#that’s not me behind you in the library
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ANYONE BUT YOU .ೃ
pairing. michael kaiser x gn!reader
genre. college AU | older brother's bestfriend | fake dating (@/saekkas req!) | angry confession (anon req)
content/warnings. 5k+ wc (part 1/3) | reader is a sophomore while kaiser is a senior | reader is ness's younger sibling | reader has little to no college friends | reader hates kaiser's guts | PROTECTIVE kaiser lol | toxic uni gossip culture | pet names (dollface) & a lot of profanity (it's kaiser) | minimal proofread
summary: as lines get blurred, hearts get flustered, and a scheme ensues, your brother's best friend suddenly seems way more interesting than he used to be.
💭 masterlist | next part
“I’m sorry, I don’t think I can go with you anymore.”
Your ears were ringing.
After the words hung over the line, a heavy silence descended, punctuated only by the dull thud of your heartbeat echoing in your ears. The phone line seemed to distort, and the world beyond reduced to a distant murmur as a disorienting ringing filled your ears. Yet, despite the shock rippling through, you managed to maintain a facade.
“Ah, I see. It’s no problem. See you around!” Your chirped voice made you cringe internally, but it was a better front than sounding like a defeated kid whose mom said no over a piece of candy at a grocery store.
Before he could say anything else, you clicked the end button faster than he could spew some tacky excuse. Throwing your phone to the side, you settled onto your bed, lying on your back, staring at the uninteresting ceiling of your room.
Sure, it was no problem at all— the music festival was just six hours away, and your date had just canceled on you over the phone. It’s no big deal facing your college blockmates without a companion as initially planned, and it’s totally not a problem that you will most likely be a third– hell, a seventh wheel, actually, and have them talk behind your back – speculating about why you're going alone or if you were just making it up that you had someone to bring.
Yes, it’s not a fucking problem at all.
You don’t even like the artist lineup, anyway (maybe you’re mildly interested with one band that’s attending). You wouldn’t bother if you weren’t just a sophomore still trying to find a group of friends you can call your own. It's embarrassing enough that freshmen even had it better than you. It’s not a race, for sure, but in college– the truth lies blatant that support systems help. A lesson you learned the hardest way.
“Y/N? Are you in there?” Three soft knocks on your door and a muffled voice, surely coming from your older brother, interrupted your pity party.
“Yes. Come in,” you confirmed. The door creaked open, revealing a mop of magenta hair leaning over your door frame.
“There’s food downstairs. We ordered your favorite.”
“We?”
“Kaiser is downstairs.”
Of course, he is.
Your brother’s best friend must have really taken it to heart when your mom told him he can treat your family as his own. Too deep into his heart, if you could comment. You see him around the house more than you see your parents, and if that wasn’t tiresome enough, he’s literally a damn superstar in your university. Every corner, every room, in halls and library, everyone can’t seem to be over his name like a broken record.
You wouldn’t be this annoyed, hostile even, if said man was just as nice as your brother. But instead, he was far by the most obnoxious, foul-mouthed, arrogant prick you’ve ever known. Alexis should have never kicked some ball with that conceited oaf a decade ago. Life would have been so much better. But no— reality is, the bane of your existence in the form of blonde hair and sharp blue eyes, is in your house’s kitchen, probably gulping down your favorite drinks in the fridge.
If you can’t seem to have friends, your older brother seems to be goddamn bad at picking his.
“Hey, dollface. Missed me?” Speak of the damn devil and he shall appear.
The first thing you’re met with after coming down is a sight of Michael Kaiser, sitting high and comfortably on one of the counter’s bar stools. Your gaze trails down to his hand where you see a peek of his crown tattoo— and would you look at that? He’s holding a can of your Coke Zero.
“Oh, so that’s why my life was going sideways again,” you feigned a sigh in disappointment, making sure it was loud enough for him to hear, “because you’re back.”
In your unwanted years of knowing this guy, you’ve soon realized that none of your words, no matter how sharp or snarky they get, would ever faze him. Evidence would be how he just openly chuckled at your remark. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I missed you and your smart mouth, too. Don’t worry.”
“Trust me, worry is not in the list of emotions I would ever feel for you.”
“Well, does attraction make it to the list?”
Years ago, perhaps it would have. Not that he needs to know—no chance. Your silly childhood crush on him was your deepest, darkest mistake. You might be overdramatic, but this was Michael Kaiser, and god, you would rather get caught having feelings for anyone but him.
Rolling your eyes at him, you sneer, “You wish.”
“Oh, trust me, I do wish,” he mocks your tone.
“Fuck off.”
“That won’t get rid of me, I’m afraid,” he shrugs before winking at you. You shook your head in annoyance.
You took the seat across from him and settled. You were about to lean to reach the box of pizza at the other end of the countertop, when Kaiser reached for it first and placed it in front of you.
You turned to look at him, half expecting a smirk or yet another wink from the blonde, but instead, he was preoccupied browsing on his phone as if his body moved on its own to attend to you.
You shrugged off the weird occurrence and turned all attention to the pizza and its heavenly scent sipping through the gaps of its box, just in time for Alexis to take the seat next to his best friend. You drowned the noise of their conversation as they started talking about last away games.
Your brother and Kaiser had been the most valuable players of your university’s soccer team for as long as you’ve remembered. They were two years older, so by the time you entered university, they were already making big names in the field. Rumors had it that there were already offers lining up at their feet.
If you come to think of it, it wouldn’t be this hard making friends if you would just be vocal about being Alexis Ness’ younger sibling, but the limelight and pretentious popularity it came with was something you wouldn’t wish upon yourself. You wanted real and genuine friends, not people who wanted to be around you because it was a step closer to your brother and his best friend.
Like earlier, Alexis’ voice came reaching your eardrums, snapping you out of your thoughts. After hearing what he had to ask, though, you wished you had a way to physically block out his words.
“Are you not going to get ready for the festival?” your brother asked, meanwhile, his dear friend seemed to take great interest in what you’re about to say as both of them peered over you.
“Not going anymore,” you said, as nonchalant as you could to play pretend.
“Why? You’ve been looking forward to it the whole week.”
Heat crept into your ears and cheeks as embarrassment filled you. Sure, you might not be prancing around being all excited about it, but if your brother was able to notice it, your enthusiasm must have been evident then. God, you felt like an utter fool now.
“It got canceled,” you looked away from them.
Alexis looked at you with furrowed brows, “What do you mean? It’s not–”
“My date canceled on me. I’m not going anymore to save face and not make a fool out of myself. There, happy?” you snapped.
Before you could even feel the guilt from bursting out unprovoked to your brother, you swiftly got up from the stool heading back to your room, leaving the two of them in the kitchen looking concerned contrarily. One with worried eyes glancing at your room hesitantly, and the other one with a clenched jaw and narrowed eyes.
It seemed everyone was testing your patience today, as for the second time, your ears rang—not from a last-minute cancellation this time, but from the persistent sound of your ringing phone.
Your heavy eyes fluttered open, weighed down by the sleep from your ignoring-the-world nap after the exchange with your supposed date and your brother. Disoriented and groggy, you reached out, fingers fumbling to check the caller deserving of your unrelenting fury.
Kaiser, the screen read, and suddenly, the urge to throw your phone at the nearest wall almost overwhelmed your senses.
But you answered the call anyway, because logic says that he was still your brother’s closest, and sometimes, that warranted a call that might be about him.
“I swear to god this better be important–”
“Get ready,” he interrupted.
“What?”
“Look out your window.”
Groaning, you rose to your feet, moving your drapes aside to see what awaited outside.
Outside your house’s gates, a midnight blue sports car, all too familiar, was parked across the driveway. Its owner leaned lazily over its door, one hand in his pocket while the other held his phone pressed to his ear, looking right back at you with that shit-eating grin.
“What the hell are you on?” you muttered into the phone.
You instantly closed the drapes after meeting eyes with him.
It’s infuriating—He’s infuriating. But damn, does he look good when he smiles like that. And it’s not helping your case that he was clad in loose-fitting denim pants and a black shirt, sufficiently showcasing both his tattoo and his lean yet toned build.
It’s sorcery how he makes simple and ordinary clothing look like it was screaming high-end and luxury. Only he can do that, you admit.
“As I said, get ready,” he repeated over the phone, “We only have less than two hours before your music festival or something starts.”
He’s taking me to it? “Why?”
Only one word in response, yet the two of you understood what you’re pertaining to. Silence filled the line for a moment before you heard a subtle click of his tongue.
“Because you look ugly when you sulk,” and he hung up.
You should be irritated at him hanging up abruptly and calling you ugly, but for some reason you don’t know, it puts a smile on your face.
The first one today.
Kaiser wishes he had a bigger car— which one would deem ridiculous, given that his car could easily match the price of two or even three minivans.
But if it meant having you sit not so close that your scent infiltrates his senses beyond his sound judgment, he’d gladly trade his lambo for a minivan any day.
You were intoxicating— not akin to the grip of liquor, because it would be inadequate in comparison. But rather intoxicating in the same way as the irresistible magnetism that beckons a madman to its vices.
And he must be really mad because you weren’t even sitting shoulder-to-shoulder close to him. You’re sitting comfortably at the passenger seat, a good distance in between, and yet he acts like a raging teenager who got locked up with his crush in the utility room. It is absolutely embarrassing, even for someone like him.
“Did Alexis ask you to do this?” you suddenly inquired, your gaze fixed on your side of the car.
Thank heavens you broke the silence first, because who knows what ungodly phrases he would come up with in an attempt of small talk with you?
“No. Though I bet he would have taken you himself,” he snorted, of course your brother would, “If our coach weren’t so pissed at him these days.”
Ah, so that explained why you hadn't seen Alexis around the house before hopping into Kaiser's car.
Momentarily, you turned to him. It was so swift that he might have missed it if he wasn’t so hyper aware of your every move in this damn confined space. “Is he in trouble?” you inquired to the blonde, your voice concerned and hesitant.
“Nothing you have to worry about, doll.”
“Stop with the nicknames,” you hissed, attempting to intimidate.
Unfazed, he countered with a cheeky “Make me,” under his breath. His smirk practically audible, even without you glancing his way.
Silence overtook between the two of you once more. You fixated on the road ahead, noting the nearing destination as the glow of the festival stage lights peeked into view.
It’s your chance— your chance to release the words that have lingered at the edge of your tongue since he urged you to get ready almost an hour ago. You stole a glance at the man driving beside you. His eyes focused on the road, his left hand steady on the steering wheel while his timepiece-adorned hand rested comfortably on the gearshift. In another frame of mind, you might have found yourself lost in the rhythm of his long, slender fingers tapping against it. You snapped out of it before he could point it out.
You stole one last glance before turning away to whisper, “Thank you… Kaiser.”
Instead of saying welcome like a polite person would, your companion would of course, choose to say something as, “You owe me something now.”
Of course, you thought. Mentally rolling your eyes, you ask, resigning to his antics, “What do you want?”
“Call me by my name.”
“Did you not hear? I said, thank you Kai–”
“The one you used to call me.”
Mikka.
It was a silly nickname you gave him– back when Alexis first brought him home for snacks nearly ten years ago. He and Alexis were eleven, and you were barely nine.
You remembered the blonde kid, all sweaty in his mud-stained clothes, clutching a worn-out ball by his hip, his gaze fixed on you with curiosity. “This is Kaiser,” your brother introduced, but the blonde stranger approached you, extending his hand.
“I’m Michael.”
“That’s… long.”
“What?”
“Your name– it’s long,” you echoed, looking up at him, “can I call you ‘Mikka’?”
“What?” Kaiser’s deep voice sliced through your reminiscence. “You had no problem calling me that before,” he pointed out.
“That’s before you beat up the boy you knew I like,” you scoffed at him, a familiar pettiness clouding your mind.
He chuckled at your retort, seemingly lost in his own memories. “Beat him up on the soccer field, you mean,” he corrected, though he wouldn’t particularly mind if it were an actual fight.
“Same thing.”
“Oh, come on! It was highschool!”
“Your point?” you countered.
“He was a snotface, anyway.” he rationalized.
“He was nice to me!”
“I suggest you rather get a dog instead— if nice is all you need. I heard dogs are fun to be around,” he sneered, “What do you think of pomeranians?”
You brushed off his question, preferring the depths of silence over the hypothetical responsibility of tending to a pup that bore more than a passing resemblance to him, both in appearance and, perhaps, in demeanor.
“I knew agreeing to come here with you was a mistake,” you sighed, exasperation lacing your words.
Surprisingly, Kaiser offered no retort. Taking his silence as a cue for your own, you settled into quietness, hoping for a peaceful remainder of the drive. Minutes drifted by until Kaiser broke the stillness with a whisper loud enough for you to catch.
“He was a slimy jerk,” he began, pausing as if hinting his careful choice of words, “and he was nice to you because he was trying to get into your pants.”
“How did you know?” you asked, meek and shy, fumbling with your fingers in your lap. Seeking love advice and opinions from none other than the mighty Kaiser seemed absurd, but maybe, wisdom might sometimes fare well with age.
“Trust me when I say I know how boys can be,” he scoffed, a displeased furrow settling in his brows. “He wasn't the gentleman you thought he was.”
“And you? Are you a gentleman?”
Before you could stop your thoughts from escaping your rebellious mouth, the words spilled out like water through a breached dam. The lack of response from him compelled you to chew on your lip and fix your gaze on the road, refusing to spare even a glance his way, despite feeling his stare burning into the side of your face.
Meanwhile, Kaiser was aware he might be staring too long at your side for someone controlling a vehicle, but he couldn't help it. Not when you caught him off guard with a simple question, and especially not when you were trying so hard to avoid looking at him, your discomfort palpable in the air. You looked so cute—it made his mouth twitch.
Staring ahead at the road, he contemplated your question, needing no more than a minute to reach his conclusion.
When a man looks at his best friend's younger sibling in a way he shouldn’t, he’s not deserving of the title “gentleman.”
He was far from it, he concluded. With one last glance thrown your way before bringing the car to a full stop, he muttered in an uncharacteristically soft tone.
“Especially not one, doll.”
“Y/N! Over here!” a familiar voice cut through the cacophony, prompting you to scan the crowd until you finally spotted them.
Relief flooded over you at the sight of a familiar face amidst the crowd. Checking your phone had proven to be a wise decision; otherwise, you might have spent the night searching aimlessly through the vast expanse of the venue.
The venue stretched out before you was a kaleidoscope of sights and sounds that danced upon the senses. Laughter and chatter mingled with applause and the occasional roar of approval as performers graced the stage.
Everywhere you looked there was movement and so much life. Yet amidst the bustling crowd and pulsating music, one figure occupied your thoughts more than anything else.
Kaiser's towering 6-foot frame loomed behind you, his broad shoulders carving a path of confidence through the crowd. He stood behind you like an immovable rock amidst a rushing river. And if your senses weren't deceiving you, you swore you felt the occasional brush of his hand against the small of your back, gently guiding you forward.
He was so close behind you that his breath on your nape soaked into your skin like ointment— warm to the touch, yet icy on your spine.
“Where's your date?” one of your blockmates inquired after the initial pleasantries were exchanged.
The question lingered, and suddenly, all eyes were on you. Mentally counting heads, you realized you were really on track to be the seventh wheel if you attended without a companion. Speaking of companions— you turned behind you with the intention of introducing Kaiser (not that they didn’t know him already), but your intention faltered when you noticed the scowl on his face.
“I’m the date, if you couldn’t tell,” he interjected.
From his vantage point, he observed the widening of your eyes at his declaration. Yet, when he didn’t hear any immediate retaliation from you, he flashed you— and everyone else watching— a lopsided smirk. He sensed your blockmates’ curiosity lingering, some perhaps wondering if he was truly dating you. But none of them dared to probe further—maybe because he wasn't exactly the approachable type.
After a few murmurs of ‘oh’ and ‘really’ from your blockmates, they returned their attention to the stage, where the next performer was beginning their pre-performance monologue.
You, on the other hand, look like you were out for his blood from how you’re glaring at him. “Are you out of your mind?” you hissed under your breath, just loud enough for him to hear.
Yes. Perhaps he was. Irrationality had seized him upon hearing the question. After all, he was there with you, visible for all to see. Did they not see him? Did he look like a fucking chair to those people? Common sense must be a luxury these days, given its absence in this situation.
Yet, a small voice of reason within him attempted to intervene, suggesting that the question might have stemmed from genuine curiosity.
As his best friend's younger sibling, seeing the two of you together wasn't an unusual occurrence for those who attend the same university. They likely concluded that your presence with him at the music festival was simply a matter of normal friendship (which it was, but they don’t have to know that, nor does he desire for these extras to reduce it to just that).
“I’m helping you save face like you said earlier,” he tells you, still wearing that annoying smirk.
“How does telling them you’re my date help me save face?” If anything, you'd be hiding on campus after his stunt. You could only hope words won’t travel fast.
“Would you rather I tell them I'm chaperoning you because some jerk canceled on you?”
Your words stalled at the base of your throat, unable to counter his remark. That shut you up, much to your chagrin. He was right.
“Yeah. That’s what I thought,” he quipped, grinning at your silence. “Come closer, there’s a lot of people.”
You huffed in irritation and decided to ignore him behind you, determined to make the most of your experience here. You’d let this slide for now. After all, he was here because of you.
But it wasn’t too long before you realized that ignoring him would be as futile as trying to pluck roses without being pricked by the thorns. You knew very well that this man thrives in getting under people’s skin.
“You should be flattered.”
Genuinely appalled, you ask, “I’m sorry?”
“Accepted.”
If it wasn’t night time and the blaring lights were replaced by the sun, he could have seen the twitch that your eye did at his retort.
At this point, murder is a tempting option. Sure, he’s taller and much bigger in physique terms, but you have the rage for it. Just one more insufferable antic—one more word— from this man and the whole university will be mourning their star player’s demise first thing tomorrow morning.
You took a deep breath to calm your murderous nerves, “Is that so? What part of telling people— oh wait, our schoolmates who are probably whispering behind our backs— that you’re my date, is flattering to you?”
The asshole had the audacity to shrug, “Calling me yours was.”
“Well then, you should be flattered. Not me.”
“You don’t know how flattered I am to be yours,” he mused.
If you didn’t know any better, his attempt at flirting might have sent warmth to your cheeks. But this was Kaiser— no one can tell when he’s being serious or just being his usual menace self talking shit like he’s employed to do so. Good thing you had better plans than spend it on his guessing games.
Just when you’re about to berate him once more, words halted on your throat because of a sight you least expected to see.
Han— the guy you’ve been talking to for almost a month now. The same guy who was your supposed date, to be more specific.
“What? Cat got your tongue, doll?”
If cats come in the form of a familiar man who’s a few good meters away, clearly having the time of his life dancing with someone, and clearly showing no signs of unavailability to go to a music festival he asked you to, then yes, it got your tongue.
You stayed silent far too long for Kaiser’s patience. Your lack of snarky clapbacks were starting to unsettle him more than he would allow. Shifting closer to you, he followed your line of sight to see what got you stunned in silence.
Recognizing what, or rather who, got your attention, he turns to you, his voice coming out too indignant, “Do you know that guy?”
“Do you?” you counter, picking up on his tone being all too casual as if they’re acquainted.
“He’s last week’s opposing team’s goalkeeper,” or was it ‘striker’? He couldn’t recall, so he’s more or less incompetent to him. One thing he remembers, however, “and he hates me.”
You threw him a glance, “Not surprised.”
“And do I give a fuck,” he shook his head, “Why do you keep looking at him?” Don’t fucking tell me.
Your answer wasn’t any better to what he was starting to imagine, “He was… supposed to be my date to this music festival,” you mumbled, looking down at your feet.
You didn’t want to see the look on Kaiser’s face, fearing you might see pity, and so you nailed your gaze to the ground. Totally oblivious of the man peering over you rather softly.
“Why can’t he then?” he asks, voice an octave lower.
“He said they had late notice training, so he can’t come.”
“Well, that better be his fucking ghost yapping with a brunette then,” he scoffs, looking straight to the lying man who canceled on you.
Sick of his face and sloppy dance moves, Kaiser turned his gaze back at you, only to be filled with rage because of it.
You look sad— and it made his blood boil. Not towards you, but for you.
“Y’know what? Let’s go there,” he urged, head pointing at where Han was.
Is he fucking crazy? You immediately shook your head at his scandalous suggestion. You might be feeling a little betrayed and angry, but rationality still had its hold on you— and it’s saying to not let Kaiser go with his idea.
Instead, you tug on his forearm, eyes still on the floor before looking up at him, “Can we leave, please?”
Kaiser was taken aback by your sudden meekness. He wasn’t used to this— to you, being all deflated and zoned out. He was used to your deadpan expressions and your eyes that seem to roll every time he utters a single word. He was used to you being, dare he say, feisty.
And he would rather have you stay like that all day long, even when he’s the receiving end of it.
But this? You, saying please to him, of all people? He doesn’t like it.
If this is how he gets to make you say please, then he doesn’t want it. Fuck that, and fuck that guy. How dare he.
Kaiser didn’t say anything back at your request, but you felt big calloused hands grasp on your hand still resting on his forearm. The next thing you knew, you were walking with him, shoulder-to-shoulder while his other hand was on yours guiding you to walk out of the scene.
“If I see one—just one drop of tear, I swear I am turning this damn car around.”
Your thoughts abruptly halted at the sound of Kaiser’s threat—his ultimatum, rather. It sounded more like a promise than a threat, and you knew this man well enough to understand that he never ate his words.
You shot him a glance and snickered. There was no way in high hell you’d ever cry in the same space where he was. It was the last thing you’d ever do, even if it meant convincing yourself that what you saw earlier was just a mere look-alike of Han.
“It's nothing. We aren’t even a thing,” you dismissed, your voice flat.
“But you thought you could be,” he countered, and damn if he wasn't right. “How do you even know him?”
“We're kind of talking, well, sort of—”
“Kind of? Sort of?” he scoffed.
“God—it's like a talking stage or something casual, Kaiser! There, got it?”
“That's not exclusive,” he remarked, adding insult to injury.
Irritation bubbled in your throat as his interrogation continued. But even before you could unleash your venom, you caught yourself. He was right. And while this man had never brought you good, it wasn't fair to make him the target of your bad.
“Yeah, it's not,” you admitted, a dry, humorless laugh escaping you. You recalled the brunette he danced with earlier. “I wasn't exclusive material for his reputation, I guess.”
What reputation? “That’s bullshit.” He gritted his teeth, his hand itching towards the steering wheel, clearly tempted to turn back to the festival.
“You said it yourself, he’s an athlete,” you pointed out, “You people never like to go exclusive with someone.”
“You people? Oh, please. Do not insult me by comparing me to the likes of him.”
The sass in his voice drew a chuckle from you. It was amusing how he said it with genuine horror, as if the mere idea of being associated with Han was an insult. “Why? Are you telling me you can commit to someone exclusively?”
“Someone like who? You?” He met your gaze briefly, “Absolutely.”
What the hell. “Stop messing around,” you snorted, effectively ending the conversation.
He was playing a dangerous game, saying that to you. Did he even realize what it did? Did he hear your stupid heart hammering in your chest? It was too loud, too obvious, a frantic drum solo against your ribs.
And the realization settled— he made your heart flutter.
His words, so simple, so casually tossed out, had landed like a bomb, sending shrapnel through your carefully constructed walls.
Michael Kaiser, of all people, made your heart flutter.
Suddenly, the air felt thin, the car an echo chamber amplifying the frantic rhythm of your traitorous heart. You knew you should scoff, dismiss it as another one of his infuriating jabs, but the truth was like a hot coal lodged in your throat.
“I’m not though,” he countered, eyes steady on the familiar road ahead. He sounded serious– too serious.
As you were about to retort back, the car lurched to a stop, announcing your arrival. You glanced out the window, the familiar sight of your house doing little to ease the tension that had coiled tight in your stomach.
“We’re here,” Kaiser announced, his voice a low rumble.
Hurried and flustered by the unexpected shift in the conversation, your clammy hands fumbled with the buckle, the metal cold and unyielding against your sweaty palms. You tugged, then tugged again, frustration building with each failed attempt.
“Easy, doll.”
Before you could protest, a large hand swooped in, effortlessly unlatching the buckle with a practiced flick. The sudden proximity sent a jolt through you, making your breath hitch. You met his gaze, his eyes a blazing blue as he held your stare for a beat too long before turning away.
Taking a deep breath, you composed yourself. You reached for the door handle, pushing it open and stepping out onto the familiar pavement. Before slamming the door shut, you paused, turning back to Kaiser with a newfound resolve.
Crouching down to meet his gaze, you surprised yourself with the words that tumbled out. “Be careful on your way home and,” you paused, “Thank you... Mikka.”
The nickname slipped out before you could stop it, leaving a blush blooming across your cheeks.
Before Kaiser could react, you slammed the door shut, the sound echoing in the quiet street.
Mikka. He repeats your words in his mind.
He watched you disappear into your house, a slow grin spreading across his face. Only when you were safely inside did he start the car, the image of your flustered face lingering in his mind.
Damn it, doll.
Meanwhile, you hurried to your room, clutching your chest where your heart still hammered a frantic rhythm.
Why did I call him that? you asked yourself.
The use of his nickname, a name you rarely uttered now, was a stark reminder that the two of you weren’t as close as you were younger.
It’s not a big deal, you tried to reason with yourself. He literally said you owed it to him, and calling it quits would be in the form of a stupid nickname. It doesn’t mean anything. Right— you were just returning a favor.
Your obvious self-deception was interrupted by the incessant buzzing of your phone, tossed carelessly on the bed. Picking up your phone, you opened one of the notifications, your breath catching in your throat.
It was a post on your university's gossip page, and there, plastered on the screen, was a picture of you and Kaiser.
The image froze a moment in time, capturing him standing protectively behind you, his arms caging you against a barricade. Panic clawed at your throat. This picture, out in the open, could be misconstrued in so many ways.
What were people going to think? Who took this photo, anyway?
Your eyes darted down the comment section, scrolling through a sea of unimaginable speculations, desperately searching for clues about the culprit.
Just then, a knock on the door startled you.
“Y/N? Can I talk to you?”
It was your brother— and his voice suggested he needed answers too.
Shit.
note. first mini series lmao xD will add cw as i go!
#☁️ my ode to you#michael kaiser x reader#blue lock x reader#kaiser x reader#blue lock imagines#michael kaiser imagines#kaiser imagines#michael kaiser x y/n#michael kaiser x you#bllk x y/n#bllk x you#bllk x reader#blue lock x y/n#blue lock x you#michael kaiser#blue lock fluff#first milestone event!#writing: 004
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Some unholy thoughts from me, bunnies.
Let's talk about Yunho and size training.
Yunho has a big and thick dick, and when we say big, we mean huge. And there is absolutely no way you can get his whole massive length inside you at once. But this is exactly the thing that turns him on the most about you: how small and tight your pussy is.
So imagine: Yunho is sitting on the edge of a big bed, and you are sitting on his lap with your back pressed against his broad chest. He is behind you, tall, sexy, and absolutely hot, and you are literally melting away in his arms. Of course, there is a huge mirror in front of the bed, and Yunho can see how half of his dick is already inside you while you are desperately trying to sit on the rest of his hard and wet length. To help you relax, he starts playing with your pussy - slowly rubbing your clit, sliding his fingers between your wet, sensitive folds, and circling the edge of your leaking hole with his finger pad where he enters.
He even spreads your labia open with his fingers so that you can see just how well his thick cock is going to stretch your pussy.
"Shhh, baby, just a little more. When I'm all the way inside of you, you'll have the feeling of me here." To emphasise the meaning of his words, his other hand presses against your stomach. "As soon as you get used to me, my cock will be the only thing that will be able to fill and satisfy your needy cunt, my love."
From what he has told you, more and more cum is coming out of your pussy and dripping down onto the part of his dick that is not yet inside you. It literally drives him crazy, especially when he sees it in the reflection of the mirror.
He lifts his hips a little bit and pushes his cock deeper and deeper into your hole until you are sitting on top of him completely. You would never have thought that you would be on top of the cute and hot librarian from your university at the end of the day. Yunho removes his hand from your belly, only to put his long, slender fingers into your mouth, and he begins to fuck you with them as he slowly pushes himself into your cunt.
"You see, you're perfect for me—a small and sweet sleeve for my cock. As soon as I saw you in the library, I knew right away that you were going to be such a beautiful doll for me. Your pussy is so tight, baby, so tight. You can't take all my cock yet, but that's no problem, right? You're going to train, sweetheart, until you can take me easily with just one thrust, and after that, I'm going to fuck you as I like and whenever I want. You won't need those cute little knickers any more with me. I can always hold your pussy in my hand, baby."
#ateez smut#kpop smut#atz smut#ateez hard hours#ateez unholy hours#smut#ateez scenarios#ateez au#ateez x reader#ateez imagines#ateez fanfic#yunho smut#jeong yunho smut#yunho x reader#jeong yunho x reader
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— bambi!reader. ft. chris, matt & nate! ⠀ׁ⠀ㅤ © ㅤ dominicfikue.
peach by kevin abstract & dominic fike. thin lacy cami tops. drawn to anything nature. salted caramel ice cream. pearly pink lipgloss tucked into her purse. funky but simple nail designs. big brown eyes with the thick lashes to match. vanilla, cinnamon & sandalwood as her scent. flats or kitten-heels, no in between. low rise jeans with a cutsie black ribbon for her ‘belt’. goes to the library to study but always finds herself slumped against the keyboard. her aura warm and inviting, not a soul dare say anything opposite.
˚˖𓍢ִ໋ 🦌
w/ christopher sturniolo! — the both of you staying up till 2 and 3AM, yapping about whatever comes to your tired brains. not to mention, the poorly rolled joints ( thanks a lot, chris -_-! ) passed back and forth between you two. you soon fall asleep, your cheek smushed against his chest with his beefy arm holding you close. he’s the king of getting you all riled up with his lingering touches or his constant groping. chris is stern— easily able to steer you back in your lane with just a glance. on the days where listening isn’t really on your agenda, he knows just how to break through. ass-up, face down as he plows into you from behind, ignoring all the pathetic mewls & pleas coming from your throat.
w/ matthew sturniolo! — baby goes all out for his girl! spoiling you with new books or a new pair of wired headphones after you got your last pair tangled and shred beyond repair. even virtually, making long playlists featuring any songs that reminds him of you. putting him on to all of your deep & psychological movies that make you think and him calling them confusing and slightly concerning. bratty behavior really doesn’t bother him, only fueling the boner confined in his baggy blue jeans. sex is always vanilla, both of you too sleepy to take charge. the slow and sensual kisses as his fingers reach lower and lower make up for it though!
w/ nathan doe! — my dominant boy ughhhhhh :(. even though he’s a inch or two shorter than you, him being in charge never changes. casual dominance on 100%! grabbing things out of the oven for you after you told him you’re perfectly capable of doing yourself. giving the back of your neck a squeeze as a warning when you bad mouth him in public. don’t even get me started on how he acts in bed! hickeys of all colors & sizes littered across your body as his tongue pushes you towards your 3rd orgasm of the night, white specs filling up your vision. just know, it’s far from over.
a/n: heavily and deeply inspired by the lovely loveebot & donatellawritings, their work absolutely amazes me every time and i just had to write my own! if they find this too similar, it will be taken down immediately! <3 + do you guys fw my new theme/layout? she’s so cute omg. enjoy!
taglist. @fawnchives @prettyvyll @trickywritters @breeloveschris @lorarri @vickyzloserz @gnxosblog @firexovni @tylerstacobell @ivonchetooo1239 @bernardsgf @dracoflaco @strniolo @paibey @hearts4chriss @sturniololol @rootbeerworshiper @tillies33ssss @katluckybear @realuvrrr @junnniiieee07 @imsosillygoofylol @dazednmatthews
#𓊆ྀི⠀ׁ⠀ㅤ © ㅤ dominicfikue ︎︎︎︎. 𓊇ྀི#this was so fun to write! i hope you guys like it so i can write more :3#matt sturniolo#chris sturniolo#nathan doe#matt sturniolo smut#matthew sturniolo#matt sturniolo x reader#matt stuniolo fanfic#matt sturniolo fluff#matt sturniolo angst#matt sturniolo imagine#matt sturniolo concepts#chris sturniolo smut#chris sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo fluff#chris sturniolo angst#chris sturniolo fanfic#chris sturniolo imagine#christopher sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo x you#christopher sturniolo#nate doe#nathan doe smut#nathan doe angst#nathan doe x reader#sturniolo triplets#sturniolo smut
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heart eyes
aww, they're in love with you !
peter
"h-hey," peter's voice cracks as he tries to speak, clearing his throat as a blush creeps up his cheeks. "i-i mean, hey."
his hands fiddle with something underneath his robes, his freckles slowly disappearing as his flush grows darker.
"hi peter, what's up?" you offer him a polite smile as you try not to laugh at how adorable he is.
"s-so i noticed that um...y-you're really good at, um, ch-charms. c-could you maybe...tutor me? i-i mean, i-it's fine if y-you don't!" he stutters.
he clears his throat again as he stares down at the ground. preparing himself to be slapped. for what? he doesn't really know. maybe for even daring to talk to you, let alone asking you for anything. why would he deserve to hold even an ounce of your attention?
"sure, that's fine. i'm free anytime, so let me know when you want to meet in the library," you shrug simply, your eyes widening in shock as he shoves 3 boxes of chocolate frogs in your arms.
"okay, thanks, bye!" he rushes off before you can respond, practically running away from you.
"um...bye, i guess?"
james
"merlin-!" your neck almost collapses as james places his elbow on your skull, casually using you as an armrest and leaning his full weight on you.
"has anyone ever told you how short you are?" he ponders, letting out a quiet oomph when you shove him off.
"get off me, you...ogre!"
"sweetheart, i'm hurt. anyhow, have you heard of what happened to malfoy? i set his mattress on fire," he looks at you with a childlike grin, eager for your approval. "you said he was insulting you behind your back, didn't you?"
"oh, that's not...that's not really a prank. that's just, um...arson." you scratch the back of your neck awkwardly, your lips twisted into a weak grimace.
his smile dips slightly. "well, i didn't exactly consult the boys about it. was more of a personal project. for you. don't you like it?"
"um...it's the thought that counts, right?"
as dubious as your answer is, it causes james' spirits to lift once more, and he tackles you in a hug (which subsequently cuts off your air supply--who knew he'd have such a strong grip?).
"i knew you'd love it!"
sirius
"ahh, good evening, love. sitting at the fireplace all by your lonesome?" sirius says loudly as he plops down on the couch next to you, throwing an arm over your shoulder.
"not anymore," you gingerly pick up his hand as if it's radioactive, tossing it aside and leaving it dangling behind the couch--but most importantly, away from you. "what are you doing, black?"
"you're so cold to me," he sighs, raking a hand through his hair. "you didn't notice anything new about me?"
you shake your head cluelessly.
"nothing? really, love? shoes? haircut? rings? clothes? you don't notice anything?"
you shake your head again.
"i'm heartbroken! devastated! anguished! inconsolable, even! i did all this to fit your tastes, you know!" he complains. "can't i have a little kiss to heal my shattered soul?"
he puckers his lips, leaning in with a hopeful expression.
"yeah, maybe in your dreams, black." you snort as you get up from the couch, moving as far away from him as possible.
he bites his lip as he watches you leave, idly rubbing his jaw.
"oh trust me, i'm dreaming...hell, i'll do a lot more than dreaming..."
remus
"i couldn't stay for break, so i wanted to give you an early yule present, if that's okay?" remus rummages around in his bag and hands you a strange rectangle.
upon closer inspection, it seems to be a (poorly) wrapped gift, but it's the thought behind it that warms your heart and causes an involuntary smile to spread across your face.
yes, too much wrapping paper was used, and there's tape in unnecessary places, but remus made a gift for you. who cares that it looked like it had been constructed by a blind toddler?
"thank you, remus," you say sweetly, your voice dripping into his ears like warm honey. "can i open it?"
"o-of course, and if you don't like it, i also have a sweater in my dorm for you. i um, remember how you'd always compliment my sweaters, so i thought i might get us a matching pair." he offers you a shy smile that makes your heart melt.
"you're so sweet, rem," you say softly. you delicately tear the wrapping paper, not wanting to ruin his hard work.
"it's my favorite book. i thought you might like it, and i annotated it. i highlighted the lines that made me think of you, and i also wrote little comments in the margins," he explains quietly, picking at his cuticles. "but now that i'm saying it out loud, it seems stupid..."
"it's not stupid, rem! i love it! it's really sweet and thoughtful! thank you," you say earnestly. "i'm really excited to read it over break. i mean it,"
"you're welcome, dove,"
#hogwarts#the marauders#james fleamont potter#james potter x reader#james potter#peter pettigrew#peter pettigrew x reader#remus lupin#remus lupin x reader#remus x reader#sirius black#sirius black x reader#marauders era#marauders#harry potter#fluff
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Scalding-Hot Steel - Knight!Leon Kennedy/Reader
He finally lets you try on his armor.
I'M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG TO GET OUT!!! 😭😭😭😭🙏🙏 i got caught in a bit of a slump, but i hope this can make up for it, and that this was worth the wait!! the chapter after this might be the finale, so i may take even longer to get to it. nonetheless, thank you to everyone who's been reading till now, and thank you all for 600 followers!!!
Historical inaccuracies, I suck at old-timey speak, reader referred to as "my lady" but no other gendered terms or descriptors besides that, no use of Y/N, Leon is a total puppy, mutual pining.
1, 2, 3
𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒
You're unsure what it was, but following that interaction at the library, you and Leon have grown closer.
This upgrade in your relationship has made you be able to relax more in his presence, now that you see him as more friend than foe. Well, to call him a foe was a gargantuan exaggeration, but you did find him intimidating. You still do sometimes.
Even if you've backed off and retired your old obsessive habit of being way too observant about every single little detail about Leon, you can't help but still notice how it seems like your roles have been swapped.
Leon has begun to follow you around like a dog, to put it simply.
You swear it's not just you fixating on him, you really have started seeing him around much more often. He's started waiting by your door to greet you a good morning with a small smile, before heading to the courtyard. During lunchtime, he's begun to engage in smalltalk with you, talking about mundane things like the weather, or your schedule for the day. He's especially chatty if he learns he's going to be part of it. At night, when his usual routine would be to simply see you off at your bedroom door and say goodnight, now he sits by your bedside and talks about anything 'till it lulls you to sleep. He'd be mortified if you knew how long he stayed after you've dozed off.
Leon has begun studying you, in return. He likes to think that he's observant, but that usually only applies to combat, or if he's been trained beforehand on the matter. With people, he's never really had much luck reading them, unless it's too obvious for it to even be called "observing."
Leon admires that about you, how keen your eyes always are. He wonders if you're as drawn into his quirks as he is with yours. If you were, he envies your ability to drink in information so tactfully. If the devil were in the details– in your details, Leon would love to become a sinner.
His attempts in learning more about you were painfully amateurish. Even if Leon were a great tutor, a great protector, a great fighter, he tends to be terrible at holding conversation.
"My lady–"
"I told you to stop calling me that." You sigh and roll your eyes playfully.
"Sorry." He huffs your name bashfully, drawing closer towards you. You look up at him, and he drinks in the sight before you're squinting slightly at the rays of sun attacking you from behind his head.
"Please step into the shade, milady." He insists, holding his hand out for you to place yours on, before leading you underneath a large tree.
"There you are again, Sir Leon." You laugh, resting your back against the smooth bark of the tree.
"Hey, I asked you to forgo the titles as well." He muses, noticing you were still straining your eyes slightly, so he steps in front of the sun. It makes your face relax, and once again, he realizes keeping you happy and protecting you brings him fulfillment like no other.
"Just doing the same as you are, Sir Leon, since you won't drop mine." Chuckling, you sit down on the plush grass and wait for him to follow.
He smiles and breathes out a laugh, setting down the picnic basket in front of you. Leon wants to sit beside you, but then his back wouldn't be there to shield you from the sun. He sits where he is.
"Alright, I'm sorry." He says, almost jokingly. Saying your name out loud makes him feel shy, like saying the name of a god. It feels almost forbidden to be molded by his tongue, but you always invite him to say it, and the intimacy makes his heart race every single time he dares to. He mumbles it quietly again, getting a high from it.
You look beautiful. He thought that from the day he first met you, but the closer you two have gotten, the more and more he finds himself thinking that, and even more does it make his heart ache in his chest. In the shade under this tree, windy summer day illuminating the soft curves of your face so enchantingly, Leon can't help but look like a bit of an idiot drinking the sight in.
"Are you feeling hot?"
His eyes look at your lips first, ears registering your voice second. He closes his mouth, realizing it's been hanging slightly agape.
"I, uh, no– no, I'm feeling alright, my–"
You tilt your head down, and send him a playful warning glare. He stops in his tracks and looks down for a second, smiling breathily.
"I'm alright."
"Really? Your head tilts to the right this time, and Leon's heart skips a beat at how adorable he finds the gesture. "That armor you're wearing looks pretty hot. Can't you take it off?"
"It's only chainmail." He reassures, taking off his helmet and combing a hand through his flattened hair, "The helmet is a little troublesome, though."
You chirp, "I can imagine." before you open up the picnic basket in front of you and start rummaging through it.
Leon watches you munch on some biscuits for a bit, before his eyes flit back to the helmet by his side. "...Some time ago, you said you had wanted to try on my armor."
He says this mid-chew, so you hurry to get your food down so you can respond, "Oh, you remembered?" You wipe away a few crumbs from your lip, Leon finds the act charming, and it makes him smile softly. You continue, "Mm, yes, I did. Why bring it up?"
"Well," Leon holds up his helmet, "Would you like to try it on now?"
The way your eyes light up can't help but force a boyish, giddy grin on Leon's face. It feels strange and his cheeks feel weird, he can't really remember the last time he's smiled this hard. It does scare him a little, how foreign it is, but the feeling is so, so welcomed.
"Of course! Are you joking?" You put the snacks in your hands away, and move the basket to the side so you can inch closer to Leon. The feeling of your legs touching make butterflies take flight in his stomach.
"I-I'm not– I–" He's sputtering and he finds his brain struggling to function at being so flustered.
"Calm down, Leon." You laugh heartily. He wonders if you know the effect you have on him, but with how darn observant you are, he's sure that you're well aware what you do to him. It makes his cheeks burn red and glare at you with a kittenish frown. He wishes he could be more suave about his feelings towards you.
"I will once you stop making me so flustered." Leon huffs, hoping that wasn't too bold of a thing to say. His cheeks burn deeper. His eyebrows lower at your surprised look.
"Do I now?"
"W-Well– See, you're doing it again!" Leon groans, letting go of his helmet to hide his flushed face in his broad hands and whine. His ears turn red at the sound of your hearty laugh.
"Well, it's only fair that I do it to you too."
"Too?"
Your face warms, realizing what you've revealed. Leon grins, elated at the mere implication that he makes you feel the same way.
"Y-You've noticed, haven't you? In the library, you asked why I felt so uncomfortable around you."
"You didn't exactly answer... I thought it was because you disliked me."
"...Now you know that I clearly don't. We get along rather well, don't we?"
He's beaming at you, and it's not just the sun shining on him, it looks like he's literally glowing with serenity and love.
"We do, my lady."
"Leon!" You interject him calling you by your formal title.
He can't seem to let the title go, because in his mind, it's more of a pet name than a title. A term of endearment. Leon clings to the "my" part of the title, he liked the tiniest hint that you could be his. My lady, my lover, my sweetheart, mine.
Leon giggles, and he pauses for a moment after, realizing he can't remember the last time he's let out such a noise. He gazes upon you in awe, amazed at how you were able to bring out this side of him.
"What is it?"
Leon blinks, getting drawn out of his haze and shaking his head dismissively. He keeps his soft gaze on you, though.
The pads of his fingers rest on his helmet, feeling the ridges of it. Maybe it was too rough for someone he deemed as delicate as you. His eyes lower and rest on the piece of armor, noting how it's covered in scratches and dents, how it isn't so shiny as he'd like for it to be. It washed over him like a small wave of shame, thinking it not worthy for someone of your standing to don. Not even socially, but the standing that you held within his mind and his heart. Leon never thought he'd be insecure over such a trivial thing.
"So... Can I try it on, my good Sir?"
Leon lets out a little snort at what you call him, freezing and making an embarrassed face at the undignified noise, but then he he sees how happy it makes you– perhaps how happy he himself makes you, and he feels at ease.
"Yes, of course, Your Royal Highness."
You playfully slap his bicep at the absurd title. "I am not royalty!"
"You are to me." He mutters as he adjusts his sitting position, and you can hear the smile in his voice.
He's kneeling in front of you, being mindful of your hair or anything on your clothing the helmet could snag on, gently lowering it before the hard metal rests on the top of your skull.
Leon sits back down, and can't help a cheesy, tight-lipped smile when he sees how awkwardly it fits you. It's crooked, and it simply is too rugged in contrast to your usual attire and demeanor.
"...How is it?"
"Wow, I can barely see. This is amazing!" Your hands rest on the sides of the helmet to try and stabilize it, yet it still tips over off balance after adjusting. Leon lets out a snort, and this time, he's only half-embarrassed.
"How do you fight in this? I can't see anything."
Leon wordlessly pulls the visor up. His heart pounds at the sight of your flushed face and messy hair.
"Ohh. What if an arrow lands in my face, though?"
"I can assure you, you won't be getting into that sort of situation anytime soon."
"You seem very sure of yourself, Leon."
"Of course, it's my duty to protect you."
"...Do you enjoy it?"
"What? Protecting you?"
You nod, "Yes."
"I look forward to it every day."
The two of you share a wide smile, beaming at the intimacy of this interaction, and you two have never felt closer. I want to kiss you, is all Leon can think about.
Right as he was mindlessly leaning in, you let out a small laugh for whatever reason, and Leon is forever grateful that you do, because it snaps him out of his trance, and he feels so stupid for trying to make a move on you.
"That's good. I don't think armor suits me very much anyways." You clumsily take his helmet off of your head, and rest it by your hip.
"I'm glad to have you protecting me, Leon. I'm so happy to have you by my side every day, not even as a knight, but as a companion." You say this so demurely, looking down at your lap with a cherubic expression on your face that has his heart pounding in his strong chest.
Then, you just had to look up at him, and meet his lovestruck stare, and maybe he's gone crazy from how flustered he's been all day, but he swears he can see the same look in your eyes.
Leon throws out whatever he was last thinking straight out the window, encases your wrists in his hands, and kisses you.
𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒
#leon kennedy#leon s kennedy#re2#re4#resident evil#resident evil 2#resident evil 4#leon x reader#leon kennedy x reader#resident evil au#leon s kennedy x reader#resident evil x reader#resident evil fanart#resident evil 4 fanart#re4 fanart#re4 art#resident evil art#leon kennedy art#leon kennedy fanart#leon kennedy imagines#leon kennedy fluff#leon kennedy fanfic#leon kennedy x you#leon kennedy fic#leon kennedy au#🫧#🛁
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Ulterior Motives
Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f! student Reader
Synopsis: Gojo becomes a little bit infatuated with his bratty new student.
Warnings: Explicit smut, noncon, teacher/student relationship (reader is 18+), possessive behavior, manipulation
Tags: Spanking, panty gag, dacryphilia, dirty talk, vibrators, bondage, orgasm torture, bratty reader, humiliation
Word Count: 24.4k
Notes: This one is for ABanonymous, I hope you didn't mind the wait and I especially hope you enjoy the story. The title IS a reference and if you know, you know.
Next requested fic I will have out next Saturday, and that's a pinky promise.
“Is this seat taken?”
Bored, a little tired, you turned your gaze up to the interloper with a rejection at the ready. You stopped at the cafe to warm up, you weren’t in the most social of moods.
But you didn’t say anything when you saw the speaker. Your lips were parted and ready, but the words puffed out as nothing more than air. There was something wrong about him. If you hadn’t been so utterly—perhaps even willfully—detached from your surroundings, you might have noticed sooner.
It was a trick of yours. Good for interviews, social gatherings, and first impressions. Bad for relationships, communication, and your general interest in other people. The girl with long, straight hair ordering a brown sugar bubble tea was annoyed. The man behind her was texting someone, likely his paramour, because his bad mood was being soothed with excitement and lust. The female half of the couple behind you was excited, her male partner was bored. Those were things you knew. Things you sensed as intuitively as you interpreted sounds from vibrations and visuals from light.
The tall, white-haired man standing above you wearing a dark uniform and white bandage over his eyes was a solid, unreadable wall. The energy surrounding him wasn’t emotional, it was manifested, strong bordering on physical and, most likely, very bad news. You looked around the cafe, searching for some further clues about this utterly bizarre stranger, but nobody else seemed especially interested beyond his odd appearance. You cleared your throat.
“Excuse me, what?” you asked, composing yourself.
“May I sit here?” he asked again, smiling.
This could be interesting. Or bad. You shrugged as if disinterested. “If you want to.”
He took the seat across from you, his smile fixed in place. “Thank you, I can’t stand drinking alone.”
“Of course.”
“I’m Satoru Gojo,” he said, undeterred by your unfriendly demeanor. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
You introduced yourself in turn, smoothing your hair and hoping you didn’t look too terrible. Could he even see you? Somehow, you got the feeling he could, but it didn’t look like the bandage was mesh.
“Did you hear about what happened at the City Central Library?” he asked, bracing his elbow on the table to cradle his head. “Nasty business.”
The words themselves were casual, but they left you with the same feeling as when you got caught sneaking out. That little pang of surprise, a stark interruption of suspense with panic and then a mental scramble as you tried to come up with a believable story that would get you out of trouble.
Did he know? That made the most sense, otherwise it was odd that he’d ask. But if he did know, you had no idea how he could, and had no way to guess how much he knew.
No response was worse than a bad one, so you fell back on the easiest and usually the most effective approach. “What happened?” you asked, furrowing your eyebrows with a vacuously concerned expression. The kind of look that made it seem as if any question was so hopelessly complex, like the slightest problem was simply impossible for a girl as empty-headed as you to grasp.
“There was a gas leak of some kind,” Gojo said, his mouth set into a contemplative line. A second later, that solemn expression melted into a mischievous half-smile. “Rather, that’s what the news will report. We know better, don’t we?”
You frowned, your head tilting to the side and eyes curiously wide. “We do?”
“A curse manifested itself there. Nobody died, but it was close.”
“A curse?” you repeated slowly. “Are you talking about ghosts or something?”
“Something like that.”
You laughed, the light and ditzy airheaded kind of laugh. “Oh, come on. You’re teasing me, aren’t you.”
“When we interviewed the receptionist at the library,” Gojo said, his casual demeanor unaffected by your act, “she mentioned a young woman who stopped by and warned her that something bad was going to happen.”
“Oh?”
“Actually, I have three accounts of people saying that they were contacted before an incident involving a curse occurred. One of the tips was anonymous, but the third was at a construction site. The manager said that a pretty young woman approached him and warned that the conditions would be hazardous and he needed to be very careful. He’s in the hospital now.”
“That’s terrible,” you said, frowning. It was more of a pout, really.
Gojo pulled his phone out of his pocket. He clicked a few things on the screen—so he could see from behind the bandage, how odd—before holding it out for you to look at. It was security footage, presumably from the library. Although the quality was terrible, it didn’t take a genius to recognize that it was you in the video.
“This is from yesterday,” he said. “A curse was exorcized at this library earlier today.” He turned the screen to look at his phone, looking between you and the footage with theatrical scrutiny. “This does look a lot like you.”
“I don’t know who that is, but it can’t be me,” you said, pouting more. “I don’t even have a library card.”
“To be clear, I’m not accusing you of causing these incidents. If I thought you were, we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” Gojo told you. He put his phone in his pocket, picking up his drink to mess with the straw. “How long have you been able to see them?”
“See what?”
“Curses. Evil spirits, whatever you like to call them.”
You stared at him for a long moment, trying to decide if you wanted to continue playing dumb. He obviously didn’t believe it. Besides, you were starting to get very curious about this strange not-blind man and the disconcerting amount of information he had about things he shouldn’t.
“As long as I can remember,” you finally answered, dropping the act.
“Do they scare you?” he asked, as unconcerned with your shift in demeanor as he had been with everything else.
“They’re definitely ugly,” you said. Gojo snorted in amusement at that. You looked down to consider a real answer, pushing the chunks of ice at the bottom of your cup around with the straw. “I’m not scared of them. They’re dangerous, but more like how a wild animal is dangerous.”
“Is that why you warn people?”
You shrugged.
“Hmm,” he hummed, stroking his chin thoughtfully, staring at you through the bandage. It really was a creepy feeling. “Something still isn’t adding up. Sorcerers are more likely to come into contact with curses, but you’re not reacting to cursed activity; you’re predicting it. Moreover, the places who reported your warnings have no other connection. It’s unlikely that you were coincidentally nearby to feel the cursed energy.”
“Sorcerers?” you asked, continuing to push your straw around your cup idly, the ice crackling.
“People who can see curses and manipulate cursed energy. You could also call them curse users. Of course, I don’t think you’re either. At least, not yet.” He gestured to you with his drink. “You’re avoiding the question.”
“You didn’t ask me a question.”
“Didn’t I?” he asked with a frown. “Ah, whatever,” he waved it off dismissively. “How are you finding and predicting curses?”
“I use a map,” you told him, like it was obvious. It was obvious to you, at least.
“A map,” he repeated bluntly. Without any aura to read, you wished you could see his eyes at least.
“That’s usually how you find things, isn’t it?”
“You’re saying that you have a map that tells you where curses will manifest?”
“You’re asking a lot of questions,” you said. “I don’t think I should be talking so openly to a strange and mysterious man.”
“Mysterious? I told you, I’m Satoru Gojo,” he said, placing a hand on his chest. “I’m a jujutsu sorcerer and a teacher at Tokyo Prefectural Jujutsu High School. If anything, you’re the strange one for going around cryptically warning people about evil spirits. ”
You narrowed your eyes at him, pursing your lips. The logical part of your mind rejected everything he was saying outright, it sounded made up. Then again, you knew there was some truth to what he was saying, even if the words he used were different than your own. The fact was, it seemed like he had more information than you. You didn’t like that.
“You warn people about these curses in an attempt to protect them,” Gojo said, his tone softening a little as he tried to level with you, “but they never believe you, and so they get hurt anyway. Doesn’t that bother you?”
You shrugged. “It does sound pretty ridiculous.”
“It’s not ridiculous,” Gojo said. “Nobody believes you see the things you see, or that you have a very special gift, but I do. If you tell me how you predict these curses, I’ll teach you how to take care of the problem yourself. More than that, I can teach you how to use your cursed energy to do things nobody else can.”
He had you on the line with that one, and he knew it. You didn’t have to be able to read his aura or look in his eyes to understand that smug grin.
“I read once that mediums could perform a sort of dowsing technique with maps,” you said, giving in. “I’ve always had a knack for divination, so I tried it out. Even with my eyes closed and using different maps, I could reliably find and mark the same spot. It didn’t really turn out how I wanted it to though.”
“How so?”
“You’ve seen TV shows and videos about hauntings where ghost hunters dig up all kinds of scary and interesting stories, right? I was hoping it’d be like that. You know, exciting. Instead I marked a lot of schools and hospitals and that sort of thing.”
“That makes sense,” Gojo said. “Curses tend to congregate in places like that.”
“Well, I was disappointed. But then I started hearing news stories about people getting hurt in places that I marked on my map. I don’t know, I guess I didn’t want it on my conscience.”
Gojo nodded thoughtfully. “This… dowsing ability, can you do it on purpose, or does it happen randomly?”
“What do you mean?”
“If I got you a map right now, could you mark places where a curse will manifest?”
“It depends on if there’s a place on the map where a curse will manifest,” you said.
Rather than get offended by your cheeky response, Gojo carried on. “Are there any locations you’re watching out for at the moment? Other than the library, I mean.”
You considered that question. “I’ll tell you, but if this is for a TV show, I don’t consent to being on camera,” you said. “Not wearing this, at least.”
He laughed. “This is not for a TV show,” Gojo said. “Although, if it was, I don’t know why you would need to change your clothes. You’re cute, the messy look is endearing.”
“Ah, I guess you are blind after all,” you said imperiously, pulling out your phone to find the website of the other place you had marked. “There’s an antique shop. I don’t think anything has happened there yet. I tried calling, but the guy got angry. I guess lots of people try to claim things there are haunted to get a discount or something.”
“Do you have the address?”
“Yep, right… here-” You flipped the screen towards him. He peered at it for a second before smiling again.
“Oh, lucky! I know somebody who should be just nearby.” He pulled out his own phone, dialing a number.
“You said you exorcized the curse at the library,” you said, “will you do it there too?”
“If there’s a curse there, yes.” Gojo pressed call and put his phone to his ear. After a few rings, you heard a voice on the other end. The exchange was short, he gave the address and some words of encouragement. You couldn’t hear specifics, but it didn’t sound like the person was too pleased.
“I don’t know for sure that something is there,” you said after he lowered his phone.
“Have you ever been wrong?”
“I haven’t followed through on every lead,” you said. “There are potentially dozens of times that I’ve been wrong.”
“But all of the ones you’ve tracked have been correct, yes?”
You smiled. “Yes.”
“What an interesting ability,” he cooed. “And you possess a respectable amount of cursed energy. I knew it. You should come to study to be a jujutsu sorcerer.”
“What?”
“I told you that I could teach you how to use your abilities, didn’t I? You’re a bit old to be scouted, but everybody starts somewhere. I think you have the potential to be a great sorcerer.”
“You’re joking.”
“Not at all.”
“You said you teach high school, didn’t you?” you asked, raising your eyebrows. “I’m almost through my third year. It would be strange to transfer so late, I wouldn’t want to do anything to risk my graduation.”
“Do you have plans for after you graduate? Work? University?”
“I’m going to study business.”
“Really? You don’t strike me as the business type.”
You gave him a very flat look. “You don’t strike me as the teacher type.”
Gojo laughed. “You got me there. I’m only saying that you go to university so you can get a job, right? If you study at Jujutsu Tech, you will have a guaranteed job upon graduation.”
“What kind of job?”
“Exorcizing curses, saving the world, that kind of thing,” he said, waving his hand casually. “It’s not something many people can do, you know. You have to be a special mixture of brave and crazy to face curses knowing you could get hurt—knowing that others could get hurt if you fail. It’s tiresome, scary, and you very rarely see much of a reward.”
“You’re not exactly selling this.”
“Really?” Gojo asked. “You look plenty interested to me. You don’t want to live the rest of your life being normal and bored, do you? You’re too special for that.”
You blew out a big breath, trying to think independently of this whole bizarre situation and the fact that his flattery was more effective than it should have been.
“I’m still not sure I believe you,” you said. “Isn’t there some sort of saying that you should never trust somebody who hides their face? An innocent young girl like me could get hurt trusting scary men like you.”
“Scary?” Gojo repeated.
“You are, aren’t you? I can feel it.”
“You mean that you can sense my cursed energy?”
“Is that like an aura?” you asked. “Because I can’t read yours. That hardly ever happens.”
“Aura?”
You narrowed your eyes. “You know, spiritual energy and emotion and that sort of thing.”
“Ah, this might be a difference in terminology. This is cursed energy,” Gojo said, raising his hand and curling his fingers as if holding something. The intimidating energy that surrounded him pooled there, a dark shroud around his hand. All of the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end, the discomfort prickling like thousands of little needles poking against your skin. “Is this what you mean?”
“No, that’s… Bleh,” you said, exaggerating your shudder. “I’m talking about aura. People’s emotions, their mental state. I think your cursed energy is stifling yours, I don’t know. Or maybe you’re not human.”
“Maybe,” he agreed, lowering his hand, the dark energy flowing back into him. “I think you have the potential to be a wonderful sorcerer.”
“Really?”
“I’ll teach you. I’m the best, you know. Aren’t you tired of knowing that there’s a problem you can’t fix? Do you think you can live a life of ignorance now that you know there are answers?”
Before you could respond, his phone rang.
“Yes?” Gojo asked, taking the call. Whatever the person on the other end said made him smile. “Sure, sure. You can’t leave it there, I’ll transfer you the money… Yes, of course.”
He hung up and leaned forward, dropping the phone and cradling his cheek in his hand.
“There was a cursed object there,” he told you. “It would have been a while before the seal unraveled enough to be noticeable, but it was only a matter of time before it began attracting curses.”
“If you take it away, that means the place will be safe?”
“We’ll keep an eye on it to be sure, but, generally, yes. You saved innocent people from being harmed by an unseen evil. They will be allowed to continue on living their boring, mundane lives. That’s what a jujutsu sorcerer does.”
You nodded thoughtfully. It was the smartest choice to simply reject him and leave and move on with your life.
Most likely.
Absolutely.
But when you mentally followed that course of action to its completion, you knew that a part of you would always exist in this little cafe sitting across from the strangest man you had ever met considering an offer that scared and excited you. You would always wonder about the answers he promised, every day you would wonder if there was something more.
“If everything you’re saying is true-” you began.
“It is.”
“-then I’ll consider it.”
Gojo smiled. “I’ll have Ijichi get your transfer paperwork pushed through. We’ll have to move fast, you have a lot of missed time to make up for. You don’t mind, do you?”
“I said that I’ll consider it,” you told him, taken aback by his presumptuousness.
“Sure, sure,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. “I’ll be in contact soon, okay? Be ready.”
Despite your attempt to retain a certain amount of resistance and control over the situation, things moved exactly as fast as Gojo said they would. He was telling the truth about all of it. There was such a place as Tokyo Prefectural Jujutsu High School, and he was a teacher, and although being such a late transfer was weird, it was all legitimate.
The explanations were easier than you thought too. Mom was utterly charmed by Satoru Gojo. He came to your house wearing expensive clothes and a pair of sunglasses with his white hair flipped boyishly over his brow and explained the situation with a big, charming smile and the most disarmingly blue eyes you had ever seen and she was putty in his hands. She didn’t always believe you about spirits—curses, as Gojo called them—but she believed it from him, enthusing about how she’d always known you were special, and that you could do things nobody else could. It was moments like sitting in the room seeing Mom’s aura flash and sparkle with attraction and desire that made you wish you didn’t have the ability to see them.
Not even two weeks after the cafe conversation with Satoru Gojo, you were packing up and moving to live on the Tokyo Jujutsu High campus grounds. As you packed, you thought a lot about the first time you saw an evil spirit. You screamed and screamed. It wasn’t until your grandmother came and comforted you that you calmed down. She had that effect on people. Making them comfortable, making them feel safe.
Throughout your life, you flirted with divination and spirits and dark energy mostly for your own gain and amusement, but she was a real deal spiritual woman. If she were alive, she wouldn’t have liked who you were. That had been true for a while. You wondered what she would think of you going to study to exorcize curses, if that would have met with her approval. You wondered what dad would think. It had always been his plan that you should go to university. He wanted you to be educated before you got married. Funny, because he abandoned his university educated career-driven wife for some ditzy young thing he met at a bar.
It was kind of funny to think that, in the end, you wouldn’t go to university and you wouldn’t get married. Spite wasn’t a good primary reason to do something, but you couldn’t deny the frantic heat of its inspiration.
“I don’t know,” Haruka said, her voice distorted through your phone’s speaker as you unpacked your things. The room you were given on the Jujutsu Tech campus was larger than you thought it would be, although it didn’t look nearly so big with your stuff strewn everywhere. Mom laughed at your materialism, but you didn’t want to be underprepared. “I like him, but I don’t think he likes me back.”
You slipped a shirt onto its hanger, rolling your eyes at her dramatics. “The only way you’ll know is if you ask him.”
“It’s weird for him, I think. ‘Cause I’m still in school. I mean, there’s barely a year difference between us, but… I don’t know. Maybe it is weird. If my mom knew I was dating Ikki, she’d flip out.”
“Then don’t ask him out.”
Haruka sighed. “I wish she was like your mom. She lets you do basically whatever you want.”
That stung, although you weren’t entirely sure she meant it to. “The way I see it,” you said, sidestepping that comment, “it won’t be weird after you’re out of school. Wait a few months, it’s not like you’re going to have time with exams going on.”
“I wish you were here. Now when I make bad decisions I don’t have anyone to blame them on.”
You laughed. “I was thinking the same thing. I can’t copy your homework anymore, why even bother being friends?”
“Because,” Haruka said, clearly taking offense, “I am-”
“Knock knock,” somebody called through the open door, startling you. You turned to watch Gojo come in, looking around your room while Haruka rattled off all of the many reasons she was an invaluable friend to you. Well, you assumed he was looking around your room. He had returned to the bandages covering half his face, hiding his impossibly beautiful eyes.
“One second, Haruka… Can I help you?” you asked him, raising an eyebrow to hide the flicker of excitement you felt seeing him.
“Oh, are you talking to someone?” Gojo asked. “I can come back later.”
“Ah, no, that’s fine,” you told him, very easily deciding that you would rather talk to him than listen to Haruka’s boy troubles. “Haru, I’ve gotta go,” you said, picking up your phone. “I’ll talk to you later.”
“Is that a man’s voice?” she asked. “Why is he in your room, what kind of school is that? Is-”
You ended the call, cutting her off. “Do you need something?” you asked.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.”
“You didn’t,” you said, returning to hanging up your clothes. “Although she’s probably going to tell everyone this whole transfer thing was an elaborate lie to cover for the fact that I got knocked up and ran away with some guy. I’m not sure why, but nobody believes I’ve dedicated myself to a strict religious lifestyle.”
“How much do they know about your abilities?” Gojo asked, walking over to your bed and sitting down, grabbing one of the stray magazines off the floor. He flicked through the glossy pages of fashion advice and gossip with a distinct lack of interest.
You snorted, hanging up one of your last few dresses. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Not at all,” Gojo said, dropping the magazine to flip through another. “It can be very isolating to keep such a big secret from the people closest to you.”
“It would be such a drag to explain,” you said. “Besides, nobody wants to know that things like curses exist. They just want to live their normal lives where things make sense.”
Gojo hummed in amusement. “Is that really the only reason?”
The tone of his voice set you on edge. It sounded like he was implying something. “What do you mean?”
“It would make things more difficult for you if anybody knew you could read their mind, wouldn’t it?”
You frowned at him, although he didn’t seem to be paying attention. “First of all,” you said, putting a hand on your hip, “I can’t read minds. Second of all, it’s not like I’m actively trying to spy on people. I can’t help it.”
“Calm down,” he said with a smile, tossing the magazine aside. “I wasn’t making any comment on your character. It was an observation.”
“Right,” you said, forcing yourself to let it go. “By the way, where is everyone else? The rooms around me all look empty.”
Gojo waved his hand nonchalantly, standing up. “There aren’t any other third year girls.”
“Did something happen?”
“No, it’s not abnormal. Jujutsu sorcerers are extremely rare.” Gojo walked towards the wall you had half covered with various posters and decorations. “I heard your admission interview went well.”
“Of course it did,” you said, smiling. He didn’t see it, too focused on the map. You had it set up on your wall like you had at home, ready in case the mood struck.
“That’s the library,” Gojo said, tapping a finger against the marked spot. His fingers were long. Considering his abnormal height, it was hardly surprising. It was attractive though. You shut that thought down fast. You could acknowledge it as a fact, but he was your teacher now. Besides, he probably had women throwing themselves at him from all angles, you’d rather be celebate than be reduced to one of the many.
“And right there,” you said, coming up behind him to point at another mark, “is the-”
“Antique shop,” he shot you a smile over his shoulder. “What an interesting ability.”
“Isn’t this sort of thing normal for, um, jujutsu sorcerers?” you asked, the term coming out a little awkwardly.
“Not at all. Sorcerers are highly individualistic. There are inherited techniques, but many of them are unique to the sorcerer. They’re innate, carved into your frontal lobe.” He tapped his forehead, turning towards you.
“But you can do the same thing,” you said. “Reading people’s auras and all of that.” You grinned, raising your eyebrows playfully. “You’ve got a third eye.”
“Six Eyes, actually,” Gojo said. “Although it does seem like you have a related form of extrasensory perception.” He threw an arm around your shoulders, swaying you back and forth. “You’re a little mini me! Isn’t that exciting?”
The sudden touch made you stiffen up, too surprised to react immediately. The only coherent thought you had was that he smelled really good. You shook that out of your head, pushing at his arm in a half-hearted attempt to get some space.
“What can you do then?” you asked. “Can you teach me?”
Gojo stopped swaying you around. “Weren’t you listening to anything I said? Jujutsu techniques are-”
“-innate and unique,” you finished for him. “But you can teach me how to get better at my own techniques if they’re like yours, right?”
“Ah, ah, ah,” Gojo said, stepping away. “If you try to run before you learn to walk, you’ll fall on your face. You’re getting a late start, so you’re going to have to work hard.” He raised his pointer finger to lecture you. “You’ll start by getting control over your cursed energy.”
“Okay,” you said, nodding. “How do I do that?”
“First! You clean your room,” he said. “It’s a mess in here. Then come to the classroom. I’ll have to find Oyama.”
“Who’s Oyama?”
“The other third year. He’ll be able to help you when I’m not here.”
“You’re leaving?”
“Are you disappointed?” Gojo cooed, leaning forward to put himself on your level, pursing his lips in a mocking display of pity. “As much as I would love to teach my cute little student personally, I have obligations to fulfill as a sorcerer. I hope you don’t miss me too much in the meantime.”
You gave him a flat look, hiding your genuine disappointment behind your irritation at the mockery. “I’m sure I’ll live.”
“That’s the spirit!” Gojo said, patting your head. “Okay!” He stood up straight, turning away. “Don’t take too long,” he called as he left, “I hate having to wait.”
“I’m sure this will only take me four or five hours,” you said. “Maybe six. I hope you don’t miss me too much in the meantime.”
Gojo didn’t respond to your taunt, shooting you a final smile over his shoulder, one that was all blinding white teeth. The covered eyes made it more menacing than playful.
“I hate it when you ignore my calls,” Mom said. “It’s been over a week since you gave me any sort of update. There’s only so much time I have to talk to you, so when you don’t answer, I have no idea what to think.”
“I know, I’m sorry,” you said in as apologetic a voice as you could fake, holding your phone between your ear and shoulder as you did your nails. It was a futile effort, there was no way you could keep your hands manicured. All you could do was fight back your cuticles and paint your nails knowing they would be chipped the next day. “I spend all my time training, studying, or exhausted from training and studying. Do you remember Gojo talking about how being a late transfer meant a lot of extra work? I want to succeed here, so I have to put in the work.”
As you hoped, the apology and mention of Gojo quelled some of her fire. “Oh, well, I still expect you to keep me informed.”
“I know,” you said. “Really, there’s not much to say.” Other than going out on a mission with Oyama for the first time and helping him exorcize a nasty curse that you helped to find with your unique ability, but you weren’t going to tell her that. You were saving that for when Gojo came back from whatever mission he was off doing. Instead, you painted a lick of red onto your pinky nail, carefully working the color into the edges. “How are you?” you asked her. “You mentioned you were seeing that guy from the lab?”
“Didn’t I tell you? I had to end things with him,” Mom said. “He was a real piece of work.”
“Oh, no you didn’t. I’m sorry,” you apologized, capping the nail polish bottle and appraising your hands. Serviceable, under the circumstances.
“You know how men are. You think they’re fine, but they turn out to be completely crazy.” She huffed, you could imagine the way she would shake her head. “Actually, I’ve been spending some time with a man from the second floor. It’s going really well.”
“Oh, that’s exciting!” you exclaimed with enthusiasm, rolling your eyes. She was almost as bad as Haruka with the boy drama. You wanted her to be happy, of course you did, but having to hear about her messy romantic life got tiresome.
“When you get back, maybe the four of us can go out for dinner.”
“Four?”
“He has a daughter. She’s a little younger than you, I’m sure the two of you would get along really well.”
“Yeah, that sounds fun,” you said, really scooping deep to manage an enthusiastic tone. “I’m just not sure when I’ll be able to get some time away. Like I said, I’m very busy.”
“It’s been two months, surely you can ask Gojo for one weekend home.”
“I’ll ask him,” you told her, making sure she could hear your doubt. Hopefully this fling wouldn’t last long, you really couldn’t stomach the thought of feigning interest in some stranger’s daughter.
Content that your nails were dry, you peeled your phone away from your ear.
“But I’ve gotta go for now,” you told her. “I promised Oyama I’d study with him. You know, final exams.”
Another lie, although one you didn’t feel as bad about. In reality, final exams at Jujutsu Tech weren’t at all like at a normal school. You would still be graduating, but not through lengthy tests. It felt a little cheap to have all of your studying go to waste, but you weren’t about to complain.
“Yes, of course,” Mom replied. “Don’t forget to keep me informed, alright?”
“Got it,” you said. “I’ll talk to you later. Love you, bye.”
“Love you.”
You hung up, tossed your phone to the side, and uncapped the bottle to paint your toenails.
Gojo returned a few days later with kitschy souvenirs from some small village you had never heard of and a big smile, eager to hear how you were progressing. For that matter, you were eager to share it with him. He hadn’t been gone too long, but you were working harder than you ever had before, and getting better accordingly.
“Okay!” Gojo said, leaning against the edge of his desk. “Tell me everything I’ve missed. How is your training?”
“I’m getting a lot better at controlling my cursed energy,” you said. “You can tell, can’t you?”
“I can,” Gojo said, the corner of his mouth lifting in a little smile. “What about your hand-to-hand training?”
You frowned at how quickly he brushed over your impressive accomplishment. Even Oyama was a little impressed by how quickly you adapted to the natural movement of cursed energy. Once again, you tried to get a read on Gojo’s state of mind to know what he was thinking, but it was as impossible as before.
“I got punched in the face for the first time,” you said.
The comment didn’t have the intended effect of eliciting amusement or confusion. Instead: “Did you deserve it?”
“What?” you asked, indignant. “No, not like that. I was sparring with Oyama and I realized that I’d never been punched in the face, so I asked him to. It seems like the sort of thing I needed to experience.”
“And what did you learn?”
“That Oyama enjoyed it way too much, and I needed to buy waterproof mascara. It made my eyes water like crazy.”
Gojo laughed, but didn’t give you anything else to work with.
“I’ve also learned that I’m really not into fistfighting,” you said, finally being serious. “I’ll definitely want to use weapons.”
“Your cursed technique is more effective the closer you are to the opponent, isn’t it?” Gojo asked. “So you’ll want something that can work at very close range.”
“But first I’ll have to learn how to reliably close the distance. I’m not fast enough. Yet.”
Gojo nodded thoughtfully. “Speed is important, but reading your opponent is more valuable in that situation,” he said. “If you ask nicely, I may be able to help.”
“I have to ask?”
He sighed dramatically. “My time is in high demand.”
“Some teacher you are,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes in as exaggerated of a way as possible.
“Watch your tone,” Gojo told you, wagging a finger. “You don’t want detention, do you?”
“I’m so sorry, sensei,” you said, batting your eyelashes. “I didn’t mean to disrespect you.”
He didn’t immediately respond to the taunt which, when you couldn’t get a read on his mood anyway, was oddly unsettling.
“You’re lucky I’m such a kind, patient man,” he finally said, his voice softer than before. “That cheeky tone could get you in trouble.”
“I’ve heard that you’re way worse,” you said. “I’ve heard that all of the higher-ups think you’re a nuisance. I’m only trying to be more like you, sensei.”
“You might find you don’t enjoy where that gets you,” he said. The tenor of his voice was playful, but the tension beneath wasn’t.
“You wouldn’t do anything,” you said, hoping to laugh it off.
He smiled, but didn’t laugh.
“I heard what happened in Shinjuku,” Gojo said before things got too awkward. “You were able to identify the type and motivation of the curses and warn Oyama. That’s impressive.”
“Oh… Yeah, thank you,” you said. “It wasn’t that difficult once I understood what type of place it was. Officially, it was a club, but that was only a front for their prostitution scheme. Of course the curses would hate men.”
“You know, I’ve been thinking, with proper honing, you might reach a point where you can perceive the nature of a technique before it can be used against you.”
“Really?” you asked, excited by the idea. It sounded like an impressive trick.
“It’s possible, certainly. But,” he pointed at you, “you’re a long way off from developing a skill that complex. Don’t get distracted from working on the basics.”
“I know, I know,” you said, trying not to seem too petulant. “I know I have to practice with my cursed energy, but sensing things about people and curses, that’s intuitive.”
“It’s hard on you, isn’t it?” Gojo asked, although it wasn’t much of a question. “Your ability is empathetic, not sympathetic. To understand what you’re facing, you have to let it in. That can be very dangerous. You have to carefully control it.”
“It’s not comfortable,” you allowed. “But I can do it.”
“To know the nature of the curse is to be confronted with the absolute worst of humanity, and it very well could end with you cursing them in turn.”
“I won’t let it get to me.”
“Not to mention how dangerous it is, I’ve known sorcerers who are rendered entirely catatonic just through proximity to especially strong curses, and that’s with their defenses up.”
“I can handle it,” you insisted, frowning.
Gojo paused, considering you with his head tilted curiously to the side.
“You said you asked Oyama to punch you in the face,” he said. “You might be a bit of a masochist, but I assume you were looking for that experience in a controlled environment.”
“Yeah, something like that,” you said, too caught off guard by the change of topic to properly react to the masochist comment.
“That’s smart, actually,” Gojo said. “Come here, I want to show you something.”
“Show me what?” you asked, frowning.
“The danger of special grade cursed energy. Come here, I don’t want to cast too wide a net and catch anyone else. This is for educational purposes only, alright?”
“Okay,” you said, hopping off your desk and approaching him.
“What do you feel?” Gojo asked, pushing away from the big desk to stand up straight. His height continuously took you by surprise. Maybe you’d find loafers with more of a heel, it was annoying to have to look up at him like this.
“Not much. You’re as mysterious as ever,” you said, an unmistakable note of bitterness in your tone.
“Okay then. Are you ready?” Gojo asked.
“Go ahead,” you said, bracing yourself. You knew cursed energy, you had felt it both from sorcerers and actual curses. You thought you were prepared.
You were not prepared.
Cursed energy flared out around him in an oppressive wave, capturing you in its field. The only thing you could think was that you were going to die. There was nothing you could think to compare it to. Fear flooded your system, it was all that existed. Not the fear of pain or death or any human threat, but complete and total destruction. Cellular annihilation, the ruination of the thing that was ‘you’ until not one part remained. You couldn’t move. His cursed energy snuffed that out, squishing down everything that wasn’t animalistic terror. When your legs gave out, you barely felt it, only the weakness of your body caving in. Gojo caught you before you fell, holding you up against him.
“The way you feel right now,” Gojo muttered, his voice soft and low, “this is what it is to be truly helpless. This is what you’re ultimately up against. Unless you’re prepared to endure the depths of hell, your arrogant curiosity will destroy you.”
Just like that, it was over.
You sobbed, hiding your face against his chest. It was pathetic, but you couldn’t control the entirely bodily reaction now that you were arrested with blind fear. Your body was practically vibrating from how violently you were shaking. Never in your life had you experienced such horrific, visceral fear. It was worse than you would have thought, even though you were never actually in any danger.
“Ah, maybe that was too much,” Gojo said regretfully, patting your back.
“Wha-aa-as that-t yo—uor te-eh-chnique?” you asked, your stammered words muffled against his chest. How embarrassing.
“That? No. If I had used my technique, your brain would be mush right now.” Gojo ran his hand over your hair, almost affectionately stroking it. “Do you need me to carry you to your room? I wouldn’t mind.”
Your hands tightened in the front of his uniform, although you couldn’t recall when you began holding onto him. Gojo hummed, petting your hair again, his hand idly lowering to your back, and then your waist, and your hip.
It was only a flicker, a fraction of a second, but you felt the barest whisper of glee. Lust. For blood or otherwise, you didn’t have the capacity to tell, but the impression was in such stark opposition to your own tumultuous feelings that it startled you.
You gasped, stumbling away from Gojo like he’d shocked you. Luckily, you managed to catch yourself on the edge of one of the desks rather than fall. He was, as ever, completely inscrutable. Whatever you thought you felt, it was gone as fast as it struck.
Unable to read anything else from the man, you decided that it was your imagination, a subsequent reaction born from a panicked brain. It was difficult to hold onto the feeling of primal terror now that it wasn’t actively battering down your defenses. Without any actual danger, your brain couldn’t generate the same intensity. With shaking hands, you wiped beneath your eyes, keeping them averted.
“That was embarrassing, I’m sorry,” you said.
“This isn’t too bad of a reaction. It’s kind of cute, actually.”
“Oh, yeah, definitely,” you agreed with breathless sarcasm, trying very hard to compose yourself. “For the record, I preferred being punched in the face.”
“I’m sure,” Gojo said with a little laugh. “Well,” he clapped his hands together, effectively ending the report, “you look like you could use a break, let’s go see what’s for lunch.”
“It’s so stupid,” Haruka said, her sniffling voice crinkling through your phone's speaker.
You laid on your back while listening to her cry, staring at your dorm’s plain ceiling. Things with Ikki hadn’t gone well. Normally you could at least pretend to care about her love life, but your thoughts were elsewhere.
“I knew he didn’t like me, I just thought since he was so nice and-”
It pissed you off to be so consumed by thoughts of one man, but it felt like there was a whirlpool in your head. You could fight it for a while, but all too soon your thoughts would return to your enigmatic teacher. Back and forth, back and forth, you bounced between trying to convince yourself to be realistic about yourself and the creeping paranoia that there was something going on.
Gojo was a very physical sort of person. It was conceited to think he’d be interested in you when he was attractive enough to get any woman he reasonably wanted. He was only helping you. It wasn’t intimate. Even if it felt a little strange, that was normal for combat training, wasn’t it?
He was interested in you. He was taking advantage of his role as your teacher, teasing you for his own amusement. That flash of lust was real, and it warned you of danger. The awkward nerves you felt around him were rational.
Back and forth and back and forth and-
“Hello?” Haruka snapped.
“Ah, um, yeah, I’m really sorry, Haru,” you said, realizing after a beat of silence that you had missed your cue.
“Whatever. I know you don’t get it.” She sniffed and then cleared her throat, composing herself. “I don’t suppose you know any hot guys, do you?”
“No dice,” you told her, although your thoughts went in a different direction. Gojo was hot, but he was also older than you and your teacher and there was no way. You rubbed your temple as if you could physically drive out the intrusive thoughts. It was pure ego.
In any other situation, you would be able to check for sure, but not with him. That was it. You didn’t know, and so you were making assumptions. Everything was normal, you were the one acting like a fool, self-obsessed enough to think you were getting the attention of an attractive older man.
“When you visit, we’ll have to go out looking for guys,” Haruka said. “I want to do something crazy before classes start.”
“I’m sure I can find a way to sneak out,” you joked. Mostly joking. You weren’t confined on campus, it was a little hard to find time.
That weekend, Gojo was gone, Oyama was busy, and you had the day to yourself. Rather than wasting it on campus, you hopped on a bus to the Tokyo station and took the train to Yokohama. You thought you would feel different returning to familiar stomping grounds after being away so long, but you didn’t. Nothing ever really changed.
That thought struck you especially when you spotted a pretty girl in a red sundress lackadaisically scrolling on her phone on a bench at the station. Haruka Inaba consistently scored top marks in every class, volunteered at hospitals in her free time, and reigned over the school’s tennis club throughout her second and third year of high school. She was the type of girl other girls wished they were.
A cursory look over your social media timeline would present picture after picture of the two of you having fun together, and she was the only person you had ever told about your dad leaving your mom for a younger woman. In short, she was your best friend.
Although, it might have been more accurate to say you had entered into an alliance. Everybody had a face they preferred other people didn’t see, when you were honest with someone that made you close, but didn’t necessarily foster a lot of affection.
“I hope you didn’t wait too long,” you said, greeting her with a smile.
“It was no big deal,” she told you. “The station’s on the way to the mall anyway.”
“Well then, shall we?” you asked.
“Of course,” Haruka said, getting to her feet and tossing her hair back to expose her perfectly smooth neck and shoulder, a very practiced gesture. “I’m surprised your mom didn’t come. You haven’t seen her since you left, have you?”
Internally, you rolled your eyes at how obvious the question was. Testing pressure points, or just looking for gossip.
“She’s a busy woman, I wouldn’t ask her to spend her day off with me,” you lied as you shuffled into the crowd of foot traffic flowing out of the station and onto the street. Mom didn’t even know you were in town. “Besides, I hate shopping with her.”
“That’s fair. What are you looking for today?”
“Athletic wear that isn’t hideous.”
“Do you do a lot of exercise at that new school of yours?” she asked, saying ‘school’ like it was a joke.
You shrugged. So far, you had been vague about Jujutsu Tech. It was impossible to be specific without sounding insane. Besides, Haruka only wanted to know more so she could dismiss the idea that you were special enough to be scouted for an incredibly upscale and mysterious school and she wasn’t.
“A bit,” you said. “What time are we meeting Fumiko and Kaoru?”
“The movie starts at four-fifteen,” Haruka told you.
“Oh, Ikki’s coming too,” you said. “I hope you don’t mind, Kaoru invited him before I could ask him not to.”
Haruka smiled tightly, her aura flashing aggressively. “Why would I mind?”
You let that one go, knowing better than to rub it in.
After that, you and Haruka relaxed into a far more superficial, casual dynamic. Clothes were a great unifier, and she had great taste.
The world was set right. No curses, no fighting, no second guessing people’s feelings. The other three showed up around lunch. There was still some strain with Haruka and the ever-oblivious Ikki, but you pretended you didn’t notice. The movie was boring, the dinner conversation even more-so, but you were rewarded with a milkshake out in the open air plaza.
Haruka and Fumiko were arguing with Kaoru about action versus drama movies. You wondered what type of movie Gojo preferred, if either. He was capable of stunts cooler than any action hero, but you weren’t sure he’d buy into drama either.
Was that some sort of mystical divination, your errant thoughts predicting the future? Probably not, although it was concerning that your thoughts would stray to him so easily.
You realized someone was behind you a fraction of a second before their big hands were covering your eyes. “Guess who,” he said. He, as in, one of the few people who could easily sneak up on you, who could make you nearly jump out of your skin, your cursed energy flaring and heart racing.
You grabbed Gojo’s wrists, pulling his hands away from your eyes and turning to face him. He wore a casual button-up, a pair of retro round lensed sunglasses, and a huge grin.
“Who are you?” Ikki asked, his body tensed and halfway out of his seat.
“It’s alright,” you said, putting a hand on his arm. “This is…” you said, looking at Gojo as you tried to think of an answer.
“I’m her teacher, Satoru Gojo,” he finished for you with a megawatt smile, waving to your friends. Haruka looked impressed, her eyes dragging over him without even an attempt at subtlety. The other three looked at him with a range from mild interest to outright hostility.
“I thought you were on a mi—a business trip,” you said.
“I finished early,” Gojo said, wedging himself between you and Ikki to wrap an arm around your shoulder. The stool was high enough that he didn’t have to lean down very much, but he still almost pulled you out of the seat. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends?” His face was right next to yours. You couldn’t look at him, not when he was peering over the top of his sunglasses, giving you the full weight of his beautiful eyes.
You cleared your throat, irritated that he would go out of his way to embarrass you. “This is Ikki, Haruka, Fumiko, and Kaoru,” you told him, gesturing to them in turn.
“You’re more than welcome to join us, Gojo,” Haruka said, leaning forward with her eyes fixed directly on Gojo. “She’s spoken very highly of you.”
“She didn’t say you were so young,” Ikki said, clearly disgruntled by the way Gojo had pushed him aside. “Are you really a teacher?”
“Ah, you flatter me!” Gojo said, laughing a little louder than appropriate. “Well, as much as I would love to stick around to hear embarrassing stories about my cute little student, it’s time for us to get going.” He released you, standing up straight. “It was nice meeting you all.”
He couldn’t be serious.
“Us?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes. There’s something we need to do before going back to campus. It’s time sensitive, we have to hurry.”
“I’m kind of in the middle of something,” you said. “Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”
“No, it can’t. Come on.”
You played out the scenario where you continued to argue, but all of them ended with the same eventuality. He was, no matter what else, your teacher. Sighing dramatically, you slung your bags over your arm and stood up.
“I guess I have to go,” you said. “It was fun, I’ll see you later.” Fumiko and Kaoru smiled back, but Haruka was fixated on Gojo. You could practically see the hearts swirling in her aura. Ikki was unamused on the edge of hostile, glaring at Gojo who had put his hands in his pockets, unconcerned.
“Okay,” you said, turning away from your friends. “Lead the way.”
Gojo smiled. “Don’t worry,” he told you, taking off with his long-legged strides, “it’s not far.”
“Is there a job?” you asked, trotting behind him to catch up. The plaza was congested with the late afternoon crowd, it was a bit of a battle to make your way out until you reached the equally crowded sidewalk.
“It’s something very important,” Gojo told you. “Time is of the essence. Can’t you walk any faster?”
“In these shoes?” you asked incredulously, coming to a stop beside him as you waited for the crosswalk light to turn.
“I’ve never understood that,” Gojo said, looking at your feet. “Why wear something that you can’t move around in? I’d hate that.”
“Because these shoes are adorable and they make my legs look great,” you said, once again rushing to keep up with him as he crossed the road.
“Oho?” Gojo asked, slowing his stride to look at you with a smile. “Are you trying to impress somebody?”
“I want to impress everyone,” you said.
“It was that guy you were sitting next to, wasn’t it?” he asked knowingly. “Are you dating?”
“Ikki?” you asked. Your nose scrunched up at the idea, you could only imagine Haruka’s reaction. “No, we’re not.”
“Really? He was very protective of you.”
You shrugged, not really interested in that particular topic.
“How was your trip?” you asked, prompting him to tell you about England. When you thought about the city of London, you imagined big stone castles crawling with translucent ghosts in huge gowns, but he said it was just a regular city with regular boring curses.
You weren’t as disappointed by that as you might have been otherwise, too busy trying to keep up. Apparently, not far meant something completely different to Gojo than to you, although part of that was that he refused to slow down for your sake. It was almost like he was amused by forcing you to scramble behind him, but you didn’t want to think he would be that rude just for his own entertainment.
It was a huge relief when he stopped in front of a collection of businesses. “Wait here,” Gojo said, grabbing your shoulders and pressing down as if to plant you in place.
“Yes, sir.”
He went into the store and you waited dutifully, looking around at the people passing by. You felt out the area curiously, but there wasn’t much. People’s auras that projected regular, boring emotions and some vague, stale residuals, the tumultuous swirl of rotten energy that swarmed the city like a foul stench. Nothing out of the ordinary.
It was difficult not to replay his questions in your head, it really only added to the confusing mess of nerves and doubt you felt when you thought about Gojo. Why would it matter if you were dating Ikki or not? It wasn’t his business whatsoever. But really, not that you would ever openly acknowledge it, the idea that Satoru Gojo would give you attention in that way was thrilling. Not good, not bad, just thrilling. It was because of who he was, you knew that rationally, and you knew that was a weird and childish way to think. There was no way he had any inappropriate sentiments towards you, no more than you did him.
When you thought about it like that, you just got irritated. With him and with yourself.
“Okay!” Gojo called, easily catching your attention as he left the store and came to stand by you. He held a little box from the bakery, although you couldn’t see what was in it. “Close your eyes and say ‘ahh’.”
“What?” you asked, your eyebrows furrowing.
“Come on, do it,” he insisted.
You did as he said, making no attempts to hide your exasperation. Gojo pushed a pastry puff into your mouth, leaving a smear of cream over your bottom lip.
Chewing the pastry, you opened your eyes to Gojo’s eager smile. “Well? Delicious, right?” he asked, licking off the extra cream from the fingers that had just been in your mouth.
You nodded as you swallowed, more distracted by the way his tongue ran along his long fingers than the flavor. Which was ridiculous. “Are we waiting for someone?” you asked, forcing yourself to focus on that instead.
“No, we’re going back to campus. These are the best profiteroles I’ve ever tasted. We had to hurry—they make a fresh batch for the evening crowd.”
“So… there’s no job?” you asked.
“I never said it was,” he told you, popping another pastry in his mouth.
“This was the thing that was so important that I couldn’t spend time with my friends that I never see?” you pushed. “You’re not serious.”
“Are you mad?” Gojo asked. “I got some just for you.”
“I haven’t seen them in a long time,” you said. “And you were acting weird.”
“You are mad,” Gojo said, frowning. “I only wanted to share something nice with you. After all, you’ve been working so hard. I’m proud of you.”
“Is that it?” you asked. “Really?”
“What else?” he asked.
“Hello?” you asked after picking up the call. You were waiting for your laundry, half-heartedly leafing through a book about historical cursed objects.
“Did you make it back alright?” Haruka asked from the other end.
“I did,” you said. “I’m sorry about earlier. Gojo is a little… eccentric.”
“He’s gorgeous,” Haruka said. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me your teacher was so hot.”
“He’s my teacher,” you said, surprised by the flare of irritation you felt at having her point it out. Of course he was hot, but you couldn’t acknowledge that. You wouldn’t want to anyway, not when you were still feeling so conflicted.
“Yeah but he’s young. What do you think, twenty-five? Twenty-six?”
“He’s my teacher,” you repeated.
“He’s not my teacher. Do you think he’s single? I didn’t see a ring.”
“No,” you said bluntly, closing the book with a snap.
“No, he’s not single?”
“I mean no, I’m not having this conversation with you,” you said. “It’s weird and disrespectful.”
“You’re kidding,” Haruka asked. “Since when do you care about that?”
That caught you off guard; you didn’t have an answer. Any response you could think of led to increasingly disquieting explanations. “I don’t think Gojo’s the dating type,” you told her, deciding to side-step that question completely. “He’s out of the city about as often as he’s here, so I doubt he’s got much time for that sort of thing.”
She hummed. “Maybe I can come visit you on campus. It’s just outside of Tokyo, right?”
“It’s a religious school,” you told her. “No visitors on campus.”
“That’s so lame. You should give me his number then.”
“Why would I do that?”
“For me,” Haruka said. “To mend my broken heart.”
“You can’t date my teacher.”
“I’m not looking to date him,” Haruka said. “Come on, you owe me. Please?”
“Look, Haru-” you began, ready to try to explain to her why it was a bad idea that wouldn’t go anywhere, but she cut you off.
“Unless you really are saving him for yourself,” Haruka said. “I guess I wouldn’t put it past you.”
You closed your mouth, swallowing your warning. For that, she could deal with another rejection. “Okay, I’ll ask.”
“Thank you!” Haruka said. “Okay, I gotta hurry to take a shower, text me. Don’t forget, okay?”
“I won’t,” you said, truly meaning it. “Goodnight.”
The next day, the sun was high and hot as you dropped down to sit next to Gojo on the field-side benches.
“Your form is looking much better,” Gojo said. “I like that outfit too. Is it new?”
You smiled, preening a little bit at the compliment. “Thank you, it is,” you said, smoothing your hair back. “You know, men don’t usually notice clothes.”
“I notice everything you do,” he said. “It’s the best way to keep track of your progress.”
“Right,” you said, smiling and accepting that with a nod, aggressively rejecting the fluttery nerves the comment inspired. “Sensei, may I ask you something personal?”
“Oh? What is it?
“Are you seeing anyone? Romantically, I mean.”
“That’s hardly an appropriate question to ask your teacher.”
“You asked me if I was dating someone,” you pointed out. “I’m only asking for a—a friend.”
“A friend?” Gojo repeated dubiously. “Well, you can tell your friend that I’m not seeing anyone. Not exclusively, at least.”
That confirmed that, at least. “And you’re okay with younger women?” you asked, acting more flustered than you felt. “My age, I mean. Or, you know, around my age. Not me, obviously.”
“It depends on the woman,” he said slowly, leaning forward with a little smile curling his lips. “What’s she like?”
“I guess you could say she’s kind of like me,” you said. “Some people think she’s difficult, but maybe you don’t mind that?”
“Is she secretly very shy?” he asked. “Perhaps because she’s afraid of her true feelings?”
“She is a little shy,” you allowed. “You’re intimidating sometimes, sensei. And it’s scandalous because you’re my teacher.”
“I won’t be your teacher forever.”
“Yeah, that’s true.”
“But I would hate for anyone to think I’m playing favorites.”
“It’s not like I’m asking for special treatment.”
“Aren’t you?”
“Not at all. I’d rather you keep the entire thing between you two,” you said, your tone reverting to its normal timbre.
“What?” Gojo asked, his voice flat with confusion.
“My friend Haruka. You met her yesterday. She asked me to give her your number and see if you were interested,” you said. “It’s the only way to make up for having to bail out on the plans we had last night. That’s okay, right? It was your fault.”
“Are you still mad at me for that?” Gojo asked.
“I’m not mad,” you pretended to consider his nonplussed expression for a moment. “You seemed interested before.”
“You were misleading me on purpose, weren’t you? How cruel. I thought you were a nice girl.”
“Misleading you? I don’t know what you mean, sensei. I told you I was asking for a friend.”
If you could see his eyes, you had a feeling they would be narrowed. “In that case, I’m afraid I’ll have to pass.”
You shrugged. “Your loss.” Taking a drink, you pumped yourself up and got to your feet. “Okay! I’m gonna win this next match for sure.”
You jumped off the benches. You did not win the next match. You did, however, feel as if you had scored some sort of petty victory with Gojo’s obvious confusion. You wondered if he truly thought you were making a pass at him and was willing to play along, or if it was just as much a game to him as you. If you could read him, you’d know. And it wouldn’t be a source of many late nights spent looking up at your ceiling wondering if you were reading too far into innocuous interactions.
But you couldn’t.
You shouldn’t have played into it. That was the conclusion you quickly drew as March rolled out into April and your training reached a feverish intensity. The more you trained, the stronger your Divination became, the more you realized how utterly outmatched you were, how unprepared. Not only with Jujutsu sorcery, but with your enigmatic teacher.
The interactions seemed so banal at face value, but they became the only thing you could think about. It was always something.
“Oh, look at you!” Gojo said, startling you as you were leaving campus one Saturday morning. “That’s very cute. Did you get all dressed up just for me? I’m flattered.”
“No, I was going to go out.”
“It’s for a boy, then. I see.”
You rolled your eyes impatiently. “If I was dressing up for you, I’d be dressing up for a guy. But I'm not.”
“Oh, but I just remembered,” Gojo said, snapping his fingers. “I’m taking you along on a job. You need more experience, don’t you?”
And he was always so close. Maddeningly close, finding any excuse to touch you.
“Oop, there’s an eyelash on your cheek,” Gojo said, leaning in close with his lips pursed as he pinched it off. “Okay! Make a wish!”
You resisted the urge to shrink back, looking at the bandage covering his eyes as impassively as you could. “I wish-”
“No, don’t tell me!” he said, waving his hands. “Otherwise it won’t come true.”
The two of you would be walking somewhere and he’d grabbed your hand. “No, no, we’re going this way,” he'd say, acting like it was the most casual thing in the world to entwine his fingers with your own to guide you.
And the other things, a friendly arm thrown over your shoulder, his hands physically adjusting your stance when practicing fighting, his relentless proximity, it added up. Added up to what? You didn’t know. Whenever you expressed discomfort, Gojo seemed so confused.
You thought that at least when he was away on missions, you would have space to breathe, but even then you felt his domineering influence.
“Where are you going?” Oyama asked.
“It’s not your business.”
“Is it an emergency?”
“No. I’m-”
“Then you need to be training, your hand to hand is still way too sloppy.”
And then it was:
“You marked a spot on your map, we should go check it out.”
“And it can only be done today,” you said flatly. “On the day I had off. When I specifically mentioned I wanted to go out.”
Oyama shrugged as if helpless. And, honestly, he probably was. You had a feeling you knew exactly where the orders were coming from.
When Gojo came back and you asked him about it, demanding some explanation, he looked utterly baffled by your confrontational tone.
“You need to focus,” Gojo said, frowning with concern, his aura as impenetrable as ever. “You’re still so far behind your fellow sorcerers.” He wrapped an arm around your shoulders to comfort you, his voice lowering intimately. “I know it’s difficult right now, but when you’re strong, you can do whatever you want.”
The string of cancellations as well as the thing with Gojo not working out was the breaking point for Haruka. She stopped inviting you places. More than once, you considered telling her the truth, coming clean about everything regarding Gojo’s strange behavior, but you didn’t.
Even if you told her the truth, that you weren’t necessarily trying to invite Gojo’s attention, it would validate the thing she first assumed when asking you to get his number for her. That was an old wound, an uncomfortable situation in high school with the tennis instructor. Besides, when you presented the case to yourself, it sounded insane. A handful of interactions with a man who was a bit eccentric, being restricted because you were so far behind other sorcerers.
Sometimes you felt insane, like you were missing something vital, drawing the wrong conclusions from inferred motivations because you couldn’t read Gojo like you could everyone else. You asked for a transfer to the Kyoto campus, and you clung to that. They said they would consider it, but you weren’t sure if they took it seriously. You couldn’t provide any details as to why you wanted to move, not even to yourself.
All you could do was lay in bed listening to white noise TV overthinking every comment he made and interactions you had, your thoughts caught in the endless back and forth of confusion.
“You weren’t there to greet me,” Gojo said, calling into the empty gym where you were stretching. He had been gone for three days and, unlike when you first began at Jujutsu Tech, you weren’t excitedly looking forward to his arrival. Or maybe you were? At least it was something other than the oppressive isolation and relentless training, but it only really upset you. “I got you a souvenir.”
“I’m good, thanks. Did you have a fun trip?” you asked in an icy tone, refusing to turn around to address him with respect.
“I wouldn’t call it fun, it’s work.”
“Still,” you insisted, rolling your shoulders, “it must be nice to have a little freedom.”
An awkward silence followed your comment.
“You’re not mad or something, are you?” Gojo finally asked.
“I’m not mad.”
“I haven’t done anything to deserve this attitude,” Gojo clearly wasn’t convinced, you could hear the theatrical dismay in his tone. “What’s got you so grumpy?”
“I’m not grumpy.”
“So why are you pouting then?”
Finally fed up with the badgering, you whirled around to face him, resolved to be upfront, to not give him a way to get out of the question. But then you looked him up and down and felt an odd jab of disgust and guilt twist in your stomach. It was so much easier to think the worst of somebody when they weren’t there to provide any sort of counternarrative. Seeing Gojo, it was hard to believe that he was the person you sometimes feared him to be. He was too attractive, powerful, and intelligent. It didn’t make sense that he would resort to underhanded means to manipulate you.
“Is there a reason I’m not allowed to leave?” you asked, staring at his covered eyes.
“What do you mean?” Gojo asked, the picture of innocent confusion. “Nobody’s stopping you.”
“Really? Because when you’re here, you stop me and, when you’re not, Oyama finds a reason that I can’t. It’s almost uncanny that so many jobs coincide with the days that I make plans.”
“Have you tried asking Oyama?” Gojo asked. “Maybe he has a crush on you.”
“He detests me,” you told him flatly. “I don’t blame him.”
“Oh? Do you want me to talk to him about that? I hate to think that my students aren’t getting along.”
“I want to know what’s going on,” you said, trying to keep calm.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Gojo said, his act of innocence perfectly maintained. Unless it wasn’t a mask. You couldn’t tell. “Are you feeling okay? Maybe you’ve been working too hard.” He frowned, thinking about it for a second. “I know! Let’s go out together. I’ve been dying to try this new sushi restaurant in town. I’ll invite Oyama and we can all get to the bottom of whatever it is you think you’re feeling.”
The moon hung high in the sky as you did training exercises in the field near your dorm, trying to shut your brain off. Nothing was solved over dinner. Of course not. Both men acted like there was nothing strange going on.
No, of course you were allowed to do whatever you wanted. Of course they weren’t stopping you. But if they were, they had good reason to. If they were, the problem was that you were just so weak. Sure you were making progress, but you weren’t even close to catching up with other sorcerers your age.
When you got back to your room, you broke down and called your mom, intending to tell her everything. The isolation, the suffocation, the worries you had about your teacher’s behavior. But all she could talk about was how well things were going with her new boyfriend. They were considering moving in together. And it was fine if she gave his daughter your old bedroom, wasn’t it? You didn’t need it anymore. You texted Haruka, but she didn’t reply, posting on her social media story to ensure you knew she was ignoring you on purpose.
So you decided you needed to hit something. It helped you calm down, at least. It was easier to believe the world had a semblance of peace in the dark of the night.
“Looking good!” a familiar voice called from behind you. You were trained enough to not be startled, taking a defensive stance as you considered how you were going to handle this. “I am curious as to why you’re out here though. I thought you were tired.”
That was the reason you gave after you got back to campus, the reason you immediately excused yourself from his company. Gojo knew it was a lie then, and said it like a joke now.
“I can’t sleep,” you said, shrugging as you turned around.
“I see. You’re not still angry with me, are you? Even though I didn’t do anything wrong?”
“No.”
“Then I can’t help but wonder what face you’re imagining on that training dummy.”
“Are you that hopeful that I’m thinking about you, sensei?”
He laughed. “If anything, I’m worried,” he said. “You know what they say about a woman scorned.”
“You told me I needed to train more,” you pointed out. “Do you have any tips? I prefer fighting with knives, but I can’t trust that I’ll always have weapons, and I still need to get in close if I’m going to use my Divination.”
“I’m not sure there’s much to read from your current opponent,” Gojo said.
“I’m being serious,” you said. “If you don’t want to help, that’s fine too.”
“No, I do. Okay, get into a defensive position,” he instructed, which you did.
Gojo walked around to stand close behind you, you could feel the warm thrum of his body, the energy coursing through it, the power.
“Your posture is fine, the problem is your mindset,” he said, his voice lower. He reached around to brush his fingers over your flushed neck and over, across your shoulder and down your arm. “You can’t think of it in terms of only using your cursed energy or only your body. Jujutsu sorcery is more than the sum of its parts. You fight with your whole self.” His hands settled on your hips, repositioning them slightly to the side. Then his palm laid flat over your pelvis, dragging up your stomach. Your skin crackled with little sparks of electricity, crawling and thrumming and alive and nervous.
“Sensei, I’m, uh…” Tongue-tied. A shiver snaked down your spine and you resisted the urge to move and put distance between you. You cleared your throat. “I understand that part, it’s just…”
“You don’t feel it yet. The harmony,” Gojo said. “Most people aren’t actively aware of their bodies, but a sorcerer has to be.”
“I am,” you said softly.
“Are you really?” Gojo asked, his lips brushing your temple. “Do you feel how your cursed energy flows through your body? It has its own circulatory system, you just have to find its pulse, synchronize it with your own.” He raised his hand up to press against your neck, lightly pressing against the place where your blood erratically thrummed beneath the skin.
“I get it,” you told him, you turned around, grabbing his hand from your neck, pressing your palms flat together.
Gojo looked taken aback, but didn’t withdraw. You saw nothing from within him. Felt no flicker of emotion.
“You know, I… I realized,” you said, looking up at his half-covered face, imagining a pair of sparkling blue eyes, knowing he was staring at you. “When we’re close like this, I can feel your… Infinity. The endless expanse that separates you and me.”
“Really?” he asked, sliding his hand to the side. It dwarfed your own. “I heard that you’re getting even better at reading people. It’s very impressive how fast you’re progressing, I’m so proud.”
“I thought that would help me figure you out, but it’s not your cursed energy keeping me out. It’s your infinity.” You looked at where your hands met. You felt his skin, his warmth, and yet you knew the connection wasn’t quite there. It was impossible to truly connect with him. “Trying to read you is like trying to find a flame in an endless abyss. Even the few times I thought I’ve seen something, I can’t be sure that it wasn’t just an illusion in the dark.”
Gojo’s head tilted curiously. “What was it that you thought you felt?”
“I’m getting stronger,” you told him rather than answer, pressing your hand ever more firmly against his. “If you give me a chance, I’ll show you. That’s why you’re keeping me from going out, right? Because you think I’m weak.”
“I’m not keeping you from doing anything,” Gojo told you. “I don’t know where you got this idea that I am.”
You dropped your hand, stepping away from him. The words were a knife twisted in your chest. He made you sound crazy. Made you feel crazy.
“Right. I’m going to bed,” you told him flatly. “Goodnight.”
“Hello?” Haruka answered, her voice groggy from just waking up. She probably wouldn’t have taken your call if she was fully awake.
“I’m too sick to train or study today,” you told her, holding up a potential outfit for the day. Gojo was gone, and you were done asking for permission to leave. “I’m going to be laid out in bed all day today and tomorrow.”
“What?”
“Do you think Ikki and Kaoru would be interested in hanging out? I could use a drink.” While you were still a little over a year out from buying liquor, both Ikki and Kaoru were of age and they didn’t mind hosting little parties at their shared apartment.
“It’s eight in the morning,” Haruka said.
“Not now, I mean later. I’m gonna catch the twelve-twenty train. Let’s get lunch, or go shopping. Honestly, I don’t care, I just need to get out of here.”
“Um. Yeah, I think we could do that.”
“Great. See you then.” You hung up before she could change her mind.
They waited until you were more than a little drunk to ask. You should have expected that, although you also didn’t expect to get so drunk. Ikki kept handing you drinks, urging you to relax and enjoy yourself. The world was warm and sweaty and spinning and comfortable and lovely and frightening.
“Okay,” Ikki said, catching your attention. A cigarette hung out of the corner of his mouth like he was some kind of cowboy. He only smoked when he got drunk, it was kind of cute, not that you would ever tell him that. He already knew it anyway. “What’s up with you lately?”
“What?” you asked, blinking fast.
“Kaoru thinks you got knocked up,” Fumiko said, speaking up from her position leaning against Kaoru’s chest.
Kaoru frowned down at her.
“What?” you asked, trying to force your drunk brain to think sober thoughts. “It’s not anything like that… It’s a… It’s nothing.”
“You’ve been blowing us off every time we asked you to come out without any explanation,” Haruka said. “It has to be a boy.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Come ooooooon,” Fumiko pushed. “It’s a guy. He’s keeping you all to yourself.”
“That’s not it,” you insisted.
“Is it something illegal?” Ikki asked with a puff of smoke.
“No, nothing like that,” you said. Then you broke out laughing, looking at your nearly empty beer. “It’s not like I have a boyfriend or anything. It-it, okay it is a guy. We’re not dating. It used to just be a weird vibe but now it’s like, weirder. He stops me from leaving and if he’s not there then he gets Oyama to keep me from going and there’s always a reason, but it’s still… That’s weird, right? I had to sneak out to come tonight, and even then that’s only because he’s out of the country.”
“There’s no way,” Haruka said, her voice flat with genuine disbelief. You could tell she was already prepared to call you a liar. “You’re saying you’re some kind of hostage?”
“Wait so, what, there’s somebody at your school who’s obsessed with you?” Kaoru asked. “What even is that place?”
“It’s that teacher, isn’t it,” Ikki said, pointing his half burned cigarette at you “The creepy guy with the glasses.”
“He’s not, like… creepy,” you said. “I don’t know, it’s just weird.”
Haruka scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Why would a guy that looks like Gojo go through all the trouble for you?”
“Tell him you’re dating me and I’ll beat him up if he keeps you all to himself,” Ikki said with a lopsided grin, butting his cigarette and throwing an arm around your shoulders.
“How would that help?” Haruka snapped, glaring at the two of you, her aura sparking with anger. That was very not good.
You shrugged off Ikki’s arm, scowling and trying to snap back to sobriety. “I knew you would do this if I told you,” you said. “That’s why I didn’t say anything before.”
“Why would I believe you? I know how you are. This is just like that one time in our second year with the tennis coach.”
You frowned. Of course she would bring that up. “That wasn’t-”
“You thought he was cute, but he didn’t reciprocate so you told everyone he was a perv.”
“Wasn’t that guy fired for trying to get with his students?” Kaoru asked.
“Yeah, but he wasn’t into her,” Haruka argued.
“It’s weird that you’re jealous about sexual harassment,” you told her bluntly.
“Okay! I think we should take a breather,” Ikki said, trying to smooth things over. “You girls might’ve overdone it a little.” You pushed him off, your own temper flaring to meet Haruka’s fiery aura.
“I bet Gojo turned you down and that’s why you’re making this up,” she said, her voice raising. “Or, no, you just want to outdo me. Brag about how you’re so much better just like always.”
“The only reason you’re saying this is because you’re mad he didn’t wanna sleep with you and you think it’s my fault,” you told her, working hard to keep the drunken slur out of your voice. “It’s not like I enjoy having somebody breathing down my neck all the time, although I’m sure you’d love the attention. You beg for it often enough.”
“You do too!” she said, getting shrill. “You just act like you don’t. Being a prude doesn’t make you superior.”
“That’s true, I don’t need self-respect to be better than you,” you snapped. In the ensuing silence, everybody in the room was just staring at you. Like you were the one out of line. Like they hadn’t ganged up on you to force you to tell them what was going on.
Angry at them and angry at yourself for losing it so spectacularly, you stumbled drunkenly to your feet. Ikki got up too, although you pushed off his help as you went to the bathroom. Haruka shouted insults after you, which you ignored.
Instead you went into their bathroom, marveled at the disgusting state of a place shared by two guys, and threw up.
The knocking woke you up. It took a minute of looking at the sunshine peering in through the blinds to realize you were on Ikki’s and Kaoru’s couch, your back cramping from sleeping in such an uncomfortable position. A glass of water and two painkillers sat ready for you on the messy coffee table alongside empty beer bottles and snack wrappers. You groaned, sitting up and taking the medication with a wince.
Whoever was at the door continued to knock. You grunted, standing up. Bad idea. You nearly fell right back down, but you managed to stay on your feet. You were about to answer the door before you realized that could be a bad idea, turning around to find Ikki.
The door to Kaoru’s room was closed, but the other door yawned open. You peeked in. Haruka was passed out on the bed. You could hear the shower running from the bathroom.
“Ikki?” you called through the door. “Someone’s knocking.”
“What?”
“Someone’s at the door,” you said. “Are you expecting anyone?”
“No,” he said. “Will you get it? I’ll be out in a second.”
Perhaps hearing voices inside, the person at the door only got louder. You sighed, annoyed by their insistence.
You returned to the living room to open the door, squinting at how bright the morning was in comparison to the dark apartment.
“Good morning!” Gojo enthused.
You blinked hard three or four times, willing reality to bend to make what you were seeing stop being true.
“Woah, you look like shit. Did you have a fun night?”
“What?” you asked, baffled beyond comprehension.
“Who is it?” Ikki asked, coming out of the bathroom with billows of steam and only a towel around his waist, drying his hair absently.
“I’ve come to retrieve my wayward student,” Gojo said.
You stared at him, hungover and confused and wanting nothing more than to lay back down on that horribly uncomfortable couch and never get up.
“Are you ready to go?” Gojo asked you when he got no answer.
You let out an unsteady breath, closing your eyes for a second to try and gain some clarity or zen. Nope. That was a lost cause.
“Give me a second, I have to use the bathroom,” you said, turning away from him towards the bedroom to get your bag.
Haruka was still passed out, a fact you were very grateful for. You weren’t completely clear on the details of last night, but the broad strokes were all there. You slung your bag over your shoulder and went into the steamy bathroom. Clearing the mirror in squeaky finger-streaks proved Gojo right. You looked like shit.
After dry heaving a little as you brushed your teeth, you put on clean clothes and sorted out the mess that was your hair. It wasn’t perfect, but you didn’t look as awful as you felt. When you returned to the main room, Ikki was dressed. The room was heavy with awkward tension, although Gojo didn’t look at all uncomfortable. You weren’t sure you wanted to know what words were exchanged.
“Ready to go?” Gojo asked. You sighed, throwing your bag over your shoulder.
“I’ll talk to you later,” you told Ikki, smiling apologetically.
And Ikki, in his endless wisdom, did the last thing you expected and grabbed you around the waist, pulling you in for a kiss. He stared at Gojo the whole time, aggression swirling around him thicker than any desire or affection. Using you to prove a point. That was unlike him. Gojo might’ve just had a way of pulling out the worst in people.
“Call me later,” he said when he released you, winking.
“Bye,” you said, forcing a smile.
“It was nice to see you again,” Gojo said, smiling and waving in a too-cheerful way. You walked out into the sunlight, wincing at how bright it was, going for the stairs without waiting for him to follow.
“Did you have fun last night?” Gojo asked as you took the stairs down to ground level.
“Yeah,” you said, too tired and irritable to play along.
“You know, as your teacher, it’s my responsibility to look after your wellbeing,” Gojo said, hopping the last few steps to stay next to you. “Underage drinking can have very dire consequences. Especially when you’re spending the night at a man’s home. I would hate to think that you’d be taken advantage of.”
“Why are you here?” you asked, turning to face him. “How did you know where to find me?”
“I got back last night. I was worried when you weren’t on campus,” you could feel his gaze as he looked you up and down. “I’m glad to see you’re just fine.”
“Right,” you said. That didn’t answer your question, but you doubted you would get anything better. “Can we stop to get breakfast?”
“Can you wait until we get to the station? We have to hurry to catch the train.”
“Hurry for what?”
“Didn’t you read my messages? You have a job,” he told you.
“You’re kidding.”
“You begged me for a chance to prove yourself, well here it is. If you do well on this mission, I’ll consider you for a promotion of sorts. Isn’t that exciting?”
Through a series of increasingly unfortunate circumstances, the thread you were following led to a realization that the curse was based on the time of day. That is, exactly before sunrise. By the time you figured that out, you had about nine hours to kill.
Gojo said he’d rent a room for you to rest, but it had to be close enough that you could be at the lot exactly on time. On short notice and in such a small area to select from, the choices of accommodations were slim.
One room, one bed. If the embarrassment didn’t kill you, the cliche would.
Gojo showering gave you some time alone to prepare yourself, at least. It wasn’t like you were afraid he would do anything, but you couldn’t say you were exactly comfortable with the arrangement. The whole day, you had been standoffish, but now you were just tired and nervous. Of course you wanted to prove yourself to him, but you also got angry every time you thought about him springing this on you when he knew you weren’t operating at your best. It felt calculated, but you knew that he would easily deny that if you accused him of anything.
The worst of everything was how meticulously he avoided any conversation about your behavior, or Ikki, or his own motivations for doing this. The more stormy your mood got, the bigger he smiled, and the more he acted the role of the caring teacher.
Just like always, you felt like you were a little crazy. Drowning in delusions of self importance.
You sat crossed legged on the foot of the bed and put on a ghost hunting show. If only being a sorcerer was like on TV. Dramatics, theatrics, silly devices, and easy answers. That had been your original hope when you started playing with Divination. You wanted something exciting, the cheap thrills weren't doing it anymore.
Well, you got what you wanted. You certainly weren't bored.
“What are we watching?” Gojo asked as he came out of the bathroom with a cloud of steam, drying his wet hair. You cleared your throat and averted your eyes from his partial nudity.
“Ghost Adventures,” you said, staring straight ahead at the screen.
“What’s that?” he asked as he got onto the bed, laying on top of the comforter. The robe mostly covered his bare torso.
“A ghost hunting show,” you answered. “It’s American.”
“Is it any good?”
You snorted out a short laugh. “No. We don’t have to keep it on.”
“I don’t mind.”
You stared at the TV for a minute before checking your phone again. Haruka hadn’t texted you all day. At first, you were resolute that you would only accept an apology, but the longer you thought about it, the more you reasoned yourself to accept anything.
“Isn’t it uncomfortable to sit like that?” Gojo asked, startling you. You turned off your phone screen, setting it on the bedside table.
“I’m fine.”
“I heard that if you sit with your back hunched like that you’ll get stuck that way.”
You rolled your eyes, although you did swing your legs around to lay against the headboard. As much as you wanted to pretend it wasn’t true, you were still tired from the previous night. Since he made no move to do it, you got under the stiff sheets, trying to fluff the lumpy pillow into comfortable submission.
“Are you dissatisfied?” Gojo asked suddenly.
“What?”
“Are you dissatisfied with your life as a sorcerer? When you first started at Jujutsu Tech I thought you were over your rebellious delinquent phase, but now you’re falling back into the same habits. I can only assume it’s because you’re dissatisfied.”
“It was one night,” you argued. Chewing on the words and your lip for a second, you cast a sideways glare towards him. “If there weren’t such strict restrictions about when and how I can leave campus, I wouldn't have had to lie.”
“You’re still technically a student, of course there are restrictions. Do you think that’s unfair?”
“Oyama doesn’t have the same restrictions.”
“Oyama is nearly a Grade Two sorcerer, and he’s never had any behavioral issues.”
“Right,” you said, your voice flat. At least that was a different answer than you had gotten previously, some acknowledgement that you were getting unfair treatment.
“If you’re this unhappy, why haven’t you said anything?” Gojo asked.
You wondered how much he already knew or assumed. He wasn’t stupid, he was painfully perceptive. Unless it was all in your head, and he truly did not understand why you were reacting like this because he had no reason to think you would second guess his behavior and motivations.
“You already have a lot to worry about,” you told him.
“I always have time for my cute little student. It’s my responsibility to see that you’re satisfied. I have noticed that you seem a little more tense. Is the stress starting to get to you? It’s important to talk about these things, you know. Otherwise they can spiral into a much larger problem. We have to rely on each other as sorcerers.”
“I’m fine.”
Gojo hummed. You pretended to be very interested in a case about some old haunted asylum where they tortured patients or whatever.
“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something,” Gojo said when the show cut to commercial. “Your abilities can be considered dangerous to yourself and those around you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Sorcerers and curse users go to great lengths to keep their techniques secret. The mere idea of your Divination puts them at risk. While it’s not fully refined yet, there is a non-zero chance that you will be able to read techniques in their entirety. I’m sure there are already conversations being had about taking you out. Nobody’s stupid enough to try anything when you’re under my protection, but if they saw a chance, they would jump at it.”
“So I can’t leave,” you said, staring hard at the TV as a commercial for foot cream played out.
“You can!” Gojo said quickly, his voice energetically trying to placate you. “Neither myself or any other sorcerer will hold you against your will. You’re an adult, you can do what you please. I’m only telling you of the risks you face now.”
“How would they know about my technique?” you asked.
Gojo shrugged glibly, his expression just as unreadable without sunglasses or that bandage. “These things have a way of getting around.”
In the very deepest part of your brain, you wondered if he didn’t have a hand in that. If he wouldn’t be willing to put you at risk if it meant you needed his protection. That was ridiculous. Truly. No matter what else Gojo had done, he hadn’t done anything you could call evil. The jujutsu world was just dangerous, and you already knew that.
“I understand,” you said, trying to sound unaffected.
Neither of you spoke for a while, although you didn’t think he was watching the TV any more than you were. It was a ridiculous story and they were so deadly serious about their silly spirit boxes.
“Aren’t you going to sleep?” Gojo asked. “I’ll wake you up when it’s time.”
“Yeah,” you said. “I should. Do you want to turn it off?”
“I don’t mind. You usually sleep with the TV or something on anyway, don’t you?”
“Yeah, but…” You frowned, your assurance trailing off. How did he know that?
“I’ve always wondered why,” Gojo said. “Are you afraid of the dark? That seems inconvenient for a sorcerer.”
“I have bad dreams,” you said.
“Will I have to worry about you waking up kicking and screaming?”
“Bad, not scary,” you corrected him, trying to make yourself as comfortable as possible. “Isn’t it wonderful that no matter how hard you repress things when you’re awake, your brain can just shove it in your face when you’re defenseless?”
“I understand that,” he told you with a wry smile.
“So even the strongest has to deal with that?” you asked, stifling a yawn into your palm. “I guess there really is no hope for the rest of us.”
“I’ve read that nightmares offer insights into our psyches,” Gojo said as you stared at the ceiling. “Things that we fear the most… and things we want the most.”
“I dream about my dad coming back,” you said softly, without thinking. You scrubbed your palms into your eyes, laughing humorlessly. “It’s pathetic. Sometimes I wish I’d dream about curses or whatever. The happy dreams are so much worse.”
“I truly believe that love is the worst curse of them all,” Gojo said softly.
“You’re probably right.” After a moment, you added, ”I’m sorry. For whoever you dream about, I’m sorry.”
“Who said I dream of anything?’
You huffed. “Fine. I take back my sorry.”
“You can’t, I’ve already accepted it. It warms my heart to think of my cute little student worrying about her sensei. What would you do to help me, I wonder?”
Your face scrunched up in disgust. “Nothing. Forget it.”
“I’d be more than happy to return the favor, you know. If you’re lonely,” Gojo said, turning onto his side with his head propped up on his arm, “I can help you.”
“I’m fine.”
“Liar,” Gojo said. “I’ve noticed how sad you are, how you refuse to reach out to anybody for support. I know what that's like."
“I don’t need anyone's support,” you said, avoiding his eyes. “I can either get over this, or I can’t. That’s on me.”
“It doesn’t have to be,” Gojo said, even softer. “Even the strongest need help sometimes, and you’re hardly the strongest. I’m worried about you.”
You sighed, even more annoyed. “Don’t be.”
Gojo groaned dramatically. “You make it so difficult to be a good teacher and mentor. I want to help you, but then you act like this. It’s like you’re trying to rile me up.”
“What are you talking about?” you asked, a cold flush running through your stomach.
“I’m telling you that you should be more careful,” Gojo said. “I’m not entirely sure you realize that you could very well face consequences for your behavior.”
“Is that a threat or something?” you asked.
“No, of course not,” he told you with a smile. “Now go to sleep, you’ll need it if you’re going to perform well tomorrow. Remember what’s at stake.”
The next afternoon, after getting your wounds treated and taking a long nap to make up for two nights of barely any sleep, you stood in the classroom facing Gojo. You had been expecting bad news, but not quite to the gleefully dismissive extent that he saw fit to deliver it.
“Suffice it to say, you did not meet my expectations. I guess you’re stuck with me for a while yet,” Gojo said, smiling like it was great news despite the attempted apologetic tone.
You grit your teeth. “Is this what you meant about consequences for my misbehavior?”
“What do you mean?” Gojo asked, tilting his head curiously.
“I don’t know what you want, if you expect something from me or if you’re mad I’m dating or whatever, but I did a good job,” you said. “You know I did, so-”
“You didn’t,” Gojo said, cutting you off. “I carefully evaluated every part of your performance, and I don’t think you’re ready to take on more complicated jobs. This isn’t a game. There are lives at stake. Your life, the lives of your fellow sorcerers, and the lives of the civilians we’re trying to protect. If you want to accuse me of trading favors or having an unfavorable bias, you’re more than welcome to take your case to the higher ups. I’m sure they would be delighted to hear of any perceived misconduct. Otherwise, I recommend you focus on your training.”
You nodded stiffly, biting your tongue. “Yes, sir.”
“I know you’re upset, but it’s important that you don’t rush something you’re not ready for. You could get hurt.”
“I understand. If you’ll excuse me then.” You turned to leave his office, your shoulders high and tense.
“Oh, right! I was told this morning that you asked for a transfer,” Gojo said, snapping loud enough to make you wince. “It was denied.”
You looked over your shoulder, a cold bit of dread sinking into your gut.
“Kyoto doesn’t need any more sorcerers at the moment, especially when you're still such a low level sorcerer,” he told you, returning to that innocent tone. “Why was it that you wanted to transfer anyway?”
“No reason,” you said, hiding your expression and leaving quickly.
The disappointment was bad, but what you hated more than anything with the humiliation. If Gojo were honest, then you could understand your failure, but not in the way he presented it to you. He was going out of his way to embarrass you. Hot bouts of sticky red fury filled your stomach and your head whenever you thought about it, a feeling so mean and aggressive that it hurt.
You couldn’t call your mom, you wouldn’t know what to tell her. Haruka still hadn’t texted you. Ikki had asked if you were alright, but there wasn’t anything you could think of to say to him. You knew what he wanted, what he expected from you by offering what he saw as help, but you couldn’t do that. Even if it pissed Gojo off, it wasn’t satisfying. He would view that sort of behavior as petty. It was petty.
If you were going to do something, it had to be big. Something that you weren’t supposed to do, something that would make a point, something that would soothe your embarrassment. When you felt yourself drawn to the map on your wall, pencil in hand, it was like a golden opportunity had fallen into your lap, gifted directly to you by fate.
“Oyama! We have a job,” you told him, acting like you were unhappy with the arrangement.
“What are you talking about?” Oyama asked, his eyebrows furrowing.
“It’s a spot on my map.” You could see his hesitation so you feigned annoyance. “If you want to go alone, that’s fine, but Gojo told me I had to as a part of my evaluation.”
He believed it, not even checking to make sure you were telling the truth.
As soon as you were conscious, a ragged gasp ripped up the inside of your dry throat, panic shooting through your veins like ice water. You groped your chest and stomach, searching for wounds that weren’t there. A little yelp of fear left your mouth and you wrenched your body upright. The sheet fell from your chest, making you realize that you were not dressed, and you were not alone.
Ieiri shot you a concerned look, blowing a final puff of smoke out of the window into the dark night before butting the cigarette. “Careful,” she warned, “your wounds are healed, but you’re going to be weak.”
Tugging the sheet up to cover your chest, you realized you were in the clinic, and then your memories crashed through the gauze of groggy ignorance. The curse, the fight, the terror, and then the stupidest plan you had ever concocted. Although you weren’t wounded anymore, you coughed weakly, your body reacting to the mere memory of suffocating on your own blood.
“How do you feel?” she asked.
You groaned, falling flat onto your back. “I feel like I got hit by a truck.”
“How much do you remember?” Ieriri asked, closing the window.
“Everything.” Unfortunately. Your face scrunched up as you tried to put the horrific memories of your mutilated body out of your mind. “Is Oyama okay?”
“He has a few bruises, nothing major.”
You nodded, relieved for that. If he got hurt after you forced him to take you along, you’d never live it down. After a second, you threw an arm over your face, something like a raspy laugh crackling its way out of your sore chest. “I think I did something extraordinarily stupid.”
“Like using yourself as bait so your fellow sorcerer could exorcize a curse?” Ieiri asked dryly.
You opened one eye to look at her. “Did it work?”
“It did, although you very nearly died for it. The broken ribs were the worst. You’re lucky they didn’t puncture anything vital.”
Hiking up the sheet over your healed chest, you sat up again. Your head spun, but the only pain you felt was phantom, like your brain was unable to reconcile the severe physical trauma with your perfectly healed body.
“It was the strangest thing,” you said. “The curse was smart enough to know to attack the stronger sorcerer, but I… I forced it to focus on me.” You winced, a shiver of soul-deep revulsion slithering down your throat all the way to the pit of your stomach as you remembered what happened after that. Remembering pain after the fact was difficult enough, let alone thinking of the right words to describe the experience.
“You need water,” Ieiri said, pressing a bottle of water into your hand. You eagerly accepted it, uncapping the bottle and chugging the whole thing. She was calm as ever, if tired.
Capping the bottle, you cleared your throat again. “I don’t suppose I can borrow some clothes?”
She patted a pile of folded clothes on the bedside table with a tired smile. “They won’t fit, but it’s better than streaking across campus.”
“Thank you,” you said, wrapping yourself in the sheet to fully sit up.
“I’ll give you some privacy,” Ieiri said, turning to leave the room. She paused in the doorway, looking over her shoulder at you. “Oh, before I forget, Satoru wants to see you as soon as possible. I doubt he expected you to wake up so quickly, I’m sure it can wait until morning.”
You frowned, your stomach twisting up at the thought. “Where do you think he’ll be?”
“He’s probably in his apartment. I doubt he’s asleep, if you wanted to talk to him now.” She snorted, shaking her head. “That man sleeps less than I do.”
“Got it,” you said. “Thanks.”
She hesitated in the doorway, thinking about what she was going to say. “Satoru was very upset when he heard what happened. I know he worries about his students, but this is different.”
“How so?” you asked, tensing up at the faint insinuation.
Ieiri sighed. “I’m not trying to involve myself, you’re free to do what you want. But, speaking as someone who has known Satoru for a while, be careful. I care for him, but his nature doesn’t always lend itself to respectable behavior.”
“Okay,” you said flatly, narrowing your eyes at her. You didn’t get the sense of any malice or disgust, but the words were obviously pointed.
“That’s all,” Ieiri said with a light shrug, leaving the room and closing the door. You squeezed your eyes shut, wondering what to think about that. You didn’t know if you wanted to believe her or not. It was the first time anybody confirmed some of the strange things you felt about the man, but you didn’t know if that made it any better.
Besides, you hadn’t so purposefully baited a reaction just to shy away now.
At twelve-twenty-five, you left the clinic. Considering you almost died earlier that day, you didn't feel too terrible. Every muscle in your body was sore and shaky, like you had been training too hard, but you had just slept for nine hours. Even if you laid down, you wouldn’t sleep. If Gojo wanted to talk, you would talk. The reasoning behind it was, on the surface, because you wanted to get it over with.
There might have been more to your compulsion, but you were too irritable to interrogate your motivation.
Before going over, you stopped by your room to exchange Ieiri’s borrowed clothes for a clean shirt, oversized hoodie, fresh panties, and a pair of shorts. While you were there, you took the time to wipe the mascara rings out from under your eyes, swipe on some lip balm, and pull your hair back to mitigate the mess. What you really needed was a full coat of foundation and some dry shampoo, but the idea that you were so desperate to impress him pissed you off even more.
On your way to the faculty apartments on the edge of campus, you thought about the best way to handle this. Gojo would know why you lied and disobeyed him, he wasn’t stupid. There wasn’t any way you could think of to reframe the narrative either. You did it because you wanted to, and because you were angry about his ruling, and because you thought you could get away with it, and because you felt the need to act out against his authority.
You still weren’t sure what you were going to say when you stopped in front of his door, knocking before you lost your nerve. Footsteps sounded almost immediately from the other side, and then the door slid open. Gojo stood on the other side. He was dressed down for the night, wearing a casual t-shirt and sweatpants. His hair was messy and eyes uncovered, sparkling in the faint light from the lamps along the path.
“Oh, you’re awake!” he exclaimed. “I didn’t think I’d see you until tomorrow.”
“Yep, I’m all fixed up,” you said, throwing your arms out as if to present yourself. “Ieiri said you wanted to see me.”
“I can wait until you’re better rested,” Gojo said, putting on a dramatic frown.
You sighed, feeling awkward of all things. The whole time, you had been geared up for some sort of confrontation, but he was so calm, behaving just like he always did. Maybe Ieiri had misunderstood his mood.
“I don’t think I could sleep with this hanging over my head,” you told him. “Unless this is a bad time.”
“No, it’s fine. Come in,” Gojo said, opening the door wider to usher you through.
Despite the traditional exterior, his apartment was decorated in a plain yet clearly expensive style, a marble coffee table and velvet upholstery and understated lighting. What struck you the most was how good it smelled inside. The TV was on, but muted, splashing color and light into the dim room.
“Do you want tea?” Gojo offered, shutting the door. “Water? Strawberry milk?”
“I’m okay, thanks,” you said. “I’d rather get this over with.”
“Get what over with?” Gojo asked as he walked around you. He wasn’t wearing shoes, so you toed yours off, setting them next to his.
“You’re going to yell at me, aren’t you?” you said, maintaining a casual demeanor despite your anxiety.
“I wasn’t planning on it,” he said, dropping onto the couch. Those were unmistakably Fendi Pequin stripes on the armrests, the thing must have cost a small fortune and yet he was lounging on it. “Do you want me to?”
“Not especially.”
“How about you sit down,” Gojo offered, patting the spot on the couch beside him. You shuffled from foot to foot, rethinking your decision to come to his place so late at night. It was so far down from all of the other buildings. Even if you screamed, nobody would hear you. But that was stupid. He could have done anything he wanted to do to you in the hotel, and he didn’t. You were making things up to justify your discomfort.
You sat down stiffly, more than aware that you were sitting on a piece of furniture that cost as much as your mom’s car.
Gojo shut off the TV, leaving the two of you in the intimate near dark. It had been muted, but somehow the room felt even more quiet. His attitude was horribly off-putting. Ieiri said he seemed upset, but you weren’t getting that at all. If anything, he seemed more relaxed than the last time you saw him.
The silence dragged on and on, you had no idea what to do or say. You couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eyes, not when they were uncovered and you were alone.
Finally, he sighed theatrically. “This is my own fault,” Gojo said. “I’ve always known you had behavioral problems. I thought—I hoped that it wouldn’t come to this. You could have died.”
“But I didn’t,” you pointed out, keeping your voice steady. “Nobody died, the curse got exorcized, and everything’s fine.”
“Is that your defense for disregarding my authority, lying, and putting yourself and Oyama at risk?”
“It’s not a defense,” you said. “It’s a statement of fact.”
Gojo laughed, a sound that made you flinch away. It wasn’t forced, he sounded genuinely amused. “You are such a pain in the ass,” he said, smiling as if he was endeared by it. “I can’t tell if you’re unafraid of the consequences or if you really don’t believe you’ll face any.”
“I did face consequences,” you argued. “Didn’t Ieiri tell you how badly I was injured?”
“That’s not enough, is it? If you have the chance, you'll definitely do something like this again. The danger is a part of the thrill for a girl like you.” He hummed thoughtfully. “No, I need to take care of the underlying issue.”
“The underlying issue?” you repeated.
“You have no respect for authority—mine or otherwise.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, sensei. I have the deepest respect for you,” you said, looking up at him with innocently wide eyes. It didn’t get the rise you wanted, his expression didn’t change. The unrelenting calm and friendly demeanor he maintained was beginning to creep you out.
“Normally, I don’t mind. I understand; I can’t stand people ordering me around. With you, though, it really irritates me. Maybe I should try a little more discipline.”
“What are you going to do, spank me?” you asked, raising a brow. You could hear how desperate your sarcasm sounded, an attempt to regain control over the situation.
Gojo’s head titled as he considered your taunt. “That’s not a bad idea, actually.”
You rolled your eyes, your hands curling into fists to hide your increasing anxiety. If you could read his feelings, then maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, but you couldn’t tell how serious he was. “You’re funny.”
“Oh? But that wasn’t a joke. I think that might help fix your attitude.”
“So breaking my ribs wasn’t good enough, but that is?” you asked, disguising your fear and dread with more desperate scorn. “Come on, don’t be gross.”
“It was your suggestion.”
“I was joking! I didn’t actually… I mean, you can’t just…” You shook your head rather than try to finish that statement, kicking yourself for getting so flustered.
“You were never punished as a child,” Gojo said. “You said your dad left? I bet that, after that, your mom grew distant. She yelled at you, but you never faced any serious consequences for your misbehavior. You only got better at hiding your indiscretions. Is that it?”
“That’s not your business,” you said, every muscle in your body drawing up tight in response to that accusation.
“Children who aren’t taught boundaries and respect grow up to be rotten adults,” Gojo said. “Spoiled, rude, self-important adults.” With every word he moved closer.
“You would know, right?” you said, clinging onto the strength of attempted wit.
Gojo smiled. “Oh yes, I know very well. I’m rotten too. Shoko told you, didn’t she? That’s why you look so scared right now.”
“I’m not scared,” you said, clenching your jaw.
“There's been something I've been meaning to tell you for a while,” Gojo said. He put a finger beneath your chin to lift it, forcing you to meet his eyes. “You’re not as complicated of a woman as you think you are. I know you think you’re better, but in reality you’re playing the same games, just with different rules. All of the posturing to get my attention, the misbehaving, the petty tricks to make me jealous–you're so obvious.” He let out a relieved breath, smiling. “Whew, I’m glad I finally got that out.”
“What are you even saying?” You asked, pulling away from him, shaking your head fast. “This is a joke, right?”
“I almost pity you. It isn’t entirely your fault. You’re young, ignorant, and weak, you couldn’t possibly have known where this would go. It’s not in your nature to leave well enough alone.”
“Stop it,” you said, your voice harsh.
“I’m the same,” Gojo continued as if he hadn’t heard you. “It’s not in my nature to spare the weak or ignorant just because I feel bad for them. I’m not nearly that nice.”
“I know you won’t hurt me.”
“Why shouldn’t I?” he asked. “You showed up on my doorstep in the middle of the night begging me to punish you. I am a man. Even I have my limits. You've been testing them from the beginning.”
“You have to stop,” you said, your demand taking on the edge of a whine. “This is insane.”
“I’ll give you one last chance, okay? Prove me wrong. Leave,” Gojo said, backing off and gesturing to the door. “This is it, this is the last time you’ll get away without facing any consequences.”
“Gojo, why are you-”
“Three.”
“Nnn-no, wait, I-”
“Two.”
You stood up, swaying on your feet, but you didn’t run. You took one step back from him, afraid, but you didn’t run.
“One,” Gojo said, grunting the word as he got to his feet and picked you up, tossing you over his shoulder.
“No!” you shouted, struggling to escape his grasp as he carried you further into the apartment. “Stop it, put me-put me down! Stop, I want to go! I’ll leave! Put me down!”
“I warned you what would happen, it’s not my fault you never listen,” Gojo said, dumping you onto his bed. You bounced once, scrambling to get up and away. “No, don’t move,” he ordered, his voice low and authoritative, freezing you in place. His eyes sparkled inhumanly in the dim light.
“I want to go,” you said, softly, your heart racing, pounding harder because you couldn’t move. “I’m leaving, I’m going and-”
“No, you’re not,” he said, rolling his eyes as he opened a drawer on the nightstand, looking inside with a thoughtful expression. “By all means, keep up the act. The whole brat thing is pretty hot. There’s no point in punishing a girl who’s well-behaved.”
“What are you going to do?” you asked.
“I’m going to spank you for being such a naughty student,” Gojo said. “I don’t want to be too cruel, I know you’re sensitive. That’s fine. I can be nice too.” He looked up at you. “Do you think you can stay still on your own, or…?” He smirked. “Of course you can't.”
“You’re scaring me,” you said, hoping the words would break his act.
“Don’t be afraid,” Gojo told you, rolling his eyes like you were being unreasonable. “I won’t hurt you that much.”
You were going to be sick. “You can’t-”
“Of course I can,” Gojo said, pulling what you recognized as a vibrating wand and a pair of handcuffs from the drawer. “What you mean to say is that I shouldn't. You’re right about that. I'm well aware that this is a bad idea, and I might regret it, but it's too late to let that stop me. You know the feeling, don't you?”
“No, no. You,” you shook your head, unable to form the words in your shock and disbelief at this situation, “you can’t.”
“You already said that,” Gojo said, putting the toys on the bed to kneel on the very edge. You flinched away, but you didn’t dare run. He would definitely catch you, you could feel the thrill in his cursed energy. It was all a game.
“I know,” you said, trying to think of the words to reason with him and coming up short, “but… You can’t.”
“The way you’re looking at me is too good,” he said with a boyish grin. “You genuinely can’t believe that somebody finally called your bluff.”
You shook your head.
“I think this will be good for you,” he said. “You need to learn this lesson. It’s better to learn it here, in a controlled environment.”
Gojo grabbed your legs before you could scramble away. You yelped, slapping his hands when he grabbed your hips. That did nothing to deter him from flipping you onto your belly and wrestling your hoodie and shirt off before collecting your arms and pulling them behind your back. Even though you were fighting him so hard that it hurt, he was barely trying, as if the process of overpowering you was as inconsequential as putting the leash on a small dog. You cried out as he secured your wrists in the handcuffs, giving them a solid tug to test their hold. They were lined with soft material, but they obviously weren’t the fuzzy bachelorette party kind that could be easily escaped. There was no way you could get out of them on your own. You tried to use your cursed energy to break free, but it did nothing. Had he reinforced them somehow? Was that possible?
“Gojo, stop,” you demanded. “You can’t do this, you can’t!”
“It’s humiliating, isn’t it?” he asked, pulling your panties and shorts off in one go, getting them over your legs no matter how hard you tried to kick him off. “Being at the mercy of another person. Next time you think about misbehaving, think about this feeling.”
“Stop it!” you yelled, truly thrashing now. He grunted, sitting with his legs aside your torso, threatening to crush you. “Stop, get off. You’re hurting me!”
“It’s okay if you fight,” Gojo said. “But you know it doesn’t matter, don’t you? You’re so weak.”
“Stop it! Just—ngh-” He shoved your panties into your mouth before you could finish that thought, muffling the words. You just yelled in disgust, in despair, in anger. And it didn’t matter.
Gojo leaned over you, brushing your hair away from your ear to speak directly into it.
“I’m sure you’re having a difficult time thinking clearly, but it’s important you remember what I’m about to tell you,” he said. “The next time I allow you to speak, I expect you to address me properly. I really don’t think that’s too unfair. I am your teacher, I deserve some respect, don't you agree?”
You shouted through the gag, shaking your head back and forth.
Gojo hummed, dropping his shirt on the bed next to you. He lifted his weight from your back and turned around to sit on the edge of the bed. You used the opportunity to roll onto your side, trying to get away from him, but Gojo had no problem collecting you, letting you flop on the bed across his lap while you writhed helplessly. The first touch of his hand against the back of your bare thighs made you jump, tears of humiliation already pressing against the corners of your eyes.
“How many, do you think?” he asked.
No.
There was no way. You shouted in panic, kicking your legs. There was still a part of you that simply rejected this all, that couldn’t believe this would happen. Things like this didn’t happen to you. Not you.
Gojo’s palm landed loudly against your ass, the smack striking your skin with a burst of stinging pain and the sickening flush of humiliation.
“I knew you were going to be a problem from the first time we met,” he told you, rubbing his palm over the sore spot. “You think you’re better than everyone else. I can’t stand undeserved self-importance.”
He spanked you five times in quick succession, spreading them out across your ass and upper thighs. You struggled and yelled and kicked, but his other hand easily kept you in place.
“You’re not fighting very hard. I really thought it would be harder. Are you sure you weren’t secretly hoping I’d do this? You can admit it, I won’t tell anyone.”
You shouted, pooling up all over your cursed energy to fight him off. Gojo rewarded you by spanking you more, focusing on your upper thighs, slapping the same spots over and over until your shouting became sobbing and the skin buzzed, burning red hot.
“I know, that wasn’t very nice,” he said, rubbing the sore flesh, coaxing it out of becoming too numb to his touch. “You’re not very nice either, are you? Wearing all those cute little outfits to tempt me, flaunting that guy to make me jealous.” You yelled in fear when he raised his hand, but he only playfully tapped your ass, digging his long fingers in to knead it, just playing with you. “And then using your friend to taunt me… I think you deserve to be punished for that, don’t you?”
You shook your head frantically, squirming and writhing and kicking to escape. But he spanked you again, and again, and all you could do was endure the pain. Gojo mixed in the playful swats with genuine strikes, keeping you crying, always on the edge, unsure if he was going to hurt you or not, not when he was going to stop or where this would go.
You weren’t counting, and you weren’t sure if he was either, but eventually he let up.
“Mmm, that looks like it hurts,” he said, tracing the tender flesh with his fingertips. You cried, glad he couldn’t see your face. “Poor little thing. Okay, let’s-” Gojo flipped you around, pulling you up onto his lap.
Putting any amount of pressure on your stinging ass made you yelp, your back arching. He didn’t care. He grabbed the vibrator and flicked it on, pushing the head past your pussy’s outer lips to buzz against your entrance before dragging up, drawing slick circles around your clit. You thrashed against him, but your kicking legs couldn’t do anything and there was nowhere to go. Gojo moved with your struggling in an indulgent way, like he was wrangling a disobedient animal, letting you tire yourself out as he tilted the wand this way and that to really grind it against your clit.
“It’s a little intense, I know,” he said. “If you just relax and let yourself enjoy it, you’ll feel so much better.”
You pressed your face against his shoulder, telling him to stop. The words were all mush, muffled by your own panties. Every part of your body was alive and awake and agonizingly sensitive, covered in a thin film of sweat and goose-flesh and anticipation. When he casually toyed with one of your nipples, you felt it like a jolt of electric heat straight down between your legs. The vibrator’s steady hum bypassed any reasonable objection your body would have to pleasure, a reaction as invasive and involuntary as pain.
When you realized you were going to come—going to come like this—you shouted, straining your shoulders in an attempt to escape the cuffs. Gojo laughed, holding you tight as you spasmed and jerked around in his lap. Your hips bucked and the vibrator pressed against your clit just right and you almost blacked out.
“Aha, that’s it, isn’t it?” Gojo asked happily, grinding the vibrator there.
Toomuchtoomuchtoomuchtoomuch—it hurt. You tried to tell him that, you tried to fight your way out of his grasp, you tried to do anything you could to escape but it didn’t matter as your body shuddered with the orgasmic flash of pleasure, a feeling so intense it felt like nausea.
You came with a helpless cry, hiding your face against his shoulder as you jerked with each wave of stifling, intoxicating, sickening heat.
Gojo didn’t stop. You reared back to meet his eye and he just grinned, looking down between your legs to make sure he was keeping the vibrator in exactly the right place to make you spasm and kick and choke, panicked and overwhelmed.
You didn’t know if you were coming again or if it was just one long string of overstimulation tricking your mind into pleasure, but you felt it draw out like soda fizz all the way to your fingertips and toes.
“Okay, what have you learned so far?” Gojo asked, shutting the vibrator off and setting it aside. You mumbled something into the gag, tossing your head back and forth. “Oh, right.” He laughed, pulling your panties out of your mouth. “What have you learned?”
“Stop!” you told him in a wrecked voice, glaring at him with watery eyes. “It doesn’t matter how many times you spank me, or-or… I’m not playing along with your-your sick games, I’m not…” You closed your eyes, struggling to get out of his lap, sobbing and panting and angry and humiliated and-
“Wrong.” Gojo shoved your panties back into your mouth. “You know what? I’m glad you’re a difficult student. Really,” he said. “It’ll be so much more rewarding when you finally learn your lesson.”
You ignored him, squeezing your eyes shut and turning your face away.
“It doesn’t matter what I do to you,” he mused. “That’s what you said, right?”
Without warning, Gojo’s hand landed directly between your legs with a sharp smack. You screamed, really screamed, squeezing your thighs together until the muscles trembled.
“Oi, open your legs,” Gojo told you, his voice low and serious, more than you had ever heard.
You kept your eyes shut, shaking your head fast.
“You’re saying you won’t?” he asked, his fingers tracing along the seam between your legs.
You shook your head again, trying to squirm out of his lap.
“Oh my, what a brave girl,” Gojo cooed mockingly, grabbing one of your legs to pry them apart, catching it with his own leg and pinning it against the bed. He spanked your pussy two, three, four more times, each one making your body jolt violently, another cry gurgling out of your throat.
When his hand landed with a sickening smack for the fifth time, it stayed there, his fingers curling to find your entrance. You bucked against him, shouting for him to stop. Asking him to stop. The words were muffled, there was nothing you could do other than cry and toss your head to the side as he pushed his fingers into you, you couldn’t even close your legs.
“What’s this?” Gojo asked, pulling his fingers out of you. They glistened with evidence of your arousal, of your shame. “It really makes me question which one of us is sick.”
“You!” you shouted, trying to make yourself heard over the gag.
“Me?” Gojo asked, his eyes wide with innocence. “You’re the one who’s getting wet for your teacher. That’s pretty twisted.”
He pushed his fingers back into your pussy, driving them deep and curling them on the way out. For the first time, his breathing was getting unsteady. He kept rolling his hips up to grind against your ass, letting you feel his erection.
“Aaah, you’re really wet. And tight.” He thrust his fingers back into you with a wet squish, scissoring and curling them to make you spasm and shake. “Hey, hey, I’m gonna give you an out right now, okay?” Gojo said, his voice quick with excitement. “If you ask me nicely, we can suspend your punishment and get on to the fun stuff instead.”
He pulled his fingers out to take your panties out of your mouth, dropping them onto the bed.
“Come on,” Gojo said. “Ask me. I know you want it.”
You set your jaw, glaring at him through teary eyes. It was weak, pathetic, and petty, but silence was the only thing you could think to do that wasn’t giving him what he wanted.
He frowned, put out with your response.
“Jeez, you’re such an insufferable brat!” Gojo complained, flipping you onto your stomach. The sudden slap of skin meeting skin followed by the pain when he spanked you again made you scream, your legs pathetically kicking, your shoulders straining to free your hands.
“Stop!” you yelled, your voice shrill.
“Oh? But I thought you were being brave?” He said mockingly, spanking you again, and again.
You sobbed, pressing your face into the bed to muffle yourself as his hand came down again. Even though you fought him, there was nothing you could do to make him stop. True helplessness. It hurt, and there was no escape from it. Not when he took the time to brush his fingers across the tortured skin in between bursts, soothing you with a gentle touch.
“I don’t understand why you’re being such a baby about this,” Gojo said. He grabbed one of your stinging ass cheeks, pulling it to get a good look at your pussy. You knew you were wet. It wasn’t your fault, but you felt the same shame. “It can’t hurt that bad. If I used a cane or a belt or something I’d get it, but I think you’re just making a big deal to try and make me feel bad. It’s not working. You deserve this and, between you and me, it’s kind of sexy to see you so pathetic.”
Without warning, Gojo tossed you onto the bed face up, your arms pinned uncomfortably beneath your back. Your back arched and you dug your heels into the mattress, pushing yourself up the bed until you were curled against the headboard, your legs up to try and hide as much of your body as possible.
“By the way, are you a virgin?” Gojo asked, shoving his pants and underwear off in one go before looking for something on the floor. He found it quickly, returning to the bed. He didn’t care about his nudity. Why should he? He was beautiful and he knew it. Of course Satoru Gojo wouldn’t stop at being the strongest, or the most handsome, or whatever, of course he would have the perfect cock too. “I don’t care either way, I’m just curious.”
“No,” you whispered, shaking your head, averting your eyes from his body to meet his as you pushed yourself into the headboard. They glittered in the dim light, wide and excited.
“No, you’re not a virgin?” Gojo asked. You realized what he had grabbed from the floor when he caught your ankle, forcing your foot through a loop he’d made with his belt.
“No! No, no, stop!” You shouted, trying to keep him from getting your other foot. He frowned when you kicked at him, desperate to keep him away. The resistance of his cursed energy kept you from actually kicking him, and you were rewarded with a hard, mean slap against your inner thigh. You squealed, giving him the chance to get your other foot in the belt cuffs before securing them.
“I was gonna be nice about this, but I guess not,” he said. You whined, sobbing. “You probably like it rough anyway, right? Girls like you always do.”
He pushed your knees up to make space between your legs, letting your bound ankles fall onto his back. You watched him stroking his cock. This was going to happen. He truly intended to fuck you. It didn’t set in until right in that moment how utterly powerless you were to this violation. His fingers had been one thing, but his cock was big enough to hurt if he wasn’t gentle.
“Don’t do this,” you whispered, your voice weak and pathetic. “Satoru, I’m begging you not to. I’m sorry, okay? That’s what you want me to say, right? I’m sorry, so don’t-”
“It’s too late for that,” Gojo said, separating your pussy’s outer lips, his tongue peeking out as he lined up his cock. You made a helpless sound of upset, trying to buck him off, but there was nowhere for you to go. “If you were really sorry, you should have apologized when I gave you the chance.” He pushed his hips forward, just a little, testing the resistance.
“Sensei!” you said, your panicked thoughts finding something to cling onto to make him stop. “Sensei, please stop. Please.”
Gojo smiled, his lips parting when he forced the head of his cock past the initial resistance of your pussy with a jarring pop. He groaned, both of his hands holding onto your waist while he shallowly rocked his hips.
Your mouth fell open, a sensation like shock striking against the viscerally real weight of his dick inside of you. That fell away to panic when he began to move, pushing a little deeper with a pinching ache.
“Ah—fff-take it out!” you squealed.
“Ah, and you were being so good for me,” he said, jolting your body with a hard, mean thrust. You whimpered, and writhed, and your pussy clamped down around him to try and force him out, but it didn’t matter. He was bigger and stronger and you were drenched from the vibrator. “Look at me.”
As soon as you met his eye, he pushed a little deeper, clearly reveling in the way it made your expression twist in pain and betrayal, more tears forming in your eyes and streaking down your temples. He licked his lips, rolling his hips shallowly to let you adjust to the size and weight of his cock. Like he was being nice.
“How can I feel bad when you look at me like that?” he asked, his voice lower and breathy. He pushed deeper again, your body jolting and a helpless sound punched out of your chest.
“It hurts,” you ground out through your teeth, more tears falling into your hair. The desire to be brave faded in direct relation to how much of his cock was inside of you. Being spanked was one thing, but the internal pain of violation wasn’t something you could handle. It was too intimate, too profound, too cruel.
“Yeah, you’re way too tight. That guy clearly hasn’t been fucking you properly. Do you want your sensei to make it better? I’ll help you, all you have to do is ask.”
You squeezed your eyes shut, weighing your options. Option. “Please, sensei,” you said, hating yourself a little more.
“Look at me when you’re begging,” Gojo said.
You winced, but the sudden snap of his hips made you relent. You met his dangerous, beautiful eyes. “Please, Gojo-sensei. It hurts, please make it better.”
“Aw, you’re such a good girl,” he cooed, grabbing your cheeks. “Of course I’ll help you.” His hand lowered to pin you down by the neck while he fumbled in the sheets beside you with the other. You heard the vibrator turn on a second before it was against your clit. There wasn’t anywhere for your body to go when you seized up, your back snapping into a nearly painful arch.
“No!” you yelped, but it was hard to get anything out from the obstruction of his hand on your neck.
It didn’t matter that his cock was big enough to hurt as he continued to push it into you. It didn’t matter that your shoulders burned or that your hands were numb.
“Go ahead and come,” Gojo told you sweetly. “That’s what you want, isn’t it? It’ll make this easier.”
You grit your teeth, breathing out hard through your nose, trembling as that little bubble burst, your pussy spasming around his cock as he began to set a steady pace. When his hips met your ass, slapping against the raw skin, you cried and yelled, but it all got lost in the confused haze of pleasure and pain and confusion and disgust and so much, too much.
Gojo was laughing. Fucking you too fast and too hard, focusing the vibrator right against your clit to keep you moving with him, your body writhing beneath his like you wanted it, soaking his cock until the room was filled with the profane sound of skin slapping and wet squelching.
“Mmm, it feels good, right?” Gojo asked. “I know you think I’m mean, but I really only want to take care of you.”
You came again, babbling the words ‘no’ and ‘can’t’ and ‘stop’ as if they had any meaning anymore, as if you weren’t well on your way to coming again despite how torturous the excess of stimulation had become.
“Sometimes, that means I have to be a little hard on you.” He fucked you hard enough to knock your head into the headboard, the entire thing pounding against the wall with each solid thrust. It hurt, it felt like he was splitting you apart, slamming against your cervix without even an attempt at kindness. But, at the same time, he turned the vibrator up a setting, rubbing little circles onto your clit.
Gojo put a hand on your mouth to stifle your scream, it was that loud and shrill, borderline feral with the terrifying intensity of your orgasm. You didn’t want to come anymore. You really didn’t, you felt like you were going to die if you did. And he laughed, giving up on the hard pace to fuck you fast, his breathing becoming increasingly unsteady and his laugh shivering out into moans.
Sobbing into his hand, you came again, unable to understand anything beyond the cock pounding into you and the vibrator torturing your clit.
Gojo dropped the vibrator suddenly, pulling out of you with a helpless sound. For a second, you heard the lewd schlick schlick schlick of his hand desperately fisting his cock and then you felt hot spurts of cum on your chest and your stomach. He finally took his hand off of your mouth, turning the vibrator off. All you could hear was your breathing and his breathing and the frantic pounding of blood in your ears.
“Whew, okay,” Gojo said, lifting your legs to get out from under them. “Where were we with the lesson? I think… I was spanking you and you were being a brat about it. Have you had a change of heart?”
You sobbed brokenly, squeezing your eyes shut. Trying to adjust to the shift of tone while you were still reeling from getting fucked, your torso covered in sweat and cum, felt like one of the most cruel things he had done so far.
“Please, sensei, please no more,” you begged, your voice breathy and cracking at the end. “Gojo-sensei please, I-I do, I respect you. I’ll—anything, please just…”
“Ahh, there’s a good girl. Finally,” Gojo said gently. “Okay, three more, and then I’ll forgive you.”
“No!” you cried hoarsely. “Please, no more.” You strained against the cuffs, thrashing as much as you were able. “Please, I’ll do… Please.”
“I need to make sure the lesson sticks,” Gojo said sweetly. “You’ve been so unreceptive. Three more, and then I’ll let you come again.”
“No!” you squealed, even more upset by that. The idea of feeling the vibrator again physically hurt, it was almost worse than the idea of him spanking you again.
“I want you to count them, okay?” Gojo asked pitilessly.
You sobbed, shaking your head, but you couldn’t do anything when he rolled you onto your belly.
“Don’t be so dramatic about it,” he scolded, getting behind you and pulling your hips up so you were on your knees, your back arching. He spanked you and you yelped, burying your face in the pillows. Gojo waited before sighing. “Count them, otherwise I’ll lose track. You wouldn’t want that, would you? We’d be here all night.”
You sniffled, peeling your face out of the pillows to turn your head. “One,” you whispered.
His hand landed again, right over the first. You cried out a word that mostly sounded like, “Two!”
And again, one of the hardest so far. “Thre-EE-”
“There, wasn’t that easy?” Gojo cooed, flipping you around and grabbing your ankles by the belt cuffs, pushing your knees up to your chest. When you heard the vibrator turn on, you tried to get away, squealing out your objections, sobbing and desperate and flinching away from the mere idea of more. It was like being presented with a bottle of liquor after a bout of alcohol poisoning.
“No, please no more, I can’t, please.”
“I told you, one more,” Gojo said. “You can do one more, can’t you? I think you can.”
You wailed when he pushed the vibrator against your swollen, oversensitive pussy, grinding it in little circles right over your clit while you spasmed and shook and tried desperately to escape the inevitable.
Coming when you were so overstimulated wasn’t pleasant, it was just more and more and too much, all of it piled onto your overloaded nervous system and making you shake as the pitiless heat flared up to bursting, pulling your body taut, and then it snapped, leaving you even more helplessly, hopelessly overstimulated than before.
Gojo didn’t pull it away, continuing to grind the vibrator against your clit, cruelly drawing out your feverish torment.
You wailed, your head tossing back into the pillows, your hips wildly trying to twist out of his reach. “Yo—ou said-”
“One more,” Gojo finished for you. “Come on, don’t be such a baby about it.”
Your nostrils flared and you sobbed pathetically and your pussy felt like it was burning just as desperately as your sore ass, but Gojo was going to wring one more orgasm out of you. It wasn’t hard, even if it hurt. Even if you cried and shook and felt the world darken around the edges when you felt the surge of pleasure fizzle out through you before it left you pained and panting and miserable.
But he finally shut the toy off, letting it fall to the side.
“What do we say?” Gojo asked, dropping your legs and falling onto his side next to you, propping his head up with one hand.
You groaned, your chest hitching with every breath. “I don’t…”
“Thank you, sensei,” he prompted sweetly, “for teaching me manners.”
“Thank you, sensei,” you repeated dumbly, keeping your eyes closed rather than acknowledge his heavy stare. “Thank you for teaching me manners.”
He laughed. “Wow, that’s really embarrassing. Earlier you were bragging about how it didn’t matter what I did to you, weren’t you? I was almost impressed with your resolve, it’s a shame to see it cave in so easily. What happened?”
You sobbed, shaking your head. “Shut up, you’re… It wasn’t my fault, it was you who… who…”
Gojo hissed, pulling a breath in through his teeth. It was a bad sound. A dangerous sound. “What was that?”
“Nothing,” you said, your eyes snapping open with fear. “I’m sorry, I’m…”
He frowned. “Maybe you haven’t learned your lesson after all,” he heaved out a big breath, sitting up. “That’s fine, I’m ready to go again. Anything for my favorite student, hm?”
#gojo satoru#jjk gojo#gojo x reader#jjk gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#not sfw#tw. noncon#my writing#EVERYONE KNOWS IT
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"WAIT THIS IS- WAIT we should get farleigh to fuck reader thinking he’ll get anything he wants, the whole sexgod privilege just cuz youre the one who asked for it but when hes about to cum you go “oh no no”. but farleigh turns into goo under your orders so"
OK SO I HAVE AN IDEA!! their academic rivals and have a bet going on that he gets to fuck you if he got a higher score on a test or smth?!?!? IDK I JUST HAVE A THING FOR ENEMIES FUCKING 😞😞 SUE ME
the day hath come. thank you for your request anon ! <3
—“me or you”
academic rival! farleigh start! x fem!reader
summary: when farleigh decided that your rivalry isn’t fun enough for him, he proposes a deal
warnings: 18+, enemies to lovers, academic rivals, smut in the second half of it, sub!farleigh, porn with plot, unprotected p in v (wrap it guys), sub! farleigh, soft dom! reader, size kink, whiny whimpery farleigh, praise kink, cunnilingus, blow job, teabagging, creampie, plot twist and fluff at the end
a/n: sorry if i took too long, enjoy !
academic validation is everything to you. you believe you’re nothing if not an overachiever. but for farleigh, it’s just an excuse for him to be contemptous towards you. everyone else in the class is obviously displeased with your feud with him, but it’s mostly just farleigh spewing vulgar insults at you. that’s just how he presents himself. you could go and ask around the campus about him-
most would comment on his attitude that he thinks he could get away with- just because he’s smart. academically smart. no one knows how he does it. its not like he spends his afternoons in the library or catching up on his studies in his free time. hell, he does the exact opposite of those things. the term party animal is a downgrade for him. the owner of the nearest pub knows him. the most elite parties on campus are known to be thrown by him.
weirdly enough, when it comes to tests and exams, he excels them like nobody else. whatever he has to do for the class doesn’t faze him. you’re pretty confident that he doesn’t even study yet somehow, he’s at the top of his class. you on the other hand, put a lot of effort to achieve your exceptionally high scores. seeing farleigh being absent for most of his class pains you, it reminds you of how bad you have to struggle while he get to trash himself. enjoy the uni life. what irks you even more is the fact that everytime he scores higher than you, he’ll make sure to flaunt it all over your face. every single time. you roll your eyes when you spot the dark curly headed figure towering almost everyone across the hall, a couple books in his hand. how pretentious. it’s not like he even reads them.
flashing a quick smirk towards you, he swiftly skips to get in front to hold the lecture hall door open. he gave everyone else before you a small smile, trying to convince them of the pure intention of his nice little gesture. “goodluck guys” his head tilted upwards for a bit, nodding at each of the students. you cant help but crack a little smile watching the boy. as you were about to step into the hall, he swings the door closed behind him.
“what the fuck ?” you blurt out, head tilted trying to look at him. “goodluck” he grins, eyebrows raised with a smug look on his face. “for the test” he continues. “for what else dumbass?” insufferable, you think. he winces mockingly at your words
the test. the one that is particularly of the toughest subject out of your course. one that you had studied your ass off for. one that farleigh couldn’t give a single fuck about and still gonna ace it. gifted son of a bitch. and you’re gonna have to sit through him making fun of you for the 2 marks difference. it’s been like this for a couple semesters now. you struggling to keep your scores high, while farleigh tease you about it. just because you give him a challenge for the top position everytime there’s a test. the first semester of the course, he scored the best in the class for the first assessment. that gave him extra unneeded ego for the next couple weeks until you beat him in other tests after. he’d acknowledged you since. he loves a pretty face that challenges him.
“yes whatever farleigh now move” you try to pay no attention to him, reaching out to pull the door yourself. he quickly adjusts his stance against the door “okay! okay-”his arms reach out to his sides, protecting the entrance.
“-i have a proposition for you”
“i dont have time for this farleigh” you really dont, the tests starting anytime now.
“hear me out first”. one of his arm is held up to convince you. you sigh, the most uninterested expression staring back at him. “you know how you always excel these tests and i always do better than you-?”. “if youre keeping me here just to ridicule me save it for after the test” you begin to move before he continues
“—so you admit i always do better ? i mean, who’s keeping the score anyways” he chuckles. your patience is getting thin. before you could move again he steps closer, towering over you. hot breath fanning over your face as he grabs your arm.
“why dont we make it more fun ?” he begins, emphasizing the last part, almost whispering into your ear. “if you score better, you get all the bragging rights and mocking pass until the next test” you begin to soften your expression, intrigued. you look up at him, eyes searching into his. he stares into you before leaning down to continue
“—and if i score better, i get to fuck you”
you ball your palms into fists at his stupid idea before shoving him to the side and storming into the lecture hall. your jaws clenching with your lips pursed shut. he’s getting out of hand if he thinks you’re just another bet felix can set him up upon. you hear him follow you before he settles in a seat rows away from you. you glance at him to see he’s already looking at you, grinning.
as you’re finishing up the final answers and re-checking the paper you’re brought back to farleigh’s proposition earlier. somehow you’re fueled with a newfound confidence that you’re gonna beat him. the test wasn’t that bad, you studied and all and there wasn’t any questions that you didn’t answer confidently. suddenly those bragging rights sound tempting. usually when you score higher than him you’d just keep it to yourself cuz whenever you do try to belittle him how he does you, he’s quicker with sharp insults that leaves you dumbfounded. a classmate once tried standing up for you after one of his rude remarks and got a disgusted look from him in return. his exact words were “who are you again ?” so you decided long ago not to indulge in his childish behaviour. but you’re getting sick of him. at this point you’d do anything to shut the raging ego of his. even if it means risking yourself
the loud sound of papers rustling and the creaking of the hall’s seats marks the end of the test, everyone’s getting up and walking towards the exit. you found yourself pushed into a corner by the crowd that seems to be chasing a leaving train. there’s no opening for you to squeeze yourself in so you decide to wait until they’re all gone. suddenly the crowd stopped and you feel a hand pulling you forward, safely getting you out of the exit with his body close behind yours. he brings you further to the nearest turn, making sure you’re out of the crowd. you look up at him, knowing it was him. you shoot him a serious look before saying,
“deal”
“wait-“ he scoffs in disbelief “really ?” he has a whole confused, disbelief look on his face. “yeah, there’s no way you’re gonna score higher, you’ve been doing what, coke all week ?” you say. “true, but i’ll come by. i always do” he shrugs before saying, “no take backs” you give him a small smile before starting to walk away. “you should smile more baby !” you hear him say from afar. his usual smug look entering your mind
the rest of next week is filled with him trying to get you flustered and nervous waiting for the result. there’s no actual reason for you to be this nervous, he’s got no chance against you this time. every class with him feels a lot longer than usual as he teases you about the deal every chance he could. telling jokes that centers you being smarter than him to the whole class got you rethinking about your decision. while you’re confident, he seems to be composed. in the class of the subject you guys had the test for, there’s a time when the professor brought up that the paper will be returned next week and you cant help but glance at farleigh. he smiles before bringing up a peace sign to his mouth, his tongue darting forward between his fingers before moving it in a licking motion. he chuckles at your reaction as you roll your eyes
your professor offers a smile to your classmate reaching her hand out to take the paper from him. “good job, keep it up” he steps down from the last flight of stairs with his hands clasped together. “congratulations to all of you regardless of your scores, theres still time and room for improvement so keep your chin up” he positively encouraged before dismissing the class. you look down at the paper in your hands, a proud smile forcing itself onto your lips as you beam at the circled number in red at the top of it. a whopping 98 for the toughest subject you’ve ever took. satisfied is the least you’re feeling right now as the familiar busy sound of students getting ready to hit the exit floods your ears, you hear the professor calling a name. “farleigh ? please see me after class” your eyebrows furrowed seeing him mouth a “yea” while picking up his books. thats the most plain you’ve ever seen him. no smug look thrown towards you either.
from his expressions you could assume that maybe he’s dissatisfied with his score but just how bad can it be ? knowing him he could’ve taken the test drunk and still be able to score atleast an A. your eyes follow him walking towards the exit, his messenger hanging low against his hips. you were waiting for some officialization from him, saying that you won, and that you get to mock him all you want yet you’re left with nothing. i mean, you certainly won right ? he could only beat you if he scored 99 or a 100. maybe you’ll try him tomorrow.
rubbing your eyebrows, your eyes scan the lesson material that you had just printed out for today. words stacked above another forming a paragraph that you’re hoping to find the point of. sound of footsteps entering fills the class when you feel someone tapping at the back of your seat. you turn your head back and to the front again to see farleigh walking past slowly to say, “your clock starts now nerd, next tests on the second week next month” as he points his finger at you
“heard you got a new daddy farleigh, got him to up your score ?” you’re near yelling at him who’s getting away. he pays you no attention as he flips you off. a smile appears on your face. no nasty remarks in return. so it begins. for the rest of the class you get to shut his sarcastic jokes with your own. the class is suprised to say the least that farleigh is the receiving end now. something must’ve happened they think, and most have their money on that you guys fucked. you shrug at your efforts on utitilising the mockery pass. you’d manage to catch him after class just to offer him another teasing “you know i can tutor you if you want. a one on one so maybe you can retire from being a boytoy” you beam at him. he gives you an unamused look, lips shut to hold himself from shooting a response to the joke. “maybe you should” he says, raising both his arms to quickly drop them before turning his heels and walking away. you watch him strut down the hall with a grin plastered across your face. until something hits you that the grin slowly wears off. you feel empty that he’s not shooting sarcasms back at you. you get it that this will only last until the next test and it’s part of the deal but you cant help feeling like, ‘this is it ?’. suddenly a part of you think that it would be better if he responded back. you’re used to that. you want him to banter.
so when you end up standing infront of his door you have no one else to blame but yourself.
you had asked students around the dorm halls and they all pointed to this door. sighing, you try to justify yourself for whats about to happen. “what are you doing here ?” you lower the knuckles that were about to knock, heels automatically turning to the source of the voice. he quirks an eyebrow at seeing you infront of his dorm. unfamiliar with the image cuz he’s never seen you around the building. “what are YOU doing here” youre quick to answer before realising how stupid it is. “i kinda need to be here. i live in the room just behind you” you scoff at his answer. he squints his eyes before saying, “wow, youre determined”.
“what ?”
“you came all the way here to brag about the test ?—”
“no” you stop him before continuing, “its weird that you didnt return any of my insults today” you begin. he slows down his steps, pacing around before stopping infront of you. he examines the knitted material of your cardigan, his eyes trailing to find yours. “well for one, they’re mediocre at best-“ you scoff before lightly shoving him, “fuck you”. he shrugs, eyes wandering across the hall before continuing, “—and its part of the deal sweetheart” you look down at your shoes, nodding slightly. exactly, that was the deal, you admit to yourself, ignoring the pet name. you take a deep breath as he runs his hand across the back of his neck, carefully adjusting the stray curls at the side of his head. “well if you dont have anything else, im just gonna-“ his hand moves to the side of you to grab the doorknob.
you look up at him, searching into his eyes before he notices. “unless youre here for that tutoring-“ you grab at the fabric on his chest, pulling him against you before crashing your lips onto his dark red ones. kissing at his bottom lip, he returns the kiss deeper, nose bumping against each other. he pulls away slightly, puffing hot breath before pulling you closer by your lower back. his forehead rests against yours as his mouth chases your lips, returning a deeper and more eager kiss. his hands resting low at your hips as his impatient kiss pushes you back against the door. you pull away for a moment to catch your breath when a small whine escapes his lips, his eyes still closed. he’s leaning forward trying to catch your lips to which you lean into once more. his hand move from your waist to the doorknob, twisting it before catching you from falling backwards. next thing you know you’re placed on his strangely clear study with him leaving sloppy kisses down your stomach, moving towards your clothed pussy. your cardigan and shorts lying on the floor
he looks at you through his long lashes, his large hands sprawled over your hips, smoothing over the skin. “may i ?” you nearly moan at his low voice. you nod as he mouths at your clothed cunt, nose nudging against your clit, panties almost transluscent with your wetness. you let out a breathy moan as he peppers small kisses all over the thighs caging him, slowly biting at the skin. he trails kisses until he reaches where you want him the most before pushing your panties to the side. his breath hitched as he does so, timidly licking your wet folds to have a taste. you hear him moan, your hands running through his hair to pull back the parts covering his face so you can watch him sucking at your sex. his eyes shut close savouring your taste as you hear him mumble against your folds, sending shivers down your spine. “mhm- s’good…so pretty” his hands roam from the low of your back to your stomach before trailing down to rub your clit. he pulls away for a moment to run his thumb between your folds, eyes dark as he watches your pussy clench around nothing. his bottom lip between his teeth. he dives back in with half lidded eyes before laying his tongue flat against your folds. you let out a small moan as you pull at his hair, earning a groan from him. you could feel the knot in your lower stomach getting tighter.
you push him from your pussy before getting off of his study. he follows you, getting up from the floor, cock painfully hard in his sweats forming a tent with a dark patch at the top. you curse in your head seeing the view before pushing him down onto his bed. he scoots back to lean against the wall as you climb onto his lap, pulling your shirt off you. his eyes trail downwards to look at your hardened nipples, his eyes darkened with a full blown lust before reaching up to knead at them. he kisses your nipples before putting them in his hot mouth at which you arch your back slightly, your hands pushing him forwards from the back of his head. you start to grind at his hard clothed cock as you feel the wet patch you saw earlier. he moans loudly at you grinding down especially harder on the base of his cock, sitting on his balls. steadying yourself, you grab his shoulders as you lean in to nip at his earlobes. his hand moves to grab at your hips as you rub your wet panties against his bulge while kissing at his neck, slightly biting and sucking at the skin, leaving marks. he whimpers with a slight pout when you start to slow down
“please,,”
“please what farleigh ?”
“anything- fuck! please,, take it off”
you smile at his pleas, continuing to grind on his cock, the wet patch at his tip getting bigger, spreading to the base of his cock. you arch your back slightly while moving, placing your tits at his mouth which he latches on obediently. his cock twitches as he bucks his hips upwards from the pressure. he pulls away to rest his head on your chest, head tilted downwards to watch your pussy getting his sweats wetter before throwing his head back with a long moan. “feels- feel so good- wan’ you faster” he starts stuttering words between begging you to go faster and to go slower, confused to decide what he actually wants. “does this feel good farleigh ?” you grind faster as he nods rapidly in return “dont stop- fuck, please dont stop” you could feel his cock jumping slightly and twitching, threatening to spill his load in his pants before you do just what he tells you not to. “no- baby,,” he throws his head back, strained whimper escapes his lips in defeat as you giggle. his knee buckles up involuntarily. you get off his lap, removing his hands from your hips to settle on the floor, tits pressed against the edge of the bed.
you look up at him who has the back of his hand pressed against his forehead as you graze your fingers on the outline of his cock, now completely wet with his precum and your wetness. your touches making him buck his hips, his eyes shut close as he throws his head back. you pull at his waistband slowly, pressing it down so it grazes along his achingly hard cock, earning a wince from him. “slow- slower, please,,” his hand reach yours trying to get you to be careful. you nod at him giving him what he wants, not wanting him to cum just yet. as soon as the waistband’s off his thick hard cock springs upwards, slapping his lower stomach. he’s thick, and it curves slightly upwards. placing your hand at the base, you’re suprised to see the size of him. batting your lashes at him with his cock in your hand, he gives you a smug smile
“big?”
“—average” you respond, receiving a chuckle from him
he’s the biggest you’ve had.
you swipe your thumb across his tip, collecting the precum to spread on his cock. switching hands, you begin to pump his length, your fingers barely closing around his cock. you reach down your panties with your free hand to collect your wetness before using it as lube to stroke his cock. “fuck that’s so hot-” you hear him say before letting out a loud moan when you suddenly start sucking at his tip. maintaining eye contact through your lashes, you make sure to make him watch you lay your tongue flat at the base of his length, slowly dragging it upwards. you have both your hands and your mouth working on the aching tip, slobbering his cock with your wetness, saliva and precum. stroking his cock at a steady pace you adjust your position to arch downwards, your mouth leaning into the base of his cock to lick under his balls. “ah— fuck-! mhm“ his hand fisting the sheets under him, chest heaving breathlessly. he let out a whine when you put his balls into your mouth, the warmth sending him into pure bliss. sucking at the skin, you make sure to twist at his raging red tip as you do so. you pull off with a pop to collect saliva in your mouth before spitting on his balls. just as the spit starting to trickle down you catch it with your mouth to bring it to his length. he tries to contain his moan by pursing his lips yet a weak whimper leaves his lips. he shoots you a puppy look as you continue sucking him off. you can feel his already tight balls getting tighter as his cock jumps against his lower stomach. he’s painfully hard to the point that one more lick and he’ll be cumming.
so you stop working on his cock to get on your feet. his eyes filled with tears threatening to spill down his tinted cheeks. his pretty long lashes wet from the tears pooling in his eyes, making them glossy. he looks up at you, your knees pressing against his bed before you climb onto him, your hands reaching his face to cup his cheeks. the tears in his eyes that were threatening to fall trickles down as you wipe them with your thumb. “you wanna cum farleigh ?” you ask. “yes please” “you dont look it” he blinks to clear his eyes from tears, “i want to, please- let me cum please” his hands slowly creep up your body to pull you close in his embrace. his eyes pleads into yours before you pull his head towards you letting him rest on your breast. “okay” you promise. he takes the chance to mouth at your tits. throwing your head back, you feel him suck at one of your nipple and squeezing the other with his large hand making you moan. you pull at his hair to look at him, he offers you a soft smile. probably too delirious from the pleasure to even think.
you pull him off you to quickly get off the bed, taking off your wet panties before climbing back holding it. you lean down to kiss him, his head tilted upwards to return your kiss. his sucks at your tongue until he feels your lips being replaced by a wet fabric. he moans realising that you had stuffed his mouth with your panties, aiming the wet patch directly onto his tongue before kissing the top of his head. he always has his free hands to take out the panties if he wants to. he looks down at his hard weeping cock just inches away from your pussy. he buckles his hips forward in a pathetic attempt to rub his cock against your pussy. you giggle at his action before steadying your hands on hus shoulder, looking down as you lower yourself on his cock, rubbing the tip against your clit and the length between your folds. you hear him make some mumbled sound before you pull out the panties from his mouth. strings of saliva connected to the fabric as he puffs out, catching his breath.
“just fuck me,, cant anymore-“
“you cant ?” he shakes his head
“but i thought you’re the mighty farleigh start ?” you tease him. he swallows his saliva at your words.
“not with you, no- please, just make me cum baby” the tip of his nose dusted red, his lips swollen and redder than ever. his eyes glossy with some of the remaining tears at the corner of his eyes, searching into yours as he pleads
you finally give in, grabbing his cock to position it at your sex earning a loud guttural moan from him. you let out a high pitched whine from the stretch, the slide of his cock into your pussy easy thanks to all the wetness from before. you move back and forth, grinding your clit against his pelvis before starting to ride his cock. he bites his bottom lip watching you bounce on his length, fucking yourself. the pace of your hips steady with his hands grabbing at them to guide you. farleigh throws his head back from the pleasure, his mouth hanging agape. you feel the knot in your lower stomach getting tighter, feeling waves threatening to crash down. “you close ?” he asks as he feels your pussy clench around him making it harder for him to hold back. you nod at him, trying to focus on chasing your orgasm. you feel him suddenly buckle his hips into you before you let out a high pitched moan, screaming his name. he helps you ride out your high before you hear a string of curses falling from his lips, his thrust getting sloppy. “inside, farleigh”. he looks at you to make sure he heard you right as you nod at him. you let him move your hips as he wants, using you like a fleshlight before you hear him let out a loud moan. “ah-ahh—! fuck, fuck, fuck- fuuuck,,”. the curses falling from his lips gets dragged out as you feel warm ropes of thick cum shooting inside your pussy, hitting your cervix.
he struggles to catch his breath as he carefully gets you off his lap, placing your head on his pillow before joining you. sighing, his eyes blown wife while looking up at the ceiling. he props himself on his elbow to look at you, admiring your glow. you cant help but slowly let out a laugh at what the two of you just did. he shakes his head low, also laughing before leaning down to kiss you. the kiss is more passionate and sensual, unlike before. he crawls down to look at your pussy, his cum trickling down to his sheets before he wastes no time collecting and pushing them back into you. “all good” he informs before climbing back to lie beside you as you two finish catching your breaths.
you look around, scanning his room before turning your head to look at his bedside table. you notice a familiar paper, slightly crumpled. propping yourself on your elbow, you take a closer look at it. it’s the test that makes your deal, with a circled score in red at the top of it. a 62. you quickly turn to him, he’s already looking at you, a cig in his hand and a lighter in another, ready to light it. he looks at the paper in your hand and raises his eyebrow
“what ?”
“a 62, farleigh ? seriously ?”
“yeah i purposely put the wrong answers, atleast for some part of it”
he answers you, unbothered. he purses his lips around the cig, almost lighting it as he notices that you’re still waiting for some sort of explanation. he sighs before letting his head fall back onto the pillow
“i wanted you to win” he admits. your eyebrows furrowed, clearly confused
“so you can atleast see some good in me, when im not bullying you” to which you respond,
“you could’ve just stop insulting me like a normal person”
“but then everyone will realise that i was falling for you”
your face softens at his words. his eyes roam across the ceiling, trying to avoid your eyes before he continues, “—everyone knows i dont just ‘fall’ for people” you search his face for some sort of indicator that he’s trolling you but to no avail. you both sit in silence for a moment before you lean in to kiss him. his hands reach up to your face, pushing the hair covering the side of your face away. your hand reach up to cup his face, deepening the kiss. you pull away smiling at him to which he rolls his eyes playfully.“great now you have something to tease me about”. “i like you too farleigh” you quickly cut him. he cant help the smile creeping on his face. you both continue to sit in silence drinking in each others presence.
“study date ?” you suggest
“i dont study, sweetheart”
taglist: @june-ebgert @radioloom @fuckshitslover @szapizzapanda @themoonchildwhofell @love-me-pls
#farleigh start x you#farleigh start imagine#farleigh start smut#farleigh start fanfic#farleigh imagine#farleigh start x reader#farleigh smut#farleigh catton#farleigh x reader#farleigh saltburn#farleigh start#farleigh x you#farleigh fanfiction#archie madekwe#sub! farleigh#academic rivals#academic rival! farleigh#subby farleigh#fem!reader#babygirl in adult men form#men whimpering#whiny farleigh#archie madekwe smut#farleigh start fluff#farleigh start one shot#farleigh start blurbs#farleigh start headcannon#saltburn smut#archie madekwe x fem!reader#archie madekwe fanfic
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High lady. | High Lord Eris X F reader
Summary:
A/N: Hellooo my fireflies! I’ve been thirsting for Eris these past few weeks so why not write for him? I can’t believe I ever didn’t like this man 😫. Also for my male readers out there, if you’d like me to rewrite this or any of my other fics with a male reader, just ask! 💕
3k words
warnings: cussing, allusions to sex, use of y/n, slight angst, she/her pronouns
There were no words to describe your shock at seeing the royal invite to the ball. You weren’t high fae. You were a simple, low class librarian. Your name was written in beautiful, classy cursive. A handwriting you recognized immediately. This was handwritten by Eris. Eris Vanserra. Memories flooded your mind.
Running through the gardens, dogs barking behind you playfully. You didn’t have time to react before a body landed on you. Eris. He tackled you to the dirt, his hand was cradling your head to prevent it banging against the floor as he straddled your back. His hounds crowded the two of you, stomping and making noises with excitement.
“Got you little fox!” Eris announced, hugging you from behind.
“Not fair! You said you’d give me a head start.” You pouted. Eris’s laughter filled the air, creating a warm atmosphere. His arms wrapped around your middle and he pulled you into a hug. His embrace was warm and comforting in the cool autumn air.
Cauldron. That was so long ago. Eris was older by you than a long shot, but at that time, you were young. Nineteen years old. Young and innocent. He was also slightly more innocent then, playing with you and entertaining your young soul. Your face flushed a slight shade of pink, and you shook your head. You remember your crush on him. How could you not have one though? Everyone warned you. And you didn’t listen. He was everything a girl at that age would’ve wanted. Beautiful, handsome, smart, experienced, and a prince.
It was only when you discovered Eris was to be betrothed to some high fae daughter in his father’s court, did your little world come crashing down with reality. You were a peasant compared to him. And he likely saw you as nothing but entertainment. So you distanced yourself. You stopped accepting his invites to dinner with his family, you didn’t go out with him anymore. Of course, you couldn’t bear to completely cut him off. So you still would accept his occasional invite to walk with him in the forests with his hounds. He always told you they missed you. Now days, the walks were somewhat awkward. They happened every few months.
The last one was 6 months ago. You always thought you were doing better, you worked at a library, and cared for precious books. You lived in a relatively small apartment, but it was okay. You were grateful, you had a roof on your head and food on your plate. Things had changed since your last walk with him.
Beron was dead. On Eris’s wedding night, before the marriage had been officiated he had dueled Beron to a battle of death. Hundreds at the wedding had witnessed as Eris brutally slayed his father, and placed the crown on his head. Declaring himself as high lord. He released himself of the marriage, and granted his fiancé permission to marry her true lover. When the news escaped to the streets and you heard, you couldn’t help but be nervous. You realized, Eris would be to busy with his court to come on walks with you anymore. And that made you realize that your feelings weren’t gone. You had never gotten over him.
Tonight was a royal ball. You remembered Eris had always begged his father to let you attend the dances and balls, but Beron always refused. Saying trash like you should never be seen with royalty. Eris, stayed by your side though. He’d sneak from the dances and find you, and would dance in the silent night with you. And you had no idea why Eris was inviting you to this ball. Was it pity? Did he want you to experience something nice once in your life? What would you even wear? You certainly didn’t have royal attire.
You ripped open the letter with your nails, admiring the wax seal of a little fox on it. You opened it to a small card inside. Eris’s handwriting.
Little fox,
I’d be honored for you to attend the royal autumn ball tonight with me. A carriage will wait for you at your apartment at noon. Don’t neglect my dogs of your attention any longer.
Love, Eris.
You giggled. You felt like a school girl. You could feel the heat on your face. You admired his familiar handwriting. It was neat and lovely in every sense. A dried viola fell into your lap when you opened the card further. Memories of him teaching you cursive in the gardens made you smile. You stood, grasping the flower, and pulled out the small box you kept of every letter he had ever sent you. Whenever Beron would try to restrict him from seeing you, it didn’t stop him from convincing his maids or servants to get his letters to you. You hadn’t received a letter since his last request to walk with you. The box was filled with the dried flowers he’d always sent with them.
How could you go? What would you wear? You approached your closet. And then you remembered something.
“Eris- I can’t wear this. This is too- too, royal.” You squeaked, admiring the beautiful dress he had just gifted you.
“Wear it. It matches the suit my father made me wear. Let’s dance, little fox.” He purred, pushing hair out of your face. Once the dress was on, he pulled you close to him in the empty streets on the Autumn Court and guided you in a slow dance, uncaring of the lack of music. Or the fact he was missing a royal ball.
You didn’t waste time in finding the box tucked away safely under your bed, and pulling it out. You opened the box, staring at the gorgeous forgotten dress. You had only worn it the last night he had danced with you.
This would work. Looks like all the dances you learned from books would pay off tonight.
Music from the orchestra blasted loudly. You entered the throne room, slightly late. But nobody cared. You were fashionably late- you had to find a mask. It was a masquerade after all. And Eris’s letter was a little bit close to time so, nobody could blame you. People danced in sync all over the room, dresses of different colors swaying. It was so fascinating. You couldn’t help but be mesmerized. Sure, most of these people were stuck up cunts, but they were beautiful, and they knew it too. You walked down the the grand stair case, eyes greedily taking in everything.
And then they caught on him. He sat on the throne, auburn hair messy as if he had ran his hands through it more then once tonight. The crown on his head was slightly crooked, giving him an uncaring look as high fae of all kinds greeted him. His mask was the color of burning fire, gold lace trimming it. He seemed bored, uninterested in this whole party. And he looked every bit of the High Lord you knew he would be.
You didn’t have the guts to greet him. You couldn’t. He had invited you out of perhaps pity. There were clear boundaries you were sure of. And you knew approaching the high lord as a peasant would break every single one of those boundaries. You could already see high fae turning their noses up at you as you walked by.
You approached the giant banquet table, observing the various foods. They were all favorites of yours. Maybe you just had a fancy food taste. You grabbed a glass of fae wine off of a servant’s tray, happy to indulge yourself in high quality wine that you didn’t have to pay for. You decided to eat after you danced.
You turned to face the dance floor. You watched the first waltz come to an ends, couples departing to find new partners. You swirled your wine in your glass, smelled it and then took a taste. It was glorious. Aged, and woodsy. You figured the bottle was easily in the three hundreds. Who cared? You didn’t have to pay for it. You snickered to yourself.
“Dance with me?” A coy voice purred beside you.
You turned, seeing a gentle around your age. High fae. And he was still asking to dance. Odd. His mask was black with silver lace. He wore a simple black tux. His hair was a dark brown, slicked with gel. He had a warm smile. He was handsome. You took his outstretched hand.
“Why not?” You replied, setting your wine glass down on a servant’s tray. The male smirked with arrogance, and swooped you to the dance floor. Music begun, and he started the dance.
“I’m Silas.” He murmured, twirling you. You nodded, having no problem in keeping up with the complex strides of this particular dance.
“Y/n” You responded. His eyes glinted.
“Beautiful name for a beautiful girl like you.” Silas said. He started to move faster, as if seeing how well you could keep up. And you did. Having no trouble at all.
You smiled warmly. This man was nice. You could see yourself with him. But it felt like something was missing. Like a hole in your heart.
“Thank you, Silas.” You purred back, starting to lead the dance. You guided it into a more complex rhythm, going along with the music, but ultimately making it more difficult. You giggled when he tripped over his own foot but caught himself. He glared at you.
“You dance awfully good for a commoner.” He huffed out, twirling you again.
“Having trouble keeping up?” You taunted playfully, not caring of his snarky remark. He was embarrassed. You could tell by how his eyes were roaming the people that had take to watch the both of you dance, interested in seeing how long you could rule the dance floor, he was embarrassed. Your eyes roamed the people. You could feel a familiar sense of someone watching. Your eyes found Eris. He was no longer listening to the fae beside him. His amber eyes bored into you. When you caught eye contact, he smirked. His legs spread as he leaned further into his throne. His eyebrow was cocked, his long talons tapping against the throne.
Cauldron. You had forgot how breathtakingly gorgeous he was. And sexy. You felt your face flush.
A snarl distracted you from him. Silas’s hands clutched your hips.
“Do not mock me.” He growled quietly in your ear. The music’s rhythm went faster, and the dance along with it. The curious fae quickly started dancing again, embarrassed at how they were so mesmerized by a commoner.
You went to take another step, but Silas went crashing to the floor. You watched in shock as he slid on the floor, his eyes wide with fury and embarrassment. His face heated with embarrassment. He looked up at you mouth open as if he was about to blame you, but his eyes caught on something behind you. Or rather, someone.
You turned slowly to see the high lord standing in his full glory behind you. His sharp cunning eyes squinted and mouth pulled into a smirk. He observed the male on the floor before looking at the people around you both. Then his eyes landed on you. You were awestruck by him for a minute- before you realized he was royalty. You started to bow but an invisible force stopped you. Your eyes narrowed in confusion before Eris bowed in front of you.
The High Lord just bowed in front of you. You. A peasant. Before you could say anything he lifted his hand to you.
“Grant me the pleasure of a dance?” He said, loud and clear. Gods you missed his voice. Yours ears picked up multiple gasps of shock. You heard a start of a growl before seeing Eris’s eyes glare into Silas behind you. You heard Silas scrambling away, knowing his place. Eris’s eyes turned back to you. He stayed in a bowed down position, hand waiting for yours. You swallows your shock. So be it. This very much may be the last dance you and him share, and you would take it.
Eris smiled softly when he felt the familiar embrace of your hand on his. His hand wrapped around yours, completely swallowing it. You hadn’t even realized the music had stopped until now. He motioned with his free hand for it to begin again. Fae around you scampered to start dancing, but all of their eyes were on you. On him. And his eyes were on you. And that’s all that mattered.
His free hand moved to your hip, grasping it gently with respect. He slowly moved to start the dance, holding you close. You didn’t know what to say or do other than to follow his lead. You didn’t even realize your mouth was gaping open.
“Little fox, you look like a fish gasping for air.” Eris teased in your ear, and you quickly shut your mouth.
“Sorry-“
“Don’t apologize. You never have to apologize to me.” He replied, smoothly. Gods. It was as if you were 19 again and you were dancing in the empty village with him. His long nails drew circles on your hip as you slowly started ti advance in the pace of the music. He kept up with ease, and you the same.
“Your hounds miss you.” Eris murmured, leaning his head down enough to kiss your forehead. It took every ounce of self control to not accidentally trip in shock.
“My hounds? They’re not mine. They’re yours!“ You started.
“Yes, they are, little fox. You helped me save and raise Sadie’s pups. If it wasn’t for you most of them would’ve died during birth. They are every bit of yours as they are mine.” He responded, pulling you closer. You knew better then to continue this fight with him. He was stubborn. And you knew if you tried to refuse again you’d probably have a pack of hounds at your apartment door tomorrow- out of spite.
“Whatever.” You grumbled defeatedly, shaking your head. He chuckled. His laugh was deeper now. You could smell the envy of other women around you. You wondered if they knew there wasn’t anything to be jealous of.
“So..how’s being High Lord?” You asked, unsure of what to talk about now. Eris frowned with a playful pout.
“Lonely. I’m sure the hounds would agree too. But don’t worry about that. That’ll change very, very soon.”
You weren’t quite sure what Eris was getting on to now. He always spoke in riddles. You sighed. Before you could re-question him, he started talking again.
“How has my little fox been?” Eris divulged.
You blushed. He had always had a knack for that dumb nickname. You were glad people couldn’t hear your conversation. The current dance came to an end and Eris wasted no time in pulling you into another. He knew you would have no problems keeping up.
“I’ve been good.” You responded. You looked up at him. He had gotten taller. And bigger. Maybe it was the high lord magic that transferred to him after Beron died or something. You weren’t sure. But he towered over you, creating a comical size difference. He gave you a toothy playful smile. He was always so carefree around you. You loved it. You loved him.
“You look lovely in that dress.”
“You bought it.” You quipped back at him.
“I have such good taste don't I?” He countered.
You couldn’t help but giggled looking away. The music slowed and you knew this was coming to an end. And gods you didn’t want it to end. His eyes softened as if he too was thinking the same. He grasped you tighter, pulling you closer, your bodies left no space between each others. He leaned down and inhaled your scent.
“Gods. I missed you. I missed your scent. The way you laugh. Talking with you- I missed it all.” Eris started. He held you tighter when you tried to pull away, confused.
“Don’t move away. Let me enjoy this Y/n.” He whispered, head going to the crook of your neck as he slowed the dance, moving with rhythm to the orchestra’s music. You realized how desperate and clingy his hood on you seemed now. As if he had missed you as much as you missed him.
Fuck boundaries. You couldn’t care if you were a peasant compared to him right now. You let your inner thoughts win as you tightly clutched at him. You didn’t wanna let go of him. You let your head lean against his chest, relaxing into the calm and slow dance. You knew fae were gawking at you both. And neither of you cared. Eris seemed shocked at your return of his embrace. The music slowed to a stop, and so did you both in the middle of the floor. Eris gently pulled away, staring at you with such adoring eyes. A sharp contrast to who he was in front of these people. His eyes found their way to your lips. He looked back up at you, a pleading look on his face. You understood what he wanted.
His hand clutched at the back of your head as your lips met. His were soft. It was the most gentle and loving kiss. You couldn’t give a flying fuck about the jealous and envious fae. Not just women. Both males and females snickering in jealousy. Eris pulled away, eyes soft. He took in the sight of you.
He didn’t waste time in pulling you in for a second kiss. This one wasn’t gentle. It was hot. Aggressive. He kissed you as if there was a fire in his bones and you were the only thing that could sooth it. His teeth gently nipped and sucked on your bottom lip. You returned it. His hand clutched at the back of your head, talons tangled in your hair. His other one clutched at your hip and roamed to your lower back. Your hands clutched at the front of his dress shirt. When you pulled away gasping for air, Eris had the biggest smile on his face. His eyes roamed your face again. You lips were swollen and pink from him. You were panting and looking at him as if he was everything. And he returned the same look. He tucked a strand of loose hair behind your ear before cupping your jaw.
“Don’t make me miss you anymore. Stay with me. I’ll give you everything you could dream of. You can be my high lady. Anything- anything you want.” He begged, eyes pleading. You knew he wasn’t lying.
“Eris..”
Eris swear his heart stopped with the way you said his name. He’s positive he would die right here on this floor at your knees if you rejected him. You were all he ever wanted.
“You’re everything I could dream of.” You whispered to him. Eris took in a gasp of air, not realizing he had been holding it. Relief flooding his body. And then pure love. He grabbed your hand before you could say anything and guided you up the stairs the the throne. He turned, facing the crowd with you. His hand placed on your lower back.
The whole crowd of fae stared in confusion and shock. No idea of what was about to happen.
“Well? What are you waiting for?” Eris barked. “Show some respect to your high lady.”
His voice boomed across the room, gasps eliciting from the crowd. And then, they all bowed. You stood in front of the throne, watching as they all bowed to their knees. The scent of fear and confusion flooded from the fae.
Eris smirked before turning around back to you. He knew that despite your anxieties, you were made for this. Just your presence demanded attention from others. He knew you were his. His eyes shined with pure male pride as he removed the autumn court crown from his head, and gently placed it on yours. You watched as he bowed down on his knee, paying respect to you. His queen. You relaxed. Hundreds of high fae all bowed down to you. Your man bowed down to you. You tipped your head up with a smirk.
Eris grasped your hand and kissed your ring finger with a possessive glare at it. As if promising himself it would soon have a ring around it. He stood, and walked you to the throne. He held your hand as you sat down on it, crossing your legs. He stood beside you, eyes peering to the fae. He looked to you. Gods you were gorgeous. He couldn’t help the possessiveness in him that filled to the brim at seeing you where you finally belonged. He had waited so long to be able to do this.
“The masquerade is over. Get out.” He growled to the people, his eyes never leaving you. He didn’t bother turning around to ensure the people left. He could hear them rushing to get out.
He was gonna fuck you on your rightful throne.
#acosf#acotar#imagine#x reader#acotar 5#acotar fanfiction#acotar fic#azriel acotar#eris vanserra#eris acotar#eris x reader#eris vandaddy#lucien#lady of autumn#beron vanserra#Eris X reader#eris vanserra x reader#eris x y/n#eris x you
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━。゜✿ jily fic recommendations ✿ ゜。━
Some more AUs I've been loving. I'm trying to alternate between AU and canon verse rec lists so bear with me. Remember that if you like a fic you should definitely let the author know as such.
For reference, anything in italics is taken from the summaries on ao3.
theogony by @clare-with-no-i
The trip that Lily Evans expects to go on is the annual pre-dissertation jaunt to Athens with the rest of her Classical Civilizations PhD program. The trip she does not expect to go on is to 479 BCE, right on the cusp of one of the most important battles in the Greco-Persian war. Now, she has to navigate antiquity as she tries to find her way back to the 21st Century, God—or gods—help her.
James wants to win this war. No, James needs to win this war. He is a man of honor and duty, and even if it means dying a gruesome, bloody death, he will go down in history as one of Athens's great warriors. He will suffer no distractions; not even beautiful ones who speak strangely and refuse to listen to his orders.
--
OR: The Outlander-Meets-Ancient-Greece Jily AU that no one asked for Maya dreams of.
I can't believe it took me this long to read this fic but OH MY GOD!! Clare's writing is phenomenal, I've known this for a while now, but THE DEDICATION TO HISTORICAL ACCURACY, I'm so impressed. If only I could put even half that amount of effort into my major essays for school.
EVERYONE GO READ THIS NOW
Sweathearts' Special by @tinyluminaryzombie
What happens when your coffee shop nemesis, asks you to pretend to be a couple?
Or "I’ve been staring at the stupid cupcakes for the past hour, and they look way too good. Anyways, would you be willing to join forces and pretend to be together for the free cupcake and coffee?”
Welcome to Pettyville by @women-inthe-sequel
When Lily Evans accidentally sends a text to the wrong number, she isn’t expecting to find the right person behind it. She can’t stop talking to Prongs. The only thing is, Prongs can’t stop talking about the girl in his class. What could go wrong, other than the number?
A love square but it's just the same two idiots
Tall Dark and Glasses by @jamesunderwater
Tall Dark and Glasses (or TDG as he is more affectionately known) is the mysterious, painfully good-looking stranger who has been frequenting Lily's favourite coffee shop for months now. But despite having an embarrassing acronym for him, Lily, a burned-out STEM major, is too comfortable being a wallflower to go up to him herself. Thank god for playing cards, I guess.
coffee shops and copious amounts of sugar by @mystinkysocks
James decides to finally start revising, the coffee shop he attends introduces him to someone new!
As someone who spends an ungodly amount of time studying in public (at cafés and libraries), all I dream of is to one day live out my very own coffee shop AU
Unlicenced by @ohmygodshesinsane
Lily Evans begrudgingly agrees to get in the car with classmate and sometime-foe James Potter and his not-quite-earned P-plates after a particularly rubbish day.
Drop-Off also by @/ ohmygodshesinsane
James Potter takes Lily Evans home, and wants to make something clear.
Disclaimer that they’re Australian in this AU. You guys don't understand how much Lily Evans means to me. I want to give her a hug.
pretty, pretty boy by rosiemary0 (on ao3)
Pretty face, with golden brown eyes and strong cheekbones (one of which is adorned with a smudge of charcoal). Pretty hands—very, very pretty hands, Lily’s thoughts interject—which hold a jar each, one with water and the other paintbrushes.
Or the one where James is an artist and Lily hates socialising.
I'll Manage by @kaymardsa
James and Lily fall in love during the war.
In which Lily runs a refugee camp and James is an ex-sniper
I can't remember if I've recommended this fic already but again I recently re-read it and wanted to share
'Tis the Fucking Season by @thequibblah
Six-year absences. Yearly photograph burnings (figuratively). Low-cut tops. Two nosebleeds. Little red notebooks. The Past, with a capital P. The desire to pour your heart out to strangers (maybe pathologically). The desire to do unspeakably bad things to one James Potter. These are the ingredients that make up Lily Evans's holiday season.
Shelby the cabbie is in for a fucking ride.
I have been searching for this fic for two months and nearly gave up. An absolute classic that everyone should read!!
Two's a Crowd also by @/ thequibblah
Regency AU in which "the only thing Lily Evans can share with the Earl of Devon is a healthy dose of mutual dislike."
In Search of Something More by @kay-elle-cee
In the sunlit garden of her sister’s home, Lord Potter had promised Lily a life of her own design, with minimal expectations—her presence at community events, companionship, and an heir. As the two stumble into the routine of marriage and work to make a life together at Stinchcombe Hall, unsolicited feelings provoke each to start wondering if this is merely a marriage…or if it could be something more.
No, I will not shut up about this fic. Anything that Kelsey writes is bound to be amazing but this one holds a special place in my heart.
Note that this is an ongoing fic though. I tend to recommend completed works but this one is too good not to include.
Pinkest Bluestocking of the Ton by @wearingaberetinparis
Dearest Reader, the ton are abuzz with the latest gossip, and so it is my honour to impart to you the news that the Duke of Peverell has returned to London at last! A year after setting off on his tour of Europe, Lady Peverell's son has returned and rumour has it that his mother is preparing for the most joyous of occasions: a late summer wedding that sees her son wed the next Duchess of Peverell. It is my sincere hope that you have stored a bottle of wine for this most delightful of upcoming events for if ever there were a more determined mama, this writer is Icarus and this society paper has been scorched for flying too close to the sun.
A Jily Regency Romance inspired by Shondaland's "Bridgerton".
Again this is an ongoing fic, but it's too good not to include in this rec list! I haven’t caught up with all the chapters yet but I love the story so far!
A Heart of Coal also by @/ wearingaberetinparis
They say fortune favours the bold, yet Lily Evans was given her death sentence at seventeen. As soon as midnight strikes on the eve of her eighteenth birthday, her heart will turn to coal. Gryffindor knight James Potter, however, is the last to accept such a fate. For while Lily Evans’ curse foretells her death, his foreshadows a life without his unrequited true love at his side.
Fairytale AU in which the love is requited they're just idiots
Three Lemons and a Dragon by @thelighthousestale
Once upon a time, there lived a Prince named James who had to save his father's Kingdom by getting married. One day an older woman gifts him three lemons that will lead him to his true love.
Dillweed in a Fancy Metal Can by @eastwindmlk
When Lily gets dragged to a Renaissance Faire, she reluctantly agreed to go to the jousting event where she is pulled into the show against her will, or is it?
Lily represents me
Queen Foxtail also by @/ eastwindmlk
Once Upon A Time...
There was an arrogant prince who turned down every suitable match and drove his parents to do something drastic. Marry him off to the next merchant that steps through their gates.
across the universe by rcdwings (on ao3)
“So, you’re saying that in these other worlds, James Potter and Lily Evans exist, too?”
She hadn’t expected to hear that, hadn’t even thought about it that way. She was too busy thinking about if in those other worlds, she and her friends could be seventeen and free instead of the war torn teenagers they were. Now that he’d put it that way, she couldn’t help but let her mind wander.
“I would assume so,” she swallowed. “Not sure what we would be like, though.”
A beat, then a soft hum. “Anything,” he smiled at her, “There are countless worlds, right? We could be anything.”
only love can hurt like this by @fireblts
Lily doesn’t quite know everything, but it feels pretty close.
The main thing she still doesn’t get is soulmates. Love doesn’t seem like something that should be painful. Or rather, love seems like it’s painful enough on its own without any help.
Soulmate AU - whenever your soulmate is hurt or in pain, you can feel it too.
Soulmate AUs are my comfort genre of fics. I haven't been feeling to well lately and rediscovering this fic was a delight
The Librarian of Hogsmeade Village by @ohmygodshesinsane
Lily's work as a librarian in the small village of Hogsmeade has kept her occupied for the past six years, forever keeping the wheels of the town on the track. As the holidays approach, she prepares to settle in with a nice mug of tea and a well-thumbed old book. When a new resident and his son arrive at her weekly story-reading, with cheeky smiles and big hearts, those plans are tossed out the window in favour of chasing love, for once - not escaping it.
Lily living the cozy life of my dreams. I think it's well known by now that I love reading about single parents and well James with his baby boy always puts a smile on my face.
Spitting Image by @charmsandtealeaves
James Potter always knew he wanted to build a family, he just hadn’t found the right person to build it with - yet. Freezing his sperm at Gringotts Sperm Bank was a no-brainer really. He’d have children when he found the right person, and now he had an insurance policy. Then Lily Evans walked into his place of work with her son - the spitting image of him.
linking this art that the talented @constancezin drew inspired by this fic
Every time I see that Ray has updated, reading the new chapter becomes the highlight of my day
The Stag Prince Across The Sea also by @/ charmsandtealeaves
The realm of Hogwarts had lived for decades in a carefully negotiated harmony between the leaders of the four clans. However, when the time came for son to marry daughter, the Slytherin King refused to offer his daughter's hand to any of the other grand houses’ suitors. As the Slytherin King departed the shore, bound for the ship that would allow him to escape across the Green Sea, he cast a curse on the great families.
“Let ye be marked. Marred by tooth, hoof, and claw. May your sons never be fit for any bride!”
Slytherin invoked an ancient magic, which transformed each family's eldest son into creatures under the light of the full moon. The Kings searched far and wide for a cure to no avail while trying to keep secret the wrong that had been done to them. Years passed and with them grew a sense of unrest, a kingdom on the precipice of collapse...
what love is, I think by @potterandevans-blog-blog
It's James Potter's birthday, his nineteenth to be exact. Some people, if they're lucky, find a tattoo on their back on their nineteenth birthday, a tattoo that can help them discover their soulmate. And if the antlers on his back are anything to go by, James might just have a soulmate of his own out there, somewhere.
oil be there for you by @abby10fanfic
Texting/Social Media AU: Lily and James haven't spoken for 2 years. But that's all about to change thanks to Peter and his involvement in an essential oil pyramid scheme. Featuring boss babes, toxin-free lifestyles, binding contracts, and a very oily journey.
#if you're like me and check the jily fic tag nearly every morning you've probably read most of these already#but I just wanted to share my recent favourites#lily evans#james potter#jily#jple#james x lily#lily x james#jily fic rec
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Smutty Yandere professor Arin who takes Y/N TA under her wing
UNDER HER GUIDANCE
YANDERE PROFESOR ARIN X MALE READER
The cafe lights blurred as Arin leaned in, her voice a seductive whisper. "So, Y/N," she breathed, her lips brushing against his ear, "tell me, how badly do you want to explore the depths of this… devotion?"
His breath caught in his throat. Arin had always been a captivating professor, but tonight, under the dim lights, with the scent of wine swirling around them, she felt impossibly alluring. A dangerous thrill shot through him, a thrill he couldn't quite place.
"I…" he stammered, meeting her gaze. Her emerald eyes seemed to blaze with an unspoken intensity, a hunger that mirrored his own burgeoning desire.
"There's no need for words," Arin purred, her hand trailing down his arm, sending shivers dancing across his skin. Before he could react, her lips were on his, the kiss a delicious mix of forbidden passion and academic desperation.
He tasted wine, cherry lip gloss, and a hint of something wild, a possessiveness that sent a jolt through him. Arin's kiss wasn't tender, it was a claim, a brand seared onto his lips. He found himself responding with a fervor that surprised even him, his hands roaming her back, clutching the soft fabric of her dress.
As quickly as it began, the kiss ended, leaving them both breathless, desire warring with a sliver of unease. Arin's eyes were glazed, her breathing shallow. "See, Y/N," she whispered, her voice husky, "isn't this better than any classroom discussion?"
The thrill of the forbidden intoxicated him, momentarily drowning out the nagging voice in the back of his head. He nodded, unable to tear his gaze away from her. "Yes," he choked out, his voice thick with desire.
The following weeks were a whirlwind of stolen moments and hushed whispers. Arin became bolder, their meetings escalating from heated discussions to passionate encounters hidden in empty classrooms and dimly lit corners of the library. Y/N, once an innocent student, was now a willing participant in their twisted dance.
One evening, huddled in the stacks of the library, Arin traced a possessive circle on his chest. "Tell me, Y/N," she murmured, her voice laced with a dangerous possessiveness, "Do you ever think about anyone else?"
He hesitated, a flicker of Sarah, the bright new student, flashing across his mind. But the thought was quickly squashed by a wave of possessiveness instilled by Arin. "No," he lied, his voice firm.
"Good," she breathed, her grip tightening. "Because you belong to me, Y/N. Just as I belong to you."
The possessiveness chilled him, yet a part of him, warped by Arin's relentless seduction, felt a twisted sense of satisfaction. He was hers, and she was his, a forbidden pact sealed with stolen kisses and whispered promises.
Meanwhile, whispers of their "special relationship" began to spread through the campus. Sarah, ostracized by Arin's subtle manipulations, dropped the course. Other girls who dared to show Y/N any attention received failing grades or found themselves ostracized by their peers, thanks to Arin's behind-the-scenes machinations.
Y/N saw the fear in their eyes, the way they avoided him. A sickening realization dawned on him – he wasn't just drawn to Arin, he was trapped. Her love had morphed into a suffocating obsession, leaving him isolated and dependent on her.
He confronted her one night, his voice shaky. "Professor, this can't go on. We're crossing too many lines…"
Arin's face hardened, her emerald eyes flashing with a frightening intensity. "Lines are meant to be broken, Y/N," she hissed. "We are forging a connection, a beautiful, forbidden love."
He looked away, fear battling with a perverse sense of loyalty. He hated the control she wielded, the fear she instilled, yet the thought of leaving her terrified him. Arin had woven a web of obsession around him, and he was hopelessly entangled.
One rainy night, Arin presented him with a small velvet box. Inside, nestled on black velvet, lay a silver ring engraved with a single rose – the same brand that marred his back, a constant reminder of their twisted love.
Tears welled up in his eyes, a mix of fear and a warped sense of belonging. "Arin, I…"
"Don't say a word," she cut him off, her voice laced with a chilling possessiveness. "This is our forever, Y/N. You and me, bound by love and… devotion."
He slipped the ring on his finger, the metal cold against his skin. Looking into Arin's eyes, blazing with a terrifying love, Y/N knew He'd sealed his fate. The ring, a permanent reminder etched in silver, mirrored the brand on his back, a constant duality of desire and fear. Arin, victorious in her twisted game, reveled in his submission. Their "relationship" became a chilling performance. In public, they were professor and student, maintaining a facade of propriety while stolen glances and lingering touches spoke volumes to those who dared to look.
In private, the passion remained fiery, but a chilling undercurrent had settled in. Arin's possessiveness escalated. Any mention of his past life, his family, even the weather outside their bubble, was met with icy disapproval. He became her prisoner, not in a physical sense, but mentally and emotionally.
His grades remained exceptional, but the thrill of learning had been replaced by a constant need to please her. He began researching Victorian asylums, a morbid fascination sparked by Arin's increasingly erratic behavior. She'd lock herself in her office for days, emerging with wild theories about their connection, a twisted echo of literary themes they dissected in class.
One rainy afternoon, while rummaging through Arin's office for a forgotten book, Y/N stumbled upon a hidden drawer. Inside, nestled amongst student evaluations and research papers, lay a collection of photographs – each one a picture of a young woman, all with a striking resemblance to Sarah.
Panic clawed at his throat. Sarah, the first to fall victim to Arin's wrath, wasn't alone. Each woman, once a potential rival, had been ostracized or worse, ensuring Y/N remained solely hers. The chilling realization hit him – he wasn't her lover, he was her obsession, a twisted trophy in a macabre collection.
A desperate plan started brewing in his mind. He knew escape wouldn't be easy. Arin had him under her thumb, both through his warped affection and her academic authority. He started subtly reaching out, reconnecting with old friends through coded messages and anonymous emails.
One night, after a particularly heated argument fueled by Arin's suspicion of his newfound secretive behavior, Y/N saw his opportunity. Feigning sleep, he waited until Arin's breathing fell into a deep rhythm. Then, with a racing heart, he slipped out of bed, grabbing the incriminating photographs as evidence.
He navigated the silent house, every creak of the floorboards echoing his fear. Reaching the door, he fumbled with the lock, his hands slick with sweat. Just as he clicked it open, a hand clamped down on his shoulder.
Arin stood there, her face a mask of fury. In her hand, she brandished a syringe glinting menacingly in the moonlight. "Leaving so soon, my love?" she hissed, her voice laced with a terrifying calm.
Y/N's heart hammered against his ribs. "Professor," he stammered, "we can talk about this."
"Talk?" she snarled, the syringe inching closer. "There's nothing left to discuss. You're mine, Y/N, and you'll stay mine, even if I have to lock you away with me."
Terror choked Y/N, but a spark of defiance ignited within him. He lunged forward, knocking the syringe from her grasp. A struggle ensued, a desperate dance fueled by fear and obsession. The house echoed with the sounds of their fight until, in a desperate move, Y/N shoved Arin away with all his might.
She crashed against a bookshelf, books tumbling and scattering across the floor. A gasp escaped her lips, and Y/N, adrenaline coursing through his veins, saw his chance. He threw open the door and sprinted into the night, the chilling rain a welcome baptism as he washed away the remnants of Arin's twisted love.
He ran blindly, fueled by a primal desire to escape. The police would be contacted, the evidence presented. Arin would face consequences, hopefully. But the scars, physical and emotional, would forever be a grim reminder of the professor who loved too much, a love that imprisoned and nearly destroyed him.
As dawn painted the sky with streaks of orange and pink, Y/N finally stopped, his lungs burning, his chest heaving. He looked back at the looming silhouette of Arin's house, a dark stain against the lightening horizon. He wasn't sure if he had truly escaped, or if he would ever be free from the chilling melody of Arin's twisted symphony. The final note, though played, still resonated in the deepest corners of his soul.
#arin#oh my girl#oh my girl arin#choi yewon#kpop#yandere roleplay#yandere blog#yandere stories#yandere#kpop yandere#kpop x reader#kpop x y/n#x male reader#beautiful#sexy content#apreciation post#update
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Cake & Minis - Cotton Candy Fluff
Summary-> It's just you and Henry for his birthday. But that's all right, the two of you have cake and Warhammer Minis.
Pairing-> Henry Cavill/Reader
Word Count-> 1.1k
Warnings-> PG: FLUFF, Cotton Candy Fluff, Nerdy Banter
Inspiration-> It's Henry's 41st Birthday! Happy Birthday, Puppy!
Author’s Note-> This is a work of Fiction!
Divider by-> @FIREFLY-GRAPHICS!
-> If you would like to get notifications for my writing! Just follow my Tag List blog, @VIKING-RAIDER-TAGLIST as well as my @VIKING-RAIDER-LIBRARY and turn on the notifications for it! It’s that easy!’ Ao3-> DRAGON_DWELLER
“So, Birthday Boy, what do you want to do for your birthday?” You asked, as you sat at the kitchen table with Henry, sipping your cup of tea, while he sat across from you, browsing the Highlander Script.
“I don’t know, babe.” He frowned, brow creasing at the page he was on. “Most of my family won’t be able to come in for any sort of celebration until next week. So, it’s just you and me.” He said, setting the script aside. “We could go out somewhere, have dinner.”
You studied him, holding his gaze. “You don’t want to though, do you?” You asked, voicing the glint you saw in his blue eyes.
“Not really.” He confessed, chewing on his lip.
Something came to you. “I might have an idea.” You said, excusing yourself and went upstairs, retrieving the gift you’d gotten Henry for his forty-first trip around the sun. “Why don’t you go ahead and open that.” You suggested, handing over the wrapped box and taking up your seat again.
Henry carefully removed the wrapping paper and a grin instantly touched his lips. “The new Blood Angels Minis.” He chuckled, opening the box to examine the little gray pieces.
“I could start your birthday cake and we could assemble those bad boys.” You suggested, pressing your lips together, while cocking your head at him.
“You want to spend my birthday painting Warhammer Minis with me?” He asked, quite skeptical.
“Yeah, if you want to, that is?” You replied, wide eyed. “I could leave you to your own devices with them. It was just a suggestion, I’ll do anything you want for your day, Puppy.”
A soft smile touched his face. “I’d love to spend my birthday assembling and painting minis with you. Especially if there’s cake eating involved.” He laughed, touched that you would express an interest in one of his hobbies, even for a day or few hours.
“It’s a deal then!” You beamed, excited. “I’ll get everything for your cake going, why don’t you get everything for the Mini building set up, then I’ll join you!”
“Sounds like a plan.” Henry nodded, taking up the Minis and headed for his man cave, where he had a whole station for building and painting his Minis.
Henry hummed happily to himself, bustling about the room, pulling out plastic containers, zip-lock bags and cases of items that contained glue, tools, paints and brushes of all kinds to cut out the pieces, assemble and paint them. He meticulously laid everything out, ready for the two of you to start the long process of building the six Blood Angel figures. Once that was done, he joined you in the kitchen.
“All ready.” He smiled, finding you in the process of mixing the red velvet batter; his favorite cake. “Do you want any help?” He asked, moving around the island to stand behind you, resting his chin on your shoulder.
“Nope.” You replied, shaking your head, slightly resting back against him. “You just mind yourself and I’ll bake this.” You told him, rocking side to side with him.
“Do I get to lick the spoon?” He smirked, nuzzling the side of your face.
“Mmm, I suppose so.” You answered, filling the cake pan with the batter, before holding the spoon up for him.
“Mmm.” Henry hummed, flicking his tongue out over the back of the utensil, collecting the rich-red batter. “Tasty, can’t wait to have a slice.”
“I’m sure.” You smiled, wiggling out of his arms to slide the dish into the pre-heated oven. “Mini building time!” You beamed, setting the timer and placing it on the island. “Let’s go, my God Emperor.”
“As you wish, my little Primarch.” Henry laughed, heading for his man cave with you. “I’m sure you’ll end up painting one of them to look like Chaplain Rafael.”
“Burn the Heretic! Kill the Mutant! Purge the Unclean!” You declared, quoting your beloved Chaplain from the Blood Angels Space Marines chapter. “I still mourn your death, Rafael! Baal will remember you forever!”
Henry snorted, shaking his head at you. “What a nerd.” He teased, sitting down at the table.
“And unashamed of it!” You replied proudly. “Right, where are we starting, Puppy?” You asked, looking over the laid out items.
“We need to free the little buggers.” He told you, picking up a pair of, what looked like, well used nail clippers. “These are sprue cutters.” He explained to you, picking up one of the templates of Blood Angels. “All you have to do is snip this little bit here and set the piece aside, once it’s free.” He smiled over at you, brows lifted to make sure you understood.
“Super easy.” You smiled back at him.
Henry laughed, shaking his head and held the cutters out to you with a template. “It’s the only easy part in building these things. Other than buying them.” He quipped, grabbing a second pair.
The two of you took your time freeing the Space Marines from their confines, enjoying being close to each other and the sunny day that trickled through the tall windows around the room. When the cake timer went off in the kitchen, you shuttled off to check on it, pulling it out and setting it up to cool, before returning.
“So, are we going for authentic original Blood Angel look for their paint or are we going freestyle?” You asked, the tip of your tongue pressed to the corner of your upper lip as you used the sharp edge of an exacto knife to smooth out the edges of where the piece had been attached to the template.
“Hmm.” Henry hummed, sitting back in his seat, doing the same task. “I do normally prefer the traditional look for them.” He said, studying the arm he had between his fingers. “How about this? You paint three of the six your way and I’ll paint the other six my way?” He suggested, a little smirk tugging up the corner of his mouth.
“Oooh.” You cooed, liking that idea. “You sure your perfectionism isn’t going to drive you nuts?”
“I’m sure.” He assured you. “I looked forward to it. Our little army.”
It was long and tedious work, but neither of you cared, especially not Henry. It filled him with a bubbly happiness to look across his Warhammer table to see you zoned in on gluing together a model, shifting its little body until you finally got it in the pose that satisfied you. You paused long enough at one point, to put the icing on his cake, slicing you both a piece and bringing it back to your work station, singing happy birthday to him.
“I hope your new trip around the sun is as memorable, healthy and successful as your previous.” You toasted him, placing a tender kiss to his curls as he blew out the candle you lit.
“As long as I have you and Kal on the journey with me,” Henry replied, pulling you into his lap. “I know it will be.” He smiled, kissing you on the lips.
#henry cavill#henrycavill#Cake & Minis#Cake & Minis *fic*#Viking-Raider Fics#Happy Birthday Henry Cavill#happy brithday#41st Birthday#warhammer 40k#Blood Angels#FLUFF#Henry Cavill Fluff#henry cavill x reader#Henry Cavill/Reader#henry cavill fanfiction#henry cavill fic#henry cavill fanfic
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keep it down, and quick 𖤛 alhaitham
synopsis: alhaitham can feel someone staring at him from across the library. when further investigating the matter, he ends up having a quick… session with someone special in an aisle that brings back memories.
warnings: nsfw. public sex, lots of teasing, fingering, oral (f!receiving), finger sucking, cum play (?)
a/n: alhaitham brainrot is so bad right now i had to write this. sorry if it’s bad i was thinking with my clit (when do i not though?)
ALHAITHAM:
alhaitham has never been one to look too deep into conversations. he doesn’t like beating around the bush. if there’s something you need to tell him, just say it. no point in sugarcoating words.
he’s not cruel, of course. he understands it’s human nature to not understand your own feelings. however, he believes that logic does not apply to this situation.
you are very in-tune with your emotions right now. he knows that look on your face all too well. the slight flush, parted lips, and dilated eyes that stare at him from across the library. he knows you’re staring, hell he can feel it. every now and then he likes teasing you by looking right at you. he watched the way you jump and turn back around the corner, praying he doesn’t see you. (he can see you very clearly.)
when you turn back around to stare at him, he doesn’t even move. he looks right at you, an eyebrow raised. you flinch, fully running away from him. alhaitham does not like people who beat around the bush, but you however? he can entertain it for a bit. besides, there’s not much he has to do right now. work as the acting grand sage is slow as of now. why not entertain his very cute wife who hides behind bookshelves and stares at him like a schoolgirl.
he rises from his seat gingerly, taking his sweet time to walk towards you. within a matter of a few seconds, alhaitham finds you. he loops his fingers around your wrist, tugging you towards him. with his brow still raised, he looks down at you. you press your arm onto his chest, feeling the warmth radiating from his black shirt.
“is there a reason you wear such tight shirts, or is it just to bother me?” you ask him with a breathy voice. he smiles down at you as your fingers trace the gem on his chest. he leans down, lips brushing against the cartilage of your ear,
“a mix of both. now out with it— why are you running away from me?” he leaves the softest kiss on your ear, making you twitch in his hold. you almost drop the book you’re reading, but alhaitham has already accounted for that. he puts the book back on the shelf, cramming you into a corner.
his tall, muscular stature looms over you. you feel quite small under him and his intense gaze. you fidget with your fingers, picking at the sides of your nails. he takes a hold of your hands, separating them. he places one on his cheek, pressing his lips into your wrist.
“what is it? i don’t have all day,” he mumbles, eyes flutter shut. he’s annoyingly pretty like this. all up and close in your face with his eyebrows slightly downcast. that serious look on his face always gets you going. as you press your thighs togther, alhaitham shoves one of his between yours. “speak now or i’m leaving.”
he would leave you hanging like this— would he?! he would. he almost does until you pull him back by the shirt. he turns, leaning down as you pull him into a kiss. with your hand bunching his shirt in your fist, alhaitham’s hands crowd your waist and hips, pulling them closer to his body.
the kiss is incredibly hot. his tongue swirls together with yours, saliva mixing together. you feel yourself borderline drooling over his body touching yours. four years of marriage and you still aren’t used to how attractive your husband really is. when he pulls back a string of saliva follows after his tongue.
“you could’ve told me this in the morning. i would have changed my schedule for you. you know that,” his thumb rubs your cheekbone, watching the way you melt into his palm.
“i know, i just missed you a lot.” he looks around behind him. nobody is really here. lots of people are on a lunch break. however a small part of alhaitham wants to keep teasing you. he remembers all those days on the playground where you’d tease him as children.
you were always taller, had longer legs. you were always able to reach the higher leveled books he wanted to read when you both were younger. in this very section of the library you had grabbed a book he was mere seconds away from grabbing. when he politely asked you for it back, you raised it way above your head and told him to get it himself.
you always teased him for walking so slow in the hallway compared to you and your longer legs. you always teased him for being so small when you were children, terribly unaware that when you both would graduate secondary school that when you came back from your summer break in mondstadt that alhaitham would be much taller than you.
it was now you who shorter than him. he always reached to the middle of your chin, ghosting the bottom of your lip. but now, you were merely up to his chest. nearly a whole ruler shorter than him. then he’d grown muscle. the young prodigy you’d teased in primary school, who you’d poke and prod at finally grew up.
a part of you also felt jealous whenever he’d garner the attention of other girls your age. nobody played with him when you both were children aside from you. but now everyone wanted to act as though they knew him. he’d always been alhaitham— your alhaitham. he hadn’t changed, so why should your feelings? (your deep love for him you’d mistaken as pure “admiration”)
alhaitham gained your attention, looking down at your eyes. he drops a kiss on your nose, guiding a few down your cheeks.
“i love you,” he says softly, encasing your lips into a much softer kiss. you cling onto him, arms looped around his broad shoulders. when he pulls back there’s a soft smile of his face, “i still need to hear you say it.”
you pout, your hands flailing at your side. you hide your face into his neck, hugging his waist. as your fingers trace the trained muscles on his back, you mumble
“you already know what i want. why can’t you just do it?” he kneels below you, pulling your skirt up as his lips pepper kisses up the exposed skin. he takes his time, mouthing at your skin, making you needier by the second.
“im not a ‘know-it-all,’ as you like to put it. i can’t read your mind, darling.” he says in that sickly-sultry voice of his. that part of him makes your brain razzled and body tremble. every kiss makes your heart beat ten times faster. the higher up your thighs he gets, the more you tremble. the more soaked your panties become you realize when he presses kisses against your soaked slit.
your hands dart to your sweetheart’s hair, tangling your fingers into his sliver strands. your cant help but buck against his mouth when he leaves a hard kiss against your clothes clit. a soft moan of his name has him shushing you gently. he pulls you into a kiss when he stands at his full height.
“noisy girl. always have something to say to me, hm?” his lips take your agais as his fingers rub all over your wet slit. he watches the way you whine and mewl into his mouth, begging for more. a helpless plea leaves your mouth when his fingers brush over your clit. “let me hear it, love.”
“please?” is all you can muster up. alhaitham tsks, hot breath against your ear. he speaks in that low tone of his,
“please what, love? please don’t touch me? please touch me? please make me cum? what is it?” alhaitham teases, letting out a soft snicker when you whine. “hm?”
“need you,” you grab at his body, mumbling into his chest. “need you to make me cum, please. i tried this morning, i couldn’t do it without you.” his dick twitches in his pants just hearing that. he curses, taking you into a kiss again,
“don’t ever say that to anyone else, please.” he says in a breathy pitch before dropping to his knees. “stay quiet, okay?” he says as he ducks under your skirt. his hands drag up your thighs, parting your legs.
alhaitham slides your panties over your shoes and pockets them for later. one look at your face and alhaitham can tell just how wet you are. he opens you up, looking at your swollen clit that’s just begging to be touched. he also notices how you clench around absolutely nothing. he chuckles lightly, sliding two fingers deep inside your cunt.
your knees instantly buckle, but alhaitham holds you in place. you let out breathy moans as your hands tangle into his silver strands. he tsks again, sighing against your cunt.
“quiet, baby. noisy girl, you always have something to say to me, dont you?” you don’t know if he’s talking about your moans or the fact your cunt is squelching over every movement of his finger. “so messy.”
you have to stop yourself from toppling forwards when alhaitham’s tongue darts out to your clit, circling around the bud. the tip of his tongue ghosts over it.
“look at me,” he demands and you instantly lock eyes with him. “good girl. don’t take your eyes off of me, okay?” he says in a soft tone, before his tongue swirls over your clit. he treats the poor bud with no mercy. swirling it in circles, wrapping his lips around it to suck on it even when you beg for him to stop.
your head is spinning and you feel as though your legs are about to give out on you. your grip on his hair tightens and alhaitham moans into your cunt.
“cant, haitham. i cant-“ he hums into your clit, still keeping eye contact with you. your head feels as though it’s about to explode with how intense the pleasure he’s giving you is.
“cum for me, sweetheart. i can feel how close you are, mahiya. do it,” alhaitham keeps a steady grip on your as you cream around his fingers, slick and cum gushing over his digits. you weakly whimper when his tongue laps at your clit, riding out your high. he’s quick to shush you, but putting his fingers into your mouth.
“clean it all up for me, love. good,” he praises you so gently and his fingers in your mouth feel so nice you might just fall asleep right here. “let’s get you home, darling. we still have more things to do,”
© ilyhaitanii - do not repost, translate, plagiarize
#alhaitham x reader#alhaitham x female reader#alhaitham x y/n#alhaitham x you#alhaitham smut#al haitham x you#al haitham x reader#genshin x reader#genshin impact alhaitham#genshin smut#genshin x you
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Blindsided (Mob Boss!AU Cooper Howard x Lucy Maclean)
Main Master List || Misc Master List Part 1 || Part 2
Inspired by @ghoulcyamour's mob boss idea and requested by anon
Summary: After being kidnapped, Lucy demands answers, but is left heartbroken and with more questions than before.
Word Count: 2K
Warnings: 18+, kidnapping, alcohol, language, Mob elements
Author's note: So I typically don't write character x character fanfic (I'm much better with x reader), however I had a good idea for this one and so I hope it pays off. I definitely think it should be in two parts, and I plan on having the second out sometime this week!!!
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“What do we do now?” A muffled voice asks in the darkness, the voice rough and unsure.
What seems to be another man sighs. “He’s not going to be happy.”
“When is he ever happy?”
“Well shit, I don’t know, but he’s going to be extra mad when he finds out we kidnapped the wrong Maclean. She’s waking up.”
Lucy wakes up with a groan and a pounding headache. Either she drank too much last night, or she hit her head against something and blacked out. Her bet is on the latter. Trying to regain her consciousness, her eyes slowly open, wincing immediately at the bright light. Why on Earth is it so bright? Sitting up on the oddly stiff bed, Lucy cracks her neck a couple of times before her eyes properly open, letting out a yelp of surprise to see two men in her room. Scurrying off the bed, Lucy flees to a corner, back against the wall while she watches the two men who don’t make a move toward her. “Where am I? Who are you?”
One of the men steps forward, setting a box down on the bed before returning to his partner’s side, their cold eyes piercing yours. “You’re in no danger. For now. Put that on and fix yourself up. He wants to meet with you.” Lucy gulps, hazel eyes flicking between the box on the bed and the two men. It’s clear to her that she’s been kidnapped. She’s never met them before, and she hasn’t seen them before. One moves to open the door, slipping out while the other stares at her, eyes traveling down her body, lingering on the party dress that reveals a little too much. “We’ll be back in 10.” The man comments before stepping out of the room, closing the door, and locking it from the outside with a soft click.
Once they are out of sight, Lucy begins hyperventilating. Who are these people and what do they want with her? She’s done nothing wrong. All she did was go out for a couple of drinks last night with her friends and now she’s here, in this room, with no answers. Looking down at the box, she runs her fingers along the edges before lifting the top, revealing a simple pair of ballet flats that lay on top of a simple black dress. Moving the flats to the side, Lucy lifts the dress, bringing it over to the mirror in the room and holding it over her body. It’s not her normal style, however it does have a certain elegance to it. Letting out a shaky sigh, Lucy looks at her reflection in the mirror, cringing at her slightly smeared makeup and appearance before looking down at the classy dress in her hands. “Okey Dokey.”
“Where are you taking me?” The hands on her arms are firm, but not firm enough to leave any serious bruising.
“Will you just shut up?” The man on her right comments, leading her through a series of hallways that maybe if she was paying closer attention she could map out. Wherever she is, whoever owns it must have a lot of money. The two men on her arms lead her through open double doors, revealing a large room with high elaborate walls and a large fireplace on one side while a library covers the other side. In the middle of the room sits a large oak table, filled with trays of food. At the sight of the food, her stomach grumbles as nausea sets in. She hasn’t eaten anything since yesterday morning and the alcohol is finally taking its toll. The two men forcibly sit her down on one of the chairs at the table before standing behind her.
A set of doors open, gathering Lucy’s attention, watching a group of men walk in and in the middle stands a man with a cigarette hanging loosely between his fingers. Looking him over, Lucy takes note of the way he holds himself. Straight posture, pressed suit, neat, combed back hair, sharp eagle like eyes that don’t seem like they would miss anything, and a persona that radiates boss energy. Lucy’s breath hitches in her chest. Aside from him being older than her, she can’t deny how attractive the stranger is.
Taking a seat across from her, the man snuffs out his cigarette, motioning for a waiter to pour wine into Lucy’s cup before moving to the man, filling his glass with the red liquid.
“Uh- hello?” The man tilts his head, eyes squinting at her, the gears in his head visibly turning. Leaning forward, the man rests his head on his clasped hands, eyes remaining on Lucy, making her squirm.
“I bet you’re wondering why you’re here.” At the mention of finally getting some answers, Lucy’s eyes light up.
“Yes actually! Among other things,” she smiles, stomach growling but she pays no mind to it. “Like who are you? What is this place? What do you want from me? I mean this is all so much and I’m not sure exactly what I’ve done to be kidnapped or why you gave me this dress and this food! I mean there’s so much! Can I start eating?" Lucy’s rambling causes the man to smirk in amusement. Gesturing for the food, he watches as she piles food onto her plate, immediately taking a bite and moaning at the taste, causing him to raise an eyebrow.
“Does your daddy starve you or something?”
Lucy stops chewing, instead turning her attention to the man across from her before swallowing her food. “You know my dad?” The room erupts in laughter, including the man in front of her, a puzzled look gracing her features.
As the laughing quiets down, the man in front of her takes the glass of wine and swirls it before taking a sip. Closing his eyes, he savors the liquid before swallowing, smacking his lips and setting the glass down on the table. “Now that is some fine wine. I’m personally more of a scotch man, but this brand is hard to beat. So little lady, down to business. Your dad owes me a lot of money. My boys were supposed to grab your brother, but I guess you’re just as good.”
“I think you’re thinking of someone else; my dad is a legitimate businessman. How can he owe you money?”
Letting a chuckle fall from his lips, the man puts some food on his plate, using his fork to shovel the food in his mouth, building suspense. “Your dad is not who you think he is. He took my wife, and he costed me a fuck ton of money, so I am going to put a price on your pretty head in hopes that he pays up.”
Lucy stands up abruptly, eyes wide in suspense as the two men behind her take a step closer, ready to step in when the moment is called. “You can’t do that! I’m going to call the police!”
“Sit your ass down,” one of the men forces Lucy down onto the chair as the man in front of her takes another bite of food, chasing it down with wine. “I get that you might not know of your dad’s business, but the police ain’t gonna help, not when they’re in my back pocket.” Gulping, Lucy grabs the wine, downing it in hopes that it will ease her nerves. She’s known that her dad runs a very lucrative business, but she didn’t know how lucrative, and if it’s anything like this man suggests, then she might be in for a shock.
“Who are you?”
“Name’s Cooper Howard,” he scoots back from his seat, briefly standing up and fixing his suit before walking over to Lucy, handing her a phone. “Your daddy took something from me, and I want collateral. You’re going to use this phone and you’re going to call Hank, tell them that Cooper Howard has you and he wants his wife back along with the 3 million he stole or else you will be killed, and believe me, I am not above killing a pretty little thing such as yourself.”
He drags a finger down her cheek as a tear falls down Lucy’s porcelain skin. Just what has her dad done that could get him in such a mess. Reluctantly, she takes the phone from Cooper, flipping the screen up and silently pray, hoping that her dad will come to her rescue. “What’s your wife’s name?”
“Barbara.” Lucy’s head snaps up, recognition flooding her brain. Surely, he can’t mean the same Barbara that’s been living with them. If so, her dad kidnapped her? She doesn’t seem to be kidnapped, if anything, she seems happy, free. Not like how Lucy is feeling right now.
“Dark skin, brown hair? Really pretty?” Cooper’s head tilts, brows pushing together at Lucy’s question.
“That’s her. How do you know her?”
“She lives with my dad, brother and I. Makes some good hot chocolate.” Cooper’s eyes widen as a scowl form on his lips. Reaching forward, he grabs Lucy’s chin, as he leans in, his breath fanning against her face.
“What the fuck do you mean she’s living with you?” Cooper’s eyes burn with rage as the gears in his head turn. Lucy chooses her next words carefully.
“She said she needed to get out of her marriage, so she moved in with us. I had no clue that she was kidnapped. She seemed happy, never complained about anything, always laughing at jokes, and telling us stories. I’m pretty sure her and my dad have a thing going on.” It slips out of Lucy’s mouth before she realizes what she said and to who. The man in front of her growls, bringing up a hand and slapping her across the face as she lets out a gasp, pain tingling against her cheek.
“You’re a fucking liar,” he steps back, fists clenching and unclenching. There’s no way that she’s right, right? Sure, he and Barb went through a divorce, but he thought that they had come to an understanding, especially given that Janey was still in school. After pacing for a minute, he shoves the phone into Lucy’s hands. “Call him. Tell him he better give me 6 million now or else it’s going to be your head on a platter to his front door.”
Not wasting any time, Lucy ignores the pain on her face as she dials Hank’s phone number, hoping that he picks up. “Hello Dad? ... I’ve been kidnapped, and he’s demanding Ms. Barbara and 6 million dollars… Some guy named Howard.” Cooper’s foot taps impatiently as a hand runs over his mouth. This can’t be real right now. “Dad no. NO PLEASE! Just give him what he wants! I wan-“Lucy is cut off, tears welding in her eyes as she holds the phone against her ear, disbelief setting in. How has her whole life been a lie? How could her dad say, ‘good luck I’ll see what I can do’.
Noticing her sudden shift in demeanor, Cooper turns his attention back to the young girl. “Well, what did he say girl.”
“He said ‘go to hell you bastard’ and ‘you’ll never get her back’ and-“Lucy chokes back a sob, resisting the urge to break down in tears, “and he said that you can keep me.” The room goes silence as Cooper processes the words. He honestly didn’t think Hank was that bad of a guy, but leaving his daughter out to dry is something that not even he would do. Motioning to the two men behind her, he grabs the phone out of Lucy’s hands as they escort her out of site, the girl too emotionally wrecked to even fight back. Sitting down on his sofa by the fireplace, he sips on a scotch brought to him by one of the servants.
“What do you want to do boss?”
“We’re going to make him pay.”
Part 2??? I think so. Let me know how you guys like it in the comments!
Tag List: @reveluving @mariedork @palesatan @atttck @therighteousmanisdead
#fallout amazon#Cooper howard#the ghoul#Lucy maclean#ghoulcy#Cooper howard x Lucy maclean#the ghoul x lucy maclean#cooper x lucy#the ghoul x lucy#walton goggins#ella purnell#vaultghoul#fallout#fallout tv#fallout series#hank maclean
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PINING
Melissa Schemmenti x Fem!Reader —☆
ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ about: they always said what happens at PECSA, stays at PECSA...but not this one.
ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ warning/s: mild cursing
ִִֶֶָָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ word count: 2.6k
ִִֶֶָָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ note/s: this has been sitting in my drafts for a while, whoops! but anw, hope you guys enjoy it :)
“Philadelphia 76ers tickets?” You whisper-ask whilst looking at Ava who had just announced it to everyone. “Yeah, I’ll pass.”
It’s teacher appreciation week, and to be fair, you just want to see the band club perform for tomorrow’s assembly. It’s a little piece that you helped them prepare for all of the teachers to watch. This one was kept as a little secret from Janine; no offense to her, but you thought she might twist the crooks and nooks a little with the performance if she found out.
“We have a strong contender, everyone.” Ava grins with malice after what you said which left everyone confused.
“Why are you passing on this opportunity?” Janine gasped, sounding as though she had just got offended.
“If it were a concert from an artist I liked, I wouldn’t pass.” You shrug. “It isn’t, and I might just get confused with everything.”
“I know who to give the two tickets now to, oh, yes.” The principal says which then catches everyone’s attention away from you.
Gregory then asks suspiciously. “What do you mean, two?”
“We only have two tickets and I was gonna give them two to only one teacher.” Ava explained, hearing groans from everyone while you decided to silently excuse yourself and head to your classroom which is on the second floor.
---
Some of the morning classes have passed, and thus, the first break of the day before lunch. Set in the teachers’ lounge, chaos was something not to be avoided, until Ava asked for everyone to go to the library for an emergency meeting, as well as ask for a Sprite.
As you were about to go on by yourself, Ava proceeded to send you a message that asked for said Sprite. With a silent groan, but a small feel of relief, you just went ahead quickly. Thankfully, the fast food place with Sprite was near the school anyway.
At first, you were a bit lazy to drive off, but on second thought, the meeting was gonna be about the tickets anyway; so it didn’t really bother you as much. You wouldn’t want to spend half an hour listening to others bickering about tickets, although it would be a funny sight to see them arguing and bantering over who gets the tickets, likewise what Ava would feel if she saw that scene herself.
You were then soon on your way to the library after about 15 minutes of driving there and back where you got yourself something while also including Ava’s Sprite. And as you entered the library, “Sorry for being late, Ava. Here’s your Spri-”
“Here is our winner, the owner of the two tickets!” She announced proudly, presenting you similarly to some kind of prize.
Your eyes widened, and your eyebrows furrowed. “Wait, Ava, no! You know what happened the last time you gave something similar to someone who didn’t want it.” Everyone’s stare then transferred to Daryl and his eyelashes. “And why me? Why not Mr. Johnson?”
“Yeah, she’s damn right. I deserve it!” Mr. Johnson preaches from behind with a broom in his hand, like a staff from some Dungeons & Dragons game.
“Because you don’t have anyone to go with and I can be the perfect match to accompany you to this game.” Ava says with a huge smile plastered on her face. “Unless you’re gonna bring your secret girlfriend to the game. Betrayal.” She then looks at Melissa who catches up on what she just said.
“Oh, she’s not- '' You try to explain, placing the fast food bag on one of the tables. “No, no, Ava, you got it wrong.” You add, chuckling nervously.
“Yeah, that’s not what my ears found out when I heard all the flirting in each other’s classrooms, huh?” Ava teased.
“I think this is a little more interesting than basketball right now.” Janine whispers to Jacob and Gregory with a little laugh that escapes her mouth.
“Didn’t we bet on this?” Jacob replies.
With Gregory saying, “Yes, you guys did.”
It started around when the school year started and you and Melissa began to grow closer to each other after a debacle about different cuisines. She mostly stuck with Italian, and you, on the other hand, explored different dishes from different cultures. It was a mutual love for food; that could perhaps have also turned into a mutual liking and interest for each other.
“It’s just a little flirting, Ava.” Melissa shrugs her shoulders, with you agreeing.
“A little friendly banter.” You add.
“PECSA Weekend.” Jacob says and coughs in between words that earned various curious looks from the other teachers and Janine’s eyes widening with her mouth trying to cover a stifled laugh.
You feel a little awkward while mouthing, ‘What the fuck?’ You shake your head at Jacob, with eyebrows furrowed.
‘For the sake of the tickets.’ He mouths back, giving you an apologetic and yet competitive smile.
After nodding your head at him with a ‘What the living Christ, dude?’ expression, you announce that you will be withdrawing from this ridiculous somewhat of a scam that the district offered to the teachers.
“Yeah, let me just slide out of this room. Settle this yourselves.” You purse your lip, before waving goodbye.
Jacob’s gaze transfers to Melissa’s who looks at him with threat as he gulps in an invisible lump in his throat, making his palms extra sweatier than usual.
---
Meanwhile, just as everyone left the library, Janine and Jacob huddled while walking to their classrooms; with Gregory following them from behind. “I knew it. Something did happen at PECSA.” Jacob says, looking behind him to see if Melissa was behind them or so. “You could say that I am a good guesser.”
“As intriguing as this is, we should just let them be.” Gregory interrupts, before getting laughter as a reply.
“And pass this opportunity for destined love to not intertwine?” Janine raises an eyebrow with a cheeky smile. “Not gonna happen.”
“I’m just thinking of those Basketball tickets.” He says in defense as the two agree.
While that conversation continued on to be about Philadelphia 76ers and board game night, Melissa and Barbara were having a little talk while also heading to their respective classrooms.
“Now how did Jacob know about it?” Melissa wondered with suspicion. She’s fine with people finding out, sure, but she’s thinking of your friendship with her and how some people can be a little extra nosy, which she isn’t a fan of.
“Well, you know Jacob and Janine. Almost always up for schemes and so on.” Barbara says before waving goodbye as she then arrives at her classroom.
Melissa thinks to herself quietly while beginning her class. She enjoyed each and every second with you that night. Intoxicated by alcohol or not, she likes listening to every word you say because it just keeps her ears up. She’s known you for only about a couple of months given that you were only a new teacher at Abbott.
You’ve melted her under your grasp, and though she may be older, you never once made her feel as though she is. You make her feel young and more alive, while at the same time keeping her on her toes. She likes that you reciprocate to her talking about firefighters and different Italian dishes, as well as her family. Melissa isn’t one to trust people too quickly, but she slowly found herself warming up to you.
This has been a constant thought in her head, as well as it’s yours. Just a constant loop. A game of tag. The type of unrequited love that’s obviously mutual love that everyone can see, but manages to not be for both you and Melissa.
---
After that small inconvenience, or say, exposing secrets in the library, you’re now behind your desk with your laptop in front of you while your class is writing an essay.
The laptop is opened just so you can occupy yourself with something. Just some numbers you’re crunching and a few tests that you’re checking up that you’ll return to your students soon.
Your thoughts then wander to that said PECSA weekend. Alcohol was involved, a bunch of Math-a-ritas later and you’re caught up making out with the hot redhead teacher who just so happens to be Melissa. No feelings were confessed that night, but surely those actions meant something. Hopefully. As you would think.
It remained in your head how it felt the way her hands lingered all over your body, the small groans, her lips against yours. It wasn’t a hookup or a one night stand that happened, as all of it was simply just kissing the whole night until who knows what time it was.
You brought it upon yourself to get drunk with Melissa and invite her to your room; it didn’t take her a second to say yes to you before feeling your back against the cold door with her hand trickling over to the door knob to lock it. She kissed you well, and touched you in places she left cold when she sneaked out the following morning.
‘Didn’t want suspicions to linger. Sorry.’ That was the message she sent when you woke up with your clothes disarray and your lipstick smudges, with her trailing on your neck.
That was about a month ago. Surely, some things changed over the course of a month. Exchanging text messages over those couple of weeks changed, you weren’t that close to each other anymore, and the constant ‘What are we?’ lingered in your mind for more than you want it to.
That night changed what you and Melissa had. For the worse or for the better? You didn’t know.
You sigh in your chair, waiting for the bell to ring as this calls for your next lesson, Music. This one is with Janine’s class.
“Deep in thought, Miss?” Amanda asks. She’s one of the students sitting near your desk. Not with worried intent, but with curiosity.
“Go back to your essay, kid.” You look at her as if denying something in mind.
“Ok, Mrs. Schemmenti.” She blurts out before everyone in the room echoed with ‘Oooh.’s Amanda laughs at your embarrassed demeanor before she apologizes that that might have ended up being a little too personal.
As it turns out word got out about Jacob mentioning PECSA weekend, and not only that, but it was heard by one of the students from Jacob and Gregory’s podcast club, This Abbott Life.
---
Music class went by like a quick second as it was just a little jamming session with the second graders from Janine’s class.
It’s the end of morning class which means that lunch is on its arrival. Lunch which meant that you have to face Melissa after what seemed like only a small incident that happened a while ago. And so upon pondering over what to do or where to go just to avoid an upcoming awkward situation, you exit the music room after dismissing the class and decide to go to your own classroom upstairs to eat lunch.
Walking from down the stairs was Jacob who saw you then gulped from nervousness with the awareness of what he did, but surprisingly, you didn’t notice it. Although behind you exiting a classroom was someone Jacob was a little more terrified of. Melissa. She then catches his eyes, making him rush towards the teachers’ lounge.
As you sit quietly in your classroom, on your desk is the lunch you brought and a book you’ve been reading lately. A couple moments pass and you’re indulged in the story you’re reading. It’s a nice book you’ve been wanting to read in a while, something Melissa recommended to you some time ago. You do miss the closeness you two had before PECSA.
Well, most people say that what happens in PECSA stays in PECSA, but in your case, it probably isn’t.
“I see you’re finally reading it.” Her familiar voice dances in between the words printed in the book, which catches your attention. She greets you with a smile.
“Oh! Hello, Melissa.” You greet with half a smile, inserting the bookmark into the book and carefully closing it so as for it not to crease, before welcoming her to come inside.
“How’s it so far?” Melissa leans on one of the windowsills. She seemed really intrigued as to what your thoughts were, but that wasn’t exactly the reason why she came up here to you.
“It’s so far so good.” You fidget with the printed cover of it. “It’s a very intriguing book with well written characters.”
Melissa grabs one of the chairs and places it beside you, ready to listen to your thoughts on the book, but instead, she was met by the silence of obvious thoughts that lingered through your mind.
“Are you alright, hon?” She worries.
You feel as though this is the perfect opportunity to talk about it after acting as though you were cool about it, about everything that happened. That nothing worried and haunted you.
“We should talk about, you know.” You say it as straightforward. “While we have time for lunch.”
“What about it?” She asks, her voice as gentle as the way she held you that night.
Your fingers begin to fiddle with each other out of habit. “Were there some feelings involved?” You went in straight to the flame. “Did you kiss me because I wanted to kiss you, or did you kiss me because you wanted to kiss me?”
“What do you think happened that night?” A question with curiosity that overflowed.
“Well, we got drunk, went to my room, started making out, then the next morning, you left.” Instead of receiving a proper response, you instead get a chuckle out of her. “What’s funny?”
In between soft chuckling, she says, “You’re missing a few details, sweetheart.”
“Is that so?” You ask anxiously before feeling her hand take yours, circling her thumb on your palm.
“You know, when we got on your bed you suddenly ran away.” She recalls. “You ran away to the bathroom and all I heard was vomit and gagging.”
You felt shivers behind your back, feeling embarrassed over something so blurry in your mind and barely there.
“After that, you just kept on crying.” Her gaze softens as she catches your eyes. “You were scared that me hearing you vomiting over the toilet made you lose your chances with me and so you didn’t want to kiss me again.” She purses and licks her lips. “You said stuff about how you feel as though I deserve someone better.”
“I would have helped you clean up, but you refused and just left me hanging there for a good half an hour.” Melissa placed her glasses on top of her head. “We ended up just hugging each other the whole night. I was gonna say something but you fell asleep.”
“You can say it to me now.” You smile a little.
With hesitance, Melissa starts talking. “Look, I wanted to tell you the next day, but you know, I’m not the best at opening up.” Your hand creeps up onto the side of her neck as she takes this and places it on her cheek. “I have feelings for you too. I like you, and there isn’t a day where your chances of having me lessen.”
A smile of relief grows on your face, laughing out of embarrassment with Melissa soon following your laughter. “God, we are so naive.” You say, rolling your eyes playfully out of the ridiculousness of the situation.
You pull your chair closer to hers, getting a little closer to her. Your eyes trail to her lips and she notices this, letting go of your hand and holding your face to meet her lips with yours. The kiss felt more passionate, with the taste of morning coffee surprisingly still within her lips.
“We shouldn’t be doing this on school grounds.” You whisper in between kisses that Melissa continued to give you.
And so midway she stops. “Are you telling me that I should bring you home?” She looks at you with intent and need.
“Friday.”
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Clandestine || Theodore Nott
Theodore Nott x fem!riddle!reader || 2.2k words
Warnings: fingering, blowjobs, in the room of requirement … The request from anon was y/n riddle x theo so this is what i came up withh !
Summary: Mattheo can not seem to place his finger on what exactly you have been keeping from him. He confides in his best friend, Theo, though he ends up cutting the conversation short due to some urgent matters. (aka, you)
Author's notes: Hi lovelies <33 Requests are open! I'm working already on requests, and so sorry if i don't reply to your requests, i'll reply to them with the actual fic once done. please be patient w me, i'm busy as of late <3
You have always hit it off with your brother’s best friend, Theo. Though at first, you really did not think much of him. It started with small talk whenever you two had ran into each other because of Matt, then it became that you both had found out that you had much more in common than you initially thought. You two often went behind his back, as friends, such as studying in the library together or often just hanging out in general.
You both promised you would keep things secret when you two got together because if Matt would find out Theo ever laid a hand on you, he is definitely throwing his own hands. (okay well, just imagine if your best friend dated your sibling?) The two of you knew how he was protective over you. Though things had quickly escalated between you both from generally acceptable, to ‘Mattheo would probably fucking kill me’ really quick.
Theo is far from a weak man, but he is, he really is and only when it comes to you. How could he not make you his girlfriend?
…
Theo quickly grounds back himself in place, realising he hadn’t been listening to Matt at all. “...I don’t know, man, I just feel like she’s been hiding something from me—” Matt says as he bites his lip in uncertainty, continuing to go on about you. He would actually pay to see the look on Matt’s face when he finds out that he’s the secret you have been hiding. He just nods and occasionally shoots an ‘okay’, pretending as if he’s still following.
Though Theo has better things to worry about, his mind drifted off once more at the thought of you. He looks down at his watch, he realises something. Five more minutes, he mutters under his breath. In just a few minutes’ time, he would be heading out of the common room, making some half-assed excuse just to meet you in the room of requirement. Ever since you both had found out about it, no doubt you abused the privacy it gave.
“–Theo? What’s up? You seem distracted,” Matt asks, his tone tinged with suspicion, as he crosses his arms as he sunk into the couch.
“Yeah, uh, no, I’m fine,” Theo stammers, quickly recollecting himself before speaking again. “Maybe she’s just stressed, Matt, you know that she takes her studies seriously.” He lets the lie roll off his tongue smoothly, as if he weren’t going to rock your shit in a few minutes’ time. “Yeah, you’re right, I guess I’ll just ask her,” Matt sighs as he continues. “I just can’t shake the feeling that something’s off.”
“I’m sure she’s fine, Matt. She can handle herself.” Theo reassures Matt, though a slight pang of guilt hits him. It quickly fades away though as he checks the time. Two minutes. “Sorry to cut this short, Matt. But I just remembered I promised Blaise I’d meet him for something. I’ll be back quick.” He makes an excuse off the top of his head, already standing up and ready to leave.
“Blaise? Since when are you two having meetings?” Matt roused in doubt, as he quirks up an eyebrow. “Nah, you know, things just come up at the last minute.” Theo replies, but Matt is nothing short of sceptical. “Sure thing, Theo.” He says, “I can wait.” Theo does not bother replying anymore, already rushing out the common room and making his way to the seventh floor, left corridor. His thoughts linger on if Matt actually suspected him.
He quickly forgets everything as he spots you, pacing in circles as you wait for him. You do not seem to notice him, as he sneaks up behind you and firmly places his hands on your shoulders as he says a small ‘boo’. You jolt in shock, quickly turning around. “Oh my God, you scared me,” you place a hand on your chest and sigh in relief.
“Sorry, amore, got caught up in things. Your brother’s growing suspicious of you, you know.” He says, slightly gritting his teeth, pausing briefly before he continues speaking. “He doesn’t know exactly what, but he thinks you’re not telling him something. I’m not sure if he suspects me.”
“Nevermind it. He always has his detective hat on when it comes to me.” You sigh and shake your head, saying as you both walk past a certain bit of wall three times. You both watch as the door materialises in front of you, as Theo opens the door for you. “Ladies first,” he says flirtatiously, you smile as you tuck a lock of hair behind your ear.
It reveals a smaller room than you’d imagine, since Theo was the one incharge of doing this sort of stuff, also usually taking up the responsibility of planning, which means letting yourself be surprised. Huh, so it’s going to be like that today.
The room was fairly empty, the parchment on the walls a dull brown, a double four-poster bed in the middle and with mahogany nightstands on either side. He wastes no time, pushing you as you fall back onto the plush mattress. “We have to make this fast, Matt thinks I just had to do something real quick with Blaise.” He says with a hint of urgency in his voice as he crawls atop you, leaning in.
His face inches from yours, “is this okay, principessa?” He asks, before doing anything. “Please,” you nod. He spits on his fingers before swiftly connecting your lips together, kissing you passionately. He creeps his hands just underneath your skirt, gliding over the hem of your panties. He does not bother pulling them down, instead just sliding his hands into them as he traces the folds of your pussy.
You moan into the kiss, Theo taking the opportunity to glide his tongue into your mouth. Your tongues intertwine, as he swirls his around yours. He slowly slips two fingers into you as he pulls away from your lips, your breath hitching at the sudden action. His lips brush against your ears letting his breath tickle them, before he gently bites your earlobe. “You like that, cara mia?” He husks sultrily, as he begins to move his fingers.
“Y-yes, mhngg, Theo,” you mewl, letting out a breath you didn't even know you were holding. He languidly strokes his fingers, thrusting them in and out your pussy. “Pretty girl, taking my fingers so well.” He rasps in your ear. Then curling his fingers, hitting your sweet spot, causing you to let out a particularly loud moan. You were burning up, all hot and heavy as you moved your hips back down onto his fingers.
He moves his other hand smoothly up your dress shirt, brazenly skimming under your bra as he cups your breast. He kisses you again, locking your lips together once again. The movement of his finger quickens, as he tugs at your nipples. You continue grinding down even more so on his fingers, chasing release. He goes down to ghost his lips over your neck, sucking at the sensitive flesh as you feel his teeth sink into your skin.
You throw your head back in pleasure, giving him better access to your neck. He leaves red marks, which will definitely not go unnoticed later on. Albeit Theo doing so many things to you at once made your head feel hazy to think any clearly. You feel a warmth coiling in your stomach, as you hold onto his arm, digging your nails into them as you chase your high. “M’gonna cum,” you cried out, as he only made the manoeuvre of his fingers rougher, hitting your sweet spot over and over without fail.
“Cum for me, principessa,” he remarked firmly, which sounded like more of an order than anything else. Lust clouds your head, as you slowly feel yourself slip away. Your body reacts on its own, doing whatever it takes for you to climax. Muttering incoherently, your hearing goes muffled and unable to comprehend the small praises Theo voices. You feel a sense of euphoria wash over you as you tighten around his fingers, cumming all over them.
“Good girl,” he says, pulling his fingers out of you and lapping at your slick on them. “I think I have to go, amore,” he stands up, giving you a peck on the forehead as he heads for the door. “Wait,” you say abruptly. Catching up to him, stopping in his tracks just as he was about to leave. You bit your lip in contemplation, as you were not used to being so bold.
“At least let me suck you off,” you say, puffing it out in one breath, nothing short of awkward as you curl up into a ball internally. Theo is caught off guard by that, but he’s more than happy to comply. He smirks slyly, amused that you were eager to please him, too. “Get on your knees, cara mia,” he commands, and you hastily drop down, kneeling as you look up at him.
Skillfully, you clamp your teeth down on the zip, feeling the cold metal brush against your tongue. Applying gentle pressure, you coax the zipper of his fly down in a slow, rhythmic motion, teasing him. You palm his hard cock through his boxers as he grunts in response. You press your lips on the edge of the soft fabric, guiding the fabric downward. Releasing his dick from its confines, you flinch as it hits your cheek.
Initially, you begin by taking the base in your hand and giving kitten licks on the tip, occasionally kissing it. You look up at him, watching him groan as he shuts his eyes and furrows his eyebrows when you take the tip of his cock into your mouth. “Cazzo, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he mutters, as you slowly sink your mouth on his dick, your lips stretch to accommodate him.
“Hurry up,” he huffs, as he grasps your hair firmly with both hands and gives it a good tug, causing you to lurch forward. Your mouth stuffed with his cock, you gag and he watches as tears brim at the corners of your eyes due to sudden action. “That’s it,” he utters, drawing out the syllables as he groans gratifyingly. He loved taking things slow and romantic with you, but this was not the time for it, especially since he had told Matt he would be quick.
All he needed was to cum, and a good quickie was no stranger to the both of you. (You’ll never forget when he fucked you in the broom cupboard in between classes.) He keeps a firm hold on you, his hands tangled in your soft locks as he starts fucking into your mouth. You let out a few muffled words, tears begin streaming down your cheeks and drool down your chin as you choke when you take his dick down your throat.
“You look so pretty when you cry, cara mia.”
He husks, as he trails one of his hands to cup your cheek as he continues thrusting into your mouth. He uses his thumb to wipe away your tears, smirking as he ruins you. You dig your fingers onto his hips, using him as a means for support. “Merda,” he utters out a string of both curses and praises, his thrusts growing more erratic.
He loved watching you come undone, with your tear-stained face, ruffled hair, swollen lips, and your lipstick smearing all over his dick. Feeling his cock twitch in your mouth, Theo’s hips stutter. “I’m gonna cum, principessa,” he groans. His hips jerk up one last time, spilling his seed down your throat as he lets out a guttural moan. Attempting to swallow, his cum overflows out your mouth as it trickles down your chin.
He pulls his dick out of your mouth, humming in satisfaction. He takes care of you and helps you clean up albeit hurriedly before you two part ways. Turns out you promised your friends you would study with them in the library, and you too were sorely running late.
Making his way back into the common room, Mattheo doesn’t fail to notice Theodore. "Well, look who decided to grace us with his presence. How was your urgent ‘meeting’ with Blaise?" He remarked, almost sounding sarcastic. Theo, looking awfully dishevelled, tries to play it cool. "Oh, you know, just some last-minute…business. Nothing too exciting." Theo kept a nonchalant tone, "yeah, you know how it is, Blaise and I are always on the go."
Matt’s eyes narrow in suspicion. "Funny, Blaise mentioned he hadn't seen you all day." He says, and then Theo suddenly hears another voice speak. "On the go, huh? Didn't realise you were such a busy man, Theo." Blaise said smugly, smirking with his arms crossed as he leaned on a wall behind Theo.
He immediately looked behind him, his eyes widening as he hadn’t realised Blaise had been standing there all this time. (Blaise had been concealed by the deceptive alignment of the door and the wall. So when Theo entered, Blaise was standing by the wall adjacent to the end of the hall– if that makes sense.)
"Seems like you're hiding something, Theo. You've been acting a bit off lately." Matt says nearly too confident for it to be sceptical. "Me? Nah, I'm just tired from all the studying. Speaking of which, I should probably get some rest." Theo shrugs, trying to deflect the topic.
"Yeah, rest up for all those secret meetings, right?" Blaise says teasingly.
#slytherin boys#slytherin boys x reader#slytherin boys smut#thedore nott x reader#theodore nott#theodore nott smut#theodore nott x reader smut#theo nott#theodore nott imagine#theodore nott x you#theodore nott x y/n#harry potter universe#harry potter fanfiction#hp smut#theodore nott x reader#mattheo riddle#matt riddle
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too sweet 𐙚 abby anderson
a/n: smut!! fingering & oral (r|receiving), implied strap usage // men & minors dni!
imagine being a fem little girlblogger in all of your free time. always at the library, or a local coffee shop, leeching off of the free wifi just to make girly posts on tumblr. the pretty blonde barista stands nervously behind the counter, glancing up at you every now and then.
abby writes her number on your cup that day, and keeps her phone within earshot so she can be the first to hear the beautiful ding of your phone texting hers.
you talk, and talk, and talk, and eventually you're texting so much you don't have any time for your girlblog. you know how much you love being girly and creative and how easy it is to do it online, so you offer to stop by the cafe so when abby clocks out you can leave together.
something about being so feminine around such a boulder of a woman makes you clench around nothing all night, until abby finally clocks out.
on the drive to her little apartment, you can't help but rub your thighs together, trying not to alert abby to the growing wet spot in your panties. you chew on your lip, hoping for a moment of peace as abby pulls into her parking spot.
if abby noticed, she never gave you any indication of it.
inside, abby presses a heavy kiss on your lips before she changes and settles into the couch. you feel the throbbing in your cunt grow heavier, louder, as she casually spreads out on the couch.
"coming?" she asks, and you can't help inwardly shrink at the double entendre.
there is a lazy, bored smirk pulling at her lips as you sit beside her, clearly worked up and just begging for relief.
"what's on your mind?" she questions, as if unaware of the flush of your cheeks and the heat radiating from you. she flicks through netflix boringly.
you shrug, words failing as that incessant clench of your cunt around nothing nearly chokes you. you manage to whisper, "just thinking."
"about?"
the glint in her eyes sparks something deep within you—in a place only she's ever touched. no way were you going to let her win this easy.
"i haven't blogged a lot recently, i might have to stop at the cafe tomorrow, too."
"are you sure its for the blog?" she raises a brow. "i think i saw your eyes on me more than your computer screen."
"so why don't you do something about it, anderson?"
"cause i think i want to hear you say it first." she drops one of her hands to your thighs. she grasps a handful of the flesh and squeezes it before smoothing your skin flat
"i-" she squeezes your thigh again, tight, before her fingers drift higher. you swallow hard.
she drops her head so that her lips are right by your ear. "if you say it i'll fuck you right here."
"i want you to. please." you sound desperate as you finally answer.
"want me to what?" the tips of her fingers ghost along the apex of your thighs. your throat tightens.
you inhale sharply as she puts pressure right above your clit. she removes it as soon as a wave of pleasure fills your belly. "jesus, abby. i want you to fuck me."
her lips ghost your earlobe before she begins placing soft kisses along the side of your face, your cheek, your lips, your neck. as she trails lower, she slides further down the couch. your breath catches in your throat as she presses your back against the arm of the couch.
"that's all you had to say, baby. wasn't that hard, right?"
you shake your head desperately, shimmying your pants to your ankles as she settles her thick hands on your thighs. you nearly choke at the sight of abby already splitting you open just by being in between your legs.
she squeezes your thigh in reassurance before her tongue ghosts your panty-covered core. you whine. it's so good, but nowhere near enough for you. she kitten licks your cunt once more before she flattens her tongue against you. her hands hook under your ass, thumbs pressing your inner thighs away from your heat.
with one finger, she pulls your ruined panties to the side, almost marveling at the sight of you dripping before her.
she wastes no time before diving in, tongue exploring and caressing every fold and crevice of your hot mound. you can't help but whine and moan, can't hold it in anymore. you've been pent up all day, you and abby know it isn't going to be much more before your first orgasm.
she pulls your hips impossibly closer to her face just as she dips her tongue into your dripping hole. a heavy moan rips through you as she works the thick muscle in and out again. her nose rubs up against your clit so perfectly you thread your fingers through her hair.
she groans as you tug her hair, the sound reverberating through your cunt. you moan again, bucking your hips against her.
when she removes her tongue from you, you feel the pad of her middle finger press against your warmth. she circles your clit with her tongue as she slides her finger in.
she works it in slowly as you tug harder at her hair. she lets you grind into her face, whimpering and whining for the release you've wanted all day.
"such a good girl waiting for me, asking me so nicely." abby mutters, hardly able to take her mouth off your pussy long enough to get the sentence out.
you moan sharply as she presses another finger into you. "please, abby—" she works the two in and out of you, feeling your walls clench tight on her.
"so fucking wet for me."
you can't find it in you to but do anything but sob as she sucks on your clit and curls her fingers deep in you. you are so, so close. you could see stars behind your eyes and feel the heat of your climax as she pounds into your sensitive spot.
"my pretty girl." and you nearly break.
you come with a shout, abby's hand never stopping, her tongue still on your clit. you buck your hips against her and ride out every delicious wave of pleasure that hits you until you ache and have to wrap your hand around abby's to get her to stop pounding into you.
"so fucking pretty, baby." abby leaves sloppy kisses against your thighs, cleaning your release with her tongue before catching you in a soft kiss, still tasting of you. "c'mon, open up, pretty."
her wet fingers press against your lips and you open your mouth for her, letting her slip her fingers inside. you lick yourself off her fingers, savoring the weight of her on your tongue, the taste of you.
as she leans forward and presses her covered cunt against yours, you feel a bulge tickle your clit.
"are you thinking what i'm thinking?" she asks teasingly, pulling her fingers from your mouth.
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