#their smiles and faces of finally being together
Text
❝ 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 !! ❞
❝ WHEN YOUR CHILDHOOD BEST FRIEND OFFERS TO TEACH YOU HOW TO LOVE, HOW CAN YOU SAY NO ?? ❞
✧ pairing: college student!yuji itadori x f!reader
✧ summary: yuji itadori has been your best friend since you were kids, and when he offers you to teach you how to fuck, you don't expect him to be able to find his way into your heart too.
✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, aged up characters (don't like? don't read), childhood best friends to fwb to lovers, college au! (no curses), reader is the same age as yuji (both 20s), grew up as neighbors, mutual pining, nobara playing cupid, jealous!yuji, yuji is so golden retriever bf, nightmares, mentions of parental death via car crash (yuji), adoptive dad nanamin :), nipple play, oral (f + m), fingering (f! receiving), handjob (m! receiving), semi public sex (under a blanket with sleeping friends nearby), sex (p in v), creampie, swearing, fanart by unknown artist (found on pinterest, pls let me know if you know the og artist so i can credit)
✧ wc: 13,544
✧ for my 2k celebration event: item 5 has been sold to two anons!
“You want me to teach you?”
The words left your best friend’s lips nonchalantly as if he was asking you if you wanted him to teach you how to ride a bike.
But that’s not what he was offering to have you ride—
“Yuji,” you say slowly, “what are you saying? Do you even know what you’re saying?”
Yuji Itadori was dense, but you knew he was far from stupid. You learned that in third grade when he punched a bully that had been picking on you, the final straw being when he had tripped you, causing you to skin your knee. Before you could even well any tears up in your eyes, you heard a thwack and a yelp as Yuji had laid the boy out on the playground. You stared at Yuji, as he offered you his other hand to help you to your feet, as your eyes slid from him to your bully.
Yuji knelt down, carrying you on his back to the nurse’s office, “but Yuji, what about him? We left him—“
And he set you down outside the nurse’s office — and he only smiled that wide smile he had always reserved for you, “Don’t worry — I made sure no one was looking.”
But now, you were beginning to doubt his sanity, rather than his intelligence — “I know what I’m saying,” he chuckles, trademark smile on his lips, “I’m just offering you the chance to practice,”
“This isn’t practicing a sport or test—you’re offering,” you shift on your bed, while Yuji lounges on the floor, back against the bottom of your bed, “you’re offering to sleep with me, Yuji,” he leans his head on your bed, looking up at you at way, your face upside in his vision.
“I know, I know, but it’s not a big deal is it?” he’s acting so nonchalant you wonder if one of his teammates had hit him hard in the head during practice, “we’ve had all our firsts together,”
You scoff, “That was like our first steps, first day of school, first drink—“
“First kiss—“ he interrupts, and your face burns at the memory — a preadolescent game gone wrong that ended up with you and Yuji sharing your first kiss when you were teens.
“That wasn’t real,” you wave him off, crossing your arms, “and this isn’t just a kiss for a game—this could change our friendship—“
“It won’t, if we don’t let it,” his gaze is more serious than you’ve ever seen Yuji be — not when he was usually all wide smiles and enthusiasm, “it’s us, we can get through it, and we don’t have to let it get weird right?”
You chew on your lip, “Yuji, what do you get out of it?” And he’s tilting his head at your question— “I mean you don’t have to do this — just because I’m insecure because I don’t have experience,” you mumble.
And that’s how the conversation had started — your complaints about your friends talking about their boyfriends, exes, and hookups, while you just nodded along — far too aware that you hadn’t even had a proper kiss, much less sex. And now you had found yourself here.
“Look,” he slides up to sit on your bed, a good distance away from you, his eyes finding yours — warm hazel that felt as if it was drizzling over your skin wherever his gaze traveled, “I want your first time to be safe. I don’t want you to just hook up with someone and something bad to happen because you can’t say no — with me,” he clenched his hand into a fist holding his other hand flat as he gently hit his fist against it, “you can tell me to stop and if I somehow don’t or don’t hear you, punch me,”
You snort, “Yuji,” he’s shaking his head.
“I’m serious, I want you to be safe,” and you’re fidgeting with your fingers in your lap — this was Yuji, Yuji — you couldn’t say you hadn’t noticed how well he had grown up. Not when all of your friends drooled over him — especially with how liked he was — by everyone.
“What if I lose you?” And he chuckles, as he breaches your personal space and his hand brushes yours.
“You won’t, ever. I promise,” and your breath catches — many millions of times had Yuji touched you throughout your lives — an arm over over your shoulder, a hug, even holding your hand through crowds during festivals — but a simple brush of his fingers against yours had your heart rattling against its bony enclosure, begging for you to let it out, “what do ya think?”
And you’re thinking — this would be the best outcome — you weren’t one to hook up with a stranger and you were burnt out on dead end dating app conversations, and to have your first time with someone close, someone you knew — it would be ideal.
“Are you sure?” And his lips curl into a soft smile, leaning closer, as his fingers gently brush against your locks.
“Would I be here like this if I wasn’t?” his breath warms your lips, as his fingers skim your cheek, “is this okay?”
You nod wordlessly, unable to find the words to even reply — you had never thought of this situation would ever happen — especially like this. You lean against his hand, calloused from his practices, but as gentle as it always was.
“We can take it as slow as you need,” he murmurs, as he’s even closer now, your eyes fluttering shut, only for his lips to graze your forehead. You pause at the featherlight touch — wondering if it actually happened when your eyes open to find his, “no need to rush, right?” He smiles, as he gets to his feet, “are we still on for tomorrow’s study session?”
“Of course,”
He scratches the back of his head, “Good because I still don’t understand math or why I need it, but unfortunately, I still have to pass,” he grabs his bag, “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he offers a smile before he’s gone.
And you’re left sitting on your bed, the warmth of his touch still on your skin, wondering what the fuck just even happened.
“Yuji, you just have to solve for x,” you sigh, explaining the problem for the billionth time, as his pen waves back forth between two fingers, “it’s simple,”
Your weekly study sessions with Yuji were a constant throughout your life, though more for Yuji than you. Yuji is very intelligent, despite his demeanor in class where it felt as if there was a perpetual question mark over his head — he just learned by seeing and then doing. And the repetition helped you all the same. But you had never felt so conscious sitting next to the boy you called your best friend.
“Maybe to you, but I don’t why math has to involve letters,” he wrinkled his nose at the problem, sighing, as he twists the pen around his hand, and your eyes catch the movement — you didn’t know how the little boy’s whose hands you used to hold had gotten so big now — calloused from his practices, but so soft against your skin, “is something interesting about my hands?”
Your eyes snap up to meet his, cheeks burning as you shake your head, “No, just, uh, impressed that you can twist the pen around your hand like that,”
“Oh, that?” he’s as unfazed as usual, leaning back a little, “that’s easy. I could show you if you want,”
“It’s fine,” and you’re trying to focus back on the problem, when you find him still staring, “what is it?”
“If you wanted to hold my hand, you just had to ask,” his fingers graze yours, with enough time for you to pull away, before his fingers lace with yours, “and we can do more if you want?”
This was crazy — it was probably a mistake, but — as his touch made your heart flutter, warm rolling in waves that erupted into butterflies in your stomach — why weren’t you pulling away?
“What does more entail?” and he inches a little closer, his breath warming your lips, “but you still haven’t gotten this problem down, are you just trying to get out of studying?”
A chuckle on his lips, “Maybe I’m just looking for the right motivation, so how about we make a deal?” He moves over, spreading his legs apart, and pats the floor in front of you — for each question I get right, I get a kiss,”
And why you agreed to this, you really didn’t have words—but now you were sat between his legs, nearly in his lap, as he leaned forward — his chest against your back as his chin brushed your shoulder and his cheek brushed against your own, breath warming your neck — trying to get a better look at the math problem. His arm was wrapped around your side as his pen scratched against the scrap paper, trying to solve the problem. You bit your lip, trying your best not to glance at him, but you spot his wrinkled brow out of the corner of his lip and the tip of his tongue poking ever so slightly out of his mouth— and your lips curled, he still had that habit from when you were kids.
“There, I think I solved it,” he murmurs, and you have to hold back a shiver at the words rumbled against your ear, “is it right?”
And god, you could barely think, much less do math, but as you glance over the question and answer — he’s got it right.
Fuck.
“It is,” you say softly, “is all you need some motivation? Because I would have just promised I would go to see the next Human Earthworm movie,”
He chuckles, his lips nearly against your ear, as his hand gently traces your jaw, “I’d like that, but I think i rather have what I was promised, as long as you’re still okay with that,”
Your breath hitches, as you follow his lead, rough pads still so gentle against your cheek, as your eyes find his, but you don’t find his usual doe eyes — but instead find pools of lust threatening to drag you under. Although from the way your lips part and eyes flutter shut, perhaps he had you underwater for far longer than you even knew.
His lips graze yours — it’s barely a kiss, a peck maybe — as he does his best to ease you in. You didn’t know lips could be so soft — meeting again and again, stealing logic from your mind and breath from your lungs.
“Are you okay?” He’s murmuring, not even a breath away from your lips. You’re nearly dizzy, mind reeling from his touch, heart jumping at his thumb rubbing lightly against your cheek.
“I am, just a little strange to be kissing, much less you,” and his brow knits together, “but not bad at all,” you add, and he chuckles, his fingers grazing your cheek firmer, as he leans in again, “we said one kiss—“
“Do you really want to stop now?” he’s murmuring, and your noses bump against each other.
Your lips find his again and now you can taste the sour candy he had stolen from you, but an overwhelming sweetness overrides it, and your hand brushes against his cheek, the other finding purchase on his chest.
“Is that okay?” You murmur, as you lips part, the two of you catching your breath, your shared pants filling the silence, your cheeks burning as your eyes avert from his, “I don’t know—“
“You’re fine, don’t worry about it,” a small chuckle on his lips, fingers cupping your chin to guide your gaze back to his — a subtle heat that makes your insides turn to molasses, sticky and sweet and far too warm, “just do what feels right, ok?”
And his lips find yours again, gently as he did the first time, but more passion behind it, swallowing your quiet murmur of his name with ease. Your lips move against his just as his did — you try to push aside the thoughts of whether you were doing this right. But the slight brush of his teeth against your bottom lip makes you forget too with a gasp.
He pulls away with a grin on his lips, “Sorry, couldn’t resist,” and his lips are kissed red, your thumb brushed against his swollen lips, “don’t tempt me more,”
“You’re the one who started this, shouldn’t you take some responsibility, Yu?” your lips graze his cheek, curling as a rosy flush settles over his cheekbones, “nothing to say?”
“You’re making it hard for me to hold back,” and he’s burying his face in the side of your neck, making you shiver, as he pulls you even closer, arms around your waist, “I don’t want to rush you,”
Cute, you think before you even think, and yet the way his face is hidden away in your neck, breath warming your neck makes your body flush, and when have you ever thought of Yuji as cute? And yet you couldn’t remember a time that he made your heart race either.
His lips press a small kiss to your neck, drawing a yelp from your lips, “Yuji—“ he’s nosing the hollow of your throat, “ah, you’re teasing me,” you whine, and he’s lifting his gaze back to yours, heavy with want, a want that leaves you bereft of any semblance of sense.
“You started it,” he murmurs, before he finds your lips in another kiss — this time it’s a slow heat, languid as it threatens to burn both of you alive, flames licking at the edges of your reason. And his phone goes off — a reminder for practice that he groans at, “I should go. I have to go run laps,”
“Now?” And he’s slowly disentangling himself from you, the absence of his touch lingers, the heat ebbing, “don’t you usually practice in the mornings?” You get to your feet slowly as well, handing him his math notebook, and it occurs to you when you spot the puddles outside, “it was too wet,”
And he nods, scratching the back of his head, as the two of you walk out into your apartment’s living space, “and I forgot my protein shake—“ you head over to the kitchen, opening the refrigerator door and pulling out his shake, and he blinks, “how—“
“You did the same thing last week, so I just bought a pack for you,” and his lips curl as he walks over and takes the bottle from your hand, fingers brushing — and even that much alight a flutter of nerves through your body.
“Thanks,” he grins, and you nod.
“Of course, I thought it just made sense since you come here every week—” you turn to shut the refrigerator, before turning back, only to find him stepping a bit closer, “Yu—“
“I almost forgot, one more lesson,” and he’s leaning close, and your breath catches in your throat, as his lips brush yours, fingers tracing the swell of your cheek, “a kiss goodbye,” and he parts, a brush of his fingers against yours, “I’ll text you later,” and he’s gone in a flash.
Your left, fingertips touching your lips, a questioning lingering as he left — whether these feelings blooming in your chest were just from the kiss, or something more.
But you glance at your phone — a text from Yuji:
Golden Retriever Bestie: thanks for the drink again :)
You lock the screen — but you couldn’t hope for more, right? Not when this was started with the intention of stopping. But why—as you laid back into bed, staring up at your ceiling in the same room the two of you had spent the last two years watching movies or studying in, eyes squeezing shut—
Why did you still want more?
When did Yuji Itadori fall in love with you? It would probably be easier for him to list the moments he hadn’t fallen for you — but the earliest he can remember was when he had hurt himself climbing a tree in the schoolyard, falling from the branch he had made it to. You had been watching him the whole time, telling him to come down, and when he fell, you were at his side. His vision was a little blurry but when it cleared, he saw you knelt above him, big tears leaving your eyes. And when he came to, you hugged him tight, before helping him to the nurse’s. You had even insisted on bandaging his cuts, not letting the nurse do so.
And that’s when he knew — he knew he always wanted to wake to you beside him.
“You what?” Nobara scoffed at him, as she held up another of her new purchases in front of her while looking in her full length mirror, “so instead of asking her out and confession this pathetic crush—“
“Pathetic is kinda harsh, Kugisaki—“
“It’s been over a decade — your one sided feelings is now in secondary school — it’s officially pathetic,” she hangs up the new leather jacket she bought in her closet, before turning to Yuji, “so instead of confessing, you asked her to be your friends with benefits—“
“That’s not exactly—“ she cuts him off with a look, “ok that’s kind of what I did,” he shakes his head, “she was venting about how she never had her first kiss and words started coming out of my mouth and wouldn’t stop—“
“Not the first time that’s happened to you is it?” And Yuji glares at her through the mirror, “what? You came to me instead of Fushiguro because you wanted a pretty girl’s opinion right?”
“I said girl, nothing about—“ it was her turn to glare at him, “alright, alright — what do I do now? I want to tell her I like her, but if I do, I might seem like a—“
“A creep? A weirdo? A pervert?”
“I was gonna say liar, but those too,” he rubbed a hand down his face, “what do I do?”
She sighs, tucking a strand of her dyed hair behind her ear, “the only thing to do in situation like this,”
“Tell the truth?” And she scoffs.
“No, of course not, just use this time to make her fall for you, but that means you’ll have to use this agreement to your advantage,” she hums, “she said she wanted more experience right?” And Yuji nods, “who says it has to just be making out and sex?”
“You want to go on a date? Fuck,” you mutter under your breath as you turn the heat of your burner down, hoping you hadn’t completely burned your omelet now as you flipped it, “I thought this was just supposed to be for the more…physical sides of things,” your cheeks burned.
God, what the fuck.
“I mean part of gaining experience is learning how to date, right?” And you’re placing your slightly burned omelet in the plate, as you wipe your hands off with your dishcloth, “we could go to an arcade, maybe catch a movie,”
“Human Earthworm 4?” And you hear him chuckle over the line, and the sound makes your lips curl — it always felt like an accomplishment making him laugh, but even more so now.
“We don’t have to—“
“I don’t mind,” you cut him off, and you never did — you just loved to tease him, as you always did, “they’ve grown on me,” and you didn’t know there was more room for Yuji to grow on you, you thought his roots had already went far and deep, tangled around every inch of yourself and your mind, even your heart — but now—
“Does 2 PM work? I’ll come by and pick you up from your place,” and you didn’t know where it would go but—
“Sounds perfect,” he had found his way into a place you never thought anyone would find themselves in. — and as he hung up, biting your bottom lip—
And it seemed he was here to stay.
“You’re such a cheater,” you glared at Yuji as he won for the tenth time at the boxing game — hitting the max score every time, “tell me what the trick is,”
“You know I’m strong,” Yuji gapes, holding his arm, “how would I cheat?” And you’re pouting, crossing your arms.
“You’re cheating by being you,” and Yuji has to bite back his smile — you were being so cute — but he knows saying that will earn him a punch in the shoulder harder than you gave the punching bag on the machine, “now you have to buy me an ice cream,”
“For?” He raises an eyebrow.
“For being a cheater,” and he can’t help the chuckle that leaves his lips that earns him a bunch of slaps to his arm, before he’s wrapping that same arm around your waist, your complaints chased away by a gasp, “what—“
“I was going to buy you anything you wanted anyway, it is a date after all,” he smiles, and you stammer, but you don’t pull away, “what flavor do you want?” After you tell him, he goes off to the concession to buy you both some ice cream, and when he finds you at a table, he sees you’re not alone. His lips are a tight line, as he finds a guy leaning against the booth you sat in, clearly flirting with you, your back to Yuji so he can’t see your face.
He finds his way back to you, his hand brushes your shoulder gently, “is everything okay?” He asks you, meeting your gaze without regard for the stranger — and he’s glad he did, because he spots your pursed lips and darting eyes that told him everything he needed to know, “you need something?” He asks the guy, a friendly smile on his lips.
“Not from you,” the guy scoffs, “I was talking to—“
“Well, you’re talking to me now, not my date, so—“ and you’re leaning into Yuji, “you need something or not?” And the guy grumbles something under his breath before slinking away, and Yuji’s sliding in beside you when you move over, “you okay?”
“Yeah, he wouldn’t leave,” you sigh, shaking your head, “sorry—“
“You have nothing to be sorry about,” he murmurs, as he hands you your ice cream, “as long as you’re okay,” his arm slides around your shoulder and squeezes you, “i would’ve punched him if it wouldn’t have ruined our date,”
You snort, as you lick your ice cream, “if you punched him harder than you did the bag, don’t know if this date would have ended with us going home,” and he pouts, as he laps at his ice cream, and he feels you turn to look at him, “Didn’t know you were the jealous type, Yu,” and he chuckles, he wanted to say — only when it came to you.
But he knew that he couldn’t. Not like this.
“I didn’t think I was either.”
“Nope, not gonna admit it,” and Yuji’s grinning still, as the two of you walk out of the theater, his arm still around your shoulder, “no it wasn’t that good,”
If there was one thing about Yuji is that movies were literally his obsession — one movie marathon when the two of you were teens had turned him into a fanatic. And he often ended up dragging you to all of them he saw in theaters — and you probably had watched the Human Earthworm movies the most amount of times anyone ever has — aside from Yuji. Well, more like you watched him watch it, because while he was smiling and laughing (or crying) at the movie, you were looking at him.
And right now, he looked far too smug, “So you admit that it was good,” and you cross your arms, shaking your head, “I saw you tearing up at the end — I told you, it’s all about love!”
You purse your lips, if only to hold back your smile, before sighing, “How would no one tear up at that ending?” And his hand’s grabbing yours, tugging at your arm, as the two of you walk along, “Yu—“
“I knew you liked it! C’mon, I knew you would, now what was your favorite part?” And your lips curl into a smile, “what?”
That was one of the things you loved the most about Yuji, how excited he could get — how he loved everything so wholeheartedly with no reservations, and you knew he was the one person you could always count on to cheer you up.
“Nothing, nothing,” you chuckle, letting your fingers lace with his, “my favorite part?” And you want to say — watching him enjoy the movie.
But you can’t.
“Probably the ending,” you slowly smile, “liked it when the credits rolled,” and he’s mock glaring, as you laugh before his arm tightening around your waist, “Yu-ji—“
“Not going to be honest?” He murmurs, before kissing your chin, “then maybe I’ll make you.”
“Yu—ngh, please,” Yuji could get addicted to your taste, it was never enough, was it? His lips had spent the last twenty minutes kissing every inch of your face and neck, traversing over every nook and cranny as he always wanted to — and yet it was never enough. Any time spent with you was never enough —because you always made anything better, and nothing ever worse.
And he knew no one else would ever feel this good.
How many times had he imagined just this scenario? Of you in his bedroom with him alone, as you had been many times before, but never like this. You never looked at him like that before — with that shyness mixed with an undercurrent of want. And it was enough to rip him away and drag him under with you.
“Please what, baby?” Yuji looks up with a wry smile and soft eyes that burn a path where as it raked down your body like coals across a fire, “want me to stop?” And he’s dragging a thumb down your untouched lips.
You cover your face with the back of your hand, and he’s gently tugging it away, pressing a kiss to your wrist, your pulse jumping underneath, “I want more,” and fuck if he wasn’t at full mast from the kissing, he was now at your words, “I want you to…kiss me and…touch me,” you mumble, eyes averted, but he’s smiling all the same — you were so cute.
“Where can I touch?” he asks softly, his nose brushing yours, “need you to tell me. I don’t want to rush—“
And your lips crash against his, your fingers finding the back of his neck, threading in his pink locks. He’s pausing a moment before he melts into your kiss, and you’re taking the lead, as you lean further into the kiss, your fingers sliding down from his shoulder to his chest. His tongue flicks against the seam of your lips and you part for him.
“I want you to touch me,” you murmur as you break the kiss, panting, strings of your spit still connecting your lips, your breathy words nearly enough for him to lose all control, “I’ll tell you if I don’t like it,”
And he’s more than happy to oblige, his lips find yours in a bruising kiss, his hand toys with the hem of your shirt as permission, and you part from the kiss to nod. His hand slides up your soft flesh, pushing up your shirt along with it — finding your lacy bra underneath. He’s tugging the shirt up and over your head with your help, and god—
He has to stop himself from cumming right then and there at the sight of you. His fingers reach out, toying with the strap of your bra, “Did you wear this for me?” And you biting your bottom lip was all the answer he needed.
“Yu—“ he’s tweaking your hardened bud through the fabric, “ah, fuck—“ and he leans down to suck the other side through your bra, while sliding down your bra strap.
“Need to taste you,” and you’re nodding, while he’s reaching around to brush against the clasp of your bra to undo it, and his cock twitches at the sight of your bare skin — you’re so fucking pretty.
He always thought you were pretty — when you were kids drenched from running around in the rain, when you were just waking up from a nap with your hair askew and dried drool in the corner of your mouth, when your eyes were wide with excitement and nearly jumping up and down to tell him good news; and when you’re smiling—especially when you’re smiling.
It was his favorite thing.
“Don’t stare so much,” you’re trying cover yourself, but his hands catch yours, easing them off, “It’s embarrassing—“
“You’re perfect,” and your lips part but no words come, but you can’t meet his gaze, “you are—“
“You’re just saying that—“ and his fingers pinch your nipple drawing a gasp from your lips, while he leans down and takes the other in his mouth. His eyes find yours, blown into deep, dark pools by his lust — ones you’d be more than willing to drown in.
“I’d never just say that, especially to you, baby,” and you’re about to make a smart remark about him calling you ‘baby.’ But you forget every word you ever learned when his fingers start to drag down your stomach, fingers playing with the button of your jeans, “can I?”
And you nod, your back arching ever so slightly as his lips press a sweet kiss to your bellybutton. He’s kissing down your soft legs as he tugs down your jeans — one to your thigh, another to your knee, and another to your ankle —before he’s kissing up the other.
“How’s that feel?” he murmurs, eyes flitting up to meet yours, and fuck, your lips parted and swollen a pretty red, eyes half lidded with want, and — as his eyes fall between your thighs — a growing wet spot on your panties.
His fingers toy with the elastic, snapping it lightly against your skin, a slight flinch only, as his eyes gaze at your clothed cunt with near reverence. He looks for permission, before he leans in to press a kiss to your swollen clit, a small yelp escaping your mouth.
“Yuji,” you whine, lifting your head to meet his gaze again, “please,”
“Say my name again, please,” he’s kissing your thigh gently, and it feels as if you’ll crumble under his touch any second, wither away in a figment of his imagination, and he won’t ever get the chance to hear you like this again, much less touch you. He was selfish to take advantage like this — and he knew he was — but he couldn’t leave it like this.
“Yuji, just touch me—“ and your head falls back as his fingers graze your clit through your nearly translucent underwear, “ngh, you fucker—“ and he’s chuckling, as he tugs your panties away.
“Wanted to keep them on since you looked so good, but,” and he’s pocketing them with a grin, “I’ll just keep them instead,” your dripping walls twitch at the thought, “s’good for me. What do you want, my fingers or my tongue?”
“Fuck, I don’t know, just touch—“ and your head lolls against the pillow as his tongue drags up flat up the length of your weeping pussy.
“You’re so sweet — I could live here,” he murmurs, as his fingers spread your slick folds, a pretty moan falling from your lips as he does, “can’t wait to feel you cum around my fingers,” he’s easing a finger in — and you’re so tight, you’re tensing as he tries to part your walls, “relax, ok? I’ll be gentle. Don’t worry. I won’t ever hurt you,” his eyes meet yours and you’re nodding, as he pulls his finger away, a shiver at the empty ache, but it falls away into another moan as his tongue replaces it.
The wet squelch of your folds is enough for him to cum right there — you smell as sweet as you taste, as he kisses your clit, before dragging the length of his tongue over your sopping slit again, “Yuji—fuck—“ your fingers find purchase in his pink locks right when he decides to sink a finger inside you again.
“That’s it,” he grunts, as he works his finger knuckle deep into you, “so good f’me, so tight,” he’s murmuring, and your syrupy walls wrapped around his finger makes him wonder how good it will feel when his cock is inside you. He’s palming his erection through his pants, desperate for any kind of fucking friction, “g’nna add another,”
And you’re nodding, “please, I—“ and a second finger joins the first, and the lewd noises grow louder from your slick and his fingers begin to pump faster — teasing and stretching your walls as they begin to flutter around you, “Yuji, Yuji—“ his name leaves your lips like a prayer, but he’s the one who would worship at your feet, if you’d let him, your moans and whimpers were all he needed to survive, and he’d give his very soul if it meant he could be at your side.
His fingers are fucking you open, the tips of his fingers brushing against the spot that his your mouth falling open in a silent moan, “that’s it, cum for me, pretty girl,” and pleasure rips up your spine, as you cum all over his fingers, thighs shaking as you do. He fucks you slowly through your orgasm, helping you ride it out, until he’s slowing, leaning up to prsss sweet kisses to your face.
“I’m going to pull them out slowly,” he murmurs, your eyes still fluttered shut, but they slowly open to watch him ease his fingers from you. Soft pants leave your lips as you watch him with lidded eyes lick his fingers sticky with your release clean.
“Are you okay?” He’s murmuring, as he moves up to lean over your face, and you’re nodding, “let me clean you up and we can sleep, ok?” he’s moving to get off the bed, but you grab his hand, and he tilts his head.
“What about you?” You mumble, frowning, eyes flickering to the tent in his pants with a shy gaze, “I want to—“
“It’s okay, let’s just take it easy today,” he’s smiling, fingers finding yours and squeezing, pressing his lips to your knuckles, “you look like you’re about to pass out,” and you’re pouting all the same, but you seem to relent as the exhaustion sets in once again at your words, “I’ll be right back,” and he retreats to his bathroom to wet a washcloth, only to come back to you fast asleep.
He chuckles at the sight of you sprawled out on his bed — a sight not uncommon to him on nights you spent over, but never like this before. He leans on the bed carefully, mattress creaking ever so slightly under his weight, as he begins to clean you gently — and luckily, you don’t wake by the time he’s done. He can’t put your jeans or underwear on so he opts to grab a pair of his freshly washed shorts and slides them on you. He adjusts the blanket, draping it over you, running his fingers through your hair to tuck it behind your ear, and the back of his knuckles over your cheek.
“Yuji,” you mumble in your sleep, and he bites his lip — as he returns to his bathroom, softly shutting the bedroom door and the bathroom door behind him, a glaring problem to deal with, as he is still nearly waddling at this point from the grazing of his boxers against his aching erection.
He undoes his jeans quickly, eyes fluttering as he pushes both down and strips his shirt off before slipping into the shower. The squeak of the shower faucet and the water running hopefully don’t wake you — but more importantly, he hopes his moans don’t.
His dick was rock hard and aching still — there were so many times he nearly came in his pants, and by how drenched his boxers were — maybe he had. But fuck, you were so gorgeous, laid back and spread out for him.
His fingers grazed his weeping cock, smearing the precum up and down his length, thumb tracing his slit, as you would. He could see you thumbing his head experimentally, as your eyes flickered up at him, doe eyes, yet glazed over with lust. It wouldn’t be long until you’re slowly pumping him, as he does now — from base to tip, teasing his balls all the same. You’d flick your tongue over the tip, sucking at the dripping precum — wrinkle your nose at the salty taste, but you’d suck at his tip all the same.
He’d look down at you as your hand switches to toying with his balls, as you let his cock slap against your tongue, before letting his length slip past your lips. Your lips would feel so much softer than his hand does right now, jerking himself off, your plush lips and tongue wrapped around his dick. A low groan escapes his lips, as he covers his mouth, hoping you couldn’t hear him over the running water. The squelch of his precum and his soft moans would only make him want to repay the favor, making you cum over and over, until you were begging him to stop.
Fuck, he was close, by the way his cock twitched in his hand — where would he cum with you? He’d cum anywhere you wanted — but to cum on your face or chest, the image made him shudder. Your tongue would flick out to clean up some of the cum, and—
Fuck, he moans your name, as he cums all over his fingers, his release sprayed against the tile of his shower, dripping down and mixing with the water. He’s panting, as he cleans his hand off in the shower, leaning his head back.
What has he gotten himself into? Was it right for him to do this? You didn’t know how he felt — and he didn’t know if you would ever feel the same. But as he got dressed and crawled into bed beside you, keeping his distance as you slept, he felt you move closer, mumbling his name as you did. He couldn’t help but softly smile, running his fingers through his hair—it didn’t matter if you never ended up loving him, as long as you knew what you deserved—to be with someone who loved you, as much or even more than he did.
He let himself drift off, a loose arm thrown over your middle—he’d let himself have this, if only for now.
“Oh come on, you couldn’t get the ad free version, Fushiguro?” Nobara complains as yet another commercial comes on, as she glares at the black haired vet student, who sat on the floor after she stole his armchair.
He only shrugs, bearing little to no reaction, “If you’re going to complain, then why don’t you pay for it?”
Nobara and him begin to bicker ever so slightly, and Yuji chuckles in your ear, “are they more fun to watch then the show?”
The four of you were at your apartment, watching a new season of a TV show you all had started last year. You were sat next to Yuji on the couch, your bodies nearly pressed against each other as you shared the blanket, a little cold from the rain outside.
“They’re always more entertaining than the show, that’s why we agree to this,” you whisper back, the proximity of your bodies making your cheeks burn. You turn away, hoping he can’t feel or even hear the way your heart was beating down your ribs to burst free. Every time he shifted even slightly, you felt your body react — so conscious of even a twitch of his fingers — you wanted to bury yourself under the blanket.
It had been like this since that night.
You had woken up to him asleep beside you. Your eyes fluttered open as consciousness slowly crept into focus, sunlight filtering into sight, a small groan leaving your lips. And it wasn’t until you tried to reach for your phone you realized the thing beside you wasn’t a pillow but a person.
Your eyes flew open and you found Yuji still sound asleep beside you. It wasn’t unusual for the two of you to sleep on the same bed — especially after a late night where one or the other didn’t want to go home — but it was different to wake up entangled with him, especially after the events of the night before came flooding back.
And after that, each time you had been around him, you had become more and more conscious of his touch, nervous even, at the simplest of brushes of his fingers. And this? His body pressed against yours, his fingers grazing your thigh nearly, and his soft breath against your ear — god, you were going to lose it.
“You ok?” he murmurs a half an hour later, and the question itself makes you squirm — because no, your hot best friend was pressed against you and making you want to do nothing more than kiss him—
Wait, wait, hot? Your mind stutters at your own thoughts, lagging to comprehend yourself — hot? You wanted to kiss him? You always knew Yuji was hot, he was objectively — especially based on how many of your friends had wanted you to hook them up with him — but you had never thought of him that way. Maybe in passing — but to you, that was the one line you could never cross, especially when you had seen so many friendships fall apart because of a relationship.
You never wanted to risk Yuji like that.
But then here you were — blurring that line you said you never cross — and letting the ground split underneath the two of you.
“I’m fine,” you mumble back — and yet here he was, seemingly unfazed by your proximity and as the minutes ticked by, it began to eat away at you. Did he not find it as meaningful as you did? Did he not feel as good as you? Do you need to touch him just to make him feel just as heartsick as you were?
And now you know what you wanted to do.
As the show went on, Nobara and Fushiguro fell asleep — Fushiguro asleep with a cushion he had stolen from Nobara’s armchair and Nobara curled up in said armchair, passed out.
“Should we stop the show and go to bed?” Yuji asks you, albeit innocently — but there was anything but innocent intentions in your mind when you shake your head, a smile on your lips.
“Let’s keep watching,” your fingers grazes his thigh, as you lean over, lips nearly brushing against his ear, “it’s just getting interesting, right?”
And his breath hitches, “what’re you—“ and your fingers inches higher, grazing over his already tenting erection, a hiss escapes his lips, as he’s covering his mouth.
“Shh, don’t wake them,” and your fingers are ghosting and teasing over his cock, the precum already starting to seep through the fabric, as he shifts under your touch. Your thumb flicks over his head, now fully hard, “so big already,” you mumble, and now your lips press sweet kisses to his neck, finding small cuts and bruises from his practices, and a gasp escaped his lips.
“We shouldn’t be doing this—“ and your lips find his, and he melts so easily into your touch, your fingers toy with the elastic of his shorts, his eyes flickering to the two sleeping. He’s pulling away for a breath, lips utterly ruined — his fingers running through his hair, “please—“ and your lips curl.
Your fingers finally brush against his leaking cock, and his head falls back, his cheeks flushed a pretty pink, lips parted as soft pants left his lips. And you’re nearly shivering yourself at his want — seeping into your own body, as his pants and moans send a wave of heat between your thighs.
You rub your thighs together, as you shift even closer somehow, “Gotta be quiet Yu — they can hear us after all,” you murmur, right as your thumb swipes over his slit, a yelp caught in his throat, as his hand flies back to lips, “good boy,” and his dick twitches at the praise, as your finger begins to trace along his veins, “so big, how am I going to fit you inside?” you murmur, biting back a smirk when a muffled groan reaches your ears.
Your fingers finally curl around his length, you never thought a cock to be pretty — but Yuji’s was. You stared at it under the covers, flushed a lovely red, too dripping pearly beads of precum, and the slight curve it had to it — made the ache in your cunt only grow.
“Please, baby, I need, please—“ he’s whining, “I need you—“
And you oblige him, your hand beginning to spread the pre along his length, beginning to stroke him slowly from base to tip. He’s biting his lip, hard, nearly drawing blood as he chooses to bury his face in the crook of your neck, if only to muffle any moans that fell from his lips.
“S’good for me, Yu, wanna make you feel as good as I did,” his moan vibrates against your skin, cock twitching in your fingers, “gonna move faster, don’t want our friends to see you like this, do you? You have to be quiet,” and god, why did only seem to get harder at your words?
Your fingers begin to jerk him off in earnest, the wet squelch of his cock nearly not hidden enough by the volume of the TV, but nearly don’t care at this point — you just want him to fall apart under your touch, need him to.
And oh, he’s so close. His groans are more frequent, his hips jerking against your fist, and when your other hand finds his balls, squeezing — it’s too much.
He moans softly, “I’m—“ and that’s all he manages before he spills on your fingers — warm, white spurts splatter against your palm and the blanket, dripping, as he falls back, limp against the sofa. His cock softened in your hand, as you pull it away, before gently wiping him clean with the already drenched blanket.
He’s panting and fucked out, eyes half lidded as his chest rises and falls, watching you lick your fingers clear of his release, gaze never leaving his.
“Didn’t know you’d taste this good—“ you barely can manage, before he’s leaning forward to kiss you. Your fingers slide against his cheek to cup it, feeling his hand tangle itself in your hair, “Yuji—“
“What was that about?” he murmurs, “not that I’m complaining but—“ but then Megumi starts to move and you both freeze, your breath catching, until Megumi seemingly falls back asleep, “we should head to bed, but—“
He looks at the blanket, and the mess you made of him and the couch alike.
“The blanket I’ll toss in the washer, the cushion I’ll clean up and just turn over—“ and you smile, “and you take a shower before bed,”
His brow still knits together, “but we haven’t—“
“We’ll talk later,” and when later came, Yuji found you fast asleep in bed, with more questions than answers. But he supposed, as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his answers could come later.
How long has it been?
You stared at your phone — as if you could will it to receive the message you’ve been waiting for. As if it would grant your one and only wish for a text or a call — but it didn’t. Instead, it only gave you a spam call and a text to let you know you had a discount code for your favorite takeout place.
Great.
It had been a week since you had heard from Yuji — and a week since that night. You had woken up to the other three gone — gone off to their own apartments after you had slept in and texts on your phone from them in the groupchat. It was a few days before break — before you and Yuji would be heading back home for a few days together. But you hadn’t seen him at all since — not a chance to talk, much less seeing him.
Was he upset? Was he done with this? Was his promise to stay empty in the end? Was it your fault — for pushing it, for agreeing to it, and for falling for it all the same? Falling for it or — your eyes trace the screen of your phone as if it’s his cheek — or falling for him.
No, you rake your fingers through your hair, no, you didn’t love him — not like that. Not the way you shouldn’t, the way you had sworn yourself never to — but maybe all promises between friends were empty, when they were made like this.
But you weren’t made to let this break apart.
You found yourself at his door after classes, knocking at his door of his apartment. The door opens, and you find Yuji rubbing his eyes, hair askew, and shoulders drooped.
“Hey,” he yawned, he’s still shaking off the shackles of sleep, “sorry, what’s up?”
“Are you okay?” Your furrow your brow, your eyes spot the dark bags under his eyes, large enough to nearly engulf his eyes all together, “you look like you haven’t slept in days,” he steps aside to let you in, you glance around, his apartment wasn’t usually the cleanest — but it wasn’t a wreck like it was now. Clothes scattered, unwashed dishes stacked up, and papers strewn about.
“I just haven’t…been sleeping—“ and then you remember.
It wasn’t about you. It was about him. And you were so wrapped up in yourself, you weren’t thinking about him.
“Yuji, you’re having those nightmares again, aren’t you?” You murmur softly, and the way his gaze falls to the ground tells you everything you need to know, “alright, go lay down,”
“What?” he’s blinking, but your hand already finds his as you take him to his bedroom, “what are you—“
“You lay down. I’m going to make you dinner, and then you’re going to sleep,” and he sits on the bed reluctantly, fingers against his knees, as he bit his lip.
“I can’t sleep, I told you—“ you cup his cheek, and guide his gaze to yours.
“Remember what we’d do when you couldn’t sleep after the accident?”
“This feels ridiculous,” Yuji murmurs into your chest, his head buried there, while your fingers run softly through his pink locks, “we’re not six anymore—“
“So what? Doesn’t mean we can’t do this still,” you say, as your fingers pause, “unless you don’t want me to,”
“I didn’t say that,” he mumbles, and you can hear the blush in his voice that undoubtedly painted his cheeks, “I just meant it feels like I’m bothering—“
“Yu, don’t make me pinch you,” you murmur, rubbing his head, “you’re never a bother,” you kiss his head softly without thinking, and soon your cheeks are burning too, “sorry I didn’t—“
“Why are you sorry?” He chuckles, “we’ve done a lot more than kiss recently,” and he adds, “especially you,”
You bite your lip, glad he couldn’t see your face like this, “I thought that’s why you weren’t talking to me, I thought you didn’t like what I did…on the couch, you know—“
“I know,” he chuckles this time, “and how could I not like that?” And you swallow the lump in your throat, as the two of you fall into a comfortable silence that you choose to breach.
“You haven’t had these nightmares in a while,” you murmur quietly, before you add, “we don’t have to talk—“
“I know, but it happens from time to time, especially this month,” and your brow furrows, “don’t wrinkle your forehead at me,” and you lean back to gape at him, a smile pulling at his lips, “you always do that when you find out I’m keeping something from you,”
He moves ever so slightly away, turning to look at the ceiling, “Well I think I have a right because this is a pretty big thing to keep from me, Yu,” you pout, and your fingers begin to absentmindedly trace his jaw, his eyes fluttering shut — you always treated him so gently, like that something that could shatter, but he knew you would always be there to put him back together. Because you did that once already. Over a decade ago, “why didn’t you tell me?”
Because he didn’t want to worry you. Because he didn’t want you to think of him still as that broken kid you watched after when he had his world fall apart.
Because he didn’t want you to take that burden — he wanted to handle it himself.
“I didn’t want to bother you—“
“It’s never a bother when it’s you,” and his voice catches in his throat — fuck, how did you always know just what to say?
He takes a breath, “it’s just the same dream. Of the crash,” he could see something so clearly that he never experienced. He was at home with you when the crash happened — a play date Yuji had insisted on when he had cried and begged his parents to stay with you instead of going to dinner with them. They had relented — and that was the thing that left him alone.
It was lucky that his grandfather was able to take him in, and stay close by — so he still got to go to school with you.
“Let’s try to sleep, ok?” You murmur, “you’ll feel better when you sleep,” you cup his cheek, and he’s biting his lip, “what is it?”
“What if I see it again?” He whispers, as if he’s afraid that his words were any louder he would speak it into existence.
“Come here,” you say softly, your fingers gently guide his head to face you, “I’ll keep you safe, I promise,” A sigh leaves his lips as he moves closer, letting you engulf him in your arms, his eyes shutting, and letting himself relax for a moment — the first moment in far too many days.
When he let himself slip into sleep’s embrace—it was the first night he didn’t dream of the crash — he dreamt of you.
And when he woke in your arms in the morning, your soft lips parted as you slept, sunlight dappled on your skin through his window, and the way your fingers held onto the fabric of his shirt — he knew, he knew he had to tell you how he felt.
He needed to end this — his fingers brushing a strand of hair behind your ear — if only to begin something new.
You had to end it — it hadn’t sunk in until the car drove back home. The quiet morning drive left you both in a comfortable silence, the quiet white noise of his playlist, along with Yuji’s terrible singalongs and your bickering over his music choice. And you found yourself more than once staring at him as he drove, to the point where he had caught you looking.
“What?” He tilts his head when the light turned red, fingers drumming on the steering, the other poking your side.
“Nothing,” and you’re playfully slapping his hand away, a smile on your lips — same smile you always had with him. Always—because he’s your best friend. But he was so much more than that.
You were in love.
The two of you had returned to the place where you had laid your roots to rest and let your seed scatter to the wind. Only to return as a different flower altogether — but you knew, you couldn’t let it go on.
It had become painfully clear that morning, you had woken first, the sun had not peaked over the horizon yet, and you found Yuji fast asleep — breaths even and face relaxed. You knew his parents had scarred him deeply — he spoke of them often, but not at all at — he mentioned their presence, but never his own feelings. You knew he had a habit of putting others above himself — but you had missed this — all of this week, you could have been there for him, but you were caught up in your own thoughts and you had made it all about yourself.
And he deserved more than that.
He deserved more than you.
And you couldn’t risk losing him — lose him in a stupid argument or a disagreement and then never be able to comfort him again? Never be able to be by his side? You couldn’t bear to even fathom that.
“Nanamin was asking about you,” Yuji says as the two of you walk home from the local convenience store — a late night run that produced a familiar bag of treats the two of you always shared when you came back home.
“Oh really? Are classes over for high school already?” The English literature teacher had taken Yuji in for his last year and half of high school after his grandfather passed, and Yuji always stayed with him on breaks.
“He asked if you were going to come with us to see my parents tomorrow morning,” it was a tradition to go visit Yuji’s parents graves each year around this time — you always paid your respects whenever you could, “he also said you’re free to stay over, but you have to sleep in a different bedroom,” you snort, “he said and I quote ‘we are past the age of sharing a room,’” You laugh, cheeks burning as you shake your head, “he’s not exactly wrong though,” his fingers graze yours, and there’s nothing more you want than to take his hand, but you know one way or another, you’d drop it in the end. Wouldn’t it be better now? When there isn’t far to fall?
So you do, letting your hand fall away from his.
“I’d be happy to see your parents, but I don’t know if staying over is a good idea—“ and he’s shaking his head with a chuckle in his throat.
“Don’t worry, I won’t do anything you don’t want to—“
“We should stop, Yuji,” and his smile slips off his face as if it was slapped off, he blinks, shock settling into confusion.
“Why?” Only one word and it manages to break you all the same.
“We just shouldn’t. This was supposed to be about teaching me, but i think I’ve learned enough,” you’re turning away, but his fingers are gently finding your wrist, “Yuji—“
“You don’t think I can’t tell when you’re lying?” Yuji asks, and your glass-like facade shatters so easily — why does it always have to break so readily when it comes to him?
But you pull away all the same, “I can’t do this anymore. Not like this. I don’t want to. I can’t lose you—“
“You won’t lose me—“ but you’re already walking off, sparing a glance back.
“I’ll see you tomorrow morning when we leave, Yuji,” and he’s opening his mouth to call out, but he stops himself, watching you disappear up the street.
What just happened?
The car ride to the cemetery is notably silent. Yuji’s eyes burned when he woke, head aching from the circles he ran around in last night, trying to figure out what happened. Nanami drives in the quiet, his eyes noting when Yuji chooses to sit passenger instead of beside you, only with one glance that’s averted after Yuji refuses to meet it.
Yuji didn’t know what to make of what you said. After everything, he thought maybe — just maybe, you felt the same as he did. He thought he could tell you tomorrow, tell you when the two of you were alone — and even if it didn’t work out, it would be okay.
But now — as his eyes stole a look at you in the rear view mirror, he wondered if it ever would be okay again.
You left the car a moment to go use the bathroom when they stopped to fill gas in the car, and that’s when Nanami speaks.
“So did you finally ask her out and she said no?” And Yuji’s head snaps to his, but Nanami only stares back, “you aren’t hard to read, Itadori. You’ve liked her for a long time,”
Yuji scratches the back of his head, “I did something, kinda stupid,” and Nanami tilts his head, “really stupid, ok? And I was going to tell her how I felt, but she broke off what we were doing—“
“You weren’t dating?” Yuji’s cheeks burn as he waves off his teacher.
“That’s not important! But what do I do, Nanamin?” the blond haired teacher raised an eyebrow.
“It’s not hard to know what to do, Itadori. It’s what you should have done. Tell her how you feel,” and then you’re walking back to the car, “come on, let’s get back. We’re close now.”
And your gaze avoids his own when Yuji watches you get back in the car, and his lips part as if to stop you — but he doesn’t.
Not yet.
You stood with Yuji as he tended to his parents’ graves. Simple stones that he was able to put in with time from his part time jobs, ones he had insisted he would pay for himself — refusing any help from anyone, even you. You knelt down, helping him clear the strewn dead leaves, brushing away dirt and snow — your fingers brushing when you both reach for the same place.
And your eyes meet, as both of your fingers intertwine slowly — the three of you pay your respects, and Nanami finally stands.
“I’ll wait for you two at the car,” Nanami says with a nod, leaving the two of you alone. You both already had placed offerings at their graves, arranging them slowly, as the two of you stand, the silence of the cemetery hanging overhead — light streaming in between clouds in the overcast sky, the sounds of the wind rustling the trees the only thing in the quiet.
“Thank you for coming,” Yuji says softly, and your blink, eyes sliding to his.
“You never have to thank me for that, Yuji,” you squeeze his hand, “as long as you want me to come, I’ll always be here. And I’ll always pay my respects to your parents, regardless of that,” you say, and that's exactly why you had to stop with him. You couldn’t bear to lose him — lose this, not when he’s lost too much and he was too much for you to lose, “come on, we should get back to the car,” as you pull your hand away from his.
And maybe things could get back to normal.
“I know,” and he doesn’t move as you turn to leave, “and that’s why I love you,”
And you smile, “I love you too—“
“I don’t mean it like that,” and you freeze a moment, his words barely processing before he continues to speak, “I mean I do love you in that way too — but that’s not how I meant it now,” he says, as you turn to face him — not finding a hint of humor on his expression.
“Yuji—“ your brain can barely process your best friend confessing to you — much less next to his parents’ graves— “should we be having this conversation—“
“It’s the perfect place to have this conversation,” he glances around at all of the graves, and he’s shaking his head, “maybe not the perfect place, but—“ his gaze softens when he finds yours, “you saved me,”
“Yuji—“
“No, you did. After my parents died,” he stares at the stones side by side — “I could barely function. I barely wanted to do anything but sleep — but you, you pulled me out of bed. You made me go places. You made me smile again,” he says, “but that’s not the reason I fell in love with you,” his lips curl into a soft smile, “it’s because it’s you — your smile, your laugh, your being — it reminded me of happiness existed, and then I realized you were the only person who could make me happy the way you do,”
“Yuji—“
“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same. But I don’t want to lose you, lose this chance to tell you how I feel, to tell you—“
“Yuji—“
“And I’ve always loved you — there’s never been—“ and you’re hugging him, before you even know you are, your arms are around his middle, face buried in his chest, as he murmurs your name.
“The only reason I broke it off was,” your voice wavers despite your efforts to force it to stay even, “I didn’t to lose you by not being good enough—“
“You just have to be you,” his brow furrowed into the same valleys he teased you for, “you’re all I need,” his hand finds your cheek, guiding your gaze to his, “how could you think you weren’t enough?”
“You don’t tell how you feel sometimes — you don’t tell me what you’re thinking, I didn’t even know you had nightmares—“ you break off, “what if we continued this and you realized you deserved better than me? And it was already too late for me because I love—“ you break off.
“You what?” he asks, and you’re biting your lip, “I’ll say it again if it will make you—“
Fuck it.
You lean up and press your lips to his, swallowing his words as your hand finds purchase on his shoulder. And it felt right. As it always did with Yuji.
“I love you too,” you whisper against his lips, “I love you, in the same way you do,”
“As a friend?” And your brow furrows, “kidding! Kidding—ow!” You’re smacking him playfully, before he catches both of your wrists and pulls you close, “does that mean I can call you mine?”
“Or baby,” and he flushes, a cute pout on his lips, “what? Isn’t it—“ and he’s kissing you again, your heart leaping as he does, his hands sliding around your hips, “Yu-“
“And what’s my pet name? You still haven’t given me one—“
“Have some decorum,” a voice cuts through, and the two of you jump apart, as Nanami stands, glaring at the two of you, “come on, if you’re done paying your respects, then we should go home,” he sighs, rubbing his temples, “the dead shouldn’t have to put up with this.”
Yuji’s cheeks are tomato red at this point — as he covers his face— but you only chuckle, your fingers intertwining with his, squeezing, “c’mon let’s go, and maybe I can give you a pet name when we get home,” and you both turn to face his parents, as you pay your respects and head down the path a little.
Yuji faces his parents, kneeling down to say goodbye again — and he remembers how it was their idea to set up Yuji to have a playdate with you, all those years ago. And now, here you were — the most important person in his life.
“Thank you for everything you did for me,” and he glances at you over his shoulder as he gets up, “especially for helping me find her.”
“Yu-ji—“ you gasp, as he’s tugging you into your bedroom, bumping himself carelessly into the wall as he guides you both to your bedroom. You giggle as he presses you against the wall outside your room, “I text you my parents are going out for dinner and this is how you greet me? What happened to hello—“
His lips crash against yours and you forget about ‘hello’ and just about every other word in your head. Your lips curl against his lips, as his body cages you against the wall. It had been a few days since you and Yuji had been able to have a moment alone—Nanami was watching you both cautiously, while your parents had been keeping you busy at home, seeing family or cleaning up around the house. And Yuji was growing increasingly desperate for some time with you — that wasn’t hidden brushes of fingers under the table or stolen kisses out of sight from family or friends.
“I missed you so much, baby,” he’s murmuring — and you didn’t know it was so possible to look like a kicked puppy so much until you met Yuji, “can’t believe Nanami was so mean and kept making us keep the door open—“
“It didn’t help that he walked in us making out on your bed three times—“ and a moan escapes your lips as he kisses your neck, teeth grazing against your racing pulse, “fuck, Yu—“
“How do you always taste so good?” he mumbles against you as he leads you inside your bedroom and shuts the door. His eyes glance around your childhood room, as he takes in the childhood posters plastered on the walls, the untouched books, the stuffed animals from a millennium ago that still lined your bed.
“My family has not changed much here for years,” your cheeks burn, as he only chuckles, walking you backwards into your bed, and you climb into the bed, only grabbing a stuffed animal from behind you, “remember this?”
He snorts, as he takes the stuffed penguin from your hands, “How could I forget? I tried a million times to win this,”
You tilt your head, “You said you won it your first try—“ and you gasp as he looks away, cheeks flushed, “you were trying to impress me,”
“Not that much,” and you’re leaning closer, brushing your lips against his, “maybe just a little,” you kiss him more insistently this time, sliding against his, fingers curling in his soft strands, “maybe too much,” and you smirk, noses bumping as your lips find each other’s again and again.
And your fingers slide down to drag his shirt up and over, freeing his chest and abs to your sight — and what a sight it is. So toned and tanned from his American football practices in the sun — perfect for your fingers and lips to explore the peaks and valleys of his body, hands already far too eager.
He returns the favor by lifting your own shirt off in an instant, groaning when he finds you wearing nothing underneath — your eyes can’t help but flit down and find his erection already tenting in his sweatpants.
“Fuck, baby, you’re so perfect,” his eager hands are already teasing and palming you breasts, a whimper drawn out by his precise pinches and touches, “so good for me,” and your hands drag down his chest, leaning down to press kisses to his chest as your fingers trace along his abs, making him groan.
He’s pouting, after he pulls you into another kiss, “it’s not fair,” he mumbles into the side of your neck, “I feel like I’m always the one who’s more nervous than you are,”
You chuckle, kissing his jaw, “I felt the same way, why do you think I touched you on our TV marathon that night?”
And he’s blinking, as you lay back on the bed for him, “you didn’t know—“ you shake your head.
“You had offered to help get experience, and even when we had done things, you were just so…normal,” he chuckles, before laying beside you.
“I had some practice acting normal around you, but I really didn’t. I think you nearly gave me a heart attack that night,” and you grin, drawing so close that you even feel the hitch of his breath.
“That good, huh?” You tease, and it only takes a moment until he’s hovering over you, lust pooled in his gaze that lights a fire on your body wherever it lays.
And his lips meet yours right after he whispers, “I’ll show you good.”
“One more, baby,” Yuji tells you, but you barely hear it through the haze of pleasure and heat that fills the room, along with the sounds of the squelch of his fingers in your tight cunt, “just need one more,”
And how many times had he made you orgasm already? You’d lost count — five or six at least. The first had taken some time, working his finger into your weeping slit, the way your walls stretch around him make you wonder how good it will feel when he fucks you. It’s not long before he’s sinking another finger in, the sounds and feelings of his digits curling is enough to bring you to orgasm. And the rest are a blur — another finger in your tight entrance, fucking you open as he toyed with your walls, until you came again and again.
And now he bent down, lips around your clit, teasing and sucking at the sensitive bud, as your fingers curled in his pink locks as the lewd moans fell from your mouth with ease. You’re so close — so fucking close, and when his fingertips brush against that spot and it’s all too much.
You cum around his fingers and mouth, his name on your lips as you do, back arching against him, as he eases his fingers from your cunt. He licks his fingers clean as your eyes flutter open to meet his, “You taste so good, baby — you’re perfect,” and you watch as his tongue flicks out to clean his lips and chin of your sticky release.
And soon enough he’s kissing you, hand cupping your cheek, letting you taste yourself on his lips, as your fingers drag over his bare chest and follow his happy trail into the elastic of his boxers. A soft moan leaves his kiss ruined lips, as his eyes are lidded with lust, soft pants against your skin.
“Is this a dream?” Yuji murmurs, his lips ghosting along your jaw, “never thought we would get here,” and you turn your head to meet his lips in another sweet kiss.
“It isn’t, we’re here. Took us long enough,” your lips curl, your fingers tracing over his cheek, “and nowhere else I rather be — or no one else I rather be with,”
“You sure?” And you’ve flipped him over, kissing down his body, fingers tugging at the elastic of his boxers until his dick is freed from the fabric, “fuck, baby, you don’t have—“
And his words are cut off with a grunt as your fingers grazes his erection, teasing his weeping head. You start to pump up and down, working the thick beads of precum over his length, his head falling back.
“How’s your cock so pretty, Yu?” you coo, blowing air over his dick, making him twitch in your hand, “never thought one of these would ever be so pretty,” you let his length slap against your tongue, slowly dragging it down your
He hisses, hands grasping at the sheets, as you bend down to flick his tongue against the head of his cock. Your lips close around it, and suck, raising the back of his hand to cover his mouth, “fuck, s’good, baby, I—“
And you’re letting his cock sink past your lips, your tongue flicking against his slit. Your eyes find his own, as you hollow out your cheeks and sucking hard, and his hips buck into your mouth. His tip brushes against your throat, and you’re moaning around him, your fingers cup his balls, nails digging into your scalp.
“Baby, fuck, I’m close—where—“ and he’s trying to ease you off, but your hands only hold his hips in place. Your nose brushing against his pubes. And when you’re suck hard on his tip, toying with his sack, only for him to moan your name, before cumming down your throat, his hot release painting your insides.
You’re slowly pulling off his dick, a string of cum and spit connecting your lips to his cock, a smile on your face. You swallow his release, the salty taste still on your lips as you watch him pant, chest rising and falling.
“Taste so good, Yu,” you murmur, and you’re moving back up to kiss him, “think I’m addicted,” you murmur, as your lips find each other again and again.
“Now you know how I feel,” he smiles, fingers running through your hair, “been addicted to you for over a decade,” and he’s sitting up, guiding you into his lap slowly, “we can always stop right here, we don’t have—“
You kiss him softly, the way he deserved, the way you’ve wanted to for so long, “I want to, Yuji, I really want to,” your fingers intertwine with his, squeezing his hand, his arm slipping around your waist, “because I love you,”
And your fingers grasp his hardening cock, pressing it to your dripping slit, and god, he’s so fucking big. You knew how big he was, but just feeling him pressed against you makes you ache at how he’ll be stretching you out. He drags his dripping tip against your slit, letting your cum mix together, letting his head catch on your clit.
Finally, you’re sinking onto him, his thick length parting your walls, inch by inch. Your head falls back, as he leans into your touch, watching you flinch at the stretch, “you okay?” Yuji’s pressing sweet kisses to your lips and cheek, “should I stop—“
“No, no, I’m fine, it’s starting to feel good,” your arms wrapping around his neck, burying your face in the crook of his neck, “ and he’s helping you sink into him, until finally your hips are flush to his, “fuck, Yu—you’re so deep—“ his cock twitches against your walls, a shiver up his spine at your words.
And he’s panting, his lips pressed to your shoulder, “you feel s’good, baby — so wet and warm—“ you smile, cupping his cheek, “can’t believe this is real — can’t believe—“
“It’s real, Yuji, it’s real,” your lips curl into a smile, “I’m here, I love you,”
“I love you too, I love you so much,” he kisses you again and again, as he shifts slowly under you, swallowing a gasp that leaves your lips.
“Please, Yuji, move—“ and he obliges, beginning to fuck into you, and your head falls back, as his cock rocks into you, a moan falling from your lips as you do. He’s groaning your name again and again, a grunt when you begin to ride him in tandem, both of your thrusts sending him deeper into you.
“Baby, fuck, you’re perfect. You’re so good f’me,” his lips finding your neck, as his strokes become faster and deeper, the sounds of your skin slapping together rings in your ears as he fucks you harder and harder, “g’nna cum, s’close,“
“I’m close too,” you’re panting as his lips find yours in a sloppy, messy kiss that has you losing yourself more and more, as his thrusts become more and more swallow. And when he finds your clit between your bodies, rubbing as he finds that one spot that has you seeing stars, “Yuji- I’m—“
And you cum hard around him, soaking his cock and thighs as you do, walls squeezing him tight until he’s spilling his warm seed inside you. You slow as you do, legs quivering, as you nearly slump against him and he holds you impossibly closer. He helps you both detangle, easing his softening cock from inside you, a small groan as he sees your mixed releases leaking from you. He helps you lie back, as he wraps his arms around you, running his fingers through your hair.
“Are you okay?” he whispers, brow furrowed in slight worry as your eyes flutter open, lips curling as your fingers smooth the wrinkles of his forehead.
“I’d be better if you’d kiss me,” you whisper and he obliges, a soft kiss to your lips that leaves you warmer than you were before, “now I’m perfect,”
“You always were,” and you chuckle, rolling your eyes, before shaking your head, burying your face in the crook of his neck.
“No, that’s because I had an excellent teacher,” and he laughs, before he pulls you even closer, finding your lips in a kiss.
“And you always will.”
“Come on, Fushiguro, pay up,” Nobara holds out her hand, as Megumi glares, pulling out his wallet and plucking money from his wallet and handing it to her.
“You cheated,” he says as she snatches the money, counting it with a grin on her lips, “I don’t know what you did, but I know you did,”
“You never said we couldn’t give them advice,” she grins, as she pockets his money, “and all I did was give Yuji a nudge, he’s the one who fucked—“
“Alright,” Megumi rubs his temples, “I get it, but it’s still unfair — we’ve been waiting for them to get together all these years and all of sudden he gets the idea to become her friends with benefits—“ and Nobara only grins wider, “you didn’t—“
She shrugs, “you can wait around for two idiots to figure it out, or you can shove them off the deep end.”
“I knew you cheated,” Megumi grumbles, “that’s the last time I ever make a bet with you, Kugisaki,”
And she smirks, “Well now you’ve been taught a lesson too.”
✧ a/n: another celebration fic done! now just one more and then i can start preparing for the next follower celebration :). i've settled on using wips but i'll pick out a bunch of prompts for you all to request for certain ones. that way, you all have had a hand in them <3. thank you to laney for helping beta <3.
✧ taglist: @adrenova, @nakariabnrb, @skvllknight, @hanlay, @spider-fan72, @anonimusunnoaniswriting, @chososcamgirl, @thenezuko, @catsgomurp, @too-much-snow, @sashaiko, @forest-fruits-jam, @rita-ritarita, @anyaeuh, @dezznuggetsblog, @jayathelostdragon, @newspapergirlmal, @2livelaughlovefictionalmen2, @being-me-is-not-a-sin, @xoocii, @firelordazulaaaa, @cira273, @twosec0nd, @ororomunroro, @sunamatic, @withoutanameyet, @gojorgeous, @masctomboy805, @hantaslittlearsonist, @lemonpoppy-seed, @malmare, @teraine, @boopadoopa333, @jeyughh, @coffeebun17, @faeryli, @katienaps, @tojbitch, @fushitoru, @soulofoz, @yamaguccitadashi
#sab [mlist]#yuji itadori x reader#yuji itadori smut#yuji itadori fanfiction#yuji itadori fluff#yuji itadori x you#jjk smut#jjk fanfiction#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen fanfiction#itadori yuji x reader#itadori yuji smut#itadori yuuji x reader#itadori yuuji fanfiction
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Sex Tutor
Summary: Harry's got a reputation on campus and you're curious to know if he can help you.
A/N: Requested! Thank y'all for being patient with me! Hope you enjoy! This will be 2 parts!!
Word Count: 10k
Warning: smut (oral sex), fluff, praise kink
. . .
“Yeah… that was good. I liked it.”
That wasn’t the reaction you were hoping to get. You thought Gunther would be a lot more enthusiastic after coming in your mouth and you swallowing him down. You gave it your best work. You even choked a couple of times and you did hear him moan once or twice. But that didn’t feel like enough
You wanted to ask him exactly what went wrong. Tips on what he liked and didn’t. What you could do better next time… But instead, he just smiled and kissed your cheek, avoiding your mouth because obviously kissing the lips that had just sucked his cock would be gross.
So you left his dorm feeling a little disappointed in yourself. Annoyed really. You wished you were more bold and could just ask him what he wanted, what he liked most. You complained to your roommate even. She loved giving advice so you were always venting to her.
“Well, you know there’s like this guy on campus who will walk you through that kind of thing… a sex tutor if you will. Let’s just say that he comes highly recommended. I know someone who hung out with him a few times, and she learned so much about her body and how good sex could feel without coming but he always made her come every time, and no man has ever done that to her before she told me.”
“A tutor for blow jobs?” You scrunched your face and giggled.
“Well, blow jobs and everything else really. I don’t know. He gets around and they say he’s very knowledgeable about the body and sex. I think he’s like getting his masters in sexual health or something?”
You shoved at her shoulder and laughed, “Oh my god I don’t think so. That sounds crazy. He’s probably some weird pervert or something.”
Your roommate turned her cellphone screen to face you, showing you an Instagram page with a photo of a very attractive young man you’d seen on campus a time or two.
“That’s him?” Your eyes widened as you looked from the photo to your roommate.
“Yup. He’s not a weirdo either. I hear he’s super respectful and smart. Plus the bonus is that he looks like this.”
You nodded. That certainly was a bonus. Harry Styles. You knew about him from the student council. He did a lot of volunteering on campus and he was a graduate student so you didn’t know him all that well, being only a sophomore yourself, but it was hard not to at least know the name and the face. He was popular. Clearly far more popular than you even realized.
And you definitely weren’t going to reach out for a “session”. That just felt silly. Though, you couldn’t say you weren’t intrigued by the idea, it just wasn’t for you. Except that when Gunther didn’t text or call you back for three full days, the whole time you wondered if your blow job was that bad. So when he did finally text you back to make plans for the following week, you felt like you were being given another chance to prove how good you could be. And maybe a lesson or two could be useful.
Reaching out to him via DMs on Instagram felt so unserious but you still did it. You cringed as you hit send and read over your message three times.
Hi! I heard you give special “tutoring” sessions and wanted to know if you have some time to meet with me to set something up? Let me know if it’s okay.
You couldn’t believe you were doing this, reaching out to a stranger for, basically, a booty call. But apparently he was used to it and had no qualms about responding to you in less than thirty minutes. As if he was running some kind of business.
Hi! Happy to meet up with you either tonight or Friday night. The initial meeting should only take like 20 minutes, somewhere public so you feel comfortable. I’ll ask you a few questions and then we’ll set up a private one-on-one session together if it makes sense for both of us. No pressure ever. Whenever you’re ready.
Private one-on-one session. You rolled your eyes as you read over Harry’s response.
Tonight is good for me if you can fit me in. Whatever time you want.
You didn’t know what to expect. You imagined he was cocky since he was apparently so good and sought after. Perhaps he would take one look at you and turn around. You were sure he had a say in who he “tutored”. Doubted he took on every single person who reached out to him.
Your roommate said he was respectful but you would place money on the fact that he was probably full of himself, being that he was a self-proclaimed Sex Guru. You were preparing yourself for someone with a larger-than-life personality.
You kept your outfit casual, not wanting to look like you were trying too hard. Jeans and a hoodie. Though you did shower and put on nice panties and made sure you smelled good. Just in case. One never knows when they are due to visit with a sex tutor.
Maud’s was one of your favorite spots on campus. They had the best iced matcha latte and that’s just what you ordered yourself when you arrived. You sat down at a small table and faced toward the door so you could keep an eye out.
You were looking down at your cell phone when you heard the chime of the door. Flitting your eyes up and away from the screen of your phone you scanned the entry and spotted him right away.
He was wearing a black pullover hoodie and jeans. His hair all tousled like he’d just finished a “tutoring” session. You raised your hand to wave at him and catch his attention and he grinned as you stood up but he gestured for you to stay seated, “I’ll be right back. Just gonna order a drink.”
You were already feeling hot and embarrassed. God, what were you doing? The man was sex on legs and that deep, raspy voice he just spoke to you with had your insides twisting and turning all mushy.
When he returned he had an iced tea and he sat across from you. The smile on his face was kind. Open. It set you at ease a bit.
He took a sip through his straw and you noted the rings on his fingers and the nail polish on his nails, “So, Y/n. It’s nice to meet you in person. What are you majoring in?”
Okay. Small talk. You could handle that.
You told him your classes and what you were majoring in and then asked him the same and when he explained he was going for his doctorate in psychology with the intent to become a sex therapist you felt your heart thump wildly. He was gorgeous and going for a doctorate. The man was so beyond out of your league that you wondered why he was even sitting at that table with you entertaining this silly request of yours.
“Wow. That’s… I’m impressed.”
He grinned and you saw a dimple carve into his cheek, “Thank you. I’ve worked really hard to get where I am. Still working, though. So let’s talk about what you want. What things are you interested in getting some guidance on?”
Here it was. The moment you’d been dreading. But also what you were most curious about.
“Well, I’m seeing this guy and,” you took a breath. It was embarrassing to say it so casually at a café on campus of all places.
Harry reached toward you and placed his warm palm over the top of yours, “Hey, I know this feels weird. Doing this. I’m not going to pressure you to say it if you find it’s too uncomfortable but just know,” he dipped his head down to meet your gaze with his brows gently raised, “Everything you tell me here will be kept confidential and private. I’m not going to make fun of you or compare you to anyone else. If you change your mind, that’s okay too. I want you to feel like you’re talking to a friend. Okay? It’s up to you how much or how little you say. We move at your pace.”
You let out the breath you were holding and smiled. He was so – nice. He made you feel so at ease.
“Thank you. It’s weird. Yeah… but I think I’m okay. I want to do this. I want to be better at like,” you looked around yourself and lowered your voice as Harry moved his hand from yours and you settled your gaze back on his, “Better at giving blow jobs. And maybe like initiating more?”
He nodded, “Okay. Have you ever given a blow job before?”
You nodded, “Recently. The guy didn’t seem very enthusiastic about it so I didn’t know if I did something wrong.”
He took a sip of his tea and his green irises bored into yours, “I can tell you one thing I know that is true for nearly every single male I know; they love getting head. Even if he wasn’t vocal he probably really enjoyed whatever you did. Does that make you feel better about your skill level?”
You puffed out a laugh and saw the smirk on his face. He was trying to get you to smile, “I don’t know. Probably. I’m sure I’m overthinking it but I just wanted… like I want to be really good. Want to know tricks to get a real response.”
“Did the guy you’re seeing orgasm?”
You nodded again.
Harry’s grin softened, “Then you did as good as you could have. Goal achieved. He orgasmed and you made that happen.”
“But I want to be better. Like… I really enjoyed what I was doing. Made me really… well…” you looked down at your empty mug and sighed, “I felt like I enjoyed it more than he did.”
He nodded and licked his lips and if you didn’t know any better you’d say he was kind of checking you out. You weren’t wearing anything revealing but he seemed to keep dropping his gaze to your lips and neck. But you figured that was because he was still getting used to your face and he was sussing you out a bit to see if he wanted anything to do with you beyond this conversation.
But that was true. He was checking you out. He saw your Instagram pictures before he contacted you (always his first step) and thought you were cute and wouldn’t mind seeing you in person. He certainly wasn't disappointed by you when he saw you either. You were cute and a little nervous and when you started talking about how you enjoyed giving that loser a blow job he couldn’t help but shift his eyes down to your mouth and imagine what your lips would look like on his cock. He wondered if you’d be just as eager to suck him off as you seemed like you were for the other guy.
Now, Harry was a polite and nice man. He was as respectful as they came. But he was still a man with a very high sex drive and he couldn’t help it. He did enjoy having sex and he got a lot of ass because he was good at what he did. And he was under no allusion that it also didn’t have anything to do with how attractive he was. Because of course, it did. He was aware of the way women looked at him and all the whispers about him on campus. And most of the time the sessions were just fun sex more than anything else. However, he happily gave guidance when needed.
And this time he was feeling pretty gung-ho to see what you could do. He’d like to get started right away, which normally he’d wait until after the initial meeting before jumping into it but there was something about the way you were looking at him, your eyes hungry and inviting…
You watched Harry shift in his chair and look around the café before he looked back at you, “What are you doing right now? Like after this?”
“Oh… nothing. Was gonna read a little, prep for a test I have on Monday. But…” you shook your head.
“Would you be interested in going somewhere more private? My studio is at the off-campus university apartments. Twenty-minute walk from here.”
Was he…? You scrunched your brows, confused at the sudden invite to his place.
“It’s up to you. I’m not rushing you or anything I just have a free evening and you seem really enthusiastic and I’d like to kind of get a feel for what we’re working with. If you think you’re ready.”
You nodded, “Okay. I mean… yeah. So no roommates?” You laughed nervously as he stood up and it was the first time you let your attention fall to the space at his crotch, to which you quickly bobbed your eyes back up to his face as you stood.
“Nope. Co-ed apartments. No roommate. Super private.” He didn’t miss the way you scraped your eyes over his torso and down to the spot on his jeans where his zipper was.
So that was that then. You’d be getting a lesson sooner than you imagined. And when you walked the twenty minutes through campus and the street that was just adjacent to the cafeteria you could almost hear your heart pounding. He was taller than you expected. He easily kept the conversation alive with small talk. He seemed so confident and easygoing. You tried to let that charisma and charm soak through your veins so that you weren’t as nervous as you felt, but it was impossible. You were about to go into Harry Style’s apartment alone and probably give him a blow job.
Harry waved at a few people on your way up to his floor. He was clearly popular. You wondered if anyone knew what might be happening. Why you were with him and why you were following behind him like you were a pup being trained and he was carrying a treat.
“Here she is,” he opened his door and gestured for you to walk inside. Neat and tidy with stacks of books and lots of plants. Some plants hanging, most potted, and on the floor or on tables. You noted he had no television and that there was a big partition that separated the small living space from what was probably where he had his bed. The kitchen was organized with open shelving and he’d bought a wire rack and it was stacked full of packaged foods, spices, oil, and other things to cook with at the top and at the bottom with pots and pans and a blender with its cord neatly wrapped around the base.
He excused himself to the bathroom while you looked around. There wasn’t anywhere to go really. There were two doors in the whole place. The bathroom door and another one, which you assumed was a closet. The kitchen area was open to the small living space.
When Harry emerged he sat down on the couch, which looked well-worn. You wondered how many people he’d had over and on that very couch. He sat with his legs spread and drew his arms over the back of the couch and just watched as you stepped in closer toward the small coffee table, “I like all the plants,” you commented.
He nodded and you clasped your hands behind your back in wait for what would happen next. You didn’t want to look again at his crotch. But the way he was sitting made it hard. He took up so much space on that couch and with his legs spread open like they were, it was almost as if he wanted you to.
“Gonna sit with me? I’m not gonna do anything if you don’t want.”
You nodded and sat down, keeping your limbs close to your body and separate from him. You didn’t want to invade his space or get in too close. Not yet anyway. Not until he invited you. Or rather, until he told you what to do next.
“Everything I said at Maud’s still stands. If you change your mind that’s fine. I’m not going to be mad.”
You turned to look at him and swallowed. The guy was out of this world. Simply delicious looking. “Okay.” You spoke in barely above a whisper.
Harry leaned forward, putting his elbows over his knees as he kept his eyes on you, “Is this how you usually initiate?”
You raised your brows and shook your head, “What?”
“You said you wanted to be better at initiating. So far, I’m not getting any signals that you’re interested. Could be your first problem. Try relaxing a little, Y/n. Sit back and unhook your fingers. Loosen your shoulders. Not only will you feel more settled, but you’ll make the person with you feel better too. Which could push you to naturally begin conversation or movements that encourage contact.”
“Oh. Okay,” you sat back into his couch and loosed your hands, relaxing your posture, and looked at him, “Like this?”
Harry grinned and let out a small laugh, “Perfect. Now at least it appears you’re not scared of me.”
“I’m not scared,” you quickly shook your head.
“I didn’t think you were. But your body language was giving closed-off signals. Which could appear to some like fear or discomfort.”
It made sense you guessed.
“I see. So, relax and it makes everyone feel better.”
He grinned, “So tell me what normally happens when you’re with someone and it leads to something sexual. Set the scene for me.”
You cleared your throat and decided to use your last time with Gunther as the example.
“Well, we were in his dorm room listening to music and laughing about something–“
“Back up a little. Did you invite yourself to his room? Did he invite you? What happened before you got to his room?”
“Oh, uh…” you pursed your lips in thought. “Well, we were out with two mutual friends. At a bar. Gunther, his name is Gunther, he was kind of flirting with me and I liked it. We didn’t really know each other all that well before but I always found him interesting. And so… he was flirting with me. Complimenting me. Things like that. Then he asked me to go back to his room with him. So, I sort of figured something would happen,” you shrugged. You didn’t know why it was so weird telling him all those details but it was.
You recounted how Gunther had made all the moves; kissed you first, groped you and then somehow it ended up with you sucking him off while he laid back on his bed and you were between his legs.
“And… he didn’t return the favor? Like you didn’t get anything?”
You shook your head, “I mean, I didn’t ask. He got off and then that was it really. I left not long after.”
Harry frowned, “Okay. And did you hope he’d do something in return? Like, use his hands or his mouth on you? Did you want more?”
Another shrug of your shoulders, “I mean… I didn’t expect it. Thought maybe next time we could do more? I don’t know.”
“You didn’t expect it. But would you have liked it?”
Nodding your head you looked away from his eyes, “I guess.”
“Did it turn you on?”
Another embarrassing thing to admit to someone you hardly knew. You nodded again, “It just all happened really quickly. I kind of thought things would take longer and we’d chat and maybe he’d have me stay longer and then… well anyway. It was like a total of thirty minutes or something that I was in his room.”
Harry sighed and crossed his leg over his thigh toward you, “And you really want to give Gunther the best head you can? The guy who wasn’t worried about your own needs? Seems very selfless of you, Y/n.”
You let out a breath and laughed, “I know. I just want to be good at it. And that was the first time we did anything so I figured I’d give him a pass.”
“That’s very thoughtful of you. Gunther is lucky you’re still willing to give him another shot.”
“I guess I thought if I was better he’d want to do it more and maybe then we could do other things too.”
“I’m going to be honest, Y/n,” Harry stretched his arm across the back of the couch, “You’re very cute and you probably won’t need to worry much about initiating most of the time. Like, for me, all you have to do is look at me with those pretty eyes and I’m ready to do whatever you want me to.”
It had been a surprise to hear that. You weren’t sure what to do with that information but you couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you looked down at your lap.
“But a good start is to keep eye contact. At least enough to indicate interest. Can you look at me?”
Lifting your gaze to his he grinned, “There we go. So pretty.”
You shook your head, “I’m sure you say that to everyone.”
Harry lifted his hand to your cheekbone, “No. I don’t. And I don’t do this with just anyone either. Sometimes I turn down a request. I don’t tell them why but… There’s gotta be attraction on my end as well. And I find you very attractive, Y/n.”
You swallowed down the saliva in your throat and blinked for a break in eye contact before biting your lip.
“Now, even though we’re here for one thing, I do have opinions on matters of the heart and relationships. And frankly, I have to be honest about this Gunther, guy,” he dropped his hand, making his fingers brush down your cheek until he was no longer touching you, “I don’t like that he didn’t offer to get you off too. That’s a big red flag in my book. I feel it’s important to give and to receive unless it’s explicitly stated at the beginning. But you told me you thought you’d get more. And that bothers me.”
“Well, he’s a nice guy. I think he just wasn’t thinking…”
“He wasn’t thinking about your needs. That was selfish of him and something to watch out for. We can give him a pass for the first time, but if you see him again and he still doesn’t think about your needs, I’d hope you’d end that relationship and seek someone who’s willing to be less selfish with you.”
It surprised you that Harry was saying that about Gunther. But perhaps he was right. You did leave his dorm that night quite disappointed.
“I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. I know you barely know me but that’s just my take. I’d never not offer to return the favor,” he kept his eyes on yours and you swore his lips were suddenly a shade darker. They looked like the perfect lips to kiss.
He grinned when he noted where your eyes were homed in on, “Do you mind coming closer? Feels like you're still too far away.”
You puffed out a nervous laugh as you scooted your bottom in closer toward Harry. His arm was draped over the back of the couch behind you and you felt the warmth of him before you felt his fingers graze the back of your neck.
“So, I can kiss you? Can we start there?”
You breathed out through your nose and smiled as you nodded and kept your face angled toward his. He watched as you hesitantly put your palm on his knee and he put his hand over yours, “You’re a natural. See?”
Another soft laugh fell from your mouth as Harry’s face drew in closer to yours and your heart stopped as he nudged his nose into yours and you felt his soft lips smush against yours.
It didn’t take long for you to start feeling that familiar heat between your legs as he ran his tongue against yours. It felt so intimate… not like a tutor lesson or anything of the sort. It was you and a handsome man making out on his couch as he pulled you onto his lap. It felt real.
For some reason, you imagined it being a little more dry. Like a real lesson. Like he’d pull his pants down and tell you what to do and show you what he liked and what really made men go wild. You hadn’t imagined kissing being part of the equation for some reason.
“Did he tell you how soft your lips are or how those sweet little noises coming from your mouth drove him crazy?”
He spoke his words between kisses and you were going to pass out. Because no, Gunther gave you no compliments once you got into his dorm room.
You shook your head as you parted from the kiss, your eyes on his.
Harry’s eyes roved your face as he softly dragged his thumb back and forth on your jaw, “I don’t like him one bit. You deserve someone who’s going to tell you how good you are and how good you make them feel.”
He softly pressed his lips against yours again, the kiss heating up into a frenzied pace once again as you stuffed your fingers into his hair and then you felt the bulk of his erection under your thigh when you moved in closer.
Parting from the kiss you looked down and then back up at him and he just smiled. Like it was the most normal and natural thing ever. Which… it kind of was.
“Got me all hard already,” he slid his thumb from the edge of your bottom lip inward and you moaned, “Just like that. You’re already better than you think you are. You’re driving me crazy, Y/n. I want to see what these lips look like wrapped around my cock. Can we do that?”
You nodded and began to move off of him but Harry took your hand in his, making you pause, “I’ll let you get me off if you let me get you off too. Okay?”
Your eyes widened, “Really? I thought this was just for–“
“I have a method and it always includes getting the other person off too. Or at least making them feel good. Unless you don’t want that. That’s okay too, but I would prefer to touch you as well.”
“Okay,” your words were breathy as he helped you off his lap, keeping your hand in his but then he stood up and you watched as he ran his free hand over his crotch, “Is it okay if we do it my bed? A little more space there. Think it’ll feel less rushed.”
Obviously yes. You wouldn’t dream of saying no to this man. Not that you wanted to.
The space behind the partition was just a bed and one side table. His bed was neatly made and there was a plant hanging by the opening of the partition. He gestured for you to follow him onto his mattress and he placed his back at the wall, where he had no headboard.
Kneeing up to him you were feeling shy again and he leaned forward and cupped your face with one hand, “You’re doing so good. If you need to stop at any time just say the word. I’m not here to make you do something you don’t want. Okay?”
You nodded, “Yeah. I know. I trust you.”
“Good. Just wanted to remind you is all. I don’t want you to feel like you have to keep going even if I’m enjoying it, which I have a feeling I’m gonna like whatever you do to me.”
You giggled and nodded. He was fluffing up your ego and you hadn’t even really gotten started yet.
Harry started to push his jeans down, lifted his hips to get them off his legs, and then kept his eyes on you as he held his hand out for you to take, “Come here.”
You put your hand in his and let yourself get pulled between his legs as you looked down at the sizable lump under his boxer briefs, “Can we take your jeans off? Kind of want to have you in my lap a little while before we get down to it, yeah?”
You nodded and unhooked your button before pulling your zipper down. Harry’s hands found your hips as you tugged your jeans down and he helped you out of them, leaving you in just your hoodie and panties. Like Harry. He was just in his boxer briefs and his hoodie too.
You crawled into his lap, your thighs straddling his, and sat down as Harry smoothed his hands up and down your thighs, “There we go. This feels nice, having you close like this,” he ran his palms toward your bottom and then back down your thighs to your knees, “How are you feeling?”
You put your palms on his shoulders, “Good. Feel good. And you?”
“I’m feeling great. I’ve got you here in my lap,” he brought a hand up from your thigh to your face, his fingers sliding behind your ear with his thumb at your cheekbone, “And I like you. I think this’ll be fun. Just want you to feel at ease with me.”
You shifted on his lap, getting in closer, “I do feel at ease with you, Harry. You’re really nice.”
“Good. That’s what I want to hear,” his voice was soft as he gently pulled you towards him and pressed his mouth against yours again. His kiss was soft and sultry. Harry was far more sensual than you imagined he would be. Lots of soft touches and reassuring words. And his mouth against yours was addictive.
You moaned when his thumb ran along the edge of your panties at your thigh and you rocked your hips down, pressing your panties-covered pussy over his erection.
He inhaled softly through his teeth and lowered his mouth to your neck where you were melted into him. His warm mouth sponged wet kisses down your pulse point as you lowered a hand to the top of his cock.
He sighed when you began to rub your palm over him and you began to move back. You were ready to get him in your mouth.
“You can bring me out if you want. Or I can do it. Whichever you’re more comfortable with.”
You bit your lip and continued palming over him as you kept your gaze focused on his, “I’ll do it. Do guys like that more?”
He grinned and the dimples that carved into his cheeks had you swooning, “Yeah. Maybe. Depends on the guy but it can feel like the girl is really excited, like she can’t wait – the enthusiasm is nice. For me? I do like it more. But honestly, I wouldn’t complain if you wanted me to do it myself.”
You nodded in understanding as you focused on the dark green material of his underwear and reached toward the waistband. You looked up at him once more to check in and he just gave you a singular nod to keep going so you did.
The material was warm and stretchy. And you loved the way it felt to run your palm up the length of him, before peeling the fabric away and slowly revealing his cock. His tip was thick and smooth and dark pink. And then his shaft was girthy, quite meaty really, but so stiff. And when you’d pulled his underwear down far enough you took the whole of him in and it was… well it was a bit overwhelming. There was no way on God’s green earth you’d be able to stick that whole thing in your mouth.
“You don’t have to have it all in there. This isn’t a porno. I don’t need you to choke on it or anything like that. Use your hands and your mouth, as long as it’s nice and wet it’s gonna feel really good.”
You nodded. It was a relief that he wasn’t expecting you to deepthroat that thing, “Do you like it when someone can take it all the way?”
Harry breathed a laugh out of his nostrils, “Well… only if the person giving head likes that kind of thing. I would never enjoy it if someone wasn’t into that. But yes. I do rather like it. Not more than any other type of blow job, though.”
You gulped and continued palmed at his length softly. Harry kept his eyes on you to watch how you’d do it. To see what your go-to move was and when you made no move he finally spoke, “Go in however you want. Let’s see how you normally go about giving a blow job.”
“Okay. Yeah…” You took a deep breath and lowered yourself down as he fixed his feet flat on the mattress with knees bent upward, making space for you to fit between his thighs. First, you spat over his tip and used your hand to rub your saliva down his shaft. A quick glance up at him and he looked like he was enjoying it.
After spitting another glob over his slit that clung to your lips a little longer than it did the first time things were feeling much wetter. You stroked along the full length of his cock, from base to tip, tip to base, and back again as you lowered further, getting your lips just over his tip, and looked up at him, swiping your tongue over his crown. Smooth and warm. Adjusting your hips you got into a better position and gripped his base with both hands as you began to take him in your mouth. Your tongue cupped the underside of his cock as you dipped down and pulled up, suckling at his tip before repeating.
Harry’s fingers gently pushed at your chin, “I’d like you to do one thing for me, Y/n…” your eyes shot up to his, “Can you keep your eyes on me, just like you’re doing right now?”
You pulled off and nodded, “Yeah. Sorry.”
Harry tutted at you, “You didn’t do anything wrong. Just really fond of your pretty eyes. Personal preference is all.”
Keeping your gaze on his you kissed his tip softly and slowly before tonguing at his frenulum. It was a good thing you were looking at him in that moment because the expression on his face as you ran your tongue along the underside of his cockhead was lascivious and the sudden heat between you two might not have been noticed if you hadn’t been looking at him.
When you lowered your lips over him again, hollowing your cheeks and cupping the underside of his dick with your tongue, he palmed over your cheek and softly thumbed at your temple, “Y/n… fuck… that’s really good. Keep looking at me like this pretty girl.”
The soft touch from his hand and thumb on your face was full of affection and made your heart thunder in your chest. It made you dizzy the way he was looking at you. It was such a lewd act but somehow filled with tenderness.
The drool that leaked out of your mouth and down his shaft allowed your hands to slip around his base, twisting as you bobbed over the first bit of him with your mouth. It seemed like he was really enjoying what you were doing. Having your eyes on him while you were doing it felt more encouraging than embarrassing.
And Harry was very much enjoying what you were doing. He wasn’t all that picky when it came to getting blow jobs. Why would he be? Some hot girl wanted him to show her how to be better? Well, he rarely did much in the way of making someone any better than they already were.
Harry never intended to be known as a sex tutor or a sex guru. He was just a guy who loved sex. A guy who was patient and who really did care about the person he was with, even if it was just a one-time thing (which most of them were). And his line of studies gave him insight many lacked. The more he slept around (safely) the better he got and the more he understood. He put into practice the things he learned in his classes and when he was a Junior after a string of hookups with a group of very popular seniors he started to get a reputation.
It started with comments and discussions on the size of his cock. Then it eventually escalated to him being very good in bed. And how he could always make a woman come (he didn’t always make them come but he certainly tried and he learned the art of allowing sex to just be something that felt good and intimate and didn’t have to end in that elusive orgasm every time).
The first girl who was bold enough to ask him if he’d help her get to know her body better, had told him how she heard he was the best… and that had caught off guard. But he gave it a go. And he wound up enjoying the whole thing so much that when another girl asked him for help he decided there was no harm in going along with it.
He wasn’t trying to take advantage of anyone, as some jealous of his prowess would make it seem. No, he just really wanted to help, he loved that connection and to have it end with sex (in whatever form) was never a bad thing. Mostly he was just having fun and if he could use some of his knowledge and give someone confidence by the end of a “session” then so be it.
When you sucked around him, slurping noises came from between your lips and the skin on his shaft and he moaned, “Oh that’s good…” He gently placed a hand at the back of your neck and nudged his hips upward the slightest when he felt his cock start to throb and balls tightened.
Harry pulled at you to bring you up so you slid your lips from his tip and looked at him with pretty rounded eyes as you sat on your knees.
“You’re perfect. If I had you sucking me off like this every day I’d have no complaints. That’s the work of someone who’s into it and I can tell you are. Got me so close to coming already,” he took your hand and kissed the tops of your knuckles. Yeah, you were already smitten with him. But maybe that was just because you liked his praise so much.
“Thank you,” you grinned shyly.
Harry took the hand he kissed and brought it down between his legs, sliding your fingers on the underside of his balls, “There’s this spot right here. Kind of smooth. Feel that?”
You nodded.
“It’s called the perineum. This spot,” he pressed the pad of your middle finger over the area of skin, “Feels really good when you rub it gently. Especially while you’re also giving a blow job. Maybe take my balls in your palm a little to massage them and then move to the perineum. Just about any man you suck off is gonna absolutely love it. It’s also a really good trick when you just want the guy to come already, ‘cause maybe he’s taking too long,” he grinned.
He dragged your hand up to cup his scrotum and you kept your eyes on his as you softly squeezed. Harry’s brows narrowed and his lips parted, “Let’s do that yeah? Wanna give it a go?”
Nodding, you lowered yourself again, your lips parting around his crown as you gently massaged his balls and kept your eyes angled up toward his. You kept one hand at the base of his shaft and felt the full, warmth of his sac in your palm before you pulled off of his cock and dropped your lips down to his balls, kissing the skin all around and skimming your tongue through every crevice and wrinkle, wetting him on all sides.
You remembered you were supposed to be looking up at him and when you saw his face it only egged you on. His soft groan and pink puffy lips parted in lust with hooded eyes so you wound your tongue down further and pressed the tip of your wet muscle to the spot he called the perineum.
“Fuck! Yes…”
You liked that reaction. So you did it again and used your hand on his shaft to continue pumping him in long strokes as you pressed over the small strip of skin under his scrotum before you brought your tongue all the way up over his balls and to his base. The pre-come dripping from his tip made things wetter as you slid your palm over him.
You kept one finger on his perineum and then brought your mouth back over his cock and the desperate whimper that fell from his lungs made you feel giddy. You sucked him in and flicked your sight up to him but his eyes were closed. You could feel his legs trembling as your shoulder was pressed into his inner thigh. Gently you brought your hand over his scrotum and massaged as you worked his tip with your lips and tongue.
He placed both of his hands on either side of your head, “Y/n… yes… honey I’m gonna come. That’s so good. You’re so good for me… holy shit… where do you want me to come, huh?”
You were kind of amazed at how he was so melty and whimpery from the blow job you were giving him. You lifted and looked up at him, “Just come in my mouth. Want you to feel good.”
He nodded as he panted and you put your lips back on him, lowering down and sucking as you used your tongue to apply pressure to his crown. Continuing to play with his balls and peek up at him you saw the moment his face scrunched up and his lips dropped open wide. No sound came out at first but you tasted the first pump of his come down your throat and then felt his big cock throbbing against your tongue and it was the hottest blow job you’d ever given. And you weren’t even receiving… the reaction he gave you had you so turned on and so dizzy that you felt the need to take him deeper.
You forced yourself down further, feeling his tip nudging and spurting at the top part of your throat and you swallowed around him before sputtering slightly.
When he finally began to moan it was deep and throaty. His head was tilted back, facing the ceiling as he pumped into your mouth and down your throat. The hands he held at the side of your face were gentle and honestly? You were in heaven. You could do this with him every day if he let you.
And you tried not comparing Gunther to Harry but it was hard. Harry was so masculine and his cock was prettier and much bigger. With Gunther, you could almost take all of him in your mouth without much issue. You didn’t but you probably could have. Harry was a different story. His big cock filled up all the space in your mouth and he smelled so good too. It was a mix of what you assumed was his natural smell with a clean powdery soap.
But it was the moans Harry was making that had you feeling so worked up. He really enjoyed your blow job and that was all you needed to feel good about yourself and your ability.
Harry’s moan quieted into a simper as you continued dragging your tongue along the underside of his cock until he lulled his head forward and looked down at you, “S’good. Fuck that was good.” He prodded at you to bring your mouth off of him and you sat back with a proud smile.
He leaned forward to pull at the back of your neck and smash his lips against yours. You clung onto his shoulders as he positioned you next to him on the bed on your bottom and then he ran his hands down your sides and pulled at your sweater, “Can we get this off?”
You gripped the bottom hem of your hoodie as Harry sat back and peeled his sweater off over his head, making you pause so you could devour his chest and his arms, and his abs with your eyes. The tattoos that were scattered over his body and on his arms were no surprise. You’d heard through the grapevine about his tattoos once your roommate told you about him. And you heard he was fit. But this? He was the perfect amount of muscled and beefy. He was lean but he appeared well-fed. Broad shoulders, pecs you could bite into…
You gulped when you felt Harry’s big hands smoothing up and down your limbs as he absorbed the sight of you before you finally pulled your sweater off and then unhooked your bra, holding the cups up against your breasts for a moment to make sure he was still in it. Because maybe your body would be a complete turn off but his expressive face did all the talking and he moved his hands up your hips as his irises roamed over your skin.
“So pretty, Y/n,” he spoke like he knew you needed the reassurance. Which you did. So you slowly lowered your bra and pulled the straps from your arms and almost immediately Harry ducked down and kissed your right nipple while his hand palmed at your left tit. He moaned against your soft flesh and you felt cool air hit your skin in the path where his tongue laved against you.
A soft gasp fell from your lips when he wrapped his mouth over your nipple and looked up at you from his spot, pink lips suckling at your breast. It was almost as if he needed to make sure he was doing what you liked. As if the man wasn’t some kind of expert.
Harry’s bulky body moved over you and his hands brushed over the skin at your sides and down to your hips where your panties clung tight. You lifted your hips, ready for him to take care of you, ready to have him pull the last bit of fabric from your body and Harry grinned at you.
“I’m gonna pull these down, okay?”
Nodding you laughed in slight nervousness. You weren’t sure when you’d gotten so eager but giving Harry a blow job had made you a bit insatiable and all of the nice things he said about you, how good you were... Your insides were aching and you knew you were probably already wet, the crotch of your panties was warm against your skin.
And as he slowly dragged the material down your legs he kept looking up at you. A little bit of reassurance that he was only going to go as far as you wanted.
Paying close attention to his eyes you watched him drag his gaze over all your crevices and then up to your tits and then your eyes as he licked his lips. He wrapped a hand on the underside of your calf, lifting your leg the smallest bit as he tucked himself in closer, his shoulders pressing into your thighs.
The warm, soft kisses he dotted on your inner thigh as he looked up at you made you feel worshiped. Like he was savoring the moment and was going to take his time with you.
“Y/n, I just want to make you feel good. Tell me if you don’t like something or if you need something more okay? Because you did so good for me and I’m gonna be dreaming about those lips on me. Just want to make you feel as good as good as you made me feel.”
Harry could tell you liked a bit of praise. A compliment here and there was easy enough to throw in because it was all true. You were very good and you were so pretty and now he was going to return the favor as best he could.
When you felt his tongue swipe up through your crease you moaned faintly as you kept your eyes on him. And when he dug in more, attached his lips to your pussy, and began sucking at you the groan that fell from his chest rumbled through your core and you held on to the back of his head as you arched your back off of the pillow under yourself. His lips slicked up and down, tongue pressing at your clit and then he moved, bringing his arm in and you felt his fingers prodding at your entrance as he looked up at you, pulling his mouth away from your pussy, “Tastes so good, Y/n. Could bury my face here all day long. You mind if I finger you a little? Would that feel good?”
He ran his digits through your folds like he already knew your answer and you nodded quickly, “Yeah. Okay. If you want.”
He grinned before you felt him push his middle finger past your opening and then he watched the face you made as he curled his finger up in your magic little spot. The one only your rabbit vibrator seemed to be able to hit.
You gasped and with that, he brought his lips back over your clit and got to work. His dark curls were smooth and thick between your fingers and the way he kept pulling his gaze up to yours as he licked into you was naughty. The whole scene was something from a dream. There was something so soft about how he kept his eyes on you to check-in.
You’d had a couple of guys go down on you before but they had no idea what they were doing and you weren’t sure if it was just supposed to feel like slippery nothing gliding over your labia or not. But now, with Harry doing the work… well you realized what it was actually meant to feel like. And Harry was not giving you slippery nothing.
He seemed to enjoy it as well which made your heart lurch in your chest. Especially with how he was moaning into you like you tasted good. And he had told you as much, which… that had you on edge already.
When Harry slid in a second finger he opened his mouth wide and tongued up from where his fingers were pumping into you to your clit.
You couldn’t help the pathetic moans that were loudly bouncing off the walls of his studio, “Oh god, Harry…”
But the thing that was really seeping into your skin and your veins and making your heart pound was his eyes on yours. You couldn’t get over it. It was so intimate and sexy and the gushy noises coming from your slippery pussy were lewd and dirty. It was the perfect juxtaposition of just nasty enough but also sweet and soft that had you spiraling.
When they tell you that the biggest part of getting turned on is all in the mind, that’s absolutely true. Harry was a master at it. You weren’t sure you’d ever been so turned on with any man before. He really knew which buttons to push and all the right things to say.
“Fuck, that’s good… holy shit, Harry…”
He loved hearing you whine his name and the feel of your hips bucking upward in tiny bursts. You were one of those girls that was going to have an orgasm, he just knew it. The way you kept getting wetter every time you shot your eyes down to his was a big telltale sign. Some didn’t like the eye contact but he loved it and so did you, clearly.
He moaned into your pussy and swallowed you down as he worked his tongue in teasing circles around your clit before wrapping his lips around you again and smushing down over you with just the right amount of pressure.
The arm he had under your thigh he wrapped under your lower back, pulling you in closer if that was possible, as he continued fingering you with his other hand. The man was unquenchable. Like he needed to stuff his face in as close as humanly possible. Like he needed to suck you dry and make it so that you never forgot his name.
Your insides were melting for him. His fingers were magic inside of you and it had your brain all fuzzed out and blurry. But the way he rolled your clit under his tongue was divine, otherworldly… he knew what he was doing with that big mouth of his.
You gasped and looked back down at him again and his eyes were already pinned to yours.
“Oh… gonna co… oh fuck, gonna come…” you felt like you were being lifted into the air, levitating and vibrating off the bed and out of the atmosphere as he kept his fingers and his tongue steady. But when he moaned deeply into your cunt, that low resonate sensation traveling from your clit to your core and through your tummy made you lose control.
You didn’t realize you were yanking his hair as your legs quaked and your body liquified under him. But it didn’t deter him. He watched you unravel, tits bouncing and back arching as you orgasmed into his mouth and he curled his fingers up against your g-spot as you clamped over his digits.
If he didn’t have his mouth occupied he would have praised you more in that moment. Told you how pretty you were and how good you did for him. But he waited until you began to slowly come back to earth before whispering into your ear the sweet things he knew you’d like to hear.
He laid next to you and grasped your face, kissing your lips softly as you sighed, “So fucking good. What a pretty orgasm that was, Y/n…” He spoke between kisses.
“Did that all for me? Yeah?”
You couldn’t answer him. Not in that moment. You’d just melted and dissolved and had only begun to re-solidify and become a real human with lungs and limbs and skin and pores again.
“You are really fun to eat out, Y/n. Tasted so nice and you sound so sexy when you come. You can call me anytime you need a release okay?” He continued kissing your cheek and your lips as he spoke softly.
Harry didn’t rush you out like you thought he might. He rubbed over your tummy and kissed your breasts softly and ran his lips up the side of your neck as you slowly opened your eyes and sighed.
“Feel okay?”
You nodded and smiled, “Really good.”
“Stay as long as you want. Okay? No rush. We can even grab dinner together if you want or I can make you something.” Harry wasn’t sure why he asked you that. While he didn’t usually rush anyone out, he didn’t typically offer food or dinner either. There was just something about you that compelled him to ask. Perhaps he hoped you’d stick around a bit longer.
You sat up, “Oh. That’s really nice of you. But… maybe I should probably head back. Get some schoolwork done.”
You’d have loved to stay for dinner but you also didn’t want to get your feelings mixed up for a guy like Harry. Not that there was anything wrong with him, but you understood what this was. A one-time thing. Something fun where you got to learn a thing or two. If you stuck around too long you’d probably just want more. And that would only end in heartbreak for you. Because Harry was kind of the ideal guy in a lot of ways.
“Of course. Just thought I’d ask.”
There were no hard feelings for this kind of thing. Harry wasn’t offended that you didn’t want to stay. He’d had a good time with you and he was almost certain you had a good time as well. And that was just about all one could ask for.
Harry let you use his bathroom to clean up and get dressed. And as you did so you thought about how Gunther didn’t even offer you anything to eat or to stay after. In fact he didn’t even ask if you wanted to use his bathroom, when that would have been nice after giving him head. Because even though Gunther didn’t really touch you, you were still wet, and walking back to your dorm with wet panties was not a nice feeling. Especially when you didn’t even get anything out of it.
You’d be wary of Gunther. You’d give him another shot because you were a nice girl but you weren’t going to ignore the concerns Harry had. Perhaps Harry was right.
When you stepped out of the bathroom Harry handed you a glass of water, “Drink a little before you head out, and what dorm do you live in?” He looked down at his phone as he asked.
“Oh… uh the Millennium dorms near the arts building.”
He nodded as you took a gulp of the water and he showed you his phone, “Uber will be here for you in three minutes. I’ll walk you down, okay?”
“Wait. You didn’t have to do that! Um… I can walk or get an Uber myself it’s–“
He shook his head and grinned, “I know I didn’t have to but it’s getting late. Don’t want you walking twenty minutes by yourself. Who knows what could be lurking out there,” he laughed.
You pointed at him, “Fine. But I’m gonna pay you back. Next time I see you okay?”
“Not necessary. Now come on,” he playfully swatted at your bottom and directed you toward his door, “Let’s go downstairs and wait for…” he looked at his phone, “Rebecca in a white Trail Blazer.”
PART 2 COMING SOON
Feedback/Thoughts | Ko-fi | Main Masterlist | Patreon
Thank you for reading! I appreciate any support so remember to comment, reblog, & like 💕
Tags: @michellekstyles @yousunshineyoutempter @tenaciousperfectionunknown @golden-hoax @swiftmendeshoran
@luvonstyles @tiaamberxx @lukesaprince @closureesny @justlemmeadoreyou
@itsgigikay @angelbabyyy99 @lanadelharry @novasblogofstuff @gills-lounge
@damnasstyles @malwtilda @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @babybunharry @anothermannharry
@love-letters-to-uranus @itjustkindahappenedreally @ssaama @onlyangellucifer @harryistheonlyoneforme
@butdaddyilovehim-hs @reveriehs @lc-fics @mema10 @carmenxharry
@hannahdressedasabanana @babegoalsreads @harrrrystylesslut @elidoho @bananabk9756
@gotdrxnkonu @freedomfireflies @cathy-1997 @imgonnadreamaboutthewayyoutaaaa
@certainlysyko @tiredinwinter @lightsoutstyles
#harry styles#harry styles smut#harry styles x reader#firstpost#harry styles fic#harry styles fanfic#harry styles one shot#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles writing#harry styles imagine#harry styles au#harry edward styles#sex tutor!harry#harry styles x yn#harry styles fiction#harry styles fan fic#harry styles fluff#harrystyles#harry#harry smut#harry x you#harry x reader#x reader#harry styles concept#harry x yn
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
When Steve gets to his last year at Hawkins High, it feels like some kind of veil has been lifted right in front him. Or maybe it’s more that the veil’s actually been slowly lifting for years, and he’s noticing it all the more because it’s no longer there.
Either way, when he receives his yearbook, it doesn’t seem like the huge deal that his younger self would’ve made it out to be; he flicks through the pictures half-heartedly, doesn’t even care when the candid ones taken at sporting events catch him in unflattering poses, lip jutting out in concentration.
If he tried to voice his disinterest, Henderson would probably spout off some precocious shit about societal expectations, and Steve would pretend to nod sagely before stealing whatever dorky hat he happened to be wearing—it’s not like he could let the little shit suspect that he occasionally had a point, Steve would never hear the end of it.
The yearbook signings are predictably inescapable: people passing their books back and forth in class or in the cafeteria—and that one’s a risky move, with the threat of drinks spilling on the pages, whether accidental or malicious.
Steve thinks the fever’s dwindled out until he spends a free period in the school library. The seniors typically all bunch together in one of the far corners, the spots with the comfiest seats—loners included, like the perks of age for once outweigh the usual ridicule.
But that silent truce is not exactly being upheld, Steve notes—Eddie Munson is sitting alone at a nearby table.
It becomes painfully obvious when the signing starts up again. There’s a cluster of girls on the yearbook committee who initiate it, and soon every senior in reach is either passing over their own book or signing one.
Almost every senior.
It’s not like Eddie’s the only person ever to be held back. He’s not even the only one to be held back for next year, either: John Nelson off the swim team is in the same position, and he’s still been asked to sign.
But Steve knows that’s not what the source of exclusion is, not really.
He’s gotten good at spotting silent cruelty—good at avoiding it too, before his popularity gave him a temporary shield.
It’s all just bullshit, he thinks. It’s been a recurring thought lately.
He brings out his own yearbook because he knows it’s expected. When it’s finally passed back round to him, he ends up right near the seat opposite Eddie’s, just by chance.
But actually sitting there is his own choice.
He can tell that Eddie has spotted him even though he’s not looked up from whatever homework he’s doing; there’s a silent tension in the way he’s holding his pen.
Steve mulls it over before he asks the question. It could blow up in his face, but what did that matter, really? In the grand scheme of things, it would hardly count as a major embarrassment; it’s not like it’d be any more mortifying than telling his dad that he didn’t get into any colleges whatsoever.
So he pushes his yearbook across the table, because what the hell.
“Wanna sign?”
Eddie glances up. There’s a guarded look in his eyes, and Steve can almost hear him mentally replaying the question.
“Pardon?” Eddie says with pointed emphasis, like he’s daring Steve, let it drop and we’ll say no more about it, Harrington.
Steve doesn’t take it back. He shrugs and flicks open the yearbook, finds a blank spot and taps it once with his finger, a silent offer.
Eddie stares like Steve’s a riddle, like he’s wondering just who the show’s for—but the other students have turned away, have gone back to their seats, yearbooks temporarily forgotten.
Eddie’s hold on his pen relaxes, ever so slightly.
“You sure, Harrington?” he says. There’s still a wary edge to his voice, but there’s an undercurrent of something else, too, like he’s secretly amused despite himself. “Haven’t you heard what folks say? I could curse you.”
Steve scoffs. “That all you’ve got? I’ve dealt with way worse, man,” he says mildly.
A corner of Eddie’s mouth twitches into a surprised smile. Then it’s gone almost like it had never been in the first place, his gaze turning thoughtful rather than defensive.
And obviously this isn’t Eddie’s first rodeo at the whole senior year thing. Steve wonders if there’s a veil that’s been lifted for him too, wonders if he can see straight through it right now.
The bell rings.
Eddie stands up, gathering his stuff.
Steve thinks that’s the end of it: something that’s neither a success or a failure.
But then, lightning fast, Eddie darts across the table and scribbles something on the open page. Slams the yearbook shut and pushes it back over, and it feels like a challenge, like some of his caginess is back—like he’s just daring Steve to reveal that it had been a joke all along—
“Bet you’re counting down the days till you can hold your own copy, huh?” Steve says dryly, as he stuffs the book into his bag.
It’s a risk; he knows Eddie could easily take it as pure ridicule, could misinterpret it as Steve throwing the failed school years back in his face.
Eddie just shakes his head, but he could be laughing—the moment’s gone too quickly for Steve to know for sure.
“Nah, Harrington,” Eddie says easily, thrown over his shoulder as he leaves, “those things aren’t worth the paper they’re printed on.”
Steve doesn’t check the yearbook until he’s home. He eventually finds Eddie’s signature, simple black ink right in the upper corner of one page.
Good luck, Steve.
—Eddie
Some of the letters are bunched a little too close together, drifting upwards on the blank page, as if they usually need lined paper to guide them—left-handed, Steve thinks vaguely.
Within a sea of scrawled nicknames and loudly enthusiastic messages, Steve finds that he kind of likes how mundane Eddie’s truly is. Likes the sign off with minimal fuss. Just “Eddie.” Likes how he was just “Steve”, too.
And yeah, if anyone needed to be told good luck, Steve thinks, with the kind of amusement that only comes from distance—pictures his past self, freaking out about monsters come to life.
He slots the yearbook into his bookcase. By summer he might forget about it all together, left to gather dust as he works for 3 bucks an hour, but for now he marks its significance: something real, hidden alongside the bullshit.
#back with the unexpected kindness in high school agenda#pre steddie#steddie#steddie ficlet#steddie fic#steve x eddie#steve harrington#eddie munson
617 notes
·
View notes
Text
mr. and mrs. ~ oscar piastri
Summary: Wedding of the year is finally here between the two favorite youngsters on the grid. Everyone is invited!
Words: 1.3k+
Other works: my masterlist
♡♡♡♡♡
Oscar and Y/N.
Y/N and Oscar.
Everyone knew them, everyone loved them.
Ever since the young Australian lad had entered the Formula 1 world, Y/N had entered it with him. Always by his side, always attending his races while also attending university.
They had been together for many years, practically having invented the term “highschool sweethearts”. Despite Oscar’s busy schedule and Y/N being at university, they always made it work, never letting the distance affect their relationship.
Moving together to the UK had represented the first sign that they were both in it for the long ride. Packing up their entire lives and moving across the globe to follow their dreams proved that their relationship and the love they had was real.
Real and pure.
When Oscar got the opportunity to drive in Formula 1 and Y/N started her studies, the time they spent together shortened by a significant amount, but they managed to make it work.
They talked on the phone every day, texting when neither of them could speak on the phone, they took every opportunity to visit each other when they had free time, with Y/N visiting Oscar at his races or Oscar coming home when he would have 2 weeks off between races.
They made it work.
But Oscar wasn’t satisfied. He needed something more. He needed something that would put his mind at ease when he would be away.
He needed to officially make you his.
Towards the end of the season, you had a few weeks off uni and decided to join your boyfriend in Qatar for the Grand Prix.
You hadn’t really chosen the best race to attend, the heat and the humidity making it really strenuous on your already tired body. But seeing the smile that Oscar had while doing the grid walk with you by his side made it worth it.
Being there for Oscar’s sprint win had been the highlight of your entire year. Seeing him cross the checkered flag first, seeing his name on that first position on every monitor around the paddock, the feeling was unlike anything you had ever felt before.
Up until the moment Oscar got out of the car.
He made his way over to where you were waiting for him after he celebrated a little with the team, taking off his helmet and balaclava and giving them to one of his assistants.
“How about that?” he asked, chuckling as he pulled you into his arms, careful not to squeeze you too tightly because he was sweaty.
“I’m so fucking proud of you, Os. I can’t believe I was here for your first win” you said, your voice muffled because you had your face buried in the crook of his neck.
“It’s technically not considered a win bec-”
“Shut up and enjoy the moment” you interrupted, making him chuckle and continue hugging you.
As he let go of you, you didn’t notice him reaching for something behind his back, not even his assistant subtly handing him something as he appeared again from the garage. All you could focus on was him, and nothing else around you.
It only really hit you when Oscar lowered himself down on one knee in front of you, a red velvet box in his hand.
“Oh my God” you said, your eyes widening and your hands flying up to your mouth.
All around you, the McLaren team gathered in a circle, phones ready and cameras rolling to catch the sweet moment on camera.
“Y/N, I don’t even know whether words will suffice to say what I want to say right now. You’ve been by my side since we were kids, you moved to the UK with me and left your entire family in Australia just for me, and I can’t even begin to explain how much that meant to me. I can’t imagine my life without you in it, I frankly don’t think I could survive on my own if you weren’t here. I want to grow old with you, I want to have kids with you and build the life we’ve always talked about having. Y/N, will you marry me?” the words got stuck in your throat, so you settled for nodding feverishly.
The entire team around you cheered, but you could only see Oscar. As he got up and slid the ring on your left hand, you threw yourself into his arms and softly cried, the moment far too emotional to be able to hold back.
Your engagement had become national news in a matter of a couple of hours. Every media channel from the world had written about Oscar’s proposal in Qatar, speculating about when the wedding would be and whatnot.
It didn’t even feel like it had really happened when you stared at the ring on your finger, the feeling foreign but so welcome and like it was meant to be.
You and Oscar had multiple talks about when you would get married, where you would have the wedding and many other problems that came with being away from home and everyone’s families.
Which is why you decided to have the wedding back home in Australia.
After the season was finished and the winter break came, you and Oscar had started planning the wedding, which you settled to have after the last race before the summer break. He had already sent invitations out to the rest of the drivers, all of them very eager to attend the young lad’s wedding.
Lando was especially thrilled, but couldn’t help making jokes about how he had never thought Oscar would be the one getting married so young.
“What did you do to him, Y/N? You charmed him pretty damn well” he’d always joke whenever you guys would hang out in the garage before a race.
Yours and Oscar’s mothers took care of most of the things regarding the venue, the flower arrangements and catering, wanting to take the load off of you while you were halfway across the world.
The only thing that you had to worry about was picking your wedding dress and flying over to Australia to get married.
And when the day had finally come, excitement flowed through your veins.
Nicole and Oscar’s sisters had helped do your hair and make-up, your mother only watching as she sobbed quietly in the background.
“Mom, you’re gonna make me cry too if you don’t stop” you told her as you watched her through your mirror, making the other girls laugh.
“I just can’t believe my baby is getting married” she laughed, wiping her tears and walking up to stand behind you.
You smiled and took her hand, mostly to calm your nerves as well.
You were really getting married. And to the love of your life, which was a plus.
After you were prepped and ready to go, your father came to fetch you to walk you down the aisle. Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest as you held his arm tightly and clutched the flower bouquet tightly in your other hand.
But your nerves disappeared like they had never even been there when the doors opened and you locked eyes with Oscar waiting for you at the end of the aisle, Logan beaming behind him as his best man.
The ceremony went by in a blur, the only focus on your part being on Oscar. You only vaguely remembered saying your vows and saying “I do”, your memory only having imprinted the first kiss you two shared as husband and wife.
You were positive that nothing could ever top this moment, getting married with all of your friends and families present, stepping into your new life with Oscar by your side.
Nothing could ever be better.
Nothing could top you becoming Mrs. Piastri.
Being Mr. and Mrs. Piastri.
comments and re-blogs help us grow!
much appreciated!!
REQUEST HERE
#imagines#oneshots#fanfiction#one shot#formula 1#formula one#f1 fic#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#f1#f1 x reader#mclaren racing#mclaren f1#mclaren formula 1#oscar piastri fluff#oscar piastri fanfic#oscar piastri imagine#oscar piastri x you#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri one shot#oscar piastri#oscar piastri drabble#oscar piastri blurb#oscar piastri scenario#oscar piastri x girlfriend!reader#oscar piastri x wife!reader#oscar piastri masterlist
490 notes
·
View notes
Text
Secrets | MV1 x Reader
Summary - Reader and Max have been in a secret relationship since the beginning of readers rookie season with McLaren, but all the pairs efforts to keep their relationship private almost go out the window when readers involved in a bad crash
Warnings - Mentions of car crash, injuries, swearing
Type - Written / small Smau at the end
Requested - No - Yes
Not been proofread
You didn’t remember exactly how your relationship with Max came around, you just kind of remembered it beginning and loving every second of it. You was halfway through your rookie season with McLaren, finally scoring some points and even a couple of podiums when Max made the first move and asked you out on a date, you was nervous obviously, but you said yes of course, and it was one of the best decisions you’d ever made.
The decision to keep the relationship a secret was a mutual one between the two of you, you because it was hard enough being a woman in a sport like Formula one without people saying you was only getting where you was because of your relationship with the reigning champion, and Max’s reasons were because he wanted you to make you happy and the PR would be a nightmare, every media outlet would be claiming he was the reason for your improvement over the summer brake, they’d even give him credit for your win in the Qatar sprint, and you wouldn’t let that happen.
It was now the weekend of the Las Vegas Grand Prix, and you were incredibly excited, you’d been on a high the last few weekends, and nothing could bring you down, especially because of Max’s dominance on the track, you knew most if not all of the other drivers were sick and tired of it, but you enjoyed to see how happy he got when he won, after every win when you would sneak into his hotel room (his were always bigger) and he’d have a huge grin in his face, he was achieving his dream, and it made you happy too.
“You’re going to do amazing, Schat, I can feel it.” Max whispered into your shoulder as the two of you were hiding in a corner of the paddock where no prying cameras or eyes could see you, the pair of you getting in a moment alone together before the race, you laughed into his chest as you tighten the hug the pair of you were wrapped in, “A p19 qualifying result isn’t a position for me to do amazing in, love.”
Max shrugged as he smoothed your hair down, “I think you’re capable of anything out on the track. You’ve got more talent than practically all of these guys combined,” he paused for a moment before grinning and saying, “well apart from me, of course.”
“You’re a wanker.” You laughed as you leaned up and kissed him gently, him returning it instantly without a second of hesitation, “I love you Schat, I’ll see you after the race, do great for me.” He whispered.
You smiled, “I love you more, win for me, yeah?”
“I’ll do anything for you.” He whispered before placing one last kiss on the crown of your head and leaving to go and finish prepping for the race.
——————
It all happened in a blur, it didn’t even register in your mind that you had crashed until you started fading in and out of consciousness from how hard you had hit your head from the impact of the crash, all you remember was making you way up to p16 and a car coming too close behind you, and then you was here, your head feeling light and fuzzy as you heard your teams voices practically screaming at you from over the radio, urging you to respond so they could know you was okay. The crash looked horrible and brutal, they didn’t know if you was okay, but by the looks of the car, it didn’t seem like you would be.
You tried to reach for the radio button, but you couldn’t respond, you couldn’t move, you couldn’t talk, all you could do was sit there as black surrounded your vision and you slowly faded into a world of the unconscious.
——————
“Red flag Max, box box.” Max sighed when he hewed those words over his radio, he already had a clear lead on the race, working his way up from his qualifying position of third back up to first place where he belonged.
“What happened?” He asked as he slowed down the car and drove into the pit lane and into his garage, as he heard a voice sound form over his radio again, “A pretty bad crash, not sure who it is yet.”
“The team?” He asked, making sure it wasn’t some like Daniel or Charles, or most importantly, you.
“McLaren, unsure if it’s Norris or Y/l/n.” His blood ran cold when he heard that, it couldn’t be you, you did t crash, you was stop good to crash, he knew it was wrong but he was silently praying over and over in his head that it was Lando in that car and he exited his own, but that hope came crashing down when he glanced down and saw Lando pacing up and down his garage, hands running through his hair, tugging at the short curly stands as he waited for word if you was okay.
Throughout your time at McLaren, you and Lando had become friends, incredibly close friends, he was the only person you had trusted enough to tell about yours and Max’s relationship, and he hadn’t told a soul, and in this moment he looked petrified.
Max’s eyes quickly darted over to the large screen, trying to see if you were okay, but when he saw how mangled and contorted your car was, he grew ten times more panicked instantly, you needed to be okay, he needed you to be okay.
They called the race to an early end, no one knowing if you was okay or if your injury’s were as severe as they looked, and Max took that as his opportunity to go tell Christian how he needed to see you, and when the older man heard Maxs erratic tone and his glassy eyes he dismissed him without a moment of hesitation, promising to cover for him if he had to attend any interviews or anything.
That’s how he got here, in a white hospital room, your hand wrapped up in his and he pressed constant tiny kisses against the knuckles of you as you lay unconscious, Lando on your other side, a stray tear in his cheek as he remembered how the doctor said that you hit your head hard and you had some internal bleeding in your stomach, the man looked unbearably sorrowful as he said that if you didn’t wake up within the next day or two, you might not at all.
“Max,” Lando whispered, shattering the silence that the room was coated in, Max just hummed in acknowledgment his stare not wavering from your body as Lando continued, “she um, she got you this. For when you won,” he said handing Max a small box that looked like it had some kind of jewellery in it, “she’d want you to have it.
Max slowly disconnected your hand from his as his shaky hands opened the lid of the box, and his breath stopped in his throat when he saw a silver necklace with a ring on the end, but what really got him was the inscription inside the ring, in small words it read, ‘my champion’, his eyes instantly became glassy and Lando cleared his throat and stood, “I’ll give you a minute with her.” Before leaving the room as max fastened the chain around his neck as he re-connected your hands.
“Please wake up, Schat,” he said his voice cracking and he whispered against your knuckles, “I can’t do this without you. I don’t want to do anything without you by my side. I want you with me every step of the way, when I win, when you win, I don’t want to hide anymore. I want to show people how much you mean to me, I love you so so much. So please, for me, wake up, don’t leave me.” He said as tears now flew down his face without even attempting to stop or slow them as he prayed that you’d open your eyes.
——————
Everything was so bright and loud around you when you woke up, your eyes adjusting to the white light as you come around to notice the extreme pounding in your head and the fact that you was in a hospital room and everything hurt.
Your eyes drifted down to the weight you felt around your waist where you saw Max sleeping, tear tracks on his face and the chain you’d bought for him around his neck, yous smiled, Lando must’ve given it to him.
Your finger slowly traced over his cheek, his jumping awake instantly at the touch and his eyes growing ten times wider at the sight of you awake, he yelled for a doctor as he stood a pressed tens of gentle kissed to the top of your head, “My god, Schat, never do that to me again, you hear me? I don’t want to know what anything would be like without you in my life. Don’t ever try and leave me again.”
You gently reached and pulled his head down so his forehead rested against your own, “I wouldn’t dream of it, My Champion.”
“You’re okay.” He said, his voice unbelieving as he placed his hands on your cheeks, you placed yours over his as you’re whispered back, “I’m okay, pretty boy. I’m okay.”
——————
Yourusername
Liked by - Yourusername, LandoNorris and 2,972,197 others
Tagged | @/MaxVerstappen
Yourusername - IM ALIVE !!!! In a shit ton of pain but I’m going to be okay after a lonnngggg recovery, I’ll be out for Abu Dhabi but I’ll be right back in Bahrain 😙 oh yeah and here’s my bf Max, do you know him?
View all comments
User1 - EXCUSE ME?
User2 - WHAT WHEN AND HOW
User3 - HOW ARE YOU SO CASUAL ABOUT IT?!?!?
User4 - okay but the third picture? The bear hug? Y/n can I have him?
Yourusername - No sorry bby, I kinda like this one
LandoNorris - FINALLY. BEING THE ONLY ONE WHO KNEW WAS EXHAUSTING.
Yourusername - You’re a solider, Lan
User5 - Lando knowing is so them core.
MaxVerstappen - I love you so much, schat
Yourusername - I love you so so so so so much more my champion
User6 - BRB, raking a nap on the highway 💕💕
——————
#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen x you#mv1 x reader#mv1 imagine#mv1 fic#mv1 x you#mv1 x y/n#mv33 x reader#mv33 imagine#mv33 fic#mv33 x you#formula one x reader#f1 x reader#f1 one shot#f1 imagine#lando norris x you#lando norris x oc#lando norris x y/n#lando norris x reader#f1 x female oc#f1 x the internet#f1 x female driver#f1 x female reader#f1 x y/n#f1 x oc#f1 x you#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#ln4 one shot#ln4 x y/n
536 notes
·
View notes
Text
𝐆𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐊
genre: fluff, established relationship
word count: 1.6k
a/n: felt like writing something fluffy again 🤍 this being written on the same night as my previous smut fic is lowkey diabolical but well 🤭
masterlist
LEE HEESEUNG
You set your phone on a makeshift camera-holder made from books and candles, then press record and shuffle back to your boyfriend.
“Okay, close your eyes,” you instruct him and smile when he obliges, additionally turning his head to the side, looking straight into the camera as you apply the first chapstick from your little stack. After a couple seconds, you call out to him again, “You can open them now!”
His eyes instantly drop to your lips, the subtle glow of the chapstick already making him impatient to kiss you.
“You can go n-”
Your words are rudely interrupted by his greedy lips. They move with yours, starting with a simple peck, then going a little deeper, to taste you better. The sweetness is a little too much for him but he’s having too much fun teasing you this way to pull away right away.
But once he finally does, he’s met with your expecting eyes.
“Watermelon,” he guesses.
You nod your head with a wide smile. “Yeah!”
A small grimace makes its way on his face. “I fucking hated this one.”
“Yeah, I’m not the biggest fan either. Now, turn around.”
You wipe off the chapstick before carefully applying another one. Your fingers barely touch Heeseung’s shoulder to catch his attention, when his mouth is already latching onto yours.
He savors the taste of your lips, slowly and sensually and you feel more lightheaded with every next second. He captures your bottom lip, sucking on it repeatedly until you can’t breathe anymore. Suddenly reminding yourself of your surroundings, you pull away abruptly, ignoring your boyfriend’s cocky smirk.
Cleaning your throat, you fix your hair. “Great. Now I can’t post it anywhere.”
Heeseung grins at your pout, hand reaching up to pinch at your cheek teasingly.
“It was coconut, by the way,” he answers your question before you even get the chance to ask it, and damn, he’s right again.
PARK JAY
Jay watches as a grin spreads onto your lips.
“I picked that one just for you,” you say sweetly, shuffling closer on the bed until your knees touch. “C’mon, give it a try.”
He snickers slightly when you close your eyes and obnoxiously pucker your lips, waiting for him to make a move. Leaning forward, he gently cradles your cheek in his hand before pressing the softest of kisses on your lips. You let him suck on your lips for a moment before he pulls away first and flicks your nose.
“Oh, that’s honey.”
You nod with enthusiasm, pretending as if his kiss hasn’t flipped your insides out. “Yeah. Good guess!”
He closes his eyes, his hand blindly reaching out for yours to rub circles on your soft skin as you apply the next chapstick. You smack your lips together to even out the product, then move closer to your boyfriend again.
His pretty eyes find yours again and he closes the space between you two, pressing your lips together lovingly. Your fingers clench on his t-shirt, and you tilt your face to the side to deepen the kiss slightly. But, fuck, you just can’t help yourself.
It’s Jay who has to pull away again with a small giggle, thumb wiping away the smudged chapstick from under your bottom lip.
He licks his lips, tasting the waxy residue you’ve left from your kiss. Then he thinks for a second. “... Peach?”
You nod with a satisfied hum. “One more?”
This time you’re not gonna fuck around. You pick the most bizarre chapstick flavor in front of your eyes, then call Jay over to you, waiting for him with a soft smile on your lips.
“This one’s a little more difficult.”
Jay grunts then kisses your pink, now slightly swollen lips. A content sigh escapes your lips at his tender touch, shivering when the cool ring on his finger brushes over the skin on your thigh. The kiss lasts a little longer than the two previous ones but Jay breaks it after stealing all of your breath away.
“I think it’s like… pear,” he guesses, a little unsurely this time but this expression melts away when your face lightens up again.
“Yeah! Holy shit, babe, how are you so good at this?”
SIM JAKE
He didn’t even need a second to think to agree to your game. Now, with you sitting across from him on the living room floor, he presses your lips together to try the first chapstick.
What he never expected was for you to taste so damn good, so with a low hum in his throat, he pulls you closer to him by your neck and takes in all the sweetness of you. His other hand lands right under your jaw, gentle fingers tilting your face up for a better access to your lips.
After another second or two or five, you drag your face away from his and wait for your boyfriend’s guess.
Jake licks his lips and tries his best to look as if he actually has a clue in what he’s doing. It’s not like he completely got fucking lost in your lips – not at all, what a stupid thought.
And so he shoots blankly. “Okay, this gotta be like… tangerine.”
You look at him ridiculously. “What, no! That was vanilla.”
“Oh… Yeah, you’re right,” he clears his throat, hand running through his soft hair. “Gimme the next one.”
You roll your eyes and throw a blanket across his face, knowing well his tendencies to cheating. You take one of your makeup wipes and clean your lips, eyes searching for some easy flavor. Once you’re done picking, you take the blanket off Jake’s face and get on your knees in front of him.
Deciding on helping him out a little bit and not letting him get distracted again, you place a simple peck on his mouth, long enough for him to actually get a taste of your chapstick.
Jake presses his lips together as he thinks for a moment. “Is it apricot?”
Your jaw slacks in disbelief. “Oh, be so for real right now! That was like the easiest guess of them all!”
“Well, what was it?” He scrunches his nose.
“Strawberry! Fuck you mean apricot?”
Jake can’t help but giggle at how aggravated you’re getting with this game. “Sorry, sorry. One last try! I promise I’ll get this one.” He places his palm over his heart.
“Fine.”
You repeat the procedure, then go in for a peck again, not wanting to risk losing your boyfriend again.
“And?” You ask, a hopeful glimmer in your eyes.
“Cherry.”
You let out a heavy sigh. “That was rose.”
Jake snickers, finally grabbing your waist to drag you all over the way to his lap. “Should’ve guessed that. You tasted like a granny, felt like I was kissing a seventy year old.”
“Hey!”
PARK SUNGHOON
Even expecting him to actually take you seriously was your first mistake.
But your lips are so pink and so glossy - you can’t blame him, really. It’s like you’re begging to be kissed over and over again.
And so now, sitting next to you on the couch, he has your soft hand covering his eyes to prevent him from cheating. You apply the mango chapstick generously onto your lips and return your boyfriend’s vision a moment later.
You turn your face to his unimpressed one, an adorably excited smile spread on your lips and making his own twitch up a little.
“You ready?” You chirp, hiding the chapstick behind your back.
He motions for you to move closer, spreading his legs to make you more place in between them. “C’mere, baby.”
With a roll of your eyes, you still oblige and settle between his thighs, wrapping your arms around his neck. Not wasting any more time, Sunghoon ducks down and captures your lips with his. The kiss is deep and takes all of your breath away when his tongue slides over your bottom lip lewdly.
His kiss is way too intense for the silly game you had in mind in the first place, so before he can go even further, you pull away from him, cupping his chin in your hand.
“So?”
Sunghoon shrugs, eyes hungry for more. “Dunno. Lemme have another go.”
“Hey!” You pout, puckering your lips and giving him a perfect opportunity to press another kiss to them. And so he does, surging forward and molding your mouths together again.
He sucks on your lip like a hungry man, his caresses sloppy and without a care in the world for your game anymore. His body aches for you, for more, so he opens your mouth by tugging your chin down gently with his warm fingers, then slipping his tongue inside your mouth.
“My god, Hoon-” You push on his chest gently, trying to pry the visibly touch-starved man away from your lips. “Wait, let me try another one.”
Sunghoon dismisses your protests and presses another kiss to your lips. “Nah, I like that one.”
“But that’s the first one I tried on!” You whine, slowly surrendering yourself to your stubborn boyfriend.
“Well, then it obviously was the best pick.”
Sunghoon’s arm slides down to wrap around your waist firmly before falling backwards on the couch and pulling you onto his chest as he goes down. He chuckles in your lips at your annoyed grunt, his fingers cradling your cheek as he deepens the kiss. As much as you want to tell yourself you’ll never play this fucking game with him again, you know it would be a blatant lie after all.
permanent taglist: @bambisgirl @arizejkt19 @milisabunny @cathy-1997 @dilucsleftshoelace @ramenoil @jenjnk @jaylaxies @seongiewon @nichoswag @s00buwu @dazzlingligth @goreconsumer @i4kt @heehoonsnemo @seongslutt @seongclb
© heeliopheelia 2024 // ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. DO NOT copy, translate or repost any of my works on any other social platforms.
#enhypen#enhypen x reader#enhypen imagines#enhypen fluff#lee heeseung imagines#lee heeseung x reader#heeseung imagines#heeseung x reader
773 notes
·
View notes
Text
‘THE FIRST TIME’ — MATTHEW STURNIOLO
pairing. matthew sturniolo x fem!reader
genre. smut
word count. 2.4k
❝are you ready? are you sure you want this?❞
content warnings. established relationship, explicit content, virgin!reader. virgin!matt, loss of virginity, big dick!matt, unprotected sex, creampie,
Matt’s lips are gentle against yours, his hand resting on the nape of your neck as the other cups the side of your face, his thumb caressing the warmth of your cheek. You completely melt beneath his touch, your own lips reciprocating the kiss as your fingertips brush over the material of his shirt, desperate to grab him and pull him in close.
Kisses weren’t foreign in this new relationship you have with Matt. You both have shared a few lingering kisses well before you became an official couple, but making out in the middle of Matt’s bed was something that was new for you both.
Neither of you were experienced—or had experience. Past relationships weren’t as serious as this one, and you were both unsure and not ready to dive deeper beyond light kisses, hand holdings and cuddles, until now.
Kissing longer than a few mere seconds seemed exhilarating and you didn’t want the feeling to end, you undoubtedly craved more.
Your mouth trails from his own, across his stubbled cheek and down his neck, pressing light kisses to his skin. Matt groans at the unfamiliar feeling, eyes fluttering close as his mouth drops open, letting out a choked moan as you suckle at his skin, trying your best to colour the area in purple-red marks that you had once seen in a movie you watched.
You admire the work you created with a proud smile, mentally congratulating yourself for achieving something on your first try. Your gaze meets Matt’s before he leans in close, pressing wet, open mouthed kisses onto the skin of your own neck.
Your face feels hot at the thought of him marking you, wanting to give back what you had given him but your thoughts are cut off as you gasp, feeling his teeth nip at your skin before being soothed by his tongue, the action sending a shrill down your spine and your tummy swirls with excitement.
“Do you…” Matt pauses for a moment to catch his breath, licking at his lips. “Do you want to sit on my lap?”
You nod your head, fully aware of how awkward your current positions actually are and you take his hand in yours, allowing him to help you climb onto his lap. You’re seated comfortably on top of him now, and Matt goes to lean in to kiss you again but he slowly retracts, staring at you with an unfamiliar look in his eye and eyebrows knitted together.
Confusion hits you at his expression, “What is it?”
“This is new…” Matt whispers quietly as he shifts beneath you and you look down, finally understanding what he’s talking about. Your arousal from kissing is obvious against his sweatpants, having leaked through your flimsy shorts and your face crumbles in embarrassment. You go to move, to get off of him completely but his hands grip your hips, holding you down. “That’s… so fucking hot.”
“Matt..” You whimper his name, affected by his words as you fist his shirt, slowly rotating your hips over his before your lips find his again.
He tilts his head to the side, deepening the kiss as his tongue slips into your mouth, his hands sliding beneath your shirt to press against your bare back, the skin burning beneath his touch as he caresses your body until his fingers graze the hem of your shirt.
“Can I take this off?” Matt questions against your lips. You hesitate for a moment at the thought of your boyfriend seeing your bare chest, the nerves and anxiety kicking in and surging through your veins at doing something so intimate, but deep down you know you are ready to give yourself to Matt.
You know how much he truly loves you.
You nod your head, giving Matt the go ahead and he smiles, pushing the fabric up and over your head, your exposed chest leaving him flustered. Your face feels warm under his gaze, bringing your arms up to cover yourself until he shakes his head, gently grabbing your wrists to keep your arms at your side.
“Matt—”
“You’re so beautiful.” Matt compliments you, his eyes filled with adoration and love as he captures your lips with his. He pulls you in closer, tracing soothing patterns on the skin of your back, running his fingers down your spine as yours tug on his shirt.
Matt immediately gets the message, breaking away from the kiss to slip his shirt over his head, throwing it carelessly to the side and you allow yourself to stare, completely taken aback by his bare chest, unable to stop yourself from following the happy trail down his stomach to his pants.
His fingers reach out to hook under the waistband of your shorts and suddenly, you’re yanked out of your trance and back to reality, the reality of where you’re about to lose your virginity to the love of your life.
You were about to give him something that deems precious to you, and he was doing the same.
“Can I take this off?” Matt asks for permission as he pulls at your shorts. You don’t trust your voice, so you nod your head and lean upwards to help him tug the material down your legs, hearing him let out a shaky exhale when he notices you aren’t wearing underwear. He licks his lips, leaving a glossy shine behind as his thumbs slip beneath the waistband of his boxers, knowing that this was the final step needed.
You move back to allow Matt some room to raise his hips from the bed, watching with eager eyes as he pulls his boxers down to his thighs, and his cock slaps against his stomach. Your mouth waters at the sight.
He’s bigger than you anticipated, pretty pink veins run along the length to his tip which glistened with precum under the low lighting of the room. Matt’s nervous as he observes your reaction, bottom lip tucked between his teeth, cheeks tinted a pink hue as he watches your facial expression.
You raise your head to meet his gaze, and a shy smile spreads across your lips as a relieved smile takes his own. His hands—gentle and delicate—are placed on your hips as he helps guide you closer, fingers squeezing the flesh of your skin as you hover above his cock, the tip brushing through your folds that sends shivers down your spine.
“Are you ready?” Matt mumbles, licking his lips nervously. “Are you sure you want this?” He seems just as anxious as you, but your chest blossoms with warmth at his constant checks to see if you’re still okay with what’s about to happen. You smile and nod your head, your arms loosely draping around his shoulders as you lean in to kiss him. Matt sighs against your lips, “I love you.”
You’re unable to mutter the same words back as a gasp rips from the back of your throat when Matt helps you sink down onto his cock. Your fingers grab at his shoulder blades, nails digging into his skin which elicits a hiss from him as you feel the uncomfortable pain spread through your pussy and around your legs.
A cry falls from your lips and Matt whispers repeatedly apologies into your ear through grunts and groans, the feeling of your spongy walls squeezing around him makes his eyes roll to the back of his head, and his grip on your hips tighten.
He helps to continue sinking you down onto his cock until he’s fully sheathed inside, remaining as still as he possibly could for you to both adjust to this new and foreign feeling.
The stretch is painful and uncomfortable. It feels as though your insides are burning and you’re unsure if able to move, and you wince through tears as your body instinctively tries to force him out of you. Matt’s unbelievably patient with you, to which you found so loving and considerate. He leans back to wipe away the tears that drip down your cheeks, pressing affectionate kisses to your face as he coos, trying to soothe your erratic breathing.
“You’re doing so well for me, you got it,” Matt encourages you between smooches. “Good girl,” His thumb swipes across your wobbly bottom lip. “Can I move?”
You sniffle as you nod, “Yes.”
Matt’s careful when he decides to switch your positions, his hand pressed firmly to your back to hold you close to his chest as he slowly turns, laying you down on the bed. He stays between your thighs, lips pressed together tightly as he stifles a grunt at the deepness the new angle gives him, inhaling through his nose and exhaling through his mouth as he tries to calm himself down, not wanting his lust to overpower his emotions and pound into you at the speed he desperately craves.
You run your fingers through his hair and scratch your nails at his scalp, and Matt leans into your touch as he slowly pulls out halfway before rolling his hips forwards, his cock slipping deeper into you once again and this time, you gasp in pleasure.
His head drops down on your shoulder, his nose nuzzling into your neck as he groans, curses spilling from his lips as he lazily thrusts into you.
“Big—fuck—you’re too big.” The words tumble out of your mouth unexpectedly, and it makes Matt’s movements falter for a moment.
A sudden whine slips past his lips at your compliment once it dawns on him, and his hands hook beneath your thighs to tug you closer, giving you the subtle hint to wrap your legs around his hips which you immediately obey, locking your ankles together at the middle of his spine, and you mewl when his cock brushes against a certain spot when he starts thrusting inside of you once more.
Your eyebrows knit together at the new sensation that forms in the pit of your stomach, and his cock that rubs against your walls seemingly makes him struggle to breathe properly. The intense pleasure becomes too much for him to handle as his movements speed up, the sounds of his hips slapping to yours and the moans and whimpers leaving your lips encourage him further.
With a tight grasp on his bicep, your back arches and toes curl as the pleasure builds, repeatedly calling out his name as broken moans fill the air.
“You’re tight—shit, kid—tightening around me,” Matt struggles to speak through grunts, his thrusts sloppy and uneven as his own high starts to chase him. “Fuck, baby.”
Matt removes his head from your neck to hungrily press his lips to yours, swallowing your sounds with slow movements of his kiss, and his tongue dips inside of your mouth. You desperately try to reciprocate the kiss, but with one deep thrust it sends your orgasm toppling over you and you hold him close, a guttural moan muffled by his kiss.
Your legs tremble around his body, and your cunt spasms around his cock which leads him into his own orgasm, his body stilling as he cums inside of you in long spurts. Matt struggles to hold up his weight, and collapses down onto your body as he rolls his hips, helping you both ride out your highs
You lay in bliss, aware of the liquid that spills down your thighs and onto the sheets below, and you make a mental note in your head to remind yourself to wash them afterwards as you relax into Matt’s embrace. His hands curl beneath your body as you massage his scalp, sharing gentle kisses and quiet words of affection before it was time to let each other go.
Matt places his palms on the bed to help himself sit up, and his gaze drops down as he watches his cock slip out of your puffy hole. Your nose scrunches up, pulling a face of discomfort at the feeling as you lean up on your own elbows to look at the mess created between your legs.
“Oh shit, that’s a lot,” He mutters under his breath, and his eyes widen as he observes the way his cum drips out of you. His cheeks are flustered and he bites down on his bottom lip, but his attention snaps to you when he hears a snort leave your lips, eyeing you as your hand comes up to cover your mouth to hide your laughter at his awkwardness. He rolls his eyes, “Shut up.”
Matt climbs off of the bed and enters the bathroom, and you remain in bed with an amused smile on your face. However, the events prior slowly start to dawn on you as you feel a dull ache between your thighs that spreads around your hips, causing you to shuffle uncomfortably.
You wince at the discomfort, rubbing your palms across your thighs in hopes to soothe the soreness but fail to do so, and your bottom lip forms into a pout as you glance over at Matt who comes back into the bedroom with a glass of water and a damp towel.
“Hey, hey, hey,” Matt’s quick to put down the glass and towel once he notices, and he crawls across the bed to cup your face in his hands. He frowns at the pained look on your face. “Are you alright? What’s wrong?”
“It just aches a little.”
“That’s fine, baby. It’s normal. It happens,” Matt reassures you with a smile and you nod your head slowly, watching as his hands massage the skin of your thighs, immediately bringing you the relief you needed. You lean up to kiss him as a thank you and he grins against your lips, kissing you back with the same amount of love and adoration before he moves his mouth to leave a trail of noisy pecks and smooches across the skin of your cheek, eliciting a giggle from you.
He helps clean you up, gently dabbing the warm, damp towel over your skin, cleaning the remains of what happened a few moments prior before hooking his arm around your middle, guiding you off of the bed and into the bathroom for you to pee.
Once he leads you back to bed, he wraps the blanket over both of your bodies, and you curl into his chest beneath the duvet, your hand finding his to lace your fingers together, leaving delicate kisses on his knuckles as his free hand caresses the back of your head.
A murmur of ‘i love yous’ and other sweet words of affection are the only sounds heard in the bedroom, and sweet caresses and fond kisses follow close behind before the two of you lull into unconsciousness, keeping close together as you refuse to let each other go.
© sturnioz
#©sturnioz#sturniolo triplets#matt sturniolo#matt sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo fanfic#matt sturniolo fluff#sturniolo x reader#sturniolo smut#matthew sturniolo#sturniolo triplets x reader#sturniolo triplets smut
481 notes
·
View notes
Text
KITTY KAT — art donaldson + reader : art has a tendency to show up late to your lessons.
tags: mdni, tennis lessons, coach!art donaldson, p in v sex, fingering, art is kind of an asshole, cheating (not on reader)
a/n: sorry to tashi… this goes out to my dear @murdrdocs
thirty minutes ago.
art donaldson was supposed to be here thirty minutes ago, your teeth grit against each other, foot tapping impatiently against the concrete floor below you.
art was a sweet guy, sure, but his time management was beyond infuriating. it almost made you feel like he thought himself above you, like you weren’t worth his time.
“one to talk,” you mumble to yourself, dragging your racket on the ground, “rich from the guy who was coached by his wife.”
ahem.
you spin around, and of course, he’s standing right there, looking the same as he always does. his dirty blonde hair was messed up and falling over his eyebrows, blue eyes, with a mix of brown, staring directly at you with an almost amused expression.
you blink at him, once, twice.
a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips, “sorry for being late.”
it sounds condescending, like he would never actually mean it, especially not after what he heard, it felt like a sort of karma for what you were previously saying about him.
and he knows that, of course he does, so he masks it with a sense of sweetness, one that would typically gaslight people into thinking they’ve been forgiven, but you know better.
you’ve been coached by art for a while now, and his little habits became far too predictable. this was odd, though, you couldn’t make out the glint in his eye, especially when you mumble a, “sorry, i didn’t mean—“
“let’s get started, yeah?” art cuts in, bitter, yet his voice still sounded like it was dipped in honeysuckle.
he whisks right past you with that same, tugged up smirk, he reeked of rich cologne and mint.
your lips press together and you silently, albeit ashamed, nod in agreement.
maybe silence will earn points back from your coach.
𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ‧₊˚ 🎾
silence did not earn anything.
art served hard, hit the ball hard, it was as if he wanted to make the ball break through your racket and hit you square in the face. he clearly took your miniscule words personally, and he was testing you, trying to break you down, to see how much you could take until your bones turned soft and you felt like giving up.
the first time you called a pause, art smiled, “don’t tell me you’re giving up.”
“pause,” you repeat through heaved breaths, sweat sticking to your skin underneath the relentless sun. art had that same playful look in his eyes that he always did, he knew that what he was doing was working, he knew that he was getting under your skin, and as cruel as it sounds, he really did enjoy it.
if you ever were to ask him about it, he’d just shrug and say it’s all a part of the practice, it always happens in tennis, especially professional, he’s just preparing you. but deep down, he really just wanted to say that he was doing it for those reasons but for his own personal pleasures, karma comes in many forms, but art picks the harshest form first.
he watches you drink water with a desperate urgency, stifling his own chuckles, “you sure you’re okay?”
“‘m fine,” you speak after gulping down the last drop, finally satisfied, “let’s keep going.”
art’s brows furrow ever so slightly, but as soon as you’re back to being ready, he rolls the tennis ball in his hand a little, observing it, before throwing it up in the air and sending it your way. he’s so casual with every hit, despite his grunts and the way his nose scrunches whenever ball meets racket, he makes it look like it’s nothing.
to make it even worse, he starts trying to conversate between passes, “you know—“ smack! another grunt leaves his lips, “it’s really rude to—“ smack! “speak about people behind their—“ smack! “fuck.. backs.”
you’re so busy trying to decipher his words you almost miss the next hit, but thankfully you snap out of the trance quick enough to hit it last minute, which he chuckles at and quickly sends it back.
smack! “‘m sorry, art, really—“ your shoes scratch against the concrete below, smack! “i was being very—“ smack! “childish, i apologize.”
he hums, content with your apologies, but still not outwardly saying he forgives you, instead his hits start to soften, he’s less trying to kill you with the ball and now rather trying to actually play tennis. “you’re all good—“ he confirms, smack! “just make it up to me, yeah?”
ball meets floor, his words had completely caught you off guard, and you missed your hit on the ball he sent your way. you felt almost stupid, standing there, staring at him and trying to decipher what he meant by making it up to him.
and of course, he didn’t elaborate, he never did, he simply just picked up another ball, smiled at you, and said, “ready?”
𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ‧₊˚ 🎾
art said he forgave you, right?
ever since that day, he’s been acting.. off. he was more focused on your figure now, not in a crude way, but in a way where he wanted you to position yourself correctly when playing. he watches you serve the ball, then his tongue prods at the inside of his cheek and he stands, “hey, hey, wait a second— your uh… your stance is wrong.”
“it is?” it was the fifth time he’s corrected you, today, and it’s safe to say you were getting annoyed, he picked up on the bitterness of your tone as he approached you.
“‘ts not my fault, kitty cat,” he shrugged simply, noticing the way your eyes narrow in frustration at his nickname, he only smiles. he leans in behind you, “may i?” his hands are ghosting over your arms from behind.
“whatever helps,” you remark.
“good,” it’s softly spoken at the shell of your ear, making you swallow thick, his fingers wrap around your wrist, other one holding your fingers grip on the racket’s handle. his grip is tight, yet gentle at the same time, veins flexing against his flesh with every movement as he helps you move into the right position. “just gotta.. do it like this,” he’s still whispering against your ear, nearly making your knees buckle.
once he’s satisfied with your position, which is far too quick for your liking, he backs off and lets you serve the ball again. he smiles once he’s gotten what he’s wanted, “perfect.”
eventually, after a while of hitting the ball, you decided to take a break. there was a silence between you and art, a tension you couldn’t place, you had nothing to blame it on, nothing to apologize for, and he constantly looked like he was trying to say something indescribable.
“hey,” he starts, before tugging his bottom lip under his tongue for a mere second before continuing, “remember when i said you had to make it up to me?”
you stare at him, curious, “yeah, of course.”
“you know,” his hands smooth over each other, skin underneath his right eye twitching as his pupils dilate in thought, “i’ve been having a.. problem, lately.”
“with tennis?”
“nono,” he laughs nervously, moving to scratch the back of his neck, “it’s personal, y’know? well— not entirely, since ‘m telling you, but uh— actually, nevermind.”
𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ‧₊˚ 🎾
you and art hadn’t discussed much after the last meet, you found yourself standing in the court yet again, whilst he was no short of an hour late at this point. you wanted to ask him what his deal is lately, what his problem is, but he wasn’t even here to be questioned. it was almost ridiculous, like he was toying with you.
“i like your skirt,” it comes out of nowhere, but it’s the same, smooth voice that art holds.
yet again, you find yourself spinning around to meet him, he’s closer, now, clearly eyeing you— but that’s.. weird, is it not? he has a wife, he shouldn’t be complimenting your obviously short skirt, or eyeing you like that, or wishing to tell you things that he had apparently not told anyone else because it’s personal. but who are you to question his relationship? maybe he’s just.. being nice, really.
“thank you,” you offer, nice, short, sweet.
he rolls his shoulder, meeting your eyes, flickering his gaze to your lips for a mere second, then saying nothing and walking by. rich cologne and mint. that’s what wafts into your senses immediately, as if it was some sort of distraction from his odd behaviors.
“do you always call people kitty cat?” you eventually ask him, it was something you’d been wondering, truly, especially since you’ve never been called that before.
“to pretty girls with an attitude, yeah,” art says it so casually.
“like your wife?”
“like you.”
art corrected you.
he corrected you, and his correction didn’t annoy you like how they always did, it made your stomach churn in a way you couldn’t decipher, you couldn’t tell if it was good or bad. you liked it, maybe, but isn’t that so sickening? art seems to think no big deal of his own words, as he doesn’t even react, so you try to be nonchalant about it as well.
the whole entire test match you play with him, he has a certain glint in his eye, his grunts are louder, his shorts look tighter, he looks like he’s having some sort of reaction to playing tennis, to playing tennis with you. your tongue runs along your lips between breaks, noticing the way his eyes linger on it, the way his pupils widen at the shine of saliva over your lips with each swipe.
at the third break, art was convinced you were doing this on purpose.
“why do you keep doing that?” he asks as he’s walking over to grab his water bottle, right where you’re sitting on the concrete floor. you blink up at him, watching him hover the bottle near his lips and squirt the water into his mouth. did he always look this good when sweaty?
gosh, maybe you’re just tired, maybe your mind is just foggy.
“what?” you frown, confused.
“licking your lips,” he speaks after swallowing the water, towering over you. his muscles were nearly bursting out of his white t-shirt with every movement, especially when he puts his water bottle down and crosses his arm, head cocking to the side. sweat causes some of his hair strands to stick to his forehead, lips puffy from how much he bites them when playing.
“my lips are dry,” you explain, so simple.
“yeah?” again, another smile, he had to be toying with you, “do you need some other help with that?”
“what do you mean?”
art hums, not explaining anything when he opens his mouth and swipes his thumb along his tongue, moving down to rub the saliva from his tongue onto your lips, memorizing the pillowy soft touch. your eyes widen, slightly, “art, this is—“
“not helping?” art tuts in faux disappointment, mumbling a small, ‘why don’t i..’ before he leans down further, licking his own lips and getting closer and closer until his lips are brushing against yours.
“wrong,” you mumble out, but you sound unsure, like you don’t really believe what you just said, you don’t think this is wrong, you’ve always thought art was attractive, it was his wife that kept your crush on him at bay. you mumble against his lips, “you have a wife, art..”
“do i?” he smirks against your lips, a near chuckle slipping out, “i must’ve forgotten.”
“art,” it sounds like a warning, but again, you wanted nothing less than for his lips to fall against yours right now.
“make it up to me, yeah? remember that?” his hand moves to hold your cheek, tipping your head up at him, eyes meeting yours in such close proximity, “i’ve got some marriage problems right now, so why don’t you play wife for me, hm?”
you nod at him, ever so slightly, he clocks it immediately, and that’s his que. his eyes flutter shut, and he’s leaning in only a mere centimeter before his lips fall against yours. the kiss is soft at first, sweet, new, but then art starts taking the lead, and it quickly becomes something on the faint lines of cannibalism, he kissed you like he wanted to eat you, like he loved you.
when he said he wanted you to play wife, he wasn’t lying.
he pries your lips open with his own before his tongue makes it’s way inside your mouth, tasting the peppermint of your gum on your own tongue, memorizing the noisy breaths that leave your mouth and move into his. your nails are quick to run along his arms, making him pull back to speak, “hold on, kitty cat.”
“you call your wife kitty cat?” you watch him peel off his sweaty shirt from his skin.
he tosses the shirt to the side, exhaling a breath that showed he hated the feeling of the wet fabric on his skin, “mm, i call you kitty cat, ‘nd you’re playing my wife, so.”
“right,” you agree, letting his cold hands brush against your skin when he takes your clothes off of you, of course looking at you for approval beforehand, which you nod to.
“did you start wearing shorter skirts on purpose?” art questions when his fingers reach the waistband of your skirt, ever so slowly dipping underneath.
“no, ‘course not,” you speak breathlessly, feeling his fingers move under your underwear as well until his fingertips meet your clit. you swallow thick, lashes fluttering as he starts moving his fingers in an almost cruel slowness.
“look at me,” he whispers a simple command, free hand holding your chin and forcing you to look at him. his fingers move further down, immediately feeling how wet you are, he chuckles in surprise, “god, you’re this wet for a married man, huh?”
“for my husband,” you mumble out, playing the part.
“that’s right,” his middle finger circles your entrance for a second before ever so slowly dipping it inside. he watches your lips fall apart, the way your eyes get glossed over, the way your hips push up against his finger. “needy.”
he doesn’t take long to push another finger in, letting go of your chin so he could guide your hand to his clothed cock, hard and pushing against his flimsy shorts. as soon as you start rubbing his dick through the fabric, his breath shudders slightly, as if he’s been waiting too long for like, as if he hasn’t had sexual pleasure in weeks.
soon enough, only a mere minute or two in of foreplay, art gets antsy and he has to have his dick inside of you, he pries his fingers from your cunt and takes your skirt off next. “lay down for me, yeah?” he smiles at the fact that you do it immediately, even spreading your legs for him.
he hisses at the feeling when his bare knees meet the concrete floor below, harsh on his skin, he tugs his shorts and boxers down ever so slightly until his cock is finally freed. you inhale sharply upon seeing it, he had a big dick. he spits in his hand, coating his dick with a grunt before he finally lines himself up with your entrance.
“ready?” he hushes out.
“yeah, yeah,” you’re barely able to finish the last yeah before his dick is moving into you, his nose scrunching from the tightness of your walls around him, it’s like you were purposefully squeezing his cock with an attempt to milk him dry already.
“fuck,” he grunts out, pulling back, then moving back in, earning a pathetic moan from your lips. it sounds like music to his ears, so he keeps going, his thrusting was slow at first, gentle, kind— but just like the test matches, or the kiss, he gets hungry, and he wants more.
his thrusts turn relentless almost immediately, maybe even like he was taking out some sorts of sexual frustrations out on your poor cunt. whimpers, whines, moans, all of those leave your lips, matching up with the grunts and the occasional whimper from his own mouth as well.
sex was intoxicating for art, and there was something so dangerous, so forbidden about this, you weren’t really his wife, he was married to another woman, he was solely your coach. some sick part of art loves that, maybe that’s why he leans down and starts nipping at your neck, sucking at the delicate skin until maroon and blackberry starts blooming on the blank canvas.
“art, oh my god,” you moan out, hands moving to scratch at his bare back, and maybe art should be smart enough to tell you not to leave marks, but he lets your nails dig in as his thrusts get harsher, surely drawing blood, or at least noticeable scratches.
in fact, the feeling of you tearing into his skin only makes his orgasm come on faster, soon enough wracking his body and making his hips stutter. he keeps going though, despite the overstimulation that makes him pathetically whine softly, just until you’ve reached your own orgasm.
he pulls out, panting, smirking down at you, “thanks, kitty cat.”
#୨୧ (jules yapping) .ᐟ#art donaldson#art donaldson x reader#art donaldson x you#mike faist#mike faist x reader#mike faist x you#art donaldson smut#art donaldson challengers#challengers#challengers smut#mike faist smut#mike faist challengers
648 notes
·
View notes
Text
𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐲𝐚 (18+) ‧₊˚ ✧
Summary: Daryl needed some love and you gladly gave it to him.
Warnings: TWD violence, gore, blood, character deaths, explicit language, smut (oral f receiving, unprotected p in v, simple aftercare). Not proofread.
Pairing: Daryl Dixon x f! reader smut + fluff.
Setting: Quarry.
A/N: I read a post some time ago that said that Daryl in season 1 just needed some kisses to calm down and I couldn't agree more so I wrote this. It's also my first time trying to write smut, so I am so sorry if this sucks, and I was so hesitant to post it so please be nice lol. 😞
“Ha-ha, funny girl,” T-Dog deadpanned, rolling his eyes and suppressing a genuine laugh. It was the third bad joke you told in a row, and he was starting to find them funny.
“I really am,” you replied breathlessly, finally able to catch your breath after cackling at your joke.
“Okay, Eddie Murphy,” T-Dog, added jokingly, making you giggle as he placed a bunch of firewood you'd been helping him split for the past 40 minutes. “Let's head back.”
“I just thought of another one!” You exclaimed as you walked next to him. His groan of annoyance made you laugh before you even told the joke. “What do you call a fish with no eyes?”
“I. Don't. Know.”
“A fsh,” you replied after a dramatic pause, hardly able to contain your laugh as he gave you a side-eye, pressing his lips together to hold a smile back. “Please, I-” you started, but interrupted yourself as a commotion reached your ears from the camp. You recognized Daryl's voice.
Sharing a confused look with T, you both picked up the pace, coming into view with what seemed like a heated discussion between Daryl, Shane, and Rick, the man who joined the camp yesterday. You felt a little annoyed that they ignored T-Dog's request to let him tell Daryl, but oh well.
“Rick Grimes,” he introduced himself to Daryl.
“Rick Grimes,” Daryl mocked him, “y' got somethin' you wanna tell me?”
“Your brother was a danger to us all, so I handcuffed him on a roof hooked into a piece of metal,” Rick stated, apparently with confidence. “He's still there.”
You stayed in place, watching as T-Dog slowly took a few steps closer to the scene.
Daryl hummed as he turned around, pacing shortly before he spoke, “Le' me process this,” said he while turning to face Rick again, clearly growing irritated. “Ya' sayin' you handcuffed ma brother to a roof, and you left 'im there!” His veins popped as his voice got raspier as he yelled at the other man.
Rick gulped before admitting. “Yeah.”
Suddenly, Daryl tossed the squirrels he was carrying toward Rick, the latter swiftly dodging them before Shane jumped into action, tackling Daryl to the ground. Next, he pulled a knife from its holster, swinging it at the former cops, but being stopped in a matter of seconds.
In the blink of an eye, Shane put Daryl in a chokehold, while Rick snatched the weapon out of his hand. “Ya best let me go!” warned Daryl, struggling in Shane's grip as the cop brought him to the ground. You walked closer toward Carol as your eyes remained on the scene, but decided to walk to the other side as you noticed Ed was next to her.
“I think it's better if we don't,” Shane replied, almost mockingly.
“Chockehold's illegal,” Daryl added, face red from the struggle.
“'Kay, file a complaint,” If this situation was not so tense, you would've laughed. You did a little on the inside. Rick kneeled in front of the restrained man as Shane spoke again. “C'mon, man, can keep this up all day.”
“I'd like to have a calm discussion on this topic. You think we can manage that?” Rick spoke, trying to find Daryl's eyes. “You think we can manage that?” the cop repeated when no answer was obtained.
Panting and growling, Daryl grunted in agreement, finally getting Shane to release him; more aggressively than he should, if they asked you. Sitting up quickly, Daryl pointed at Shane warningly. Rick continued: “What I did was not on a whim,” he explained. “Your brother does not work and play well with others.”
“It's not Rick's fault,” T-Dog spoke up, his leg bouncing anxiously as he confessed. “I had the key. I dropped it.”
“Couldn't pick it up?” Daryl retorted. His voice was calmer, but you recognized in his stormy eyes a hint of grief. Nobody else cared about his brother when his brother was everything he had. You couldn't imagine how terrible this situation was for him.
“Well, I dropped it in a drain.”
Dropping his head, Daryl slowly got up, gathering his composure again. Anger returned to his expression as he walked past T-dog, “'f it's s'posed ta make me feel better, it don't,” glaring daggers at the 'culprit.'
“Maybe this will,” T went on to say, “I chained the door to the roof so the geeks couldn't get at him... with the padlock”
“It's gotta count for something,” Rick piped in.
Drying a tear as soon as it came, Daryl took a deep breath. “Hell with all y'all!” he screamed. “Jus' tell me where he is, so's I can go get 'im.”
“He'll show you,” Lori stated, staring into her husband's eyes. “Ain't that right?” Rick's eyes left his wife's after a few seconds, finding T-Dog's shortly before nodding.
“I'm going back,” he declared, almost solemnly, hands on his hips as his eyes met Daryl's again. The younger Dixon clenched his jaw before walking past everyone to get his crossbow and stomping to his tent.
You didn't notice you went behind him until Dale stopped you by grabbing your wrist. “What are you doing, honey?” the older man questioned. He'd always been kind and sweet to you, so you gently released yourself from his grip.
“He's upset,” you explained, and he seemed to understand as he nodded reluctantly, but understandingly. On your way, you grabbed your half-full water bottle, and slowly approached the edge of the camp, where the tent of the Dixon's was.
You found Daryl sitting on the chair outside his tent, shoulders hunched forward, fists clenched with anger as if grasping the last shreds of control. His head bowed low and his eyes were shut tight. You caught the way his body shook softly with quiet sobs. You stilled, not daring to interrupt this stolen vulnerable moment.
After another minute, he abruptly stood up, drying his tears before cursing loudly while kicking the chair he was sitting in. You were suddenly hesitant to approach him and decided to turn around and leave, but before you took one step, his voice reached your ears.
“Whaddaya doin' here?”
You took a deep breath before turning back around and walking up to him, your water bottle hanging from your hand. “I- uhm, I just wanted to say I'm sorry about Merle, and-”
“Ya don' even like 'im,” he snapped defensively.
“No, I don't,” you confirmed, “but I like you, and he's your brother. Even if my brother would annoy the shit out of me before, I loved him, and... I'm sorry you're going through this, Daryl,” you took a few steps closer, eyes on the ground as you spoke before meeting his.
His gaze remained on yours, before studying your face, finding nothing but the truth.
He frowned deeper, angrily huffing out a breath before turning away from you to rant. “He's jus' so fuckin' stupid. Nobody can fuckin' stand him an' he can't keep 'is fuckin' mouth shut!” he yelled, pacing from left to right, hands dancing through the air practically independently, punctuating his words.
“Why he gotta be such a fuckin' pain in the ass? Not even when we gotta surv-” mid-sentence, your hands found his cheeks, and with utter sweetness your lips impulsively found his, silencing his words.
He stilled, hands slowly dropping to his sides, body completely tense.
You quickly pulled away, opening your eyes to find his eyes slightly wide and totally confused. Your hands left his face and you took a step back. Your eyes awkwardly looking anywhere but at him. “Fuck, Daryl, I'm so sorry,” you started, a knot of anxiety growing in your chest. “I don't know why I did that... well, I know why, 'cause I like you, but I shouldn't have, I'm- I'm so sorry, really.”
Your rambling was interrupted by his hands on your waist, pulling you closer to connect his lips with yours. This time he was more relaxed, and the kiss was slower. His hands slid down to gently grab your hips, pressing his body to yours.
Your arms snaked around his neck, dropping your water bottle, and allowing your lips to part when his tongue requested entrance. Exploring the taste of each other, time stilled for a moment, but you loved it. The kiss grew almost desperate and the grip on your hips got stronger.
Unhappy to pull away, but needing to do so to breathe, you found yourself gasping as his lips left yours. You smiled brightly, cheeks rosy, and he smirked while dipping his head. “Also, I brought you water,” you added, grabbing the bottle from the ground, and dusting off the little dirt that stuck to its side before handing it to him.
“Thanks,” he nodded, taking it from your hands before opening it, downing the liquid, and emptying the bottle.
“You're gonna find him,” you reassured him, placing a hand on his shoulder and a quick kiss on his cheek. He smiled and nodded once again, muttering a thank you. You sounded pretty confident as if you knew, which gave him the confidence when he left on the search for his brother later that day.
Everybody screamed as they tried to avoid or fight the walkers emerging from the thick forest. The evening that started so peacefully suddenly turned into the perfect scene of a terrifying horror movie.
Things moved fast and slow at the same time. It was a blur. Tunnel vision, solely focused on surviving and protecting your group, moving on automatic pilot as you dug your machete countless times into the head of those flesh-hungry monsters.
You didn't even notice when it ended, barely feeling a pair of strong hands gripping your shoulders. His voice sounded distant asking if you were okay over and over. But you couldn't answer, you weren't sure if you were okay, the adrenaline didn't let you feel your body.
His loud voice calling your name finally snapped you out of your trance. “What?” You asked, brows knitting in confusion.
“Were ya bitten? Are ya alright?” Daryl questioned, nealy manhandling you as he searched and scanned for bites or scratches on your neck, lifting the sleeves of your flannel to make sure the skin of your arms was intanct.
“I didn't get bit or anything,” you shook your head, still a bit gone.
Cupping your face to study your eyes, he quickly pulled you into his arms, and you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. You felt finally safe now. You wrapped your arms around his torso, closing your eyes and hiding your face in his neck.
After everyone agreed to get some rest and leave the cleaning for the morning, Daryl offered to stay in your tent with you that night.
He helped you into your pajamas, and you cuddled for a bit as he told you what happened in Atlanta. Then you simply lay in silence. You played with his fingers and he watched you adoringly, rubbing soothing circles on your back with his free hand.
You looked up to find his eyes on yours. Gently he cupped your chin, leaning down to capture your lips in a kiss. Your hand went up to cup half of his face, returning the kiss with equal passion. It was almost needy but slow. It was like he needed the confirmation that you were both here and okay.
Tongues met in a slow dance, and his hands reached down to cup your ass, easily moving you to lay on top of him. You couldn't help but moan as your body completely pressed against his, but it also made you want to feel more.
His hands slid under your shirt, and you broke the kiss in need of oxygen, immediately latching your lips onto his neck, sucking and kissing. He hummed in satisfaction, which was all the confirmation you needed to keep going, but he stopped after a few moments, pulling his hands out of your shirt, and cupping your face again for you to look at him.
“You sure 'bout this?” he asked, his face stern as he waited for your answer.
You nodded hastily, licking your lips. “Yeah. Are you?”
“'M sure,” he said without hesitation, pulling you onto his lap so you could straddle him. “Need ta feel ya,” he whispered in a husky voice, sending a shiver down your spine as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a passionate kiss.
His hands caressed the dip of your waist up and down under your shirt as you made out. You buckled your hips up unintentionally but did it again on purpose when you heard him moan into your mouth.
You were straight-up grinding into his hips before he pulled away from your mouth, “not yet, doll,” he whispered as he took your shirt off. His hands went to your breasts like magnets, kneading and massaging the curves shamelessly as he peppered your neck with hot, open-mouthed kisses that trailed down to pop a tit inside his mouth.
Your clothed cunt clenched on air, as you closed your eyes and moaned, enjoying the attention, and you could feel his excitement tenting in his pants as well.
He slowly shifted the position, you back now on the mattress. After he decided both tits had been given enough attention, albeit still reluctant, his mouth trailed lower and lower, hands smoothly pulling your shorts and panties at the same time as his tongue and mouth kissed and licked the skin of your stomach.
His eyes met yours as he kissed your thighs, silently asking for permission to go further. “Please,” you whispered, surprising yourself by how needy you sounded, but then again, you did feel like you needed him right now.
He wasted no time, and in less than a second his mouth was latched to your clit. Tongue swirling on it and sucking, making you gasp. He used his whole face, pushing himself deeper and moving side to side as his tongue flicked over your sensitive pearl quickly. Hungrily. You arched your back involuntarily, fingers finding his hair to pull while simultaneously pulling him closer.
With a hand on your hip, he sucked a few more times before he licked a strip down to your entrance where his tongue began to fuck you. His thumb replaced his mouth on your clit, rubbing at the same speed as his tongue went in and out of you. You moaned and whimpered and cursed, trying to keep quiet, being apparently unsuccessful.
“Quiet, sunshine,” he whispered, his free hand reaching up to make you suck on two fingers to silence you, and you happily obliged. Your legs wrapped around his head as he continued his ministrations, the familiar knot forming in your stomach.
“Fuck, Daryl, I- wait,” your back arched further, legs pulling him closer, contradicting your plead as he moved faster and faster, changing again to suck on your clit and fuck you with his fingers. He hummed and the vibrations brought you closer. “So close.”
Your pitch was higher and higher, the knot tighter and tighter. All it took was a final, flick and suck of his tongue, feeling him moan against your cunt before pushing you over the edge into a shattering climax. The free hand covered your mouth as the other slowed down, prolonging your pleasure until your body relaxed and you came down from your high.
“Fuck,” you looked at him with hazy eyes.
“Fuck,” he said as a confirmation, looking down to see a damp spot on his sweatpants.
“Come here,” you said, pulling him into a kiss. He gladly kissed you back as you slid your hands under his shirt, trying to pull it up, but he stopped you, grabbing your wrist.
“I-” he started, looking away from your eyes and knawing on his bottom lip. “I have- I....”
“You don't have to take it off, it's okay.”
“No, I wan' ta, jus'” he sighed, slowly taking the shirt off. He was thankful his back was away from you. At least you wouldn't have to see those yet. “My dad... was a drunk,” he reached to touch, kind of trying to hide, one of the scars on his shoulders, but you gently pushed his hand away, tracing the scar with your fingertips before looking up at him. You smiled and kissed him shortly, before kissing the scars on his shoulders.
“You're so strong,” you whispered.
His heart was beating fast but in a good way. His lips found yours again as he settled himself between your legs. Your now-familiar mouths found a rhythm as he started to pull his sweatpants and boxers down.
His erection hit your thighs making you pull away. You bit your bottom lip at the sight; he was thick, and the size was a bit on the bigger side. “All for you, baby,” he whispered, as he pumped himself a couple of times.
He rubbed the tip on your clit and entrance, spreading your and his juices all over your cunt again. “Ya ready?” he asked, slapping your cunt with his dick gently. You nodded. “Nah, need ya to speak up.”
“Please, Dar, I'm ready. I need you.”
He hummed in satisfaction, leaning to prop himself up with his forearms around your head, kissing your cheek, before slowly pushing into you. You moaned and he groaned. You were wet and ready enough, so the stretch felt like pure bliss for both of you.
He grabbed both your hands with one of his and pinned them above your head, starting to move when you wrapped your legs around his hips. “Feel so good, doll.”
He started slow, savoring the moment but also nervous to hurt you. But soon, he picked up a rhythm and started moving faster. Your boobs bounced beneath him as he kissed and worshipped your neck and breasts. You felt so deliciously full as he thrust up into your tight, dripping heat, moaning and whimpering underneath him.
He was in heaven, eyes inevitably closed as he made love to you, but he wanted to keep them open to look at you. To him, you looked like a work of art just like that.
“Harder,” you breathed, and he obliged. Your skin met over and over and the sounds filled your tent. He grunted, reaching down to rub on your clit, eliciting a gasp from you. “Oh, right there,” your voice was getting higher, letting him know you were close. “Don't stop, fuck, please, don't stop.”
“I won', baby. I gotcha,” he moaned. His thrusts became more and more urgent, each one hitting that sweet spot that made your body arch and your toes curl. If your hands weren't inside his gasp you'd be grasping the sheet beneath you. With one last flick of your clit, you shattered.
His mouth claimed yours to silence your cries of pleasure. Pure ecstasy filled your body, and prolonging your high, Daryl continued moving inside you, until he, too, reached his peak, quickly pulling out and releasing himself on your stomach.
Spent and breathless, he collapsed next to you, who was in the same state as him. Your body tingled with the remnants of your passion, and you couldn't help the smile on your face as he kissed your face lazily.
Your eyelids were too heavy to notice when he pulled a little rag from somewhere and cleaned you up, then you felt him put your clothes on again, and his too. All too relaxed, you nestled into his embrace as he pulled you into his arms, both falling asleep in a matter of seconds.
#daryl dixon fanfiction#daryl dixon imagine#twd daryl dixon#daryl dixon#daryl dixon x reader#daryl dixon headcanons#twd#daryl dixon x you#daryl dixion imagine#twd fanfiction
403 notes
·
View notes
Text
You'll See Him Soon
This is an Eddie Diaz imagine, requested by anon. I hope you will all like it, I wrote this one so quickly. Let me know what you think.
Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @stefansalvatoresgf @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra8484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @shelbygeek @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17 @zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone
Eddie Diaz Masterlist
Summary: While (Y/n) pops by the station, her and Eddie both end up getting shot. And the team race to get them both to the hospital before they lose them.
Enjoy.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"So, lunch on Tuesday?"
A grin broke out on (Y/n)'s face and she turned to the right, looking over at her big sister with a smile.
"Yep. You know we'll have to invite Buck though, right?" (Y/n) laughed at the way Maddie rolled her eyes.
They had gone out today on a girl's day while Evan, Eddie and Chimney were all on shift. That was all well and good, but it made Evan feel left out. Whenever they went out together on a girl's day, they ended up going to the movies or going out for lunch another day with Evan. The three of them were a close-knit sibling unit and Evan seemed to think girl's day should also include him.
"Hm, I know." She cast a sly grin across at (Y/n) before she looked ahead and turned the next corner.
"You can just drop me at the station, you know. Eddie will be finished by now and he said he'd give me a lift home." They were only three minutes away from the station and it saved Maddie having to go past her flat to get to (Y/n) and Eddie's place.
It meant she could just drop (Y/n) here and make the short trip home and (Y/n) would go home with Eddie. As long as he wasn't currently out on a call but even if he was, (Y/n) would just wait at the station for him.
"Don't forget to ask Eddie and Buck about getting that night off next month."
(Y/n) groaned and pressed her temple against the window at the mere mention of what was going to happen next month. She could feel a headache forming behind her eyes at the thought.
"If they don't get it off, I'll be down at the station with them." (Y/n) could hear her sister laughing, but she wasn't joking. She was being serious. If neither of the boys got that night off, (Y/n) would be joining them and hanging out at the station for the night.
There was no way (Y/n) and Maddie could get through dinner with their parents without Eddie and Evan there with them. It wasn't often that they saw their parents nowadays and that was how the three siblings liked it.
But (Y/n) knew when she told them she was pregnant, they would want to come down and see them all. She had been surprised they hadn't come down sooner, but they were finally coming down for three days next week and (Y/n) was dreading it.
"At least they're happy this time… they're excited." Leaning across the console, Maddie rested her hand on (Y/n)'s leg and gave her a little shake to make her smile.
"Yeah, after they said I wasn't old or mature enough to be Chris's mum. Now this is 'their grandchild' they've changed their tune."
(Y/n) kept her head against the cold glass that felt soothing to her skin. She dared to glance her eyes down and her expression softened when she looked at her bump. Her fingers danced over her abdomen and she started drawing aimless patterns like Eddie had started to do recently. (Y/n) didn't realise how attached to her stomach Eddie would be until she finally started to show.
Not long before she and Eddie got married last year, her parents had tried telling her- in front of Eddie- that she wasn't mature enough to be a mother to Chris. And she had seen the conflict in their eyes when Chris called her mum. They didn't see how much it meant to (Y/n) that Chris thought of her as his mother.
Because she was the youngest sibling, they thought she was somehow incompetent at doing anything.
Only now it was different because (Y/n) was the first one out of the three of them to have a child. Her parents had changed their minds because they could see (Y/n) was the happiest she had ever been with Eddie and she was settling down. They were going to be grandparents and it sparked a small change in them.
Although (Y/n) knew if they dared say anything when they came down, Eddie would blow a fuse.
"So… have you thought of any names yet? I think-"
"We are not calling her Maddie." (Y/n) shook her head and shot a glare across at her sister who was just about to turn into the station car park.
"Why not?"
"Because it's your name. It's bad enough Buck's trying to hustle in and pitch Evelyn for a name. We're not naming her after anybody."
(Y/n) had seen Eddie's eyes light up when they went to their scan two weeks ago and found out they were having a girl. She knew he had been hoping for a girl and she could already tell their daughter would have Eddie wrapped around her little finger.
But the couple were starting to regret telling people because they were all coming up with names and ideas left, right and centre. Evan had been bummed they couldn't name the baby after him, until he realised Evelyn was close to his name and kept pestering Eddie to pick that name. And even though Maddie was joking, she had pitched Madeline to them a few times.
God knows there wasn't anyone on (Y/n)'s side of the family she would want to name her daughter after- except for her big sister. But (Y/n) couldn't handle two Maddie's and getting confused and having to come up with nicknames for each of them.
And she had asked Eddie if he had anyone on his side that he thought about naming their daughter after, but he wasn't keen on the idea. They wanted something original. A name no one else in their friendship circle had.
"Fine," Maddie huffed with a roll of her eyes as she parked up and whipped off her seatbelt. She turned to the left and looked over at (Y/n) with a tender smile before she danced her fingertips across (Y/n)'s stomach. And her smile brightened when (Y/n) moved her hand down so she could feel the baby wriggling. "Well what about Dolly, because she'll be as cute as a little doll."
"I'll think about it." (Y/n) would admit that it would be sweet to call her Doll or Dolly, especially if she was small and delicate. But knowing their luck, they would agree on that name and then either their daughter wouldn't suit the name when she was born or she wouldn't be a small baby.
She gave Maddie's hand a squeeze and grinned, but just as she took off her belt and looked to the left, a pair of hands slammed against the window.
(Y/n) screamed as Maddie gasped and reeled back in her seat with a frown when they both realised it was only Eddie.
He had a wolfish grin on his lips while he crouched down to look through the window. He seemed to make it his mission to give (Y/n) a fright recently and she was sure it was because he loved to make her scream and liven up the baby.
"Eddie!" (Y/n) hissed and slammed her hand down on the window before she moved her hand to her chest, trying to regain back her breath.
Her brows furrowed into a deep frown as Eddie opened the door and when he held his hand out for her, she batted it away and climbed out. "Don't do that! Do you want me to have a heart attack?"
She gave his shoulder a shove and tried to glare at him, but it was hard when he grinned down at her with such a wide smile that his cheeks and eyes creased. And when he leaned over and wormed his arms around her waist and reeled her into his chest, (Y/n) didn't have the effort to push him away.
"No, just keepin' you on your toes, baby."
His palms pressed flush against her back and he pulled her into him until their chests were touching and (Y/n) had to hold onto his shoulders to steady herself. She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes on him when his lips attached to the side of her neck
"Look what you've done," She muttered quietly, reaching behind her to hold Eddie's wrist and move his hand from her back until his palm was pressed into the side of her stomach.
"She's happy to see me." He grinned against her neck and bared his teeth, lightly grazing against her neck until (Y/n) gave his shoulders a squeeze and started to squirm in his arms.
He lifted his head up so he could kiss the side of (Y/n)'s temple and his arms curved back around her. Keeping her pinned into his chest and when she curled her arms around his neck to hug him, he started to sway them both from side to side. And Eddie turned his head to the left, grinning over at Maddie as she got out the car and leaned against the door with a grin and raised brows.
"Did you two have fun?"
"We went for lunch, then we saw a movie."
They hadn't made any plans today, they had decided to have a girls day but see what they felt like doing when they went out. Both of them had been hungry, so they tried a new restaurant for lunch and then decided to go to the movies. It had been a while since they had gone out together and seen a movie and it was something they used to do every weekend when (Y/n) was younger.
"Someone had to leave the screen twice for a drink refill. Little miss lemonade with lime cordial."
(Y/n) rolled her lips together and looked up at Eddie through her lashes when he scrunched his nose in distaste and gave her an odd look.
"You don't like lime juice." That wasn't something Eddie had ever known (Y/n) to drink and it was an odd combination. And it wasn't like (Y/n) to go and get a refill drink either, she barely drank enough during the day to keep her going so it was a nice surprise to hear she kept getting another drink.
"Hm, your daughter does," Maddie chirped with a wide grin before she looked down at her watch. "Right, I'd better love you and leave you, I'll see you both at the weekend for games night. Tell Buck I said hi."
When Maddie climbed back in the car and blew a few kisses their way, they stood back and waved her off.
"Is your shift over?" (Y/n) dragged her eyes up and down Eddie's frame, only just realising that he was still in his starched navy trousers and button up shirt. Her fingers dug down into his shoulders and she tilted back a little when Eddie leaned his chest against hers and stole a deep kiss from her lips.
"Hm, just gotta get changed, then we can go home." He could see that was music to (Y/n)'s ears.
Sitting down in a movie theatre was all well and good, but (Y/n) was starting to feel tired already and she hadn't done that much today. She wanted to go home, make tea and slump on the sofa with her boys.
"So, was the movie any good?" Eddie curved his left arm around (Y/n)'s waist to keep her tucked up into his side as they walked round to the front of the station. He stuffed his other hand into his pocket and pressed his lips to the top of (Y/n)'s head when she leaned her cheek against his shoulder.
"Yeah, but I missed the ending queuing for the toilet." In all honesty (Y/n) had missed a few crutial parts of the film when she went to go get another drink, twice. And then she had to hurry out twice for the toilet and the queue had been horrendous at the end. It was lucky she was only five months along with the baby or she wasn't sure she would of been able to wait as long as she did for the queue to go down.
She could feel Eddie laughing into her hair as both their steps came to a halt when they noticed Hen, Chimney and Evan all gathered in a little circle just outside the station doors.
"What kind of meeting is this?" (Y/n) quipped with a grin and she leaned over when Evan looped his arm around her shoulders and reeled her under his wing for a hug.
"Shift change-over. Me and your hubby are leaving, these two are staying for the next four hours." Hen hitched her bag higher on her shoulder and smiled triumphantly as if she had just won a game.
They were all out here because the trucks were being restocked and the ambulance was out on a call. It was quieter out here than inside where everyone was hustling and bustling to stock up and clatter and change over. And Hen was getting ready to leave whereas Chimney and Evan were taking a breather before they went back in for the rest of their shifts.
"So, how's Evelyn?"
(Y/n) rolled her eyes and unhooked her brother's arm from her shoulders before she crossed her arms over her chest. But she smiled when Eddie reached behind her to give Evan a light shove.
"I've told you, we're not naming her after you." He gave Evan a pointed look before he moved his hands to his hips and leaned his head to one side. It didn't matter how many times Evan tried or how much he pestered. Eddie's first daughter was not going to be named after his brother-in-law.
(Y/n) leaned into Eddie's left side, trying to hide her grin when Chimney started to laugh.
"Debatable." Evan remarked with narrowed eyes before he looked back down at his little sister. He wasn't giving up just yet; he could pester them for a lot longer to see if they would give in and go along with the name he had chosen. "So, how is she?"
"She's fine."
"So, are you two-"
Whatever Hen was about to say tapered off when a sharp, shrill noise cut through the air and shifted the atmosphere around them.
A gunshot.
Nobody knew where it came from. They didn't know who fired, where they were standing, what kind of shot it was that was directed at them. Or who the shot was aimed for.
Terror dug its claws into (Y/n)'s chest and ripped out her lungs when her head turned to the right.
It was Eddie. Eddie was the one who got shot. She didn't see the bullet hit him, but (Y/n) knew the moment he had been hurt; his left hand clawed into her back and made her wince. She knew by the way his fingertips punctured into her hip and how his hand fisted her flesh like he was trying to tear a chunk off that the pain hit him instantly.
She didn't see the shot, it happened far too quick to see the bullet fly through the air or see it hit her husband. But when Eddie's shirt around his right shoulder started to turn berry-red, it ignited (Y/n)'s heart until she was matching the pulse rate of a hummingbird.
Her hands grappled for Eddie, holding his back and scrunching her other hand up in his shirt over his chest to try and keep him upright, but she couldn't.
His name passed her lips like a whisper in the wind and when Eddie's lips parted, (Y/n) could hear the quiet breath he huffed.
There was no expression on his face, his eyes weren't in focus, they were dazed and staring ahead into the distance. His lips parted but he wasn't saying anything and he was barely breathing. It was like someone had refreshed his system and he was completely blank.
But he couldn't stay upright. It felt like hours had passed when barely a second ticked by from the bullet entering his shoulder to Eddie's body tilting backwards.
"Eddie-" (Y/n) curled her hands into fists around his shirt but she couldn't hold him up. He fell too swiftly and with too much weight for (Y/n) to try and keep him on his feet. Her body shuddered and she winced when his fingers stayed puncturing into her back where she knew she would have bruises later.
He crashed down on his back on the pavement, his head bouncing against the concrete slabs harsh enough that it should have cracked his head open.
(Y/n) snapped her eyes closed on instinct when she started to fall with him but a scream burned at the back of her throat when it felt like the back of her right thigh had suddenly been torn apart or bitten by a rabid dog.
Her knees crashed into the floor and her hands shook against Eddie's chest as she landed with a crash so forceful it sent all the blood down to her legs and her head started to spin. Black and white spots danced in front of her eyes and she let her head bash down into Eddie's chest, gasping to try and keep herself awake and alert, but everything was on fire.
(Y/n) could feel every pounding beat her heart thrashed out. She could feel her heartbeat beneath every inch of her skin and her pulse throbbing in her ears. She felt like her head was going to explode. Bells were ringing in her ears along with her heartbeat. Hot coals surrounded her body that felt like it was melting and scorching hot.
Her knees were aching- her right thigh felt like it had been shredded to ribbons.
"Eddie… Eddie, baby," Words dripped past (Y/n)'s lips but she barely heard her own voice.
She tried to focus herself and move but everything began to shake. Her hands were trembling up and down like she was doing some odd kind of dance but she managed to cradle Eddie's face between her trembling palms. Her thumbs swiped across his face and she tried to tilt his head in her direction.
His eyes were still open but they weren't focusing properly, he was looking through (Y/n) rather than at her. But he was awake. (Y/n) needed him to stay awake.
It was only then that (Y/n) managed to get her ears into focus and she realised she could hear voices around them. She remembered it wasn't just her and Eddie in this situation. Her brother and their team were here too.
"Cap we've got a shooter!"
"Get inside-"
"Eddie's been hit!"
"Get inside- get them inside now."
Hands grappled with (Y/n)'s shoulders and a quiet "No," tumbled past her lips when she felt a chest pressing down into her back and whoever it was nudged her to the side.
She wasn't sure who was holding her back but she began to cry. She had to stay with Eddie. Why weren't they letting her hold Eddie? She had to make sure he was okay and somehow get him inside. (Y/n) had to stay with him; they couldn't try and tear them apart like this.
His name tore past (Y/n)'s lips again and her hands tried to latch around her brother's bicep when Evan crouched in between her and Eddie.
He was working on overdrive. Evan could barely move from the amount of adrenaline that was shooting through his system and it made him feel sick. His thighs burned from how he was crouched, balancing on the heel of his boots while his trembling arms grabbed his brother in law. He looped Eddie's arm around the back of his neck and dug his fingers into Eddie's good shoulder like tallons.
His left hand grabbed Eddie's hip and with some effort, Evan hoisted his brother up onto his shoulder.
"Go!" He all but roared, waving his arm out for Hen and Chimney to get inside with (Y/n). He needed his sister inside with them. She had been hurt too and Evan wasn't sure where she had been hit. He could see the blood soaking down both her legs and pooling on the floor and he dreaded to think where it was coming from.
His legs shook as he bolted through the open doors, trying to stay hunkered down low so he and Eddie were less of a target for anymore bullets. But he heard another gunshot ricochet against the shutters and it made Evan cower.
Why was someone shooting at them? What had they done? They were emergency responders, they saved lives, they didn't take them. There was no reason for someone to be taking revenge out on them.
Why had they shot Evan's family?
"Eddie-" (Y/n) felt a pair of hands on each of her arms and she let them lift her up but as soon as she was on her feet, she screamed.
A banshee howl left her lips and she coiled her right leg up off the floor. Standing on both feet felt like a knife was slicing down from her hip to her toes. Someone was cutting her in two. Someone had taken her husband away from her. She needed to get him back.
Her foot bent at an awkward angle beneath her and she tried to hop on her left foot, dragging her right leg behind her like it was a third, useless limb she didn't need. Her head flopped forward, gluing her eyes to the floor that was littered with tiny flecks of blood like someone had walked by eating strawberries.
Her hands dug into Chimney's arm and shoulder and if she had the energy, (Y/n) would have tried to tell him she could walk. She would of tried to hold herself up if she wasn't drowning in panic.
She barely felt Hen run past her to open the truck doors.
Hen climbed in the back of the truck. Bobby climbed in the driver's seat. Evan and Chimney dragged their family towards the truck. It was their only mode of transport to get out of here and make their way down to the hospital when the ambulance was already out on a call and was far too small to transport them all.
(Y/n) could hear Bobby shouting orders, but his voice sounded quiet and distant like he was shouting from the other side of a lake.
"Lockdown the station when we leave! Nobody in, nobody out!"
A groan rumbled through Eddie's chest and vibrated against the back of his throat when he felt himself suddenly being tilted backwards.
He could barely comprehend why he was suddenly being lifted up by Evan or where he was being taken. The view of the station was blurred. Everything looked like a watercolour painting but the paints were too runny and blending together. Eddie couldn't make sense of anything.
His lungs stuttered and clenched when he was hoisted off of Evan's shoulder and he was held up on his feet by someone behind him and Evan in front of him, gripping his wrists so tightly he was going to snap them.
Evan climbed up the steps, leaning backwards to keep Eddie's weight and keep him stood up. And when he was up, Evan carefully twisted Eddie to the left and laid him down over the seats. He could see the movement sent Eddie's whole body convulsing and he gasped for breath at the feeling of his shoulder coming into contact with the chairs.
"Okay come here; I gotcha." Spinning on his heels, Evan reached his hands down and held onto (Y/n)'s forearms while Chimney stood behind her. She was much easier to manouevre than Eddie, she was alert and responsive and somewhat helpful.
Her nails scratched into Evan's forearms and a choked sound rumbled past her lips when he pulled her up. When her foot caught on the top step, waves of electricity flowed through (Y/n)'s leg and spots danced in front of her eyes as her head fell forward into her brother's shoulder.
"Cap, go, go!" Hen bashed her fist on the roof before the truck came to life and they all jostled forward as Bobby shifted into gear.
(Y/n) thrashed her arms out until her hands planted down on the seats and she let her weight fall down until she was on her knees in the footwell. She stretched her right leg out behind her, trying to ignore the throbbing pain that felt like her whole leg was vibrating with her heartbeat.
It was as if her leg was hanging on by a thread that was about to snap. (Y/n) wished it would. If that thread tore, it might take away the pain. She just wanted it to stop so she could focus on Eddie. He was her priority.
Her chin pressed down on Eddie's good shoulder and her trembling hands clutched his shirt so tightly she popped the first three buttons open.
Her head was pounding. Her eyes couldn't see anything more than Eddie, blurs and stars twinkled all around him like he was an angel or a vision from Heaven. She leaned closer to him when Evan hovered beside her. Evan held onto the headrest to hold himself up while he leaned over Eddie's chest and pressed a large pack of gauze down on the bullet wound.
He winced when Eddie coughed and groaned and his eyes almost popped out of their sockets. Eddie's head lifted up when pressure pushed down on his shoulder and felt like a hand was physically breaking through the muscle to touch the most sensitive nerves around his bone.
The pressure set something off inside Eddie's body; an extra dose of adrenaline coursed through him and made him a little more alert.
"Are you hurt?" Eddie's voice was gruff as he grunted and managed to flop his head to the left to look over at (Y/n).
He blinked slowly and tried to prize his eyes open wide so he could look her up and down but his vision was going blurry. He was glad his good arm was closest to (Y/n). He flopped his arm off the chair and slumped his hand onto her arm so he could trail his tremoring fingertips over her body.
She had blood smears on her shirt, but he couldn't find an entry wound. She had blood on her face but he couldn't see any cuts. Her breaths were shallow and her body was trembling but Eddie didn't know where she had been hurt.
His fingertips moved down until his hand touched her abdomen and he kept his unfocused eyes on (Y/n) to watch any change in her expression. He moved his hand from left to right, becoming more frantic with each second when she didn't say anything and no one told him if she was hurt or not.
"S-she okay?" Eddie tipped his head back into the seat and coughed when Evan applied more pressure. He was going to bust his shoulder if he pressed down any more than this.
But he tried to look back at (Y/n) when he realised she was only clutching his shirt with one hand. He felt her other hand hold his wrist and press his hand down on her stomach to make him stop checking frantically.
"She's okay."
(Y/n) did her best to smile, despite the tears that were pouring down her face and each breath she took which hitched higher and higher than the last.
Her eyes stayed focused on Eddie, but when she felt Hen applying pressure to the wound on the back of her right leg, (Y/n) couldn't help but cry out. A scream cut past her lips and her eyes snapped closed as she smothered her face down against Eddie's shoulder to try and stay awake when it felt like she was going to pass out.
"Where's she hurt?" Evan took the words right out of Eddie's mouth while he leaned over to try and look his sister up and down. He had seen her fall and heard her cry out, but he didn't see a bullet hit her. Evan had to assume she was hit from the pain she was in and the way she was starting to deteriorate the same as Eddie.
"Right thigh, just above her knee. Someone give me their belt, I need to stop the bleeding."
Chimney leaned back on his heels and yanked his belt free from his trouser loops and handed it over. He moved his hands to (Y/n)'s shoulders and tried to comfort her and keep her still as he moved to press his fingers against her neck to check her pulse.
Another scream mixed with a tepid cry coursed through the air when the belt sank into (Y/n)'s leg like teeth chomping down on her flesh. She could feel her leg and her foot pulsing and throbbing and vibrating like she was a boombox screaming out a beat.
But when (Y/n) lifted her head from Eddie's shoulder, she could see his eyes rolling near the back of his head and his breaths started to pick up and become fast and shallow.
"Just hang in there, two minutes, okay? Stay with us, Eddie." Evan gave Eddie's neck a jostle and tilted his head from side to side to try and keep him conscious. He couldn't fall asleep on them, he had to stay awake and conscious until they got him to the hospital. Why couldn't he stay awake like (Y/n)? He needed to stay alert with them.
"You're gonna be okay, baby." (Y/n) couldn't keep her voice level and she hiccupped through her words as she tried to push closer into the chairs to be next to Eddie.
She swiped her eyes and nose against her sleeve but she could feel her head filling up with air like a balloon. She wanted to go to sleep. She wanted everything to stop. She wanted Eddie to wake up properly and be okay. (Y/n) wanted to rewind time and usher them all inside so nobody got hurt.
Why did it have to be Eddie?
Her hand moved to cup the side of his face and she swiped her thumb across his jaw while her other hand dragged through his hair, brushing the curls away from his eyes. She knew he loved it when she carded her fingers through his hair. Maybe this would keep him awake with her.
"We're here! Eddie, come on let's go. Don't you fall asleep on me."
Eddie's head tilted back and he choked, barely able to breathe when he found himself laid back over Evan's shoulder once again. His left hand tried to reach out, but Evan was moving too fast for Eddie to comprehend. He could taste (Y/n)'s name on his lips and feel the way his nerves tingled when he tried to say her name, but it didn't make a difference. He couldn't see her anymore.
Bobby pressed his hand to the back of Eddie's neck and helped Evan carefully lower him down onto the stretcher that was already waiting for them to arrive. Two nurses and a doctor smothered Eddie with an oxygen mask and a pulse monitor on his finger before they began to move him.
A frown pulled on Evan's lips when Eddie gripped his wrist weakly and gave a sharp tug. "What? What?"
Evan tried to move with him but they moved Eddie too fast and his grip wasn't strong enough to pull Evan along with them. But he heard that one word that spluttered past Eddie's lips.
"(Y/n)."
Leaning down, Hen curled her arms around (Y/n) and pulled her back when she tried to crawl forwards after Eddie. Shallow, gasping breaths left (Y/n)'s lips and her hands scratched against the metal floor as she tried to drag herself to the door.
"Eddie-"
"He's with a doctor, which is where we need to take you. He'll be okay, you're both gonna be okay." Chimney reached down for (Y/n)'s left arm and looped it around the back of his neck before he carefully stood up and the pair of them lifted (Y/n) up between them.
Each gasping, startling cry she let out made them wince and they could feel her shaking back and forth between them like she was hypothermic.
Chimney slowly climbed down the steps but he paused when Evan appeared in front of them like an omen. He held his arms out and reached up for (Y/n), taking her weight for her to help her down from the truck.
"We need another stretcher over here! Pregnant lady with a gunshot wound!"
Both (Y/n)'s hands moved to grip Evan's biceps and she tried tilting her head back to look up at him but it only made spots flash in front of her eyes. She could feel her knees buckling and giving in and she was sure she would be laid out on the floor at any given moment.
"Eddie… I w- wh- where's Eddie?"
"It's okay, you'll see him soon. Let's g-"
That was all she needed to hear. Those words acted as a switch in (Y/n)'s brain and everything started to shut down.
Panic sparked through Evan's body like a wildfire when (Y/n)'s head slumped onto his arm and her body went down. He deadlocked his arms around her waist and lifted her up, pinning her chest against his to stop her from hitting the floor while they waited for another stretcher to be rushed over to them.
Evan leaned down and looped his right arm beneath (Y/n)'s legs, cringing and gagging when he felt the blood instantly soak onto his skin and drip down between his fingers.
Oh God.
***
I'm not staying here.
With that thought in mind, (Y/n) tiredly looked around the room she was in and pursed her lips.
She didn't want to be here.
She didn't want to stay here on her own.
The only reason (Y/n) had managed to stay here last night was because she had been dosed up on morphine which knocked her off her senses. She had become coherent enough this morning to realise she was in the hospital.
She was in a small room on her own. Eddie wasn't here. He was somewhere on this floor, in this ward, but he wasn't here. (Y/n) couldn't sleep on her own. She couldn't stand being anywhere on her own and right now, she was alone at night. Evan and Maddie had visited her and stayed with her until the nurses told them they had to leave and come back in the morning.
None of the nurses listened when Maddie told them (Y/n) was liable to try and leave. They thought she was too hyped up on morphine to try and leave, but that was what she was going to do.
Everyone who had been to visit her today had told her Eddie was okay. He had recovered from surgery, his shoulder joint hadn't been hit by the sniper, it was just the muscle that got damaged. Eddie was awake and on the same pain meds as she was and (Y/n) knew Chris was safe at home. And Evan was staying at their house so Chris didn't have to leave the comfort of home so he would feel better without his parents there.
Her hands moved to her face and she brushed away the tears she had been shedding for the last half an hour. All (Y/n) had done since her siblings left was cry. She hated being alone. She couldn't sleep alone at night. The only reason she slept at home when Eddie was on a night shift was knowing that Chris was in the next room.
"I want Eddie."
If she didn't see him, she was going to go insane.
All (Y/n) could see when she closed her eyes was the image of Eddie on the floor with a mixture of their combined blood mingling together against the concrete. How would she know if he was truly okay if she didn't see him with her own eyes?
How did she know her friends and family weren't just lying to her to keep her calm?
Sitting herself up, (Y/n) looked down at the IV line capped into her left hand as she took deep breaths to stop herself from crying. With minimal effort, she paused the IV machine and twisted the cap until it disconnected from the needle in her wrist. She could easily reattach it whenever she decided to come back to this room later.
It took some effort for her to swing her legs over the side of the bed and (Y/n) grimaced at the hospital gown she was wearing.
Maddie promised to bring her and Eddie some of their own clothes tomorrow when she came down to visit them.
The moment her feet touched the floor, (Y/n) grimaced. The morphine didn't take all the pain away. Granted, it had done yesterday, but recovering from the anaesthetic probably helped numb everything else.
When she was up on her feet, (Y/n) stretched both arms out and hobbled over to the wall. She planted her hands down on the wall, lifted her right leg until her toes barely scraped the floor, and started to hop. It was a lot of effort and her stomach churned and twisted, but she had to persevere.
She had to find Eddie.
More tears stained her face as she quietly opened the door and hobbled out. It felt like she was a cripple with only one leg. Her right leg was practically useless in this state anyway and the nurses hadn't found her a walker or any crutches yet. They were supposed to be trying to get (Y/n) up and out of bed tomorrow, but she needed to move around now so she could find her husband.
(Y/n) crossed to the other side of the corridor so she was leaning on the wall on her right. Her shoulder and arm pinned into the wall as if she was about to slouch down to the floor and she hopped and shuffled along, trying not to make a sound so no one noticed. She could always say she was going to the bathroom if anyone asked.
Her eyes squinted in the dim light to read the names written in whiteboard marker outside each room.
She scanned along them and passed about five different rooms until her heart jumped into her throat and her eyes locked on a familiar name.
Diaz.
Here he was. She'd found him.
Her teeth sank down in her lower lip as she dragged her limp, useless leg behind her and crossed to the room opposite. She was relieved Eddie wasn't on a ward. It wouldn't do her any favours to be sneaking into the men's ward in the middle of the night when she didn't know who else would be in there.
She opened the door as quietly as she could and peeked her head round. (Y/n) wasn't sure what she thought she was going to see. Maybe she thought Eddie would somehow get visitors to stay through the night with him whereas she wouldn't. Or maybe she thought he wouldn't actually be in here, that this was a mistake and something had happened to him like she dreaded.
But when she hobbled over the threshold and looked ahead, her stomach started to flutter with adrenaline and she scratched her hand across her neck to remind herself to breathe.
There he was. He didn't look comfy. It wasn't like Eddie to sleep on his back, it wasn't something he did. When they were at home (Y/n) was used to him laying in funny positions with one leg hanging off the bed or she would wake in the morning to have him wrapped around her like a second blanket.
But here Eddie was, laid uncomfortably on his back with his right arm pinned to his chest in a sling. He had pushed the cover down so it barely covered his knees and he had his good arm flopped above his head on the pillow.
(Y/n) knew he was a light sleeper so she turned and shut the door with a little pressure to wake him rather than stand beside him and frighten him awake.
His head snapped forward within a second and he groaned, clicking his neck from left to right while his eyes adjusted to the dim light seeping in from the corridor.
"Baby?" Eddie's voice was gruff and deep. He lifted his arm from the pillow and dragged his hand across his eyes to make sure he wasn't dreaming. Before he moved to look at his left arm. He wasn't connected to an IV; they took him off it just before he went to sleep and said they would start him on another one in the morning.
He wasn't dosed on morphine anymore, conjuring up the image of his wife in front of him to make himself feel better. So why was she here? She should be back in her own room. Resting. Safe and sound until one of the nurses finally listened to Eddie's beligerent badgering about taking him down to see his wife.
"Baby… what are you doing?"
He pushed himself up so he was sitting up in bed, rubbing at his stiff neck before he squinted at her through his lashes. He watched her drag her fingers across her neck and over her chest; something he recognised as a nervous habit.
When she tried to step forward, she noted the way Eddie took a sharp breath. She could barely walk. She was limping and she had to reach out and grab the bed frame to hold herself up.
"I got lonely," (Y/n)'s voice was meek and timid but she tried to smile. She didn't want to be in that room on her own any longer. Why couldn't she be in the same room as Eddie? They were both patients with similar injuries. And they were both more liable to stay and listen to the doctor's orders if they were together and comfortable instead of separated and panicked.
She watched Eddie's eyes rake up and down her frame, but it was the way his lips pulled into a deep frown and his eyes narrowed on her that made (Y/n) shrink in on herself and wince.
"Jesus baby, you shouldn't be walking about! You could hurt yourself, you know that?"
"I can't sleep on my own." She tried to keep her tone light and force herself to smile, but Eddie's stern expression and his demanding voice made her stomach twist.
"You could tear your stitches or burst a blood vessel if you're not careful. Baby you can't-"
"I'm scared."
A tremor rattled through Eddie's chest and caused a sharp pain to strike his heart when he realised (Y/n)'s eyes were watering. He could feel his lungs shrivelling up in his chest and his shoulders sagged, despite the pain it caused.
She didn't want to be on her own. Not when being apart from Eddie meant she had nightmares that he didn't get here in time. She had to see him, touch him, be with him to convince herself that he was okay. Being on her own left her mind free to torment her. To see Eddie drop down in a pool of blood. To feel her leg ache and pound like it was going to fall off. To have her hands cradling her stomach, fretting that she was going to lose their baby.
It was too scary to be alone. (Y/n) wanted company; she wanted Eddie.
(Y/n) was torn between wanting to run forward and wanting to leave if Eddie was going to be mad with her. But her watering eyes widened when Eddie threw the cover to one side and waved his good hand towards her.
"Get in here."
As soon as she was within reach, Eddie curled his good arm around (Y/n)'s waist and helped her ease down onto the bed. He laid down and pulled her with him, suddenly feeling his own sense of peace when they laid down together. This was why he couldn't settle early in the morning when the drugs wore off. This was why Eddie felt uncomfortable all day and got irritable when any visitor walked through the door. They weren't (Y/n). He wasn't whole without her.
He turned his head to the left and smothered his nose and lips against the top of her head, breathing in her scent like it was the most addictive drug in the hospital.
He felt her head snuggle down into his chest and she bound her arm around his torso, clinging to him like someone was suddenly going to walk in and tear her out of his arms. He wouldn't let them. He wouldn't let anyone take her away from him; especially not if she was frightened.
"Do you feel okay? All I got off Buck was 'she's fine, she's fine' and that didn't really wash well with me."
They had run Eddie through what had happened and told him where (Y/n) had been shot because he remembered she was hurt, but he didn't remember where. It was a relief to know the bullet went in her leg. Any higher and it could have hit a vital organ. Any higher and it would have hit the baby.
But no one would tell Eddie much because at first he wasn't lucid enough and then he tried to leave the room when he wasn't allowed. He was promised he could see her tomorrow, but holding her tonight was so much better.
"Just achy… my thigh stings a bit, but it's okay. How about you?" (Y/n) tilted her head up and nuzzled her face into Eddie's neck so she could be closer to him.
Her lips attached to his neck and she pressed a tender kiss there just beneath the stubble that was starting to grow in.
"It's familiar, being used to it helps. And it didn't hit the bone, thank God." It was strange to think that he was used to the feeling of being shot. Eddie didn't think it was a feeling he would ever have to have again after he left the army.
But having some experience with this feeling definitely helped. He knew how to avoid the pain and how to push through it, and he thanked God that his shoulder joint had been missed. He couldn't be dealing with more operations or physio and time off work to try and patch it back together. And he had to recover so he could hold his baby girl without a struggle when she arrived.
With that thought in mind, Eddie carefully slid his hand over from (Y/n)'s hip until his fingers grazed along her stomach. His touch was light and delicate at first, but when (Y/n) didn't wince or groan or pull away, he pressed his palm down over her gown so he could cup her stomach.
"How's she doing?"
"Her heartbeat settled down this afternoon after the shock wore off… I haven't lost any fluid, and she keeps kicking me. They think she's gonna be fine."
Maddie had made her smile when she said (Y/n) was now special. Rather than bi-weekly checks, for the past two days (Y/n) had been getting almost hourly checks on the baby. When her heartbeat evened out this afternoon, they made a note of it.
Since the placenta and baby were still in place and her vitals were fine and (Y/n) hadn't lost any fluid, they were confident the baby was going to be just fine. But (Y/n) could still have checks throughout the day until she left, and she would be on close monitoring when she was discharged.
"Good, you had me worried."
"Me? What about you, you scared me Eddie. I thought- I thought…" (Y/n) knew exactly what she thought, but she didn't have the willpower to voice it.
She didn't want to say it outloud. It was hard enough to admit to herself that she thought Eddie wasn't going to make it to the hospital. The thought of having to go through life without Eddie wasn't something (Y/n) could contemplate.
She couldn't bring up Chris on her own. She couldn't go through labour and have this baby without him. (Y/n) couldn't do any of that without Eddie by her side.
Her lips rolled together tightly to stop herself from crying and she smothered her face in the side of his neck when his arm tightened around her waist. She could feel his fingers feathering up and down her stomach and he tilted his head to the side so he could kiss the top of her head.
"It's gonna take more than a bullet to take me away from you."
#eddie diaz x reader#911 imagine#imagine#evan buckley#pregnant! reader#eddie diaz imagine#eddie x reader#eddie diaz#bobby nash#maddie buckley
292 notes
·
View notes
Text
NOCTURNAL WALTZ | RYŌMEN SUKUNA
✮ summary. . when life tries to ruin your dreams you keep trying. you get up, wipe the sweat off and try again, even when you fall… it's either that, or ally yourself with your rival and hope he doesn't drag you down to the bottom of hell with him.
✮ cw. . workplace harassment (not from sukuna), slight possessiveness, slight violence (blood), alcohol consumption, smoking, eventual smut, exhibitionism, choking kink, dirty talk, breeding kink, 18+
✮ tags. . modern + ballet au, enemies to friends to lovers, briefly fake dating, all characters are adults, descriptions used for the reader: fem + afab!, backstory, has hair long enough to tie, wears dress in one scene. divider creds: cafekitsune.
✮ wc. . 18K
Ever since you were a little girl all you've known to do is dance.
You did it at school performances, you did it at Christmas when your whole family gathered in the living room and the snow fell cold on the tall treetops and red flowers in your garden.
You always remember the scene wistfully and in slow motion, longing for the days that will never return. Your father played the piano and your mother looked on proudly, her hands were always clasped together at chest level watching you with the eyes of an owl making circles with your legs in the air. She always had that expression on her face as if she was afraid you were going to fall, she was always on the edge of her seat, her lips curved into a smile— after all, she was in charge of organizing all your choreography and choosing the songs you were going to dance to, along with your shoes and your outfit. All this was until you were fifteen when you begged her to finally enroll you in a real dance school.
You remember how nervous you were on the first day. You wore your hair pulled back so tight it looked like you were smiling the whole time, your eyebrows stretched and your stomach felt like that Halloween night where you ate so much candy your guts hurt, though all of this was pushed aside the moment you saw the great ballroom.
The walls rose far higher than your little eyes could see. White lights glowed against the beige walls —which your teenager self mentally corrected them later, it wasn't beige, it was salmon, with curtains the color of the peach your mother cut on Sunday mornings— and in the background you could appreciate a melody you knew well since it was your mother's favorite, the one she always chose for you to dance: "dance of the sugar plum fairy."
Training professionally was much more demanding than your mom had told you. You studied in the morning and practiced in the afternoon, your feet hurt all the time in the beginning although with time this became more bearable, however they never stopped hurting because you never stopped practicing.
The lights blinded you for a moment leading you to run away from the incandescent glowing light, causing you to stumble and Sukuna purposely let you fall from his arms so that you kissed the ground.
Your body hits the wooden floor with a dull thud, the live music doesn't stop because of your accident and the director of the ballet claps twice again. It's the signal that the show must go on, it's what the music means that instead of slowing down it rushes to climax, you force yourself to stand up, with a sukuna growling tiredly behind you. No one helps you so you do it alone, you bury your toes in the wood and your injured feet push off the ground and support your weight once more as you rise phoenix-like on your tips.
This is what it takes to be a pro, is what your mother would say if she were alive. You hear her voice loud and strong in your eardrum along with the noise of the music.
One, two and... up!
You hear her ask you for more. Lift your foot more, lift your knees more, straighten your back more. You're trying but—
"You're being too rough," you spit through gritted teeth. Maintaining the fake smile your character must wear.
You know he hears you, yet he remains silent, twisting and turning, holding you above his head and taking one last turn.... Everything seems blurry from your point of view, your stomach churning like a roller coaster even though you don't remember the last thing you ate because this was exactly what you wanted to avoid.
Don't throw up, don't throw up.
You catch the two claps from the director indicating that sukuna should drop you and that's exactly what he does... with a little more force than he should, his hands are loose on your waist, barely gripping you. Your arms stretch, they tremble in the air as does your smile, a cold sweat that shouldn't be there runs down your temples, you feel the salty drops slide over your lower lip and your breathing becomes almost nonexistent, your chest rises and falls and then sukuna lets you go, you are alone, the lights focus completely on you and you hear laughter in the background.
This is the moment where you must do your solo. Spin alone one more time and then let yourself fall. Your feet don't respond at first, you had forgotten your smile, very focused on moving your legs but when you manage to do it you falter again and collapse on the floor with a harder impact than the previous time. Now the music comes to a sudden stop.
You hear him sigh heavily, followed by the fluttering of the sheets of paper in his hand. Kurogawa, the director, puts his glasses on his head like a makeshift headband and slaps his hands once.
Immediately the whole room fills with noise, people start moving. Even your dance partner who although you don't see him, you feel him walking and moving away from you. You have a hard time getting up, this time you really have a hard time. Your body has been beaten to a pulp by the dozens of practices you have carried out these days, your dress and tights hide the bruises that have permeated the floor on them, you carry on your hips sukuna fingers by the force in which he has grabbed you, even so, you do not manage to perform the spin that should come out naturally.
You are a star, this is what you were born to do and this is what you have always done, why can't a dumb spin come out perfectly?
Kurogawa calls your name before you can move further away. You freeze in the middle of the stage, grateful to be away from the spotlight and more in the comfort of the gloom.
You sense his footsteps approaching, with each footstep his heels announce how close he is and your body trembles, your teeth chatter and you force yourself to be still.
"What's the matter?" His voice is neither far nor near.
"I don't..." you force your lip between your teeth before articulating your next words. You can't say you can't.
"I asked you a question." His body is behind you, stopping the draft that touched your back, serving as a wall that exudes warmth and insecurity.
His hand curls around your forearm with some force and makes you turn to see him, his violet eyes are naked, without the glasses he looks much younger, yet a couple of gray hairs escape from the improvised headband reminding you of the age difference.
Kurogawa examines you up and down, his eyes linger on your mouth for a moment and you think maybe he notices how dry they are, this prompts you to lick them suddenly.
"Do you want me to switch someone for you? There are dozens of girls who wish they were in your shoes."
"I know, sir." You bite your lip to control your emotions, and swallow the bitter bile rising up your esophagus.
His hand descends from your forearm to the width of your shoulder blades. "I don't think you appreciate it enough." This time he addresses you in a lower tone, he's hunched down to be at your height and the tone he uses would seem like he's telling a secret. His fingers run down the length of your back, you feel his fingers drag the fabric and linger on your lower back. "Is it Ryōmen? Is he the problem?" Then he pulls you closer to his body, this time there is no space between you, his leg is touching yours and his bittersweet breath, the taste of liquor mixed with wilted petals brushes your nose.
"I feel that we are not compatible, sir."
"Ah..." exclaims Kurogawa, still glued to you. "Are you implying that my best student isn't good enough for you?"
"I think..." he was too close for you to even think of anything. You try to see past his shoulders that steal all the light yet there is nothing but darkness, and the chill in your temples moves to your lower abdomen.
“Child... you're lucky your daddy paid a lot of money for you to be here, I don't think there's much talent in you.” Your mascara-filled lashes flutter like the wings of a swan. Your lips part to ask for space, but you're interrupted, he says your name and it's bitter, it sounds disgusting in his throat. “But the untalented ones, they can always do something else, can't they?”
Suddenly, someone calls your name again from the vast darkness behind you.
“Don't keep me waiting. You made me promise to take you home, brat.”
Kurogawa takes a moment to detach himself from you and you inhale in despair, you were drowning in his cheap cologne and alcohol stench. Sukuna is behind him, like a silhouette, you can barely make out his body.
You don't stop to look at the director when you step out of his reach, you don't even do it with Sukuna and run far away from there. The silence that settles in the corridor is terrifying, you feel like running to get away as fast as you can from there, however you try to keep your composure, you tighten the fabric of the tutu looking for some security and comfort in it breathing out of sync and when you manage to reach the street you have to lean back against one of the walls to regain your composure.
You force yourself to breathe through your nose and let it out through your mouth forming a cold mist. The icy breath of the night is a slap of reality that makes your cheeks tingle and your legs and arms are the first to complain about the change in temperature.
Sukuna appears at your side a few seconds later, he says nothing, so you force yourself to lift your head and check his expression. There are wrinkles in his brow and he has his hands tucked in his front pockets, you realize this is the first time you've seen him in casual clothes. He had had time to change out of his uniform to replace it with worn blue jeans and a black sweater that has blood red lettering embroidered on the chest.
His presence floods you with the same excitement as the first time you stepped off the plane and the change of weather made your body bristle, making you feel uncomfortable in your own skin. You were scared like a mouse forced out of its burrow. As at that moment, all you needed was a hug. A ghostly force grabs you by the hips and lifts you off the brick wall, throwing you into the arms of your dance partner in search of the comfort you can't seem to find anywhere else these past few days.
Sukuna tenses up at your boldness. You are sobbing into his chest as if someone has passed away. He stands still for a while, allowing your hands to barely touch his hip, while the few passersby watch the peculiar scene, wondering what has happened; after all you are still outside the prestigious ballet academy.
Against all odds, he puts his hand on your back in an unprofessional way, in a way he has never done even dancing with you. His arm floats in the air in a strange and awkward motion until he decides to rest it on your lower back, completely pulling you closer to him. His left arm goes to your shoulder blades squeezing you to his chest completely, giving you a strange comfort that doesn't quite reach friendly.
Excessive tears prevent you from breathing, so you fight the grip and prison that is his ribcage to look up and search his eyes.
“Are you okay?” Your knees give out on you, though with his help you stabilize again. “What was it he said to you?”
You sniffle through your nose. Those red eyes seem to watch every move you make and suddenly, the heat of realization of how close you are begins to climb up your ribs until it sits on your chest.
“Nothing.”
“I saw how close you were. Whatever he said or did to you...” Sukuna pauses, weighing what he will say next. You see him close his mouth and his jaw tenses. “You can trust me, I know there are rumors that he...”
“This is just an allergy,” you interrupt him by clearing your throat.
Sukuna laughs. Not only does he laugh, but he brushes you aside as he bursts out laughing holding his stomach. You cross your arms and pucker your lips, feeling the indignation immediately.
Without saying anything to him and with the wind freezing the salty tears on your cheeks, you turn to walk away from him infuriated with yourself that you allowed yourself to be vulnerable with someone like him.
“Brat!” he was still laughing. “Wait...” you hear him trot behind you, until his fingers pull your forearm back to force you to stop. “Your bag.”
When you notice what he's holding in his hands and had probably been carrying on his back, you realize that it was indeed your bag. You would have left it in the room along with your belongings in the locker had it not been for him.
“Thank you,” is all you say, still suspicious of his thoughtfulness.
“Are you hungry?”
“No.”
As if it were part of a comedy scene, your stomach growls and Sukuna has to cover his mouth to contain his laughter. You look at him accusingly again. When he removes his hand from his face and raises it in submission, he reveals a smile that shows his teeth and fangs, returning to the predatory aura that always surrounds him.
“I'm gonna order sushi to go, you can join me if you want.” The wind makes you hug yourself again, avoiding his eyes at all costs. “It's across the street.”
Ryōmen Sukuna has been a pain in the ass ever since you met him at dance school. Ever since you arrived, all he's done is annoy you: bad-mouth you to your classmates, be rude in your presence, and belittle your work when you were chosen as the principal dancer. Having him here, pretending to care about you and inviting you to dinner, throws you off.
Realizing that you cried into his chest and, worse, were comforted by his touch, makes you feel guilty.
“I don't need your fake kindness.”
Sukuna lets out a snort and mimics you, crossing his arms over his chest as he looks down at you from above, like a superior being marking his position.
“It's just sushi. Don't act like I'm offering you an engagement ring. Just say no.”
“And that's what I said,” you reply with a bark, struggling to maintain your stance and what little courage you'd mustered to stand up to him.
You notice how Sukuna drops his arms and falls silent. Something inside you wants to continue arguing or just talk to someone. When you get “home”, you're just sitting on the bed staring at the ceiling, counting the times your room is illuminated by the lights of the cars passing by on the avenue or swiping on tiktok until you fall asleep.
You try to find an excuse to talk to him again, but you run out of ideas as you see him turn his back to you, checking the road up and down to make sure no vehicles are coming.
“Okay. I'll see you next week,” he says before crossing to the other side.
“Wait...” you call out to him, but Sukuna is about to reach the other sidewalk. He doesn't stop when you call out his name, even though you know he's listening. You step forward and shout again, a little louder this time. “Can you take me home?!”
Sukuna stops and turns slowly. You wish someone could wipe the ridiculous smile off his face and the incredulous expression he has right now. You instantly regret asking for his help.
You both wait patiently for the approaching cars to drive away in opposite directions, leaving you again in silence.
“What was that? I don't think I heard you,” Sukuna mutters, squinting his eyes and bending his body forward a bit.
You check both ends of the road before walking across and finding yourself face to face with him.
“I think I missed the bus,” you mumble hastily, a little embarrassed. “Please,” you add, doubting whether politeness will make any difference on this occasion. After all, you're dealing with Sukuna; you don't think being nice and kind will work with someone like him, so you opt to offer a bribe. “I'm going to pay you.”
“I don't need your money, brat,” he spits as soon as the words are out of your mouth, looking outraged when you look him in the face again.
“Can you stop calling me that?” Sukuna chuckles, clearly amused with a situation that you don't find funny at all. Your life is falling apart to pieces with every passing second, but to him it's a circus. “What's so funny?”
"Are you always so serious? It's a little annoying that you don't know how to take a joke; I wouldn't be surprised if you had no friends."
You want to slap him, even though you know it wouldn't make any difference. You've felt him behind you, leaning against your back, his firm hands holding your hips and helping your movements flow, so a slap on his shoulder would be in vain, it would only make him laugh.
Now you want to slap yourself regretting that you decided to talk to him in the first place, that you showed yourself vulnerable.
“Are you going to take me or not?” you insist.
“Give me your address.” Sukuna pulls his phone out of one of his front pockets and types as you give him the direction. Exactly three seconds later he exclaims, “Are you staying in a motel? I thought you had money.”
You don't know how much more you can take before you explode; you clench your fists some more, trying to contain your anger.
“I don't think that's really any of your business.”
You stand in silence for another while. He checks his phone while you watch him. The sign behind him above your heads is decorated with pink neon lines that flashes forming the name of the restaurant.
Sukuna sighs wearily, catching your attention. “Okay, join me in ordering something to go first.”
Sukuna doesn't wait for you to complain or agree with his proposal before he starts walking ahead of you, his steps slow and unhurried. You decide to follow him at a distance that gives the impression that you are not together.
With an open hand, Sukuna pushes open the transparent door and a bell announces the entrance of new customers. The place is immersed in an elegant and serene atmosphere; the aroma of rice floats freely in the air, filling your hungry stomach that growls for a mouthful of whatever they are cooking. Aside from three girls at the counter taking their orders, there are no customers other than the two of you.
You let Sukuna move on as you stop to admire the details of the place. The walls are painted in warm tones that emulate natural wood, and the ceiling has hanging paper lamps that create soft lighting.
The low murmur of water in a small koi pond in the center of the room catches your attention. You approach and watch the fish swimming freely in the water currents; you bend down to observe one in particular that appears to have a scar on one of its fins. You squint your eyes and move closer to the pond to check if the fish is okay, but at that moment the light of the restaurant is interrupted by the body weight of someone overshadowing it.
When you look up, you find Sukuna scowling at you. You don't understand what that look means and decide not to insist on deciphering it. You straighten up to try to match his height.
“Let's go.”
“So soon?” it seemed like they were waiting for him.
You watch his hands, holding a white paper bag with the restaurant's logo on the top. Then you notice the girls who seem to share a secret as they murmur, barely disguising that they are looking at you.
Sukuna continues to stare at you, so you decide not to say anything else and simply nod at his silent command. You make your way to the door and the bell rings again as you leave the place.
“Where's your car?”
You catch him grinning. Maybe you've said something he finds curious, or maybe he just wants to tease you because he can; being rude seems to come naturally to him after all. You let him lead the way and trace the way as he rummages for some keys in the back of his jeans, all the while heading towards the back of the restaurant.
Suspicious, you look around to make sure there is someone nearby who can help you if necessary. Amazement assaults you as you discover that in the back there is a parking lot, and there, in the middle of the empty spot, you see a bike. It's a shiny, black sportbike with red accents, sleek and modern looking.
The realization dries your throat.
“Is that yours?”
“Yup,” he looks amused and almost proud to actually own such a beautiful and imposing bike. You could taste the teasing tone in his voice and in the way he hurried his footsteps away from you, and you struggled to keep up with him.
Sukuna got on the bike and inserted the keys immediately, while you stood motionless, watching him hold it up with his feet so it wouldn't fall off.
“What are you waiting for?” He didn't have a helmet for himself, much less for you. He wasn't wearing gloves either, and that was perhaps the reason why his hands always felt rough when you had skin-to-skin contact when dancing.
You looked around you, meeting the vast nothingness again, as if you were asking the universe for help.
“I've never been on a bike,” you confessed to him without a filter.
You didn't know what to expect when you blurted that out, but it definitely wasn't Sukuna staring silently at you, stabbing you with those dagger-red eyes.
“So what, are you scared? C'mon, come on up.”
You sighed deeply in surrender and climbed up the bike trying to touch him as little as possible, but always failing on the spot. Sukuna jerked a little along with the bike as you tried to improve your posture behind him, trying to lower what you could of your tutu so it wouldn't fly off when he started driving.
Eagerly waiting for him to pull you away, you slide your hands down his hips and cling to his body in search of a safety that immediately greets you. The engine growls like a beast making your whole body vibrate, you cling tighter to him closing your eyes tight for a moment before letting out a sigh.
“Hold on tight,” he says, at the same time rolling his hand across the throttle.
You crinkle the fabric of his sweater under your fingers clinging to him as if your life depended on it. As he moves forward and picks up speed on the road, you hide your face in his back finding the same security as a few moments ago when you allowed yourself to sob into his chest.
The last thing you expected on a monotonous Thursday night was to end up like this, hugging Sukuna who is the last person you would ask for help, right after having the second worst day of your life. You allow yourself to relax in his presence now that you are not looking at him and now that your thoughts are overpowered by the sound of the wind against your ears.
You don't have time to elaborate any more nostalgic thoughts as Sukuna slows down and you are forced to return to the present, raising your head over his shoulder to check where you are. It was already completely dark when you arrive at the motel, and as you step into the gloom, you make out the dim lights flickering in the distance, indicating the other rooms that must be inhabited by people like you, with no settled place to go or belong.
“You can leave me here,” you indicate speaking slowly, longing for the moment when you can step onto solid ground again and return to the safe space that was your motel room, that even if it smelled like cheap detergent and the green apple spray you bought at the nearby gas station convenience store, you've managed to call home these past few months.
Sukuna obediently stops the bike near room 147 and allows you to get off, without asking questions or making conversation, which surprises you. Discomfort washes over you from your feet covered by ballerina slippers, up your cold legs until it reaches your chest.
“Thank you,” is all you say out of kindness. Instinctively you hug yourself, shrugging your shoulders toward your ears in search of some warmth.
Sukuna looks you up and down, and in his eyes you notice that spark of accusation or perhaps contempt, similar to the one you saw in your father the last time he visited you.
You wait for him to finally say something, after long seconds that feel endless, but you interrupt him before he gets the chance.
“I'm quitting.” You don't know why you say that, your body expels it as an automatic reaction, similar to vomiting after a hangover.
You immediately regret it and turn away. Little interested in what he might say next, you hasten your steps to run away from him and hide in your shelter as soon as possible.
“I thought it was allergies.” Bastard. You grind your teeth, clenching your fists. You don't have the energy to fight him; what little of the mask you put on to pretend you're the perfect woman will soon unravel like Cinderella's spell, and you don't want that to happen while you're arguing with him.
“I thought you were a tough girl.” You hear him yell again, as you try to pretend he doesn't exist. You turn left, in the direction of your room, the last one in the whole row.
“I can help.” Those words slow your steps to a complete stop. It takes you a moment to find the courage to turn around, but you finally do, taking a breath of air and looking him straight in the eye.
The distance between you is about the size of a bus, not much, but enough to look like a pair of cowboys about to have a duel and so that anyone listening can pick up on your discussion thanks to the silence of the night.
“Help with what?” you ask, defiantly.
Sukuna looks up at the sky for a moment, as if the answer is in the clouds. Without looking at you, he replies, “To be less of a dick, maybe.” Asshole. “To teach you how to relax once you're under the lights.”
You fold your arms. “If...?”
He grins, clearly amused with how much he's enjoying the situation, and you want to shout into the wind how much you hate him. Now you understand why he doesn't like you; your personalities are very different. You like the summer, he probably likes the cold. He's always teasing and getting under your skin, while you have to constantly fight not to break. You are polar opposites of different worlds.
“If you help me with something.”
“With what exactly?” you ask almost instantly.
“It's just a favor,” he replies with a shrug.
“What kind of favor?” you insist.
“It's not that kind of favor,” he says with a gesture of annoyance.
“What's in it for you?”
“Can't I help a partner?”
You're tired of playing this game. It's clearly draining your time and energy. You appreciate that he brought you home and behaved with the slightest decency you would expect from an empathetic human being seeing someone cry, but you've had enough. You turn to leave, feeling it's not worth wasting any more time on this. You plan to sleep thinking about your decision and send a letter to the director tomorrow morning. With what little money you have left, you hope to travel back to your home country.
“I need help with my grandfather.” It's as if Sukuna drops a hook that your innocence fishes for. You're not sure what he's referring to, but your curiosity compels you to turn once more and face him. This time, you close the distance with each new unsure step.
Watching you walk towards him, Sukuna continues. “Monthly he sends fish to Yokohama. The guy who was helping me quit a few months ago, so I've had to do it alone, which is a pain in the ass,” he runs a hand through his tousled hair from the trip, seemingly remembering.
“Why me?”
“Don't think you're special,” he grumbles with a growl, reflecting on what he just said, he adds. “What I mean is, it's a favor for a favor. I'll tutor you on how to improve as a dancer, and you help me with the fish. It's a win-win.”
You hate the idea of training alone with him almost as much as working moving fish, or whatever it is you're going to do, but...that was the only choice you had. It was either this or actually quit and go home empty-handed, face your failure and your father, and break the promise you had made to your mother before she died. Besides, with Sukuna as a sort of watchdog working with you you think maybe Kugawara wouldn't bother you again, though the thought of it happening again makes your skin crawl.
You nod finally, averting your gaze to your feet for a moment. “Okay. When do we start?”
“Tomorrow I'll come by and pick you up around 3:30. We'll do the fish delivery and then we can practice.”
“Okay.”
“Be on time 'cause I hate waiting,” he snorts.
Maybe working with Sukuna wasn't such a bad idea after all. You spend all day cooped up in that old motel room, watching the cars go by and waiting for the time and days when you have to go train again. It's boring to be stuck in there doing nothing but waiting for the days to pass, so the idea of visiting another city, seeing new places and maybe discovering more about who Ryōmen Sukuna was seems appealing to you; you can't deny it.
There's so much mystery surrounding him that you can't help but be drawn in.
Fri. 4/14 • 5:50PM —
You mentally cross out what you thought the night before and wish yesterday's version of you had thought more or at least asked more questions before blindly agreeing. Working with Sukuna was terrible, much worse than you imagined before you fell asleep. You hated the fishy smell permeating your clothes, rather, clothes you borrowed from Sukuna belonging to the boy who quit earlier. The uniform was baggy and threadbare: the faded blue T-shirt had sweat stains and stale smell, while the pants are baggy, a bit long and a dull gray color, with a loose belt to adjust the size.
You wipe the sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand after putting the last box of fish in the restaurant's freezer and being thankful to be done with everything for the day. You restrain yourself from complaining to Sukuna for not making it clear to you exactly what work you would be doing because after all it had been your fault for not asking and trusting unquestioningly. As you bite the inside of your cheek to control your tongue, you realize that inside the colors and patterns are the same as the sushi restaurant across the street from the academy, which makes you think they are probably from the same brand.
Outside, the clear Yokohama sky shows a bright sun toasting your cheeks as Sukuna finishes signing papers behind you. The change of season has the weather undecided, on the verge of leaving winter behind; some spring mornings are warm and the nights, cold.
His shoes clack against the pavement as he approaches you. With a light tap on your forearm, you hear him chuckle, following it up with, “Who knew? I didn't know you could carry so much weight.”
He doesn't wait for your response and continues on his way to the white truck. With your eyes narrowed and your feet begging you for a break, you walk to the waiting, lit truck and slam the door shut. Being in the cold air, with your sore feet now stretched out should feel more comforting. You're protected from the sun's rays and its warmth, and the spicy apple air freshener is pleasant enough to make you forget that it's spring. However, the situation is not entirely delightful for you.
Sukuna next to you seems immune to the silence that you find so uncomfortable. You take a quick glance at him and find him staring down the road as he drives back to town. He has one hand curled around the steering wheel and the other resting on his leg. His uniform is different from yours; his consists of an impeccable white shirt and blue pants tailored to fit him navy blue, on the left side at chest height he has the restaurant's name written on it.
Now that his shirt sleeves are rolled up, you can make out the tattoos on his wrist: two thick black rings run along his skin. Being so close to him and noticing the black ink permeating the skin makes you wonder if they hurt him much. The thought that he probably has more tattoos on areas of his body that you can't see thanks to the clothing comes into your head, but you'd rather push that image away and look straight ahead.
Traffic is moving slowly, with seas of vehicles coming and going on a dual carriageway Sukuna has to slow down every so often because the cars stop which makes you understand that you will be stuck here for a while. Bored with the silence and not wanting to be the first to speak, you take the liberty of turning on the radio, jumping from station to station before finding one that plays old romantic music.
Sukuna makes a snorting sound, prompting you to look directly at him. When your gazes meet, you'd rather ignore the feeling in your stomach and the cocked grimace you manage to notice on his lips before he undoes it.
“What?” you ask him, surprised that your tone doesn't sound as dismissive as usual. “I can find another station if...”
“It's my grandfather's favorite,” he confesses to you quietly. “That one's fine.”
Your fingers slowly move away from the radio, processing what he's confessed to you and considering that this might be a window into getting to know him better.
“You said you were helping him — is this his business?”
Sukuna hums as if weighing the words, tapping the steering wheel a couple of times. “Yes.”
You blink slowly. “Do you guys have a lot of time in the market?”
“Yes,” he repeats again and you fill your lungs with the smell of spicy apple and his subtle cologne.
You resign yourself to having a monosyllabic conversation with him so you press your lips together and rest your chin on your hand looking out the window. From where you are, you can admire the horizon and the still blue water being illuminated by the intimate rays of afternoon sun. Seagulls circle the shore and you imagine their deep song filling the bay.
“I can't remember the last time I went to the beach.” You wanted to dip your feet in the water, let the waves massage them from side to side, feel the sand between your toes and the sun warming your skin—
“Honestly, me neither. Since I've been working with fish, the beach seems less exciting to me, I don't know if that makes sense.”
You look at him, did you just say that out loud? Sukuna watches you briefly before turning his eyes back to the road. You contemplate him longer than you need to before looking straight ahead again and watching the traffic move a little faster than before.
“Have you guys always worked with this?” you perk up to ask again, still keeping your gaze straight ahead.
“Seafood?” he seems to think, humming aloud. “The restaurant has been in the family for as long as I can remember. So...yeah.”
“That's strange. I never would have imagined you doing this kind of work.”
“Why?” he chuckles, as if sharing a secret with himself.
“You're so good at dancing,” you admit, giving him a fleeting glance. “I didn't think you do anything more than that.”
“The best,” he instantly corrects you and you physically force yourself not to roll your eyes.
“I thought you were a spoiled rich kid.”
You turn to catch him grimacing in annoyance. Clearly, he was conflicted about what you had just said.
“I like to dance, but I've always worked hard since I was little. Everything I know and everything I do I learned from my grandfather.”
“It's just the two of you?”
You notice him frowning and speed up quickly before the light turns red. His lips open, but before he can respond, he stops the truck abruptly causing the boxes in the back to rampage and crash into each other as Sukuna shouts insults at the bicyclist who sped in front of him.
You admire him for a while longer: pursed lips, furrowed brow and hands tense around the wheel. Then, you turn your gaze ahead to catch the cyclist fleeing in front of you at full speed, now barely a distinguishable silhouette. Wasting no time, Sukuna sets off down the road again as you wonder what it was he was going to answer. Now, curiosity towards him beckons you that much more.
As Sukuna turns at an intersection to return to Tokyo, you mentally review the information you have about him:
He really loves his grandfather, of that you are left in no doubt since he is the person he mentions the most, he is the only person he talks about in fact. Also, does he cook? You make a mental note of that with a question mark next to it because you're not sure if he just drives the truck or if he really knows how to cook. Third and probably most important, he's not as bad a person as you thought he was. Yes, you still feel like fighting with him and contradicting him at the slightest argument, but that's because of resentment built up over the months. If you were meeting him today for the first time or even if you actually worked for him, you would be encouraged to recognize him as introverted at best, which makes you wonder if the person you see in the academy is just part of the show. Could this be his true personality? And what else is hidden underneath the mask?
The rest of the trip passes in silence as you immerse yourself in your thoughts and theories. The radio station gradually changes from romantic music to more danceable current pop songs, causing you to hum all the way and move your body gently to the melody.
“Are you too tired?” asks Sukuna, once you are on the main road into town.
“Yeah. Why?” you grumble with a grunt, stretching your arms above your head and swinging your feet in circles.
He nods, pondering. “I'll take you to the motel then. We can train later.”
“Oh, no. I'm ready to start today.”
Suddenly, you don't feel so tired when it comes to dancing. You don't want to wait any longer to start practicing and improving, and the truth is, the longer you go without improving, the faster the day of the final presentation comes.
Sukuna pulls into the parking lot of a tall building, moving inside the place illuminated by white lights until he comes to a complete stop next to the bike that you instantly recognize as his.
You get off the truck first with your bag slung over your shoulder, shake your feet again and perform brief stretches as you wait for Sukuna who passes by you walking certainty towards the elevator; you follow him like his shadow.
“You live here?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I thought we were going to train,” you say, wondering if his apartment will have enough space.
“We will.”
“But...”
“Have you been told you ask too many questions?”
You fall silent as you stand inside the elevator and he presses a button that immediately turns gold, the elevator jolts smoothly and begins to slowly travel through each floor until it reaches number ten. The doors open along with a soft chime, and Sukuna is the first to step out guiding you to his floor.
The apartment complex is modern and elegant. The walls are adorned with dark wood paneling and a floor made of synthetic fur. Sukuna walks confidently down the hallway and you follow him noting the numbered doors with sleek steel plates. When you reach the door to his apartment, he takes his keys out of his pocket and inserts them into the lock opening the door with a quiet click.
He invites you in first with a nod and as you do so you find a well-decorated and tidy space, perhaps somewhat different from what you had imagined. The polished wood floor is covered by a neutral-toned carpet; the room has contemporary furniture and a wall adorned with framed photographs.
You discreetly observe your surroundings, longing to linger a little longer observing the photographs on the wall and get to know his family, however Sukuna keeps moving in front of you without giving you time to get a chance to do so.
“I knew you were a rich kid...”
He chuckles softly. “Come.” Sukuna guides you into a hallway and stops in front of a wooden door. “Shower,” he instructs you as he sees your confusion, struggling not to flash another one of those smiles you'd grown accustomed to. “You stink of fish. Get changed, I'll be waiting for you on the terrace.”
A bitter resistance dies on your tongue. The lingering smell of raw fish clings to your clothes like an unwanted shadow. You decide not to protest that just this once he is right and instead turn your back on him, clinging to your bag as you walk into the bathroom.
You decide to take a quick shower using the first liquid soap you find on top of the sink, scrubbing your body with your hands and quickly wetting your hair to freshen it up a bit, making a note to wash it properly when you get to the motel.
When you're done, you emerge from the bathroom in one of your practice outfits that fits snugly to your body for flexibility. You tie your hair up in a high bun so it won't bother you and head with determination towards the terrace where Sukuna was waiting for you.
The sunset tints the sky with reddish hues, creating a celestial spectacle among the clouds. The terrace is decorated with potted green plants and comfortable armchairs with cushions piled at the back, leaving enough space to move around without bumping into furniture.
Dim lights hang from the ceiling, subtly illuminating the space. And in the background, soft instrumental music plays, similar to what the academy plays. Sukuna is sitting stretching his legs out on the floor in a V-shape, and with a barely perceptible gesture of his lips, he invites you to join him and imitate his movements. He bends his body gracefully and at will, and you do your best to keep up as good as you can.
Then, he stands gracefully and offers you his hand, drawing you to his chest.
“Your problem is that you don't trust me. You don't trust that I'm going to hold you when you jump...” You're ready to respond, but your lips seal when he continues. “So we need to fix that.”
The way he says it makes you shudder; you don't want to give in, but you know you have no choice now.
To the beat of the music, Sukuna wraps his hand around your waist and you mimic his steps— circles, one... two... until he stops and asks you to jump, but you hesitate, visibly trembling in his arms.
“Trust me,” he asks you with a serene exhale.
“I can't,” you reply, wetting your dry lips. Sukuna follows each stroke of your tongue before returning to your eyes, where the lashes fuss uneasily.
“You have to trust me as much as I trust you.”
Yet inside you, feelings of doubt and fear linger, like foolish specters whispering in your ear. You feel overwhelmed, not only by the pressure and responsibility on your back but by the closeness of your bodies, there is no space between your chests and if he leans in a little closer you could taste his breath.
“I can't,” you stammer, pulling away from him. “I think it was a bad idea to come,” you admit truthfully, letting your worries slip out loud.
Without you moving further away, his hands hold your wrist firmly making you spin around, and your tiptoed feet respond at once. He holds you still close to him, your back pressed against his chest rocking to the rhythm of the instruments.
“Jump.” Your heart races and you decide to close your eyes to concentrate on the drums pounding against your ribs, on the breath tangling in your lungs. His hands move up and down your waist, go to your ribs where he feels your heaving breath expand his palms. “Take a deep breath,” he speaks sweetly, his breath brushing the shell of your ear. “I'm not going to let you fall this time. I swear.”
You take a deep breath processing the words. could you really trust his promise? You feel his hands come back down to your waist and with the help of his hands exerting pressure, you jump up and he gracefully lifts you above his head. For an instant, you contemplate the city stretching out beneath your feet, like a blanket of light and shadow. Your arms spread like wings, and a spontaneous laugh escapes your lips as the wind caresses your skin. Gently, Sukuna lowers you to the ground once again and you watch a proud smile form on his face.
Together, the two of you capture the sunset from the terrace, sharing that ephemeral moment in silent complicity.
When you finish practicing about three more times, you find yourself lying on the ground, breathing shakily as you watch the sky dotted with bright spots. Sukuna has disappeared inside his apartment, turning on the lights and returning with a bottle of water that he kindly offers you.
“Thank you,” you say, immediately popping the bottle into your mouth.
“You're not too bad,” Sukuna comments with his usual calmness, though beads of sweat on his forehead betray his exertion. It's obvious why he's Kurogawa's top student.
“I really mean it. Thank you.”
Sukuna averts his gaze for a moment before turning back to you. “Are you going to stay for dinner?” he asks instead.
“I'm fine...,” you reply, finally getting up from the floor and dusting off your clothes with your hands.
“I hope you're eating something better than soda and canned food at that stinky motel.”
You both share a knowing chuckle, your gazes intertwined for a moment.
“No promises,” you say, raising your hands to chest level. “But I have to go now. Thanks for everything, again,” you add, taking another long drink of water.
“Do you need a ride?” offers Sukuna.
“I'll get an uber.”
Sukuna nods, walking you to the door where he waves you off with a friendly smile.
What the hell was that all about? And why are you about to throw up your heart?
Sat. 4/14 • 6:32 pm —
The second week training with Sukuna has been a revelation. You've gotten used to the smell of fish that you now find less unbearable, to getting up early before the alarm goes off, and you've even gotten used to the horrible oversized uniform you have to wear, but above all, you've gotten used to Sukuna's presence and his training sessions that bring you closer and closer together. Of course, you have improved remarkably. Sukuna is a born teacher and could surpass Kurogawa when he decides to retire. He knows just what to say to make you feel comfortable in your own skin and relax in his arms, which he has succeeded in doing.
As you get to know him better, you realize that he is not the image you had created in your head. He is considerate and has managed to get you to open up to him a little more, tearing down the shell of animosity you had raised. Before, you were fighting a non-existent battle against him, a fight to be the best that now you only keep against yourself.
With the descent of disdain for him came something more.... Appreciation? Admiration, perhaps? You don't want to acknowledge what that emotion is. For now, you cling to the idea that you can be friends, that you could become good friends in time.
With the practices and the unofficial ones you do with your dance partner, your steps become more natural, loose and fluid. Soon, your movements will resemble those of the fantastic swan you are meant to emulate.
Sukuna spins you around with the climax of the violins resounding above you. Thanks to constant practice on his terrace he manages to lift you into the air with ease, getting you for the first time to not hesitate and leap gracefully into his arms which gets you a round of applause from your colleagues, drawing a proud smile on your face. Your chest is pounding, you feel the excitement in the darkness of the theater and, in a far corner, you can glimpse the ghost of your mother clapping proudly. You were really going to make it.
Sukuna helps you touch the floor once more, and because of the intimacy required for the final scene, your faces are inches apart. The sound of muffled applause, the circular spotlight that focuses on you exclusively, and the scent of his cologne (a subtle blend of woody and citrus notes that awakens your senses), make the moment far more intimate than the scene requires.
Unsure if this is still part of the performance, Sukuna brushes the tip of his nose against yours before finally pulling away, leaving you drifting beside him and depriving you of his body heat. Slow clapping comes from the background in the gloom, and you walk away from Sukuna taking long strides as if you've been caught committing a crime, your hands sweaty and your stomach clenched.
“That was much better,” Kurogawa says, praising you both, though he looks directly at you. “A wonderful presentation.”
“Thank you,” Sukuna replies, and you feel him tense beside you as he holds the director's gaze that's still resting on you like a predator.
“Though you still have a lot of room for improvement,” Kurogawa says, looking straight at you. Your lips tighten into a straight line, feeling some disappointment in your chest.
“I think she's doing very well,” Sukuna interjects, looking Kurogawa up and down before exhaling like a raging bull.
Kurogawa watches Sukuna and then clicks his tongue.
“Ryōmen, can you remind me who the director of the ballet is and who is recognized as the best male category ballet dancer in the entire country?” Sukuna falls silent, and you are unable to ignore his clenched jaw. “Sorry, I didn't hear you.”
Sukuna exhales and replies sarcastically. “You are, sir.”
“That's what I thought,” he replies, savoring the victory, still keeping his eyes on you. “So when I say something needs to get better, it's because it's going to get better. You can all go..., my little swan, you stay a few minutes with me, we need to talk.”
Sukuna's eyes are pulled from the director to fall on you. Under the spotlight you notice his red eyes become darker, dark ink spills into them and at the same time his half closed eyelids give him the aura of a feline. You nod, assuring him wordlessly that you will be fine.
The room gradually becomes empty, you are the only ones present. Kurogawa tucks himself back into the darkness while you stand under the burning light of the spotlight that seems to glow now brighter than ever. Suddenly, the sound of the piano climbs the walls again and makes your skin tingle.
“Again,” he orders you.
Immediately you put your back straight facing the theater seats. Your feet automatically tiptoe, your arms move in the air, move up your body and stop above your head. Your movements are much more fluid and you can feel it; you are more flexible than before or maybe you always have been and all you needed was a little push. A vote of confidence.
The thought that you will have your little ritual with Sukuna tomorrow (he cooks for you after you help him deliver the fish and after your practice), puts a smile on your face and helps you relax, ignoring the presence of Kurogawa who follows you with his sharp eyes every time you move.
The clacking of his shoe heels tells you he's getting closer, and a subtle sense of dread comes over you as you wonder what Kurogawa might be thinking or planning.
“Are you two dating?” He asks suddenly, wrapping his hands around you behind your back in imitation of the role Sukuna plays.
"I don't have to justify my personal life, sir." Your reply is quick and sharp, cutting through the awkward tension.
He laughs dryly. “Because that would be a problem. I wouldn't allow my lead dancers to have an affair, that would be problematic.” He steps closer to you undoing the space between you and grabs your waist from behind, you instantly pull away looking at him with your eyebrows together. “Hold still.” He steps closer again, you take another step back, about to be engulfed by the darkness.
“Sir...”
He pauses under the spotlight, his few gray hairs and greasy locks gleaming in the direct brightness. The light highlights the deep lines of his face, accentuating his intense, commanding expression. His piercing gaze seems to cut through you as he calls out your name.
“Come here. Let me show you what you're doing wrong,” Kurogawa says in a tone that combines authority and criticism.
“I think I'm doing a good job,” you insist, trying to maintain your composure.
“Oh, you think Ryōmen is a better teacher than I am? He's been putting ideas into your head?” he asks wryly.
“I mean no disrespect, but...” you start to say, but you're interrupted.
“Girl,” he says with disdain, “Come here.”
“No,” you reply firmly, burying your feet on the stage.
The director smiles mischievously. “The cat is showing her claws, I see,” he mutters. “You know he's no good for you?” he continues. “So if you're sentimentally involved...I'm afraid I'll have to degrade you both from being the lead dancers.”
You sense that his threats make you feel lightheaded. “You wouldn't do that,” you say with a hint of desperation.
“Be a good girl then.”
“We'll present in exactly two weeks, no one can take my place,” you defend yourself, looking for an excuse that will convince you more than him that he can't do this.
“Mei-Ling is ready. We've been... practicing,” he says with a lopsided grin that makes you cringe.
“You're disgusting,” you reproach him, unable to keep pretending that standing here in front of him listening to his innuendos doesn't have your body chilling.
“You have no idea,” Kurogawa replies, widening a mischievous smile. “Now...”
He approaches you with clear intentions of touching you, you look around for something you can defend yourself with or someone who can come to your aid but the room was empty, there was only you there. You keep shuffling your feet until you run into the wall, until the darkness has covered you both and all you can see is his macabre smile.
Kurogawa reaches out to grab you when Sukuna's voice startles you. He says your name for the first time and you look over the director's shoulder to see him on the other end in casual gray joggers and a white t-shirt. “Is everything okay?” he asks looking directly into your eyes and for a moment it's just the two of you.
Your voice breaks and you can't answer him, but your desperate look tells him everything he needs to know.
“This is private training, Ryōmen. You may leave now.”
Still he pays no heed. He advances towards you with the bag where he kept his clothes hanging from his left shoulder, sukuna stops and plants himself next to you; his arms embrace your shoulders and he sticks you to his body. “Do you wanna leave?” He asks, looking up at you directly.
“Yes.” You reply without hesitation or pausing to look at the director.
“Ow look at that? Isn't that romantic?” he laughs dryly, clapping his hands together sarcastically. “Long live lovers, right? From hate to love is only one step, I guess.”
Sukuna ignores Kurogawa's words, removing his hand from your shoulders to take yours and lead you away. Surprise flashes across your face, but his warm grip turns the initial coldness into a comforting sensation, making your heart race in your chest. You don't resist and squeeze his fingers tightly as you pull away.
The man laughs louder again, turning to look at you just as you reach the small stairs that would lead you off the stage. “Don't even bother coming back, you're fired,” he shouts arrogantly.
You search Sukuna's eyes to make sure he's feeling the same fear you are. For a moment, doubt crosses your eyes and you consider turning around and apologizing as the only option in this situation. But Sukuna avoids your gaze, releasing your hand to address the director.
“If you have something to say, say it now,” Kurogawa spits with a triumphant smile on his face.
Sukuna climbs the stairs again, leaving you paralyzed in the middle of the steps. His movements seem more imposing under the contrasting lights, and as he approaches the principal, you can see Kurogawa's smile widen in pleasure.
Sukuna takes a deep breath, running a hand through his pink hair to pull it back before turning and connecting a closed fist against the director's jaw. Kurogawa falls to the ground, coughing and wiping blood from a split lip. There is hatred and resentment in his eyes as the two men stare at each other for a moment, right before Kurogawa spits out blood mixed with saliva that was pooled in his mouth.
In that moment of tense silence, you stand watching in horror, both hands covering your mouth. Sukuna spits towards the ground and then turns away, wiping his hand and knuckles. He walks past you and with a hand on your lower back, guides you out of there.
“Let's get the hell out of here,” Sukuna mutters.
“Are we just...?” you try to say, but Sukuna interrupts you.
“Are you okay?” he asks with concern. You nod, unable to say much more. “That's all I care about,” Sukuna concludes as you walk away from the place.
You didn't want to go back to the motel. With your dreams crushed so easily in front of you, the last thing you want is to be alone with your self-destructive thoughts and a judgmental memory. The director always seemed a little strange to you and now you tag the way he approaches you as unprofessional but you never thought he could go to the extreme of cornering you like that; however, seeing him lying on the floor, bleeding, brings accusatory thoughts into your head that you want to erase. Your memories betray you showing you more blood than there really was. In his eyes was written pure revenge, you knew that with his influence only one mail was enough to destroy both your career and your life. You don't want to think about the consequences of your actions; at least not tonight, not now. So when Sukuna asks where you want to go and you reply that you don't know, he decides to take matters into his own hands and take you on a bike ride around the city. Neither says anything else and you ask no questions, letting the vibrations of the engine and his body under your fingers make you feel safe.
Your cheek is crushed against his broad back, clinging to his waist as much as you can as you watch the lights of the city and its tall buildings go by like flashes. People come and go and your heart sinks a little in your chest each time Sukuna's fingers roll easily across the throttle. Water pools in your heavy eyelashes and you can't decide if it's from the wind or if it's just sadness and the pile of bitter disappointment you force yourself to swallow.
Sukuna stops at a gas station, you wait leaning against the bike while he pays and buys some sweets that he silently passes to you as an offering. You open the colorful wrapper and pop the chocolate into your mouth, chewing silently as you are distracted by the dust clinging to his boots.
“Do you wanna go to my place?” The question surprises you and his voice invites you to look at him, back to the present. You notice his face and are distracted by the soft pout that forms his lips unconsciously. In the short time you've known each other, you've noticed it's something he does often. A habit.
You assume that you are friends now. You find the situation and the question ironic. If an oracle had told you about eight months ago that you'd be taking bike rides with Sukuna, clinging to his back like a baby koala bear, driving with him every day out of town while jamming karaoke in his fish-smelling truck and hanging out at his apartment, you'd never have believed it.
Finally, you shake your head in affirmation, taking another bite of the bar.
“I hate that motel,” you confess, covering your mouth.
“I know. It smells like a shoe, I don't know how you can live there.”
You regret letting him into your humble room. Everything was tidy and perfectly sprayed with that green apple spray you depend on so much now, but you still saw him pinching his nose with two fingers and commenting on the stench. You'd complained before, of course, and the owner told you he'd move you to another room as soon as it became available, but now that was the only one you could be in; the room is at the back, next to the laundry room and the damp lurks through the walls, ending up sitting in the middle of your floor.
“Hey!” It really did smell awful, but it wasn't funny when others made fun of it. “It's all I can afford for now. Sorry I'm not rich like you.”
“I thought you were rich,” he says, playing with his bruised knuckles as the numbers on the screen behind him keep going up.
“Not anymore,” you confess, distant memories of your life coming back to you in a flash. “My father refuses to help me with academy expenses, he sees it as a waste of money and time, and I guess he's right. I only have enough to live for two more months there, I was looking forward to the ballet performance but now…” Your voice trails off, unable to finish the sentence.
You notice how he leans over to gently tap you on the shoulder with the same hand that punched Kurogawa earlier.
“We're going to fix it, brat. No long faces while I'm around.”
You contemplate him a while longer in silence as you finish eating the chocolate bar and clench the wrapper in your fist to throw it in the trash when you're at his apartment. Once the tank is full, you roll back down the road and seven minutes later you are in the warmth of his apartment.
You take off your shoes as you enter and head straight to the living room after Sukuna asks you to sit down and he goes straight to the kitchen. You take the opportunity to look at the various photographs on the bluish wall that you have always wanted to see up close but he has never let you: a small Sukuna clutching a baseball bat smiles at the camera, his hair tousled as if it's been a windy day, and his hands tightly wrapped around the bat. There's another where he's with who you assume is his grandfather in front of the restaurant near the academy, clutching a fish that's bigger than both of them which makes you chuckle under your breath. In the last one, there's him and another boy who looks very like him, both wearing thick coats with faux fur edges and looking at the camera with surprised expressions.
“Your brother?” you ask as you hear his bare feet moving across the floor and, turning to face him, you find him with two plates full of sushi rolls in his hands. “Thank you,” you smile at him, sliding onto the couch.
“Be careful not to drip the sauce on my couch, brat,” he jokes. You want to complain about the not-so-pleasant name he calls you by, but you keep silent, hiding the sense of longing that overwhelms you as you want to hear him say your name again. “And my nephew,” he quickly points to the picture before disappearing back into the kitchen. “It was the first time we went to New York.”
You take another quick glance at the picture and grab the wooden chopsticks next to your plate.
“Nephew... So you have siblings?” You ponder, pinching a sushi roll between your chopsticks and bringing it to your mouth, careful at all times not to drop anything on the couch. For how neat the place looks, you know he's not kidding when he warns you that he doesn't want any stains on his couch.
Sukuna returns with a bottle of wine and two glasses in his hands, as he carefully sets them on the coffee table.
“I'm not going to drink,” you quickly excuse yourself.
“Come on, let's celebrate that we don't have practice tomorrow.”
His humor helps you cope a little. You press your lips together in a straight line that gradually turns into a sad smile and finally nod, giving your permission for him to pour the white wine for both of you. You grab the glass without further thought and take a long drink, closing your eyes for a moment.
“And... um,” he clears his throat, taking a seat next to you to get ready to eat as well. “I had a brother. I lost him and my parents in an accident when they were on their way from Kyoto to see me dance last year.”
The news makes you frown and you set the cup aside immediately, showing your concern. Sukuna seems immune; anyone who didn't know him would say he's over it, that he doesn't care, but you've learned to see past the mask he usually shows himself to others with. Hesitantly, you put your hand on his leg in comfort and something inside you waits for him to push it away, only it never happens. He looks down at your touch for a moment before returning to your eyes.
“I'm so sorry.”
His shoulders shrug and he finally relaxes. “At least I have my grandfather for now.”
You nod, understanding how bitter the situation is as it's easy to put yourself in his shoes.
“I'm really sorry. I lost my mother too; she had a medical condition that had no cure. Her dream was always to see me dance at a professional academy.”
“Is that why you traveled to Japan?” asks Sukuna before popping a sushi roll into his mouth.
“Yeah. But I guess it doesn't matter now.”
“I told you we're going to fix it,” Sukuna says and now it is him placing his hand on your thigh intimately. You watch as his fingers spread over your skin, noticing the veins running down the back of his hand and the thick tattoos surrounding his skin.
“You punched him in the face,” you look away from his fingers to force yourself to look him in the eyes, both of you sharing a brief chuckle. “How can we fix this?”
Sukuna is no longer touching you and his absence is immediately felt.
“We can report him,” he suggests.
“They won't listen to us,” you reply.
“Not with that attitude.”
You look away from him for a moment, toward your plate and the half-empty cup. You grab it and raise it to your mouth to wet your throat.
“Thank you... for everything,” you say sincerely, swirling the glass so that the liquid spirals against the glass.
“I should never have left you alone,” Sukuna admits.
“But you came back for me. That's the important thing,” you reply, restraining yourself from touching him again. Instead, you take a last sip of wine that serves to drown out thoughts of what would have happened if no one had arrived in time.
With banal conversations filling the space from time to time and laughter over jokes that aren't even that funny; you both finish eating.
With two glasses of wine drunk and now Sukuna pouring a third everything seems funnier than usual. The sting of the pain of having lost everything you've built is buried there waiting to make you ache and although you know Sukuna feels it too, he manages to disguise it very well, spending all his energies on making your night.
“Stop it,” you tell him with a laugh, squinting to fix your eyes closely on his face. “You've got something there.” You point to a part of your own cheek with a finger, smoothing the skin and wiggling your fingers for him to do the same.
“Where?” he asks, pulling his eyebrows together, touching the wrong part of his face.
“Look, here!” you point to your cheek again with more emphasis, but he still misses.
“Wipe it off for me. What is it?”
“It's just soy sauce, you messed it up more.”
You lean a little closer to wipe the sauce stain next to his nose, carefully rubbing the skin by moving your thumb over it until it's clean. You smile at him, you just need to wash your face now, as you turn your attention back to him you realize he is blatantly looking at your lips.
“Later,” he says softly, licking his lips slowly and alarms go off in your brain.
“It'll get sticky if you don't go,” you reply mimicking his tone, struggling not to notice his mouth and how close you are.
Sukuna slowly makes himself move his gaze from your mouth to your eyes. Still close, you can notice the alcohol on his breath, his scent of cologne tickling your stomach.
“I never understood why you disliked me so much,” he blurts out suddenly, almost in a whisper.
“Are you serious?” you pull away before you do something you shouldn't, the tingling sensation of alcohol probably making you see things that aren't there. “Everything you talked about me?” He arches an eyebrow, showing confusion. “You were saying I should go back to my country...”
“Yeah, because you were saying I had no talent. And who did you think you were?” he defends himself, getting defensive. With that expression that he instantly erases almost makes you remember the Sukuna from the past.
“I never said that.” You defend yourself.
Silently, you both let the weight of realization sink in, sharing a silent stare.
“Kurogawa.” You respond in unison.
“Fuck him,” Sukuna says through gritted teeth. You want to reproach him, but honestly?
“Yeah, fuck him.” Then you both laugh.
Silence reigns between you again, squeezing like an intruder between the little space that separates your bodies on the couch.
“Are you staying the night?” Sukuna suddenly blurts out, giving you a sideways glance.
“Um, no?” That makes him look at you completely, analyzing you as if you've just said something barbaric.
“I can't ride like this,” he comments with obviousness.
“That's fine, I'll get an uber.”
“I don't trust an uber to send you like that.”
You don't trust yourself around him, you don't trust what your numb senses can do or say, so the farther away you are from him, the better it is for both of you.
“Like what? I'm almost sober,” you say, squeezing a space with your index finger and thumb leaving a small gap in between. “Besides... I know how to defend myself.” To reaffirm your sentence and validate your sobriety, you stand up to take a brief turn but fate is ironic and trips you over your own feet; in an instant your mouth is about to kiss the ground. You squeeze your eyes tightly shut, preparing to receive a stinging pain that never comes, instead, you are welcomed into an embrace that fills you with security.
“Fuck. You're so drunk,” Sukuna says with a laugh, helping you to your feet.
You open one eye. “Sorry, I don't usually drink.” You close it again, massaging with your fingers the sudden dizziness that squeezes your temples. “Maybe I am a little dizzy.”
“I can tell that,” he says. “You should have told me.”
“Um, I did.” You open your eyes now realizing how intimate you are. Your open palms on his chest rise and fall with his agitated exhale and the tension weighs heavy. His hands are on your lower back in a sort of embrace that holds you close to him and keeps you from running away, and you wouldn't even if you could. You hear your own breathing quicken in your ears, and without thinking, you lean in to kiss him but Sukuna lifts his chin avoiding you and kissing your forehead instead.
“Come on, I'll take you to bed.”
Sat. 4/15 • -:- am—
You wake up with a slight headache pulsing in your temples and the sharp spicy smell of a perfume you don't recognize as your own. Still with your eyes closed, you turn your body to reach for the phone on the bedside table, you stretch your fingers in search of it, but your hands can't seem to find the nightstand, so you struggle to blink slowly and finally open your eyes completely. The unusual darkness confuses you a bit and makes you wonder what time it is; the sun should be penetrating the motel windows intensely at this hour, so you curiously sit up in bed. You look for your phone under the pillow, between the sheets and in every nook and cranny your hands can reach on the mattress.
It is at that moment when you notice the different color of the sheets and the four pillows around you, making you realize that this is not your bed, nor is this your room. Looking at your legs you realize that you are still dressed in last night's clothes, then you remember Sukuna. Your eyes scan the room in the absence of light — were you in his room or maybe he had another guest room? You pull the sheet off your legs and head to the window to open the black curtains and let the sun finish waking you up.
The lively view of the city greets you from below, cars come and go on the fast moving highway. With the help of the light now illuminating every corner, you take another look at the room and find out that this was probably his: the space is spacious and modern, following the same style as the living room with a minimalist decoration. The walls are a light gray and in front of the bed there is an elegant glass desk with an office chair. On top of the desk, there is a closed laptop and some tidy papers.
The bed is bigger than the one in the motel and is covered with black sheets, next to it a closet with the doors made of a mirror in which you see yourself perfectly reflected, you try to fix your hair as much as you can in case you find him when you go out looking for your phone, but by the prevailing silence makes you aware that Sukuna was probably not at home.
You find your phone on the floor near the couch. At the memory that it must have slipped out of your pocket when you almost fell last night just to then try to kiss Sukuna, your body burns with embarrassment. Unlocking the screen and looking at the time you find a message from Sukuna and missed calls from your father and group of friends. Shit, you totally forgot them.
R. SUKUNA: If you wake up and I'm not here, take a shower, there are headache pills in the desk drawer and eat something. If you decide to take a bath, use something from my closet. I'm visiting my grandpa, I'll be back in about an hour. :)
Checking the time, you realize that the message was sent half an hour ago so you still had time to be alone and clear your thoughts before he returned. After how absurd you acted last night, you don't want to see him today, not in a few weeks maybe. You don't have the courage to look him in the face, especially after he walked away, making it clear to you where he stood with you.
You return to the room with the phone in your hand and a glass of water you quickly grabbed from the kitchen. You open the first drawer and search for the pills you need stumbling upon some personal items, including two small square wrappers of different texture and metallic blue color. Before an unwanted idea can germinate in your mind, you push the condoms aside and take the pill, drinking every last drop from the glass.
You are determined to leave and escape from him, but the sweat from the previous day clings to your body and you refuse to go out like this. You quickly duck into the familiar bathroom and take a quick shower without getting your hair wet this time, opting only to pull it up in a simple bun and wear the same clothes from the day before. You exit the bathroom determined to take refuge in the motel, walking straight to the front door.
“Good morning.” His voice makes you yelp. You put one hand on your chest and one on your mouth, looking him up and down as if you've seen a ghost, and he has the audacity to laugh.
Sukuna looks fresh, as if he's had a good night's sleep and just got out of the shower. He's wearing a light blue short-sleeved sweater and black sweatpants; the baseball cap covering part of his face makes him look much younger.
“Did you sleep well?” Sukuna speaks again and you hope he didn't notice you looking him up and down.
“Yes, thank you. I had a bit of a headache, but I'm better now. we...?” We sleep together. It's the sentence you don't get to finish.
“The couch is more comfortable than it looks.” He gives you another brief grin and your heart flips.
“I'm so sorry about yesterday.”
You both know what you mean, so neither of you decides to delve into it. He downplays it with a wave of his hand, and you appreciate his friendship now more than ever, so you let that memory die.
“You were drunk...” he excuses you before you have a chance to.
“Of course, I never...” you stop, unable to finish the sentence.
“I know.”
“How's your grandfather?” you ask him, quickly changing the subject, struggling not to notice the tattoo peeking through the opening near his neck.
“He's much better, actually.”
“I'm glad to hear it,” you say sincerely, forcing yourself to swallow the guilt that's weighing you down inside. He's showing his most vulnerable side with you, and all you can think about is how much you want to kiss his neck.
“There's just one little problem.”
Your eyes narrow and you take a step forward, paying more attention this time. “What's wrong?” you inquire with genuine concern.
“He wants to meet my girlfriend.”
"Oh." You blink slowly, your lips opening and closing as you choose your next words carefully. “You have a girlfriend.” It's a statement. Of course he has a girlfriend.
“That's where you come in.”
“Excuse me?”
“He always insists that he doesn't like me being alone, that I should focus on other things than taking care of him and the restaurant. To put his mind at ease, I told him I have a girlfriend, I just didn't count on him asking me to meet her. I can only rely on you for that.”
You're flattered, but it's still not enough to hide the fact: “So you lied to him.” You ponder, processing all the information he's blurted out to you.
“Um, no. I'm going to get one, just not now. I'm not sure how long I'll be able to keep him with me and I didn't want to disappoint him.”
You nod slowly. “So, you want us to go visit him?”
“Yes, just once or twice.”
“And for me to act like I'm your girlfriend?”
“Yup.”
You sigh deeply, you massage your eyes with the palm of your hand trying to run away at least for a second from his presence and the effect he has on you; you don't want to keep looking at him and keep thinking about what he is making you feel inside because, what was all that? Sukuna was. your. friend. Why couldn't your hormones understand that and why did you suddenly feel like you would burst if he ever touched you? You finally open your eyes, nod.
“Yeah, okay. I'll help you.”
You don't think about the implications of this, you don't think about the fact that pretending to be his girlfriend makes your heart gallop fast against your ribs when it shouldn't. This is nothing more than an act of good faith, you're just helping a friend. You refuse to consider that you might have to hold his hand, and even the idea of having to kiss him is possible in some scenario.
It's the first time in years that you realize you don't remember the last time you kissed someone. You've been so focused on working, improving and becoming a better dancer every day that you don't remember the last time you had romantic or sexual contact with someone, and you're definitely not ready for Sukuna to be your first.
“I have to go now.”
You have a lot to process.
“Stay for breakfast,” he suggests with that lopsided grimace of his, the one where he doesn't show his teeth but could make you sign a deal with the devil if he wanted to. You have to grip your bag tighter so you don't reach out and touch the inky flash that winks at you again.
“See you later!” you say instead, running for the door.
You don't stop to wait for an answer because you know he would change your mind because that's what he always does (get his way), make you stay and confuse you even more. You pull out your phone and call for an Uber back to the discomfort of your bed, where you can be away from the effect he has on you.
Thurs. 5/10 •
Meeting Hiroshi in person after hearing so much about him makes you feel like you've already known him for a long time. The smile spreads on his face like ink on water when he sees you, and it's already second nature for him to call you “daughter” as he grabs your hand and cheeks affectionately; he really likes you and you like him back.
Accompanied by Sukuna holding your hand, you always bring him flowers or fruits and listen attentively as Sukuna reads to him and tells him how business is going at the restaurant, while he nods. In a way, he reminds you of your own grandfather; a man just as sweet and hardworking. Seeing this new side of Sukuna is certainly different and addictive. The patient way he talks to his grandfather makes you look at him with admiring eyes; he seems like a totally different man. You have been accompanying him for the last three visits and seeing him spending so much time with his grandfather is becoming a regular habit.
On one of these visits you bump into someone you had seen before in one of the photographs he has hanging in his apartment. Yuuji, much older, much more adult, smiles at you and has the same cheerful expression as his grandfather; he is a boy full of energy who squeezes your hand and shakes it energetically the first time you meet him. He looks a lot like Sukuna and it is impossible for you not to make the internal comparison of how different they are despite being so physically similar.
On Monday after visiting Hiroshi, exchanging the flowers for new ones and making sure he was enjoying his favorite meal, Yuuji, who was already at the hospital when you got there, invites you over for dinner as a sweet gesture to get to know you better.
The restaurant a few blocks away from the hospital is crowded with people, brimming with a cozy, family atmosphere with polished wooden tables and delicate white tablecloths. The soft murmur of family conversations intermingles with the tantalizing aroma of dishes wafting from the kitchen and traditional music in the background.
“I never thought I'd see Uncle Sukuna with a girlfriend,” Yuuji confesses as he rolls noodles on his chopsticks and brings them to his mouth.
“Hey,” Sukuna growls, finishing the sake in one gulp. “Don't disrespect your uncle.”
“It's not that,” Yuuji laughs.“It's just that you're always so secretive, and after what happened with Dad... but I'm happy for both of you.”He looks at you briefly now as he shakes his head slowly.
Your body twitches softly at the surprise of feeling Sukuna curling his fingers with yours on top of the table. His thumb caresses the back of your hand, and butterflies flutter inside you at the sight of this affectionate gesture, though you quickly remember that it's all part of the act. Getting caught up in the moment and excusing yourself to your inner judge, you gently squeeze his hand, reminding yourself to maintain the role of girlfriend.
As you enjoy dinner, you and Sukuna chat animatedly, sharing anecdotes about Hiroshi, the origin of the restaurant's peculiar name, and Yuuji's antics as a child. The vibe in the restaurant is permeated with warmth and energy, with the bustle of the other tables and the comforting aroma of ramen wafting through the air.
At the end of the meal, Yuuji bids the two of you goodbye with a hug, explaining that he must go elsewhere but that he hopes you will have a second date together.
As soon as he makes sure Yuuji has left the restaurant, Sukuna looks at you with a soft smile. “Thank you for joining me tonight. I know this isn't part of your commitment as a 'fake girlfriend'.”
You smile back, still feeling the warmth of his finger on your skin. “Thank you for letting me meet your grandpa, he's an amazing person, and your nephew is really adorable.”
Sukuna nods, his eyes shining with something you can't decipher. “I know Yuuji really likes you too. I think he likes you more than me.”
You giggle softly, recognizing that this encounter has brought you closer to Sukuna. Meeting one of the most important pillars of his life, along with his nephew, who is practically the only close family he has left, makes you feel lucky to be able to witness this more intimate side of him. You just hope that, when all is said and done and they both realize that you're just his friend they'll still continue to accept you and treat you with the affection that has characterized them so far.
“Maybe I should go back to the motel. It's getting late,” you say, bursting the bubble that had enveloped you out of reality. Being away from him was the last thing you wanted right now, but you needed to remind yourself from time to time that this was not part of your current life.
At that moment, he gently withdraws his fingers from yours and nods with a tense line on his lips.
“Sure. Join me for a smoke first.”
After paying the bill and leaving the restaurant, you both walk to the back with Sukuna gently tugging on your hand, still engaged in an act that should only happen when Yuuji or his grandfather are around. Surrounding you, a few people congregate to talk and share a cigarette.
Sukuna brings the cigarette to his mouth and you help him shield it with your hands as he tilts his head slightly to avoid the wind. The cigarette lights up as he inhales and exhales slowly through his nose, keeping his gaze fixed on you the whole time. He is leaning against the wall and you are close by, standing between his spread legs.
“I'll probably have to go home soon..., my real home, I mean,” you tell him suddenly, preferring to watch the people walking in and out of the parking lot instead of paying attention to him.
“Is it the money?”
You nod still without glancing at him. “I can't wait for it to be over, I already talked to my dad and he also thinks it's for the best.”
Sukuna is silent as he takes another puff and exhales just in time for when you turn back to look at him.
“I've been requesting a recommendation letter for you for another academy. I filed an official report against Kurogawa and we have witnesses, people who had made accusations before but had never filed an official report.”
His name brings back bitter memories that dissolve in the smoke and stale smell of the cigarette.
“I'm going to testify too.” Your voice surprises you as much as it seems to surprise Sukuna, who looks you up and down with curious eyes.
“Fine. I'll be with you.”
“Why didn't you tell me before?”
“I wanted to be sure, I didn't want to get your hopes up.” His eyes turn soft and you can see in them the same shadow that was in them that time in his apartment. He was looking at your lips just like now and he didn't seem to mind hiding it. “You look beautiful, by the way. Yuuji kept looking at you.”
You smile, glancing down at the teal dress you decided to wear that night.
“You don't look bad yourself,” you tell him, touching your fingertips to the oversized wool coat he was wearing. Sukuna follows your fingers as they stumble over the black buttons and away from his body. His eyes follow your hands that stay still on either side of your body and then they return to your face, momentarily checking your mouth.
“Wanna try?” he asks, raising the cigarette to your eye level.
“I've never smoked,” you confess.
“That wasn't my question.” He bites his lip, followed by the tip of his pink tongue moistening his lower lip gently. “You want me to guide you?”
“...Yes.”
“Open your mouth,” his voice comes out quick, eager and sharp almost like yours. His words guide you as you part your lips just enough for him to place the cigarette between them. But instead, Sukuna pulls you closer into him gently squeezing your waist as he exhales smoke into your half-open lips. “Swallow a little bit and then exhale,” he gently commands you. “Don't let it go down your throat.”
You follow his instructions without complaint, holding the smoke for a moment in your mouth before releasing it. The taste of ash floods your palate for a moment, a smell you find unbearable and yet.... “More,” you find yourself asking, rising on tiptoe to reach for the cigarette yourself.
You're sure you're not asking for more of the cigarette, you're asking for more of him. Of the brief touch you get from his unfriendly hands on your body, more of his perfume lulling your senses, more of his closeness.
His fingers leave your lower back to climb up to your jaw keeping you steady, still and trapped as he exhales a second puff between your parted lips. Your heart flips but you manage to repeat the action of inhaling and exhaling without coughing, and as he prepares to do it a third time without you asking, your noses collide in the darkness of your closed eyes; his lips brush yours for an electric instant, and you feel his fingers clinging tighter to your jaw: breathing out.
“My God...you,” you stand still, feeling yourself burn inside as his warm breath seeps into you once more. “If you don't stop me, I will do something I will regret.” His words are a threat brushing your tongue.
Your foreheads meet and rest against each other, fingers guided by desire slipping under his coat where you cling to his shirt ruffling the fabric. You close your eyes waiting to feel him, that first real contact, charged with sparkle and fireworks. You tilt your neck back, giving him the access he needs to take you.
“I'm not going to stop you,” you gasp, pushing closer.
Sukuna growls like an animal, immediately replacing his grip with his lips on your jaw; barely perceptibly grazing the flesh and bringing tickles to your insides. Then he moves slowly up to your ear, outlining the jaw bone with his mouth and staying still behind the shell of your ear, simply breathing warm air.
“We're in public,” he reminds you, and you squeeze your eyes shut. Charged with a bravery that is uncharacteristic of you, you reach your hand toward his crotch, feeling the bulge that is evident through his pants.
“Then let's go somewhere more private.”
Sukuna grunts once more, hunching towards you in such a way that it appears as if he is hugging you. His hands slide down your back until they reach your ass and squeeze it, the people around you startle you but the feeling lasts a moment before you turn your attention back to him and the plea that seems to spill from his throat.
“What have you done to me?” he utters your name as if you were a divine being and he is a mere servant. Your hand, gaining confidence, presses harder on his erection. “I want to slowly peel off your clothes, worship every inch of your body. Kiss every spot, every mole.”
He abandons the comfort of your ear to move to your neck, where you sense his breath as he subtly pushes his hips against your open palm. It's embarrassing to be doing this in public. His coat and the shadows of the night help hide the scene, but if someone were to discover you, you could get in trouble.
“Tell me you need it too,” he whispers against your throat on the verge of losing his temper and pressing his nose, his eager mouth clinging to your skin; sucking. “Tell me you feel the fire in your chest too,” he gasps, his teeth grazing a little harder.
“Fuck. I feel it. I've wanted to say it for a long time, but I was afraid you wouldn't feel the same,” you lick your lips. “That night when I tried to kiss you...”
“You were drunk,” he interrupts you. “I didn't want you to regret it the next day.” Sukuna reluctantly pulls away to admire you with dilated pupils and parted lips. “But you have no idea how much I've had to restrain myself to act just like a friend.” He examines you up and down. “Let's go to my apartment.”
Holding hands and with feelings running high, you move quickly into the parking lot to find the bike parked a few feet from where you were. Sukuna just lets you go to put the helmet around your head and then proceeds to put his on and without another thought you set off on the road. The cool night air immediately envelops you, the edge of your dress flaps against your thighs thanks to the speed at how fast he was going, almost as quickly as your heart beats in your chest. For you, there's a mixture of excitement and nervousness, a sense of disbelief mixed with anticipation. You can't stop thinking about what just happened, what you've wanted to occur for months and what might happen now.
The drive back to his apartment is fraught with sexual tension. The speed, the wind in your faces and the physical proximity keeps you on edge, your fingers run up and down his chest under his coat, impatient up and down patterns reminding him how close you are.
As you reach the apartment the palpable excitement between you and Sukuna intensifies. You both quickly slide off the bike, and holding hands take the elevator to his floor. Neither of you say anything until you reach the quiet of his place, interrupted by the hitching of breaths.
Sukuna steps forward and sits on the couch that is now so familiar to you, his eager but controlled expression blurring in the gloom that dances in the living room. From there, he calls your name softly, his voice laden with restrained emotion. The atmosphere in the apartment seems charged with electricity as you approach him, your heart pounding in your chest.
As you get closer, Sukuna watches you carefully, his eyes roaming over every part of you with admiration and desire.
“Take off your dress,” he says hoarse with lust.
Without thinking you grab the edge of the dress, slip it over your head and pull it aside to be left with only the underwear you have chosen for the night. As you move forward and are finally in the middle of his spread knees Sukuna grabs your hips and helps you to sit on his lap. The grip on your hips firms and hardens, he takes it upon himself to rub your covered core against the wideness of his thigh and short moans of pleasure take over your mouth.
“Keep riding my thigh. Slowly. Feel that pussy get wet for me, feel it ache,” he indicates, releasing your hips to then worship your thighs up and down.
Oh. It was aching, you want to tell him. Everything inside you was doing it, burning with need every muscle, every vein. Your legs from the posture, your pussy from need and your tight belly begging for a release but instead you stand quietly contemplating with your mouth open the way, after removing his coat, he undresses the buttons of the sweater one by one finally satiating your curiosity by revealing the tattoo underneath.
More black marks. They draw you in and invite you to touch them, thick ink-filled lines that you trace under your fingers start at his chest, cross between the line that joins his shoulder and neck and disappear behind along his back. Puzzled you stare at him some more, losing yourself in his eyes as you rise to look at him; he looks still, pleased that you are touching him as if he were art.
“Did they hurt?” you wonder with a bit of naiveté.
Sukuna cradles your breasts gently above the fabric of your bra, he seizes the moment to tug on your nipples hard, getting you to moan.
“They hurt a lot,” he confesses quietly, in a low tone of voice that plays it down.
You continue tracing the canvas that is his skin, moving down his abdomen until you stumble upon the belt that holds his pants in place. Briefly you check his eyes, hoping they tell you something more than the lust that seems to flood them.
“Why did you decide to get tattooed then?”
Sukuna catches your gaze silently, his fingers snaking around your belly, walking up to stop in the middle of your thighs and through your panties he strokes your clit with three fingers.
“We all have to endure a little pain sometimes, don't we?”
It feels so intimate the way he talks to you, the way he looks at you. When he roams your body with his gaze you can't help but feel small. You rub against his fingers, push and circle them helping him get to know your body better, listening to your broken gasps, showing him exactly where it makes you feel good.
“I want to suck your cock,” you confess as you reach down to undo his belt. There was no shame binding you now, only a raw desire that longs to be unleashed.
He smiles pleased with the change in attitude, and silently pushes your hips up to help you remove his pants leaving him alone in a pair of boxers which you soon pull down leaving them tangled midway down his thighs. Sukuna then pulls you off his lap and places you on the side of the couch where he instructs you to spread your legs for him thus getting easy access between your thighs.
As Sukuna continues to give attention to your pussy, you contemplate how hard he is: more than big it was thick, with the tip of an angry pink throbbing just below your mouth. It had been years since you had last given oral sex to someone, your last few encounters were nothing more than a monotonous thrusting and pulling out where you ended up with the guy cumming on your lower back or stomach; you never felt like sucking their cock but with sukuna it's different. With him everything is.
“It's been a long time since I've... you know,” you confess, holding back a nervous giggle.
From below you raise your gaze to lace it to his eyes that receive you slightly closed, sharing a guilty smirk that he wipes away as he bites his lip.
“You're doing a very good job,” he praises you. And his fingers tossing the edge of your panties aside leaves you breathless for a second, your lip quivering receiving his fingers inside you. “You don't have to do anything you don't want to, though.”
His words cause you to twitch around two fingers pushing and massaging your pussy. So deep, so slow, he synchronizes his thrusts with the way your lips close around the head of his cock; his movements are precise as if he's searching for something inside you, in, out and then he pulls them all the way out to make you cum as he rubs your clit hard and talks dirty to you.
Sukuna praises you sweetly as you sob his choked name against his thigh, his caresses surround your now sensitive clit and every time he touches it you find it impossible not to shudder. Then he grabs you by the face and kisses you on the forehead and holding your hand helps you up to guide you to his room that you already knew.
The lamps are off and the only light coming in is through the open window, the curtain ruffles softly in the cool spring breeze sending sudden chills down your bare skin. Sukuna instructs you to lie face down on the bed and you do so as he goes to another side of the room. The mirror you saw earlier shows you your half naked body under the swirling shadows and the masculine scent permeating his sheets makes you sigh deeply.
The bed sinks with his weight, the mattress groans as he digs his knees into it and positions himself behind you, your ass rising almost without your permission, eager with anticipation.
“You want to fuck me like this?” you throw your head back to catch him putting on the condom, one of the blue wrappers you saw before is now off to the side near your feet.
“Fuck yeah. Just lay back, you work so hard...” He snaps, spitting on his wrapped cock and giving it a couple of strokes before spreading your ass cheeks apart. “You want it like this, want me to work to make you feel good?”
“Yes,” you sigh, watching every glimpse that the dim light allows you of his body in the big mirror.
Slowly he sinks into you and you take it in with a deep moan. “That's it,” Sukuna murmurs, resting his hands on your lower back, initiating gentle thrusts that have your body rocking against the sheets.
Sometimes you feel him so deep you call his name, drunk with pleasure, you hope he understands you're begging him to keep going because you can't speak. Your mind is filled with him, his natural scent on the sheets, the smell of his sweaty perfume, his chest heavy against your back sinking you a little deeper into the mattress.
“Do you want to fuck yourself a little on my cock?” He says, gently circling your neck with his fingers without actually exerting any real pressure, with his free hand he stimulates your clit and your back arches right away. “Push your ass back, that's it...”
“I'm gonna cum...” you warn him, gasping with your mouth open, blinking rapidly so as not to lose sight of your bodies reflected in the mirror, fitting together perfectly as they do when dancing.
Your orgasm was still making you shiver the moment he turns you around so that you are facing each other. Sukuna is grinning showing you his sharp fangs, bringing your hands above your head and clasping his fingers between yours he starts fucking you again, your legs on his broad shoulders, his mouth just inches from you.
“Hi,” he says giggling breathlessly and it catches you immediately. “You look so beautiful now, you look gorgeous when you cum for me...”
His thrusts become deeper, your skins echoing each time they meet.
“Ryōmen...”
“I know, baby. I feel it too... Do you want me to cum inside?” You nod drunkenly with pleasure, unable to stop staring into those deep red eyes, his lashes fluttering and you notice his jaw tightening. “Yeah? You want to feel my thick load creaming that pussy?” he says, through clenched teeth.
“Yes, oh my god, please.”
Your fingers run down your stomach and down between your thighs, your fingers graze your clit once giving you the final push you need to cum a third time.
“Next time we'll do it raw, baby. I promise, but take it like this now, hm; cum for me.”
Your body tenses, your belly tightens in anticipation as Sukuna finally joins his lips with yours. The sensation is electric, as if a current of desire runs through every fiber of your being. Your lips meet in an eager, fiery kiss, where Sukuna sucks your tongue greedily and bites your lower lip with unbridled passion.
The intensity is almost obscene, each movement making you moan softly. Your legs tremble, but his weight on you only fuels the growing fire in your belly. Though your body aches in this position, you can't stop; the kiss is addictive, a whirlwind of sensations that far exceeds your deepest desires. It is far more than any subtle fantasy you have allowed yourself to imagine.
Sukuna leans closer, his hands caressing your face tenderly as his lips explore yours with passionate urgency. The room fills with the sound of your ragged breathing, swallowing each of the growls he lets die in your mouth.
. . . Slowly he pulls out of you, then rushes to throw the condom away in a basket by the desk. Your aching body turns to admire his broad back and gaze at the ink stains on it in the poor light.
With a simple “I'll be right back,” he leaves you waiting naked between the sheets your fingers stretch to gather and tuck you in. Before you can allow feelings of guilt or doubt to arise, Sukuna returns to the bed with a bottle of water that he offers you to drink. You immediately bring it to your mouth as he lies down next to you, one hand behind his head and the other resting on his tummy.
You snuggle close to him and Sukuna immediately wraps his arms around you, drawing you into his warm body.
“That was amazing,” you admit, as your fingers trace figures on his chest. However, Sukuna senses how you suddenly tense up.
“What's wrong?” he asks you with a frown.
“I was thinking about what's going to happen to us now,” you mutter, averting your gaze.
“I like you,” he says, as if it hasn't been clear until now. “I want you to be my girlfriend, for real this time,” you both chuckle lightly, and you raise your face to stare at him for a moment, a smile spreading across your lips.
“I like you too,” you admit with a hot face, surprised to admit it out loud; you never thought this moment would come, the odds of ending up in love with Sukuna were low, almost nil. And yet, here you are.
“Good. Then we have no more questions,” he leans in for a fleeting kiss on your lips, awakening a dormant volcano in your belly. “I have to go visit my grandfather tomorrow, do you wanna grab lunch when I'm done?”
“Is it okay if I come with you?”
“Of course. You know we love having you around,” he says, struggling to hold back another smile.
"Does that mean that if I'm your girlfriend now I won't have to help you lift the fish boxes anymore?" you joke, and he drops his head back laughing softly. You look at him in awe, you never thought you could like him any more than you already did, but having him like this, so close, so vulnerable, makes your heart race.
You want to kiss him again, to sit on his lap and take control this time, but you bite your lip instead, letting out a smile.
“You're definitely going to have to help me more at the restaurant now that you're my girl.”
My girl. You feel like you might burst.
“And what about my dad? I already told him I'd go back to my country.”
“Nah. I'm not going to let you get away so easily, you're mine now. You're exactly where you belong.”
And Sukuna was right. Here you feel good, safe, despite the struggles you will face you know you can get through it together. So you lean in and kiss him again, and again and again; you would have all night and many more because now you were his and he was yours.
Thank you for reading! reblogs & comments are greatly appreciated ♡
I don't do parts two! ⟡ I do not allow repost (do not translate or copy elsewhere), please do not recommend my work on tiktok.
#wr#ryomen sukuna x you#ryomen sukuna x reader#sukuna x y/n#sukuna x you#sukuna x reader#sukuna ryomen x reader#sukuna ryomen x you#jjk x y/n#jjk x you#jjk x reader
345 notes
·
View notes
Text
Dress | Alessia Russo x Reader (18+) [Thursday]
-> England and Arsenal reader
Summary: Your best friend and housemate looks a little too good in the new dress she bought | slightly inspired by ‘Dress’ - Taylor Swift
Warnings: bottom alessia, top reader, strap use (alessia receiving), oral (alessia receiving), fingering (r receiving), masturbation (R; fingering) in a shared space
WC: 4k
AN: this might be one of if not number 1 of the fics I've written 🧎| this is the dress I was referencing Alessia wearing
Night After Night masterlist
You cheered softly to yourself when you scored your eighth goal against Katie in a game of FIFA. You loved playing against her because you knew you could walk away with an easy win. you laughed to yourself picturing your teammate swearing and complaining to Caitlin, who would have a lot to say to you during training for making her deal with an angry Katie McCabe.
Just as Katie restarted the game, Alessia came tumbling through the front door, hands full with bags from her day out shopping. You threw a glance her way and chuckled when she lightly tripped over her own feet.
"You good, Lessi," you teased but kept your eyes locked on the TV screen in front of you.
Alessia's face lit up, blush coating her cheeks as she sat all her bags down to remove her shoes. "Perfectly fine, thank you very much," she huffed as she tossed her shoes to the small pile by the front door.
You and Alessia had been friends for a long time and when you both were signed to Arsenal, you decided to move in together to make things easy. You loved living with her but being around her 24/7 did nothing to stop your ever-growing feelings for her. But you kept your feelings to yourself, not wanting to complicate your living situation.
Your game with Katie came to an end and the defender promptly left the lobby, too pissed at the score line to continue playing. You chuckled once more as you sat your controller on the couch, your full attention turned to Alessia who was now trying to pick up all her bags to carry to her room.
"Did you leave anything for other people to buy," you joked as you stood up to help her, a smile on your face when you noticed her blush.
"Hush," she mumbled as you picked up most of the bags for her. You were too busy keeping your own feelings hidden to notice Alessia doing the same.
The forward had a crush on you the moment you two met at the youth levels for England. You two have been inseparable since then, closer than ever and madly in love with the other, even if you were both hiding it.
But Alessia was tired of keeping her feelings to herself, she's wanted to tell you how she felt every day since she came to terms with it. She just wasn't sure what the best way to go about it was because she was worried about you potentially not feeling the same. However, after whining about her feelings and gushing about you to Ella, the two of them came up with a plan.
She was going to make you make the first move if you did feel the same and an upcoming event proved to be her best chance. She had spent all day shopping with Lotte and Emily to find the perfect dress that she thought would drive you crazy. After hours of searching, she finally found the perfect dress that she'd hoped you'd take off her.
You sat the bags on the end of her bed before turning to head back to the living room. "Wait, can I get your help on which dress to wear for this event, I know you aren't going but I could use the extra opinion," the blonde grinned and you knew you'd never be able to say no to her.
"You're sure you want my opinion," you joked with a raised eyebrow, dressing up and going to all those fancy events were out of your comfort zone.
"Of course, I trust your opinion more than others," she replied, her grin just a bright.
You nodded with a smile before telling her you'd wait in the living room for her to show you her options. Alessia cheered cutely before she started pulling various outfits from the shopping bags.
You sat on the couch, browsing through social media while you waited. You'd just clicked through Katie's Snapchat story where she posted about losing to you with various angry emojis when Alessia's bedroom door opened. You looked up from your phone and your eyes scanned the dress your best friend was wearing.
It was a black dress but wasn't one you thought complimented her fully. "It's nice but I don't think it's my favorite," you hummed, your eyes straying toward her long legs before meeting her eyes.
"It's not my favorite either but I thought I'd still show you," she blushed before heading back into her room to change into the next dress.
You weren't sure how you were given a free pass to basically check out your best friend but you weren't going to say no to the idea. So you waited, letting Alessia take all the time she wanted before she came back out in a blue dress.
This one was better than the last but still missing something. You tilted your head to the side as your eyes took in the piece of clothing before giving her your thoughts. "I like this one more than the black one, but it still feels like it's missing something," you offered, your eyes meeting hers with a smile on your face.
Alessia nodded and smiled but didn't say anything as she turned around. Your eyes shamelessly dropped to check her out again before you were staring at her closed bedroom door. Alessia was glad you didn't like any of the ones she was showing you so far, she was only showing them to make it seem like she had options.
But as she slipped on the red dress she bought earlier, she knew this would be the winner. Alessia took a small breath before opening her door and stepping out, her eyes landing on you to watch your reaction closely.
You looked up from your phone, your jaw dropping slightly but you were quick to school your expression. Your eyes slowly scanned her body, lingering as they eyed parts of her exposed chest and her legs. You swallowed harshly as you sat up straighter, many thoughts forming in your head but none were something you could say to your best friend.
"Um... I- I like this one the most," you settled on something safe, though your eyes had yet to meet hers again.
Alessia smirked softly but her face was almost as red as her dress, she'd slowly put her secret plan in motion and now she had to sit back and let you make the first move. "Good, this was my favorite too," she beamed, turning to head back into her room and she felt your eyes burning holes into her backside as you watched her leave.
The event was in four days and the blonde planned to let you sit with all you were feeling until you saw her in the dress again, hoping it would be what would jumpstart your relationship. Though with training in between, the days leading up to the event seemed to drag on for ages.
You groaned as you opened your front door to be met with multiple people who were a part of Alessia’s team helping her get ready. It had slipped your mind that today was the day of the event Alessia would be attending and a small burst of excitement filled your chest as you remembered the dress she decided on. Though in reality, the dress hadn’t left your mind since she first walked out of her bedroom to show you.
“Y/N! Is that you,” Alessia’s voice echoed from her bedroom as she heard the front door open amidst the chaotic scenes around her.
“Who else would it be,” you joked as you peeked your head around her doorframe, eyes landing on the blonde sitting on the edge of her bed in a white robe while her makeup artist covered her eyelashes in mascara.
Alessia rolled her eyes when the woman left her alone to grab a light shade of lipstick. Alessia’s eyes met yours as she let her makeup artist apply the lipstick. You sent her a small smile before returning to your room to shower, having gone for a light gym workout with Kyra.
By the time you were done and changed, Alessia had changed into her dress and was getting assistance with her heels in the living room. Your breath hitched when you exited your room, your eyes slowly committing the sight of her to memory. “You look beautiful, Less,” you gushed quietly as you bit your lip softly.
Alessia’s cheeks burned as her head dropped slightly out of shyness. “Thank you, y/n/n,” she muttered before her team informed her it was time to go.
Alessia was rushed out the door before either of you could say anything else and you were left in the quiet of your home, a warm feeling growing between your legs. You knew you had a few hours to yourself before Alessia would be back so you opted to relax in the living room.
You did your best to distract yourself for as long as you could but the need growing between your legs was overpowering. If you were going to get yourself off you were going to be quick about it since Alessia could be back at any moment. You swallowed lightly before propping one of your legs on the coffee table in front of you and spreading the other. You sighed as your hands pulled at your clothing, groping your chest as your hips rolled slightly.
Your mind was full of Alessia, what it would be like to have your way with her, and how she’d sound begging for you to fuck her. Your breathing picked up as you slid your hands down your body toward the waistband of the sweatpants you were wearing. You pushed your shirt up your torso some, gripping it as your other hand dipped under the elastic of your pants and underwear.
Your body jerked at the feeling of your cold hands on your skin as you ran a finger through your wet folds. You moaned the sensation, Alessia’s name falling from your lips without realizing it. You pushed a finger into your wet cunt, thrusting slowly as your eyes fell shut and your chest heaved.
You added a second finger and sped up your movements, pumping your fingers inside you as your hips grind in time with your fingers. You moved the hand that was holding your shirt up to grope one of your breasts under your shirt, moaning as you pulled at the hardened nipple. You chanted Alessia’s name as your back arched off the couch, your thighs clamping your hand between them.
You came with a loud moan of Alessia’s name and kept your fingers pumping inside you to help calm yourself down. After a moment, the sensation became too much and you pulled your soaked fingers out of your pants. You swallowed harshly as you stared up at the ceiling, your chest moving rapidly.
You stood up after catching your breath to wash your hands in the kitchen and as you headed to your room, the front door opened. Alessia sighed as she closed the door behind her, leaning against it as she shoved her heels off and dropped her small purse. Your eyes widened slightly, hoping she hadn’t been right outside the whole time.
“Remind me to never do that again,” she groaned as she moved to the couch, dropping into the spot you had previously occupied. You blinked a few times before joining her, you couldn’t just say nothing and head to your room just yet.
You offered her a small laugh in response as you sat next to her, leaving enough space between the two of you. The dress she was wearing was driving you crazy and you didn’t know how much longer you could last.
“What did you get up to while I was gone,” the blonde questioned, turning her head to face you.
“Oh, um...not much. Just watched some TV, y’know,” you shrugged, though Alessia knew you well enough to know that you were lying but she didn’t press you.
She mumbled a small ‘nice’ before you were both sitting in silence, both of your thoughts filled with similar things. You bit your lip as your eyes trailed up her legs to the hem of her dress that rested on her thigh. Oh, how you’d love to be between her thighs right now.
Your breathing picked up as you thought about how she would taste and held back a moan as you pictured going down on her. “Y/n, are you all right,” Alessia asked softly as she slid next to you, a hand landing on your thigh.
You nodded but refused to meet her eye and Alessia wasn't having that. She raised her hand to turn you to face her, your eyes filled with arousal as you stared at her lips. “Alessia,” you whispered and the blonde’s thighs flexed hearing you say her full name.
“Yeah,” her voice was just as quiet as yours as she ran her thumb along your cheek. You leaned in slowly, giving her enough time to pull away if she wanted.
When she didn’t move away, you connected your lips in a hesitant kiss, waiting for her to move first. You both sighed heavily into the kiss as your lips moved against each other, your hand falling to grip her thigh. Alessia moaned softly into the kiss at the feeling of your hand on her and you took the opportunity to move your tongue into her mouth.
You slide your hand further up her thigh, pushing the bottom of her dress to her hips before your hand hits the fabric of her panties. Alessia pulled out of the kiss to moan louder, her forehead resting against yours as her eyes fell shut.
“I wanna taste you, Lessi,” you mumbled, your voice laced with arousal as you rubbed your fingers over her covered cunt. You could feel how wet she was through the piece of clothing and it was driving you crazy.
“Please,” she croaked out and it was all you needed to drop to your knees in front of her. You bunched her dress around her hips as you placed light kisses along the inside of her thighs, small whines falling from her lips as she waited for you.
You pulled her panties down her legs, tossing them somewhere behind you as her legs spread for you. You gulped softly as you stared at her dripping cunt before making yourself comfortable between her thighs.
You hooked your arms around her thighs, moving her legs to rest on your shoulders as you leaned in, placing a tentative kiss on her clit. Alessia threw her head back against the couch, one of her hands tangling in your hair as your kisses became more confident. Your kisses turned to suck as you took the sensitive bud into your mouth, sucking harshly as you moaned against her.
Alessia’s hips bucked up as you moved your tongue to run through her wet folds, a loud moan of your name falling from her lips. Her thighs clamped around your head, keeping you as close as possible to her as you tasted her. Your eyes flutter shut as you work your move against her, pulling whines from the blonde above you.
“I’m gonna cum,” she cried, her breathing heavy as her hips jerked against your face. You sped up your tongue, fucking her with the muscle as you held her body tightly.
Alessia came on your face with a loud groan, tears pricking her eyes in pleasure as you kept moving. Her legs went limp against your shoulders and she tugged slightly on your hair to get your attention. You pulled away from her, earning a whine when the cold air hit her cunt.
You sat on your knees as you took her in, your eyes falling to her partially exposed chest. You weren’t close to being satisfied and you stood on wobbly legs, offering her a hand. Alessia took your hand, letting you help her up and guide her to your bedroom. Her mind racing from this new experience.
You closed your bedroom door softly behind you and moved the two of you to the edge of your bed. You took your time stripping Alessia’s dress off her, letting it pool by her ankles before she stepped out of it. Your hands rested softly on her waist as your eyes scanned her completely bare body.
Alessia’s breath hitched when you kissed her collarbone before trailing kisses to her breasts. She pushed her chest forward as your lips wrapped around one of her nipples, sucking on the bud as one of your hands slipped down to grab her ass. You pulled away from her completely after a moment, a string of spit connecting your lips to her nipple as you did so.
You took a step back to strip, tossing your clothes to the floor to be picked up later. Alessia shamelessly let her eyes ogle your body. You turned to move toward your nightstand, pulling a girthy strap on from the drawer before turning to face the blonde. Alessia’s eyes dropped to the toy in your hand and felt her cunt grow even wetter.
“We can stop if you want,” you offered, not wanting to overstep any boundary.
Alessia shook her quickly, “I don't want to stop,” she croaked out. You nodded with a small smirk as you harnessed the toy around your waist. Alessia felt lightheaded at the sight of you with the strap on between your legs.
You motioned to the bed with your head, letting her get into whatever position she wanted to be fucked in. You bit back a small groan when she crawled onto your bed and stayed on her hands and knees. You moved around the bed to return to the edge before kneeling on the mattress behind her. You ran your hands over her ass, smacking her skin softly as you kneaded the skin.
Alessia whined at the feeling, her head dropping as she stared at the cover of your bed. You slid your hands up to caress her hips, rubbing your thumbs over her back. Alessia waited with bated breath as you moved one hand to the toy between your legs, lifting the tip to her cunt. You pushed the strap into her, your hand returning to her hip as you bottomed out. Alessia gasped at the full feeling, her hips pushing back against you once she was comfortable.
Alessia’s skin felt hot against yours and you took a small intake of air before pulling out some. You snapped your hips against her, your skin slapping against hers as you thrust. Alessia’s arms buckled slightly at your thrusts but her hips pushed back against you with each one. You sped up your movements when loud whines fell from your best friend’s lips, your name never sounding better.
“Fuck,” you huffed as your thrusts became rougher, your head falling back as you closed your eyes. Your eyes were back on Alessia when she moved to rest on her forearms, her hands gripping your cover as continuous whines filled your room. The loud sound of your skin hitting hers and the sound of you fucking her mixed with her moans made your head spin.
“Fuck, Less. You’re taking me so well,” you grunted as squeezed her hips, most likely leaving light bruises in your wake.
Alessia moaned at the praises, her hips faltering as she was close to another orgasm. You kept your pace steady, your hips snapping against her body roughly. “I’m so close! Please-” Her words were taken from her when you hit that particular spot within her, a loud whine taking their place.
You focused on your movements, determined to have her experience one of her best orgasms ever. “Cum for me, Alessia,” you grunted as you railed into her.
With a loud whine, Alessia fell into the mattress she came on your strap. You kept your hips going as you helped her through her orgasm, broken cries from the blonde edged you on to keep going. You fucked into her with the same momentum as before, a third orgasm hitting her as she whimpered.
You pulled out of her slowly, the blonde breathing heavily as you tossed the toy to the floor. You ran your hands up the back of her thighs, up her ass, and over her back in a comforting manner, the blonde’s skin sweaty under your touch.
“You good, Less,” you mumbled into her ear as you leaned over her, placing small kisses along her back. You moved slightly when she rolled over, her fucked out expression became your favorite sight in that moment.
Alessia licked her lips as she nodded, her brain too foggy to form a sentence. You smirked as you lay on your side next to her, one of your hands tracing random shapes along her body. Alessia turned her head to face you, her eyes locking with yours as she leaned up to kiss you. She could faintly taste herself on your lips from earlier as she pushed you onto your back.
You stared at the blonde in shock, you hadn’t expected her to have enough energy to reciprocate, not that you minded. Alessia straddled your thigh and you moaned quietly as you felt her wetness on your skin. She traced a finger down your body and leaned down to kiss you. You moaned into the kiss when she ran her finger through your wet folds, your hips bucking up to meet her finger.
She dipped her finger inside you slowly before pulling it out quickly. You gasped lightly, her finger felt ten times better than yours had felt earlier. Your eyes screwed shut when she pushed two fingers deep inside you, pumping them slowly to edge you closer to your second orgasm that night. You held the cover beneath you tightly as your back arched off the mattress, hips rolling in time with her thrusts.
“L-less,” you stuttered, your head thrown back against your pillows as she fucked you closer to the edge. “P-please,” you begged.
Alessia sped up her fingers as her other hand to rub your sensitive clit. Your body jerked at the feeling, a loud moan falling from your lips as you let go, cumming all over her fingers. Alessia slowed her fingers some before pulling them out of you completely.
Your eyes fell open at the loss of contact and they fell on Alessia as she brought her fingers to her mouth, sucking them into her mouth to taste you. She moaned at the taste, her eyes closing as she licked her fingers clean. You gulped at the sight, desire building once more.
“Fuck, that’s so hot,” you grunted as you sat up, your arms wrapping around her waist to pull her flush against you. You both moaned slightly when your sensitive nipples bumped each other.
Alessia wrapped her arms around your neck, her fingers playing with the baby hairs on the back of your neck. You stared up at her, a look of love clouding your eyes as you smiled at her. Alessia giggled quietly as she gave you a quick kiss but you pulled her into a deeper kiss before she got too far.
“I'm in love with you, Alessia,” you whispered against her lips, a sense of nervousness filled your body despite everything that just happened.
“I’m in love with you too, y/n,” she blushed, a smile on her face as she spoke. You beamed up at her before kissing her once more, though this kiss was softer than the last.
Alessia pulled back with a small yawn, her tiring week mixed with the sex had exhausted her. You cooed with a small smile when you saw her bow her head bashfully. You moved the two of you under the covers, placing a small kiss to her hairline as she curled into you.
“Goodnight, Less,” you whispered against her head as you pulled her close to you. The blonde mumbled a quiet ‘goodnight’ before sleep took over.
You were glad your feelings were out in the open now and the two of you could talk about it more in the morning. But for now, you were content to cuddle Alessia as you both slept, a smile on your face as fell asleep.
#woso x reader#awfc x reader#engwnt x reader#lionesses x reader#alessia russo x reader#alessia russo
378 notes
·
View notes
Note
BBYG PART TWO OF GUILTY AS SIN PLEASE I LUV UR WORKSSSS
i hope you guys enjoy this!! i had a lot of fun with it. it’s technically part two but i gave it a different title sorry :)
~~~
Fresh Out The Slammer
James Potter x f!reader
warnings: smut, protected p in v, fingering, slight oral (f receiving), very slight underage alcohol but barely, morally idk how good this is, lmk if i missed any
summary: after you and Remus finally split, you and James finally come together…
word count: 2.8k
a/n: another taylor fanfic hahaha (i love this) lmk what you guys think of the end i thought it was really clever but maybe that’s just me being overconfident…
~~~
I did my time
Now pretty baby I’m running back home to you
Fresh out the slammer
I know who my first call will be to...
~~~
When you look back on your days at Hogwarts, you always wonder why you and Remus stayed together so long.
It was a week after your monumental conversation with James on the grass that your overdue breakup occurred. You had tried your hardest to give your relationship one last try, you really did. But one night as you laid next to the tall lanky boy, all you could think about was a certain pair of hazel eyes. A pair that didn’t belong to the boy next to you.
That was the final straw.
“Rem,” you said, your voice cool. “I think it’s best we break up.”
You kept your eyes on the canopy above, but you could feel him shift beside you. “Really?”
“Yes. In fact, I think this is overdue. Don’t you think?”
“I suppose so...” he replied.
You turned to look at him. Unsurprisingly, he was sitting calmly as could be with a book in one of his hands. A sigh escaped your lips, but you didn’t say anything else. Instead, you simply stood and began to dress yourself. He was the one to speak again.
“Would it be all right if we remained friends?” He asked his eyes on you for what felt like the first time in a while.
“Of course. Let’s not make it odd for everyone else,” you answered.
He looked back down at his book. “Right. Good night then.”
On the walk back to your dorm you named every reason in your head why you broke up with Remus. He was distant. He didn’t know how to treat you like a true girlfriend. The spark had died between the two of you. The relationship had truly just run its course. But as you stepped into the common room your eyes found the most significant reason.
You refused to put him on your mental list.
~~~
You didn’t know if it was out of respect for Remus or if it was intentional at all, but James waited a few weeks before making any sort of move on you. You were glad. Adjusting to a single life was strange. You no longer spent time alone with Remus, you no longer cried or had fits because of his behavior. He was simply another one of your friends. You liked him better that way.
When James did give you a sign, it was far from subtle.
It came during Charms in the form of a small piece of paper. Of course, Charms happened to be the only class the two of you had together that Remus was not in as well. In fact, the only other member of your friend group who was in the class was Peter and he never paid much attention to anything. So, when you felt the piece of paper hit your lap, you didn’t hesitate to open it.
How’s the single life treating you so far? -J
You turned your head to look at James, a smile on your lips. He was already looking at you, a similar smile on his face. You felt your cheeks heat up as you scribbled your reply and threw it back to him.
It’s better than I expected, most things are the same.
He was quick to throw it back.
That’s true except now you’re free to do whatever you’d like..
You held in a breath.
More like whomever I’d like
You let out a shaky breath at his reply.
Yeah? Well, you know where my bed is
For a few seconds, you stared at the note, not sure if you should write anything more. You turned back to look at him and your eyes instantly met his. He looked at you with a gleam that you hadn’t seen in a boy's eyes in a long time, at least not one directed toward you. So, you picked up your quill and wrote back, not a single guilty thought crossing your mind.
I suppose I’m going to know what it feels like soon too
~~~
Another long week passed before anything happened between you and him. And each day that passed only filled you with more desire. You felt almost giddy at the thoughts. A secret hookup with James Potter. It was something you’d imagined for a long time, but for so many reasons you never imagined it would actually be brought to life.
But it was.
One night, there was a party in the Ravenclaw common room that everyone was attending. Everyone except you. Or so you thought.
“Are you sure y/n/n? It’ll be so much fun,” Lily questioned. You were all in the Gryffindor common room. Everyone else was getting ready to leave, but you sat on the couch in your bedclothes.
“Yeah, I’m not really in the party mood tonight. Plus, I have some work that still needs to be done,” you answered honestly.
“Boring!” Sirius exclaimed. “Don’t worry lovely I’ll make sure to save some alcohol for you.”
“Thanks, Sirius,” you said with a laugh.
“Let’s go, Wormtail, Moony, Prongs.”
“Actually, you lot can go without me. I’m not feeling the greatest.”
Your eyes shot to James. What was he doing? You noticed what he was wearing. A wifebeater and flannel pants. You swore you never wanted to shag him more than at that moment.
“Are you serious?” Sirius groaned. “Whatever mate you’re no fun. We’ll be back later.”
“All right, have fun,” James replied.
“Bye, y/n/n!” The girls sang as they left.
You waved them all goodbye before getting up and turning to the staircase. You could feel James’s eyes burning into you from behind.
“Seems it’s just the two of us for once,” he said, his voice quieter than before.
Your stomach filled with butterflies. “Yeah, it seems that way.”
“I was wondering if you could help me with some Charms work, I know you have the homework as well perhaps we can do it together...” From the tone of his voice, you knew it wasn’t true. But still, you turned and gave him a slight nod. “It’s all in my dorm, let’s just go up there to do it.”
Deep down, you knew you should’ve felt bad. James was your ex-boyfriend’s best friend. If any of them knew about your sinful thoughts, you’d surely be thrown out of the group and shunned. However, while that knowledge made you feel uneasy, it didn’t stop you from following him up to the dorm.
The second the door closed behind the two of you, James’s lips were on yours. Though it came as a surprise, you didn’t hesitate for even a second to kiss him back. His lips were warm and soft, just how you had always imagined. It was messy and quick and when he broke it you found yourself breathless. All you could do was stare at him, your cheeks pink.
“James I-”
“We can take our time if you’d like, I’m sorry I’ve just wanted to do that for so fucking long,” he replied as if he could read your mind.
“Me too, you don’t understand.” You inhaled deeply and took a few steps deeper into the dorm you were all too familiar with. Only this time, you sat on a different bed. “This doesn’t feel real.”
He sat down next to you on his bed, his glowing hazel eyes locked on yours. “Believe me, I understand everything.”
“I just... want you,” you mumbled. It felt so good to finally say it. You placed one of your hands on his thigh. “I want you a lot.”
He smiled in a way that practically sent shivers down your spine. “I want you too.”
“So, take me. You don’t... you don’t have to be gentle,” you whispered with a confidence you hadn’t felt in a long time.
Instead of answering you with words, James leaned closer and caught your lips in another kiss. This time though, it wasn’t messy and rushed. No. It was passionate, it was a kiss that would leave you giggling on your bed when you looked back on it. As your lips moved against his you followed his lead and laid back on the mattress with your legs parted for him to slip in between.
His hands were far bigger than yours. When he slid one of them up your thigh you almost couldn’t remember how to breathe. You kissed him harder and weaved your fingers through his soft curly hair. He toyed with your shorts for a moment before carefully slipping his hand beneath the fabric. It would be an understatement to say you were wet. You were soaked. And you could feel James’s smirk on your mouth when he discovered this.
“Are you always like this?” He mumbled.
You shook your head. “Only when it comes to you.”
“Good.”
He wasted no more time and moved his fingers under your knickers, finding your clit almost instantly. You gasped, one of your hands gripped his strong shoulder tightly, and your eyes squeezed shut.
“James,” you moaned.
He began to trail wet kisses down your neck as he continued to rub soft circles on your clit. Never mind thinking straight, you couldn’t think at all. Your stomach was warm, and waves of pleasure coursed throughout your entire body. You swore you’d never felt anything as good in your life. But when your hand brushed against his shirt you sighed.
“Take it off, take everything off. Please,” you whispered frantically.
You opened your eyes to see James’s bright smile. “Since you asked so nicely.”
Without another word, he leaned back and pulled his shirt off. You couldn’t stop yourself from staring. His muscles were toned, yet he was still skinny. You wanted to kiss every inch of his body, but you settled on dragging your fingers up and down his chest for a few seconds.
“Your turn,” he said.
You silently sat up and lifted your tank top over your head and threw it down to the floor. Perhaps it was the amount of lust that consumed you, or perhaps it was the amount of comfort you felt with James. Either way, you didn’t cower or feel insecure as his eyes moved across your naked breasts. In fact, you felt confident. So, you laid back down on his bed and began to pull your shorts and knickers down, your eyes not leaving his.
Only when you were fully naked did you feel a slight feeling of insecurity. James must’ve noticed this though because he leaned over you and pressed a sincere kiss to your lips.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. He brushed a hand over one of your breasts. “So perfect.”
“Fuck me, James, please I can’t bear it any longer,” you replied quickly. It was true, you’d already waited so many months in silence. How were you expected to wait even a second longer?
“I think you can afford to bear it for a few more minutes. I want to have my way with you first.”
You were going to protest, but before you could he slid his hand between your thighs. He swirled his fingers over you, collecting your wetness before eventually carefully moving one of his fingers inside of you. You threw your head back and gripped his sheets hard. It was an even better feeling than you’d imagined. He kissed you hungrily as he slowly started finger fucking you.
As if that wasn’t enough, he kissed down your body minutes later before ending with his face between your thighs. You couldn’t contain your whimpers and moans. If anyone was near the Gryffindor boy's dorm, they’d surely hear you. The fact neither of you thought enough to cast a silencing charm only made it more thrilling.
By the time you reached your first orgasm, you were quite sure you’d never felt anything nearly as good in your life. Remus never cared enough to spend his time pleasuring you, at least not after the first few months. But James cared a whole lot. He touched you with his tongue and his fingers till you were shaking and panting for a break.
When he did stop you watched through heavy lids as he wiped his mouth on your thigh and began to pull down his last remaining articles of clothing. His eyes were glowing, and his glasses were almost falling off his face. You decided then that he was by far the most attractive boy you’d ever seen. And when your eyes trailed down his naked body you found yourself an even bigger reason as to why that statement was true.
“Are you on the potion?” He asked as he began to move over you.
“Yeah,” you answered, your voice weak.
He smirked. “You’re a dirty girl hm?”
“For you yes.”
“How so?”
You smiled sweetly and reached up to remove James’s glasses. “Truthfully? Sometimes I touch myself when I think of you.”
“You’ll have to show me next time.” He shifted and you felt his tip brush against your entrance. Your breath caught in your throat. “Is this what you think about?”
“S-Sometimes yes,” you said with a shaky voice.
All you could do as he slowly began to thrust into you was gasp and wrap your arms around him, your nails digging into his skin. He was big and you were still sensitive from how hard you previously came. Those factors only amplified how good he felt. Once he was fully in, he leaned down to connect your lips in another heated kiss before truly starting the shag.
Though Remus would fuck you hard, he never fucked you the way James did. James went hard, he went fast, but he also showed he still cared. At one point, he removed one of your hands from his back and pressed it against the mattress, lacing his fingers through yours. And his lips were either on yours, on your neck, or whispering sweet praises. Even the way he said your name was enough to tell you how much he cared about you.
You didn’t know how long it went on, but it was long enough that he started to grow tired. At that point, you’d already reached your second orgasm, so you decided he deserved a break. With all your strength, you flipped your positions and took some control. You lowered yourself onto him and nearly came a third time from the sounds he made.
When everything was done and over, the two of you laid next to each other out of breath and shocked at what had transpired. You felt your heart pound in your chest and a sticky feeling between your thighs. You turned your head to look at the boy next to you. He, of course, was already looking at you, his glasses back on.
“That was...”
“Better than any of my fantasies,” you told him.
“Mine too,” he agreed with a smile.
You bit down on your lip. “So now what?”
“Perhaps another go?”
That was an offer you could never refuse.
~~~
Hours later, past midnight at least, the door to the boy's dorm opened and the other three Marauders stumbled in. Sirius was far too drunk; he could barely stand up straight. That left Remus and Peter to stand on either side of him with their arms wrapped around his back protectively. All their eyes found you and James after a few seconds. The two of you sat on his bed, a foot of papers between the two of you.
“Oh, hello y/n,” Peter greeted you.
“Y/n, what are you doing here?” Remus questioned.
Sirius only gasped overdramatically. “They’re shagging! Prongsie and Lovely are shagging!”
You rolled your eyes and stood up. “Why don’t we get you to bed?”
“Can I have a go first? Before bed? Please! Is that all right Moony?” Sirius stumbled over his words as his friends dropped him into his bed.
“Nobody’s having a go unless it is Moony,” James said.
Remus turned toward you, a questioning expression on his face. “What are you doing up here?”
You pointed at the many papers on James’s bed. “Charms homework, I told you lot that’s why I wasn’t going to the party. James felt a bit better, so we just decided to work on it together.”
“Will I be allowed to use that work?” Peter asked innocently.
“Of course, Pete,” you replied. You turned back to James’s bed where he still sat, and you began to gather your work. “I should be going then.”
You held your papers close to your chest and tried your hardest not to look at James. You knew if you did, something on your face would clearly show what had really gone on. So, you kept your head down and moved as fast as you could to their door.
“Same time next week then?” James’s voice caught your attention as you were about to leave.
You looked over your shoulder and nodded, trying your hardest not to blush. “Or sooner, I’m very eager to get this work done.”
“All right, sooner, goodnight then,” James replied with a knowing look.
The last thing you heard before leaving was the innocent voice of Peter asking if he could join in and the loud laugh that James let out.
#fanfic#james potter is a simp#james potter smut#james potter#marauders imagine#marauders smut#marauders fandom#marauders fanfiction#marauders era#the marauders#remus lupin#sirius black#smut#james potter x reader#peter pettigrew#lily evans#harry potter fanfic#harry potter fanfiction#harry potter fandom#harry potter smut#harry potter#fresh out the slammer#i love this so much#smutty smut smut#i love smut#the maraunders map#james & peter & remus & sirius#fanfiction#inspired by taylor swift#smutty
253 notes
·
View notes
Text
“Talk to me, mm?”
In a world where everything is alright and you’re not out of sync with the love of your life, Izuku wouldn’t need to prompt you to do so. You’d let your mouth run freely as he listens, nods, affirms or offers an alternative perspective, his hand always finding its way to hold yours or his lips finding any way to press against your skin, anything to keep you physically connected.
But you’ve been upset with him for the past few days, perhaps weeks really, an ever-present gnawing at your very bones, discomfort like an invisible swarm of small insects marching under your skin. You're unsettled to your very core, but holding it in, holding all the pieces of you and your relationship together with cheap glue.
You hate to complain, and you can’t even come up with a complaint that feels less silly than I need you, I want you to come home more often, I want you to choose me, as if you are a grade school child asking for a kind look from a busy parent. So instead your lips have remained sealed and tight, and despite trying to remain warm and receptive, the cold seeps through.
Izuku has finally had a moment to breathe between Hero-ing and Helping and being everyone else’s safe haven, and now he insists on being yours again.
“Baby.”
It’s hard to look at him now, when you’re this close. Izuku has once suggested that when you have conversations of a certain intensity, you do so in a quiet room, as close as physically possible, unable to look anywhere but each other’s eyes. It was silly to you when he’d suggested it and you’d giggled and agreed, but now, sitting face to face with your legs overlapping his and your faces two head spaces apart, it’s impossible to escape him or your feelings for him but you’re almost too overwhelmed to speak.
He grips your hands gently at the wrists, but doesn’t say anything more, just caressing your skin with the pads of his thumbs. There’s a smile on his face, peaceful, as if he’s just enjoying being in your presence, having the skin of your nearly bare legs in shorts graze against his waist. He’d murmur that he loves you, but he doesn’t want his feelings to matter more than yours.
You let out a sigh that wracks through your whole body and lean forward - you fall against his chest and he’s quick to hold you close.
“I miss you,” you whisper. And that’s it, all in a nutshell. You miss the warmth of his body and the arms that wrap securely around you right now, and knowing that even if he belongs to the world, he’s your first and foremost to have and to hold.
He holds you tight and sighs as well, kissing the top of your head before burying his face into the crook of your neck and inhaling deeply of your love for him.
“I know. I miss you too. But no matter what, I'm always yours.”
271 notes
·
View notes
Text
Not Another Werewolf Romance Story (E.M.)
Summary: Eddie finds you reading a werewolf romance book in secret and decides to make your fantasies come to life.
Warnings: MINORS DNI, kissing, fingering, vibrator, nsfw, cursing
A/N: I wrote this so long ago in the middle of the night. Not edited. Sorry for being gone so long, thanks for the like hundred new followers while I’ve been gone.
You lay in bed with a book in your hand as Eddie brushes his teeth in the bathroom. The faint sounds of the water running fill the bedroom as you read quietly. You push your reading glasses up higher on the bridge of your nose as you become more engrossed with the story. Your eyes glued to the page missing your boyfriend walking into the bedroom.
It isn’t until he presses a wet kiss to your cheek that you snap out of it. Your eyes widen slightly as you close the book.
“What’re you reading, baby?” He asks, pulling the duvet back.
“Nothing too interesting” you say trying to sound nonchalant as you place the book on your nightstand.
“Oh really, s’that why your nose was buried in it?” He asks, eyebrow quirked.
He leans over to see the cover, playfully tugging on a lock of your hair. "Let me guess, another one of those sappy vampire romance novels?"
“No!” You protest, cheeks flushed pink. Fuck wrong answer. You see the immediate way his eyes sparkle mischievously.
"Then what is it? Something naughty I need to know about?" He asks with that stupid smug smile on his face.
“Something ‘naughty?’ What are you eighty?” You scoff trying to play it off, you try to be stealthy as you press your thighs together underneath the sheets. Trying to hide how wet you got from the book.
Eddie raises an eyebrow and tilts his head, his gaze lingering on your closed book. "Now you've piqued my interest," he says, crossing his arms over his tattooed chest.
“How, I haven’t said anything!” You protest again trying to get him to drop it.
Eddie chuckles and climbs onto the bed beside you, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you close. "Well, you're blushing like a school girl caught with her first Playboy," he teases, nuzzling against your temple. You whine with shyness, not wanting to open this part of yourself up to your boyfriend yet. Unfortunately for you Eddie’s fingers grab the book quickly, yanking it off your nightstand.
Eddie's fingers trace the spine of the book curiously, feeling its weight before flipping it open to the page you were last reading. You gasp trying to grab it out of his hand but Eddie lifts the book up.
“Oh God,” you groan covering your reddened face as Eddie reads the werewolf romance you picked up at the bookstore.
“His strong hands grab my thighs, it sends a shiver down my spine. All I can think about is having his knot inside me” Eddie’s voice drops low and husky as he begins to read aloud. You feel like you could cry at the humiliation.
Eddie laughs harder now, finding your discomfort endearing as he looks down at the page with mock seriousness in his eyes. He finally stops reading and sets the book aside. Your cheeks are bright red along with your neck and the tips of your ears. It’s not often Eddie sees you this embarrassed, you usually have some sarcastic remark to make except when it comes to sex. He never knew something like that would get you horny either, it seems so… juvenile?
Eddie looks over at you with an amused expression. "A werewolf romance, huh?" He says before leaning in to press a soft kiss against your temple. "It's cute."
You stay quiet feeling humiliated beyond belief it’s like he just read your dairy out loud. There’s something very intimate about him knowing this other side of you, one that you’ve tried to keep hidden from him. There’s a certain shame that comes with opening your sexual side to your boyfriend.
Noticing your discomfort, Eddie pulls you closer and whispers in your ear, "You don't have to be ashamed, baby. I love knowing what gets you going". He plants small kisses along your jawline, hoping to ease the tension. You stay quiet, squeezing the hem of the negligee you’ve just become comfortable wearing around him.
He nibbles on your earlobe softly, his breath warm against your skin. "Do you want me to keep reading?"
“Not if you’re gonna keep making fun of me” you murmur, eyes trained on your lap.
Eddie rolls his eyes playfully and snuggles into you further, resting his hand on your hip. "Okay, okay, no more teasing," he assures you, planting another gentle kiss on your cheek. You lean back against the headboard your body tense with mortification.
Eddie watches you closely, sensing your tension. He realizes he might've taken the teasing too far. He strokes your hair softly. "Come here, sweetheart." He pulls you into his lap and wraps his arms securely around you.You bury your face in his neck trying to hide from him, maybe if you hide you’ll disappear into him.
“Princess," Eddie coos, nudging your chin up with his finger so he can look into your big doe eyes. "I didn't mean to make you feel bad. You know I love you, right? And everything that makes you happy." He kisses your forehead tenderly.
You sag against his chest, your knees digging deeper into the mattress on either side of his hips. Eddie caresses your cheek softly, trying to wipe away any remaining embarrassment. "Why don't you tell me what happened in the story that had you so turned on? Maybe I can make it better..."
“That’d be even more humiliating” you groan.
Eddie looks at you, his expression softening. He brushes your hair out of your face and kisses the tip of your nose. "Alright, how about this...I'll turn off the lights and hold you while you read it to me?" He offers, running his thumb in circles on your back.
You swallow hard, he’s already seen it. There’s no hiding from what he saw, it’ll only lead him to more questions or to think something bad about you and it terrifies you so you begrudgingly murmur “okay.”
Eddie turns off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into darkness save for the dim glow of streetlights filtering through the window. He adjusts his position so you're comfortably sitting between his legs, your back pressed against his chest. You try and relax against him but you feel so high strung.
Saliva pools in your mouth as you grab the book, cracking it open to the last page you were on. You can barely see the words with the dim light coming from the window. You clear your throat, eyes scanning the page, face flushing hot instantly. Eddie squeezes your waist trying to reassure you and get you to loosen up.
“Take your time, Princess,” he encourages, pressing a soft kiss on your hair. “I’m right here with you.”
You swallow your spit
“H-he… he splays her out on the bed, her hair fanned out on the pillow as his lips press against her throat. It’s been so long since he’s shared a bed with a woman much less his mate. She’s beautiful better than anything that he could imagine. Her smell, fuck her smell is addicting. He can practically taste the arousal pooling between her legs. He aches to claim her, fill her with pups” your voice trembles shyly as you read, your face flushing with more heat.
Eddie’s heart races hearing you describe something so intimate, not accustomed to it yet but he fucking loves it. He resonates with the book, you’re the most gorgeous creature he’s ever seen, he doesn’t believe in a God but everyday he prays to whatever is out there thanking them for bringing you to him.
He grips the fabric of the nightgown between your thighs gently. "Keep going, baby," he rasps out, his breath hot against your ear.
Your breath hitches, fingers shifting in the book before it falls.
“H-he buries his face in h-her…” you stop feeling a wave of discomfort but Eddie reassuringly squeezes your thigh.
“C-cunt,” you squeak, your body sets ablaze.
“-Her panties soaked all the way through. She probably soaked through her jeans if he was paying attention. He breathes her musk in deeply, it sends a shiver down her spine as she moans. Her fingers curl around the bedsheets, she’s too shy to ask him what she wants but he can sense it. His tongue darts out licking a thick stripe over the cotton of her panties” your voice grows more steady as you read to Eddie. He realizes how closely the two of you resemble these characters… well, besides the lycan part.
Eddie’s fingers move to lightly graze the inside of your thigh, your breath catches in your throat as his fingers brush against your soaked panties. You gasp softly, your back pressing harder into his chest while flip the page.
“He teases her with his tongue, the tip just grazing over her slit nowhere near the spot that’ll have her seeing stars” you say, voice trembling as his hand moves under the waistband of your panties, cupping your sex. You moan, toes digging into the mattress. You’re not sure if you’re supposed to continue or not, your mind in a tizzy.
“His fingers finally move the fabric to the side, he growls as he sees her glistening pussy. ‘Mine’ he growls.” You continue reading.
Eddie can't resist anymore. His middle finger dipping between your folds, sliding easily through your slick before circling your clit lightly.
“F-fuck” your grip on the book slacks as your head falls back on his shoulder.
He keeps his movements slow and deliberate, matching the pace of the story unfolding in front of him. He leans forward, whispering into your ear, "Your pussy is so wet for me, baby."
“Fuck,” you groan, it’s the only word you can manage to grasp.
He nuzzles into your neck, inhaling deeply, savoring the scent of your skin. He slips a second finger into your pussy, curling it to find your g-spot.
You gasp, the book falling from your delicate fingers onto the mattress, you moan, your back digging deeper into his chest. He removes his hand from your pussy and picks up the book, flipping to the next passage. "Continue," he urges softly in your ear.
You whine when he stops, your thighs already trembling. Eddie's heart skips a beat at the sound of your needy sounds. He guides your hand back to the book, encouraging you to continue reading. "Go on, my little vixen," he says seductively. If this was any other context you’d find it cringy but there’s something so fucking hot about his whisper against your ear.
You breathe heavily as you look down, grabbing the book from Eddie in one hand. You thumb and pinky holding it open.
“His tongue darts out, he moans as he tastes his mate for the first time. It’s like something inside of him snaps, he buries his face in her cunt. Tongue moving wildly as he switches from tongue fucking her to sucking on her clit. Her moans fill the room, her nails digging into her palms as she scents the room with her pheromones” you read.
Eddie’s fingers slip back inside of you, his thick digits thrust in and out, restricted by the fabric of your underwear. His thumb finds its way to your clit, moving in tandem. You feel like you could just turn into a pile of mush, already turned stupid by his fingers alone.
“Oh fuck!” You keen, fingers gripping the book harder.
“Her voice gets louder and it’s like music to his ears. He can’t wait to hear what symphonies she’ll create when he’s fucking her” you heave for breath like you’ve just ran a marathon.
Eddie's fingers pick up speed, mirroring the action in the story. "You're doing so good, Princess," he praises, nipping at your earlobe.
“Oh God,” you moan.
He reaches for the nightstand drawer and fishes out a vibrator, placing it against your clit as his fingers continue to work your sopping pussy. The squelch of your cunt filling the room along with the hum of the vibrator.
“Honey” you let out a high pitched shriek.
Eddie whispers encouragement in your ear, "Read more for me, baby."
You hiss in protest but Eddie quickly shuts off the vibrator. You practically sob when he stops, struggling to catch your breath. You were so fucking close to coming already you feel the tendrils of your lost orgasm loosening their grip on you as the seconds tick by.
You finally look down, your voice strained as you read on “Her pussy clamps around his tongue, his thumb rubs over her sensitive nub quickly. Golden eyes trained on every little detail of her face trying to memorize her pleasure. He wants to burn the memory into his brain and never forget it. She’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen especially when she’s screaming his name. Her back arched beautifully as she twitches and squeezes his tongue coming all over his face with a wail”
He turns the vibrator on again with a click, holding it firmly against your clit. He’s almost desperate to hear your moans as you come on his fingers.
“Fuck— ” you let out a strangled cry, you can feel the intense vibration deep inside the root of your clit. Eddie’s doesn’t let you think, his fingers entering you again but this time he shows no mercy. His fingers curl pressing into the spot he’s found since the first time he fingered you.
You let at a garbled mess of desperate filthy moans. His lips press to your ear whispering “look at you taking me so well, Princess. You think ‘bout me knotting you, huh? Touch this pretty little pussy thinking bout me fucking you until you were locked together, yeah?”
You choke on your spit, your boyfriend has whispered dirty things in your ear before but nothing like this.
“Yes— yes, yes, yes,” you chant
“Wanna be stuffed with your cum again and again and again,” your tongue loose with the amount of pleasure Eddie’s giving you. It means so much that this man is willing to play into your stupid fantasies. You grip onto his wrist scared he’ll pull away again. You moan in a way he’s never heard before, it’s loud and wailing, it’s purely you. It’s you running on instinct.
"Cum for me, princess," Eddie whispers against your ear, pinching your clit between two of his fingers and slamming his fingers deep inside her pussy, curling them in a come-hither motion.
“Fuck- ohh fuck” you moan, your head falls back on his shoulder , hips rolling into his fingers, hands digging into his skin. You wheeze for air as your skull digs into his shoulder, pussy fluttering around his fingers pulling them in deeper and squeezing. It isn’t until his teeth press into the juncture between your shoulder and neck that you practically scream. Coming on his hands making a mess of the vibrator, thighs shaking as you babble nonsense.
He shuts the vibrator off when you whine, pulling your sensitive clit away, and throws it somewhere in the bed. His tongue traces the indent he’s left of your skin.
“You’re crazy” you rasp
“But you fucking love it,” he grins against your neck pressing a soft kiss there.
#eddie munson#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson x fem!reader smut#Eddie Munson is a dickhead#eddie munson x female character#eddie munson brainrot#stranger things smut#eddie munson x y/n#werewolf romance#idk how to tag this#unedited#eddie munson drabble#smut#eddie munson / reader#Eddie Munson / you
219 notes
·
View notes
Text
Wait for you Pt.2 | L.N.
Lando Norris x reader
Summary: Nothing can stand between true love. But what if said love is taken from one's memory?
Warnings: angst, fluff:3
Word count: ~4.9K
A/N: Hello hello! I have finally got aroud to finishing this piece! Hope ya'll enjoy it <3
Lando could not concentrate, not for more than a sentence before his mind was once again playing you as his favourite movie.
Your smile, your eyes it all felt too good to be true and lord… the kiss. Lando had to physically restrain himself every time his mind went there. All he wanted was to run out of this room full of people talking about plans for the upcoming race and just run to you.
His skin was itchy and on fire from waiting for your touch. Now that you’ve given him a dose, given him hope, he was hooked with anticipation for more.
After the conference everyone dispersed into their own rooms except for Lando who followed Oscar to his driver’s room.
“Oscar you will not believe what happened!” Lando giggled as he closed the door.
Thus began the recollection of the touching moment on the roof top with you.
“- and then I asked her out and she said yes, and even gave me a kiss on my cheek before I entered the conference room! Can you imagine that Oscar?! She kissed me!” excitement was pooling around Lando’s lower lash line.
Oscar had forgotten what a truly happy Lando looked like and no matter how tired he was now, he did not want to be anywhere but right here on the uncomfortably tough sofa, listening to his friend talk about his love, especially because that love was you.
“Well that sounds like good news mate, where are you gonna take her by the way?” Oscar watched the life drain from Lando’s face as the excitement for the rendezvous converted to pure stress of the situation.
“Oh my God?! Where am I going to take her?!” Lando started pacing around the small room in circles making Oscar feel positively dizzy just from following Lando with his eyes.
“HELP ME OSCAR!” The older male pulled at his own hair out of sheer desperation for someone else’s input.
“Well just take her where you’ve taken her before, it’ll help her jog the memory,” Oscar answered calmly, rubbing his eyes. Lando’s pacing really did make him dizzy.
“Wait, that’s actually a really good idea. She loved our first date, she was never tired from talking about it,” Lando‘s eyes sparkled with the memory of your hands wrapping around his every time you told someone about your first date. Those were the moments when Lando understood just how deeply he felt for you and how you loved him just as much.
“Exactly. Everything is gonna work out, I can feel it,” Oscar laid an encouraging hand on his teammates shoulder. If reassurance was what Lando needed, Oscar will be there to provide.
The next few days at the paddock were filled with shy glances and giggles as the date spurred the two to secure their connection. Your laughter was never ending as so were Lando’s bright smiles. It seemed that every sentence Lando could think of sounded like the funniest joke to your ears.
While Oscar explained their upcoming race schedule to Lando, comically unbeknownst to him, Lando’s eyes were trained only on one person, as for all his attention too.
“What do you think about that Lando?” Oscar looked into the eyes of his friend only to find his point of attention trained behind himself rather than at him.
As he turned to find the culprit of Lando’s attention, he found no one else but you perched on a counter, lit up by the golden evening sun. Lando giggled as you waved at him and lifted his hand to wave back at you, both of your blushes ever-growing.
“Oh c’mon man, we’ve been through this!” Oscar’s eyes rolled back into his skull.
Damn these two love birds. As much as Oscar was thrilled for his friends once again being together the shy-giggly faze is just as annoying as it was a year ago.
You winked at Lando and he almost lost his stance.
“Really?” Oscar signs.
“She’s flirting with me!” Lando became defensive clutching his chest.
“Mate she’s literally your girlfriend…”
“Yeah, but she doesn’t know that,” Lando’s smile never left his face as he watched your eyes focus back on the book that lay rested on your thighs.
In that moment something clicked for Lando. Life is truly as good as it can get. All uncertainty has been washed away by hope. It truly felt like you were healing him with every single glance. Perhaps it was just Lando’s imagination but whenever he met your eyes they were yours, he knew those eyes and for the first time in a long time Lando could let himself cry out of happiness when thinking of you. The clouds have dispersed, with each passing day you remembered more and said things that would make Lando stop in his tracks.
Lando no longer needed to look for you, because you were already there…
The over-packed luggage bag fell out of your hands at the sweet sight of a white fluffy bed. Lord knows you wasted no time jumping into the bed after kicking your shoes off at the door.
“Ughhh, this is heaven,” your voice was muffled by numerous pillows, but Lando still heard it clearly.
“I’m gonna set up my sim here, okay?” He asked, unsure if you wished for him to leave or stay. After all sleep was what you favoured over anything.
“Yeah it’s no problem, you know I don’t mind you being around,” you lifted your head slightly and shot him a smile.
“You’re the best!” Lando smiled in excitement and in a few minutes the desk area of the hotel bedroom became a sim racing corner.
“cute,” you admired the man only loud enough for yourself to hear.
It felt like only a couple seconds had passed before Lando was once again calling your name.
“Y/nnnn, are you sleeping?” His eyes met your half lidded ones. Gosh you looked cute, all sleepy… and so kissable.
“I am now,” you yawned the words out, eyes not yet fully open.
“Good, you better not be sleeping, I need you to see me win this,” his concentration in the game never faltered even with you on his mind.
“Don’t worry I’m awake,” you yawned once again making Lando chuckle. “You know, you could just wake me up when you finish and tell me the result?”
“Nooo,” he whined, “I need you to watch me win. Are you watching me?” He turned back for a second just to make sure you were behind him.
And you were. You were sitting there wrapped in a blanket, eyes big and oh so soft. You were there with him and that was all he ever needed.
You climbed out of the bed and stood behind him, hands in his hair and a kiss on his temple to which he let out a satisfactory sigh. ”You’re going to win Lan, I know you can.”
“I’ll only win if you’re by my side, love.” He crossed the finish line and turned around kissing you deeply before you could even congratulate him. His hands were quick to hook under your thighs, your warm skin tickling his fingers. He picked you up effortlessly, nestling the both of you into the bed that had already soaked up the scent of your floral perfume. It’s the same one he gifted you on your last birthday.
Your hands tangled around him, pulling him closer until you breathe the same air. His eyes were glossy, pupils dilated to a point where you could barely see the storm of green and blue. Your fingertips draged across his soft skin and to his silky curls. He was everywhere and you hoped it always stayed that way.
You’re still drunk on quality sleep when the morning light pulled you out of the peaceful slumber. Your hands instinctively reached out to the other side of the bed ghosting over the empty mattress, “Lan?”
A pout formed on your lips as you found the bed empty and void of any and all warmth.
Suddenly your eyes shot open but then again closed up, pain of the bright lighting residing in your retina.
You turned to your left side. Empty bedside. No Lando.
You felt yourself swimming in confusion. Your memories mixing with moments unseen before.
Was I dreaming? Dreaming of Lando in my bed? Quite puzzling indeed.
But what puzzled you most was that you were in Spain, but Lando was not in your bed.
That revelation, for some unknown reason, did not sit well with you.
Overwhelmed you sat up on the bed, trying so hard to understand why for the love of god you were looking for Lando in your bed.
Why would Lando be here? Why was he in my dream? Was it really a dream?
You got off the bed and started looking for any clues that the dream was not actually a dream but reality.
Although the only thing you found is yourself feeling something for Lando Norris you had not felt before.
Dream or reality? This only served to confuse your heart further.
Your eyes caught the clock on the wall, a clear sign that you should hurry as the slender black arrow was about to meet the number seven.
Today was a free day for the grid. That meant that you were to meet Oscar and Lando in the hotel gym and later head for a complimentary breakfast with the two.
Hanging at the gym with them was not as fun as most imagine. Without their active energy being aimed at making jokes it was easy to get bored since you were not in a mood for a workout.
After walking around for a good five minutes you ran into Alonso.
Ever since you first came to formula 1 Fernando fit right into your life, kind of like a father figure at most times and sometimes as an older and much wiser friend.
For that very reason you were now sat at one of the many leather benches talking the older man’s ear off about everything that had been going left instead of turning out right.
“Every day whenever I’m left alone it just gets so annoying, like I truly have nothing to do, but I have nothing I want to do. Like I’m just trying to sit somewhere and relax but it somehow feels too bland,” a heavy sign exited your lungs making Fernando put down his weights and put all of his attention on you now.
“Take them,” he was clutching a plastic earphone box lightly in his left hand, extending it towards you.
“Don’t you need them?” you lifted your eyes out of curiosity but did not dare take them just yet.
Fernando was quick to brush your question off, “Ech, I don’t like these wireless things, I always loose them.”
Your eyes locked on the case. Do I even like listening to music?
“Don’t worry these are unused, I got them from PR this morning,” he let out a chuckle, unnerved by your silence after being surrounded by your voice for so long.
“Are you sure?” you were uncertain but Fernando thrust the case into your hands and ruffled your hair as you smiled up at the man. “Thank you Fernando.”
“It’s all my pleasure sweetheart, it’s about time you started listening to your music again.”
Fernando walked away before you could inquire him about your taste of music, and how he knew so much about it.
There it was again, that uncomfortable feeling. You felt as if you were behind in class, like everyone knew what was going on and which formula to use for a certain problem, but you did not.
Everyone around you seemed to know things about you before you got to discover them yourself and that did nothing but make you uncomfortable in your own skin.
That is where the spiralling set in.
All of a sudden the world shifted off its natural axes and you were no longer there. Your words seemed to get stuck in your head, your movements too slow and every time you tried to pay attention your mind was engulfed in a thick cloud.
It was all messing you up to further close in on yourself.
Lando noticed. Of course Lando noticed. Even if it was only a week, Lando noticed…
There was one thing Lando actually paid attention to and it was you. But once again his great attraction to you was beginning to pain him, little by little scratching at his heart. With each cold shoulder and weak smile he could feel it, he could feel you moving further from him while he was stationary, just a few steps behind you, nonetheless too far than he’d like to be.
Lando’s eyes drifted around the white ceiling of his driver’s room as he tried to trace his steps back and see what might have caused you to stray from him. Was it something he did? If it was he’d better fix it before it became too late. But what could he have done?
You had the date about three weeks ago, that was fine, great even, and he hadn’t had you so happy and respondent in months. Then there was the free week before Spain which he spent with his family while you went to Australia with Oscar, but you texted and called every single day, most days it was you who initiated the calls and reassured him that he was not keeping you from sleep as the two of you were separated by many, many hours.
Then there was the night you landed in Spain. Lando had waited in the airport for hours, wishing he was the one to take you to the hotel and surprise you with your favourite flowers.
He remembered Spain last year. He could never forget, it was your first time at a race as a couple, the relationship still fresh as a wildflower. Lando was hoping for a win, and he felt he could win with you by his side, like he did the night before on the sim, only because you were there watching him with your soft loving and undeniably sleepy eyes…
He expected to jog your memory with the help of the familiar Spanish scenery however it appeared to blow up right in his face the next day.
He picked you up at the airport and you were happy. Right? Yes. You jumped into his arms, you held his hand and even let a tear escape your eye as you held the flowers close to your chest. On the ride to the hotel you talked so much, excitedly telling him about all kinds of aussie adventures you, Oscar and his girlfriend Lilly got up to. He listened all through them with a pearly smile, even if he had heard the stories before from Oscar, asking you questions while knowing the answers to them only because he knew you’d feel cared for and appreciated if he asked. And to end the short but splendid night you kissed goodnight after he walked you to your room. It was meant to be a thank you for his kindness but the real thank you for him where your eyes.
Your eyes were his weakness since day one.
But the next day your eyes were not your eyes anymore… They were not yours ever since.
Was this it? Is this how life is going to be now? He will work and work to get just a bit of you for you to forget it all the next day.
He had heard about such a thing from doctors how some amnesia patients have clear sky days when they become who they were before but even a slight factor can alter that and not an hour later they can forget all that happened before.
Does this mean you will never remember him?
What if you never love him again…
“Lan get up you muppet we have a race starting in 20,” Oscar yanked the older boy awake from his daydream and watched him return to reality. “Everything okay mate?” he observed the tired eyes of his friend.
“Yeah… let’s go.” Lando trained his gaze away from Oscar and left the room first. As much as he needed to talk about you now, he just couldn’t do it, not to Oscar, not again…
Your fingers mindlessly wrapped around your ring pulling it on and off constantly before your skin started burning, but that didn’t stop your behaviour.
Thanks to your mind running faster than an F1 car you’ve figured out a few things this week.
First. You liked Lando Norris. And that’s great.
But dreaming about him being your boyfriend? Now that’s a bit too much.
Second. You liked music. More than you initially thought you did.
Third. You liked cornflowers. The blue ones.
You didn’t know that before. You couldn’t really think of a flower you liked before…
Fourth. You had no idea who you were.
There it was again, that unshakable feeling out of alignment. Like the whole world had tilted and you were no longer on the same axis as before. Was it only a few degrees off but you felt worlds apart from the days before.
Your heart was racing again, lungs refusing to take in the oxygen, though it was all around. It was easy and natural to breathe, something no one needed to think about to control, it just happened and for some reason you were once again stuck unable to control your own self, just as you were unable to calm your pounding head.
You entered the garage where Oscar and Lando stood listening to one of their engineers explaining something to them animatedly. The earbuds in your ears were almost unnoticeable, even with the melodic tune, until you made eye contact with Lando’s clear blues did the familiar tune follow.
But I knew you,
Dancin' in your Levi's,
Drunk under a streetlight,
I knew you.
All of a sudden it hit you quite literally like a truck full of bricks. And the world completely swung off its axis.
The memories spun as a wind whirl in front of your eyes.
It played like a movie.
Your eyes filled with tears before you could turn away and leave the crowded space. Too confused and much too overwhelmed with what you’ve just remembered.
There was Lando, and he was everywhere. He was holding your hands and he was kissing you and he was sleeping in your bed. But you didn’t understand where all of this came from, when just moments ago you were trying to figure out if you even like the man, now you felt such a tremendous pull towards him, it scared you.
Lando had watched your small smile fade into a look of confusion and your eyes filled with tears. Your last look was it. Eyebrows pulled together, eyes glossy. Something he had not seen in months now. Your whole face was contoured with memories of you two together. And he could see that, he could see it from your eyes, the eyes that recognised him once more, only they were not glistening with love but with salty tears.
She remembered me. She is crying.
Panic ran Lando’s blood cold. He wanted to chase after you but before he could take one step in your direction a firm hand on his shoulder held him back.
Lando looked at the hand before lifting his eyes to meet the concerned eyes of his teammate, “Lando I know what she means to you, but you have a race starting in 5 minutes. We need to get in those cars.”
“But she’s crying Oscar, something is wrong.” Lando’s voice was demanding and rough, if he needed to push Oscar down to get to you he’d do it, no matter how much the thought of hurting his friend displeased him.
Oscar registered the fiery gaze that made home in Lando’s eyes and he did not want to see what followed but he had no thought of letting him go.
“You have to make a choice Lando. It was never going to be easy.”
As much as it hurt Oscar to say those words to his friend, all he wanted was for you and Lando to be together again.
But Oscar saw you this week. And he saw Lando this week. And neither were sights to marvel at.
You were always an extension of Lando and he poured all he had into the girl he loved. But you were different now, and that was changing Lando, although not always in a right way.
By the end of the day if you did not remember loving him and if their labour proved fruitless Lando would have nothing left. No you, no him. For now Lando at least had F1 and Oscar knew that the only thing he could do is help his friend protect his precious job because he had no call in your mind or feelings.
Only a month ago Oscar felt how everything would work out, but maybe working out meant you two finding your happiness apart and not together. Healing separately and moving on from what had passed. As disturbing as that sounded, it looked like the only solution for both of your wellness.
“Boys, cars, now!” a voice boomed, directing them to take their positions.
Oscar and Lando shared one last glance before Lando pulled his helmet back on and settled into his seat.
It’s gonna be a tough race. Oscar thought.
As expected the race was unlike no other this year, 3 crashes, 5 DNF’s all while Lando drove with the concentration of an eagle, his eyes on the road, but your eyes in his mind.
Lando was rethinking everything, he quite literally had the time, almost two hours before he’s allowed out of this car and can finally see you, he needed to be ready for what was to come in the future… or if there was any future for the two of you left.
What if it is the end?
What if you don’t want him anymore?
A couple of tears travelled down his hot cheek and mixed with his sweat. His eyes were burning, his chest was burning but he pushed and pushed himself unafraid to perform a dangerous over-take with the car in front of him. Mere seconds later a loud cheer echoed through his ear.
“P1 LANDO! YOU ARE THE WINNER LANDO!”
“I won?” He repeated while finishing the cool-down lap, complete disbelief soaking his words.
As soon as he stepped out of the car it was all cheering and flashing lights.
I need you to watch me win. Are you watching me? His own voice resonated through his ears, the memory of your eyes before him.
That was the last thread before he broke down crying next to his car.
Everyone cheered even louder. They thought he was facing the high of his life while he felt like rotting in hell.
He needed you to see him when he won. Now he did win, but you were not watching…
He knew you. He knew you so well. When you told him you’d be there, when you kissed his cheek, when you watched the night sky with him, when you held his hand. He knew you’d come back to him. He knew he’d get to hold your hand again and watch you smile all thanks to his wit.
Only he did not know it would be temporary…
Air got caught in Lando’s throat, it was suffocating being encaged within the helmet.
While Lando stood on the podium accepting his award not once did he look down at the crowd before him. Keeping his eyes on the trophy or the other men sharing the podium with him.
But never down, never to the left corner where from the side of his eye he could see that cluster of bright papaya, never to the very front of that gate, never to where you were supposed to be standing.
Because inside he knew that you were not there, but if he never looked back there then there will be no confirmation, so the theoretical possibility that you might just be there was all he could get and he would hold on to it for dear life.
If he never looked down, he could just let himself imagine that you were there, watching him win…
“See boy, you can’t win everything, but when your time comes, you get all that you want. And Lando, you very well deserve this,” it was Fernando tapping the younger boy on the shoulder, expressing his congratulations.
yeah… I won a race but I lost my love.
Sadness encapsulated his heart and the last thing he wanted now was to pretend to celebrate a long awaited win. Before anyone could get their hands on him he disappeared to his driver’s room.
He opened the door and locked it behind himself. He needed to be alone now.
“Lando,” your soft voice greeted him.
“I knew you,” your eyes were ablaze, “I don’t know how or where it came from, but I knew you and I loved you.” You tried your best to calmly express all feelings that came crashing down on you mere hours ago.
“Loved?” Lando breathed under his nose, he was shattered beyond repair as your declaration made him take in a large gulp of air. Lando could feel himself getting mad. This is so fucking unfair.
“You’re so mean.” He slumped down on the couch, his eyes directed away from you.
“What? Lando I’m trying to-“, you stepped closer to him, instantly regretting that decision.
“AND YOU DON‘T THINK I AM?! I’ve been trying for months now, all alone, while you wanted nothing to do with me. You didn’t even know me, while I had to live around you, still in love with you. It’s so unfair, SO FUCKING UNFAIR ALL OF THIS!”, his hands waved with inner rage. He knew he wasn’t mad at you, it was not your fault, but he was mad at something and he needed to let that out. He needed you to finally know how he felt.
“Lando I am sorry, I-“, you tried to interrupt before Lando completely broke.
“IT’S SO UNFAIR THAT YOU WEREN’T THERE, YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO WATCH ME. SURE YOU DON’T REMEMBER, BUT I DO, I REMEMBER, YOU PROMISED ME YOU’D WATCH ME WIN! AND YOU DIDN’T! YOU LIED!” With each word his voice became louder and louder, he was letting his emotions out for once, tired of holding them in for the sake of everyone else but himself.
“I know Lando! And I did watch you,” you tried to keep your mind levelled and let him let his frustrations out.
“NO, NO YOU DIDN’T, YOU RAN OUT BEFORE THE RACE COULD EVEN START, Y/N I SAW YOU!”
“I. WATCHED. YOU.” You’re the one to raise your voice now, getting close to his face. You needed to show him that you could hear him.
“We were here in Spain a year ago and you were sim racing before the race, you told me to watch you race, because you wanted me to see you win and you did win. But when we woke up the next day I had caught a cold and could not watch you race out on the circuit. You lost and you were crushed. I know Lando. I was there. And I am here now, only this time I was here too, I watched you race and I watched you win.” Your own voice glazed in assertiveness just to make him listen.
Lando’s eyes were in tears, his hands in tight fists unable to understand how something like this could have happened. All of these emotions crashing down on him, he didn’t know what to do, he did not know how to react, he was lost.
Your gentle touch worked to unwrap his tight grip and relax him before placing his palms on your tear stained cheeks.
You’d show him a way, the way you always had.
“I remember Lando. I remember everything. I am so sorry. I’m so sorry for leaving you alone for so long. I’m sorry it took me so long to come back to you. But we can fix this we can work on this together right?” you pleaded with your eyes, attentively searching his own for an answer.
Lando’s first instinct was to pull you into a crushing hug, breathing you in like you were his oxygen.
Lando finally felt at home. It was and always would be your touch, your presence that could ground him.
“You came back to me. I will do everything to keep you close, Y/n,” He whispered into your neck, the hot air tickling your skin making you giggle.
“You came back,” he held you even tighter and your hands were just as firm grasping him.
“I‘ll never leave you again,” you ran your hands through his soaked curls, letting the memories of your life before take over each one of your cells and fill you, “I’m sorry for taking so long my love,”
“Don’t be.” Lando broke the hug so he could look into your eyes again.
Now he saw his true prize. It was your eyes, your rosy cheeks, your glistening lips. You were back and you still loved him,“ I’d always wait for you.”
^^
Tags: @goldsbitch @cmleitora @mickslover @darleneslane @queenofmanydreams @ujws5
#lando norris#lando norris fluff#lando norris imagine#lando norris x reader#lando norris x reader fluff#lando norris x reader imagine#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 x y/n#formula 1 imagine#mclaren formula 1#mclaren#ln4 x reader#ln4#ln4 imagine#ln4 fluff#lando norris angst#lando norris x y/n#lando norris fanfic#f1#lando norris fic#f1 x reader#angst with a happy ending#light angst
192 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
meganaldous
Megan Aldous
krystlevyanshu-blog
Untitled
druffdurchsleben
Liberation for Humanity
yourcheeksarefat
BAD CAT
schooljust
Untitled