#so like. just roll up to class and Wait right?

[lilasamaaa]

Missed chances | Max Verstappen x Reader.

Genre | Angst, Hurt, Fluff.

Word count | 4.1K

Warnings | Mentions of heartbreak, alcohol consumption, Max being an asshole.

Summary | It's been years since you've had a crush on your best friend's brother. But him too, right? Or is kissing you every chance he gets just a game for him?

Author's note | Angsty Queen is back at it! This piece is the result of this poll. Thank you so much for all the feedback on the previous pieces, I'm so glad you like them. Enjoy this one! (Not proofread yet, sorry!)

You and Victoria are thirteen when you cross paths for the first time. The shy blonde girl stands upright, nervously nibbling her lip. It's the first day of school, and you're both waiting to find out which class you'll be in, hoping to be with friends. Her gaze meets yours, and she offers a timid smile. You're not friends. Not yet. You just have mutual friends. Your names are called almost simultaneously, indicating that you're in the same class. Instinctively, you head towards her, giving her a big smile. You don't know anyone else in the class, so you'll have to get to know each other. Stick together.

A few months later, as your father drops you off in front of Victoria's house before rushing off to your little brother's soccer practice, you take a moment to observe the pale blue house from the outside. Upstairs, a curtain moves, catching your attention. You don't see anybody, though. You knock on the door, and Victoria opens it, immediately throwing herself into your arms.

"I'm so glad your parents agreed to this," she says, excited. "This is gonna be so cool. My parents aren't home so Max is supposed to look after us, but he'll probably lock himself in his room. Boys, you know..." she finishes, leading you into the hallway.

Max? For months, you've been sharing your lives between classes, but you've never heard this name before.

"Who's Max?" you ask, curious.

"My older brother," she replies, rolling her eyes. "We don't get along so well these days. He thinks he's all grown up... Barely even acknowledge me," Victoria says, frustration evident in her voice.

"I can relate," you reply sarcastically. "Well, mine's younger, but not that interested in me either."

You spend the afternoon in her room painting your nails, braiding each other's hair, and sharing your secrets (you're starting to run out, after all this time), until night falls. You're deep in conversation when someone knocks on the door. That must be Max, you think, waiting for the door to open.

And it is Max, indeed. His face appears, and your heart skips a beat. He's cute. He seems a bit grumpy. Not in the best mood, that's true. But there's something immediately touching about his big, wide eyes and annoyed expression.

"Diner's ready," Max says before closing the door.

"I bet he made fish sticks again," Victoria grumbles, getting up. "That's the only thing he knows how to cook."

Sitting at the table, cutting a fish stick in half with your fork, your gaze shifts from Victoria to Max, who sit across from each other, not exchanging a word.

"So..." you start shyly. "What's your favorite subject, Max?" you ask, immediately regretting your words as the boy glances in your direction, brows furrowed.

Of course, your only topic of conversation is school. You've always been one of the top students. A real bookworm, as they say. Plus, you're not exactly comfortable around boys, especially those around your age. Victoria shoots you a desperate look, eyes wide open. But right now, anything seems better than this uncomfortable, excruciating silence.

"Erm," Max says, grabbing a green bean with his fork. "Geography, I guess. I don't know."

Silence falls once again, lingering until each of you finishes your meal, and then Victoria and you retreat to her room.

"Don't even bother trying to talk to him," the blonde says as she slips into her pajamas. "Nothing interests him except go-karting."

The next time you encounter Max, you're fourteen, and he's sixteen. Victoria and you are participating in an endurance race to raise funds for a charity, and your families have been invited to attend the event. Your parents, who have crossed paths several times at school meetings and other events, find each other in the stands and share enthusiastic greetings before sitting down. Already on the track, you watch the reunion with a smile when your eyes fall on him. Max is here? you think. He never attends these things.

The race begins, and Victoria and you take off along the lake, completing lap after lap. On one of them, as you pass by the stands, particularly the one where your parents are seated, you turn your head, hoping to catch a glimpse of them. You don't see your father or your mother. Your eyes only see him. Max. And he's looking at you, too. Your eyes don't leave each other until your foot slips on a stone, and your ankle twists violently. You fall to the ground, letting out a cry of pain as your father rises, rushing to your aid.

A little less than an hour later, as Victoria finishes her run and joins you at the infirmary, the blonde gives you a worried yet disapproving look. "You're too distracted," she says, hand on her hip. "What was it this time? Did you see a cute boy or something? Was it Jan?". You don't respond, giving a sheepish smile to your friend. A cute boy, yeah...

As the years go by, you see Max less and less. At the beginning of your friendship with Victoria, you often ran into the young man when you spent afternoons or nights at the Verstappen's, but the aspiring driver has started to become increasingly scarce in his own home. One evening, though, as you're racking your brains over a philosophy essay, your phone vibrates, signaling a message from the person who's become your best friend.

"Max is throwing a fucking rager at home. Please come, I beg you. I'll shoot myself if I have to deal with his drunk friends all alone."

Thirty minutes later, you're on your bike, covering the five kilometers that separate your house from Victoria's. Summer has begun, with only a few days of classes left, which certainly explains Max's sudden urge to throw a party. On your bike, you're anxious, your stomach tying itself in knots. Despite your daily visits to Victoria, it's been almost a year since you've last seen her older brother. You try to convince yourself that the fact you applied a bit of mascara to your lashes or straightened your hair has nothing to do with his presence. You just wanted to tidy up a bit, that's all. Nothing else to it.

When you arrive at the blue house, your first instinct is to anxiously glance at the surrounding houses. How has no one called the cops yet, you think, impressed by the decibels pouring out of the open windows, and the number of people you can already see inside the house. Leaving your bike in the grass, you venture into the house, passing by the wide open front door. On the way to the living room, drunk bodies cling to you, spilling beer on your shoes, shouting incomprehensible words in your ears. Wow. Victoria wasn't kidding. This thing is a huge mess.

Spotting your friend in the middle of the kitchen, you make your way to her.

"What the fuck is happening here?" you ask, casting a glance over the room.

"Can you believe this asshole?" Victoria replies, fuming. "Mom has been gone for five hours. Five! And I haven't even finished my fucking essay," she says, despair filling her eyes.

"Forget about it," you reply, stifling a laugh. "That's not happening tonight."

Victoria launches into another tirade about how much her brother annoys her when you catch sight of him in the middle of the living room. He's wearing a shirt that looks slightly too big for him. Maybe borrowed from his dad. He's holding a beer in one hand. A girl in the other. The sight twists your heart and brings a bitter taste to your mouth. Clinging to his arm, the blonde —who you recognize as Sanne, a girl from his class— can't seem to tear her gaze from Max, looking at him as if he belonged in a museum.

"Hey, are you listening?" Victoria says, bringing you back to reality.

"What?"

"They want to play a game," Victoria repeats. "Seven minutes in heaven."

"Seven minutes in heaven?" you repeat, eyes wide.

"Yeah. Sanne suggested it."

Of course she did, you think, biting your lip. Of course Sanne, who clearly has a big crush on Max, would suggest a game where the goal is to get locked in a narrow closet with someone for seven minutes.

"Listen to me," Victoria says, suddenly serious. "If Max has to be locked in a closet with anyone, I want it to be you. We'll figure it out. We'll cheat at the draw," she continues. "I hate Sanne. At least with you, I know nothing will happen."

You swallow loudly, completely at a loss for words. Getting locked in a closet with Max? The Max who's never really noticed you? Who's always seen you as nothing but a kid because you're a year and a half younger and his sister's friend? You don't have much time to think about it because already, you're sitting in a circle in the middle of the living room with a dozen other people, a bottle in the center.

Johannes, a friend of Max's, spins the bottle, which lands on Sanne. The girl's eyes sparkle with excitement, her gaze fixed on Max. Johannes spins the bottle again, and this time, it stops in front of another girl you don't know. You glance at Victoria, who seems particularly amused by the situation. Sanne looks absolutely gutted.

"Rules are rules, girls," Johannes says, laughing.

A boy from your class escorts the girls to the closet by the entrance before locking them in and starting a timer. The seven minutes pass, filled by various discussions. When the alarm goes off and the girls are freed, Sanne sits back in the circle, her face closed off.

"It's my turn to spin the bottle," she announces, seizing the plastic object.

She's quite skilled, as the bottle spins twice before landing directly in front of Max. Sanne grabs the bottle again, sending it spinning, and it rotates for a while before stopping right in front of you. Sanne seems beside herself, but your attention is focused on Victoria, who gives you a discreet thumbs-up. Your eyes meet Max's, and it's safe to say the young man doesn't look too pleased. But as Johannes said, rules are rules, and the two of you get up before walking towards the closet.

The space is ridiculously tiny. Max ventures in first, one foot behind the vacuum cleaner, the other squeezed between two shoe shelves. There's barely enough room for two people to fit, and as Johannes pushes you inside unceremoniously and you hear the lock click behind you, you realize you're standing between Max's legs, your hands on his chest.

"Sorry," you say, trying to get away, your back hitting the door.

A heavy silence settles between you as outside, you hear the lively conversations resume in the living room.

"I'm sure you would have preferred to be locked in with Sanne," you say, trying to fill the silence that's slowly eating away at you.

"Not really," Max responds, evasive.

"Aren't you two together?" you ask, curious.

He scoffs against you, sending vibrations to your chest.

"She would like to, yeah," Max says, as you feel his breath against your face despite him being twenty centimeters taller than you.

"And you don't?" you ask, trying to appear nonchalant even though you fear his answer.

"I don't have time for her."

"Oh. I didn't realize your time was so precious," you reply, stunned.

"Depends on who it's spent with," Max replies, his voice deeper.

You're suddenly incredibly grateful to be plunged into darkness because your cheeks are definitely burning red. Is Max Verstappen flirting with you?

"You've changed since the last time I saw you," he continues, as you feel like the temperature in the closet has risen several degrees.

"Changed how?" you ask, seeking his gaze despite the darkness.

"You're taller. Your hair seems longer. It's lightened up a bit, it's nice," he says. "Sixteen suits you. You're not a kid anymore."

You're going to suffocate. Die in a closet.

"We're only a year and a half apart," you reply, breathless.

"I know," he replies, as you feel his hand caress your cheek. "I'm not a kid anymore either."

His lips crash onto yours before you even have time to comprehend what's happening. You melt into him, closing your eyes, savoring the contact you've dreamed of for years. His hand rests on the back of your head, bringing you closer to him, as your hands find their way back to his chest. You bite his lip, and he lets out a groan before wrapping his arms around your waist. You thank the loud music from the living room for drowning out the sounds you're making in this closet, pressed against one another. Your hands find his neck, and his crawl to your ass, squeezing it as you let out a moan against his open mouth.

You thought you couldn't get any closer, but one of Max's hands slips under your right knee, lifting your leg. You've never kissed anyone. Never touched anyone. Yet, as your two groins press against each other, everything feels so easy, so natural. You could stay here for hours, exploring his mouth, his face, his body, but already, footsteps echo in the hallway, and you pull away from each other as if you'd been burned.

"Time's up, lovers!" Johannes says opening the door, prompting laughter from the living room.

"As if," Max says, getting out first. "That's disgusting, bro. She's like my sister."

You stay in the closet for a few seconds, watching the two boys go back to the living room, catching your breath. Several hours later, lying in Victoria's bed as the music has stopped and most of the guests have left the house, you stare at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep, despite your best friend softly snoring by your side. Getting up to get a glass of water, you walk blindly through the dark hallway, passing by Max's room.

"Can we talk?" a voice suddenly rises, making you jump, your hand finding your heart which threatens to leap out of your chest.

You remain silent. Not quite sure if you want to talk, let alone with Max. And certainly not to talk about earlier, in the closet, and be rejected by the boy who stole your heart.

"Come here," he says, pulling you into his room before closing the door behind him. "I don't want Victoria to hear."

You're about to pour your heart out, tell Max how much he hurt you, when he pulls you towards him and presses his lips to yours. Again. Everything you had planned to say escapes your mind as your tongues meet and the hands of your best friend's brother slide under your shirt, stroking your back. Max pulls back, sitting on his bed, pulling you onto his lap, one leg on each side of him. The kisses intensify, your noses brushing, your hands getting lost in each other's hair. Your lips speaking without sound, your hearts opening up without words.

"I don't understand you," you admit between kisses.

"Don't try," he replies, biting your lip.

Max grabs your butt, pressing you against him, and a flash of panic grips you when you feel him against you. Hard. You moan, and suddenly, all the reason seems to come back to him. It's you. His sister's best friend. He pulls back, avoiding your gaze.

"I..." he starts, breathless. "You should go," Max says before pushing you off his lap. You stand here, facing him awkwardly for a few seconds. Waiting for him to say something. Anything. When nothing comes, his head still low, you turn on your heels. Back in Victoria's room, slipping under the covers of your best friend's bed, you let out a tear, feeling a sadly familiar ache tugging at your heart.

Max and you cross paths again a year later, at your high school graduation ceremony. You and Victoria are among the top students in your class, and you're invited to go on stage to give a speech with eight other people. One of these people is Niels. Your boyfriend. You've been together for a few months now. He welcomes you on stage, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek before holding you close. In the audience, your eyes meet those of your parents, proud. Those of Victoria's parents, proud. And those of Max. Icy.

The speeches go by quickly, and just before the buffet begins, you apologize to Niels and your parents, saying you need to make a quick stop at the restroom. In the deserted corridors of your high school, your heels click against the floor, soon joined by the sound of another pair of shoes. You turn around, surprised, seeing Max approaching in the distance.

"Niels Harmen?" you hear the boy say. "Really?"

"What do you want?" you reply, eyes cold.

"That guy was still picking his nose last year."

"It's good that he stopped, then," you respond, annoyed.

"Why are you dating him?"

The question makes you laugh. Not a sincere laugh. A laugh that says "mind your own business" and "screw you" at the same time. An ironic, ugly laugh that you don't even recognize.

"When we kiss, I'm not afraid that he'll reject me the next second," you reply, even though you know it's hitting below the belt.

Max scoffs, crossing his arms.

"Is it what it is? Some sort of revenge?"

"I'm not seeking revenge on anyone. My life doesn't revolve around you," you spit before turning on your heels.

You haven't taken a step before a hand grabs your wrist. You already know what's going to happen. So you try to resist. You know you shouldn't turn around. That if your eyes meet his, you'll fall back in. Start another round of false hopes. Disillusionments. Heartaches.

Yet, you do. You turn around, and, of course, his lips find yours. It's almost routine now, mechanical. You close your eyes, your heart torn between the joy of feeling his touch again, and the anticipation of the pain that will undoubtedly assail you in a few hours. When he'll reject you, again.

You're lost in each other when the sound of applause brings you crashing back to earth. The two of you quickly pull away before turning towards the source of the noise. Sanne.

"Don't you have a boyfriend waiting for you?" the girl asks with a fake smile.

"Get out of here, Sanne," Max says like a warning.

"What happened to "I'm not interested in her", Max?" Sanne asks, one hand on her hip. "Or to "She's just a kid, and not even my type"? Or, wait, what was it, the last time?" Sanne continues, stroking her chin. "Oh, yeah. "She was just there, and I was bored"."

You look at him, mouth agape, but Max carefully avoids meeting your gaze. Sanne's words tear at your heart. In a way, it's even worse than being rejected by him. You turn on your heels for good this time, passing by Sanne who's looking at you like you're the most despicable thing on earth. You're vaguely aware of Max saying... no, screaming your name, but you keep on walking, not looking back once. For a second, you thought you were gonna cry, break down in tears in the middle of the hallway. But nothing comes. You don't feel anything. Your heart has given up, surrendered. Returning to the ceremony, you smile at your parents before grabbing a flute of champagne, toasting with Victoria.

"Have you seen Max?" your best friend asks, and you don't miss how the mention of his name doesn't make your heart flutter, for the first time in years.

"Nope," you reply, smiling at her.

Three years later, you're in Victoria's car, on your way to the Zandvoort Grand Prix. You don't even know why you agreed to come with your best friend. You don't watch F1. You have no interest in the sport. Curiosity, your inner voice whispers. You wanted to see him again. You shake your head to dispel those intrusive thoughts when Victoria turns to you.

"I'm so glad you agreed to come. Max is so happy, too."

"What?" you ask, turning to her.

"He told me over the phone. Is that so surprising?"

Well, it is. Max and you haven't exchanged a word since the last ones thrown in the hallway of your high school. But Victoria, of course, doesn't know that. Victoria thinks you're friendly. Like two people who grew up together, gravitating in the same universe without ever colliding.

"He got us VIP passes", your best friend continues. "We'll be able to go everywhere, even see the pit stops!"

"How kind of him," you mumble.

"Look," she says, looking over at you. "I know Max wasn't the kindest... or the warmest, growing up. But he's changed, so much. You'd be surprised!"

"Oh, I bet," you say, smiling at her.

Victoria parks her small car in the VIP space, and a RedBull staff member greets you, handing you two passes before guiding you through the paddock. A stress you haven't felt in three years creeps into your head, into your body. Your thoughts collide, your hands are sweaty. You're beginning to wonder if coming here was a good idea after all when you spot him. At the end of the aisle, in his racing suit. Helmet in hand. Victoria's phone suddenly rings, and she apologizes, gesturing for you to continue without her.

You take the few steps that separate you from the driver. He's changed. So much. His teenage roundness has vanished, replaced by sharp features. His hair is longer, his eyes darker. He gives you a warm smile that twists your insides. It's impossible, you think. After all these years. Having so much power, so much hold over me.

"You came," he says, still smiling.

"For her," you reply curtly.

"Well..." he says, laughing softly. "She's not the one racing."

The silence falls again. Cold. Heavy. You turn your head, spotting Victoria a little further away, hoping she hangs up soon.

"You look beautiful," he says, and you know he means it despite you wearing the blankest blue jeans and white shirt ever made.

Silence, again.

"I'd hoped you'd no longer be mad at me." Max says, and you scoff.

"I'm not mad at you."

"You're cold."

"You broke my heart."

The driver winces, looking away.

"I should have called," he says, softly.

"I wouldn't have answered," you reply.

"I should have come to see you," Max starts again.

"I wouldn't have opened the door."

Your eyes meet his. Fire and ice.

"Well, I should have done something. Fight for you," he continues.

"Fight for who?" you ask. "The girl who was just there?"

Max runs his hand through his hair, embarrassed.

"You were never just that to me. You were so much more. I was just too young, too stupid to realize it. I have. Now."

You hadn't planned on getting into deep explanations with Max today. Not here. Not now. You're about to respond when Victoria returns, linking her arm with yours.

"Maxie!" she says, kissing his cheek. "Are you catching up on lost time? Did she tell you she's still dating Niels? Rumor has it that he's going to propose soon!"

Max's eyes glance down at your hand, and something in his demeanor shifts. It might be the breath he holds, or the way his shoulders seem to slump, defeated.

"She hasn't," he says, smiling faintly at his sister.

"We should go," Victoria says. "The race is about to start. Can we go to the stands?"

"Yes, no problem," Max replies as Victoria begins to head towards the garage, leaving you face to face once again.

"Congrats on your future engagement, I guess," he says.

"Thank you. I'm going to break up with him," you reply, crossing your arms.

"What?" Max says, astonished.

"It doesn't feel right. Him and I."

"If it has anything to do with me, please, tell me," Max breathes, as you avoid his gaze. "I was so focused on my career these past few years that I never wrote to you. I knew I didn't have the time to make it work. I knew it'd be selfish. Unfair to you," Max admits.

"Here you are, once again, thinking that my life revolves around you", you say, smirking at him. "I'm not waiting for you, Max. I haven't been for a while now."

The driver nods, swallowing hard.

"Of course," he says. "I'm sorry for assuming."

"I'm not against the idea of grabbing a drink with you sometime, though," you say, winking at him. "Just text me when you're free."

"I will," he says quickly, blue eyes boring into yours.

"See you around," you say, running to catch up with Victoria.

Watching you leave, Max stands there, grinning like an idiot, before unlocking his phone.

"How about tonight?"

Sent.

[vampzity]

the business proposal | P.SH

—✫ pairing: boss! Seonghwa x f! reader

—✫ genre: business office au, smut!!! one shot, park seonghwa

—✫ synopsis: being the new worker isn’t always easy. especially when your boss was known to be a pain to work with. he was cold-hearted and the punishments for those who dared to defy him, were inhumane. but you just had to test his patience, didn’t you?

—✫ wc: 2.9k

[warnings]: choking, nipple play, consented sex, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap!), rough sex, masturbation, cursing??, master kink, sadism, brat taming kink, begging, teasing, 18+ MINORS DNI!!!!, pet names (hun, pretty, good girl), biting??, slapping

—✫ a/n: it doesn’t jump into action right away, there’s some background written before getting there ! :)

You walked up to his door, knocking on it while a stack of papers filled your hands. You waited for him to open the door, but of course he took long as always.

You were a new employee at a big company, known to be the most successful in your city. It’s only been a week since you’ve started, and many people have already warned you about the boss.

“He’s rude… he’s snarky… it’s his way or the highway.”

It made you a bit curious, as you’ve only seen him a few times, but never spoken to him face to face before. He was actually the one who hired you. He couldn’t be that bad right? Aren’t all bosses portrayed as mean?

“Oh, it’s you.”

Your thoughts were interrupted by a deep voice, startling you as the door shot open. Seonghwa glared at you fiercely, giving a sigh as if he was annoyed. He walked back to his desk, taking a seat as he clicked the pen repeatedly in his hand.

“Those papers done? Put them on my desk and get out of my sight.” he spoke sternly.

You raised an eyebrow at him, placing the stack of papers on his desk harshly. He widened his eyes at you, soon pointing them to the stack of papers you left before him. He shooed at you as he rolled his eyes, getting back to the work on his computer.

So everything your co-workers said, were true? He was cold, even colder than they described. Of course he was your boss, so you couldn’t speak against him or his words, but apart of you couldn’t stand his uptight attitude with you. Especially when he was the one who had hired you initially.

You crossed your arms, glaring at him. It was at this point that he began to grow impatient with you still being in his presence.

“What more do you want? I don’t have all day!” he snapped, throwing his pen across the room.

“You know you don’t have to be so rude? I know I’m new here, but it doesn’t give you a right to act such a way.”

Seonghwa froze, placing his elbows onto his desk slowly as his chin rested in his hands. His stare intensified toward you, enough to feel the immense anger that arose within him. However, his face remained emotionless.

“You should know your place. Don’t forget I hired you, and frankly, I’m also not afraid to fire you either.”

His deep voice rung in your head. As much as the anger burned in his eyes, his voice remained nonchalant, making it harder for you to decipher how upset he was.

It wasn’t normalized for you to go against someone with such power, but when it came to respect, you expected that same amount back regardless of one’s status. As for the job? You were top of your class, why wouldn’t anyone hire the valedictorian of their college?

“You might want to reconsider that.” I checked the time on my watch, reading 11:15 am.

“You assigned not just me, but everyone papers like these at 8 am sharp.”

You looked around the room, scanning his office for any more stacks of papers that had been given to the other employees this morning. To your expectation, only yours was present.

“Ah, just as I thought. I’m the only one done.” You gave him a small smirk, placing a finger to your lips.

“Again.”

The heat present in Seonghwa’s eyes began to boil. All of his employees were compliant. No one even dared to step foot into his office and blatantly disrespect him. So for a new female employee to come in and do such a thing.. was unacceptable.

“I don’t need your insolence or smart mouth,” he started, standing up from his desk and making his way toward you.

“You’re here to work for me, so you do as you’re told. I don’t pay you to question me. Remember that.”

He hovered over you, filling your stomach with butterflies as his stern gaze made you nervous. Luckily for you, it wasn’t as noticeable.

“I did what I was told and I never questioned you.”

You made my way toward the door, placing your hand on the doorknob. You turned to look at him, smirking playfully just to get on his last nerve.

“Remember that.”

You opened the door to the hallway, making your way out of his office and closing the door behind you. Seonghwa stood in the middle of the room, rage coercing through his veins as you dared to test the very little patience he had. Clearly you thought this was a harmless thing to disrespect your own boss, but Seonghwa wasn’t going to let you go so easily.

He’ll let you think that though.

It was 8 pm and everyone had left the office hours ago. All except for Seonghwa. He typed away at his computer, cursing himself for getting as distracted as he did today. It was unusual for him, and he knew exactly the reason why.

You flooded his mind like a hurricane at sea level, but a part of him enjoyed it. Seonghwa was never defied in such a way before, especially not from a woman. It aroused him, intrigued him. It urged a sudden need for him to test your waters, to see how much you could retaliate against him.

He shook his head, trying his hardest to focus on his work. Your interaction today only made it harder to not give into his lewd fantasies about you. How he desired to be on top of you, to touch you, dominate every inch of your body for disrespecting him. How quickly he’d make you regret your words and submit to him.

A sudden knock on the door interrupted Seonghwa’s thoughts, causing him to grunt in annoyance. Who would still be here so late to bother him?

“What?!” he yelled, crossing his arms over his chest.

The door opened softly, revealing you standing in the doorframe. His eyes widened at the sight of seeing you, not expecting you to be here so long after hours. He scoffed, getting back to work as he tried to make it clear that he didn’t want to see you. However deep inside, he was ecstatic.

“Sorry to bother you, but there’s a file that I gave to you that belonged in another pile. My take home pile.”

You closed the door behind you, your voice soft as there was no reason for you to be blunt toward him at the moment. Seonghwa looked up at you for a second, giving you an icy glare as he continued to ignore you.

“Well hello to you too..” you muttered, beginning to shuffle through the file cabinet.

You searched through countless drawers, disorganizing and rearranging papers that Seonghwa took time out of his day to do. He felt his eyes twitch as he watched you disrupt his flow, a spark of anger growing within him.

“You call that top of class?” he thought to himself. Someone who is careless and disorganized?”

Seonghwa struggled to maintain his composure, his bulge growing as he watched you bent over the filing cabinet searching for said file. All while rage filled his veins at the mess you so recklessly continued to cause. He was eager mess with you in the same way, but he knew he had to maintain his professionalism with you.

“Look, if you think making a mess of things is going to help you find your lost file, you clearly must be mistaken.”

His gaze was cold, unreadable as you looked back to him. Simply a mere facade to hide his true desires for you. His need to fuck you while you were bent over the filing cabinet, while you sat on his desk, it didn’t matter much to him.

“It’s not my job to babysit you. If you lose your shit, that’s your responsibility. Learn to keep track of your things.”

He turned away from you, his right hand covering his bulge as he struggled to calm himself. Any second longer and there wouldn’t be a chance that he could step away from you.

You gave him a rude look, crossing your arms defensively as you stood up straight to look at him.

“I never said you have to babysit me.” you spoke back firmly.

Seonghwa turned his head to you, his emotionless glare piercing right into your skin. You felt your face flush as he stood up from his chair, making his way over to you slowly.

Your defiance turned him on in ways he couldn’t explain. It was bratty, but it was something he adored coming from you. Knowing that he was your superior, gave him the type of dominance he wanted in order to put you back in your place.

As he walked up to you, you backed up with every step he took to get closer, eventually hitting the filing cabinet. You had no where to go, and frankly you were unsure of his next move… or sentence.

He leaned over, his mouth just inches away from your ear. You felt a cold shutter run up your spine as you felt his breath hit you softly.

“You’re lucky I haven’t bent you over my desk and fucked that attitude out of you.”

You froze in place, your eyes locked with his as he came back up to look at you. His gaze was stern, but the amount of lust in them were far beyond his control. The longer Seonghwa stood in front of you, the more he fantasized about breaking you over his desk. How badly he craved to own every part of your body.

“What..?” you muttered, your face now completely flushed from his words.

Seonghwa moved closer to you until you were only a few inches apart. He grabbed your chin, pulling it closer to his face as he leaned down to match your height.

“You’re testing my patience, hun.”

He grabbed your hand, wasting not a single second to pull you over to the desk. He picked you up, sitting you ontop of his desk harshly. He leaned over to your ear, watching you helplessly struggle to pull yourself out of his grasp.

“Before I continue, is this okay with you pretty?” he whispered.

You kept your eyes away from his own as you nodded your head softly, wanting everything that he had planned to give to you.

“Good, because I hope you know this is your reprimanding for how defying you were earlier.”

He placed his lips against your neck, teasing your skin with his own as he attempted to explore you. Small moans escaped you, only enhancing his never-ending urge for you. Seonghwa bit at parts of your neck, leaving small red marks present to the naked eye. His free hand slipped up your skirt, tugging away at your panties as his fingers found their way to your slick cunt.

“For someone who acts like they don’t like me, their body sure says otherwise, doesn’t it?” he whispered.

Without a warning, he pulled your panties down, quickly sticking two fingers inside of you without warning. He began to pump at a fast pace, leaving no time for you to adjust to his fingers as you squeezed around them.

Your moans grew louder, soon turning into whimpers as Seonghwa fingered you, your juices dripping down his arm. He unbuttoned your shirt quickly, revealing your perky breasts from right under. He smirked at you, leaning over to take one of them into his mouth. He swirled his tongue softly against your nipple, all while sucking at it.

As overstimulating as this was for you, Seonghwa enjoyed every second of it. Your whimpers and moans being music to his ears. He craved you, craved this exact moment of intimacy with you.

“Just like that..” he whispered against your skin, taking small bites out of your chest. “This is how you behave.”

His thumb rubbed slowly against your clit as his fingers continued to thrust into your heat. His tongue played at your nipples, tugging at them with every suck he gave.

You felt a pit build up in your stomach as your walls clenched around Seonghwa’s fingers. Your hands gripped onto the desk, almost scrapping the wood off it.

“I’m gonna..” you muttered, seconds away from letting yourself go.

Seonghwa swiftly removed his hands from you, making you moan in annoyance. You looked at him with soft eyes as they spoke for you. You were so close, but you should’ve known that he wasn’t going to let you off the hook so easily.

“Aww, needy aren’t we?” he teased, licking your juices off of his fingers.

He hummed at the taste of you, only growing his arousal to be in you. He cupped your chin, caressing your lil with his thumb as he smirked at you. How helplessly you sat in front of him, yearning for more of his touch, so eager to cum all over him. Whatever game Seonghwa played with you, was a damn good one and it was far from over.

“Turn around.” he spoke sternly, his deep voice making your heart flutter.

You nodded, getting down from the desk and turning around to do as you were told. You bent over the desk, your ass perked up to his view. Seonghwa caressed you softly with his hand, giving you a soft squeeze just before smacking you harshly. You cried out in pain, looking back at him as he glared at you. He pushed your head down against the desk, bringing his face close to your ear.

“You keep your head straight, you hear me?”

He pressed his cock against you, groaning softly at how it made him feel. He quickly unbuckled his pants, pulling them down slightly so that he could feel you skin to skin.

“Fuck..” he spoke under his breath, his hands now resting against the curve of your hips.

He held his cock to your entrance, rubbing it softly against your slit. His groans filled your ears, almost deafening. Without a second thought, he shoved himself in you, until you took every inch of him. You whimpered out in pain, feeling how big he was despite such a tight entrance.

Seonghwa thrusted into you harshly, his tip barging its way through your walls. His hand grabbed onto your hair, pulling it back. He leaned over to you, biting your neck as he continued to fuck you relentlessly. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you begged him to slow down. Your cries only heightened his arousal, causing him to speed up his pace.

“That’s right, take it like a good girl..” he whispered.

His grip on your strands tightened. He lifted his free hand, smacking your ass once again to leave a stinging feeling against your skin. Seonghwa smirked at your cries, his groaning becoming louder as he felt his climax grow.

“You’re.. such a slut..” he spoke, panting between his words. “What happened.. to that attitude from.. before?”

As much as you wanted to reply, you could barely speak from your neck being stretched by his pulling. All you could do, was sit there and whimper from pleasure as he refused to listen to your cries for mercy. Your walls squeezed around his cock, feeling it glide inside of you at an inhumane pace.

Your moans grew louder as he fucked you, signaling the climax that you so eagerly waited for. However, he wasn’t going to let you that easily. He paused for a second, making you whine out for him to continue. You knew he was edging you, but you simply couldn’t take anymore of it.

“Please..” you muttered, your face wet from tears.

He chuckled softly, using his free hand to smack your ass once again, making you yelp out in pain.

“No,” he started, digging his nails into the skin of your ass. “You’re going to take what I give you, and you don’t cum unless I do.”

He leaned over to your ear, kissing your neck softly as he hardened his grip on your hair.

“Understood?” he whispered, making butterflies dance around in your stomach.

Seonghwa let go of your hair, placing both of his hands on your back as he pushed you down onto the desk. He fucked you quickly, his thrust getting harder. You knew it was coming, and you felt his cock twitching repeatedly inside of you.

With a final thrust, he let go of himself inside of you, slowing his pace but keeping each push rough. He bit your shoulder harshly, moaning into your skin.

“Fuck.. you feel so good.” he grunted.

Seonghwa slowly pulled out of you, leaving small trails of kisses around your back dimples. He placed his head at your cunt, licking up the mixture of cum that spilled out of you. You moaned softly, the overstimulation making your legs shake.

He stood up, turning you around to sit you back up on his desk and face him. Your eyes were red from tears, cheeks stained from them. Seonghwa brought his hand up to your cheeks, wiping them softly as he fixed your hair in the process. You felt his intense glare on you, but you refused to meet his eyes, not wanting to test his impatience once more.

“Silly girl. I hope that attitude is fixed.” he mumbled, bringing his mouth to your ear once again.

“Watch your mouth, or I’ll make sure that your mouth is too full to talk next time.”

a/n: I hope you guys enjoyed this one! I had so much fun writing this especially after the stress from school haha. I hope to post more often in the future!

taglist: @sundaybossanova @kittykat-25 @losrpark @vrtualsins @sanslovesblog @mingiscorpsebride @scarfac3 @interweab @aestheticjoonie @owmoiralover

[lovestaysblogs]

ooo also would love a minho x reader where they are sort of enemies in the friendship group/ think the other dislikes them and maybe reader needs help/ ends up hurt or drunk and minho comes to help and they realise they didn’t actually hate each other and the group is glad they’ve finally stopped being blind (I think i have an angst obsession)

unfortunately i like you too

pairing: college au!lee know x reader word count: 3306 genre: not really friends/ rivals to lovers, fluff, angst, unrequited (but not really), hurt to comfort warnings: description of unintentional self-harm (pressing your fingernails into your palms), alcohol network: @skzstarnet request by: @missvanjii

When I first met Lee Minho I thought he was a piece of shit. And that’s just me putting it nicely. 

We were placed in a group together in our first year for Introduction to Computer Science.

He was always correcting me with his stupid signature smirk on his stupid face, wearing his stupid glasses, and laughing his stupid laugh while I struggled to retort his reply. In fact, if my stupid body had some backbone and I wasn’t so unfortunately attracted to him, and if I didn’t hate how much I got nervous when he would come from behind me and click my mistakes away, I could easily respond to him.

In that class I also met two of my closest friends now. Felix, another international student and Nayeon, both who had the brightest smiles. After completing our assignment, the four of us unintentionally formed our own little friend group.

At times we meet at a coffee shop not too far from campus to get some work done. It was a perfect day to meet up. With how chilly it’s been, the sun finally showed herself after days of rain. 

The quaint coffee shop turned out to be our favourite spot off campus. The simple designs mixed with the smell of coffee were calming factors for us. After coming here almost every week, the owners now know our orders and always have our table ready for us.

Felix and I were the first to arrive. He barely waited til we sat down properly for him to pull out his laptop, plug it in and start typing rapidly. His forehead formed rare lines as his eyes moved rapidly to the screen. 

After getting our order, he turned his laptop to me and asked me to see if I could fix his worries.

“Lix, I have no idea what to do to fix that program,” I said.

Felix sighed as he turned his computer back to himself. One could see how stressed he was. His face was wearing a foreign frown as he typed quickly.

“What program?” A voice that I recognized way too easily, said sitting down in front of us. 

I glanced up at Minho, we made eye contact and he smiled. I looked away and rolled my eyes at his presence. Since it was just the three of us, Nayeon as usual was late.

The owner brought over his order, he smiled and thanked him while slightly bowing, making his bangs fall onto his glasses. After taking a quick sip of his coffee, he quickly fixed them before asking again, 

“So what’s this program you’re talking about?”

“The program for my Analysis of Algorithms class. I’ve been working at it for days and it’s due tonight and I asked Y/N to look at it for me –” 

“But Y/N’s more of a UX designer Lix,” Minho interrupted. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.

He laughed, “Nothing, just that your focus is in UX design, so I wouldn’t be surprised that you wouldn’t know how to fix it,”

I know what Minho said wasn’t inherently bad, but the playfulness in his eyes alongside that stupid ass smirk made me know that he knows he’s pissing me off.

I squinted my eyes at his response and opened my mouth to answer him but Felix interjected.

“This is due tonight. I don’t have time for your bickering back and forth as a badly concealed  attempt at flirting,” He groaned, placing his fingers at his temple.

“Felix!”

Minho laughed and took Felix’s laptop and started typing.

“What? It’s true. You do it every time we hang out and I’m too stressed to have that right now,” He pouted, placing his head on my shoulder.

I started to pat his hair and said to Minho,

“Look at what you did to the poor child,”

“Me?!” 

Before he could continue, Nayeon finally entered the coffee shop with a smile on her face. She said hi to the owners and waved at us from the counter. 

She sat down beside Minho and pulled out her laptop as she said,

“What did I miss?”

“Nothing much, just Y/N and Minho bickering again,” Felix said.

“Oh so the usual,”

Minho snickered at that.

“We do not argue that much. Y’all just lucky I can tolerate his ass,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“Careful with rolling your eyes all the time babe, they might fall out,” Minho said looking up at me.

“Ughhh, can you not! Have you finished fixing my program, you’re over here flirting?” Felix groaned again.

My eye twitched, “He was not… flirting,”

Right? He calls me these silly nicknames all the time. And as much as they make my heart speed up a little, it means nothing to him. 

Minho turned the laptop back around to Felix, “I’m finished with it Lix. You must have not noticed but you skipped out on a couple lines of code and also had some of them in the wrong places,”

“Have I ever told you I love you? Because I love you,” Felix exclaimed, lifting his head off my shoulder to check his laptop.

Minho laughed at his theatrics but he just had to pipe in, “Also, I wasn’t flirting,”

Nayeon rolled her eyes, “Sure, whatever you say,”

Minho chuckled before opening his own laptop, “Why would I flirt with Y/N?”

“You guys are blowing shit out of proportion. He was just being a dick as usual,” I said.

“Yeah plus, she isn’t my type anyways,” He shrugged. 

The air stilled. I stopped typing after hearing his words.  Nayeon and Felix locked eyes before simultaneously looking at me. Must be to see how my face might have changed upon hearing his words.

They’ve told me once before that as fierce I might try to present myself on the outside, with the dark makeup and dark clothes, I’m as soft as a cloud on the inside. And sometimes that bleeds through. I’m unable to hide my emotions to protect myself and I get figured out. I don’t think either of them know about my unfortunate crush on Minho. Well, if they do, they haven’t told me.

“That’s a bit much Min,” Nayeon said.

She reached for my hand on the table, gently unclasping my fingers that were pressed so tightly into my palm. I didn’t even notice I was doing it.

Minho looked up and our eyes met when Nayeon spoke. It’s like he felt the shift in the energy. He blinked rapidly, as if he was slowly processing what just happened. One would think he would stop talking at this point.

Wrong.

 “Y/N knows not to take me seriously,” He said with a slight smile looking right at me.

My throat closed up. “Right,” I forced out, “Because you don’t take me seriously either,”.

His eyebrows pushed together as if he was surprised at what I said. Or maybe it was how I said it. His eyes latched onto mine. His mouth slightly opened, as if he was searching for what to say.

Felix placed a hand on mine, to comfort me but to warn me to be cautious as well. Now I know I must have been wearing my feelings on my face again. 

After I could trust myself to speak, I raised my face and tucked my locs behind my ears. I started packing up my stuff.

“I forgot I had to do something back on campus. I’ll catch up with you guys later,”

Walking out of the coffee shop, I cursed myself over and over again. We do this all the time. We argue, we bicker, we insult. But it wasn’t personal. And the feelings I felt for him that made me so frustrated with myself, never came up. 

It’s not like I expect anything to come out of this.  A relationship with Minho was the last thing I thought of. But to hear him blatantly say I never even had a chance, hurt. I didn’t even know I wanted one.

The noisy street to the bus stop did not help to drown out my thoughts. In fact with how loud it was inside my brain and outside, I wish something would shut up. I felt enclosed and uncomfortable. Maybe I was wearing too many layers. But it was too cold to go without a jacket. Tears brimmed my eyes and I started pressing my fingernails into my palms again, simply hoping to relieve some frustration.

A hand gently stopped my pressing.

“Lix?”

“Hey,” He said softly.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to leave like that. My mind is just so loud right now and God –”

He smiled gently, “You don’t have to apologize Y/N,”. He interlocked his fingers with mine and squeezed my hand as we walked to the stop.

We sat down and waited for the bus to come. The once bright blue skies quickly turned gray under the influence of the month of May.

“It’s okay to feel, you know Y/N? You don’t have to be this tough girl all this time,” He frowned. 

“When I do feel, it hurts Lixie,” I placed my head on his shoulder.

He patted my head gently, “I know love, I know. I just wish the both of you would stop arguing and actually realize how you feel”.

“He feels nothing for me. Didn’t you hear what he said?” I said.

Felix only sighed and said nothing else.

The next time our group was together, was at the club on Friday night. Nayeon and I were in the bathroom checking our makeup while the guys got drinks. We both matched in our black little dresses, accenting our figures. My locs were in a high bun with two framing pieces out. I reapplied my liner and lip gloss and glanced over at Nayeon whose light makeup contrasted with my dark one. I smiled at her through the mirror and nudged her.

She caught my smile and began laughing, “We’re literally twins babe,”

I nodded and hugged her, “We are,”

She looked at me a bit more seriously, “You know I love you right Y/N?”

“Of course Nayeonie. I know,”

“Good. I also straightened out Lee Minho after you left,” She said, fixing her hair.

“You did not!”

Maybe I heard her wrong over the blaring loud music.

“I did! I told him that I know y’all argue but that was pushing it,”

“There’s nothing wrong with him not having feelings for me,”

“It’s not that. It’s how he said it,”

I reached over and gave her another hug, “Well either way, thank you for protecting me Nayeonie,”

She hugged me again, “Always, my Y/N. Let’s go dance and get really drunk now!!” 

Her smile was devilish.

Walking over to the bar, we saw the boys with our drinks. 

Felix handed over mine and said “What were you guys doing in there? Took so damn long!”

I giggled and downed mine, “What happens in the girls bathroom, stays in the girls bathroom,”

“Whatever, let’s go dance.” As he pulled me into the crowd, I locked eyes with Minho.

We haven’t really spoken since the coffee shop. He gave me a small smile and nodded at me, which I returned. 

Anyways, I wasn’t here to focus on Minho and my failed attempt at not checking out how good he looked tonight under the flashing lights. 

After some time and ten more drinks later, I lost the group. I stumbled out of the crowd and sat at the bar. I reached into my purse for my phone and tried my best to find one of their numbers.

“Hey,” An unfamiliar voice said. 

I looked up at the owner of the voice, “Do I know you?”.

He laughed, “No, but you can get to know me. I bought a drink for you,”.

He slid a bright red drink over my way. With the slight consciousness I had, I shook my head.

“No thanks,”

He sat down next to me, “Come on, I’ve been watching you all night and now I’m finally talking to you. Just take the drink at least,”

“You’ve been watching me?”

“Yeah” He said with a smile, “I think you’re cute,”.

I smiled back at him and took the drink in my hand, but before it could even reach my head, a hand snatched it from me. 

I looked to see Minho pouring the drink on the ground.

“Yeah, she’s not drinking that,”

“Excuse me? Who are you?” The stranger said standing up.

Minho scoffed and had his stupid signature smirk on his face, “You wanna find out?”

Minho took a step forward, as the guy took a step back, “I didn’t know she was your girl. Sorry about that man,”

The guy then left without sparing another glance at me.

“Do you hate me that much?” I said as Minho turned back around to me.

“Wh-what? Y/N, you were not seriously going to take a drink from a random ass guy,”

“What if I wanted to?!” I stood up and yelled over the music. “Is it so jarring to you that someone actually wants me?”

Tears brimmed at my eyes, “Or do you just want to humiliate me, every chance you get?”

“No Y/N what?” Minho said, startled. 

I shook my head and started to walk away, but he grabbed my wrist and pulled me through the club.

We walked in silence to the nearest convenience store. I didn’t fight or even yelled when we reached outside. He simply just told me ‘Let’s go for a walk,’ and for some reason I listened. I sat down outside on one of the stools. Minho went inside, saying he needed to get something. 

You could barely see the stars tonight. What wasn’t covered in clouds was covered by the bright lights of Seoul. Reminds me of how conflicted I felt about Minho. He’s a good person, I know he is. And that makes me wonder how good he would be as a boyfriend. But he doesn’t see me as anything but a friend.

“Drink,” He said, handing it to me.

I struggled with opening it and he took it from me, opened it and then put it at my head. 

“What makes you think I would want to humiliate you?” He said when I was finishing drinking, taking a seat right next to me.

God, I could barely focus on his words. He slightly turned his body to me and the white button down shirt with the few buttons open at the top distracting me.

“Y/N?... Babe come on, answer me,” He said, bringing back my attention to his face.

“I don’t know Minho, I don’t know,” I said.

He ran his hands through his hair, “I know what I said in the coffee shop was uncalled for. And I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push it,”

I shrugged, “Thank you, but I didn’t expect anything else to be honest,”

His eyebrows furrowed, “What do you mean?”

“We don’t really like each other. We don’t necessarily say the kindest things all the time,”

“You think I don’t like you?”

I nodded, “Yeah, I mean… you never proved otherwise,”

“I was just teasing. I thought you were too. I liked annoying you because… I liked getting a reaction from you. I liked knowing what pissed you off and knowing I’m the only one that can get on your nerves in a certain way. I like you Y/N… a lot. And I’m sorry for not paying attention to the weight of my words,”

“You like me? If you’re just saying that to piss me off more Lee Minho I swear,” I rolled my eyes and started to turn away from him.

I couldn’t allow myself to get hurt once more and much worse to show how hurt I was right in front of him.

“No, no” He turned me back around and reached for my hands, “This isn’t a joke, I promise.” He said as he looked right into my eyes as if he would die if he looked away.

“But you said I wasn’t your type,” I said softly.

“That was me deflecting. Felix called me out on my flirting and I felt nervous. I didn’t know what to say, but I shouldn’t have said that and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Y/N”

“Yeah… you shouldn’t have,”

He scratched the back of his head, “Did you really think I didn’t like you? Does that mean you don't like me either?”

I didn’t know what to say.

“Damn, and here I thought it was just some freaky foreplay we were doing?”

I slapped his chest, “What?”

“I mean, we were bickering all the time but I just thought it was playful, so I didn’t take it seriously. I just thought that the bickering would eventually lead to a confession,”

Now all those nicknames he called me made sense.

“So, is that what you want? A confession?”

“Is it selfish to say yes? I do really like you Y/N. I was really hoping you’d feel the same way,”

“What do you like about me?” I said. 

I looked up at him and gosh my heart was speeding. 

“Your creativity. God, the way your brain works is so mesmerizing. Everytime you send a mockup to the group chat, I’m in awe of how creative it is. I like how kind you are. Even though you portray this really tough act, your heart is soft. You’re always trying to help someone out and it’s always with the utmost genuinity. I like your eyes. I like how they tell your emotions so well, especially when you’re trying to hide them.”

“Minho,” I said softly.

“I can go on,”

“You don’t have to. You don’t have to, because unfortunately I like you too.”

He laughed. He laughed his stupid laugh. His stupid eyes formed pretty crescents and his stupid head tilted slightly back.

“Why are you laughing at me?” I pouted.

“I’m sorry baby, you just confessed in the cutest way possible. ‘Unfortunately’?” He laughed again.

My face got hot. He looked over at me with a soft smile. His hands cautiously but gently reached for my face and lifted it up for us to meet at eye level. 

“Unfortunately, Y/N I can’t let you go after experiencing what it’s like to be close to you. Unfortunately, I can’t see you without the endearment of how adorable you are. And unfortunately that comes with the affection I have for you, waiting to be shown, if you’d let me,”

“Show it,” I said, my voice no higher than a whisper. “Show your stupid affection. Whether that be in the way you tease me or hold me, unfortunately I want you either way as long as you’d let me,”

He blinked a couple times as if he was processing my words. His eyes travelled down to my lips at which I leaned closer. He reached down and pressed his on to mine. 

Our group met again at our designated coffee shop. Felix and I were sitting across from each other, discussing the class we just had. 

Lee Minho walked in, with a smile, “Hey baby” He leaned down to give me a quick kiss.

When I turned back to Felix, his mouth was wide open. Minho laughed, his cute laugh as Nayeon finally entered.

“What did I miss?” She asked.

“You wouldn’t believe me,” Felix said.

As he tells the shocking discovery of our new found development, loud squeals and giggles could be heard from outside our coffee shop.

I glanced at Minho as he wrapped his arm around me, telling our best friends how this all happened.

You know now that I think of it, he isn’t that bad after all.

a/n:

reblogging helps writers work to be found so please reblog if you liked it!! i wanna say first i'm so so sorry for taking long with this request! T.T life happened and i started writing it then i hated how it was turning out so i redirected and now honestly i think this is the best fic i've written.

i really do think i've improved in my writing. so thank you for this request! i love when i'm given request because it really forces myself to write within that perimeter so i hope i've fulfilled it :))

my requests are still open so if anyone would want to send anymore feel free!

also i have 15 followers aaaa. i know it might seem small to some but it means a lot to me! honestly my goal isn't numerical but just to have black girls feel seen in the fanfiction especially kpop fanfiction world.

okay i've talked too much now. i have a lot of wips that i'm excited about :)) i'll see u soon ! sending lots of love and happiness y'all's way<3333

[itsonlydana]

where snow falls and conversation strikes | hobbit

pairing: Thranduil x fem!reader 👑

Your train gets caught in a snowstorm and when the first class gets moved into the normal compartments, a beautiful man asks to sit with you

warnings/tags: modern(ish)!AU, First Meetings, Fluff

wordcount: 3,7k

an: wrote this mostly on the train on my way to work every morning so it took a while and suddenly its 25° c and not 0°c anymore... oops? and lets ignore that my layout for fics is not even close to uniformly

+ masterlist + rules + read the fic on ao3 +

🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot and keep me writing <3

The view outside the train window was white in its purest form. The mush of white flakes went from gently landing on the glass to completely covering it, obscuring everything behind an opaque wall. 

A few hours ago it had been a wonderful sight of frost-tipped mountains, sloping meadows, and high-risen forests that made the long journey not only bearable but quite enjoyable. The hours had flown by just like the landscape, yet – as the newspapers had predicted it would happen – the gray clouds coming in from the seaside had caught up with the train weaving through the country and now, ever so slowly, it lost its speed. 

It couldn't have been long to the city. The last stop had been a while ago and if it weren't for the clouds hanging so low, coloring the sky ashen and the snow that just wouldn't stop falling, you could have probably seen the first small villages that dotted the outside of the city.

The train slowing down had been inevitable, you had known as much when you had boarded earlier this morning, though you had hoped to arrive at the destination fast enough that you would have outrun this weather.

Back in the city, back home, the weather would have been a small inconvenience but nothing that would hold you back.

The old speakers crackled just as you adjusted your seat, bringing forth another storm though this one ravaged through the inside: 

"We're mighty sorry 'bout this bother, but we kindly ask for yer patience. We've been movin' at a snail's pace 'cause of this darn weather, and now we're told we gotta face this blasted snowstorm 'fore we can carry on."

Even through the walls of your compartment, you heard the groaning and moaning of the other passengers. 

It wasn't surprising, the decision to travel onward would be foolish – everyone on this train knew – but the times you did travel like this you found that people seemed to bond over these expressions of annoyance toward something no one could be blamed for. The annoyed grunts that were passed along the rows with an eye roll made up for hours of silence daring the others to interrupt their own peaceful silence.

Your sigh fogged up the window, and you let your head fall back against the cushions, fixating your gaze on the white haze outside when the scruffy voice continued speaking after clearing his throat: 

"As it's damn impossible to know how long this weather's gonna last or whether it'll get worse, we kindly ask our first-class guests in the rear carriages to come through to the front. Heating there could be gone any minute. Make room for 'em. You'll of course be helped with your luggage."

Knowing that there is not much else to do than to sit back and wait, you picked up the book you had been reading, a collection of short stories by your favorite author that you knew by heart yet the familiar words provided comfort and you were quickly far away in those lands described.

Before you could finish the story you had left on though, a noise startled you and pulled you right back. The door of your compartment slid open by a tall man peeping his head in. 

"Good evening, forgive the intrusion, but might I trouble you for a moment? I was told I could find a seat here. Would that be alright?" The man raised his shoulder to stop the bag he was carrying from sliding down, it wouldn't do what he wanted and slipped to his elbow.

He was beautiful, despite the distressed look on his face that was covered by his long blonde hair falling into it as he glared at the bag; on its way down his arm, it had taken the coat he had hung over it with it so that it dangled close to the carpet floor of the train. 

You stared at him long enough that he arched a thick dark eyebrow and you flinched. 

"Oh, yes.. yes of course!" You prayed that your cheeks weren't as red as you feared they might be as you nodded.

There was enough space inside the compartment, your suitcase was pushed under your seat and the bench across from you had been free, but you felt the need to look like you would make room for him.

Since there was nothing in the way, really, all you did was pull the bag next to you closer and kick away a piece of lint that stuck to the carpet. 

"Thank you," the man slipped inside, coat, bag, and another suitcase dangling from his long arms.

You tried to look busy and lifted your book high up to your face while he stowed his suitcase away, a sleek dark blue leather one that unlike yours had no stickers on it or clothes sticking out. Then he entangled the coat from the bag to hang it on the door before he turned and stared at you. 

"Can… can I help you?" you asked when he remained silently scrutinizing you.

His eyes were an icy hue of blue and you would have compared them to the snowy weather outside, cold and unmoving, if there weren't the slightest hints of nervousness in them. 

"I don't want to inconvenience you any further but" – he swallowed and lifted a hand to brush some hair away, revealing the faintest of blushes on his high cheekbones– "I fear that I can't stomach traveling backward very well. Would you mind switching places or I could sit beside-"

"It's fine!" you interrupted him. Just him standing there seemed to affect the man quite a bit, he was swaying even though there was no movement, and what harm would it cause you to switch places?

You quickly gathered your back, closing the book with your thumb in between to mark the page you had left on and smiled at him as you sat down on the other side. "It's no problem at all, I have no preferences where I like to sit."

The upholstery was chilly under you and your legs groaned as you moved them for those few steps for the first time in hours instead of just folding them over each other

The man sat down, mumbling a soft "Thank you". His legs were long enough to brush against yours before he angled them toward the window, his slender hands resting on his lap. 

Silence fell just like the snow, with the man growing as still as a statue, his eyes hefted outside the window, and you finding a comfortable position to get back to your book.

Despite your best efforts to concentrate on the poetry, your mind couldn't stop straying to the man.

He must be one of the first-class-traveler, you would have noticed him on your short walks through the train whenever you got bored or had grown restless. 

His hair stood out, worn long enough to brush past his shoulders and over the cream-knitted sweater he wore, and then there were his eyebrows, the only dark spot of color in a face that could have been cut out of marble. He certainly looked expensive. He made the impression of a man who owned his own – equally perfect – bust.

He suddenly turned his head, not by much but he caught you looking at him nonetheless. Like a deer in headlights, your mouth simply fell open in a forgotten lie to excuse yourself for staring.

Thankfully he didn't comment on it, instead, his rosé lips curved into a smile.

"I'm Thranduil, by the way. I think I should tell you so that you have a name to complain about the stranger who not only stormed into your compartment but took your seat as well" He held out his hand. 

You took it after a relieved breath. His fingers were cold, his grip firm.  "Nice to meet you Thranduil," you introduced yourself and noted how his fingers flitted over your racing pulse point at your wrist, "Don't worry, I'd be a fool to moan about having a conversation partner, you've done nothing but turn this boring journey interesting"

"Ah, but you haven't realized how awful I am at small talk. I make a dreadful conversationalist," he admitted with a laugh and let go of your hand.

"We could simply skip that part then," you offered boldly and finally closed your book in your lap. "Tell me, what stop did you get on?"

He arched an eyebrow at you and rested his elbows on the table between you, placing his chin on the intertwined fingers. "What? You want to know where I came from and not were I'm going?" 

You shook your head, "No, I'll see where you have to get off, this is much more interesting."

Thranduil looked at you for a moment, his eyes taking you in like he wanted to figure you out. Then he huffed, giving in. "I got on right at the first stop," –you smiled, encouraging him to continue talking, which he did, his lips twitching to a smirk– "I stayed in Laketown with a friend over the holidays, but I didn't want to impose on him any longer."

"So you brought this weather with you?" You grinned.

"Oh, one hundred percent," he said, sounding so serious that you nearly giggled, "I had so much fun shoveling snow every morning for ten days that I simply wanted to continue at home." Thranduil tipped his head to the side, examining you once again. "And you?"

"God no, I don't get to pick up any tools while I'm on vacation," you said, knowing full well that's not what the question was about.

"No?" 

"No," you sighed, "Try being the youngest at the family reunion. I'm glad my parents let me shower and dress myself. Gosh, I think they would've cried if I even thought about helping with the snow."

Amusement lit up his face, lifting all his sharp features. "Tell that to my friend's little one. She's a fierce thing; knocking at my door at sunrise all dressed up and threatening me with her shovel that I better be outside before she had to come again."

"Oh my! Say, whatever was she threatening to do instead?"

Thranduil chuckled and shook his head, "I didn't stay long enough in bed to find out." 

A knock sounded from the door, interrupting the conversation as an older woman opened your compartment. "Hiya, loves. May I offer you some tea? Dreadful weather outside and with the heating back there gone completely, we don't want ya to catch a cold," she said.

"Ye–"

"We'll take two cups," Thranduil's directive voice overshadowed yours, there was an authority in it that even you wouldn't want to cross. He was already pulling a fancy black wallet out of his pockets, which produced a fresh note that gave no room to argue or chip in. "Keep the change," he said while the train service employee shuffled inside and placed a tablet on the table between you.

"Thank you, Sir Oropherion!" She beamed at him and slipped the note through the buttons of her blouse, "You're always too kind!" Then she turned to you and lowered her voice in a faux-whisper: "He's just as handsome as he's single. But you didn't hear that from ol' me." 

Thranduil scoffed, though you could see a faint blush on his cheeks. "You are a horrible gossip, Hilda! Go bother some of the other passengers or they'll freeze to death."

A little bit louder and glaring toward Thranduil, she added: "A shame his attitude is like the weather; he could use a sweetheart like you.

With a last wink, she turned and left you to stare after her, wondering what just happened.

"Impossible, that woman." 

Thranduil's low rumble pulled you back to him, leaving that poor – now again shut – door alone before your eyes drilled a hole through the wood in search of an explanation.  

The man across from you didn't offer you one either, instead, he was reaching for one of the silver spoons that the woman, Hilda, had given to you as well as a cup filled with milk and a small tower of cookies. 

Somehow you had the feeling this wasn't what the other customers would get but rather a gesture of whatever fondness the woman pledged to the blonde, who used the tiny tongs to drop two cubes of sugar into his cup.

"So," you said and cleared your throat. Thranduil looked up, nearly killing you on the spot with the daggers in his eyes daring you to speak on the matter. Of course, who would you be if you shied away because of that? "She seemed lovely. A friend of yours?"

"No. No, she's not," Thranduil said. He pushed the other cub toward you, encouraging you to take from the all-paid-for beverage. 

You wrapped both hands around it, marveling how beautifully and frail the cup looked and felt, and after taking a small sip, you smiled benevolently and waited for Thranduil to continue. 

He rolled his eyes, admitting defeat in his thickheadedness of remaining aloof. "I travel this route to Laketown quite a lot. Once a month, sometimes two or three times, or whenever my schedule allows me to actually. That woman made it her personal mission to get on my last nerve; chatting to me and leaving me sweets and tea without me asking for it. After a while, I could at least get her to accept my money for it. She's keen on finding me my soulmate so I no longer travel this much alone."

"Aw, but that's cute," you said and drank another sip of the hot tea. You didn't know what burned more, the tea or Thranduil's hardened eyes, "What? She looks out for you; the journey is long and she just doesn't want to be lonely." 

"Whyever you feel the need to defend her is unfathomable," he scoffed as if you taking Hilda's side was the most outrageous thing he'd ever heard, "You don't even know if her accusations are true– if I'm lonely. Maybe I like traveling alone!" Thranduil placed the cup back onto the tray with such an energetic movement, that it clinked. His lips twitched.

"That…" you started and nodded toward the cup, "was far too defensive. Why, Thranduil, it's no shame to admit to something, especially not to a stranger." His expression was still unreadable though the sharp line of his jaw protruded even more like he was biting down on his teeth. You made sure to keep your tone lighthearted: "Dare I say this is even the perfect chance to get it off your chest? Who knows if we will see each other again. Time to spill all your deep, dark and dirty secrets."

He fixated you with his cold blue eyes. Your words had left an impression on him, that much was clear and you would even go so far to say he was considering them. 

Thranduil made a sound close to a "Humpf!" and you smiled and nodded, pushing him evidently over the edge for he rolled his eyes, clasped his hands together and leaned back into the cushions.

"Very well," he sighed though clicked his tongue as he saw your satisfied smirk, "You are right, traveling alone can–" lifting one finger, he punctuated the word "get a bit lonely. Not to say it's like that every time but I find that this conversation, despite the uncalled-for nosiness on behalf of my private life, makes it a lot more enjoyable than the hours I spent in the first class."

"Aww," you waved off in false modesty, "that's such a sweet way of saying I basically rescued you from a death of boredom."

"Bit of an overstatement"

"Okay, first-class, no need to knock my ego down like that." 

"Anyone ever tells you how cheeky you are?"

You smiled brightly, "All the poor, single, and handsome men I chat up on these travels."

Thranduil laughed out and shook his head more for himself than anything else. He extended his hand towards his cup once more, coinciding with the moment you brought your tea to your lips.

As your gazes met over the rising steam of porcelain, the black tea seemed to carry a subtle sweetness reminiscent of the shared smile between you, if only for a fleeting moment.

Or maybe it was the sugar, combined with the subtle loneliness that was your own travel companion nowadays, a constant bitterness coating your tongue. 

No matter what, another sip of tea flushed it down. 

"Now," Thranduil cleared his throat and dabbed the sleeve of his sweater at the corner of his mouth where a small drop of tea rested next to a shy smile. The tea disappeared – the smile stayed. "Do you want to tell me where you are going?" 

The answer was simple, you just had to tell him the name of your station, but you hesitated. 

This felt too good to be true, and maybe, if you disappeared without giving him any real information, there wouldn't be the urge to keep your eyes open when you arrived home, hoping he would be looking for that mystery woman he met on the train. 

Before the moment passed for far too long to be deemed anything but awkward, the train jolted. First, there was this one tug, then another one, and then, right when you looked up at Thranduil and understanding passed across his face like a ghost, appearing and disappearing right again, the wheels set in motion.

"Seems like we're off again," Thranduil said quietly, turning his face to the window.

He cleared his throat and you watched him swallow, not breaking away from the fuzziness outside that mirrored what you felt in your stomach right now. He was beautiful, even with that sadness settling heavy on his shoulders.

Why you couldn't just offer a piece of yourself now that he has given you some of him, that you didn't understand yourself because this trip had been the loveliest in a long time, the conversation quick and easy and nothing like the pestering questions about your romantic life that your brothers and your mother had poured over you, and while yes, you just met him, there was a connection between you. 

More than strangers on a train.

And you wanted it, so so much.

To have someone by your side wherever you go. 

"Thranduil–" you spoke so suddenly you not only startled Thranduil; the sound of your own voice frightened you as well.

"Yes?"

"This thing working again? Ah yes, now yer can hear me 'gain. Darn line cut off for a moment there. Next stop, Mirkwood Central Station, arriving in 'bout five minutes. We apologize for the delay 'n hope y'all get to your destination safely. To all those leavin' us: Remember to grab all your things before ya go. Hope to see y'all again real soon." 

The rest of the sentence died on your lips as you listened to the announcement. How they managed to be on time when you needed another delay, another moment to sort out your thoughts was an unwanted miracle.

Right when you wanted to panic and quickly pack up the book you hadn't opened up again, Thranduil got to it first.

"Five… five minutes?" he gasped and jumped out of his seat, knocking his long legs into the table resulting in you both reaching for the rattling cups trying to stop them from crashing down, hands brushing just enough for you to nearly smash the pot of sugar away as well.

"Wait. This is your stop?" 

Thranduil nodded, already throwing his coat on. "Yes, oh it's such a shame! I had hoped we had more time to finish our tea." He threw a sad glance at the half-empty cups; although the switch to look at you spoke of a far greater regret than simply leaving two cups of tea behind.

A laugh burst out of you, taking both of you by such surprise that you wondered if it had come off as discouraging or far worse: like you were making fun of him.

You hastened to explain: "This is my stop as well!" – the wide smile that shot to his eyes turned into a smirk – "This is me, Mirkwood Central. So if you want–" you interrupted yourself by standing up and grabbing your jacket, "we could get a tea later?"

"Yes!" Thranduil said quickly, "Yes, I would love to. Do you have any plans for the rest of the evening?" 

You copied his smile. "The rest of the evening? Bit eager, aren't we?" You were teasing, mostly, because that seemed to affect that glimmer of playfulness in Thranduil's eyes that made them look like molten silver, but you couldn't deny that you wouldn't have canceled all your plans if you'd had any to begin with, to stay in Thranduil's company. 

"I will gladly take every bit of time you can offer me," Thranduil said, "Any man would be this eager to get to know you."

You were still blushing when you stepped into the narrow corridor of the train, the tight space and crowding of passengers waiting to exit as well making it impossible to stand anywhere else but close together, Thranduils taller body a warm presence in your back and whenever you swayed his large hand found your shoulder to steady you and his amused chuckling reverberated in your stomach.

The train finally made its way into the bustling train station, the smoke of other trains clouding up the window and excitement like only arriving at a special destination could evoke in one filled the air inside the train, the hushed talking growing as other passengers saw relatives or friends or lovers waving to them, children pressing their faces against the glass or tried to run past you with their parents following close behind.

One particular stormy child knocked you straight into Thranduil as the doors opened and cold air greeted you while your face lightened up with a blush. 

"I hope I won't lose you," you said, jokingly but the air was stolen right out of your lungs as Thranduils gloved hand grabbed yours.

"Don't worry," he said and helped you step onto the metal platform, watching carefully as you hopped onto the platform. He looked beautiful in the evening lights of Mirkwood Station, white snowflakes landing gently on his long lashes. "I won't let that happen!"

©itsonlydana 2024

[secret-smut-sideblog]

Heavy Metal Lover

Karlach x F! Tav

18+ physical combat (consensual), so much teasing, public sex (kind of), manhandling, roughness, restraint, dom karlach/sub tav, strength kink, hand kink, size difference, fingering (f!), grinding, light choking, overstimulation, porn w/o plot

With her touch newly returned, Karlach is hungry for contact. Seeking out Tav for a little hand to hand combat that quickly turns heated...

Masterlist

-

Tav resisted rolling her eyes at Astarion's wide grin. That face meant only one thing, he was about to be insufferable about something.

"What?" She sighed, resigned to the incoming teasing.

"You haven't noticed, have you?" He purred, an indulgent edge of pre-emptive preening in his voice.

"Obviously not, if you're being this unbearable." She sniped flatly, turning back to hanging laundry on tip toes.

He slid his foot under the arch of her heel, biting at her teasingly when she turned to give him a glare. Baring her own absent fangs.

"Look real close now..." He pointed across camp to Karlach. She was trying to talk Wyll into sparring with her, him trying to wave her away good naturedly.

Tav roved her eyes over the tall muscular body, pushing the slow creep of lust aside to focus on any changes.

She was starting to get frustrated, suddenly sure that Astarion was just fucking with her again, trying to get her to ogle their companion.

That's when she caught it. Two newly rounded talons on her right hand, pointer and middle finger.

Tav sucked in an involuntarily breath, lips falling open. All higher thinking pulled from her mind.

"Eager, isn't she?" Astarion crooned, jolting Tav back. His voice far too knowing for her taste as he hovered behind her.

"It's only been one night since she's gotten touch back, I admire her ambition."

Knowing his hands were clasped behind his back in that leaning way he always does.

Karlach's eyes caught Tav's, waving excitedly. Like they hadn't been together all day, rocking on the balls of her feet happily.

Tav groaned, heart jelly.

"Oh," Astarion lilted out a laugh. "She's got it bad for you."

"Wait, really?" Tav turned to him, clothespin in hand. Her snarky play falling back for a moment in genuine confusion.

Astarion tilted his head at her, his demeanor falling back in kind. "Seriously? Gods, Tav, you really are unobservant."

"Hey, it's not that I don't pay attention. I'm just blind to when it's aimed at me." She huffed, crossing arms.

"Oh, I know. I'm still amazed that you were blindsided to Gale's pining."

He relented when Tav threw her arms up in frustration.

"Ah, ah, okay. You're just blind to your own suitors, we'll agree. So trust me as an objective pair of eyes. That tower of muscle wants you. Badly."

"Oh, and here she comes now!" Astarion giggled, trapezing away on delighted feet. "Good luck with your new knowledge, darling!"

"Someone wants to go hungry tonight!" She threatened after him. Him giving her a little twirl.

"Uh-oh, you two are always at each other's throats." Karlach laughed, watching him go with fond eyes. "Literally."

"Oh, we were just playing." Tav assured, returning to hanging sheets.

"What's up, Karlach?" She asked, back on tip toes. Smoothing hands over the pleats, stretching up to pin the fabric down.

Karlach grabbed the clothespin from her hands easily, pinning it above her natural reach.

"Oh! Thank you!" Tav squeaked. Trying not to give the height difference between them any thought at all.

"Well, no one will spar with me." Karlach pouted. Her eyes starting to swim with tears that she brushed away with angry fingers. Huffing out a steadying breath, smiling down at Tav.

"But I think you might be under my weight class, might be an unfair fight to ask you."

Tav's heart thrilled.

"I mean... I am stronger than I look."

This was true. She was eyeline with mostly chests, but she could pull some weight. Hells she's carried unconscious Gale over her shoulders several times now in the heat of battle.

Huh. Okay, his crush on her makes sense.

"I would love to spar with you, Karlach." She smiled, handing her up another sheet to hang.

"Really?!" Karlach bunched the fabric in her hands in excitement.

"Oh, whoops." She shook out the fabric, giving it one hard flick of her wrist. The fabric snapping in the air.

Tav let out a little involuntarily moan, then clapped her hand over her mouth. Gods below, what was that...

"You okay, soldier? Felling up to it?"

"Yeah, just.. uh, a little woozy." She tapped the side of her neck where the given pinpricks lay.

"You know, now that I'm touchable again, I wouldn't mind giving you a break some nights. Mama K's got a lot of blood to give."

Tav saw a silver head pop up in her peripheral.

"Ah, I'm alright." Tav flapped her hands in an affable way. "Though something tells me our favorite leech might start circling now."

"He's a hungry boy, we gotta keep him big and strong!" Karlach laughed.

"Okay, big and strong, I'll see you tonight." Tav teased.

Karlach's tail curled up, arching at the base. Her cheekbones heating.

"Okay... Well. Bye..." She sighed, turning and walking in a forced casualty that even Tav could clock.

Astarion's mouth had fallen open, hand hovering over his jaw. When he caught Tav's gaze, he pointed to where a tail would be on his body. Raising his eyebrows in salacious glee.

Tav didn't know much about tiefling tail etiquette but could glean enough from his pantomiming. Her own cheeks warming as she stomped at him to quit it, only fueling the bouncing suppressed laughter in his shoulders.

-

Initially, several of their companions had agreed to sit ringside. But as the day wore endlessly on with sun bearing down, most of them either decided to retire early or wade into the cool river with a few bottles of wine.

"Don't take too long..." Astarion sing-songed over his shoulder, a wine bottle hanging loose from his fingertips.

"Oh! Wait!" Tav called, standing and meeting him in the middle. Unbuckling the strap on the dagger at his hip, taking the bottle from his fingers and uncorking it with her teeth.

"Ugh, don't do that. You'll ruin your teeth." He chided, angling his hip for her to pull the dagger free.

"Shush." She cut into the back of her hand, dripping it into the rim of the thick glass. Swirling slowly.

He took his dagger back with a spin of fingers, seating it back with an unconscious flourish.

"Say when." She flexed her hand, encouraging more flow.

"Is never an option?"

"No, unless you want to get punched again."

"Gods, you do have a mean hook." He rubbed his jaw in memory.

"Alright fine. That's plenty." Leaning forward, he licked the stem of blood until it slowed to a stop.

"You know that only closes your wounds, right? Or I'd put you to use as a cleric on the battlefield."

He sighed dreamily. "Oh, it would be delicious. But very uncharitable motivation, I assure you."

"Well, best be off." He eyed the approaching tiefling with a mischievous twinkle. "Thank you, my darling."

She kissed his cheek. "No problem, have fun."

He waved over his shoulder as he departed, Karlach coming to Tav's side.

"Aw, you two are so cute together."

"Oh, we're not together." Tav laughed, the thought strange. "He reminds me of so many of my siblings."

"So many?" Karlach laughed. "Wait, how many do you have?"

"Entirely too many." Tav huffed, unconsciously settling into that authoritative posture she used with them.

"Aw, man. I want too many!" Karlach clicked her tongue. "Ah, well. Can't win 'em all."

"Speaking of, prepared to lose?" Tav teased, rolling her shoulders back.

"Oh, ho," Karlach laughed, settling back into a crouch. "Bring it on, babe."

Tav widened her stance, rolling her arm back in a curved elbow. Loosening her neck.

"Ready?" Tav hummed, balanced on the heels of her feet.

"Very." Karlach urged, fingers flexing.

"Then come get me." Tav smiled.

Karlach lunged forward, trying to sweep her leg.

Tav picked up her feet, ducking around her. Dodging another hand reaching for her wrist.

She laughed as she planted a foot to stand on Karlach's crouched hip. Using her shoulder as a hold to step up, swinging around her back to put her in a headlock. Hand pushing into her throat.

"Choking, huh?" She chided.

Karlach kneeled down abruptly, slamming her back into the ground.

Tav released, the air taken out of her. Still trying to lock her legs around Karlach's thighs.

"Oh, come on," Karlach laughed, prying her legs open with her hands. Her shoulder muscles rippling with exertion.

Tav's mouth fell open at the sight and sensation. Even with the full strength of her thighs, Karlach split her like cleaved wood.

Karlach turned and pinned her thighs open between her own, sitting on her pelvis.

"Hah!... Hey, why'd you stop?"

Tav's eyes darted down to the position they were pushed into.

Karlach paused, looking down as well.

"Oh..."

Neither moved, both huffing with exertion.

A stand still, the air charged with tension. Thighs straddled criss cross, their centers pressed together.

Tav tried not to moan, just the heat coming from her core pulling slick from her.

All it would take is one of them moving their hips.

Karlach looked down at her with blown out eyes, a desperate hunger, near anger, pulling her face slack. One hand gripping into Tav's propped thigh, starting to rock her hips.

"Gods, this heat!" Gale exclaimed, emerging from his tent. Fanning himself with a thin tome, heading towards the water.

Karlach flipped Tav up by the hips, pulling her up into a more appropriate position kneeling next to her. Tav squeaked, being manhandled so easily sending another wave of arousal to her lust dumb mind.

Gale turned towards them, unaware. "Oh! Are you guys coming too? I wouldn't mind the company on the walk."

"Absolutely!" Karlach called, giving Tav a questioning raise of her eyebrows.

"Oh! Uh, yeah! I'd love to hear about that." She pointed to the tome he was holding.

Rising to feet, led by Karlach's hand. Another shock of arousal as she stared at the mesmerizing sight, curled around hers with its diabolically implicit fingernails.

Gods above and below help her.

Gale chattered excitedly ahead as they walked, and Tav was really trying to listen. Truly, she was. But Karlach was walking just behind her, a hand flat against her lower back. The spread of fingers absurd, so wide it made her knees weak. Thumb rubbing mind numbing arcs into the sensitive skin.

Through the haze of her lust she managed a few well timed sounds of affirmation, trying to focus on silly things like words.

Oh, what fresh hells had she unleashed. Feeling Karlach's wide smile behind her. Enjoying tormenting her so innocently. Wanting to swat her away and lean in as hard as possible at the same time.

After an eternity, they reached the water. The gentle swell and lapping mockingly peaceful, moon ribboned and dark. Their companions gathered, floating conversation and passing wine.

Gale sat on the dock, rolling his sleep pants up to the calf. Dipping legs in with a deep sigh.

"Not getting in, Gale?" Karlach remarked in gentle disappointment. Fingers slipping inside of Tav's waistband behind her.

Tav breathed out a fast breath through nose, stomping her foot just slightly. Sliding the movement into shifting her weight casually.

"Ah, too much skin for present company." He smiled, a slight blush rising to his cheeks. Eyes darting to Tav, then quickly away.

"But don't let me discourage you. Go on, enjoy the water in all it's glory."

"Well, what do you think, Tav?" Karlach asked in a deceptively neutral voice.

As she was about to respond, Karlach pulled her fingers taut into her waistband, snapping it against her lower back. Covering the sound with a cough.

A rush of wetness pooling in her underclothes, she hissed out a quiet threat. Karlach's fingers grazing her skin, a quivering of contained laughter in the chest she stepped back into.

"I think that's a great idea. If you'll pardon us Gale?"

She didn't wait to get his response, pulling Karlach in her wake. Her low laugh slipping out as she was led, Tav in a fast stomp, Karlach in an easy wide stride. Long legs not having to rush at all to keep up.

Tav was about to turn to lay into her when a wide hand caught around the front of her throat. Another pushing flat against her lower belly. Both burning hot.

Her breath caught, leaning head back as those fingers splayed up her neck. Sharp talons pressing into the underside of her jaw.

"I wasn't done back there." Her voice all gravel. Pressing the words into the side of her head, heat pressing into her back. The expanse of muscle a heavy presence behind her.

Tav whimpered, twisting to look behind them to gauge how close they were to the group.

"Nothing important back there, baby." She laughed, pulling Tav's chin forward with a force belieing her easy words.

"Gods, Tav," She sighed, voice all heat again. Fingers sliding down the front of her waistband, long fingers traveling a short distance quickly. "I've been so hungry to fuck you."

Tav moaned a little whine at the vulgarity, knees buckling in earnest. Karlach's own knee pushed into hers, forcing her down into an open kneel. Her large body enveloping behind, thighs encircling around hers.

Her fingers strained against the fabric for a few seconds before she huffed out a frustrated breath. Hands gripping up onto Tav's hips, pulling her up onto her belly, wrenching her leggings down onto her knees, then seating her back onto knees with barely an effort.

"There, that's better." She said decidedly. Tav delirious with lust from being handled like a five pound weight.

Karlach's fingers found her center again with a happy hum. Rounded fingertips pushing inside her with no further pretense. Tav bucking at the sudden introduction.

Karlach's other hand came back up to spread along her throat, pressing down just hard enough to make her moan. Long fingers thrusting slow thigh shaking pleasure into her. Her hips rocking into the hilt of her palm.

"Fuck, you're so tight around my fingers." Karlach hissed, rising on one knee to grind into her lower back.

Tav arched her ass into her in time, her hand and hips pulsing a rhythm into her. Gasping out staggered breaths.

"Take your top off for me." Karlach murmured, unwilling to give up her hold. Fingers tightening a wide cage into her neck.

Tav pulled her blouse open with fast fingers, pooling onto her elbows. Unclapsing the front of her bra, breasts falling free. Her hard nipples pebbling even more rigid. The combination of the sweltering night air and the fire at her back making her feel untethered.

Karlach's grinding sped up at the sight, sucking in a breath through teeth. Fingers picking up the pace a few moments later, taking a second to catch up to her hips.

Fingers now slamming into her, Tav's legs gave out, head falling back. Squeaking out fast indignant whines.

"Shhh..." Karlach urged, hand coming up from her throat to muffle over her mouth. Pulling her head back into her. "We're far, but not that far."

Tav's nails dug into her thighs, Karlach groaning quietly against her back. Tav's eyes rising into her skull, lids fluttering. Her cunt clenching in irregular pulses as her orgasm circled, drawing ever closer.

She murmured against Karlach's hand and she released slightly, fingers still plunging into her in lewd squelching.

"What was that?" She whispered, voice as sweet as her hands were rough.

"Choke me again, please."

Karlach's cunt ground into her so hard it pushed her forward. Her hand snapping back down around her throat, pulling her back flush in a sharp grip.

"Fuck yes." Karlach breathed, feeling the tremor coming from her core, pelvis bucking uncontrolled. "Give it to me, baby. Cum all over me."

Tav whimpered, cunt chasing her fingers with abandon. Her moans silenced in her throat. Head falling back, orgasm about to crest.

Karlach looked down into her eyes, pulling her jaw open further with her thumb. Licking up the inside of her lower lip with a groan.

That wrenched the orgasm from her far faster than she was ready for, her cry cut off abruptly into a hiss by Karlach's tightening fingers. Loosening as she enveloped her mouth in a muffling kiss. Tav gripped the back of her head and the curve of her horn desperately as it ripped through her. Cunt tightening down in visible pulls of her fingers, cum pushing out onto her palm with every thrust.

Karlach moaned against her mouth, the heat of her lips reigniting the hunger in her belly. Her body overstimulated all the same she whimpered against her, fast fingers still plunging.

"Just one more for me, baby. You're so pretty when you cum." Karlach urged, thumb rubbing hard circles into her cum slick clit.

Tav whined, buckling forward.

"Back." Karlach growled, fisting her hair into a ponytail. Pulling her flush once again.

"Yes, saer." Tav moaned.

"Fuck, call me that again." Karlach groaned, hips bucking hard into her back. Hand winding in a taut circle, pulling her hair back to her knuckles.

Tav moaned, a ragdoll to her demanding, in both body and words. Crying out as her second orgasm hit.

"Cum on my back- please, saer!"

Karlach shuddered against her, biting down hard into her shoulder to muffle herself. Her sharp teeth sending a shock of pain through her already unbearably high pleasure. Tav's nails curving with bruising intensity into her thigh, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from crying out. The second wave of slick pushing into the first, dripping down Karlachs wrist. A spreading wet against her lower back as Karlach's hips slowed into choppy pulses.

"Fuck..." She slid her fingers free, veiled in a thick layer of pulling arousal. Spreading it between her two fingers indulgently, making Tav blush despite the absolutely lewd behavior she just displayed.

"Karlach..." She whined, uncomfortable.

"Okay, okay." She chuckled. Popping the fingers into her mouth, sucking them clean with a thorough tongue. As if that was any better.

When her mouth opened again, Tav caught sight of something that made her cunt ache again.

"Karlach, why do you have a tongue piercing?" She whined, finding the whole situation extremely unfair.

"Huh? Oh, I hadn't realized you hadn't seen it! Though maybe you're usually not at an angle where you can, you tiny thing."

Karlach stuck it out flat, the small rounded stud displayed in the middle of her long pointed tongue.

Tav moaned, cupping her face and licking a line up the middle. The little smooth bump sending a renewed shock through her exhausted pelvis.

Karlach groaned, eyes fluttering up then returning to hers dark again.

"Careful soldier," She warned. "You're going to burn us both up."

~

[quodekash]

call me johann sebastian cos im bach

PHEEMPHUM ARE SO BABYGIRL I LOVE THEM

HE STIM

GEIRDJG

hes so adorable omg

hes this 🤏 big

FUCK YEAH MY FAVOURITE DUO

HES MY BOY MY LITTLE GUY I LOVE HIM SO MUCH

Im gonna cry I love him so fuking much man

LOOK AT HIM

you dirty fuckin liar

shes truly such a mood this ep, her facial expressions are PEAK

peem is so real for immediately deciding to go to sleep as soon as the semester is over

felt that fr

BBG UR SO OBSESSED WITH HIM, YOU PULLED YOUR PHONE OUT SO FAST

I LOV EHIM SO MUCH HES SO PRETTY HES LIKE A LITTLE BUG

GOEJRBNGDS

BABYGIRL YOURE OBSESSED WITH HIM

my friends to lovers bastards are the greatest

buT NOT AS GREAT AS QTOEY

look at his face

I just love him so fuckin much man

yes. yes I do think that

GONNA FUCKIN SHIT MYSELF

WHAT TH EFUCKKKKK SIR THAT’S BARELY HIS CHEEK

hes kicking and screaming his feet

fuck yes I love me a sleepover

FUCK YEAH WE'RE FINALLY GETTING THE SOUNDWIN MISSING SCENE WE NEVER GOT (where, episode 8 when tinngun leave for fresh air, win rolls over and ends up right next to sound)

HE PULLED HIS FUCKIN BLANKET UP FOR HIM IM GONNA CRY

HE SMILINGGGGGG

bRO

they art shooketh

AND HE JUST APPEARS OUT OF NOWHERE

same

this whole scene is just pure chaos, I love it sm

WAIT WHAT THE FUCK

THEY KNEW EACH OTHER WITHOUT KNOWING EACH OTHER???

HOLY FUCKING SHIT

I WAS ALREADY SO EMOTIONALLY ATTACHED TO THEM

WHYD THEY GIVE THEM THE CUTEST FUCKING BACKSTORY

MILK FRAPPE BOY AND PENCIL PHI 😭😭

👀

do you have something youd like to share with the class, peem?

"sleep like a TOP"?? WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN

aight bet, do it again

ayo he actually listened to me, wasnt expecting that

THE FUCKIN DEATH GLARE IS SO FUNNY

HOLY FUCKING SHIT WE GOT THERE QUICKER THAN I EXPECTED

THE SCENE FROM THE PILOT???? WHAT THE FUCK

HOLY FUCKING SHIT

welp. good ep 👍

cant fuckin wait for next week holy fucking shit, we're getting what looks like a qtoey centred ep (and maybe probably a kiss???? holy fucking shit????)

btw next week if that scene goes the way it went in the pilot trailer, you bet your ass another patpran rooftop kiss edit is coming

[user2772636]

Puppy Love

A pissed golden boy

《♡》《♡》《♡》

《♡》《♡》《♡》

When the school's golden boy finds a list about a few girls in his class (which include you), all hell breaks loose. You decide you think he looks adorable mad.

》》》

Joseph Descamps x Reader

Warnings: screaming match, boys being boys, swearing, loads amount of fluff

Modern-ish!AU (They're still in highschool tho)

》》》

》》》

A list. That's where it all started. One list. And your name. It started there, too.

You might be wondering what started. Here's how it goes.

The year was 2001. Voltaire High was filled with students roaming around the corridors talking about their day, the exams coming up, summer, and more. You were one of the students. Your friends were, too.

"Ugh, I can't wait for summer to start. I need to get out of this sweat polluted hell hole called school." Simone gags as you all walk past some boys who just got out of gym class. You and Michèle laugh.

"I can't wait for summer to start because-"

"Your boyfriend is finally all yours." You and Simone finish Michèle's sentence in a mocking tone, burting out after a few seconds. You see Michèle roll her eyes with a smile.

"Well, atleast I have a boyfriend for this summer. What do you guys have?" She shrugs, and Simone is quick to butt in.

"Well, I, for one, have your brother." Michèle shoves Simone away, scoffing in surprise.

"Be glad I was calm about it. I was ready to smash your heads together when I found out." They tease and laugh around. They both turn to look at you.

"That leaves you, Y/N." A smile starts forming on their faces again. "Any luck with the golden boy?"

Joseph Descamps. Also known as Voltaire High's "Golden Boy". He was tall, athletic, smart, basically perfect, hence the nickname.

Joseph walks down the stairwell with his friends, laughing like dogs, so loud the whole school could hear. But who cares?

He was on his way to the courtyard when he overhears something. Paper crumpling and getting passed around. Whispers and such. He pays no mind to it, thinking they were just talking about the tests.

It was break time, so they did whatever after.

》》》

You lean against your hand in class, trying not to fall asleep right then and there. It was so boring you couldn't keep your eyes open any longer.

Joseph was glancing towards you, chuckling at how adorable you were dropping your head and catching it in a loop. He licks his lips, trying to bring his focus back on the discussion, but his eyes keep lingering towards you again and again.

Suddenly, a crumpled piece of paper flies in the air. It lands right on his desk, and he immediately gets it in his hands. Some of his classmates roam around him as he unfolds it, revealing ink scribbled down.

On top, it read "VOLTAIR HIGH BEAUTIES RANKED." There were ten rankings. He read through them. In first place was Annick, their classmate who currently wasn't in this class. The next few were some of the girls from other grades. But on ninth is what shocked him.

Your name was written. There was a sidenote that said, "already targeted; stay away or try." What does that even mean? Do you have a boyfriend he doesn't know about?

His thoughts begun to roam, and then the bell rings. Students rush out the door, but he's quicker. He rushes to the stairwell, hanging off before screaming.

"Hey!" The people walking stop, looking up at him. He begins to get nervous, voice shivering, but he tries to toughen up. He notices your eyes on him, and he thinks maybe he can't do this. But he does.

"Why the fuck is there a list of the girls from here? Are they some kind of joke to you? Go look at yourselves before thinking about what other people look like!" He exclaims, throwing both his arms up in frustration.

"And why is Y/N on ninth? Ninth? Are you all serious? She's supposed to be in first, in my opinion!" He doesn't even realise he said that till everyones eyes turned to you. But you kept your eyes on him. Even if he was almost a hundred feet away, the way you looked at him right then made his knees weak and throat as dry as sahara.

Then, when he least expected it, almost everyone in the stairwell said, "We know!"

He freezes up, looking around. They're all just staring at him, dead pan. One of his friends, Dupin, walks up to him.

"Just fucking talk to her already. Go." Dupin pushes Joseph to the actual staircase. Joseph gulps, adjusting his shirt. The whole time, everyone stares. He keeps his eyes on the ground, scared he'll trip and fall and embarass himself. Especially infront of you.

When he makes it to you, he wipes his face. He clears his throat, but before he speaks, he looks around again.

"What are you looking at? Go home!" Everyone statts wlaking again, and he hears you laugh quietly. His cheeks flush.

You nod to Simone and Michèle, indicating them to go and that you'll tell them everything later. You turn back to Joseph.

"Hi." You say, smiling up at him. You fidget with the coat inbetween your arms.

"Hi." He laughs awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

You stay quiet for a bit before you cut the silence.

"First place huh? You really think so?" You ask him, tilting your head to meet his eyes.

His head shoots up, looking at you with an even redder face than before.

"Yeah... I mean, who wouldn't think that?" He flashes his teeth, and he's so adorably awkward compared to his façade when he needs to be the golden boy.

"Well, everyone did. Everyone but you." You look down at the floor, trying to keep your smile smaller to avoid showing him how giddy you are.

"Yeah, everyone but me." The awkward silences make you cringe, but you're too happy about this to cast him down.

The next sentence included both of you speaking at the same time. You two laughed it off, and from then, he asked you out. That's when it really started. Earlier was the beginning. But this, now, was the start. There's a difference, okay?

You guess you do have a boy this summer. And he's as bright as the sun. He's the golden boy.

》》》

Guess what? It's 5,30 am here, and i finished this in 30 mins (im losing my mind) ANWWW i hope this is good enough sorry for taking so long w this

[starhvney]

𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝟑 | 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟓: 𝐂𝐎𝐎𝐋 𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐒

𝐂𝐖: none? very wholesome today.

𝐀/𝐍: um.. so this chapter originally was supposed to be cool moms and a dinner... but now it's just cool moms because i realized i was nearing 7k works and the dinner hadn't even started lmao. anyways enjoy this chapter it's super cute

𝐖𝐂: 6,400 +

𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 ☆ 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 | 𝐀𝐎𝟑 | 𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒

ivy didn’t even glance your way as you walked into homeroom the next day, her hair covering her bruised cheek and head turned sharply away from you. a few people mentioned the slight splotch of purple against her porcelain skin, but it seemed everyone was under the impression that she had just fallen and injured herself. 

you’re surprised that she didn’t try to frame you for her injury, especially since you came to school the next day with not even a red mark against your skin. you suppose she really wanted garroth to be under the impression she was a sweet girl who would never get in a fight.

oh, please. 

it’s not like she had to try extra hard to do so, with how trusting and kind the school’s “prince charming” was. 

to add on to your suspicions, ivy proceeded to not bother you for the rest of the week. it was something that was both relieving and incredibly anxiety-inducing. was she really done messing with you? or was she planning something else?

your thoughts are interrupted as you nearly collide with a meif’wa girl who was stationed around the corner and peeking from behind some lockers at the display in front of her. aphmau and a familiar-looking boy argued in the hall, just outside of the werewolf classroom.

the meif’wa girl turns to you, her round eyes holding a brilliant shade of gold and pale cheeks colored a lovely shade of pink. a pink that similarly matched her straight hair that framed her round cheeks and curled at the ends of her shoulders. with her perfectly groomed black tail and ears and the cute bows she used to accessorize, she looked like an adorable porcelain doll. 

“excuse me!” she muffles an apology behind the hand she raised to her mouth, her voice mousey and soft.

“oh, that’s okay! i was sidetracked,” you glance back at your friend and the boy who towered over her. “um… what are you doing?”

“well, i always end up passing by those two after my classes are over, and i’m starting to think maybe they like each other without realizing.” she blinks up at you, her smile particularly cheeky and feline. “i want to see if my ship sets sail.”

“your…ship?” you trail questionably, frowning at aphmau’s peeved expression and the guy's deep frown on his scratched and bandaged face.

was this the rude classmate from werewolf studies that aphmau had mentioned before? 

“yeah, wouldn’t the enemies to lovers be cute?! and he’s the new “bad boy” junior. i love playing cupid in the school,” she giggles from behind her hand. 

you blink, watching as the rather scary-looking boy rolls his eyes, looking totally fed up as aphmau holds her hands on her hips.

“uhh… yeah. nice to meet you by the way,” you give her your name, politely waiting for her to respond as you slowly make your way towards the two.

“oh! it’s… nana.”

“i’ll catch you around sometime,” you wave, before quickly shuffling right up to the tense duo.

man, he is tall. his skin was a tanned olive color, with cuts and bandages littered across his face. ink-black hair hung messily in front of his equally dark eyes and thick brows.

“you ready to go home, aph?” you ask, though you kept your eyes trained directly on deep brown ones.

you recall why you thought he was familiar now, he was the one who unintentionally photobombed your first-day selfie with aphmau and bumped into her without apologizing. 

she lets out an irritated huff of air, muttering a “yes” before marching down the hall before you.

you stare at the boy a second longer, before turning away and stretching out your stride to catch up to aphmau. the two of you make your way out of the doors, walking down the street in silence.

“…so?” you start, raising an eyebrow and carefully lacing your hands behind your back. 

“i confronted him on why he teases me and is rude to me for no reason and he just said “i was annoying”,” she uses air quotes as she mocks his choice of words. “so i got mad and said he was a jerk and no one would want to be friends with him if he acts like that to people who are just trying to be nice.”

you roll your eyes.

“good. if you act like that all your life you’ll end up sad and alone.”

“that’s what i said!”

when you make it home, your mom is once again eagerly awaiting to tell you something, still in her work clothes as she lingers near the entryway.

“so! we happened to move closer to some other family friends that were also friends with the salomes, and we’re going to meet them all at the park tomorrow afternoon.” she announces to you as you enter the kitchen, clasping her hands together excitedly. “there’s three boys around your age, too!”

“uh, what? why am i just now finding this out?”

“oh don’t worry so much, i’m gonna be there and they’re sweet kids. at least they should be.”

you huff, “alright then.”

☆

you and your mom enter the park from a different side than when you came last time, the trees are less dense, and there’s lots of open space to run around. nearby is a pretty and intricate fountain, with a sculpture of the matron on top. you glance away from it, eyes immediately landing on aphmau and then sylvanna.

sylvanna smiles warmly, approaching mom and giving her a hug. “it’s good to see you again, girl!”

“i know! it’s so good to see you!”

aphmau and you glance at each other a bit awkwardly, crossing your arms as your mothers once again hit it off.

“and oh, mija! you look so cute today, que linda!” her mom’s warm brown eyes land on you.

“thank you-“

“yes, of course! well, why don’t you two talk while we catch up and wait for zianna? when we older ladies go jogging together you two can play with her kids!”

before you can say anything else, the two walk a short distance away, already chatting up a storm with wide eyes and…seriously intense expressions.

“uh, whose kids? what?” aphmau exasperatedly asks to no reply.

you look over to aph as she holds her hands out in annoyed confusion. her hair is held back by a red headband that matches her outfit: red sneakers along with a red square-neck tank top that was loosely tucked into a denim skirt.

you shrug at the girl, used to not being told what was happening until the last possible moment.

“uh… good to see you, i like your outfit?” you start awkwardly.

“…thank you.” she says, looking down at her attire as if she had forgotten what she wore today.

you walk over to a bench that rests under a large and twisted tree. the afternoon sun beats down on the pavement and reflects onto your faces despite taking refuge under the leaves, causing the two of you to squint at each other. the heat from the summer had finally begun to leave, thankfully, and a warm breeze rustled some of the trees, sending some more leaves onto the ground's growing collection.

aphmau sighs, leaning back as she gazes around at the park.

“ugh, at least i’m with you,” she mutters. “are we gonna have to babysit some five-year-old brats?”

“oh, no actually i don’t think-“

“hey, girlfriends!” a bright and cheery voice interrupts your conversation.

you turn to see a beautiful woman with warm green eyes and black hair tied back into a styled ponytail. she was definitely a grown woman, but her blue—and slightly revealing—jogger set and trendy gold jewelry told a different story.

“ah! wassup girl!” sylvanna calls out from behind you, both her and mom jogging up to the woman who you now assume is the third mother in this get-together.

“oh you two, it’s been too long,” the black-haired woman greets. “and you both are still lookin’ fine!”

“zianna, it’s so good to see you!”

“what’s with the slang?” you lean over and mutter to aphmau, who rolls her eyes.

“that must be where my mom learned it from, it’s been nonstop with her, too.”

suddenly the cheery voice is closer.

“oh! and look at you two! you two became so beautiful, like little dolls! lookin’ just like your pretty mamas! you all are going to have so much fun together!”

“oh, um thank you, it’s nice to meet you-“ you start.

“it’s nice to meet you! wait… you ‘all’? great. so we’re babysitting multiple brats.”

you turn to glance at aphmau warily. now why would you say that…

“well, i wouldn’t exactly call us brats.” a familiar deep and smooth voice causes you to jump as you spin back around towards the source.

garroth stands tall as usual, today wearing a dark teal carhartt jacket over a white tee and some loose tan cargo pants and white sneakers to pair. his fluffy hair is tucked under a baseball hat with the pdh emblem and a small captain embroidered along the side. behind him were two slightly shorter boys, their faces filled with a tad more youth based on the baby fat that still clung to their cheeks.

one had a lovely shade of chocolatey brown hair and shared the same warm green eyes as their mother. he had a kind, friendly face, one of childish friendliness and openness that hadn’t been squandered by teenage years. 

the other was… starkly different from the others. straight, dark black hair covered the right side of his face, hiding the rest of the rather cute freckles that splayed across his cheeks and nose. his strikingly icy blue eyes and pale—almost nearly translucent looking—skin contrasted against the rest of his dark outfit and features. he looked the least athletic out of the other two, his loose hoodie swallowing and hiding what looked like a thin and gangly frame underneath. 

“wha- i- garroth?” aphmau stutters out, her jaw dropping in complete shock. “what are you doing here?”

“huh. so you’re the other kids. that’s funny.” i smile. “who would’ve thought our moms were friends?”

“i… oh…” aphmau finally catches on, her thin eyebrows raising in surprise.

an annoyed sigh comes from the black-haired kid, who you can now safely assume is garroth’s brother. “so, these are the brats we have to babysit?”

you wrinkle your nose and narrow your eyes at his complaint. well, aren’t you just a ball of sunshine? 

“babysit?” you echo.

he doesn't seem older than you. in fact it would be safe to assume he was younger considering the higher, nasally, middle-schooler voice he had.

“hey, not-alone buddy!” the other brother cheeses in aphmau’s direction, baby cheeks squishing against his smile and crinkling his eyes.

“mom, are you kidding me? these guys also go to my school!” aphmau looks back at her mother.

“oh, how did we not talk about that?” your mom giggles, the other ladies laughing along with her.

“i had no idea your boys went to the same school as my daughter!”

“oh, samesies! that’s so adorable!” zianna cheers. as she smiles i can see where that brown-haired boy got his energetic grin from.

“i guess that means we have a lot to catch up on. ready for our jog?”

“yep! ok, kids, have fun together!” zianna turns to the emo brother. “remember, zuzu, i want you to try at least one sport with your brothers and new friends while you’re here at the park! we need to toughen you up, but not so much that you aren’t so tough for mommy kisses!”

under the black hair, you can see his pale skin turn to a bright red in embarrassment. 

“mom! stop embarrassing me!” he complains. his voice has a slight whine to it.

“i love you too, zuzu! you kids play nice!” she airily smiles and waves, already beginning to walk backward from us, to which your and aphmau’s moms follow.

“be good! text me if there’s an emergency!” your mom waves to you, seemingly excited about the meetup despite being much more mellow than the other two women.

you smile and wave to her before holding a thumbs up. “kay!”

“do you still listen to beyoncé, zianna?”

“are you kidding me? i brought this portable speaker so we could listen to her while we run! it’s gonna be the bomb dot com!”

“word, yo!”

…

and they’re gone.

“oh wow.” the youngest boy sighs.

“can mom get any more embarrassing?”

“hm. so that’s where my mom learned to talk like that. i see.” aphmau says, raising her eyebrows and narrowing her eyes in accusation.

“uhh, i’m pretty sure your mom rubbed off on our mom.” garroth pipes in.

“more than likely they both rubbed off on each other and it just started escalating.”

“hey, garroth!” you finally greet, gathering your bearings and waving to the tall boy.

his eyebrows raise and his eyes soften to the look of an adorable puppy dog. he gives a small smile, back waving at you and chirping your name in greeting. you turn to look at garroth’s brothers.

“ah, i haven’t met you two yet,” you introduce yourself. “it’s nice to meet you two.”

“yeah, whatever. now we’re stuck in this stupid park in the stupid sun.” the dark-haired boy slinks away from you with his hands shoved in his pockets.

you have to stop your jaw from dropping in bewilderment. is this boy really garroth’s little brother? there’s no way they share an ounce of dna. 

“hey baby brother, where are you going?” garroth questions, his lips dropping into a disappointed frown as he follows the scrawny boy.

“i’m going to sit under a tree. on my phone. and as isolated from you four as possible.”

you glance at the other brother, who offers a sheepish smile.

“i’m vylad, it’s nice to meet you too… sorry about zane.”

you shrug your shoulders awkwardly.

“um… it’s no problem. nice to meet you, vylad-“

“nope! come on now, you heard mom. we need to get you into a sport.”

“i’m not doing it.”

garroth and—as vylad kindly introduced for you—zane have begun to talk a bit more heatedly from the tree zane decided to stubbornly plop himself under. 

“yes, you are.”

“why should i?”

garroth looks down in contemplation, before looking up at zane with an almost mischievous expression.

“because if you don’t, i’ll hug you in front of the entire school every chance i get. for the rest of the year.”

you three spectators snicker in amusement as zane looks down in annoyance.

“…i hate you, garroth.”

oh.

“aww, zane! you should just tell your brother you love him.” aphmau laughs, a bit nervously at that.

“shut up you girl-woman-thing!”

“girl-woman-thing?” you deadpan, raising an unimpressed eyebrow.

“uhh… so, vylad! pick a sport.” aphmau quickly recovers.

“easy! soccer!”

garroth has walked back to us. he’s smiling, but the corners of his mouth turn into something that looks more dejected.

“are you sure? i was thinking base-“

“oh my gosh! i love soccer, vylad!” aphmau gasps.

“really? you should’ve said something when you were talking about it with laurance. you should try out for the team,” garroth starts tugging off his jacket, tossing it onto the nearby bench.

“i played a lot of soccer as a kid, so i wanted to try something new. like track, maybe. i still really love soccer, though!” she looks back to where the parking lot is. “i actually have a soccer ball in my mom’s car, i’ll go get it.”

“okay, i know a perfect spot in the park to play on!” vylad agrees, excitedly beginning to walk down the sidewalk. “it’s further down this way.”

you nod, glancing over at aphmau. she waves you on along with the brothers, already walking off to the parked cars.

“alright! you guys go, and i’ll meet you there, okay?”

you split off from her, following the boys down the pavement before remembering garroth’s teal carhartt still on the bench.

“oh!”

you spin back around jogging and retrieving the jacket before catching up to garroth. it’s heavier than expected, and you jokingly pretend to use it as a dumbbell before handing it off to him.

“i threw a baseball in my pocket and my phone is in there, so thanks,” he sheepishly accepts it, tucking it over the crook of his elbow.

“while aphmau and your brothers play soccer—“

zane sighs in annoyance from behind you.

“—do you want to play catch? i’ll probably drop it more than i actually catch it, but…”

garroth chuckles, reaching up to softly facepalm in amusement.

“sure, i’ll throw softly.”

you clap your hands quietly, turning to the younger boy that you had finally caught up to.

“so, vylad, right? are you in aphmau’s class or something?” you inquire, wondering where the edge lord behind you fits into the equation.

“yep! i transferred from o’khasis prep cause the commute was too far, and i got to move up a grade cause i had pretty good grades.”

“oh! that’s cool,” you glance back at garroth. “i thought i heard that o’khasis accent.”

garroth’s eyes widen for a split moment as the tips of his ears begin to redden. vylad giggles a bit, finally stopping in front of a pretty field with freshly trimmed and thick grass. conveniently, it also has two goals set up on either side for community use.

“yeah, zane and i actually got homeschooled for a bit and didn’t catch on to the accent, so garroth is mainly the one who still kinda has it from when we lived there.”

you hum in understanding, glancing back at the boy who was readjusting his hat and scratching the nape of his neck.

“i didn’t know i still had one.”

“it’s nice.”

you’d almost forgotten that the emo kid was there until he sighed again, looking around for a shady spot to retreat to. before he could walk away, garroth yanks him back by the hoodie, pulling him into a forced side hug. zane makes a noise of discomfort, a sound mixed with annoyance and disgust.

“no, you’re gonna play with vylad and aphmau.”

zane glares over at the brown-haired brother who has wandered a little off into the field. he holds out a thumbs up, smiling as he squints through the sun's rays.

“why don’t you actually say something nice to her?” garroth pinches zane’s shoulder.

shockingly light blue eyes glare at you through straight, dark lashes, narrowing at you in pure annoyance.

“hi,” he tensely greets, jaw immediately clenching.

“hi…” you awkwardly return, before pointing towards your cheeks. “um, i like your freckles…?”

the boy’s nose wrinkles, seemingly not liking the cute undertones your compliment implied. despite the look of refusal and defiance that he gives you, his whole face begins to grow pink.

“okay?” he snarkily responds, looking at you like you had just said the sky was green.

“go with vylad,” garroth groans, releasing him and lightly pushing him forward, causing him to stumble out into the grassy field.

he catches his footing, shooting a sharp glare back to garroth and flashing him with his middle finger, black rings and nails contrasting against the pale skin. garroth shrugs at him, completely unphased.

“i’m sorry about him, he’s uh… going through,” he gestures at the boy in black now skulking over to vylad who was jumping around like a goofball. “uh, whatever that is.”

you shake your head with a dry laugh, shrugging your shoulders.

“it’s fine, it’s not your fault.”

he sighs, frowning at his younger brothers.

“yeah well…” he begins, trailing off before shaking his head. “never mind.”

“i got it!” you hear aphmau announce, her small footsteps bounding up to you and stomping to a stop right next to you, soccer ball in her hands. “you playing?”

“we’re not that good at soccer, so we were gonna let you and vylad teach zane while we play catch over here,” garroth pulls out the baseball from his pocket… and then reaches into the hidden inner lining of his jacket and pulls out two baseball gloves.

how did he hide those in there?

aphmau blinks, before shrugging and excitedly running off into the field with a chirpy, “okay then!”

garroth smiles at you before looking down at the two gloves, handing you the slightly smaller and much more worn one.

“this one was from when i was younger. it’ll fit you better and it's worn in already, so it’ll be easier to catch.”

“oh, thanks.”

he nods, tossing up the ball in his hand and catching it as he paces a little distance away from you. he lightly spins the baseball between his fingers before nodding at you to get ready. you lift the glove up, feeling a bit nervous as the broad-shouldered baseball captain stands in front of you.

“what position do you play, garroth?”

“pitcher.”

he throws the ball your way. it’s still dauntingly fast, and your whole face unwillingly flinches as the ball smacks against the glove. you can tell he barely put any force into it, too, which makes you feel bad for anyone who has to bat up against him.

“i can tell,” you meekly respond, holding the ball between your first two fingers and your thumb.

“sorry…i thought i threw that soft,” garroth smiles, a small entertained laugh leaving his lips.

you shake your head sheepishly, throwing the ball back and watching as it satisfyingly lands in garroth’s glove.

“not bad,” he throws the ball back, a bit slower this time. “how do you like phoenix drop so far?”

“uhhh—“ you think of your recent detention and put a little more force into your throw. “it’s okay.”

“just okay?”

“well, it’s school. and i guess there’s a few good people who have made it better so far.”

you deadpan back at him when he doesn’t throw back the ball, instead humming and readjusting his cap while looking at you expectantly

“yes, you’re one of them.”

he grins cheekily, tossing the ball back in satisfaction.

“cool.”

“i can run.” you hear zane protest, and you turn to look at the group. aphmau is slowly backing up, arms crossed as she watches him glare at his polar opposite brother.

“…really?”

“away from you.”

you glance back at garroth before both of you silently agree to walk closer. you both pause near aphmau, who is picking at her nails.

“sorry… i knew you were excited to play soccer,” garroth apologizes for his brother’s behavior once again, glaring over at the boy’s attitude.

“it’s,” she sighs. “fine. at least he’s giving it a chance? he always seems so lonely in class.”

garroth shrugs, looking on at his brothers with a complex of emotions on his face. 

“yeah, but he likes to be alone, so i try to respect it. he’s my little brother, so it’s not like i can parent him out of being that way, even if i try.”

you watch his side profile as he stares at his younger brothers. he looked so fond of them… but strangely distant. 

“no! i don’t want to play with you vylad!”

“fine…” vylad sighs, his tone dejected. “then garroth can kick to you.”

“hell no!”

“what’s going on?” garroth walks forward, aphmau and i trailing behind.

“zane being emo,” vylad shoots a glare at his peeved brother. “he doesn’t want me or you to kick the ball to him.”

“it’s stupid.”

“you just don’t want garroth or i to show you up.”

“shut up.”

“i’ll kick with you, zane,” aphmau pipes up, nervously stepping forward.

zane looks at her for a moment before bursting out in laughter.

“you? you couldn’t kick the ball to me from where you are right now with those twinkle-toe-looking short-ass kid legs.”

you hate that the corner of your mouth twitches in amusement. 

“zane,” garroth says, his tone threateningly even and deep as he shoots an irritated glare at the boy. “that’s rude.”

aphmau walks forward, grabbing the ball from vylad. she sets out on the ground before kicking the ball right by zane’s shoulders and into the goal’s net. 

“you're supposed to block it, by the way.”

“that was just a practice run.”

vylad walks towards you and garroth, though his eyes are trained on his older brother’s, his excitement from before now turned into a disappointed frown. garroth’s hand claps onto vylad’s shoulder, patting the younger boy assuredly with a sigh.

thwack!

your attention is suddenly pulled back to the mood-killer of the day, only to find him crumpled on the ground with his hand to his face. garroth, who saw the whole thing, doubles over in silent laughter and uses vylad to keep him upright. 

“damn,” vylad says, before joining garroth in his giggles.

“oh… my… i’m so sorry!” aphmau apologizes frantically, her hand slapping over her mouth.

you sigh, jogging towards zane as a strange feeling of pity fills your stomach. he sits himself up, hands still on his head when you reach your hand out for him to take. he flinches when he realizes you’ve walked up to him, his lip curling and hands winding back like he was getting ready to slap it away. 

“just take the hand, dude.”

a second passes before his bony hand slaps onto yours, digging uncomfortably into your skin as you help him get back on his feet.

“you good?”

he glares off at his brothers, eyes pricked with tears no doubt from getting hit square in the face. his pale skin was irritated and splotched red, his only exposed eye beginning to swell.

“yeah, it just stings,” he trudges ahead of you and off the field, sitting on a nearby bench.

“i have to say, i wasn’t expecting you to catch the ball with your face!” garroth laughs at the younger boy.

“shut up, garroth!”

aphmau catches up, stopping in front of zane with a petrified look on her face.

“oh my gosh, zane, i am so so so so sorry!” she rambles, hands coming up to cover her mouth.

“you did that on purpose.”

“no, i swear i didn’t! i’m just not good at aiming!”

“you could’ve told me that before you fully sent the ball hurling towards my head.”

“i’m so sorry. are you okay?”

“i’m fine.”

“yeah, his other eye got messed up from—“ vylad starts, before getting cut off by a warning look from zane.

you happen to glance over at garroth, who has a deep frown on his face. he notices your stare, and immediately his expression shifts back to his normal passiveness.

“well, this definitely calls for a break. i’m glad you at least tried it out, zane.”

zane rolls his eyes, only to make a small groaning sound and hold his head.

“whatever.”

you look around, noticing a bathroom building that had a vending machine outside of it. without saying anything you jog off towards it, leaving behind your group. reaching in your pocket, you snag some cash you had taken with you, sliding it into the machine and pressing down on the water button.

quickly, you grab the water and jog back, seeing that the moms have returned from their run.

“oh, he’ll be fine, he has two brothers, and zane’s been through much worse.”

you wave to your mom, before holding the water bottle out near the boy’s face.

“here. it’ll help with the swelling.”

“well, aren’t you just a sweetheart! you should take notes from her, zuzu.” zianna gushes, coming up to you and cupping one of your cheeks adorably in her hand.

zane sighs, holding the water bottle up to the side of his face, letting the cold condensation soothe the sensitive skin.

“thanks,” he grumbles and you nod in response, waving off the gesture like it was nothing.

“oh-em-gee, this is totes deja vu! remember that time that aphmau did this exact same thing to zane when the kids were playing dodgeball in the old neighborhood?”

“that’s totes right!”

“yes, i remember! they were all the cutest little kids back then!”

you glance back at aphmau and the three boys, who look just as confused as you feel. as you lock eyes with aphmau, something clicks, and you remember the childhood photograph on her wall.

slowly, your jaw drops, eyes widening in realization.

“huh?” she questions, looking concerned by your sudden expression.

“the picture!”

she blinks, before her head whips back to garroth and then to the other two.

“the picture!”

“what picture? we just met you guys?” vylad looks between you two and the women giggling behind you, amused by the whole situation. “what are you talking about, mom?”

she breaks out into more giggles.

“oh, don’t tell me you don’t remember each other?”

sylvanna catches her breath from her own amusement, placing a hand on her chest.

“we lived in the same neighborhood when you guys were all so tiny. you played with each other every week!”

“oh, girl. i was so devastated when the two of you moved away!” zianna frowns at the memory.

the five of you teenagers gawk at the information, jaws hanging open in shock.

“you know, i actually do vaguely remember. aphmau wore that red dress all the time,” garroth glances at you. “and i remember playing t-ball with you.”

you furrow your eyebrows, trying to recall the memory and getting a few glimpses of your childhood.

“oh yeah…”

“well, they were pretty little, so it’s no wonder they don’t really remember,” your mom laughs, glancing at you. “you were such a worried and cautious kid even when you were little. you cried more when the boys or aphmau did when they got hurt, trying to make sure they were okay.”

“yes, i remember that! she’d come running back to the house asking for bandaids that weren’t even for her all the time, the little medic. seems like that hasn’t changed.”

“this is so cute! i had no idea you guys didn’t remember each other! we should have dinner over at my place tonight so we can all catch up!” zianna squeals, grabbing onto sylvanna and your mom in excitement. 

“that sounds wonderful! we’ll head home to wash up and i’ll bring a dish or something.”

“same here, we’ll be there!” your mom smiles.

“ooh, please bring those quesadillas, sylvanna,” zianna butchers the pronunciation, before turning to your mom. “and you should totes bring that yummy guac you used to make!”

“it’s que-sa-di-yas, zianna,” sylvanna playfully rolls her eyes.

“it’s delicious to me!” she claps her hands with a laugh.

“alright, we’ll see you later this evening then.”

“bye, girlfriends! let’s go boys, you’ve got some cleaning to do.”

you turn and wave to your—freshly reunited?—childhood friends, who seem equally as bewildered.

“uh, i guess we’ll talk later,” garroth waves back, robotically turning to walk with his energetic mother as the cogs still turn in his brain.

“see ya…?”

you and aphmau trail behind your moms, who are excitedly planning to drive together to the ro’meave home later.

“this is crazy. we became friends with them again without even knowing.”

“yeah…small world i guess.”

☆

“do i have to wear a dress?”

“yes, it’s a small dinner party and we need to look presentable,” your mom answers, turning to make sure your dad also kept his word on dressing decently. “plus, the ro’meaves are super rich…”

“what was that?”

“nothing! besides, it’s not like it’s a super fancy dress, you look so cute! do you have the guac bowl?”

“yes…”

she nods, ushering you and your dad out of the house and speed walking down the sidewalk. you both deadpan at each other, your dad scratching through his beard with a sigh.

“alright, if it makes your mom happy.”

you shrug, “and me.”

“that’s good enough for me, i guess.”

aphmau’s house smells good, the scent of chicken and beef quesadillas wafting through the air.

“oh mija, aphmau and one of her little friends from school are out back picking some hot peppers for the salsa, why don’t you go join them!” sylvanna points towards the back door, before leaning towards you. “and make sure there’s no flirting or funny business.”

you nod with a knowing smile, holding back a laugh at her insistent stare.

“okay, i’ll give you an update when i return, captain.”

you slip out of the sliding glass doors as the adults start to talk, looking around before spotting a garden to your left. you step off the deck, following a pretty mosaic stone trail to the intricate, fenced-in veggies and flowers. after stepping into the gate, you admire all the terra-cotta and talavera pots, as well as a lime and orange tree in the mix. everything seemed almost overgrown, but so carefully groomed and placed that you could tell it was well cared for. 

“hey guys,” you greet, spotting aphmau in a cute red dress and headband, as well as that white-haired kid from your first day. “oh, and hey travis! good to see you again.”

his eyes widen, before he shoots a brace-filled smile your way, earnestly greeting you with a call of your name.

“good to see you too! so you’re going to vylad’s house, huh? that’s crazy.”

“i know, right? none of us remembered each other at all.”

“yeah, super weird,” aphmau shakes her head analyzing the jalapeños she picked in her hand.

“i think it’s super cool! you have a little connection to someone you didn’t even know was there.”

you smile at him. “yeah, that’s a nice way of putting it.”

“yeah, garroth is almost unrecognizable from the childhood photos,” aphmau trails. 

“stop drooling,” travis deadpans at the girl, laughing as she flusteredly panics in response.

“i’m not!”

“you totally were. but hey, i don’t blame you! lots of girls have a crush on him.”

“no kidding,” you monotone, an image of ivy’s twisted face popping into your mind.

“i do not have a crush on him,” she defends, though the red on her cheeks betray her.

“uh-huh, sure,” travis drawls out sarcastically, turning to laugh with you when aphmau hisses at him to stop again.

he puts his hands up in defense, backing up when he’s threatened with a jalapeño to the face. the two of you let your giggles fiddle out, before travis seemingly remembered something important, his lips flattening into a serious line.

“hey, i heard you two were with gene and his gang a while ago… is that true?”

“oh, i mean we did “meet them”, i guess. but we didn’t really talk to them.”

“oh, okay. good. i was kinda worried.”

“where did you hear that?” aphmau stutters, dusting off her clothes as she stands back up, seemingly satisfied with her selection of peppers.

“dante told me. he said gene mentioned it or something. he didn’t say anything bad, but he was talking about you two,” he reaches up to fiddle with a strand of his hair by his ear, lost in his thoughts for a moment. “i just… know they’re not the best influences, so i wanted to check on you guys. dante really looks up to gene, but i don’t think he knows the kind of stuff he gets up to.”

“thanks, travis. that’s really nice of you.”

he nervously laughs, shrugging his shoulders.

“i mean yeah. i haven’t gotten to know you that well but aphmau’s my not-alone-buddy, so if you guys are good friends i’d like to look out for you, too.”

your chest feels warm as you smile at him. 

“thanks. i’ll look out for you, too.”

“oh! that reminds me travis, how’s theatre club?”

“ooh, you joined?”

“yeah, i did!” travis stutters, eyes lighting up. “it’s going really great. hey, you know the girl with blue hair that hit me in the face on the first day?”

“katelyn?”

“uh, yeah! she stops by and visits the club sometimes…” his cheeks grow to a warm shade of red.

“sounds like you have a crush, travis.”

“wha—no, i mean—!” he sputters, scratching the back of his neck. “i mean she is really cute… but she has a boyfriend already.”

you blink. katelyn has a boyfriend?

“really? who?”

“his name is jeffory. goldwyn is his last name, i think. he’s a really good-looking senior so i don’t even have a chance.” he sighs.

you hum in pity and understanding for the boy, recalling the tall, smiley, and handsome upperclassman who had stopped by volleyball practice a few times. he had pretty eyes and brown hair, and he seemed super friendly and charming from the few times you said hello. now that you think about it, he did really only hang around katelyn when he did come by the gym.

“so i’m not even gonna try anything. she is really pretty, though.”

“maybe one day,” you halfheartedly encourage with a shrug of your shoulders. “uh… not wishing on her to break up with him or anything—“

travis laughs, face brightening again from the small dejected pout that had begun to form on his lips.

“hey!” sylvanna calls from the porch, her projected voice startling the three of you. “what’s taking you three so long?! we have to get going soon! dios mío…”

“coming, mom!” aphmau calls giving you two a look before shuffling out of the garden with her peppers in hand. “guess we lost track of time.”

“yeah, better not make your mom mad,” travis mutters, quickly falling behind the girl before leaning over to whisper to you. “she kinda scares me.”

you laugh at him, stepping through the sliding doors into the house. dad quickly scopes out the boy, making himself known by very firmly grasping his shoulder and reaching out to shake his hand. you watch as travis’s soul nearly leaves his body, face paling at the gruff-looking man in front of him.

“how’re you doin’ kid? what’s your name?”

“uh—hello sir,” travis stutters, quickly shaking his hand. “it’s travis.”

your dad pauses, squinting down at him uncertainly.

“what’s your last name?”

“va—valkrum… sir?”

“huh. you terry’s boy?”

“you know my dad?”

“yeah. we were old buddies a while back when you were just about to here in height,” dad gestures to his knees with his hand. “i thought you looked familiar.”

you glance over at sylvanna and mom, who are staring at each other with shocked looks on their faces.

“well, nice to meet you, son. you need a ride home?”

travis freezes with his mouth open, trying to muster up words.

“if it’s not out of your way, that would be nice.”

he nods, before leaving the poor boy be—as he was almost quaking in place. when your dad is out of earshot he leans over to you again, face still pale.

“your dad scares me more.”

©starhvney, 2024. please do not steal or repost my works as your own

tag list: @orinlin @pain-in-the-ashe @youmake1mistake @thenyxsky

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glyph // terushima yuuji

tw ⇢ tattoo artist!yuuji, fingering, dirty talk, biting, marking, nipple play, unprotected sex, mild overstimulation, manhandling

wc ⇢ 4.9k

The doorbell chimed with a cheerful tinkle as you stepped into the cozy tattoo parlor. Despite having made this particular pilgrimage several times before, you still felt a ripple of anxious anticipation as you glanced around the warm, dimly lit space.

Behind a vintage wood-and-glass counter stationed just inside the entrance, stood the compact, heavily tattooed owner giving you a welcoming grin and a lazy two-fingered salute.

"Here for another bit of my world-class ink?" Came the familiar raspy tones, clearly modulated to broadcast over the steady thrum of nu-metal currently filling the studio.

You answered his jovial greeting with an easy grin of your own, sidling up to lean casually against the front counter's lacquered surface. "Damn straight. Though if it ends up being subpar work like last time, you're gonna have to give me a freebie make-good," you shot back with a wink.

Terushima scoffed loudly at the playful dig, rolling his eyes dramatically as he made a show of slinging his forearm across the countertop -- putting his own extensive body art brazenly on display in the process. Colorful renderings of traditional Japanese imagery swirled in mesmerizing patterns from wrist to collar, punctuated by crisp black line work and embellished with strategic flashes of vibrantly stylized shading.

"Listen smartass," he drawled without any real heat. "If you want to keep deluding yourself that you didn't bewitch me into making masterpieces grace that gorgeous skin of yours, be my guest. Just don't come crying when your dumbass blows our next appointment making dopey excuses for a rain check."

You laughed, easily settling into the familiar cadences of your long-running, playful banter with the talented tattoo artist. Truth be told, you relished these brief preludes to each session nearly as much as the actual artistry that followed. Terushima's unfiltered charisma and effortless way of putting you at ease was unmatched...not to mention how you always inexplicably found yourself growing flustered under the sheer magnetism of his piercing stare and toothy grins.

Shoving that disconcerting train of thought aside, you arched a single challenging brow. "Listen blade-stud, if I do end up missing another appointment, you'd best rush right over and tattoo THIS masterpiece yourself." You accompanied the provocative statement with a full-body once over that could only be described as a deliberate ogle. "Not that you'd find that to be such an imposition..."

Terushima's eyes predictably followed your shamelessly appraising perusal of his lean, athletic form -- taking in the molten embers that flared to life in his already smoldering gaze. He momentarily dragged his pierced tongue across those full lips in a move so blatant it made your mouth go dry, clearly chewing over some filthy riposte to lob back in your direction.

Anxiety and something dangerously akin to arousal thrummed through you in equal measure as the heavy tension stretched out between you, thick as river mud. A few abortive throat-clearings from the other occupants of the waiting area finally snapped you out of the heated stalemate.

Flushing dull crimson, you backpedaled with a somewhat sheepish grin. "So uh...y'think we can squeeze in that new side-piece today? I've got the design reference and everything pulled up if you're free."

Terushima eyed you with a distinctly predatory gleam lingering in the depths of those tawny irises for another suspended beat. Then, with the flick of a switch, he was oozing pure professionalism once more -- chasing away the thick undercurrents of provocative energy as a friendly grin stretched across his angular features.

"Course we can, no sweat," he agreed easily, straightening away from the counter and nodding towards the interior corridor leading to the private studio spaces. "Right this way, let's get you set up so I can pour all my creative juices into whatever you had in mind."

You opened your mouth to sling back a rejoinder to that obscenely leading statement...but Terushima had already turned on his heel and was sauntering down the hall without a backward glance. All you could do was stand rooted in place, cheeks burning as you took a fortifying breath and moved to follow.

This was going to be one hell of a long session, you could already tell.

By the time Terushima had you arranged on the padded recliner, he had already helped shuttle any lingering tension over the edge into professionalism. He made quick, efficient work of prepping the arm you indicated for the new ink -- asking concise follow-up questions about placement, size, and the design inspirations you were aiming to channel with this latest addition to your body art.

For his part, you found the artist hyper-focused and in the zone once preparations were underway. He handled your limb with the utmost care, yet also an understated reverence that spoke to how seriously he took his craft. The bold slashes of colorful imagery covering his own sun-kissed skin served as a living portfolio of his talent, only whetting your anticipation more acutely as he pulled up the digital rendering and reference designs on a mounted tablet.

"Lookin' to weave in some of those natural scenery elements we discussed last time?" Terushima asked in a low, effortless rasp as he scrutinized the design mock-up with a critical eye. "Maybe incorporate some structural geometry from that hiking trail you're so in love with as the framing borderwork?"

His fingers danced across the digital sketchpad, making minute adjustments and allowances to the linework right before your eyes. The deft movements were hypnotizing -- much like watching an artistic savant at their most inspired and open. You hummed an affirmative, finding yourself momentarily distracted by the glide of those long, calloused digits working their magic to translate your vague musings into visual reality.

"If you think it will all tie together into one cohesive statement, I trust your interpretation completely," you managed at last. Flicking a glance up towards Terushima's face, you found his piercing stare locked intently on the developing design rather than meeting yours. The ambient glow of the screens threw mesmerizing shadows across the sharp planes of his features, beautifully sculpted as if an artisan themselves had chiseled every line to classical proportions.

You swallowed hard against a sudden surge of longing completely at odds with the benign circumstances. Ever since meeting Terushima through a mutual friend's referral and sitting for your very first piece, you had felt these increasingly intrusive flashes of appreciation towards the talented artist -- inexplicable yearnings to run curious fingertips across the bold strokes of color and crisp linework decorating his taut skin. To taste the bright zing of his sunny, artful essence against your feverish mouth in moments of inspired abandon...

Ruthlessly, you shoved such wayward thoughts aside with a mental shake. Now wasn't the time for thirst-addled daydreams about Terushima's no-doubt impressive assets...and skill set. Besides, the idea of ever acting on those burgeoning compulsions was utterly laughable. You were a client, period -- and one he obviously had strictly platonic vibes towards if his easy, unaffected demeanor around you was any indication. Still, you couldn't resist sneaking one last sidelong look at the mesmerizing picture he made while completely immersed in the creative process.

Terushima wore the consummate aura of an artistic genius so effortlessly. From the mussed tumble of pale blonde hair to the way his broad shoulders rolled subtly with each sweeping movement, he exuded a quiet intensity that was utterly arresting to behold up close. You felt your heart stutter as the muscles in his arms and chest flexed in fascinating undulations with the motions of sketching -- unconsciously etching themselves into your frantic memory for later, more indecent contemplations.

"There it is," he breathed at last after several long minutes of intent focus. Rising to his feet with an easy, athletic roll of lean hips, Terushima pivoted the mounted tablet towards your awaiting scrutiny. "Pretty neat way to incorporate those natural elements you were going for while keeping it all grounded with some unified geometric rendering, yeah? Those lines should flow perfectly into the top-piece you already have planned out once we finish inking."

You startled slightly at the proximity of his voice. Jerking your gaze away from where it had been tracing the crisp vee of Terushima's slender hips, you blinked owlishly before hurrying to study the design mock-up anew. He was right, of course -- the linework and shading additions he had incorporated into the base design were seamless. As if the original rendering you had fallen in love with online had been elevated into a whole new artistic expression without losing its core essence.

"Shit...that's perfect!" You exhaled at last, tipping your chin up to meet Terushima's illuminated stare with a look of naked appreciation. "I swear you make this seem easy!"

Entirely without conscious volition, you reached out to squeeze Terushima's forearm in a gesture of gratitude and friendly affection. The fevered thrum of his pulse against your fingertips was startling, a visceral reminder of the living canvas you were complimenting. When he flashed you one of those signature toothy grins, nothing but authentic warmth and satisfaction radiating from his features, you very nearly pulled your hand back with equal haste -- worried its lingering presence might broadcast the wrong sort of impression.

But then the moment passed as swiftly as it arose. With a subtle throat clearing, Terushima gave a slight nod and moved to finish setting up his workstation. He tossed over one lean shoulder as he moved with easy grace to prep his tattoo gun. "Should be a real nice tie-in with that upper flourish you already have going by the time we're done inking today..."

The next stretch of time passed in a sort of serene, creative fugue as the familiar buzzing of the tattoo gun filled the small studio space. Terushima was all intense focus and quiet competence once more as he went to work etching the permanent design into your proffered skin. You found yourself mesmerized watching the ink take shape beneath his deft hands -- an appreciation of art unlike any other as he coaxed your body into becoming the living canvas.

Of course, it was difficult not to grow steadily more attuned to Terushima's nearness as the minutes ticked by in heated silence. The man was all lean, honed muscle and clean, sharp lines where you lay soft and pliable beneath his careful attention. At one point you found your gaze tracing the corded sinew in his biceps as they flexed and released with each pass of the tattoo gun. Following the darkly appealing trail of inked patterns swirling up towards the solid juncture of his shoulders and--

You bit back a tiny groan of frustration, realizing you were once again allowing your thoughts to drift in an extremely inappropriate direction. Squeezing your eyes shut, you concentrated on the rasping buzz of the needle caressing your skin rather than let your heightened awareness of Terushima's body linger any longer.

Except...even that was a mistake.

The suddenly sharpened awareness of every subtle scrape and tingling kiss of sensation across your overly sensitized skin made you acutely conscious of where, exactly, the current canvas was being shaped on your body. Terushima was leaning over your inner arm, bent at an intense angle as he filled in the gracefully arcing lines spanning from wrist to elbow joint.

The position placed his face scant inches from the slight swell of your breast as he worked -- near enough that you could actually feel the lightest whispers of his exhales ghosting across the thin cotton covering your chest. Your nipples tightened despite yourself, shocking sparks of arousal lancing straight to your core at the proximity.

Desperately you tried to think unsexy thoughts. Rotted vegetation, unpaid bills, awkward family gatherings...but nothing could dampen the traitorous flush of heat steadily creeping across your nerve endings. Particularly not when Terushima shifted his weight closer to get better traction, practically looming over your upper torso at this point with one knee braced alongside your hip.

The male fibrous notes of his earthy body wash saturated the static-laced air blanketing you both. You breathed in deep, stunned at how quickly the atmosphere in the small studio had taken on such thick, charged undercurrents despite Terushima's complete immersion in his artistry. Each subtle inhalation brought a dizzying new swirl of his natural, masculine scent lacing through your senses...until you felt drugged and heavy-lidded simply from the resonant vibrations of his presence so intimately invading your aura.

Sensation after molten sensation lapped at your subconscious like so many retreating tides. Until at last, you couldn't ignore the heated tide pool gathering at your body's core any longer.

The pointed awareness of your insistent arousal made the heavy air around you both feel thick and charged as ionized smoke. You found your gaze drifting helplessly to the sharp vee of Terushima's sculpted collarbones peeking above the open collar of his shirt. Followed the lean cords of his sinewy throat working in subtle rhythm as he remained focused on his artistry flowing across your skin.

When your heated stare lingered on the captivating sight of his silver tongue piercing dashing across his full lower lip in an subconscious display of concentration, a tremulous sigh escaped your parted mouth. The soft exhalation seemed to reverberate in the tense silence surrounding you both, finally shattering whatever tranquil spell had fallen over the studio.

Terushima went still as death, piercing tawny gaze flickering up to find yours -- pupils already blown wide with unveiled desire. You watched with breathless anticipation as he slowly, deliberately dragged the tip of that tantalizingly studded tongue across his lips once more, maintaining searing eye contact all the while.

"Getting a little hot under the collar there?" he rasped after a protracted, loaded moment. His voice was a sandpaper rasp of pure provocation, sending an involuntary shudder cascading through you.

Despite the heated evidence of your body's pronounced interest in your current intimate position, you managed a shaky semblance of your usual unaffected bravado. "What can I say? All these glimpses of your 'artistry' on display have me...appreciating your full skillset," you husked in return, allowing your eyes to drag a deliberate path down the lean, tattooed canvas of his torso in a shameless ogle.

"Pretty sure that kind of appreciation is gonna cost extra though," Terushima growled in response -- low and full of sensual promise. Before you could formulate a rejoinder, he closed the scant distance between you with one smooth, predatory slide of his weight until you were essentially caged between the hard planes of his body and the unforgiving surface beneath.

Your breath caught in your throat as he braced one forearm alongside your ribcage, effectively trapping you while simultaneously allowing you an unobstructed view of every delicious inch of coiled muscle and colorful ink now on display. The heavy musk of him surrounded you utterly, drenching your senses in potent masculinity until your mouth practically watered from proximity alone.

"I distinctly remember someone being warned about behaving during our sessions," Terushima growled against the shell of your ear, lips brushing fire across your sensitized skin until you shuddered violently. "We might need to have a conversation about adding rush fees to your tab...if you keep squirming around while I'm workin' my magic like this..."

The suggestive undercurrent of meaning laced through every word had your core clenching with thrumming desire. You couldn't bite back the shameless whine that spilled free as the delicious heat of Terushima's body seared through your thin layers, pressing against you with tantalizing friction. Blindly, you reached out to anchor yourself by fisting a hand at the nape of his neck -- relishing the silken slide of short hair around your fingers as you tugged impatiently.

"Maybe I want to misbehave," you whispered without a hint of compunction, already shifting restlessly against the unyielding planes pinning you down. "I'm definitely craving some...overtime benefits to go along with your services."

Terushima let out a dark chuckle of sheer sin against your tingling pulse point. The wet heat of his tongue swept across the same electrified path a split-second later, sending lightning jolts of blistering arousal ricocheting down your nerve endings. You cried out in shameless bliss as his wicked mouth latched onto the sensitive juncture, suckling ardently while one broad palm palmed your ribs before skating sinuously lower...

As his calloused fingertips finally drifted beneath the hem of your shirt to brand searing paths across exposed skin, Terushima broke away with heated labored breaths. You watched him chase the mesmerizing glint of his tongue piercing with a lust-darkened stare, utterly entranced by the lurid promise blazing from every chiseled inch of his features.

"Better be sure you can handle this particular bit of artistry sweetheart," he growled at last, the gravelly burr sending fresh sparks of liquid heat pooling at your apex. "I have a feeling my...techniques are about to get pretty fucking intense before we're through..."

With that salacious warning, Terushima bent his shoulders and descended upon your parted lips in a searing kiss of pure possession. Your mouth welcomed the sensual invasion with a broken cry, arching eagerly to deepen the molten exchange.

The kiss was all tongue and teeth and white-hot desperation -- a tangle of need and lust and sheer intoxicating chemistry. Every slide of his talented tongue stud against the sensitive roof of your mouth sent another gush of molten arousal spilling between your thighs, until you were a writhing, pleading mess of raw sensuality beneath his expert touch.

All the while, Terushima kept up his deft assault on the hyper-sensitive nerves dotting your midsection -- skirting the outer edges of your needy sex but never quite making full contact. Each teasing pass only stoked the inferno roiling within your core until you were nearly ready to beg for more.

At last, when the searing heat at your core had become a raging conflagration, Terushima finally dragged his palm upward. The slow, torturous slide across feverish flesh had you keening into his kiss, desperate for the promise of more. Then his clever fingers were tracing the lace banding your ribcage before finally, blissfully sliding the material upwards and over your breasts.

A throaty growl escaped the artist's mouth as his hands cupped your naked flesh, kneading the tender peaks until you were nearly delirious with want. Breaking the kiss with a ragged curse, Terushima's tawny gaze dropped to rake an unabashedly hungry perusal of the bounty on display.

"Fuck me...you're goddamn perfection," he muttered under his breath, thumbing across the puckered peaks until you shuddered with renewed pleasure. Then he was bending to swirl his tongue around one nipple, drawing it deep into the scalding heat of his mouth to suckle mercilessly.

You writhed and sobbed against the delicious onslaught, hips bucking in restless, frantic search for the friction you needed most. Terushima took the movement as his cue to redouble his efforts, laving attention on first one nipple then the other. His wicked tongue stud grazed each sensitive bud with the most delicious pressure, leaving a wet, cooling trail of saliva in its wake that only served to heighten the throbbing ache between your legs.

By the time Terushima slid a calloused palm beneath the waistband of your jeans, you were already a dripping mess of desperate need. He didn't disappoint -- fingers finding your molten core with practiced ease. The artist hummed his appreciation against your collarbone as he traced your soaked slit, gathering the evidence of your arousal on dexterous digits.

"Jesus fucking Christ, look at this sweet cunt just begging for my cock," he groaned, nipping sharply at the underside of your jaw before laving the sting with his tongue. "And all mine...just gotta show you a bit more of my craftsmanship before I really get my fill, yeah?"

"Fuck...fuck...please," you whined, barely aware of the words spilling from your mouth as you writhed mindlessly beneath his relentless, expert touch. The blunt pads of Terushima's fingertips continued to circle your aching clit, alternating featherlight caresses with punishing strokes -- never giving you the leverage you needed to chase the impending release fluttering at the edge of your consciousness.

You were a mess of sensual desperation by the time he finally, mercifully slipped a finger inside your throbbing channel. His name was a breathy chant falling from your lips, a prayer for deliverance from the exquisite torment. Then, just as you felt your climax cresting -- a second finger plunged into the tight, slick sheath.

The sudden, delicious stretch was a shock to your system, forcing a startled gasp from your throat. Before you could catch your breath, Terushima was thrusting those thick, calloused digits with a rough, driving rhythm that had you sobbing and arching from the blinding sensations.

"That's it, give me what I need," he rasped against the shell of your ear. The guttural rasp was so full of pure masculine dominance and primal ownership that it nearly tipped you over the edge. But still, he kept his fingers just shy of hitting the right angle -- holding you right on the precipice until you were a wreck of incoherent babbling and shameless pleas for release.

Then, with one final twist and curl, the dam finally shattered. A scream ripped from your lungs as a wave of blinding ecstasy washed through you. Your core clenched violently around the invading digits, riding each crashing wave as Terushima worked you through the orgasm.

"So fucking beautiful...you have no idea how many times I've fantasized about this," he was saying, the words muffled against your sweat-dampened temple. "You coming undone around my fingers, so hot and wet and eager. Fuck, you're gonna feel so perfect around my cock. Just you wait..."

Terushima didn't stop pumping his fingers through the aftershocks, nor the filthy words dripping from his sinful mouth. Instead, he seemed to sense exactly how close you were to another crest and doubled down -- sliding a third finger into the pulsating grip of your channel. The sudden pressure was overwhelming, almost painful.

It was too much. Not enough. You were flying apart at the seams.

You were barely aware of the keening wail that accompanied the second crest -- a violent crescendo of sensations that left you gasping and limp against the padded chair. By the time your vision cleared, Terushima had pulled away to admire his handiwork. His fingers glistened with your release, and his pupils were blown wide with unmistakable hunger.

"I don't think I'm ever gonna get tired of seeing that look," he breathed after a protracted moment, voice raw with need. "Fuck, it's gonna be hard to walk out of this room right now. Pretty sure that was the hottest shit I've ever seen."

You couldn't find the words to respond, instead simply watching with glassy eyes as he dragged his soaked digits across his lower lip. When the tip of his pierced tongue darted out to lick the wetness clean, the blatant carnality of the gesture had another tremor racing through your limbs.

Terushima seemed to realize just how much he was affecting you -- if the sudden flash of pure lust across his chiseled features was any indication. As his eyes darkened impossibly further, his mouth quirked up into a devilish smirk.

"Y'know, there is something else we could do...to really put those creative juices of mine to work." The tone was a sinful rasp, dripping with sensual promise and wicked intent. It took a moment for the implication to sink in, but then your brain was short-circuiting again with a flood of white-hot arousal.

"You can't be serious," you managed in a broken whisper, unable to tear your gaze from the lewd picture his lips painted. "There's no way that will even fit."

Terushima just shrugged, the motion full of fluid grace as he rose smoothly to his feet. "Worth a shot," he rasped. "And who knows, maybe all the extra lubrication from those two orgasms you just gave me will make it easier..."

You swallowed hard, eyes flitting helplessly towards the very obvious tenting in the front of his pants. As if reading your mind, he made quick work of the zipper and shucked the garment entirely -- standing gloriously naked before you in all his chiseled, inked glory.

"Holy shit..." was all you could manage at the sight of him.

His erection was truly a work of art, in all the best possible ways. Thick and heavy, it curved upward with a slight upward tilt -- the tip already flushed an angry red and glistening with pre-cum. It looked impossibly large from your vantage point, though Terushima was already reaching down to fist the base with a lazy pump.

"Well? You wanna give it a try, or am I gonna have to take care of things myself?" The words were a playful rasp, laced with filthy insinuation and a challenge for you to rise to.

You felt the last vestiges of hesitation crumble away beneath the weight of your desire, giving way to the raw, primal urges screaming at you to throw yourself into Terushima's waiting embrace. In the blink of an eye, you were rising to your feet, stripping away the remaining clothing in a haphazard pile and stepping boldly forward to close the distance between you.

When his lean, tattooed torso collided with yours, the feeling was pure euphoria. Your mouths came together in a messy, passionate clash of tongues and teeth and desperation. Terushima's hands were everywhere, sliding over every curve and dip of your naked form like a man possessed.

Your own eager touch was no less frantic. You were consumed by the need to taste every inch of him, to feel the firm planes of his body pressed against you with delicious friction. As the heated slide of your skin against his became more frenzied, a litany of curses tumbled from Terushima's mouth -- a low, sensual stream of praise that had you nearly sobbing with need.

"You're gonna fuckin' kill me, but I have to have you. Now," he growled against the shell of your ear, punctuating the statement by fisting a hand in your hair and tugging hard. "Been dying to have you ride my cock, just like this. Need to feel this tight little cunt squeezing the cum out of me."

Before you could fully process the filthy declaration, you were being lifted off the ground. Then your back hit the padded recliner with a jarring impact that made you squeak in surprise. In a heartbeat, Terushima was bracketing your hips with his thighs and bracing both palms on either side of your head -- caging you in with the intoxicating heat of his body.

You whimpered at the heady sensation of him sliding his thick length between your legs, coating himself in your wetness. Then he was lining up at your entrance and pushing inside in a slow, relentless glide that had you arching and sobbing with the delicious pressure.

Terushima's head hung heavy above yours, jaw clenched tight and sweat-dampened strands of blonde hair sticking to his forehead. The corded muscles of his shoulders and neck stood out in sharp relief as he fought for control.

"Fuck me...so goddamn perfect, sweetheart. Gonna ruin me for any other pussy," he ground out. The gravelly rasp sent a fresh gush of liquid arousal spilling around his thick shaft. "Can't wait to feel you cumming all over my cock, milking me dry while I paint that pretty little cunt."

All you could do was whine incoherently in response, the sensation of being so perfectly stretched and full of him making it impossible to form words. It felt like you were being torn apart in the most glorious way possible, the sweetest ache throbbing between your thighs.

When Terushima finally started to move, you thought you might fly apart from the intensity. He pulled out slowly before slamming home in a powerful thrust that had you crying out and clawing at his shoulders. Each successive movement was more forceful than the last, the tempo building into a brutal rhythm that left you breathless and reeling.

Your entire world shrank down to the single point of contact where your bodies moved as one. Terushima was growling unintelligible filth in your ear, telling you how perfect and tight and wet you were, how he couldn't wait to see you come all over his cock. The filthy words stoked the flames of your pleasure, the mounting pressure reaching an impossible pitch.

Just when you thought you couldn't possibly take anymore, Terushima reached down between your sweat-slickened bodies and found your swollen clit. His expert touch was like an electrical current, sending bolts of sizzling pleasure ricocheting through every nerve ending. You felt the dam inside you breaking, the release coming in a violent torrent that had you screaming his name and shaking beneath him.

Terushima was right behind you, groaning and grinding his pelvis against yours as his cock twitched and pulsed. Then he was cumming inside you in thick, hot spurts. His lips were on yours, devouring you in a kiss full of pure primal passion and need. You clung to him with a ferocity that should have alarmed you, but it was impossible to care.

"Fuuuuck...you are everything I dreamed and more," Terushima rasped against the sweat-slicked column of your throat. The words were barely coherent, but they sent a thrill of pleasure and satisfaction rushing through your veins. "

You hummed in agreement, relishing the warm, heavy weight of his body on top of yours. After a moment, he stirred and pressed a lazy, lingering kiss against your mouth.

"Y'know, we still got time before our next appointment...and I'm sure as hell not finished with you yet," he murmured. There was an undercurrent of suggestion in the graveled tone, and the implication was enough to have your core clenching around him.

"Better not be," you shot back, nipping at his bottom lip. "Because we're definitely adding rush fees to that tab."

"Mmmm...you're gonna pay in the best way possible, baby. Trust me."

[sweet-as-kiwis]

Plus side to having a boring class that only meets once a week: I only have to sit through two hours of Bullshit once

Downsides: I FUCKING FORGOT ABOUT THE CLASS IT STARTED 40 MINUTES AGO FUCK

[saetoru]

RATE MY PROFESSOR! — GOJO SATORU & GETO SUGURU.

kinktober day one — threesomes ; find masterlist here

synopsis. you’re professor gojo’s TA—the catch? you both are romantically involved. what do you do when professor geto happens to accidentally walk in on you giving a blowjob? let him fuck you so he keeps his mouth shut and doesn’t tell a soul, of course

length. 5.1k words (deep, big, heavy sigh)

contents. minors do not interact, fem! reader, college au, teacher-student relationships, prof! satoru + suguru, TA! reader, power imbalance, age gaps (reader is early twenties and satoru + suguru are early thirties), semi public sex (at campus in satoru’s office), suguru walking in on you and satoru, threesomes, fingering + blowjobs + hair pulling + throat fucking + cum swallowing (satoru), male masturbation + edging (suguru), unprotected sex + (one) clit slap + creampie (suguru), pet names (baby, sweetheart, angel, princess, pretty girl, good girl), not proof read—i am a raw dog kinda gal

notes. i would highly discourage having intimate relations with a professor—but….if your professor looks like gojo or geto, i’m blind babe. i ain’t see nothing. i won’t tell a soul

“you guys wanna get lunch?” nobara hums, “we’re all here.”

megumi, as always, looks like he’s about to say no—he probably wants to go home as quickly as possible. but that’s not an option because before he can, yuji has already piped up with an enthusiastic, “yeah! i’m down.”

you fiddle your fingers nervously—how are you supposed to get out of this one? you’d just used the excuse of grading assignments for satoru yesterday, and surely you couldn’t possibly have a fresh pile of them to grade again within twenty-four hours, right? it’d be a suspicious excuse, especially one for nobara, who seems to sniff out a lie a little too easily. 

it’s not that you don’t want to hang out with your friends, you love them. really. but you promised you’d be in satoru’s office in fifteen minutes—and you’re not about to keep him waiting, so lunch will have to wait for another time.

you’re still thinking of a usable excuse when she turns to you herself, unimpressed as she dryly says, “i assume you have some midterm review to help him polish or something,” she grumbles, “gojo is so lazy,” she scoffs.

oh—well, that wasn’t very hard. she’s just made it ten times easier for you. nobara has handed you the perfect excuse right in the palm of your hand, and before you can even play it off casually, yuji cuts in and distracts her. bless yuji, you think to yourself.

“hey, professor gojo is a great guy! we all passed with an A! isn’t that great?”

“everyone gets an A in his class, dumbass,” megumi grunts, rolling his eyes, “not getting an A in his class practically means you’re deliberately trying to do poorly.”

on campus, professor gojo is a fan favorite—his rate my professor score is a perfect five stars, and most of the students around campus rave about him. why? because he gives out the letter grade A+ like it’s candy. anyone would love a professor like that. 

he doesn’t ever take attendance or knock your grade down when you skip class, his assignments are always easy to google answers to, and the quizzes have unlimited time and attempts. his tests are straightforward enough that even if you never pay attention, doing the review he uploads is sure to help you cram enough to pass. and what’s better? he always adds a generous curve. not only that, but professor gojo is a friendly guy—he loves talking to his students, loves to ramble away if you stop him in the halls or visit during office hours, loves to listen to your stories and nod along in interest, loves to crack jokes and have a good laugh.

everyone loves professor gojo. and when they leave his class with an A+, they love him even more. 

you had an A+ in physics yourself when you took his class—and you hate physics. you hated it in high school, and you hate it now. but for gojo satoru? you’re almost a physics enthusiast. professor gojo—or rather, satoru, as you call him now, takes a liking to you. a very…strong liking, if you will. 

it all starts on a fateful monday afternoon two semesters ago—it’s one thirty pm, the busiest hour on campus. sometimes, it feels like everyone takes classes at one pm—and as such, getting a table in the university coffee shop is almost impossible. you’re just about to give up and leave with your coffee and sandwich after scanning the place when a wave of a hand catches your attention. 

it’s professor gojo. 

need a seat? he asks you, gesturing at the chair in front of him at his table—it’s a smooth, amused little drawl, the way he talks. it’s almost always a borderline teasing tone, and his voice is low enough that it sounds oddly enticing. you’ve heard enough girls lust over his voice in class to know you’re not the only one who sometimes appreciates the sound. 

you try to insist that you wouldn’t want to intrude, but professor gojo is a nice guy; always looks out for his students and helps them out. so, when he insists that he doesn’t mind you taking the spare seat as he grades a few assignments, well…you decide to sheepishly thank him and sit across from him, finally having somewhere to sit and eat before you’re off to your next class. 

and then it begins.

every now and then, you sit across from your physics professor in the crowded coffee shop on campus as you enjoy a cold brew and a sandwich before your next class. somehow, he always manages to snatch a table, and somehow, you always manage to find him. you like to ramble to him sometimes—how professor nanami is a bit too strict for your liking (he giggles at that), how professor ieri always seems too tired and miserable to be here (he nods and agrees), and how professor geto is nice, but he takes literature pretty seriously (he gives you an amused look at that as he hums.)

somewhere along the line, he asks you to be his TA for the following semester—and somewhere further along that line…well, perhaps the one-on-one talks as you sit together at a table for two felt a little too close to something of a romantic setting because you and professor gojo kiss in his office while he calls you in to explain your TA responsibilities. 

that was never supposed to happen. 

you don’t even remember who leaned in first, or whose arms were the first to wrap around the other, or who tugged who closer, but you both kiss. and then some. and then it happens again, and again, and again—and, well…you’re professor gojo’s, or better yet, satoru’s best kept secret.

you go to his office to grade assignments for him—in between if he steals a few kisses, who’s to know? sometimes, he’s a bit riskier, likes to spread his legs and free his cock and have your hand stroke him as he eyes the door. it’s always a nice view to watch him unbutton a few buttons of his shirt and bite back moans. other days, he likes to slip his hand past your waistband and toy with your clit—the amused glint in his eyes, as he tells you not to get distracted and keep grading when you gasp always, earns him a sharp glare.

it’s like that for the semester, just you and him in his little office where you can break the rules in the safety of secrecy. 

that is, until now. 

admittedly, this isn’t the best time to be doing this—professor geto likes to have lunch with satoru around this time, and you know you’re cutting it close…but he just looks so pretty like this, head fallen back against his chair as his lips part with a soft gasp.

you’re on your knees, looking up as you suck on the tip of his stiff cock before taking him down your throat, bobbing your head up and down. it’s a rewarding position to be in—to have the hot, loved, campus favorite professor that everyone thirsts over falling apart in your mouth, hands gripping the arms of his chair as he pants harshly above you.

he looks pretty—always does, always looks good enough that you can feel the ache between your legs get worse. the messy strands of his hair stick to his damp forehead, and his lips are always so pink and plump when he bites them like that, and who can forget the way his eyes turn just a shade darker of that bright blue?

you hum around him, making him groan as he mumbles, “f-fuck, you’re so good, sweetheart—always know how to make me feel good.”

you press a kiss to his tip, smearing the bead of pre cum leaking from his slit along your lips before licking them clean—he closes his eyes and groans at that. you can’t help but giggle, can’t help but press more kisses along his hardened length until you’re at the base of his cock. 

“pretty little lips,” he hums, reaching to rub his thumb over your bottom lip as you open your mouth, letting him slip into your mouth—he hums approvingly as your tongue swirls around the digit, sucking slowly. “‘s like you were made for taking me, huh?”

“‘course i was,” you grin cheekily—and then you’re back to sucking on his cock, tongue rubbing over that thick vein you love to trace and reaching a hand to play with his balls. he moans—it’s low but still whiny enough that you can’t help but feel so proud at how needy he is, how desperately he always wants you. no matter the risk.

except the risk is probably not the wisest one to test today because just as satoru lets out a particularly loud whine when you swallow around him, the door clicks open and…

oh. 

oh no. 

this…this isn’t good—this is terrible, in fact. this is the worst possible outcome to the worst possible thing you’ve done, and now you’re screwed. entirely destroyed, in fact—the both of you. here goes your admission and your progress on your degree, and here goes satoru’s entire career and everything he’s worked for, and all because you couldn’t help but give him a blowjob in the middle of his office with the door unlocked where his best friend can walk right in and get a full view.

and worse? this best friend of his happens to be another professor on campus who you happen to have had just last semester. you’re sure he knows you; you’re his former student, after all, and he must certainly know his best friend’s TA. 

professor geto blinks—his eyes go back and forth between you and satoru and the still-hard cock between his legs that’s glistening with your spit as you sit on your knees. yeah—there’s no explaining this one.

“well,” he says blankly, “i guess that’s on me for not knocking, huh?”

“suguru,” satoru grumbles, “some of us are busy y’know? can’t you come back later?”

you turn to satoru in shock—how can he be so normal about this? how can he just casually act like this is some random hook-up his friend walked in on instead of a (very illegal and very unprofessional) teacher-student relationship that could get the two of you in more trouble than you can comprehend? 

but professor geto doesn’t seem even the slightest bit concerned. there’s no look of disgust or panic or even anger at you and satoru for your unprofessional habits. there’s no alarm at the distasteful activities you’re doing in the middle of a university office where anyone could potentially walk in on. and then there’s satoru—he doesn’t even bother making himself decent or pulling you from your knees.

no, instead, he looks at professor geto in slight irritation as the latter stands there. 

“so this is what you’re always busy doing in your office, huh?” professor geto hums, chuckling in amusement, “i have to say, you at least have good taste, satoru. she’s excellent in and outside the classroom, it seems.”

“yeah, she’s a keeper,” satoru hums, cupping your cheek as he grins down at you, “now if you don’t mind, suguru, we’re in the middle of something.”

“and what do you plan on doing if this gets around?” professor geto raises a brow, unimpressed.

you look at him in panic at that—surely…surely he can’t mean that he would be the one to spread this around, right? surely he wouldn’t throw his best friend under the bus, correct? if not for you, then for satoru’s sake, he’d never let this information find another soul. otherwise…otherwise you’ll both lose everything. all the hard work and progress you’ve made, all of satoru’s experience and years building his career, and all the future opportunities you had coming up—all of it will be for nothing if professor geto says one word. 

people wouldn’t have a hard time believing it either, you think. sometimes your own friends like to poke fun at you themselves. 

you’re always with him, are you sure you’re not in love with the guy at this point? nobara always likes to snort at you.

why does professor gojo even keep you around? you’re too lazy—you must give good head, megumi tends to tease as he raises a brow with amused eyes.

with how often you’re in professor gojo’s room, you might as well have a crush on him, yuji sometimes giggles.

surely, with how often you’re seen in the coffee shop with him as he grades papers and how often he likes to tease you when you show up to his classroom sometimes to drop off papers, students would certainly take the rumors and spread them like wildfire if professor geto says even the littlest thing. 

you look at him with wobbly lips as you whisper, “please don’t tell anyone,” you sniffle, “i…maybe there’s something we can do…to keep you from…”

the two of them look at you in shock—they stare at you for a moment, stare at the crystalline tears welling up in your eyes, at the soft little tremor in your lips, at the sweet little sniffles you try to hide. then, as if in sync, their eyes meet each other’s before finding you once more.

“oh, that’s precious,” professor geto chuckles, “she really is a keeper, satoru—she even looks pretty when she cries. i’m almost jealous.”

“don’t look for too long, suguru,” satoru grumbles—and then, “listen, sweetheart, you don’t have to worry. suguru’s not gonna—”

“well, if there is something you’d wanna do for me,” professor geto cuts satoru off, his voice a low drawl as he walks closer, hand cupping your jaw as he tilts your face up, “i suppose i can keep my mouth shut.”

“anything,” you nod quickly.

you’re so eager to please, he thinks—so perfect and sweet and pliant, that suguru thinks he might actually really be jealous that somehow, it was satoru who caught your attention. how did this all start? when did it start? how long has it been going on? do you have real feelings for each other? or is it just a pleasurable business kind of deal? do you meet up outside of campus? does he take you to the next town over to freely walk around with you on dates? do you kiss sweetly sometimes instead of with hunger? have you ever spent a night in his bed? do you sleep better beside each other, wrapped in the other’s arms?

there are so many, many questions suguru wants to ask. the potential answers to all of them make him a bit more unhappy than he cares to admit. something in him wonders how things might’ve had to play out in order to land you in his office instead—but…but if you’re offering anything, why not take advantage of the offer?

“anything?” he asks, looking at you amused, “you know, princess, anything is a dangerous offer. what if i asked to join? what if i asked to fuck you here in this office so your secret is safe?”

you blink up at him for a moment at his words—they’re a bit shocking. professor geto…doesn’t think this is wrong? clearly, he doesn’t if he’s willing to take part. but that doesn’t sound half bad. not even in the slightest. 

they’re a popular pair: professor gojo and geto are all people on campus ever talk about. those two professors who happen to be best friends. they’re not much older than you either—can’t be past their early thirties, even if they don’t look a day over twenty. 

did you know they used to go to college together? i heard they’ve known each other since high school. apparently, they applied to work here together and only took the offer up once the other agreed. it’s all people ever gossip about when they mention them both. it’s always about how close they are, how deep their bond is, how there is never one without the other. and then, of course, there are those…the less than appropriate comments you occasionally hear the other girls make. i bet professor gojo gives the best head—he’s always sucking on some lollipop. i’d let professor geto do nasty things to me while i read his literature books out loud to him—he’s too fine. i can take both of them—and i don’t mean their classes. 

it’s…not exactly a bad offer that he gives you, you think to yourself. it’s an enticing one, in fact. you get to have them both—professor geto isn’t any less attractive than satoru and…and well, you’d really like for him to keep this a secret, so it’s a bit of a win-win. plus, you’re sure he wouldn’t risk spilling such delicate information when it would put his career at risk, too—it seems like the perfect leverage.

you look at your old literature professor with a nod as you murmur, “then i’d say you should make sure to lock the door this time—we don’t want to make the same mistake twice, do we?”

his eyes sparkle in amusement at that, a low chuckle falling from his pretty lips as he shakes his head at you—you’re even better than he expected. satoru is so, so lucky he’s got to have you to himself all this time. it’s criminally unfair. 

“hey,” satoru pouts from behind, still sitting in his chair and still painfully hard as his throbbing cock sits between his legs unattended. “you both are forgetting about me,” he whines.

professor geto—or rather, suguru, you suppose, only looks at his best friend in amusement. “now, satoru—what have i always told you about sharing? here—” he walks over and pulls satoru to stand before taking the seat himself and patting his thigh as he looks at you with a sly grin, “why don’t i get to feel your pussy, and satoru can have your mouth like before? then we both get what we want.”

“bossy as ever, suguru,” satoru chuckles, but there’s something in his eyes—something darker and more excited than you’ve ever seen them.

“get her ready for me,” suguru hums, fingers making quick work to unbuckle his belt and free his hardened cock. you can’t help but stare, can’t help but watch as he wraps his fist around his hardened length and runs his thumb through his slit with a low moan. 

he’s not as long, but he’s thicker than satoru—you can easily tell he won’t be any easier to take. you watch attentively as he traces the thick vein along the side of his cock with this thumb as he strokes upward, rolling around his tip before stroking down and squeezing at the base. you watch his lips tug between his teeth, a soft moan ripping from his throat as he touches himself in the way he likes best.

you’ll remember what he likes, you think—you can sense this might not be your first and last opportunity to see suguru like this. and next time? well, next time, it’ll be your hand touching his cock and pulling those pretty little sighs and groans from him instead of his own.

“eyes on me, sweetheart,” satoru hums, pulling you to stand before gently guiding your back to fall against his desk, fingers looping into your waistband and pulling your pants down your legs. you can hear the sharp inhale suguru takes as soon as the wetness of your folds is on display, as soon as your puffy clit and dripping pussy are there for him to see so clearly. “watch carefully, suguru,” satoru grins, “she’s pretty when she cums.”

“i can imagine,” suguru muses, “alright then. show me.”

instantly, satoru’s fingers are intruding into your cunt—it’s familiar, the sensation of his digits bullying past your folds and curling against your sweet spot. he’s already knuckles deep, already pressing the tips of his fingers into the back of your walls as far as they’ll go, spreading you open and scissoring you apart. it feels good—it always does, and when his palm rolls across your clit? you can’t help but let out a whiny moan that earns a groan from suguru as he fists his cock tighter. 

“god, she even sounds so pretty,” he pants, watching as satoru’s fingers slip in and out of your pretty cunt, at the way it all but sucks them in itself as it flutters around him. everything about you is perfect—but your face is by far suguru’s favorite. the way it twists with pleasure as satoru slams his fingers against your spot mercilessly with every thrust of his wrist has him fighting off his orgasm—his fist slowing down to a teasing edge as he grunts at the way he lets his pleasure die down for the sake of really feeling you. 

“that feel good, angel?” satoru asks, grinning down at you. 

you nod quickly, head thrown back against the wooden desk as you stutter, “y-yes…s-so good, toru.”

“toru?” suguru asks, “do i get a nickname too? make sure you come up with one for me, yeah?”

it’s almost like you don’t hear him, too busy on the way satoru drags along your walls with every time his fingers sink into you. “toru, toru—s-slow down, ‘m g-gonna…”

“slow down?” satoru gasps—his pace only quickens at that as he gives you a mocking pout, “you want me to slow down, sweetheart? you never ask me to slow down, it’s always faster, toru. faster, please! from you. you don’t wanna give suguru the wrong idea, do you? he’ll think i haven’t taught you how to take it like a good girl.”

suguru snorts at that, slowly dragging his hand up and down his sensitive cock—it’s red at the tip, flushed, and leaky enough that it’s easy to tell he’s aching for release.

“hurry up, satoru,” he grits, biting his lip as he fights back another orgasm and stills his hand, keeping it tightened around the base of his length, “we haven’t got all day.”

“can’t rush making my pretty girl cum, suguru,” satoru gasps, “she deserves the best. look at this pussy—” he gives pulls his fingers out to give your clit attention, rubbing your slick over the sensitive bud as you gasp, writhing over his desk, “—see how perfect it is? you gotta treat it like that too.”

as if from his words alone, as if you get off on the way satoru praises your cunt to his best friend who watches you get stuffed to the brim with his fingers, you whimper before cumming—your pussy fluttering around nothing, walls spasming and dripping with slick as he toys with your clit. 

“toru—toru, ‘m cumming…cumming—oh,” you babble, thighs quivering as his thumb doesn’t let up from your abused clit, watching as your hand reaches for his wrist weakly to halt his movements. “‘s too much,” you sniffle.

“too much?” suguru gasps, “how will you take me, then, princess? don’t tell me you’re tapping out already?”

“nah,” satoru grins, chuckling, “she’s got plenty left in her. she can take it.” with that, he hooks an arm under your waist and helps you sit up, leaning down to kiss you softly as you let out a muffled whine against his lips. “you’re ready for suguru, aren’t you, baby? prepped you nice and good to take him, didn’t i?”

you nod, mumbling a soft, “uh huh,” in agreement.

“that’s my good girl,” he coos, grinning as he presses a wet kiss to your forehead. 

suguru, patient as ever with a stiff, aching cock standing between his muscled thighs, holds an arm out for you as he murmurs, “c’mere then, princess. can’t back out of our deal yet, can you?” you walk over to him on wobbly legs, letting him pull you to sit on his lap, back flush against his chest as his hands guide your hips. he taps the head of his cock against your clit as he lines your entrance up with his length before pulling you to sit, slowly inching you down on him bit by bit as he gasps at the way you squeeze around him instantly. “h-holy—fuck, such a tight fuckin’ pussy. ‘s like i can barely even move,” he grunts, chin resting on your shoulder as he pants.

satoru walks over, staring down at you as you’re seated on suguru’s lap before cupping your cheek and rubbing over the soft skin with his thumb. “you can take both of us, right sweetheart? you’re just too good not to, aren’t ya?”

you nod eagerly, letting the tip of his cock tap against your lip, tongue moving to lick across his slit and make him groan. he’s painfully hard—cock swollen and neglected for so long, you almost forgot that he’s been waiting for your mouth to take him again after being interrupted. your jaw slacks as you let him thrust his hips and fuck his length into you, tip hitting the back of your throat as you choke around him. 

“fuck,” satoru hisses lowly, biting his lip as his hands grab your hair and keep you in place while he ruts into your mouth, “fuck, baby. never get tired of how good this mouth feels—takes me so fuckin’ well. jus’ love feelin’ me down your throat, huh?”

you can’t do anything but let out a muffled cry, feeling the fat tip of suguru’s cock nudge against your sweet spot—it’s just as effortless: the way he finds your most sensitive part. just as effortless as satoru. maybe that’s why they get along so well, maybe they’re connected in that way. 

“oh, princess,” suguru moans, panting against your ear as he lets out a breathy moan, “fuck, that’s good—so, good. can hardly move with the way you’re squeezing me. greedy little pussy, isn’t it?”

you whine as you feel his arm wrap around you, finger rolling over your puffy clit as his hips snap upwards and fuck into you, cock dragging along your walls and stretching you enough that you can hardly think straight. he’s big—it feels like he’s almost splitting you open with his girth as his hips roll up and sink him deeper into your cunt.

“she’s…she’s perfect,” suguru pants, “keepin’ this all to yourself? how selfish of you, satoru.”

“she’s mine,” satoru whines, cock pushing past your lips as he speaks, the way your tongue glides along his vein making his cheeks flush as his eyes flutter shut and his mouth falls open with a breathless moan. “she’s too good to share with you. you d-don’t deserve her.”

“yeah? and you do?” suguru chuckles—it sounds more like a labored pant, his breath harsh as he groans into your neck when you flutter particularly tightly around him, forehead falling to dig into your shoulder, “she’s suckin’ me in. think she wants me. don’t you, pretty girl? you want me to cum inside you, right? make you mine too?”

“y-yes,” you mewl, popping off satoru’s length as you whimper when suguru chuckles and gives your clit a light slap, back arching against him as he pushes his cock past your folds again, “yes, wan’ it. wan’ it so, so bad—need it.”

“see,” he raises a brow towards satoru, “knew it.”

you can see the way satoru’s cock twitches at that—at the way you fall apart on suguru’s lap as the latter digs his head into your shoulder as he breathes harshly, chasing his release desperately as he ruts into your slick pussy. you can see the way satoru’s tip is flushed a harsh red, leaking with pre cum as he aches to spill cum down your throat, so you let him push past your lips once more—but not before giving his tip a delicate kiss. 

“she’s my girl,” satoru grunts, “mine, mine, mine—knows how to make me cum. kn-knows how to take me so good, right baby?”

and as if to answer him, you suck around his tip, swallowing around his length and making him groan as his hips stutter and cum paints your throat white as it fills your mouth. you try to swallow every drop, try to take what he gives you as he fucks into you desperately and chases the pleasure of his high. thick, hot ropes of cum spill from the corners of your lips as satoru fucks his load into you, panting as his hips sloppily roll and work himself through his orgasm.

“that’s right, sweetheart,” he groans lowly, “take it, yeah? god—fuck, feels so good, baby. ‘m c-cumming.”

you make a sound between a choked whine and sharp gasp as suguru’s thumb rubs harshly against your swollen clit, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as he groans, hips just as sloppy as satoru’s in his pace that it tells you he’s close too—and then he twitches into your pussy, cock burying into you once, twice, three more times before he groans too.

“gonna cum, princess? ‘cause ‘m gonna fuckin’ cum—fill you up and make you mine. you want that right? want me to—f-fuck, fuck ‘m close, so close,” he cuts himself off with a gasp, letting out a needy whine into your skin before spilling into you. you can feel hot, thick ropes of cum paint your walls as his tip nudges back into you and pushes his load as deep as he can.

and you fall apart too, coming undone a second time as your walls hug around him tightly, head falling back as you mewl a high pitched, “s-sugu—c-can’t…’s too much—”

“you can take it, pretty,” he hums, “know you can. you’re too precious not to, right?”

it’s messy—it’s downright filthy, in fact, the way his cum and your slick mix and drip along your inner thighs, making a mess on satoru’s chair. you pant as your pussy pulses around him before coming down from your high, falling slack in his arms against his chest as he chuckles and presses a kiss to your jaw. 

“fuck,” he breathes, “you’re something else. who’d have thought my favorite little student from a previous semester could do all that?”

“isn’t she a dime?” satoru chuckles proudly, reaching for the corner of your mouth with his thumb, collecting a stray drop of cum and pushing it back past your lips and onto your tongue, humming approvingly as you swallow. “precious, isn’t she?”

“of course,” suguru nods, with a grin, leaning to peck your shoulder, “so, tell me. which professor would you take again?”

satoru purses his lips as he glares. “this isn’t rate my professor, suguru. and don’t get used to thi—”

“well,” you hum, interrupting as you bat your lashes sweetly at both of them, “why i can’t just take both of you again?”

guess who’s posting their october first kinktober fic literally 40 mins before it’s october second ?? if it’s not procrastinated, it’s not reached its full potential

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

ring pop proposal ♡

fem reader, pure fluff, childhood friends to lovers lemme alone do not perceive me yk the drill by now, lil self indulgent fic cus i love childhood friends to lovers and puppy crushes, polar opposite’s trope, this reeks of my oc x canon katsu ship sooooo shh shh do not perceive.

the first person who realizes katsuki has a crush on you is his mom because when she comes to pick him up one day from kindergarten he suddenly mentions you. it’s an innocent little interaction he had with you that mitsuki doesn’t think much about at first, simply surprised her son managed to befriend someone outside of his little group of friends until he starts mentioning you more and more.

soon you’re the only thing he talks about and katsuki even starts begging her to have you come over to play. mitsuki is extremely curious to know what kind of person you are to have been able to enchant her son the way you have, she says it’s fine as long as your parents agree.

you’re a sweet little thing, almost the complete opposite of her little devil’s spawn. you’re polite and a little shy when you ask “ is it okay if i come to play at katsu’s house, please miss katsuki’s mom ?” and how could she say no to you ? she pulls at your cheek lovingly and her son almost snarls at her.

“no touchin’ !” he snarks, pulling you against him like you were his teddy bear.

mitsuki was the first to realize her son had a crush on you when you were always around. when he found something cool during a class trip you were there and whenever he was upset it was always because you had argued about something irrelevant that seemed so much bigger in the eyes of a child.

she realized because katsuki had, and in some ways, will always be rowdy. he’s rough and temperamental and moody—basically, he can be quite the brat. (she wonders where he gets that from a lot) but he’s different with you.

he’ll always be a little rough around the edges but it’s the thought that counts. he drags you around a little too hard but it's to show you something he knows you'd like and you repay him by being patient with him and letting him drag you around to his hearts content. he let’s you use the crayons he’d just denied another classmate seconds ago and when it’s really early in the morning and you’re still sleepy unlike your more energetic friend, he waits for you. sitting with you in the reading corner quietly commenting on a little bit of everything in the book you’re sharing until you’re awake enough to start the day because katsuki wanted you to be together through anything no matter what, starting the day without you was simply unimaginable.

you offer him your kindness and he repays you with his loyalty. acting like your guard dog, protecting you from everything and everyone he considers a threat to you. he goes a bit overboard but it’s the thought that counts and he’s definitely got the right intentions.

“ i’m g’nna marry yn when i grow up !” katsuki proclaims from the backseat of the car after mitsuki had come to pick him up. she looks at him through the rear view mirror only to see he’s not even looking at her, looking out the window somewhat longingly, watching as his school fades away from his sight, further and further and further away from you. she smiles to herself.

“yeah ?” she asks “yeah !” he responds proudly, crossing his arms “ i asked yn if she wanted to be my wife an’ she said yeah, so we’re gettin’ married !”

“huh. how’d you propose ? you don’t have a ring.” she jests.

katsuki responds immediately and exclaims he does have one, shuffling around to reach for something in his pocket. he pulls out a plastic ring pop holder, the candy on top is missing and mitsuki can imagine what happened to it.

“gave her one of these !”

“so that’s why you had me buy those from the store last time,” she hums. “ you ate it, though.”

katsuki tries to roll his eyes but just ends up looking up and to the side, mitsuki recognizes it as him trying to mimic what she does a lot and she snorts.

“well duh, we both did ! ‘f i kept it in my pocket it woulda gotten gross !” he defends. mitsuki simply responds with a hum, smile on her face growing larger as she hears her son happily chatting about the rest of his day with you.

she knows her katsuki is hard to handle. extremely so. but when she sees the way you both interact she can tell something is there. you don’t ‘handle’ him. you like being around him. you like playing and talking with him, she sees how happy you make him whenever you come over for playdates. he holds your hand when you get scared and you hug him tight and beam when you see him again after he’s gotten over a nasty cold.

she can tell you make her son happy and he does the same for you in the way children do with pinky promises and shy cheek kisses, kisses over tiny wounds and refusing to be separated whenever the rowdier one of you both gets his recess time taken away for being naughty.

mitsuki hopes this crush, this love you have for her son can grow along with you. she hopes you’ll stick around as katsuki grows up more and potentially more rowdy and rougher around the edges but even more enamored with you. and with the way her son is squirming around in his seat and tugging at his seatbelt, giddy about you accepting his ring pop proposal, she has a funny feeling you’ll be sticking around for a long time.

[envy-of-the-apple]

Sun Eats Moon

Dark!Gojo Satoru x reader

Word count: 9.1k

Part two: Earth Kills Moon

Synopsis: Your boss takes on Gojo Satoru as his newest client. Much to your relief, he doesn't seem to recognize you.

(Warnings: noncon, dubcon, rough sex, oral sex, bullying, harassment, one mention of choking, penetrative sex, afab!reader, coercion, forced relationships, implied baby trapping attempt, hint of pregnancy kink)

You wanted to quit the second you read the name. 

You should have. It would have been so easy to hand in your two weeks, tell your boss that you just couldn't. Or maybe you could have convinced one of the other paralegals to take your place. 

It's pathetic. Almost a decade had passed and you still felt yourself slink into the girl you once were, rolling under his thumb, utterly helpless. You should be better than that. You worked so hard to reach where you are now. 

You were different now, you told yourself over and over again. You were older, smarter. Besides, it'd been a decade, would he even remember you?

It's Higuruma who notices your restless fingers. You shouldn't have underestimated him, despite how exhausted he looks, nothing goes past your boss. He asks about it when you two are seated in a beige room, waiting for the client. 

"Is everything alright?" 

You're still staring out the window. How high were you? 16 stories, maybe even higher. Resentment, you can feel it rise up your throat, build throughout your body. Of course, he has fancy cars, pretty buildings, and limitless money. Men like him will never know what it's like to have nothing. All men were born equal. What a fucking joke. 

Higuruma shifts, and you jolt out of your thoughts. "Yes," you console, "apologies, I'm just tired." 

The lawyer hums, and you're not sure if he believes you or not. Before he can say anything, the frosted doors open. The rest of the legal team comes in, sitting at the long table you and Higuruma inhabited. 

He comes in last. He'd always had a liking for theatrics. 

Not much had changed within a decade. He was taller, bigger. He'd switched out of his high school uniform, opting for something more business-friendly. He still made heads turn. Became the center of attention. 

It's his smile that throws you. Sincere, real. Lingering on his face like extravagant jewelry. Hard not to notice. 

You react better than you anticipated. You don't shake or tremble or cry when he passes you. You just squeeze your fists, bunching your skirt in your palm. It helps. 

He sits down, right at the end, so everyone can see him. One foot elegantly crossed over the other. When he tilts his head, his soft white hair threatens to shift over brilliant blue eyes. 

"Well, I'm sure you don't need me to explain why we're all here." A few chuckles resonate from the small group. "Let's just do our best and hope nothing gets too out of hand."

His eyes slide over to meet yours, and you steel yourself for his eyes to widen. For something wicked and cruel and nasty to sink into his face. 

Nothing. 

Gojo Satoru maintains that same smile. The blaring sun. Painfully innocent. His gaze lasts barely a second before moving to the next face, and the next, and the next. 

"I look forward to working with all of you."                                     

𖤓

If you could describe Gojo Satoru in one word, it would be: celestial. 

He's like a shining star. Brighter than the sun. Everywhere he went, he was bound to attract attention. Much like how the Earth is drawn towards the sun, people are drawn towards Gojo Satoru. It's the natural order. 

But, if an insignificant planet resists the Sun's gravitational force, it'll get crushed. You learned this the hard way. 

Gojo had always been in your class for years. The third year was no different. Despite the commonality, you two never talked to each other. You had no reason to. Until the vending machine gave you two cartons, and you suddenly remembered from an overheard conversation that Gojo liked chocolate milk too. 

"Want it?" You hold it out to him during lunch break. He was in the middle of a boisterous conversation with his friend. They did intimidate you, but you had no reason to be scared. It's not like they were bullies.

Gojo's sunglasses dip down. He eyes what you're holding in your hand, before his gaze drifts back up to you. 

"The machine gave me extra," you supply, "do you want it?" 

"Oh, sure," he says after a moment. Your hands brush. "Thanks." 

You nod, and then you walk back to the cafeteria. It was meaningless. A favor between acquaintances. He was helping you more than you helped him. You didn't want to carry chocolate milk around in your backpack. You forgot about the interaction within a few hours. 

𖤓

The meeting ends hours later. When you stumble home, it's barely evening but you can still feel the stress creeping through your legs and arms. 

You go straight to your laptop. Fumbling through the keyboard, desperate, searching. 

He's famous. Of course, he is. In his mid-twenties, but already a multi-millionaire. The head of an extremely elite family. Your eyes scan picture after picture after picture. Photos of him drinking with models in skimpy bikinis. Fancy cars. Huge houses. Private jets. Gojo Satoru: the man behind Gojo Co., Gojo Satoru and supermodel Menza hinted at relationship, Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru. 

You pull away when it starts to burn, when the rage and sorrow become too much. He has everything. Everything he could want. He made you go through hell for months, and yet he never got punished for it. The universe rewards him with lavishness you'd never be able to touch. 

It's not fair. It's not fair. It's not fucking fair. 

Through your blinds, the sun happily shines. 

𖤓

You don't notice it until it becomes painfully unbearing.

Gojo calls you by your name now (until that day you bet he didn't even know you existed). He's like a ghost, constantly appearing out of nowhere to sling an arm around your shoulder, eager to chase off any of your friends to talk to you about things that don't matter.

He constantly offers to walk you home (and then Gojo ignores your refusals and does it anyway). It stays like that for a few days, never bordering beyond friendliness. You think he's harmless. Maybe he just hasn't had someone genuinely do a nice favor for him. Besides, you're flattered by the attention. Even you can be swayed by the pull of Gojo Satoru. It feels nice to be wanted. 

You reason it'll just be for another week. A week later, you two will be nothing but acquaintances, sometimes exchanging quick smiles during class. 

It doesn't truly dawn on you as to what he's doing until he comes out and says it. 

"What?" Because you must have misheard him. 

"We should," he says, not even bothering to repeat himself, "I mean, we're practically dating already. Let's just make it official." 

You stare at him. As always, he's utterly beautiful. The light of the setting sun makes his skin glow gold. Whenever he's walking you home is one of the rare times he removes those sunglasses. His eyes are like jewels, pretty things that you wish were yours. 

You laugh. It's high and panicky because you still think he's joking. He doesn't laugh with you. You stop. 

"Oh-oh, I'm sorry Gojo-I wasn't-I didn't think. I'm just not...interested in dating anyone right now. It's not you! I think-I think you're great, but it's just the wrong time, and school is getting so much busier and-" you keep rambling, coming up with excuse after excuse because you're convinced Gojo would cut you off with an awkward laugh, tell you it's fine. 

He doesn't do either, letting your flounderings get more and more pathetic. His smile had dropped. You can't read his expression anymore. 

Eventually, you grow quiet, standing with him in that silence. When that gets too much, you timidly tell him to have a goodnight and walk home. He doesn't follow, staying rooted to the sidewalk where you left him. You're not running away, you tell yourself over and over again. And yet, you can't help but feel relief as soon as you can't feel his eyes. 

Don't resist the Sun. It'll crush you. 

𖤓

It was something minuscule. 

Barely considered legal work. The case would most likely be finished in a couple of weeks. The defendant had nothing on Gojo Satoru, at least from what you and the other paralegals could see. You highly doubted it would even go to court. Higuruma always had a knack for bringing anyone to the table. Gojo would be let off from whatever he did without a hitch. No punishment. Just like always. 

"Word of advice, don't think about what happens in the private sector," Higuruma says, over whiskey. 

The firm was celebrating another victory at a fancy bar. You were still stewing over the face of that young woman's face when the judge ruled in your client's favor. She looked heartbroken. You can still remember the sleazy smile your client had given her. 

"It's a job," he says, "do it. Boost your resume, and get out." 

He takes another dainty sip of his glass. Tonight, the circles underneath his eyes seem even darker. "You're a young kid. Do something else with your life." 

When he offers to buy you a round, you accept. You think about that night sometimes, and you wonder if Higuruma wished someone else would have given him that advice when he was younger. 

Do the job, and get out. Easier said than done. Especially when the job involved Gojo Satoru. 

Associating with him was dangerous, you knew that firsthand, especially when he was interested in something you had. You'd left, but that wouldn't save you. The space of decades would not help. 

Burn Gojo once, he won't forgive you. Burn Gojo twice? You don't think there's anyone alive who did that. 

Over the coming days, you expect something from him. It's a nagging feeling in your stomach. The delayed response to a gunshot. Dread. You expect him to snap. Push. Break. 

He never does. Gojo remains pliant, the same to you as he remains to your boss. There's no additional touching, no disgusting nicknames, no scathing looks. Nothing. 

You don't get the confirmation until a week later, when Gojo stops you near the elevator. 

"Higuruma's...assistant, right? Sorry, never got your name," he says, and you steel yourself because the two of you are alone and here it comes but if you yell loudly enough maybe-

"He asked for some paperwork, and I finally found it for him." Gojo hands you a stack of sheets with a cheery smile. "You won't mind giving that to him, will ya? Thanks!" 

Just as quickly as he arrives, he leaves, shoes clicking down the hall as he goes. You can only stare at his rescinding back, the palpable feeling of relief nearly making your knees buckle. 

The best news you could have possibly received. Gojo Satoru had completely forgotten about you. 

When you got home later that evening, the rain was heavy, and the sun was nowhere to be seen. 

𖤓

You don't have proof it was him. 

It's unjust to accuse people of things they didn't do. You lack any evidence. It could have easily started by itself. You'd always been meek and timid. People were bound to take advantage of that. 

But the timing was just too perfect for it to not be caused by him. 

In the weeks following the incident with Gojo, school went from tolerant to hell. It started small, at first. Tiny. Unoticable. Insignificant. Some people (Gojo's lackeys, you'd later realize), would nudge you as they passed you by the halls. They apologized, mid-laugh, and in the beginning, you truly thought they were sincere. Then, the nudges turned into pushes, then shoves. That's when you knew you had a target on your back. 

At first, you found it kind of hard to believe. Bullying? It sounded so childish. Something reserved for petty middle schoolers. You were in your final year of high school. You were already an adult. You laughed it off, for a bit. Mostly because it was so ridiculous. Only when it starts becoming more severe, more apparent that you were his target, do you start taking things more seriously.

There was no proof, but everyone knew it was Gojo. And being on Gojo's bad side wasn't something people were willing to risk. One by one, your friends started to disappear, reducing their involvement by sending strained smiles during passing period. The more stubborn ones who were more adamant about staying by your side were chased away too. They'd skip school for a few days, before coming back and completely ignoring you.

Teachers and staff were no help either. Why would they? Gojo's family held them in the palm of their hand. The most your homeroom teacher would do was avert his eyes whenever something was thrown at you for the third time in class, and quietly remind students to settle down. 

You fell on the ground with an embarrassing thump. A chorus of laughter, and a mocking 'sorry' is all you hear from the crowd. Other students step over your scattered papers, giving you looks of sympathy but never bothering to help. You'd call them cowards, but you know you'd do the same.

Instead, you focus on collecting your papers. You avoid the lump in your throat. The tears that threaten to break over your waterline. It's humiliating, being stuck on the floor like this. It's only Wednesday, but you already feel like breaking.

Hands, scarred, move past you, collecting the rest of the sheets. His face is carefully blank as Geto Suguru neatly tucks his share all in one piece before handing it to you. You give your thanks. He ignores it. 

“Are you hurt?” Geto asks, his voice barely loud enough to hear.

You think you scrapped your knee during the fall, but other than your pride, you're fine. You shake your head. Geto sighs. It's not out of relief.

“That's good,” he says anyway.

You found it ironic that Gojo's best friend is the only one who bothers to help you these days. It makes sense, in a way. It's not like he'll send his goons to Geto, instead. In this solar system, Geto Suguru is the only person unaffected by Gojo's solar flares. 

You work in relative silence, collecting the mess that fell out of your bag. Geto hands you the last of the supplies, idly watching as you tuck them away.

“Take my advice,” he says just before he leaves, “give in.”

He stands up. Geto Suguru has always been taller than you, but now the difference feels even worse. When he looks down at you, a flicker of pity lingers in his eyes. It's gone before it can mean anything. 

“It'll only get worse from here if you don't.”

Worse, he had said. God, what could be worse? You were already at rock bottom. All you have left is your dignity. Something you intend on gritting your teeth to keep.

You quickly learned something about Geto Suguru: he knew his best friend. 

Friday. The end of the worst week of your life has finally arrived. The week after is break, and then maybe Gojo will move onto some other hyperfixation, and finally leave you alone.

Classes were out. You were done, free to run home and cry the entire week away. And then, you noticed, your locker was open.

Smashed in, was a better term. Completely, irrevocably, destroyed. It looked like someone had taken a wooden bat to repeatedly smash in the metal until it cracked open like an egg. 

You don't want to look, but you have to. The busted door is barely hanging on its hinges when you push it open. 

It's worse than anything you could think of. 

Your books, textbooks, journals, are all torn apart and written on. All the contents of your bag have been thrown around. Your assignments, your notes, your pens and pencils. But it's your laptop that makes your throat stop. Smashed, broken without any hope of being salvageable. Your everything was in there. Why why why would he do this to you? 

This wasn't bullying. 

This was abuse. 

Fuck pride. Fuck dignity.

You were so tired. 

Despite the hell his lackeys put you through. Gojo Satoru himself never bothered you. In fact, you hadn't seen him all week. He doesn't make himself impossible to find. You know where his group hangs out after school. You're barely holding yourself together when you hear his voice. His pretty laugh. You don't care about how you look, close to breaking, your voice high-pitched and shaky. 

"Why?" 

Your voice catches his attention. He falls into silence, just like the rest of the group. Gojo surveys you for a moment. There's a scoff, a hint of amusement before he waves off the rest of the group. 

"Get lost." 

They comply, dispersing in multiple directions. For the first time, in a long while, you and Gojo are left alone. You and Gojo are left, alone. 

"Well?" he tilts his head, completely bored. 

"What do I have to do?" You ask desperately, "What-what do I have to do to make this all stop? Please I'll-I'll do anything, just-just make it-" 

It's all too much. You can't hold your sobs in, bursting into tears as you fumble through your words. He tuts in mock pity. You flinch when you feel his hand against your cheek, but he doesn't let you shy away. 

"Anything?" He asks when your sobs simmer into hushed whimpers, "Really? Anything?" 

You blink, looking up at him with rough teary eyes. He's grinning, wide and manic. Your heart drops when he lowers himself to whisper in your ear. 

"Anything, right?" 

You nod once. He sighs in pure delight. His breath tickles your cheek. 

"Get on your knees." 

You jerk back, but Gojo doesn't let you go far, a hand on your shoulder, keeping you rooted on the spot. At your look of pure panic, he only laughs a little. 

"I-I-Gojo you-" 

"And call me Satoru now. Since we're gonna get to know each other a lot better," he interrupts with a chiding grin, ignoring your wide eyes. "What? I thought you said anything, right?" 

He's asking, but it's clear you don't get a choice anymore. His grip on your shoulder is tight, close to crushing skin and bone. You're trapped. No, you were trapped the moment you talked to Gojo Satoru. 

To think this all started because of two cartons of chocolate milk. 

You relent when his grip gets too painful, sinking down to your knees. The grass is cool, and you know it will leave damp spots on your skirt, letting everyone know what you did for him. 

"Good girl," he coos, and you shudder at his hand petting your hair. Like you're some precious pet. To him, maybe you are. How could anyone think of treating a human like this? You should be grateful he does it for you, instead of demanding you to pull him out. Still, the jiggle of his belt makes you wince. You turn away, not being able to bring yourself to look. Only when the tip of his cock reaches your peripheral, do you look back. It's big. You should have expected it, considering his height. It's already leaking, a bead of precum that makes you shudder. He moves forward and you instinctively grip his thigh. 

"Gojo I-" 

"Nuh-uh. Satoru," he ununciates, "Satoru. You gotta' start listening to me baby, or else we're gonna have problems." 

You look down at the grass. Green, soft. 

"Satoru." 

His eyes flash in satisfaction. 

"Open up, pretty girl." 

The last of your fight disappears, sinks into the soft grass. You swallow, once, before you take him. It's a slow, torturous process. He's too big, your jaw is already starting to ache. Satoru barely notices your discomfort, sighing in contentment when you start to gag on his cock, reaching down to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. 

You make a muffled gurgle and he tilts his head down. His sunglasses fall forward, two pretty eyes stare at you. 

"What? Don't act like this is your first time-" he stops himself, mid-thought. 

"Wait...this can't be your first time, right?" 

If you weren't humiliated enough. You can't even lie, averting your eyes to avoid any further shame. 

"Poor baby," Satoru says, all too delighted, "lemme' walk you through it. Gotta' suck on it, just like a lollipop-that's it-use your tongue," he encourages, still gripping his cock in his hand, like he was feeding it to you. 

You can feel your mouth open wider. Tears stream down your face, not just from your pride, but also from pain. Satoru lets you take him in like this for a few more moments, just enjoying your warm mouth. 

"There we go," he breathes, "take-fuck-take all of me." 

But Satoru isn't known for his patience. You've barely taken all of him in yet before he grabs your hair to fuck your throat properly. You choke, sputtering all over his cock. He barely pays you any mind, his head thrown back as he rams himself down your mouth without a care in the world. 

"Y'know, our first time together could-could have been nicer," he says through gritted teeth, the heat was starting to get to him, "but you just had to go and mess it up, huh?" 

If you were stronger. If you were braver. You would have rejected it. Screamed. Fought. At the very least, you would have denied his delusions. But you weren't strong. You weren't brave. You were weak. Stupid. This was all your fault. Had you just given in the moment he asked, this wouldn't be happening to you. Or maybe, he'd be a bit nicer about it. 

He hisses, gripping the back of your head before something warm and disgusting fills your mouth. Above you, Satoru lets out a shameless groan, a mix of your name as well as a curse. He releases you then, finally letting you sink to the floor. You fall forward, resting on your hands and knees, panting, trying to regain your breath, some semblance of sanity. You can still taste him. It's salty, a sickly tang. You spit as much as you can on the grass. It doesn't help. 

He kneels, getting down to your level. With the way he's silently watching you, you know he's waiting for the right answer this time. 

Don't resist the Sun. It'll crush you. 

So, you drop your gaze down. You take in a deep long stilted breath. 

"Yes, Satoru," you say, voice quiet, pliant, "I'll go out with you." 

His demeanor drops in just a second. He smiles, painfully innocent, like you hadn't spent the last few moments choking on his cock. He cups your face with both hands and you wonder how he could look at you like that, gently, as though you weren't covered in tears and his cum. 

(You still feel it drip down your mouth. Tonight, when he finally lets you go home you'll cry for hours in the shower, hoping the water will wash away all the shame you feel. It won't.)

"Finally!" He exclaims, laughing, light, happy, elated, "I'm so glad you finally came around. I was starting to think I was ugly or something." 

 You stay like that for a while. Underneath him. You let his hands run up and down your body, like he's feeling the space that makes up you. Soon, you'd realize Gojo Satoru liked to touch things that were beneath him. A thought muddles it's way through your numb brain. You bring yourself to look at him. 

"Satoru?" you ask. He sighs in satisfaction, stroking your hair. 

"My laptop...it's broken." 

You didn't know what else to say. It sounded accusatory, even to your ears. Righteous. You wondered if he heard it too, if he'd do something about it. 

Satoru only scoffs.

“that old thing?” You flinch. It was a gift from your aunt, you highly doubted he cared enough about the sentimental. He hugs you closer, almost like a snake, constricting you within its scales before it devours you. 

(You think the worst part is that he didn't even deny it.)

“I'll just get you a new one, baby.”

He walks you home later that evening. When he demands a kiss, you comply, numbly pressing your aching lips to his. 

The sunset is pretty today. 

𖤓

It's not a particularly hard case, but Gojo has a knack for keeping those who work for him busy. Higuruma had asked you to stay behind, once again. The two of you were stuck alone in the office building, a room that Gojo had graciously supplied. 

You were milling through a stack of papers when someone new walked in. You didn't recognize her. She was tall, pretty, sparkling jewelry littered her neck and wrists. Your eyes drifted up and down her outfit, something that definitely wasn't business-appropriate. A part of you wants to ask where she got that lipgloss from. 

"Oh," she tilts her head, surveying the two of you with pretty eyes, "is Sato not here?" 

You inwardly cringe at the nickname, but choose not to show it. Higuruma is the one who saves you, in the end. He speaks on both of your behalf. 

"Mr. Gojo isn't here at the moment," he says, "feel free to wait." 

She does as she's told, plopping down on a seat right next to her. Higuruma goes back to ignoring her, dutiful in everything like he always is. You, on the other hand, don't like the way some of the other associates eye her legs. When you wordlessly hand her your jacket, she gratefully accepts. 

"Thanks. I love your bag, by the way," she cheerily says and a part of you feels bad for her. 

Minutes pass. She crosses her legs and then uncrosses them. When she crosses them again, you have to look up from your paperwork and ask if she's feeling alright. 

"Just nervous," she admits, "I-I haven't seen Sato since our...last meeting." 

Everyone in the vicinity knows this wasn't a casual business meeting, you don't get why she's avoiding the elephant like that. Probably to save face. It's clear from her behavior that she wasn't expecting so many visitors, so perhaps this situation is new for her. You found it strange that a booty call would be called up to an office building, especially when people were clearly watching, but you doubted Mr. Gojo cared about that. He was always shameless in that regard, uncaring about anyone's reputation, even his own. That's why he's in this legal mess in the first place. Besides, you were part of Gojo's Satoru's legal team. Part of your job is to be discreet about his extracurricular affairs. 

Gojo Satoru hadn't changed at all since high school. Why would he? His personality has gotten him this far, after all. The Sun would never change, it's a constant sphere of fire. You wouldn't want him to change. You were banking on his stagnant nature to slip by. You couldn't imagine if he did change, improve himself, and realize how horrible he'd been to you. How would you be able to keep yourself together if he pulled you aside one day and tried to apologize? You'd break. Things are better the way they are now. Let Gojo Satoru indulge himself in all this lavishness, forgetting about the people he's tortured. It's better this way. 

You glance over at the girl. She's young, maybe a couple of years younger than you. You can see the flush on her cheeks. The clear swooning. A part of you wonders what she'd think about that man if you ever told her what he did to you. What a monster he is-

"There you are!" Mr. Gojo strides in, just as silent as always, making himself known when he wants to. 

The girl jumps up, her eyes lighting up in pure excitement as she practically drags herself into Mr. Gojo's arms. He places an arm on the small of her back, scarily close to touching somewhere inappropriate as she chatters away. They disappear off to wherever rich men like him go. 

It's so quick. You must have imagined it because, for a second, you were sure he'd glanced back at you. 

𖤓

By now, everyone knows you're Satoru's. That means, like him, you're untouchable. 

You're not celestial. If Satoru was a star, then you were a stray meteor he'd found hurtling through space, and he couldn't resist forcing it to revolve around him. In exchange for suffering through his solar flares and radiation, he protects you from bigger planets that are all too eager to smash into you. The one relief is that no one seems to bother you anymore. You haven't been shoved around, pushed, or prodded. Sometimes, you receive glares from Satoru's old ex's, but it's more tolerable than burnt homework. 

Satoru has officially chased away all your friends, but he's more than happy to keep you company. You sit next to him in lunch now, quietly listening as he prattles on to the rest of his friends (you recognize some of them, the ones who messed with you, they never seem to hold your gaze for long). You used to study on campus alone, right after school let out. Now, you still do it, but with Satoru watching. It's hard to concentrate with his wandering fingers and wet lips. 

He takes all of your firsts. You don't give them to him, much less, he demanded it of you. The first time he fully takes you is far less romantic than you'd ever hoped. It was on his bed after he'd practically dragged you over to his house that night. You went home the next day covered in marks that took nearly a week to heal. A little while after that, Geto came to talk to you again. For the second time ever. 

"Here." He offers you a packet. Pills. You're confused for a moment until you realize Satoru didn't wear a condom. 

"Thank-" 

"Don't," he cuts you off, "Don't thank me." 

He says it with so much hate that you think it's directed at you. It isn't until years later that you realize the disgust was towards himself. 

There are theories that the Moon once had color. 

It wasn't just white. It was green and blue, and red. 70 million years ago, it could have been much like the Earth. It didn't have a strong atmosphere, however. The gaseous layer was slowly stripped away. The sun didn't help. With no atmosphere, the unfiltered solar radiation slowly began to bleach the once colorful celestial body a dull white. Before long, the sun had created the moon to be its image. Now, the only color the moon has to offer is the sun's reflection. 

When the moon was out, you often stared at it, reveling in its beauty. Now, trapped in between Satoru's arms, you find its skeleton a bit too haunting to look at. 

Three more weeks. Just three more weeks. 

Graduation is coming up soon. You already had your college picked out, far far away from this backward town. From his conversations, Satoru was planning on going to some high-end college in Tokyo. With the way he kept looking back at you, you had a feeling he was planning on dragging you there too. 

You were intelligent enough to keep your mouth shut about your plans. Satoru never asked, so you guessed he assumed you would let him bully you into whatever he wanted. He was right, so far. It's not like you'd ever argued with him. 

Your parents were the only people who knew about your plan. They were excited, albeit for the wrong reasons. 

"I'm so glad to see you're this interested in higher education," your mother beamed, "why the sudden change?" 

You look at your mother's face. People have told you that you share the same smile. You wonder if she'd keep smiling if you ever told her about what Satoru's been doing to you, the bullying, the harassment. 

You can't. You won't, because you can't bear to see her give you the same pitiful look your classmates give-the one Geto gives. You don't want her to see you as something broken. 

"I'm just starting to think I might go into law," you finally say, "definitely need college for that."

On Thursdays, you have to sit inside the gym during Satoru's basketball practice. You wait on the bleachers, reviewing notes, and listening to the squeaking of sneakers. Satoru's good at the sport. You know last year they won a few tournaments. Whenever he scores a point, he gives a cheer, turning back to see if you saw it too. In those moments, you remember he's just a kid. He's your age. You can feel the envy. There, but too insignificant to do anything. He pleasantly lives his childhood, even after he stole yours. 

Practice ends, always a little later than it's officially supposed to. Coach gives the final whistle and then Satoru is jogging back to you. Your things are already neatly packed into your bag. His breath is barely ragged, you can smell the hint of sweat as he kisses you on the lips. You can feel eyes on you, same as always. It's getting easier to ignore the gawking. After all, you're Satoru's now. 

"Miss me?" he asks when he pulls away. He grabs your stuff before you can, hauling your backpack away. To others, it may look like he's being a sweet boyfriend. To you, it's another leash, tugging you to where he wants to go. You're not sure how Satoru sees the action. 

You clamber out of the bleachers, following him without a word. Usually, Satoru would walk you home. You'd share a kiss with him on the front porch. And for the rest of the day, he'd finally leave you alone. 

He grabs your hand, shooting you a wink when you lightly jostle into his body. Instead of heading out the door, Satoru turns his gaze towards the empty locker rooms. The light's automated. It flickers an unsettling white, casting a sick glow along the tiles. You are barely through the door before Satoru's pinning you against the lockers, kissing you as aggressively as he can. 

Your hands immediately find their way to his shoulders, squeezing. It's not enough to hurt him, but it grabs his attention anyway. He lets up a little, relaxing into your touch. 

"Sorry, baby," he says not sounding apologetic at all, "just be good f'me, okay? Need you." 

He's pent up, you realize and you look at the door. School's out. The campus is nearly empty. But people are still around. And the door he just shoved you through doesn't have a lock- 

Oh, wait. Would it even matter if someone came in and saw you? Everyone knew you were Satoru's. 

Three more weeks. Just three more weeks. 

He's trailing down, dropping to his knees. He flips up your skirt, pushing aside your panties, and attaches his hot mouth to your pussy. He's ravenous, today. Sucking on your clit like he can't bear to do anything else. You gasp, immediately assaulted by the shocks of pleasure running up and down your back.

You press against the wall, arching your back, giving him even more to suck on. He hums in approval, his voice getting lost in your wet folds. You're practically dripping now, and Satoru, with all his debauchery, gladly licks it all up as you writhe and whimper above him. Your thighs grow tighter around him, threatening to crush his skull if both his hands weren't carved into the fat of your thighs, squeezing. 

Your initial panic is washed away, crumbled by his insistent tongue and fingers. You whimper out his name again as his tongue circles your clit and two fingers continue to move in and out of your sopping pussy. You're crying now, tears of pleasure and brokenness floating down your cheeks. Despite how blurry your vision is, you can see Satoru looking up at you. 

"Getting close?" he's breathless, but there's still a hint of playfulness in his voice, "gonna sing, pretty girl?" 

He gives a particularly hard suck on your clit and you're gone. You seize, throwing your head back as your legs shake from the force of your orgasm. It's a scream, so loud and shameless. Satoru gives a groaned pant, lapping up your aftertaste, making you jolt from the overstimulation before he finally gets to his feet. You watch as he haphazardly wipes the remnants of you with his sleeve before he's kissing you again. 

"Always so sweet f'me," he purrs, biting at your lips before he fumbles with his belt. His cock is already red and strained. He pants, head shifting to fall at the crook of your neck as he lines himself up and sinks into you with one full thrust. 

You whine a mix of a sob and a hissed moan. He hushes you with a stilted breath, barely keeping himself together as he pumps himself into you. Both of you are sweating now. You can feel the beads draw down your neck. He licks at your clavicle, biting when he starts to get more aggressive. When it's too less, he hikes your thigh over his waist, keeping it there so he can go even deeper. 

"Fuck, I'm crazy for you," he slurs against your skin. You can barely pay attention to his words, barely keeping your own voice in check, "’would do anything for you, pretty girl." 

He raises his head, looking you in the eye. His sunglasses have been tossed on the floor. You can his beautiful eyes, two cosmic galaxies of blue. You could stare at them for hours, discovering each variant of cerulean, naming each one. You bet each day you look, you'll find another shade. They're so pretty.

You wonder how pretty those eyes would look floating in a jar. 

"'Toru-!" you gasp when Satoru rocks himself into again, even faster. The name you accidentally gave him when you're too fucked out to comprehend language makes him laugh in pure delight, his smile uncontrolled, delirious. 

"Right here, baby," he moans into your sweaty skin, hand reaching down to rub your clit, "your ‘Toru's right here. Just where you need him." 

His fingers move under your shirt, squeezing at your tits, exploring, roughly grabbing at your chest. The sensation makes you wince. Your walls draw even tighter, choking his cock. 

"Too-too much, 'Toru, p-please." He growls at your begging, burying his face in your neck again. He nips at your damp skin, you flinch. 

"I gotcha' baby," he breathes, "just-just lemme-" He presses on your clit. It's all you need. 

You come with a sob, your pussy squeezing, milking Satoru for all he's worth. He's not too far behind, hips stuttering before he whines in your ear. Something warm fills your cunt. 

You flounder, sagging against the wall. Satoru's the only thing that keeps you upright as you fight to catch your breath. He isn't in any better shape, panting just as hard as you are. He lifts his head, pressing his damp forehead onto yours. There's a dreamy smile on his lips. A look of absolute adoration. 

"I love you." 

You look at him. There's nowhere else to look.

"I love you," he repeats, leaning forward to kiss the corner of your lips. His lips trail down, caressing your cheek, your jaw, your neck. It would almost feel nice, but you can only stare straight ahead. You can see the dull green lockers in the distance. You can smell the mold in the damp locker room. You can feel Satoru's cum slowly seep out of you, trailing down your thigh. 

Fuck three weeks. 

You needed to get out, now. 

𖤓

The only reason you went is because you were told Gojo Satoru wouldn't be there. 

His assistant had off-handily mentioned that he had a meeting on the other side of town. Very last minute. The building as a whole would be empty, just a skeleton crew and a couple of security guards to keep the place running. It made sense, it was 8 pm- long past any proper business hours. 

Higuruma could have easily gone, but it's clear the sleepless nights have been getting to him, or the stress. His paralegal is more than qualified to act like a middleman between him and Mr.Gojo's associates. It's an easy mission. Just grab a few things, and get out. 

Gojo Satoru wasn't supposed to be there. 

And yet, there he was, leaning against the door, blocking you into the room. 

His assistant had always been a mousey thing. Tonight, however, he'd been extra ansty, looking around the room. Babbling out excuses as to what was taking him so long. Now, when he can barely even look at you, you realize he was just a distraction. 

"You're off the clock, Fimo," Gojo finally breaks the silence, "take tomorrow off too, okay?" 

His assistant quickly nods, keeping his head down to flit out the door. You can't even bring yourself to be mad at him. Gojo always had a habit of singling out the weakest, crushing them within his fist, unless they bent or broke. 

The door shuts with a click. 

"You know, I didn't even recognize you at first," he starts. He takes a small step forward. 

You take one back. He puts his hands up. 

"Okay, don't be like that," he sighs, exasperated, "It's been what, 10 years? How you've been?" 

He steps around you, barely brushing against your shoulder to get to his desk. He reaches down, grabbing a wine bottle and two glasses from a cabinet, setting both down on mahogany wood. 

"Wanna drink? Technically, it's against company policy to serve alcohol in the building but I won't tell if you don't." He grins. It looks bloody. 

He looks so casual, the man who's haunted your nightmares, leaning against a desk in a building he owns. Your heart's beating in your chest. It's so loud. You wonder if he can hear it too. 

When you don't respond, he rolls his eyes. 

"Figures." He pops the cork. "You were always such a stickler for the rules." 

"What do you want?" You ask, your tone weaker than you'd liked. 

"What? Don't you wanna catch up? I missed you." You flinch at his words, looking away. "A paralegal, huh? Gotta' say, wasn't what I expected, but it fits you." It sounds condescending, but you don't poke the bear, opting to stay silent. 

He seems to take an issue with that, regardless. 

"Are you mad? If anything, I should be the one upset at how you just ran off like that. After all that time we spent together too. I didn't even get a breakup text." 

 His last words, send a chill up your spine. A warning. Staying here any longer would be a mistake. 

You go to move. 

Satoru's faster. 

Your head slams against the wall. Hard. Enough to hurt. You struggle anyway, clawing at the hand that's gripping your throat, the body pinning you down. Above you (he's gotten so much taller now), Gojo tuts in disappointment. 

"I tried to be nice and look where that got me. You tried to run again," he muses, like he's disappointed, "I shouldn't be surprised. You've always needed something with a bit more teeth." At his threat, his hand on your throat tightens. You freeze. 

It's barely choking you, but it's enough of a warning. His other hand is playing with the end of your blouse, feeling the fabric. You can feel the tears start. They're a familiar taste. Only this time, they're twinged with bitterness. 

"Don't do this," you whisper, "Don't-don't-" 

"Yeah, I don't think you're in any position to make demands right now." He's grinning, but when you look into his eyes, you can see the anger. A fire that has burned for a decade. At that moment, you realized Gojo Satoru had changed. Now, he was better at hiding how he truly felt. 

You should have quit the moment Higurama got him as a client. 

Gojo's dragging you over to the desk, haphazardly pushing away the stuff already on it. The computer, the bottle, the wine glasses all fall to the floor with a deafening crash as he shoves you down, splaying you across the table. He follows you down, leaning to meet your lips in a frenzied kiss. It's different than all the other times he'd kissed you. He'd lost all the inexperience, more keen on making you stay put and bleed. When you try to turn your face, pushing at his chest, he only growls. A large hand grabs your chin, keeping you in place for him. 

When he pulls away, there's a hint of blood on his plush lips. It's not his. He licks it up regardless. 

You're full-on sobbing now; barely in sucking air as your body shudders and jolts. You don't expect comfort, least of all from him, but he's cooing, wiping away your tears. 

"Missed this," he purrs, ignoring the way you weakly push at him, "'guess that was my mistake. I was expecting you to be different. Nah, you'll be the same crybaby you always were. That's how you managed to slip under my radar." 

He buries his face into your hair, sighing in contentment as you shiver underneath him. His lips graze the crown of your head, a complete juxtaposition to his words. 

"Scream all you want. No one's here, baby." No one's gonna save you from me.

 Still, you try anyway. Your hands grip his broad shoulders, digging in your nails until he hisses. 

"Fuck maybe you have changed." He rasps, fiddling with his belt. "You're bitchier now." 

"Gojo-Gojo what are you-" He bites on your bare clavicle. You squeal, stilling underneath him again. 

"Satoru," he insists. You slump over the desk as he takes both your hands, wrapping his leather belt around your delicate wrists. You wince when he twists it into a knot. The leather bites into your skin. The fight dissolves just as rapidly as it arrived. He hadn't even lifted a finger against you. You were just that pathetic. 

"Satoru," you breathe, waving your flag of defeat. He hums, licking at the bitemark. You can feel the heat bloom on your skin. They'll be a mark tomorrow, and much like Satoru, it would go away so easily. 

"There's my good girl," he groans, cold hands fiddling with the buttons on your blouse, opening it up until your bra pops out, "I know I should be more mad, but I've always had a soft spot for you. Guess things will never change, hm?" 

His mouth dips down, tracing your collarbone to your breasts. He wiggles down your bra, letting your tits spill out and into his hands. He squeezes one while taking another in his mouth, swirling the bud with his tongue before devouring. His moan is barely muffled by your tits. Yours is clear, high-pitched and breathy. Satoru always had no problem being shameless. And he often dragged it out of you too. 

He's mouthing something against your skin, but you're too distracted by his other hand, slinking down your waist, pushing up your pencil skirt, letting it bunch around your hips. In the moment, you chastised yourself for wearing something so easy to get rid of, but it wasn't like you were expecting for him to be here, to bring you down just like he did when you were in high school. It's not like you were expecting to fall. 

Satoru feels around your pantyhose, running up and down your thigh, searching. He squeezes the sheer fabric, before he rips a hole into it. You gasp, jerking at the action. 

"That's-"

"I'll buy you new ones," he says, voice muffled by your tits. The conversation feels familiar. 

He bypasses your panties immediately, finding your pussy with practiced ease. You're already soaking. At this, he raises to look at you. You can't keep eye contact, timidly looking away. He laughs. It sounds sickenly affectionate. 

"You're so cute." He purrs just as he leaves another mark on your chest. Your tits bounce under his attention as he pushes two fingers into your tight sopping hole. Your back curls, arching off the desk as he starts pumping his fingers in and out of you. Disgust grows within you, not at him, but at yourself, for letting yourself get this low. This desperate. 

It doesn't stay for long. He's cruel like that, moving in a way that makes you forget your humanity. His fingers get even faster, digging into your cunt and curling somewhere deep inside, hitting a spot that makes you gasp. You're reduced to whimpering moans by the time he finally stops, fingers exiting your pussy with a wet noise. He brings them to his mouth, sucking on his fingers, eyes rolling to the back of his head at your taste. 

"Fuckin' sweet," he moans, taking his fingers out with a sickening pop before wiping the drool on your heaving tits. 

Your eyes float to the window. The moon is out, you blearily realize. It's a blood moon, a rusty red. Once every 3 months, it'll lose its heavenly glow. The innocent milky white will get shadowed by the Earth's rusty atmosphere. It'll regain its color eventually. The Sun doesn't like to be overshadowed. 

Something hard and blunt slides between your legs. You're barely given a second to comprehend it before Satoru grabs you by the hips, filling you up with one thrust. You yelp, a semblance of his name on your lips, but it's shrouded by the moan you give out. 

He stays like that for a bit. You should be grateful he is letting you adjust to him. His cock is sickenly familiar to your walls. Satoru's hair brushes your cheek as he leans up to whisper in your ear. 

"How many?" he sounds like he's gritting his teeth, barely in control, "how many guys have you let fuck you since you ran?" 

You blink, wondering if he's seriously asking, but you can hear the seriousness in his tone. Even now, he's concerned with the wrong things. He's always been petty like that. 

"You," you say because there's no point in lying, "it's only ever been you." 

You say it like it's a curse, because to you, Satoru had cursed you. He'd stolen something you'd never be able to enjoy, devouring it, keeping it for himself. A part of you will always hate yourself for letting him do that, just like a part of you will always be his. 

Satoru deflates, as if he's relieved, easing his face into the crook of your neck, placing an almost loving kiss on your shoulder. He starts slow, slowly drawing his cock out, just until his tip is barely still in, before he pushes himself back into your hole. His pace is slow, controlled. It's different than when he was younger, more eager to get himself off more than anything. Now, it's like he's enjoying the intimacy, the feeling of your walls squeezing him. The wet noises. He's barely affected. Unlike you, writhing underneath him, close to falling apart. It's his length that gets you, forcing your pussy to stretch just to fit him. His cock hits everywhere, all at once, an endless torture of pleasure. 

It takes you a while to get your brain back together, to collect the mush, and realize that Gojo isn't wearing a condom. 

"S-Sato-" You try, just when he spreads your thighs apart, pushing them close to your chest so he can get deeper and kiss you at the same time. His hand slips down to your swollen clit, rubbing tight circles and you feel yourself getting even closer. You squeeze your eyes shut at the onslaught. 

"Try again," Satoru huffs, "What's my name? I know you know it, pretty girl." 

"'Toru," you beg because it's all you have left. Your breathless gasps make you sound even more unconvincing but you still manage to stutter out, "I'm-I'm not on anything, so-so please-" 

"That's okay," he mutters, though it's clear he's half-listening, "I'll take care of you and the baby."

"No-I-I-can't-" 

He drops his leisure pace in exchange of shorter, faster thrusts. His cock barely leaves your pussy, grinding in your hole as his breathing starts to get a little less controlled. 

"I'll make sure it takes this time too." 

Your eyes open, and you forget your panic to stare at him. You think back to the pills 18-year-old Geto had handed you. Always discreet. You'd...you'd always thought they were Satoru's idea. 

He hits something inside you, right then. You implode, crashing and burning as you gush around his dick. He's not kind enough to ease you through it, ramming his cock even harder inside your battered pussy until he's hunching over you with a shudder. You can feel his cum settle deep inside your womb. 

You stay like that for a few moments, not saying anything. It feels like hours before Satoru is moving again, drawing his softened cock out of your overstimulated pussy. You can feel the cum drip out of you too, spilling onto the desk, but you don't think Satoru's too mad about that. He flicks your clit a few times, watching your hips jerk and you give an exhausted whine. 

He kisses your breasts. He kisses up your jaw, before finding your lips. Dazed, you find yourself kissing back in reluctant acceptance, your body aching for any semblance of gentleness. 

"I love you." 

You look into his eyes, and you realize he's right. Gojo Satoru loves you, and this is how a man like him loves. He meant it, all those years ago, just like how he does now.

Satoru loves like the Sun. Too bright. With enough heat to burn your soul away. It's why you ran. 

"I love you," he repeats like the phrase doesn't kill you each time he says it, "so you're never leaving me." 

"Not ever again."

There are theories that the Moon once had color. 

It wasn't just white. It was green and blue, and red. 70 million years ago, it could have been much like the Earth. It didn't have a strong atmosphere, however. The gaseous layer was slowly stripped away. The Sun had eaten it. With no atmosphere, the unfiltered solar radiation slowly began to bleach the once colorful celestial body a dull white. Before long, the sun had created the moon to be its image. Now, the only color the moon has to offer is the sun's reflection. 

If Satoru was the Sun, then perhaps, you were the Moon. Stripped of your color. Unable to create light of your own. Reflecting only what you're given. 

How foolish of you to think you could ever escape his radiation. 

[yuwuta]

RODEO STATION, 1 — MEGUMI FUSHIGURO 

A collection of you and Megumi, through the years, through Gojo’s eyes. 

content, warnings: friends to lovers, fluff, sort of canon-adjacent, satoru adopts megumi and tsumiki, reader has a cursed technique but it’s not mentioned in depth here, really just you and megumi falling in love and gojo watching

word count: 1.1k

part i: first years, jujutsu tech. fits in the timeline around when nobara first joins the class

When Satoru first finds him, Megumi has two conditions. First, that Tsumiki would be kept safe and happy, and far away from the Zenin clan if they weren’t going to be good to her—safe and far away from all jujutsu society if Gojo could help it; and that she would never have to worry about feeding herself or Megumi ever again. Satoru agreed right away, he would have done that without the request. 

For his second condition, an eight year old Megumi looked Satoru straight in the eye and told him that he would absolutely not be separated from you. Satoru thought it was cute, sweet, in the bratty, and naive but determined kind of way that seemed to be everything that kid stood for, and Satoru couldn’t fault him for it. Megumi’s evident childlike adoration of you aside, Satoru saw potential in you, too, so he accepted Megumi’s conditions, happy to welcome the two of you to the world of sorcery. 

It’s not until a week before you both start at Jujutsu Tech, that Satoru really asks Megumi why he wants you here (never mind the fact that you had already also made up your mind about being a sorcerer, and if there is anything that Satoru has learned about you in the past decade, it’s that: one, you have the magical ability to make Megumi do anything you say; and two, you’re incredible persuasive and very stubborn). Megumi doesn’t look him in the eye when he answers, fidgeting with his melting ice cream instead when he says, “Well, she saved my life.” 

Satoru doesn’t tease when he hears this, only digging his spoon in for a scoop of Megumi’s toffee butter, smiling to himself when the cold hits his tongue, because he’d heard the message loud and clear: Megumi believes he owes you his life, and to keep yours protected, he wants you by his side.

Satoru quickly learns that Megumi truly has his work cut out for him as he watches you burst through a top-floor window of a high-rise building, falling carelessly with the object of your mission—a special-grade cursed object—clutched in your grasp. Second later, there’s a loud explosion, as the ugly head of a large cursed falls limp in the hole in the broken glass that you’d left behind. Satoru chuckles when he sees you smile, and the faint cheer of weeeeeeeee as you fall. He knew you were wild and stubborn by the way you bossed Megumi around without a care, but seeing you in action proved that you were also in your own league of crazy, a fantastic sorceress in the making. 

To his left, Yuuji gapes wildly as he looks up, shielding his eyes with his hand, and then flinching back when Nobara bursts through the ground floor door, not without a nail going flying into the curse that had been chasing her. She looks angry, then wide eyed, then up to where Yuuji and Megumi were also staring and starts squealing alongside him. 

“Gojo-sensei, what are you standing there smiling about—do something!” Nobara shouts, pointing an accusatory finger up in the air at your flying body. 

Yuuji gasps again, like he’d just figured out the consequence of you falling from a building, spewing on his own cries, “Hey, seriously, what the hell are we doing—she can’t fly,” he shouts, turning to shake his sensei, then pausing, “Wait, Fushiguro, can she fly? You know her.” 

“Idiot,” Nobara spits, “If she could fly then she’d be flying, not falling.”

“Then why aren’t we doing any—you know what, I think I can catch her,” Yuuji boasts, rolling up his sleeves, prepared to position himself underneath your descending body, and that’s when Satoru steps in, extending an arm in front of his students. 

“You all worry too much,” he smiles, lifting his blindfold just enough to look the pair in the eye, and tilt his head up slightly, “Besides, Megumi’s handled it.” 

Three heads turn back up to the sky, where you’re no longer in freefall, instead have had your shoulders snatched by Nue’s talons. You’ve still got that wild smile on your face, wider now as you descend much more elegantly via Megumi’s shikigami. Nobara and Yuuji wince as Nue’s wings flap widely when you’re set on the ground. You shift the box with the cursed object to one hand, reaching your free one around to pet the bird’s feathers. It crows happily, and Satoru snickers, much to Megumi’s dismay. You always did treat his shikigami like pets. 

“Hey, you’re okay!” Yuuji cheers, eyes sparkling, “What’s in the box? A sword—actually, I don’t want to know. If it’s another finger, keep it away from me.” 

“Hand it here,” Nobara demands. You’re happy to hand over the box and have another hand available for petting Nue. 

Satoru watches fondly as Yuuji and Nobara fuss over the box. They should probably exercise more caution, but he’s there, so the worst can’t happen. Meanwhile, you step closer to Megumi with Nue fluttering behind you. 

“You’re the one who told me there would be no need to get involved,” Megumi says, voice soft, hands falling comfortably at his side. 

“I said that you wouldn’t have to get involved with the curses,” you correct, standing on your tiptoes to nuzzles your head into the bird’s feathers, “I said nothing about not getting involved with me.” 

Satoru does his best not to choke out a loud laugh as Megumi’s face becomes increasingly pink when you reach forward to pinch his cheeks, his grumbling drowned in the sound of Yuuji and Nobara’s bickering. Satory sighs, content. He cares for all his students, but there’s a certain weight lifted on his shoulders knowing that when it came to you, there was truly nothing to worry about—Megumi would always be there for you. Honestly, he thinks Megumi might fight him to protect you if it came down to it. 

That thought does bring an audible chuckle to his lips, Megumi’s pinched expression calling to him, “What are you laughing about?” 

To which Satoru only hums, sticking his hands in his pockets. Megumi’s eyebrows furrow deeper, but it’s quickly dissolved when you catch his attention again, saying your farewells to Nue before giving Megumi the okay to let him recede into his shadows. 

“Oh, nothing,” Satoru chirps, turning to lead the group back to Ichiji’s car, “Come on, who’s still up for revolving sushi!”  

Cheers follow him as the veil dispels. You question Yuuji about whether or not you think the restaurant will have grilled eel, and Nobara pretends to throw up, arguing that eel is the worst, that you all should stick to hand rolls instead. Megumi stays quiet, walking on your outside, and humming along with all of your suggestions, and Satoru can’t help but wonder whether or not you knew that Nue had been out from the moment you’d stepped in the building. 

Honestly, he thinks Megumi might win that fight—might win any fight if it meant being with you.

[augustinewrites]

“itadori, please respect his personal space—”

“kugisaki! stop hitting him—”

“megumi, don’t you dare bring that elephant out in my classroom—”

peace and quiet is short-lived whenever the first years are around.

you manage to quiet them down with the threat of assigning an essay, allowing you a moment’s respite to massage your temples and lean back in your seat, glancing at your phone to check just how many minutes you have left with them.

a notification pops up as you do, bringing on a whole new headache.

[satoru]: send nudes?

you quickly turn your phone over so it’s screen-down, face burning as you look around to make sure no one had seen.

peace and quiet is also short-lived whenever satoru calls out sick. because the strongest sorcerer of your time…currently has a cold.

he is, predictably, very dramatic whenever he’s sick. a mild fever means he puts himself on bedrest. a sore throat means he needs to be spoon fed a very specific homemade soup.

but the worst…oh, the worst is when he has a cold.

when satoru’s sinuses are clogged, he’s an absolute menace to deal with. his sneezes shake the apartment and his whines about sinus pressure are all you hear at the dinner table.

luckily, the students have resorted to quietly bothering each other, so you slowly turn your phone back around to deal with the man child who is likely littering the living room floor with tissues.

he’s stuck at home, which means he’s got nothing to do but annoy you.

[satoru]: haha jk

[satoru]: unless…?

huffing, you quickly type back a response.

[you]: NOT funny. i’m at work.

[satoru]: so what you’re saying is you’ll send them during lunch right ;)

“miss!” itadori shouts, his arm raised. “can fushiguro come to the arcade with us after class?”

“of course,” you say. “but please don’t forget to finish your essays on cursed technique origins. it’s due on monday.”

yuuji’s practically bouncing in his seat as he grabs megumi’s arm. hear that, fushiguro? you hear as you pick up your phone. your mom said yes!

megumi, who usually comes home on the weekends, still looks to you for approval. you assure him with a small nod and smile.

sometimes you just want to wrap him up in your arms and never let go. he may have been another couple’s blessing, but ultimately he’s yours and gojo’s pride and joy. possibly the only one you have left, as it stands.

thought you’re a little sad that he won’t be home for dinner tonight, you remind yourself that he’s growing up. for as long as you’ve known him, he’s always been a sort of lone wolf. but a lone wolf is still a wolf, and a wolf needs a pack.

he’s finally found friends he’s comfortable with, and it’s good that he wants to spend time with them and vice versa.

your phone buzzes insistently in your hand.

[satoru]: pleeeeeaaaase?

[satoru]: i think it’ll really help with my recovery…

[satoru]: if this cold kills me the last thing i want to see is a picture of you

oh, that’s actually kind of—

[satoru]: nude, preferably

maybe it’s a good thing megumi won’t be home tonight. you don’t need any witnesses to the crime you’re about to commit.

[you]: what’ll help with your recovery is a visit to the infirmary.

there’s a short pause, then you watch the little bubble appear and disappear about six times.

[satoru]: shit

[satoru]: is this a scene?

you roll your eyes, waving at the kids as they head out to catch the train.

[you]: i hate you

he doesn’t answer, so you get up to hurry over to your office, shutting and locking the door behind you.

you wait a moment, opening the camera on your phone as you do so.

once the sound of footsteps echoing through the hall disappears, you start unbuttoning the first few buttons of your shirt—

you scream when a loud sneeze startles you, satoru suddenly appearing at your side.

he doesn’t miss a beat, plucking a tissue from your desk and blowing his nose loudly. he throws it in the general direction of the bin before slapping his palm onto your desk.

you can tell he’s attempting to be some sort of seductive, but it’s dampened bu the way he sniffles loudly, his face a little red.

“hello, doctor,” he says, a lazy grin spread across his face. “i’m here for my physical.”

“honey,” you laugh, gently cupping the sides of his face. “you need to rest.”

“but ‘m not tired,” he pouts, leaning in to nose at your neck. his skin is warm against yours, much too warm for your liking.

you tangle your fingers in his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. “since i’m your doctor, i’m prescribing a nap.”

“a nap does sound kind of nice…”

he gets up, taking your hand and dragging you over to the couch with him. he locks you within his embrace, sighing contentedly as he presses you to his chest.

“wait, satoru i have to supervise the second years’ training—”

it’s too late. he’s already asleep, snoring loudly in your ear.

so you take out your phone and text nanami, asking if he can cover for you this afternoon.

because a sick satoru is a needy satoru, and you won’t be leaving this couch for a while.

[hotyanderedaddies]

The School Bully Loves You, Pt. 2:

Yandere Bully Gives You Rules to Follow

Part 1

[Yandere! Bully x GN Nerd! Reader]

·゜·:.。..。.:·☆·゜·:.。..。.:·☆

Blake, the school bully who often elicited terrified looks and sent people scurrying to safety, had for some reason claimed you as his.

"You're mine."

That phrase that Blake had growled to you kept replaying in your addled brain over and over.

You didn't exactly know what that meant. However, given your status as the school's resident nerd, you figured that you were meant to be his sole victim for relentless teasing and harassment.

Yet, there you were: Your hand trapped in a deathgrip from none other than Blake.

The rest of the student body cast disbelieving glances towards the two of you, many of them dropping their jaws in shock at the sight of the terrifying bully and the school nerd walking hand-in-hand.

"The fuck are you lookin' at?" Blake spat at some of them, momentarily letting go of your hand as he did so-- only to wrap a possessive, heavy arm around your shoulders.

The terrified glances from the fearful students flickered from Blake to you before diverting altogether.

Your face burned bright hot and the tiny voice in the back of your head told you to run as fast as you could. You totally would've too, had you not been trapped in the hold of the school bully.

You were too busy panicking on the inside to notice when Blake stopped at your locker, did your combo to unlock it, snatched your Pre-Cal textbook out of it (your first class), and led you towards class.

"Wait," you gasped when you finally put two and two together, "how did you know my--?"

"Give me your phone," Blake grunted as soon as the two of you were at your first period class. He stopped right near the door where the rest of the class could easily see you (and quite a few of the nosey ones were gawking), holding out his free hand expectantly.

Oh! This must've been it.

All Blake had really wanted was your phone.

You mentally berated him for being so weird and cryptic if all he'd wanted was a free phone; but you figured that going without a phone for a bit was leagues better than dealing with the school bully twenty-four/seven; hence, you practically thrusted it at the guy.

Blake ignored your eagerness, still keeping one arm secured around you, trapping you tightly against him. You could smell his body spray permeating your senses and the heat from his larger body was overbearing. In fact, thanks to the unwanted proximity, you could clearly see how Blake towered over you and just how muscled he was-- he could easily manhandle you all day if he wanted (and he seemed to REALLY want to lately).

Blake somehow knew your passcode (1-2-3-4) and began to mess around with your phone using his free hand. Seconds later, he handed it back to you.

Before you could ask what was up, Blake quickly leaned down and--

Out of instinct, you jerked back.

Blake frowned and pursed his lips into a thin line. "That's two," he huffed. "I'll be here when class gets out."

"Wh-why?" you couldn't help but ask.

Blake rolled his eyes at you. "So I can walk you to your next class," he grunted, again making it sound like it was obvious. "I'll see you soon, my angel."

With that, Blake gave you a gentle push towards the classroom as he disappeared among the crowd in the hallway.

Throughout class, you struggled to concentrate on the lecture. The whole time, your thoughts kept drifting back to the scary bully who wouldn't leave you alone. Plus, you were hyperaware of the all of the stares from the other students, hearing murmurings involving Blake and you.

Midway through class, your phone vibrated and you glanced at the notifications to see a rather long text from Blake:

My Angel, here's a set of rules that I expect you to follow:

You belong to me and only me

No talking to any other boys

I will drive you to and from school

I will escort you between classes

You will call me every night no later than 9 PM so I can say "Goodnight"

Every weekend you will stay over at my place

I get to hold you whenever I want

You better tell me if someone bothers you or tries to take you away from me so I can have a "chat" with them

I get at least one kiss per day

Tonight I want you to start calling me "Daddy"

Follow these rules and I promise that I will take good care of you.

But disobey these rules and I will punish you. And you're already at two out of three.

See you soon.

Love you.

The blood drained from your face as you read and re-read the text from Blake.

This had to be some sort of sick joke. The school bully had legit just said that he loved you over text. He was lying... right?

Images of his past victims flashing into your mind: black eyes, people getting the crap beat out of them, relentless tormenting, threats of violence and bodily harm-- just hearing the name "Blake" was enough to send shivers down your spine.

Yet, when you really thought about it, Blake never had bullied YOU specifically...

Your phone buzzed again with another notification, this one with an icon that you didn't recognize:

YAN-Tracker: The location tracking app that let's you keep an eye on those most precious to you...

A tracking app?!

That's what Blake had been doing on your phone, downloading some sort of tracking app?

Instinctively, you went to uninstall it, but as soon as you tried, a notification box popped up, requesting a passcode.

You tried to enter in yours, only to be dismayed that it wasn't the correct one.

Your heart raced in your chest as you mulled over all that had happened recently-- all of the signs pointing to a horrifying realization:

Blake, the school bully, wanted you. And he wanted you badly.

Without another word, you quietly got out of your desk (leaving your phone behind), and tip-toed out of class, praying that Blake wouldn't see you making your escape...

To be continued...

·゜·:.。..。.:·☆·゜·:.。..。.:·☆

P.S. the following have requested that I tag them in this update as of the posting of this! Thank you very much for reading and I hope you all enjoy this part! @eoryn-shit @paninibit @evan-trand @psychicglitterdetective @springkuinn @vinivave