that he would have combusted right then and there.

If that hadn’t been enough to blow a fuse in his brain, sitting so close to you and taking in your features within your proximity was a gift within itself. You were even prettier up close, the details he couldn’t quite admire from when you were on stage fully displaying themselves before him exquisitely.

Your eyes were so heavy, lined with a coat of black liner that deepened, accentuated the rich hue of your alluring eyes and your skin so smooth beneath the expertly applied coat of makeup you wore for your performance. You still had on that dress too, only it was concealed by a leather coat that reached your thighs, hiding what Satoru so desperately wanted to see now that he was mere feet away from you.

“So, a colleague of Utahime’s, huh?” you prodded, seeking further information from him. “I wouldn’t have taken you for a teacher.”

Satoru laughed lightly at the sentiment, momentarily forgetting that you had no clue about what his profession could have possibly entailed. “I get that a lot,” he elected to say.

“And at a religious school no less?”

You were testing the water.

“It’s just work,” Satoru shrugged. “I never thought about it as religious or non-religious, which I know is probably weird to say since I am a professor there.”

“No, I get what you mean,” you said. “Work is just work,” you repeated his words, and Satoru smiled.

“Exactly.”

“Then you come to these kinds of bars for, what, a break from all the sanctity?” you mused.

“Not really. I’m actually not much of a drinker. I only came here for the entertainment. Per Utahime’s suggestion, of course.”

“Right,” you smiled. “Speaking of, Utahime doesn’t seem to like you very much. I only got that from the way she introduced you like she wanted your head on a silver platter,” you observed smugly, Satoru releasing an amused breath.

“She acts like she hates me, but I’ve known her for years. She’s just always been easy to mess with and she lets me pick on her.”

You laughed, clearly understanding what he meant. “So you’re that kind of guy, huh? Picking on poor Utahime. No wonder she hates you.”

“Well, when you put it like that, you make me sound like some kinda monster,” Satoru sulked slightly, much to your amusement.

“I wouldn’t mind it if you were. I could take it.”

Satoru’s cock twitched, your words alone enough to further stimulate his lust for you.

You could take it.

The phrase had so many different possible connotations, and you knew it. Your eyes said it all as they melted over his face, surveying his facial reaction to the way you lifted a nail between your teeth to bite down on it mid sentence.

It drove him crazy.

“You don’t seem like the type though,” you countered your previous statement. Satoru leaned forward slightly, inquisitive.

“No?”

“Nah, you seem too nice.”

The blue eyed man snorted. “You think I’m nice?”

“Or maybe that’s not the right word,” your painted finger tapped against your bottom lip, the flesh so plush beneath your touch.

He wanted to feel that softness against him. He wanted your lipstick to stain his body. To stain his life. He wanted you so bad.

“I mean, I guess I do consider myself to be generous,” Satoru played along, a laugh bubbling in his throat.

“Mmmm,” you pressed your lips together, slimming your eyes and setting your elbows onto the table. You leaned into him, eying him closely, studying his cunning smile and pressing your chest into the table. “I take it back.”

“Damn, you don’t think I’m nice anymore?”

“You’re more… extroverted,” you decided. “You know how to talk to people, and it comes off as generosity. Sometimes. But in reality, it’s just you being lighthearted.”

“So lightheartedness and generosity aren’t the same thing?”

“Hell no,” you smirked. “You could be a dickhead and still be spirited.”

He chuckled again. You were so forward. “You’ve got a point.”

“You’re also a little flirty, you know that?” you specified. “I think that’s a part of your ‘lightheartedness.’”

“Oh really?” the strongest sorcerer shifted to open his fist and lean his cheek over in his palm, peering down at you through his lashes. “Pretty, if I’m flirty, then you must be in love with me.”

You were momentarily stunned by the comment, your pleasure with the conversation only growing as Satoru grew more brazen. “Wow. That’s a new one,” you grinned, pretty teeth on display again, and Gojo found himself mirroring the sun before him.

“I’m just saying, I’m not the only one who’s been flirting. You can’t tell me otherwise.”

“I never said I wasn’t,” you admitted freely, your tongue swiping over your bottom lip. Satoru sucked in a heavy breath as his pants only grew tighter. “Hate to break it to you, though, I don’t do love if that’s what you’re looking for.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not. Somehow I didn’t peg you as the type.”

“What did you peg me for?”

Satoru took a few seconds to reply, staring at you. “As a woman who your friend told me would eat me alive.”

“What?” you released a real laugh this time. It was a loud, bright sound that boomed through the empty space and left Satoru’s cheeks aching and dimples popping from how hard he was smiling in reaction to it. He watched the way your head tilted back and your eyes scrunched closed, your expression displaying true thrill.

You were so beautiful, he couldn’t stand it.

“Why’s that so funny?” he asked in the midst of his idiotic simpering.

You swiped a finger under your eye as you calmed, shaking your head with lingering giggles. “Because Utahime would say something like that about me,” you exhaled.

“Can I ask if she was wrong?”

You interlocked your fingers, elbows on the table, and rested your chin atop them. “No, she’s not,” you said, softly. “But you know that anyway, don’t you? You look pretty smart.”

“Aw, thanks for noticing,” Satoru cooed. “You’re right. I knew that the second I saw you.”

You hummed, dragging your eyes over his face, then down to his hands. “Then why are you here, Satoru? To get eaten alive?”

There went Satoru dick for the third time that night, jumping excitedly within the confines of his pants. The predicament began to grow rather uncomfortable, and you were quick to notice when he shifted in his seat in an attempt to be subtle and his dark pupils expanded amidst the pools of sapphire beneath his messy hair.

Your perfectly plucked brow arched as you looked down when he shifted. “Problem?” you asked knowingly, sensually, and god, you were only making his situation worse. Your lips bounced apart with the end of your question, your mouth now slightly agape.

Satoru could feel his skin burn, your presence unbearably intoxicating.

A muscle in Gojo’s brow twitched as you lowered your palms flat to the table and pushed, your chair scooting loudly across the floor. Blue pools of desire followed your figure as you rose from your chair slowly, rounding the table with your fingers dragging along the surface. Satoru’s heart was hammering, entirely fixated on you as you approached and stood over him.

Suddenly, you kicked your foot out and knocked it against the front leg of his chair. Hooking the point of your heel over it, you dragged the furniture away from the table to face you. You broke your eyes from his to look down, the image of his throbbing hardon meeting your eyes kindly.

“Looks like it,” you answered for yourself.

Satoru instinctively released his technique when he saw you coming into him. You leaned over and pressed onto his shoulder, throwing your leg around him to straddle his lap. Satoru hissed, corner of his lips twirling up as his eyes flew to where your thighs crowded around his crotch, tights stretching perfectly over the way the fat of your thighs expanded when you sat.

You pouted, sliding your arms around his neck and tilting your head down to meet his lowered eyes. “What’s wrong? Got no more talk in you?”

The white haired man trembled under you, wordlessly taking you in. You smelled so good, your scent invading every one of his heightened senses as your gentle fingers dragged over the nape of his neck. You leaned in closer, brushing your wine red lips over his glossy ones as he exhaled shakily, warm breath fanning against your skin.

“Am I making you nervous, pretty boy?” you whispered into him, and he fucking shuddered. “I thought you wanted this…”

Your fingers tangled up and into his hair, pushing his locks from his forehead and tilting his head back. You looked over him, marveling at his beauty as his cheeks reddened and his hands cupped over your waist. His lashes fluttered with the brush of your fingers through his silky strands, eyes inky pools as he looked up at you desperately.

“Funny, your dick may be making all the moves for you,” you teased, words vulgar as they dripped from your tongue.

Satoru’s length jumped against your inner thigh, hardening beneath your weight. He clenched his jaw and drew his brows together, digging his fingers into your hips under your coat. You hummed, drawing your lips to his ear. “See? All of a sudden he’s more talkative than you are.”

“Fuck,” Gojo hissed, your voice in his ear snapping something deep within him. “Baby, you’re something else.”

“What are you gonna do about it?” your fingers curved down the side of his jaw and over his throat. “You gonna let me ruin you?”

Satoru smiled breathlessly, his grip around you tightening. “I should be asking you the same thing, pretty…” his heavy hands smoothed down over your ass, pushing you further up against him. You raised your brows, pulling away to look down at him daringly.

“That’s pretty cocky for a guy who lost his words for a second, there,” you licked your lips.

“Oh, baby, you have no idea how cocky I can be.”

You grabbed a fist full of his shirt, tugging harshly. “Then prove it.”

Your mouths were clashing into each other’s before Satoru could even process his next thought, which only would have been something about you. Your lips were so soft, plush as a cloud as they mashed into his own, your red gloss smearing over his lips and chin, painting him red, and Satoru knew then that he could die happy.

Satoru reached up blindly and pushed your jacket off your shoulders. You swiftly shimmied out of the fabric, letting it drop to the floor whilst your lips remained locked hungrily in a primal, hot, greedy battle. The white haired man immediately snatched the opportunity to feel over your body, memorizing the curves that followed his hands beneath the smooth fabric of your tight dress. His legs spread beneath you, feet pressing into the floor to hump up into your hips as your body curved into him like the trickle of water smoothing down a pipe.

He grunted into your mouth as you nipped and bit, curling your tongue into his mouth to fight for your authority. Satoru welcomed your dominance, floating into a twisted heaven as your hand curled over his throat and your tits pressed into his shirt through your dress, thighs rubbing over his sides and nails dragging down his chest to rip open the buttons of his shirt.

“That shirt was expensive,” he breathed heatedly into you between the swift seconds your lips broke apart. Wet smacking filled your ears as you pressed back in, pushing your body flush against his large frame and licking your tongue along his lip.

“I don’t care,” you purred. Satoru released a shaky moan, slamming his lips back into yours, eager to taste every bit of your lipstick and the slick of your tongue.

You jumped back to stretch the material of his shirt further apart, buttons popping with the revelation of his flushed, bare pecs and the hint of his well-sculpted upper abdomen. You dragged the shirt from his shoulders, Satoru yanking his arms free to grab your cheeks and press you harder into him. “Your lips feel so good,” he huffed mindlessly, a string of saliva pulling from the two of you as you parted.

“All I did was kiss you,” you breathed.

“So kiss me more,” he demanded. “Everywhere. Wherever. I don’t give a fuck.”

“So bossy,” you groaned, teeth grazing his jaw as you slid your hands down his exposed skin, feeling over the ridges of his abdominals. Satoru jerked, breath releasing with a vocalized sigh as your touch smoothed over his stomach. You popped open the last button of his shirt and ripped it out from under him, throwing it over your shoulder with a pretty smirk, lipstick smudged messily over your cheek. “I’ll kiss you when I want to kiss you, where I want to kiss you.”

“Don’t be like tha-mmm…”

Your hand slid over the bulge of his pants as you pressed yourself up above it to free the space for your access. Satoru clenched his jaw and watched intensely as your fingers traced over the outline of his hard on teasingly, teeth sinking into your lip as you monitored his reaction. “You feel big, Toru,” you observed sweetly. “Can I call you that? Toru? You like that, baby?”

“Fuck, yes,” he heaved, eyes blurry. “Call me whatever the fuck you want.”

“Atta boy,” you praised, pressing your lips to his cheek as his cock jerked beneath your hand. “Ohhh, look at that. Someone likes praise…”

“You’re- killing me, baby,” he looked up at you, jaw hanging as stuttered breaths escaped him. “Need you to take care of my cock, pretty, can’t handle the way you’re touching me.”

“You must be so used to getting what you want,” you sighed. You leaned to place your finger at the base of his balls, watching the way his body jumped. You slid your finger all the way up his concealed shaft slowly before ripping it away with a sweet smile. Satoru made a noise like a dissatisfied whine in his throat. “I already told you, I’ll do what I want when I want it.”

He tossed his head back, brows curling. “(Y/n),” he whimpered.

“Ooo, don’t say my name like that,” you pushed your hips back down to roll against his cock, a pretty moan fluttering from his muscular throat. “You’ll get me even wetter than I already am.”

Satoru’s hands clutched down onto your thighs, squeezing harshly with aching want.

“Relax,” you ordered, and he did, sinking back into the chair as your hands climbed over him and your lips touched the crook of his jaw. “Good boy.”

You slid your tongue along his skin, sinking your teeth into his neck like a damn vampire, smoothing your open mouth over the stinging bites, marking his skin redder than that makeup you wore. Satoru breathed heavily, twitching beneath you uncontrollably. You hadn’t even done anything to him yet, and he was already a mess at your will. His moans strained in his throat as you sucked circles on his neck mercilessly, capturing any piece of his perfect skin you could find.

He needed you to free his cock so badly. It was causing him pain, at this point, how achingly hard he was. He could feel precum already staining his underwear and soaking through his slacks, but you kept him waiting, pressing you clothed mound to his bulge as his grasping hands pulled your dress over your legs and scrunched it around your waist.

Your lace cut offs and string panties unveiled themselves to him and he almost came then and there beneath you. You were so bad, dressing like this to perform as though you were asking to get fucked afterward. As though you knew Satoru had walked through those doors and would melt into putty the moment you laid your hand on his chest.

“Uh uh,” you whispered, feeling Satoru press his dick up into you again. He could feel the slipperiness between your thighs, soaking your thin underwear and threatening to pool through to touch his clothes. “Stop that,” you said firmly, glaring up at him from where you had begun nipping at his chest.

Your back was arched, your ass sticking out over his lap, and oh, you were just begging to be fucked, but Satoru couldn’t bring himself to do anything but what you told him. Not yet at least. He got off on the way you dominated him, the way you took control with no idea that if he wanted to he could have snapped you in half.

Only, if he wanted to.

“Pretty, I want you so bad,” Satoru said through gritted teeth, gazing longingly at you through the mess of his hair. He involuntarily bucked up into you again and you gasped, gripping his shoulder tightly with one hand and onto the hand that gripped your waist with the other.

There you were. He had finally gotten a reaction from you.

Your face darkened, your eyes hard. You looked back up at him with eyes that could kill, expression falling into intensified hunger. Satoru gulped.

You lifted your hips and grinded them forward, pressing them down and swiveling your lower body with rapid pressure. Gojo inhaled sharply, eying the way you slithered across his dick like a goddamn snake, movements glossy and abrupt. His fingers dug into the skin of your waist, curling into the waistband of your panties and stretching at them eagerly.

“You’re so fucking impatient,” you growled, rolling your hips over him again and moaning softly when his bulge rubbed against your clit. “Shit, how fucking big are you, Toru?”

“You would- hah- know if you took my f-fucking cock out, princess,” Satoru moaned, pulling at your hips to keep them in motion. You finally complied, rocking your sopping cunt against him slowly, the friction against your heat sparking waves of pleasure to your brain.

“Mmm, fuck,” you whispered. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Baby, come on,” Satoru begged, encouraging you to keep going. You began to get yourself off, using his hardon to stroke against you dripping pussy as humped his pants, pulling back and pushing in, back and in. “There you go, pretty, grind that pussy onto me. Make yourself feel good…”

“I said- ah- s-shut up!” You pushed him back by his shoulders harshly, holding him still against the back of the chair as you rode him out through your pants, brows furrowed and mouth hanging open. Your pace quickened, your clit throbbing with each grind it took against his length. “Why do you feel like this with fucking pants on?” you breathed out, confounded by howquickly he was making you feel this good.

“Take them-ngh, fuck- o-off, and it’ll feel better.”

You fumed, slapping a hand over Satoru’s mouth as you glided your throbbing pussy into him hard. A muffled groan escaped Satoru’s mouth, eyes threatening to roll back as a string of curses fled your lips.

You wanted him to shut up. No man had ever spoken to you this much, in such a manner that Gojo was encouraging you with that sweet, needy desperation lacing his deep voice. It was only dragging more arousal from your cunt, and you weren’t used to this. You weren’t used to responding to a man’s body and mouth this way.

You usually did all the talking. You were normally the one watching in amusement as a man shook like a leaf underneath you. You were usually the one experiencing less pleasure, but hell, you had only dry humped Satoru for five minutes and your pussy was already pathetically crying for him. And his mouth, god, he just wouldn’t be quiet, and his inability to do so was threatening to weaken you.

You truly did not want to comply with his desires, but you could no longer deny that the both of you longed for the same thing.

You kept your hand secure over Satoru’s mouth, his fucked out gaze drinking you in as you hurriedly unbuckled his belt, fumbling over the straps and leaning away from him momentarily to do so. Satoru’s hands moved to help you, but you pushed them away, pressing against his mouth harder.

“Don’t touch,” you ordered. His groan of frustration and want vibrated against your palm, his hands grabbing immediately into the plush of your exposed ass beneath you bunched dress.

You scooted further down Satoru’s legs so that you could tug his pants down once you got his belt out of the way. You hadn’t even bothered to stand to pull them all the way down, for you were in far too much of a rush to free his dick to care.

Your fingers found the hem of his boxers, ripping them down quickly. Your lips curved back into a smile, your frustration fading, when his gorgeous cock flew free and smacked angrily against Satoru’s abdomen. A smear of shiny precum spread over his skin in his tip’s wake, the pink head oozing generously. Your eyes grew, internally and temporarily stunned by Satoru’s size. He was long, unnaturally so, with bulging veins wrapped around his shaft and trailing upward. A soft tuft of white hair resided above his dick at the end of a teased happy trail.

Your (e/c) eyes admired his entire figure once more, his heaving breathing, sweaty brawny chest, the love bites you left behind, littering his collarbone and either side of his neck within circles of your lipsticks stains that trailed up to his nose behind your hand, his flushed skin, and sex dazed sapphire pools.

“You’re such a pretty boy, Toru,” you praised. A glimmer of light flickered through his pupils in reaction to your gentle words, a stark contrast to the way harshly you pushed into him.

Gradually, you wrapped your free digits around his base. Satoru moaned, broken voice rumbling into your hand. Your tongue touched the top row of your teeth as you reveled in the feeling of his dick in your hand. It twitched within your soft palm, fluttering toward you with a mind of it’s own.

“You wanna do me a favor, baby?” you asked, and Satoru nodded eagerly. “You wanna move my panties to the side so I can slide your pretty dick inside me?”

Satoru trembled, nodding again with fervor. You leaned down and kissed his cheek again.

“Go ahead,” you spurred him on.

The white haired sorcerer wasted no time in reaching under you to rip his fingers into the thin strap of your thong. He stretched the band out desperately before feeling his way further down, freezing when he touched a cool patch of slick dripping from the cloth hiding your pussy from him.

He pushed the fabric aside as you had advised him to and experimentally slid his fingers over your slit, collecting your sticky fluid as it seeped down his palm. His chest jumped with another muffled moan, eyes hardening when your dark lashes flickered and your thighs jerked over him. You were so wet for him, and you were trying not to show it on your face, but Satoru could tell that you were deprived of him, of real, attentive, passionate doting. He could tell that you needed him as much as he needed you.

Satoru allowed his mind to wander as he sank his index finger past your lips and into your warm, gooey walls. You mewled, hips bucking downward. “Satoru,” you warned, but your voice lacked your previous grit. The blue eyed man smirked behind your palm just seconds prior to your removal of it from his mouth. Your lids grew heavy over your eyes as he dragged his finger out and pushed it back in slowly, swirling around your gummy insides. “Ahhh, shit- f-fuck you!” you moaned, the sounds you released so pretty.

“Don’t fight it, gorgeous,” Satoru coaxed, finding his voice again. He plunged his finger deeper inside you, twisting and twirling so slowly that you almost saw stars. “Fucking hell, this pussy is so greedy. She’s sucking in my finger like it’s nothing. Such a perfect cunt for me.”

“St-Stop with that c-cocky shit, oohhh god,” you gasped, lowering yourself back down and ducking your head into Satoru’s shoulder as he worked another finger into you slowly, your juices squelching loudly with their lazy pump in and out.

“So you can be cocky, but I can’t, hm?” he turned to murmur into your hair, listening to the sinful sounds your needy pussy made around his fingers. Your arousal proceeded to flood over him like a pool, drenching his wrist and dripping onto his balls and the wooden chair. “Mmmm, you really like this, baby. You’re drenching me so good, almost like you’ve never been fingered before.”

“This’s exactly-y why I covered y’r mouth,” you mumbled, breath hot against his neck. “You talk too goddamn muchhh, fuck, Toru, right there! Right fucking there, like thattt…”

“Hm? Like this?” he curled the tips of his fingers against your walls and you yelped, notifying him that he had discovered your sweet spot. “Right there, right pretty?”

“I already told you, yes,” you moaned, gripping the back of his chair. “Yes, yes,” you murmured, and Satoru hissed.

“Enjoy it, baby. So pretty. Such a gorgeous girl, such a gorgeous little pussy…”

“Fuck, Satoru,” you exhaled raggedly. The said man made a noise of acknowledgement, hypnotized by the steady stroke of his fingers into you. With your hand still wrapped over his cock, you slid your it up his shaft slowly, squeezing softly. Satoru’s fingers froze inside you, his face burying into your hair.

“Oh my god…” he grunted, closing his eyes. “Your hands are so perfect.”

“You’re whipped,” you teased, lifting your hips up into the air so that his fingers could reluctantly leave.

Satoru studied the stretch of slick that connected his fingers to your cunt as they left your walls. Before he could protest, you were guiding his tip toward you and sliding your sloppy cunt overtop of it.

“(Y/n), fuckkkk,” Satoru drawled, jaw slack while he watched you ease your way down over him. The tip of his puffy dick slowly disappeared within your slimy walls, and his eyes rolled into the back of his skull with the toss of his head backward. His fingernails imprinted into your sides as you sank down, swallowing his girth and taking him into you.

You huffed out, moaning loudly with your hands now pressed into Satoru’s bare chest. His girth was quick to stretch you before you had even made it halfway. A whine caught in the back of your throat as your face tightened. You had never taken someone so big before, and he was filling you up so deliciously. You could feel every twitch, every curve, every ridge and vein of his heavy, lengthy cock as it slipped further into you, your walls tightening instinctively around him the further down you went.

“Oh, baby,” you purred. “Your dick’so… nghhh, shittt!”

“She’s soakin’ me,” Satoru choked out, assisting your glide down with the drag of your hips to his own. “So tight, god, pretty, you can’t be fucking real. You- this fucking pussy, hahhh, that’s it, baby. That’s it, keeping going. All the way. Please, baby, please. Want to fill you up. Need to be all inside this messy cunt.”

“So big,” you mused, watching as he sank into you halfway, and for the first time in your life, you paused. “Fuck, you’re in my stomach!”

“Take it all, honey, take fucking all of it. You got it, pretty girl. Keep going.”

“Don’t- hah- need your help, fucking- fuck!” You sank down further, pushing with the pull of Satoru’s desperate hands. Your breath left your lungs momentarily, Satoru’s long dick sliding up to the hilt of your pussy and stretching you absolutely full. You could feel him everywhere, your bum reaching his balls the moment you saddled onto him completely.

Satoru’s face stilled into blissful emptiness, staring down at where you were connected and the bulge that prodded against your lower tummy. “That’a girl, fuck, you’re so good,” he babbled, hands sliding up your back. His fingers blindly grabbing for a zipper. He peeled it down once he pinched it, curving his hands under your slipping dress as he exposed your bare skin to the empty space.

The straps of your dress fell down your shoulders accordingly, revealing the plush of your pretty tits that peaked over the fabric. Satoru was overwhelmed, struck by your entire being as you warmed his trembling dick, perky nipples pressing into his line of sight as your dress fell around your waist.

Satoru pushed in, pressing his hands to your lower back and arching you into him as he touched his lips to the center of your tits. His dick nudged your insides with the motion and you inhaled sharply, holding onto him tightly.

“Could you be any more fucking perfect,” he grumbled, catching your perky nimble between his lips.

Your body leaned back and he craned forward along with you, hands supporting your weight to him as he teased your nipple between his teeth. His tongue followed swiftly, lapping over your bud and sucking hungrily off your tit, spit drooling from his mouth as he made out with the plush fat. Your moans carried just as your singing had, lifting melodically into the space and bouncing regally off of the confined walls and casting Satoru deeper under your trance.

“Smell s’good, taste so good, feel so, so good. Can’t get enough of you baby, can’t.”

“You’re so sappy,” you whispered, head rolling on your shoulders and eyes closing as your cunt clenched around him in pleasure.

Satoru moaned into your chest, marking up your boobs as you had his neck. “C’mon, baby,” he grunted. “Kill me.”

You were quick to carefully lift your hips, Satoru’s length sliding along your gummy walls. You were slow at first with the withdrawal before lowering yourself down heavily, his cock slamming back into your aching pussy.

You both moaned in unison, and you wasted no more time. You set a steady pace, pushing up and pushing back down to sink over Satoru’s dick, juices leaking and mixing into his precum as you clenched repeatedly around him. You rode him out carefully, nails digging into his shoulders.

“That’s it,” Satoru purred, peering up at you from under your other tit, eyes dark enough to sink into. “Ride me out, gorgeous, use my cock.”

“Fuck, Toru, you’ve got such a good dick,” you whimpered, reaching up to tug into his hair. Gojo’s eyes rolled, skin slapping lewdly with the collision of your ass rippling against his thighs. The slimy sound of his rock hard cock sliding from your drenched heat was like music to your ears, better than any song you had ever sung, better than any cheers you had ever received.

“Ah-ngh, baby, baby,” Satoru blabbered, already fucked out. “So fucking wet, dripping all over me. Pussy feels so good, so so good…”

“Yeah? You like when I ride your dick, baby? You like being the only one I get to fuck after my show? You like being my toy, tonight?”

“Fuck yes, love it so much. Fucking love the way you fuck this cock, pretty, don’t fucking stop.”

“That’s a good boy, Toru,” you purred, sitting fully onto him mid bounce to roll your hips into his. Satoru moaned loudly, uncaring of his volume. His mouth found your tit again, sucking like a madman as you rode him deeply, ensuring that he felt every corner of your pussy around him and that you felt every glide of his slender cock into your wet heat. “You’re so good, taking my pussy, yeah?”

His cock jerked inside you and he nodded dumbly, tongue swirling desperately over your reddened nipple. You hummed in ecstasy, pushing into him once more and pressing him back as you threw your ass down onto him, slick and pre melting between your connection and stretching with the rapid slaps of your hips into his. You moaned, brows pinching as you brought your lips to Satoru’s parted ones, his groans and whines sliding into your mouth with the insertion of your tongue against his.

“Yessss,” you cooed into him. “So big, you’re filling me up so good.”

“I ca- nghhah,” Gojo was a mess, moaning helplessly as you bounced mercilessly onto his cock, trapping him against you so that neither of you had anywhere to go. “Sl-Slow down, pretty, fuckkk, shit, slow down,” he begged, but you ignored his pleas, bouncing faster as he held your hips shakily.

“Can’t take it, Toru? Hm?”

“Gonna make me fuckin’ cum already, baby, please…”

“So soon?” you nudged, lifting your hips up to roll slowly over his tip before slamming back down, continuing you pace. Satoru choked over his own voice, leaning his head back and slumping into the chair as it rocked angrily beneath your weight, attempting to support your angry thrusts. “Mmm, not surprised, baby. Saw the way you- shit, were looking at me earlier. Saw… saw your pretty hard on from onstage. You wanted my pussy so bad, didn’t you? You wanted to be snug inside me the second you saw me, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he whimpered, eyes screwed shut. “Needed you. Needed to fuck you in this pretty little slutty dress. Needed my dick in this pussy the moment you laid there in front of me. Fuck, wanted to take you right there,” he whined. His hands slid back to your thighs, pressing and clawing and squeezing.

“I know, pretty boy, I know…”

“S’much better than I imagined. F-Fuck, fucking perfect. You’re so perfect. Fucking me just right, pretty.”

“You’ve got such a filthy mouth,” you groaned, head tossing back when Satoru’s dick brushed against your cervix, veins rubbing against your g-spot as you switched to rocking back and forth over him. Satoru’s hands grabbed your ass, his eyes flickering between the way your tits jiggled with your body and his dick bulged against your lower stomach with your grinding.

You knew just how to treat his dick, keeping him snug within your wet cavern and massaging it with the fluidity of your hips. “Nghmm, right there, Toru. Right thereee,” you sighed, face contorting with pleasure.

“Don’t stop, honey,” he reached a hand up to your face. “Don’t stop, keep going. Make yourself cum on my dick.”

“Fuck!”

“Yeahhhh,” he smoothed his thumb over your cheek. “Gorgeous baby, you look gorgeous.”

“Stop that,” you whimpered through broken moans, attempting to shift away from the warmth of his palm.

“Nuh-uh, pretty, let me look at you,” Satoru laced his fingers into the back of your hair, holding your face steady and your eyes to his. “Need to see those pretty eyes, they make me so hard.”

You couldn’t fight the moan that caught you, eyes swimming into his as you rolled your hips over his cock, eyes growing heavier and heavier as a knot built in your lower abdomen and your cunt clenched more frequently.

“Mhmmm,” Satoru hummed in satisfaction. “Keep looking at me, baby.”

“I said stop the sappy shit,” you gritted out through clenched teeth. You didn’t have time to pull his hand away, however, when his feet planted into the floor and he pushed up into you, throwing his arms around your lower waist to hold you to him. You cried out, curling against his chest as Satoru thrusted up into you desperately, balls slapping up against your skin as his hazy eyes peered over your shoulder to watch the connection.

“Come on, baby,” he grumbled into your ear. “Don’t give me that, let me admire you like you deserve.”

“Aghhhh, fuckkk,” you sobbed, your body rocking wildly with the force of Satoru’s thrusts. “God, m’fucking close.”

“Me too, pretty, me too,” Satoru’s voice dipped down ruggedly, an animalistic hoarseness to his tone. He couldn’t stop, fucking into you like a rabbit as if it was the very last thing on earth he was going to do.

You whined, cunt drooling over him as it prepared you for your orgasm. Your clit rubbed against his rigid abdomen, stimulating your nerves further as you quickly approached.

“Give it to me, princess. Milk my fucking cock.”

“Cum inside, Toru,” you demanded, sinking your teeth into his shoulder. “Want your cum in me…”

“Fuck, baby, fuckkkk- mmmm, shit!”

Like an ocean crashing down onto the shore, your orgasms met each other simultaneously, juices drenching his cock with slippery white cream and sticky fluid. Satoru’s arms tightened around you, his seed splurging into your cunt endlessly, his hips rocking with the continual stream of his hot cum into your aching pussy.

Your moans mixed into each other’s loudly, building into a symphony as you rode out your high, grinding weakly into him as your vision went white.

Satoru’s legs twitched, your own practically numb around his waist. His cum proceeded to leak into you, dripping down your legs and onto the floor. The two of you sat there in your breathless aftermath for a moment, Satoru tucking his nose into your shoulder and pressing a soft kiss there. He felt you sink against him, his hands smoothing gently over your back.

The moment you twitched against him, however, his cock jolted with continuous life. Satoru grunted, pushing himself up into you carefully to ease the remaining ache in his dick. You made a low noise, shifting your hips around him.

“Baby,” Satoru sighed. “Let me bring another one out of you.”

You twisted your head to the side, peeling back to look down at him curiously, slowly. Your eyes were tired, yet still dripping with lust, a soft smile playing at your lips. “Another one?” you repeated, somewhat shocked by his persistence.

“Please,” he whispered. “Need to feel you cum around me again.”

Before you could even respond, he was gripping you tight and standing from his now sticky seat. You kept your legs wrapped around him as he carefully laid you on the table, pushing your purse out of the way.

Satoru leaned over you, kissing your lips hungrily then pulling back to peck down your chest and stomach. He was suddenly so soft, caressing you and kissing you, and you watched suspiciously, unfamiliar and normally opposing this kind of contact.

Yet, you allowed Satoru to proceed.

His hands smoothed over your waist, his pants falling to his ankles. He yanked your bunched dress up and over your head, ridding your waist of the clothing article and throwing it carelessly to the side. He yanked your panties down further and slid a thumb over your clit, rubbing gentle, soothing circles over your sensitive, sopping bundle of nerves.

You jolted, feeling his cock harden inside you again as he locked your lips together. He kept his finger rolling over your soaked clit, swallowing your mewls and soft moans into his mouth.

Your hands flew to his shoulders as he pushed into you gently, his cum dripping from your entrance and squishing back up into your cunt with his soft thrust. You broke your lips from his and moaned against him, angling your brows as your pleasure built back up in an instant.

“Let me take care of this pretty pussy,” Satoru mumbled gently. “Seems like y’always take care of everyone else.”

“Satoru-“

“Shhh,” he hushed you as a broken moan fanned over his lips. He pulled back and thrusted back into you again, watching how your mouth froze open cutely and your eyes hardened. “Wanna keep feeling you. Let me keep feeling you.”

“Oh godddd…”

“Yeah, baby, yeah,” Satoru mumbled against you, pussy-drunk. He slid in and out of you with ease, pressing between your legs and pushing fully into you, ensuring that you felt every inch of him gliding back into your pretty cunt, stuffing your cunt back up with his cum. “Could stay in this pussy forever. Shit, she’s so loud. Such a good pussy. My good pussy.”

“Y-gonna split me in h-half,” you stammered, and Satoru grinned a dopey fucked out smile as he gazed at you.

“Look at you, baby,” he cooed, setting a slow pace that gradually picked up speed, rocking into you with the continuous swift caress of your clit. Your body was twitching, brows furling into the sky. “God, fucking look at you. M’so lucky, so lucky I got to have you tonight and not those other- f-fucking, ngh- bastards staring you up and down. Tonight, this pussy is for me. She’s treating me so good.., ruining me for any other pussy.”

“Uhhh, Toru,” you quivered. Satoru responded swiftly, bucking his hips and plowing into you rapidly, watching as your chest stuttered with shattered breaths and your legs writhed around him the quicker he moved circles over your puffy clit. “Gonna- fuck, what the fuckkk, gonna cum againnn…”

“Fuck, can’t get enough of you. Want you to come undone, baby, let go. Let gooo.”

You clawed at his arms, watching his fingers work over your clit and his dick spear into your quivering walls. You dragged your nails down his bicep, leaving bright red scratches, but Satoru couldn’t have cared less.

You came again without warning, liquid gushing around his dick with your stunning cries. Satoru’s eyes glazed over, hand ripping from your clit so that he could cage over you, pressing his body down into yours as he demolished your pussy, squirt sprouting over his skin and with each pull away before he thrusted back in. Your fluids flew everywhere, and Satoru kept going.

“Fuck!! Fuck, fuck, fuck, give it to me, baby, fuck meeee, fuck me harder, Toru!”

You were fucking insatiable. You clawed at his back as his inhumane strength kicked in, his hips snapping against yours with feral aggression, grunting and crying out into your ear.

“Keep squirting on my dick, baby, just fucking like that. You’re so fucking good, love this sloppy cunt. It’s all for me, pretty, all for me.”

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes and Satoru wasn’t far behind you. He snapped himself into you three more times before stilling with a hefty groan, ropes more of his cum pooling into you and spilling onto the ground. He kept his body locked on top of yours, legs kicking around his torso as he fed you his seed, moaning pathetically into your skin. If you weren’t on birth control, you were absolutely sure that Satoru Gojo would have gotten you pregnant.

You huffed heavily, closing your eyes to catch your breath and soak in the silence. Never in your life had you been fucked the way this man had just fucked you at your place of work, and never in your life had you been worshipped or handled the way he had done so to you, despite your understanding of your impact on men.

You laughed suddenly once recovered, body jumping with your amusement. Satoru lifted his head from you, peering down at you, dazed, with his own gentle smile on his lips.

“What’s funny?” he murmured, eyes taking you in like you hung the moon and the stars.

“Nothing, I just- don’t know what I expected from you,” you sighe.

Satoru tilted his head. “In a good or bad way?”

“A fucking good way.”

Your response was enough to have Satoru beaming, lowering his forehead to rest on your chest momentarily. “That’s all I needed to hear,” he breathed. “You really are something else, you know.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“No, really,” he lifted his head for a final time to lock eyes. “I mean it.”

Your face fell slightly as he looked at you. You sucked your teeth, pushing him away the moment your cheeks tingled. “You’re still too sappy.”

Satoru laughed softly. “How could I not be when you’re talented, gorgeous, and you have the best pussy I’ve ever felt in my life?”

“You’re telling me stuff I already know, honey. I’ve heard it all before..”

“Guess I’ll just tell you again and again,” Satoru grinned, stealing a swift kiss from your nose before sitting up carefully, looking down at where the two of you were still connected. “Uhhh… you wouldn’t happen to have a towel around here, do you?”

You grimaced, sitting up on your shoulders to survey the mess that kept the two of you united. You looked up at him, corners of your lips twitching.

“How about we give each other head, lick it up, and call it a night?”

Satoru whipped his head back up to stare at you with wide eyes. You knew you had steered into the right direction when you felt his length harden inside you again.

“Sounds good to me,” he smirked.

•

The following day, Satoru dialed Utahime’s at around one pm. The line rang for a bit before it finally picked up.

“What?” the woman growled into the mic.

“Utahimeee,” Satoru greeted cheerfully, instantly feeling the aggravation wave off of the brown eyed women from the other end of the line. “How are you today?”

“Fine, Gojo. What do you want?”

“Nothing, really. I just wanted to call to tell you that you were right all along. I’m humble enough to admit that. Last night was undoubtedly the best staff outing that we’ve ever had, and it was all thanks to you. I’ll let you plan the things we do more often now,” he beamed.

“…”

Satoru could envision her pinching the bridge of her nose while her other hand pressed the phone to her ear.

Satoru’s lips tugged downward as he tried to hold back the amused laugh that was threatening to leave him. “You there?”

“Yes, I’m here.”

“Oh. Did you hear what I said?”

“You two had sex, didn’t you?”

“Whatttt?” Satoru scoffed. “Me and who?”

“WHO ELSE, IDIOT?!”

The blue eyed man chuckled slightly. “Look, I never kiss and tell.”

“Then why did you call me?!”

“To thank you for your evening suggestion, obviously,” he said. “Oh, and to tell you that I put your little inquiry to the test.”

“What inquiry?”

“That (Y/n) would break me.”

Utahime exhaled loudly. “I really don’t want to hear about that details-“

“I told you already. I don’t kiss and tell,” Satoru reassured. “But, I will say, she’s really not all that evil.”

“I never said she was evil.”

“You said something along those lines.”

“Yes, I meant she schemes. You had sex with her once, Gojo. As long as it stays that way, it’ll be fine. But the longer you spend time with her, the deeper you’ll fall, and the faster you’ll be torn to shreds. She’s my friend and I love her, but I know very well how she gets with men. I’ve seen it a hundred times over.”

Satoru pursed his lips, thinking back to the two of you exchanging numbers after he had walked you home.

“Utahime, let’s not forget who’s the strongest sorcerer of the modern age here. I’ll be fine. I don’t risk falling for anyone.”

“…yeah, that’s what they all say.”

Satoru didn’t take Utahime’s warning seriously, of course. You were too pretty for him to turn away from you so quickly, and if you were willing to keep a casual relationship that didn’t interfere with his line of work or your separation from so, he didn’t see any harm in the matter.

Satoru Gojo was the strongest to roam this planet, yes, but you had still somehow managed to bring the strongest to a point of vulnerability, to a place where he was willing to release his technique for you effortlessly, which he never did in the presence of anyone outside of his students, let alone for a non-sorcerer.

Satoru could absolutely understand and physically see where Utahime was coming from, for your impact on him was strangely inhumane despite you being one yourself but hell, he knew he wouldn’t be able to get you out of his head if he didn’t at least stop by to see you perform and feel himself inside you one more time, if anything.

After all, what could have been the harm in that?

608 notes · View notes

guccifrog · 6 months

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SHE🧸💸

chris sturniolo × f! reader the muwapgucci collab 🌺🍑 : in which matt and chris sturniolo are just two unexperienced losers @muwapsturniolo

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[she- tyler the creator, frank ocean] 0:26 ———♡——— 3:50 ◁◁ ▐ ▌ ▷▷

"ᴵ ʲᵘˢᵗ ʷᵃⁿⁿᵃ ᵗᵃˡᵏ, ᵃⁿᵈ ᶜᵒⁿᵛᵉʳˢᵃᵗᵉ ᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ᴵ ᵘˢᵘᵃˡˡʸ ʲᵘˢᵗ ˢᵗᵃˡᵏ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵐᵃˢᵗᵘʳᵇᵃᵗᵉ"

"FUCK!" Chris yelled as he slammed his fist against the desk, the veins in his neck bulging. He glared at the screen, where his character lay defeated on the floor. Matt and Nate were both grinning smugly on the screen. "It's not fair" he muttered under his breath.

"Maybe if you spent less time whining and more time playing you wouldn't lose," Nate taunted from the screen. "Come on, kid, you're letting us win on purpose, aren't you?" He teased, shaking his head.

Chris rolled his eyes at Nate's comment, not bothering to respond. He knew they were just trying to get under his skin.

He was convinced that the only reason he lost was because he wasn't familiar with the game Matt had suggested, he was sure that if it was a different game he would've kicked their asses. Why you may ask? simply because Chris was aware of the fact that he was a loser, it wasn't a secret that he spent most of his free time playing video games, instead of doing what other teenagers his age do. Chris was a nerd and he knew it. He didn't have many friends, he didn't go to parties, he never had a girlfriend, hell he never even got his first kiss.

With a sigh, he leaned back in his chair, his hand resting lazily on the mouse. As he opened a new window on his computer, looking for a new game to play, until Matt and Nate were done with their current match.

Suddenly, the computer glitches out, the screen flashing a blue color. "What the fuck?" Chris mutters, confused. He slammed the mouse against the desk, making the screen go completely black. But before he could do anything else, the screen turns back on.

"Hey, what's going on?" Nate asks from the screen, his voice filled with confusion.

"My fucking screen was glitching out!" Chris paused. "And then it just...turned back on."

"Just check the cables"Matt suggested, before going back to the game.

"Maybe I should," Chris muttered, leaning forward to inspect the cables connected to his monitor. As he pulled out the cables, one of them snags on something on his desk, causing it to swing wildly. He reaches out to steady it but accidentally clicks on a random notification in the corner of the screen.

"A stream? " he wonders, clicking on the link, curious to see who's streaming. He opens the window and The first thing he sees is a beautiful woman, her hair spilling down her back. A white oversized button-up barely covering her lacey black bra and a tiny black thong. Her long legs were crossed, one hand toying with a strand of her hair as she read the comments from her viewers.

Chris's breath hitched as he recognized the familiar face, he had seen countless times in the back of chemistry class, or walking down the hallway. A pair of thick-framed glasses usually covered her eyes, She was the quiet girl that no one really paid attention to. He always thought she was weird, the way she dressed, and the fact that she never seemed to have any friends. she'd always be by herself, sitting in a corner, always with her headphones on, and as soon as the bell rang, she'd quickly disappear.

He rubbed his eyes, thinking maybe he was hallucinating. He still couldn't believe it. There she was, on a live stream. Her face was slightly flushed, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips as she read through the comments. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the screen. Her tits moved slightly as she leaned forward, her breath hitching as she laughed at something someone had said.

"by the way guys" her voice came through his headset like a whisper, "I ordered some new lingerie and they came today" She paused, giving her viewers a wink before continuing " I'm going to give you guys a special show " her voice dropped an octave, sending a shiver down Chris's spine.

Chris felt his heart racing, his palms growing sweaty as he watched her. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. This was insane. She was going to do a show for them? A show? He didn't know what that meant, but it sounded dirty.

As he continued to watch, she reached up and slowly began to unbutton her shirt, making the whole process last for what seemed like an eternity. Her breasts, perfectly round and full, spilled out of her lacy bra, and she leaned back in her chair, giving the viewers a nice show.

Chris's eyes were wide as he watched, his mouth going dry. he felt a strange mix of excitement and shame coursing through his veins. He glanced around, making sure no one was watching him, before returning his attention to the screen.

His eyes darted between the screen and her breasts, mesmerized by the sight before him. He felt his pants growing tight as she continued to tease her viewers, slowly sliding her fingers down her stomach, revealing more and more of her body.

He felt like he was watching a dream, some sort of surreal experience that he couldn't wake up from. His heart pounded in his chest, and his breath came in ragged gasps. He could feel the warmth spreading through his body, pooling in places it hadn't before. He never felt this way before.

"Fuck" Chris muttered under his breath as her finger brushed against her panties. He glanced at Nate and Matt, who were still oblivious to what was happening, and back to the screen. He felt ashamed, this wasn't the kind of thing he should be watching, but he couldn't look away. Her hand slid further down, and for a brief moment, she parted her lips, a soft moan escaping her mouth. He bit down on his lip, trying to control the growing need in his pants, His heart raced as he watched her, her long lashes casting shadows on her cheeks as she closed her eyes.

"take it off?" She read a comment and chuckled before leaning forward even more" You guys know the rules" she winked, taking another deep breath as her fingers brushed against her soaked panties.

MILFPLEASER sent one thousand dollars!

Chris froze, his eyes wide with disbelief as he read the message on the screen.

she let out a laugh, a mix of surprise and delight. "Goodness," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "Well if you insist..." Her gaze flicked up to meet the camera for a brief moment before darting away again. She moved her hands to her waistband, slowly sliding down her panties, revealing her smooth, wet folds. A gasp escaped her lips as the cool air of the room brushed against her. Her face flushed with excitement, as she bit her lip, trying to steady her breath.

Chris couldn't believe what he was seeing. This was beyond anything he had ever imagined, and his throat felt tight. He glanced down at his pants, wondering if he'd be able to maintain his composure for much longer.

As she continued to tease the viewers, she moved her hips back and forth, rocking her body in time with the sensation. Her breasts swayed with each movement, and her eyes were half-closed, lost in the pleasure. Chris felt like he was intruding on something private, but he just couldn't look away.

His hips jerked forward as he watched her, his breath coming in uneven gasps. He could feel the blood rushing to his crotch, faster and faster, making it hard to think straight. He glanced at Nate and Matt again, but they were still oblivious.

Her movements were hypnotizing, and Chris felt himself growing harder with each passing moment, that it was starting to hurt. He wanted to touch himself, to relieve the ache building up in his crotch, but he was afraid Nate and Matt might notice. His gaze darted between her and his friends once again, What would they say if they found out he was watching this? Would they think he was weird? Perverted?

She slowly got up from her chair, her movements smooth. She turned her back to the camera, her long, shapely legs coming into view. With one hand, she reached down and picked up a piece of clothing from the floor. She turned around, revealing her bare behind to the screen, humming along to the sound of Agora Hills by Doja Cat playing softly in the background.

She raised her arms above her head, the piece of cloth dangling from one hand, it was a pink, lacy thong. Her movements were slow and deliberate, her tits swaying with each breath. She lowered her hands, teasingly, letting the thong slide between her legs, using her hands to pull it up.

Her back arched as she stepped into the thong, pulling it up her legs, and adjusting it until it sat perfectly on her hips. She turned around, facing the camera again, and let out a contented sigh. "what do we think?." She giggled, running her fingers through her hair.

Chris reached his limit. He couldn't take it anymore. His pants were unbearably tight, and he was afraid he might lose control. Without thinking, his hand snuck down to his crotch, his palm pressing against the bulge in his pants. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he pulled his aching erection through the fabric, finally free. He stroked himself slowly, trying to find some relief from the unbearable tension.

He bit his lip, afraid he might make a sound as he continued to stroke himself. His hips moved involuntarily, mimicking the motions he had seen on the screen before. He glanced back at Nate and Matt, still focused on the game, but he could feel his head spinning. The tension was building up inside him, making it hard to focus on anything else.

The girl on the screen continued to tease the viewers, moving her hips suggestively as she talked about the thong. Chris's hand moved faster and faster, his grip tightening on his aching erection. He felt like he was on the verge of climaxing, but he couldn't afford to lose control. Not here, not now.

"Chris?" Nate's voice snapped him out of his trance. He groaned glancing over at his friend, who was looking at him with a mix of confusion and concern. "You okay, man? You've got the weirdest look on your face."

He was screwed. There was no way he could come up with a believable excuse for why he was jerking off on call. He could feel the heat creeping up his neck as he looked at Nate and Matt, his face burning with shame. "Uh... yeah I just hit my hand while checking the cables." He lied, forcing a weak laugh. "It's fine."He managed to say, His hand still working furiously beneath the desk.

"Oh, okay." Nate nodded, looking a bit unconvinced but letting it drop. "So, uh... wanna play another round ?" Chris glanced back at the computer screen, where she was now sitting on the edge of the bed, one leg casually slung over the side. Her hair fell over her shoulder, and she batted her eyelashes at the camera as she talked about her favorite lingerie pieces. She was looking right at him as if she knew exactly what he'd been doing. Her lips curved into a knowing smile.

Chris felt his face flush even deeper. "I'm not really feeling it, I have to go to the bathroom," he lied, pulling his hand away from his crotch and trying to hide his erection. "Why don't you play another round with Matt?" He stood up abruptly, making his way over to the door.

As he walked to the bathroom. He glanced around, making sure no one was in there, before slipping inside and closing the door. he tried to steady his breath and calm his racing heart. He leaned against the wall, taking deep breaths and willing his erection to go down. The image of the girl on the screen, teasing him with her body, was burned into his brain. He wanted nothing more than to go back in there and finish what he started. But he knew he couldn't.

He let out a long, shaky breath and straightened up, trying to regain some semblance of control. He felt like he was on the edge of a cliff, wobbling between sanity and complete, overwhelming desire. The image of the girl kept creeping into his thoughts, making it difficult to focus on anything else.

His hand made its way back to his crotch, desperate for relief, but he stopped himself. He forced his hand back down to his side. This wasn't like him. He wasn't some pervert who jerked off in front of his friends. He was better than that. He took another deep breath, trying to push the image of the girl out of his mind. He glanced at himself in the mirror, seeing the flush in his cheeks and the wild look in his eyes. He took a few more deep breaths, trying to clear his head.

Watching her felt like a pill, and he was helpless to resist. The need to touch himself was overwhelming, but he forced his hand to stay glued to his side. He couldn't believe he was acting like this. He was usually so in control of himself, but she had him completely undone. He wished he could just forget about her, but she was burned into his mind, her every movement etched into his memory.

How did this even happen? Chris thought to himself as he sat down on the bathroom floor. He remembered finding the link and clicking on it out of curiosity. It had seemed innocent enough, just a girl from his class talking about her favorite lingerie. But He couldn't tear his eyes away from the screen, he couldn't resist the urge to touch himself as he watched her.

what's worse, was the fact that she wasn't just some random girl on the internet. She was the weird girl from chemistry class that everyone seemed to forget about, no one ever paid attention to her before, she was just there. But now, she was the center of attention. And it was driving Chris mad. He couldn't get her out of his head. He knew he should just ignore her, forget about her just like before, but he couldn't.

He felt like a creep like there was something wrong with him. He felt like he was stalking her, and watching her every move, wanting to touch her in ways he shouldn't. It was unhealthy, he knew that. But he couldn't help it. She was like a drug, and he was addicted.

taglist ☆@mattestrella@chrisfavoritepepsi@sunsetsturniolos@littlebookworm803@sturniozo@sturniolooooo@athaliahxoxo@rac00ns-are-c00l4@ev3rgreenxtrees@nonamegirlxsturniolo @mooniethesimp31 @ducksturniolo@ifilwtmfc @pepsiimaxx @sleepysturnss @lustfulslxt @ilovemattsworld @hrt-attack @flowerxbunnie @leprechaunbirthdaygirl @secret-sturniolo @that-general-simp @swangelss @familynotfandom @fuckshitslover @styles-sturniolo @lvr-111 @opheliaofficial07 @kiarastromboli @hearts4chriss @braindead4l @sturniolosreads @mattsturnzzz09 @itssophiasstuff @mayhem-72 @b2cute @buckys-celestes @graceciesiels22@urmom2bitch@junnniiieee07@breeloveschris@b2cute@1horrormoviewhore1@mattswrld@urmom2bitch @andreea2992 @luverboychris @mattslolita @thenickgirl

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messylustt · 1 year

Note

Jzhxjsh if can I make another request, I REALLY LOVE TOOOO MUCH YOUR WRITING AND i need jealous like i need oxygen

“ if i didn’t know any better, i’d say you were jealous ” & “ you look really pretty right now ”

only free to me — leon kennedy. ughhhh i need jealous hobie too like bdjskjdks

hobie’s gaze was locked onto the spider variant talking to you. you and hobie were seated, your gaze looking up at the arrival of someone hobie now easily can say he dislikes. hobie found himself slowly reaching out for you, his leg bent up on the long bench. and by subtly tugging at your suit you were forced to slide towards him, his legs now open around you.

his gaze never shifted from the spider variant who was earning a few too many smiles from you. and it almost felt like a relief when the spider finally got called away. you wave him off, before shifting your gaze to hobie, your smile having fallen. “what was that?”

“what was what?” hobie “innocently” asks, his fingers still not having let up their grip on your suit. you look down at his connected hand. “that.”

he looks down too, a small lazy smile edging his lips, as he rubs the material by your hip between his fingertips. “you look really pretty right now…you know that?”

you give hobie a look. you were used to this. this flirting and smirking attitude. “ha ha.” you mockingly say, turning away to continue eating.

“you think i’m joking?” he raises his brows as you glance at him again. his leg around you seems to be more prominent the closer he shifts towards you.

“you’re always joking.” you remark. hobie shakes his head “don’t believe in comedy.”

“oh, that’s right.” you chuckle, unconvinced, looking back to your food. before you can place a forkful in your mouth, hobie redirects it to his as he leans close by you. you smack his hand away, but it’s too late, your foods gone.

“really? i was looking forward to that.” you mutter, frowning. hobie makes a point to eat it slowly, savouring the taste with small sounds, resulting in you elbowing his stomach.

he slightly doubles over, laughing. and just as you go to scold him, the spider variant from before taps your shoulder. “hey, sorry i didn’t get to ask before — mission report run. but uh, are you free tonight?”

you pause, eyes slightly widening. “oh, uh…yea—“

“nah.” hobie instantly cuts in, looping his arm around your shoulder so that you press more into him. “she’s busy, sorry mate.”

you shift your gaze to hobie eyes narrowing sharply in question. “aren’t you?” he asks you raising his brows pointedly.

“no, I’m sorry, I don’t know what he’s talking about — ” you begin to say to the spider variant but hobie swiftly placed his hand over your mouth, your back now having shifted to his front, his stance now straddling the bench.

“she doesn’t wanna admit it, poor thing, but she’s sick. she’s a lil embarrassed.” hobie states, looking to the spider who is eyeing the interaction with a mixture of a nod and a confused expression. you slightly struggle against his grip, but hobie just rests his chin on your shoulder, you now practically flush against him.

“I’ve told her there’s nothin’ to be embarrassed about, but ya know. she likes to keep up appearances.”

“maybe another time…then.” the spider variant suggests.

“hm.” hobie just hums, silently saying ‘no’ in his head, while he fake smiles at the poor spider until he leaves.

that’s when hobie finally let’s up his grip on your mouth, as you spin to face him. “what the hell was that?”

hobie shrugs. “no, no don’t just shrug at me.” you say pointedly. “you’ve done this before. the last time that guy asked me out. I was not sick then, and i’m not sick now.” you pause, eyes narrowing. “if i didn’t know any better, i’d say you were jealous.”

hobie scoffs. “jealous?”

“then explain that.” you gesture in general to the interaction before.

“he’s a dick.” hobie says. “no he’s not.” you answer easily. “he may be thick headed sometimes, but everyone here knows how nice he is. so, come on, what’s your next excuse.”

hobie’s eyes narrow as you cross your arms. you raise your brows waiting. “if you aren’t gonna say anything, then imma go apologise to him and explain that i’m free — ”

this time hobie cuts you off by tugging you closer and grabbing your chin, his lips smashing against yours. you gasp into his mouth, as you’re tipped back, your back forcing to arch as he holds you against him. his seating position made it easier to control the movements.

your seating position made it hard. hobie used that to his advantage as his hands found your waist, his lips wrapping around your lower and sucking. he then begins to slightly shake his head his lips brushing yours. “but you aren’t free…ya wouldnt wanna lie now would ya?”

you’re shocked, and all that comes out of your mouth is “but i don’t have plans tonight.”

hobie chuckles, licking at your lower lip slowly as he makes sure you stay close. “i don’t mean ‘schedule’ wise, love…” his mouth opens against your own, panting breathes mixing. “i mean you aren’t free to anyone but me…”

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ponderingmoonlight · 10 months

Note

what if you were a sorcerer who was dating nanami and when you came back from some mission abroad you got to meet itadori and watch nanami be all dad-like (and itadori obviously loves you)

I LOVED this idea and I thank you in the name of everyone reading this fic for suggesting it before what happened last episode 😭 Please let me know what you think!

Nanami's girlfriend watching Nanami being in full dad mode with Yuji

Pairing: Nanami x girlfriend!reader

Word Count: 1,6k

Synopsis: After finally coming back home from a mission far away, all you want to do is seeing your precious boyfriend Kento again. But instead of a afternoon of cuddling him, you get to see him act like a real dad towards a new student.

Warnings: Really none, mild language here and there, Nanami being the best dad ever, this is the comfort we all need

It’s been a hell of a month. A month of desperately fighting against countless curses, a month away from the love of your life. At first it was like a punch in your face, realizing that you won’t be able to see Kento within the next weeks. And even though you texted every free minute and he called you every night, you missed him more than anything. But now, you’re finally on your way back. Back into your normal life, back into the open arms of your boyfriend.

Your feet carry you down the path to Jujutsu High on their own, remembered with every fiber of your being. Despite all the horrible things you had to endure, being a jujutsu sorcerer feels like your unshakable fate. Even better that Kento is right by your side every step of the way.

“(y/n), is that you? Haven’t see ya for ages! Heard you did really well at…wherever you were”, Gojo shouts from afar.

Your heart jumps up and down in joy, turning around and waving at him frantically. Oh, you never thought you’d miss seeing his stupid grin every morning this much.

“I’m just glad it’s over. Hey, did you see Kento? I’m searching for him”, you reply.

Please, let him be at Jujutsu High. When he called you yesterday, he wasn’t sure whenever he’ll have to leave for a mission today or not. Maybe he’s still here, maybe you’ll be able to help him out. Fighting by his side definitely sounds better than waiting another second to see him, even though all you want to do right now is lay down and sleep for 15 hours straight.

“Oh, he’s in the main building, talking with a new student. You should pay them a visit, I’m sure Yuji will love you.”

Yuji, huh? You haven’t heard his name before. To be honest, the only new student you know of his Megumi Fushiguro. Were you really gone that long? You sign to yourself before shaking your head, a smile forming itself on your lips.

Other than your boyfriend, you love to greet the new students with all your heart. After all, they are your future, the ones who will look after everything when you are gone. It’s your responsibility as well to make them feel welcomed, right?

“In the classroom?”

“Yup. I have to leave now, send my best wishes to precious Nanami!”

You giggle to yourself with a wide smile, moving towards the main building of Jujutsu High, Gojo’s dumb grin still present in your mind. Despite the fact that Kento tells you over and over how annoying that white-haired man is, you know that he still likes him deep down.

Deep deep down.

“Kento?”, you gently question into the biggest classroom in the building, eyes peaking through the door ever so slightly.

Your heart jumps in confusion. Huh, he’s not there. But Gojo sounded so sure of his words. Also, he just came back from the main building, so he knew for sure…

“Where the hell are you”, you mutter to yourself, roaming around the different rooms like a lost puppy.

Until suddenly, your ears perk up.

“Nanami-sensei, I’m looking forward working with you!” a young male voice announces with so much passion that you just have to draw closer.

Wait, did that boy just call your boyfriend Nanami-sensei?

“I’m not a teacher here, don’t call me sensei.”

You giggle to yourself at the annoyed tone in Kento’s voice. Oh, you just know that this touched his heart, without any doubt. Even if he’d never admit it.

“Sorry, it’s just that I think I can learn a lot from you. Gojo-sensei told me about your abilities and I want to be as good as you someday!”

Your heart melts in an instant against the wall, a gently smile plastered on your face. What a sweet boy. Is he the one Gojo talked about earlier, the new student who just arrived named Yuji?

“I’m just here to do my work, Itadori”, your boyfriend remarks dryly.

You bet he crossed his arms in front of his chest, his tall figure lingering over the boy as if he wouldn’t care about his words at all. But you know him better than that. You know he’ll tell you about all the things this student said just before drifting off to sleep that night. Your fingertips begin to tickle, body aching to move closer to the door, to enter it, to finally see your boyfriend again. It’s been so long since you last saw him him, months without sinking into his opened arms.

Fuck it.

“Kento”, you breathe out, body stumbling through the door when you finally catch a glimpse of him.

Oh, he looks just as good as you imagined. Hair neatly trimmed as usual, broad chest covered by his dark blue shirt with his sleeved rolled up ever so slightly and his strong arms crossed.

The eyes of the boy in front of him widen, a bright grin forming on his lips when catching a glimpse of you.

“You must be the new student. Welcome at Jujutsu High! My name is (y/n) and I am a grade 1 sorcerer and this man’s girlfriend. If you have any questions don’t hesitate to call me”, you interduce yourself warmly along with giving him a soft clap on his shoulder.

“You are Nanami-sensei’s girlfriend?”, he repeats without thinking twice.

“Don’t call me that”, Kento grumbles.

“It’s so nice to finally see you again, sweetheart. I missed you”, he continues, placing his hand around your waist in a way that makes you see stars.

Your heart skips a beat, body falling against his in an instant. If he only knew how much you missed him too, how much it touches you to finally be able to lean against his shoulder again. But you will have to put your longing feelings aside until the evening. After all, Kento still has work to do as it seems.

“It’s an honour to meet you, (y/n)-sensei! I hope to work with you someday.”

“Oh, you definitely will”, you giggle at the sweet boy with pink hair in front of you.

“I’ll leave now for my mission.”

“Wait”, Nanami interrupts immediately.

You look up at your boyfriend in surprise. Why is his jaw suddenly so tight?

“There is no way I will let you go there alone.”

“But Nanami-sensei-”

“Don’t call me that. As far as I know, this might be a grade 1 curse. I won’t let you go on your own.”

Oh god, he’s worried. Despite he tries to hide it so miserably, it’s written on his slightly scrunched up face.

You desperately try to hide the grin that starts creeping up your facial features from your boyfriend, covering your cheeky mouth with your hand. It was rare for you to actually see him around his students. And while you know very well how much he cares for him, you never thought he’d sound like a full-on dad while talking to them.

“So you’ll come with me?”

The eyes from the boy in front of you light up immediately, jumping up and down in joy while your boyfriend signs next to you.

“Come on, show a little mercy”, you mutter into his ear amused.

“Get going, Itadori-kun. I don’t want to be late for dinner.”

“Of course, Nanami-sensei. Oh, it was really nice to meet you, (y/n)-sensei, I really hope I’ll see you again someday.”

“Come on or we’ll be late”, your boyfriend protests.

-later that evening-

“How are you doing, love? Does it still hurt?”

Gently, you rub the ointment on the minor wound that is left on his right side, eyes locked with his gorgeous ones.

“Don’t worry, I’m alright. It’s Itadori-kun I’m worried about.”

“You seem to really care about this boy”, you comment softly, hands busy with bandaging him up.

“Not in the way you suggest”, he immediately replies, serious eyes locking with yours.

Pictures of your first encounter with Yuji flood your mind, how your boyfriend spoke to him and refused to let him go on his own. And even now, he seems to have this boy on his precious mind.

“You kinda act like a dad though.”

His eyes widen in horror, hand grabbing your shoulder faster than you’re able to react.

“That’s not true.”

“I doubt it”, you challenge him with a bright smile, bursting out in uncontrollable giggling.

With a swift motion he places himself on top of you, staring down at you in all seriousness with a minor spark of humour glimmering in his eyes while you can’t catch your breath from all the laughter.

“I’m not acting like a dad.”

“Oh, you totally do”, you press out, the sheer weight of his immense body on top of yours making it hard to breathe along with snickering your heart out.

“I just don’t want him to get hurt. He’s still in his first year and new at Jujutsu High. Also, I’m not fully convinced that Gojo takes good care of him”, Nanami explains briefly.

“Well, that’s exactly what good dads do.”

“(y/n)”, he warns you.

He wraps his arms around you so tightly that you aren’t even able to see his face anymore, dying of laughter against his chest while making a few miserable attempts to free yourself out of his grip. God, how much you love that man. How much you love the way he cares about others while not admitting to himself, how he looks after people before thinking even about himself. Kento Nanami has a heart made out of pure gold that he shows far too rare.

“But do you…do you really think I’d be a good dad?”

Tags: @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee @lovelyluna1 @froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso @gojosrealwife @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain @risuola @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny

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ratatouillewastakendammit · 3 months

Note

OMG I LOVED THE Tomorrow, I promise SO MUCH 😭🔥🙏🏻 have you considered of making part two? id be begging on my knees

I'm so glad you liked it!! Thanks for the request! (Also for the person who requested the Hawks version of this trope, it should be done soon! 💙)

Tomorrow, I promise

Pairing: Dabi x Reader

Warnings: language; slight smut/suggestive; as always I have no beta reader and this was made in maybe under two hours because I wanted to get it to yall quickly <3

Find part one here!

"You ready to beg yet?"

In all honesty, your answer would've been yes.

The desire to give in was heinous, to throw away your pride for the tickle of heat budding below your abdomen and that wicked smile coming from the man above you.

Then you heard the knock on the door.

Practically falling off of the bed, your right knee hit the floor, pulling a curse from your mouth as the wood scraped against your skin. You scrambled to your feet, allowing yourself a deep breath for composition before turning the knob.

Magne and Compress met your line of sight, both looking upward as your door creaked open, the hinges rusted with age and lack of care.

"Good morning!" The redhead grinned, lowering her sunglasses to get a better view. "We figured it had been long enough for the quirk to wear off, so we wanted to check on how you were doing..."

Her voice trailed off, face scrunching in surprise. At first, you weren't actually sure why.

Until you felt the wave of heat gnawing at your back.

Eyes narrowed, Dabi had a hand placed on the left side of the door frame, leaning slightly and wearing an expression of pure annoyance.

Magne bit her lip. "Did you two-"

"No!" You sidestepped a few inches, heat blooming in your cheeks. "We definitely did not."

Dabi scoffed, muttering a quiet, "Yeah, thanks, assholes."

"Plus Shigaraki wants to see you two, talk about tomorrow's mission or something." Compress, seemingly able to ignore the less-than-kind comment, nodded to the stairway. "Unless, of course, we're interrupting anything."

Grabbing his free arm, you yanked Dabi in front of you, effectively pushing the group out of the room. "Nope, sounds good. See you soon, bye."

The hurried burst of words was followed by the slam of your door and a sigh. The sound of relief echoed through the space, now devoid of that warmth you kicked yourself for missing. Body resting on the wood, almost like a barricade to the world outside, you pushed yourself forward and towards the dresser.

Picking out a pair of jeans and a hoodie was easy.

Facing the rest of the League was not.

You tried to listen to your leader's explanation of what would be going down tomorrow, fidgeting under the cerulean gaze stemming from across the room.

For what seemed like hours, Shigaraki droned on and on about how pissed off he would be if you messed up again. It felt like a millennium before he waved you all off with a lazed flip of his hand.

Jumping up from your chair far too quickly, you sped-walked to the stairs, going at least two at a time in the direction of your room.

Unfortunately, you weren't fast enough.

Deft hands slid around your waist from behind, picking you off from the mismatched wood and tossing you over Dabi's shoulder.

"Put me down, asshole!" You yelled, ignoring the way his hand rested ever-so conveniently over your behind.

"Sorry, doll," he replied, ushering a soft squeeze to the area above your thigh. The sound he earned drew a wicked grin across his features as he opened the door to his own room. "But not happening."

Locking clicking into place, he marched forward and tossed you onto his bed.

That seemed to be happening far too often lately.

"Wanna know what else isn't gonna happen?" He was on you before you could sit up, hands placed on either side of your body and arms caging you in. "You aren't gonna sit there and pretend like you don't have a thing for me."

"Why the hell does it matter?" You scoffed. "You don't feel the same, so just let it go. Try your best not to be a prick for once."

The words pulled at your chest, but the silence was worse. Abundant and humid, it hung over the air like a toxic gas as Dabi stared at you.

"Are you fucking serious?"

"I-"

"Do you know how fucking hard it was to watch you sit there and bat those pretty, little eyes and go on and on about how much you liked me? How hard it was to say no when you, of all people, are practically begging for me to take you?"

"So, you just wanted to sleep with me."

Rolling his eyes, he smirked. "If I wanted a simple fuck from you, I would've done it yesterday when you were frothing at the mouth."

"I was not." You mumbled, face heating.

"Oh, come on, princess. You gotta admit how needy you are for me at some point." Dabi cradled your chin with his hand, pulling your face upward as he inched closer, the warmth of his breath tickling your ear and sending a chill down your spine. "Or else I can't show you how much I like you."

Tongue running across your neck, his free hand moved under your shirt, hesitating just enough to give you a chance to pull away. When you didn't, his fingers traveled beneath your bra, cupping your chest gently.

He pinched your nipple, earning a small moan. "So, let's hear it."

"Fuck," you cursed, back arching into the warmth of his touch. "Yeah, fine. I like you too, or whatever."

A smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth. "You can do better than that."

"You're an asshole."

"And you're an idiot." He pushed his lips against yours, tongue skimming the bottom, begging for entrance, a request that you happily indulged.

The heat of his touch coursed over your body, warm and inviting and absolutely nothing like the mask he wore. It felt safe, a pure contradiction to what the world saw. The idea that he was only like this with you made your chest feel light.

When he pulled back, taking that heat with him, it was like the air had been sucked from your lungs. Still, the way that he looked at you had a pleasant fervor running through your limbs.

"How the hell could I not like you?"

#mha #mha smut #bnha #bnha imagines #dabi #dabi x reader #touya todoroki x you #touya todoroki x reader #touya todoroki #dabi x you #mha imagines #mha x reader #bnha dabi #bnha x reader

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vivwritesfics · 10 months

Note

angsty to fluff lando fic of reader getting insecure about herself and comparing herself to his ex gf and he reassures her🙏🙏

Y/N looked in the mirror. She was pretty, undeniably so, but she didn't see it that way. She turned from side to side, her phone open on Instagram on the floor in front of her.

She didn't follow her boyfriends ex, but, because of her likes, she came up as suggested. Y/N couldn't help but compare herself.

She wasn't like Lando's ex girlfriend. And it made her wonder. Why did he fall for her when his last girlfriend was so different? And how long until he realised this and went searching for something else?

The front door went, jolting Y/N away from her thoughts. Lando was home. Her boyfriend was home.

It was rare that Y/N let her thoughts get to her like this. But, when did did, Lando could always tell. She became quieter, more closed off. It was a repeating cycle, where Y/N would become closed off and Lando would give her time. But then he'd realise he misses his girlfriend so he'd wrap her in his arms and kiss her all over her face until she started giggling.

Yeah, Lando knew how to deal with this better than anybody. Of course, he didn't know why Y/N retreated into herself. He'd asked, sure, but she wouldn't tell him.

But things would quickly go back to normal. Using nothing but how much he loved her, Lando could get Y/N back to her usual smiling, giggling self.

But was happening more and more often.

It wasn't angering Lando, every time he came home and his girlfriend refused to meet his eye. No, it was worrying him. He just wanted her to be happy. He needed to get to the bottom of this.

Lando didn't know how he was going it. When Y/N wouldn't tell him, it was going to be incredibly difficult. But then, when Y/N went to the bathroom. She left her phone on the bed, screen unlocked on Instagram.

Lando picked up the phone. He wasn't trying to snoop, really. It was out of concern.

And then he saw it, the picture of his ex girlfriend up on Y/N's phone. What the hell?

Lando set off to the bathroom. He knocked on the door before pushing it open. "Lan, do you mind?" Y/N asked.

"Of course not."

No, Lando didn't mind. They'd been in the bathroom together a thousand times before. "Baby, what is this?" He asked as he leaned against the window ledge.

He turned the phone towards her and Y/N suddenly snatched it away from him. "That's my private business," she mumbled, locking the screen.

"Baby, come on. Just tell me what's going on, please," he begged, grabbing a hold of her hands. "I'm worried out you."

Suddenly, Y/N sobbed. She let out a sob, her head falling forward.

Lando let her finish up and met her back in the bedroom, the tear tracks still on her face. "Okay," she said with a shaky breath as she sat on the bed beside Lando.

"Okay?" He had to repeat when she said nothing more.

Y/N sucked in a deep breath. "I... am insecure. I'm really insecure, actually." It was weird to finally admit. After months of the odd spiral here or there, It was strange to finally get off her chest,

"But you have nothing to be insecure of," Lando said.

"But I do, Lan. I keep seeing the pictures of your ex and I can't help but wonder why you're with me." That bit she said quiet. It was embarrassing to admit that she let somebody else make her feel this way.

"No, baby, you don't," Lando insisted. "I love you, right?" He said and waited for her to nod her head. "And I love you for a reason, right?" Again, he waited for her to nod. "And you know there's a reason that I'm not with her again, right?"

Yeah, Y/N knew. There was a reason he and her broke up, she knew.

"And if I thought there was a reason I didn't want to be with you, I wouldn't, right?"

Maybe that was the wrong thing to say. Y/N punched his arm and Lando grabbed a hold of her, pulling her close. He wrestled her into a cuddling position and kissed the top of her head. "I love you, you muppet. Got that?"

"Got it."

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liveontelevision · 6 months

Text

YeeHaw | Lucifer x Reader

FUCK IT WHY NOT

This is a short little thing based off of @bat-boness drawing, requested by @nayomi247 , that also inspired TWO OTHER COWBOY FICS by @nayomi247 and @heart-of-the-morningstar

This community is fucking hilarious and amazing. Check out their stuff next ✌️

CW - suggestive, not super smutty, just Lucifer bein a silly Lil guy.

---

"It's a date!" You struggled to hide your excitement after being asked to accompany the king of Hell on a little trip to the park. That's how he worded it, but you could tell by his fidgeting hands and inconsistent eye contact his true intentions were more romantic.

You were a sterotypical maiden type from western times, your southern drawl still slightly present even after death. You had been in Hell awhile, but the idea of redemption interested you enough to check out the Hazbin facilities. After staying at the hotel for a few months, you became pretty friendly with Lucifer. He left you a nervous wreck at first, his title much more intimidating than his physical appearance. So, it didn't take long for you to realize how much of a sweetheart he was. In contrast, the more time you spent with him, the more anxious he was becoming. God, he was cute.

Admittedly, you had a few encounters already, where things seemed to become heated without either of you really calling attention to it. Some drunken interactions lead to lips locking, and after that, he couldn't even meet your eyes without coming up with some poor joke or excuse to break the tension. The jokes weren't really that funny, but when he followed them with a little eyebrow wiggle and a toothy smirk, you couldn't prevent the smile hitting your face.

It was only a matter of time before he finally decided to make some kind of offical move, even if it was just a "walk in the park." You didn't realize how excited you were until you stood in your room struggling to decide on what to wear, overthinking every little detail. That didn't last long, you decided on a cropped turtle neck and suade vest, with some comfortable shorts, acknowledging the unusually warm day, even for Hell's standards. Appearing at your door as you swung it open, Lucifer startled you into stumbling backward. He may be a little nervous around you, but his instincts were fast, pulling you close by your waist with just one arm around you. You really weren't in danger of falling, but you didn't mind his efforts.

You took the chance to lean forward and press a quick peck onto his forehead before gently pulling out of his grip. "Why, thank you, your highness~," you said in a jokingly formal tone. Still speechless by the suddenly intimate interaction, you took his hand and led him towards the lobby. Only a few steps in, he finally snapped out of his fog. "Oh, no! Wait! This way, dear. Come with me." You turned around at his words as he took both your hands and led you backward into a portal that you didn't realize had materialized until just then.

Looking around the new location, you take in the beautiful park that surrounded the two of you. It was still stained with the dark ruby lights coming from the skies of Hell, but even with that, you could tell how lush the greenery was. Finally having the upper hand with you in a state of shock, Lucifer continued to lead you through the forested area. He let out a little tadaa - opening his arms to present a little field, littered with dandelions. A classic red gingham blanket was sprawled neatly across the grass, a little basket placed in the center. "Ahh, how romantic~ This is great, Luci." You sent a little smile to him, but your pure joy and the nickname you previously gave him while flirting with him when you were both intoxicated sent a little shiver up his spine. He offered his hand to you, helping you comfortably sit onto the blanket. The basket held an assortment of charcuterie, little sandwiches and delicate treats, and a bottle of wine that you could argue was too large for just two demons.

After some lovely conversations, and half a bottle of wine gone, you began going into detail about some more embarrassing topics. "I didn't have friends as a kid, honestly." You pulled your knees in towards your chest, taking a quick swig of your wine. " I spent all my time keeping up the stables and riding my horse, actually. and i used to dress all western - a little hat and handkerchief - I wore my boots everyday, too. God, I was such a dork." He quickly shook his head in response. "Absolutely not! That's adorable!" You choked on the current sip you were taking, simply surprised by the little compliment.

He awkwardly cleared his throat and quickly spoke to clear the silence. "B-Believe it or not, I've never actually ridden a horse." You let out a little scoff, almost in disbelief. "Aren't you like 10,000 years old?" The sin of pride took over almost immediately, Lucifer reacting with a subtle eye twitch. Gaging his reaction, you decided to have fun with it. " You wouldn't be able to handle it anyway. Old man." Your words were rude, but the smile on your face and the action of you leaning towards him made his cheeks flush. Also inching towards your face, he hovered just over your lips. "Oh, yeah? Challenged accepted." He spoke smoothly, snapping his fingers and cruelly pulling away too soon. A horse, or whatever demonic creation that can closely be considered a horse, appeared on the nearby pathway. Was he serious? With a little twirl, he somehow managed to change his clothing into a stereotypical western get up. Oh, he was plastered.

This was amazing. You stood up and quietly walked over to the creature, easily vaulting yourself over the saddle. You held out your hand, reaching for Lucifer. "Fine! Get up here, then. I'll show ya how it's done." Your confidence alone was enough to get him riled up. With a throaty chuckle, he ignored your hand and sat up behind you with just as much ease. "I'll stop whenever you want to, ya know, in case you can't handle it." You patronized him, wiggling your hips a bit to settle into the seat more. "Please, I can handle anything, darlin'." He wiggled his eyebrows at you, a familiar sight that made you smile before you turned to face forward. Your shorts had slid up to reveal the softest part of your thighs, and your back arched to give yourself a tighter grasp. He gulped at the view he had, pulling his newfound bandana that was tied around his neck to get any kind of air to hit his heated skin.

You began with a steady trot, actually using this opportunity to take in your surroundings. You wondered if he found this place or created it just for you. Gradually speeding up, you felt his arms snake around your waist. He pressed his chest to your back, holding his head up by placing his chin on your shoulder. "This all you got, darlin'? I thought you did this all the time. Where's the speed? The showmanship??" He teased, immitating you with an exaggerated southern drawl. You rolled your eyes, hitting your head against his as a little punishment. What a thespian. "Fine! Better hold on tight, baby~" You teased him with another intimate pet name. His already flushed face somehow managed to turn even redder.

You snapped the reign, making the creature reel back on its back legs. The sudden shift forced him to place his hands firmly on your waist and pull your bottom flush to his groin. He let out a little pathetic noise under his breath as you set the speed to a brisk ride. The natural movements created an obvious friction to his member, his hands clawing into your hips that he was holding for stability at first. The loose fabric of your shorts were balled up in his fists as he struggled to keep himself sitting straight. His grip for stability turned into him attempting to keep you as close as possible. He rested his head back on your shoulder, his heavy panting hitting your shoulder blade. "Too much? You just gotta tell me to stop and i'll - " He let out a breathy moan towards your ear, some quiet words falling from his lips, " D-Don't.. don't stop..."

This went on for a few more minutes, your autopilot from the familiar hobby allowing you to truly enjoy Lucifer's little mewls. It felt like hours, it was barely five minutes, before you realized you were approaching the hotel. Considering you didn't know exactly where the little picnic date had started, you were confused by the familiar building. You slowed to a stop, turning back to face your mess of a cowboy. He panted heavily, his hands shaking, but still holding tightly onto your hips. He slowly blinked, finally meeting your eyes. "So? Enjoy the ride, darlin'?" You teased, returning his exaggerated western drawl he was teasing you with previously.

The demonic horse slowly faded into the ground, allowing the two of you to steadily come to a standing position. His head fell, his hands propping up his body by tightly holding his knees, still attempting to steady his breath. "T-That was cruel.. you knew.. hah - you knew what you were doing..!" His words fumbled out between breaths. You took a hold of his chin and lifted his head up to face you. "What do you mean? It was just a quick stroll, I thought you said you could handle anything, Luci." Your voice dripped with a condescending innonence as your lips stopped inches away from his. You finally closed the gap with a heavy kiss onto his lips once his breath seemed more relaxed. Immediately moving into his mouth with your tongue, gripping the hair on his neck and pressing your chest into his.

He melted into your touch, gripping onto your waist in a desperate attempt to keep himself standing. After pulling away, you took his hat and placed it on your own head. He snapped out of it, if anything, still a bit wobbly in the knees. "Now, let's get you out of this ridiculous get up. Hmm?" It took him a moment to process your words, but he stood straight and snapped his fingers almost immediately following your statement. "After you, sweetheart!" His excitement completely overtook his nerves, and he gestured into the portal, his bedroom clearly on the other side. You walked in, gesturing him in with your index finger and pulling the hat rim just above your half lidded eyes with your free hand. He let out a sultry chuckle, untying his bandana as he followed you in. Flinging the scarf off his neck, he shut the portal, leaving the poor accessory to fall onto the now silent fields below.

---

@bat-boness masterpiece of cowboy Luci

@nayomi247 sexy lil fic and @heart-of-the-morningstar steamy yummy fic

!Taglist!

( @vififofum @thornwolfy235 @tinywolfiegirl @chipper-chip @bat-boness @misfitgirlwrites @nayomi247 @lonelynmisunderstood )

#hazbin hotel #hazbin #lucifer hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fandom #lucifer hazbin #lucifer morningstar #lucifer magne #hazbin art #hazbin hotel art #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin smut #lucifer x you #lucifer morningstar x you #hazbin lucifer x reader #lucifer x reader smut #lucifer x reader #lucifer smut

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spatialwave · 1 month

Text

𝐝𝐚𝐳𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝. 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞.

"𝐋-𝐈-𝐕-𝐈-𝐍'."

pairing: angus tully x fem!reader word count: 5.1k summary: you made your choice. what will come of the consequences? surely, only good things, right? all you know is one thing you learned from a wise man: you just gotta keep livin'. l-i-v-i-n'. warnings/tags: MDNI. angst, hurt/comfort, underage drinking and drug use, jealousy, love triangle, name-calling, physical fighting/abuse, emetophobia/mention of v*miting. notes: this is long over due! i've been so happy seeing people still liking the series and i hope this ending does it justice. i'm already missing them, and thinking of ways i could do a little spin-off. suggestions are welcome, hehe.

<- chapter four.

Fucking at the Moon Tower was an activity you could cross off your bucket list, a feat that was surprisingly easy to pull off for an area of land running rampant with drunken teens. It seemed as though luck was dealing your cards for the evening and things had all started to move forward smoothly.

The ordeal with Angus was a bittersweet feeling, of course. Being drunk didn’t mean that you completely lost all touch of your morals.

It just meant that the guilt wouldn’t bother you until it was all over, and you were laying in bed hungover, wondering why you couldn’t have mustered the strength to end things off with Benny before you settled on infidelity. Hell, even now you were the other woman, Angus’s promise of ending things with Elise didn’t make this any better.

The only fighting argument you had against your wrongdoings was the fact that neither you nor Benny had made things… ‘official’, but you sure acted like it. That had to account for something, and you knew very well that if he found out, he wouldn’t be happy.

Forcing the rising guilt back down into the pit of your stomach, you focused on the way the grass felt against the exposed skin on your back. Lifting a hand up to toy with your hair that was rather messy now and let your eyes focus up on the stars in the sky, which were mostly hidden by the light of the moon tower that lifted above the treeline. The sound of gentle breathing next to you kept you calm, shuffling in the grass while you saw Angus turning on his side out of your peripheral vision.

“So,” his voice was deep in his throat as he shifted up on his elbow, able to get a better angle of you, “are we going to do that again sometime?”

You had to fight the smile growing on your lips, twitching at the corners and daring to make you smile like a dork. Leave it to Angus Tully to be the one to keep you from getting lost in your head, and instead, in the here and now.

“No,” you were quick to react, lips spreading into that grin you’d been avoiding, “definitely a one time thing.”

“Ouch, you really are feisty,” he groaned, lifting a hand to his heart and clutching at his chest, his button-up no longer doing its job of keeping him covered, “you have a cold, cold heart.”

A laugh bubbled up from your throat, earning a returning smile from the curly-haired boy, “I don’t have a cold heart. I’ll have you know that I am actually a really good person.”

“Good people don’t have to say they’re good people,” Angus tilted his head, an absent hand reaching forward to tuck some hairs behind your ear.

“Looks like you’ve seen right through me,” you whisper, a shaky breath leaving your lips.

The act itself makes a fierce warmth grow on your cheeks, so warm it reaches the tips of your ears and over your chest. There’s nothing more you can say at this moment, only able to react to his touch and slightly nuzzle your cheek against his hand like a needy pet.

You stared into those big, brown eyes of his and wondered how you got so lucky to meet a boy like him – even if it meant leaving your home. He was truly the only good thing about this town.

Maybe this was the start of something new. Something you both deserved.

Your lips opened to speak, but the sound of someone rushing near you both had startled you up and looking around. A younger boy, likely a freshman, darted past you both and towards a large bush, the sounds coming from him making your nose crinkle as he emptied his stomach.

“Christ,” Angus grumbled, pulling away from you instead pulling you up to your feet, “who’s letting these kids drink their fucking brains out.”

Quickly, you both vacated the area until you were halfway between the puking boy and the party that had continued to go well into the night. Neither of you had noticed that your hands were held tight together until Angus had stepped ahead, and your feet remained planted in the taller grass.

“We can’t tell anyone about what we just did,” the words fell from your lips quickly, eyes settled ahead on the crowds of people that you could see in the distance. All illuminated by headlights and the moon tower.

Benny was there somewhere. So was Elise.

Just like the boy hidden somewhere behind you both, you felt sick to your stomach as the regret coursed back through your veins without Angus able to fix it all for you with his touch.

“Why would I tell anyone?” He retorted, dropping your hand and turning to face you, blocking your sight so you were forced to look up at him, “I’m not looking for problems… you’re not going to say anything are you?”

“...No.”

“That’s not very convincing.”

“God, Angus, what do you want me to say? You just cheated on your girlfriend,” you grumbled, the effects of alcohol and weed wearing thin, making this night feel a lot more real than you wanted it to.

This was supposed to be a night where you hoped you didn’t remember much of it, so drunk and high that you could completely let loose and kick off your last summer before senior year. You were more complicated than that, though, you came with nuances and emotions that you didn’t really understand just yet. You had so many wants and needs, and so many fears.

“I told you I was going to break up with her. You’re acting like I’m the only one who fucked up here, you know,” Angus’s voice was sharper, like it was at the moon tower when he chastised your relationship with Benny, “this was mutual.”

“That’s not what I meant–”

“Do you think me sleeping with you tonight was just for fun? Like I’m going to leave you in the dust and forget about what happened tomorrow morning?” He took a step forward as you took a step back, “I meant what I said. I really like you. Don’t make me overthink this.”

“It’s just,” you started, arms crossing over your chest, “fuck, we really should’ve waited, Angus. I feel like I’m going to be sick.”

A heavy sigh came from him, and you could tell he was fed up, but holding back.

“Yeah,” he eventually breathed, “you’re right, I get it. We… uh, really fucked up.”

You could see his mannerisms change, the sheepish look in his eyes when that very guilt you felt extended into him. But you were young and you were certain this wouldn’t be your last fuck up in your life. You’d get through it – eventually.

“I like you too,” you murmured, fingers twisting into the fabric of your halter top, “I guess we just gotta deal with everything if we want this to work.”

Angus nodded, a tiny smile on his lips that made you feel all sorts of funny, your cheeks warm and belly fluttering with waves of butterflies swirling in a vortex. It was making you feel sick all over again, but for good reasons this time.

“You should come with me in the morning,” he said, kicking a foot into the tall grass, “I’m going with Wooderson to buy Aerosmith tickets… It'll be a good time.”

You were complicated. Wanting to say no because you needed time to cut things off with Benny, and because your mother would freak out when your bed was still empty by morning, but instead you nodded your head without any hesitation.

You were just a teen girl, there were no rules on how you acted or felt.

“Yeah, okay,” you smiled, “maybe.”

“Maybe?” The boy matched your wicked grin, taking a few steps back from you and closer to the party, “I’ll see you later, then.”

You watched in awe as Angus spun on his heels and sauntered back to the party, leaving you in a state of uncertainty. There was much to think about, but his request reminded you of something important.

Life was short.

So, why the hell were you standing in the middle of the wooded forest listening to the sound of some poor boy getting sick when you could be back with your friends getting shitfaced and forgetting about everything that happened.

You pulled your feet forward and carried yourself back to the party, everyone now officially drunk or stoned out of their minds, your friends nowhere to be seen. The beer keg was your first stop, drinking one full cup in quick succession and pouring yourself another.

The cool liquid poured down your throat and numbed your mind instantly, fingers tightening around the red solo cup as your empty stomach greeted the alcohol. You closed your eyes and guzzled down the remainder of the second beer, knowing that any more would likely put you in the same predicament after your argument with Angus.

Fingers crinkled the cup, and you tossed it to the ground, perking up and looking at your surroundings. There were an abundance of drunk teens, your eyes watching two girls take a tumble to the ground together and a boy sitting in the backseat of a convertible coughing his lungs out because of a particularly intense bong rip.

“Where the fuck is Kaye?” You sighed under your breath, eyes scanning the area and excusing yourself when two boys asked you to move away from the keg. With your bottom lip tucked between your teeth, you begin walking away in hopes to scout around the party for a familiar face.

Just as your eyes nestled on your friend, who was sitting on the back of Tony’s car, you felt someone shove themselves against you roughly – with intention.

“Buzz off,” you groaned, catching your footing before nearly crashing into the ground.

Perking up, your eyes darted over to the other and saw none other than Darla standing there with eyes narrowed and cheeks flush with anger. A few paces behind was Elise, looking just as angry.

“You slut,” Darla hissed, taking taunting steps toward you and her voice loud enough to grab the attention of the two boys taking beer from the keg, “you must like stealing boys, huh? Stealing Benny from me, then trying so hard to get Angus’s attention and acting like you’re nothing but a saint,” her face twisted with fury as she spoke, “stupid bitch.”

You gasped loudly as Darla flung beer at you, the lukewarm liquid splashing against your chest and soaking your halter top.

“I had no idea you and Benny were a thing!” You blurted quickly, always wondering why these things had to happen after you finished downing multiple beers, “and nothing’s happening with Angus… he’s just a friend.”

Both of your hands had lifted in defense, breath shaky as you watched Darla and Elise’s combined anger unfold in front of you. You were hoping that tonight would treat you with more grace than it could have, but karma was doing its work.

Darla’s lips curved into a sickening grin as she threw the red cup at you, as if pouring the beer wasn’t enough. “You think we’re stupid? Like we haven’t seen you flirting with him for the past few weeks? God…” she shook her head, an airy laugh of disbelief coming from her, “and you try to tell me that you had no idea Benny and I were a thing? I get that you’re new here, but you’d have to be really dumb to not know what’s going on around you.”

“Okay,” you said, trying to level with the girl that looked like she could pounce any moment, “maybe I didn’t do my research with others before spending time with Benny, but in my defense he didn’t tell me anything. I just… I figured he was single. You should be getting mad at him!”

“God, stop acting like you’re the victim here!” She laughed against and balled her fists together, and you knew then and there that there was nothing you could do to share your side of things. She was far too angry, and much too drunk, “You’re such a stuck up bitch, like every dumb prissy girl from the West Coast.”

Your eyes flickered over to Elise, who seemed to have some semblance of sobriety at the moment, but doing nothing to make this situation any better for you. When you settled your gaze back on the girl in front of you, you saw the anger boiling beneath the surface. She was starting to talk angry nonsense which you had no bite over.

You either needed to make one quick response to shut her down, or get the hell out of there.

“Darla–”

Before you could plead anymore in a last-ditch attempt to bury the hatchet and keep it from escalating, a flimsy hand met with your nose and pain shot through your head. Darla sucker-punched you, making a fool out of you. As you grabbed at your face, wincing loudly in pain and feeling blood drip down your nose, you heard the other girl yelping from the pain radiating in her hand. “What the fuck?” You roared, eyes wide and anger flowing through you. Not once had anyone ever disrespected you like this, and even though you wanted to lay down in a ball and cry the pain away, there was a rush of adrenaline keeping you afloat.

“Aw, look, she’s angry,” Darla laughed in your face, taking a step back, but you lunged. She wasn’t getting the satisfaction.

The two of you tumbled to the ground and hands began to tug at clothes and hair, shouts and yelps garnering the attention of anyone close. “Holy shit,” you heard Elise’s voice just barely because soon all you could hear were people yelling and cheering you on. Well, both of you. Two girls drunkenly fighting? It made for great party entertainment.

“You stupid bitch!” Darla squealed as you yanked on her hair, tugging her back to the ground after she tried standing up.

“You punched me first, asshole!” You yelled, unable to land any good hits on her and resorting to some lowly slaps and kicks. Finally, you managed to get on top of her, holding her down with her weight as you straddled her and she was doing her best to push you off, “Fuck you,” you spat at her, fist tightened as you punched.

But it never landed.

“Hey, break it up!” Kaye’s voice was loud, quieting down everyone who had been bystanders, watching and cheering.

“Let me at her!” You growled, kicking your legs out as you were pulled back, watching as Elise and Shavonne pulled Darla away. Then, you saw Kaye to your left and realized it wasn’t her pulling you away from the fight; you glance over your shoulder and see Angus staring down at you, dragging you far from the scrap.

“Fuck you!” Darla snapped at you, stumbling on her feet and smoothing down her clothing that had gone askew from your wild hands that savagely attacked her, “You’re dead to us, Tully! Dead. Have that worn-in skank!”

“Easy now,” Shavonne’s voice could be heard.

“Are you okay?” Angus’s voice was loud in your ear and you could smell the beer on his lips he forced you to look his way, “Fuck. You’re going to be bruised tomorrow.”

“C’mon, let’s get her out of here,” Kaye jumped in, helping him pull you away.

Your eyes flickered around, seeing the crowd fizzling out and how Elise looked at you and Angus with a clenched jaw. She extended a middle finger out, and for some reason it sent a wave of relief through your body – was it over now? Would her and Darla finally give up on tormenting you?

Angus and Kaye got you situated onto the back of his car, sitting atop the trunk, your legs dangling as the boy tended to your bloody nose and busted lip. The pain was rising now that the adrenaline was leaving your body, leaving you squirming under his touch as he used his sleeve to wipe the dried blood that coated your upper lip. Not only that, but your soaked halter top was making you terribly uncomfortable.

“I’m fine–”

“Not fine,” Angus cut you off, looking into your eyes.

“I’ll be fine,” you reiterated, looking rather sheepish, “she started it.”

“Yeah, I saw,” he smirked, tucking some of your hair behind your hair, “you gotta’ get better at fighting. That was bad.”

“Easier said than done. Are you going to teach me?”

“Sure.”

The silence between you both is welcomed, and you hadn’t realized that Kaye left. Kegs were emptied dry, which meant everyone had begun to leave and go home or move onto an after party. You two stayed situated in your spot, though, unmoving as the cars around you filled with teens and roared into the night.

“I broke up with her,” Angus admitted, shrugging his shoulders, “I would have rather waited until tomorrow, but that’s not fair to either of you.”

You click your tongue knowingly, rolling your eyes playfully, “So, you’re the reason Darla came and unleashed her anger out on me, huh?”

“No, that’s because she bottles shit down until she’s hammered and she finally had the balls to confront you about it,” he smiled at you, lifting both hands to cup your cheeks, “you took it like a badass, though. I think you look hot.”

“Yeah, I feel so hot–”

You’re cut off by Angus’s lips pressing to yours, a gentle kiss that’s careful of your wounds. You wince in pain, pulling back and lifting a hand to the side of your lip that’s tender and a bit swollen.

“Shit, sorry,” he exhaled, pulling back from you.

“It’s okay,” you laughed, arms wrapping around his neck and instead pulling him into a tight hug, “thank you.”

“For what?” he asked, hands on your back and brushing his fingers along the exposed skin from your revealing halter top.

“For dealing with me,” you murmured, burying your face into his curly hair that clung around his ears, “I’ve been a mess tonight. Honest to god, I’m usually not this insane.”

A laugh bubbled up from his chest, the sound vibrating against your neck as he pressed a few soft kisses to your skin, “hm, it’s okay. I can deal with crazy.”

Both you and Angus found yourself unable to leave each other’s arms for a short while, as if making up for lost time between the two of you. Not even an hour later, and after a good makeout session in the back of his car and changing into one of his oversized band shirts, you found yourself in the middle of the football field, laying between Angus’s legs and your head pressed against his exposed stomach from the shirt that you’d unbuttoned earlier.

To your left was Jason and Shavonne, having made up for the night, and beside them was Slater, who was digging into a baggy of weed and rolling up a few fatties for the group to share.

Wooderson stood tall in front of everyone, reading from the pact that Angus still hadn’t signed.

“Not to indulge in any alcohol, drugs, sex after 12, or any other illegal activity,” he stepped toward everyone, who had started laughing. Angus groaned, sitting upright and reaching out for the paper with a grouchy look on his face, “found that in your glove compartment, man.”

“You know you’re the third person who’s given me this today? God,” he groaned, rolling it up and tucking it into his jean pocket.

“What’re you going to do?” You asked, looking up at him and bringing the cigarette to your lips that you two had been sharing.

“I don’t know,” Angus complained, wiping his face with his hands and looking between everyone, “I’ll probably just end up signing, I just don’t want to give in too easy, y’know?”

“Man,” Wooderson looked at him through half-lidded eyes, taking a hit of his joint and exhaling a large cloud of smoke, “that’s the same bullshit they tried to pull in my day. If it ain’t that piece of paper, some other choice they’re going to try and make for you. You gotta do what Angus Tully wants to do, man.”

You looked up at the curly-haired boy, admiring his features that illuminated from the large flood lights on the football field. You noticed the way he listened earnestly to Wooderson, who wasn’t known for great advice, but so far this was sound.

As he watched the older guy, his hand played absently with your hair, leaving you far-too relaxed and tired for someone who was planning on heading out to get tickets once the sun was fully risen above the horizon. There wasn’t much longer before it would be up.

“And let me tell you this. The older you do get, the more rules they’re gonna try to get you to follow. You just gotta keep livin’ man. L-I-V-I-N’.” He beamed, earning a few giggles from everyone around as he collapsed onto the ground next to Slater.

“If you’re gonna sign that paper, man, you should throw a little grass right in the middle, man. Roll it up, and sign the joint, man. That’s gonna tell ‘em something.” Slater spoke, eyes practically shut as his reddened eyes looked around at everyone sharing laughs at his words.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you, Slate?” You piped up, grinning from ear to ear.

“Yeah, man. The size you could get out of that paper would keep me high all day, man.”

“So what?” Jason broke into the conversation, head in Shavonne’s lap and eyes closed, “you gotta think about it. We’ve had a lot of really good times here, Tully.”

You sink a bit lower, able to tilt your head back and get a proper look at the boy you’d fallen in love with so deeply, smiling, “He’s not wrong. I mean, you’re, like, king of the school, you know? You get away with whatever you want, anyway.”

Angus let out a heavy exhale through his nostrils, leaning his head back as he slipped out from beneath you and rose to his feet. You pushed yourself up, eyes trailing him as you smoked the last of the cigarette and held the filter between your fingers.

“All I’m sayin’ is that if I ever start referring to these as the best years of my life, remind me to kill myself,” he grunted, car keys in one hand and ready to toss away that slip back into his glove compartment so he could forget about it.

Jason sighed, “Look, Tully, all I’m sayin’ is that I wanna look back and say, that I did it the best I could while I was stuck in this place, had as much fun as I could when I was stuck in this place,” he continued and you watched Angus, seeing how he paused in his steps and listened, back turned from everyone, “played as hard I could when I was stuck in this place, dogged as many chicks as I could when I was stuck in this place.”

Everyone laughed again, Shavonne mostly groaning as she shoved at Jason, “Yeah, right, Mr. Premature Ejaculation.”

As the couple to your left playfully fought each other, and Slater and Wooderson laughed at them, your eyes settled on Angus. He returned your gaze, staring at you with a small smile. A hand lifted and motioned for you to go to him, and you obediently listened, rising to your feet and sauntering his way.

“Do what you need to do, Tully,” you said to him, in a perfect buzzed state from the cigarette and joint you’d smoked. You lifted your hands, palms pressing against his chest and his hands wrapping around you loosely, “Don’t let anyone make that decision for you.”

Angus smiled down at you, needing to hear that. After a day of being told what to do by everyone, it was nice to know that you would have his back.

“Thanks,” he murmured, lowering his head to press a kiss to your lips. It was gentle, exactly what you needed. His hands lifted up to caress the sides of your neck, licking over your bottom lip and eager to make it heavier than it needed to be in front of your friends – you were already walking around with two visibly hickies on your neck from your rendezvous in the car before coming to the football field.

Just as you pulled from him, noses bumping together, bright, shining headlights startled everyone.

“Oh, shit, are those the cops?” Shavonne perked up.

“Hey, all of you! Get over here!” One of the cops called as he exited the car and slammed the door, waving you down, “Now!”

The group all listened, rather slowly of course. It wasn’t illegal to be on the football field, but it was illegal to be smoking weed. Slater sneakily tucked the bag into his pants, sulking behind everyone else who made their way to the fence.

It was embarrassing, the cops making you all line up like a bunch of criminals. Your back pressed against the chain link fence, wanting nothing more than to be at home in the comfort of your bed, preferably with Angus by your side. But no, the cops recognized Jason and Angus immediately and called the coach – and no one was to leave, even as the sun began to rise over the horizon.

“Tully. Smith.” The coach grumbled from his spot in the driver’s seat, having pulled up in his Jeep and staring you all down like he actually had some semblance of authority. It was laughable, especially to Angus, “Get your scrawny butts over here!”

“Morning, Coach,” Jason smiled, hands in his pockets as Angus lagged behind.

You and Shavonne, on the other hand, stood back and shared quiet laughs at the situation. It’s not like you could help it, when your body was minutes away from crashing into the deepest sleep of your life, it was hard not to find every little thing at least kind of hilarious.

“What’s going on?” He berated the two football players like an angry father.

“False alarm, Coach.” Angus said nonchalantly and you could tell that he was over the conversation already. All he wanted was to get to the city to buy Aerosmith tickets.

“Come here, Tully.” The coach beckoned and you couldn’t quite hear over the conversation, but the angry look on Angus’s face told everything you needed to know about what was happening.

“How can you talk that way, huh?” Angus’s voice was loud as he took a step back from the vehicle, looking over his shoulder and at you for a brief moment before turning back around, “You don’t know any of them, what do you know about bad fucking influences? You think I’m some perfect angel?”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying. I’m willing to wipe the slate clean if you straighten up, stop hanging out with these hoodlums and sign the goddamn commitment.”

“Hoodlums?” You and Slater said together, both looking at Angus and the coach with half-lidded, red eyes.

Angus rubbed a hand over his mouth, letting out a breathy chuckle, “You know what coach,” he started, looking back at you again, a smile on his lips, “I gotta get going. Me and my loser friends, and girlfriend… Well, we’re gonna go get Aerosmith tickets. Can’t be fucking late. Top priority of the summer.”

It was a subtle mention, but the title of ‘girlfriend’ made your stomach swirl in all sorts of ways and you could see Shavonne’s devilish smirk in your peripheral vision.

Angus began making his way back over to you, but then he spun on his feet, looking back to Jason and coach, “Oh, coach,” he said, digging into his pocket and retracing his steps back to the Jeep, “I forgot,” he cleared his throat, crumpling the paper, “I might play ball, but I will never sign that.”

The taller boy tossed the paper right into his vehicle, jaw clenching and staring daggers at him before turning back around and heading your way, huffing as he let his anger dissipate and the coach sped away.

“Shit, man, that’s livin’!” Wooderson grinned, giving Angus’s hand a smack, “Now come on, I’m getting my third wind. Let’s get on the road.”

“You comin’ man?” Slater spoke up, looking at Angus, then to you, “You’re definitely coming.”

“Oh, I am?” You snorted, shoving Slater playfully as you walked next to Angus, your hand slipping into his almost perfectly, “What about you guys?” You shot a look over to Shavonne and Jason, the latter looking like he’s going to collapse any minute.

“No, I’m tired,” he mumbled, hardly able to open both eyes as Angus tossed his keys to Shavonne. The blond looked at Angus, smacking his lips a few times, “So, that’s that, huh?

Angus shrugged his shoulders, looking at his friend and giving him a couple pats on the shoulder, “I’ll see you later, man,” he told him, nodding and watching as Shavonne began dragging him over to Angus’s car.

You and Slater settled into the backseat of Wooderson’s car, passing a joint back and forth as wind rushed through the open windows and left your hair blowing wildly around. Angus would look back at you every so often, checking on you and shooting that charismatic smile of his as music blared loudly through the radio – Slow Ride by Foghat.

You know, things may not have gone the way you wanted them to go, but hell, it was better than a shitty night stuck at home. Your lip was busted, nose still throbbing, and you didn’t really have an answer to what was going on with you and Benny and it wracked you with guilt.

But you’re only seventeen, you’re meant to make fucking mistakes, lots of them – to learn from them. That’s the fun of life because if you hadn’t fucked up as much as you did, you wouldn’t have been with your favourite people, riding off to the city with the smell of weed and summer break tickling your nose.

Angus’s eyes met your own once again, those stupid, big brown eyes. You passed the joint over, grinning like a fool as he winked at you.

There was nothing but the morning sun rising in the sky, great music and even better friends – and you knew summer was going to be full of everything you needed.

#angus tully #the holdovers #angus tully x reader #the holdovers fic #angus tully fic #dominic sessa #dominic sessa fic #angus tully x you #dazed and confused fic #dazed and confused x reader #wordsbyspatial

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ramp-it-up · 2 years

Text

Bucky Charms

Summary: You learn more about Bucky other than the physical. Are you ready to risk it all?

Pairing: Dark CEO! Bucky Barnes x Journalist! Reader

Warnings: As always, 18+ ONLY, SMUT. Minors DNI. ANGST. Fluff. Descriptions of past trauma, kidnapping, death, violence. Steve and Sam, Pining, lust, flirting through music, teasing, karaoke, non con surveillance, oral sex (m recieving) degradation kink alongside praise kink, Sir kink, good girl/bad girl kink, p in v (wrap it up!) lil bit of breeding kink, Soft Dark Bucky.

A/N: This is part of the Playlist Series. Read the previous part, F*cking Bucky @ysmmsy and @blackwidownat2814 are my exquisite muses who created the playlists, with more to come. 😉 Thanks you both! 🥰 please leave feedback, like and reblog. It helps to inspire me. 😊

The playlist is real and is linked here!

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

I’ll stop the world and melt with you/you’ve seen the difference/ and it’s getting better all the time/there’s nothing you and I won’t do/I’ll stop the world and melt with you…the future’s open wide…

You listened to that cut over and over until you fell asleep after Bucky left your apartment and woke up with it still on repeat.

You’d certainly melted for James Buchanan Barnes last night, and he melted all over you. You smiled at the window, feeling light and buoyant as air, but then sat up and frowned as you realized what Bucky said.

“Professional.”

He’d suggested that you could both be professional. After last night, you didn’t think you could do it, but you had to try. You moved to get out of bed and realized that you were still sore.

You grinned as you padded to the bathroom and ran another hot bath. You didn’t regret a single thing about the night before.

And you had a feeling that despite what Bucky had said, neither did he.

Bucky was late to work. For him. He walked into the office at 8:45 am.

Steve and Sam shared a look across the shared space, but didn’t say a word. Until Bucky put in his AirPods and started singing Frank Ocean.

A tornado flew around my room before you came/Excuse the mess it made…

“Okay. What the hell is going on?”

Bucky stared up at Sam who was now hovering over his desk and who’s broken through his noise cancellation.

“Hunh?

Steve got up and walked over to Bucky.

“Don’t play dumb with us. You are late, and in an awfully good mood. Singing, Buck? What happened last night, Bucky. Did you get with Y/N?”

Bucky looked up at the two men who were most like brothers in his life. He couldn’t hide anything from them.

“So what if I did get lucky last night?”

Bucky put his long legs up on his desk and leaned back in his ergonomic chair.

“What makes you think it was her? There are 4.3 million women in this city.”

Steve and Sam just stared at him, then Steve spoke again.

“Sure. But there’s only one that you are laser focused on.”

Sam agreed.

“Yeah, you’re like a dog with a bone.”

Bucky’s grin got wider and he just shrugged his shoulders.

“I don’t kiss and tell.”

Sam shook his head.

“I’ve heard that before. That means this is serious, because in the old days…”

“We got a blow by blow. Literally.”

“Fuck you Steve. And fuck you Sam.”

Bucky threw up double birds at his friends.

“And step the fuck back from my work space. I’ve got work to do.”

When his business partners had safely retreated, Bucky picked up his phone to text you. He couldn’t not text you the morning after, but he had to be careful.

“See you at 4 o’clock. Looking forward to moving on with this project.”

You read the text, your heart beating a mile a minute when you saw the notification. You took some deep breaths as you walked to the subway station to go into the city. It was pretty straightforward. No subtext to be parsed out.

There was no way to know that you were the project that Bucky was talking about.

Both of you went through your days, listening to the playlist Bucky was building throughout the day. This was not the music to do work to. The songs were cute and flirty, silly, surprising, and in some cases full of emotion that went well beyond a professional relationship.

But it was just music, right?

You two sent songs flying to the playlist throughout the day, flirting with music in place of words, glances, and touch. Etta James, Savage Garden, Monica, The Pogues, Frank Ocean, The Darkness, from the 80’s to last month.

It was a very eclectic mix that seemed to summarize both of your personalities perfectly. On the A train that afternoon, you caught an older woman smiling at you as you cheesed at your phone.

Bucky was becoming more and more active on IG since your interview and he’d posted a photo. It was a close up selfie of him staring off into space at his desk in a dark grey suit with a purple line-patterned tie. He wasn’t wearing his glasses and his blue eyes were dreamy.

This man was posting thirst traps fully clothed. And judging from some of the comments, plenty of people were falling for it. There were over 1200 likes in the 90 minutes it had been up.

You didn’t want to like the picture, but then you read the caption.

No time to relax! Finished a full day of work, looking forward to working on a passion project this afternoon. #Icanseethebluerskieslikemulticoloredflowerfields

You scrolled through the comments, people saying how handsome he was, sending their coochie through the interwebs. You sighed, and liked the picture, and then posted your own comment.

I drifted off the Earth to march in your parade/Colors on me moving slowly

Bucky was waiting for your comment, ignoring all of the thirst replies and hoping that you’d respond. He replied with two perfect words.

Technicolor, girl.

Then came another slew of comments about his response and you started gaining random followers.

Oh lord, you thought, this was going to be a lot.

You decided to get control of yourself before 4 pm. If not, you would fall right into Bucky’s arms as soon as you arrived. And that wouldn't do, would it?

45 minutes later, you stood in front of Bucky Barnes’s brownstone for a minute making sure you had composure. You did a mental check of all your systems.

Heart rate: normal.

Breathing: easy.

Panties: dry.

You were confident that you were in full control and could be professional. You paused and bit your lip as you thought of the night before Bucky had made you feel like no one else had. You shook your head to clear it.

You could do it. You could be strong. He probably wasn’t as attractive as you were making him out to be. After all, it had been a while, you were horny, and now, you were fine.

Your hormones had made him out to be more than he actually was. He wasn’t all that. The dick was only amazing because you’d been sex starved. That was it. He had no control over you.

You stood up straight, your self-talk making you confident, you reached up to knock on the door.

Bucky watched your internal struggle on his laptop. He admired the body that he felt like he knew so well after just one night. Your choice of outfit was modest, but sexy. Blue chambray shirt over slim fit black pants and tank with wedge sandals. You were covered, professional, yet comfortable. There was only one upgrade he would recommend.

His blue chambray shirt. But all in due time.

Bucky studied your countenance and posture as you paused before you attempted to enter. The way you bit your lip made his cock shift, but he willed it down. You looked as if you were confident in your self restraint.

Perfect.

He loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt as you knocked, once, twice, three times and when he saw you look around and lick your lips, tentatively reaching for the digital lock on the door was when he went to open it.

Your heart started beating off kilter when your knock went unanswered.

System one down.

You moistened your lips and looked up and down the street. There was no mistaking what he said last night. It was the right time. And the right place. You had the combination to the door, but you remembered what happened the last time you entered. But you screwed your courage and reached for the lock.

The lock drew away from your hand and you moved as if you were falling down Alice’s rabbit hole when Bucky opened the door.

First sensation: the sound of The Internet playing on a sound system behind him and you knew you were in trouble.

Know you wrong/But sho you right/Home alone/For the night…

Second sensation: falling in slow motion into Bucky’s arms as you tried to follow the knob.

“Oh!”

You stumbled forward further into his chest.

“Hey!”

Bucky chuckled as he held you fast. You two stared at each other and you forgot to breathe. Damn, he was as handsome as you thought. Even more so.

System two down.

Bucky inhaled a good whiff of your scent and smiled down at you.

“We have got to stop meeting like this.”

You looked up at him, slightly confused as you attempted to process the next sensations of Bucky’s hands on your body, the smell of him all around you, and that sexy tenor in your ears. And that smile, that face, that mouth. Your serotonin spiked.

Bucky just continued to smile as you remembered yourself. You pulled back and straightened your clothes.

You concentrated hard for system three to stay afloat. But then you looked back up at him. i

Damn. He was beautiful.

“You okay?”

“No.”

Your panties were not as dry as they were. You wanted to climb the man in front of you, your hormones going crazy with flashbacks of the night before.

James Buchanan Barnes had put it down and now you were addicted.

But you couldn’t just flow with that. You were a professional.

“What-”

“I mean… no worries.”

You smiled brightly at him to cover your embarrassment.

“It was my fault, I should have waited–”

“My fault, I should have checked-”

You both spoke at the same time, and then laughed. You loved Bucky’s eye crinkles.

You cleared your throat and straightened your spine.

Bucky covered a moan in his throat with a cough. That body was his weakness. His cock thickened with thoughts of pulling you in his home and then fuck you on the hallway floor, but instead he stepped back and put his hands in his pockets awkwardly.

He smiled, and you blushed.

“How are you?”

Bucky ducked his head and smiled that smile at you. He looked so young.

“I’m good, Y/N. Real good. And you?”

His smile was hopeful, and full of knowing. God, you were a simp. Professional wasn’t going to work.

“I’m good, Bucky.”

You smiled at him and you two just stood there grinning.

Bucky just continued to stare at you. His smile and his nervousness was doing something to you, so you cleared your throat again. This was so not what you were expecting.

Finally, Bucky realized the awkwardness of the situation.

“Shit. I’m being rude. Come on into my office.”

You laughed again and followed him into the room, noticing his laptop. It made you grow warm.

“How did you sleep last night?” asked Bucky.

What a question.

He was closer that you thought, but farther away than you hoped. You turned around and looked at him, biting your lip and shifting on your feet.

“After a nice, hot bath, I slept like a baby.”

That eyebrow raised and made you squirm with the faint sensation of him inside you. You could still feel the effects of him.

“Hot bath, huh?”

“Yes, with Epsom salts. I was a bit… sore. Needed another this morning.”

You lowered your eyes to your fingers which were clutching your bag, and then raised them back up to his face. That tongue snaked out and licked his bottom lip and his teeth captured it. You dragged your eyes up to his and saw the desire there. But he also looked contrite.

“I-I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be.”

You interrupted him, fighting to keep your eyes wide open while they were on his. You tried to keep your voice from cracking when you said, “I liked it.”

Bucky took a deep breath and stepped to you.

“Y/N. I want to talk to you… about ground rules. With us.”

You lowered your eyes. You just knew he was going to shut all of this flirting down. You weren’t going to beg him, you just had to suck it up. Even though this thing between you felt like crack.

Bucky tipped your chin up, the feeling of his fingers on you shooting electricity straight to your core.

“I don’t want there to be any.”

“What?”

You were confused.

“I thought last night would get it out of my system, but it only served to make me want more.”

What was he saying?

“More? More what? You want more sex?”

You were thrilled and disappointed at the same time. Bucky Barnes had you stirred up.

“Of course I do.You’re beautiful. That body, the way you feel…I’m not dead.”

Bucky stood there and his eyes raked over you with possession. And you let hIm, wanting to belong to him. That realization had you shook.

“But I want more. More than just sex. And if you just want sex, then that can’t happen. Feelings would get involved. At least for me.”

Bucky drew in a ragged breath.

“So you have to know that you are in control of this…” he moved his hand between you both, “this situation. Because I can’t trust myself to not go headlong over this cliff with you…”

Bucky’s eyes searched yours and you tried to return his honest gaze. His words were so fucking charming that you were ready to jump as well. But you had work to do.

“I get it, Bucky. Let's just take it moment by moment. Right now, I’ll behave and be a good girl.”

Bucky released a light groan and shook his head as his eyes dilated slightly.

“Please stop. Unless you want me to…”

He stopped, and you could tell that he was holding himself back by the way his jaw clenched. The knowledge that you had this power over him was heady stuff. But you decided to chill.

“Okay, you’re right, we have work to do. Now is not the time for.. more.”

You looked up at him and bit your lip.

“Definitely not.”

“Totally.”

You took a deep breath.

“Where’s the manuscript?”

Bucky’s eyes swept over you one more time, then turned to his laptop, sat down and typed for a few seconds.

“In your inbox.”

He was calmer now, and anxious for you to read his story.

You sank down into the couch and opened your bag to grab your own laptop.

You looked up at him one more time before you started to read, and when you began, you were quickly immersed in the narrative.

An hour and half later, you looked up at him, tears in your eyes.

“Bucky… I…”

“Is it any good?”

You looked at him in a totally new light. This was a different level of intimacy than just sex. This was his soul laid bare..

“Is it any good? Bucky, it’s fantastic! The honesty, the raw emotion…thank you for trusting me with this.”

Bucky gave you a sad smile and your heart twisted. You centered yourself by observing details and realized that his tie was now off and his sleeves were rolled up. He seemed more relaxed and natural and now that you knew the full story of Bucky Barnes, he was a marvel.

You put your laptop aside and stared off into space, trying to process. Bucky watched your profile, anxious and wanting to pull you into an embrace. But you were setting the pace.

You looked back over at him after a full minute.

“Are you sure you want all of this out there? This gives insight into your most personal, devastating moments. It will give people a lot of access to things most people hold close. And it opens you up for a lot.”

You had an entirely new perspective on James Buchanan Barnes. One that went far beyond sex.

“Yes. Writing this down has helped me to heal. Publishing it will bring closure.”

Bucky stood up and poured himself a drink, and offered the brown liquor to you. You nodded and took the glass, realizing that it was probably Macallan 18.

This man had lost his wife, his whole life… you couldn’t imagine. And here you were wondering if he were playing games.

“It must have been horrifying.”

Bucky nodded and looked down into his drink.

“At first I had no memory of what I’d done and how I’d done it. I woke up in the hospital and saw the headlines that the CEO of CapTech had been found injured and sobbing hysterically as he cradled his wife in his good arm. The most anyone knew was that Sarah was killed in a failed robbery attempt. No one knew about the kidnapping.”

You rocked back in your seat, remembering the rumors around that event. Word was that Bucky went almost insane with grief.

You realized now that the rumor was true.

“My heart was buried in the casket with Sarah, and after everything that happened, I went into a type of hibernation, holed up in the Manhattan penthouse above our offices. Steve and Nat challenged me to get back to work a year later, telling me that they were taking up my slack.”

Bucky laughed bitterly, shook his head, and took a drink.

“It wasn’t until Sarah’s birthday two years later that I finally noticed that Sam was grieving as hard, if not harder, than I was. And I realized how selfish I’d become.”

Bucky looked at you with a pained look on his face and you shivered, feeling a fraction of the emotion he must have been feeling. You wanted to cry.

“Bucky… I’m so sorry.”

Bucky looked at you.

“Don’t be sorry, Y/N. It’s alright. I’m ok now.”

“But… how?”

Bucky smiled at you.

“Well, intense therapy for one. Family therapy with Sam. Running. Running with my friends, or… with strangers I bump into.”

He gave you a smile and you smiled back, hopelessly connected to this man.

“Another thing that has helped me immensely was meeting you and seeing the way you crafted our interview, and experiencing the response to it. I’m communicating about myself more with the public.

“Yes, I’ve noticed the response you’re getting on social media.”

Bucky just chuckled at your thirst trap shade.

“I need you to help me tell this story, Y/N. Please. Help me.”

You leaned toward him. You two gazed into each other’s eyes.

“Your story is powerful the way it is, but right now, the way it reads leaves you open to some liability for what happened to those men in that warehouse that day. I believe you that it was self defense, and defense of your wife. That was such a hard thing to live through and to write down. I have an idea on how to revise the story to keep the emotion, but protect you, and Sarah and Sam at the same time. Hear me out.”

—--

Two hours later, you’d sketched out revisions to Bucky’s memoir. You were emotionally spent. And starving. It was almost 8pm. You looked at Bucky when you were done and he read you like a book.

“I ordered Thai food 45 minutes ago when you were on a roll outlining. I hope you’re hungry.”

You sighed and smiled.

“Feed me and I will love you forever.”

You laughed at your joke, but Bucky did not.

“Don’t tease me, Y/N.”

Suddenly, the air was thick with need.

“About that… Bucky… I want to work with you on this project. But I can’t deny that… that I am attracted to you in the worst way.”

Bucky smiled and cocked his head.

“’The worst way.’ Is it that bad? I feel like I need to apologize.”

You nodded.

“It is bad. If we need to be professional.”

Bucky looked up in the air.

“Well. Think about last night…”

You shifted in your seat.

“I mean, we just did some pretty good work tonight. After what happened,…”

Bucky grinned

“Well. You’re not wrong…”

You grinned back at him. You just liked him so fucking much.

The tension was thick. You were about to climb onto Bucky’s lap when the doorbell rang. He looked disappointed, as if he was reading your mind again.

You stood up, drank some water and tried to get your head on straight. Bucky came back in with and you remembered your hunger for food.

When you’d eaten, Bucky had a suggestion.

“Listen, we did some good work, had some good food, but I don’t want the night to end. And it is Friday. Don’t need to get up early tomorrow.”

Bucky looked at you like a little boy again.

You raised your eyebrow at him

“What do you suggest this late that we haven’t already done today?”

Bucky grinned at you.

BABY YOU LIGHT UP MY WORLD LIKE NOBODY ELSE/THE WAY THAT YOU FLIP YOUR HAIR GETS ME OVERWHELMED/BUT WHEN YOU SMILE AT THE GROUND, IT AINT HARD TO TELL/ YOU DON’T KNOW OH-OH/YOU DON’T KNOW YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL!

You two were laughing through belting out the One Direction song at the top of your lungs at Upstairs Karaoke bar, not far from where you both lived. You were both jumping around and acted like idiots, as one does when they have a proper fun time doing Karaoke.

“Omg! Bucky! That was terrible.”

You grimaced, thinking about your singing voice.

“I bet you’ve reconsidered this idea after that.”

Bucky just ginned and swung the mic around in a circle as the music for the next song came up.

“I can do this all night.”

I can't fight this feeling any longer…

You grinned back and joined him in singing REO Speedwagon.

——

Three hours later, at almost one am, you walked back toward Bucky’s brownstone, and your apartment. When it came time to turn in the direction of your place, you took Bucky’s hand and tugged it toward his place. You walked in silence toward his house until you spoke up again.

“I’ve been through the gauntlet of emotions today, Bucky.. I mean in the last 24 hours.”

“Hmmmm?” said Bucky.

“Yeah. Lust, uncertainty, infatuation, nervousness, sympathy, motivation to write, attraction, hunger, silliness, and just plain fun. It feels like we’ve lived a lifetime today.”

Bucky stood on his stoop and looked down into your eyes.

“I feel the same. With maybe a couple more thrown in.”

You cocked your head.

“Yeah, like what?”

“Mmmmmm. Not ready to reveal that just yet. But I do want to explore a couple that you’ve mentioned. But, like I said earlier, that’s not my call.”

“Which ones?”

You didn’t know why you were holding your breath.

“Lust, infatuation, attraction… and hunger.”

You knew he wasn’t taling about Thai food.

“Oh.”

You tugged his hand, leading him up his own steps and put the code into his door.

“I would like to experience, more of those. And more of what you want. Bucky. Let’s drive off that cliff.”

With that, you pulled him inside.

You two kissed all the way down the hallway to his living room, where you ended up on his leather couch, pulling off your jacket and pulling the sweater he had put on over his shirtsleeves up over his head. You were feral for him.

And so, it seemed, he was for you.

“Come here, Doll.”

Bucky grabbed your neck and pulled your lips toward him as he devoured your mouth and his hand roamed your body.

“Been wanting to kiss you all night. Want to kiss your lips. I love the way they suck my tip.”

His hoarse voice in your ear did things to you, although you were confused at first until his put his hands in your leggings past your panties and used two thick fingers to part your pussy. He wasn’t talking about the lips on your face.

He used your slick to lubricate his digits and entered you, pumping a few times, watching as your head lolled back on your shoulders. He kissed your neck and cleavage as you succumbed to the pleasure. Then, he pulled his hand away and toward his mouth, earning a whine from you.

Bucky meant to just taste you, but that taste stirred something in his soul.

“What the fuck are you doing to me?”

He kissed you, letting you taste yourself on him, then rested his forehead on yours as he asked a question.

“What do you want, Y/N?”

“Let me suck your dick, Bucky.”

He pulled away from you, and looked you in the eyes.

“You’ll get anything to ask for.”

This was a different Bucky, not totally unlike the night before. Still sex on legs, but this Bucky was gentle, but still oh so sexy.

He pushed you backward until you stood up before him and he took off his shirt, and then his pants. You reached for him before he took off his underwear, pulling his waist band so that his hard cock slapped his abs. You stared down at it but didn’t touch it.

“I’ve been dreaming of this since last night, when you denied me.”

You swiped your thumb along his tip and then sucked it, making him lick his own lips.

“Sit down, please. Sir.”

Bucky sat, and then you kneeled in front of him on the hardwood floor. Bucky noticed and put a pillow down for you to kneel on. You smiled at him as he started stroking himself. You stared, your hand trailing song your neck and chest absentmindedly as you admired him.

“It really is a thing of beauty. Ever since I saw it the other day, I’ve been obsessed with it. How it would feel, how it would split me apart. How it would taste.”

You looked up at Bucky and it was like he’d been shot with a magazine of cupid’s arrows.

“Damn, Doll. You sure do have a way with words.”

You reached for him, grasping his shaft in one hand that looked small now, and his balls in the other.

“I’m not all talk…”

And then you leaned forward to lick a stripe on the underside of his cock, from his balls to the tip, stopping to suck the thick cap vigorously.

“Ooooh, shit… Doll. That mouth.”

Bucky’s head was sideways, cocking his head to watch you from that angle.

You opened your mouth and took as much as you could in your mouth and relaxed your throat to let him in there.

“Gotdamn.”

He placed his hand on your head but placed no pressure on you as you bobbed freely for his pleasure. And yours.

You placed your hands on his tensing thighs as you came apart as a result of your mouth, and he shuddered when you released him with a pop just to grab it again and trail your tongue back down his length. You drew his balls into your mouth, one at a time as you continued to stroke him off.

Bucky was looking at you with disbelief. He was putty in your hands. He leaned forward to kiss your sloppy face.

“I want to be inside you, wanna make love to you. Take off those clothes.”

He spoke to you softly, yet with a command your body remembered. You stood up slowly and tried to gracefully shed your garments as he stroked himself and looked up at you like you were the moon.

“So beautiful.”

Bucky reached out and made grabby hands for you as you stood naked before him.

”C’mere. Climb on. Let me in again.”

He continued to stare up at you, kissing your sternum and each breast as your thighs trembled on either side of his as you slid down over his mushroom cap.

“Buckyyyyyy.”

The feeling of him splitting you open caused a delicious pain, the soreness from the night before still evident. You didn’t think you’d ever get used to his size.

And you didn’t want to.

“Fuck me baby doll. Fuck me good. Fuck your self on this dick.”

Bucky slipped his hand between you two and started circling your clit in tight little circles.

“Oh my god Bucky! I can’t. Can’t breathe, can't concentrate…”

Your mind was mush as Bucky drove you toward your peak and up over the edge.

“Shhhh…”

Bucky leaned down to lick your nipple and suck briefly, teasing each breast in turn to work you up even more.

“Don’t think. Just feel. Release all thoughts. Cum for me.”

“Jeeeeeezzzzzzuzzzzzz!”

You came ferociously, clenching around Bucky and causing him to pulse inside you.

“Thaaat’s a good girl.”

He did not let up on your clit and drew your pleasure out until you were a complete mess on his lap.

Bucky licked a stripe up the middle of you, from your belly button to your cheek as you lay back in is arms, cock drunk, and still impaled on his very stiff dick.

“You tastes so fucking good, Doll. Tasted you in my dreams last night.”

You your surprise, he stood up, holding you and turned around to place you on the couch. The fine leather stuck to your sweaty skin, but you didn’t care.

“I don’t want to service you anymore.”

Bucky started pumping and telling you how he felt. All you could do was moan in response.

“Want to make love to you.”

He watched your fucked out face and started stroking more insistently.

“Of course, if you were mine, I’d service you anytime you needed it. Give you everything your heart, mind, pussy, body could want…”

“Yes, Bucky… yessssss.”

You were blissed out, hearing and feeling all the sensations you wanted at the moment.

“What are you doing to me doll?”

Bucky’s eyes moved from where you two were connected to your face.

“So beautiful…”

He grabbed your hand from where it was resting on his abs, picked it up, and brought it to his mouth, kissing your palm. Your back arched at the added sensation of his lips on your hand and the long fingers on his other hand grabbed your hip as he continued.

Bucky’s ice blue eyes were watching you as yours closed in ecstasy.

“Yes.”

He started moving your hip, long fingers digging in and sure to leave a bruise.

“You like this? Like how I’m giving it to you? You deserve it. Such a good girl.”

“Mmmmhmmm.”

You started moving, loving the feel of the wiry hairs at the base of his cock against your clit.

“Feels so good. Feels like this dick is mine.”

Bucky’s eyes were focused on yours now. He held your stare, which bloomed new warmth in your belly.

“You want it to be yours?”

You didn't answer, just bit your lip and nodded.

Bucky’s hand snaked up behind you and grabbed the hair at your nape, causing your neck to bend and your body to arch backward.

He admired your form and the way your breasts moved as you did. You could feel him swell impossibly more than he already was.

“I’m trying to be gentle. Sweet and slow. Like a good girl should be fucked .But you just make me want to… make me wanna fuck you. Like…”

Bucky groaned and squeezed your hip.

“Take it, Bucky. It’s yours.This pussy is alll yours.”

You rotated your hips so as to feel all of him, and which caused him to spurt a little inside you.

“You trying to make you cum inside you?”

“Yes, Sir.”

You moaned as Bucky’s hand came around and grasped your throat skillfully. His other hand grows and pinched your nipples, causing your hips to move wildly.

“There’s my bad girl. Damn. I think I…..”

“Y-yes Sir?”

Bucky almost let it slip.

“I think I wanna cum inside.”

He leaned down to whisper into your ear. That voice making you clench harder around him.

“Would you like that? Hot load of cum in your tight little snatch?”

“Oh, ohhhh shittt. Yes!”

“So fucking pretty when you’re needy, Doll.”

The combination of filth and praise sent your over the edge and you detonated around him, causing Bucky to hike your knee over his elbow and start chasing his own end.

“I can’t… No. I won’t deny myself any longer. I want this. I want you and I’m gonna. Shit can I? Can I please cum inside?”

Bucky begging got you hot and bothered again. You nodded vigorously.

“Please, I want it too!”

“Circle that clit for me. Circlie it. Cum again for me just one… fuck, just once moreeeee!”

Bucky came inside you with a shout, shooting hot ropes of cum onto your cervix. You came when you felt that and as Bucky pumped like a jackrabbit inside you.

“Holy shit.”

He chuckled in your ear.

You curled yourself around Bucky and gladly accepted his weight for a few minutes. Then, he lifted himself off of you and knelt on the floor.

“Was that? Was that okay? Did you really want this?”

Bucky looked so earnest. You nodded.

“Yes Bucky. And I want more.”

You bit your lip as he smiled down at you.

“Wanna spend the night?”

You shook your head.

“No.”

Bucky’s smile dropped. You put your hand on his cheek..

“It’s practically morning. I’ll sleep over and let you feed me breakfast later. And then we’ll talk about spending the night.”

“Anything that’ll make you smile, Doll.”

Hit play on that reblog button! 😏

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #Sebastian Stan imagine #Sebastian Stan #bucky barnes x yn #bucky barnes smut #soft dark ceo Bucky Barnes x reader #bucky barnes x black!reader #playlist #the playlist séries #bucky barnes x journalist #ask dj #soft dark! ceo Bucky Barnes #Bucky x reader #Bucky x you #bucky smut

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tcshi · 2 years

Text

isagi yoichi

☆ : an au where the blue lock project didn't happen but the boys are attending the same school and are part of the same football club ૮ • ﻌ - ა⁩

for a guy who possesses an incredible intelligence in the sport he loves, isagi yoichi was oblivious as a tree when it comes to your advances.

at every chance you'd get, you always try to drop hints about your immutable fondness for him. it comes in the small notes being left at his desk, a bottle of his favorite energy drink or the words of encouragement and appreciation that tumbles out of your lips in a flash of word vomit. it was always there. vivid enough for the other guys at his football club to know of your little crush on him except for isagi himself. hell, even itoshi rin of all people knows it.

but isagi, the adorable elixir of your life isagi yoichi is still pretty much in the dark of the hints you've long dropped.

you've heard rin throw you a few motivational phrases to just give up. you've seen the pitiful and bashful looks you've received from reo and nagi upon seeing you march up to their oblivious forward with a grin on your face for the nth time since forever. you've had chigiri inform you of the chances that isagi might decode your unspoken proclamations of love was close to zero in comparison to the peaking 99.9% percent if you've just directly told him.

but of course, your nerves can be a little bit of a bitch to deal with in situations that requires you to open your mouth and tell isagi that you've been liking him for the past two years. hence you just stopped trying to vocalize your adoration from the very first try.

the very first time you've tried doing that was an absolute epic fail when you became an incoherent mess babbling on and on about how you found this football player from dortmund called jude bellingham hot and isagi encouraging you to grapple against your nerves and try to shoot your shot at said football playerㅡall the while being unable to do that with your irrevocable feelings for him who stands at 5feet away from you.

you've received more pats on the back from kunigami for trying at the very least (for the nth time, unfortufuckingnately) and a few more teasing remarks from bachira that you should just try dating him instead. you kindly rejected him a few times, and sadly enough with a few smacks landing on his skin as he grins playfully.

you've tried nearly a thousand methods to get isagi to know your feelings for him through showing it but none of them worked. not until an entirely unintentional incident that pushed the water to overflow from the dam.

you look at him crazy, like he's shooting rainbows from the top of his head and his teal eyes crying colorful tears.

“your lukewarm approach to confessing is nearly as palpable as getting smacked by a football from behind.” rin mutters as he sits beside you. he gives you a glance, shaking his head like a disappointed mother nagging her child. “why don't you be upfront with him.”

not a suggestion. a demand.

how typical of rin.

“dude you know i can't be upfront with him!” you smack your cheeks with both your palms, itoshi rin judging you pretty evidently in the corner of your eyes with his teal eyes reeling in disgust. “you know how it went the very first time...”

“maybe you should try again... keep your idiotic commentary to yourself and just get to the point.” he tells you. “ever tried doing that?”

why of course he'd know exactly what happened. he was there, present and drowning in secondhand embarrassment from you after you've spewed whatever nonsense about your profound crush on another football player who plays midfield in a european team who's already thriving at the ripe age of 19. even rin can remember the wince that fell on isagi’s face as you continued blabbering in front of him like a madwoman.

you shake your head, fiddling with the loose fabric on your uniform skirt and rin scoffs. of course you haven't. the very first things to leave your mouth every time you approach isagi was anything but vocal implications of your feelings for him. your chances of dating isagi was nearly close to nothing.

“but riiiiiiiin...” rin rolls his eyes as you clamp your hands around his biceps, shaking the male sideways with a whine. “i get so nervous whenever i’m around him.”

“that’s because you're stupid and lame. just like the guy you're crushing on.”

ouch.

you smack his arms, pushing him away from you with a huff. “that’s rude rinrin.”

he glares at you. “call me that one more time and kiss your chances of freely trespassing our training hours goodbye.”

“would you rather me call you rinnie then?” you pinch your chin, a pondering look in your face. “you hated it when i called you that when we were kids.”

“don’t call me stupid names, you stupid girl.”

“but what's the fun in that!? you're literally revoking my nicknaming privileges as your best friend and childhood bestest best friend after all the years we've spent together from diapers toㅡ”

rin stands up before he walks away, but not before throwing another remark about you.

“shut up and don't talk to me until you've fixed your boy problems.” you huff at your spot.

“he loves me... he loves me not... he loves me... he... loves me... not!?!? ” you harshly throw the crumpled flower on the ground, going for extra mile and stumping on it with both feet.

besides the unfortunate approach to your boy problems, it seems that even a simple game of he loves me, he loves me not flower petal picking game was a major bust just like the outcome of your valiant efforts of wooing isagi yoichi awayㅡwell, not necessarily valiant considering you chicken out when vocalizing anything near as a confession but whatever, you don't want to dwell on that. instead, you gave the innocent flower one more stamp before turning to walk away.

only for you to realize that half of the entire football team with isagi was filing out of the school gates while you're busy murdering the flowers that now laid flat and unrecognizable on the sole of your feet.

you shot them a smile bordering grimace before waving a hand. “uh... hi?”

“did the pansies do something to you... or...?” reo asks, glancing the mangled pansy flower beneath your feet and sounding genuinely worried for your well-being, except for the shaking of his lips that told you he was trying to hold his laughter. “you look rather enraged...”

you shake your head promptly, ignoring the exasperated look on rin’s face from behind the guys when isagi spoke to you next.

“y/n... are you okay?” he hesitantly asks as he steps out behind bachira and chigiri’s back. “you look uhm... pretty upset back there...”

oh you were more than upset alright.

you heave a deep breath in, and you see your childhood bestest best friend itoshi rin leave the group but not before shaking his head before the others followed right after him and leaving you and an unaware isagi behind, already wary of the next incoming foolish gabber that's ready to flow out of your mouth.

and boy did it come in a tidal wave.

“yeah no i just uh you know the flower didn't do anything wrong but i kind of just played that game where you pick each petal and say he loves me he loves me not each time you pick a petal while i'm waiting for you guys to leave the pitch because i fear that rinrinㅡoh no i can't call him that please don't tell him i called him thatㅡwill revoke my license of free pass to your training hours and i won't be able to see you guys play especially you and yeah uh about the flower i was just a little bit cuckoo in the head because you know hahaha it landed on he loves me not and i don't think i can handle any more of that insinuation that i won't ever have a chance with you that's why i kinda murdered it even though i didn't really mean to-”

you chuckle uneasily, slapping a hand in the air. “haha yes no uh no but yeah but you know i think no but i do kind of have a small tini tiny crush on you so yeah i think i noㅡyes or no.”

“chance with.... me?” immediately, you stop your blabber catching the mistake on your part. automatically, you zip your mouth. “you-you like me?” isagi points to himself, as if he can't believe whatever gibberish you just vomited out.

“breathe... and tell me honestly, do you like me?”

by the end of yet another foolish mutterings was isagi’s dumbfounded look. he can't understand if you really do like him or not because honestly, who would even confirm someone's feelings when said someone confirmed it in the way you did. so isagi did something he never thought he'd doㅡnot in this afternoon at least. he holds your cheeks, squishing them together in a pout that seemed to have calmed you down, or something... because you were definitely turning redder by each passing minute.

“yes!” you squeak, closing your eyes from the impending rejection that hang in the air. only it never came. instead, isagi lets go of your cheeks, chuckling at the heat that creeped into your skin before patting your head and fixing the messy strands of your hair.

“good because i like you too... i’m just glad that rin and the others didn't tell you anything...”

you open your mouth to say something, anything to divert your shock, embarrassment, joy and giddiness only to realize a very crucial piece of information from isagi’s words.

“wait... they knew you liked me and me like you-”

isagi clamps a palm of his over your mouth, chuckling as you proceeded to prattle behind his hand before he smoothly maneuvers himself beside you, the hand that was enclosed over your lips remained loosely hooked over your shoulders before he drags you away.

“okay you can stop trashing them now... let's just get you your favorite ice cream or something then talk. we definitely have a lot of things to catch on.”

a/n: hi, it's me. i’m the one crushing on jude bellingham, it's me ✌🏻😋

#☆ . ༄ marked : blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #isagi yoichi x reader #yoichi isagi x reader #isagi x reader #blue lock fanfiction #blue lock scenarios #blue lock on crack #isagi yoichi fanfiction #isagi fanfiction #blue lock #isagi yoichi

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call-me-maggie13 · 1 year

Text

Mary whacks the back of her head, snapping her head forward and knocking her book awry.

"What the hell?" Beatrice rubs the spot Mary hit, flinching when Mary raises her hand to scrape down her face.

"You squint any harder, your face is going to freeze like that." Mary squints her eyes and scrunches her mouth, leaning forward until her nose is nearly touching the book Beatrice is reading. "You need glasses."

"I do not!" Beatrice scoffs, turns to Shannon indignantly. "Do you hear your wife?"

"Yeah," Shannon doesn’t look up from her easel. "She’s right, Speedy. You can’t see. I’ve been telling you that for years. But what do I know? I only taught you how to ride a bike and drive a car and write a check and - "

"Yeah yeah, we get it, you were parentified, moving on." Mary waves her hand dismissively and Shannon pokes her head out from behind the painting to stick her tongue out at her. "Beatrice, you need glasses. You’re fuckin’ blind."

"Why would you think that?"

"The State would like to present exhibit A, if it so pleases the court?" Mary stands, rolls her wrist in a feigned curtsy to Beatrice.

"Oh, you took one class in pre-law and it was on accident, shut the hell up."

"I presume it doesn’t please the court," Mary chuckles, turning back to Shannon bemused. Beatrice throws her book at Mary’s back, she misses and it sails through the air, hurtling in slow motion towards Shannon’s easel.

In this moment, Beatrice realizes three things.

1) She probably should have joined a sports team like Shannon had suggested when she was twelve, Shannon’s always right about things like this. Not only would it have improved her aim, but it also would have given her a chance to outrun Shannon.

2) She needs glasses. Desperately. Mary was less than two meters away from her, there is no reason she should’ve missed that throw.

3) She is about to die. If that book even touches Shannon’s easel, not to mention the canvas Shannon has been diligently working on for the last month, Beatrice will not have enough time to apologize before Martha and Rich are shopping for her coffin.

There are three things everyone knows not to mess with around Shannon: her art, her sister, and her music. At this rate, Taylor Swift bursting through the door to formally apologize for Beatrice’s blunder wouldn’t be able to save her.

And the only person Shannon loves more than Beatrice is Taylor Swift.

Beatrice turns to run but she’s not fast enough, she hears the book make contact and Shannon yelps and screams a slew of curses as Beatrice runs from the room. She doesn’t even stop to apologize, there’s no time, she has to save her breath in case she has to hold it while she hides from Shannon long enough for her to stop being angry.

"BEATRICE NO MIDDLE NAME MASTERS, I SWEAR TO GOD!" Shannon’s voice echoes down the hall Beatrice darts through, opening and closing doors frantically searching for the best hiding place. But this is Shannon’s house, no one knows it better than Shannon.

Except Mary.

Beatrice hides in the utility closet behind the water heater until she hears Shannon storm past her, peeking down the hall before creeping back to the living room in search of Mary.

There’s paint all over their new carpet, the mixing palette overturned on the ground, smearing red and blue and purple into their brand new, white carpet. But the easel is still upright, and the canvas is still in its place.

"Mary," Beatrice whispers, still hunched over and nearly crawling.

"Oh no, kiddo. I’m not getting you out of this one. We haven’t had this carpet one month — one month, Beatrice. Haven’t had it thirty-one days yet, and you’ve already stained it. Stained! You ruined our new carpet and now Shannon will never forgive me for egging you on, you are a terrible sister-in-law." Her tone is light and teasing, but there’s a little rawness in her words that strikes Beatrice between the ribs.

"Don’t talk to her like that," Shannon mutters and Beatrice nearly jumps out of her skin, turning and bracing for her punishment. "She didn’t mean to. That’s what happens when we throw things at each other. We’re adults, we should’ve known the risks. I shouldn’t have been painting on the new carpet anyways."

"Shan, I will pay to have this cleaned, I’m so sorry! What can I do, tell me, what do I need to do?" Beatrice fights the urge to get down on her knees and clasp her hands together and beg for Shannon’s forgiveness.

"You can start by washing this paint out of my hair and end by seeing an eye doctor." Shannon scrubs a particularly difficult stain on her shirt, fingers dyed blue.

"Yeah… maybe I do need glasses… what’re you working on anyways?" She reaches for the canvas only for her wrist to be slapped and pulled away.

"I would show you but it’s not like you could see it anyways." Shannon’s nose twitches when she lies. It has the entire time Beatrice has known her. It’s how Beatrice always wins when they’re playing poker and how she always knew when Shannon was upset with her in the beginning. Shannon hated getting upset with her in the beginning, because Beatrice could shut down for two or three days if she thought Shannon hated her, so Shannon buried a lot until Beatrice started to trust her. To trust herself.

"Is it for my birthday?" Beatrice hates her birthday. Always has, probably always will. Shannon’s nose twitches when she glances at Mary.

"Dude, isn’t your birthday in like three months?" Mary calls everyone dude when she’s lying.

Beatrice’s birthday is in exactly eleven days, sixteen hours and twenty-two minutes. But she’s not counting. Shannon is, but Beatrice isn’t. Because Beatrice hates her birthday.

Always has.

Beatrice doesn’t respond to Mary’s fib, takes the cloth from Shannon’s hand and wipes away a red streak across her cheek.

"Bathroom or kitchen?" Shannon grins and grabs a dining chair, drags it in front of the sink and turns the water on. Beatrice gathers her shampoo and conditioner and a towel from the bathroom while they wait for the water to get warm. Beatrice folds the towel over the edge of the sink and Shannon leans back, hanging her head over the basin. She winks at Beatrice while she wets her hair, smile warm and dopey and so Shannon that it makes her chest ache.

"I love you, ya know?" Beatrice pauses her movement to meet Shannon’s gaze. "You’ve always been my favorite, Speedy. Even when you’re ruining my new carpet or stealing my favorite cardigan or scratching my car. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me."

Beatrice doesn’t fight the tears in her eyes, leans down to press a kiss against Shannon’s forehead and lingers in her embrace, in the turpentine and acrylic paint and lemongrass shampoo scent that Shannon has always carried everywhere she goes. If Beatrice could bottle the smell in a jar, she would carry it with her everywhere and take a deep breath of it when she needs to settle her nerves.

Shannon is the best thing that’s ever happened to Beatrice too. But she knows this. She’s known since the night before her thirteenth birthday when Beatrice asked her what she could give her as a gift and Shannon had responded with simply a hug. And when Beatrice had asked why, Shannon had smiled and said that’s what sisters are for, isn’t it?

Something that had been broken in Beatrice for as long as she could remember was repaired that day. Something was fixed and it made her hold her head a little higher and walk a little faster and smile a little brighter. Because she had a sister. She had a sister that wanted her.

She has a sister who loves her more than gifts.

"Where’s this coming from, if you don’t mind my asking?" Beatrice scrubs the shampoo into Shannon’s hair, smiles at the deep sigh she exhales at the action.

"I’ve just been thinking a lot recently. About you, about me, about family and what it means. I know I tell you all the time that I love you, but I feel like sometimes you don’t understand how much I mean it. How much I love you." Shannon allows her eyes to slide closed as she relishes the way Beatrice is massaging her scalp. "You’re a good sister, Bea. You always have been. I took a while to figure it out, but you? You had it right from the start."

"You’re a good sister too, Shannon. In fact, you’re my favorite sister." Shannon rolls her eyes at Beatrice’s remark, but pulls Beatrice’s bubbly hands from her hair to hold them in front of her face.

"You’re easy to love, you know that, right? You’re easy to love and you deserve to be loved and you deserve happiness. You know all of those things are true, don’t you? Because I know I’ve told you them, but I can’t make you believe something, my bumble Bea." Beatrice nods softly, her cheeks wet and eyes burning. "Good, and if you ever start to doubt any of those things, just tell me and I’ll remind you until you can’t help but believe it."

Shannon kisses the inside of her wrist before releasing her hands, just before the line of soap and water. She hums quietly while Beatrice washes the paint from her hair, the water racing away red and blue and green. She scrunches most of the water out of her hair before helping her upright, gently raking the brush through her hair and folding it into a French braid.

If Beatrice had a strand of ribbon to tie around the end of her hair, it would’ve been just like when they were kids.

Shannon kisses her cheek before Beatrice is allowed to depart, three short squeezes on her shoulder before she’s asked to help Mary clean the paint from the carpet.

One, two, three.

I love you.

Find more here!

Beatrice tries on every set of frames in the store. Yet somehow, she hates every pair more than the last. She’s halfway through her second round when Shannon squeezes her shoulders. Beatrice sighs.

"It’s okay, you can always try contacts." Her hand is soft and warm and has green paint dried underneath her nails.

"You know I can’t." Beatrice doesn’t like things in or even near her eyes. The idea of stabbing herself on purpose every day to put in and take out contacts makes her ill. Her single attempt when she was 16 had made her violently ill. For three days. "It’s just - I don’t know. I feel like they’re going to change my life or something."

"Oh my sweet, darling bumble Bea. Glasses won’t change your life. Not as much as me killing you because you take more than three hours to decide on them." She chuckles and scrunches her nose. "Just a smidge."

"Fine. What five were your favorite?" Beatrice rolls her eyes and Shannon grins toothily, patting her shoulder before speeding away and returning with five frames. She holds them out like a mentor would extend a prized sword to their protege.

Beatrice tries each on again, turning and tilting and spinning and following every direction Shannon gives while she inspects each one intently. Finally, she decides on one. A pair of thin round, wire framed glasses. Beatrice settles for them.

The first time she wears them, she decides she hates them again and they go back in their case for a week. It isn’t until Shannon points to the faded blue stain in her living room the next time she visits that Beatrice wears them again.

She hates it. She hates that she can actually see easier. She hates that she can see each individual leaf on the trees and each petal on the flowers and each crack in the sidewalk. She hates it because it means Mary was right and there’s nothing Beatrice hates more than letting Mary be right. She hates it because Mary doesn’t know how to win with grace, she gets pretentious and persnickety and boastful. It’s annoying.

The first time she wears the glasses to Ava’s, Ava and Diana are in the kitchen making eggs. Diana has shells in her hair and Ava is scrubbing yolk off the wall with a cup of water and dishrag.

"What’s it?" Diana reaches for Beatrice’s face when she steps into the room, eggy fingers grabbing for the untainted glass.

"They’re glasses. To help me see."

"You got glasses?" Ava chirps, still cleaning the wall.

"Uh, yeah. Mary’s been telling me I’m blind almost as long as I’ve known her, apparently she was right."

"She can’t be that right, you tell me I’m pretty all the time and that’s true," Ava teases, finally dropping the rag and turning. Her cheeks are flushed and she’s breathless, it makes Beatrice’s chest tight. "Oh."

The cup slips from her hand, sloshing dirty water when it bounces against the linoleum and splashing across Ava’s feet. Her cheeks and ears burn red as she stumbles over an apology, eyes wide with reverence. She doesn’t stoop to collect the cup, frozen as she watches Beatrice watching her.

She swallows, blinks a few times and shakes her head before restarting. "Sorry, you look… wow. Okay, I’m sorry."

Finally Ava tears her eyes away, face and chest burning deep as she clears her throat and mops up the water slowly.

"Mama red," Diana whispers, rocking into her toes and back. She continues, singsonging, "Tomatillo, tomatillo, toma-toma-tillo."

"Diana." Ava’s tone is warning, it makes Beatrice’s chest warm.

Diana giggles, tucking the fingers of one hand into her mouth and reaching for Beatrice with the other. Beatrice picks her up, settles Diana on her hip and narrowly dodges her attempt to steal Beatrice’s glasses.

"Are you alright?" Beatrice’s skin itches when Ava doesn’t look at her.

"Yeah, yeah… I’m…" Ava sucks in a deep breath, holding it in her chest before exhaling slowly with an easy smile. "I’m good, are you hungry?"

"Not particularly."

Ava nods and avoids looking Beatrice in the face, scrambling the eggs in simple silence.

"Are you… are you certain you’re alright?" Beatrice doesn’t like how Ava won’t look at her, even when she settles Diana in a seat with a pile of scrambled eggs in front of her.

"Yeah. Yeah, I’m alright. You’re just…" Ava’s cheeks burn deep red and she stares intensely at her feet, her hair creating a curtain for her to hide behind. Beatrice picks an egg out of Diana’s hair and resists the urge to brush Ava’s hair out of her face, resists the urge to make her continue. Ava takes a quick, deep breathe before exhaling, "You’re making me nervous."

"I apologize," Beatrice takes a large step back, Ava’s fingers wrap around her wrist and pull her back, glancing up at her quickly before dropping her eyes again.

"It’s - it’s not a bad thing. I don’t - I don’t think. It’s - its - good nervous," Ava stumbles, twisting Beatrice’s fingers. "I’m sorry…"

"Is it the glasses?" Beatrice is timid, pushing her glasses up her nose. Ava looks up slowly, eyes wide and cheeks pink when she nods.

"A bit."

Oh. Beatrice blushes and bites the inside of her lip to suppress her smile.

~*~

There is one thing.

Well, two things. Two little things that Beatrice wasn’t expecting to happen when she started wearing her glasses.

Number one is Diana’s freckles. She has so many. She’s more freckle than not. She has a smattering across her face, splattered down her shoulders and back, sprayed over her legs. Nearly every millimeter of her skin is covered in tiny, pale, freckles. It’s adorable.

"Has she always had this many freckles?" Beatrice is connecting a group of them to form a star across Diana’s back.

"Yeah, Bea. Have you always been this blind?" Ava smiles at her, drops her head on Beatrice’s shoulder.

"It would be a fair presumption, yes." Beatrice rests her cheek on the top of her head, lets the warmth of her touch burn into her bones.

"I have to say," Ava lifts her head up, takes Beatrice’s chin between her thumb and forefinger, tilts her head every direction while watching closely. "They do make you look hot."

Oh god. Oh no.

Beatrice’s cheeks burn a deep crimson red, her heartbeat thrashing in her ears and her heart trying to chisel out from beneath her ribcage. It’s unfair. It’s unfair how easy it is for Ava to do this to her. To make her forget how to breathe and become a complete dunce for ninety seconds while her brain reboots.

"I - uh - thank you." Beatrice can’t look at her. She can’t look at her because of the second little thing she hadn’t been expecting.

The second thing is Ava. Not just her compliments. But all of her. Beatrice can see the way her eyes sparkle when she smiles and her freckles dance when she laughs and she bites her lip when Beatrice tells a terrible joke.

Beatrice was already infatuated with Ava before she could see the crinkle in the corners of her eyes when she makes Beatrice laugh, before she could see the way her nose twitches when she sleeps. Before she knew, without a doubt, Ava is the most beautiful person to ever exist.

Diana twists in Beatrice’s lap and holds up the picture she’s coloring, it’s a very obviously giant orange cat. There’s a shaky house-shaped object, a sun in the corner of the page, and flowers that reach above the rooftop.

"Oh wow, Diana! This is amazing!" Beatrice leans closer to inspect it, traces the sun’s smile with the pad of her thumb. "Tell me about it."

"Arson." She growls his name then giggles brightly, swinging the paper through the air. "Like?"

"Like? Diana, I love your picture." Diana grins and presses a wet kiss on Beatrice’s cheek, thrusting the paper into her chest. "Are you giving this to me?"

Diana nods and Beatrice smiles, "Can I put it on my wall?"

Diana dances in front of her all the way to the wall where Beatrice proudly displays all of the art Diana has made her. Diana points to an empty space and Beatrice tacks the image there, stepping back and admiring the collage of scribbles that cover most of the wall.

"Come on, Picasso." She nods back to Ava, face alight with something Ava can’t name but it’s bright and shiny and makes Ava want to pinch her freckled cheeks.

Diana steals Beatrice’s glasses when she climbs back into her lap, attempting to balance them on her tiny nose. Beatrice laughs and helps her hold the frames in place, Diana grins.

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inkpot909 · 2 years

Text

When The Kids are Asleep (One-Shot)

↳ Spike Spiegel x Fem!Reader: She/her pronouns are used for the reader.

Summary: Insecurity is the poison that kills relationships before they even have a chance begin. Luckily Spike Spiegel is around to set things right; to let you know that it’s all in your head.

Warning(s): Swearing. Slight nsfw.

Sitting upright on the Bebop’s bright yellow couch, your mind is focused intently on the book you hold open before you.

Not often do you get to indulge in a new story. Although reading is a hobby you enjoy, being a member of the Bebop means your priorities are understandably elsewhere. It’s not unlike your companions to splurge on hobby items and clothes, but a soft heart makes your approach to spending different. Or more accurately- your lack thereof.

But the latest bounty was certainly a rough one- with a hefty reward to match. So much so, that Faye let out a long huff of relief after taking her share of the reward, rather than putting up an argument over the amount or suggesting to go window-shopping with you. Regardless, it just so happened after collecting your own fair share, you found a secondhand store on your walk back to the Bebop. You’d stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, looking up at the large sign displaying a proud title for the quant store. Disappearing inside, you return just minutes later along with an award for a job well-done and a gleeful expression.

And better yet, a tiring bounty calls for people to turn in early. Sleep entices you, just as it coaxed all your companions to bed. However, to hell if you aren’t going to take advantage of a silent Bebop. Staying up in comfortable quiet isn’t something you plan for often, even less does it ever actually come to fruition. In your head, tonight was decidedly different, and the universe mercifully granted you that desired peace.

There’s only one light on in the common area, just bright enough to make your book legible. With a head bent down, your hair casts a shadow over your relaxed face. Shadows dance around your body’s curves, vegged out in contentment. Just by glancing at your unmoving form, it would be easy for one to imagine the long day you’ve had.

Lost in your story, the small kinks that accompany the Bebop fly over your head. Distant sounds of machinery are drowned out by the flood your book provides, and you’re right there with them. Floating down further and further until your surroundings are completely off the mind.

“Don’t you think this Jean character is a bit of an airhead?” a voice calls from above you. Jumping, a tiny yelp escapes your lips.

Lifting your head, you find the source of the voice only when you crank your neck back further. The muscles around it and across your shoulders groan, but a pair of mismatched brown eyes keep you from listening.

Spike’s standing right behind the couch, looming over you. His front pressed to the back of the couch, lazily holding the weight of his bent torso. Your faces are mere centimeters apart, something that doesn’t hinder his bored expression. His eyes stay glued to yours, forcing your neck forward, pulling your own from his.

To think simply his body language and carefree voice is enough to make you jumpier than Ein on special mushrooms…

“I don’t understand what you mean,” you mumble, flicking the pages of your book.

“I don’t understand how you can read that crap,” Spike replies, hoisting his body over the couch. He lands on his feet and smoothly plops down onto the cushions next to you. Grinning, he adds, “What? Am I not entertaining enough?”

Your eyes widen, the answer to his question dying on your lips.

Deep inside you, a warm feeling has been growing. The foolish hope that Spike meant all the sweet nothings he threw your way. Casual flirting has long been a staple of your relationship. Spike oozed confidence around you, a trick you happily fall for each time. You stroke his ego and he flusters you beyond what words can express. Ever since the fateful day you’d stowed away on the Bebop- desperate for food, desperate for a home -your relationship with him had been far different in comparison to anyone else.

But even still, insecurity plagued your mind. Aren’t his actions all part of some game? Chasing your reactions only to pass the time; to make the life he leads a tiny bit easier. Born from boredom and nothing else.

To believe you’re special… how positively laughable.

“I didn’t hear you at all,” you sheepishly admit, “I thought everyone went to bed.”

“I tried; too pent up from today to get any shut-eye,” Spike replies, staring down seemingly at nothing. “I was practicing some fighting forms, but needed a break. Then I found your cute little silhouette curled up on the couch and the night’s been looking up ever since.”

“Even if I didn’t see you?”

Spike’s eyebrows furrowed, waving his hands up in the air dramatically. “I don’t understand what that book has that I don’t!”

For one thing, it’s both forward and honest with me, you think, not daring to say such a thing to his face. Regardless of your inner bitterness, his words bring a smile to your face and a laugh follows suit. “Keep reading and you’ll find out,” you quip, raising a brow.

“No way in hell,” he pinched the bridge of his nose, “I’ll leave the reading to the critically gifted.”

“So you admit it- you’re completely clueless. Didn’t even know what you’re criticizing,” you test playfully, gently setting the book down on the coffee table.

“Oi! I still know an idiot when I see one- and that Jean is one hell of a brainless protagonist.”

You snort, finding his confidence endearing. Spike always tried pushing your buttons in this way, and regardless of the fight you put up, you always surrender to his occasional goofiness. Even still…

You sigh, moving your gaze from him. This isn’t the first time he’s sought you out specifically while by yourself. The whole dynamic… it makes your heart flutter with both positive and negative possibilities. Your heart desperately cries for just a chance he may think the world of you, while your head shuts down all hope.

In the moment, you feel both sides collide with one another. Without thinking properly beforehand, you finally meet his gaze head-on once again. A frown now is spread across your face, and his shoulders dip as you ask, “You do this with Faye too, don’t you?”

Spike’s lighthearted expression twists into a confused one, tilting his head to the side. For someone who hates Ein as much as he claims, he sure as hell shares some of the same mannerisms as the pooch. “What are you going on about?” he hums, keeping his voice purposefully low on volume.

“This,” you wildly gesture to both him and yourself, “This-… this…”

“This, what...?” he coaxed, clearly not about to let this go despite your flaming cheeks. This is a bed you’ve never wanted to make for yourself, far too aware that Spike would make damn sure you sleep in it. Sleep deprivation and a long day are just the straw to break the camel’s back.

“This… flirting game you play,” you go on, voice shaking, “It’s flustering… and you never do it in front of everyone else.”

“You want me to?” he asks, genuinely surprised. He puckers his lips in thought, adding in a mumble, “I thought you were the shy type.”

“What?”

“What-?”

The two of you stop speaking, baffled faces glued to one another. Maybe tiredness from a long day really isn’t to blame. Perhaps it’s the fact that everyone else is in bed that makes you so direct- an opportune time. This is between you and Spike alone, which is why you've never gone to Faye or Jet for support.

Faye... you ponder. Or maybe it’s because I’m always nervous whenever Faye and Spike are close. They had both stepped up much today, working together flawlessly despite bickering the entire time. It feels ridiculous to be so worried; it’s clear they cannot stand one another. Yet they look good together... that much you have to admit. And although they deny it profusely, they share a certain amount of concern for each other.

Whatever insecurity is specifically plaguing you at this very moment, one thing is for certain to you: I’m sick of being flirted with- frustrated with the teasing and the sly looks. What this is… it isn’t tangible. It’s not real.

“Y/n…” Spike sighs, dropping his head and pulling you from your mind. He’s turned away now, but continues to sneak peaks at you out the corner of his good eye. “What do you think I take you for?”

Your hands tremble. Once again, you have a hard time answering. Instead of coming up with something this time around, you suddenly stand up from the couch. You know what? Maybe you can run away. Stretching, you let out an obnoxious yawn. “Don’t worry about it,” you act, “Anyways, I really should-“

“Y/n…” Spike mutters, halting your movement. His voice is quiet- soft, even. As he speaks, his hand reaches out for one of your own. “Talk to me... what's so wrong all of a sudden?” His pleading eyes leave you no choice, as well as a skip of your heartbeat.

“I- but, you…” you stutter, slowly sitting back down. Seemingly pleased with this, his grip on you loosens. If only a little bit.

Spike’s eyes travel around your face, searching. For a moment, his eyebrows knit together even further. “Y/n… you deserve more than you give yourself credit,” he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck and pulling his hand away.

Lifting your gaze, it’s now his turn to bashfully avoid eye-contact. Placing both hands behind his head, he kicks his feet up in a quick attempt to seem nonchalant. But Spike performs laziness as if it’s a career. To the point where if he’s not truly relaxed, everyone knows- you know.

“You always say things like that,” you huff, unable to help your bitterness. Now that the cat’s getting dragged out the bag, there’s no point in hiding your frustration. After all, if it is one big game- you won’t find it all too amusing. “But only now… only when we’re alone.”

“So?”

Frustration boils within your chest. “So!? So you need to stop. It’s confusing.”

“You’ve never stopped me before.”

His words eat you alive. Spike is right- you cannot say that you’ve ever lectured him over his flirtatiousness before tonight. But him being right isn’t on your current agenda, which means he must be wrong.

“Not true!” you huff. The face he pulls makes it clear that he is buying the lie even less than you are yourself.

Sighing once more, Spike’s body dips into the couch even further. He scoots closer to you, pausing and waiting for you to pull away or chastise him. When you do neither, he throws his arm around you casually.

“Spike…?” you ask, frustration diffusing at his facial expression. He shuffles himself even closer, both your thighs brushing up against one another. Glancing between your eyes and lips, he finally says, “When the kids are all asleep… isn’t it only natural to flirt out of sight? Trust me, you've always been worth the wait.”

Flirt…

“What are you trying to say...?”

“It's clear that you like me. I'm not oblivious, y'know,” he chuckles, “I can see how you stare, and how you react to my every action is only more evidence piling together. But you always get so shy... I thought you wouldn’t be happy with me openly flirting with you in front of everyone; they can be quite the teasing bunch.”

Blinking, you drink up his words with a baffled expression plastered on your face. In his own way, he makes it plain as day: This isn’t a game. Fun for him, certainly, but not in the sick, selfish way you had wrongfully assumed.

“Is… is that really how you see it?” you ask, voice hopeful. “You're just... honestly trying to flirt with me?”

“Of course,” he makes a face, “I dunno why you’d think I’d act this way with Faye.”

You shrug, “She’s three times the woman I’ll ever-”

A pair of heated lips cut off your words. Across the room, you hear a droplet of water fall from a creaky pipe above to the harsh floor. For a split moment, Spike stayed completely still against your lips. Your eyes are glued wide open, observing his which are screwed tightly shut. His hand had instinctively reached forward, gripping your forearm in a silent plea for you to stay put. His buttocks is lifted into the air, uncomfortably keeping himself bent down and holding his position.

Just now mentally recovering from the action, Spike’s lips gently pull away. He mutters cheekily, “You really need to stop comparing yourself to others- and stop talking about them to me,” He plants a kiss to your lips, ghosting his lips over them as he adds, “I only wanna focus on you, sweetheart.” He tilts his head to the side, nose poking your cheek as he meets your lips once more. You weakly kiss him back, lips quivering and hands sweaty. Despite your nerves, you allow him to pepper your lips with short but desperate kisses.

A minute passes before he pulls away from the kiss, resting his forehead against yours as he slowly sinks back into the couch cushions. He’s sitting much closer to you this time around, your legs touching and torsos twisted in each others’ direction. Something sad taints his eyes, sinking your rapidly-beating heart. Giving your arm a gentle squeeze, he tells you in a whisper, “You really didn’t get it before... did you?”

“I-... I suppose not,” you reply, breathless.

“I’m sorry I confused you,” he murmurs.

“Spike… it’s okay… I assumed the worst and-...”

He raises a hand, a passive request for you to stop your sentence there. Following along, you shut your mouth again. A smile plays on his lips, using the hand he’d raised to cup your chin. His lithe fingers brush against your skin with care, tilting your head so that you felt no other option than to look into his eyes.

“I like when you say my name…” he practically purrs, wrapping his free hand around your waist. “I don’t wanna have to hear anyone else say it.” Your cheeks turn a flushed red color, only egging him on to continue. “And…” he nuzzles your nose with his own, “And I’d love it if you'd indulge me some more.”

“S-Spike…” you sigh, heart leaping thousands of feet away from any ground surface. He bites his lip, but waits for you to finish your thought this time. Instead, you merely sigh again and lean forward.

Getting the hint, a tug around your waist pulls you towards him, and once more you're engulfed in his kisses. Lifting your hands, you rest them against his chest and kiss him back. His hand moves from your chin to the back of your head. Spike’s fingertips massage your scalp, running through your hair and making a quick mess of it. His lips move faster than before; the sound of sloppy kisses fill the common area’s late-night serenity.

Spike bites down on your lower lip, wiping his tongue over the tiny mark temporarily left behind before slipping inside your mouth. You sigh, a tiny whimper accompanying the release of air. His tongue dances around yours. “Spike…” you hum between kisses. Your hands slide up his chest, wrapping around his neck. Your body lifts as you do so, now pressed against him and radiating more warmth between you two.

He pulls away, stomach visually rising and falling. Loosening his tie first, he also releases the first couple of buttons running down the front of his shirt. His bare chest pokes out as he leans back, propping himself up only by his elbows. Grabbing your hand, he beckons you closer with half-lidded eyes, and guides your body to lay comfortably on top of him.

“Come here…” he sighs, tugging you forward by the collar of your shirt. Lips conform to one another, kissing and lightly biting. A hand travels down your side, cupping the bottom of your ass.

You use his hand to direct the movement of your hips, slowly rocking against his. A shiver rolls down your spine at the contact, making contact with something hardening against your clothed core. Spike pushes back, softly groaning into your lips, “Fuck... this is okay?”

You simply nod, not trusting your words.

Shaking his head, he trails his kisses along your jaw. Pushing you further above him, Spike plants soft kisses down to your neck. “Mmh-” you huff, tilting your head and giving him more access.

“I need to hear you say it…” he grumbles, grinding against you with added vigor. “Please, baby…”

You nod again, eyes fluttering shut. He kisses a spot where your jawline and neck meet, sucking a mark onto your otherwise clear skin. Spike grins; your neck’s a blank canvas he intends to utilize.

“Yes…” you mutter, a tremble present in your voice. “Spike... yes, it's okay…”

Biting down on your neck, his hand traces from your ass back up your side again. It lingers for a moment before moving to your front, cupping your breast through your shirt. “Say that again,” he moans, “My name like that…”

“Spike…” you sigh, giggling delicately at his desperation.

“Again...?” he pleads, pulling away from your neck. He peers up at you, eyes hazy with want. He slowly moves his hand down your stomach, tracing the hem of your shorts with a single fingertip.

You press your forehead against his, arching your back. “Spike…” you groan, bucking your hips eagerly. Smirking, he wraps a finger around the material’s waistband and snaps it teasingly against your skin. With a few more kisses planted to your lips, he gingerly slips his hand in your shorts. Moving with a sloth-like pace, his fingers reach your clothed core and gently rub against your wetness. “Mmh... Spike…” you moan, not needing a request this time.

“What the hell-?!” A booming voice shouts from the doorway leading out into the Bebop’s main corridor. A metal crash and another sharp sound follows immediately.

You and Spike freeze, clinging to each other despite the compromising position. His hand is still halfway down your shorts, his shirt is unbuttoned, and the both of you are sweating buckets. Add rosy cheeks- as well as widened eyes -and it’s no doubt the two of you look like a couple of deers in headlights.

Moving in tandem, you both turn to the doorway. Jet is standing there, just as frozen solid as you’d been a second ago. On the floor is a metal watering can, still emptying out onto the floor and getting the man’s shoes soaked. Next to it is a tiny bonsai, roots and dirt seeping from the now-broken pot.

You sit up, finally finding yourself. Spike removes his hands from you completely, and you do the same. Hastily, you trip over your words in an attempt to explain, “I-I-... Jet... we-we were just, uhh-...”

Jet waves his arms and shakes his head. “No no! I get it!” he roughly exclaims, turning back around. “Seriously! Bring it to a damn bedroom you perverts... other people live here you know!” he shouts the last few words, walking back down the hall he’d originally came through.

“Shit…” you mumble, climbing off Spike.

He sits up, pulling a cigarette box from his pant’s pocket. Watching his hands move, Spike grabs a single cigarette and shoves it between his lips. “I suppose I should’ve mentioned that the kids weren’t actually asleep; meant it as a figure of speech. Sorry about that,” he chuckles, inhaling a huff. Your cheeks flare pink.

“Spike!”

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