#sighs. I guess he can keep his top lashes …

[millidew]

sometimes I forget dabi mha isn’t actually missing patches of hair on his head in a what-could-be-loosely-defined-as-an-edgy-diy-undercut-but-is-really-more-because-of-his-burnt-skin sort of way

[bunnysbrainrot]

Research

Kinktober Prompt: Thigh riding

Relationship: Sam Winchester x Reader

Content: Explicit sexual content, dry humping, degradation, some praise, (basically) PWP, a LOT of dirty talk about breeding and other filthy things.

Summary: Sam is busy when you need him most, and you’ll take whatever you can to get satisfied.

A/N: Sorry for the delay in fanfics, you guys! Work has been busy, and I’ve been working on a few pieces at the same time! Another fic will be out very soon, and it’ll be far longer, and far dirtier. Keep an eye out for ‘Guessing Game’.

Tap, tap, tap. Clack clack clack.

Sam’s fingers flew over the keyboard as he researched, with you waiting at his side as he flitted through document after document, barely saying a word. He had been at this for hours, and despite your flirtations and soft touches to his neck and shoulders, Sam didn’t stray away from his work.

But something between your legs couldn’t be ignored. A deep well of aching desire made its home in your tummy, unshakable and persistent. You needed Sam, and you needed him now.

“Saaaam,” you sing-song to him, leaning down toward his ear. You take his earlobe between your teeth and nibble softly at the delicate skin. Sam shifts in his seat and releases a long-held sigh.

Sam tilts hit head to meet your eyes, and smiles, “What is it, sweetheart?”

His tone is soft and suggestive, but he doesn’t give into your kisses like he normally does. You lean into his strong form, settling against him as you bat your lashes at him, pleading.

“Could you take a break for a few minutes?”

To your disdain, Sam shakes his head at your questions. “Baby, I gotta get this research done before Dean gets back tonight. I promise you, we’ll have plenty of time to have fun later, ‘kay?”

You whine, kissing his neck softly. You brought a leg between both of his and settle onto his leg.

“But pleeeease,” you grip at his shoulders, arching yourself into his body. Sam looks to you, a rich affection in his eyes, scanning over you as you writhed on him.

Sam frees a hand to find your hip, pulling you along his leg. You take it in stride and start to flow your hips on his thigh. The friction between your clothes presses against your clit harshly enough for you to cry out, but the slickness between your folds softens the blows.

It takes all of Sam’s willpower to not slam his laptop shut and change the task at hand. But this research did need to be done by the end of the night for this case, there was very little wiggle room. Until that’s done, you would have to take care of these needs on your own.

“Honey-“ Sam starts, “you can’t just wait a few hours?”

You bury your face in his chest and shake it to tell him ‘no’, because you can hardly wait long enough. And if you stop now, all you’ll be able to think about is the lack of pleasure in those boring hours.

Sam’s laugh reverberates through his chest against your ears. He holds you steady with one hand regardless of his research, spreading those beautifully sculpted fingers across the top of your ass.

You buck your hips on his leg eagerly, a pitiful movement to bring some relieving pleasure to your pussy. Sam groans softly - he can feel the warmth radiating between your thighs, pressing into his thigh as you keep softly below him.

“That’s a good girl,” he whispers, his breath rushing over the shell of your ear, “Get yourself off, sweetheart. That’s it…”

His voice makes you whine louder this time, and your movements quicken. Against the side of your knee you can feel Sam’s pants strain against a growing erection. You bring a hand to his cock, palming him through his jeans while you continue to buck your hips.

“Sammy, I need more,” you sigh.

Sam replies, “I guess you’ll have to be patient, then.”

Your groan makes him smile with satisfaction - teasing you like this, making you work for it, making you beg, was Sam’s favorite part. He listens carefully to your desperate whimpers, each one making sitting still rather difficult. His cock presses against his pants to the edge of discomfort, straining to break free and sink into your right pussy. It would be so easy, too, with Dean gone.

“Still at it, hm? Grind that little pussy against my leg, get yourself off, dirty girl.”

His words rattle through you, sending another wave of heat to your soaked pussy, clenching desperately around nothing. Hell, even a finger-

Sam’s words still you, then keep you going at a harsher pace. “Such a needy little slut - you just can’t wait, can you?”

You let out a breathy whine against the crook of his neck, still stroking Sam’s cock across his jeans. The pressure against your clit isn’t much to work with, but it’s something. You continue to grind until your hips protested with soreness, but you persisted.

“Just imagine,” he breathes, “my cock buried inside, stretching you out, stuffing you nice and full. Fuck, and the way I would fill you up ‘til you’re leaking. You’d be sore for days.”

A gasp leaves you as you push yourself closer to the edge, each push of your hips sends a dull, radiating pleasure through your sex. Your slick gives you an advantage to quicken your pace, furiously grinding into your boyfriend’s thigh.

“I’d watch my cum spilling out of you, but I’d fuck it right back inside, make you keep it in there for me. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, baby?”

You cry into his shoulder as you continue. His words were torturous and unrelenting, egging you on to the point of tears. This denial of anything substantial hardly ever happened, and it felt pathetic to resort to this to get yourself off, but it had been driving Sam wild this whole time.

He, in fact, hadn’t been focused on his research. You hadn’t looked up to see the distraction in his eyes, skittering between your eager humping and the laptop screen.

“And you would do such a good job, you’d take every inch while I stretch your pussy out. I wouldn’t stop until you begged me to, I would keep fucking you until I was drained, and you were filled to the brim with cum.” His words kept your mind busy on the image, as fresh as a morning dream.

The tightness in your belly eventually peaked - at home, this would’ve been over in a matter of seconds, with Sam’s masterful fingers and thick cock. Your first orgasm was an uphill battle of getting the right rhythm and pressure.

Sam kept muttering lowly into your ear, shaping his words into a blueprint for you to follow.

“I would make you watch it. You’d see what I see, how this big, thick cock spreads your little pussy wide open. And you wouldn’t say anything about it, either, ‘cause you’re a depraved little slut.”

He delivers a harsh slap to your ass, making you yelp, “Before I finish, I would pull out. Your little pussy would be gaping with how hard I fucked you, and I’d jack myself off until I came, right into that stretched-out cunt.”

You breathe shakily into his neck as your climax builds, slow and aching and deliciously filthy, with how easily his words encourage you.

“I’d wait until you weren’t expecting more, moaning and shaking, and I would fuck it right back into you again.”

The band in your tummy snapped, finally letting your orgasm wash over you with blinding ecstasy. Sam didn’t stop talking you through your high, and the shockwaves that followed.

Sam spoke lowly, “A perfect little cumslut, ready to take anything I give you. You’d be so messy - my cum would leak out of your pussy and into your panties.”

Another slap to your ass, another help from you as you kept grinding, “Bet you wouldn’t have a problem with it, either, would you? You’d get to keep my cum all to yourself - greedy slut.”

It’s all meant for him. Your body, every square inch. Your soul, down to its deepest core. It was all for Sam. Sam. Sam. Sam.

“Sam,” you sigh, threading your fingers through his hair. It was all you could muster amidst the flurry of thoughts that went through you, taking you over, body and soul.

He hums happily as you breathe his name, like a plea for more, an invitation to do all of those dirty things he whispered into your ear, each comment filthier than the last.

You pant as you come down from your high, now slightly bucking your hips. “You’re just mean.”

Sam laughs heartily, and it shudders through his chest into yours, releasing warmth through your body. His hand reaches up to your hair, carding his fingers gently through and massaging your scalp.

“Yet, you’d be begging for those exact things.”

Sitting up fully, you glare at him with a full pout. There was no objection, because it was true. Sam notices a shift of the glint in your eyes as you look between him and the laptop, still on the same documents as when you started. He still hasn’t gotten any work done, after all.

“You still have to wait,” Sam warned, patting your ass softly. You prod his chest harshly, making him grimace with discomfort. “If you’re not patient, it’s not gonna be any better for you.”

You quickly stop and look at him again, sighing dramatically. He cocks an eyebrow and a smile creeps onto his lips.

“I know, life is so hard,” he counters sarcastically.

Hi! I’m sorry this was a little shorter than the others, but this method helps limit my burnout. This way, I can commit myself fully to the bigger fanfics, and make them as good as possible for you guys!

ilysm

-Bunny

[tojisun]

https://www.tumblr.com/tojisun/738535284282638336/a-tentative-hc-of-bimboreaders-insta-acc bimboReader is a penguin lover?! I can picture her calling ‘Simmy’ in tears when she learns that penguins give pebbles as courting gifts 🥰

she is into penguins!! it’s her current fixation, on top of butterfly migration cycles (and selfcare routines – this one is sups important because it’s also meant to give simon a moment of reprieve; just the two of them enjoying a quiet relaxing skincare sesh <33)!! and ahshdhe this made me giggle sm oh this is so adorable and silly, i fear!!!

bimbo!reader mlist <3 // divider by @/plutism ^3^

simon’s focus is splintered at the first chimes of his phone, the sound ringing within the small war room and taking the attention of his squad. his captain trails off into silence, shooting a bewildered look towards simon – it’s not like simon can blame him, after all, this might be the first time he’s actually brought his phone with him during a briefing.

“what…” johnny murmurs but simon ignores him, still planting his focus to his CO as he tilts his head in silent question. john sighs before shooting simon a short nod, giving him his permission. simon turns to leave before john’s even done nodding, his quiet footsteps drowned out by the sound of john dismissing them for the day.

simon doesn’t even need to guess who’s calling him, after all, it’s only your number he’s saved in his work phone. it’s only you who can reach him when he’s out of the city. usually, though, you wouldn’t call him at this time, choosing, instead, to send series of texts about your day or sending over pictures of mittens or anything that could have caught your fancy. so receiving a call from you worries him, the ball of anxiety in his stomach ever-so expanding until he’s all choked up.

he’s barely made it to his room when simon accepts your call, your name falling from his lips with a breathless whisper.

the answering sniffle on your end does nothing to calm him down, the worry simmering underneath his veins spiking up higher. lashing out angrier.

“shh, sweetpea,” simon murmurs, hoping he could do more than just to comfort you over a call. “c’mon, lovie. talk to me, yeah? tell me how i can help.”

“oh, it’s just,” you mumble wetly. “pebbles.”

“…pebbles?”

“mhmm,” he hears you say. “simmy, penguins give out pebbles or rocks as courting gifts!” he hears you sniffle again. “history channel said so.”

“animal planet, sweets,” simon replies automatically before he pauses, blinking.

oh.

“oh, love,” simon wheezes out, the breath coming back to him, feeling his body finally uncoil from the tension that he was carrying. he sags down to his bed and presses the back of his palm on his temple as a chuckle rasps out from his lips. “but y’r doin’ alright?”

“hmm? oh, yes,” you say, sounding less heartbroken and simon wonders if it was because your attention’s been snagged, once again, by the animal planet channel – simon could hear the familiar british narrator droning on in the background.

simon lets out a fond chuckle. “‘lright then.” he licks the back of his teeth. “tell me more about their courting style?”

he hears you gasp before a rapid fire of information is chirped to his ears, the beautiful drawl of your voice chasing away the last remnants of the worry that had choked him up.

you tell him how the documentary was upfront in saying that scientific explanation for the phenomena has yet to be fully explored, so the documentary had honoured, instead, the longstanding theory of female penguins accepting rocks as courting gifts because it shows that the male penguin knows how he can take care of their eggs. “rocks keep the eggs and their nests afloat!”

simon hums and ohh’s and ahh’s at the appropriate times, posing questions that steered the conversation to the right track when you began to mumble distractedly. simon listens in earnest because he may not really care much about penguins but he cares a lot about you. he cares about learning your interests; cares about cultivating his own because whatever his girl wants, simon promises he will learn for her.

and with the way your voice lilts in joy, well, simon knows he’s done the right thing.

(simon returns from their mission with two rocks in his person – one is a polished pebble which he painstakingly looked for when he went down to the beach. the squad insisted on coming with him although the fuckers were not of any help – not like he would’ve accepted it anyway – as they chose to just sit by the local ice cream shop and watched as simon prowled towards the shore in the middle of winter; the one he found was a beautiful hazel colour, mixed greens and browns and even a touch of blues making up the surface of the rock.

the second one he brought with him was a diamond ring.)

this is so silly i love them bad :((

tagging: @honestlyhiswife @ghostsbimbo @kenz-ee @ivymarquis @yannauauau @yaebaal @liwooa @kariiiel @loonalockley @hawsx3 @durkakakayata @littlecellist

[randomgoosegame]

Wanna Play A Game?

Request - Can you do a senku x fem reader where they are playing strip poker and it ends in sex

Warnings/disclaimers - smut, strip poker, unprotected sex, slight bitting

You lay on the ground in the laboratory bored out of your mind as Senku was experimenting with some new supplies. You sigh and roll to your back looking up at Senku on the other side of the lab.

"Senku, I'm bored come take a break." You crawled towards him with a pout.

"I'm working, why not join me?" Senku smiled patting you on the head.

"But Senku you know I'll just mess up more than help." You laughed.

"Hmm, I guess I can take a break for a little while."

"Really!" Senku nods and sat on the floor near you.

"How about we play a game?" Senku grinned at you and pulled out some cards. You raised a curious brow at him and smiled.

"Oh? And what kind of game were you thinking?"

"Poker, but with a twist. Every time you lose... you have to take some clothing off." You blushed and your mouth gaped open like a fish.

"Senku you horny man!" You gasped. Senku shrugged with a sly smile.

"Well do you wanna play or are you chicken?"

"I'll play! I'm no chicken, unlike you Senku." You shot back with a smile. Senku shuffled the cards and passed the correct number of cards to you. You picked up your cards and looked over them at Senku.

You both placed the cards down at the same time. You came out with the higher number.

"Haha! I won." You boasted, making Senku chuckle.

"If you wanted me out of my clothes you could have said so." Senku teased. You blushed and turned your head away from him. Senku chuckled and took off one of his leather shoes.

You two had played a few more rounds before you had to take anything major off. The first main thing you chose to strip was your skirt since it already showed off most of your legs.

Senkus's eyes lingered on your legs as you neatly folded your skirt. Senku cleared his throat and place new cards in order. You blushed and kneel back in front of him.

You picked up your cards and flipped them at the same time with Senku. This one he had lost. Your stomach did flips as Senku slowly began removing his overcoat exposing his torso. Senku tossed the clothing to the side without care.

You lost another game and took your top off, exposing your clothed breasts to him. Senkus tongue darted out to wet his lips. Your eyes followed the muscle and grew hot under the sexual tension in the air.

"Wanna go another round?" Senku asked leaning back on his arms. You nodded and reached for the cards. Senku raised his hand and brushed it along your cheek, pushing your hair from your face. You blushed and looked up at Senku from your lashes.

Senku hummed and held your jaw with his thumb and forefinger. He swiped his thumb across your lip and pulled it down a little bit. You stuck your tongue out and gave his thumb a few kitten licks. You were pleased to hear his breath hitch in his throat.

You smiled and sucked Senkus thumb into your mouth. Senkus lips parted in shock as he felt you swirl your tongue around his thumb, giving it a hard suck before pulling back with a quiet pop.

"Now, how about that game?" You sat back on your calves and picked up the cards leaving a stunned Senku. Senku chuckled slightly and scratched the back of his neck before grabbing the cards that you laid out for him. You both flipped your cards down and your belly tightened with excitement even though you lost.

"Looks like I won," Senku replied smoothly. You laughed nervously and slowly reached behind your back to undo your bra. Senku grabbed your wrist and pulled you to his chest.

"Here, let me get that for you." He whispered in your ear before latching onto your earlobe with his teeth. Senku's hands snaked around your torso and expertly unhooked your bra and let it fall to the floor. Your pudgy chest rubbed against Senku's hard one and you bit your lip to keep in a moan.

"There you go, sweetheart." Senku breathed out and squeezed your sides. You squeaked and slapped his hands away. Senku smirked and watched as you pulled away from him and covered your chest.

"That's not how the game works," Senku said sternly and pulled your arms away from your chest. Your face flushed as his eyes racked over your breasts.

"Just breathtaking." Senku breathed out and licked his lips as he drank in your naked form. You squirmed under his gaze while your face heated up.

"Senku-" You started but were cut off by his lips pressing to your own. You gasped in surprise but kissed him back with equal force. Senku groaned softly as your hands snaked into his hair and tugged lightly on the strands. His hands slowly started to explore your body, squeezing at your sides and pulling you onto his lap.

By the time you both broke the kiss, you were both breathing heavily. Senku nibbled at your bottom lip before trailing his lips down your neck and across your collar bones. You moaned softly as Senku latched onto your left nipple and one of his hands found its way to the other.

Your hands pull Senku further into your chest as you moan out. Senku grinned against your fleshy mounds as he pulled, licked, and sucked at each nipple, satisfied with the soft mewls and pants coming from you.

"Senku please!" You gasped and ground your barley-clothed sex against his thigh. Senku pulled back from your chest just enough to watch you work yourself up on his thigh. Senku groaned as he felt the dampness of your underwear grow and spread on his leg.

You moaned out as Senku flexed his thigh and helped you grind harder against him. You latched your lips to his neck trying to suppress the moans that spilled from your lips. You nibbled and sucked on Senkus's neck leaving a variety of marks in your wake.

Senku tangled his long fingers in your hair and lightly pulled you away from his neck. You whined softly and pouted looking up at him. Senku chuckled and pushed you to lay on the floor. He crawled over the top of you and pressed you into the hard floor with his body.

"Mmm, so pretty. Is this all for me?" Senku asked as his hands ran along your thighs and ghosted over your underwear. You nodded swiftly and bit your lip not trusting your voice.

"Gotta use that sweet voice of yours baby or I'm not gonna touch you." Senku threatened with a smile and slowly pulled his hands back and away from your body.

"Y-yes Senku! It's all for you!" You rushed out and tried to pull him closer by his shoulders. Senku smiled wickedly and pushed on the damp spot of your underwear. Your hips buck involuntarily and you let out a quiet whimper.

Senku bit his lip as he rubbed your clit through your panties. You moaned out and attempted to pull Senku in for another kiss but was pushed down again, this time by his hips as he ground into your heat. You shuttered as Senku dived back into your breasts, nipping and grazing his teeth on each one.

"Senku please I need more, I need you." You whined and bucked your hips into his erection to emphasize your need. Senku groaned and pulled away from your chest. He hooked his fingers into the hem of your underwear and pulled them down your legs.

"Always so needy huh?" Senku grinned. You huffed and turned your head away from him to hide your growing blush. Senku swiftly pushed a finger into your tight walls making you cry out at the sudden intrusion.

"Damn your so wet." He hissed and pushed another finger into you. You moaned out loudly as Senku moved his fingers in and out of your tightness. Senkus eyes stayed trained on your face watching the way your eyes squeezed shut as his fingers drive deeper with each thrust, hitting all the right spots.

A third finger joined the assault on your sex, drawing more high-pitched whimpers and moans out of you. Senku groaned as he watched your eyes roll in the back of your head and your walls clamped tighter on his digits. Your thighs shook as you came, crying out Senkus's name loudly. Your nails dug into his forearm as you grabbed it trying to ground yourself to him.

Senku's fingers slid out of your still quivering walls making you whine softly at the loss of fullness. Senku chuckled and cleaned his fingers off you.

You watched him with half-lidded eyes as he moved up your body leaving small kisses up to your lips. You hummed and wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss.

Senkus body pressed into yours and he hissed softly as his member rubbed up against your thigh. One of your hands buried into Senku's hair as the other drifted down his sides and then grasped him through his briefs. Senku moaned into your mouth and his hips twitched forward into your palm.

You continued to press and rub over his cock while tugging on Senku's hair. Senkus head fell to your neck where he panted and groaned. You whimpered as Senku bit down onto the juncture of your neck and grabbed your wrist stopping its movement on his member.

"C'mon Senku, I wanna make you feel good." You breathed into his ear before gently nibbling on the shell of it. Senku moaned and kissed your wrist before grabbing your other in the same hand and placing them above your head. Your bottom lip jutted out into a pout as Senku pulled away from you.

"In due time sweetheart." Senku looked down at you with blown pupils and a small smile. Senku's free hand ran down your side like he was trying to remember each freckle, mark, and scar that was placed there.

You smiled as he kissed your cheek and pulled off the last article of clothing he had on. Senku sighed softly and jerked himself a few times before grazing your clit with the tip of his cock. Your back arched into his chest as he pressed on your clit a few times.

"Senku..." You whined out his name and wiggled your hips for more friction. Senku shook his head softly and slipped himself through your folds and into your entrance. Your combined moans filled the air as he sunk deeper into you, almost to the hilt.

Senku sighed softly and placed his head on your chest. Your legs delicately wrapped around his waist and you shifted to guide him as deep as he could go. Senku pressed a kiss in the valley of your breasts and pulled back a bit only to thrust his hips back into yours harshly.

You moaned and called out Senku's name each time he filled you. Senkus hands dropped down to your hips freeing your hands. You hummed in gratitude and winded your fingers through his hair pulling him into your chest as your back arched.

Senku groaned loudly and wrapped his arms around your waist to pull you closer. Senku thrust widely into you, he aimed blindly for the spots that make you moan the loudest and squeeze him the tightest.

Your whole body felt like it was gonna combust at any moment as Senku moaned and grunted in your ear. Senku hiked your leg up his hip more allowing him to thrust deeper into you. Senkus teeth sunk shallowly into your neck making you moan out louder due to the mix of pain and pleasure.

"S-senku! I'm gonna-" You were cut off by a loud moan that ripped through your throat. Senku let out a breathy chuckle and nodded slowly.

"Me too sweetheart, me too." Senku huffed and started to swiftly rub at your clit. Your hips bucked up into Senku's matching his thrusts and driving him impossibly deeper. Senku shuttered and let out a throaty moan feeling your walls spasm and constrict around him.

"Let go baby c'mon cum with me please." Senkus voice faded out into a whine as his hips stuttered and he came inside you. You moan and cry out as Senku's hot cum triggers your climax.

Senku laid on top of you, caging you in his hold. You wrapped your arms around him and kissed his sweat-soaked forehead. Senku slipped out of you making you whine at the feeling of emptiness. He raised his head from your chest and you brushed his hair back out of his face.

"Wanna play another game?" Senku asked with a smile.

[luveline]

Hi friend! I just have a small request for zombie au Steve if you’re feeling up for it. I miss him lol. It’s snowing where I live currently and it got me thinking. I would love to see just about anything with zombie au steve and some snow. I’m a little partial to pre-college times but it definitely doesn’t have to be. Fluff or angst bc tbh it could so go either way. Just if it strikes your fancy. And thank you as always for your lovely and warm writing you share!

thank you for reading and requesting, you angel!! some pre-college zombie!au for you <3 —steve acts like a boyfriend even when he isn’t one (officially) on a cold day alone together. fem, 1.1k

It can feel weird waking up next to you. Steve’s so used to taking shifts and sleeping half on top of one another that waking up face to face scares him at first —he flinches and his body fills with inertia as he throws his leg back to stop from falling out of bed. 

You doze peacefully through his panic. Your face is soft with sleep. You have deeply etched lines under your eyes that show how badly you need it, but beside them, Steve can’t find a thing wrong with you. You’re really pretty this close. He finds you beautiful. 

He lifts his hand to your neck in apology though you weren’t awake to notice his fear. “Morning,” he mouths, rubbing the side of your neck gently. 

Your skin is chapped, but his hands are calloused, so it’s not like he minds. He steals another minute watching you sleep, and then he leans forward to kiss your jaw just by his hand. You make a sound he chooses to believe is a knowing pleasure, a happy sigh at being with him. He’d kiss your lips if he thought he could, but he’s been asking first each time for the last few weeks, cautious of overstepping a boundary you haven’t laid. 

The thing is that Steve knew you liked him before he liked you back. Well. He guessed you were attracted to him, then argued with himself that he was being delusional. But one day you were asking if he’d hold your hand, and you wouldn’t admit it but you were scared, and he realised you depended on him for more than just your survival. He realised you were his friend, and now more than that, and it wasn’t that he wasn’t falling for you, but that he just didn’t know how to do that. You were already there waiting for him when he kissed you the first time. 

You’d been so nervous. It was enough to finish him off, compel him forward into whatever this is. (Whatever, but not whatever. He loves it. He’s not sure how to handle it.) 

When he peels away from you, his arms immediately prickle with goosebumps. The room is cold and it has to have been your proximity that was keeping him warm, his breath rising like fog as he stands. “Shit,” he mumbles, mouth glued together with fatigue. “Fucking hell.” 

He stretches until the sore spot at the low of his back clicks and turns to look at you again, checking you’re alright while he scratches the last eight hours out of his hair. You’ve curled a touch into his warm spot but otherwise remain asleep. 

Why is it suddenly cold? 

A white light is emanating from behind the curtains. Steve hopes to god it’s just a bright day today, that the sun is high and reflecting off of a lake nearby, but he pulls the drapes open and startles into silence. 

Powdery snow stretches thick and fast from either side of the landscape. Wind carries it around in drifting sheets, but it seems to have stopped for now. 

He grabs another blanket from the linen closet, a third, and stands with his head cocked by the door listening for sounds. Steve’s more often than not thinking about who or what might be near. 

He closes you both in again, shuts the curtains, and climbs into bed with you, draping the blankets heavily over your body where it makes half a heart. You pull a knee higher and disrupt the image, eyes squeezing tightly closed at his return, and opening sluggishly. 

“Hey,” he says, resting his head on the pillow. Eye to eye like this, he can see the sleep in your lashes. He probably has his own. “You feeling okay?” 

“Are you trying to cook me?” you ask. Now you’ve seen him, you’re relaxing, closing your eyes again. 

“Don’t go back to sleep.” 

“Why not?” 

“‘Cause I’m bored and you’re my only friend,” he says. 

“Ooh, wouldn’t say that. Not sure we’re there yet.” 

Steve cups your cheek. You smile into the pillow. 

He draws a line back and forth. It’s nice to give you something nice, a soft sensation. He thinks maybe that’s what falling in love is; wanting to make someone else happy, wanting them to make you happy. You’re a sweetheart when he’s not antagonising you; you’re nice, and gentle, and you hold his hand like you’ve loved him for years. He’s not stupid enough to miss how awesome that is. Nor can he ignore the way his heart has started to patter when you’re changing, or the contented, near bliss of your face pressed under his chin. This isn’t just about you wanting him or vice versa, it’s love. 

“Maybe you should sleep more. You still look tired.” 

You wrinkle your nose and he leans in, thinking about kissing you again, but you’re not on the same page yet. “I can’t sleep anymore. It’s midday, right?” You squint at the bright square of the window before hiding your face, your forehead slipping against his chin to his shoulder. “We should get going soon.” 

“That’s not happening.” 

He wraps his arm around you. You practically preen, happiness sewn into your words as you ask, “Why not?” 

“It snowed last night. All night, I’d say.” 

You look up at him sceptically. “Really?” 

“You think I’m lying?” 

“I thought it was too cold to snow.” 

“Tell that to the penguins in Antarctica.” 

You laugh into his shoulder. Slowly, your hand is climbing his stomach. After a half second of deliberation, you curl it behind his back and settle in. “You’re not nice.” 

“I’m nice,” he says into your forehead, pulling you closer in turn. “Not making you walk in the blizzard.” 

“Generous.” 

He hugs you tighter and decides fuck it, pressing a generous smattering of kisses into the skin between your brows. “You love that about me. I’m oh so forgiving.” He encourages your head back carefully to kiss the tip of your nose. “Are you warm enough?” 

You’d think he’s told you you’re beautiful, or that he wants your babies, the way you melt. “I’m fine. Thank you,” you mumble shyly. 

He presses his forehead to yours. The snow might stay for days, and eventually you’ll have to brave it, but for now he wants to stay here kissing you and exacerbating the ache that brews in his stomach every time your breath catches. “You’re welcome,” he murmurs. “There’s more linens if you need them.” 

“I won’t need them. You’re going to keep me warm.” 

“I am.” Steve presses a gentle kiss to your lips, endorphins like a rush of heat through every inch of skin as you kiss back. 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Candy Girl 5

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as cheating, age gap, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: as you’re about to take the next step with your boyfriend, doubts begin to arise. (short!plus!reader)

Characters: Thor (boyfriend’s dad/silverfox)

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself. <3

The silver-haired man bends over your engine. His name is Bucky as you guessed from Thor’s booming yawls for him. You sit on the front porch, next to the pizza on the bench, and chew your lip anxiously. All four men loom around your deceased vehicle, mulling grimly over the ruins. 

Karl seemed okay about the catastrophe. Emmanuel was looking to pick up some hours and there are enough orders that he didn’t need to worry about breaking even. You thanked him before you hung up, still numb and in disbelief. It’s not just a car, it’s your livelihood. More than just your job, it’s your escape from a house that’s never been much of a home. 

You try not to let the despair drown you but can’t help it. For all your optimism, this is just too much, the final straw. If you can’t drive, you can’t work, and you can’t get money, and you can’t hand over most of your check to get your parents off your back. You are effed. 

Before you can hang your head, Thor catches your eye. He waves and bounds over as if only then remembering you. He comes up the steps and leans against the porch railing across from you. 

“Gonna be alright,” he says and he crosses his arms, “Bucky says it might take a little but he can redo the whole thing.” 

“Really?” You bat your lashes, looking up at the awning, “hm, maybe I should look into being a mechanic.” 

“Not quite,” he chuckles, “it’s more a hobby but he’s gotten me out of a few vehicular binds. I trust him.” 

“Oh, uh, well... guess I don’t have much of a choice,” you shrug and reach into your pocket, “can you take this back?” You hold out the folded bills, “maybe it can help with the cost--” 

“Ah, he owes me,” Thor winks, “keep it.” 

“I can’t--” 

“I’ve been holding onto this favour for nearly a decade, what better time to use it?” He grins. “Please, little one, you keep that money. It’s well-earned.” 

You give a bittersweet smile, your cheeks pinching with the underlying anxiety. You won’t argue about it. You really do need the money. You sigh and tuck it back into your pocket. 

“I’m sorry to ruin your night,” you murmur as you look at the men near your car. Bucky and another argue as they gesture to the car, the greying blond man standing back to watch without amusement. 

“Ah, no, they’re always like that,” he glances over his shoulder, “eh, what more could I ask?” He stands and drops his arms, moving to sit on the other end of the bench. He flips up the lid of the top pizza box, “than to eat with a pretty girl.” 

Your cheeks tingle. He’s always a bit too cheesy. You scrunch your lips and shake your head. 

“Please, dig in,” he insists, “might as well. Otherwise, these old dogs with devour it all and be whining of heartburn in an hour.” 

You snort. You can’t say you’re not hungry. Driving around with the smell of chicken and pizza all night does tend to leave you ravenous and after the day you’ve had, well, you’re no stranger to comfort eating.  

“Just one slice,” you insist and reach to tear a piece off the pie. 

He hums contentedly as he takes one himself. He peers out at his buddies and rolls his eyes. The argument is turning heated though the silent third hardly seems fazed. It almost reminds you of Magni and his friends; people don’t grow up very much, do they? 

🍬

“It’s late,” Thor says as he leads you down the walk, “you can stay over and I’ll drive you home in the morning.” 

“Oh, but...” 

“Mm, I did have a beer or two, we’ll have to walk to mine,” he interjects, “apologies, little one, I didn’t foresee disaster.” 

“It’s... okay,” you assure him. “Thanks, again. I really appreciate it.” 

You turn onto the sidewalk beside him and slip your phone from your purse. Still no messages. You dim the screen with a sigh and put it away. 

“Something the matter?” Thor asks. 

“No, just... haven’t heard from Magni.” 

“Ah, I’m certain he’s home,” Thor insists, “you know how he is. Distracted with that bike he can’t seem to fix.” 

You chuckle, “yeah, I don’t think that thing’s ever gonna run again.” 

“I told him not to take it apart,” he tuts, “but does he ever listen?” 

“Oh, sorry, I...” 

“It isn’t your fault, no need for your apologies,” he says, “I only wish...” he exhales heavily, “maybe I could’ve done better. If I had, he’d treat you better too. I’m sorry you have to deal with such a spoiled brat. As selfishly as I’d like you to stick around, you could do better. Much better.” 

You mull his words in silence, “yeah, I... he’s... not... he just needs time.” 

You’re not sure you believe that. He hasn’t changed in the year you’ve been together. You’ve known him even longer than that and you can’t say he’d matured past his high school antics much.

Even his brother, Modi, outgrew all that. You always asked why he didn’t think about moving in with him, getting a bit of space. He just didn’t want to be troubled with the effort of it all. Just like most things. 

“It isn’t my place,” Thor raises his hands, “sorry. It is only... my thoughts come faster than I can stop them.” 

“Yeah... I...” you drag your feet. He’s just saying everything you’ve been denying. “I don’t know.” 

You walk along, staring ahead, overly aware of his looming presence. He rubs his neck and clears his throat, “anyhow, I was curious, fall will be here soon, were you still looking to go to school?” 

“Oh, uh... well,” you scoff, “my car... don’t have that much save yet and... I mean, you don’t have to do everything on the same schedule as everyone else, right?” 

Another point of denial. Another thing you’re running away from to look on the bright side instead. You sniff and shrug. 

“Not this year.” Probably not next year, either. You’re already a year behind, so what does it matter? 

“Ah, so now that Magni’s done his gap year, you’ll be okay?” 

“Okay?” You wonder. 

“With him going away for so long. I suppose you’ll just go up and visit, eh? We could make a road trip of it, if you like.” 

“Away?” Your heart plummets and you stop short, just at the corner of his street, “Mr. Odin—Thor? I thought he was going local.” 

He turns to you and inhales, chest rising and falling as he clamps his lips guiltily, “oof, I’ve done it again. Said too much.” 

“What-- when was he going to tell me?” You croak. Don’t cry. Don’t. That’s just pathetic. 

“I’m sorry, little one, I didn’t mean--” 

“You’re sorry? He didn’t even tell me,” you mope, “I...” 

You spin on your heel and storm ahead of him. You’re filled with hurt and anger. Whatever. If Magni doesn’t want to answer your texts, fine, he can sulk and be a child, but what was he going to do? Just pack up and leave you without a word? 

You sense Thor behind you, trailing after. He’s tall enough he could easily catch you but he’s holding back. You don’t care. He can’t stop you. 

You stomp up the front stairs of his house. The porch light shines yellow and the windows are lit up. You forget all pretense as you enter his home, leaving the door open. Magni’s metal music blasts from his bedroom. You barrel down the hall and burst through his door. 

You skid to a halt, at first, not understanding what you’ve walked in on. You lean back on your heel as the breath rushes from you and leaves you deflated. Your ears buzz and your eyes tinge. They don’t even notice you as you stand there gaping. Magni and Sheena, his ex, lay on his bed, tangled in each other, sucking each other’s faces like they’re on life support. 

You back out and whimper. You collide with Thor as he comes up behind you. He growls as he looks over you easily and witnesses your horror within. You push back against him and veer away. 

“Little one,” he calls after you as you flee, his hand slipping down your arm before he can get a hold of you. 

You’re already bawling, heaving and gasping for air. You’re so stupid. You can’t believe you put up with all Magni’s bullshit. No, you can’t believe you let yourself be so blind. Good things don’t just happen because you want them to. You should know that by now. 

[angelskills]

can we please have a college au! Suguru who takes interest in a girl from a different department and he keeps trying to find her and talk more but she doesnt let it? Or disappears for weeks together untul he next sees her?

a/n: omg this is so creative?! i haven't tried writing a suguru fanfic ever, so this will be a challenge, and i love challenges :D, thank you so much for the request! if you want something else, pls lmk, also thank you sm for 200+ likes on my last post, also, i kind of switch the names between geto and suguru, and gojo and satoru. this may not be the best fanfic but if you want something else, pls pls request, i want to write something that you actually want :)) !

Out of Reach

warnings: pw/p(p0rn with plot), tipsy sex, he doesnt pull out (birth control dw), clit stimulation, p in v, vaginal fingering

credits: @hopelesslygaysstuff for the 18+ header

characters: you, Shoko, gojo, geto,

intro: geto notices you for the first time in the library while he is with his friends

Geto had his eyes on you for a long, long time. But, you never noticed. He always tried to find you around campus and talk to you. But, he never could. Geto first noticed you at the library when he was with Gojo. You happened to be with Shoko, who is one of his close friends.

Something about you really stood out to him. He never really knew why, but he took an interest in you. He is lazy, but he would chase you around the campus to try and catch up to you, but it never really worked out. You both had different majors, meaning you would be in different departments. He majored in humanities while you majored in computer science.

Geto thought about you all day long, he didn't want to but couldn't stop thinking about you. You were pretty, with a cute smile, and you were smart. How did Geto know? Well, he may or may not have texted Shoko about you. He lays in bed every night, hoping to get the chance to talk to you one day.

That man was so happy. He actually started smiling when Shoko told him you would be at Gojo's party in his apartment. He was excited to finally be able to have a proper conversation with you that doesn't have him running around campus, slipping like 10 times to catch up to you. Who knows why he was so crazy about you?

It was finally Friday night. Geto always hangs out at Gojo's house and helps prepare the drinks and food whenever there is a party. Geto was yapping on and on about you and how it's so hard to talk to you as he was laying out the plastic plates on the table and ordering the food. Gojo was so annoyed with that man, "Just get her number and text her, dude."

Geto seems like an overall confident person, but when it came to you, he was nervous, he didn't wanna make a weird first impression. "You don't get it." He sighed, sitting on the sofa, "You think she might like me?"

"No, fuck no." Gojo laughed, "You're scared to even approach her, pussy."

"I try to catch up to her."

"Try harder."

Geto rolled his eyes and cussed under his breath. But, it was the truth. He was trying, of course. But whenever he caught up to you, he would chicken out and just, not.

Gojo heard a knock on his door. They both looked at each other and looked at the clock, it wasn't time for the party yet.

Well, guess it was.

He opened the door and saw a bunch of his classmates and friends just come in with bottles of vodka and tequila. Screaming and singing. More and more people came in. You could say almost the entirety of the college students were there, except you and Shoko. G

Geto was in a corner while Gojo had girls all over him. He kept on texting Shoko and spamming her to get here faster.

Meanwhile you and Shoko...

"Hurry up, Y/N, please!" Shoko whined, lying down on the couch, replying to Geto's text.

"Sorry, wait!" You yelled from the bathroom, applying mascara on your lashes.

You wore a cheetah print top with flared jeans and a rhinestone belt. You brushed your hair, thinking about the party, obviously you know Gojo, he's really popular afterall. He was always with this guy. Tall, muscular, and he looked tired all the time. You finally finished getting ready, putting on your necklace and earrings and stepped out of the bathroom.

Shoko complimented you and you guys took a few pictures together. You both put on your shoes and legit rushed out. Trying to find a cab to get to Gojo's place. You were excited, because this was your first ever party, especially in college. Even though you're a sophomore, you avoided parties a lot because you focused on your grades too much. After becoming friends with Shoko, you let loose a bit and finally agreed to go to a party.

Shoko was talking about Geto as you both got in the cab and you couldn't recognize his name. She showed you a picture and you finally realized that was the Geto Shoko was always talking about. You couldn't even deny it, that man was fine, but you didn't say anything.

After a while of asking Shoko for more pictures of Geto and staring at his pictures as if he were the most beautiful man ever, you finally reached Gojo's place. You and Shoko got out of the car, and you were out here taking deep breaths because you were nervous about the party. As you both walked towards Gojo's door, Shoko was reassuring you that everything would be fine and parties weren't that big of a deal.

The door was open, damn. That man was really fearless.

You walked in with Shoko, astounded by how big Gojo's apartment really was. Geto noticed you and Shoko, letting out a sigh of relief because truly, he was worried sick thinking YOU(not Shoko) got in an accident and died. He finished his glass of beer and started walking towards you. Then, Shoko dragged you off to somewhere else, giving you a tour of Gojo's apartment. Geto clenched his fists, muttering out a bunch of fuck you's to Shoko.

Geto finally managed to catch up to you and Shoko, finding you guys hanging with Satoru. You looked at Geto, finally realizing that man was even finer in real life. You gave him a warm smile, before turning back to Gojo.

Geto's face nearly turned red. Did you just smile at him? He couldn't believe it.

"Hear me out, let's play beer pong." Satoru smirked, setting up the plastic cups. It was an upside-down triangle laid on the table.

You looked at Shoko, nodded, and helped pour the beer into the plastic.

You guys played beer pong for a while, switching some of the cups with beer and then tequila and vodka.

Satoru and Shoko were drunk as fuck and out like a light, you and Geto were only a bit tipsy because you both were actually good at the game and meanwhile, Gojo and Shoko sucked ass with their angles.

It was like, 3 a.m., and Satoru and Shoko were still out. You and Geto were sitting on the couch, talking and he confessed about how he always chased you around campus and tried to talk to you, but he always chickened out. You laughed at that, but on the inside, you were screaming. A man, like him, took an interest, in YOU? You talked about how you kept begging Shoko for pictures of him because you thought he was so cute.

There was some tension between you two. You both basically just confessed your feelings at this point. You laughed it out, trying your best not to create awkwardness between you two.

But, he didn't care. Whether it was awkward or not, all he cared was being there with you. Just you being present makes him happy.

He put his hand on your cheek, getting closer to your face, making sure you're comfortable before pulling you into a deep kiss.

You didn't know how it got to this point. From you and Geto laughing at each other, to a bit of making out, and then to you being carried to the guest bed.

He placed you on the bed gently, pulling you into a kiss as his fingers ran down your chest to your waistband, slowly pulling your jeans off. Your heart was beating out of your chest. All of this happened in a flash. He slid your top up so your bra would be exposed. You could feel the dampness in your panties from just seeing him like this. He kissed down your neck to your stomach. His hand slid under your panties, slowly rubbing small circles on your clit. You bucked your hips, trying to squirm away but his hand on your waist kept you in place.

He inserted a finger inside you, catching you off guard. You arched your back slightly, your body squirming as you let out noises. To him, your voice was like a melody, let alone noises. He wanted to get more out of you. He slid another finger in, your wetness making it easier for him. His fingers were so thick, you were almost scared about what his dick would feel like. His fingers curled right against your g-spot, you let out a loud moan, your toes curling as you gripped his shoulder, "S-suguru..." you whimpered. He swore he almost came in his pants after hearing you whimper his name like that. He pulled out his fingers, sliding your panties off.

He inserted his fingers right back inside of your hole. Stretching you out to make you prepared. You gulped as you shut your eyes, moaning as his fingers hit your sweet spot every time he pulled his fingers in and out. He unzipped his pants with his free hand, pulling down his boxers and lining his member to your entrance.

You almost screamed when you saw how long it was. You weren't even sure if it could fit or not. "Say the safeword when you want me to stop, green." He said as he slid his length inside of you, trying his best to be gentle but your pussy felt so good around his dick, he had to hold himself back from cumming right there.

You moaned, "Hngh... s-suguru... please...". He looked you in the eyes, "Please what?" He smirked, his fingers crawled to your clit.

You buried your head in his shoulder, "S-start moving, please." you gulped, you felt so full you thought you would just pass out if he started moving. From this moment on, he loved seeing you be shy in bed, he thought it was so cute especially since it was, you.

His hand grabbed your waist to keep you in place as he started thrusting inside of you. His free hand rubbed small fast circles on your clit, making your eyes roll back from the overwhelming pleasure. His dick hitting your sweet spot and him rubbing your clit at the same time.

"T-too much, too much!" You whined, throwing your back as you felt your orgasm coming. Your hands wrapped around Suguru's neck. It was almost impossible to keep yourself quiet and you were almost screaming but he wasn't complaining at all.

Within minutes, you milked his cock, creating a ring around it. Your pussy clenched around Suguru's cock, "H-holy shit", he groaned. Your toes curled as he sped up his pace, his thick cock kissing your cervix with each thrusts. After a few moments, he filled you with his cum to the brim, painting your walls white as thick ropes of cum spurted out.

He pulled out as he collapsed onto you, but making sure he doesn't put all of his weight. You put your hand on his cheek, smiling before giving him a kiss.

After a few moments, he picked you up to carry you to the shower, helping you clean up.

The very next day, you couldn't even walk.

[jadewritesficshere]

Hold me close as you drift off to sleep

Eddie Munson x reader

Eddie spends the night for the first time

Contents: no use of gendered pet names,, no physical descriptions of reader but clothes are described, mentions of nervousness, mentions of sharing a toothbrush which leads to mentions of spit kink, no actual smut but allusions to it,

MDNI 18+ only

You slowly looked over your pajama choice in the mirror. A pair of warm plaid pants and a t-shirt from years ago that was faded and soft in the most comfortable way. You weren't sure why you were so nervous about this, you and Eddie had seen each other in many different clothes and lack thereof.

But there was something different about spending the first night together. The first time sleeping together, and by sleeping you actually mean it in the sense of the word. Snoozing. Dreaming. Resting. Snoring-

Oh God what if you snored? You bit your lip as the anxiety started to rise. You didn't think you snored, but what if you did? What if you walked in your sleep? Or worse, what if you talked and shared all your secrets (the most important being you loved Eddie, but you didn't think it was that big of a secret).

The door to your bedroom creaked open, causing your eyes to dart over. Eddie walks in, dumping his clothes on the floor. The white tank top clings to his lean torso, the ill fitting red plaid pants rolled up at the hems. Eddie smiles at you slightly before sighing loudly. You stomach turns until Eddie gestures to his pants," Well, one of us is gonna have to change."

A laugh escapes you just as your worries do. This is Eddie. Your Eddie. There is no need to be nervous.

You walk over to the bed and crawl in," Should have packed a bag just in case. You saw the forecast was calling for snow." Eddie scoffs slightly but crawls into bed," You're my weather.. guide? the weather diviner...the weather-" "meteorologist" "Yeah that! You're that. Wayne watches the news, not me. They just want you to see one side." Eddie pulls the blankets up to his chin and bats his lashes at you," You're my meteorologist and you didn't tell me. Almost like you wanted this to happen."

You smile as you roll your eyes," Yes Edward, I wanted you all to myself and chose to not tell you so that way you had to borrow clothes from whatever was left here by Steve and Robin." "Oh, I'm not borrowing, these are mine now. Finders keepers." Eddie winks at you.

Eddie reaches over and turns off the lamp, letting the room go dark. You blink your eyes a few times, adjusting to the lack of light. You can feel the dip in the bed where Eddie is laying next to you. Your hands almost touching. Hear his breathing cut through the deafening silence.

You look over at Eddie and find him already staring at you. "Sorry if I snore," you mumble looking into his eyes. Eddie brings up a finger and traces your cheekbone," Don't worry about it. Wayne snores, won't bother me if you sound like a chainsaw." You huff and go to turn away but Eddie holds your face towards him.

"Goodnight." Eddie whispers as he leans in and kisses you lightly. Its soft, sweet, and almost shy. You grin into the kiss. Eddie sighs and pulls back a fraction, lips barely touching. You can feel his breath against your face. You can smell peppermint- wait.

"You brush your teeth?" You ask. Eddie hums an affirmative, " Yup. Got my molars and everything. Rinsed your brush really wel-" "My brush?" Eddie looks a bit sheepish as you gape at him," My brush Edward? That's-! What? Eddie!"

Eddie blushes," We've swapped spit when kissing-" "That's different!" "Is it?". You roll away as Eddie makes grabbing hands and tries to keep you facing him. You evade his grasp and stare at the wall, feeling Eddie wrap his arms around your waist,"I'm sorry?"

You can't help but smile as Eddie kisses up and down your neck, apologizing the whole time. You grab his hand resting on your hip and interlock your fingers," It's okay i just don't want to think about it. I guess you have spit in my mouth-" "No I haven't! Wait, is that...Is that on the table cau-" "Don't press your luck tonight Eddie you know what I meant," you warn. "Shutting up" Eddie makes a motion of zipping his mouth shut.

You start to laugh and pretty soon Eddie is too. If you had had any nerves left, they would be gone now. You sigh, relaxing into the bed. The weight of Eddie's arm laid across you, holding you in place, had you feeling secure.

"Night Eddie. Don't let the bed bugs bite," you grin as you close your eyes. They snap back open a minute later as you feel the sting of Eddie's teeth lightly clamp onto your shoulder," Hey!" "No bed bugs here, just me. Your loooovveee bug." Eddie grins as you swat at him," Go to sleep!"

Eddie goes to roll over but you grasp his forearm, pulling his arm back over you. He smiles as he nuzzles his nose into your shoulder. He slides one leg and slots it between yours. Your limbs entangled in a more innocent way then normal. You smile softly as you lay there, trying to go to sleep.

You can hear Eddie's breathing even out as he falls asleep behind you. Knowing he feels safe and comfortable enough to do so makes you feel warm inside. You grin as you start to feel the edges of sleep start to overtake you.

Your eyes flutter open as the sun shines through the window. You look over at Eddie and try to stifle a laugh. His face pressed into the pillow with his hair a wild, tangled mess around him. The pillow slightly discolored from where he has drooled onto it. You can't hold it in when you realize the tank top he's wearing has shifted to reveal his entire pec to you.

Eddie slowly wakes up to your laughter, glaring at you slightly for being woken up. The grumpy look fades from his face as he realizes it's you that woke him up. Eddie sits up quickly, brushing a hand through his hair and only getting it caught once or twice. He wipes at the drool on his chin and gives you a big grin," What are you laughing at?"

You nod at his chest and he looks down. Eddie gasps dramatically," My virtue!" He fixed his top as he chuckles. You're sad to see his chest get covered. "Good morning," you say, hand reaching out to lightly graze his.

Eddie grabs your hand with his, thumb stroking the back of your hand," Good morning my dying fish" You wrinkle your brow at him," your what?" "My dying fish, you flopped around so much like a-" You cut Eddie off by hitting him with your pillow. His mouth drops open before he grabs his and hits you back.

Giggles and the sound of pillows hitting each other fill the air before Eddie tosses the pillow aside and tackles you to the bed. He kisses you before hovering over you slightly," Good morning." You grin back, tucking a stray curl behind his ear," Good morning.

Eddie grins down at you and you smile back. The warmth in his eyes causes your stomach to flutter and heart to beat faster. You don't know what he is thinking but can see the love written plainly on his face. You know that while this was only the first time he slept over, it definitely wouldn't be the last.

Eddie kisses the tip of your nose before jumping up," I'm gonna brush my teeth." He starts to giggle slightly making your eyes widen. "Eddie you better not use my brush!" You holler after him, hearing him cackle as he rushes down the hall," Edward!"

[barleyo]

Miss Independent.

Hobie Brown X F! Reader (smut)

A/N: Did y'all miss me? Of course you did! Sorry to leave you all for so long, I was on one of my world-famous hiatuses. Sorry, it will most definitely happen again though. Thank you all for sticking by me. I hope you enjoy this piece.

Tags: foreplay, fingering, established relationship, smut, explicit content

Wordcount: 869

(I guess this could be seen as a part two to Bubbles, so take it as you will! Thank you for reading, apologies for the short length!)

She pushed the door to the apartment open quietly, cringing at the small squeal it let out. She felt awful. It had been the longest night she had ever worked through, her feet, back, and arms all hurt, her hair and makeup had been completely messed up, and to top it off, she had reeked of alcohol from a stray drink that had been spilled on her.

She quickly discarded her shoes, kicking them off next to the door. She made her way over to the couch. Her arms fiddled behind her back to untie her serving apron, but she couldn’t work the knot out. Sighing, she threw her hands down to her sides before she felt a pair of large hands wrap around her waist.

“‘Ey there, (Y/N),” her boyfriend said quietly into her ear, tracing his fingers over her sides. “Rough night?”

She did not respond, instead leaning back into his touch and mumbling. “Can you get this for me?”

He hummed and undid the knot, working it out with one hand while his other one remained perched on (Y/N)’s hip. Hobie pulled the apron off and tossed it thoughtlessly, keeping his focus on his girl.

“Gonna tell me what happened?”

He tightened his grip around her and pulled her down on his lap on the couch. He placed her legs over his and massaged her shoulders with his big, calloused hands.

“‘M jus’ so tired of that place,” she said over a hum. His hands worked deep into the tense muscles between her shoulder blades. “Workin’ me half to death,” she threw her head back onto his shoulder so that she could look at him, giving him a weak smile “and my feet hurt so fuckin’ bad.”

“Ah, s’no good. My hardworking girl.” He parted her thighs slightly with his knee and placed his hand over the flesh. “Y’need to relax, can’t keep exhausting y’self like this.”

"I know, but I can't just call off. My boss barely wanted to let me off when I was sick, he won't care if I'm just tired." She softly followed his motions and spread her thighs further for him, gasping when his hand rubbed her over her jeans. "Ah, please don't stop, I need a release so bad tonight," she pleaded.

"Wouldn't dream of stoppin', baby. Just lemme take care of you, yeah?"

Her lashes fluttered, briefly kissing the tops of her cheeks. She felt Hobie's hands start to slip past her unbuttoned jeans and explore, and she just let him. Having no energy left, she allowed him to fiddle with her to his heart's content. 

His fingers pinched her clit softly, squishing the little nub. He chuckled when (Y/N) moaned his name under her breath at the feeling. "God, those people take you for granted. 'M so lucky to have you all to m'self."

He moved from simple pinches and pokes to full circular motions. Small, clockwise strokes were delivered to her clit, with the calloused tips of Hobie's fingertips adding onto the already fulfilling sensation.

"Fuck, Hobie, right there." Her eyebrows knitted together tightly, jaw popping frustratedly as she chased her high. "Wait, no, don't slow down."

"Patience, love, patience."

He slid his fingers down from her clit to her entrance, teasing the slick hole with his fingertips.

"I thought you were doing this for me, not so that you could see me squirm," she said, offer a fake pout.

"Oh, but it is for you. I know you love to feel these in ya." To punctuate his words, he roughly curled his fingers into her, barely prodding the pudgy, gummy spot that she so desperately needed to be hit.

Hobie scissored her open, spreading his middle and index finger while they were comfortably in her. He placed his head on her shoulder and looked over it, eyes clouding with lust as he saw drips of arousal escaping her.

"You're  the prettiest little thing, aren't you? Coating my fingers, nice n good."

His fingers made another plunge into her, this time angling to hit her G-spot. He went in and out, pounding into it until his girlfriend shifted into a huffing mess. 

Her moans were no longer moans, they had turned into breathy, long exhalations. She braced herself, knowing that she would burst at any moment.

"Getting all tight on me now," Hobie mused, running his tongue over the shell of her ear. "Just let go."

So she did. 

A fast, flashing set of squeezes attacked his two fingers. (Y/N) gripped Hobie's wrist tightly, trying to ground herself in any way possible because if she didn't, she thought the pleasure would surely ascend her into heaven.

She didn't sit there for long, though, ready to feel more of her boyfriend. She shifted herself in his lap so that she could face him head on. Straddling his hardened cock over his pants, she started to slowly grind herself down.

"Thank you, Hobs, I needed that so badly."

"So did I, baby. The night's not over though, is it?"

"Of course not," she said, pressing her full weight down on his length. "You know that you have to tip your servers, so hurry up and let me have yours."

[lumibuns-blog]

Gojo is my life

Same bed trope with Gojo (fluffy)

I don't proof read anything so I apologize for my terrible spelling

Gojo didn't know wether he wanted kiss or kill Ijichi for screwing up the hotel booking and booking only one room with one bed in a sold out hotel.

He was standing there next to you, both of you were speechless, just standing in place as you realize there was no backing out of this situation.

"Taking me to hotel? Wouldn't your house been a bit nicer?" He joked trying to cover up his nerves.

"Very funny" you respond "but seriously what are we going to do about this?"

"Well I obviously did the most work on the mission so far, so there for I deserve the-"

"Alright yeah you can take the bed just give me a blanket for the floor" you say cutting him off

Your friend was disheartened, he had hoped he would try and coax you into sharing the bed, but you were to nice to go against his attitude.

He sat disappointed on the bed while you changed and washed your face (he faced the opposite way to make sure he didn't see anything that would fluster him)

When you both got settled in, you could barely sleep, it was obviously uncomfortable on the floor and Gojo's tossing and turning was helping

'Is he trying to rub it in?' you think

Little did you know Gojo couldn't sleep either because he was too worried about you being uncomfortable to relax.

About an hour passed before he couldn't take it anymore and he turned to lean his head off the bed down towards you.

"Psssst hey are you asleep?" He whisper yells

You begin to sit up "well I'm trying to but-"

You suddenly realize you are face to face with him, you lips so close they could almost be touching, his eyes seemed to glow even in the dark with that mischievous twinkle.

"Oh-I um sorry" you stuttered, turning away

"It's ok, um...don't worry about it" he responded trying to play it off. "if you can't sleep the bed is big enough for the both of us and some room so you can join if ya want, I promise I wont try anything funny" he chuckles

You were half asleep and in a stupor from your last interaction with him already so surprisingly you agreed and he scooted over to make room for you.

"Night" you whisper facing away from him

"Yeah night" he sighs wishing he didn't have to sleep back to back

Within minutes Gojo finally passes out, letting himself go spread eagle with one arm and one leg flopped haphazardly on top of you. You're annoyed but also a little amused he fell asleep so quickly.

You turn over to face him and are met with the most peaceful version of your friend you've ever seen, his pretty eye lashes gently closed and his mouth open with just a bit of drool on his chin. With that image firmly burned into your memory you finally go to sleep.

Gojo wakes up at about 5:00 AM because of a certain weight on his chest. His eyes open to see that in your sleep you had grabbed onto his shirt and pulled your face right into the crook of his neck while snuggling the rest of your body on his side.

The man who always has so much to say is left speechless, he didn't ever realize his arm was curling to protectively hold you against him, he had never felt so at peace, never been held into like he was the only thing in the world. He never wanted to let you go, wanted this feeling to last forever. He relaxed into the best sleep he's had in his whole life.

You woke up in the same position Gojo had found you in, completely flustered you try to move but his arms keep you in place. All you can do is helplessly look at that handsome face

You feel him stir and watch as his eyes flutter open, for what feels like an eternity you just look at each other, blushing.

"I guess I'll need to thank Ijichi" he smirks before grabbing both sides of your face to pull you in for a long awaited kiss.

[peppermintquartz]

Love your writing! Thank you for all you provide for the bucktommy fandom! For the prompts: spiderman kisses

You're welcome! My preferred method to engage with fandom is to write fics and I'm glad people are appreciating them ❤️

Ooh that is a hard one. I'm gonna try.

*

"How long ago was this movie?" Evan asks, settling in next to Tommy.

"It's from 2002," says Tommy.

"Wow, that's, like, vintage."

"I'm gonna pretend you didn't say that."

Tommy figures the first Spider-Man movie (the best of the live-action adaptations, in his biased opinion) is a good blend of action and drama and romance to entertain Evan and himself. He found James Franco hot, back in the day, and this movie brought back his teen crush feelings.

Evan sniffles when Uncle Ben dies, and Tommy cuddles him close. But the rest of the movie makes up for it, particularly when Peter Parker saves Mary Jane in the pouring rain.

"Oh wow, Kirsten Dunst is so hot," Evan muses. They've shifted positions so that Tommy is leaning against the arm of his couch and Evan is lying on him, like a spoiled cat.

Tommy stifles a laugh by kissing the top of his boyfriend's head. "Almost all my friends thought so. Some of them were especially focused on the fact she wasn't wearing a bra in this scene. Then again, we were all horny teenagers, so I guess that's to be expected."

"Yeah, it is hard to miss that," Evan comments. Then he sighs. "It's such a romantic kiss though."

"It's an original idea too, not copied from the comics," Tommy says, because sometimes he knows things. "Got parodied to hell and back after that, but that's how you know it's iconic."

Pausing the movie, Evan shifts and turns around, nearly elbowing Tommy in the ribs. "You know, I wanna try that."

Tommy raises an eyebrow. "An upside-down kiss? You do know neither of us are Spider-Man, right?"

Evan gets to his feet and drags Tommy out of the couch. "I have an idea. Come on come on come on come on, I wanna try something."

Putting up a token display of resistance, Tommy lets Evan lead him into the garage. Evan stares at the pull-up bar, his eyes narrowing, and then he grabs it, swings one long leg up and then the other, and hangs on to it with hands and knees.

Tommy is not amused but worried. "Baby, please get down," he says as he hurries in place to keep his arms under his boyfriend, ready to break his fall.

"Kiss me first," Evan demands. His face is already turning red from being upside down.

Tommy quickly pecks him on the mouth. "There are safer ways to have upside-down kisses, babe. I don't want you breaking your neck.

"That's not how the kiss went."

"Evan Buckley, I'm not playing. Get off the bar carefully." Tommy resorts to using his Serious Tone, which he hates to use on his boyfriend, but sometimes Evan does rush into things a little too impulsively and Tommy has to rein him in.

Pouting, Evan gets off the contraption, and Tommy pulls him into a hug and kisses the pout away. Evan keeps his eyes downcast. "Hey. That was just too unsafe. We can do the kiss lying down, okay?"

Evan peers through his lashes. "I want a proper Spider-Man kiss."

Tommy huffs through his nose and pulls Evan to the Muay Thai mat. They lie down, head to head but their feet angled in opposite directions. Tommy cups Evan's cheek. It's a different feeling, the way his hands are angled, and he leans in to kiss Evan.

It is very different. The top of his tongue slides over the top of Evan's tongue; his nose is bumping against Evan's stubbled chin. He changes the angle of his mouth and tries again.

After a moment, they both pull away. Evan is giggling. "I don't think that was as hot as the movie's version," he admits. Rubbing the tip of his nose, he adds, "I love your cleft, but I think I prefer if my nose isn't rubbed raw on it."

Tommy laughs and gets up, before he reaches for Evan. "Yeah, I think I'll stick to the regular way. Besides, I like seeing your eyes after we kiss."

"Really? Why?"

Tommy shrugs. He's not that good with words. "I just like it, that's all." He kisses his boyfriend again, right way round this time, and when he pulls away, he watches Evan blink, his wide blue eyes a little dazed and his lips curving into a smile. "Yeah, exactly like that. I like seeing that."

Evan tucks an arm around Tommy's waist. "You're so sweet." Biting his lower lip, he asks, "So, shall we finish the movie and make out on the couch like horny teenagers afterwards?"

"Sounds like a plan."

[lilac-5ky]

The Party (Satoru x Fem!Reader)

Plot: You decide to surprise your boyfriend on his birthday

Tags: Birthday fluff, Comedy, Hurt/Comfort, Slight Angst, Shibuya incident?What Shibuya incident? (year is 2018), Established Relationship, Gojo Senpai, Satoru being the adorable menace everyone loves, SO. MANY. CHARACTERS. MAKING. APPEARANCES, feels like an actual jjk ep at this point, (fic deteriorates a bit over the latter part as my mental health does, writing until 6 am is exhausting, i know im late but spare me)

Word Count: Slightly under 9k.

A/N: Happy late Birthday, my love 💙💙💙

Masterlist | Requests | AO3

“Are we there yet?”

“Almost there—watch your step!” You warn, only to lose your footing a second later as you smash head first into your boyfriend’s back.

There is no way Satoru doesn’t know where the two of you are headed. Even with his technique supposedly turned off and your shaky hands concealing his curious eyes, all the things that make Jujutsu Tech into the place that raised generations of sorcerers (yours, included) continue to exist, bearing witness to his intentionally dumb guesses.

“Is it the beach? Are you taking me to see the ocean?” Satoru excites. “Aw, baby! You should have told me so; I would have brought my swimming trunks with! Although, I hafta say swimming in December is probably a bad idea, my nipples will freeze and fall right off. You wouldn’t want that, right?”

A sigh evades your lips, expelled as a little white cloud of frustration. On second thought, his mouth was what needed to be covered. Preferably stitched.

“I appreciate your enthusiasm, but we aren’t going to the beach”—aw, shoot—“and your nipples get to live another day.” Your teeth chatter. Tiptoeing behind him with upstretched arms is already hard on its own. Doing so in the cold is purely exhausting.

You lose count of how many torii gates you cross, the joint click of your shoes switching to an uncoordinated thump as you go from traversing cobblestone paths to climbing an endless uphill of stairs, your stroll, again, feeling like part of a survival show. Curse Master Tengen. They might have only been responsible for the barriers, though in your scare, that doesn’t stop you from holding them accountable.

We are going to die.

Or more like you are going to die, considering Satoru’s already secured himself a life net in the form of your poor broken-to-be bones, and that’s the best case scenario you can hope for, the worst being having to repeat your ascension from the bottom step up.

“Then, are we visiting Himeji Castle?” Satoru continues, the frigid temperature not enough to crack his spirit. “Because I know the single best place for Tama Tsubaki. So fragrant, so elegant, so deliciously sweet! You haven’t been to Himeji before, have you? It’s also known for its excellent leather craftsmanship. Last time I went there, they had these insanely pretty wallets with—”

“N-no!” You yelp, voice as strained as if you’re walking on a tightrope. Shivering, “Wouldn’t you have noticed if I took you on a 4-hour road trip?”

“But time always moves so fast when I’m with you.” He coos in response, his tone serious when he asks, “Wanna take a break? Promise to keep my eyes closed till we reach the top. And after that too, if you want.”

Silky lashes map out the inside of your palms as they flutter against them, sweet little butterfly kisses that convince you to withdraw your hands. After all, you’d hate for his birthday to be stained with blood.

Not yours, at least.

“If you dare open them, I’ll kill you.”

“How scary!” Satoru captures your frozen hand and slips it in his coat’s pocket with far too great precision for someone with impaired vision. You don’t complain. Not even when he makes you bump into every single step on your way up, giggling to himself, until, as promised, you reach the summit and he lets go for you to assume your previous positions.

“I don’t”—pant—“miss”—pant—“walking this w-walk.” You muster in between labored breaths, palms on your knees as you crouch forward like an elderly lady with chronic back pain. “Wh-what are you smiling for?”

“Nooooooothing!” Satoru chirps, soft dimples carving hard into his milky complexion. “Just takes me back to the time when you still called me Gojo Senpai is all.”

Your youth comes playing in your head like an old cassette forced to rewind, bittersweet recollections sending you on a sudden trip down memory lane.

You met Satoru at the peak of spring and fell in love with him over the course of fall—a swirl of autumn leaves coloring the currently naked maple trees red. Muddy soles and uniforms soggy from the rain. Chasing after an umbrella you agreed to share and hopscotching across shallow puddles. Laughing louder than the pending storm.

But before that, bickering. So much bickering that continuously tested the patience of those around you, arguments over video games escorting you to morning assembly, and plans to catch new movie releases sealing your goodbyes.

The bitterness of Shoko’s cigarettes and the promise to never smoke again. Arcades and electronics in Akihabara. Karaoke and conveyor belt sushi in Shibuya. Getting a stranger to buy you your first beer and puking your guts outside a convenience store in Shinjuku. The promise to never drink again.

Moon-viewing festival. The unforgettable sight of him in a yukata, your heart multiplying itself into your eyes. Stolen glances and not-so-accidental nudges. Your first kiss tasting of melon soda, your second burning faster than the wick of his sparkler. Another kind of promise.

The giddiness of first love filters the film pink. Five-minute dates behind the old gym in flash forward. Late-night expeditions to each other’s dorms. Your loss of innocence overshadowed by the sudden loss of Haibara. Tears that threaten to spill out of the sequence. Suguru’s betrayal. The strength to move forward.

You’ve come a long way since the days you cheekily called him Gojo Senpai without a care in the world, and even though tragedy managed to forever sully them, standing here with him now makes it worth the pain. Given the chance, you’d do it all over again.

Rolling the cricks around your neck and shoulders, you walk up to Satoru, a tug at the lowest hanging tuft of hair signaling for him to meet your height. Knees bent. Eyes still closed. Lips still curled. Features so undeniably beautiful at 29 as they were at 17.

“Don’t move.” You mumble, smiling softly as you watch him pucker his lips in anticipation of a kiss. Instead, you fish out a pair of rectangular shades from inside your pocket and place them over the bridge of his nose.

“Let’s go before we get scolded for being late again.” Your hand steals his this time around, ushering him forward. A speckle of heat shooting from your fingers to your cheeks. “I trust you not to spoil your own surprise, Gojo Senpai.”

You are less than thirty steps away from your destination when, without a warning, the man behind you stops moving, forcing you to halt with him.

“What is it?” You ask, your body reeled closer to his from the bind of your fingers. “If you’re gonna ask whether I’m taking you to Laputa, I’m sorry to disappoint, but I’m still figuring out the coordinates.”

“That’s not it.” He huffs a chuckle against your knuckles, tenderly brushing them against his cheek. “But drop a pin when you do. Always wanted to take a nap in that fluffy flower bed. I’m sure it tastes fluffy too, just like whipped cream.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.” You return, a yawn coaxed at the mention of napping. “So, what is it? Why did we stop?”

“I’m cold.”

“Well, so am I, but we really are close this time. If you just—”

“You should kiss me.” Satoru announces with solemnity better befitting a declaration of war. He realizes that himself, bringing his free hand to ruffle the hair on the back of his skull. Awkwardly. Ears tinged red. Cutely. “That would warm me up.”

“Is that your excuse?” You ask, chapped lips rubbing together. Your heartbeat felt in your throat. You shouldn’t be feeling like this. Not when you’ve known each other for the better part of your lives. It’s not normal. You don’t think you are.

“Nope.” He balances things out with a boyish smile that doesn’t make things any better for the lovesick teenage girl residing in your heart. She doesn’t know any better but to fawn over it. “My excuse is that we haven’t kissed here before. We’ve kissed there,” you follow his pointer, first to a bench made of stone and then to a blind spot behind some shrubs, “and there—many times there, heh, but not here. So we should kiss.” He reasons with a simplistic, nearly childish mindset. One you can’t quite argue against.

Until his spell breaks on you rather unceremoniously.

“I thought your eyes were closed!”

“Well, they were, but then I—hah, stop pullin’ like that—started missing your pretty face too much. Can’t deny me the simple joys in life, sweet cheeks.” He grins. “C’mon, just one kiss. Then we can meet with Yuji and the others. Promise I’ll act extra surprised!”

“Y-you knew?” Your eyes widen.

“I’ve known for about a week now? Heard you two talking on the phone, plus the kids asked to be put on cleaning duty when they usually leave everything to Megumi. Then a ton of chairs started to go missing, and—”

You barely bother listening to the rest, too caught up in your thoughts for Satoru’s detailed explanation of where it all went wrong to matter. Every year without exception—from your 16th birthday party-for-two in that tiny storage room you were accidentally locked in together to last year’s all-out murder mystery dinner party—he’s managed to sweep you off your feet, and yet you can’t throw him one party without it being spoiled.

You aren’t a planner. You know that. You know, but somehow you hoped this year would be different. That, twelve years after his insistence to spend his birthday in your company alone took root, (“Why would I want to spend this day with anyone other than you, angel? We have tons of fun together, don’t we? Just me and my special girl. Speaking of, any special requests for your birthday? I have some ideas myself, hehe~”) and one year after he stopped waiting for an apparition to show up and celebrate with him, he’d allow himself to bask in the appreciation of the living.

“Are you mad?”

The buzz of his voice quiets down, the paleness of a winter morning dawning beneath snowy lashes as he peers at you from above the rim of his sunglasses. Snowflakes of wonder stirring in his irises that contain them like two perfect snow globes, trapped in them, an ageless moment of the past.

“I’m relieved.” Satoru whispers, so faintly you almost miss it.

“Re…lieved?”

“You brought everyone here, right?” You nod. “Without blackmailing anyone?”

“Just Nanami.” You admit. “And Ijichi—Shoko promised to take him out for drinks if he came.”

“That’s good.” His lips pull into a smile warm enough to thaw your worries. “Honestly, I’m not the biggest fan of my own birthday.”

“I’ve noticed,” you interrupt. “You aren’t the only one perceptive here, Mister Six-Eyes.”

He gives you a funny look, creases forming over his brow as an imaginary zipper is drawn across the corners of his lips.

You unzip it. “Please continue, Great Gojo Senpai.”

His eyes light up. Satoru isn’t one for honorifics, yet hearing you address him as such makes the lovesick teenage boy in his heart shudder with excitement.

“You know what birthday I got the biggest haul for?” A shake of your head prompts him to continue. “Seventh.” Figures, you add. He nods. “Wanna know what they got me? A Hokusai painting. You know. One of those wavy ones.” Only he would ever refer to a Japanese classic that way. “But seven-year-old kids don’t care about dead people’s paintings or Shinto shrine visits. They want adventure, balloons, and luscious Gâteau au Chocolat. The new Street Fighter game, maybe.” His fingers snap together. “They want Laputa.”

You forget your hand is still in his until it’s given a light squeeze, Satoru nervously fiddling with your fingers while he mulls over what to say next.

“Bottom line is, birthdays with the clan suuuuuucked. And then, as I got older, I grew tall enough to outrun those stupid goons watching over me. So I’d run straight to Suguru’s house, drag him to the station, and from there, we’d go to that one pastry shop in Shinjuku and buy every cake on display. We’d eat till we both got sick—hah, you wouldn’t think his stomach was this sensitive with all those curses he gobbled up, right?—and then a few years later we met Shoko, and she’d put out her cigarette on my share.” He hisses like a distressed cat. “Then we met you”—another squeeze—“and those were the best birthdays of my life. Back when we were all together.”

“Satoru—”

“I didn’t think I could have that again.” He cuts you off. “But you said you got everyone together, and while some of us are no longer here, a lot are. This is good. You did well. I’m relieved, really. I’m happy.”

By the time Satoru finishes talking, you find yourself at a loss for words, blankly staring at his unaffected expression. It’s easy to forget how vulnerable he can be in those rare outbursts of sincerity; easy to forget that the one branded as the strongest is a person who cries and breaks too, and even easier to let yourself be deceived by that happy-go-lucky attitude. But as a smile begins to take shape upon your features, you can see where he’s coming from.

You are relieved.

“What are you smiling for?” Satoru asks in the same manner you did earlier.

“Nooooooothing!” You shamelessly steal his line. “Just thinking about the sorry look on your face when you realize there’s no chocolate cake.”

“You evil witch!” He proclaims, mouth hanging slack and forefinger pointing in accusation. “Next you’re gonna tell me you didn’t buy candles either!”

“Actually…”

You take hold of his finger before he can protest any further. Not that he wants to when both his hands are enveloped in the warmth of your smaller ones, childishly swinging by your sides. Back and forth. Up and down. Round and round. Arms overlapping as you both step closer, chuckling at a joke only your eyes seem to know.

“About that kiss.” You begin, laughing again at the small, exasperated mhm your boyfriend lets out, his Adam’s apple bobbing under the high neck of his sweater. “Are you still feeling cold?”

“So cold.” Satoru wiggles his shoulders as if he’s truly shivering. “Warm me up before the cold hand of death takes me away. Pleaseeeee.”

You aren’t one to deny him. Tiptoeing forward, you crane your neck so you can reach higher, while he bends his knees to shorten himself, meeting you halfway. Heavy breaths are shared as your noses brush together. The subtle notes of bergamot on his clothes blending with the wintry crisp in the atmosphere. Eagerness tugging at his bottom lip.

You might not be one to deny him, but you definitely are the type to tease him.

“Why don’t you do it? Why should I be the one to kiss you?”

“Wha—because I asked you!” Satoru quips.

“And?”

“And I have Senpai rights. Plus you didn’t pay boyfriend tax this morning, and come think of it, you didn’t wish me a Happy Birthday either!” He gasps like he only realized that just now. He builds his entire case around it. “Birthday Boy demands it. You have no choice but to give in or you’ll be cursed for your next seven birthdays!”

“But I thought you didn’t like your own birthday.”

“Baby!” Satoru finally breaks, his voice reduced to a high-pitched whine. “Even so, you can’t be mean to me on my own birthd—”

His lips are warmer than yours when you nullify the distance, conveying the softness and fruitiness of your stolen chapstick. A smirk is written on them, bitten away as you drag his hands closer to your body, foreheads bumping together and sunglasses nearly slipping from his nose. He giggles into your mouth, whispering how hot he finds it when you take the lead—moaning at the way your tongue presses against his, and disregarding the three sets of footsteps that enter the scene.

“Sensei!” A somewhat recognizable, albeit squeaky, voice calls out. “We’ve been waiting for you!”

“Way to ruin the surprise, Itadori!” Another, angrier, squeaky voice scolds.

“Idiot, you just said there was a surprise. And I told you both to go easy on the hellion.” The last of their group tries to deadpan, somehow sounding more ridiculous than his peers.

“Pft—F-Fushiguro!” Nobara and Yuji laugh in sync, too preoccupied with poking fun at their classmate to notice your form erasing itself from existence behind Satoru’s back as he turns around to face them.

“Yuji! Nobara! Megumiiiii!” His tone is colored with a falsetto when he addresses his favorite (target) student, prompting the duo to keep harassing him with countless pokes at his confetti-laced spikes.

Your plan to use poor Megumi’s torture as a decoy to flee the premises goes to waste as your hand is held out in the open, with Satoru showing you off to them like the big prize at the end of a wrestling match.

“Oh, future Mrs. Gojo Sensei!” Yuji is the first to acknowledge your presence; the effects of the gas are all but worn off as he timidly waves at you. “I didn’t know you were here! What brings you to school today?”

“That’s quite the title, Yuji. Told you to just—ugh!—call me by my first name.” You struggle to pull your wrist out of Satoru’s grasp. You lose. “Also, no need to keep playing charades. He knows.”

“You told him? Then what was all of this for?” Nobara comes forth, a pink balloon dramatically deflating in her hands.

“Actually, I figured it out myself! Aren’t you proud to have such a smart teach—”

“No!” Two out of three shout in unison. You almost do so yourself.

After their back and forth escalates into a full-blown debate on who’s more intelligent, Satoru or Megumi’s shikigami (the results to be announced on a future episode of Are You Smarter than a Toad?) and happy birthdays are wished, Yuji asks the one question you feared answering the most.

“Sensei? Miss Y/N? What were you doing out there in the cold?”

Their own curiosity beats Megumi and Nobara to the classroom as they stall their entrance, with Satoru being the first to hit the buzzer.

“You see, Yuji, when a man and a woman love each other very much, they—ahahouch! Love really does hurt! It hurts so badly!” He yelps as you stomp on his foot hard enough to cripple an average man.

“Don’t you dare use me as a test subject for the talk, Satoru!”

“What talk, darlin’?” He smiles coyly, not losing the chance to brag. “Oh, you mean the talk about how you fell victim to my charms and couldn’t wait till we were alone to kiss me? Guess I still got it, despite the extra candle on the cake.”

“Aww!”

“Eww!”

“Gross!”

The reactions vary.

“You’ll get another candle lit up in your memory if you keep spewing shit like this!” Your attempt to step on his shoe is countered by his technique.

“Hey, no cursing in front of my precious students!” Satoru chides. “We’re supposed to set an example for them, not taint their innocent souls!”

“Satoru!” With a tremendous roar, the door flies open, startling the three students to jump behind their teacher and you to follow suit.

Principle Yaga stands by the frame, his authoritative tone coursing through your body as it recalls every punishment he ever subjected you to. The soreness in your calves from running laps around school for being late. The dryness in your eyes after surviving one of his excruciating educational VHS tape sessions for being “cheeky” and the ache in your fingers from scrubbing the gym floors squeaky clean—courtesy of being caught sneaking back into the dorm with tousled hair in the dead of night.

You almost feel sorry for Satoru acting as the wavebreaker for the incoming tsunami, but then you remember how the majority of your crimes were incidentally committed in his name and wish him good luck. He deserves whatever earful he gets, possibly something along the lines of “Sixteen minutes late? Are you trying to break a world record?”

“You think Gojo Sensei will die?” Yuji whispers. “He’s at that age when a lot of celebrities die, right?”

“He’d better not! I didn’t bring any funeral wear with me.” Nobara answers back.

“Can’t you read the room?” Megumi rasps. “Plus, that’s the 27 Club you’re talking about. Gojo Sensei has outlived that.”

“Didn’t take you for a clubgoer, Fushiguro.” The two of them snicker, prompting Megumi to sigh as he again points out their idiocy.

“Principal Yaga!” Satoru bravely puts himself forward, your line of defense falling apart like a house of cards you’re made to support on your own. “Are you here to wish me a happy birthday? How thoughtful! Guess it’s true what they say: People mellow down with age.”

“Sixteen minutes late—”

The man’s mouth twitches furiously as an invisible countdown starts in all your heads, none of you expecting the situation to simmer down before it boils over.

“But I’ll let it slide this once. Happy birthday, Satoru. I’ve stopped hoping that the years bring you wisdom and fix your bad habits. It’s pointless; every year you turn more impudent than the year before,”—is that supposed to be a birthday wish or you getting kicks from throwing shade at me?—“but I wish they bring you happiness. I made this with you in mind. Hope it’s to your liking.”

You watch as Principal Yaga reveals a felt doll from behind his back, handing it to a repulsed Satoru, who makes no effort to conceal his personal feelings, let alone express gratitude.

“Huh? What’s that supposed to be?” He asks, shaking the doll so quickly you only catch a glimpse of its fluffy white tail and stitched black sunglasses—a cat?

“It’s you.” Its maker replies, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “And he has a name. Satoru, say hello to Catoru.”

Four of you share a look among yourselves, too stunned to say a thing until Satoru and his doll counterpart face you, the latter being held up by the scruff of his neck. Just like an actual cat.

“Do I look like this?” Satoru asks, and you all go quiet, with three hands simultaneously nudging you to represent them. Traitors!

“I mean, there are times when you do act like a cat—kinda?” Your voice is pinched up, hands moving frantically to dispute your words as your boyfriend’s face turns sourer than umeboshi. “But you look ten times—no, a hundred times more handsome! I promise! If anything, you resemble a—uh, Turkish Angora? Those are super beautiful!”

“You’d better get along.” Yaga warns. “I designed Catoru with a sweet tooth like you.”

“I don’t want a little mochi thief in my house!”

Yaga marches back into class without waiting to hear Satoru’s concerns about the impending depletion of his secret mochi stash. The kids tail after him, leaving you to comfort Satoru with a gentle pat on his back. “Let’s go inside, mm?”

The atmosphere inside the classroom is significantly more promising than what Yuji showed you on FaceTime this morning. All desks are pulled to the side in a rough T formation, with the spread of food you spent two nights making carefully put in order, from platters full of golden-crusted corn dogs and crispy chicken fingers to dainty cupcakes decorated with Konpeito candy and colorful mochi of every filling you could think of. Inumaki serves bar, and you’re pleased to see people returning for seconds, with Yuji waving his hands while praising your popping candy cake poppers to his taciturn upperclassman.

Balloons hang near the ceiling—a flag garland dangling from one end of the blackboard to the other. A gigantic birthday message spans across the surface, with smaller wishes sprinkled in abundance, some consisting of mere congratulations and others expressed with heartfelt emotion. You can easily guess who wrote what based on handwriting alone; Megumi’s by far the tidiest.

You knew leaving the decorations to Nobara was a smart choice. She knows it too. She doesn’t waste the chance to boast to Maki about it, the older girl twirling a bouquet made of lollipops between her fingers while gazing at the drifting clouds outside the window.

Satoru was right. This is good. You have every reason to be proud, too.

In the far back of the room, the adults have struck up a conversation with Panda, who snaps a picture of your entrance. The two party poopers—Ijichi and Nanami—look up from their quiet exchange.

“Satoru! You came!” Principal Yaga’s pride and joy steps forward with open arms, a party hat pulled taut between his round ears. “Congratulations on your birthday,” says Panda, planting two identical party hats on your heads. “Let me take a picture of the two of you. Couldn’t get an angle from back there.”

Your shoulders get squeezed as Satoru smooshes your faces together, the pointy tip of his hat nearly taking your eye out when he tries to steal a kiss from your cheek. You squint—and snap!

“Hey, can you take another? I think I wasn’t looking straight.”

“No do-overs!” Satoru interferes before Panda can even open his mouth. “Don’t worry! Getting a bad picture of you is impossible when you look perfect at any given time. Right, Panda?”

His former student glances down at the camera, letting out the exact same sound your computer makes when a Windows program crashes, and then rushing to mask it with a hearty chortle.

“Of course, Satoru! You got very lucky; Y/N is as beautiful as she is kind-hearted.” He shows you a grin that’s mostly teeth. “You know, she worked really hard for this party. We barely did anything ourselves.”

Not true; you all did your part…

Your eye is endangered once more, with his lips finding their target this time around. “That’s my vanilla caramel drizzle cupcake muffin baumkuchen pie to ya!”

That’s half your macchiato and half your bakery order, you argue silently.

“Shame Yuta couldn’t make it.” Panda continues. “Heard he’s down with a cold, though he did send you his gift via Maki.” A fuzzy thumb points at the closet-turned-gift-depository, where various bags and packages are stacked into a pyramid. “Anyway. I’ll let the two of you mingle. Come over if ya want more pictures of you taken. Got lots of props too.”

Your eyes follow as he returns to his post, spotting Shoko experimenting with a pair of groucho glasses. Nanami shakes his head disapprovingly, leaning back into his chair while Ijichi’s stutter is visible from where you and Satoru stand.

You glance up at him, a default smile plastered on his lips. Unreadable to others, but painfully obvious to you. The face he’s searching for is not among those present.

“Everyone seems to be having fun.” Satoru points out.

“Y-yeah.” You croak.

“Can’t believe you got everything down. Class looks like it did back then. Even the wobbly pom-pom on the party hats.” He squeezes the one on your head. “That caught me off guard.”

“Well, it would’ve been a greater surprise if you didn’t eavesdrop on my private phone calls.”

“That ain’t on me, sweets.” He whisks your hand into his and drags you onward. “Not my fault I was born with heightened senses. Better get used to it; our kids will probably take after me in that aspect.”

You shrug his comment off, watching as Satoru stows the cat away in the closet and dramatically dusts his hands off. “Another great addition to the world’s creepiest collection.” He grumbles.

“But Catoru is the cutest so far!” You object.

He is about to answer when a sound akin to that of someone choking has you both turning toward the makeshift buffet where Ijichi is downing water straight from the jug, his sunken cheeks a scarlet shade of red.

“Shit! He must’ve discovered the jalapeno poppers.” You bite your lips into a straight line, feeling somewhat responsible.

“Nice job!”

“It wasn’t my intention!”

Your plea of innocence doesn’t resonate with Satoru, who gives you a thumbs up before forming a cone around his mouth and shouting at Ijichi—chuckling at the hurried way the man searches for an escape between chairs and people.

“Ijichi! Oi, Ijichi! I-ji-chi! Over here! Come wish me a happy birthday!” He waves his arms around like Tom Hanks in Cast Away, declaring—unlike Tom Hanks—that he’s coming to him instead.

“Don’t go around terrorizing people, ‘Toru.” Your voice has him stopping his march to peck your lips.

“Promise I’ll be a good boy. You’re free to punish me if I’m not.” He smirks, finger-gunning you all the while stepping backwards in slow motion.

“You never are!”

“Hmm, that’s only because I’m the best. And you’d better prepare a handsome reward for when we get home, ‘cause the best always wins.” A flirtatious wink makes you question how many people listened in on your exchange, praying that the answer is none.

You take advantage of Satoru’s absence to pay a visit to your old friends, mentally counting the days since the last time you all gathered up. It’s been way too long—the beer you’d promised to catch up over turned into a distant fantasy.

“Gonna get yourself nauseous if you keep staring at that whirlpool, Shoko Senpai.” You plop down on the closest vacant chair, the bored brunette humming without lifting her eyes from the lemonade swirling inside her cup.

“If you gaze long into the abyss, the abyss will also gaze into you.” She states, managing to sound both mesmerized and disinterested at the same time.

“And? Seen anything yet?” You lean closer.

She retires with a sigh, dark circles looming below her hazelnut eyes. “Nothing yet.”

“How about now?”

Pulling your trump card—aka one of those miniature vodka bottles you specifically brought with her in mind—from your pocket, you pour a generous amount into her drink, reminiscing about the time she accidentally spiked Satoru’s soda and had him swimming on the floor.

It takes one sip for Shoko to liven up, a sudden jolt of energy coursing through her veins as she reaches out for the bottle.

“You’re a lifesaver, you know that?”

You chuckle. “Big praise coming from someone who actually saves lives.”

“Big words coming from people who openly drink in front of underage students.” The man to your left observes, absentmindedly picking at the tentacles of the octopus sausage on his plate.

“Kento! You made it!” You tip from one side of your chair to the other, arms dangling empty as he dodges your hug. “Having fun?”

“Please stop acting like him. I know the years in his company have caused your twisted personalities to merge, but the world is already wretched enough with one Gojo Satoru around.” He munches on the “good part” of the dissected octopus, discarding the tentacles inside a carefully folded napkin.

“But to answer your question, whether I’d rather spend my Friday afternoon explaining to everyone I know that the man in the picture dancing inappropriately with half-naked models in Ibiza isn’t me but a look-alike or sitting here, chaperoning a bunch of kids and making sure no one kills themselves, then yes. It’s not as horrible as I expected. And you’re as good of a cook as I remembered.” He wipes his mouth. “But I’m still clocking out at 7 sharp.”

“Come on! I did what I had to do to get you here!” You giggle, experiencing a little of the same rush Satoru feels when he’s poking fun at Ijichi. Oh no. “I am glad you’re enjoying the food, at least!”

A sound viler than any curse’s wail pierces through your ears as a TV cart is dragged into the room. You recognize it as Yaga’s old torture device—those five-hour black and white tapes gleaming menacingly on the lower shelves, with an unknown machine piled atop the cassette player. You aren’t sure what its purpose is until Yuji connects a microphone to it.

“Everyone—ah, ah, ah! Can you hear me?” The boy dabs a palm against the microphone, sounding loud and clear across the room. “Fushiguro, can you hear me? Fushiguro—ah, ah, ah!” The last of his ah’s interrupted by Megumi’s calling him out in front of their live audience.

“Everyone, thank you for coming to Gojo Sensei’s birthday party! I’m Itadori Yuji, and I’m happy to have co-hosted this event with Miss Y/N.”

A couple of heads turn in your direction, Satoru’s among them. It’s easy to make out his silhouette when he dwarfs everyone around him—Principle Yaga on his side and an antsy Ijichi lurking behind them.

“I enrolled in this school a little over a semester ago by accident.” Yuji continues undeterred. “Back then, I didn’t know any more about curses than the next person. Not that I do now.” He scratches through his hair. “Honestly, it was a lot to stomach, especially the part where I get to share my body with another. I was told I’d be better off dead, and I did die once. I was supposed to be dead, but then Gojo sensei gave me a choice, and I’m here because of that choice. More than a helping hand, he’s been a guiding light to me, and on behalf of all of us, thank you, and Happy Birthday!”He bows. “I hope you have a good one!”

Yuji holds out the microphone for Satoru, the two of them sharing a high five with an affectionate pat seeing the boy off.

“Thank you, Yuji, for this wonderful speech!” Satoru grins, evidently moved by his student’s words. “Everyoooooooooooone! Give it up for the man of the hour, the one and only, the most incredibly handsome and magnificently strong sorcerer known as Gooooooooooojo Saaaaatoruuuu!” His body twists in a pirouette, peace signs and heart signs flying everywhere as he lands with a finger pointing at where the imaginary camera would be.

Unsurprisingly, no one is impressed. Cricket sounds almost audible.

“Wow, okay. Tough crowd, I guess.” His lips comically jerk to one side of his face, his tone turning nasal before switching back. “I won’t bore you with individual thanks and other useless formality crap.”

He smirks at the way your mouth rounds a silent gasp. Nanami notices too, posing a question you shrug off.

“To cut it short: first-years! You’ve all proved yourselves as worthy sorcerers and worthier humans. As a reward, I’m proud to announce your reward in the form of a—c’mon guys, drum your desks a little!—luxurious, one of a kind, ten outta ten, uniquely planned field trip by moi!”

“Is it Paris? Are you taking us to Paris?” Nobara dreams out loud.

“Sensei! How about Universal Studio? I saw them post their newest churrito flavor on their webpage.”

“Can I sit this one out?” A gloomy murmur begs.

“Great thinking, Yuji! Unfortunately, Nobara, we won’t be going overseas this time, but, Megumi, you’ll definitely want to reconsider once you hear our destination, which iiiiiis—excitement is free, everyone!—Parque Espana!” Satoru claps for his suggestion.

Three dejected faces say pass in unison, with only Megumi daring to complain about Satoru taking him and Tsumiki to the theme park every second Sunday when the two were younger. You remember that. Some times you’d tag along, and you’d all grab ice cream while staring at that humongous roller coaster the kids were too short to ride.

Undefeated, Satoru directs his attention to the second-year students, the three of them loitering by the chip bowl. His tone turning grave, “Second years, I’m honestly very disappointed in all of you. In our two years of knowing each other, you never thought to throw your favorite teacher a party for his birthday. You’re lucky I don’t have the authority to drop you a grade, but still. You fail!”

“Fish Flakes!” Inumaki expresses his supposed disagreement.

“Huh? You never even told us when your birthday was because you didn’t want us knowing your real age, you blindfolded idiot!”

“Maki, not now!” Panda anxiously gets in her way. “Cool it!”

“You should have figured it out yourselves.” Satoru toots. “Moving forward! I’d like to give my special thanks to the moon of my life, my sun, and my stars.”—you knew watching Game of Thrones with him was a very bad idea—“Y/N! Come here, sweetie. Don’t be shy; everyone knows how much we love each other.

It almost feels like you have the limelight shining on you, with every person eagerly awaiting your response. You gulp hard, whispering so that only Nanami can hear. “You were right. Please save me.”

“What is it, Buttercup? You already have my heart, but if there’s anything you’d like for me to do, then now is the moment to say it.” Satoru smiles sweetly, his voice dripping with honey.

“Actually, there is. Can you put me down?” You kick your legs around while he hoists you up in bridal style, your unjust abduction having occurred in the blink of an eye.

“Anything and everything for you!” He kisses the top of your head, holding you close to him even after letting your feet touch the ground. “Alright, that’d be all! I hope everyone gets to have the time of their lives. Now, let’s get this party started!” He throws the microphone up in the air.

Nothing happens.

“I said, let’s get this party star—whatever.” Satoru gives up half-way through raising his arm again. “Yuji, play something fun!”

“On it!” Yuji salutes him, and the two of you walk away from the blackboard.

A faint sigh echoes behind you, its relief cut short as Satoru grabs the microphone once more. “Ah, right. Ijichi, I’ll see you in my office on Monday. I’d wear a headband if I were you.”

“I’ve c-committed a mortal sin, G-Gojo!” Ijichi struggles to say, uncertain of the crime he’s being accused of, yet hopeful for Satoru’s forgiveness.

“You are such a menace!” You throw a playful punch to his chest once he sits you on his lap, away from the eyes of people gathering around the karaoke machine, and close to Nanami, who departs with a disgusted scoff.

“You love me for it.” Satoru’s lips press softly against yours, incapable of hiding his smile when you pull his face in for another kiss, the tight squish of his arms making sure you’re going nowhere.

“I do.” You affirm, rubbing your nose on his. “I love you.”

“How much?” His eyes crinkle fondly.

“Hmm, like, a lot?” You giggle, your fingers absently brushing through the trimmed hair on the back of his skull. “Enough to spend half a lifetime by your side and still find you the most incredible person in all of creation.”

“Wanna spend the other half too?” His breath on your cheek colors your skin red, your eyes momentarily lost between shades of blue.

“Come back with a ring, Shit-toru.”

“That’s not the way you talk to your future husband!”

“He’s here? With us? Right now?” You gasp, frantically looking around, until Satoru forces you to face him with a thumb on your chin, his other hand squeezing an innocent touch around your thigh.

“Satoru!”

“Scared your future husband will see us?” He throws his head back, laughing at your panicked state. “Don’t worry. I’ll fight him for you. And win. After all, I am the strongest.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, he did it! He said the line with only—”you glance at your phone—“six hours left before the day ends, what an amazing record!”

A shrill screech fired from the other side of the room interrupts your banter, the microphone turning into a lethal weapon in Panda’s massive palms. The students appear to have divided themselves into couples, fighting over who gets to go first until Inumaki takes the initiative with a rap song—or, more accurately, sings over a rap song, as the only words in his roster revolve around onigiri ingredients that are mentioned nowhere in the lyrics.

“Stop hogging the mic!” Maki attempts to steal it, backing away as the boy teases to unzip his collar. She knows better than to push her limits while unarmed.

Panda still gets in the middle. For precaution, you assume.

“Reminds you of something?” Satoru comments on your riveted attention. “They’re just like us. How we once were. Young and full of dreams.”

“Nah. You were always a horny bastard.” You slap the inappropriately placed hand away before you get up and sit where Nanami was previously stationed. Poking your tongue at his devastated expression.

Conversation between the two of you is kept to a minimum after a different tune begins blasting from the speakers—Yuji and Megumi take over the stage with Takada-Chan’s most recent success, one of them performing the vocals to perfection while the other merely mumbles yeah’s whenever the song calls for it. Next are Nobara and Maki, the two girls belting out to an anthem of empowerment that has the boys in the room gulping uncomfortably among themselves.

The mood shifts completely when Yaga pours his soul into an 80’s power ballad, his raspy voice transforming into the smoothest velvet, complemented by Panda’s harmonies. Even Satoru praises his old teacher, cheering him on from the bleachers with a makeshift napkin-banner.

You don’t realize your boyfriend’s gone until you see him with the microphone in hand, bending the cable as he makes quick gestures for the floor to empty, performing what is possibly the cheesiest, most romantic love song ever written, and ushering you to join him once he drops to his knees—quite literally at your feet.

You ruffle his hair and shove his goofy expression away. No matter how charming his singing voice may be, he’ll never get you to sing in public. Similar to how he’ll never catch you admitting how loudly your heart beats in your chest, despite the fact that it’s written all over your face.

God, you hate this man. So much that part of you wishes you’d spent his birthday like you did every other year—tangled in his sheets and kissing till you cannot breathe.

As soon as the karaoke session ends, Megumi and Yuji exit the room to bring in the cake, with Satoru jumping them for a thorough inspection. The dessert is inspired by one of his favorite confections. Handmade mochi bites are spread evenly between three layers of fluffy strawberry cake, the entire enterprise covered in fine red bean paste and topped with vanilla buttercream, strawberry cutouts, and, of course, more mochi in a light pink shade to recreate the world’s largest daifuku.

You lost count of how many failed attempts it took to create your own recipe from scratch, but the look on Satoru’s face is better than any payment you could possibly ask. He struggles to find a word that describes his feelings—phenomenal being the one he ends up using. Definitely better than chocolate cake. Perhaps even on par with the legendary Laputa.

Everyone gathers anew for the birthday boy to blow out his candles, awkwardness sweeping through the crowd as, one by one, you come to the conclusion that there is no available lighter.

you search through your pockets for a lighter, finding none. Shoko’s unhealthy (and supposedly cut) habit comes in clutch, with the brunette handing Yuji the keys to her office. The boy sprints outside at full speed, idle chatter put on pause as the TV starts playing on its own, the song selection window traded for a relic of the past.

“Is this even working?” A young Shoko taps the camera, tilting her body at a curious angle. Short skirt rolling up.

“Probably not. That shit’s ancient, but feel free to test it! Maybe try showing it something funnier, like your pant—”

Horny bastard. Right on the money.

“Cut it off, Satoru.” A voice makes both you and present-day Satoru shudder, its owner taking the camera from their friend’s hand to shoot footage around the gym. “Yaga Sensei told us to use this to document the Goodwill Event, not film amateur gravure.” The frame shakes once more. “Looks good to me.”

“Pft, what’s the point?” Satoru flicks a pebble at the camera. “So he can make a quick buck out of me destroying those brats? The outcome’s already decided. Now turn this thing off. I wanna lay under the sun without some junk in my face.”

The camera zooms in on him splaying his limbs on the grass, possibly near the track field, based on the slight hint of red inside the green.

“The only junk in your face is your face itself.” Shoko deadpans, making him chase after her while Suguru continues filming them until they turn into a pair of flickering dots.

“These two.”

The world is turned upside down as a close-up of his bang takes over the screen. Realizing that himself, he pulls the camera further away, cat-like irises shining like pure amber under the sunny sky. You’ve missed their warmth.

“Preparation for the Kyoto Sister-School Goodwill Event, Day 1.” He declares, and the screen goes black in an instant, white noise reigning over the space.

Your hand seeks Satoru’s on its own, the faint sound of his name dangling from your parted lips, both your breaths catching in your throats. He’s left gawking at the screen, reciprocating your touch with shaky fingers that try to anchor him to you. It’s safe to say this was not part of your plan.

“Weird. Thought it’d be one of those old workout tapes.” Nobara reveals herself as the culprit behind the incident, ejecting the tape back into its box and later standing with her hands pinned to her waist. “Gojo Sensei, I recognize you and Ieri, but who was that third person in the video? Bangs Guy.”

Out of everyone in the room, she’s the only one to have absolutely no information on Suguru. Aside from the adults, the second-years were all present during last year’s attack, and Megumi knows whatever has slipped from Satoru during his stay at the Gojo clan’s compound.

Nobody rushes to respond; all of you tuned in on Satoru even though only Shoko, Yaga, and you are directly gazing at him, his face contorted with a pained grimace he tries hard to disguise.

“Geto Suguru was—”

“My best friend.” Satoru grins at Principal Yaga’s attempt to help him, grasping your hand more confidently as he confronts the girl. “Geto Suguru is my best friend.”

“Huh. Guess there’s hope for everyone.” No one’s left with any courage to laugh at Nobara’s poor attempt at a joke. “Where is he now—”

“Senseiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!” A voice gains volume as the door bursts open, Yuji pouring into the classroom with the lighter held over his head like it’s the Olympic flame. “I g-got th-the—” He tries to breathe, ending up only saying, “Fire. Wish. What. Miss?”

“Yuji!” Satoru makes you follow him to the door. “You’re right on time! And no, you didn’t miss anything. Just stories of the past.”

“Stories?” Yuji wipes the sweat off his forehead. Still very much exasperated. “But I…like stories.”

“I know you do.” Satoru’s eyes settle on yours, the clamor in his eyes hushing for the first time in years. “But birthday wishes are meant for a future that’s yet to be written.”

“Thank you!”

Appreciation falls from your lips as a long-drawn yawn, every second you spend huddled under the kotatsu’s warmth begging to lull you to sleep. Today was a long day. So long, it feels as if it spanned an entire lifetime.

Satoru plops down beside you, the neckline of his sweatshirt diving low over his collarbones as he chugs his share of hot cocoa. Yours remains untouched while you switch between the same two movie options, incapable of picking one over the other.

“What do you have for me?” He asks, running his fingers over the ceramic rim. A melodic string instrument-like sound is induced.

“Okay so. Got the cult classic Sixteen Candles, which we’ve probably watched more times than Molly Ringwald had to practice her lines for the role, and I also have La Boum, in case you’re feeling more adventurous, and I don’t know. Frenchy, maybe.”

“Hmm, I mean. When you phrase it like that…”He acts as if he’s seriously contemplating his choice, only to snatch the remote from your hand and choose La Boum. He smiles slyly, curling near your chest. “It’s what you obviously wanted to watch. And I always choose, so.”

“Forfeiting your birthday boy rights?” You hum, tenderly combing through his freshly washed white strands. He smells just like his cake, you think. “Be careful. There are still nine minutes left before your birthday’s over, and you’re robbed of your rights for an entire year. Think you can make it?”

“Will you be with me during those horrid days?” His voice turns muffled.

“Always. Now, before the movie starts and you ruin the fun with your excessive blabbing, how about you reach under the kotatsu for your gift?” You suggest, chuckling as his head lifts up, cerulean eyes shining with unfeigned surprise.

“Angel! You shouldn’t have!” Satoru beams whole as he drags the heavy box out, shaking it in an attempt to feel out its contents.

“You know that doesn’t work with me. C’mon. I’ll pause for you.”

He wastes no time to untie the light silver bow that ties the box together, taking, however, his sweet time to review each and every object placed within. Carefully, he lays everything out on the table, small gasps evading him at a constant and maturing into a full-on shriek as he spots that one rare Digimon trading card you bust your gut trying to purchase via private online auctions.

“I—um. I know it doesn’t sound too good ‘cause I’m your girlfriend and I’m supposed to know everything about you and what you want, but I really had no idea what to get for your birthday. So I decided to get you a bit of everything from your favorite things. You can blame me for weaponizing nostalgia later.”

You clear your throat with a quick sip of cocoa. Licking your lips, “Anyway. It’s really no biggie as you can see. I just bought off some trading cards, ported a few of your old favorite games to a current generation console—yes, Street Fighter included—and made you this silly beaded charm with our initials for your phone, since they are back in fashion.

“I know it’s not much, and you could buy those things at any given time, but—time is something you cannot buy, right? Your childhood, your youth. The so-called best years of your life. I wanted you to have that back, even if just for a day.”

It’s been minutes, and Satoru remains quizzically silent, to the point where the array of kisses aimed at your neck comes as a true ambush. You’re knocked to the floor, giggling and flailing while he shows you his affection in every way possible, kissing you, praising you, hugging you—loving you.

“H-Happy Birthday, Toru.” You repel his face enough to say. “Y-you know, a thank you would be nice to hear!”

“As if you don’t know what I’m about to say.” Satoru grins, holding your palms to his mouth. Kissing them one by one, repeatedly, and slowly. Multiple times each. “You are my childhood. And my youth. And the best years of my life—they are all you. Everything we’ve been through, and everything we’ll live together.”

“How’s that for a thank you?” He chuckles, quickly breaking the tension with a final kiss on your nose. Perhaps the only part of you that’s not tinged red. “That being said…”

“You want to go for a quickie?” You sniffle against your will.

“See? You do know everything about me.” He reaches for the deck of cards with the swirly brown backside. “It’s time to duel!”

A/N: sorry for hastily written ending. had no time, oopsie!

[swimmingismywholelife]

The Only Reason

Summary: Even though your relationship with Christian has been rocky, neither of you are willing to go down without a fight.

Warnings: 18+, arguments, panic attack, a lot of crying, angst but a fluffy (if you can call it that I guess) ending, SMUT, some dirty talk, soft dom!Chris, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it and make sure you're not allergic to your wrap!), fingering, oral (f receiving), creampie, the smut is sweet tbh

WC: 4.4K

A/N: It's my birthday but this is a present for all of you! Inspired by "The Only Reason" by 5 Seconds of Summer. My first attempt at smut which lowkey I wasn't supposed to add but it fit anyway. This is a step considering I'm openly horny on main now so you might see more in the future 👀. I literally changed it 1274045923845 times but I'm happy with the way it turned out so I hope you guys think it's good-

"Even though my dizzy head is numb

I swear my heart is never giving up.

You're the reason

The only reason."

~~~

The front door slammed shut, indicating Christian was finally home from training. You sighed, praying this would blow over quickly so you could enjoy your dinner.

The past few weeks had been incredibly frustrating for the both of you. Chelsea had been on a losing streak with hardly any goals and Christian hardly got any play time. He was in the middle of trying to negotiate some sort of deal with the club, either to transfer or give him more playing time. Although it wasn't the option he preferred, it was likely he'd be transferred somewhere else soon, and with that contract talks had to be opened. He loved Chelsea, but the club didn't seem to return that love to him. It heavily weighed on Christian's mind, slowly draining him of the love he had for the sport, sending him deeper into a depressive and angry spiral causing him lash out on everyone.

On top of that, your own stresses had started building up. Your workload had tripled due to you being short staffed. Every time you thought you were done with a project, a modification was added or a brand new one was added to your list of things to do. You were working overtime almost every single day and you were close to ripping your hair out.

Between your work and Christian's training, you'd hardly seen each other over the past few months. He'd been extra short with you recently, something that was pretty unusual for Christian. You were typically the one who struggled to keep your anger in check, but these days it seemed your boyfriend could give you a run for your money. Most days you spent sleeping away from each other as opposed to being cuddled in each others arms. During the very brief moments you did end up spending time together, more often than not it resulted in some kind of an argument.

You both agreed earlier that morning that you were in desperate need of some kind of date night to ease your minds and to spend time together. You decided that a simple dinner would be sufficient enough. It was something small, you wouldn't have to go anywhere, and it was always one of your favorite date ideas since you'd gotten together. You were excited to finally spend time with your boyfriend even if it wasn't anything fancy.

But you knew by the way Christian slammed the door that he thought otherwise. He angrily threw his training bag to the side, grumbling to himself.

"Chris, it doesn't do you any good to pace angrily around the house," you sighed. "At least come eat and try to take your mind off things."

It seemed you only made him angrier.

"God, what don't you get?!" he snapped back. "Fucking food isn't gonna help the situation. Our team is shit, this situation is shit, everything is shit!"

You stood up from your place at the table, upset with Christian for yelling at you when you just wanted to help.

"I understand you're frustrated with everything, but don't take it out on me!" you yelled back. "All I'm trying to do is help you. I'm not a fucking emotional punching bag for you to take your shit out on Christian!"

He slammed his hands on the table, the sound echoing throughout the entire house. It startled you. Christian wasn't one to express his anger through violence like this.

"Why do I even keep fucking trying with you?! All you do is nag and nag and nag! You keep 'trying to help' but you're not!" he screamed back. "All you do is get in my face of 'oh Christian do this,' 'oh Christian try and do that.' Get out of my face for once I'm fucking tired of it!"

You were stunned. Your heart with each word Christian spat out at you. You loved him, but you knew you didn't deserve what he'd been giving you for the past few months.

"Fine. I'll 'get out of your face,'" you said calmly.

"Actually you know what? I'll do it myself. Being in here suffocates me," he said venomously, grabbing his keys and storming out the house.

You moved into the bedroom the two of you shared. What once felt like home to you felt like a prison suffocating you the longer you stood in it. And you just fell to your knees and cried.

You couldn't pinpoint the exact moment where it all started going wrong. You and Christian weren't perfect of course, but you just worked. You understood each other like no one else. You'd experienced things together that you'd never had with other people. You hadn't grown up with Christian in the past, but that didn't matter. He was your present and was going to be your future.

But that was then. Somewhere along the way, things changed. Nowadays he barely made time for you. He was gone before you woke up and you were asleep before he came home. Date nights were nonexistent, special occasions stopped being special. You couldn't keep begging for his attention, wondering if this time would be enough to keep it.

You didn't want things to end. That was absolutely the last thing you wanted to do. You loved Christian with everything you had. But you were the only one trying and you both knew that. Somewhere Christian just fell out of love with you while you were desperately trying to grasp onto something. But it was no use. He was gone a long time ago.

Christian was in the middle of figuring out the trajectory of his career, unsure if he was to wait out his contract with Chelsea for the next season or leave for a club that truly appreciated him. And pretty soon, he would be flying back to the States for international break. The last thing you wanted to do was add onto the stress Christian was feeling.

But how long would you have to keep sacrificing your own happiness for the sake of his?

Christian didn't come home that night, nor the night after that, nor the night after that. Not that you really expected him to. He hadn't been home all that much anyway, and even while he was there physically, he wasn't there. So sleeping alone in your bed wasn't that much of a foreign feeling anymore anyway. And the longer he was away, the foggier your mind became. The answer was right there in front of you. This was Christian blatantly telling you how he felt about your relationship. Right?

It wasn't until about a week later that Christian had contacted you, letting you know he'd be coming back that night. You mentally prepared yourself for the worst.

The door opened, causing you to snap out of your thoughts. You could hear the clattering of the keys being placed on the table and footsteps heading up the stairs.

The lights flickered in your bedroom. Your eyes met his, startling him.

"Oh hey, I didn't realize you'd still be up," Christian said surprised, removing his jacket and placing it on a chair.

"We need to talk Christian," you said, trying to prevent your voice from wavering.

"We'll talk in the morning, Y/N. It's kind of late and I don't want another fight right now," he responded.

"I'm serious Christian," you answered, feeling your heart breaking already. "And I don't think this can wait until morning."

"Why do you keep using my full name?" Christian asked uncomfortably. "You only use it like this when something's really wrong."

You didn't answer. Instead you got up from your place on the bed and hugged his waist, completely breaking down. You felt like you couldn't breathe through all the tears and the pain you felt. Your body gave out as you fell to the ground, taking Christian with you.

For a second time that night, Christian was surprised. He immediately wrapped his arms around you, kissing your head.

"Hey, hey, baby what's wrong? What's going on?" he asked.

You couldn't get the words out. You only cried harder as he led you back to your bed. You took in this moment with him, not knowing if this was the last night you would sharing with him. You tried to memorize the scent of his favorite cologne, how perfectly you fit into his arms, the way his kisses felt. You wanted to remember how safe you felt with Christian and how your heart longed for him to come home to you.

"It's okay, baby, it's okay. I'm right here. I won't ever let anything hurt you," he said, trying to soothe you.

Little did he realize he was the reason you were hurting so much.

You held Christian close to you as the weight of your decision started to kick in. You wanted nothing more in this world than to be with Christian. He meant everything to you. You wanted it all with him. You wanted to marry him one day, carry his children, grow old together. You wanted to wear his last name to every game he played, to support him as he reached all his dreams. You could have nothing but Christian and you would be perfectly content.

Your mother had told you growing up that every scenario that came your way had three answers: yes, no, or wait. And you so desperately wanted to believe Christian was your sign that being patient was worth it. That waiting would be worth it. That one day it would bring you the happiness you craved and you deserved.

But how long were you supposed to wait? How long had you waited for him to fulfill his promises? How long had you been patient with him? How long had you stayed loyal every time he'd taken his anger out on you? How long had you been contemplating if you were worth saving? Was this just patience or were you holding onto something that you should've let go of a long time ago?

"I'm sorry for what I said earlier baby," he said, stroking your hair trying to soothe you. "I didn't mean it. I love you so much. I'm sorry. I'm so, so, so sorry."

You couldn't get words out. You needed just one last night to call yourself his before you could make your final decision.

"Just hold me please," you sobbed out, gripping his body as hard as you could.

"I'll do whatever you need baby. I'm right here. I'll always be right here."

Christian was scared. He didn't fully understand what was going on or why you were crying the way you were. But he knew something was off and something was wrong. So he just held you as you let out all the emotions you'd been feeling for weeks.

Christian knew it was more serious than he initially thought when you kept crying for over an hour. He didn't realize how absent he'd been from your life until then. How long had you been feeling such emotional turmoil? What else had he missed? Why were you crying this hard for so long?

Truthfully, he was afraid to find out. As shitty of a boyfriend he'd been over the past few weeks, Christian loved you with every fiber of his being. The last thing he wanted to do was lose you, the relationship you'd built up for years together.

But he knew the likelihood of a break up was probably looming in your mind. Was this it? Was this a sign that something was coming to an end? He didn't want to know. He knew you two needed to talk, especially after the way he walked out. But he was afraid of the outcome.

So he just held you close to him, praying this wouldn't be the last time he got to feel you like this. He took in your scent, trying to memorize the way you felt in his arms. He left kisses on your forehead, shoulders, and cheeks, wiping the tears away as he went.

You eventually calmed down, your grip on Christian never loosening.

"Christian I-" you gasped out.

"It's okay baby, take your time. You don't have to rush anything you don't want to," he whispered gently, kissing your forehead again.

"I'm sorry," you said quietly.

"Baby, you have nothing to be sorry about," he said. "If anything, I should be the one who's sorry. I've been such a horrible boyfriend. I shouldn't have said what I said, I shouldn't have done what I did."

"Christian…" you trailed.

"Shh, it's okay baby. It's okay. We don't have to talk about this right now. We can talk about this in the morning. Just let me hold you right now. Everything is going to be okay," he said softly.

"Chris I'm scared," you whispered.

His heart broke a little knowing you were scared of what morning would entail.

"I'm scared too baby. I'm so fucking scared," he admitted. "But we'll talk about this when it comes okay? Just be here with me now. Nothing else is going to hurt you tonight I promise."

The two of you were laying on your side facing each other. Your head was tucked into his chest, tears flowing every so often. Christian never once let go, not even when his arms started going numb. You were afraid to close your eyes, scared that Christian would be gone the moment you opened them.

Your body stopped shaking and you eventually stopped crying during the early morning hours. You were quiet. And if he didn't know you well, Christian would've believed you were asleep.

But he knew better. He knew that you couldn't sleep because neither could he. Just two souls barely hanging on by a thread not knowing how to fix it.

Did you want to fix things? Or were things so far gone there was nothing you could do anymore? Was this still worth it? Was a future still possible? Would love be enough to save this?

You were set on breaking up with him the night before. You were so sure that's what you wanted. But under the moonlight that peaked through your window, you didn't know what to do anymore. Your head was dizzy with thoughts and you couldn't think clearly anymore.

"Christian?" you called out quietly.

"Yeah?"

"What are we doing?"

His body tensed at the question. He was quiet at first, not wanting to say the wrong thing. He knew this was it. His answer would either make or break your relationship.

"I don't know baby," he answered honestly.

You nestled your head further into his chest.

"I don't want to keep doing this. Guessing if you still want us. You're either in or you're out Chris. I don't want to keep playing your games."

Christian had to stop himself from letting out a sob and took a deep breath. You didn't trust him or his words anymore. And realizing that absolutely broke his heart.

"Can you look at me Y/N?" he asked.

You hesitated for a moment before lifting your head. Christian cupped your cheek with his hand, gently rubbing his thumb back and forth. He rested his forehead on yours.

"You don't have to say anything okay? Just hear me out. I know I've been a shitty boyfriend. I know I haven't been there for you. I haven't treated you well. I've lashed out on you when you've done nothing but love and support me. Through all the shit the world's thrown at me this season, you've been everything I need and more. And I haven't appreciated that. And you deserve so much more than what I've been giving you."

Christian stopped for a moment, taking the opportunity to look at you. How could he have hurt you so bad? How could he let everything slip between his fingers?

"I'm sorry for everything I've put you through. I'm sorry that you've lost trust in my words. You always tell me that my words, my actions, and my intentions need to line up and they haven't been and I'm so sorry for that. I'm sorry I've broken so many promises. And most of all, I'm sorry that you're hurting and I'm the cause of it when I told you I'd never let anyone hurt you. I failed to see what was right in front of me and I've taken you for granted and I'm so sorry."

A tear fell from your eye, quickly caught by Christian's thumb.

"I don't deserve you. I really don't. You know that and I know that better than anyone."

He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead further into yours.

"But please don't give up on us. I know you can't trust my words right now, but I swear to you I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I can't let you go. Not now and not ever. No more games. No more confusion. No more trying to guess where my head and where my heart stand with you. Right here, right now, forever and always I'm with you. My head is with you. My heart is with you. All of me is with you. And I promise I'll prove it every day for as long as I live. So please. Give me one last chance to be with you."

You didn't know what to say. You didn't know what you wanted anymore. How could you trust him? He was saying all the right words, but did he really mean it? Were they more empty words?

Yes, no, or wait. Just like your mother said. But you'd waited so long that it seemed almost futile. Had you been wasting your time? Or was this what you were meant to do?

And though your head was fighting with itself, dizzy and numb from the constant questions running around, you knew where your heart lied. So you did the only thing you felt could portray how you felt enough to give him and answer.

You lifted your chin and kissed him deeply, wrapping your arms around his neck. His grip on your cheek was firm, bringing you as close as you could physically get. The tears wouldn't stop flowing from either of your faces, but none of that mattered. What mattered was here and now.

Yes, no, or wait. And you finally got your answer.

He kissed you like you were the oxygen he needed to breathe. And truthfully, he needed you to breathe.

You pulled back ever so slightly, just enough for you to be able to talk.

"You get one chance at this Chris. Only one," you said breathlessly. "Don't waste it."

His lips were back on yours in response, his teeth tugging on your bottom lip. You let out a soft moan as he pushed you onto your back, settling himself in between your legs. He pulled back keeping his forehead to yours breathing heavily.

"I love you Y/N. I love you so much you don't even know," he said. "I won't waste it. Not ever again."

You grabbed his shirt and pulled him back to your lips, needing to feel him closer. Your hands traveled underneath his shirt, nails scratching his skin lightly as they roamed his chest.

Christian pulled back from you for a moment to rip his shirt off before attaching his lips back to yours, giving you more access to him. You couldn't keep your hands off each other, your legs wrapping around his hips to bring you even closer to him.

"Chris," you whispered. "I need-"

"I know baby," he answered. "I know. Let me take care of you."

You whimpered beneath him as his lips moved to your neck, leaving a trail of marks as he gave you sloppy but gentle kisses. He bit down on the spot just below your ear, causing you to let out a loud moan.

"Does that feel good baby?" he whispered into your ear, sending shivers down your spine that resonated throughout your whole body.

"God yes Chris it feels so good please," you begged beneath him.

His hands grabbed the bottom of your shirt, bringing it over your head and pressing his chest against yours as he kissed your lips gently.

"So fucking beautiful. And all mine," he said to himself.

His lips returned to your neck, this time the trail leading to your breasts. You gasped as you felt his tongue along your nipple, pressing yourself further into his mouth. You only squirmed more as he moved to your other side, your fingers tangled in his hair tugging lightly. He kissed down your torso until he reached the band of your shorts.

"May I?" he asked softly.

You nodded your head frantically.

"Words baby." His fingers hooked into them, toying with the fabric. "You know the drill. I can't give you what you want unless you tell me."

"Yes please," you whined, wiggling your hips in the hopes of getting the clothing off you faster.

"Please what Y/N?"

"Please take them off Chris please. I wanna feel you on my pussy please, please, please."

"Good girl."

He slowly slid your shorts down, taking a little too long for your liking. He kissed down your stomach, loving how you were falling apart beneath him.

His fingers rubbed over the dark spot of your underwear. You gasped, hands grabbing the sheets tightly. He moved his fingers almost in a trance watching as the patch grew darker and larger.

"You're so fucking wet baby. You like it when I touch you like this?" he chuckled.

"Yes I love feeling you play with my pussy!" you moaned, grinding your hips against his fingers.

Christian pulled your underwear to the side. You shivered in anticipation as you felt Christian's breath on your lips.

"Can I taste you?" he asked, running his fingers through your folds.

"God yes! Please let me feel your tongue," you begged, lacing your fingers through his hair to bring him closer.

"As you wish princess."

Your back arched the moment his tongue made contact with you. He licked from the bottom all the way to your clit, lightly sucking on it. You moaned tugging at his curls. The louder you moaned, the faster he went alternating between licking and sucking. Your thighs closed around his head as you pushed him closer to you.

You were so lost in the pleasure that you were surprised when Christian inserted two of his fingers into your folds. You moaned even louder at the intrusion.

"God Christian more please. Please I need more!"

You were begging, but you didn't even know what you were begging for. You just wanted him to keep going.

Christian was enjoying every second of this. He loved watching you fall apart beneath him.

"You need more baby? So greedy. My tongue sucking on your clit and my fingers deep inside your pussy. What else could you want?" he teased, picking up the speed as he fucked you with his fingers.

You couldn't form any proper sentences anymore. Incoherent noises left your mouth as your body started shaking uncontrollably, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

"Damn baby you're shaking. Are you close already? I've barely even done anything," he mused, inserting a third finger and fucking you even faster.

"God I'm so fucking close please let me cum! Please please please I need to cum please Christian please!" you all but screamed.

"Shh, it's okay. You can cum baby. Let it go for me," he said softly.

Your vision went blank as you came, your hands grasping at Christian's curls to anchor you to reality. Your legs shook violently as Christian continued coaxing your climax out of you, only slowing down as your body started spasming with overstimulation.

"Christian I need more," you whined, gasping for air.

"I know baby, I know. I'll take good care of you," he said. "I'm right here okay?"

Christian kissed your lips gently, making your heart flutter. He softly caressed your face admiring how you glowed under the moonlight. You melted under his gaze holding him close to you.

"You okay?" he asked.

You nodded, giving him the go ahead. He moved back just enough to remove his bottoms before taking his place between your legs again. He placed both of his hands gently on your cheeks, resting his forehead against yours. He looked deep into your eyes as his thrusted his hips into yours. You gasped into his mouth as he picked up the speed, grinding slow but deep.

"I love you Christian," you moaned breathlessly.

"I love you Y/N," he responded. "I love you so much. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me and I'm sorry I made you feel otherwise. And I'll spend the rest of my life proving my worth to you."

The room was quiet except for the skin slapping against each other and the soft gasps you let out. You grabbed Christian's neck, bringing him as close as you possibly could. You needed him in every sense of the word, wanting to feel every inch of his skin on yours. He was yours and you were his. Your bodies intertwined in the same way your souls had all those years ago and that was all you really needed.

"Chris I need-" you were cut off with a particularly deep thrust making you moan, tugging at the curls on the nape of Christian's neck.

"I'm close too baby. Cum with me. Become one with me Y/N."

You had one of the strongest orgasms you'd ever had in your life. Your chest pressed into his as his cum filled you up, clenching your pussy around him. You held each other tightly, afraid to lose one another as space came between you.

The both of you laid there for a moment, basking in the afterglow of being so intimate. You gasped into each others mouths as your heartrates began to slow down ever so slightly.

"God you're so beautiful. The most beautiful woman I've ever seen," Christian said in awe of you.

You flushed beneath him becoming shy.

"Babe you just came all over my dick. You really shouldn't be that shy," he said cheekily. You scoffed and hit his chest slightly.

"You're actually ridiculous," you said lovingly, pressing your lips to his for a quick kiss.

He pecked you once more before pulling out of you. He got up, grabbing a towel and gently cleaning your body. He left kisses as he went, worshipping your body. Once he was done, he laid on his back bringing your head onto his chest. He kissed the top of your head as you tucked yourself beneath his arm.

"Are we okay Christian?" you asked meekly.

"Yeah baby. We're okay. We're gonna be okay."

Taglist: @pulisicsgirl @chelseagirl98 @thoseboysinblue @neverinadream @lizzypotter14 @masonsrem @masonspulisic @notsoattractivearenti @lovelynikol16 @bracedes @mortirolo @nyctophilic0vitnir

[jinkookspencil]

take off your glasses | jjk

your eyeglasses gave you sight and comfort, but jungkook looked too sexy wearing his....

description/tw/tags: ~2.1k words / jungkook just finished recording his birthday message for jimin.... and he looked too good in glasses / SMUT (minors DNI) / established relationship / y/n is a little insecure

author's note: inspired by two things: jungkook's birthday message to jimin which was so unnecessarily sexy, AND namjoon jokingly told jk "take off your glasses" in an episode of run and something switched inside me at those words... >.< this is so smutty that idk if i feel comfortable enough sharing to the point where i'm actually considering just doing a jk style complete delete of it with time.... we'll see. as always, any feedback is welcome! <3

“Ah, Jiminie will laugh at that,” Jungkook boasts as he put away his phone. “I guess I have to start recording video messages for all my hyungs now.”

“That’s nice of you,” you utter, sat across from him at the desk, head buried in the book you were reading.

“Baby…” It’s Jungkook’s voice only louder and the air around you had shifted, you realize. Looking up from your book, you found Jungkook standing right behind you.

You had been so immersed in your book you never took in Jungkook’s presence that night - and judging by the way he called you and started rubbing your shoulders, he seemed to be getting needy... But as you look up at him, you realize you also never took in how he looked tonight, the weight of it all hitting you all at once. Towering over you, Jungkook’s long hair - which you had always adored - was ruffled as though he played with it, sleeves rolled up to reveal the tattoos on his arm while his chest peeked through a couple of undone buttons, and the thing that got you the most…. he was wearing his glasses…

It shocked you when you found out earlier on in your relationship that Jungkook had poor vision too, since he seemed so perfect. But it also helped you feel more at ease for some weird, unknown reason - like you were glad bad eyesight was yet another thing he understood you on, added to the endless list of shared problems, mindsets, beliefs, and interests that always made your relationship feel safe. Yet, unlike you, he always preferred contacts and only wore glasses rarely around the house. The sight of it - and him - took you by surprise.

“Hey,” you say, taking in the sight of him, your shoulders hunched together.

“Hey,” he laughs at your sudden reaction, as if you hadn’t been in the same room for over an hour after he came home from working late at the studio. “Good book, huh?”

“Glasses,” you point out, tilting your head and ignoring his question. “I like it. You should wear them more often.”

“Thanks, but….eh,” he shrugs. “You know I prefer contacts, but I think I need to give my eyes a break from them...”

“Still, you look…really…good. At least wear them more often around the house, for me?”, you stare up at him through your lashes and flash him a smile, rubbing his arm, unaware of the entire effect that’d have on him.

Jungkook rolls his eyes and pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “Sure, baby,” he says, kissing the top of your head. “But this is a two-way deal, you have to try contacts for me too.”

All you can do is sigh. While Jungkook preferred contacts, you preferred glasses - and for many reasons, as you have made clear to him all the other times he asked you to take them off. Firstly, you were clumsy and the idea of poking at your eyeball regularly felt like a disaster waiting to happen, not to mention it freaked you out, especially the horror stories of people forgetting to take out their contacts. Secondly, someone mentioned once that there were different types and it just seemed like a hassle. And, the biggest reason: glasses helped hide your face. You just never liked the way your face looked. Plus, it didn’t help that your ex once shrieked when you took off your glasses in front of him and told you to keep them on… 

Jungkook’s entirely different. He knew you could be insecure, but instead of feeding your insecurities he never passed an opportunity to tell you that you were beautiful and hype you up, whether you were wearing your glasses or not.... the not being while you got ready every day or during sex and really intense make-out sessions when they just kept getting away.

“Jungkook, you know I -“

“I know, but baby, you’re so beautiful,” he resigns. “I wish you knew that. If only you could see yourself the way I see you. Do you at least see the face I make when you take them off while we kiss?!”

“.....I thought it was just because we're in the heat of the moment.”

“Baby…”, he shakes his head, taking yours in his hands. “It’s like that scene in Business Proposal - it’s funny that I get why girls love that scene more than you do. It’s sexy. YOU are sexy.”

You raise your eyebrows at him, looking down in denial and at your outfit, wondering if you wore anything different that drove Jungkook crazy, but it was just one of his t-shirts and your short shorts that he liked.... but it was nothing special.

“Look at me,” he says, a commanding tone in his voice that you couldn’t ignore. “Take off your glasses.”

“If I take off my glasses I can’t look at you, Jungkook,” you say with a sarcastic tone, but Jungkook doesn’t take any of it, bending down until he was a breath away from your face.

“You can now.”

Your hand reaches up to the frames that sat on your face, and the second you take them off Jungkook’s lips meets yours in a kiss.

“Fuck…,” he sighs into your mouth before meeting it again. His arms wrap around you in an embrace, pulling you up and between his legs as he leaned on the desk. His hands squeeze your butt before toying with the hem of the t-shirt you were wearing, taking it off of you the moment you lifted your hands from his shoulders in permission. You wrap your arms over Jungkook’s toned shoulders and around his neck as he felt your back and kissed you - on your lips, your neck, and all over your face. Just as you had gotten lost in his kisses, anticipating where he’d kiss next, his large arms swerve you around until you leaned against the desk and faced him standing between your legs instead. 

A smirk appeared on his face at the sound you let out, and in a flash, Jungkook absentmindedly takes off his glasses and pulls you in for a deeper kiss… Yet you’re too stunned to kiss him back well, grab onto him, or even feel him up.

“…Fuck, okay,” you whisper against his lips. “I get it now - that was… so fucking hot, Jungkook.” 

“Wh- oh.... I didn’t even realize I did that," you feel him smile against your lips, unknowing if he was sincere or if he planned the entire kiss to get you to understand him.

The image of Jungkook replayed itself in your mind, and with the feeling of his lips and bunny teeth brushing against your lips…. you were about to go insane. You wrap your arms around his neck once again, your hands running through his long hair as you pull him into a kiss and he toys with the hooks of your bra.

When they snap open, he wastes no time reaching for the bra between your bodies and chucking it across the room, unbuttoning and stripping off his own shirt before bending down to kiss your chest. You stare down at him, and when his gaze meets yours, you feel your entire body come alive. 

He looked unbelievable and already showed you so much love… You wanted - no, needed, to do the same to him. Reach for Jungkook’s length, you stroke it through his boxers, and, reaching inside them, he grunts as you feel him hard in your hands, only for him to shove your wrist away at the elastic of his underwear.

“Jungkook… let me feel you,” you moan against his face, his forehead brushing against yours as he shakes his head. 

“Lean back,” he commands, and all you can do is obey, already moving backward to lay on the desk the moment his hands find your shoulders. Jungkook hooked his fingers to your underwear, and after raising your hips for him to swiftly pull them off of you, you lift your legs to wrap them around his body…. but he separates them.

“No….,” he says “You won’t be able to see me, but I’ll make sure you feel me.”

His face disappears from view, leaving you nothing but a blurry sight of the ceiling as Jungkook wraps his arms around your thighs. “Fuck, baby.” 

The feeling of Jungkook’s tongue clouds every other sensation a human being is capable of, you were unable to register or control even the incredibly loud noises you were both making. He got hungrier as you ruffled his long hair, and when you begin feeling Jungkook’s nose rubbing against your heat, you were unable to hold yourself any longer, letting go of him and yourself. Jungkook continued to lick and taste you, before standing up and leaning over you, removing your hand from your face.

“I missed this face. Did you feel me?,” he whispers against your neck. 

“Fuck, did I feel you….,” you reply, catching your breath as Jungkook continued kissing all over your chest as it rose and fell. “But I missed your face too….”

Jungkook snapped at those six words and met you in a kiss, his face remaining millimeters away from yours, even long after he says, “I’m right here, baby,” while you catch your breath.

You try to avert his gaze as he stares into your eyes, but he never lets you, a hand caressing your cheek while the other roamed your body, grazing and scratching at your arms, shoulders, and torso, pinning your arms against the mattress when you tried hiding your face.

“Look at me, baby…..”

When his fingertips took over and his touches got lighter, you were reminded that Jungkook hadn’t had enough… and you didn’t either.

“Ready?”, he hummed against your lips before you nod.

Jungkook kissed you on the cheek before he got up and on top of you, his gaze never breaking even as he aligned himself with your entrance. You only caught glimpses of Jungkook’s focused, aroused face, his necklace dangling over you and blocking your sight, at which your hand leaves his shoulder and grabs his neck, holding both Jungkook and his necklace in place.

“Ffuck,” he moans.

The sight of him in a flustered rush did the same to you, and Jungkook closed his eyes as he picked up his pace, bending down to kiss your body. Topped with Jungkook’s murmurs of “Beautiful”, “My beautiful girl”, “Baby”, and countless other curses and moans, the sensations were overwhelming, and all you could do was cover your face with your arm as you neared your high, but a firm grip attaches itself to your wrist and pins your arm above your head.

“No, baby,” Jungkook heaves. “I - want to see you.”

Almost in obedience, your body responds with just what he wants as he watches you come undone, doing the same at the sight of you. Jungkook catches his breath and returns to normal before you do, kissing your chest as it slowed its movements while you caught up to him.

“My beautiful, baby,” he murmurs against your tummy, moaning when you run your fingers through his hair before he stood up and pulled you up. He brushes away any hair from your face and tucks loose strands behind your ear, his fingers finally resting on your temple and your chin. “This is my favorite face.”

Jungkook nears, tilting your head downwards and kissing your forehead, just above your eyebrows, before kissing your eyelids, nose, and lips one final time.

“I'll get you cleaned up, baby, then let’s move to the bed and stare at each other all night,” he smiles, holding your face in his hands.

You can’t help but giggle. “Sounds like a plan. Can you do it all night though? We both know you pass out so easily.”

“Yeah…. I always sleep after you, you know?”

“What?!”

“I don’t sleep that early! I watch you sleep a little,” he strokes your shoulder. “Then, when I feel you asleep and relaxed against me… when I see your face, so bare and peaceful, so close to me…. It relaxes me and I go to sleep.”

“You watch me like that scene in Twilight?!”

“I do,” he laughs. “Can you blame me? I’m fucking in love with you, beautiful.”

[waklman]

Fake it

Chapter Three: Deja Vu

synopsis: a pair of best friends, one apartment, and one fake dating ploy to get jake’s ex girlfriend back, will end well right? wrong.

pairing: jake seresin x female reader.

warnings: no use of y/n, underage drinking, mentions of drugs, jake and reader are both 20. this blog is 18+.

word count: 6.1k

college au, fake dating trope, roomate trope

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With your afternoon class finally wrapping up, you rush to jot down the last bit of the lecture notes—but your professor’s already begun to erase it off the board. At that, you shut your notebook with a resigned sigh. The amount of content covered within the last hour has nearly distracted you from the knotting pain in your abdomen, but it’s quick to resurface again as you stand up from your seat. 

It couldn’t have come at a worse time. The opening week party—marking the start of the semester was tonight. And the universe must’ve had it out for you, because you woke up with the tightest cramp known to mankind, today. Not yesterday, not last week, but today. Today, your body decided to turn against you. 

Holding your notebook tightly against your stomach, you suck in a sharp breath, failing to hide the discomfort etched on your face. You reach for your bookbag next, tossing back the weight over one shoulder to tread lightly behind the crowd of students heading for the exit. 

As everyone spills out of the room, there’s appreciative whispers of thank you’s that can be heard ahead. Looking past the cluster of students in front of you—there’s Jake, as promised. He’s stationed himself by the door, holding it open and flashing a smile at everyone who steps out, as a polite guise to search for your face amongst the crowd. As expected, he's completely unaware that he’s acting as a distraction to your female classmates—who seem to be in no rush to leave. 

The scene unfolding in front you is almost comical, like something straight out of a sitcom.

As girls pass him, they make sure to furiously bat their lashes—as if they’re in a race with one another, to see who can do it the fastest. For a split second, you’re convinced they might be able to curate a light breeze to blow into his face if they synced up their eye flapping. And though, the sight was amusing, you're suddenly taken aback by one girl who looks like she’s nearing a stroke from the speed her eyes are fluttering.

Jake might’ve been blind to his surroundings but even she catches his attention, turning his polite smile into an awkward one. But, that’s the exact kind of reaction Jake’s able to pull from people—well, girls. So, it’s truly a mystery to you that Kendall was able to break up with him, again. 

Once you finally reach him, Jake lets out a snort. “What’s with the face, Princess? You should be happy your boyfriend’s here to pick you up.” 

Jake grabs the top of your head like he's a claw machine, extracting you from the line of students, and placing you behind him. The swift movement causes another twinge of pain to strike you right in the gut. You wouldn’t even wish this onto your worst enemy as you bite down on your tongue to deal with it.

Turning his body to face you, Jake leaves one foot by the edge of the door, still keeping it open for everyone. And the line seems to move faster as he shifts his attention to you. 

“What’s wrong? Your bag too heavy?” Jake asks with his brows stitched together. 

You straighten up, clearing your throat, now aware of the uneven mass weighing down your shoulder. “Oh,” you gape. “I guess it’s a little—”

Jake cuts you off, tugging on the strap of your school bag, signaling you to pass it over. Wordlessly, you let one hand fall from the notebook in your clutch, allowing him to glide the strap down your arm, transferring it over his broad back like it weighed nothing. And your bookbag just dwarfs in size as it rests over his large frame. 

Behind him, your professor is last to step out, muttering a quick ‘Thanks kid’ as he joins the rest of your class in the hallway. Yet, Jake’s too preoccupied by the discomfort still evident on your face to even acknowledge the appreciation. Instead, he just lets the door shut behind him as he juts his chin at you, pairing it with a look. One that says, tell me what’s actually bothering you. 

“My stomach kinda hurts,” you admit, giving him a limp shrug to conclude.

At your confession, Jake’s eyes flick down to the notebook you’re pressing against your midriff again. While your shirt only reveals a sliver of skin, Jake can already picture how the metal spirals would leave an imprint on your stomach based on how tightly it’s tucked against your body. You’re gripping it as if someone has plans to steal it from you. 

He frowns a bit. “Stop that.”

In saying that, Jake pries the book from you with little effort, your fingers instinctively loosen once his large hands hover over yours. His chest tingles in surprise at how compliant you’re being. It’s a lapse in thought, but Jake wishes Kendall was here to witness this—to witness how cute you’re acting as his girlfriend.

With the notebook now secured under his armpit, Jake presses his palm to your stomach in its place, applying just the right amount of pressure to relieve your pain. “You gonna be okay tonight?” He asks, leaning against the wall. 

You swallow hard—unsure if the goosebumps rippling across your exposed skin was brought on by his mention of the party or by the practiced gesture. “I—Yeah. Think I just ate something bad,” you blink up at him, doe-eyed and neck craning from the height difference. 

Jake’s mouth twitches, unable to hide his amusement for your sudden shyness. Moving off the wall, he rolls back his shoulders to stand up straight—all while keeping eye contact with you. 

With his palm still on your stomach, Jake skillfully guides his hand over to your waist, using it as an anchor to flip you around. Then, he returns his hand back to its original position, palming over your ache again as he draws you in—pressing your back to his front. The bookbag he took from you jostles, jerking around the charms you had hooked onto the zippers at the final move. 

Jake then shuffles forward with you in his arms, forcing you to take uncoordinated steps with him. All that leaves your mouth is a surprised yelp, making a few head turn in your direction. “Jake we–we can’t walk back like this,” you squeak, slapping your hands over your face. You can already feel your cheeks burn up from embarrassment. 

“Oh yeah?” He teases, wetting his lips. Despite the first few unsteady steps, Jake is still mindful of your stomach ache, maintaining a firm pressure there with his hand.

After learning that he could fully knock you over with a simple high five over the summer, Jake made sure to be extra careful with you, because if he wasn’t—your dad will knock him over, with a high-five, to the face. 

You decide, right in this moment, that this had to be the most mortifying thing Jake’s pulled so far—there was no need to uncover your eyes to see how ridiculous this looks. The sound of both of your shoes scuffing the floors of the crowded lecture hall was enough to create a mental image to flash in your mind. 

You’re so sure that you both resemble a pair of waddling penguins—specifically the ones you used to visit at the zoo instead of going to class, back in highschool.

After his morning swim practice, Jake would show up to your locker, hair still damp from the pool and a crunched duffel bag slung over his team hoodie—eager to leave before class even ensued. And who were you to say no to an impromptu day-trip? Especially when your best friend was just so convincing. Seventeen year old Jake always pledged, we’ll get back in time for third period—but you’d spend hours seated in front of the exhibit, watching your favorite set of penguins waddle around on a slab of ice, and calling dibs on which penguin you each were. 

And for some reason, the strange comparison makes your head spin. You and Jake, a pair of penguins, bonded for life, sneakers squeaking against the floors, and heading towards your apartment together. With that, an unfamiliar sensation begins to form in the pit of your stomach. It merges right into the existing pain you had there—making it difficult to discern. The only thing you registered from the sensation was that it felt oddly familiar.

But you can’t put any more attention to it, as Jake’s foot clumsily knocks into your ankle.

The offender tips his head down, a smirk playing on his lips, ready to relish in your flustered response to him—but you’re hiding behind your hands, walking blindly with his guidance. “Oh come on,” he coos. “Quit covering that pretty face of yours. You shy or somethin’?” You almost lose your footing, feeling his chest rumble behind you as he speaks. 

“Jacob—You can’t—,” you stammer, unable to spit out a response. 

All your stuttered sentence does is pull a bass-like noise from his throat, one that signifies that he’s enjoying this. 

It comes as no surprise, but Jake had always loved seeking reactions from you. A part of him knows it’s a tad bit cruel to do so, but another part of him tells to do it anyway.

Sometimes, Jake is undoubtedly sure that he was just born with the life purpose to make you squirm—because why else would it be so satisfying? And it’s not like he got away with it growing up either. His mom made sure to give him an earful whenever he did shit like this—but he took the punishment regardless. And it’s a good thing Mrs. Seresin’s not here to see this, because she would’ve given him more than just a scolding for how fiendish he’s being with you right now. 

Biting his lip with finality, Jake puts an end to his teasing—for now. Because, his mom would kill him—like really kill him for your sake. You’d always been more of a daughter to her in that sense. 

He hums, choosing to redirect his focus, leading your entwined bodies towards the building’s exit. “Let’s get you something for this, Yeah?” He rubs your stomach in a circular motion, hoping it would simmer your humiliation. 

“...Okay,” you concede, still blinded by your own hands. 

While plodding down the hall, with more coordination this time, Jake catches a pair of girls fawning over you two—secretly snapping a few pictures as they whisper to each other. He chooses to ignore it, but his ears slightly flush pink, overhearing them chatter about how you two needed to get married. 

Feigning ignorance, Jake looks down—watching your footsteps sync up with his, your steps are akin to a waddle. And the memory of those penguins crosses his mind, making Jake forget about Kendall—and about his plans to find her tonight. For a brief moment, his mind is full of just you. 

Then, it pulls back to the girl he’s been plagued by, with the self reminder that he needs to stay on track.

For the past week, the boyfriend-girlfriend routine came easier to Jake than it does to you. The only contribution you’ve made so far was barely kissing him in the library, and confirming to girls whom you’ve never spoken to before that Jake Seresin was in fact, your boyfriend. The constant questioning rooted from genuine curiosity, you knew that. But, a part of you shrinks at every inquiry you receive. Thinking back on Jake and Kendall, you distinctly remember the exalt she got on their relationship, there was never skepticism there. So, why are you garnering suspicion, when she never did?

Your inclination to overthink tells you that maybe because it’s just you. That maybe, it’s so hard to believe because you don’t know how to act like a girlfriend. But you can’t help but to feel stupid for struggling with this. All you had to do was suck it up, and act like someone Jake would date. Someone who people actually looked twice at, someone who had more friends than she could count on one hand, and someone people actually caught wind of.

You needed to be someone Kendall could be neck-to-neck with. Yet, everytime you did try to take initiative, you backtrack once Jake starts to play into it even though you had the knowledge that he would. 

And unlike you, Jake’s doing everything he can to keep up the act, and more. If your classes don't clash with his schedule, he’s dropping you off and picking you up right after, carrying your things for you, throwing in flirty comments for eavesdroppers to pick up on, and pulling you close when people come up to him for some small talk. It doesn’t steer away from what you’re used to, besides a tid-bit of bragging—because this is exactly how your previous boyfriends acted with you. 

It was something you chose to keep to yourself, but you secretly hated it—they were so sweet, but so boring. But for some reason, when it comes from Jake, it’s like you’re sixteen all over again. It’s when Jake casually moves you to walk on the inner part of the sidewalk, keeping you away from cars—that you feel like the version of yourself that has a debilitating crush on her best-friend, romanticizing every little thing that he does.

And it certainly didn’t help that Jake’s always reaching to touch you in every way he could think of now. If you accidentally walk a bit ahead of him, his hand will casually slip up the back of the sweater he bought you and travel over to your waist just to pull you beside him. Sure, he’s naturally touchy with you, but never to this extent. It made you begin to wonder if this is how he acted with Kendall when you weren’t around to see, or if he's just over exaggerating to sell this. He’s even starting to do it at home, when there’s not a single onlooker. 

“Is this…really necessary?” 

Jake had thrown you onto the kitchen counter, placing himself in a convenient spot between the crack of your legs. And even in this position, he manages to tower over you still. “What? Me taking care of you?” Jake asks, rolling two pain relievers between his fingers tips, wondering if it could melt from the warmth he’s creating.

“We’re home—you don’t,” you pause, sensing you’re about to stammer. Taking a deep breath, you give it a second shot. “You don’t have to do it this way,” you mumble bashfully.

In response, Jake gives you a lazy shrug, continuing to play dumb. “Dunno what you’re talking ‘bout.” But the smirk he’s wearing is a dead giveaway, that he knows exactly what you’re ‘talking ‘bout’.

“Now. Open wide,” he sings mockingly, holding two tylenols between his thumb and pointer, lifting it up to your lips.

Annoyance starts to sink in, but before you can show any sign of it—you suddenly wince, feeling your stomach twist again. At that, Jake’s expression falls with guilt, knowing he’s delaying you from taking the painkillers. 

“Jake. Not right now,” your voice drops, and so does your shoulders. 

“Okay. Not right now,” he mumbles back to you.

It’s like a flip is switched, he maneuvers with clear purpose now. After dropping the two tylenols into the palm of your hand, Jake reaches for the glass of water beside you, as you toss the tablets into your mouth. Taking the water from him, Jake cups a hand under your chin to catch any leaks as you chase it down, eyes softening as you finish it off. 

It comes as a mystery to everyone, even to Jake—at how you had the innate ability to just turn him off. It’s a side of him that no one really sees unless they’re watching him interact with you.

Setting the empty cup aside, you sigh. “I don’t think I ate something bad,” you share, wiping away a droplet of water that hung from your lips. Jake’s eyes slowly settle on your face. “Is that right?” He mirrors your soft tone. 

“Think I’m just nervous,” you profess, referring to tonight’s party. 

It’s not like you didn’t attend parties, you went to plenty—in highschool. It was easier to stomach the idea of spending the night out with people you grew up with, it was just a plus that you had Jake there too. And at that stage in life, everyone was equally as naive and unassuming, so it wasn’t daunting to know you had parties you were invited to. But this party—the one where you didn’t know the first and last names of every attendee, has been looming over your head for days now. Did they only try thc-treats within the last year like you have? Was their first pull of a vape just as disappointing as they thought it was?

“How about this,” Jake wets his lips, an idea forming in his head. “You wear my hoodie tonight, and I’ll take care of it,” Jake tucks his bottom lip under his teeth, holding back a growing smile.

His solution is so dumb, but it’s dumb enough to make you lightly laugh, putting an end to your stream of apprehension.

You shake your head, smiling at the lame offer. “Right, cause the pheromones wafting off that stinky thing is gonna heal me.”

“Hm,” Jake pretends to give it some serious thought. “Yeah, actually.” Unable to contain his smile, Jake’s lips curl upwards. “You know what else it’ll do?” He prompts you to ask why, with an all teasing glint in his eyes. 

Your head tilts, wondering what he’s up to. “What will it do?”

“It makes sure everyone knows you're mine,” he finally answers, waiting for your reaction to load in. 

You scoff, lightly hitting his chest. “You’re so unserious, Jacob,” you complain, hoping your embarrassment isn’t showing. 

“No,” he’s still smug. “I can be very serious if my girl asks me to,” he moves in closer, pelvis hitting the edge of the counter. 

In an attempt to create some distance, you fold your arms over your chest, but Jake’s hoodie brushes against your forearms once before he fully rests the fabric onto you.

You clear your throat, looking off to the side. You were a girl after all, any normal girl your age would be nervous if a guy had them caged in like this—it doesn’t matter if he’s your best friend or not. “You’re annoying, you know that?” Your voice comes out smaller—weaker than you intended.

There’s a bout of silence that falls onto the conversation, leaving you two to linger off in your own heads for a bit. 

Jake glosses over what you say, with a thin veil of seriousness coating his tone. “Tell me you’ll wear it.”

You swallow thickly at the idea of you showing up in Jake’s hoodie. The hoodie you bought for him last Christmas. The hoodie that he let no one near, not even Kendall. Jake knew better not to give his stuff away to girlfriends, seeing that it’ll never be returned to him. That was something he learned the hard way when he lost his favorite t-shirts to a few exes.

So Jake giving you his hoodie was a big deal. So much of a big deal that it’ll help you get one step closer to the pedestal Kendall sits on—and that's the push you needed to say yes.

“...I’ll wear it.”

This environment is one that Jake’s all too familiar with. There’s red solo cups strewn across the front lawn, stretching into the house, and finally spilling into the backyard. Some of the discarded cups are even decorated into the freshly trimmed bushes, resembling a sprinkle of red flowers.

And not far off, the sound of his former frat brother’s roaring chants towards freshman they’ve coerced into chugging beer kegs can be heard amongst the overlap of drunken conversations being held around him. From where he stands, Jake’s nose wrinkles from the nasuseating whiff he gets of somebody’s body odor. Maybe it’s the two beers he pre-gamed with, but his brain can’t process that he’s actually here. Truthfully, Jake didn't think he’d ever be able to experience this again, as unappealing as it might sound—he missed it. 

Javy hadn’t been the most understanding, when Jake dropped the bomb on him last semester that he’s moving out. He only recently realized that maybe Javy was so pissed because Jake couldn’t offer him a clear reason for his resignation. Just like how Kendall couldn’t give him the time of day before ditching him for some fucking loser.

After their breakup, she disregarded Jake like he was some tiny tank top she didn’t like in her closet, throwing it to the side, opting for one she liked better. So, when Jake went off to grab you a drink, he wasn’t ready to be faced with her again. He knew she’d be here, he knew for an entire week long actually. Jake just didn’t expect to see her right as he left your side. 

When he snuck out to the far end of the house, sliding back the screen doors leading into the yard, Jake meant to grab you one drink. But as soon as he reached the outdoor table, littered with an array of hard seltzers—Jake stomach ruptures at who stands there, forgetting about his task to fetch you something. Her eyes are skimming over the different flavors, fingering the loop of her denim skirt. And when he thought she couldn’t get any more beautiful, she did.

Jake hates this. He fucking hates that his body reacts her like this. He also hates that he’s unable to stay mad at her. His build up of heartbreak is pathetically dropped at the sight of her. It’s like he’s seeing her for the very first time, the pretty girl who renders him breathless. 

But it’s quick to die once he approaches her, tangling himself in a growing argument. 

“Jake, I—seriously,” she pauses, weary as she scans the backyard for any sign of her boyfriend. “I don’t have time for this,” she crosses her arms against her front, clenching her jaw. “Austin’s about to pull up, and he’ll kill you if he catches us together,” her usually sweet voice is lined with agitation. 

Jake shakes his head in disbelief, laughing at her useless warning. “I don’t give two shits about what he’s gonna do to me, Kenny.” The nickname slips out of his mouth so easily, that it makes it difficult for him to not think back on his favorite memories with her.

“Jacob, we can talk another—” 

“One second you’re telling me you love me. Telling me that you would marry me someday,” his voice drops into a harsh whisper. “And the next you’re telling me I can’t be seen with you?” A hurt expression takes hold of his face, and Kendall falters.

What Jake said wasn’t exactly a lie, because she did mean it. It slipped her mouth in a drunken conversation they had right in the house behind them. Kendall said it mindlessly, not thinking that it’ll stick with him—but it did. 

Before she even realizes it, she gives in. “You think this is easy for me?” She turns her back to Jake for a brief second, paranoid that her boyfriend might be here already. The familiar gesture reels Jake’s mind back to you amidst the conversation—you did that when you were annoyed with him.

Kendall faces Jake again at the confirmation that Austin hasn’t arrived yet, “Jake…you know how hard—” She catches the blond looking past her.

“Oh my fucking god. Of course!” She yells, throwing her arms up in the air, bringing his focus back to the conversation. Kendall barely spared him enough time to actually find you amongst the sea of sweaty bodies blocking the screen door. 

“You still can’t pay attention to me. And you wonder why we had problems?” There’s a tinge of hurt in her voice, but she quickly swallows it back.

“Jacob. You have a new girlfriend for fucks sake, and you’re over here begging me to talk to you. Is she even okay with this?” She spits, steering him away from her previous accusation. In front of him, she’s breathless, exhausted, fed up with him—with this. 

Jake stills at her statement. ‘Is she even okay with this?’ Because of course you would be, wouldn't you? If you knew that he was here in the backyard, talking to her, you’d be okay waiting on your own. You’d want this for him. If you didn’t want this—if you didn’t want him to win her back, you wouldn’t have agreed to help him. 

Getting lost in his thoughts, Jake loses his chance—he takes too long to reply. “You know what? Fuck this,” her tone is venomous now, a blend of bitterness and resentment. 

Jake flinches at her words, regretting his search for you. “Talk to me when you learn how to treat a girl right,” she grits, finally. With her closing statement being said, Kendall moves past him, shoulder knocking into his arm with full force. 

Fuck.

Jake’s body seems to move on his own, steering him towards the beer kegs, driven by her words. 

Talk to me when you learn how to treat a girl right.

As pathetic as it was, it didn’t take long for your stomach to start up again once Jake left your side, though he promised you he’ll be back.

But with divine timing, Bradley appeared in front of you like your fairy godmother not a second after. He’d possibly kill Jake in replacement for you at the comparison, but it was true. You blinked just once, and your college aged fairy godmother was there. But instead of a glittery cloak shrouding her shoulders, she had on a pitch black t-shirt. And instead of a dainty little wand floating in her hands, she had the back of Bob’s hoodie fisted between her large knuckles, almost lifting the blond off the ground. 

After that, he communicated to you with a grunt to follow him and Bob along to the front of the house. You had flinched when he nearly growled at you for not getting the hint to stay ahead of him, so he could ensure you wouldn’t escape. The three of you barely made it out the front door together before Bradley scared away the three puny freshmen occupying the stone steps. They were already halfway across the lawn from just sensing Bradley’s dark energy, casting onto their backs.

With a shrug of his shoulders, and an accidental yank at Bob from the movement, Bradley led you to the steps. The hoodie swallowing your figure should be enough to keep you warm from the dropping temperatures, Bradley surmised to himself. 

None of you spoke a word to each other as Bradley silently suggested that you and Bob should sit down in the space he cleared. And right as Bob gathered enough courage to put a question forward, Bradley kind of smiled at you two and left. He just showed you both what it looked like when Bradley Bradshaw isn’t on the verge of killing someone, and he dipped like it was nothing. 

You and Bob had gone through different stages of revelation at the rare sight. At first you two gaped at each other in disbelief, then you entered a stage of denial together, and following that you both confirmed that Bradley actually fucking smiled. To anyone else, you two might have been labeled for having low standards to moved by his little smile, that could, probably use a bit more practice—but at the end of the day it was a smile from Bradley Bradshaw.

“Just to preface, I don’t have my degree yet. But it does sound like an anxiety-induced stomach ache to me.” Bob offers with a small smile, still thinking on Bradley’s gesture.

Since you just had a life-altering experience with Bob, conversation began to flow easier between you two and this was only the second time you’ve ever spoken to him. 

You purse your lips in curiosity. “Have you learned about a solution for it yet?” 

Bob hadn’t actually browsed through that part of the textbook, but he wished he had now. It could be that his empathy was way too high for an average person, but Bob's own stomach started to hurt from your explanation of the pain you were feeling. 

“I–I’m really sorry, but no. I’ll definitely let you know once I do find out though.” And Bob intends to fulfill that promise, in fact he’ll download the electronic version of his textbook after this conversation so he could help you out for the future.

“But, uhm,” he hesitantly puts out his cup towards you, “It’s ginger ale, I haven't even touched it yet I swear. And I’m not saying you should take it. Girls should never really take drinks from anyone, actually. I just–I’m just offering, you have the right to say no.” Bob clamps his mouth shut, stopping himself from saying any more.

You peer into the cup, eyeing the liquid sloshing in there before curling your fingers around the solo cup. The tightness in Bob’s shoulders finally lets up once you offer him a reassuring smile.

A comfortable silence rests over the exchange, with you taking small sips from Bob’s drink as he stuffs his hands into his hoodie pocket. You two linger in the moment, quietly appreciating Bradley for pulling you both away from the chaos that’s going on inside the house. 

Again, you bring the rim of the cup to your lips, but once the sleeve of your hoodie hits your chin—you suddenly still, which catches Bob’s attention. It somehow slipped your mind that you showed up wearing Jake’s hoodie—your supposed boyfriend, who you haven't seen in the last hour.

“Oh god,” you whisper in realization. “I–I have to go. It was really nice talking to you Bob–like actually. I just,” you’re scrambling to stand up, going light headed from rising to your feet so quickly. Bob lightly laughs, looking up at you. “Don’t worry. I’ll see you in class,” he gives you a single nod, ensuring you that it’s okay. 

Storing his assurance to the back of your mind, you go shooting through the doors. The warmth inside the house is a sharp contrast to the biting breeze outside, sending a shiver down your spine. Everyone around you downed more drinks than you have tonight, they knock into you while you struggle to navigate through the living area. As you try to recall the interior of the house—from being here last week, one guy bumps you into a wobbly table, shaking the plates of party snacks on it.

Not wanting to draw attention to yourself, you reach a hand out to still the foldable table by its edge. Then, you take a moment, blinking down at one plate in particular. On it, there’s a load of plastic baggies containing brightly colored gummies, which you assume to be edibles.

Almost as a signal, your stomach cramps again—urging you to grab one for yourself, so you do. You whip your head left and right before doing so. It’s for everyone right? 

With the ziplock baggie safely tucked into your back pocket, you resume your desperate search for Jake. But, you hardly have to take another step, because Jake is already drawing towards you, feet heavy as he drags them across the floor.

His chest buzzes, light warmth scattering through his ribs as he comes to a slow stop behind you. And maybe it’s because he’s done it so many times, but Jake’s fingers mindlessly curl around your waist, right under his hoodie. And like earlier in the day, he flips you around, reveling in goosebumps he’s brought on. 

Jake watches through half lidded eyes as you blink repeatedly at his chest. Acknowledging the large hand hugging your bare waist, you swallow so hard, you cough up a bit—before tentatively lifting your head, to meet the owner of said hand. 

“Oh.” It’s just Jake. 

It’s just Jake who’s staring down at you, with something unfamiliar pooling in his eyes. It’s just Jake whose fingers lightly squeeze your waist, again. It’s just Jake, you remind yourself.

You blink again, eyes wide and glossy underneath him. From this angle, you note the light flush tinting his cheeks. Then, your eyes run across his features, trying to get a read on the unfamiliar expression he’s wearing, and it seems like he’s doing the same.

Hearing a crunch, you both gaze over to the cup in your hands. It takes a moment for you to even realize that it’s your fingers that’s currently wrapped around the solo cup. 

The sight of the crinkled plastic under your nails makes a voice ring out in Jake’s head. You still can’t pay attention to me. And you wonder why we had problems? Kendall’s right. That’s why she broke up with him, he let so much shit fly over his head—It’s no wonder why she had a backup plan after she dumped him. Jake didn’t even pay enough attention to realize some guy was under his nose the whole time, giving his girlfriend attention when he wasn’t.

And it’s happened again. While Jake was blindly walking around the party, with nothing but Kendall in mind—someone got you a fucking drink. Someone who isn’t him. 

Talk to me when you learn how to treat a girl right.

Jake’s body reacts before his brain gets the chance to. Your breath hitches in your throat, watching him swat the cup out of your hand, forcing it to splatter against the wall, and fall flat to the ground with a clink.

Jake knows his limits, maybe too well for that matter. Right now, he’s slightly buzzed at best—he knows he is from his need to prove Kendall wrong. He knows from the way he moves his other hand to your jaw. He knows from the way he wants to get the remnants of that drink out of your mouth. He knows from the way he dips his head down to do it.

Jake feels like he’s sixteen again, kissing his best-friend, barely drunk.

With his hand on your waist, he steadies you, fingers digging into your flesh as you stumble backwards. Satisfaction washes over him, feeling you eagerly slot your mouth into his. You’re just as shy as he thought you’d be—you’re kissing him back with a soft intensity, it’s different from what he’s used to. And as your lips part again, Jake’s mouth tingles at the sensation. 

Talk to me when you learn how to treat a girl right.

Not knowing what to do with your hands, you fist the front of his shirt with one, while the other reaches for the nape of his neck. Feeling your fingers hesitantly scratch at the baby hairs sitting there, Jake’s spurred on to pull a reaction out of you. A sudden need burns into his chest, telling him to make you feel brainless.

But you already do.

Because in his arms, your body is going haywire, legs succumbing to jelly, but Jake holds you still, delving his tongue in your mouth—exploring it, draining that ginger-ale lingering there. And it’s like you’re on overdrive, the dull music playing in the back dies out from the sound of your heartbeat in your ears, and your lungs burn from holding your breath.

With your jaw going slack in his hand, Jake knows you need to catch your breath, because he finally pulls away, lips twitching as he does so.

Jake’s darkened eyes lift open, observing the string of saliva between your mouths, mesmerized by the way it breaks from the distance and settles to glisten on your lips. With his hand on the line of your jaw, Jake extends a thumb to swipe away the shine he produced.

You’re breathless, chest rising up and down underneath his hoodie—mind still processing the practiced kiss.

“W-was she looking?” 

Jake’s brows furrow, but he conceals it before you catch it. Thumbing over your bottom lip, Jake’s mind is half with you and half somewhere else.

He hums, mindlessly assuring you. “Mhm. Did such a good job for me, Princess.”

note: she is lengthy, but it's because i wont be able to update for the next two weeks, due to finals week D: but putting that aside, thank you for reading! and as always, reblogs are greatly appreciated.

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[bloodyminyard]

a (long) comprehensive list of buck related things in 7x04 that have me losing it as i rewatch:

- the stupid starry eyed look he has while getting the tour from tommy

- the terrible “i need mo jo” joke that tommy laughs at purely bc it was endearing

- “you didn’t call me because you wanted to see the toys”

- “you need to raise your bar kid” my GOD the “kid”

- ofc, the “no way!! eddie was in the army!”

- god they are so FLIRTY “really?” “my fees are competitive” “let me buy you a beer no WAY buck is this clueless

- eddie being so excited about the fight, and specifically the idea of buck joining help

- “keeping my options fluid” SIR

- evan?!?!?!????

- the close up shot as the fly off my heart

- the look on bucks face when eddie talks about tommy, boy is devastated

- “i saved a baby in a pipe once!” yes you did were so proud

- not buck related: but i adore ravi so much

- OKAY BUT BUCKS STUTTER !! they way he trips over his words when he’s surprised or nervous or even upset 😭

- “i do. i really do.” MY GOD OH MY GOD FUCK ASHHH AHHH

- and the SIGH after as eddie walks away, the building up the courage to ask more

- THE SAY HIS FACE DROPS WHEN EDDIE ASKS HIM TO WATCH CHRIS OHHH EDMUNDO WHEN I CATCH YOU

- “i keep saying, chris it’s not a video game” “because it’s harder than a video game???” maddie i see you and am so sorry you have to deal with this

- SAME WITH “he’s made an impression in a very short time” “i can see that” LIKE SHE IS SO NOT GONNA BE SURPRISED WHEN BUCK COMES OUT TO HER 😭

- “i don’t think you lie to a child just to ingratiate yourself” bro it’s not that serious i promise

- sorry brb imagining buck asking chris all these questions about tommy and chris going 🤔🤔🤔

- buck being upset that eddie invited tommy to play basketball even though eddie always asks him and he says no bc he doesn’t like it… he’s so me i can’t

- “was there a heart around it?” there might as well been maddie!!!

- peacocking buck we love and hate to see (it’s so embarrassing i have to close my eyes. “maybe we should hoop” sir please stop)

- the pouting OLEASE he’s so

- his smile

- the “evan” throws me off every TIME but also it kindaaaaa

- “what are the odds?” bro chill

- the smile when tommy fists bumps him oh i see you gay boy even if you don’t yet

- “so i’m your basketball beard” brother you don’t even KNOW

- i’m sorry the song that’s playing while they play basketball is “playing with the boys”🤔🤔… the lyrics too “i don’t wanna be obsessed but my desire with the boys” (and YES i am aware it’s a top gun reference, however that movie is also gay is hell and so is this song, moving on)

- tommy cocking his head when buck runs into him like oh my

- poor chim does not deserve to be put in the middle of all of this

- “well you bucked that up didn’t you” :(

- okay this scene between maddie and buck afterwards is actually so important to me, i love their ability to communicate, and how buck openly admits that he doesn’t know if he meant to hurt eddie or not, and that he was angry and lashed out, and maddie’s reaction to it :( “that’s not how you get someone’s attention”

- “i guess i was trying to get his attention” buck is the representative of the “i don’t know why i do the things i do until tons of self reflection after the fact” club, same im the president actually

- i do love that we get to watch him try and figure out why he acts and feels the way he does in real time! even at the end he still doesn’t entirely know until tommy is in his face staring at his lips

- the stutter is back 🫶

- “evan…” STOP THE WAY HE SAYS IT THAT TIME MAKES ME GIGGLE I CANT

- this entire scene drives me crazy btw i can literally pick it apart piece by piece… but the way he smiles throughout it makes my heart go akrjeidjdjsjd

- the chemistry is fucking IMMACULATE btw!! the flirting is so natural and it shows through buck being oblivious about it!! like brother no one stands that close to each other

- buck figuring out how he feels AS he speaks!!! poor boy is trying to catch up as fast as he can

- everything about the “okay” after tommy says “i can teach you”… the smile, the eye squint, the head tilt, like oh my GOD

- the way the tone changes when buck says “good” my GOD, the way his face drops as he comes to the realization that maybe it was about tommy the whole time

- the “cause trying to get your attention has been kinda exhausting” punches me in the gut EVERY TIME I WATCH THIS LIKE FUCK OH MY GOD BUCK LIKES MEN FR? and the way he says it GOD, like i said, he’s literally figuring this out as the words come out of his mouth (“i guess so”)

- okay my ONE nitpick about the kiss scene is that tommy grabs his chin, and then when it cuts it’s the two fingers under the chin, it’s inconsistent and i think i like the chin grab better

- the absolute STUNNED look in bucks eyes after the kiss!!! as the perfect oliver stark put it: he’s found something he’s been missing for a long time

- tommy is so worried in the split second before buck tells him that it was okay

- the wordless nod after tommy asks if it was okay THIS MEANS SO MYCH TO ME

- you can FEEL the sense of relief and wholeness radiating off of buck

- “better than fake mouth static” AKSHSISHS

- his eyes following tommy’s lips as he laughs, and then the brief look down like his whole WORLD has just been turned upside down before tommy speaks again

- i am so fucking here for buck being asked out and being stunned by it

- the stutter again 🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶

- tommy’s smile as he leaves like tee hee ur kinda cute

- the entire of his expressions at the end. there’s panic, there’s confusion, there’s happiness OLIVER STARK THE MAN THAT YOU ARE !!!!

in conclusion: this is everything i wanted and more, the brain rot is everywhere, i cannot escape this episode