#I can truly sit through the most fucked up content
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Hand That Feeds (Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Female!Reader) pt. 2
a/n: this one's a bit shorter, next one will have smut, i am so fcking sleepy writing this i'll have to check tomorrow it this isn't a hallucination
Warnings: Horny Violence, Blood and Guts, Suggestive Themes, we're on a steady route to pound town
Summary: Cooper catches his prize, but an uninvited guest puts a strain on an already rocky relationship. Cross-Posted on AO3
PT. 1
You must be a Vault Dweller. Truly. There is no other way to explain the utter lack of self-preservation skills.
Cooper finds you almost immediately after the sun sets. He can see the flickering light of your small bonfire through the trees, and languidly, he stalks forwards, opting to stay in the shadows to observe you a moment longer.
You're sitting on the ground, back leaning against a destroyed carcass of a plane. Hair pushed out of your face, Cooper can see the flames illuminating your focused expression with warm light. Once again, he's struck by this seemingly regal air around you. Like you've been raised in a castle, far from this fucked up place, that is now his home. A princess, stuck in harsh reality. Eyebrows furrowed, bottom lip tucked hard between your teeth, you seem to be pondering over something.
With quick motions, you take your messenger bag, opening it and dumping its contents onto the ground in front of you. It's somewhat hard to see, but the sound of small glass bottles knocking into each other is telling enough.
Taking stock of your inventory, you begin to tuck everything back into the bag. Chems upon chems, RadAway, RadX, quite the little drug library, and Cooper's eyes immediately lock onto his most sought after, amber liquid. Why would a Smoothie like you need any of that stuff is beyond him. He hasn't seen any Ghouls in the small town you hail from.
Perks of the job, he thinks to himself, as you stack away at least five vials.
At the last bottle, you hesitate, bringing it up towards the light, and looking at it with a worried expression. The liquid swirls inside, and Cooper watches from the shadows, as you press the cold glass against your forehead in a motion eerily reminding him of a prayer. Your shoulders shudder, and Cooper's mangled ears strain, as he sees your mouth move.
- Let me be brave - you whisper to the vial, like some ancient spell, and something new tightens in his chest, something he immediately brushes away.
Then, he sees you lift a very familiar piece of equipment, putting it on your wrist, and begin to tweak something in the controls. A Pip-Boy. Old and battered, but apparently still working. All his confusing feelings are wiped clean in an instant. Now, he's truly intrigued. The clasps seem slightly too big for your hand, and the device slides the length of your arm, as you move.
You sigh, heavily, then press something, and the Geiger meter clicks to life, picking up on stray radiation. Cooper feels his muscles tense, knowing all too well, why the device has activated so rapidly. As a Ghoul, he leaves a trail of radiation, that follows him wherever he goes. He wasn't particularly aware, that a Pip-Boy could pick up on it, but he wasn't surprised either.
The sound makes you freeze in your spot. Slowly, you scan the area, your hand extended towards the darkening outline of the surrounding trees. As your hand passes by the place Cooper has chosen as his hiding spot, the meter grows louder.
Jumping to your feet, you raise the blasted thing in front of you, your other hand tugging at the waistband of your skirt, freeing your trusted kitchen knife. As if to double-check, you put your hand somewhere to the back, listening to the quiet cracking noise.
You can't fully confirm your suspicions on time, as Cooper springs to action.
A thick line of rope falls over your shoulders, and before you have the chance to react, the loop around you tightens. Your entire body is tugged with surprising force in the direction of the treeline. Loosing your footing, you collapse onto the damp forest floor, chin scraping in the process. The yelp of shock tearing out of your throat, rings through the surrounding area, before you literally, eat dirt. The force of the impact wrenches the knife from your hand, as it bends at an uncomfortable angle. The weapon lands somewhere in the grass, the blade reflecting the flames.
Wiggling like a worm, trying to free yourself from the bounds, you notice a pair of well-worn shoes entering your vision. They cross the remaining distance, stopping just short of your head. Knees crack as your attacker squats down, before taking your hair into a hard grip and lifting your head from the dirt.
Your face twists in pain, neck craning uncomfortably, and with an overwhelming feeling of finality, your eyes land onto the face of a ghoul. The Ghoul. He turns his head slightly to the side with the meanes of grins, before letting go of your hair, your head falling back into the dirt.
- Oh, motherfucker - you groan, pulling your legs up, and attempting to get up.
- Stay down - the Ghoul's voice is rough and biting, and sudden pressure on your back pins you to the ground. - Do you know how fuckin' stupid it is, to light a fire in the wilderness? Any unsightly character could pick you off in seconds.
Spitting out stray clumps of earth and grass from your mouth, you scoff at his scolding tone.
- Thankfully, there are no unsightly characters here, huh?
- Oh, I wouldn't say that, sweetheart. - the bounty hunter tugs the toe of his shoe under your side, and kicks up, turning your body.
You roll onto your back, throwing a nasty look at the Ghoul, as he secures the loop of his lasso. His eyes reflect the light in the most haunting of ways, and you squirm under his gaze, which drags itself across your body, stopping briefly at the tips of your breasts, peaking from under your shirt. Swallowing thickly, your muscles relax, in hopes of loosening the rope. It barely gives, but your limbs recover some wiggle room.
Cooper blinks, his head jerking to the side, and only as he brings his hand up, do you register the gun in his hand. Making sure you can see it, he turns towards your messenger bag, grabbing it from the ground where you left it.
He sits down, somewhere outside your field of vision, and you risk pulling yourself up into a sitting position. He doesn't seem to mind it now, too busy with rummaging through your belongings. Finally, he pulls out a vial of amber liquid, watching it swirl in the flickering light of the bonfire.
- Now - Cooper starts, as he grabs the inhaler from his pocket, inserting the vial into it - Why would a backwoods healer have something like this on 'er?
Rolling your shoulders ever so slightly, the rope slides further down your arms, and you regard the Ghoul with a venomous rendition of a "are you fucking dumb?" look. Which he doesn't appreciate. His hands tremble, as he closes his mouth over the inhaler, taking a long hit, draining the entire vial. You try very hard, not to notice the low moan flowing out of him, as the drug enters his system. Or the way his eyes flutter blissfully for just a second.
- You never know, who might be needing help... - you mutter, wincing at the biting pain in your limbs.
- Well ain't that considerate of you - he coughs into his gloved hand, before sighing deeply, his head reclining back against the plane's exterior, his eyes closed.
From where you're sitting, he looks weirdly handsome. Rugged and very much Ghoul-like, but handsome nonetheless. The skin of his neck is pulled taunt, and in the flickering light of a dying bonfire, you can see a myriad of scars, littering any surface of his skin that's visible. Still, there were other matters at hand, that needed your attention, and you try to shift in your seat as quietly as possible, slowly but surely sliding the rope down your body.
- Next time you try to run away, I'll shoot you - your efforts are stilled by his warning tone, and by the way he waves his gun at you, you know he'll make good on this promise.
- Thought you needed me in good condition.
To that, he finally throws you a look from under his cowboy hat.
- Good... - he confirms, his other hand slowly shortening the length of the rope connecting the both of you - Ain't the same as mint.
The loop suddenly digs further into your flesh, and you grunt at the uncomfortable feeling of the rough rope scratching at your exposed upper arms.
Unfortunately, he's right. During your time as the local healer, you've done many questionable things to ensure the well-being of the town. One of those things, was dealing with organ harvesters. You've only bought a limb or a finger, every once in a while, as if that was some consolation for your darkened soul. Those moments quickly taught you, that something being good was most certainly not the same as ideal. Or mint, as your captor has supplied.
- You a Vault-Dweller? - the Ghoul finally asks, breaking the small spell of silence between you.
The question doesn't surprise you, and you lift the Pip-Boy as far up, as the lasso allows you. Which isn't a lot.
- Nah - the flames dance on your suddenly melancholic expression, and Cooper drinks it all up, curiosity spiking with each new information - My mother was. She ran away from her Vault when she was a teenager and joined the Brotherhood soon after.
- The Brotherhood doesn't recruit women - Cooper turns his body towards you, fishing for lies like a shark sniffing for blood.
- Oh, it doesn't? - your lips pull back into a teasing smile, which perhaps isn't the smartest thing to do, but entertainment is scarce in the Wastelands, and you're determined to have some fun - She posed as a man for years, picked up a job as a medic.
Cooper hums to himself, inviting you to elaborate with an inclination of his head.
- There, she met my father - you continue, looking over at the last glowing embers of the bonfire - They were discovered, court martialed for treason. They escaped together and had me somewhere along the way.
Your Pip-Boy still cracks, the radiation emanating from the Ghoul making the Geiger meter go haywire. With soft eyes, your hand traces the outline of the screen, watching the way green light dances on your fingers.
- The forbidden love of the Wasteland - you sigh into the silence - Sounds like a title of some romance novel, no?
- Or a bad porno - Cooper grumbles, rolling his eyes.
- What's a porno?
His head snaps towards you in record speed, a myriad of emotions running through his mangled expression. It settles on deep annoyance, when he notices the sly smirk on your lips, and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from laughing.
- Gotcha - your attempt at finger guns is pathetic at best.
- Oh, you think you're a fucking comedian, huh? - the bounty hunter asks, a slight amused tint to his words, which you consider to be a small victory.
- That's why they put a bounty on me - you giggle - I'm too damned funny.
- Shut it.
The sudden change in his tone catches you off guard, and you cock an eyebrow at him, confused. The Ghoul looks much more tense than seconds ago, his hand tightening around his gun. One of his legs kicks up a pile of dirt, smothering the dying embers of the bonfire, as he leans forward, seemingly ready to jump.
- Had I known you were such a buzz kill...-
You're not allowed to finish, as the Ghoul basically throws himself in your direction. Your yelp is cut short with a piece of flimsy cloth being shoved into your mouth. A series of muffled sounds, vaguely resembling "is this my robe?" escape you, and the Ghoul pushed against your head, until you fall back down onto the ground.
His body is hot against yours, as he covers you entirely with his weight. It's quite difficult to breathe through the makeshift gag and the overwhelming scent of blood, gunpowder, and the sickly sweet undertone of rot. As well as the unfamiliar feeling of having someone so close. You were a hermit after all.
- I said, shut the fuck up - he whispers harshly into your ear, and you shiver underneath him, as his chest rises and falls against your back.
Then, a sound somewhere close to the forest line makes your head whip in its direction. Cracking of twigs and heavy footsteps, coming closer and closer with clear determination.
- Healer? - your entire body stiffens, as a familiar voice rings out through the trees. - Are you alright, Healer?
Benny. The same Benny, which led this damned bounty hunter right to your doorstep is currently making his merry way towards the both of you. Your eyes follow the way the Ghoul's thumb loads the pistol with a click of finality, and suddenly new energy floods your system.
- Stop fucking moving - Cooper grounds down on his teeth, as you attempt to free yourself from both his grip, and the lasso's.
Images of Benny, bloodied and dead, flash through your mind, and despite your lack of any sympathy towards the man, you don't want to see it. So, you start to move again, violently shaking under the Ghoul, forcing the lasso to slide from your body. Your hips jerk from the ground, bucking into him like a wild animal, and somewhere behind your ear, you can hear him suck in a sharp breath. Which you have no time to dwell upon. Your tongue fights against the fabric of your robe, and after a second you're able to spit it out.
- Don't shoot him - you plead feverishly, hands gripping the Ghoul's forearm - I'll talk to him, he'll leave. Just don't shoot him, please.
Cooper looks down at you, his eyes hard on your face, as he watches out for any signs of deceit. Then, he presses his lips into a thin line.
- Make it quick, or I'll pop his head clean off his shoulders. - southern accent floods every syllable, and were you not fighting to save a life (again), you would've blushed.
- Yes, thank you. I'll be quick. Thank you. - words spill out of you like a broken faucet, whispered into the space between your bodies, as the bounty hunter tugs off the loop of his lasso.
You take a moment to steady yourself, as he drags you up with him, hand twisted into the front of your shirt. Still a little stunned, you allow him to manoeuvre you, turning your body in his grasp, until your back is pressed flush against his front.
Strong arm sneaks over your shoulders, hand clasping around the column of your throat, while the other one waits just outside of your vision. The barrel of the gun rests between your shoulder and your neck, and the coolness of the metal causes a myriad of goosebumps to erupt across your skin.
- I'm here Benny - you call out, praying to anything that would listen, that your plan would work - Come out, slowly.
To his credit, Benny has always been quite good at following directions. There weren't many attributes about him either way, a bit dim in the head, a bit too heroic.
And definitely a bit too quick to pull out a gun.
Which is what he does as soon as he sees your peculiar situation. The Ghoul drums his fingers against your pulse point, and Benny approaches, a simple shotgun in front of him.
- What the hell...?
- Benny, I need you to listen to me - your voice sounds way too panicked, and you swallow hard to fake some illusion of control over this situation - I need you to turn around, and leave.
- But, there's a Ghoul with a gun behind you, Healer.
You nearly jump out of your skin, when you feel the hot breath of your unwanted companion on the back of your neck. You can almost imagine his chapped lips, so close to your skin.
- Time's a tickin', sweetheart - he whispers, and your blood runs cold in your veins.
- He's a - you swallow, mouth going dry in an instant - He's my friend. Who's getting very anxious with the trigger, Benny, so please, just go home.
Deep down inside you know there is no scenario, where the farmer leaves alive. He signed his death warrant the moment he stepped out of the shadows, yet for some unknown reason, that just makes you fight against the odds harder. Call it dumb optimism, perhaps you're possessed by your mother's spirit. Or perhaps the chems have finally scrambled your brains for good.
- He's not looking very friendly - Benny's gun sways slightly, as he tries to keep it raised, muscles evidently straining against the weight - He's the guy that shot Pete.
Oh for fucks sake, your whole body starts shaking at this point, heart thrumming in your chest like a moth batting against a lampshade. You can feel the Ghoul smirk against the skin of your shoulder, and tears prick at the corners of your eyes. His thumb presses slightly into your pulse, feeling it run rampant against his finger.
- Please - somehow you hope the desperation in your voice will be enough - Please, leave. Benny, please.
Benny looks between you and the Ghoul peaking over your trembling form. You can see his brain working overtime, scrunched eyebrows, smacking of the lips. You're only praying it's working in the right direction. Then, some idea flashes across his expression, and you know in the hollow of your stomach, that this is his end.
- If I save you, will you marry me? - he asks, looking at you with the utmost hopeful expression.
- ...what?
Confusion doesn't even fully register in your mind, as the deafening sound of a gun being fired nearly blows up your eardrums. At first you're not sure, what you're looking at. Where there used to be Benny, now there's a carcass, mangled and bloody. It's hard to figure out, where individual parts of his body are, some bones sticking out from the chunky mush. A spray of red falls onto your face like a morning mist, and the scent of iron and gunpowder is stunning your senses.
You can't move. Eyes glued to what once used to Benny, you don't even notice, as the Ghoul removes himself from you, placing the lasso over your head and around your body. The loop is secured tightly, and the bounty hunter tugs on it a couple of times, just to test its durability. Then, lazily, he picks up your messenger bag, swinging it over his shoulder.
- The first time he came to me for help, he tried to domesticate a rad roach - you mutter absentmindedly, not caring if your unwanted companion is hearing you - Wanted it to help with the farm work. I had to stitch half his left side.
- Stupid life deserves a stupid death.
- You're a fucking monster - you spit out, the feeling of Benny's blood on your lips almost making you gag.
Apparently, the Ghoul takes offense to that, because almost instantly, he's in front of you, his hand gripping your throat, and pushing you hard against the metal plating of the destroyed plane. Stars erupt behind your eyelids, as your head knocks hard into the wall, pain barely registering under the confusion.
- I have been more than accommodating to you, little princess - the Ghoul snarls in your direction, but all you can focus on, is his other hand, grabbing your bruised chin - I've entertained your little medical escapade, I let you negotiate with that dimwit over there.
The warmth of his body suffocates you stronger than any hand around your throat. You can't decide on the color of his eyes, as they seem to shift between amber and green, and completely black. Your mouth opens just a smidge, as you try to defend yourself in any way, but before you can speak, the Ghoul shoves two gloved fingers into your mouth, silencing you in an instant.
- I could be so much worse, darlin', and I don't think you would like that - his voice lowers itself barely above a whisper, and he watches your expression shift under his grip.
You can't help it, really, the way your body reacts to this rough manhandling. It's not like you could predict being pinned to a wall by a stranger would make your thighs press together. Cooper looks down. He smiles like a cat, that's just found the fattest of mice, when his eyes drag back up to your face.
- Or perhaps you would - his knee presses against the middle of your thighs, just short of forcing them apart, and you gasp around his fingers.
As if nothing has happened, he pulls away, so suddenly, you nearly fall over. His gloved hand glistens with your saliva, and gracefully, he wipes it clean on your shirt. Blushed, panting, and very angry at this turn of events, you stare daggers at him, as he tugs at the lasso, forcing you to start moving.
- What is your name? - you demand, blood running hot and defiant in your veins.
Cooper stares for just a moment too long. The way you seem to bristle in rage, even though that farmer truly was stupid, and you know it too. He likes the way your eyes harden, the way your jaw sets, when you realize this is no longer fun and games. When you recognize, how dangerous he can be, how mean and ruthless. He'd be a fool not to admit it, it makes him feel powerful, revered.
And the undertone of humiliation running through the length of your spine is just such a delicious addition. Almost better than chems. Almost more addicting.
Lips tugging back into a nasty smirk, he appraises you with his gaze, surprised when your resolve seems to harden even more.
- You, Healer - your title sounds wrong coming from his thin lips, worse than any other time you've heard it - Can call me "sir".
Something akin to disgust runs through your expression, and you turn away with a grumble.
- Fat fucking chance.
#my writing#cooper howard smut#cooper howard x you#cooper howard x reader#fallout x reader#fallout tv series#fallout smut#the ghoul x reader#the ghoul smut#if yall see any typos no you dont ill edit it in the morning i just gotta post it before i go insane#i am slightly taking inspiration from a little ship ive been shiping since highschool but i want tell yall which one#you gotta guess#its from superwholock is all im gonna say which is just... who am i#anyways good night this cowboy is retiring
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R U MINE? feat. gojo satoru
gojo satoru has got to be the picture definition of a stereotypical college frat boy. he’s cocky, loaded with his daddy’s money, and dangerously handsome. it seems like common sense to stay away from him since you’ll never get more than a one-night stand out of it.
that’s why you choose to turn a blind eye once you’ve come to the horrific realization: you’re in love with him. and you’re just itching to ask…
“are you mine tomorrow? or just mine tonight?”
IMPORTANT: part two is out! read here :)
content: 8k words, afab!reader, angst! fluff! heartbreak! n everything in between! implied smut, rich college frat boy gojo and hellcat driver geto 🤑, emotional rollercoaster, reader has a toxic ex, trust issues (?) gojo is absolutely insufferable, misunderstandings, use of words hoe, slut, etc., mutual pining, some jjk character cameos (wink wink) me writing very unfunny dialogue, no bc wtf is this, cheating implications, emo gojo (the worst warning of them all)
author's note: hello hello! my name is kami, i've been reblogging fics on tumblr for a while now but i've recently figured out how to work this hellsite, so i'm going to start posting fics that i write! thank you to those who enjoyed my nanami drabble <3 kisses 4 u all.
this fic IS split into two parts (update: part two is now out!! linked here 2 read) and there is smut in the second part. so just. prepare yourselves for that ig.
reblog and interact for a kiss ;)
“so… let me get this straight.”
“go ahead.”
shoko takes a deep breath, and you just somehow know that she’s pinching her nose in exasperation right now. “utahime dragged you out to a party in hopes that you would hit it off with somebody. you wander off on your own and later, she sees you and gojo–THE gojo satoru–giving you his number?!”
“uh, yeah. that’s exactly what happened.”
“do you even understand what you’re getting yourself into?! that man bags hoes like they’re pokemon!” you readjust the phone against your ear and sigh at shoko’s comment.
“okay, first of all, never say that again. second, i rejected all of his advances. i didn’t even save his number.” you stare at the crinkled-up note in your hands, which proudly displays his number and a slick call me if you change your mind ;). you wonder if you could sell this paper to his fangirls–you’d surely make a little bit of cash out of it. “i’ve seen gojo around. i know that i shouldn’t mess with him. plus, he was drunk as hell at the party; i doubt he even remembers my name. to him, i’m just some chick that he’s frustrated at because she didn’t want to fuck him the second she saw him.”
“do you… do you share any classes with him?”
“i don’t think i do.. just, don’t worry about it, okay? i’ll throw away his number and we can put all of this behind us. here, i’ll do it right now.” you rip up the paper into a few pieces before tossing it in the garbage can. hopefully, you did it loud enough that shoko heard it through the phone. “i get that you’re worried for me. and i appreciate that, but i can handle myself.”
“just… no more mention of gojo anymore, okay? you’re right, y/n. let’s just put this all behind us.” shoko sighs, and you smile at that. problem solved. you threw away his number, and he’s most likely moved on to the next girl by now, so that was that. now, you just have to forget about satoru gojo.
all to never let yourself get hurt ever again.
it’s hard to forget about gojo.
not because of those dangerous blue eyes of his–getting anyone lost in them if they stare for too long. not because of his stupid silvery white hair, which makes him look like a mop, and sometimes like a paintbrush. not that stupid cocky grin of his, either…
...but because you’ve recently found out that he sits next to you for physics.
the revelation was truly disheartening. you thought you could avoid him for the rest of the year because as far as you knew, you shared no classes with him. however, you completely forgot about the fact that gojo never attends class in the first place, and you don’t even know what classes he’s in… because he’s never there. so finding out that the seat next to you in physics wasn’t just an empty seat, and it was gojo’s assigned one, was truly an experience.
“gojo.” the name alone makes your heart stop, and you drop your pen to look at the man your teacher was addressing. “finally choosing to attend class for once?”
speak of the devil.
there he was, in all his glory–the man you’d never thought you had to deal with ever again. the man who tried to butter you up with his corny sweet talk so that you would go home with him for the night. the man who persisted with talking to you, even though you were barely interested. the man, who, at the end of the night, insisted on writing down his number for you in case you changed your mind about him and gave him a chance.
you wanted to shrink into your seat and never resurface.
“good morning, yaga!” he says rather loudly, with no regard to honorifics at all. a few giggles could be heard across the classroom–though geto suguru’s voice was prominent–satoru’s equally as infamous bestfriend. “and yeah! it’s surprising, isn’t it?”
what’s also surprising is how gojo took a seat next to you. you thought that there was a mistake, that your teacher would scold him for sitting somewhere he isn’t supposed to sit and relocate him elsewhere. however, yaga just grumbles and begins the lesson, leaving you helpless and unable to look at the man next to you.
you swear he’s burning holes at the back of your head.
pleasdon’tremembermeisweartogodpleasedon’trememberme-
“you’re that girl from the party, right?” he whispers, and you’ve never wanted to disappear so badly in your life. you slowly nod your head, turning to look at him, and he pouts. “y/n l/n. you never saved my number. hmph, i was looking forward to a text from you, too.”
“i’m surprised you even remember me, 'cause you were fucking wasted that night.” you twiddle your pencil, averting your gaze from the man. “and i never saved your number cause i threw the paper in the trash. it’s probably at a landfill somewhere, y’know.”
your words catch him off guard, and you laugh at how surprised satoru looks. it seems that’s definitely not an emotion he shows often. despite his initial reaction, satoru swears he could feel butterflies with the way your laugh sounds.
“not a common problem for a womanizer, huh?”
“what did you just call me?!-”
“y/n and gojo, do either of you have something to share with the class?” a dark blush of embarrassment covers your face, and somewhere in the back, you could hear geto snickering. gojo just smirks at yaga, seeming completely uanffected. “then i’d suggest you stay quiet the rest of this lesson. don’t make me separate you two.”
“i’d prefer that, actually…” gojo huffs at your comment, thinking of this as a lost opportunity if the two of you get separated. he does a once over at your appearance. you’re cute, but definitely not the party kind. you’re playing hard to get, and gojo finds it adorable–not a lot of girls go that way with him. however, gojo thinks you’re not just like any girl. there’s something different about you that intrigues him.
“did no one ever tell you that it’s rude to stare?”
“how could i not? you’re so cute.”
“i thought you already learned from the party, gojo. i’m not interested in you.”
the light blush coating your cheeks says otherwise. he smiles cheekily at the way you tried to hide your reaction to his words. you’re an enigma to gojo… and he’s drawn to you like a moth to a flame. he thinks he’s made his decision.
he’s gonna do whatever’s possible to get your number.
when the bell rings 30 minutes later, you shove your notebook into your bag, eager to finally leave the class that you had with that stupid paintbrush. that is, until he stops you with a question. “what class do you have next?”
he’s relentless. “why do you care?”
“i want to walk you to your next class,” he says, and smirks before saying his next words. “it doesn’t really matter if you tell me or not. i’ll just follow you anyways.”
you sigh, absolutely exasperated with him. he’s like a fly who keeps invading your personal space—always coming back no matter how many times you swat it away. he’s right, though. damn him for being stubborn. “i actually have this period free.”
“oh, sweet!” he chirps, walking with you out the door, making sure to greet geto before he leaves the classroom. “let’s go to the courtyard. i’ll buy you a drink from the vending machine-“
“i was gonna do that regardless if you were here or not.” you give him a look, and you can’t help but tug on your sleeves when you see people whisper to each other as you walk the halls with gojo. of course you’ve heard the rumors. the man next to you is the most popular guy on campus. girls glare daggers at you and the guys call his name, although he barely even acknowledges them.
some common things that you’ve heard about gojo around the school are: “i heard he only talks to girls for sex,” “apparently his best friend geto is just as much of a player!” “i mean, who wouldn’t fuck a guy like gojo, though? he’s hot and loaded.” “that’s how he reels you in, though. he gets his hand in your pants and never calls you back again.” you know you should stay away from him, it’s common sense, but it’s hard to stay away from him when he’s the one who glues himself to your side.
“well, now you’ll get a free drink and we’ll get to know each other! isn’t that great?” he smiles and you just grimace at his words.
“i don’t need your money…”
“don’t care! can’t hear you!” he says, and you’ve seriously considered just making a run for it. at least you’ll lose him, and you’d finally be able to find peace for a bit. although, it would cause a scene, and gojo would probably end up finding you again somehow.
“what can i do to get you to leave me alone?”
that piques his interest, even though he looks slightly hurt by your question. he thinks for a bit, and smirks. “i really do want to buy you something from the vending machine.. and i want you to spend your free period with me. i’ll leave you alone for the rest of the day if you do.”
“do you promise? like, actually?”
“mhm! pinky promise!” you feel like you’re talking to a prepubescent boy.
“then sure-“ you’re about to agree, but he cuts you off with one more condition.
“i also want your number.”
you feel like you’ve been cursed by a god, because having the most popular guy on campus be interested in you has got to be the most chaotic thing to ever happen in your life.
“what do you have me saved as?”
the question comes from out of the blue, and you look up from the book you were completely absorbed in. you and satoru were at the school library, on a “study date” as he calls it, although it was more so just gojo inviting himself to wherever place you go, as per usual. this time, you have an exam to study for, and you explicitly told him not to bother you unless absolutely necessary.
you do have to say, though, he’s not annoying as you thought he was. he just nagged you way more the first day he sat next to you in physics so he could get your number. it’s been a few days since then, but still, you’d definitely be more efficient in your studies if you didn’t have him attached to your hip all the time.
“satoru, i told you not to bother me-“
“unless absolutely necessary. yeah, i heard you, and this question needs an absolutely necessary answer! contact names really say a lot about our relationship, y’know.”
“relationship? nobody ever said we were even friends-“
“don’t break my heart like that, babe. plus, you don’t call me gojo anymore! it’s satoru to you now,” his heart warms at that realization, and you scoff, especially at the pet name. “we are friends, unless you’d like to be something more...”
“if you say anything else i’m calling you by your government name. gojo satoru.” he looks especially wounded by that.
“ah! don’t do that, please. it feels like we’re a married couple and you’re really mad at me.” he cries and you can’t help but giggle at his words. you decide to entertain him a little bit, fishing through your pocket to find your phone.
he almost passes out at what he sees on your screen.
“it’s just my number? you didn’t even save my contact?!-“
the shushes from your fellow students and the librarians aren’t even enough to calm gojo’s agony and despair. it also does nothing to stop your laughter, either.
from that day on, gojo’s contact was forcefully changed from his number to “satoru” (he initially added a heart, but you deleted it, much to his disappointment) and one of his many selfies from his stupid instagram account. how the hell can a college student even have thousands of followers?! you think.
gojo just says that nobody can resist his shirtless post-workout selfies. you’re surprised that you didn’t slap him at his words.
you push him away.
everytime gojo buys your favorite drink, (it’s always on him, despite your genuine insistence in saying that you could pay for your drink just fine.) everytime he walks you to all of your classes each day, (he memorized your schedule just so he could do this) everytime he buys you your favorite foods on the rare instances that you let him take you out for lunch, (usually, this requires a lot of begging, and you mostly relent during class when you’re just exasperated and wanted to get some notes down.), and everytime he calls you by those stupid pet names of his, you think back to what the entire student body says about him, and you think back to your phone call with shoko, where she warns you to not associate with him so you don’t get hurt by anyone ever again, and you push him away.
you push him away even when you realize that if he just wanted you for sex, he would’ve stopped chasing after you when you didn’t text him after that night at the party.
and that thought alone scares you.
still, you’re not heartless. satoru’s been asking to take you out for a while, and you finally agreed to go today. he’s especially chipper about your agreement right now, walking with a slight pep in his step as he bit around his ice cream cone.
the park boasts some beautiful scenery today, and little children are out and about. still, you underestimated the weather, and the cold uncomfortably nipped your arms as you internally cursed yourself out for wearing just a shirt. you crossed your arms as a subtle way to shield yourself from the cold.
“don’t play coy with me, y/n. are you cold?” satoru says with a cocky grin, and you huff at his question. surprisingly, he drops the teasing act and unzips his sweater, handing it to you. “here, take it.”
“satoru-“
“i’m not doing this to flirt or whatever you’re thinking right now. you’re shivering, and i’m just concerned for you, so please wear it.” he deadpans, and it’s the first time you’ve seen him be so… upfront? you kind of like it. it’s not him teasing you or him being flirty. it’s just him showing that he genuinely cares for you as a friend. you take the sweater with a nod and put it on, ignoring how your heart is thumping as you take in his signature smell. cedarwood with a little bit of musk. it’s not an overpowering scent, but it still envelopes your senses.
“nevermind. you look so cute with my hoodie on. i feel like we’re in a j-drama right now, y/n!”
you take back everything you just said.
a few minutes later, you two are near the kids playground when you decide to take a break from walking, sitting on a nearby bench with gojo. the chirping of the birds and the wind passing through the trees is quickly overpowered by loud crying. crying from the child right in front of you, in fact.
you’re about to ask him what’s wrong, but satoru beats you to it. he kneels in front of the kid, and coos, “hey, buddy. what’s your name, hm?”
he stops crying for a moment to look at gojo and shakily responds, “gumi-um, megumi fushiguro..”
“megumi, huh.” he clicks his tongue for a moment. “why are you crying, megumi?”
“i-i don’t know where my dad is!” he cries, and satoru looks to you for help. you just shrug, unsure of what to do with the lost kid, until gojo’s face lights up, assumingly with a great idea.
“he’s most likely just around here somewhere. you can wait with us, and we’ll help you find him! say, do you want an ice cream to help you feel better, megumi?” the boy hesitantly nods, and satoru gives him a thumbs up as he takes him to the nearby ice cream stand. you’re watching this entire scene unfold, absolutely enamored with gojo for the first time. you didn’t think he had a natural talent with kids—but the way he’s making megumi laugh while he happily snacks on his ice cream says otherwise. an outsider could look at you three and assume that you’re just a happy family.
you try to ignore how that makes you feel.
and as you wave goodbye to megumi once he eventually is reunited with his father again, (an intimidating man who gave you two an appreciative nod as he walked away with his son.) you realize something as you tug on the sleeves of your-satoru’s sweater.
you’re in love with gojo satoru.
and fuck, that revelation scares you more than anything. the last time you had given your heart to a man, he had crushed it repeatedly until you decided that you would never let yourself be vulnerable like that ever again.
and now, you're in love with your school’s notorious playboy—and it feels like you’re setting yourself up to be heartbroken again. you want disregard those rumors and shoko’s words so badly, but they still eat at the back of your mind even though the real gojo satoru is right in front of you, and he doesn’t match the characteristics of the gojo satoru in those rumors at all.
you also remember that he has one real best friend, geto suguru. you like to think that this is also what geto sees in gojo. the reason why he’s stuck around.
the reason why you want to stick around too.
you’re so busy in your head that you’ve just noticed gojo frantically waving his hand in your face. “earth to y/n? oh, good! i thought you had, like, a shock reaction from seeing megumi’s father. he looked a little scary, no?”
“he looks like if a muscle came to life and started talking.” you whisper, and he laughs in agreement. burying your hands into the pockets of his hoodie, you smile. you don’t want to think about your current revelation with gojo right now. instead, you’ll stick with the present. and right now, you like the present.
you just don’t want to think about what this means for your future.
it’s the weekend, and you’re doing some work at the local cafe, gojo-free for once. only god knows what the man is doing at three pm in the afternoon on a saturday. not like you should be thinking about him right now, though. his presence alone has caused you to be behind on your studies, and you need to make sure you catch up.
you have to admit, you were a little unused to the silence. usually, the silence would be filled with gojo’s endless banter with you, as well as his terrible, corny jokes that are so stupid you can’t help but laugh. his seemingly never-ending presence was annoying at first, but now, you’re starting to yearn for his company.
it further fuels the pit of uncertainty in your stomach, and you hate it.
shaking your head with a sigh, you take another bite of your pastry and continue typing up the report on your laptop. the looming thought of this report’s impact on your grade and the need to pass this class helps you forget about satoru for a while. once again, you get lost in your academics.
the ring of the cafe bell breaks you from your trance. it was a natural impulse of yours to glance at everyone who entered the cafe, but once you did this time, you felt your heart drop down to your knees.
it was your ex.
your ex boyfriend who destroyed the notion of love for you, because he made you feel it for a short time, only to throw it all into a pit of fire and leave you scrambling to find nothing but ashes.
if you had to find the true roots as to why you’re so afraid to pursue a new relationship–you always find your ex in the center of it. and now, he’s right in front of you. you have to face him again when you refuse to shamefully admit that you’ve barely even healed from the emotional scars that he’d left behind.
you feel as if an invisible hand has wrapped itself around your throat, blocking your airways and your ability to speak.
out of all the days satoru wasn’t here with you, it had to be this one.
“y/n? is that you, sweetheart?” you wanted to vomit at the way he said your name. he had no right to say it so sweetly, when all he’s ever left behind is venom.
“i don’t want to talk to you.” you cringe at the way your voice cracks, and you avert your gaze from him.
“please, just hear me out for a minute, baby..” he coos, and you hate the way he talks to you as if you were a child. “i know i fucked up, and i can’t change our past… but i can change our future together. if you take me back, i’ll show you how much i’ve changed-”
you don’t know how many times you’ve heard that stupid line before.
“god, you sound like a broken record with how many times you’ve pulled that bullshit on me.” you spat, loud enough to draw commotion in the cafe. your ex has surprise written all over his face–most likely due to your non-compliance to his words. “what, do you say that shit to all your hoes?”
your ex looks around, shrinking a little when he sees all eyes are on him. “now, now, y/n, no need to be like that-”
“be like that… be like that?! you’re telling me to be civil when you’re the one coming in here wanting me back, spouting some bullshit saying that you’ve changed, when i told you to leave me alone already!” you scream, and you could feel the tears bubble up in your eyes. you look down, so you aren’t able to see how everyone’s staring at you with pity. god, you hate pity. it makes you feel weak and vulnerable. the two emotions you absolutely loathe. “i just want you to leave me alone, god. i hate you, why won’t you just-”
“you fucking bitch-” he makes a move to lunge at you, and you instinctively take a step back, pure fear enveloping your senses.
you never feel the impact, though, as you see your ex being restrained by the cafe worker.
you remember him. the man who took your order earlier. he was an older man with a warm smile on his face, although you noticed how his cheekbones were slightly sunken, and he looked a little overworked. you jokingly quipped earlier that he should get some sleep before thanking him for making your order. he just replied, i get that quite a lot.
the size difference between your ex and the man is enough to discourage him from fighting back. he makes quick work your ex, dragging him out the door while he hysterically screams profanities to you on the way out. you assumed the worker threatened to call the police, because your ex scrambled up from the ground and ran away. you hoped this was the last time you would ever see him again.
“are you okay, ma’am? he didn’t hurt you, did he?”
you didn’t even realize that the worker was back inside the cafe. everyone was gradually returning to their own businesses, with the eerie silence being replaced by casual chatter once more. you also didn’t realize how much your hands were shaking, and you huff out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “y-yeah, i’m alright, and he didn’t hit me. i just… need a minute,”
you decide that you aren’t gonna get anymore work done like this, so you pack your laptop into your bag and slump onto the seat with a sigh. you bury your face into your hands. “is it a long story?”
“oh, don’t even get me started.”
he laughs at that, and you ease up a little. “i told him i’d call the police if i ever see him around here again.”
“that’s good to hear. though i’d prefer if i never see him in my life ever again.”
he hums at your words, and he turns to look out the window. “it’s getting dark out. do you want me to call you a cab?”
“no need, i’ll call my boyf–my friend. i’ll call my friend. he’ll uh, pick me up.” you’re still so shaken up you barely even register what you said to him. your eyes are frantic as you turn your phone on and look for gojo’s name in your contacts. you don’t know why you want him to pick you up out of everybody. you could ask utahime or shoko right now, but you just wanted nothing more but to see gojo.
the bell rings again, and you flinch at the sound. thankfully, it was just another customer. the worker sighs. “well, these orders aren’t going to be done themselves. just wave me over if there are any other problems, okay?”
you nod absentmindedly, and he turns to leave, but you stop him. “wait, sir, what’s your name?”
“kento nanami.”
“thank you so much, nanami. i appreciate it.”
“i’m just doing my job.”
“your job is restraining crazy exes of college girls and kicking them out?”
“‘it comes with the job description.” he teases, and you laugh lightheartedly. “and your name is?”
“y/n l/n.”
“anytime, miss l/n. again, just please… call me over if anything happens.”
“will do…” you say, pressing the “call” button on gojo’s contact. the anxiety is hitting you again, and you take a shaky inhale. you’re surprised at how he picks up almost instantly. “hey… satoru? yeah, can you come pick me up, please? i know i don’t normally ask you to do something like this but-”
“did something happen?”
“a lot happened, actually… i’ll text you the address. please, just come soon.”
“of course, y/n.” you could already hear him running out the door, hearing the roar of his car engine coming to life. “i’ll be there as soon as possible.”
he gets to the cafe in five.
you wave goodbye to nanami, thanking him once more as you get in the passenger seat of gojo’s car.
it’s not your first time inside here, but you still can’t help but admire how… expensive everything looks. or maybe you’re just looking around because you’re stalling, and you have no idea where to begin with satoru.
however, you notice that he’s not asking you what happened, and he’s not forcing you to explain anything to him. instead, he switches the gear shift out of parking and says, “do you want me to take you home?”
your eyes widen at his words, and you shake your head no profusely. the last thing you want to be is home alone right now, mainly because your ex knows where you live. you know he most likely won’t go that far with you, especially since nanami knocked some sense into him… but the possibilities still scare you. you take a deep breath before saying your next words.
“...can you take me to your house? i-i’m sorry for asking, i just don’t want to be alone right now cause i’m terrified and-”
“y-yeah. i’ll take you to my house.” he says, and you’ve never seen him so nervous in your life. it almost makes you laugh.
“i’ll explain everything later. i just… wanna be somewhere safe first.” somewhere safe. you find his house as a safe place. gojo doesn’t know how to react. his heart is thumping wildly out of his chest, but he makes sure to put your own comfort before his feelings.
“you don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to.” he says, maintaining his cool by keeping his eyes on the road, one hand on the wheel and the other on the gear shift.
“but i want to, satoru…” you say. you can’t believe you’re doing this again. you’re crossing so many territories that you were so afraid to cross because of your ex. now, you think you aren’t that afraid anymore. not if you have satoru by your side.
you place one of your cold hands on the gear stick, interlocking it with his. is he… shaking? “thank you for this.”
still. there are so many things you can’t say to him yet. you don’t know when you’ll be able to… or if you’ll ever be able to.
i love you. i love you but i’m too afraid to say it. i just hope that you’ll be able to wait for me.
“god, you’re killin’ me here, y/n.”
that pit of uncertainty in your stomach has grown so large you feel it's about to consume you whole. you don’t think you mind much, though.
the two of you are lounging at his couch after satoru insisted on telling you to make yourself at home. there’s a movie playing, with neither of you paying attention at all, takeout on the coffee table, two glasses and a bottle of wine after gojo didn’t know what drinks to serve, and freaked out by pulling the first expensive drink out from his parents’ alcohol closet. has he never properly invited someone to his home before?
“so in short, you had a crazy ex who saw you at the coffee shop… and he was begging for you to take him back, and when you went off on him he called you a bitch and tried to hit you…” he recalls, a huge grimace on his face. “tch. the cafe worker shouldn’t have let him go like that.”
“i’m sure he learned not to mess with me after getting humiliated in public.. and nanami did more than enough for me.” you retorted, and he gave you a sour look.
“oh, so you know the worker’s name now?” he says, and you could feel the tension build up in the air. oh. so he wants to do this with you? “what, is he your knight in shining armor?”
“he looks like he’s in his late thirties, satoru. i’m not into older guys,” you roll your eyes at his absurd questions and add, “what’s it to you anyway?”
“what’s it to me, y/n?” he repeats your words, and you could feel an argument coming, like you already didn’t have an exhaustive one with your ex. “you know how i feel about you-“
“what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” your voice is getting louder, all to hide your fear behind the implication of his words. you distance yourself from him on the couch.. much like how you distance yourself from letting satoru get too close to how you truly feel. “we’re not even together, satoru. you don’t get to control the guys that i talk to- hell, have you even seen yourself?”
you’re rambling, and all you want to do is shut up, but you can’t bring yourself to. “i’ve heard what our school says about you. y-you’re a playboy, right? and you only ever talk to girls because you wanna fuck them. i’m not stupid, satoru. i’m not different from any of them, right? you only chase after me because i’m playing hard to get and that pisses you off-“
“what… what are you even saying, y/n?” he asks, and it stops your rambling for a moment. you don’t know what you’re saying. you’re pouring out all the reasons why you’ve tried to push him away, the reasons why you were so afraid to give your heart to him. but now that you say them out loud, they sound outright stupid.
“i started coming to class just to talk to you, i memorized your schedule just so i can walk you to class every morning. i buy you all your favorite food and drinks… i had to memorize your favorites too, by the way. and i have shit memory.” he’s screaming at this point, and you’ve never had satoru scream at you. there are unshed tears in his eyes, and it’s all overwhelming to watch this unfold. “and when you called me, i drove as fast as i could to you because you never call like that and i was fuckin’ worried!”
“so let me ask you a question, y/n… would i do all these things for you just because i want you in my bed?! i’d do anything for you, and you know that!” he’s crying. the gojo satoru is crying, and it’s all for a girl. if you told this to someone in your school, they’d call you a shit-faced liar. gojo satoru doesn’t cry for a girl. he makes them cry.
“i’m sorry for being skeptical, satoru! i just can’t help it when there’s so many rumors about you wanting to fuck girls just for the shit of it – and i’m conflicted on whether or not i should believe them because i want you so bad and i’m scared you’ll end up just breaking my heart and i don’t want that to happen again-”
he cuts you off. “you… what?”
you’re confused at why he looks so surprised, but then you backtrack on your words and you gasp. fuck. why did i say that? you cover your mouth and look away from him, refusing to meet his eyes.
those stupid blue eyes that you know you can’t get enough of.
“y/n… can you please say that again? i don’t want to do anything if i didn’t hear you right.” his voice is soft now, and you swear that you’re dreaming. this isn’t real. right? i’m gonna wake up soon. you dig your nails into the palms of your hands, leaving half-moon marks in their wake. it doesn’t work, and you don’t wake up, and you know you have to accept the fact that this is very real and it’s happening.
this is the worst leap of faith you think you’ve ever had to take in your life.
“i want you so fucking bad, satoru. and i’m realizing that you’re not just the stereotypical rich playboy that everyone talks about on campus—you’re a really great guy, and i guess i’m just scared to face that-” you don’t even realize that satoru’s got you cornered on the couch, and you can’t finish your words as he slots his lips against yours. hard. it’s the most passionate kiss you think you’ve ever had in your life, and it’s got your breath taken away in seconds. holy shit.
you quietly moan against his lips as you kiss back, cupping his face with your hands and wiping his tears away. you wish this moment would last forever, but you pull away so you can breathe. you meet gojo’s eyes, and they’re clouded with lust and desire, but you could tell he’s still a little uncertain. “we’ll talk later… just take me to the bedroom already,”
gojo doesn’t need another confirmation from you, and he lifts you up to carry you to his bedroom, practically tripping on his feet the way there.
a few hours later and a noise complaint from the neighbors, it’s safe to say that gojo satoru was the best one you’ve ever had.
“god, i’m never letting you go, baby.”
he’s tracing hearts onto your bare back. it’s littered with bruises and red scratch marks just from a few minutes ago, but you’ve never felt better in your life. you stare at the man who invited himself into your life just from an encounter at a party, and you thank your lucky stars that you agreed to go with utahime that night. “is something wrong? you’re starin’ again.”
“i’m sorry it took me so long to trust you. i’ve just been scared to open up my heart again, especially after him.” you don’t have to name “him” for satoru to understand.
“i’m sorry too. i just got angry about the rumors and i also disregarded the fact that you’re scared to love again after your ex did all of that shit and-” he pauses, and sighs. “sorry. i’m rambling again.”
he pulls you into another kiss, and this time, it’s sweeter, lighter, and full of love. “i’m going to show you what it looks like to really be loved, because it’s definitely not the shitty picture that your ex painted in your head. there’s way more to it than that.”
“i love you, y/n.”
“thank you, toru.” you whisper. maybe, one day, you’ll be able to find the courage to say it back. and it’s okay, because gojo is willing to wait an eternity for you.
he’ll wait an eternity for you to teach you how to love again.
“look at how beautiful you are…” gojo says, appearing out of nowhere as he wraps an arm around your waist. you yelp, staring at your boyfriend through the mirror. he’s wearing a classic black tuxedo, with no doubt it being very expensive. it compliments the glimmering rolex on his wrist, and the thoughts running through your head about him and his outfit sets fire to your stomach.
“look at yourself first, toru… god, we should just stay home,” you tease, turning around to pull him into a deep kiss. it’s a friday, and gojo’s taking you out to attend geto’s party tonight. the two of you are going for several reasons. he wants to introduce you to his bestfriend, since you realized that you’ve never actually formally met geto before. it’ll also be your first formal “couple appearance”, as if gojo being attached to your side all the time doesn’t say enough about the two of you already.
gojo pulls away, which surprises you. you pout at the expression on his face. “as much as i want to, suguru’s been bugging about you all week. i really do think it’s time for you to meet him,”
“hmph. alright.”
“i’m tearing that dress off of you the second we get home, though.”
“satoru!”
“what?! not my fault my girl looks so damn hot all the time!”
this night is going amazing.
when satoru walks with you through the front doors, arm wrapped around your waist and the dress you picked out for tonight glimmering, you feel a little shy. the guys all whistle at the two of you, and the girls whisper amongst each other, but you and gojo don’t care. in his eyes, you’re the only girl he sees. the only girl worth being with here.
“wanna go get drinks?” he asks you, cerulean eyes showing underneath his sunglasses. you nod, walking to the kitchen with him. you’re getting severe deja vu… you can’t believe you met gojo at the last party you were at. and now you’re at another party, with gojo as your date. you scan the crowd for utahime or shoko, wondering what you would say to them if they saw you with the man they specifically told you not to mess with.
it’s alright, though. shoko was wrong about those rumors, and gojo’s proving it to you.
“satoru!” the playful voice greets your boyfriend, and you turn to see geto suguru. you’ve seen him around campus, and he sits somewhere in the back of your chem class. you haven’t really had the opportunity to talk to him, though… and he looks a little intimidating.
“you must be y/n,” he says, offering you a freshly opened smirnoff from the drinks on the countertop. you thank him and grab the drink, taking a swig.
“yup! my lovely girlfriend,” gojo lets go of his arm around your waist to grab a drink.
“you probably don’t know this, but i’ve been his wingman.” he smiles at gojo, who’s pouting, like he’s preparing himself for what suguru is about to say. “he’s batshit crazy for you, its insane.”
“oh? do tell.”
“when the two of you got together, he left me a voicemail at like… four in the morning? anyway, he was screaming about how he was the happiest guy in the world… or something.”
“that’s because i was!” you’re laughing at how unashamed satoru is about this.
“yeah, yeah, whatever.” geto clicks his tongue, pulling out his phone. “and he’s reposted you on insta to like, every drake song-”
“alright, me and y/n are gonna go dance.” he interrupts suguru, and drags you away from his best friend with a yelp. “nice talkin’ to you, suguru!”
“hey, i wanted to know more!-”
“shh, you don’t need to know about all of that.” the two of you are in the living room, in the midst of all the bodies dancing and grinding against each other. he pulls you close to him, and you feel his hot breath against your neck. “you look so beautiful tonight, y/n.”
“same for you, handsome. let’s dance, shall we?” you wrap your arms around him and just sway to the beat. you’ve never been much of a dancer, but everything feels natural as long as gojo’s with you.
suddenly, the music changes, and one dance starts playing. you two look at each other, and you both burst out laughing at the same time. “have you reposted me to this song?”
“duh. it’s a classic.”
“can’t disagree with that.” you say, finding yourself grinding against satoru while wizkid’s part plays in the background. it feels like such a perfect night–you’re pulling satoru into a deep kiss, and he shoves his tongue down your throat while he’s leading you to a nearby couch. you’re seated on his lap, mimicking practically every couple in this party tonight.
suddenly, you pull away, and you whisper, “i need to use the bathroom.”
satoru smirks at your words, thinking that it’s a hint for something else, and you give him a sour face. “want me to join you-”
you hit his chest playfully. “that’s not code for anything, you perv. i actually need to piss.”
he’s pouting at your words, but he lets you off his lap anyway, and holds your drink for the time being. “it’s at the second door in the hall to your right. be quick, please.”
“no duh. i’ve got a cute date to come back to,” you say, walking away and traversing all of the bodies that smell like sweat and alcohol. you’re a little unused to this environment, but it’s alright. you fix up your makeup in the bathroom and freshen up a little, walking back to the living room to find satoru again.
you wish you never did.
you were gone for four minutes. five minutes max. you come back to satoru, and your breath hitches at the sight.
on his lap was a random chick that looked like every other girl at this party. she was practically naked, since her outfit didn’t do much to cover her skin at all.
fuck.
you remember the first time you saw gojo at the last party you went to. the sight wasn’t that different compared to the one now. there were girls all over him, all fighting for his attention. and yet, it seemed that night, his attention was focused solely on you.
what bullshit that was.
your eyes are blurry, and the music is muffled in your ears. white noise fills your senses, and all you want to do right now is run.
so you do.
you run, not caring if gojo saw you at all or not. you run out of the party, eternally grateful that you didn’t pick out heels for tonight and settled for much simpler shoes. you run, despite the fact that you drew geto’s attention. you were already out the door before he could ask what was wrong. you run, just wanting to get away from everyone and everything. you run with no particular destination in mind. you stop running when you almost get run over on a red light, the car honking at you–screaming profanities as it drives by. it breaks you from your trance, and you sit on the curb of the sidewalk, letting all of your tears out on what was supposed to be a perfect night.
of course gojo didn’t think that you were different. you were just like every other girl to him.
stupid. stupid. stupid. you’ve never felt so stupid in your life.
when geto sees you running out the door with unshed tears in your eyes, he immediately panics. what the hell happened?
he goes through every room of the house, trying to find gojo, when he hears a bunch of commotion in the living room. he runs there, pushing past everyone, only to find a total disaster inside.
he sees gojo screaming at a girl dressed like a stripper, who was on the ground with tears in her eyes. satoru looks like he’s about to pop a blood vessel with how pissed he looks. there’s a crowd forming at this point, and geto knows he needs to intervene, so he drags his bestfriend away, who looks so distraught that geto could just wonder what the fuck happened.
they’re outside now, and its significantly a lot more quiet out here compared to all of the chaos inside. all the noise is coming from gojo—who won’t stop crying, and geto has no idea what to do or where to even begin. “fuck!”
“dude, what the fuck happened!?” satoru looks like he’s feeling every emotion at once. he looks pissed, pissed enough to punch a wall, and geto’s a little afraid that gojo might actually do that–or worst-case scenario, punch him. he’s crying, and geto hasn’t seen gojo cry ever since he fell off a swing in pre-k, so what happened must be really fucking serious.
“i don’t KNOW what happened, goddamnit! y/n went to use the bathroom and some slu- some girl came up to me and threw herself on my fucking lap! i was gonna tell her to fuck off but y/n saw before i was able to and now she’s gone and she probably thinks that i’m just some cheater when i’ve worked so hard to get her to trust me and-FUCK!”
he stops, trying to calm down a little, and gojo takes the shakiest breath he thinks he’s ever taken in his life. the red in his vision starts to fade, but he still feels helpless. “i just don’t know what to fucking do, suguru.”
“i just saw y/n run out of my house a few minutes ago.” he says with a grimace, and he’s trying to figure out what to tell his bestfriend. “i’ve never seen you like this over a girl before. holy shit, you really love her, do you?”
geto thinks that gojo’s bloodshot eyes, the brutal names that he called that girl at the party, and the tears he’s shed for you are already an answer.
“this is your last chance to prove it to her, satoru.” geto fumbles through his pockets and hands him the keys to his challenger. gojo snatches them, hearing the car engine rumbling itself to life. the white-haired man thanks his best friend as he steps into the drivers’ side, with geto reassuring him, ‘ill deal with the chaos inside, you go ahead and explain yourself to your girlfriend’.
gojo swears that he’s never driven so fast in his whole life.
part 2 ;)
#kami writes#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#gojo satoru#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru x you#gojo satoru angst#gojo satoru fluff#gojo satoru comfort#gojo x reader angst#gojo angst#gojo x you#gojo x y/n#satoru gojo#gojo satoru x y/n
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Matt sturniolo x reader
summery: you’ve been with your boyfriend for almost a year and although your sex life is good, you wanted more.
warnings: smut, overstimulation, fem!recieving, male!recieving, fingering, face sitting, softdom!reader, hair pulling kink…. point is it’s very smutty
not proofread!!
love, sienna <3
you had been in an established relationship with Matt for almost a year and it’s been amazing. i mean he truly is the best boyfriend you’ve had.
he’s the most considerate person you’ve ever met, always prioritizing your happiness over anything else, and you love him for it.
Matt is also a huge romantic, writing you small notes and making it a point to have date nights weekly, kid is just obsessed with you, and if it’s not obvious enough already you feel the same about him.
which leads you to now, cuddling with him on his silky brown sheets as you do almost every night, your leg drawn out over his waist while the two of you watch batman (Matt’s idea not yours).
for whatever reason, you feel a familiar heat form in between your legs, aching to be touched. but your boyfriend looked so content and innocent watching one of his favourite movies, and you didn’t wanna interrupt him to help you out.
so your left alone with your imagination. it’s safe to say you’ve thought about these things before, in the shower mostly, with the shower head in between your legs as you work yourself through your 3rd orgasam.
you’ve thought about Matt in ways you haven’t discussed with him, mostly because you were scared.
this isn’t because the sex is bad… it definitely isn’t. but you’ve begun to want more, you’re just not entirely sure if your boyfriend is open to that.
most of the hookups you’ve engaged in, you’ve taken on a dominant role, it turned you on like crazy having a man beneath you, begging for a release.
Matt didn’t know about this though, you’re relationship has been very.. vanilla.
but you’re in love with him so it is different, more intimate than you’ve had with anyone else and much more loving. he had a way of making you feel so incredibly special and you cherished him for it.
you just can’t help but imagine Matt moaning your name as you make him cum over and over again, tears welling in his eyes as tells you it’s too much. how his body betrays his words and thrusts into your soft hands, begging for another.
most of all you imagine using him. using his face, his hands, his thighs. anything you can. not letting him touch himself as he works you through multiple orgasams. you imagine making him watch you please yourself, making him watch as you cum on your fingers, moaning his name, and there’s nothing he can do about it.
subconsciously you begin to rock your hips on his side slowly, a mental imagine in your brain of all these fantasies clouding any other thought. you fight back a moan, your pussy literally throbbing at the pure thought of having him like that, at your complete disposal.
you picture the way his legs shake as you finally touch him. the way his cum coats his length and the way his legs shake all because of you.
god it turned you on.
you rock your hips slightly more, not even paying attention to the movie at this point, too focused on chasing your high. the feeling of your clothed clit hitting his hipbone has you soaked.
“mmm” you let out a small moan before stopping entirely. what the fuck were you doing?
of course your actions hadn’t gone unnoticed, you can feel Matt’s bulge on your knee as he watches the movie.
“Matt baby” you look up to him, practically begging with your eyes. he responds by leaning in to kiss you softly, gently.
you pull away, unsure of how to get your point across. “the sex has been great, i promise you are great.” you premise as the boy beside you furrows his eye brows. “i’ve just been feeling like i need more” you state, searching for a reaction on his face, pleased to see a small smirk form.
“what do you want?” the butterflies that fill your stomach are insane, his tired voice does something to you.
you sigh as your hips continue to rock against him, your body moving without the help of your mind. “i want control” the eye contact is already driving you crazy. “i want full control of you” part of you is nervous. it’s very possible that he’ll think this is weird and that would be more upsetting than you’d like to admit.
instead he licks his lips. “okay” he puts his hands behind his head.
oh shit.
you could cum from the sight alone. this is already better than your imagination. “i need you” you start, kissing along his jaw as you climb on top of him. “to sit there and look pretty while i make myself feel good, yeah?” although it’s a demand, you don’t want him to be uncomfortable.
but by the way his breathing increases and his bulge grows, you know your okay.
you bite at his ear, eliciting a small whimper from the boy beneath you. “anything you want”
a smile immediately forms on your face as you lean back to pull your shirt off. he immediately goes to caress your chest, as he always does, but your own hands stop him. “i’ll tell you when you can touch me. just need you to be a good boy for me okay?” god you missed talking like this. you missed the way you were able to have men dumbfounded by your words, but he just nods, bringing his hands back behind his head.
he watches you very intently as you unclasp your bra, slowly taking the fabric off of your breasts. you spread his legs slightly, making yourself at home on his thigh, giving him your full weight.
you guide your hands on your stomach first, teasingly making your way to your nipples as you rock against the muscles below you.
Matt is already spent. out of breath although he’s done absolutely nothing.
you bring your hand to his lips, signalling him to open mouth. the sight of your fingers in his spit cause you to grind onto him more, a small whimper leaving your lips. “look at that pretty mouth of yours” you coo, a smirk making its way to your lips. “gonna put it to good use”
the look in his eyes sends a throb straight to your core, he looks so incredibly good begging for you. “please”
you take your now wet fingers and begin to toy with your nipples, your head rolling back in pleasure.
as much as you could do this forever, you need more, and you’d also like to see more. you lift off Matt’s shirt, exposing his chest instantly. you had to fight every urge to lick a stripe down his stomach, you were saving that one for later.
part of you wishes you brought your vibrator to use in front of him, make him hold it on your clit while you scream out for him, but you forgot.
you get off of his thigh and for a moment Matt looks like a lost puppy. “shift onto the bed fully” you demand, taking off your shorts and climbing onto the boy who’s now laying down flat. “you gonna make me feel good?” you whisper in his ear while you begin to rub small circles on your clothed clit, nothing but a thong separating you from where you want his tongue.
he just nods, a small bead of sweat dripping down his face. so worked up just for you. “i want words” you rock on his bulge slightly, giving him a glimpse into the pleasure he’ll be receiving from you later.
he gulps, clearly struggling to keep his hands to himself. “gonna make you feel so good. just wanna taste you”
you chuckle slightly at his willingness, your sight being straight out of a wet dream. “that’s what i wanna hear”
you get straight to work, placing yourself right above his face as he waits to make any movements. before you want his tongue though, you want his nose.
god doja cat was right.
you rock your hips on this nose, the tip of it grazing your clit with every roll.
“fuck Matt. doing so good for me” you lift yourself off of his face and he looks into your eyes asking for permission. as much as you could continue to tease him, it’s hard to say no to that face. you guide his hands to your hips, allowing his fingers to explore your ass while you remain staring into his eyes, now pushing your underwear to the side.
you sink into him and almost immediately he gets to work. lapping up the wetness that has accumulated and using it to lick small circles on your clit.
matt the much was a very fitting nickname.
you pull on his hair subconsciously, not that it’s something you’ve tried with him before, but based on the way he moans into you you know he’s into it.
his pace increases, flicking his tongue on your clit while you moan out his name. he uses his hands to hold you there, forcing you to stay out and you feel the pressure build up in your stomach by the way he sucks on your clit. “fuck Matt”
you pull on his hair more, wanting to feel the vibrations of his moaning on your clit, and god does it work.
looking back momentarily to see his bulge you spot his hand, slowly palming himself. as much as you want to get mad at him, your close, shutting your eyes closed as you ride out your high, legs squeezing around the boys face.
your a moaning mess and his tongue doesn’t slow down once, your eyes squeezed shut, overstimulated but ultimately, preparing for your second orgasam of the night.
you knew you weren’t gonna last long, after the first orgasam you never did, and with Matt’s tongue? you were hopless.
he begins tongue fucking you, and you bounce up and down as he curls his tongue inside of you, the tip of it curling exactly where you need it. “i- i’m gonna” your legs literally shake on his face as he works through your second orgasam of the night.
you can tell he could keep going but you needed a break so you pull off, the sigh better than anything you could have ever imagined, pure lust in his eyes as your cum drips down by the corner of his mouth, hair messy from being pulled.
you climb back down so you’re face to face. “you are so fucking hot like this” he shutters at the sentence and you can tell he’s in need of a release. “do you think you’ve been good enough to come?”
he nods frantically, literally high off of your pleasure. “please i need to be inside of you, wanna feel you clench around me” you kiss down his neck some more, causing him to stutter over his words.
you chuckle at his eagerness, licking down his jawline. “i don’t think you’ve deserved that yet” you glide your hand up his stomach, lightly, teasingly. “i saw you touching yourself, and as hot as it was” you pull on his hair slightly, giving you more access to his neck, more room to make a mess of marks. “it was against the rules wasn’t it?”
the way he’s breathing it sounds like he’s gonna cry, eyes shut and eyebrows furrowed. exactly how you want him.
you reach your fingers back down on your clit, moaning instantly at the sensation. he made you so incredibly sensitive but you weren’t done. “mmm Matt, i need your fingers” you throw your head back, lost in the pleasure your hands are giving yourself as you rub small, gentle circles on your clit. right above his length that has already left a small wet spot in his pants. “can you make me cum one more time Matt? wanna feel those long finger of yours”
it’s hard to tell how he feels about it, upset wouldn’t be the right word, but he’s desperate for his own pleasure and you can tell. “just one more baby, wanna be shaking when your done with me”
“can i touch you?” there it is.
you nod and he flips you over immediately, hovering over you on the bed with his horse necklace dangling from his throat. a change in dynamic, but you weren’t opposed to it.
he takes more time now that he’s been given permission, licking small circles on your one nipple while his hand pitches the other, causing you to arch into him.
‘why have i never asked for this before’ you think. but your thoughts are clouded by the way his clothed dick rubs against you ever so slightly. based on his smile, he knows exactly what he’s doing.
“take off your pants” you demand, looking him dead in the eye. it’s clear how excited he is, but your still not allowing him what he wants most, not yet.
he moves quick, standing off the bed to drop down into just his boxers, at your full disposal. he hovers over you again, and for just a moment you let him have some control, you can’t help it, he’s Matt Sturniolo.
you feel the way his hands cherish every part of your body, taking special time with your nipples, but eventually you grow bored of this. “Matt please”
“oh right” he shakes his head as if you had just put him in a trance momentarily.
but he gets right back to it, his hand placing pressure on your clit while he continues to kiss you, and you can’t help but twitch at the touch. he didn’t realize how much you loved overstimulation, or how much he loved having you this way, but this was definitely going to happen more often.
you grip onto the silk sheets as he continues to rub teasing circles, normally you’d be upset at this, wanting more, but your sensitivity has made the smallest touch feel like everything.
involuntarily, you buck your hips up, your body needing more, needing his fingers inside of you. “so needy baby, why can’t i take my time?” he teases, toying with your entrance as you try to form a sentence.
“Matt i-“ the tip his finger grazes your sensitive clit, causing you to shutter. “if you don’t put those fingers to better use your not cumming tonight” it’s hard to be dominating when your practically shivering under his touch.
he leans down to your collar bone, placing light kisses along your chest, now (finally) inserting his fingers into you. your mouth opens immediately, eyes squeezed shit as he teases your insides, lightly grazing over your g-spot before moving over it, exploring you.
“Matt if you don’t-“ before you can finish your sentence his pace increases drastically, his long fingers hitting you exactly where you were craving the touch.
literal tears form in your eyes, he’s never gone this fast before and by the way your continuously gripping the sheets and rocking your body into it, it’s clear you like it. “grip on my hair baby not the sheets”
once again you don’t want to take orders from him, but the proposition is too much to pass up. you switch your grasp to the brunette curls as he continues curling his fingers into you at a rapid pace.
you definitely won’t last long.
“clenching around me so good, so tight for me” he whispers into your ear and that’s enough to send you over the edge, legs squeezing shut and your head being thrown back into the pillow beneath you. “just like that, there you go. cumming all over my fingers”
dirty talk isn’t something Matt did often, but you’re more than happy that he’s using it now. you knew he had a freaky side to him, you just weren’t sure how to uncover it.
having you sweating and wet shaking on his bed like this was more than enough for him to speak to you that way, the both of you enjoying it thoroughly.
you ride out your high and his pace decreases as he places a sloppy kiss to your mouth. “are you tired baby?” he nods slightly, clearly a little embarrassed. “i’ll do all the work now don’t worry” you smile at him, somehow equally excited to give him what he’s been waiting for.
he flips onto his back, and he looks done. but you certainly not, and by the looks of his bulge practically ripping through his boxers, his body isn’t either.
you climb back on top, legs still weak from the overstimulation you were just put through, but you were determined to give him an equally good time.
normally, you’d take more time with him, but it’s clear that your pleasure alone was enough to tease the fuck out of him. so you pull down his boxers in a quick motion, mouth watering at the sight of his length hitting his stomach, red and wet.
fuck.
“spit” you instruct him, your hand cupping underneath his mouth as he obliges. you waste no time reaching down as you hover over him, immediately stroking him.
he just twitches under you, so incredibly touch deprived. “love having you like this” he just moans, unable to speak at this point. “feel good baby?” your thumb grazes over his slit and his eyes just just shut at the sensation. “can you speak for me?” you take your hand off for a moment, looking at his face while you wait to the those pretty blue eyes you fell in love with.
“sorry” you continue the moment you make eye contact with him, he’s gone. “you make me feel-“ he whimpers as you continue to move your hand, at a much faster pace. “so fucking good”
you smirk at this, this is the control you’ve been craving “yeah you like my hand?” he just nods as you continue. “what about my mouth” you shift down slightly, placing kisses to his chest. “you want my mouth on you?”
“mmm fuck please” you do as he says, first licking a long, slow strike down his torso, and you love the way you feel his abs flex on your tongue.
he places his hands in your hair, holding it back as you lower slightly more, face now aligned where he wants you. you lick one last stripe up his cock while looking him in the eyes and for a moment you see tears forming in his eyes.
this is your sign to get to work. and you do.
you know he’s already close by the way the pre cum coats him but you place your lips on his tip, slowly sinking down as your hands rub what your mouth can’t reach. he bucks his hips into your face and you pull back momentarily. “didn’t tell you you could fuck my face did i?” he shakes his head and although you’d normally tease more, you begin to feel bad.
your pace on him quickens, head bobbing up and down at an impossible pace and in no time you feel a familiar warm liquid reach the back of your throat, followed by some pretty desperate moans up above.
you slow your pace, your hands milking him as he continues to twitch under your touch. but eventually you come back up to meet his face. “you did so good baby. so good for me” he kisses you in response, fucked out of words.
so you lay that this, your case nestled in his neck while had hands rubs small circles on your back, both of you completely exhausted. “i’m sorry i kinda sprung that on you, i was thinking about it for a while but i wasn’t sure how to go about it or anything”
he just chuckles and kisses your forehead “that was the hottest thing i have ever done, i should be thanking you” you smile at this. you knew Matt wouldn’t be the type to judge, but your glad he enjoyed it as much as did and you can’t wait for more.
a/n: yall i pulled my first smut one shot outta my ass idk.. hope you enjoyed LMAO
#sturniolo triplets#matt sturniolo#sturniolo#matt sturniolo smut#sturniolo triplets smut#sturniolo smut#matthew sturniolo#matt sturniolo fanfic#matt sturniolo oneshots#smut
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whats hers is mine | abby anderson
tags: eighteen+, wlw, sexual content, gf’s roommate!abby, toxic!abby, cheating (don't go cheating on your partners this is for fantasy purposes babe), abby fr is menance in this.
an. yeah! i was horny so...this literally came out of my brain so smoothly. do i hate it? yes. but am i still going to post it nd fight my brain telling me not to? yeah! happy reading my h*rny pals.
abby being your girlfriend’s roommate who you harbor a slight attraction towards. it’s nothing big, you have this under control, or at least it’s what you tell yourself. she’s hot, gorgeous, so incredibly muscular it makes you see stars. it tears you apart thinking of all the ways her strength could make you submit to her will.
make you hers.
fuck. but you have a girlfriend.
it’s a reminder you have to repeat over in your mind anytime you catch yourself being too flirty with her, but then she gives it to you right back. now, every night you dream of her milky skin, stunning blues looking right at you, and those soft lips caressing every inch of your skin, leaving marks in their path as abby stakes her claim. yet, you wake up with your girlfriend’s arm around you with your chest feeling warm at the fantasy of someone else. you have to avoid abby before you do something completely idiotic.
yet, she’s the first one to make the first move.
abby knows you’ve been avoiding her like the plague, so when she’s presented with a perfect opportunity, the conflict at hand is met with absolutely no resistance.
“abby, you’ve blocked my car in. can you move yours?” you ask through the shut door. she gives you a soft yes and when you’re two seconds from walking downstairs to meet her in the driveway.
she opens the fucking bathroom door.
water drips down sunkissed freckled skin, glistening from the shower she obviously took. her blonde hair darker than usual, falling down her back. the smirk there is vile, begging you to look further than her blue eyes.
with the way abby is looking at you, there’s no fucking way she doesn’t want it. clearly, she’s more patient than most, waiting for you to drop the eye contact.
“well?” abby lifts her left eyebrows, cocking her head to the side as she waits for you to react, crumble, cry. you’re not sure what exactly she’s looking for. the confidence radiating from her is irritating just as it is enticing.
when you shake your head silently, repeatedly too, the tall blonde takes a one step forward, the pad of her thumb places pressure on your chin, guiding your gaze where she wants. happily, you comply.
jesus fucking christ, you’d fully believe she was made just for you if someone told you.
the auburn towel is secured around hips loosely, her toned abdomen on full display, her small breasts sit beautifully, nipples hardened from the cool air. it’s not fair how fucking perfect she looks. there’s not a damn thing you want more than to wrap your lips around her pink nipples and suck.
“now, are you going to stop pretending you don’t want to fuck me, baby?” abby taunts, her voice light and airy but it shoots right to your core.
“i-i, abby, this is wrong we shouldn’t be doing this. you need to get dressed.” you try to great some distance but abby pulls you towards her as you enter the bathroom with her, left arm shutting the door as she locks it.
“mhm, you’ve been dating for what? two months? don’t be stupid baby, think with that pretty pussy of yours. know she wants me and you do too, babygirl.” abby grabs your hand placing it on her towel, looking at you through half-lidded eyes.
“you can take it off if you want. do you wanna see my pussy baby?”
shit.
your fingertip plays with the fibers, before you can process what you’re doing, it’s unraveling off her strong hips exposing more of her built physique for your greedy eyes. quads are flexing as you take her in, the muscle rippling as you feast on her.
you have never been so truly and royally fucked.
meticulously, she removes each piece of clothing you’re wearing as her lips attack your own. as if she’s been planning this moment since she laid eyes on you. she bends you over the sink, your pretty ass in the air for her and her fingers smooth over your delectable cunt, enjoying the inconsistent twitching your taut body provides.
“now, be a good girl for me and let me fuck my baby, yeah? ‘m gonna fuck you better than she ever would.”
reblogs are appreciated! ♡
DO NOT BUY TLOU, FUCK NEIL DRUCKMANN + EDUCATE YOURSELF + DAILY CLICK FOR PALESTINE + DONATE TO PALESTINE.
#what the fuck#took me longer to set up this post than to write it ...#abby anderson#abby anderson x reader#abby anderson x masc reader#abby anderson smut#abby anderson x female reader#abby anderson x you#abby tlou#tlou x reader
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the bore next door (j.ww)
Jeon Wonwoo is not dull, nor is he the clean and polite neighbor that your mother assumed he was when she set you up on this awful date.
or the one where wonwoo takes you home on the first date and renders you unable to walk, hoping to god that you don’t expose him to your parents.
ao3 | minors dni! | kindly leave feedback and reblog, i will kiss your forehead so fucking fast if you do.
WORDCOUNT― 8.8k
PAIRING― wonwoo x afab reader
CONTENT― strangers to fucking immediately to the possibility of dating later, reader is a teacher but this is not a school setting, mocking and making fun, sneaky sex, flirting and bullying in the same instance, cocky wonwoo, um…they’re kind of competitive in bed
WARNINGS― small mention of other teachers cheating on their spouses (very tiny mention), the resistance of pressure to fall in love/have children
NOTE― I repurposed an old wip for this because putting this mf in the main role hit harder than it should have. that being said, don’t expect me to write men often like this, i just thought it would be neat to make him take control. this is not proof read.
smut tags under cut::
smut tags― dom(ish) wonwoo, bratty/sub reader, huge cock agenda (again), he gets the best head he’s ever had, he calls you messy a lot (he likes it messy), face fucking, pussy eating, nipple biting, finger fucking, squirting, dirty talk, wow i can’t believe I actually wrote a condom being used this time!!!!, wonwoo tries to make you moan because his horny brain wants your parents to know, dirty talk, praise, hair pulling.
~
23rd street. The restaurant is on 23rd street, and you can honestly say you’ve managed to hit every street but this one. From 13th street to 35th street, does the street in question even truly exist? Were you set up by your parents?
In short, you have been single since high school. Maybe a few flings here or there throughout college but never truly settling on one man or woman in a relationship. You’re almost shocked that your parents are pushing so hard for you to find love. They want you to somehow feel the love from the movies, something like they had felt when they met. In this century, unfortunately, love isn’t quite as predictable. You can’t just pick a person who has a good job and a decent face and assume love will settle in someday.
Not only is it not predictable but it isn’t a priority in your life. You have no interest in meeting the standard a man could hold for you, nor a woman, or family member. You’re here to exist in your own way, work your way up through the corporate food chain, and live in a home with over thirteen cats before dying a peaceful death in your late eighties. Why do you need a man to do any of this? Why do you need to settle for one cock, one set of hands, and one personality?
Right, because mom wants you to at least try to experience what love is. Surely, it’s just because she desperately wants a grandchild from her one and only daughter. Sorry to disappoint, but that will not be you. Children were never a thought in your mind, nor was marriage, a honeymoon, or a burial plot next to another person. Your mother knows this, but the least you can do is show some effort to please her, right? To prove that relationships just aren’t your thing, and you’d much rather have the funds to live a comfortable life all on your own.
23rd street is the small thumb tack on a map where there is a restaurant that holds a very, very, annoying arrangement. Your mother had really sold the idea to you. She says the nice neighbor boy next to her seems to be around your age, he brings her the mail sometimes. He seems to have a job, his own car, his own home that sits in a plot next to theirs. His lawn stays mowed, and he even seems to have a dog that he walks at the same time three times a day.
She doesn’t mention what he looks like, and of course, when you’d asked because, in all honesty, that’s the most important thing to you if you’re going to get anything out of this, she simply states that he is tall, handsome, and has dark hair.
For all you know, she just set you up on a date with Antonio Banderas.
What you weren’t expecting though, is to find this restaurant almost an hour late and walk in to find an already half-eaten meal in front of a man who looked at you as if you were any stranger on the street. A stranger you were, and so was he, but honestly, he is attractive. That alone made you feel a bit guilty for not having found this place sooner. The idea that the man in front of you did not wait for you shows that he also has priorities that aren’t you. This is probably a huge inconvenience for him too, if anything. Imagine your nice neighbor lady telling you to go to a restaurant to meet their daughter? God. The first words out of your mouth are an apology. Not for being late, and not for not even wanting to be here, but for your mother for even trying.
“Sorry about my mom,” you mutter, plopping down into the booth with a sigh. You eye over his food, already knowing that the check will likely be split. “Let’s just get this over with.”
“Why the rush?” The man immediately says, pushing an untouched glass of water your way. “I don’t mind that you were late, I was just really hungry.”
You hum at him, waiting for the waitress to come over so you can place the most obnoxious order in the world because you’re really not in the mood to even look at the menu or the prices. Chicken strips and fries, obviously.
“So, what did you order?” You state, eyeing his plate.
“Steak?” He says it like a question, as if it is the most obvious thing in the world and it definitely was. Clearly there is a half-eaten steak that probably costs over twenty dollars on his plate. Still, you were just trying to make small talk.
The man says nothing after this, offering nothing but an awkward atmosphere. It doesn’t take long at all for you to stop caring about the entire arrangement, as if you cared in the first place.
“Look—” You try to offer, and the handsome man in front of you doesn’t even quirk a brow as he sips his own drink. “I don’t even remember your name, and I know my mom is trying to set us up but—”
“You’re not interested, and you have better places to be?” The man finishes for you as he sits his drink down with a gulp that makes much less sound than your own. “That’s fair. My name is Wonwoo, by the way.”
You nod at him, already deciding that you’ll get chicken strips somewhere else on your own so that you can eat them in the comfort of your own home, alone, without a stupidly handsome man in front of you that has, probably, less interest than you do.
“Well, I’m interested, and I don’t have anywhere better to be,” Wonwoo says, shooting his eyes up at you. “And to be quite honest with you, your mother was right. You are pretty.”
Taken aback, you’re somehow comforted by his forwardness towards you. He acts just as uninterested as you do but counters that demeanor with his words. You can’t imagine that this is how the man picks up women, there’s honestly no way he would win that way. No wonder he is single. Then again, you kind of do the same thing. You see an attractive person and you act much the same as Wonwoo right now. Uninterested in anything long-term but clearly interested in something.
“I’m pretty, huh?” You laugh, sipping the water and internally giving this man an extra three minutes to fully sell the idea of this date to you. “Imagine my surprise to walk in and find that I was set up on a date with someone that is actually attractive.”
“Oh?” Wonwoo quirks a brow. “Is this how you return a compliment?”
You shrug. “Is this how a date normally goes for you—you know, where you’ve already eaten your food and would probably rather pay and leave before she even gets a chance to order?”
“No,” he responds pointedly. “Would you rather me throw a tantrum that you were late?”
“You’d be a lot less dull if you did.” You throw back, eyeing a waitress as she heads over.
Wonwoo watches as you place your order and watches a bit harder at the way you smirk at yourself through nearly everything you say. You must think you’re clever, you must think he’s willing to chase you or something.
“I’m dull?” He questions, staring you down with narrowed eyes. “You just ordered chicken strips at one of the most expensive restaurants in town.”
You’re taken aback a bit, shaking off his little insults and sitting straight up. Interesting date, truly.
“Okay then, Wonwoo—” You say his name as if it’s a joke or something, but you don’t really let him react to it. “What do you do for a living?”
“I’m a systems software developer,” he deadpans, swirling his very nonalcoholic water in his hand. “Not that you’d know what that is or anything. And you?”
In all honesty, you don’t really know what that means, but it isn’t hard to figure it out. Assuming he must make programs or something, assuming he probably flew through college in order to do it in the way he seems proud of what he does. In all honesty, it still sounds like such a bore. He must talk in code or something in his free time.
“I’m—uh—I’m a teacher.” You try to laugh, realizing that you’re kind of putting him down when he very clearly must make more money than you do.
Only now does it set in that your mother stated he has his own home. One that sits directly beside theirs in a neighborhood that you grew up in. One that you tried to find your own home in but ended up in a shitty apartment in the city because it is all you could afford. Wonwoo must make good money.
“Oh yeah? What do you teach?” He perks up in interest, no longer acting as if he is trying to insult you and instead offering conversation to you with such ease that you almost forget you’re supposed to be getting through the date in discomfort.
“I teach everything, I guess. It’s just first grade. I swear, I teach them how to pull up their pants properly more than how to spell words.” You smile to yourself thinking of the loud and obnoxious children you teach five days a week. Your job is why you don’t want children though. Your job is why you’d rather stay single. All you hear about is how the third-grade English teacher is fucking the fifth-grade science teacher even though he has a wife who is pregnant with their second child. Sometimes you hear gossip about the students themselves. Who in their right mind as an adult would gossip about elementary school kids? It’s no wonder you’re not a favored teacher. You’re sure they’ve said something about you for not having a significant other or a child on the way.
Wonwoo smiles through your endearment towards your class, eyes perking up at the plate of chicken strips on their way to you. He doesn’t say much when you thank the waitress and doesn’t really pay attention to the way you devour the first strip in nearly one bite.
“Seems like a lively job. I just sit around all day staring at a computer screen…” He begins to drone on about his own job, sounding more like background noise in your head if you’re being honest. You can barely hear him over the crunching of your chicken and you’re a bit thankful for that.
“And I think that it was really worth the—” You interrupt his long string of sentences with a call of his name. “Wonwoo, do you have any other interests?” You ask, sipping your water.
He deadpans at your rudeness of interrupting him. Wonwoo doesn’t often go out on dates, nor does he often get asked about these types of things so, he goes quiet, flicking his eyes down to his hands and then back up to you.
“I like to go hiking, I guess? Watching movies? Sometimes I like to cook—”
Ah. He’s one of those guys.
“Those are like, the most common interests a person can have. You don’t have any special hobbies or weird quirky things you like to do?” You question, trying to see something in him past the fact that he’s nice to look at and has a decent paycheck.
“I don’t really have the time to put into other things. When I’m not working, I’m busy cleaning my house or doing yard work since I’m usually too tired during the week to do it.”
“God, you are such a bore.”
Wonwoo realizes now that maybe you’re not just throwing around banter. Sure, neither of you really wanted to come on this date but he could have used the time away from a computer screen to look at his neighbor’s daughter. If anything, it was an interesting offer, and those don’t come by him too often. He had seen photos of you. He knew you were pretty, and he also should have known you were a bit stubborn with the way your mother warned him before the date.
“If I was so boring, would I be sitting here on a date with a woman I don’t know?” He glares over at you.
“I don’t know, probably. It isn’t the riskiest thing in the world. What? You don’t have tinder?”
Wonwoo looks down again, because no, he doesn’t have fucking tinder and he doesn’t understand why that matters. “Why does that matter?”
“Ah, so we are similar.” You smile to yourself in a small win, and you’re not even sure if it’s even an argument at this point. “No time for hobbies, so no time for dating either?”
He nods slowly at you, completely confused by the way you go from picking his personality apart to finding some way to connect with him.
“We can wrap this up then if you want?” You offer, still picking at the food on your plate. “I can pay for mine, so I release you from this arrangement.”
He just sits there staring at you. What a peculiar woman. Do you really assume he isn’t somehow finding the fun in all of this? In all honesty, this date is going off without a hitch compared to many other dates he’s been on. He has never been on a date where he is criticized, nor has he ever criticized a date himself before. It’s almost kind of nice, like a breath of fresh air being able to meet someone who isn’t trying to show their best aspects. Someone who is sitting in front of him being as real as they possibly can be. Sure, you’re attractive, but your lack of interest in this date is somehow—flooring.
“What if I want to stay?” He makes eye contact with you. “What if I want to pay for your overcooked chicken?”
“I’d be letting you win if you pay for me, but you’re free to stay.” You wave him off with your hand, realizing that the chicken is very dry and wasn’t hitting the spot like you’d been pretending. “So, what now then?” You add with a tilt of the head.
“Admitting I’m interested in you, I guess?” He says it with so much confidence that you barely notice the ‘I guess’ at the end of his sentence. It surprises you a little bit, because this entire time you’ve been trying to act as uninterested as possible, despite finding some amount of attraction to Wonwoo..
“Poor you,” You coo, pushing your plate away from you and pulling your almost-empty water closer. “Okay, let’s try and make this worth something then.”
Wonwoo prepares himself to listen, but honestly, he couldn’t have prepared for what you’re about to say to him.
“Neither of us are looking for anything serious right?” You ask, continuing after he nods. “So,” you pause briefly, thinking a bit too hard on how to word it. “Why don’t we just pretend this is a tinder date or something?”
You’re definitely implying that the night could continue together, only to never speak of or see each other again after the sun rises.
“Are you suggesting I bring you home with me?” He looks at you with a face you can’t really read.
“Isn’t that what people do when they’re on a date, find each other attractive, but want nothing more?” You reiterate for him, because he seems to have trouble processing what you’re trying to get across to him. “Unless this isn’t your thing?”
Wonwoo pulls his hand up and pushes his hair out of his face for a moment. He’s thinking about it, barely even realizing that you’ve known each other for less than an hour.
“I didn’t take you for the type of fuck on the first date.” He cocks his head, looking at you in a lazy way.
It feels a little painful that the first curse word he says out loud is describing something that involves you and your offer.
“I’m not, usually, but it has been a while for me and I can’t help but think we could have fun with it.”
He nods, eyeing you down. “Do you want to just drive to my house then? Or do I need to bring you back to get your car?”
“Nah, I can drive. I know where you live, considering I grew up next door and all. I can just crash at my parent’s house once we are done.”
Wonwoo kind of shifts his eyes nervously, looking down at the table and then back at you with a lick against his bottom lip. “Speaking of your parents—” He pauses, fiddling with his hands. “Look, they probably wouldn’t expect me to be the type to uh, get intimate with their daughter on the first date.”
“Only date,” you correct him, amused. “What, you thought we would meet again after this?”
Wonwoo waves you off dismissively. “That’s not the point. I don’t want my neighbors thinking I’m some fuckboy, and I’d rather them not find out because I’m sure your mom would slap the shit out of me the next time I bring her the mail.”
“Wonwoo—” You snort in a mocking tone. “My mom set you up on a date with me, you’re gonna take me home and show me a good time within an hour of meeting me. Imagine if she found out you’re not as sweet and innocent as she thinks–”
His face goes warm, but his eyes darken a bit as he looks at you. “Listen, I don’t usually do this.”
“Well yeah, you seem too boring to actually have some fun.”
Offense taken.
And when he says nothing else to that, you speak up again, this time a bit more gentle.
“Don’t feel like you have to. I can go home and we can pretend this never happened.”
“No, no,” Wonwoo assures, making eye contact with the waitress as if to silently ask for the check. “I could use the distraction.”
He was slim when he stood up, obnoxiously attractive getting into his stupid expensive car, and even the way he drove in front of you pissed you off. He drove the speed limit all the way to the familiar street of your childhood. What a boring, boring man.
When he pulls into his driveway, you aren’t sure if you should park at his house or your own. You realize if you park at either your parents will wonder why you’re parking in their driveway but not in their living room, or wonder why you’re parked in the clean-cut Wonwoo’s driveway because he would never fuck their daughter on the first date.
You opt to park two houses away. You already know who the person is who lives in this house and surely they’d only raise a brow at your car being there. You shoot them a text just in case though, because god forbid if they mention it to your parents.
~
“Fitting,” you say as you step into his living room and scan the way he is entirely fucking boring.
“What?” He asks from behind you, watching you judge his space.
“Very boring, very you.”
Wonwoo sighs at your constant critiques of him, but he’s still smiling through it because you’re still here, and you’re the one who suggested coming home with him.
“I’ve gotta say, I’ve never brought a woman home just to have her insult me,” he laughs, stepping around you and placing his jacket on the end of the couch. “I can imagine that your place hasn’t been cleaned since you moved in.”
You glare at him, slipping your own jacket off and throwing it on his floor out of spite.
“I am a comfortable mess, Wonwoo, and you–” you scan the room once more, “are very clearly uncomfortable.”
He shifts his eyes for a second because, yeah. It’s not that he wouldn’t enjoy having colorful photos on the walls or a couple of knick-knacks lying around. Arguing about it isn’t your purpose for being here though, and he’d much rather skip the banter at this point.
“I can admit that your jacket looks good on my floor,” he takes a step forward, attempting to be as bold as he typically would be with a woman who knows how he is in bed. He’s never had to play off of his own cleanliness though. “I’m willing to make a mess of this house if you take more off.”
Oh, okay.
“Oh, so you can be interesting?” You mock him once again, reaching for the hem of your dress (yes, dress.) and looking at him. “You want to see my clothes on your floor?”
Wonwoo watches you intently, seeing your thighs being exposed more and more as the dress raises. His body is already reacting, becoming more and more attracted to your witty sense of displeasure toward his entire personality and lifestyle. After all, he’s a computer whizz and you deal with screaming children all day. He wonders why he expected anything less. Little do you know though, he fully intends to have you praising him before the night is up.
“I’d like to see you on my floor,” he answers, reaching for your dress and pulling it up further and above your head. “If I’m being honest, anyway.”
You were trying to go slow with the removal of your dress, mostly to see how he reacts to seeing a woman nearly naked in front of him but damn. You weren’t quite expecting how forward he’s being about it. Here you were expecting to be fucked missionary without any foreplay in a bed with all white sheets, right next to a washer and dryer.
“Oh,” you gasp, slightly out of character in his opinion but his body reacts even more to that. He’s entering into his horny brain, confidence bubbling up through each thought and word he decides to say to you.
“What, you’re shocked?” He laughs, dropping your dress to the floor and scanning your body. “I can admit that I’m a little shocked too.”
You look at him in confusion, moving your arms over your chest and wondering what the fuck he’s talking about.
“You wore a matching set for a first date? With a stranger?” He mocks you this time, stepping even closer and running his fingers along the hem of your bra. You can feel the warmth from his thumb gently rubbing the skin as he does it and instantly your body tells on you in the form of goosebumps.
“I’ll have you know,” you’re the one stepping closer this time, “I always wear matching sets, because I like to feel sexy.”
You’re a liar. You definitely wore them just in case.
He hums, mere inches from your face as he looks down at you. It feels like he’s fucking looming, and even worse, it feels like he must have his heat set too high or something. It gets even worse when his eyes don’t leave yours, but you feel his hand drop from your chest only to hear the familiar sound of a belt being unbuckled. He stares at you while he does it, his hair falling in his face at the movement of what he’s doing waist down. For some reason, that does it for you, and you’re already rubbing your legs together as you stare right back at him.
“I think that’s bullshit,” he smirks, slipping his belt from the loops of his pants and tossing that to the floor as well, and then he brings his face another inch closer, “and don’t think I can’t tell that you’re turned on.”
You don’t back down, nor do you admit that he’s absolutely right. You just look at him, watching a strand of his hair fall in front of his eyes that are beginning to darken by the second.
“I’m not turned on, believe me, it’ll take a lot more than–” You’re cut off by him planting his hand directly between your legs, two fingers pressing your panties slightly into you.
“Hm?” He encourages you to say that again, but you’ve got your breath caught in your throat at his extreme change in demeanor.
Still, he’s looking directly at your face, watching the way you try to think of a lie.
“You wanna keep pretending that I’m boring?” He asks, sliding his fingers up and pressing against your clit.
You shake your head, finally dropping the act and blinking at him with empty thoughts.
“That’s what I thought,” He ticks his tongue at you, now pulling his fingers away and showing you that even through your panties, his fingers are already soaked. “Now take the rest off.”
You do as he says, watching him step away with his shirt untucked and his pants undone. You note that he grabs a condom, which for some reason reminds you that you’re definitely about to get railed into the next dimension if that bulge behind those pants implies anything.
Standing there with all of your clothes thrown around his living room, you watch him harder than you already had been. He’s slow when he sets the condom down on the table, and even slower when he walks up to you and places a hand on the top of your head before guiding you to sink down.
“Wha–right here?” You ask, feeling the clean carpet offer relief for your knees rather than the hard wood floors of the room over.
“I said I wanted to see you on my floor, didn’t I?” He smiles, already admiring how shameful you’d appear to be if your parents saw you naked and on your knees for him.
You nod, looking up at him. When you reach forward to actually lower his pants though, he steps back and continues to create distance between the two of you as he backs himself up to the wall and lounges against it.
“Crawl to me,” he instructs, wondering if it’s too much for you but letting out a pleased sound of relief when you instantly do it.
Would you normally let a man tell you to do that? No. Would you ever actually listen to a man who speaks to you like this? Fuck no. You can’t defend your actions when you do it and you also can’t lie that you’re absolutely fucking dripping over it. Like, honestly, he’s going to have to deep clean this fucking carpet by the time you leave this house.
When you reach him, you can feel the heat in your cheeks at the very idea of him from this angle. You sit on your knees, lifting your hands to his pants and lowering them before he can try to draw the process out even longer. You can hear him let out a short chuckle at the way you try to be quick with it, and you already know he’s about to say some shit.
“I didn’t expect you to be this eager.” He talks down to you with a deep and raspy voice, one that sounds entirely sensual. In terms of what he says though, honestly, you shouldn’t expect much more considering how the two of you practically roasted each other on a fire before this very instant.
You ignore his words, letting his pants drop to the floor and now reaching to pull his briefs down. You were incredibly unprepared for his size as you watched it stand stiff and raging in front of your face. Not a single hint of precum is seen, and it makes you feel kind of pathetic for how wet you’ve already gotten. It almost feels like a challenge now, to make him feel just as desperate as you do now.
Thankfully, your throat is fairly trained for sucking men until they’re trembling. Hopefully, all those dudes you’ve fucked around with before come in handy, and don’t let you down this time around.
Wonwoo watches you from above, smiling over the way you stare at his length before finally touching it. He keeps his cool though, wondering how just over an hour ago you were ordering the worst food a restaurant has to offer, scoffing at his job, his hobbies, and now look at you. What a sight.
“Go on,” he encourages you, pressing his hips forward so that the head of his cock hits your cheek, “let me see how messy you are.”
You roll your eyes at him, gripping the base before closing your eyes and breathing in through your nose. The very second you wrap your lips around him, he has both hands on your head, not moving it, not pushing you down or anything, just resting there. You’d think it was sweet if it weren’t for the fact that he pushes his hips forward after four whole seconds.
So, he’s not going to guide your mouth, he’s going to hold it there? Okay, you guess. Thankfully, he’s not being super rough with it like you anticipated. If anything, he’s sliding himself into your mouth much as you’d do on your own.
He hums out at the feeling of your mouth, pressing in more and more with each thrust of his hips until he finally gets the majority of his length past your lips. He can see you breathe through your nose, but he doesn’t feel resistance at all so he presses his hips in even more, essentially until he’s blocking your airways and your throat is restricted around him in a gag.
Instead of pulling your head back though, he feels your fingers grip the back of his legs, you’re trying. He holds your head there in place, feeling your throat massage his cock in probably one of the best ways he’s ever felt.
“Shit,” he seethes out between a bite of his lip, “you’ve done this before?”
The very thought of you letting your throat be used is enough for him to want to keep doing it, but hearing your response as a half-moaned gag vibrating around his length is a whole other story.
He releases his hands from behind your head just to see if what he thinks you’re implying with those vibrations of sounds is right, and god is he thrown for a loop. You stay there, and even when he pulls his hips back before fucking into your throat once more, you still stay there.
He’s going to lose his goddamn mind because never has a woman been able to withstand this amount in their throat for this long for him. Enough to actually have him a little worried that you’re essentially suffocating on him.
Wonwoo snaps his hips back, pulling out of your mouth and leaning down just a bit to grab your chin and guide your eyes up to him.
“Breathe,” he says, watching the way you smirk at him as if you’ve won some sort of award. He narrows his eyes at you, “you can choke all you want babe, but you’re gonna have to not be this cock drunk if you want to pretend that you’ve got the upper hand.”
That motherfucker. You’re trying to make him show just a hint of desperation for you and he completely flips the tables on you?
Before you can even argue again, he’s guiding your lips back on him. You decide that it’s not over yet, he can talk down to you all he wants, but you’re going to be the one laughing at him by the end of the night.
You allow him to place his hands back on your head, and you kind of like the weight of his cock on your tongue if you’re being honest, but god damn does he have a harsh rhythm. His hips snap languidly but he buries himself deep. Even when you try to look up at him as your nose presses against his pubic bone, he’s looking down at you so casually. Like he feels okay. Just okay.
This time, when he pulls his hips back, he doesn’t have to hold your head steady. You chase his length even as it tries to slide from your mouth, and you start to move your head back and forth in time with his hips. You finally receive a moan from him when you reach a hand up and cup his balls, massaging them in one hand as your saliva bubbles out from around your lips.
“So fucking messy–” he chokes out in a surprised moan, praising you for somehow making this feel even better than it already did.
You hum around him again, feeling the weight of his cock pulse against your tongue and you start to taste more and more of his precum. Shamefully, you’re starting to want this more and more. You want him to call you messy, you want him to bruise your throat. You don’t mind, now that you’ve seen a snippet of what he’s like when he shows his pleasure.
Just a moment goes by when you feel his hands grip your hair, pulling slightly and following the rhythm of your movements, just putting a bit more force behind them until he finally presses you one last time against his pelvic bone, swirling his hips and stretching out your throat impossibly more around him.
“Just like that, yeah,” his moans echo throughout his empty walls and it causes your eyes to flutter as you try to breathe in through your nose. When you gag, he moans again. “Fuck, you know exactly what you’re doing.”
Then, he releases you and watches with a smirk at the way you pull back in a deep breath before wiping your mouth.
You’re not sure why, but the way he’s looking at you makes you feel proud. Maybe it’s because he’s managed to pull out this weird, needy side of you, or maybe it’s because he looks incredibly good looking at you like this after the two of you spit insults at each other all right.
“Do you want me to return the favor?” He asks, finally unbuttoning and removing his shirt.
Seeing him now, you stare at his chest and toned arms, wanting to grab onto them and feel him do whatever it is he wants to do to you. He, on the other hand, can’t tell if you’re nodding to his question or looking him up and down slowly.
“You were so talkative earlier, what happened?” He smiles, stepping forward and falling to his knees himself, nudging your legs open in one go, “do you want to fuck my tongue, or no?”
He continues to smile at your silence, eyes trained between your legs as he spreads them and then looks up at your face. “No?”
You shake your head, leaning back on your elbows to watch him and take a breath in.
“It’s hard to talk when you’re like,” you motions towards him, “that.”
He chuckles, taking it as a compliment before snatching a pillow off of his couch and tapping your thigh to get you to lift up. You do so, allowing him to place the pillow under your ass before he settles himself there.
His eyes stay locked on yours as his fingers start to trail to your core, slipping through your folds with such ease that your embarrassment shows plainly on your face.
“Messy,” he compliments, lightly tapping against your clit before lowering his head and blowing softly against the glistening heat you offer to him. “Keep your legs spread for me babe.”
You still watch him, his eyes glaring up from between your spread thighs as he lets his tongue fall from his mouth and lick one long and languid stripe up your core, stopping just before your clit and pulling back as if he’s tasting. You’re not sure what it is about him but goddamn, he must know he looks good when he’s pleasuring a woman.
Despite him asking you to keep your legs spread for him, it appears that he doesn’t trust you to do it because he’s still got one hand prying one of your legs apart and his head moving in all sorts of ways as he allows his tongue to lap every part of you besides your clit. Even his other hand, exploring and gently placing pressure against your entrance– the way he’s doing this makes you want to press forward, it makes you want to do exactly as he asked.
You roll your hips forward, and he instantly attaches his lips to your clit. You stop, and he trails back down and flicks his tongue against your folds in a teasing way. You grind forward, he’s right back on your clit, flicking his muscle the same way and eliciting a whine from you.
This time though, when you roll your hips back, he takes both hands and presses your legs open as far as he can get them, spreading your pussy out across his lips for him to take full control of. He nips at your clit before licking down, pressing the pointed muscle into you and only then does he release your legs. Now, he’s sliding both hands under your ass and rocking you against his face, angling his head so that he can lick inside of your walls to truly taste you.
God, you’re gonna lose it. Even if you didn’t want to, you’d think the way he’s moving his mouth is enough to get anyone to take advantage of it. You moan, pressing forward and back against his mouth as your own fingers fall to your clit. You rub when you press forward, feeling his warm and wet saliva drip down your slit and down to your ass, and you rub harder when you pull back, watching his eyes flutter open and still somehow manage to glare at you.
And just as soon as it started, you blink and his face is right there. You would have let out a shocked sound, because jumpscare much? But you moan instead, because he hovers over you with a smirk and an arm between the two of you, his fingers instantly sliding into you as he attaches his lips to yours with little more than a moan of his own.
“Have you ever tasted yourself?” He asks, licking against your lips and scissoring his fingers open inside of you.
You have, but for some reason it tasted better this time when he prods his tongue against yours. Perhaps because it’s from him, or maybe it’s because you’re a little obsessed with the way he navigates sex.
When he pulls back from your mouth, now losing himself a little bit in the heat of the faces you make when you feel good, he can’t help but give you a moan along with your own. You sound so fucking good when you’re not talking your shit, and god he knew that mouth could do more than be annoying.
“Open up,” he says, licking against your bottom lip as he thrusts his fingers deeper into you, “let me hear you.”
You can’t really help it. When you open your mouth, you’re practically panting for him. His arm is moving harshly as he fucks his fingers into you and causing you to nearly lose balance on your elbows, but he holds you there with his other arm wrapped around your waist, still licking against your lip and smirking when you still can’t say anything.
“Louder,” He instructs, at least wanting you to moan louder for him if you’re going to act like this when he’s touching you. “Let your parents hear you get fucked.”
Your eyes shoot open after that, and god, he is the fucking worst. Or maybe not, you can tell he does it on purpose. His fingers curling up inside of you and putting intense pressure against a spot that takes every man ages to find if they manage to even remember it.
“Wonwoo,” you groan, rolling your eyes back while rolling your hips forward, hand shooting to his and holding it there, “can’t you just fuck me already?”
He chuckles, dipping his head down to give a sharp bite against your nipple, his fingers still curling up into that spot.
“Come on my fingers first.” He says, floored by how good your voice sounds when you want to get fucked.
He continues to suck and bite against your nipple, and that sends shocks of pleasure straight down to where his fingers meet your g-spot. You could come right now if he’d just–
You roll your hips forward harder, grinding your clit against his wrist and essentially fucking yourself on his fingers now. He moans against your nipple at the movement, biting down harder as he hears you just above him holding your breath. It seems like you like not being able to breath, which is just fucking great for him. Your mom would be so heartbroken, honestly.
“You think you can ride my cock like this?” He asks, popping your nipple out of his mouth and moving those bites up your neck and to your ear, “think you can come around me twice tonight?”
You nod with heat rushing through your body, feeling his wrist stiffen up for your pleasure to grind against.
Fuck, he can feel your pussy gripping his fingers as you work yourself up and it takes everything in him not to pull his fingers from you and absolutely bury himself into the tight heat you’re offering, but he holds back, pulling from your neck and watching the way your brows furrow and your mouth falls slack.
“That’s it babe, ride it.” he encourages, hearing your wet slide against his fingers with each movement of your body.
You shake as it washes through you, feeling his fingers remain in their spot against your little bundle of pleasure inside of you. You feel like you can explode from this alone and he practically forces it out of you, pulling his fingers out and immediately rubbing circles on your clit.
“Let it go,” he encourages in a pleasured sigh, watching your body tremble involuntarily as your face contorts to what anyone else would assume is pain. He moves further back and watches your body soak both him and his floor. “Fuck, yes, such a fucking mess.”
Well, that’s never happened before and the fact that you’re still orgasming is also new. You feel so sensitive, releasing in waves that offer little in terms of self control. Your hands shoot to his arm, gripping him so tightly as you try to hear his moans for you, but to be honest, you can’t hear a fucking thing through this wall of arousal in your head.
Finally, you open your eyes and he’s just looking at you, smirking at the dripping against his legs and the wet spot on the floor.
“Can you stand?” He asks with a chuckle, but his face is slightly amazed.
This is the first time Wonwoo has ever had a woman squirt for him, and honestly he’s been trying for ages to let someone experience this through him, goddamn was it sexy to see. You look absolutely fucking gone at this moment, and he might be fucking in love with the image.
“Come on,” he says, not giving you enough time to even think about standing before he’s pulling you up on wobbling legs and guiding you to his couch. “Don’t worry, I like the mess.” He smiles, snatching up the condom and tearing the wrapper open with ease before rolling it down his length.
Oh, right, he still hasn’t even fucked you yet. Fuck, he’s good.
He sits himself next to you, pulling an arm around your waist and guiding you on top of him. He doesn’t even think twice at your shaking legs, soothing them as you follow his hand and position yourself against his long neglected cock being held up with his other hand.
“Can you ride me?” he genuinely asks this time, still seeing the shine against your legs from your recent orgasm, he continues to soothe the shaking in them though, hoping to god you’ll do the same thing on his cock.
You nod, knowing that once you’re seated, you have both his broad chest and the back of the couch to keep you steady. And when you sink down, you hear the sound you’ve been trying to pull from him all night. He lets out a soft moan, almost a whimper if you think hard enough about it, and it ignites a brand new fire in you as you take him in inch by inch.
He can feel you clench, and your legs shaking only offer even more in terms of pleasure as you envelope him entirely with your heat. He can’t help but moan, almost unable to keep up his dominant persona with a pussy so sweet wrapped around him. God, he loves blind dates, honestly.
“Mhm,” he hums, rubbing both of his hands now against your thighs as you sit yourself flush against him and wait to adjust to his size, “I definitely like you.”
You fall forward with a small laugh, the irony of the situation a bit too much on top of your mind falling helplessly and embarrassingly fast at how lucky you are to have a mother to set you up with such a man.
He’s a bit soft at this moment, wrapping both arms around your waist and listening to your breathless laughs against his neck. You’re pretty, and so fucking annoying. Just his type.
“I’m still going to fuck you senseless though.” he finally says, feeling your body still at his words as you lift a bit, just to slide back down on him.
“Is that a promise?” You ask weakly, pretending that he didn’t already manage to do it with his hands alone.
He nods, the softness in his eyes disappearing instantly when he feels the drag of your pussy hug his length. He doesn’t hold back his moaning for you this time though, and he shows no shame in slapping your ass and guiding you even closer to his chest.
You stand on your knees a bit on top of him, watching his eyes zone in on your tits in his face. Hopefully, he’s going to keep that promise.
His hips snap up harshly as his hands grope your ass and spreads you apart. He snaps his hips again and again, nearly pulling his entire length out of you each time just to fill you up once again. You bounce a bit each time, and you can also feel his lips graze against your nipple each time he does it.
You whimper out, the sounds still echoing throughout his house along with the sounds of your thighs slapping against his. His grunts are deeper, and all of the sounds together sound like a desperate soundtrack of what you’ve always wished sex was like. He fucks you good, despite your legs still shaking, and despite the pain of his teeth biting against your skin now.
You can’t help it when you fall forward again, hugging around his head as he starts to relentlessly fuck into you at a faster pace, the thrusts going from slow and deep to tight and pointed. His thick cock easily pressing against that same spot his fingers had been teasing earlier. You choke out at the feeling, legs jolting and causing you to sit again.
He doesn’t falter at your failure to stay in position for him, and instead he gropes your ass harder, swirling your hips around him. You can feel how hard he is inside of you, splitting you open and pulsing at a near constant pace.
“Ride it,” he instructs, much like he did with his fingers and you follow suit, lifting just slightly and sliding back down again. “Harder,” he demands, pulling his head from your grasp and looking up at you with a wild smirk.
You look down at him, wondering how pitiful you must look up here. He appears to be loving it though, absolutely in love with the way you struggle to do what you swore you’d be able to.
Trying again, you begin to bounce on him and he grants you his fingers on your clit for that, moaning at your own choice of rhythm and leaning forward yet again to pop his presumed favorite nipple back into his mouth.
The ministrations of his fingers paired with his mouth sends you spiraling once again into a world of pleasure. The shaking in your legs become more of a driving factor than anything as you ride him better than you’ve ever ridden anyone.
Finally, he’s the one moaning out and trying to string together choked words of praise.
“Your grip is so tight,” he mutters out, kissing up your chest and to your neck, “i can fucking feel you dripping down my legs.” He adds in a moan, losing himself in the way you move your hands through his hair and scratch at the nape of his neck. He wants to ruin you so badly, and he’s already drenched in you. He wants more.
You could have sworn he said he was going to make you come twice, now look at him, muttering out strings of curse words as you do nothing but ride and pet him. He’s melting under you, and you’ll be damned if he comes before you get that second orgasm.
Shooting your hand to your clit to replace his lazy movements, you work yourself up to your second orgasm and he just watches you, taking in the image of you practically riding him into oblivion until you’re clenching even tighter around him, throwing your head back and shooting your hands to his shoulders as you harshly roll your hips into his. You’re working yourself through it when he starts pumping into you, short and tight thrusts pushing you through your orgasm until he’s gripping you equally as hard, holding you down on him as he spills out and into the condom in more of a purr than a moan.
You watch him, dazed out of your fucking mind as he bites against his bottom lip and slowly blinks through his orgasm as you. Part of you wishes he just did it raw, wanting so badly for him to make a mess of you like you did to him.
~
You find yourself with him at your parent’s house just a week later, eating lunch in the chaotic mess of your mother’s kitchen. It’s funny, really, how he’s trying to be polite to her as if he’s not about to take you next door and probably fuck you against an open window just to blow his own cover.
“I told you he was a keeper,” your mother compliments him as she lays a plate of croissants on the table. “Just yesterday he offered to mow our lawn when we head off for vacation this weekend!”
She’s praising him much like you wouldn’t, and you kick him under the table for trying to suck up to her even more now that he’s fucked you already.
“Did he now?” You ask, glaring over at him and then smiling sweetly at your mother. “Guess he is kind of a keeper, maybe.”
His eyes shoot to you and he smiles around his bite of croissant at you.
“You were right though,” he counters you towards your mother, “she’s definitely a handful.”
Your mother crosses her arms as she leans against the counter, looking between the both of you.
“How many dates have you been on without telling me?” She asks, looking at you.
“A few…” If she considers it a date to meet up and fuck every other day this week.
“We had lunch a few days ago.” he adds, backing you up. It’s just that the lunch wasn’t exactly like–you know, at a restaurant, and maybe it wasn’t food…
“So, are you guys going to be exclusive, or?”
Wonwoo looks at you curiously, and you look back at him.
“I dunno, it’s only been a week, Mom.”
She nods, clapping once before pushing off of the counter and leaving the kitchen.
It’s silent between you and Wonwoo for a few moments before he speaks up.
“I wouldn’t be against it.”
“Against what?” You ask, looking at him with a raised brow.
“You know, like, dating. I can’t imagine anyone actually putting up with you besides me, anyway.”
You kick him again from under the table, causing him to wince out in pain before glaring at you. You smile in return though, giving him a shrug and now rubbing your foot against the bruise you probably just caused.
“I can’t imagine anyone would want to put up with you either,” You laugh thinking hard about your next words. “Lucky for you, I already put up with you.”
~
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Make Love, Not Porn
Play Time!
HHJ
Masterlist, Series Masterlist
18+ content — minors, do not interact.
wc: 3.8k
Synopsis: You crave a life of normalcy, he craves you. And he'd do anything to keep you, even if you're for the world to see.
warnings: barista!hyunjin x cam girl!reader, smut, explicit sexual content, masturbation (m, f), he's a little obsessed, easing into the smuttier smut if that's even a thing.
Live : Play Time!
Next Scheduled Broadcast : Heat Signature
☆ﾟ
Rule number one; everybody is temporary.
There is no love in this industry, no trust, no friends, only coworkers that all want the same thing. Sometimes you work with them more than once, other times– most times, it’s a one-and-done deal.
They never want to stay anyways, you learned that lesson the hard way. It’s why you set up such a tough wall to break through, there’s no point in befriending anyone on your side of the pond.
It’s scary, really, how quickly you can be moaning someone’s name, kissing them like you need them to breathe, touching and feeling them as intimately as someone who truly was in love. Then as soon as the livestream ends, you can’t remember what their lips feel like and everything smells like latex and sweat. You offer them some water, snacks, a shower. They usually decline. Minutes later, your front door is shutting and you’re alone once again.
No one ever intends on getting into porn, you don’t even remember the details on how you ended up here. Your follower count had risen overnight and before you knew it, that one video had gotten you more money in a week than a month’s worth of minimum wage ever did. The humiliation was nonexistent considering you hadn’t even posted yourself naked that first time, if anything you were excited to post again. Who knew a video of you just sitting in a chair, playing with yourself under your skirt with your knees pressed closed would take off so rapidly. That thirty second video changed your life.
– fuck, who is this?? are they new??
– thats so hot. face reveal?
– show us your tits
– god i wanna fuck u so bad
– suck my dick pls
Those comments didn’t bother you, it was a little flattering if you were being honest with yourself. People wanted you, they don’t even know your real name, have never seen your face or what you look like in the sunlight. They don’t know you and yet, you’re everything to them, so much so that they pay you for your time, and body. They fill your wallet just for you to read their comment out loud, attention whores for you. And you love it. For some reason, their praise is much more fulfilling than anyone you've guested on your livestreams.
Recently, though, you’ve stopped bringing people on, not much to your viewer’s disapproval. There was more interaction and less vulgarity, like they wanted you to actually speak to them rather than just stuff your pussy with whatever new dildo you’d been gifted in your PO box.
You hadn’t planned on having such a personal stream today, you honestly just wanted the relief and thought your viewers would have a good time. But for some reason, the comments were less about getting you to take your clothes off and more about why your voice was shaking.
“It’s okay, I’m okay. Really!” Even you could hear the subtle octave change. “If you wanted me to cry, you could’ve just said please. You know I’ll do anything for you.”
Perhaps the forced sultriness of your voice worked its charm, the comments quickly switched back to their normal obscenities once you started to unbutton your top. Truthfully, you preferred when they asked you to get naked, it was a lot easier to do than to admit what it was you were really lacking. Honest companionship is the rarest thing.
Rule number two: no identifying features.
Even if you weren’t ashamed, your job is still taboo. No one and everyone knew what it was you did. Your best friend helped you pick lingerie and background mood lighting, your parents thought you were an office worker. Strangers have seen your most private parts, you only allow your grandma to give you a kiss on the cheek during Christmas. Safe to say your occupation was strictly need-to-know.
You’re glad you started live streaming before deciding to get any tattoos, running the risk of someone stopping you in the middle of the street was the most terrifying thing you could imagine happening. Naturally, you avoided getting anything at all once your streams started to really take off.
There was nothing you wore to accessorize unless a patron paid for it in advance, that was always done a week before streams and the contact with the patron was never more than a simple google form and an email from your business account to confirm. Other than that, you were a blank canvas, just a body with a voice that left more to the imagination than you would think. If your viewers were happy, you were happy.
“What do you think of my new nail color? A special someone picked it out for me,” you held out your hands to display the pretty shine, twiddling your fingers. The comments went crazy, “no, no, not anyone like that, c’mon! You know you’re my number one. But I think you should all give lovely user callingherdaddy a thank you for picking it out. Thank you, sir.”
You took the polish off the next morning.
Rule number three: be consistent.
Nothing kills a steady income more than ghosting the ones that put the money in your pocket. You stuck to a strict schedule of three streams every week and frequent posts on your socials. The stuff you posted on your social media wasn’t even related to your work on camming, but it doesn’t hurt when they leave a couple nice comments.
With a schedule and job like yours, you need a little bit of normalcy. Self employed, you don’t have a real routine when you aren’t streaming. It was starting to make you feel lazy, a bit lethargic, and overall unmotivated.
It wasn’t until recently did you decide to start doing normal people things, like waking up at 7 a.m., doing a mini work out, grocery shopping in the morning, even getting yourself a coffee from the shop near your house as a treat. Doing this was nice, you felt good, your head was clearer. Hell, you even got excited when it came time to do your cams because you felt so full of energy.
You had only been to the coffee shop once or twice before, but to get yourself to keep the routine, you told yourself you’d go every day for the next two weeks. Afterall, it only takes 21 days to form a habit.
It was packed, as usual for a morning weekday. There were only about six baristas working, all scurrying about the bar to get through the morning rush. You liked watching them, mindlessly completing drinks in such a way that made you a little jealous. Most of them seemed your age, obviously you knew that they couldn’t have all had perfect lives, but at least this part of their day was something they could openly complain about.
Were you really jealous? Of normal people? You had to be insane.
Shaking your head, you walked further into the shop and waited in line. You thought nothing of it, placing your order, “iced chai with three blonde shots, please,” and handed the barista the card, “thank you.”
You barely looked up at him, only when he held onto your card a little longer as you tried to take it back did you make eye contact. A little awkward, the barista was staring at you with wide eyes. He was handsome, too handsome to be working behind the counter. Long black hair framed his face nicely, pretty plump lips, and an endearing little mole under his eye that made his siren stare only slightly less intimidating. Yeah, handsome.
He didn’t look away even after he let you take your card back.
“S– sorry. You look like–”
“It’s okay. Thanks again.” You hurried away as fast as you could. He couldn’t have known who you were, right? Not a chance, you have never shown your face. You were wearing too many clothes for any particular body part to be recognizable. It’s just a coincidence.
Either way, the minor interaction with the barista scared you into hiding again, forgetting going out for anything else you had planned and deciding to hole away at home.
You had a livestream to do later anyways, focus on that. There were a few hours left for you to kill before turning on the camera, now would be as good a time as any to set up.
It wasn’t much that you did, mostly just thinking of what it was you thought viewers would like to see for the day. An hour before the scheduled stream, you set up a waiting room on the website that hinted at what the day’s theme would be. Today you thought you’d go a little easy on the eyes; “live soon, hardcandysweetheart: play time! <3”
A typical stream would start off soft, greeting viewers like any other meeting. You’d ask how their day was, if there was anything in particular they wanted to do or talk about, some answered genuinely while others urged you to strip. You liked the ones that asked you how your day was, too, and enjoyed sharing your thoughts with them. Though, it was no secret what everyone was here for, even if sometimes– just sometimes, you liked what came before taking off your clothes more than anything.
“I have a few things in mind for play time today, I’d like to hear what you guys think. Would you prefer this,” in your hand, you held up your favorite vibrator, big and baby pink. “Or this?” in the other, a new grinder that resembled the shape of a tentacle with the sucker-side up.
Comment section didn’t slow down as soon as you showed the second toy. “I thought you might like this one. I got it just for you! I’m excited to try it out with you.”
– im so fucking hard
– i wanna see ur pussy
– thats so nice, ur sweet
“Slow down! Haha, we’re gonna take our time,” you laughed away the weird feeling in your chest as you read the fleeing comments. “You’re so impatient today, lovely. Did you have a hard day? I know I did,” you slowly peeled down the blouse you wore, letting it hang off your shoulders to expose your bare shoulders. It seemed redundant to wear a bra, but you kept the shirt covering your breasts for dramatic effect, hard nipples peaking through.
“I just wanna take it a little more… gentler, if that’s alright.” The camera was angled to cut off at your neck to avoid showing your face, but you bit your lip anyways as you held up the grinder. “It’s a little out of my comfort zone, honestly. I’ve never told you about this fantasy before.” You ran your finger down the rubber center, feeling the many little suction cups bend.
You giggled as you came to the swirled tip of the tentacle, playing with the way it curled and how pliable it was. “When I ordered this, they let me choose the color. I think pink suits me, don’t you? But I also thought, maybe blue? Or black… but then it would be too hard for you to see, right?”
As you spoke, you laid the grinder between your legs but not quite touching it. With two fingers, you stroked it the same way you would your own pussy. Your other free hand was doing just that right behind the toy and beneath the length of your shirt, feeling your wetness building up with your hand down your panties. “Oh my, just talking to you– my underwear is soaked!” The giggle that left your lips was genuine, you didn’t expect to work yourself up so quickly.
You stole your fingers from your cunt and showed it to the camera, spreading them to let your viewers see the slick coating shine in the soft lighting. “Heh, told ya I was excited. You make me like this.”
When you started to really get going it was hard to pay attention to the comments, you tended to get a little lost until you finally came. Like now, you brought the toy closer to your core, lightly lifting yourself to sit on it. As soon as you did, you let out a whimper.
Hyunjin had never felt so embarrassed in his life. He doesn’t even know why, he couldn’t have been sure of anything.
Except he was. He was 100% sure, plus another 10% for good measure. He hadn’t even known about the site for long, you were just his favorite. He’d found hardcandysweetheart and never bothered to look anywhere else.
You were just another customer at first, a pretty one that caught his attention. He noticed you in line and had every intention of flirting and possibly asking for you to sign up for the rewards program with them just so he could use that as an excuse to get your number. Then you spoke.
All you fucking did was speak. “Please,” and “thank you,” and Hyunjin fucking crumbled.
Jesus, he must have looked like an idiot. He knows he did, but he was star struck. Fanboying, red in the face with embarrassment, about to fold at the knees, and hard as a fucking rock all at the same time. He had to excuse himself to the restroom as soon as you left just to get his boner to go away.
If it really was you– and he hoped to god it wasn’t– he’ll never forget such a pretty face.
Which is why he turned on notifications for your stream. He knew your schedule by heart but he needed to be sure that it was your voice he heard. As soon as he got home from his shift, clothes came off and he was sat in bed with his laptop nearby, just waiting for the ping notification from you.
God, it was you. As soon as he heard you through his headphones, it confirmed what he already knew.
What a kind voice, supple, soft, he could listen to you for hours– he has listened to you for hours. Sometimes he wished you could do live streams of just you talking, you never even had to take your clothes off. Now that he knew what you looked like, Hyunjin’s heartbeat faster than it ever did when you made conversation.
It was the way you did, as though you were speaking to him and only him. The image he created of you in his head looked like it was thought up by a child in comparison to seeing you in real life. He could put a face to the voice now, he wasn’t even thinking about your body. Just your voice.
“You make me like this,” you said in almost a whisper, tone cracking just a little the more you sat on the toy.
Hyunjin couldn’t help but palm at himself, not entirely stroking but moving at the same pace. This was a team effort, in his mind. You made him crazy, as he did to you. That was his fantasy. You always spoke with so much love in your voice, as though you truly cared for him and it got him harder than any other kind of porn ever could.
Was that really all it took? Was he that pathetic? Someone who didn’t even know who he was, talking to an ocean of people that all saw the same thing he did, and suddenly it’s the only thing that can make him cum.
He can’t even complain now, he’s seen you. That’s enough spank bank to last him a lifetime if you ever suddenly decided to stop camming. Shit– he hopes he didn’t just manifest that into existence.
The white button up top draped in front of your cunt to hide away from view. That’s alright, you said you were taking it slow today. Your hips slowly pushed forward and back, hands gripping tightly at the armrests of your uncomfortable looking desk chair. Hyunjin thought it was kind of cute how you would still cam in the same seat as you did when he found your first video.
His laptop on his abdomen concealed the view of his cock leaking, but the way you were sat on screen, he could envision it was him you were sitting on instead. That’s exactly what he imagined as you rocked faster into the toy, lifting your shirt and balling it in your fist to show that your wetness had spread to the front of your panties. Hyunjin didn’t even mind that the bold pink tentacle blocking a bit of the view, you were getting so into it that he hardly noticed anymore.
Hyunjin fumbled to find his dick, slowly beginning to squeeze the head as you turned to shorter and quicker ruts towards the front of the toy where the tentacle curled up. You moaned loudly, making him do so as well in return. “Fuck, I ruined this pair, didn’t I?”
Your cute laugh had Hyunjin breaking out into a smirk, “that’s okay,” he whispered to no one but himself.
“I should take it off but,” you rolled your hips again with a whine, “I kinda want you to work for it.”
The tips in the corner of the page were pinging like crazy as soon as you said that. He himself tapped the button rapidly and paid no mind to how his account balance shot down.
“C’mon now, don’t be shy. It’s just one little word that I wanna hear. I’ll say it first, if that makes you feel better.” The speed of your hips picked up a little, in turn Hyunjin let his fist slowly work up and down, no faster than you, of course.
“Please. Please, is the word I’m looking for, lovely. Say it, just once.”
Fuck, he couldn’t help speeding up just a little. He loved the way you said it, even more the way you commanded him to say it as well. “Please,” the whimper came out breathy and uneven as the precum lubricated his cock more.
“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Hyunjin shook his head, no.
“No, it wasn’t. Look what happens when you ask nicely,” you stood from your seat just to pull off the flimsy fabric, sitting fully back down on the toy and holding up the soaked pair with another chuckle. “You get nice things.”
Hyunjin could hear how wet you really were now, every lewd sound that came from you rubbing yourself back and forth on the grinder. You still didn’t let him– them– see you fully. He wasn’t even sure if you’d expose yourself at all this stream. Still, his fist picked up speed as you did, taking in every grunt you let out when you’d hit a particularly good spot. Hyunjin kept his eyes on you the whole time, memorizing the way you moved, what angle made you tick.
“C’mon lovely, I know you can do better than that.”
You were referring to the tip counter, but Hyunjin took it as he can do better than that. His other hand reached around the laptop, down to cup his balls as he worked his cock faster, occasionally running his fingers over the head for a break in stimulation. Somehow he managed to stop touching himself for a split second to rapid fire extra tips when they slowed down.
“Oh, someone wants a little extra attention today. What do I call you, lovely?” Hyunjin wasn’t sure if you were speaking to him, though he hoped and typed a nickname anyways. “Baby? That’s cute. Thank you, baby, you’re so sweet.”
His hand instantly returned to his dick, not caring about the speed anymore, instead wanting to cum to the sound of your voice. He quickly tapped the tip button a few more times and you giggled, “baby, you’re spoiling me. Here, since you’re being so nice,” you lifted the hem of your shirt to put your bare cunt on display, seemingly tucking the end of it into your mouth.
Hyunjin could see it so clearly, your pretty lips drooling onto the fabric, biting it to contain the moans that wanted to slip past. Fuck, he was going insane, wet, slick noises from his animalistic fisting on his cock almost surpassing the volume of your voice in his headphones.
He just watched now, listened intently to how good you were making yourself feel and it made his body light a fire. You were clearly getting closer as well, forgetting the dirty talk and humping away at the toy with little to no regard for who was watching. Hyunjin loved this side of you the most, when you couldn’t think of anything other than the impending pleasure. He could imagine your eyes rolling back, the furrow in your brow and beads of sweat dripping down your temples as you came nearer to falling over the edge. Your hands moved to grip the edge of the seat, aiding in pushing your body forward and back harder against the grinder and Hyunjin was jerking himself with a hotter fervor. Your muffled cries echoed in his head– he was making you feel like this, he was the one you were using to please yourself, he was the one you thought of as you came all over his cock.
Hyunjin suddenly held his breath and let his release take over his body, squeezing and pumping the tip of his cock as he spurt his seed all over his stomach and back of his computer. By the time he’d come to, opened his eyes, and regained his breath, you were slumped back in your chair and panting heavily. He missed your grand finale, but that was okay with him, you came at the same time. Even in post nut clarity, he wanted to hear your voice. More than that, he wanted to hold you, run his fingers through your hair, kiss you until you were breathless all over again.
Hyunjin’s shaky hand found the tip button again and tapped.
“Thank you, baby.” He smiled.
You groaned and found the strength to steal the toy from your aching cunt, holding it up for the camera to see it glistening with your essence. Laughing, “this was fun, wasn’t it? I enjoyed myself, I might have to buy more of these.” You tossed it onto the desk and suddenly seemed shy, tugging your shirt as far down as you could without exposing more skin. “Until next time, lovely. I’ll miss you.” You waved your dainty fingers at the camera, doing your signature sign off, and the screen went black.
Hyunjin’s head fell back into his pillows, staring at the ceiling trying to understand all the emotions he just rushed through.
He couldn’t compute them even if he tried. All he knew was that he was excited to go to work tomorrow morning, hoping that whatever god heard his plea, begging that you’ll come in.
When he went to shut his laptop, his fingers smeared the warm mess that was slowly dripping. “Fuck— ew,” and he hurried to clean up, alone once again.
☆ﾟ
tags: @sensitiveandhungry @babebatter @changbinluvr @epiphanynaffit @fawnpeaks @linovely @dumplinbokkieracha @finnydraws @naturules @djeniryuu @hamburgers101 @skzhomiehopper @yesv01 @hyunjinsamdl @dazzlingligth @alexis-reads-fics @linaliskz @0002linoskitten @chillichillicrabcrab23 @zerefdragn33l @straycrescent @binnies-donuts @soldierstangirl-blog @bakedlilgoonie @levanterlily @shelbyyy44 @yeetmehome @in2heartz @astroodledream @the-sweetest-rose @goblinracha @lilbugs-things @viviennenstan @staurdvst @alex--awesome--22 @imzenning @jeyelleohe @iadorethemskz @skyvastbunny @mamabymychem @katsukis1wife @woozarts @noellllslut
#stray kids#stray kids smut#stray kids fanfic#skz#skz smut#skz fanfic#stray kids hyunjin#skz hyunjin#stray kids fluff#stray kids angst#skz fluff#skz angst#hyunjin#hwang hyunjin#hyunjin smut#hyunjin fluff#hyunjin angst#hyunjin x reader#hyunjin x yn#hyunjin x you#hyunjin x y/n#stray kids imagines#stray kids scenarios#skz imagines#skz scenarios#skz imagine#stray kids imagine#stray kids fanfiction#skz fanfiction
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A/N: This is my first ever fic that I'm posting on this account, or on skz in general, so I hope you guys like it! My inbox is open, so hit me up ig?
Pairing: Bully-ish!Hyunjin x afab!Reader (enemies to lovers)
18+ minors dni!!!
CW: Unprotected sex, oral (fem! receiving), cum eating, fucking in a public area, but no one comes inside!
WC: 3.3k
Love is a fickle thing, it always starts with an infatuation. You constantly think about them, yearn for them, cry for them. Surround yourself with the things they like in hopes of finding something in common.
You never felt you could find this sense of attraction. You watched as people fell in and out of love, but for you, it was just a figment of your imagination.
There was only one time you were close enough to “love” someone, but instead of the feeling of contentment, it was one of hatred. You were infatuated with him, but not in the way that most would be, you could only see the negative, blinded by hatred for the man in front of you.
He was in your art class, while you worked with clay pieces, he worked with watercolors. Everyone was in awe of his work, especially your professor.
There were always subtle tones of love in every one of his paintings. It was his main emotion, his main drive, and it was truly beautiful.
The first time you ever saw one of his paintings was when you accidentally stumbled upon it, it being left in the classroom to dry as he went to go get coffee.
You were working on one of your structures, an entangled face that showed a range of emotions. It was something that you wanted to achieve to show the complexity of the human mind, of emotions, but you ended up getting distracted by his painting.
You stood in front of it for what felt like hours, looking over each brush stroke, each blend of color, it was beautiful. You hadn’t realized you were crying, a few tears wetting your cheek until Hyunjin was in front of you holding out a tissue.
“Oh shit, I’m so sorry” you tripped over your words as you took the tissues from his hand, thanking him. “It’s no problem, I’m actually very grateful”
“And why is that?” you asked, dabbing the tissue at your tear ducts.“My work has never brought someone to tears” he grinned, taking a sip of his iced americano, the condensation of the drink ran down his cup like your tears just moments prior.
“I don’t know how it hasn’t, the way you depict love is truly extraordinary, I’ve yet to see anything like it before. It isn’t even your form of painting, nor the medium, but the way you can feel the emotion pouring through the artist into their art is magnificent”
“Such high praise from the teacher’s pet, what did I do to deserve this?” he chuckled, sitting back at his easel, playing with the brushes in the palm of his hand.
“I’m not the teacher's pet” you glared at him, hating the way your voice stuttered as you spoke out against his accusations. “You most definitely are” he rolled his eyes, causing your eyebrows to furrow, “how else are you affording all your materials while others have much crappier ones? T-E-A-C-H-E-R’S P-E-T” he stated, enunciating every note at the end of his sentence.
You glared at him, not feeling the need to prove yourself against his harmful words. No longer wanting to be belittled, you turned around, the clay that was previously stuck to your hands cracking.
You tried to ignore him, truly, but every time you thought you were no longer going to see his face, there he appeared.
At first, it was at your job, he would come at least three times a day, getting his daily Iced Americano fix.
“Isn’t it unhealthy to drink more than one of these a day?” you asked, it was slower today so you had time to talk to him as he paid.
“Wow, she speaks!” he exclaimed, slowly pulling out his card. “I thought you were taking a vow of silence seeing as every time you don’t even ask me what I want. I thought customer service helps you keep your job?” he joked, tilting his head to the side.
“Well, my manager said it was okay to ignore dicks, so I think that’s what I’m doing!” you grinned, using your ‘customer service voice’ as he just rolled his eyes at you.
“You would love to see my dick” he whispered, coming closer to the register so only you could hear him.
Through a smile, you muttered, “If it’s anything like your personality, I bet it’s disgusting and nothing special!”
He just tsked at you, walking away as someone had finally entered the little coffee place, coming up to the register to place their order.
The next place was in your own apartment. You had no idea that your roommate, Felix, was close friends with the devil incarnate.
“Why does he have to come over?” you whined, your body clad in overalls and a tank top as you took a bite of the warm brownie that he had made to help bring you to the “dark side”.
As you took another bite, you didn’t realize the chocolate that was oozing out of the fudgy dessert, getting on the corner of your mouth.
“He’s my best friend, plus I don’t know why you don’t like him. He’s like so nice to everyone, not to mention isn’t he your type? I do remember you loooove tall guys, people who are into are, and love reading. He checks all of your boxes babe” he giggled, watching as you glared at him, cheeks filled with the brownies he made you.
“That doesn’t forgo him being one of the worst people I’ve ever met like he’s such a fucking asshole” you groaned, taking a sip of milk.
“Hey! That “asshole” happens to be my best friend, so don’t talk about him like that or I’m cutting you off!”
For such a small and kind dude, he sure had a fiery side to him. You simply nodded your head, lowering it in defeat, allowing him to pet it.
He began to coo at you as he stroked your hair back. “Look at you being such a good roommate” he giggled, feeding you more of the brownie, which you happily accepted.
“Now I have to go shower, so if he comes, please open the door for him and make him feel a bit welcome?” Lixie grinned at you, bopping your nose as you nodded your head, not wanting to be a nuisance to your friend.
You scrolled on your phone, your legs hitting the cabinets underneath the counter you were currently situated on before you heard the jingle of the door knob. Before you could even jump down, the door opened itself, Hyunjin in front of it key in hand.
“Felix, I can’t wait to tell you about this–” he cut himself off as he saw you, legs jangling off of the kitchen counter, phone in one hand, brownie in the other.
“What the fuck are you doing here? Are you a stalker or something?” he groaned, placing his stuff on the couch, only for his hands to cross over his body, trying to prove a point.
“I live here, Felix is my roommate and I’m going back to my room,” you said as kindly as you possibly could, not wanting to upset Lix after he politely asked you not to be a dick.
“I don’t believe it, you want me that bad you made up an entire scheme to try and sleep with me, I mean I know I’m irresistible, but still that’s a new low.”
Before he could continue spewing nonsense, you took his hand dragging it to your room. You opened the door allowing him to look inside. Your bra on the floor, your bed made but a bit crumpled from sitting on it earlier, and pictures of you and your friends littering the walls.
“Is this enough proof for you?” you asked, tilting your head to the side waiting for his response.
Instead, he took your face in the palm of his hand, his thumb first stroking your chin then slowly shifting down to the corner of your lip. He pulled you a bit closer, your eyes roaming his face, and your breath was caught in your throat. You thought he was going to kiss you, he pulled away with a laugh.
“What a loser, you had chocolate all over your face while trying to talk to me. Aren’t you the least bit embarrassed?” he grinned, placing the thumb that was just rubbing at the corner of your lip into his mouth, savoring the taste.
“You mean nothing to me, so why would I care?” you shrugged, taking your wallet in your hand before slowly moving away from your dorm frame to the entrance of your apartment.
“Tell Felix I’m not going to be back for dinner” With that you left, leaving Hyunjin dumbfounded in the middle of your apartment.
He was just trying to play hard to get, but you were still not getting it. Did you not notice that he went out of his way to go to the coffee shop that was out of his way, only on days you were working? How he spent hours in the classroom with you just to hear what song you were obsessed with that week, it was like you were oblivious to his infatuation with you. You couldn’t be that dumb, could you?
The last and most hated place to see him was the studio. It was your sanctuary, sure your room meant a lot to you, your own private space, but while working on your art, everything was basically white noise.
From the moment you put on your headphones, you are lost in a trance. The only thing on your mind is the piece in front of you and how you could make it better from the last.
You were so immersed in your work, that you didn’t realize that Hyunjin had entered the room, working on his own piece.
Almost an hour had passed as the two of you sat working on your respective pieces. What you didn’t notice was that he was on the phone. You could see his lips moving, but you didn’t think much of it, partly because you didn’t care enough, and the other half was because your favorite song was playing and you had forgotten about him.
It wasn’t until your headphones died that you finally heard the words leaving his mouth.
“She’s so fucking cute, but I don’t know how she hasn’t noticed that I like her yet. Like why else would I go to her coffee shop 3 times a day Felix? And don’t say it’s because I have a coffee addiction, I know that, but I only go there to see her. And fuck, did you see her at Bin’s party, that short skirt I thought I was going to cum right there and then. How difficult is it for her to see that I like her?” he groaned, covering his face with his hands.
You didn’t even realize that you dropped your bowl of water until he looked up at you, your eyes meeting his. Before you could properly react, he quickly hung up the phone, walking towards you.
You didn’t even realize, but you had started to run away, but you had nowhere to hide. You squatted down, trying to shield your body from him, but it only allowed him to come closer to you.
“You heard what I said, didn’t you?” he asked as he crouched down to meet your height.
You didn’t respond, instead just nodding your head, which caused him to groan. He slowly pulled your hands away from your face, his hand on your chin.
“I like you” he whispered, his face coming closer to yours. “Okay?” you responded, your voice quieter than his.
“Let me show you” and with that, he captured your lips with his, pulling your body closer to him. Your lips were working in tandem as he wrapped your legs around his torso, your hands flying to the back of his neck, allowing him to pick you up.
He pulled both of your bodies up, leading you to the closest desk, not allowing the two of you to break your kiss. His tongue licking at the seam of your mouth, begging for an entrance.
You allowed it, your breaths getting heavier as he pushed his cock into the seam of your leggings, the room filled with your whimpers as he pressed deeper into you, allowing you to feel the hardness of him through his jeans.
He slowly pulled away, a trail of spit connecting the two of you. “Fuck” you whined as he slowly pulled down your leggings, the cool air causing goosebumps to riddle your legs and arms.
“Look at this pretty little cunt” he whispered, admiring the way your lips pushed against the cotton of your underwear. “Can’t wait to eat it” he grinned, tearing off your underwear causing you to shout.
“Hyunjin what the fuck, I never said you could do that?” but you were cut off by the feeling of his plush lips against your clit, lapping away. Your hands instantaneously grasped his hair, pushing him deeper into you, allowing the only thought on his mind to be your pussy.
You moaned as he continued lapping at it, learning every curve, where you loved being touched. He wanted to understand you, know what made you tick, he wanted to make you his.
He slowly brought his hand up to your cunt, his finger teasing your hole before slowly pushing it inside of you. “Do you like that baby?” he whispered into your cunt, the vibration on your clit causing your eyes to roll back.
“Feels so good” you whimpered as you lowered yourself, your back hitting the table.
He didn’t want to stop until he made you cum in his mouth, he needed to taste you after chasing you for months. He slowly added another finger, thrusting it inside of your soaking hole, his other hand grabbing your thighs, pulling you closer to him.
“Gonna cum Jinnie” you whimpered, your high being near. As soon as the word Jinnie left your lips, he felt like he was going to cum, the sound of you moaning his name was ringing in his ears and he needed to hear it again and again.
“Fuck baby, gonna cum, gonna cum on my fingers like a good girl?”
“Yes, gonna cum for Jinnie” you whimpered, your orgasm taking control of your body, it twitching under the feeling of his fingers continuously thrusting into you, hitting that spongey spot in your repeatedly.
“You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on” he whispered, kissing your lips once again.
You could feel his cock pressing onto your thigh, it protruding through his jeans and all you could think about was making him feel good.
“Want to make you feel good Jinnie” you whined, pulling away from his lips as your hands frantically went to his jeans, pulling them down to try and get access to his cock. There was a slight wet patch on his boxers, which made you whimper.
“Please, need it” you whined, your hands trailing to your cunt, spreading your lips apart to show him how wet you were for him.
“You are going to kill me baby” he grinned, pulling his boxers down, allowing his cock to hit his stomach. Your eyes looked at him in fear when you saw his size. He was long and thick, bigger than everyone you’ve ever been with.
“Don’t tell me you are scared” he chuckled, running the tip of his cock along your folds, capturing your wetness along his tip. You shook your head, trying to prove to him that you weren’t.
“It’s okay baby, I’ll go slow, let me get a condom” But before he could even reach into his jeans to get his wallet, you stopped him. “It’s okay, I’m on the pill, please need to feel all of you Jinnie”
Who was he to say no to your cute pleading face, so he slowly pushed the tip of his cock into you, causing the two of you to moan. You at the feeling of your cunt being stretched out, and him at the feeling of your cunt squeezing his cock.
His cock was so deep inside of you, you felt like you could cum from just his cock resting inside of you.
“Fuck baby, your pussy is taking me so well, wish we did this before instead of all this bickering, it’s like you were made for me.” he moaned while slowly beginning to thrusting into you, making sure he wasn’t going to fast.
To ensure your comfort, and to get you closer to your high because he knew he wasn’t going to last long, he began playing with your clit. “Jinnie feels so good, you are so deep inside of me” you whimpered.
He took it as a sign to start thrusting into you deeper. Each thrush hits your g-spot perfectly. With the stimulation of his finger on your clit, you couldn’t do it anymore. You started clenching down on him harder and harder.
Your cunt was locking him in and all he could do was groan. The final push was when he moaned directly into your ear. You came all over his cock letting your moans hit his ear. He pulled out of you stroking his cock “Where do you want me to cum baby?” he whined, feeling close.
“I want it in my mouth” you begged and that was all he needed. He slowly lifted your body from the table as you fell to your knees in front of him, allowing him to push his cock into your mouth.
He shoved it deep inside, causing you to deep-throat it, and came straight down your throat. “Fuck, I can’t believe we didn’t do that sooner.” he grinned.
“It’s all your fault, you were the bully” you whined, trying to find your leggings to pull over your body since the room had gotten significantly cooler.
“We should get dressed though, we don’t need anyone else to know what we just did” he looked around frantically, a worried look on his face, causing you to laugh.
“You just fucked me on a desk, and now you are scared?”
“Yes, because I had this whole plan of taking you out to dinner, and buying you this really pretty dress I saw that I thought looked perfect for you and everything” he pouted.
He looked adorable like this, and you couldn’t believe it was the same man that made your life a living hell, that was now in front of you causing you to coo at his jutted lip.
“You are so cute” you mumbled, grabbing his face and pulling him into a kiss. Maybe love starts off different for everyone.
_____
You walked into your apartment, hand in hand. A grin splayed on his face as you fought with him about how drinking iced americanos more than twice a day was crazy, and how his heart was going to stop.
The two of you didn’t even realize that Felix was in your living room until the two of you heard an “I fucking knew it!”
He was whooping and hollering around your apartment. “I knew it was going to start with this enemies-to-lover type shit and then boom y’all are going to fuck”
Before the two of you could even utter a single word, he stopped you by continuing. “Please tell me it wasn’t on our shared couch though, it doesn’t need to be fucked on a second time”
“You what!” you looked at him with fury in your eyes, Hyunjin just laughed at the spectacle playing out in front of him, damn he loved you.
#gia writes!#skz smut#skz#skz x reader#stray kids#stray kids x reader#stray kids smut#straykids smut#straykids x reader#hyunjin#hwang hyunjin#hwang hyunjin smut#hyunjin smut#hyunjin x reader
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having many thoughts about bakugou comforting you on your period.
self-indulgent n mentions of pregnancy, fem!reader.
“how many times do i have to tell you, quit tryna tough things out.”
bakugou’s lips twitch up into a snarl as he speaks. teeth bared, pink gums peaking out and nose upturned. but his voice is gentle, washes over your frenzied mind like waves on a soft sand shoreline. he’s chiding you, ever so worrisome, and you can tell by the crease that forms between his dark, thick eyebrows along with the concern that swims in the red of his eyes.
“don’t frown like that, you’ll get wrinkles,” you say, a childish air about your voice as you lift your chin, peaking your head out from the masses of blankets you’ve swaddled yourself in. “dad.”
bakugou rolls his eyes, peeling back a layer of your comfort fort. “you know i don’t care about that shit, sweetness.” he crawls up the bed, hands planted either side of your head and knees either side of your hips so that he can kneel over you. “open that pretty mouth of yours for me.”
the blonde taps your lips once with single finger and you scowl up at him.
“don’t tell me what to do.”
“so fuckin’ grumpy.”
“says you, mister grumpy pants!” you fire back, narrowing your eyes at him this time. “i’m allowed to be, Mother Nature is cursing me because you didn’t get me pregnant.”
“thought we weren’t havin’ kids yet—” bakugou’s words taper off into your favourite sound, his raspy laughter, after you unsheath a pillow from your fortress and lob it in his direction. he catches it (of course, damn pro hero reflexes) and chucks the weapon room across the room before leaning down to kiss you slow. “i gotcha meds and a snack, since you insist on not takin’ ‘em until you’re whiny ‘n miserable.”
you love him, truly, and the hormonal imbalance your period has unleashed upon you might make you tear up at the thought. “‘m not miserable,” you try to deny, letting katsuki pepper your face with smooches so light you have to tug him a little closer — to feel more than just the ghost of his lips on your skin. “what snack did’ya bring me?”
“your favourite, ‘n i got more in the pantry.” reaching into the back pocket of his sweats katsuki pulls out your favourite snack and unwraps it for you — pushing it towards your sealed lips. “now will ya open up?” you do and he hums in content watching you lean forward and take a bite. “good girl.”
you nearly choke. “fuck you.”
“love you.” he responds quickly, sitting back on his haunches to guide you into sitting up. with a rough palm on your back, katsuki reaches over to your night stand for your water. “chew, swallow. meds, drink.”
“bossy.”
“obedient.”
after helping you lay on your back once more, bakugou shuffles down your body and pushes up your pyjama shirt — pressing a kiss to your lower tummy. “you okay with this, sweets?” he coos to you, ruby eyes swimming with love as bakugou glances up at you from between your thighs.
“yeah, s’good,” he’s good to you, smoothing over where your cramps hurt the most. you think you love him a little more like this. soft hair tickling your legs, his lips on your stomach and the twinge of heat from his powerfully destructive hands easing your pain. katsuki bakugou is perfect, lovely. you love him when he’s soft and when he’s not. you love him a lot right now. you hope he loves you too.
bakugou keeps his hands warm, letting the heat tremor through you like a seismic wave to soothe the pain that tears through you uncomfortably. you fingers card through his hair, prickly to look at but soft to the touch as you both bask in the quietness of the moment.
“you gotta start takin’ meds when you’re in pain, no more pretendin’ to be a tough guy, kay?” He tells you, working his hot thumbs just over where the source of your discomfort may be. “i know you don’t like ‘em but even if they help a little…”
he nags at you with love, hands slipping down your sides to encircle your waist — rubbing warmly at your back. “i don’t need meds when i have you.” relief washes over you as you sigh out.
“corny fucker.”
“you love me.”
“oh unfortunately i do.”
katsuki holds you close and intimately, kissing your stomach once more and looks up happily — noticing how visibly relaxed you are.
“don’t be mean to me, you’ll make me miserable,” you tease, the meds finally doing their thing and kicking in. between that and bakugou’s massage you feel yourself drifting off to sleep. “come up here, plant one on me.”
the blonde shifts to loom over you, lips meeting yours tenderly in a ghost trace of a kiss. “can’t have that. miserable, pouty baby. eh?” he feeds you the words with his mouth on yours but pulls away before it gets too steamy. “my baby.”
you squirm in place. “yours.”
“lemme take care of you, baby,” bakugou reiterates, going back to massaging away your cramps. “go to sleep, i gotcha. we’ll have a snack ‘n some more meds when you wake up. kay?”
“‘mkay, love you.”
“love you most, sweetness.”
#bakugou x reader#bakugou x you#bakugou fluff#bakugou imagines#bakugo x reader#bakugo x you#bakugo fluff#bakugou katsuki x reader#bakugou katsuki fluff#bakugo drabble#bnha x reader#bnha x you#bnha fluff#mha fluff#mha x reader#✧ ₊˚੭ — writing#tteokdoroki#✧ ₊˚💭੭ — aali just posted
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jjk characters as male thot jobs
including: satoru gojo, suguru geto, toji fushiguro, kento nanami
contents: sfw but very suggestive, jjk men acting like sluts, gn!reader but there is a fem term used once
a/n: you might not consider some of these as “thot jobs” but im here to hypnotize you ouuuuhhh *wiggles fingers around* .. this is so silly but i had a blast writing this one
☆ . . . since gojo’s brain is hardwired to find teasing others amusing and quite the pass time i could see him as a dentist. you go to your local clinic for a annual deep cleaning and this man purposely goes out of his way to make things seem inherently sensual but still manages to do his job professionally. he’ll coo and praise you for following the most regular orders “now open real nice and wide for me … that’s righttt, good girl.” and “bite down on this … mhm yes just like that, you’re doing a great job.”
he’d definitely be like the annoying ones who still try to have a conversation while knuckles-deep prodding in your mouth. “i can tell you haven’t been flossing as much as you should be, what’s up with that?” and all you can do is narrow your eyes at him. he always caress your jaw and cheek too even through the latex gloves his touches are so intimate and gentle at the end of your appointment you’ll be genuinely considering if you should fuck your dentist or not.
☆ . . . i had multiple options for geto but firmly decided on a ceramic artist. i can envision him owning a modern yet whimsical pottery studio —he wanted the modern look but nanako and mimiko insist on the whimsical interior.— he offers free beginner classes twice a month. omgg the way his hands knead at the clay and skillfully sculpts on the wheel with his fingers meticulously bending, making his veins more prominent while delicately morphing the creation into a vase. he annunciates his instructions with melodic calmness but still has authority present in his tone i swearrr his voice is like honey.
you catch his eye in one of his classes and offers extended hours free of charge to help you “better your form.” he sits behind you, cradling your forearms directing your movements but still making room for you to assist your own creation. his warm minted breath tickles the back of your neck causing goosebumps “make sure to sit close to the wheel and anchor your elbows tightly against your body…” the sultry in his tone doesn’t go unnoticed with him slightly moving to your ear next “don’t be afraid to make mistakes it’s all about trial and error darling.”
☆ . . . like the unemployed bum toji is, he seems like the type of man to pride himself as a ‘jack of all trades.’ which is why i see him in the freelancer field of work, specifically, a personal shopper. he has an app on his phone where he can either accept or deny requests. he’s quite picky with commissions when money isn’t running low, but don’t get him wrong, he’s willing to go the extra mile to please his clients. always prefers phone calls over text when discussing farther details knowing his gruff voice will have the recipient weak in the knees. he isn’t shameful to treat his full time employment as a part time hookup arrangement…if he’s lucky enough that is.
“here’s your stuff pretty.” the quite taller and muscular man at your porch hands over a brown bag containing your groceries. you don’t miss the way his hands graze yours in the exchange, his sharp eyes examine you like you’re his prey; awaiting for your next move in a game you involuntarily started playing. words of gratitude try to slither past your lips but ultimately couldn’t —you’ve officially peaked his interest— “hey, why don’t i help you unload your items?” at that you nodded making way for the sleazy man to enter your home and eventually your bedroom as well.
☆ . . . what differentiates nanami from the rest is that he’s unaware of how insanely attractive his profession as a baker is. he truly doesn’t understand the appeal of a man in an apron kneading dough and decorating pink frilly cupcakes. he co-owns a bakery with haibara !! they even enrolled in culinary school together. the interior is quite morden with wisteria and other succulent plants hanging from the ceiling; most of the time he’s clueless to very clear advances from others or kindly shut them down saying how he’s “not looking for anything serious” which is a lie he himself started to believe.
but on a faithful sunday autumn morning you stroll in just salivating at the thought of warm dewy chocolate filled croissants, fresh from the oven, when you see him; clad in a bulky knitted cream sweater tying a black apron around his slim waist whilst his becipes bulged slightly through the thick material of the sweater. “good morning, what can i get for you today?” one thing lead to another making you leave with not only a croissant but the blond man’s phone number —due thanks to his cheeky younger coworker, yuji, who wrote the number on your receipt including a note that read: ‘he’s soooo into you :)’—
reblogs & feedback is extremely appreciated !! <3
#gojo satoru#suguru geto#toji fushiguro#nanami kento#gojo smut#gojo fluff#jjk gojo#gojo x reader#gojo x y/n#jjk toji#toji smut#toji x y/n#toji x reader#jujutsu kaisen toji#toji fluff#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu nanami#jujutsu gojo#jujustsu kaisen fluff#jjk scenarios#nanami x you#nanami x reader#geto smut#geto x reader#x reader#nanami smut#jjk x reader#jujutsu geto#toji#nanami fluff
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Dirty Laundry
Shane Walsh x F!Reader
Summary: Shane doesn't approve of the way you do laundry. He tries to school you, but he loves you so much he can't really stay mad at you for long, especially when you start taking your clothes off.
Content/Warnings: 18+. Explicit, Smut, Crack, Oral Sex (f. recieving), Vaginal sex, Pet Names, Bratty reader. No ZA.
Word Count: 1.9k // AO3 Link.
You were aware Shane had his quirks before moving in together. Some you already knew, like having five pairs of boots from the same brand, or the way he chews his thumbnail when he’s nervous, or how he frantically runs his hand on his hair when he’s pissed… Most of those were quickly revealed after you started dating. Others you'd only come aware of them upon moving in together.
One that is highly surprising is his obsession with laundry. You noticed that his clothes were always perfectly clean and ironed as he wore them on any occasion you went out, no matter how fancy or casual. But once you were sharing the same bedroom, you found out that even his underwear is always neatly pressed and folded in the drawer as if it had just come out of the package. With how much he works, you always thought he'd have taken to a cleaners or something, but that’s not the case. He not only cares for his own clothes but making laundry is something he actually enjoys. It relaxes him, he says. Which it’s the complete opposite for you. It makes you anxious anytime you have to do it. Especially the folding and sorting part. When you lived alone, there was always a pile sitting on that chair in the corner of your room. But not anymore. Now that you are living with Shane there are no more random piles collecting dust for days at a time in any chair of the house. Anytime he does laundry, you come home to find your drawers perfectly organized. It’s not something you can complain about because Shane is a true dream of a partner. Quirks and all, you wouldn’t have it any other way. So, in return, any time it’s your turn to make laundry, no matter how much you hate it, you make the minimal effort to at least take the same care of his clothes as he does for yours. Though you could tell that sometimes he doesn’t approve of your messy folding technique, and has to rearrange them when you’re not around, he never says anything either.
But today, when it's your turn to do laundry, he comes home to catch you transferring all the dirty clothes from the hamper into the washing machine, both yours and his without much regard of type, color, texture… That's how you've always done it. Yes, it's messy, and you've had a couple of mishaps, but nothing really atrocious ever happened. You never put that much thought into it, to be honest. It's just clothing. But not for Shane. Watching his precious shirts, and uniform with the rest of the load makes him physically ill. He stares at you as if you were killing a puppy.
“What the hell were you thinking?” he goes off, taking stuff out of the washer. “You can't mix delicates with towels. And what the fuck is this?” he picks up a pair of dirty sneakers from the bottom of the drum. “You were really gonna wash them with all these? You're a fuckin’ savage.”
You lean against the dryer and try not to burst into laughter at how annoyed he is. It's kinda cute actually to see him frown at you with scorn, and hearing his voice pitch a little higher than usual.
These past few weeks, you've been collecting a series of firsts since you moved into your new home. The first time you cooked in your new kitchen, the first time you disagreed when it came to rearranging the living room furniture, the first night you woke him up when you heard a strange noise in the hallway… And today it's the first time you've truly seen him irritated.
“It's just clothes, babe. Who cares?”
“I care.” He frantically goes through the heap of clothes, divorcing them into several piles on top of the washer. “Please tell me at least you're not using the speed cycle to wash everything.”
“What? It saves time, water, electricity…”
“Yeah, but at what cost.”
“Gee, it's not like I murdered someone.”
“You were about to murder my uniform. That's the real crime.”
“Hmm, you look better without it anyway.” You tease, reaching with your hand to pinch his booty covered by a pair of jeans.
“Stop, this is serious.” Shane stays firm in his position but tries to hide one corner of his mouth pulling up into a half-smile. “Look, I’m gonna show you how it’s done.”
“Ohh, fun. I'm about to get schooled by the laundry police. Please enlighten me, Officer.”
You roll your eyes and half listen to him explaining the washer’s control panel to you as if you were an idiot. It’s not that you don’t know how to use it, it’s that you’re lazy and rather put everything together and save time. Then, he proceeds to elaborate on which categories you should separate the different types of fabrics.
“That would take me all day if I have to do that many loads.”
“So? That’s what weekends are for?”
“Noooo. Weekends are for resting, watching movies, and chilling.”
“Who said you can't have that too?”
“You! I think I lost five years of my life by just listening to you explaining how to do laundry.”
“You’re being a little brat today.”
“Am I now?” You smirk and push one of the piles he had on top of the washer to the floor. “Whoops.”
“What the hell do you think you’re doin’?”
“Nothing.” You push the next one.
“You're playing a dangerous game, darling.”
“Yeah? I just want you to teach me again how to do it.” Next, you grab the hem of the t-shirt you’re wearing, pull it over your head and dangle it in your finger. “Where should I put this, deputy?”
“I'd put it up your ass. Bet it'd look real nice there.”
You snort and let the shirt fall to the floor.
“What about this, Mr. Delicate?” you unclasp your bra, slip the straps off your arms, and drape it on his shoulder. “Do you like it there?”
Then, you brace your palms on his chest, your lips draw a grin as you lean to whisper closer to his mouth. “Or do you want me to put it back on?”
“Don't fucking dare putting it back on?” He mutters, swatting the bra off his shoulder before having his hand holding your jaw firmly.
There's actually no other choice for him than to join your little game. Laundry be damned when it comes to choosing between you or clothes.
Licking his lips, he pulls his head back, eyes roaming down to your bare chest as you move your hands to hold his waist. When his stare travels back up, you both lock eyes for a second before having his mouth pressed against yours with a sloppy, pushing flick of his tongue forcing itself past your lips.
His hand keeps your head still while he shoves your back against the wall. His free hand snakes its way under the waistband of your sweatpants at the front. His fingers shamelessly rub your pussy back and forth over your panties, tucking the fabric in your slit. Hitting all the right spots, he earns a good moan out of you.
All of a sudden, his tongue comes to a stop. His hand too. Shane drops to his knees. From that position he pulls your sweatpants down to your ankles and grabs your hips as his tongue juts out to draw a wet circle around your navel. He then trails down, as your skin comes alive into goose flesh. He yanks your underwear down your legs to join your pants at the floor before having his mouth shoved at the junction of your hips. His mouth travels all over your sex, leaving kisses and nibbles your outer lips, licking your folds, teasing your clit…
“Shane… Fuck…” you bury your fingers in his hair and pull tight as the tip of his tongue circles your opening.
Your body writhes against the hard surface holding your back, your grip tightens on his hair while his lips viciously start sucking your clit. Your pussy melts as much as any time he goes down on you and just as fast as before, his mouth is suddenly gone before the job is done, leaving that sweet aching lingering all over your cunt. He lifts his stare to seize your unsatisfied expression as you gasp for air. He quickly yanks his shirt off before holding your hips and bringing you down to the floor.
“C’mere, dirty lil brat,” he growls, and you yelp as he manhandles your body, rolling you to your back right on top of the pile of dirty laundry you tossed to the floor.
Shane removes the clothing hanging around your ankles and sets your knees widely apart so he can kneel in between. He unzips his jeans, pulls them down to the middle of his thighs along with his boxer briefs to release his erection. He’s hard as rock. The flared tip of his dick is swollen and red, begging for some friction. There’s a dark shine in his eyes that matches the glossy layer of your juices smeared all over his lips and chin. As he lowers his body down, you frame his face with both your palms, pull his face closer to capture his mouth while he blindly guides himself into your opening. Your core knots tightly as he pushes all his length up to the hilt. His breathing shallows as you devour his mouth with hunger. He comfortably settles on top of you, holding one of his arms on the side of your head while his other hand clutches to your hips. His thrusts come sharp and steady, filling the room with the relentless slapping of his hips against your skin and the desperate sounds of your kisses.
“God, I love you,” you groan in his mouth.
“Love you more, sweetheart.”
You breathe the air of his lungs, eat his tongue and swallow the sweet grunts that come out of his throat one beat at a time as you both lose the ability to draw deeper breaths. His cock swiftly comes in and out of you as your legs tremble and lock. You move your hands to hold his ass as the erratic waving of his hips drives you out of your mind. A pulse later you're hit with a mighty climax that almost makes you lose consciousness. As your walls flutter around his thickness he spills all his warm juices deep in your walls.
“Fuck me,” his voice falters as he slips out of you.
He lays flat on top of you for a moment as your orgasm slowly ebbs. His skin is warm and damp against yours as your palm glides up his back to comb the hairs at his nape.
“Oh god, now the laundry is dirtier than before,” you laugh softly as his smile grows wide against your neck.
“And whose fault is that, huh?” he lifts his head to look at you with an eyebrow slightly raised.
“Technically… it’s yours. If you had let me do it as I wanted, this wouldn’t have happened.”
“Ain’t that right?” he playfully pinches your side making you jolt and chuckle.
“I mean… I’d rather do you than do laundry, so I'm not complaining.”
“Yeah?” he sweetly dips to leave a chaste peck on your lips. “I'd rather do you, too.”
#shane walsh x reader#shane walsh#twd fanfiction#the walking dead#jon bernthal#jon bernthal smut#jon bernthal fanfiction#fanfiction#darlingwrites
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high school sweethearts (rafe cameron x reader) - prologue
these are the requirements, if you think you can be my one true love
WARNINGS: mature content; dark!rafe, domestic violence, substance abuse & addiction, coercion, manipulative behavior, stalking, toxic relationship, attempted suicide, kook!reader
masterlist
series masterlist
“get the hell out of my house, rafe! i don’t care!” your voice was raspy with anger and frustration as you yelled in rafe’s face. your skin was damp with fresh tears, neck covered in the salty trail leaking from your eyes. “i’m not doing this shit with you anymore!”
your boyfriend, now ex-boyfriend, was at the foot of your bed, burning eyes glaring down at your seated frame. you know why he came over, but seeing as the two of you ended on bad terms just a couple weeks ago, you were less than pleased to see him. it wasn’t really a mutual separation–it was more one of force. you told him you were leaving him–and you did–but in rafe’s head, he never left you.
rafe wasn’t a nice guy most of the time, not even to you. you knew that when he pursued you, but you still gave him the benefit of the doubt. you told yourself that it was just a defense mechanism, that he would get nicer the longer you two were together. when the cruel behavior continued well into your relationship, you realized just how wrong you were.
the name-calling, the violent behavior directed towards both you and others, the raging cocaine addiction that he wasn’t even trying to overcome; it was all too much for you. hence, why you broke it off after years of trying to find a more sympathetic side of him. he had one, you knew that for a fact, but it wasn’t enough to ignore all of his shortcomings.
“that’s not how that works, y/n. are you fucking stupid, or something?” rafe looked at you incredulously, top lip flipped up in an almost disgusted snarl.
“what do you mean ‘that’s not how it works?’” the frustration you felt was only amplified, face screwed up from being unable to process the gall he possessed to let those words leave his mouth. “i said that we’re done. over, finished. i explained to you why we’re finished very simply–you’re a piece of shit, rafe. and until you’re not, we’re going to stay finished.”
the chance that he would ever stop being a terrible person was minimal. it had to run in his dna–maybe it skipped sarah and wheezie, but the trait definitely passed from ward unto his son.
you’d seen the way his father spoke to him. you were the one he came to late at night when he’d storm off after an argument, drunk, high, or crossed out of his mind. you nursed his bruises, bloody noses, and sore knuckles after their physical altercations. he never had someone truly care for him growing up, and being raised by a monster only turned him into one.
it was easy to look at the broken boy and have your heart ache for him. how could someone be mad at him for lashing out when that was the only way he was taught to express his feelings? it was even harder to nurse your own bruises that resulted in his unhealed, internal ones. which is why you had to put an end to it in the first place.
“there’s no way you think i’m letting you leave me, y/n,” he says dryly. “after all the investments i made in you? you might be crazier than me.” the taller man lets out a humorless laugh as he rakes his nimble fingers through the blonde locks atop his head.
“what fucking investments, rafe? the jewelry?”
you push yourself off your bed and shove past him, the dresser behind him becoming the new target of your rage. yanking open the jewelry box neatly sitting atop the piece of furniture, you ravage it for every ring, necklace, and pair of earrings rafe ever gifted you. turning around to face him, you toss it at his feet in a messy pile, the metal scattering around the floor and knocking against his shoes noisily.
“there you go, rafe! do you want the clothes, too?” you go to your closet door and rip it open, the box full of clothes that rafe bought you sitting neatly in the corner where you left it a week ago after packing it all away. the box scrapes against the hardwood floor as you pull it out of its hiding spot. “here! take it! take all your ‘investments’ back! ”
“y/n-” rafe tries to speak but he’s cut off by the sound of your phone hitting him square in the jaw. he bought that too, and he could take it for all you cared.
“there’s your phone, too.” it took everything in you not to smirk in satisfaction at seeing him wince in pain from the heavy object hitting him directly in the face, but it only lasted a second before you realized it was a bad idea. escalating to physical violence was never a thing you did. “now take your shit and leave.”
a few months ago, you would have never thought of doing anything like that. in fact a few months ago you were too scared to even raise your voice at him, let alone throw your phone at him with intentions to harm him.
it took you two months to even find the courage to break things off with him. you feared what was to come if you were to do something as drastic as that, but you knew that it had to happen eventually. even then you weren’t this bold, and the way rafe remained deathly still in front you stood as a reminder why you never were.
“i know you didn’t mean to do that…” rafe trails off, eyes closed as his tongue pokes though the side of his cheek in poorly hidden vexation. “you’re just angry, so i’m gonna pretend you didn't do that.” he squats down slowly to examine the jewelry laid out at his feet.
he pokes around wordlessly, the sound of the collection softing scraping against the floor taking over the silence of the room. you observe as he picks up a familiar silver piece, blinking rapidly as he rises back to his full height with it pinched between his fingers.
the square-shaped mark on his face where the phone made contact with him appears to be a deeper red as he approaches you, the few feet between you crossed in seconds with his long legs. you swallow the saliva collecting in your mouth, breath hitching nervously when he reaches for you. the feeling of the cool metal of the necklace falling into the dip of your clavicle makes you flinch instinctively as rafe clasps it behind your neck.
“you are my shit, y/n.” the taller man hums as his fingers adjust the pendant resting against your chest. “i invested my time, money, and energy into you not only because i love you, but because i expect a return on it. so, unless i’m leaving here with you, i’m not going anywhere.”
rafe’s hand so close to your neck had you frozen in place, unsure of what his next move would be. even after years of being with him, he was still far too unpredictable and unstable to feel easy around when you could feel the agitation dripping from his pores.
“on our first anniversary, i told you i couldn’t see myself with anyone else. on our second anniversary, i gave you a promise ring–” his free hand reaches down for the hand still adorned by the diamond studded ring he gifted you almost a year ago. you never took it off, but right now you wish that you had the strength to. “and i promised that i was going to marry you one day. you were going to be my beautiful wife, you would have my beautiful children, and everyone would wish they were us.”
“why are you–” you abruptly go silent when you catch the look he gives you, blue eyes dark with a calm rage that you’d learned to fear the most over everything. you shut your mouth immediately at the wordless instruction.
“you promised to love me.” he holds up his hand to show the matching promise ring wrapped around his own finger. “you promised to accept that i was fucked up. you promised that you would be there to wipe my tears, and that you could handle all my shit, even if it hurt you. if you think i’m gonna sit here and let you fuck me over–let you waste my time? let you just–just leave?”
he shakes his head at you, both of his hands reaching up to plant themselves on the sides of your face. his palms are warm against your skin, the feeling of his thumbs smoothing over your cheeks leaving a tingling sensation in their wake. you blinked up at him, eyes wide as your heart pounds against your chest. his own eyes were still dark and angry, but you could see the pure love pouring out of them though the seam between his blown out pupils and the blue of his iris.
you inhaled deeply when the blonde leaned in to place a gentle kiss to your mouth. it was hard to remain stoic in your reaction, especially when he pulled away with your sticky, pink gloss coating his plush lips.
“you’re not leaving me that easy.” he whispers softly into the little space between your faces. it was instinctive to gulp out of fear–the barely contained, frightened whimper pushed back down your throat with the action. “if i lose you, it will be by my own hands. it won’t be because you get a little scared when shit gets real.”
rafe is granted silence as you continue to stare up at him with your lips drawn together tightly. he sighs heavily, sensing the fear radiating off of your body. you feel his hands pull you into his chest, one of them dropping to your waist to hug you close to him as he rests his head on top of yours.
“i will fucking kill you before i ever let you leave, y/n. do you understand that?” you say nothing in response, sure that your voice will tremble more than you want it to. you believed every word that came out of his mouth deep down, and the seriousness of his demeanor only justified your sense of foreboding. “answer me. do you understand?”
you remain silent for a heavy second, mouth completely devoid of moisture and heart pumping too rapidly to speak steadily.
“yes, rafe.” you nodded against his chest and you felt him exhale, almost in a way that resembled relief. “i understand. i’m sorry…” you weren’t sure what you were even apologizing for, but it was something you were so used to doing to save your own ass.
“it’s okay, baby, i know.” he plants his lips to your scalp sweetly before pulling away just a couple centimeters. “i know it gets hard sometimes– i know i’m hard, and i’m sorry for that. i’m really trying.”
“i know.” you say weakly, the words all but muffled by the shirt your face was buried into.
you felt him nod above you before he placed another kiss on your head.
“i love you so, so much.” rafe whispers into your hair, the air of his words against your scalp sending chills down your back.
you nod in response, submitting to the silence that weighs heavy on your tongue.
#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader#dark!rafe cameron#rafe cameron x pogue!reader#rafe cameron x kook!reader#obx fanfiction#rafe cameron x oc#obx2#obx1#outer banks#drew starkey#cleoluvrr fics#rafe outer banks#outer banks imagine#outer banks x reader
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Lost
Summary: An extra for Mine*
Harry's worst nightmare has finally come true:
You've been taken.
And he plans to do everything in his power to find you.
Word Count: 3.4k
*Contains Mature and Explicit content! Please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞 You are so much more important!*
It’s been two days, six hours, and forty-seven minutes since you were kidnapped in the middle of your living room.
Two days, six hours, and forty-seven minutes since you were placed in this warehouse, strapped to a chair, with nothing but some stale bread and a bit of water.
Two days, six hours, and forty-seven minutes since you’ve last seen him.
Harry.
About the only thing you’ve been able to think about since they threw a bag over your head and bound your hands behind your back. The only name, the only constant.
Harry.
Your one saving grace in this endless abyss of terror and intimidation. The idea of him. The idea that he’s out there, looking for you, and most likely tearing the Earth in two just to find you.
You spend a lot of time alone. Or rather, lonely. You’re constantly surrounded by guards, but they’re posted around the room, and they’re not exactly chatty.
You replay old memories of the two of you. Replay the day you met. Replay how he looks in the morning, curls disheveled, and skin fresh. Replay the sound of his voice. Over and over and over.
You imagine him talking to you now. Imagine him helping you through the problem, whispering delicately into your ear. A conversation meant to save you.
Doing so good, mama. You’re okay. Promise. They’re not gonna fucking touch you. I’m gonna find you.
“I know,” you murmur quietly to yourself. “Really wish you’d hurry.”
I know, sugar. But I’ll be there. You’ll see. And I’ll take you home. Never gonna let you go again.
“What if you can’t find me?”
I will. Rip through every goddamn corner of the Earth to find you.
“I don’t know what they’re gonna do with me.”
They won’t do a fucking thing. I promise. I’ll be there. I’ll find you.
“I miss you.”
I’ll find you.
You choose to believe the voice in your head. Choose to believe that he’s already on his way. That he’ll be here. That he’ll find you.
I’ll find you.
The sound of the large double doors being thrown open forces you to jolt in your chair, eyes flying forward.
The man who took you—whose name you refuse to learn—strides in, attention on you as though he’s coming to collect a prize.
You’ve imagined this scenario before. The moment you learn Harry was unsuccessful. That he was taken hostage.
Or worse.
You don’t like this shit-eating grin your captor wears. Don’t like the way he beams with pride or the way he rubs his hands together as if to warm himself up.
You recoil in your seat, attempting to disappear altogether.
“My dear,” he calls, stopping only a few feet away from where you sit. “I come with excellent news.”
No, no, no, you think, heart sinking to the depths of your stomach.
“It seems our guest of honor has finally accepted my invitation,” the man proceeds, palms smacking together gleefully. “Lucky for you, as my patience was growing thin.”
He sweeps around the back of your chair, the unsettling and putrid smell of his aftershave assaulting your senses as you grimace.
“So we’re gonna make a deal, my dear,” he continues, dipping down until his mouth can settle near your ear. “I’m gonna let him walk in here. I’m gonna let him think he’s saved you. And I’m gonna give him exactly two minutes to feel like he actually did his job.”
You know what comes next, and the soft trickle of air near your cheek makes your muscles stiffen.
“And then…I’m gonna end him.”
With that, the rival leader snaps his fingers, and leads his guards out through the double doors.
Leaving you truly alone.
About two minutes pass before you hear a bit of commotion on the other side of the warehouse, and through your watery eyes, you manage to make out a familiar shape.
It sneaks through a back door and begins running toward you, the gaussian blurred hair and black attire making your lungs ache.
“Hey, hey. Okay, okay, all right.” Hands cautiously scope your trembling frame, hovering near your shoulders, hips, legs, and cheeks as they search for something. “Honey, I need you to look at me. Look at me, sugar, please.”
You think you already are but can’t see past these tears. Can’t understand anything past what the nasty man said to you. Can’t comprehend what you have to do.
Fingers begin pulling on the ropes around your hands, desperate to undo them and set you free.
“I’ve got you,” the voice says, and it sounds like honey. Sweet and heavy, dripping down your ears and making you feel warm. “I’ve got you, okay? Gonna get you out of here, I promise. Just look at me, okay? Just keep looking at me, baby.”
“Harry?”
The sound of his name cracking from your dry throat seems to gut him, and his entire expression falls as he nods.
“Yeah, mama,” he murmurs, pressing a palm to your jaw. “S’me. I’m here. And I’m gonna take you home, okay? Gonna get you out of here—”
“Harry,” you repeat, but it sounds weak and fragile. Can’t display the urgency you’re trying to convey. “Harry—”
“I know, baby. I know. It’s me, I’m here,” he repeats, returning his focus to undoing your restraints. He works fast, tugging hard and with all his strength as the first one finally loosens. “Breathe, okay? Just breathe—”
“Harry.” The whimper bleeds from your throat, a fresh wave of desperation rolling down your face as you try to capture his attention. “Harry, no—”
“Shh, honey. You’re okay, I promise. Gonna make it better, I swear—”
“Harry, please—”
“I know, mama. I know, it’s okay—”
“No. Go—”
“Yeah, we’re gonna go. We’ll go, sugar—”
“No.”
The hushed but urgent silence is broken by the piercing decibels of your cry. The loudest noise you’ve made in days, and it echoes around the warehouse as he stills.
Blinking, his hands slow. “What? What’s wrong, am I hurting you? Did they hurt you—”
“No.” It seems as though it’s all you can say, chest heaving with anxious breaths. “No. Harry…go. Go, you have to go—”
He looks wounded. Eyes softening as he begins to shake his head. “M’not going,” he whispers, trying to cradle your cheek once more. “I know I left you, but I never meant for this. Baby, I swear. I did everything—”
“Harry,” you try again. “Go—”
“No.” His jaw is clenched but his frown is obvious. “No. I won’t leave you. I know you have every right to make me, but I can’t. I can’t do it—”
“Harry—”
“Please.” It’s loud but so incredibly scared. Mimicking the expression on his face. “Please. I can’t go. Can’t leave you—”
“You have to,” you try again, struggling to speak in the way you want. “You have to, he’s coming back—”
“Let him,” Harry growls, and your stomach wrenches. “Fucking let him come back, and I’ll show him exactly how I fucking feel about him touching what’s mine.”
“No,” you nearly sob, arms tugging on the rope as you desperately attempt to reach for him. “Harry, no—”
The double doors fling open as the unnamed man and his army storm the building.
They shout, and they raise their weapons, and they encircle where you and Harry are settled in the middle of the warehouse.
Harry is already on his knees from trying to break your ties, but as the guard’s approach, they scream at him to get down. Surrender. Raise his hands and keep them high.
His malice is evident. Lids narrowed, teeth grinding together, and body practically trembling with rage as he slowly lifts his arms above his head.
“Harry,” you whisper, chest aching in a way you’ve never felt before.
He looks at you. Despite all the noise, the chaos, the fear. He looks at you and he mouths, “I love you.”
You have to resist the urge to scream.
“And there he is,” comes the cruel taunt of the man behind you. “After all this time, this is what it took to break you.”
Harry’s jaw raises defiantly as he shoots daggers toward your captor. He says nothing. Remains perfectly still as the intimidating weapons crawl closer to his head.
“Did you realize how weak you were?” the man goads him. “Is that why you kept her locked away? Is that why you tried to run? Because you knew you had nothing if you didn’t have her? To use as a bargaining chip?”
A hand is suddenly attaching to the roots of your hair and yanking so hard, you see stars.
Your head drops back, following the assault as you gasp, and Harry curses from his place a few feet away.
“Don’t fucking touch—”
“Easy,” the man warns, and you look up to see him shoot Harry a cocked brow of warning. “Move one fucking inch and she’s done.”
Harry stills, settling back onto his knees as the barrel of a gun digs into the side of his skull.
“Where is it?” comes the next question, sneered, and filled with years’ worth of vengeance as he tugs again on your hair. “Where?”
Harry is quiet, studying your reaction closely as he contemplates his answer. “Jersey.”
An answer given so quickly and without argument that you feel slightly shocked.
“Jersey…” the man repeats slowly. “You think that’s the truth I’ll buy?”
“I don’t fucking care whether you buy it or not,” Harry retorts coldly. “The shipment is in Jersey. You asked, I answered.”
A beat as the warehouse fills with an eerie silence.
“Far too quickly,” is the reply. “Considering how precious those items are to you. And you’d be willing to offer up their location without so much as a conversation?”
“She’s not a bargaining chip,” Harry hisses, yet he’s strangely calm. “Her life is more precious to me than anything in those fucking containers. I don’t care what you take, but you give her back to me.”
A cruel chuckle reverberates around the large, somewhat empty space as the fingers tangled in your roots go slack. “Funny…you think I’m here to make a trade.”
Harry leans back. Takes a breath. Locks eyes on the man towering above him. “Three.”
The man’s smirk widens. “She might not be your bargaining chip, but she is mine. You didn’t think I called you here just to chat, did you?”
Harry’s chest heaves. “Two.”
“I invited you here…because I want you to watch…what it looks like…when you lose…” the man continues, dipping down, “…everything you love.”
Harry’s lip curls up with disdain. “One.”
Suddenly, a small red dot appears on the man’s forehead. Directly in the middle, like a fresh zit ready to be popped. It shines brighter than anything in the room, and before you have a chance to recognize its importance…the sound of a gun goes off.
Everything happens so quickly. Harry lunges at you, pulling you from the chair as the ropes he’d already loosened fall away. He cradles you to his chest, cocooning his body around you as he pulls you to the floor and keeps you hidden.
And it’s so loud. Guns, yelling, anger. So much violence, it makes your stomach feel queasy.
But all you can focus on…is him.
Harry.
He found you, and he’s here, and he smells the way he always does. It’s strong, and safe, and you bury your face in his shirt as you attempt to crawl through his arms as if to live in his ribcage.
“It’s okay,” you vaguely hear him murmur, lips pressed directly to your ear. “It’s okay, mama, I’ve got you. Close your eyes, okay? Gonna be over soon. Gonna take you home.”
Home.
You aren’t helpless, but you feel helpless, and the sound of all this chaos isn’t helping. And almost as if left with no other choice…you disappear.
So tired, and hungry, and scared, and done that your body completely submits to the weight on your chest, and it carries you away.
You revert back to a state of mind that feels the most secure, and everything else…is just a blur.
Time passes. You aren’t sure how much. You keep your eyes closed and your focus on Harry’s voice. On his instructions. His praise. His promise that he’s gonna take you out of here. Never let you go.
“Is she okay? Is she hurt?” Another voice. Familiar. Far away.
You hear Harry huff. “No, she’s not fucking okay. She’s scared, and she’s shaking, and he fucking touched her—”
“Easy. Okay, all right.” You feel a third presence approach, and you warily crack an eye open to see Asher approaching, his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “I mean, is she physically okay? Is she hurt, is something broken?”
Harry’s head shakes, his curls tickling your cheek. “She’s fine, I think. But she won’t stop shaking. I don’t think she’s eaten in days, and I don’t think she wants to see me—”
“Don’t do that,” Asher warns darkly, frowning some. “We just need to get her home. We’ll get her home, and it’ll be okay—”
“But it’s not her home anymore,” Harry nearly growls. “I have to completely uproot her. Again. And take her somewhere she doesn’t recognize, and she’s gonna be scared, and sad, and she’s gonna fucking hate me—”
“Boss.” Asher crouches down, palm squeezing the back of Harry’s neck. “Can’t do that. Not right now. Not here. You just need to go. Take her and go. The boys and I will clean this up…just make her feel safe again, okay?”
A long stretch of silence passes between this instruction and when Harry finally concedes and begins to stand up.
Two pairs of hands help bring you to your feet, with Asher’s familiar cologne drifting past your nose as he leans over to whisper, “You’re okay, sweetheart.”
Harry leads you out of the warehouse and toward his car. He keeps your face tucked into his shoulder as if to shield you from the bodies and the harsh light outside.
You don’t complain.
You drive for quite a while. Just you and him. No Paul. You drive until you don’t recognize where you are, and your eyelids grow heavy as the vibrations from the ride lull you to sleep.
When you wake next, you’re in a bed. You don’t know how you got there, what time it is, or where Harry might be.
But you don’t have the strength to argue.
You wrangle yourself upright, muscles sore, and head pounding. But the moment you push up, a soft lamp is flicking on, and Harry is rushing to your side.
“Easy, easy, okay,” he whispers when you sway a bit from the residual effects of your exhaustion. “You’re okay. M’right here.”
“Harry,” you breathe, cheek pressing into his palm as he cups your face and crawls onto the mattress beside you.
“Yeah, baby,” he says softly, tugging you back into his body. “It’s me.”
You take him into your lungs, inhaling his serenity until it becomes your own.
Your fingers trail up his shirt, mindlessly playing with the fabric as you work through the plethora of questions accumulating now that you’re beginning to return to yourself.
“Where are we?”
“In a safe house,” he replies quietly, nuzzling into your forehead. “Nobody knows the location but me. Not even Asher.”
You nod once. “How long have we been here?”
“Few hours.”
“How long are we staying?���
A beat.
“As long as we need to.”
You tug a bit harder on the fabric. “Harry?”
“Yeah?”
“…are you okay?”
You feel him go deathly still beneath you as he slowly rolls his head back to meet your eye. “Did you seriously just ask me that?”
You nod again, scooting up to level the playing field. “Of course. I know that must have been hard on you. Especially switching locations so fast. And I’m sure you haven’t eaten anything, which is bad, because you should—”
“Baby.” The loving nickname that he only uses in times he needs you to know how much of his heart you really have is ushered in silent reverie. “How…how can you ask me that?”
You blink. “Because I love you? And I’m worried about you? And I know you don’t take care of yourself when you’re stressed—”
“Baby—” He sounds wounded. Almost aghast by the question as he begins shaking his head and taking your face in his hands. “You don’t…don’t. Don’t worry about me. This isn’t about me, this is about you. This is about what I let happen to you, and you don’t ever have to worry about me, okay? Especially right now—”
“Harry,” you whisper, squeezing his wrists to keep him close. “I’m always gonna worry about you.”
It’s like you’ve slapped him across the face, his features twisting into a pained wince as he curses and squeezes his eyes shut. “It is my job to take care of you. To protect you. Keep you safe. And I fucking failed.”
“No. You didn’t fail. They found the rare window of opportunity and it happened,” you argue. “You’ve always told me that nothing is certain in this field. There’s no way you could have kept me hidden through every second of every day—”
“I should have,” he retorts. “I should have done more. Should have been there—”
“You can’t be with me all the time—”
“Why the fuck not? If I had been, none of this would have happened—”
“But it did, and it’s over. It’s okay. You’re okay—”
“I fucking lost you—”
“But you found me.”
This seems to be the only thing that reaches him. In a moment so vulnerable, it catches you off guard.
He breaks.
His hands fall to your lap, his entire expression crumbles, his body wilts before you. You rush to take hold of him, fingers in his hair, tugging him closer until he can press his nose into your neck and hide.
He shakes with ragged breaths and the tears he’s trying so hard to fight. They’re hot, wet, and they seem to burn him like acid as they slide down his cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, and it’s so very broken. “I’m so fucking sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”
You shush him. Repeat his name like a mantra until he settles. Promise him that he’s okay. You’re okay. Everything…is okay.
It takes almost an hour for him to finally feel brave enough to lean back. But when he does, you kiss all over his forehead, and remind him that you’re here. That all you have to do now…is get better.
You nurse each other back to health. He takes you to the kitchen and cooks you your favorite meal: nachos.
You tease him about the cheese dripping down his chin and he tosses an olive at you. You watch TV just to forget. And eventually, you make your way for the bath.
You both sit in the tub for way longer than you probably should. Until the water has run cold, and the bubbles have dissipated.
But it’s nice. Sitting with him between your legs, his back against your chest as he hesitantly asks you what happened.
You tell him, keeping the details vague. You don’t want to scare him. The important thing is you’re both okay.
You fall asleep in each other’s arms, and you refuse to start the next day until way after noon.
He tries to argue a bit more about how wrong he was to leave you. How he needs to do better. How you deserve better than what he’s given you, and you spend just as much time arguing that it couldn’t be further from the truth.
He’s the only reason you’re safe at all.
He concedes but you know it’s because he intends to punish himself for the remainder of the day. Maybe week. Month.
But you’ll fight him on that another time.
You spend some of your day on the couch, flipping through magazines you found and reading an old book.
Harry spends his time on the phone, yelling with nearly every member of his team. You don’t interfere. You know it won’t do any good.
But then…something changes.
His entire demeanor shifts before he turns to look at you, eyes narrowed and hatred evident. You don’t hear what he says, don’t understand the context. But the look on his face alone is enough to tell you that something is very wrong.
When he finally hangs up the phone and steps closer, your heart drops.
You sit up. “What?”
He takes a deep breath, and says only one thing:
“Asher.”
Next Part:
~ Found (Lost pt. 2)
Previous Part:
~ Remedy* (A Mine Extra)
~ Full Mine Masterlist
~ Other Harry Blurbs
~ Full Masterlist
Taglist (If you ever need or want to be taken off, or simply excluded from certain fics like this one, please let me know!! 💞) : @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @vamprry @fdl305 @acesofspadess @stylesfever @narry-heart @virqinvirgo
#harry#harry styles#harry styles imagine#harry styles blurb#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles request#harry edward styles#harry styles fan#harry styles x you#harry styles x reader#harry styles fanfic#harry styles series#harry styles one shot#harry and asher#mob!harry#mobrry#harry styles angst#angst#Harry Styles fluff#fluff
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make a sub!matt smut where matt is getting head from the reader and is whimpering like crazy asking if he's her good boy and stuff🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼
How Good?
Pairing: Matt Sturniolo X Female Reader
Synopsis: Matt’s stressed, and Y/N wants to help him🥹
Warnings⚠️: THIS IS SMUTTTT, also Idk that I made him subby enough now that I’m thinking about it, but uhh it’s already written so enjoy LMAOO😭
Song for the imagine: Cherry Hill- Russ
⚠️This is an 18+ imagine, so minors do not interact, or do??⚠️
Matt’s been super stressed and annoyed lately. I presume it’s because of tour just ending, and him and his brothers having to start filming content back to back. I get it he was tired and just wanted to truly relax.
He would come back most nights just annoyed and wanting to play Fortnite. I know Matt’s usually non verbal about his issues at first, so I let him play, and then when he’s ready he rants to me.
I loved when he ranted I just sat there staring up at him in awe. Just all ears and all eyes letting him tell me his worries. I would respond back to him and let him know I was here for him. Then we would lay down while I rubbed my nails along his back and through his hair. Allowing him to melt into my touch as he would doze off.
But I wanted to give him more, and I wanted to please him. It was rare Matt would ever let me give him head. I didn’t understand why. Sometimes I had to beg him to let me suck his dick, so unfair.
Tonight was the same thing. He came home a bit stressed and decided to hop on the game. I was sitting on the bed reading a book as he played. Occasionally slamming his hand down and getting upset
He kept breathing hard and sucking his teeth. My poor baby, maybe I should help him. I started to think and a beautiful idea popped in my head. I would give him head and I wouldn’t allow him to tell me no
“Matt” I called out to him
“Yeah” he said still looking at the game
“Can you come over here” I said
“I’m in the middle of the game” he responded
“Please” I said
“I’m about to win one second please” he said sitting up
“FUCK YES” he said standing up from the table and getting excited
“You won?” I asked him
“Hell yeah I did” he said taking off his headset, and shutting the game off
“Can I now have your attention” I said
“Yes my beautiful girl, I’m sorry” he said coming over to the bed and leaning in to kiss me
“I want to give you something, and I need you to not say no” I said to him
“Okay?” He asked furrowing his brows
I got up from the bed placing my book on the nightstand
“Sit” I said pointing to the edge of the bed
Matt sat down still looking at me confused
“Whip your dick out” I said looking at him
“Why do you want me to whip my cock out?” He said laughing
“Because I want to suck your dick duh who asks that” I said looking at him in a dumbfounded way
“You don’t have to do that you know this” he said rolling his eyes
“Matt! I want to okay stop depriving me of sucking your dick. I want to take the stress off of my boyfriend, and what better way than to choke on your cock” I said laughing
“Dirty mouth” he said looking at me
“Are you whipping it out, or do I have to beg some more?” I asked
“Fine fine” he said putting his hands up
I went to get down on my knees but Matt stopped me
“Hold on” he said putting his finger up
He leaned back and grabbed a pillow placing it on the floor for my knees
“I don’t want your knees to hurt” he said looking up at me and smiling
“Such a gentlemen” I said kissing him
He slid his sweatpants down and I got down on my knees
“Mmm for someone who doesn’t want their dick sucked you sure are hard” I said looking up at him as I palmed him over his boxers
“Shit” he moaned out quietly
He lifted up so I could pull his boxers down allowing his cock to spring out. My eyes growing excited at the sight
“Baby you don’t have to do this” Matt said in a whisper
“Just shush and enjoy” I said grabbing his dick
As soon as I grabbed his dick his mouth fell slack and he shut his eyes letting his head fall back a little bit
I spread his pre cum from the tip down slowly, watching his body shudder. I started to jerk his dick slowly making sure I squeezed the tip
“Feeling good baby?” I asked looking up at him
“Yes oh my god yes” he said in a whimper
I looked up at him through my lashes to see him looking down at me with his bottom lip in between his teeth. Fuck he’s so hot
I licked Matts tip looking up at him to see him with his mouth hung open and his chest rising and falling deeply
I swirled my tongue around his tip before bringing my head down to take Matt’s whole length into my mouth
“Fuckkk” Matt whispered out
I came back up, swirling my tongue around his tip before going back down. My head bobbing up and down, hallowing my cheeks out
“Fuck you’re so good to me” he moaned out letting his head fall back
I continued to bob my head up and down moaning around Matt’s dick allowing the vibration to stimulate him more. I started to lick from the base all the way up to his tip before taking his full length into my mouth again
I allowed my hands to run up and down his thighs, taking my nails down causing him to get goose bumps. I grabbed Matt’s hand allowing him to run his hands through my hair
“You’re being such a nice boy” I said pulling away while stroking his cock
“Am I being a good boy for you?” He asked in a whimper breathing heavily as he looked down at me
“You are” I said licking my lips and going back to sucking his dick
“I can be such a good boy…FUCK” he moaned out grabbing my hair as I sucked harder
I pulled away and looked up at him “how good?” I asked stroking his dick
“Very fucking good I promise” he said licking his dry lips
“Mmmm I might let you cum in my mouth then” I said
“Fuck please please” he said looking at me with lazy eyes
I went back down to suck on his tip as I jerked his shaft.
He started to shutter and I knew he was cumming soon
“Are you going to cum pretty boy?” I asked jerking him harder
“Yes…fuck yes” he said
I started to bob my head faster as he hit the back of my throat causing me to gag
“IM GOING TO CUM OH MY GOD” he yelled out as his hips bucked up
I pulled away stroking his dick faster
“Come on, be a good boy and cum for me” I said licking my lips
He held eye contact with me as I stroked harder, his mouth falling slack as his lower abdomen contracted
“I’m going to cum” he moaned out rolling his neck and licking his lips
Within a few more strokes his thighs started to shake, and his mouth fell open
“OHHH myyy GODD” he moaned out as he came on my tongue
Painting my tongue in his white strips of cum. I swallowed looking directly into his eyes. His breathing was heavy as he came down from his as he looked at me with half lidded eyes.
“So fucking good to me” he said petting my face
“Always baby” I said getting up as he helped me up taking the pillow and putting it back on the bed
Matt pulled his boxers and pants up, huffing and laying back on the bed
I went to the bathroom to wash my hands, and I came back joining him on the bed
“Thank you baby. I didn’t realize how badly I needed that release” he said pulling me into him
“This is why you should always let me help you” I said kissing his cheek
“I love you” he said looking over at me
“I love you too” I said smiling before pecking him on the lips
The End
I hope you enjoyed this one 😭 I feel like I didn’t really write for the request, but I wrote it already so yall just gonna have to enjoy it LMAOO🖤🖤
-J💅🏽
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⟡ general Jason todd headcanons and how i view and portray him in my works cw. soft gentle clingy needy desperate touch starved jay
…
i need to start off with certain stereotypes/ways in which he gets potrayed sometimes that i hate with every fibre of my fucking being :
he’s not some aggressive horny flirty asshole jock. he’s grown and too old for that hs bs. like literally he would think of that behavior as annoying, disgusting and stupid
and he’s most definitely (and i can’t stress this enough) not a yandere kidnapper or a stalker or any of that weird bullshit. yall are weird & need some help fr.
idk if yall read the comics but he’s literally so caring and sensitive and he would be so gentle and soft. he’d be rather awkward and wouldn’t exactly know how to go about his feelings for someone.
he knows what its like when no one cares and when you grow up in an unstable home or on the streets so he has compassion for outcasts, children, women, non-cishetmen and animals
he’s canonically a nerd. he’s literary and he used to like going to school and learning. ppl always get him and tim mixed up bc tim hated going to school and would rather play video games all day long whereas jason wished he wouldn’t have had to drop out
also obviously very much an intersectional feminist ! he’s read all the books abt it and is actively working against his indoctrinated misogyny
he loves all women but he has a soft spot for woc, fat/chubby/muscular women, women with big noses, you name it. just women who don’t fit the stereotypical beauty standard in general
he’s scared and ashamed of how needy and clingy he actually is. he knows himself (sadly) and it’s not something that he can just get rid of. it’s pent up from early childhood bc he never got enough love and then from after his death bc of all the shit he had to go through with bruce.
this side of him will haunt him until he dies- again. he can’t change it but he sure as hell won’t embrace it either. it’s a secret he wishes he could take to his final grave. actually- deep down he wishes he would find someone who understands and accepts him the way he is and someone who he can trust to be himself with.
!! aroace spec , bi (women+)
he is secretly so incredibly desperate.. desperate for love, intimacy, being understood and accepted, desperate to be touched and hugged- loved.
he’s just so touch starved, he doesn’t even know what it feels like not to be. what it feels like to be loved or happy. to be content. how to not feel like something is missing.
he needs someone to take care of him bc he just does a very poor job at that.. also it feels nice being able to just shut off and not having to think about anything
he wants to be hugged and caressed
gentle touches
he loves forehead kisses and headpats or just your hand on his head and in his hair
he wants to kiss you passionately and deeply
prefers making out and hugging/cuddling over sex tbh
all he wants is to lay in bed or sit on the couch hugging someone who truly loves and accepts him and never let go
switch with a sub/bottom lean
i think it goes hand in hand with him having a sub lean but he’s attracted to strong dominant people. preferably someone who’s a switch too
everybody knows this already but he LIVES for praise
praise him and he’s in heaven. you’ll literally get him to do anything if you praise him. want him to give you head? just be a little clingy and loving, telling him how much you love him and how good he always makes you feel and he’s already dropping to his knees taking off your pants.
definitely a service / pleasure dom
if you’re fem/afab :
eating you out is his favorite thing. he goes in like it’s all or nothing (to him it is). no penetration if you didn’t cum at least once from his tongue.
he loves it when you ride his face and use him to make yourself feel good. there’s not a single thing he likes more than seeing you on top of him.
he loves watching you go from humming and gently playing with his hair to breathing heavily and tugging on his hair- to whining, moaning and grunting while grinding your pussy into his face deeper and faster to finally reach your high
also loves it when you ride his dick. being able to relax a little and just look up at you feeling good because of him makes him moan so much
he’ll also pull you down a lot when you’re riding him just to hug you and hold you close and to hear you breathing and moaning into his ear
he’ll thrust up from under you as fast as he can just to catch you off guard and see your face in pure bliss. he loves it when he makes you cum in this position.
he also loves missionary and the mating press
you know he’s close when he starts holding you close and mumbling/whining your name over and over again
if you’re male/amab :
he loves giving you head and eating your ass and wants you to use him. it really gets him going. it’s bc of his incredibly patent inferiority complex and feeling like he’s a good for nothing piece of shit
he also likes being the one that penetrantes you though. he’ll start begging for praise even though he’s the one topping saying things like “tell me i’m a good boy, tell me i’m your good boy.” “tell me how good i make you feel” “please just tell me i’m doing a good job.” “wanna make you feel good.” all while his big tall frame is hovering above you and ramming into you
a whimperer. he whines and moans a lot, shamelessly. he grunts and groans too. especially when he’s a little bit too frustrated or stressed. and he shamelessly breathes heavily during sex. any noise that he can make will escape his lips. all in all he’s just incredibly vocal and he doesn’t care if people can hear.
he really likes handjobs. preferably with you sitting in front of him so he can look up at you but he also likes it when you’re sitting behind him and you say things in his ear while kissing his neck or cheek and sucking on his earlobe
but he especially loves it when you’re sucking him off and fingering his ass at the same time. add a little praise and you’ll have him whining, whimpering and even crying. he’ll be a mess
he often gets teary-eyed during sex because of how sensitive he is. and i mean both his body and his feelings.
he wants and needs someone who'd accept him for who he is and wouldn't wanna change him. someone who shares the same morals as him and doesn't have a problem with him being morally grey.
he would want someone he doesn’t have to explain everything to. he knows it’s toxic and not really fair but he hates having to put his thoughts into words. he’s not really good at it.
so he needs someone who’s observant and pays attention to details. maybe even someone who can read body language. just so he doesn’t have to go through the uncomfortable experience of having to say that he’s needy and broken out loud.
he wants someone to pay attention to him and figure him out so well that he doesn’t have to ask for things and you instead know what he wants and needs at certain times and just give it to him
he gets pissed and sighs while rolling his eyes when he’s showing clear signs of what he wants and you’re not picking up on it.
it took great cruelty to make him this gentle. but to an extent he’s grateful for it because he now knows exactly why it’s so important to treat people kindly and gently.
…
#. dc works#. jason#. jason hc#I WANNA HUG HIM SO BAD PLS#jason todd#jason todd hc#jason todd headcanon#jason todd needs a hug#jason todd x fem!reader#jason todd x male reader
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anyone else
part: epilogue
pairing: paige bueckers x oc
word count: 8.2k
c/w: sexual content, language, injury
a/n: .... surprise!!!! i want to give the biggest shoutouts in the world to @imaginespazzi, @iminlovewithpaigebueckers, and @sellaspeaks. this fic truly could not have happened without them. i cannot tell you how many times i have bothered them with new ideas or snippets and they've offered their help. i <3 them.
AUGUST 2, 2022
I hate this hospital.
It’s enormously shitty to say. It’s state of the art, clean, smells vaguely like a hospital might. All in all, it’s an excellent facility.
I still fucking hate it.
It’s suffocatingly quiet. I clear my throat to break the silence.
“Do you, uh… do you need water?”
Paige stares ahead blankly, shaking her head. “Are you hungry?” I fidget uncomfortably. She’s not crying or angry or really anything at all. It’s disconcerting, to say the least. She shakes her head again wordlessly. I chew the inside of my cheek, wishing I had the right words to say to her, but I just don’t.
The pickup game had been just like any other. Paige would take any opportunity to hoop. You could tell she felt most at home with the ball in her hands. She looked the most natural with it there, too. Sometimes, when she couldn’t think, she’d shoot a mini ball into the hoop on the back of her door, or dribble a ball between her legs, much to the chagrin of my downstairs neighbors. But I loved that about her. I loved watching her play the sport she loved, so I pretended to let her convince me to come to her pickup games. She’d drag me to these things and I’d sit with a book in my hands or my laptop perched on my legs, but my eyes were on her the whole time - watching her smile and laugh and pretending as though those two things weren’t my entire world.
I was watching her when she went down again.
It was like deja vu. Like watching her get hurt last December all over again. She was writhing at the floor, grasping at her knee, and I was at her side instantly.
She’d tell me later that she’d felt her ACL tear, felt it pop and just about heard it, too. She’d tell me that the second she felt my hand at the small of her back, the pain was more or less gone. I’d laugh at her tearfully, resisting the urge to kiss her and finding it impossible not to love her and her stupid heart.
Now, I watch her wallow in her own thoughts, assuming the worst, hoping for something maybe a little better. She hasn’t moved since we came out of the MRI room to sit in the waiting room. Caroline and Azzi and a couple of the other girls are here, too.
Suddenly, Paige’s hand inches towards mine. She doesn’t glance around to see if someone is watching, so I don’t either. I just take her hand quietly, intertwining our fingers and squeezing. Carefully, we shift so that her head can rest against my shoulder, and her good leg bends to plant on the couch, resting against my body. I bring our hands to my mouth, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles, and rub soothing circles onto her hand with my thumb.
And though Paige hasn’t said anything, I can tell from the way she grips my hand that she’s fucking terrified.
A pang runs through me. Is this what it had been like last time? When I’d just left the next morning?
I hadn’t been there for the MRI.
I hadn’t been there for her surgery. She’d texted me that day to tell me happy birthday.
Fuck. I don’t deserve her.
I glance down at her, and her blue eyes are trained on me. I place a kiss, one meant just for the two of us, on her forehead. I really, really don’t deserve her. I vow to myself, and to her, that I’ll stay until I do.
OCTOBER 20, 2022
“Go back to sleep.”
“But it’s my birthday.”
“You never wake up earlier than 9 A.M.,” I groan, smothering Paige’s face with my hand. I feel something wet on the inside of my palm, and I shoot up to a sitting position, my eyes wide with disbelief. “Did you just lick me?” I demand. Her smile is sheepish, but there’s a childlike, triumphant glimmer in her eyes. “You’re up, aren’t you?” She reasons.
I smack her forehead lightly with the heel of my palm. “You’re so stupid,” I chide, but I let her pull me into her and push my body against the bed again. She hovers over me, her hair curtaining our faces as she grins down at me. I fight a smile as I look back up at her, taking in the stark blue of her eyes, slightly puffy from sleep, her full bottom lip. “You want a picture?” She teases, watching me watch her. “Shut up,” I tell her softly, then loop an arm around her neck to pull her lips to mine.
God, I love kissing this girl.
I sometimes think that if I did nothing but kiss her, just rolling around in her sheets that smell like her, getting to kiss those lips that taste like her, I’d feel pretty fulfilled with what I’d done in life.
She pulls away, and I make a face at her. “You have morning breath,” I inform her.
Paige smiles down at me, knowing what I really mean.
Kiss me again and never stop kissing me.
She pecks my lips again, pulling back to look at me.
“Your eyes are so fuckin’ pretty,” she mumbles. She traces my lips with her finger. “Damn. I really get to wake up to you everyday?” I laugh hoarsely, shrugging to the best of my ability from where I’m trapped in her arms. “That’s what they’re saying,” I laugh, and I reach up to kiss her again, several soft, repeated pecks as my hand steadies her jaw.
She sighs, separating us again, but she keeps her eyes on my face. I shift uneasily. “What? Do I have something in my teeth?” I ask. She shakes her head, eyes glued to mine.
“I love you.”
My heart stops. And then it starts again, beating a million miles a minute.
“What?” I breathe.
She chuckles, tugging on a curl of my hair. “I said ‘I love you’, dumbass.”
I recover from my shock, slowly grinning at her. We’d been skirting around this for months. We both knew, possibly since the day we met, that we were head over heels. Ruined for life, well and truly smitten, and any other possible iteration of the words ‘hopelessly in love’. But saying it out loud felt… scary? Maybe, I don’t know.
It also felt like such a mundane way to describe how I felt about her.
I mean, how could those three words possibly encapsulate the way I wanted to bottle up the sound of her laughter? The way her touch made me feel whole, the way I felt that in this life and in every other life, I would search every fucking corner of the earth for her if it meant I could kiss her just once?
“Say that again,” I say.
Her eyebrows raise. “I love you?” She says, almost as a question.
I turn us over to crawl on top of her, cupping her face in my hands. I smooch a cheesy kiss against her mouth, peppering kisses on her cheeks. “Again,” I demand, smiling. She laughs. “I love you, Ava.” I place kisses all over her face, loving the way she giggles under me before wiggling out of my hold to squeeze my body against hers. “I think there’s something you’re supposed to say back,” she muses.
I raise an eyebrow. “The feeling is not mutual,” I deadpan. For a moment, her face drops and her grip on me loosens. I feel a little bad immediately, but I grin at her anyway. “I love you too, headass,” I admit, and she smiles in relief. “Don’t ever do that shit again,” she warns me, but she kisses me again, and just like all the other times, it feels so right.
DECEMBER 13, 2022
“He just wants your autograph. Or a picture, probably.”
“He’s staring at you,” Paige gripes.
I roll my eyes, kicking her under the table. We had come out to this cheap diner for my birthday because I’d let Paige pick the spot and because neither of us really cared where we went. She’d spoiled me all day. That NIL money is really something; a huge bouquet of flowers as soon as I woke up, a Van Cleef bracelet, a promise ring (which I’d begrudgingly cried over), and tickets to a Timberwolves game (we’re both from Minnesota). Besides, the diner is very us - we’d come here over two years ago.
According to Paige, it was where she realized she was really falling for me. I called bullshit.
Now, she’s shooting daggers at our poor waiter, who’s been nervous and flustered all night. Unfortunately, Paige is under the impression that everyone in the world wants me. Realistically, the gangly teenager who’s been refilling our waters all night is probably just a huge fan.
“Here’s the check. Can I get you anything else?” The boy - his name tag says Daniel - just about stutters. He can’t be more than sixteen. Paige narrows her eyes at him, and he gulps, averting his eyes to me. Paige takes the check, handing him her card. She never lets me pay for a damn thing, so I just sneak the occasional twenty into her sock drawer.
“She’s pretty, isn’t she?” Paige asks him. I shoot her a look, startled. “Huh?” He stammers. Oh, this poor kid. I kick her under the table again, but she doesn’t stop. “Do you think she’s pretty?” She asks again, her tone disturbingly serious. Daniel looks frozen, his eyes wide as he looks between me and her. “Uh… yes?” He tries. He sounds positively petrified. Paige nods, tapping the pen against the table. “I do, too,” she hums thoughtfully. She reaches for my hand, tapping the ring on my finger. “So I put a ring on it.” I gape at her, my cheeks burning. No fucking way.
Poor Daniel still looks extremely confused, so she rolls her eyes exaggeratedly. “She’s taken, idiot,” she spells out for him. He immediately begins spluttering. “Oh, I didn’t… I wasn’t- like, she’s very pretty- you’re very pretty- but I wasn’t hitting on her. I just… wanted a p-picture?” He rushes all of this out in one breath, turning to me, then back to Paige.
I glare at Paige, whose lips are pursed and whose eyes are wide with guilt. “Oh,” she intones. “Yeah. Yeah, of course,” she amends quickly, standing up to take the picture with him. In my head, I alternate between bursting out laughing and banging my head against the table.
Paige has always been a very possessive person, but ever since we made things official last semester, she’s taken it to a whole new level. If we’re at parties, she keeps a hand at the small of my back or draped lazily around my shoulder. She knows I’m not huge on the PDA, so she fends people off with the small things.
If she could, she’d shove her tongue down my throat every time someone so much as glanced in my direction.
I decide once we exit the diner that laughter is the only viable option.
I guffaw at her, doubling over and elbowing her in the side as we walk towards her car. “Stop it,” she complains. I can’t, quite frankly, and I’m laughing so hard my side starts to hurt. “You’re so fucking stupid,” I gasp. “Okay, yeah, I overreacted a little. You can’t tell me it didn’t look like he wanted you,” she argues.
I howl as I tug her car door open, my body shaking with laughter as I hop up into the passenger seat. “Oh, my gosh,” I gasp. “I can’t believe that just happened. And you thought you were so tough, too.” Paige looks offended, climbing into the car and pushing her key into the ignition. “Yo, what? I was! Bro, he was shitting himself!” I laugh even harder at this and she pouts.
“Nah, actually, I’m gonna let every guy who wants you make a pass at you. Fuck do I look like?” She demands, glaring at me, pulling the key out of the ignition. I calm down, grabbing her bicep and rubbing her arm to appease her. “You did great, baby. Thank you for defending my honor from a sixteen year old,” I say, trying to stay straight-faced, but the last part of the sentence sets me off.
“Ava!” She complains again.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”
“It’s not funny!”
“It’s kind of funny.”
Paige lunges over to the passenger seat, entrapping me in her embrace, her arms tight around my body. “You ungrateful little shit,” she scolds playfully. “I put my life on the line for you just now.” I gape at her. “You had at least half a foot on him,” I inform her. She shakes her head, gazing at me.
“You know how I get about you,” she reminds me quietly, searching my eyes.
I sigh, giving her a kiss. “I know. That’s why I’m not mad,” I remind her, and she pulls a face at me, returning back to the driver’s seat reluctantly.
“It’s hot, most of the time,” I admit. She smirks at me, backing out of the parking space with one hand on the wheel, the other braced on the back of my seat. “Oh, yeah?” She asks. I nod, taking her hand when she rights the car.
“Mhm. Just not when you’re about to beat the shit out of a tenth grader.”
“Fuck off.”
DECEMBER 2022
Drew hides behind his dad, peering out at me. We’ve just reached her dad’s house in Virginia, and we’re planning on spending Christmas here with her family and Azzi’s. Paige’s house is warm and cozy, her basketball memorabilia hanging on walls or balanced on shelves. There’s pictures of her from all ages, at ten, with her jersey hanging loose off of her slender shoulders, a sheepish smile on her face. At twenty-one, her frame filled out, her chest puffed, shoulders broad, smirk wide.
“Drew, it’s okay,” Paige soothes, beckoning him closer. Paige’s little brother’s eyes flick to her, and they light up when he remembers that she’s here, too. My heart swells as he barrels towards her, nearly knocking her back with a hug. She lets out an exaggerated grunt as she picks him up. It’s so cute that it’s almost suffocating.
Drew locks his arms around his sister’s neck, burying his face into her shoulder. “I missed you, Paigey,” he mumbles. He glances at me, and then his eyes go wide again, before he hides his face back in his sister’s shirt. “Hey, Drew. Come on. Say hi,” Paige urges. I laugh. My nephew is the same way around new people. “P, it’s okay,” I reassure her. I’m more than happy to watch the two of them interact.
Drew chances another glance at me, watching me quietly. He turns to Paige to whisper in her ear. Her mouth twitches into a smile at what he says. “She is very pretty,” she appears to agree. Drew hits her on the arm. “Paigey!” He whines, his face growing a little red. I laugh at this, inching closer. “Well, Drew, I think you are very handsome,” I tell him. His mouth twists, lips pursing, before he relents, a small smile on his face. “Really?” He asks. I nod. “I think we could be really good friends,” I sing-song, and he grins at this, clambering off from his sister to come stand in front of me.
I give him my hand to shake, and he takes it eagerly. Paige watches us, eyes flicking between me and her brother. “I’m Avantika,” I introduce myself. “Avantika,” he mumbles quietly, nodding. He looks up at me, his innocent eyes wide. “Your name is pretty, too,” he says in awe. I laugh again at that, and Paige frowns. “Drew,” she warns. “What?” He demands, his tiny hands on his hips as he turns to sass his sister. He really is her little mini-me, right down to the attitude.
“Can I pick you up?” I ask him. Drew nods eagerly, and I edge my hands under his armpits, hoisting him onto my hip. He hesitates before wrapping his arms around my shoulders, and I nearly die from how sweet it is. He lurches back, his eyes wide as he stares at his sister. “She smells like cookies!” He exclaims gleefully, and I giggle even harder at that, squeezing him to me.
- Paige’s Point of View -
It’s official. My nine year old brother has stolen my girlfriend.
He’s colonized her lap, sitting with her on the couch to regale her with stories of his rec team’s basketball escapades, or how much he despises this one girl in his fourth grade class. I narrow my eyes.
“... Switch with Paige,” Ava is saying. I snap out of my trance. “Sorry?” I ask for clarification. Ava grins wickedly at me. “I was telling Drew that since I like him so much better, you guys should switch. You stay here and I’ll take him back to Storrs.” Drew nods happily at this, nestling further into Ava’s lap.
“Okay, that’s enough,” I huff, reaching over to tug Drew off of my girlfriend, but he holds fast to her. “No!” He yells, kicking at me. “No?” I demand. He shakes his head adamantly, and Ava squeezes him to her. “No,” she affirms. I throw my hands up in exasperation. “Drew, I’m not playing with you right now. If you steal my girl, I will fight you,” I tell him. Ava rolls her eyes, turning to him. “We all know you would win that,” she reassures him. He giggles, and she places a big kiss on his temple.
My heart swells watching her with him, seeing him snuggle into her as she shows him pictures on her phone, or the rapt attention with which she listens to him talk.
I get a sudden vision - the two of us, in our own house. She’s done with medical school, I’ve been in the league a few years, and the kitchen is tiled with sage green. We’d argued over it, because I’d wanted purple, I’m sure, but I couldn’t say no to her. I never could. I kiss her good morning, and she hands me coffee, something saccharine sweet with a new flavor of creamer I’ve dared to try that week. And there’s a miniature her, or me, but probably her, because she’d just be so easy to love. Perched at the kitchen table, her nose buried in a book.
Drew laughs out loud as Ava’s fingers dig into his sides, tickling him.
And I’ll think back to this moment, years in the future. I’ll remember their laughter melding together and Ava’s voice tinkling as she tells him embarrassing stories about me. I’ll remember the smile she shoots me, and the feeling of home that shudders through me. And I’ll remember the weight on my chest, heavy, steady, reassuring - that I want to spend the rest of forever with this girl with the beautiful eyes and the beautiful name and the beautiful smile.
I watch them interact all day, almost giddy at the sight, but pretending to pout. “Drew, you’re spending more time with her than me,” I complain, trying to lay my head on her lap. He shoves me away immediately. “Ava and I are besties now,” he tells me firmly. She nods solemnly. “We are,” she agrees, shrugging. My mouth drops open. “I thought we were besties,” I whine to him, and he rolls his eyes. “Paigey. We need to learn to share,” he instructs, holding a hand up to me. I flick his forehead, and Ava dies of laughter.
Later that night, Ava’s brushing her teeth over my bathroom sink, and something about her in my ratty old Hopkins t-shirt, in my family’s house, looking completely at home, is dangerously enticing. The shirt is big on her, and it slides down to expose her bare shoulder and the tattoo she has on her collarbone of the Sagittarius constellation. Her hand rests on her hip, bunching the shirt above her wrist, riding it up so the band of her panties is visible to me.
I inch behind her as she gargles, spitting out water. She turns to leave, but I hold her there, resting my hand on hers, looping the other arm around her waist. I splay a hand across her torso, and dip my nose into her neck, inhaling her scent. Ava sighs, leaning back into me, watching me intently in the mirror.
I ruck her shirt up further, exposing her panties completely, winding my arms around her bare stomach, before letting my hands wander over her thighs and her hips. “He really likes you,” I tell her, referring to my brother. She smiles softly. “I like him, too. He makes me miss my nephew,” she admits, smiling slightly.
I kiss her neck, loving the way she sighs again. “You’re really good with him,” I hum, peppering a few more kisses down the column of her throat. She lets her head loll to the side, giving me more access as her hands trace over my arms. “You think so?” She breathes. I kiss at her jaw, sucking a little, and she lets out a quiet moan.
“I do,” I reply, smirking into her skin. She’s normally cold, but right now, her body is burning. I run a hand over her ass, then back over her stomach, then into her shirt to tease her breast. “Mmm,” she lets out. “I liked it a lot,” I whisper. She smirks at me in the mirror. “Yeah, I bet you did,” she muses, turning around to face me. She hooks a finger in my pajama pants, pulling me closer as she backs into the counter. My hands go to her ass immediately, loving the way it feels in my hands, loving the way I’m the only one who gets to touch her like this.
I hoist her up onto my bathroom counter. “You know what I was thinking?” I murmur, ghosting my lips over hers. “Mmm, what?” She asks. Fuck. Her voice is low, sultry. It’s hard to keep my hands off of her regularly. Her lips are so fucking kissable, and her volleyball shorts leave next to nothing to the imagination. Not to mention those shirts she wears when we go out. I remember this one time she showed up in this blue corset top, cinched tight at the waist, her tits perky and full over the top of it.
I’d fucked her in it that night.
I grin at the memory, licking my lips, feeling her breath stuttering against them. I lean in, and she edges away, but her hands drift to my body. She edges them under my tank top. “What, baby?” She urges. The nickname and the way she says it sends a jolt between my legs. “I was thinking…” I start teasing, and she bites her lip, her eyes trained on my mouth. I ruck her shirt up further, moving my hands up her back before massaging her ass. “Tell me,” she whispers.
I grin wickedly.
“I was thinking I wanna put a baby in you.”
She damn near moans at that. “You think I could do it?” I hum, nipping at her lips.
“Fuck. Try,” she almost begs. My resolve snaps at that, and I crash my mouth to hers, moaning against her lips. She responds hungrily, shoving her hands into my tank top to run them over my bare skin, dancing over my abs, clinging to my hips. I slide my hands under her ass and pull her to me, letting her wrap her legs around my waist and carrying her to my bed.
I throw her against my sheets and crawl on top of her, devouring her lips, basking in the way her leg wraps around my waist to press me closer. “I’m serious,” I murmur, ripping her shirt over head and kneeling to straddle her waist. I take her tits in my hands, kneading them sensually, and she moans. I shake my head, drinking in the sight of her body.
The tattoo just under her breast in Sanskrit, the scar across her hip bone from when she hurt herself hiking, her butterfly belly button ring. I tug at her nipple, and my cunt pulses at the sound that falls out of her mouth.
“I wanna marry you,” I breathe, squeezing her breasts again. I grind my hips against hers, and her eyes look up at me, glimmering. “I’m already naked, you don’t have to say all that,” she teases.
I shake my head. “I wanna fucking marry you, dude,” I say again, insistently. Her eyes soften, realizing the sincerity of my words. She doesn’t say anything, just pulls me down to kiss me, her mouth saying everything without uttering a single word. “Wanna marry you. Want you to have my kids,” I rasp, pressing her into the bed. “Yes. Everything. All of it,” she responds, nodding eagerly.
I run my hands over her body, her skin smooth, her body pliant under my fingers. “I want a beach wedding,” I tell her, pulling her panties down her legs. “In California?” She breathes, sitting on her knees to take my tank top off. I shrug it off, my torso bare, and she attaches her mouth to my stomach, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses everywhere. “Yeah. And a house. In Minnesota.” I sigh as she kisses my nipples, then pushes my pants down my hips. I ruck them off and toss them to the side. She sits back on her haunches, looking at me.
I used to hate being stared at. I mean, when I was a freshman, hooking up with girls for the first time, I’d keep the lights off. I have an athlete’s body, and I’m proud of it, I’ve worked for it. But these girls, with their slender shoulders and narrow waists and full breasts… that wasn’t me. I’m angles and lines and broad shoulders and muscle and sinew. Even when I was naked for her for the first time, I was terrified. This beautiful girl, with curves and thighs and all of it mine to hold and touch and caress, and I couldn’t offer her the same. But she’d braced her hands on my hips, staring down at my body in awe. She’d told me I was perfect.
See, when Ava looks at me, it’s like she can’t believe I’m real.
She covers her face with her hands, shaking her head in disbelief. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” she breathes. “Stop it,” I chide, tugging at her hands. She sits up further on her knees. “No, you’re… you don’t even understand, Paige,” she insists. I look her in the eyes. “Show me,” I tell her.
Ava knows what I mean. She knows what I want. She sits back, laying against the bed, knees bent, her elbows propping her up.
Slowly, slowly, she separates her legs. She spreads them wide, biting her lip as she stares me down, her gaze challenging. My pussy drenches at the sight. “This what you wanted to see?” She asks coyly. I reach into my backpack next to my bed. “You know what to do,” I say and she smirks.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
This girl and her doe eyes that she flutters at me while she does the filthiest things to herself… she’s going to be the death of me.
I slip into the strap as her eyes hold mine. She places her two middle fingers in her mouth. Swirls them around. Then she trails them down her body. I follow them hungrily. I watch as they hover over her pussy, right at her clit. Then she swipes them up through her wetness and she circles her clit and she moans.
Loud.
“Fuck,” I groan, wrenching her hand away and plunging into her. Her back arches up off the bed. “Shit!” She gasps. I don’t give her any time to adjust. I just pound into her, gripping her hips harshly enough that I’m sure there will be marks tomorrow. Good. Good. I want my fingerprints all over her.
I want bruises on her neck.
I want marks on her thighs, I want my name tattooed across the small of her back so I can see it when I drive into her from behind.
I want everything from her. Everything.
And she’d let me have it. She keens as I fuck her, mouth open and jaw locked in a permanent silent moan, noises emitting from the back of her throat. “Feel good?” I demand. She lets out a whine, and I'm grateful for how thick the walls in this house are. “I need words,” I say, licking my fingers to circle her clit. She shudders when my fingers touch her, thighs quivering as I force them open.
“Fuck. Fuck, yes.”
“Who’s making you feel like this?”
“You- shit. Oh, shit.”
“What’s my fucking name?” I say, my voice uncharacteristically deep with desire.
“I- Please, Paige.”
“Who?”
“Paige,” she begs, gesturing for me to come closer. I do, pressing into her body as I continue fucking into her. She kisses me hard, her mouth open against mine as every profanity in the book slips out from between her lips. She drags her nails down my back and I groan into her mouth, which she swallows needily.
My hand circles her neck loosely. “You almost there?” I mumble against her mouth. She nods, her face screwing with pleasure and the tension of her impending orgasm. “You gonna come for me?” I ask. My hips snap against hers and I reach my hand down again to pressure her clit, rubbing rapid circles against it. My fingers are slick with her, and I can hear it, hear the sound of me pushing in and out of her wetness, hear just how fucking bad she wants me.
And when she comes, with a cry of my name into my shoulder, teeth digging into my skin, her thighs shaking around my hips, her come soaking the covers underneath, I nearly finish, too. “Fuck,” she whispers against my lips, grinding up against me to ride herself through it. “Always take it so good, don’t you?” I coo, and she bites her lip, nodding at me with her eyes wide.
“Take my cock so good for me?” I ask, pushing in and out of her again. She whines at how sensitive she is, and I grip her neck harder. “Don’t you?” I demand. She nods, but I don’t stop talking, slowly fucking into her again. “Letting me fuck you like this in someone else’s house,” I tut, and she immediately looks guilty. “So dirty,” I tease, my voice low and seductive, and I watch her tits bounce as I speed up again, her mouth dropping open, core pulsing at the sound of my voice.
“Paige, I can’t-”
“You will.”
And if I drive into her especially hard that night, if I fuck her until she has tears streaming down her face and if I fuck her after that, if I make her come more times than is appropriate to make a girl come in your parents’ house, she has no one to blame but herself.
After all, she told me to try.
And I’m nothing if not persistent.
JUNE 2023
- Ava’s Point of View -
“I got roses. She likes roses, right?”
“Yes, Paige. She also likes punctuality.”
“Shit. Am I late? I’m gonna speed.”
“Don’t do that.”
“Already speeding. Be there soon!”
“Drive safe. Love you!”
Paige is meeting my family. Which, in retrospect, doesn’t seem like a big deal. Both my parents moved to the States very young, so they aren’t as traditional and are very accepting. Paige really has to pass the test with my older brother, who’s extremely protective.
I hear a knock at the door, and I rush to open it before he can. “Arjun, move!” I complain when he tries blocking me from getting to the door. My mom shoots us a look. “No fighting with guests in the house,” she warns. I shove him away and storm to the door, glaring at him over my shoulder.
My brother, at the ripe age of twenty-seven, sticks his tongue out at me. His wife, thank God for her, pulls him out of the hallway and back into the kitchen so I can open the door in peace. Paige looks hilariously nervous. I’ve seen her play on some of the biggest stages you can as a college athlete, and she’s never looked as anxious as she does right now.
She’s wearing a pair of loose blue jeans, a white collared shirt, and a red sweater over it with her cross necklace and one with an A layered on top of it. Her hair is down and stick-straight, glossy and blonde from just having got it done. She has a bit of makeup on, some concealer, gloss, and mascara, and her eyes are stark blue. She looks beautiful. I bite back a smile as she grins at me nervously.
I step aside to let her into my house. “I, uh…” She waves the bouquet in her hands a little. “These are for your mom.” “For me?” My mom asks, her eyes lighting up as she approaches from behind. She looks just like me, everyone says. We have the same long, curly hair, and my dad says we have the same eyes and nose. Paige stammers. “Uh, yes. Hi, I’m Paige.” She hesitates, trying to figure out which hand she should use to give my mom the flowers and which she should hold out to shake.
I roll my eyes, grabbing the flowers from her, knowing that my mother won’t settle for a handshake. Just as I thought, she envelops Paige in a hug, squeezing her tight. Paige immediately relaxes, hugging my mom back. I watch as my mom pulls back, gushing about how gorgeous she is. My dad is next, shaking her hand firmly, but glancing at me with a glimmer in my eye. A little bit of relief washes over me. He approves.
My brother puffs his chest, brushing past me, and I roll my eyes. He’s ridiculous. He only has a couple inches on her, but he tries to make it seem like more, standing up straighter. Paige holds out a hand for him to shake. “Paige,” she introduces herself. “Arjun,” he replies, gripping her hand. It looks like a pretty tight grip to me, and he shakes it just once. “So you’re the chick dating my sister, huh?” He questions.
“Oh, my God. Mom, can you get your son in check?” I beg, handing her the flower.
“He’s just asking a question,” she reasons, smiling as she heads back to the kitchen.
Paige grins at him sheepishly. “Yes, I am.”
“You treat her well?”
She shifts uneasily. “I’d like to think so.”
I scoff. “This is ridi-”
“You think so?” Arjun demands.
Paige stammers. “No. Yes. Yes, I treat her well.”
I groan, grabbing her hand and tugging my girlfriend away from my psychotic brother. “Very well!” I toss over my shoulder. We run right into my nephew, Aryan. He shakes his full head of curly hair as he stares up at her with wide eyes, toddling around on his little four year old legs. “And who is this?” Paige asks, her eyes lighting up at the sight of a child. “I’m Aryan!” He chirps. “Do you want to see my hoop?”
“Um, yes?” She says, as though it’s obvious.
“Yay! Follow me!” He instructs, grabbing her hand and pulling her towards the miniature hoop we have set up in the living room for him. My brother played basketball too, being fairly tall, so I’d grown up around the sport. He wants his son to play, too, so we’ve got a hoop at his house and my parents’ house. Paige tosses the plastic orange ball back and forth with Aryan.
I watch them interact, listening to their conversation.
“You know, I play basketball,” she tells him.
“Really? Are you really good?” He demands immediately. Aryan isn’t exactly shy.
“Mmm. I’m okay,” she tells him. He throws the ball back to her, and I giggle when it bonks her in the head.
“Are you better than the Greek Freak?” He asks.
Paige grins at this. “Than Giannis? I don’t think so,” she admits.
I smile. Aryan looks at me. “My Chachi tried to tell me how to say his last name, except for I can’t do it,” he says sadly. Paige’s brow furrows. “What is… who is Chachi?” She asks. The Hindi word for ‘aunt’ sounds foreign on her lips, but it warms my heart. Aryan points to me, jumping up and down, squealing, “Avantika Chachi!”
“Yes, Aryan!” I call back.
“Come play!”
We spend the next thirty minutes or so playing with Aryan. He gets pretty comfortable with her pretty quickly, clambering all over her and tugging her hair. She lets him, and it makes me love her that much more. My love for her fills my heart so quickly and intensely that I think it just might burst from how impossible it must be to love her any more than I already do.
When my parents announce that dinner is ready, Paige leaps to her feet. “Mr. and Mrs. Singh, do you need any help?” She asks, standing at the entrance of the kitchen. Kiss ass, I think fondly. My mom tuts at her. “Paige, of course not! You’re a guest!” She exclaims.
She carries a huge pot of rice over to the dining table, and Paige’s eyes widen at the sight of all the food my mom has laid out in preparation for meeting her daughter’s girlfriend. I nudge her. “Fatass,” I tease. “Avantika, language,” my mom scolds. “Look at her, she’s so thin! Come eat, put some meat on those bones,” she says to Paige, whose mouth drops open. I suppose her clothes do a good enough job of hiding her muscles, but Paige has always been on the leaner side.
“Mom, you can’t say that!” Arjun tells her, herding Aryan into the dining room, but my mother waves him off. He crawls onto Paige’s lap instead of his normal seat. “Aryan, sit in your chair,” his mom tells him. My brother’s wife is a sweet white woman named Jennie, whom my parents adore. The thing is, Aryan doesn’t listen to a word she says. He stays firmly planted on Paige’s lap.
Paige takes the spice from the food like a champ. Jennie always drinks loads of water, but Paige doesn’t seem to need it. She gushes to my mom about how good all the food is, and my mom beams. “See, this is how you should eat,” she says to me and my brother, and the two of us immediately start complaining, talking over each other.
“Enough,” my dad commands, and we both fall silent. Arjun pushes food around his plate, clearing his throat.
“So, you play basketball?” He asks her. I roll my eyes. “Yes, Arjun, Paige plays basketball. Just like Michael Jordan ‘played basketball’ or Tom Brady ‘dabbled in football’.”
“I’m just making conversation.”
“Make it better.”
“It’s okay,” Paige chuckles, laying a hand on my arm. “Yeah, I play at UConn like Ava.”
He nods, pretending not to be impressed. The truth is, my brother is a pretty big fan of hers. “I saw your tournament run last year. Good shit,” he relents. She nods. “Yeah, thanks. Wish we could have finished it off right, but, you know… next year.”
My brother nods thoughtfully, shrugging. “Hey, Bron’s lost six times in the Finals. He’s still the GOAT.”
I freeze, my eyes widening. Shit.
Paige turns to me, her grin shit-eating. “Did you hear that?” She just about sings. I pick at my food. “Mm, I didn’t hear anything,” I say. Arjun is confused. “What? What’s going on?” He asks.
“No, no, your brother makes a great point. I’m sorry, she said she didn’t hear what you said, do you mind repeating it?”
“Enough, Paige.”
Arjun furrows his eyebrows. “What, that LeBron James is the greatest player of all time?”
Paige closes her eyes and nods to herself, holding a hand up to me dramatically. “God, it feels so good to be right.”
I scrunch my face at her. “That doesn’t mean you’re right, dumbass! That just means you’re both wrong.”
“Language!” My mom chides.
Arjun’s face lights up. “Wait, you have Bron in the GOAT debate?” He asks.
Paige grins at him. “Yeah, I got Bron!”
I sit back and pout, watching them scramble to their feet to dap each other up.
“Oh, you better marry this one,” Arjun says gleefully, sitting back down. Paige is grinning uncontrollably. “I love it here,” she smiles. “You guys don’t know ball,” I snap.
“Says the one who doesn’t play basketball,” Arjun argues.
“MJ has as many rings as LeBron does Finals losses, are you guys stupid?”
“At least Bron didn’t retire at 30!” Paige exclaims.
“MJ literally came back after that! And won three more rings!” I say incredulously.
“I’m so sick of this conversation,” my mom groans. My brother and I had this argument time after time growing up, and my parents have heard every possible variation of it.
Arjun smiles to himself, wiping his mouth with a napkin. He wags his finger at Paige. “I like this one. Keep her.”
FEBRUARY 2024
Paige hasn’t spoken to me all day. It’s making me anxious, because tonight is Senior Night, and I know her decision is impending. I’ll be happy either way. I’ve decided to take my fifth year and complete an MBA program here at UConn while I apply to medical school. While I’d love to have her stay with me for a fifth year as well, I know she’s been ready to head to the WNBA since she was in high school. I’d be ecstatic if she declared tonight - she’s fucking incredible.
She’s also fucking annoying. She left early this morning, because she knew that seeing me would make it really easy for me to figure out what her decision was. According to her, only her parents and Azzi know.
I watch, racked with nerves from just behind the bench, as Paige approaches Coach Geno to take her flowers and her framed jersey. I’m taken back to my own senior night. Paige had walked with me, along with my family. It hadn’t been an announcement of our relationship by any means, it had been more like: “Avantika Singh, escorted by her parents, brother, and… Paige Bueckers.”
Obviously, the rumor mill had immediately been abuzz. It’s not that we were necessarily secretive about our relationship, it was just that media attention on Paige had always been more than that of a normal college athlete. Which made sense. I mean, she is spectacular. People on campus more or less knew, but verbally affirming our relationship to people who weren’t our teammates or families had yet to happen.
We were both fine with it either way. I left it more up to Paige - she was the one with the million Instagram followers.
She takes the mic from Geno, clearing her throat. She starts her sappy speech about how UConn fans are the best in the world, how the past four years haven’t gone as planned, and my heart pounds. I can feel it in my ears, and my head nearly hurts from it. “Unfortunately…” My heart drops to my feet at this. She’s declaring. Okay, that’s fine. I have to be supportive. Phoenix and Connecticut are far, sure, but we’ll make it work…
“This will not be my last senior night at UConn, because I’m coming back!”
The arena erupts in cheers before she can even get the second part of her sentence out, and I don’t even process it at first. My hands fly to my mouth, my eyes pricking with tears. The team on the floor is a mess jumping onto Paige and Aubrey, and it looks like it’s news to Geno, as well.
Paige catches my eye, peering into the stands. I shake my head at her, fighting a smile.
She holds her hands out, flicking her fingers in a ‘come here’ gesture almost imperceptibly.
I sprint out of the stands towards her, leaping onto her and throwing my arms around her neck. She laughs, wrapping her arms tight around my waist and holding me. “You dumbass,” I complain. “You could have told me.” I pull back to look at her, grateful for the fact that people are filing out and that the team is loud and raucous enough to cover us from most of the cameras. She shrugs - or tries to.
“Yeah, I could have,” she reasons. “But then I wouldn’t have gotten to see this smile.”
I ease myself off of her, unable to stop myself from grinning. “God, you’re corny,” I tease.
“You love it.”
I sigh. “I do,” I admit.
Then Paige gets pulled away for media, and Geno and CD usher me after her. “What?” I ask, confused. CD shakes her head. “Come on. You’re going to want to see this.” I stumble into the room for media personnel, and see a table set up with four chairs and mics. I’m confused. “Wait… what’s going on?” I ask. Geno shrugs, a twinkle in his old eyes.
It’s about twenty minutes before Aubrey, Nika, Aaliyah, and Paige come out, all wearing ridiculous sunglasses, and sit at the media table. The media people start with routine questions, asking Nika and Aaliyah if they plan on staying, to which they respond tiredly that they don’t know. I nearly giggle at the canned response. I know those two have been rehearsing it since the season started.
Aubrey pokes fun at Geno for announcing that she’s coming back prematurely. Then they ask Paige how she feels about the decision.
“You know, it feels like a weight off my shoulders. Obviously, a lot of thought went into this decision. I talked to my family, my teammates, my coaches, and, uh…” she pauses, a shit-eating grin taking over her face before it fades into a smirk. I swear she glances at me, because I can feel her eyes on me, but I can’t really see properly through her glasses.
“I talked to my girlfriend, who had to make a pretty similar decision recently. And, yeah. It just felt right, and to be able to do that in front of the best fans in the country… It meant a lot.”
My mouth drops open, and I turn to CD. “Did she just..?” I demand. CD nods, smiling at me. “I think she did.”
The media personnel are buzzing with excitement at the little tidbit that Paige has just let slip, but I don’t hear a single word of the rest of the press conference. I march straight to the locker room, seating myself on a bench.
Paige walks in just a few minutes later, laughing with the rest of the seniors. She spots me on the bench, arms crossed, one leg over the other.
“Are you mad?” She asks sheepishly. I get up, not saying a word, and begin walking towards her.
“Okay, maybe I should have asked. Don’t be-”
I stop her, grabbing her face and pulling it to mine.
And I kiss her. I kiss her and kiss her and kiss her, I kiss her until the rest of the world fades away, until it feels like I can’t tell where I begin and she ends, until nothing and no one else matters. When I pull back, there’s tears on my face. “Okay, so you’re not mad,” she guesses, and I shake my head, smiling.
“I love you,” I tell her firmly.
She grins. “I love you, too.” She pecks my nose.
“Another year together,” I giggle, cupping her face tightly.
Paige laughs. “Another year, and every year after that, if that’s okay with you,” she murmurs.
I laugh shakily, standing on my tiptoes to kiss her again.
“How does forever sound?”
And then smiles at me, her eyes suddenly shining, too.
Sometimes, you just know. You don’t know when it happened or how it happened. Somewhere in between that night at the gym or in the training room or my place or hers, somewhere between her hands and my heart and her eyes and mine, I’d realized that my forever has a laugh that feels like home and a smile that breaks my heart from the inside out. My forever loves the color purple and overly sweet coffee and her little brother and she loves me. My forever looks at me like I hung the moon and holds me like what we have is the most precious thing in the world. And maybe it is. Maybe she is.
And I’m glad it’s not anyone else. I’m glad it’s her.
Paige is my forever.
“Forever sounds like a plan.”
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