|| Wasted Chance ||

TW: smut! cum play (?), cum eating, unprotected sex, pure fucking filth, do tell me if missed any

gojo satoru who doesn‘t want kids but doesn‘t pull out either.

mindlessly, he thrusts into you as if his life depends on it. his eyes are closed, head thrown back with his hands on the small of your back pressing it down, forcing your back to arch.

it hasn‘t been remotely long since your last orgasm, and another one is loading inside you. it’s all caused by the natural arch of his thick cock that keeps hitting your g-spot, causing you become delirious with every passing second.

"‘tooru—" you sweetly moan, tongue already losing it‘s place in your mouth. meanwhile, the white haired man behind you keeps moaning, barely hearing your voice over his as he whines.

"j- just a bit more pretty." he pants, both hands moving to your waist as his thrusts become rather sloppy and deeper as he shudders with every thrust, feeling your walls tighten around him sweetly.

you shudder, feeling his cock pulse inside you, going deeper with every thrust, his hands clawing at your waist as he chases that sweet release that washes over him in no time.

you both moan so lewdly. his sweet voice leaving past his lips as he stills, dumping his cum inside of you. you stop as well, feeling his liquid inside you. all that stickiness feeling well inside of you, spurting and painting your walls white.

"fuck baby," he moans.

though he did dump himself inside of you without a care, he doesn‘t want kids, and you don‘t feel prepared yet. you‘re not on birth control, and neither is he.

you sigh in pleasure as you feel him pull out, white cum that belongs to him and you wrapped around his pretty cock. gojo swallows thickly before he grabs your waist and flips you to your stomach.

"alright baby, you know what to do," he looks up at you, your tired yet smutty eyes meeting his lust filled ones as you nod.

his hand moves to the lower part of your stomach as he watches your cunt with lust in his eyes. you prop yourself on your shoulders as you look down at him between your legs, you smirk lightly before you push.

with one hard push from you and a light pressure from his hand, dribbles of his cum drip from your pussy. you moan, feeling his fingers ghost on the lips of your cunt, opening it to reveal more of you pushing all his seed out of you as best as you possibly can.

and when you feel like can‘t anymore, he‘ll sweetly smile at you, saying "oh don‘t worry, i can help you with that." then, his long, slender fingers will delve into your pussy.

your throw your head back as his fingers rake the walls of your cunt, bringing the remnants of his cum out of your pussy. and when he sees his middle and ring finger glisten with cum when he takes them out, he‘ll waste no time and put them into his mouth. he does that all while he looks at you, looking lewdly before his fingers go back in.

when he finds that his fingers can no longer pick out anything, he‘ll prop his mouth before you glistening cunt and stick his tongue straight into you. best part is when you‘ll take his hair and push your cunt straight to his mouth. he‘ll smirk, grabbing your thighs and straight up lick you in the inside. he calls this process 'just making sure' to make sure that there is no more cum in your cunt, to ensure that there will be no babies coming your way.

and when he‘s down with taking all remnants of his white potent seed out of you, he‘ll crawl over to you and dangle his cock before your mouth. of course, you naturally will eat up and lick him. you‘ll eat the mixture of yours and his ecstasy clean.

and when you‘re done, you two will share a cute deep kiss, tasting each other. <3

VIRGIN!JJK FIC RECS

something about virginity loss fics makes me sooo wet... req by anon ^^ adding onto the list whenever i find more <3 mdni, nsfw content!

gojo digimon—but making u cum is my real hobby - blkkizzat strongest sorcerer virgin - megumiluv virgin and unexperienced bf!gojo - fatal fairies number one sorcerer (and virgin) - inmaki nerds do it better - sugugasm virginity loss & riding - creamflix inculpatus - jaegerbby teach me how to pleasure my future wife (you) - fvsm4x

geto reformed player!geto - akicult virginity loss & riding - creamflix losing your virginity to geto suguru - yasu-1234 his favourite - h34rtbeat just let me love you - sttoru salvation - puppykento inked - choslut

nanami she said it's her first time - classyrbf sins of the flesh - semisgroupie perfect lover: the life of nanami kento the 35 year old virgin (series) - kanekisfavouritegf

yuuji oh my god, pretty - lokissweater virgin!yuji x virgin!reader - nana-au bff & virgin!yuji - nana-au yuji x f!reader - ickyuji

megumi best friend megumi fushiguro - onismdaydream megumi's birthday - mommypeick first time having sex is awkward - wild-jackaloupe how to fuck 101 - chosok-amo i think i'm ready - romantichomocide95 first time - megvmijx

yuta that boy is mine! i can't wait to try him! - rosesaints gummy bear - loveanddeepdick right here - love-jelly smile, you're on camera - seraphdreams

choso virgin!choso - teasingchoso choso kamo x f!reader - jaegerdilf mind body and soul - admirxation cherry blossoms ( 1 2 3 4 5 ) - sellenite cherry smoke clouds - kleftiko he's such a (hot) looser - classyrbf emo boy - krys4h

toji sins of the flesh - semisgroupie

taboo crush - spideyyeet best friend's dad - nanaslut

sukuna virgin!sukuna - screampied

etc jjk!boys x virgin!fem reader v!rgin killa - screampied asking the jjk characters to take your virginity - nanaslut cherry popper - satorusugurugirl

Say That I'm Yours (gojo x f!reader)

Summary: Gojo has never experienced jealousy. But after overhearing you talking to Utahime about your ex (who is also her current boyfriend), he can’t fight off the shaky, unfamiliar feeling in his chest. You have to reassure him that he's only yours in the bedroom.

jjk masterlist

Content/Warnings: NSFW 18+, jealous and needy Gojo, pet-names (m!recieving and f!recieving), vaginal fingering, Gojo has a praise kink, and discovers that he loves to be called pretty boy, insecure Gojo, emotional hurt/comfort, a little angsty at first, oral (m!recieving), soft sex, unprotected sex, cream pie. At first, Satoru takes initiative, then you take over. Primarily dom!reader and sub!gojo. (soft/service!dom gojo too?? I think???)

Note: We’ve reached 500 followers! Woo! As a little treat to celebrate, I wrote my first ever smut piece. And uhhhh… I’ve never done this before so I apologize if it comes out a little wonky. If you haven’t read it already, this piece is NSFW so MDI.

P.S: Feedback is appreciated!

P.P.S: sub/soft!gojo rights.

Words: 10k

------

Gojo Satoru never considered himself to be a jealous man.

And personally, when he does get jealous, I do think he would get A LITTLE possessive. But contrary to what everyone else headcanons him to be, he wouldn’t be rough.

As Gege Akutami stated himself, Gojo is perfect in every way aside from his overly childish personality. Looks, wits, having complete mastery of his overall skill, Satoru really does have it all.

So aside from jealousy, he’s also never felt an ounce of insecurity in his life.

Plus, why would he? Growing up, he was brought up as the ‘perfect child’ in his clan, being the ignition to his ego. And currently, your devotion to him is higher than any other person he had previously come across with. And even though you don’t try, your physical expression towards him has fueled his ego in an unnecessarily large amount over your dating period.

You’re not a person of words, but merely a woman of touch. You talk a lot, but you’re not very poetic, so verbally complimenting Gojo is almost non-existent. But he doesn’t mind, since the number of compliments he has received from multiple people about his physical looks is 10x more than how much an average person receives in their lifespan. Though, it’s not a lie if he wants to hear how his eyes are like the sky or how his hair is like snow from you. Typical and repetitive, but it’s refreshing if those words trickle from your tongue instead from people he doesn’t care about.

But they never did, and he accepts that. He’s aware that you’re not the complimenting type, but the way your hand caresses his hair in the winter snow, fingertips lightly kissing his bare chest almost every night, and how you gaze into his eyes as if you were cloud-gazing is enough to make him feel like he’s the most gorgeous man alive. So it’s normal for him to never feel envy, insecurity, or any other negative, self-indulgent emotion. This relationship alone already sets him above cloud nine.

So, what happens if Gojo were to come face-to-face with those unfamiliar feelings for the first time?

—--

Utahime was extremely nervous when she introduced her partner to you and Satoru, especially you.

And it was definitely awkward to reunite with your former ex with your current boyfriend by your side… But it was Utahime’s fault, for she was rambling (and indirectly apologizing) about how painfully weird this must be to the both of you. And while Satoru joyfully soaked in her rare emotion of being flustered, you happily greeted your ex, and both exclaimed that this interaction isn’t weird or awkward at all.

Yes, Utahime’s boyfriend was your first love, but it ended smoothly and with no hard feelings. Your time apart is 5 times longer than your time together. In fact, this feels like a reunion between old friends rather than former, romantic companionship. That being said, Satoru feels at ease since you’re so relaxed and the man opposite to him (who goes by the name Rai) is non-threatening at all.

Therefore, lunch went smoothly, where everyone caught up with each other. You and Rai discussed any milestone events between the gap of seeing one another last and now, while Utahime irritatingly throws insults towards Gojo’s gleeful taunts.

After stopping at an ice cream parlor for dessert on the go, you and Utahime decide to sit outside on a bench to talk about “girl stuff” while the boyfriends entertain themselves.

“I have to take this call,” Rai waves his phone and Satoru dismisses him by flashing a toothless grin. And once the man leaves, the 28-year-old sorcerer ponders where you and his former classmate trailed off too. Sensing your cursed energy, he makes his way to the bench where you and Utahime are chatting.

“There’s no way he did that!” Utahime playfully slapped your shoulder while you hid your face from laughing too hard.

Amused, your boyfriend keeps himself at a distance, admiring how delighted you are, while also basking in how your skin glistens against the sun. But he remains close enough to eavesdrop.

“He did, he did!” Your finger swiped a tear off the bottom of your eye. “For 2 months after our first anniversary, he told the same restaurant that it was our anniversary for free dessert whenever we visited. And they believed it until all the waiters served us.”

Perplexed, Satoru raised an eyebrow, unfamiliar with your storyline. No? On your first anniversary, he took you to the Bahamas and 100% did not do that… Though it’s financially unnecessary, he thought it was a genius plan.

“It is something Rai would do,” Utahime sighed, calming down from her fit of laughter. “I’m 31, but he still sometimes tells the servers that I’m 25 whenever he wants to get under my skin.”

“Oh geez… A literal trickster at best.”

Satoru frowned upon discovering that you were talking about your past experience with Rai and how open you are about it. Well- it’s not that he minds. He shouldn’t mind, actually.

You probably talk about your experiences with Satoru to your friends all the time! Eagerly, he waits for your turn to share a goofy story about a time with your very dearest. But, that conversation never came to be.

Utahime shifts her seat and stands straight with relaxed shoulders. “In all honesty, I’m glad that we are able to talk about this. I was so nervous about how awkward it might be for you since Rai was you know…”

Her voice trailed off to some sort of unsettlement and you took that as an opportunity to smile genuinely at the nervous teacher.

“Ahh don’t be!” You gave reassurance by tapping the side of her thigh. “Rai is a great man! He and I ended on very good terms. I was actually very happy to see him today. Looks much different than the last time I saw him.”

“Really?” Utahime’s eyes ogled. “What did he look like when he was younger?”

Meanwhile, Satoru pressed his back against the wall with crossed arms. Removing his glasses, he barely needed to glance over the concrete corner to see you pulling old pictures of a group. And there you were in the middle while your finger led his attention to a figure of a man all the way to the left. Right from the get-go, Satoru knew that this picture was from you in high school, meaning that it was before you and Rai started dating. That was the only fact you told him.

The 31-year-old squinted her eyes and used her fingers to zoom into the photo. “Huh, he does look a lot leaner, but with more of a babyface. You didn’t become his girlfriend until the beginning of college, correct?”

You nodded. “Yeah. This picture was actually taken the day we met.”

Satoru felt his lips unconsciously pouting at the statement. Do you have any sort of memorabilia of the time you met?

‘It’s a group photo. Don’t be weird about it,’ The sorcerer brushed those uncomfortable, unfamiliar thoughts away.

“You guys knew each other longer than I thought.” Utahime happened to express Satoru’s thoughts out loud.

“Actually, I knew about him first before he met me,” you recalled, which sparked your lover’s curiosity. He leaned closer, so his ears could capture everything you say. Not that it bothers him, of course.

Assuming that the woman you’re talking to had a nonverbal reaction, you laughed outwardly. “You were no longer in high school, but he was very popular in our class! Though… there weren’t that many people, to begin with. Anyways, he would always be chirpy and courteous to those around him. I wasn’t that outgoing so I just kinda admired him from the back of the class until it was our last semester of high school… You’re okay with me telling you this, right Hime?”

“Please, I’m not the envious type. I want to know who my partner was before I met him. But I think your boyfriend might get jealous.” Satoru could hear the hesitance that trailed off his former classmate’s tone. He almost wanted to jump in and laugh at how stupid that assumption was.

Satoru, jealous? It’s sinful to put those two terms in one sentence.

“Nah, he’s not like that.” You raised a hand, brushing it off. “Anyways, where do you want me to start?”

—--

Maybe Satoru did something bad and the Gods punished him for it. With Rai gone for 30 minutes, you told Utahime your old companionship with her current lover. How after months of friendship, you were the one who initiated it and how he was your first everything. Before having proper money, you and Rai would go on adventures as dates to compensate for simple meals. And to make matters worse, Utahime all soaked it up as if she was the spectator in this failed relationship.

Not an ounce of possessiveness or jealousy courses through her veins. Just utter curiosity and fascination.

Gojo told himself that he felt the same thing. However, it left a sour distaste on his tongue and a churned stomach upon hearing all of this. He had his fair share of experiences before his current one and you were being honest about yours. You liked your relationship and that’s that.

But why did he carry the feeling of wanting to whisk you away from ever getting near Rai? No, Gojo Satoru is never jealous. He’s being protective.

“What are your favorite features about him?!” Utahime asked, clamping her fingers together. You sat up straight, rubbing the back of your head with an unsure laugh.

“Uhhh are you sure you want me to answer that?” As much as you’re happy about your friend’s enthusiasm, you felt like you might be setting yourself up in a trap.

“Oh come on! My boyfriend’s really hot and kind, and I don’t have anyone to fan him over with! Please, I won’t get mad!” The semi-grade 1 sorceress grabs your hands, tightly squeezing them. You scanned her eyes, trying to see if there was any envy or malice behind her enthusiastic gaze. However, any implication did not arise and you concluded that your friend was just lovesick with no one to talk to about it.

But Satoru sure as hell didn’t want you to. Actually, he was absolutely sure that you didn’t want to answer either. He’s had enough of this and he senses that you are too. If anything, he can’t wait to accuse his senior of acting like a teenage girl for the next year and forever. Pushing himself off the wall, he began to showcase his loud, obnoxious appearance until he halted at the sound of your voice.

“Like physical? I’m not too sure, actually. I used to like how light his brown hair would get in the summer.” You opened your mouth to continue but closed it immediately.

Satoru tugged on the strands of his white hair, frowning at the color. You liked running your hands through it, but you’ve never commented on how nice it looked.

“Isn’t it gorgeous? Everything about him is perfect-” Utahime fawned. Her face beamed a bright red as she geeked over her man, clutching onto you in the process. Your stuntedness formed into a genuine smile, due to how happy you are for a lifelong friend. At last, she’s found happiness.

She continued. “His hair, his face, his eyes-”

It even shocked you that you managed to interrupt Utahime’s rare tandem. “-His eyes are very beautiful! It’s like looking into a green nebula. It’s what drew me into him the most and I think he was sick of me always saying that.”

“Sincerely out of this world. I can’t describe it in words, but every time I look into them, I feel like I’m in a hypnotic trance.”

“-Like you’re simply lost whenever he’s talking?”

“YES!”

“Yeah, I noticed you blanking out whenever he was talking to you.”

“Oh shut up, you most likely did the same thing when he was yours.” Utahime playfully nudged and you furrowed at her tease.

“Sure.”

Now, this is something that Gojo had to admit that it kinda hurt. His eyes were the staple of his well-being, the frontman of his physical confidence. Yes, you drew your thumbs underneath those rare pairs, but the fact that you never called them beautiful or verbally admired them once stung.

But when Rai was yours, you apparently complimented him like it was no problem.

'Beautiful and captivating, huh?' He whimpered softly as the uncomfortable feeling washed over him. He never heard you traject those words to him before.

“Um… Well, I’m sure that you know, but he was absolutely sweet and very courteous.” Your tone softened as you reminisced about the old times. “We didn’t have a lot back then, but he still managed to make every day feel like we could do anything even though we didn’t have everything… Oh God, that sounds weird. I didn’t mean it that way, I’m so sorry.”

You face-palmed yourself and something inside Satoru’s gut twisted. He would always shower you with gifts and other spoils, but mainly as reconciliation if his busy schedule stole him away from you. Before he knew it, his hand was placed over his heart, his stomach doing massive somersaults.

Do anything… Did Satoru fail to give you satisfaction when he could do everything?

But when Rai was yours, you felt like you could.

“I know what you mean!” Utahime playfully tugged on the strands of her hair. You swore you could see stars beaming from her brown orbs. “One time we forgot our wallets after eating at a karaoke bar, so he had to improvise his way of paying by having me sing for tips and we still had leftover money for more drinks!”

“Ugh, clever bastard… Where does he get a brain like that? That’s also one thing I admire about him.”

“Well in terms of strength, he’s only a grade 2, so he had to be more creative when it comes to fighting curses.”

‘I can get creative!’ He mentally argued, though he never really has to, since he can snap and the curse would perish.

“True… When we’d spar back then, Rai would still manage to beat my ass even though I’m ‘stronger’ than him,” you put the term in air quotes.

You and Utahime convene until the latter’s boyfriend returns from his phone call. He flashed Satoru a wide smile and through his dark sunglasses, your partner analyzed the ex’s eyes.

They are very green and arguably mesmerizing. But, Satoru believes his are prettier.

But, is that what you think?

With an uncomfortable heart, the men returned to their beloved partners. You squealed when Utahime received a loving kiss from Rai, while Satoru snaked his arm around your waist.

You could’ve noticed how secure his grip as if you weren’t so busy talking to Rai about your past as mission partners.

—--

A few days later, you’ve noticed Satoru being extra clingy… and nice?

The usually messy and disorganized sorcerer started to clean up after himself and always abide by what you wanted.

The man who had the palette of a child opted out for a savory breakfast rather than going to a sweets cafe because you wanted to. He’d be more affectionate in public, not letting you out of his reach. Oddly enough, he would settle the bridge of his sunglasses on a lower portion of his nose, so you have to see in his blue eyes when you’d talk in public.

It worried you for a moment since new habits have been created and broken out of the blue. With no explanation, he would always do his best to please you.

From your basic wants to intimate needs, for some reason, Satoru wanted to give it his all.

—--

“What is with you, Satoru-” You sigh as your partner leaves delicate kisses on the nape and then to the side of your neck. His large hands slide down from your waist to your hips and pull you closer to him. “You’re so touchy today.”

Like the last couple of days…

“I just missed you,” his hot breath releases a chill down your spine. He then sets down the spatula you were holding while turning off the stovetop. “Just missed you so much.”

Though your ‘annoyed’ exterior shows any satisfaction, it’d be a lie if you claimed that you aren’t melting from his touch. The heat inside the kitchen adds more to the desire burning deep in your core and it doesn’t help that the person casting the effect spins you around and has lips hovering centimeters away from yours.

“Beautiful…” The tip of his right thumb brushes the bottom of your lip and he licks his own. You glance up to meet his eyes, but his starry blue irises have turned to a thinner ring, as his pupils dilate in infatuation. His remaining fingers cup your jaw, adding more fuel to the pit of your stomach.

His left-hand sneaks down to the flesh of your ass and you yelp in surprise as he pulls you towards him. Taking your open mouth as an advantage, Satoru doesn’t hesitate to slip his tongue in as his lips connect with yours. You wrap your arms around his waist, and the throb between your thighs increases.

“Mmph!” You groan and Satoru initiates the next step by rubbing his hips against your clothed body. Tongues dance together while he continues to grope your ass, but his hand shortly rises underneath your shirt, feeling every curvature of the small of your back. The sloppiness in his pace and the subtle whines in his throat is enough to help you predict how hard he is underneath his layer of clothing. Teasingly, you break the kiss and slip a finger inside his beltline.

A string of saliva bridges between the two lips and Satoru grouches at the disconnect. His lips swell pink from the heated activity while his cheeks are flushed, anticipating more. From his chest, the light blue, silk button-up rises up and down, and your partner pants heavily as if he just ran a marathon.

Usually, at this point, he would make some condescending or teasing remark on how much you want to bed him. However, his mouth remains gaped, only the sounds of his breathing pass between the two of you. Wanting to test him, your index finger slips lower until you can feel the skin of his abdomen. Satoru quickly exhales from the sudden touch, but there’s no usual smirk or raised brow on his face. Only an expression that screams, ‘Please continue.’

“Baby, are you okay?” You gaze at him, still catching your own breath.

He’s strangely quiet as if he’s suddenly shy. And that’s typically not who Gojo Satoru is.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” The hand still underneath your shirt begins to make its way to the right side of your waist, and the closer he gets to your stomach, the amount of butterflies increases.

After noting how your jaw clenches at the action, Satoru bends down and leaves a kiss on the side of your neck. It’s wet, but not entirely sloppy. Instead of using his tongue and straight-up licks down to your sternum like a usual, teasing bastard, he takes time and kisses his way down. The jolt between your thighs returns.

“We- We can’t. I still need to cook for you.” Automatically, your right hand reaches up to the back of his head, using your fingers to grasp his white locks. Your action contrasts your words and Satoru takes that as your approval.

“I’m not hungry.” But the way both hands move below your shirt says otherwise. Since you’re at home, you wear your favorite v-neck with no bra underneath. Freely, two thumbs brush over your hardened nipples, rubbing them in a circular motion, and your hands grip the counter for support.

“But-”

“Right now, I just want you.” There’s a different look in Satoru today. He’s never been so direct on what he wants until now. Whenever he would declare his needs, he would mask his desires with a playful tone. This time, he says it as if these are direct orders from a life or death mission.

Sensing your shift in mood, the sorcerer detaches his tongue from your exposed chest and looks up at you. The inner corners of his brows scrunched and his lips glisten under the fluorescent light. He shoots you a look of what appears to be desperation, almost like he’s in pain.

“Please-” he breathily urges, one hand scooping the bottom of your ass while the other arm is wrapped around your waist, waiting for approval. “I want to make you feel good, right now.”

Your legs tremble at this new side of Satoru and something about him practically begging to fuck you ignites something in your soul. You can’t pinpoint what exactly, but whatever it is, his wish is your command.

“Yeah, okay.” You breathe out and as if it’s choreographed over a hundred times (and to be honest, it is), you feel a set of palms grabbing your bottom and he hoists you up. Your legs immediately wrap around his waist and your lips crash against the side of his neck, hungrily sucking and licking where other faded love marks are. After being able to find his sweet spot, Satoru’s shoulders shudder at the intense feeling while he glides his way into the bedroom while carrying you, his constricted cock begs to be freed from his tight pants.

His main mission right now is to please you.

—--

Once he lays you down, you don’t hesitate to remove your own shirt and toss it to the side, revealing your bare breasts in all their glory. And for a few seconds, Satoru halts on top of you, hands next to your shoulders, soaking up the appearance of a goddess in front of him. A thin layer of drool begins to dribble down his lips.

Previously he’s admired you many times before sex, but because you’ve been so indulgent at his changed behavior, this is your first time noticing how he’s acknowledging your physical appearance. With how reserved he’s being, it gives you a little confidence boost, since you’ve never seen such a man in awe of your presence.

His bewildered eyes, a pool of drool below his lips, the imprint of his massive hardon against his left thigh, all of this is your doing. You’ve brought the strongest sorcerer to his knees, and you’ve never acknowledged that until now. With a burning face, your fingers pinch your own nipples, the pleasurable sensation causing you to moan.

Satoru, who is still on top of you (and fully clothed), bites his lip at how it’s not him forcing that sound out of you. In protest, his right hand carefully pushes away your left palm and continues to knead your breast.

The ends of his hair tickle your bare chest as his mouth trails lower to your stomach, enveloping each kiss with non-verbal, mental praises. He hopes that you understand the messages behind his actions, for he can’t find the right words that will do it justice.

You’re his goddess, and no one else's.

He wants you to feel good.

He wants you to say that you’re feeling good.

He needs you to say that he’s doing a good job, that nobody could ever compare to him.

“Someone’s feeling… very lovey today,” a hitched giggle is drawn out while your palm continues to pet his hair. It’s difficult to formulate a coherent sentence while he’s so busy leaving wet marks around the sensitive areas of your skin. 3 years together and he’s mastered all of your sweet points.

Wanting to share the pleasure, you raise your foot and rub his very prominent erection, gliding it back and forth. The sudden friction in his pants makes him halt his movements, a trembling hand wraps around the ankle of your jeans. Stopping your actions, you look up at an out-of-breath Satoru, who looks rather conflicted between wanting you to continue or needing you to stop.

One more swipe and it looks like he’s about to combust.

“Aww is my pretty boy about to cum in his pants?” The sultriness in your tone even shocks you. Usually, this is Satoru’s role to play, telling you how ‘pretty’ you are underneath him while mocking your desperation for release. But seeing how compliant he’s been, your subconscious tells you to take the dominant part- verbally at least. And not gonna lie, you do want to see the image of Satoru completely soiling his attire. If it wasn’t for his hold on your ankle, you would’ve been sliding your foot along his clothed shaft to the very tip of his very pretty dick.

A small patch of wetness seeps through your jeans and you’ve just noticed how soaked you are. It doesn’t help that the lewd image ingrained in your head is the major cause of all of this.

But what you didn’t know is how close Satoru is already. This whole charade is an experience for the both of you- you’re grunting at wanting to see your partner completely at your mercy while he’s about to combust from your sentence alone.

‘Pretty boy'

‘My pretty boy.’

His cock continues to twitch as the nickname cycles in his head again and again. It’s the first time you’ve ever called him something like that for intimate purposes. Even from his past sexual experiences, he’s never been the one who’s doused in possessive compliments so this is a new discovery for him.

Yes, yes! He’s your pretty boy. Yours and yours only. His heart thumps and his stomach flutters while ogling the wet patch seeping through your jeans. From your perspective, that flustered expression Satoru had is now mixed with a certain fierceness. The brightness in his eyes darkens as he single-handedly undoes the buttons of your jeans and even though he’s still got it, it’s cute at how clumsier he looks.

“No-” He grunts, answering your question. Bringing the middle and ring finger up to his mouth, Satoru coats them with his tongue, though you’re both aware that the extra lubrication is unnecessary. You’re already leaking through your jeans, that’s more than enough.

You swallow, gazing at the man above you, the superiority in your thoughts leaving your head.

‘Aw shit.’

A string of saliva connects his bottom lip to his coated fingers and Satoru swirls his tongue around your right areola.

“Haaah…” You gasp and fist the bedsheets and the skin of your boyfriend’s hand disappears below your panties as those long fingers trace along your puffy lips, a silent warning that he’s about to enter.

Shimming off your pants but leaving your underwear on, Satoru sits up more on his knees and eyes the bottom of your panties, the darker shade due to your juices adds more to his arousal. Yes, he felt how wet you are. But upon seeing how soaked you are, he’s extremely close to going completely feral.

“You’re leaking…” He replies astounded like this is a brand new sight for him. Your hips angle up, trying to match the slow pace of his fingers, your cunt beckoning for his fingers to slip in.

“Mhm, yeah. I am.” Your patience is starting to wear thin.

‘Is this some type of long foreplay?’ You thought to yourself, biting your lip.

Though you like this ‘wonder-like’ version of Satoru, you just want to feel him. Spreading your legs farther, your hand cups above his that’s hovering over your wet core. “You feel that? You feel how soaked I am, Satoru? It’s all- oh God… It’s all for you.”

If you weren’t so desperate for him to continue, you’d find yourself extremely pathetic for being the one indirectly begging for him to begin. And upon seeing your need, Satoru doesn’t waste any more time. After all, it is his duty to satisfy his queen.

Almost apologetically, his two fingers slip inside- warm, gummy walls instinctively tighten around them. Trying to add more stimulation, his thumb presses on your clit, rubbing in circular motions. His free hand palms his own erection and his hips begin to rut against it, pacing with how his fingers curl inside of you.

Satoru thrives on how contorted your face is, how your eyes roll to the back of your head and how your lips form an ‘o’ shape. The way that both hands tightly grip the sheets beside you, but how you desperately claw on them as if it’s his muscular back. Your hips buckle up, grinding the open air and he marvels at how ravenous you look.

“Sa- Satoru nghhh- yessss,” you reach out trying to grab his arm- grab any body part. Still pacing back and forth, Satoru holds out his free hand and you grip it tightly.

“Yes?” He groans with you, the squelching sounds of your wet cunt taking his fingers are music to his ears. You mouth his name again, mixed with urgent moans. He himself can feel precum creating a pool on his underwear. You try to speak and he wonders what to do next.

Does the fist himself while he continues fingering you? Or should he just focus on you? He can take care of his needs later. Right now… Right now Satoru wants needs you to-

“I’m about to… I’m about to cum.” You squeeze the last 4 words with clenched teeth.

“Then go ahead, sweetheart. Cum nice and hard for me.” He licks his own lips, nodding along with you like your release is also his.

“No.” You hiss and his eyes widen, surprised by your answer. Immediately, the thrusting of his fingers slows down to a stop. And you whimper at how you’ve edged yourself.

“What’s wrong, baby? Did I do something wrong? Did you not like it?” His mind races with many factors on how he displeased you. You seemed to have enjoyed it. The way that your insides squeezed around his fingers was enough to tell him that he was fingering you in the right places.

Settling from your almost high, you laugh and scoot closer to him, calves sliding underneath the middle of his thighs. Glancing at his perplexed face, you reach up to his white-collar, and yank him down, his lips connecting to yours once more.

You can feel the sound of his grunt vibrate on your tongue and like a pro, your fingers nimbly work their way down, undoing the first three buttons.

“I loved it,” you mumble between the heated kiss. “I was so close, but I want to cum from your cock, not your fingers.”

“Huh?” Satoru exhales sharply. His already flushed face deepens even more and the confident fire in you returns. Biting his lips, your hands trace down from his chest, purposely brushing over his nipples, and press on his muscular abdomen. Your left-hand removes the small leather strap from the buckle and tugs him closer.

“What are you doing?” He asks as if his eyes have deceived him. Your left fingers successfully undo the buttons of his jeans with one hand while your right ones lightly graze over his restrained erection. Satoru exhales, hips involuntarily rocking back and forth.

“What else?” You tease, applying more pressure against his clothed shaft. “Remove your top for me, Satoru. It’s not fair that I’m the only one naked right now. Why are you being so shy all of a sudden?”

Complying with the request, but ignoring your question, Satoru unbuttons his silk top, fingers fumbling and shaking. It is cute to see, but his sudden nervousness makes you nervous as well. Why is he being so fidgety? Did he do something bad?

On his second to the last button, you place your hand on top of his, signaling for him to stop. Reading the uncertainty on your face, Satoru can’t utter a word. His flushed chest heavily breathes, waiting for your next thought.

“What’s wrong, Satoru?” You speak softly, with an edge of worry.

“What do you mean?” He tries to play it off, but here’s the one thing about Gojo Satoru. He may be good at hiding his feelings, but if you interrogate him in a highly vulnerable environment, he’s shit at pretending. The warmth in his cheeks adds another knot of evidence.

Tugging on his wrist furthermore, you encourage him to sit down, officially halting the intimate activity. Disappointed by his lack of usual finesse, Satoru’s face beams in embarrassment rather than arousal.

“I mean…” You pull a pillow, hiding your exposed chest. “Why are you so nervous?”

Satoru does his best to pull a mischievous tone. “Is it wrong to be nervous when I pleasure my goddess?”

“ I-uhhhhh,” Your stomach releases butterflies, due to his suaveness. However, you still feel how hesitant Gojo is. It’s like facing a virgin. “You’re always very confident during sex. I’m usually the flustered one.”

You chuckle, pointing a finger at yourself, but your boyfriend hides his eyes through his hair. Frowning you scoot closer, as you settle your way onto his lap. Your arms wrap around the back of his neck and your wet core presses against his softening erection.

“Come on baby, talk to me.” You press an open-mouth kiss on his right pec and a small nibble on his collarbone. Satoru shudders at the warm feeling as he wraps his arms around your back to pull you closer. “Please?”

It took him a while, but the sorcerer finally connects through eye contact, his magnificent ocean eyes sending a loving shrill down your spine. You find yourself getting lost in his gaze.

“I overheard you and Utahime talking on the bench, the other day,” he grumbles and your ears perk up at his answer.

“How much did you hear?”

“I heard enough to know that Rai was able to make you feel like you could do anything in the whole world.” His voice drops and so does your heart. “Even with everything I have, no matter how many riches or treasures I give you, it’ll never amount to anything that he gave.”

Your face drops to a frown, shocked at what you’re hearing from both ears. How on earth did he assume that?!

“No baby, no.” You coo, sweeping the soft, pearl-like strands of hair from his forehead. Your lips plant on the recently exposed skin, and you slowly travel down to his nose, rosy cheeks, and jaw before stopping inches above his lips. Satoru whimpers at the distance, while also recalling your denial.

You slowly inch forward. “That was all in the past, my love. Rai is a great person, but the amount of affection he has given is no match to how much care, devotion, gifts (you jest by nibbling on the cartilage of his ear), and love that you've given me. Likewise, my feelings for you are incomparable to how I felt towards him. Don’t compare yourself to my past experience, Satoru. You’re my present and future.”

He swallows at your words. The sadness in his blue hues brightens into love and hope. His lips gape as he looks at the face that is inches above his. Truly a goddess in human form.

“Really?” He still needs to feel reassured.

‘Please tell the truth.’

“Yes, truly. I love you more than any man or woman I’ve ever come across and will come across.” Your thumb grazes his bottom lip as he mumbles back the same three words. The kiss starts slowly as if he was still hesitant over the whole ordeal. But your eagerness helps push him to come back to his comfort zone.

As he inserts his tongue into your mouth, you begin to pace by grazing his hair through your fingers. Your hips rock, lapping over the hardening member below, and the butterflies from your stomach return.

But before you can escalate even further, Satoru pulls away, this time earning a whine from you.

He breathes heavily, pulling on a rather teasing pout. “Say that my eyes are pretty.”

“What?” Your fingernails lightly trace over the sides of his neck and your partner shivers from the tingling sensation.

“You don’t compliment me, ever.” He forces out, rather pettily. “Just this once, please say something nice about me.”

His last sentence is hushed and desperate-sounding. You giggle at his shyness once more and peck the tip of his nose. Though, your stomach swirls with guilt, as it seems like you never showed him enough love.

Time to fix that.

“I’m sorry if you got the wrong message,” your lips travel to his neck, words vibrating through his flawless skin. His head leans back and his Adam's apple bobs from the pleasure. “But I always think that you’re beautiful, Satoru. It’s just that the whole world knows it.” Slowly, you remove yourself from his lap and have him lie flat down on the large mattress.

With all four limbs pinned around him, you continue to shower him with praise. You ravish every piece of exposed skin on his body starting from the top and he flushes brightly while looking away. “I thought that you’d be sick and tired once you hear it from me multiple times.”

“Never… I would never get sick of it coming from- ohhh…” Satoru hisses as your hand lightly tugs on the roots of his hair. With your right knee moving to the middle of his thighs, you put slight pressure on his balls, having him slowly grind for more friction.

“Your hair is purer than any shades of white and softer than all the silk I’ve ever touched.” Your grip softens as you kiss the side of his head. Soon after, you travel down to his eyes. Thumbs softly brushing the delicate skin underneath them. His blown-out pupils stare directly at your soul, the power of his six eyes distinguishing the warmth that flows through your veins.

You place a peck on each outer corner. “If only words can bring justice to how mesmerizing these eyes of yours are. Did you know how embarrassed I was the day you first removed your blindfold? I thought that I wouldn’t be able to pry away and you’d catch me staring.”

“I did. I caught you all the time.” He hums amused, but his gaze never leaves yours. Though it’s just the two of you in this room, you whisper a message that is created for him and only him.

“The sky and ocean, all-in-one. How did I get so lucky to see the gates of heaven when I’m still walking on this earth? Maybe I instead, am the honored one.”

His heart swells at the softness of your words. You, the goddess in his life, find yourself the honored one because of him. It nearly brings tears to the god-like sorcerer’s eyes.

Satoru slithers his large palms where your ass meets your thighs, unable to keep his hands away from you. He molds them and you swallow, the throb in your pussy begs to be touched, to continue unfinished business.

“Slow down, pretty boy.” You purr with a kitten-like grin. His hands around you clamp at the name and your knee feels his hips thrust up. His eyes almost roll back and his nose scrunches at the endearment.

“You like being called that, huh baby?” Your knee presses against his clothed crotch, earning a wince from his pretty mouth. “Is that all I need to say to get you this vulnerable? Call you my pretty boy?”

Another grind against your knee. Satoru looks up at you in a hazed condition. Though the main event hasn’t arrived, he looks like he just came from a 3-time post-orgasm state. With the cat biting his tongue, Gojo nods profusely, desperately uttering yes.

Sweat seeps through his button-up as you kiss his glossed lips. This time, you and Satoru had to fight for dominance. His is pure infatuation and desperation, while you want to gain control in taming the strongest sorcerer. You bring your body down as he slips a finger through the hem of your panties.

“Please…” He begs as you pull back, crotch fully grinding against yours. His hands move your hips in a slow rhythm, your wetness staining his already soaked imprint. The friction of your panties is enough to make you cum alone. “I want to make you feel good. Please let me make you feel good.”

That can happen, but seeing a vulnerable Satoru below you, desperate for your pleasure while curling his toes at every praise is rather enjoyable. A new, undiscovered flame lights your stomach and you want to do what it takes to explore this rare opportunity.

“You always do that,” you pout, going lower. “But this time, I-” Each word, leaves a love bite on his neck and down to his collarbone and chest.

“Want.”

Bite.

“To.”

Bite.

“Make.”

Bite.

“You.”

Kiss.

“Feel.”

Bite.

“Good.”

Bite.

You tug on his hard nipples with your teeth and fingers, making Satoru buck up in surprise.

“Nghhh!” He pants, tears pricking his eyes. His hands grip the sides of the bedsheets and since you’ve moved lower, his hips are humping nothing but air.

Removing the last two buttons of his shirt, you encourage him to shimmy out of it and toss it to the floor. No distractions.

As you move lower to his abdomen, you continue to spill praises and all the verbal affirmations that you’ve never told him. You feel extremely guilty for neglecting him in that aspect since you believe that he thinks that he just doesn’t need to hear anymore, so you want to make up for it as much as possible.

When you make it down to his pants, you debate whether or not you want to tease him even further or just begin business. His legs tremble the moment he feels the belt unfastening.

“Are you okay baby?” You ask innocently, tracing one hand around his v-line while the other gently grazes on the massive bump in his jeans. Satoru throws his head back, gripping both of your hands with his.

“My love, please.” His throat is dry, and his neck all the way down to his abs are decorated with your love marks. “I’m going to cum just by this- I can’t- I- Oh my God…”

“You can cum twice, can’t you?” He barely notices how you already unzipped his pants, the only layer blocking your skin from his dick is the heavily coated gray boxer briefs. It rises as it is freed from the constricted attire. After removing his trousers, you begin to toy with the outline with your hand. You can already feel the drool pooling in your mouth.

“I didn’t know you could get this soaked, Satoru!” You’re genuinely impressed by how much pre-cum your boyfriend is able to produce. On your hottest nights, he’d already had his dick pumping inside you if he were this horny. “How lucky am I to be dating the world’s prettiest boy with the prettiest dick?”

Satoru wants to laugh at the compliment, and retort something cheesy. But his mind is too swayed to even think coherently. He is pretty. You’re his pretty boy.

He loves that.

Peeling off his stained boxers, his hard dick springs freely, the light reflected by the sheer coat of his juices. The flushed tip leaks even more out and you almost feel pity at how long you’ve left him waiting.

The sorcerer can barely raise his dizzy head to see what’s going on. When you make eye contact with him, a devilish smirk appears on your face and Satorh’s thighs clench when he feels your hot breath going near it. He’s almost afraid of what you’re going to do.

“J-Just- just… Aghhh, my love! I-” He is instantly greeted by the softness of your mouth and hand circulating around him. His balls are heavy with cum, the only thing prohibiting him from shooting down your throat is his sheer willingness to draw out this pleasure as long as possible.

You can’t go all the way down, as the halfway point is already your limit. As your right hand strokes the bottom portion of his shaft, your left pays gratuitous attention to his balls, massaging them to increase the pleasure.

Meanwhile, your own cunt is begging for the pleasure Gojo’s receiving. With your knees still on the bed, your ass sticks up in the air, the angle forcing your sticky wetness to travel down to the front of your core. It doesn’t matter anyway, you’re already leaking on the bed.

At this point, Gojo is already babbling incoherent sentences. His head lolls to the side, his blue hues barely visible due to how far they rolled back. His right-hand fists the bedsheets, knuckles paling due to how tight he’s pulling on them. The other is submerged in your hair. He’s more gentle about it, but every once in a while he would subconsciously thrust a little too hard, making you gag. You encourage him to keep going by swirling your well-coated tongue around his tip.

A few more pumps, Satoru is spilling. His abdomen flexes at the intensity, veins popping out in his lower stomach. Your head bobs to match his quick-paced movements, but he’s losing control of himself. Satoru’s thighs flex as he humps up, forcing more of his cock into your throat.

“Baby,” he warns feverishly, gripping tighter on your hair. “I’m cumming, I’m cumming-”

Your head spins at the intensity, barely being able to take a breath. You hum, sending vibrations down his twitching cock.

He groans and whines, yearning for the long-awaited release. His toes curl and his muscled thighs shake as his member shoots long streams of cum down your throat.

“You’re so good to me… So, so good.” The grip on your hair turns into strokes as you swallow all of his seed. Once he relaxes, you slide your mouth from his cock, jaw aching from the rigorous pace. However, that’s not the only part of your body that’s aching.

Your cunt begs to be taken care of as you crawl over a recovering boyfriend, who’s still catching his breath.

The desperation in his eyes has cleared, but the lust still remains. You lick your lips before interlocking with him, your bodies pressed against each other. His hands roam around your back before one slides down to your ass, underneath your underwear. You grunt at how grabby he still is.

“Don’t you want a break?” Though, it’s a ridiculous inquiry, since Satoru’s hard shaft is already rubbing up against your pussy. You both simultaneously moan at the sensation.

“No breaks for you,” he chuckles as he pulls you in for a kiss. “I still need to make you finish. My poor baby has been waiting for me, huh?”

You sneer at his tease. “You cum once and all of a sudden, you’re back to the way you were- Woah!”

In your next blink, you find yourself lying on your back, your recently relieved lover now hovers over you. It really is like looking up at the sky, his glossy eyes shining brighter than the blue sky outside. You feel your entire body heat up as he ogles you from your head to your feet.

“Absolutely divine,” his voice rasps, the cock you just fucked with your throat taps against his thigh, clearly aroused. You rub your thighs together, looking for some relief. “Now, where were we before you sucked me off?”

The edge of his pointer finger traces around your folds, outside of your panties. He knows how much you love the friction, as you grind against his finger, nipples hardening at the action.

You moan softly, enough to capture his attention. “Satoru-”

The star-like gaze you offer sends the message completely. Bending down, Satoru plants a long, passionate kiss as he circles your clit with an additional finger. You squeak against the pleasure, wanting more. More, more, more.

“Why are you so beautiful?” He mumbles, barely pulling away from you. Your saliva connects each other’s lips and no longer having the patience, you take his hair and pull him down.

His flushed chest lies against yours and Satoru leaves open mouth kisses on your neck, hitting all of your major sweet spots before trailing down to your breasts, the same way you did for him not too long ago.

With his long tongue, Satoru teasingly circles around your areola before fully latching onto your nipple, biting and sucking to his heart’s content.

You roll your eyes back to the incredible sensation, a warm shrill traveling around your body. It leaves your cunt even wetter, desperate for parts of Satoru that aren't his fingers.

“You're such a good boy,” a new nickname leaps from your tongue and swims into his ears. Satoru tenses at the pet name, and you can feel the vibrations of his whimper against your breast. Your fingers lace over the strands of his white hair as he continues to play with what seems to be his favorite features of your body.

But even with the jolting sparks of sensitivity those buds provide, it’s not enough to satiate the burning drive in the pit of your belly.

“‘Toru,” you say sloppily, wiggling your hips to the rhythm of his fingers. “I need you- inside me. Fuck me- Please.”

You bite your lip and he lifts his head up, the infatuation still possessing his very being.

His digits leave your clit and instantly, you grind for the missing feeling. Satoru nods as he removes your panties, basking in the beautiful bareness. The slickness laminates your intimate area, something that temporarily captures your partner’s attention.

He supports himself on top of you but furrows his eyebrows.

“No condom.” He displays an innocence in those orbs, mixed with twinges of disappointment. You laugh and shake your head.

“I’m on birth control. You can cum inside me as much as you want now.”

It makes his ears perk, mouth slightly parting from the genuine surprise. You’ve both never done it raw before, but you trust Satoru with your entire life to make this decision.

“Are you… Are you positive?”

“Yes, and my pregnancy results will be negative.” You stick your tongue out at the pun and Satoru laughs at your cheesy joke.

“I love you.” He looks at you earnestly, pressing a light kiss to your lips.

“I love you too.” You say as he lines up the tip to your leaking hole. It’d be a lie to say that you weren’t nervous, but the excitement and the fogginess of your arousal override any negative feeling.

Spreading your legs even wider, Satoru goes in slowly. Thanks to the accumulated fluids you’ve both produced, slipping in comfortably is an easy task. However, your partner struggles to keep his composure at the foreign sensation.

You throw your head back as your body welcomes his cock, no latex rubber blocking the two of you. Of the many acts you’ve done together, this is the first time where it’s just you and him.

“You’re so tight… And g-ood.” He stammers, stopping only halfway. Satoru clenches his teeth to prevent himself from releasing prematurely. Man, thank God he already came once, or the pent-up sensation would’ve ended him. “Oh, you feel so good- taking all of me in.”

He grunts while inching deeper inside of you, nuzzling his face into your neck. You have your mouth pressed against his trapezius, teeth sinking in the skin.

The satisfaction of feeling his heavy balls rest against your entrance enables you to grind on his flesh. The cascades of whimpers fall out of your mouth, beckoning for him to move.

Satoru starts slowly, his arm cradles your neck for support. Breathless moans from his end tickle your neck.

“Faster-” You suggest and your every wish is Satoru’s command. His pace quickens, and the sounds of his skin slapping skin move in a rhythmic beat. “Yes, thank you! Good boy- oh my g-”

Your vision blurs as his cock perfectly hits the g-spot, your legs wrap around his hips to adjust the angle.

Satoru lifts his head up, seeing stars. Tears accumulate at the edge of his eyes, his puffy, red lips practically drooling from the pleasure. He kisses the corners of your lips, whispering.

“Am I good enough for you?” It almost sounds like he’s embarrassed to ask.

The back of your fingers stroke his face before combing through his hair. “Yes baby, you’re always so good for me- so perfect and beautiful. You are more than enough for me- hahhhh… yes, yes, yes!”

Your praises are cut short as you feel a jolt in your stomach. You’re almost there, your calves pull Satoru’s hips, encouraging him to drive faster and harder. He looks like he can barely hold it in.

“My pretty boy is always so good for me-” You coo, repeating the same thing over and over. "Right baby?"

“I- I- Mhmm… ‘m yours.” His red face scrunches, quiet pants turning into loud whines. “I’ll always be yours… Please, mghh- please say that I’m yours- nobody else."

His insecurities flow out of his mouth with no filter stopping him. It’s unfair, but Gojo Satoru hates the burning sensation in his chest, realizing that someone else once belonged to you and you belonged to them.

Instead of jealous rage, he emotes envious fear.

No- he’s yours. Only him and him alone. After all these years, he realizes that he doesn’t want to be alone. Satoru will give you anything and everything to his avail to never leave him.

“Please, please, please…” He begs. Desperate whines accumulate as a free hand cups your bouncing breast. His slick cock twitches in you, yearning for a release. Satoru doesn’t know how much longer he can hold it in, but he needs you to come undone first- his goddess, his everything.

Your hands cup his pink face, forcing him to gaze up at you. Those infatuated pairs he once expressed turn into a gape of restlessness. He still needs to be reassured that your mind, body, and soul belongs to him as he does to you.

“Everything about you is made for me. Your spirit and body are mine.” Your stomach flips as the fire burns higher. Your toes curl as you’re moments away from approaching your orgasm. Satoru’s heart thumps 3 times faster than the pace he’s thrusting in.

“I am yours and you are mine, understand baby?” You continue, head spiraling. Satoru nods vigorously, his own drool pooling down to the side of your face. Oh, how he loves this feeling. His heart is warm and his desires are satisfied all due to your love. “You’re my one and only true love- forever and always. Always my pretty, handsome, perfect boy. Nobody could ever compare to you. Can you say that for me?”

His cock painfully twitches, bits of cum slowly spilling out of his slit. It’s too much. He can’t hold it in anymore.

“I’m yours- ‘m only yours.” He dedicates, in short sputters, saying your name. “I love- mmgh- I love you. Oh my God, -always yours, only yours.”

“I love you, Sa- hahhh- ‘toru!” Your volume rises as you praise his name. It sounds so beautiful as it rolls off your tongue. Your legs clutch tightly around his back, and your body pushes up to press against his.

His hips thrust faster, tightly wrapping his arms around your back and hips to hold you up. Moaning your name, Satoru is in a daze. His momentum is vicious as the animalistic side in him attempts to make an entrance.

“I’m cumming, Satoru! I- I-” You shower him with praises as he finally tips you over the edge. You see flashes of white and shake violently against his hold, gasping as your body rumbles into a turbulent orgasm. Your thighs quake as euphoric bliss travels through your system.

During the start of your orgasm, Satoru begins soon after. With one final thrust, he moans as he sets you back on the bed. His abdomen clenches and small tears spill from his face as his mouth creates an ‘o’ shape. Soon after, he grits his teeth, stammering your name as several long, white ropes shoot out, his love spilling inside of you.

Satoru continues to thrust slowly, riding the high of arguably, his best orgasm of all time. You shudder in his hold, with no words that are worthy enough to process what just happened.

You lazily smile up at the ceiling, combing through his hair, and after a few minutes of silence, he finally pulls out. His cock is drenched in milky rings, and the bedsheets are crumpled and stained with an unjustifiable amount of both of your fluids.

Satoru lies on top of you, speechless. He pants, trying to catch his breath. Even in his most difficult missions, he never had to exert so much air through his lungs until now.

“If you wanted to talk, we could’ve just done that.” You finally break the silence, giggling from the very intense session.

Satoru’s face doesn’t lift from your chest. His eyes flutter as he does a sarcastic eye roll. His cheek splays on your skin, disorienting his speech. “Pfft, that’s boring.”

His fingertips graze over your forearm, trickling down to your wrist and then enveloping your fingers with his. Satoru’s larger thumb massages your knuckles, before bringing them up to his lips.

“You know,” You stir, rocking the hand that’s intertwined with Satoru, side-to-side. The tone you bring is gentle but serious, bringing up something that isn’t the typical lovey post-sex topic you guys would initiate. “There’s no need for you to get jealous over anything, Satoru. You’re the only one I want.”

Slowly, he rises and peers at you, the pearl-white strands dusting over his glossy eyes. “I know... I just didn’t know how to handle what I felt when you talked about another man that wasn’t me.”

“I’m sorry about that, baby. Utahime kept pushing me and I was just really happy to see how she finally found her own love, so I just kept on rambling with her.”

“I should’ve taken a video of her for blackmail.” Satoru scoffs at the lost opportunity.

“However,” you laugh, shifting the conversation. “I did like this jealous side of you. It was cute.”

Gojo’s mouth drops at the comment and some confusion stems from his sentence.“My jealous side is… cute?”

As I stated earlier, I whole-heartedly believe that Gojo would get possessive, in ways that may differ from what other people think. He can take over the whole world with the palm of his hand and force his way to do the unthinkable. But if there’s a rare, uncontrollable factor that could pull whatever or whoever he cherishes away? Then, he gets desperate.

Gojo Satoru would get possessive by clutching onto his loved one, asking if he’s enough, and giving all that he could. After all, he was a gifted child who was the exact norm of perfectionism. So when he sees a competitor who could challenge his being, he’d crumble, get desperate, not knowing what to do.

But, just reassure him that no one could ever beat him.

“Yes, cute! Can we do that again next time?” You giggle at his very prominent pout.

“I’m not the only person that’s switched roles. You’re quite mouthy and feisty when you take charge.” He glares, but softens wholeheartedly at your amusement when his eyes connect with yours.

"I am only yours, right?" Satoru whispers once more, inching closer to your face, hinting at an answer that he wants to hear again and again.

From lust, to fear, to love, those same blue eyes cultivate the same message he had always intended to deliver.

"Yes, Satoru." You rub his back as he nestles his head on your chest, finally humming into relaxation. "You're only mine."

Satoru Gojo is yours and only yours. Always have, always will.

ೀ spoiled. ( part one )

📞🕯️🎀 ₊˚⊹♡ “ baby , can you call me back ? i miss you … it’s so lonely in my mansion … “ 🧸🪽🍬

pairing: ellie williams x rich fem!reader

synopsis: the mansion you live in is getting too cold , the silence is way too silent , and not even reruns of sex & the city can help … long story short , you’re feeling lonely . wonder if you can think of someone in your contacts that can help and warm you up , a certain classmate perhaps ?

warnings: girly reader , kind of desperate loser ellie , bratty spoiled rich reader so don't read if that annoys you , allusion to smut , actual smut will be in the second chapter , this is dirty so mdni as usual !

an: i wrote this such a long time ago and it wasn't supposed to be two parts but well now it is !! i will start writing the second part if u guys want to so don't be shy in my inbox. not proofread unfortunately ♡

A perfectly manicured hand rests on the fluffy white and silky smooth duvet. the Egyptian cotton, to be exact, is nothing but lavish, a sanctuary of indulgence in the realm of your own private luxury. Then, you tap your nails atop it, and the fabric crinkles. You gently sigh, but it's more so a grumble, and reach over for the ‘Dunkin’ cup standing on your wooden bedside table. It perfectly matches every single one of the furniture in your extravaganza of a walk in closet, and the bed-frame as well. You take a slow, indulgent sip out of the icy cold drink, take an ice cube out with a straw, and gently suckle on it. You place the drink back on the table, shifting your gaze back over to the flat screen television.

Carrie forgave Mr. Big again, and now she’s seen frantically pacing around the streets of New York City in her shiny Manolo Blahniks. You arch your brows, humming in high pitched amusement. you have the exact same pair!

Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte and Miranda always seem to bring you a sense of comfort. Usually, your bed brings you a sense of comfort as well, and so does an icy drink with specifically eight cubes of ice. Your room smells like French vanilla, a tinge of cinnamon, and the sweetest pie you’ve never learned how to bake. Most of the time, you’d bask in the scent and feel nice, and cosy, and your nose would scrunch and your nostrils would flare out, then you’d open your favorite food delivery app and order a nice ol’ package of nine chocolate chip cookies. Then, you’d pop open a bottle of champagne and indulge yourself in the sweets deliciousness.

But your appetite is less existent than snow in the middle of August.

You’re also freezing cold, fuzzy socks and all — goosebumps rising on your skin and feeling sharp like Japanese knives.

Your best friend of a white home cat, Toodle, elegantly extends his supple frame, his lithe form gracefully ascending to nestle within the cradle of your neck. His bell gently dingles, he yawns and mellifluously meows. Right now, it sounds more like an old mans groan.

“I know, Toots… m’bored too. And cold, Jesus…” you mutter towards Toodles, who, in his usual aloof manner, closes his eyes and surrenders to the soothing hum of his purring. You puff some air out of your mouth, brain wheels turning as to find out what’s the cause of this blue mood. The air conditioning is completely turned off, you’re sure of it, and the fireplace crackles with warmth. Your entire moisturized body is covered up by a ridiculously expensive thick blanket, and it’s not the short VS nightie that makes you feel freezing, you’re convinced of that. For some reason, the frosty sensation persists. You smack your lip-glossed lips before bumping your head against your mountain of pillows, emitting a low grunt of exasperation.

You don’t know the reason for your boredom, or for this bum mood, because albeit you’ve seen this episode about a gazillion times, it never fails to entertain the shit out of your brain.

Maybe it’s due to the fact that you’re entirely alone (except for Toddles, of course, can't forget him) in a 10,000 square feet mansion. or perhaps it’s because the only lit room inside the mansion is your own.

But then you roll your eyes, because your parents are always away (at St. Tropez this time), so feeling alone isn’t a new and strange concept.

Alas, being alone isn’t the same as being lonely.

Your face twists at the depressing thought, ew. You’re not lonely, just… bored, and unamused, and the icy drink isn’t sweet enough and Carrie’s getting on your last nerve, and the 1,000 dollar blanket is starting to itch the hell out of your hyper-sensitive skin.

Which is why you get up from the bed in a moment of eureka, landing your feet against the fuzzy carpet and slide them into your Ugg’s. “Uh huh!” you chirp, you finally got it.

You’re experiencing an old friend of a feeling called (drumroll…) — anxiety, over your unfinished chem project! It must have masked itself in the form of frigidness and discomfort and loneliness.

But the project isn’t even due till next week, and you rarely get stressed over college stuff unless they’re due the next day and you’re sitting, staring down at your laptop screen, trying to communicate with it through telepathy or something of that sort.

Somaybeit’snotanxiety and maybeyou’rejustloney.

You shake away that uneasy and irritating thought, and sit your pretty butt down on the rolling chair. You click your shiny glittery pen (that always sheds some glitter onto your hand) and open up the thick as brick textbook.

You read the first question out loud.

The correct formula for aluminum nitrate is…

Valentino’s Lòco Toile Iconographe shoulder bag in hot pink?

Nope.

You shake your head, you have got to focus. You place your chin atop your palm and click the pen once more.

Al(NO2)3? or maybe it’s Al(NO3)3…

or maybe you’re so far off you need to close the book shut and throw it out of the window. You’ve always sucked at chemistry.

Which is why you were assigned to be tutored by that auburn haired, green eyed, slightly sullen, tatted up girl who went by "Ellie" — or "El", but you didn't know her like that.

Ellie, is the one who stuttered out your name as she realized you weren’t paying attention to her tutoring, as you had your gaze fixated on the black ink etched on her forearm, a half-covered flannel and a canvas of delicate veins. A bug, adorned with intricate botanical details, unfurled its wings across her skin.

“S’uh… A moth, with ferns around it n’stuff. It’s kind of faded now though”

Her voice was raspy and husky, and she stuttered out your name. Usually, you’d hate it when people got nervous around you. It made you feel odd, ostracized, and you always insisted — you were so damn sweet, there’s nothing to be nervous about. You wore sweet perfume, sweet as goddamn cherries and cupcakes, and your voice was soft and you always smiled brightly, and so what if your purse cost more than a college tuition?

But her nerves didn’t annoy you. In fact, you found them charming, and you found her sweet. You found that all of her “Uhhh” ‘s, and her “Mhhm” ‘s, all of her stammering and her lack of ability to keep eye contact with you to be… infatuating.

Then there was that rich voice, and those eyes, that smile, those hands, those damn toned arms, those biceps and the haircut, the way two short strands of hair always framed her face perfectly and her scent — that you could tell was just a cheap cologne, but mixed with her unique fragrance, proved nothing short of intoxicating.

It was also the fact that she seemed to damn know everything — and that she was always ahead of you, and that her face always bore that coy little smirk when you got a question wrong (which you seemed to get more often than not), and that she would grab your Swarovski pen out of your hand and scribble down the answer for you, just to explain it in detail later.

The way she licked over her bottom lip and bit as wrote down.

With her long fingers and all.

When she spoke, her breath smelled of mint and the faintest tinge of weed, which made you think of how lovely it must be to be able to transform into a damn joint just so she could place you in her mouth and suck —

now you’re sticky, and god now you really are distracted, and not by a cute purse or the sound of rain pouring down on your window. Toodles stretches his tiny limbs and you hear his bell faintly dingle again. He climbs down from your princess bed and jumps up to sit at your lap. You caress down his white fur and he purrs.

You wonder if Ellie likes cats.

You know she likes pussy.

You have got to get a grip.

You massage your temples, attempting to focus on the written down questions again, but the words and the numbers seem to mix into a cacophony of odd symbols and letters, and you’re still so goddamn cold.

Albeit your eyelids droop down slowly, eyes spazzing out of focus, the assignment must be done today.

“Just, finish the damn work and go to sleep. Yup.” You mumble to yourself, a habit you picked up as a result of being alone for most of your childhood, and having to opt for the help of imaginary friends to keep you comfort. Alas, you’re older now and only have yourself to talk to.

You try and follow your command.

The problem is, you don’t know jack shit.

You wish Ellie was here, with her hair sticking to her forehead and your pen in her hand and her old chuck’s glued to her feet, as she sits down on the spare chair aside you with her jaw resting on her knees.

You wish you could hear her faint chuckle as you get another question wrong.

As a tutor, of course.

Not even as a friend, because she’s not.

Definitely not as a lover, obviously, because that would truly be so far fetched from reality — although… right now, you can’t help but think of the way her eyes fall down to your chest as a crimson blush creeps up her cheeks.

And you keep thinking about the time you purposely let your bra strap cascade down your shoulder, just because you wondered how she’d react — Which was with averting her gaze to the side and clearing her throat. Now you think of the time you wore an extra short mini skirt, not that different from the rest of them although a bit tinier, and how you kept rubbing your thighs together just to see whether she’d notice or not, which she did…

You groan and slap your palm against your forehead.

Then, you stare at another question and then at your phone. Toodles chimes in with a high-pitched meow.

“Oh my gosh Toots, so true! I should text her the questions, duh”

You’re not delusional at all, by the way.

So you send her your address.

In the meantime, you make sure your studying environment and your room are as tidy as possible. You grab your sparkly pink pen and place it near the textbook, and you grab a matte black pen for Ellie as well, a thoughtful gesture.

You also apply some strawberry scented moisturizer on your body, and spray your sickly sweet perfume on your pule points.

You slip your feet out of your slippers, and you wear your favorite heels. However, you keep your little nightie on. You’re supposed to feel comfortable, this is your house after all, and the heels — are just a courtesy, you are expecting company, and opening the front door with house slippers is entirely rude, and the silky robe… It’s long enough and proper. Ish.

You stare at your reflection down the mirror, and for some reason, you feel utterly nervous. You’re all dolled up for a person who isn’t a stranger, but who also isn’t a friend. When you coat your lips with some minty gloss, Toodles stretches his tail upwards and meows.

“Psh. Do not judge me, Toots. This is normal, I do this all the time”

Which again is a total and complete white lie, because if it was a regular friend coming over, you wouldn’t have even bothered to fix up your makeup, and you’d barely even get up from the comfort of your own bed.

As a matter of fact, not many people come by your house at all. You have your fair share of friends, but you’d much rather hang out by the mall or at one of their mansions, yours always feels just, utterly suffocating — as giant and spacey as it might be. And sure, you’ve had hook ups before, but you always went rigid when they tried to slip past your panties, and you were always… dry, as an autumn leaf.

Ellie makes you feel anything but dry.

Physically — you shake your head and try getting rid of the thought by giving yourself some good old whiplash.

You find yourself pacing around your room, until you manage to cascade downstairs as soon as you hear the bell ring. With each step you take, your heel taps the lavish ceramic pavement.

“Stay”, you gesture towards your fluffy feline companion, who responds with a squinting of his eyes. “Don’t freak out our company”

You look at Ellie’s face from the intercom’s shiny screen. You look at it so hard you nearly forget to press on the button that’s purpose is to let your tutor-guest in. A couple of strands of her auburn bangs stick to her forehead. Ellie scratches her eyes with the back of her hands and she straightens up her spine. As she waits for the gate to open, she puffs some air from her cheeks. She attempts to fix her eyebrows with the tips of her fingers, and seems to be murmuring something underneath her breath.

You’re not the best at lip reading, but your gut tells you she just whispered a “Hi”, and added your name, then — “Hey” adding your name once more.

It’s absolutely impossible for her to not be aware of how stupidly and irritatingly cute she is.

You press on the button and clear your throat. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t practice your greeting in front of a mirror as well. Your robe cascades down your shoulder, you fixate on it and contemplate pulling up the fabric.

Toodles meows once more.

Yup. You should keep it down.

It takes Ellie a good five minutes to walk the full distance from the front gate to your huge white door.

Then she knocks three times on the wood, and you squeak like a mouse although you really were fully prepared.

Your tutor wears a blue flannel with a white undershirt tucked beneath. The first button is opened, revealing a tiny piece of her pale skin. Below, her legs are covered with tight skinny jeans with a tear on the knee (you’re not sure if she fell or if it’s done purposely so), and to your surprise — no Chuck’s, but Doc Martens.

Noted. She has more than one pair of shoes.

When you greet Ellie with a cheerful — yet ever so relieved and breathy “Hi”, you kiss her on the cheek like you do all of your friends, and you can smell that cheap cologne again.

Amber, citrus, musk, lavender.

There’s a hint of actual Ellie in the mix as well — smoke, herbs, sweat… did she run here?

When you hug Ellie you focus on her scent.

When you hug Ellie she focuses on absofuckinglutely nothing — Her body goes rigid and stiff and she doesn’t hug you back until two way too long seconds pass, and she finally manages to place her hand on your waist.

But she doesn’t hug or squeeze, she rests it there.

Then she coughs.

“Hey”

You take a step back and you can tell she’s a bit flushed, or flustered — but you take it as her just running. You lean your hand against one of the thick pillars. Her orbs travel frantically from your eyes down to your… legs, that are completely bare and smooth and shiny, then they run down to your feet, which are covered with heels…

You think she might say something about it, about you, how ridiculous you look, so you’re washed up with self consciousness and shyness which is something you rarely get to feel, unless you’re with that damn girl for some reason.

Then her eyes hyper-focus on… the ceiling?

You grant Ellie a half smile and you really yearn to break the silence — but she’s ahead of you. Again.

“It’s… you have a really high ceiling” she says, then immediately glues her eyes on to the floor.

“Uh, shiny floor…” she chuckles so freaking awkwardly, grazing the bottom of her left legs doc’s on the floor so it squeaks. Immediately, Ellie apologizes.

“Shit, sorry, my shoes fuckin’ muddy. I uh, ran here”

You gingerly smile and furrow your brows. You theory has been proven correct. “You ran?”

“Walked, like, not ran ran”

There’s the tiniest droplet of sweat on Ellie’s forehead, which she wipe’s swiftly and clumsily with the back of her hand when she notices your eyes scan it. Oh, she ran ran alright. You do feel a little bad, picturing Ellie’s shoes hitting below her ass as she runs through the streets of your city, with a packed and awfully heavy mauve backpack — smacking against her back with every step she takes. You almost pout, you’re still leaning against the pillar and you smack your lips together — gloss and all, out of habit.

“Could’a given you a ride, y’know” you light sweetly. Ellie’s scarred eyebrow arches up in response. “You have a license?”

You so want to shove her shoulder playfully, but you’re convinced it’ll make her go absolutely rigid again. Physical contact bricks her up — noted.

“Why is that such a surprise?” you flash her a teasing smile. She smiles back at you.

“S’just, thought you’d have a personal driver. Can’t really imagine you driving that monster of a Rover back there —“

You nod in complete amusement. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” Ellie teases, followed by a throaty chuckle. “Plus, took you more of a passenger princess type of girl”

And that sentence shouldn’t make you stutter the way you do next. It shouldn’t, but it does. You back away slowly and Ellie follows your footsteps.

“T-that’s, awfully presumptuous” you chirp. Her boots stomp on the floor and your heels click clack. “Plus, I don’t drive that Rover. My car’s in the garage with the rest of ‘em” you say matter-of-factly.

Ellie scoffs impishly behind you. You walk up the stairs and she follows suit. She’s confident when she teases, you think, which is a tad different than her usual awkward self, but if only you knew she nearly slipped down one of the steps as she noticed the tiniest, delicious, most precious piece of your flesh that was just exposed behind you as a result of your incredibly short nightie.

“Psh, so presumptuous”

As you walk towards your room, Ellie walks behind you although she has more than enough space to walk besides you. You get the feeling that she's nervous, even after her teasing and all, and you don't have to wonder why too much. Your house is huge, intimidating, filled with strange sculptures and paintings by obscure artists regular people have never even heard of. You don't have just one living room, you have three, and in each and every one of them stands a different technology piece of some sort. Also, your heels cost more than her outfit, could be more worth than the entirety of her damn closet, and most importantly — you're walking with a pink robe and some heels on.

When you reach your room, Ellie awkwardly smiles and straightens her muscular back. Then, she holds on to the straps of her backpack.

"First of all" you sigh, and now it's your turn to feel coy. "Thank you for coming over so late. I know it's like, absolutely ridiculous, and you know, you don't get paid for this so...", you flash Ellie an endearing smile, the apples of your cheeks rising sweetly as a humble thank you. "And, second of all... jus'... brace yourself?"

Ellie's brows arch up, but before she has time to ask — oh.

You both step into your lit room. Toodles follows by closely, entering the room as well, whilst rubbing his furry back against Ellie's calves.

"Yup..."

Ellie's fingers instinctively clasp onto the straps of her backpack once more, her eyes widening ever so slightly, but she fights to seem as unsurprised as she can — she fails miserably, because she gasps a little.

Your room is nothing but a... cotton candy dream world. A wall that's painted in pretty dusty pink, a princess bed that's nothing but a regal centerpiece. Above the bed, a canopy of gossamer silk drapes from a custom-crafted wrought iron frame, And the final sophisticated touch, a grand crystal chandelier, suspended from the ceiling. There are also clothes everywhere, empty water bottles, used sheet masks, a stack of books — some half-read, others forgotten, teetered precariously on a random corner. Ellie sticks out like a sore thumb. She stands out like a neon sign in a library, a skateboard at a black-tie gala.

You like it.

She clears her throat, stepping further into your room. "I take it black is your favorite color?" she titters sarcastically.

You giggle.

"Mhm, also I'm clearly very organized, and I hate clothes" you murmur and point out the pile of dresses haphazardly bunched in the corner of your room.

She should feel out of place. She should probably laugh, even sneak a pic — tell all her "cool" friends about how mindblowingly ridiculous the prissy rich girls room is. Instead, she thinks about how cute you must look cuddled up in a bed this big, how adorable it'd be to see your bed-head poking through the sheets at 8am, how sweet it must be to watch you skip around your room, trying on your shitload of clothes, throwing them in the air and huffing like a medieval brat of a princess. She wants to place a fucking tiara on your head. She sees your sticker collection from the corner of her eye, your vinyls, your candles, your crystals and Toodles' sofa.

And she likes it.

You take a deep breath. You shouldn't even care if she likes it or not, you shouldn't be bothered by it at all — you rarely are, but something inside of you yearns for... something.

"It suits you" she murmurs.

And that's certainly good enough, because it does.

You gesture Ellie to sit on the rolling chair next to yours, and her eyes still roam over the space of your room. “My room looks exactly the same, by the way… same uh, size too… n’stuffed animals… Shit, I like the elephant one”, she sarcastically remarks as she sits on the chair and hunches down, manspreading as she often does. Your eyes can’t help but roam down, because her damn thighs flexed under those jorts and you heard her, but you also kind of didn’t.

Ellie clears her throat and narrows her eyes. Jheez, she thinks, you must be absolutely exhausted since your eyes don’t seem to be able to focus.

“Huh?” you say, startled. You’re still standing up on those heels. Ellie sniffles and chuckles and her voice goes all quiet.

“Said pink nauseates me, that I hate those stuffed animals and that your elephant doll’s ugly as shit”

You roll your eyes and your tongue swipes over your glossy bottom lip. You bite it and you sit down on the chair. Ellie’s eyes scan over your chest and she averts her gaze like a deer caught in headlights.

“Hate you, chem tutor” you huff, resting your head on the palm of your hand. Ellie doesn’t maintain a second of eye contact but she chuckles and it’s cocky.

“You need me, and you need an A in chemistry”

You like that side of her.

You let your eyes blink lazily at her, a cheeky little smirk forming on your lips. When you open your mouth again, just to smack it on your glossy lips, you brush your leg ‘accidentally’ against hers, and rigid she goes. “Mhm, I definitely need you, Ellie…”

The apples of Ellie’s cheek shine in bright crimson and her hand flexes. She grabs her pen and clicks on it once. You didn’t mean it like that, she so obviously knows or believes, but it matters nonetheless. You like that side of her so much more.

You cross your pretty legs and let the tip of your heel graze her chair. “So, you want a drink before we start studying?”, you’re way too damn close, she nods — but she doesn’t need a ‘drink’ she needs a damn water fountain that directly flows onto her mouth and satisfies that damn drench. Is it possible for her damn knee to feel hot? Why is her knee feeling hot?

“Anything specific?”

“Jus’ waters fine” Ellie manages to murmur, lips forming a teeny tiny, shy, crescent smile.

“I was thinking more… like, wine? I have a wine cooler n’my room… if you wanted water i’d have to like, go downstairs and… It’s so lonely in there” your voice is saccharine, delicate, and it and coaxes Ellie’s mind.

“Wine’s perfect, I love wine” says Ellie.

She hates wine.

“Mhm, red or white?” — Your question comes when you lift your butt off the chair and walk slowly towards the cooler.

“Uh, r-red. S’much… richer” Ellie falters, remembering vaguely the time Joel had mentioned white wine’s for pussies. When she tried a red one, she gagged.

“Impressive” you note.

Ellie rolls the chair with the help of her heavy Doc's, and watches as you pour the red liquid into two delicate glasses. Your leg, she notices, is clad with a shiny, delicate golden piece of jewelry. Her eyes scan upwards, towards your bare thighs — the flesh is glistening, almost appearing as if it's covered with oil. Her mind drifts elsewhere, to a world in which your nightie is nothing but nonexistent, and those thighs...

Her stomach grumbles, she firmly holds onto it. Why NOW.

"Hungry?" you place the glass on the table, slightly nudging it towards Ellie.

She's starving.

you flash her a devilish smirk, cocking your head to the side.

"Oh, uhh... nope"

Famished.

“ IT’S A BRIGHT FUTURE AHEAD OF US ”

━━ ☆ INCLUDES: childe, diluc, xiao, zhongli

━━ ☆ SUMMARY: how would the boys react to being transported in the future and seeing that they married and had a family with their crush?

━━ ☆ WARNINGS: a few curse words, xiao’s hits a little different

━━ ☆ SIMILAR WORK: it’s a bright future ahead of us ii

━━ ☆ OOGA BOOGA: reblogs are much appreciated!!

TARTAGLIA

in the face of teasing comments from your mutual friends, childe denies his infatuation with you. no, his eyes don’t drift to you every time you are within his peripheral and he most certainly doesn’t see your visage in his dreams on the rare occasion that he does get them.

but when he’s alone — when all that is left to judge him is the space in his bed that he so badly wished you would take — childe admits that yes, he does like you and he’s just a little bit scared of the power you have over him. even the faintest smile from you had him weak in his knees and whatever strength still left in him was spent as he scurried off to hide under his blankets like a giddy teenager in love.

this vulnerability often costs people their heads on the battlefield but to him, this vulnerability also allowed him to preview the ‘what-could-bes’ of the world. besides, a little gamble isn’t going to hurt him!

when he felt a weight on top of him, his mind immediately thought of an intruder but the childish giggle that he heard soon after disproved him. was it teucer? no… teucer’s voice was a little deeper than that.

childe opened his eyes to meet similar blues and his heart, for a reason he didn’t understand yet, soared. instinctively, he left a supporting hand on the young child’s back as he mumbled a confused but otherwise, light good morning.

“honey? are you awake now?”

he knew that voice — a little too well actually and gods, honey has never sounded as good as it did when it came from your lips.

childe finds that, for a brief moment, he lost the ability to breathe. you peeked into the room from the doorway and you wore an easy smile. his sharp eyes caught the glimmer by your ring finger and was that… a ring? tentatively (and with a little bit of nervousness because what would he do if he was wrong?), he checks his own, and sure enough, an identical ring was wrapped around his finger.

it’s a little childish but childe erupts into loud laughter as his heart began racing in a hundred miles per hour. it appears that the shadows of his mind decided to cut him some slack that night.

he’s always wanted a family of his own so dreams where you and he were together didn’t come off as much of a shock. this is why he didn’t even consider the possibility that he traveled into the future. rather, he shook it off as another wishful dream of his.

childe decided to keep the questions to himself. inquiries are boring anyway. isn’t it so much better to savor the moment? wholesome interactions came so rarely for him nowadays. it wouldn’t hurt to indulge and pretend for a short while, right?

he spends the entire morning helping you with chores like a dutiful husband, popping jokes left and right, and pulling you into a random concert with brooms as your microphones. your child sits in the sideline, amused and laughing before childe picks him up and spins him in the air.

your jubilant laughter reminds him that this is such a good dream but he knew deep in his heart that as long as he remains to be 'childe,’ it’s all it would ever be. that dampens his mood but as he watches you spoil your son, he figured that reality could wait for a second longer.

Keep reading

ུᩧ JJK TWITTER LINKS P3 !

৻ꪆ instructions. before clicking, you must be logged into your acc and have twitter open in order for these links to function .

TOJI FUSHIGURO. ꒱‎

plap plap plap. ⋆ reversed cowgirl. ⋆ penetration + fingering. ⋆ demolishing your pussy. ⋆ exhibitionism. ⋆ pounding you from the back. ⋆ breath play. ⋆ you’re so easy to break. ⋆ riding him.

CHOSO KAMO. ꒱‎

jerking him off while making out. ⋆ choso being affectionate. ⋆ working your hand on him. ⋆ polite roughhousing. ⋆ worshiping you. ⋆ gameplay. ⋆ overstimulation. ⋆ 69ing. ⋆ bdsm.

NANAMI KENTO. ꒱‎

idk but the watch is soooo giving nanami. ⋆ thrusting inside his cute girl. ⋆ sitting on his lap. ⋆ wearing tiny skirts to get him to fuck you. ⋆ touching you. ⋆ what a pretty sight. ⋆ riding him.

GOJO SATORU. ꒱‎

his way of taking care of you. ⋆ backshots. ⋆ rubbing your clit. ⋆ mutual masturbation. ⋆ gojo coded. ⋆ folded missionary. ⋆ grinding yourself on him. ⋆ semi-public. ⋆ spooning you.

GETO SUGURU. ꒱‎

ghostface leaving you brainfucked. ⋆ cnc w ghostface. ⋆ helping you shove a dildo up your hole. ⋆ fingering you while pampering you with kisses. ⋆ fucking you too good. ⋆ bath sex.

SUKUNA RYOMEN. ꒱‎

nasty backshots. ⋆ he only feeds his cock to bimbos. ⋆ taped up cunt. ⋆ bdsm. ⋆ hes so mean when fucking you. ⋆ headlock. ⋆ at his service. ⋆ manhandling. ⋆ pounding you from below.

— come a little closer

hockey jock!vi x tutor!reader, fluff / humor / angst / kinda slowburn / smut (18+ mdni!), wc: 16k+ [buckle your seatbelts bc i could not shut the fuck up about vi if i wanted to !]

synopsis: you’re many things; an exemplary student, quiet and well-mannered, loved immensely by those who bother to get to know you, but most importantly, the newfound object of superstar athlete vi’s every affection. or, in other words, hockey jock!vi is lowkey a loser, atrociously down bad, and will stop at nothing to make you hers.

content warnings: language (duh), brief mentions of familial issues, latent insecurity, miscommunication & lack of communication, kissing, groping, SEX! mdni, seriously, i’ll THROW UP!, more specifically fingering (r!receiving), oral (r!receiving), spitting, makeup sex idk, just good old fashioned lesbian BANGING! also! jazz cabbage, lets pretend for the sake of this au that student athlete’s don’t get tested bc i NEED hockey jock!vi to hotbox reader PLS.

fic soundtrack: i could imagine —alina baraz /snooze — sza /tonight — summer walker / pressure — james vickery + sg lewis / wish that i could — umi

author’s note: of course it’d be arcane s2 that resurrects me from my almost yearlong hiatus...pls enjoy this fic even though i’m pretty rusty; she’s been cooking in the drafts for weeks T-T i’ll be answering some (very long overdue) asks and chatting with you guys <3 and finally, this shit is barely proofread bc my brain is fried lol

main masterlist | arcane masterlist

VI HAS A HUGE PROBLEM.

One that supersedes every issue she’d ever given weight to in all of her four (and a half) years of university. Is way larger than twice-a-day practices on and off the ice that go hand-in-hand with studying so hard to make sure that her grades don’t slip a fraction. Probably way bigger than the fact that her little sister’s graduating high school soon and she’s trying her absolute best to be as great a role model as she can despite wanting to crack under the pressure. And most definitely bigger than her favorite on-again-off-again fling, Cait Kiramann, whose rare to come by these days.

Vi has a huge problem, and quite frankly, it’s you.

In hindsight, she’s been relatively good at overlooking you, not that it’d been intentional to begin with, but Vi knows a lot of people. Too many, she feels sometimes. So it's easy for you to slip through the cracks when everyone’s vying for even a shred of her attention.

Perhaps it’s what piques her interest when your orbits finally do collide. Because, admittedly, you know all about Vi. Know that she’s probably one of the most valuable players on the uni’s hockey team (she’s an absolute beast on the ice). Also know that she’s a biomedical physics major and actually incredibly smart. But most of all, you know that not only is Violet a flirt, she’s a player.

Not necessarily that you’ve ever really been on the receiving end, but mostly because her reputation precedes her and you’ve seen it all from a distance. Can't not when the decorated hockey star is such a charmer whether she intends to be or not. Vi has girls both certain and questioning stumbling for a single glance.

You often think it’s pitiful, but it’s not like it’s really your problem.

Until it is.

It all starts at The Afterparty.

Hours after a big victory in the first game of three that solidifies whether the university hockey team participates in the championships, Violet is the star of tonight’s celebration.

She’d sunk the winning shot, and for that she’s being poured shot after celebratory shot. By eleven she’s practically hammered and it’s when her teammate, Ellie, and the captain, Abby, finally show up.

The three of them together, drunk, is like a minefield of obnoxious laughter, dirty innuendos, and rowdy behavior.

And for a while it’s funny, has Vi feeling like she’s on cloud nine, but eventually, the drunken high begins to evaporate and she starts to feel a little overwhelmed.

The spotlight shifts and even though Vi typically preens under the attention, she’s grateful to finally breathe.

With a plastic cup full of water, she’s sliding the back door open and stepping out onto the back patio to take in the cool air for a breather.

She makes a move towards the stairs, but nearly jumps out of her skin when she registers the silhouette at the base of the steps.

“Jesus, fuck,” Vi hisses to herself. “You scared the shit outta me.”

You don’t even spare her a glance over your shoulder, just take a sip from your drink.

“Sorry,” you hum passively.

She catches her breath, doesn’t even bother to ask permission as she drops all of her weight next to you.

The step creaks under pure muscle.

Her strong legs stretch out, elbows settling back against the step up as she waits. And waits. And waits.

The amount of silence that lapses is unusual, uncharacteristic for Vi, especially so because people are typically babbling enough to fill the void when it comes to her.

But you just sit there, nursing your beer and staring up at the stars. The moon hangs half in the sky, softly illuminating the planes of your features.

It’s her first good look at your face and Vi’s definitely drunk, but the immediate thought that comes to her mind is pretty, pretty, pretty. Undeniably and painfully pretty. And not Caitlyn pretty, the only girl she’s ever really used as a benchmark, but intimidatingly so in your own right. Makes her swallow hard, throat bobbing as she watches you unapologetically.

“It’s rude to stare, Violet,” you say simply, eyes finally flitting to meet hers.

Her breath catches in her throat, earthy flecks dancing in your moonlit irises. God, your eyes. Framed by thick lashes and round as you look up at her.

“You know who I am?” she asks stupidly as if point fives of her face aren’t blown up into memes and plastered all over the house.

“Who doesn’t?” you ask, breathing a puff of humorless laughter as you crush the can in your ringed fingers.

And perhaps you got her there, but Vi’s feeling exceptionally small under your gaze despite usually filling out a room. Something about you makes her shrink.

“I— fuck,” Vi stumbles, cheeks red because you’re looking at her with an indecipherable gleam in your gaze that has her squirming. “What’s your name?”

She cringes at herself, rolls the piercing in her nose once, twice, for comfort.

You laugh again, a little more genuine this time because, from a distance, the athlete’s usually so suave, undeniably gorgeous and composed. Right now, the girl in front of you only ticks one of those boxes.

“________,” you offer.

She weighs the name on her tongue, decides she likes it a lot, and tries to shake off whatever this feeling you’re giving her is.

“And you go to school here?” she asks.

You nod once.

“Neuroscience, fourth year.”

“Huh, we’re in similar fields, but I’ve never seen you around,” Vi observes. Because she’s certain she’d bookmark a face like yours, absolutely no doubt about it.

“We had organic chemistry together sophomore year with Dr. Talis,” you say matter-of-factly, like you’re not blowing her mind right now. “And I’m auditing Medarda’s biometry class this semester.”

Vi’s floored.

“Wait, wait, but...” She’s trying to piece the puzzle together, but her brain’s still a little fuzzy, equal parts from the alcohol, but also because she’s caught a whiff of your perfume and you smell so sweet.

“I pop in every once in a while,” you tell her. “But I tutor in that time slot every Tuesday and Thursday, only really go when I don’t have any appointments.”

“Hold on, this is nuts,” Violet says, body easing to face you. You flinch because she doesn’t realize she’s practically yelling. “There’s no way, I definitely would’ve remembered you if that was the case.”

You hum, corners of your lips quirking as you shrug your shoulders.

“Doubt it,” you counter. “I’m nothing particularly spectacular.”

“Nothing particularly spectacular,” Vi repeats under her breath.

And under normal circumstances, she’d be flirting up a storm right now, trying to charm her way into getting you to bite, but this is one of the first semblances of normalcy she’s experienced in a while. No ulterior motives, no exaggerated kindness, no outright asking her to fuck.

Suddenly your phone lights up in your lap and you’re turning your attention to the device.

“DD duties call,” is all you say as you make a move to stand up.

No, this can’t be all she gets from you tonight. Not when she’s been narrowly missing someone like you for the past four years and you’re just now coming to light.

The dormant liquid courage bubbles and Vi’s gently grabbing your wrist to pull you to a stop.

“Maybe I’ll see you around?” she asks, steely eyes liquid as she stares up at you.

You eye the scar on her lip, gaze lingering there before flitting to meet hers.

“Maybe.”

Vi decides that she needs to see you again.

You’d left her with crumbs this past Friday night and she’d spent the better part of the weekend trying (and failing) to cross paths with you again.

“Jesus, you’re down bad,” Ellie chuffs Monday morning on their walk to the campus coffee shop.

“You don’t understand,” Vi defends. “She’s so...so...”

“So?”

“Different, I dunno,” Vi sighs, fiddling with the strap of her backpack as they walk. “We didn’t even talk about much, but that was the most normal I’ve felt around someone in a while.”

Her teammate snorts.

“Probably the gayest thing I’ve heard you say,” Ellie deadpans. “She isn’t immediately trying to munch and you’re already in love. Pathetic.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Vi scoffs as they approach the coffee shop, inside packed full with half-functioning college students so early in the morning. “Trust me, if you met her, you’d—”

The words die in her throat because halle-fucking-lujah, the universe or god, or whatever has answered her every prayer this past weekend as she clocks you a few paces ahead in line.

Ellie follows her friend’s line of vision to find exactly what she’s staring at and she lets out a low whistle when her gaze finds your frame.

From a completely aesthetic standpoint, she can see why Vi’s immediately hooked.

“Hah,” she makes a noise in her throat. “Okay, so maybe it makes sense.”

Vi can’t help but stare because, if it were possible, you were far prettier under the warm lighting of the cafe’s ambiance. The curls of your hair frame your face beautifully and it’s so fucking cute how focused you are on your phone.

“Hate to break it to you, though. That girl’s way out of your league,” Ellie says like it’s common knowledge.

“Wow, way to boost my ego,” Vi mutters drily.

“Just being realistic,” Ellie argues. “If you bag her, she’s easily the hottest girl you’ve been with.”

And Vi can’t really contest that, not when the proof’s in the fucking pudding.

Her body’s moving of its own accord and before she can register her own actions, she’s mumbling quiet s’cuse me’s under her breath as she squeezes between patrons to close a bruised hand over your shoulder.

You nearly jump out of your skin, fumbling with your phone as an earbud falls out.

“Shit, sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” Vi says quickly.

Your gaze snaps to her, brows furrowing almost imperceptibly before your expression settles.

“Violet,” you acknowledge.

And she realizes that she didn’t really have a game plan coming up to you so abruptly. Had been so focused on actually just seeing you again, that she hadn’t thought through the rest of it.

The way you stare up at her is thoroughly disarming because she doesn’t have the shield of night or alcoholic courage to carry her through it.

“Can I help you?” you ask, but not unkindly.

“Oh, uh, I...” She chances a glance over her shoulder to find that Ellie is watching her from a few customers away, eyebrow cocked and smirk testing. She word vomits before she can think of a coherent thought. “You mentioned tutoring...the last time we talked.”

You don’t even bat an eye.

“I did.”

“You’re also auditing Medarda’s biometry class.”

“I am.”

“I’m...I’m not really doing too hot in Medarda’s right now,” Vi says, brain nearly short-circuiting and freezing up because, lie! She’s doing phenomenally in Medarda’s session and, truthfully, she’s just downright scared to ask you to hang out.

Especially when you look up at her like that.

You shift and she’s swallowing down around nothing.

“Hmm, can’t have that, can we?” you hum.

Vi could melt.

“No,” she breathes out a laugh. “Can’t.”

“You can sign up for a slot through the library’s website,” you say after you weigh the thought.

Vi’s pausing, staring at you like a deer caught in the headlights.

“So I can get paid?” you fill in.

“Oh, right,” Vi chokes. “Right.”

You give her a soft smile before plugging your earbud back in, leaving Vi to rejoin her obviously amused friend.

“You’re fucking joking!”

The librarian gives you and your incredulous roommate a look from the circulation desk and you return it with a sheepish smile from where you’re tucked by a wall of looming floor-to-ceiling windows.

“Maddie,” you whisper.

“You’re telling me that The Violet asked you personally to tutor her?” Maddie asks you, leaned over the tabletop with wide eyes.

“Yeah, cornered me at Brew House this morning and asked me to tutor her in Medarda’s class.”

“Just that?” she asks. “Nothing else?”

You look around in disbelief.

“Uh, yeah?” you scoff. “What else would she want?”

“What else would she— are you serious?” Maddie leans back in her seat, arms crossing over her chest as she gives you a plain look. “You know all about Vi, you’re actually gonna play stupid?”

“Oh, come on.” You roll your eyes. “You’ve seen the girls Violet’s fucked, right? Kiramann? The blonde from the tennis team? She’s got a type and you know it.”

It’s Maddie’s turn to roll her eyes and you see the exasperated groan she’s staving off.

“None of that self-deprecating bullshit—”

“It’s not self-deprecating!” you argue. “Not everyone wants to fuck Violet, Maddie. Put me in the number one spot.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Don’t start.”

“All I’m saying is that anyone with eyes can see that Vi’s hot as fuck. That being said, you’re also hot as fuck. Not only that, but rumor has it, she gives the most toe-curling—”

You’re rolling your eyes again, gaze fluttering out the window momentarily only to find that, speak of the devil, Violet’s approaching the library with a skip in her step.

Maddie stops her spiel to trace your gaze and nearly falls out of her seat when she finds the object of your conversation is advancing, fast.

“No fucking way,” you whisper to yourself, pulling up your tutoring log on your tablet to find that, yup, Violet has most-definitely taken your advice and signed up for a tutoring slot.

If the time reads correctly, you’ve got three minutes before she’s due to be taking Maddie’s seat.

Your friend is grinning at you mischievously, stuffing her backpack quickly to vacate the space across from you.

“Un-fucking-believable,” you scoff, slumping back in your seat.

“Tell me how it goes,” she giggles, slinging her bag over her shoulder as she stands.

“Maddie,” you warn.

“Love you, see you at home!”

Violet’s strolling into the library just as Maddie leaves through the other doors and try as you might make yourself small in the open air near the research center, her gaze falls on you as soon as she enters.

“Hey,” she breathes once breaches your vicinity.

“Hi.”

A moment lapses before you’re nodding towards the seat before you.

“We can get started whenever you’re ready.”

Right. Right! Vi’s mentally cringing, pulling the chair out with a squeak and dropping onto the worn cushion.

Her eyes are locked, watching as you pull the biometry textbook from your little messenger bag.

“Any particular areas you’re struggling in?” you ask, flipping to a clean sheet of paper in your notepad and clicking open your pen.

Vi combs her brain, tries to think of anything she’s not really grasping in Medarda’s class, but she’s been acing all the exams with flying colors, so she spits out the first thing that comes to mind.

“Logistic regression, probably,” she answers.

“In relation to...?” You tilt your head and Vi’s breath is hitching.

“The Confusion Matrix,” she answers, even though she knows all about it.

It’s only when you start breaking it down from the bare bones that she realizes that she could listen to you talk for-probably-ever.

You obviously have a great understanding of the subject if the way you deconstruct the relationship between sensitivity and specificity (or whatever the fuck) is anything to go by, and she doesn’t realize that she hasn’t even blinked until you’re glancing up at her.

“Am I making any sense?” you ask softly, taking in the almost confused look on Violet’s face.

“Huh?”

Vi snaps out of it, cheeks coloring pink when she notes the way you straighten in your seat.

“Am I going too fast?”

“No, no!’ Vi practically shouts before chancing an embarrassed gaze around the library to find a few wandering eyes. She clears her throat and tries to relax. “No, you’re doing great. I get it.”

You don’t seem convinced, but the faster you get through the material, the faster Violet can leave and you can finally catch your breath.

Because maybe Maddie’s a little right. That while you know, one hundred percent, without-a-doubt, that you and Violet are cut from two different cloths and that you ultimately won’t mesh, there’s still a sliver of want that settles somewhere confined in the pit of your gut.

You don’t know how long you continue before you notice that sun has begun to set in the horizon, but Vi’s effort is unwavering. She’s probably on her tenth practice problem by now and so far, she’s only flubbed once.

You decide to fold your cards first.

“O-kay,” you say, sucking in a sharp breath as you roll your shoulders and squeeze your hands shut so tight your knuckles crack. “This is a good stopping point, don’t you think?”

No, Vi could keep going forever if it meant hearing you talk all night, but the little G-shock wristwatch winks the time and she realizes that the two of you have been going at it for going on two hours and you’re probably exhausted.

“Yeah, sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you so long,” Vi says sheepishly. “Thanks a lot for your help, I...”

You look up from where you’re shuffling your papers together, pausing when she hesitates.

“I really appreciate you. I know you probably help dozens of people every week and—”

She stops talking when she sees you crack what seems to be the first genuine smile she could get out of you since Friday.

“It’s my job, Violet,” you tell her. “I’m happy to help.”

And she’d done well enough during the tutoring session, had a successful run with the practice problems. You were confident it was just a one and done. Perhaps served as a review for the upcoming exam Medarda had posted on the class page.

But then you see her name in the final time slot on Thursday, don’t really think much of it until you’re tabbing to next week’s schedule for shits and giggles. Tuesday and Thursday are booked through again, her name highlighted in yellow.

You minimize the calendar and pull up the aggregate schedule only to find that every 4 o’clock slot every Tuesday and Thursday’s been booked until the end of the semester.

You refresh for good measure.

“Oh, you’re so shitting me.”

You don’t know what kind of joke this is, if Violet thinks that this is funny, but you’re not amused.

Especially when you’re stalking all the way to the athletic hall, ignoring the wolfish stares from shameless student athletes to whip into the women’s hockey team’s reserved conditioning space.

You find her benching near the center of the room, Abigail Anderson spotting her while the rest of the team engages in various workouts and exercises.

A hush ripples over the weight room as you approach the hockey star, standing at the end of the bench where her knees are bent. One of Abigail Anderson’s eyebrows quirk up as you stand there with your hands on your hips and you hope the chill that runs down your spine as she checks you out doesn’t visibly vibrate your body.

When the barbell nearly crushes Vi’s chest on her last rep, Abby’s quick to help her re-rack and takes the biggest step back as Vi sits up.

Her expression falls and her face pales when she locks eyes with you, your features severe and gaze stony.

“Oh, hey,” she squeaks.

Truthfully, she hadn’t really pinned you as the type to be confrontational. Thought she’d have enough time to build a strong enough story as to why she booked out all of your tutoring sessions when in actuality she panicked when Ellie started grilling the fuck out of her about being a fucking pussy and begging her to just ask you out.

“You have some explaining to do, Violet.”

And she should definitely be embarrassed, not at all turned on, but she can’t help it as she gulps. Because when you stand before her like this, she can easily admit that she’d die for a private version of the view.

The silence in the weight room is palpable and you want to back down, but if this is some running joke and Vi’s going to make a show of humiliating you in front of her teammates, then you’d give her a show.

“Violet.”

Someone in the back snickers, another whistles, and Vi’s cheeks go red.

She’s standing, sweaty hands closing around your biceps as she spins you around and quickly guides you out of the conditioning room and out of her teammates’ line of ogling sight.

“V—”

“I’m sorry,” Violet splutters. “I’m just not really confident in Medarda’s class right now and I don’t trust myself to study alone, plus you’re a really good tutor and—”

“You do realize that those tutoring sessions are added to your tuition, right?” you ask incredulously. “It’s fifteen dollars an hour.”

Vi’s smile is crooked.

“That’s what my scholarship’s for,” she grins.

“Don’t you think that’s a bit excessive?” you try again. “I feel that before an exam for a little refresh is fair, but this would be like relearning the material after every class, all over again.”

“If it’s taught by you, I’ll take it,” Vi says quickly, and you pause because what does she mean by that?

You don’t really have much rebuttal left even though you’d marched up here with a fire under your ass. Vi’s looking down at you with a softened edge in her gaze and she’s wearing nothing but a pair of black sweatpants and sweat-soaked grey tank that reveals swathes of ink that curls up her arms and disappears under the fabric of her shirt.

She breathes out a small laugh when she notices the way your eyes dance.

“Anymore concerns, cupcake?”

Your gaze snaps to hers and her grin widens when she sees you fidget, little pet name obviously eliciting a semblance of a reaction from you.

“N-No,” you stammer.

“Great, see you tomorrow?“

You swallow.

“Okay,” you agree. “See you tomorrow.”

Violet pops into the library at four on the dot.

Her hair’s wet from an obvious shower and you smell her, warm like honey and cedar as she takes the seat across from you.

“Afternoon, cupcake,” she greets, slinging her backpack into the seat next to her.

You give her a warning look, but she just flashes you a toothy smile and nods towards the opened biometry textbook before you.

“What’s the lesson today, Teach?”

And this feels an awful lot like mocking, but you can’t be sure, not when Vi’s been somewhat respectful, sweet even.

“What do you know about the the sigmoid function?” you probe.

“Jack shit,” she laughs.

And maybe you’d find it endearing if the entirety of the situation wasn’t still absolutely mindfucking you at moment.

“Can I ask you something, Violet?” you ask, leaning back in your seat as you cross your arms to level her with as an intimidating look as you can.

“Sure, anything.”

“Are you messing with me?” you ask. “Is this some joke you and your friends are playing? Because I can’t really think of an outcome that would be funny.”

And you’d like to say that the look of horror on Violet’s face is consolation enough, but you know how being loved and being popular can make people act sometimes.

Vi contemplates telling you the truth, that she’s too chickenshit to ask you out, that getting close to you in any other way scares the fuck out of her. That maybe getting you to tutor her will segue into some form of friendship that’ll allow her to ease her way in. And maybe she’s going about it the hard way, but maybe Vi also likes a challenge.

“No jokes, just bad at statistics,” she says weakly.

You’re silent for way longer than comfort allows before you turn your attention to the textbook and Vi’s letting out a breath she doesn’t realize she’s holding.

“Fine,” you give in. “Let’s talk about sigmoid function and practice some applications...”

Vi’s happy to listen, goes through your preselected practice problems with ease (and maybe fucks up a value or two here and there to really sell her need for you). But the sun’s going down again, and it’s nearing six when Vi folds her hand this time around.

It comes in the form of her stomach grumbling in the emptying library and she looks up at you in embarrassment as you crack the first smile of the evening.

“Hungry?” you ask.

“Starving,” she replies dramatically, leaning so far back in her seat, her knees bump yours under the table.

Your toes curl at the contact, heart skipping when she doesn’t make a move to reposition herself.

“Have you eaten yet?” she asks, eyes looking everywhere but yours.

“Not since breakfast,” you admit.

“You like pizza?”

“Only the good kind,” you challenge.

“Beautiful,” Vi hums, shuffling her papers into her textbook and chucking it back into her bookbag. “I know the best place.”

Valentino’s is a hole-in-the-wall right outside of campus, a short walk from the library that Violet leverages as a way to get to know you outside of being lectured about statistical curves and correlation.

“Did you grow up around here?” Vi asks once the waiter sets two glasses of water down between the two of you.

You shake your head.

“No, grew up on the east coast and decided I needed a break from my life there,” you admit easily.

It’s almost as if the facade of professionalism fades away, melting to reveal you.

Vi’s desperate for more.

“As in?”

You look at her for a moment, wonder if you should divulge because you’re not really sure if Vi would get it, but she watches you like she’s hanging onto every single word you say, so you’re spilling.

“My dad died when I was little, left me and three other siblings with my Mom,” you offer. “And I love my siblings. Love my mom. She’s been a great parent, better than great actually, but most of our family disowned me when I came out and it was easier to run away than to deal with it.”

Violet’s expression falls, a furrow settling deep between her brows.

“Wow, I’m, uh, I’m really sorry to hear that,” she says, and she sounds sincere. A long moment lapses before she’s adding, “for what it’s worth, I think that’s very brave of you.”

And you seem a little surprised at the sentiment.

“Thanks.” You smile. “That’s sweet of you to say.”

Vi could turn to goo in this dimly lit booth, stained-glass wall sconce casting a warm glow over your pretty face.

“You—” She sniffs, changes the subject because she doesn’t know if she can do this on an empty stomach. “You like pineapple on your pizza?”

“Oh yeah,” you confirm proudly. “It’s a hill I’ll die on, I’m not sorry.”

“God, marry me now.”

She doesn’t realize she says it out loud until you’re bursting into a fit of laughter on your side of the booth.

“So this is something we can agree on?” you ask, head tilting in the way that makes Vi want to grab your face and taste you.

“Oh yeah,” she parrots instead. “One hundred percent.”

Valentino’s becomes routine just as much as Vi seeing you at four every Tuesday and Thursday becomes routine. It’s always after the Thursday session (because they have a three dollar slice from 6 to close) that you and Vi cram yourselves in the same booth near the kitchen and giggle over half a Hawaiian pizza.

“...And my little sister blew up her science project in the fourth grade—”

You choke on your bite, eyes wide as Violet recalls Powder’s little mishap that sent the entire gymnasium evacuating despite the tiniest fire.

“Now she’s about graduate and start school for chemical engineering,” she says, obviously proud.

“She seems like a smart girl,” you observe, if the countless stories Violet shares with you is anything to go by.

You figure being related to someone as great as the new friend you’ve made also speaks for itself.

“The smartest,” she agrees. “I’m proud of her.”

“I’m sure she’s proud of you too,” you assure her. “You’re a good big sister.”

And it’s in these moments that Vi realizes that she’s in far, far deeper than she initially gave stock. Because these past few weeks, she realizes that there’s a lot more to your big brain and your pretty face. You’re an attentive listener, way funnier than she could have anticipated, and just a lot more laid back than you let on.

That much she finds out after the two of you graduate from emailing with silly sign-offs to exchanging phone numbers and texting. It starts off rather irregular, a coffee order here and there, maybe a TikTok that Vi swears is funny, you just have to watch it all the way through! But then she starts texting you when she’s bored, when she’s in class, before practice, after. Even pops the question that’s been niggling at her since she met you: on a scale from 1 - 10 how down are you to smoke?

Like cigarettes?

no, weed, dummy.

Oh. Hmm. 7. 10 if I’m drunk.

She could not wipe the smile from her face even if she tried.

And then she gets the invite.

Ellie swears it’s her in.

“Jesus Christ if you even consider me a friend, you’ll bang,” Ellie calls from the couch.

“It’s just tutoring,“ Vi argues.

“Yeah, at her place,” she scoffs. “At least test the waters, maybe cop a feel.”

“You’re a pig,” Vi snorts, making sure her laptop and all of the worksheets Medarda’s assigned over the course of the week is in her backpack.

“You’ve been wet dreaming over this girl for months.”

“Fuck all the way off.” Vi’s face warms because her best friend isn’t necessarily wrong.

You’re too hot for your own good, but you don’t even know it and Vi thinks she could die sometimes. Especially when you wear your favorite pair of jeans, the ones that hug the swell of your ass just right. Or swipe on that shimmery lipgloss she swears makes your mouth look edible.

If you were willing, Vi would be all over you, but thinking about taking advantage of the fact that you trust her enough to invite her into your space feels a little grimy.

“Whatever, bang, don’t bang,” Ellie says nonchalantly. “Blueball yourself for all I care.”

Vi rolls her eyes, slings her bag over her shoulder before sliding on her shoes and leaving her friend on the couch with a resounding click.

You live off-campus, maybe a ten minute drive, in a cozy little complex near the suburbs. Your roommate, Maddie, a chipper blonde with a bob, is all too eager to leave when Vi arrives.

“Hi, sorry we couldn’t meet anywhere else,” you apologize as you let her into your space. “Even if the library wasn’t closed, the vet said I have to monitor Pip for the next 48 hours.”

Vi raises a brow.

“My cat,” you clarify.

“Oh.” Vi doesn’t know why she suddenly feels like she’s intruding as she hesitantly toes off her shoes and follows you down the hall.

But she does take the opportunity to take you in in all your glory; all cozy and cuddly in an oversized sweatshirt, plaid pajama shorts and mismatched egg socks.

Cute. So fucking cute.

You spare her a glance over your shoulder and she’s clearing her throat.

“We don’t have to have a session tonight," she says, stopping at the threshold of the living room. “I would’ve understood if you had to cancel.”

You shake your head, give her a soft smile that has her knees feel like jelly.

“S’okay,” you assure her. “A promise is a promise.”

And you do start off studying, shoulder to shoulder in front of your coffee table, but then Pip crawls from his little hiding spot under the TV console to curiously nose along Vi’s feet and she’s a goner.

“He’s so sweet,” she practically wails as he paws at her thigh and nudges against her arm so that he can climb into her lap.

You warm at the sight, can’t help but snap a picture, much to Violet’s dismay.

“Stop,” she laughs. “That picture can’t see the light of day.”

“Why?” you whine, making a show of climbing onto your wooden coffee table to get a funny top down photo of the hockey star with your cat. “You and Pip look so cute together.”

She feigns a scowl even though her shoulders shake with laughter.

“I have a bad boy image to uphold, sweetheart.”

You snort, reach into her lap to scratch behind Pip’s ear, and her heart melts, body warm from her ears to her toes.

“Is he sick?” she asks cautiously, petting him softly.

“Just a little,” you say. “Something some rest and medicine won’t fix.”

It’s how the two of you end up on the couch, study materials long forgotten as Animal Planet plays in the background. Pip’s moved to lounge atop the covers draped over your lap and you’re blowing your nose into a tissue as an especially sad segment about baby animals being rejected by their mothers finishes.

Vi knows she shouldn’t laugh, but you’re too fucking cute and she can’t help but coo at you.

“You can’t tell anyone about this,” you hiccup.

“What, that you’re a big soft baby?” she teases.

“Vi,” you whimper.

And something in her brain tickles because she can’t recall a time you’d ever called her by her nickname, only ever referred to her as Violet and nothing else.

She resists a smile.

“Okay, okay,” she gives in. “Lets change the subject.”

You make a noise of agreement as you cuddle your sleepy Pip.

“I actually wanted to ask you something,” she says, arm slung over the back of the couch, fingers a hairsbreadth from your figure.

Test the waters, cop a feel.

Vi’s not particularly into the idea, but the opportunity’s right there in the way wisps of your hair falls from its hold. Her fingers move of their own device, tucking the strands behind your ear.

She feels you still for the slightest, most imperceptible of moments, but then you’re relaxing, letting her fingers brush from your ear down to your shoulder, then back to where it rests on the back of the couch.

“You doing anything on Saturday?” she asks, really hopes you’ll say no.

“Not that I know of,” you say without second thought.

Not that you really need to. Your tight circle of friends are all alike, tethered to their hobbies and their homes.

“I have a game on Saturday,” Vi starts, fiddling with a little hole in the cushion. “If you wanted to come.”

You don’t agree or disagree immediately, and Vi’s scrambling to soothe over any potential discomfort.

“You don’t have to if you don’t wanna, of course,” she says quickly. “I just— I thought you might be interested in going and I’d really like to see you there and—”

A small little laugh puffs from your lips.

“Of course I’ll go,” you agree easily.

Vi deflates in relief.

“Great,” she sighs. “Awesome.”

Vi doesn’t know why she invites you. More so, she doesn’t know why she tells her teammates that she’s invited you because now they’re whooping and hollering in the locker room, towel-whipping her and sing-songing that their star player’s gonna get laid.

Doesn’t know why she invites you because as soon as she glides on the ice, she’s searching the stands high and low for your familiar figure. When she clocks you nestled in the middle with your roommate and another friend she vaguely recognizes, her heart’s soaring and her stomach’s twisting in knots.

Vi’s never nervous, but somehow you bring out the worst of it.

It only takes a few moments, though. The blare of the horn snaps her back into her zone and she leaves all the noise off-rink. In this moment, all she knows is cutting ice, dodging the other team’s most aggressive players and sinking shot after shot.

It’s nearing the end of the second period when she finally glances at the score.

5—4.

The opposing team’s giving them a run for their money and this is probably one of the tightest matches they’ve played all season. She takes a moment to find you in the stands again, and you’re right where she left you, eyes already glued to her as you hover over the edge of your seat.

She hadn’t realized it before, but you’ve got her number painted on her face and another surge of warmth layers over the exertion.

You give her a thumbs up and she feels like lightning.

They reset and she’s off, like a streak of light in the night sky, she’s shuffling the puck towards the goal.

Then you see the navy uniform barreling towards her, voice caught in your throat as Vi gives the puck one last shot before that damned Jersey Number Six shoves her so hard, she’s flinging into the rink’s wall.

The horn chugs, signaling the end of the second period and the stands erupt in a ceremonious cheer as the playback reveals that Vi had sunk the puck before time.

“Fuck yeah!” you cry out, shooting to your feet to clap your hands.

Vi ignores the instigating chants to fight, only really pays attention to your little dance of excitement as she shakes off the other player and rejoins her team for intermission.

“Fuck, Vi, you got it bad, huh?” Abigail Anderson’s spearheading the teasing once they all return to the locker room at the end of the game.

Vi’s body heats at the thought, isn’t really in the business of denying it anymore, because, you know what? Yeah. Vi’s got it so fucking bad for you, she doesn’t even know what to do with herself. You’re her first thought, her final prayer, and everything in between.

So all she does he shrug, can’t help the grin that splits her lips as she rubs her towel through her sweat-damp hair.

She’s the first one out of the locker room, dressed in some sweats and a pullover, towel slung around her neck as she steps into the tunnel. Your contact’s pulled up, and she’s ready to fire off a text asking where you want her to meet you, but she stops short to see you already leaned outside of the change room’s doors.

“Hey, cupcake,” she murmurs, smiling hard when she finds the smudged number 5 still chalked on your face.

“Hi, Violet,” you return shyly, hands clasped behind your back.

She hears the telltale whoosh of the locker room doors, the chattering of her teammates as they poke their heads out into the hall to be nosy, but she’s guiding you along, throwing a wink over her shoulder as the two of you fall into step.

“Thank you for coming,” Vi says after a moment. “You being here really meant a lot to me.”

You don’t know if Vi’s always been this sentimental, but just never given the opportunity to showcase it, or if she’s just buttering you up, but you can’t help but beam at her with pearly teeth and dimpled cheeks.

“God, Violet, you were so good!” you say excitedly, a little skip in your step. “You were in the rink, skating circles around them, like this, and like this.”

She bursts into laughter as you start speeding down the tunnel, dodging garbage bins and jumping up into the air to click your heels.

Something falls out of your little fannypack when you land, and Vi’s crouching down to pick up the tulle baggie to find a little beaded bracelet with a gold clasp that reads puck off.

“What’s this?” Vi asks, and you stop your shenanigans to turn your attention to her.

When your expression falters and you’re running back to her at full speed, she’s holding the baggie up just a little too out of reach for you, grin smug.

“Is this for me, sweetheart?” she asks presumptuously, even though her heart’s thrumming hard in her ribcage.

You’re on your tiptoes, chest pressed against hers, and god, please! is all Vi can think when your head tilts up, a little defeated knit between your eyebrows.

She milks the fuck out of whatever this is, arm banding around your waist as she returns the baggie to you.

“Maybe,” you whisper finally.

“Maybe what?” Vi teases.

“Maybe it’s for you,” you respond, free hand coming to rest on her chest.

“And what do I have to do to get it?” she asks, voice low.

It makes your body jolt hard as a shiver slinks down your spine because there she is, the insufferable flirt who knows exactly what to say to have your brain turn to mush.

You seem like you’re contemplating for a moment and Vi’s breath is hitching in her throat, wondering if you’re willing to play this cat and mouse game with her.

You smile, something glinting in your warm eyes.

“Puck off.”

Your giggle is maniacal as you slip away, leaving her temporarily stunned before she chases you down the tunnel. And she should expect your speed, especially because you’ve got legs, but it takes her a moment to catch up with you when her practice bag’s thumping on her back like that. Her calloused fingers are closing around the flesh of your hips in no time and she’s pulling you back into her arms.

“Cough it up, sweetheart,” she huffs.

You whine.

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” you counter.

“Gimme, gimme, gimme.”

And you give in because Violet’s made you weak. She’s holding out her wrist as you free the multi-colored bracelet.

You barely clasp the closure in the ring before Violet’s stumbling into you, a big burly girl from the other team shoulder checking the fuck out of her.

“Nice job standing in the middle of the walk way,” she bites.

Violet only snorts a laugh.

“Whatever, good game,” she calls.

Whoever she is, stops, levels Vi with a deadly look before her gaze flits to the bracelet you’ve just fixed around her wrist to you who stands frozen into place as the tension crackles between them.

“Cute,” she observes and your skin prickles. “Let me take her for a spin?”

“Violet,” you warn when her shoulders square and she takes a step forward.

She looks torn between walking away and beating the shit out of whoever this instigator is, but one of her teammates is shoving her along.

“Leave it.”

Whatever that was shatters the moment between the two of you and Vi’s taking in a deep breath as Abby trails behind the two of you.

The girl whistles for good measure and you throw a dirty look over your shoulder.

She winks.

You’ve still yet to find out who hosts these parties, but this time around gives you a weird sense of deja vu as you climb the steps with Maddie in tow.

You and Vi had parted ways at the rink, not before extending you an invite to the celebration later in the evening.

You should come, I can pick you up.

But per usual, DD duties call, and you’d smiled up at her despite the lingering pressure from the prior confrontation and promised her that yes, you’d absolutely be there.

Maddie squeals from the step below as you climb the front porch, breaths coming out in puffs of steam.

“You look so hot,” she says excitedly.

You giggle nervously, sure hope you do because you’re freezing your ass off!

“Yeah?”

Maddie gives you an incredulous look, eyelids powdered with glitter and gaze lined charcoal. She’s looking extra cute tonight too and you know that the two of you could fall into an endless cycle of teasing because a certain someone’s probably inside tonight.

“If she doesn’t fuck you before the night ends, I will,” Maddie teases, and you’re warming unceremoniously at the thought.

Because maybe you’ve been thinking about it a lot more recently despite only going into this trying to get through these tutoring sessions and dipping. Especially as of late now that Vi’s made it a habit to FaceTime you after practice, on your walk to the library, dripping sweat and chest heaving.

You’d always seen the appeal, but now you feel it.

You smooth down your asymmetrical skirt and Maddie steps up to adjust your tits in your lowcut lace blouse just as the door swings open to reveal none other than Violet.

“Oh—” Her voice catches as she takes you in.

Maddie gives your ass a little swat and Vi’s gaze is following the movement as your roommate pushes past her to slip inside.

“I was— I was just about to step out. To, uh, to call you,” she stammers.

You breath out a little laugh.

“Here I am.”

“Yeah,” she agrees. “Here you are.”

Jesus, fuck Vi could burst into flames right now. Your boots hug your thighs and Violet’s not gonna lie, she really wishes it were her head squeezed between—

“You look...” Hot, so fucking edible, downright fuck— “...really nice.”

You smile, but you can’t help the way your teeth chatters.

“Fuck, shit, you’re probably cold,” she curses, warm hands closing around your shoulders to pull you inside. “Why didn’t you wear a jacket? You’re gonna get sick.”

I wanted you to want me.

“Guess I just forgot,” you say quietly.

She looks like she wants to scold you, but instead, she’s pulling down her coat, a big black work jacket, hanging from the banister of the stairs around your shoulders and you’re relishing the residual warmth that lingers there and her familiar scent.

“Can I get you a cider?” she asks. “It’s still warm.”

It hits you as her fingers curl through yours, that Vi’s truly nothing like what you initially thought. She’s sweet, and she’s respectful, and she’s everything you could ever hope for.

You freeze at the thought, and Vi’s glancing at you when she’s tugged to a stop.

“You okay?” she hums.

Your eyes search her face, gliding over the scar on her lip and the one slit through her eyebrow. The gold hoop pierced through her nose glints under the lowlight and her thick lashes flutter as she looks down at you.

You give her a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes because wow, you’re in deep.

“I’m okay,” you assure her, give her fingers a squeeze for good measure.

When she finally secures you a mug of steaming cider, she’s guiding you to her group of friends that occupy the living room.

You only recognize Ellie, her best friend and her roommate, and Abby, the captain. Everyone else is a jumbled mix of names and faces and you stick close to Vi as she settles into the left corner of the couch.

You make a move to sit on the armrest, legs crossed and hands folded around your mug, but Vi’s spreading her legs and pulling you into her lap before you can effectively protest.

Her warmth immediately engulfs you and it takes every ounce of self control not to curl up into a ball in front of all her friends and classmates.

As they recap the game and catch up with each other, you remain hushed, eyes flitting from person to person as they speak. Toes curling whenever Violet’s voice vibrates in her chest as she talks big about sports and the hot teams this season.

You’re caught off caught when Ellie’s directing a question towards you and you barely register.

“What do you like to do?” she asks you.

All eyes audibly shift to where you’re cozied up in Vi’s lap, cider empty and abandoned on the side table.

“Uh.”

Your words are lodged in your throat because you’re so used to talking Vi’s ear off about your interests (namely, Animal Planet and your son Pip), showing her your little craft projects you like to do in front of the television on a weekend evening (you’d taken a break from the scarf / hat combo you were knitting to finish the bracelet you designed for Vi), and yapping about some obscure film you’d watched while finishing said projects.

But here, now, you don’t know what to say. Not when this isn’t your typical crowd and you don’t know what to expect from her friends.

Vi must feel your hesitation because her digits are slipping into her jacket, fingertips ghosting the small of your back as she presses a palm against your spine to smooth the tension there.

It’s okay, is a silent insinuation.

You give her a look from the corner of your eye before you turn your attention back to Ellie.

“I don’t do much,” you offer honestly. “Just starting my old cat lady duties early, I suppose.”

Ellie laughs benevolently.

“You have a cat?”

“Yes, his name’s Pip, and he’s basically my kid.”

“Cute,” Ellie coos. “You got any pictures?”

And you seem to light up, spare Vi one more glance as you dig in her coat pocket to produce your cellphone, charms jangling as you power it back on to show Ellie the lockscreen.

“I contemplated naming him Toothless from—”

“—How To Train Your Dragon!” Abby fills in from across the couch. “That’s such a good ass movie.”

It warms Vi to the bone, seeing you and her friends nerd out. Seeing them put in the effort because they know she likes you and seeing you reciprocate because, well, you’re you, and you just need a little warming up.

She doesn’t know how long you and her friends chat for until you’re shifting a little and turning your attention back to her.

“Can you show me the bathroom, please?”

Her gaze flits to her circle, and they’re smirking, obviously under the impression that this must be some sort of code the two of you concocted.

She ignores them, and most importantly she ignores the way her pulse jumps when you stand from your seat and perch between her legs, offering both of your neatly manicured hands to her.

This is getting fucking ridiculous.

The bathroom is tucked under the stairs near the front of the house and she stands post outside the door as you finish up.

It’s only when you’re poking your head outside the door sheepishly that she stands up straight.

“Can you help me with my zipper?” you ask timidly.

She puffs a laugh, slips in through the space you crack for her to find you holding the two sides of your skirt together.

And she knows she shouldn’t look, but the space allows her to see the pink lace of your panties. She’s shoving her tongue in her cheek, focusing on lining up the seams and pulling up your zipper as you hold the fabric taut.

“Thanks,” you whisper, looking up to see that Vi’s impossibly close to you in this cramped little powder room.

“Anytime, sweetheart,” she croaks, leaning against the counter as you wash your hands.

She thumbs the hem of your skirt absently.

“I like this,” she admits, gaze trailing up to meet yours. “You look pretty.”

Your ears burn, unable to meet the smolder of her steely eyes. You’d probably find that her pupils are blown wide if you did. Instead, you’re watching her mouth, lips stained cherry and tongue coming out to wet the dry patch.

You hold your breath as you reach across her for the hand towel, but her hands find your hips, teetering into dangerous territory as she moves almost close enough to slip her hands under your skirt.

“You’re not gonna say thank you?” she asks, watching you through hooded eyes.

A nervous giggle bubbles.

“Thanks, Violet,” you murmur.

“‘Course,” she agrees easily. “You gonna wear it again?”

You bite.

“If you ask nicely.”

She licks her lips again, body flexed as you allow her to press you closer. One of your hands splays on the counter behind her, the other brushing over the blooming bruise on her jaw.

“Can I?” she husks.

You don’t need to ask for clarification, not when her nose is nudging yours and your breaths are mingling.

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Pl—”

The door rattles with the ferocity of whoever’s knocking on the other side.

“Hurry up in there, I gotta piss!”

To your dismay, the two of you don’t talk about Saturday night. And things’s aren’t particularly bad, but something’s definitely shifted and it’s driving you nuts.

Vi’s on the ice practicing the following morning and after classes on Monday, so you wait for your session with bated breath on Tuesday. You try extra hard despite every voice of reason telling you that you’re reading into it too much.

Vi smiles at you easily as she drops into the seat across from you, pulling out her biometry textbook without so much as a peep about the fact that the two of you almost kissed in whoever the fuck’s bathroom that was over the weekend.

You’re staring, hard.

Because that familiar feeling’s coming back. The seedling of doubt that had rooted in the beginning about Vi’s intentions with you. She’d done a good job of weeding it out over the weeks, of dismantling whatever image you’d built of her in your head, but it plants itself again.

She’s squeezing your hand across the table and your gaze flits down to her rough fingers. That’s when you notice it, the bracelet, still fastened where you clasped it on game night.

You relax a fraction.

“Everything okay?”

You smile, something small.

“Yeah, good,” you assure her.

The rest of your tutoring session is uneventful, goes off without a hitch. And you’re shameless in admitting that you hate to see her go as she walks you to your car in the student lot near the library.

You’re grasping at straws, clearing your throat before she closes your door for you.

“Uh,” you squeak. “Do you want to come over?”

Vi’s pausing, hand still on the edge of your door as her lips twitch.

“Like right now?”

You nod because you’ve already pulled the trigger.

“Like right now,” you confirm.

She checks her wristwatch, sighs heavily because fuck yes, she’d love to come over right now, but Anderson and Williams are expecting her for a strategy meeting with the coach and—

“Sorry,” you say quickly. “You don’t have to, I know we only really—”

She pinches your cheek before tucking some of your hair behind your ear.

“I can’t tonight, sweetheart, I’m sorry,” she says. “But tell you what, if you’re willing to free up your Friday night, I’d really like to plan something.”

Your heartbeat skips.

“All yours,” you say without missing a beat.

Vi’s grinning wide.

“Perfect, drive safe,” she bids. “See you tomorrow.”

And you don’t know why you’re so fucking high strung, not when Vi hasn’t done anything to make you doubt that this isn’t all in your head, but it only gets worse as the days go by.

It doesn’t come to a head until Thursday, when your tutoring slots are miraculously empty until Vi’s and you receive an email from Medarda to meet in her office after her string of lectures.

“Afternoon,” the older woman greets, smiling warmly at you as she lets you into her office. “Just wanted to check in with your audit and request any feedback you have.”

You think for a moment before shaking your head.

“Nothing in particular that I can think of,” you say easily, then add with a laugh, “feel like I’ll be a professional by the end of the semester.”

“Why do you say that?” Medarda chuckles as she logs into her computer.

“I have a student sitting every Tuesday and Thursday for tutoring in your class,” you reveal.

She gives you look crossed between surprise and amusement.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” You giggle at the distant memory of Vi’s expression in the weight room. “She seems to be picking it up well enough, though.”

“Huh, every Tuesday and Thursday?” she asks, fingers flying over her keyboard. “I must be doing something wrong.”

“I’d hardly say that,” you say. “When Violet booked all my sessions, I thought it was a joke, but I think she’s just really dedicated to doing well.”

“Violet?” Medarda repeats, hands stilling over her mouse.

“Yeah, Violet, on the women’s hockey team?”

Your professor’s eyebrows twitch.

“Why would you— huh. Weird,” she comments.

“I admit it was a little strange, but—”

“Violet’s a consistent top scorer on the exams,” Medarda shares. “She’s been top of the class since the beginning of the semester.”

And it’s like the world stills as she reveals that information, fragile pieces shattering as the gears start turning in your brain and you try to put the puzzle together.

You glance at the clock, find that you’re due to meet Violet in half an hour.

“Uh, if you’ll excuse me,” you say politely, try to ignore the concerned expression etched on your professor’s face at your sudden departure. “It was nice chatting with you. If I think of anything feedback-wise, I’ll be sure to email you.”

And you’re running.

Vi’s in the locker room after practice, toweling off after an extra long shower because she’s been looking a little extra forward to seeing you today, but perhaps that’s everyday as of late.

She’s hooking the bracelet you gave her back on when her phone vibrates and she’s practically diving into her locker when your text tone bleats.

sweetheart: I have to cancel your session this afternoon. I’m sorry.

Her expression screws up.

everything ok? can i do anything for you?

sweetheart: Personal things to take care of. I’ll see you next week.

I’ll see you next week.

But what about tomorrow? She’d been working so fucking hard on tomorrow, on finally pulling her head far enough out of her ass to ask you to give the two of you a shot.

She sets her phone down, slumps down on the bench as she turns her wrist and takes in the smooth glass beads of the bracelet.

She sighs. Hard.

You hole up all weekend long, put your phone on do not disturb, and try your best to get whatever this is out of your system. But you’re a slave to your emotions and you can’t help but check your messages every time you know Vi’s free.

It’s a single text on a Saturday night, one that surprises you because you know she has practice now that the big game’s fast approaching.

violet <3: hey sweetheart, just checking in. i know you said you had a few personal things going on, but i’m here if you feel like you need someone <3

You’re texting back before your better judgement can stop you.

Just been a little stressed. You wanna come over?

.

.

.

Then you add, We can smoke.

Vi’s sending you three running emojis and you crack a smile at your screen before realizing that you need to shower.

You lay out some clothes beforehand, ultimately settling on last Saturday’s skirt.

Vi’s giggling as you fumble with the wrapper, rolling it with clumsy fingers because, truthfully, you don’t do this often, but she shuts right up when you don’t break eye contact as the tip of your tongue slides across the seam to seal the joint.

She’d picked you up with a Sprite and a slice to split from Valentino’s, throat drying as you bounded down the stairs in the same fucking skirt that had her touching herself after she’d gotten home from the party, guilty and wound tight. Now the two of you are tucked away behind some abandoned strip.

“Ready?” Her voice rasps as you pop the end between your lips and she brings the lighter to ignite the end for you.

It burns as you inhale and Vi’s thighs squeeze together involuntarily. She’d smoked with you twice before, both times on the roof of your apartment building and at a reasonable distance. But now, she knows what your body feels like, almost knows what your lips taste like.

You take a few more puffs before offering it to her and the smoke begins to plume to fill the space of her little coupe. It’s moments like these, tucked away from prying eyes, that it’s just you and Vi.

Not Vi, the supposed womanizing hockey star, or you, the nerdy homebody tutor. Just the two of you, two souls trying to get through university and carve your paths.

“I aced Medarda’s exam this week,” Vi says softly, jay pinched between her fingers as she watches you with lowering eyes.

“Oh, yeah? I wonder why,” you quip in return, face impossibly close to hers despite the console between you.

“I have a smartypants tutor that does an especially good job when she’s motivated,” she answers.

Your cheeks flame, but you don’t back down. Vi’s been extra good at pushing your buttons and flirting hard as of late, and maybe you’re a little more than willing to receive and reciprocate, but the two of you have been toeing the line, yet neither of you have taken the leap.

This moment, however, feels like it could be it. Like you’re going to find out what the fuck all of this even is.

“I have to meet this tutor of yours,” you play along. “She sounds like a miracle worker.”

“Among other things,” Vi teases, sucking in the smoke and blowing it through her nostrils.

“Like?”

“She’s also funny as fuck,” she hums. “A big baby when we watch Animal Planet.”

You narrow your eyes at her and Vi lets out a little laugh that makes your toes curl.

“Uh-huh?”

“She’s really fucking pretty too,” she says quietly.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she affirms. “Kind of pretty that makes you wanna do bad, bad things.”

You smile falters as a shiver rips down your spine and before you know it, Vi’s putting out the joint before climbing in the cramped backseat of her car to spread her legs.

Doesn’t even give you a moment to process before she’s pulling you on top of her and allowing you to settle comfortably in her lap. Her hands run up your thighs and disappear under your skirt to grab the fat of your ass.

You breathe out a little giggle as your slender fingers come up to cup her jaw.

“Think my tutor’ll be mad at me?” Vi murmurs, nose brushing yours. “‘Cuz I really, really wanna kiss this pretty girl in my lap right now.”

You let out a broken little sigh when her hips buck.

“Maybe she’ll forgive you,” you whisper. “I know I would.”

And that’s all the affirmation Vi needs from you before she’s taking the plunge and slotting her lips with yours; kissing you with so much fervor, you’d think she needs you to breathe. She tastes like mint and weed and you can’t get enough.

Vi’s all-consuming, her kiss a delicious mix of teeth and tongue. And, god, her hands. Rough and calloused, but gentle in the way she explores your body. It isn’t until she’s snapping the band of your thong and her fingertips ghost the seam of your sticky heat that you’re hyper-focusing.

“Mmmph, Violet, Vi—” Your voice cracks as she breaks from your lips to map a series of kisses from your jaw, to the juncture behind your ear, down the column of your neck. “Wait.”

She stops, hands pulling from under your skirt like you’ve burned her. And perhaps you have, branded nearly every part of her because she can’t really think of a sound moment if you’re not there.

“Sorry, sorry,” she shudders as the arousal ebbs through her tightened body. “I—”

I’m caught up. I’m losing it, and it’s all your fault, and—

“Violet,” you swallow, fingers toying with the collar of her varsity sweatshirt. “I have something to say.”

Her throat bobs and her grey eyes gleam like ash in the lowlight of the backseat of her car. The windows are smoked out and it’s exceptionally warm, equal parts sexual tension and another thing Vi can’t quite pinpoint.

“Yeah, anything,” she assures you, hands resting on your waist instead. “You can tell me anything.”

One of your palms settles over her chest, right where her heart is and you suck in a sharp breath.

“I— uh, I really like you, Violet,” you admit quietly. “A lot more than I think I’ve ever liked someone in a long, long time.”

Oh.

Oh. Here it comes, the big fat rejection. The coming to your senses.

“But?”

The look on your face is devastating and Vi’s scared.

“I have to know that if I give you a chance, you won’t abuse it,” you hiccup, and wow, that’s definitely not what she expects you to say, but fuck does it leave a sour taste in her mouth.

“Abuse it?” she repeats, face crumpling.

“Violet,” you sigh.

“Abuse what?” she husks.

“I know you—”

“Do you?” she scoffs, a wave of irritation washing over her as she looks you with disappointment. “What gave you the idea that I would ever even dream of taking advantage of you giving me a chance?”

“You don’t necessarily have a spotless record, Violet,” you say, voice edged. “And I know that I’m not your usual—”

“Not my usual what?” The venom in Vi’s tone is uncharacteristic, but this is not at all how she expected tonight to go and she’s frustrated. “Not my usual type? You internalized all this shit that people say about me even though I’ve been trying to get you to see me for months.”

Emotion clogs your throat because a small part of you knows that Vi’s right. She’s never given you an outright reason to doubt her interest in you, but it all just seems too good to be true.

“Sue me for wanting to protect myself,” you choke, climbing out of her lap and back into the front seat. “Especially because I know that you don’t actually need help in Medarda’s class.”

And that catches Vi off guard. You see as much in the rearview mirror when she pales.

She clambers back into the driver’s seat.

“Who told you that?” she asks, not even bothering to deny the fact.

“I mentioned that I was tutoring you in passing when Medarda asked for feedback on her class,” you respond, crossing your arms over your chest. “She asked why I’d be doing that when you’re top of all her sections.”

Violet’s voice is stuck in her chest.

“And then your past hook ups parade around campus like a reminder that—,” you cut yourself off, obviously hurt after bottling this all up. “And it isn’t any of my business, nor are we anything enough for me to plausibly upset—”

“Yes, I lied,” Vi admits quietly. “But only about one thing.”

Your breath catches.

“You’re right, I don’t need help in Medarda’s class. I lied about being clueless and I signed up for tutoring even though I didn’t need it,” she says.

“Why?”

“You know why,” Vi huffs. “From the moment I met you, I knew.”

It’s a glaring insinuation that makes you crack.

“No one ever says it out loud, but I know what everyone thinks,” you choke. “Violet’s fucking that loser?”

“You really believe that?”

“God, Violet, I don’t know what to fucking believe,” you cry out. “My life’s fucking fine and dandy and then you show up and make me fucking question everything I—”

Vi lets out a humorless laugh, can’t even look at you and it could make you sick.

“You’re so fucking loved by everyone, even those who won’t admit it,” you croak. “And you’re incredible at everything you do, turn everything you touch to gold, and I’m just...”

Vi’s brows furrow.

“You’re what?”

“I’m me,” you whisper meekly. “I’m just me and you’re you, and I just don’t see what makes me so different.”

And Vi realizes that she’d read it all wrong.

“Look at me,” she says softly, fingers tracing your jaw.

You knuckle your tears away, make a petulant noise in your throat.

“You wanna know why I booked all your stupid tutoring sessions?” she huffs. “Because I really fucking like you, ________. And it’s beyond wanting to fuck you even though god knows I’d fucking die if you let me. It’s so much more than having you physically. Because I’ll take being just friends with you if it means having you around. I don’t give a shit about anything else but you.”

It’s the most sound declaration you hear from the girl in the semester you’ve known her and it makes you cry.

“You make me feel so fucking normal and you remind me that I don’t need to be anything else but me,” she breathes. “And I get where you’re coming from, I hear you. I just really hope you hear me too.”

“I do,” you whisper. “I’m just—”

Vi squeezes your thigh, takes your hand in hers and brings your knuckles to her lips.

“Let’s get you home, okay?” she offers gently.

Vi only has one more game before the championships and she won’t lie and say that this limbo with you has her feeling like she’s going to be ill.

You’d cancelled her tutoring sessions this week, told her that maybe the two of you needed to spend some time apart and that she was clearly doing a number on you. So she agrees, tries to give you space to work through what’s weighing on you.

sweetheart: Good luck at your game tonight, Violet. I’m rooting for you.

She really wishes you’d be there, but she knows you need the time alone.

thanks, sweetheart. i appreciate you.

“Alright Vi, we have fifteen til puck drop,” Ellie says carefully, has been front row to everything transpiring between you and her best friend.

Vi tucks her phone away in her backpack, unhooks your bracelet from around her wrist and fastens it to the handle of her bag, and grabs her stick from the rack before she lets her teammates jostle her into the tunnel.

And she wishes she could lock in, clear her head and get into the game, but all she can think about is you.

It’s a narrow victory once the game ends, but she can’t find it in herself to celebrate, especially not at the kickback afterwards because fucking Sev and her assholes are there.

“Where’s your little dime piece?” she taunts.

“Fuck off,” Vi warns, obviously not in the mood.

“Shame,” she whistles. “She looks like a fucking weirdo, but she sure does have a fat ass—”

Ellie’s fist cracks so hard across her jaw.

“She told you to fuck off,” she hisses.

Sev spits the blood in her mouth on the toe of Ellie’s shoe, fists bunching the collar of her sweater.

“Keep that fucking energy on the ice because I’m gonna wipe the floor with your fucking pissbaby team.”

You wake up on Monday morning to a text from Vi and a handful of notifications from Instagram.

violet <3: can i see you this week?

You open Instagram.

sev.94 has requested to follow you! sev.94 has sent you a message request!

Your brows furrow, opening the message request hesitantly. There’s a few DMs and a video from this Sev person.

sev.94 hey pretty, sorry to text you like this. sev.94 just thought you should know the kind of person your little girlfriend is sev.94 sent a video. sev.94 i don’t really do relationships, but i’d take your mind off of it if you let me.

You’re playing the video, quality grainy and audio blasted. You don’t know what you’re looking at at first, it’s dark, and there’s so many voices. But you see skin, see the outline of a girl’s naked back, delicate and arched in pleasure.

You think this Sev person’s just fucking with you, playing some stupid joke with a shitty punchline as someone’s hands snake around to palm the flesh of the unnamed girl’s ass, but then you see it.

The bracelet.

Vi going to lose her shit for two reasons.

(1) Because you haven’t responded to her message despite your read receipts being on, and (2) she can’t fucking find the bracelet you’d gifted to her.

She’s barging into Ellie’s room, shirtless and hair dripping.

“Jesus, fuck, do you knock?” Ellie hisses, buds she was in the midst of grinding scattering across the floor.

“I can’t find the bracelet she gave me,” Vi says quickly.

Ellie’s face scrunches.

“Huh?”

“The bracelet ________ gave to me,” Vi says. “I hooked it on my backpack before practice on Saturday but it’s not there anymore.”

Ellie’s expression morphs, eyes narrowing in thought.

“Maybe you misplaced it,” Ellie offers. “Regardless, we practice tonight, I’ll help you look for it.”

Vi’s chest is tight, doesn’t want to admit that the stupid little bracelet means way more to her than she lets on. She only ever takes it off when she’s on the ice, won’t risk losing it when she’s got a target on her back and everyone plays rough.

It turns out to be futile when they enter the rink and she retraces her steps only to come up empty-handed.

This, she realizes, is the start of a very long week.

You should’ve seen it coming, really. Don’t know why you tried to psyche yourself into thinking that Vi could ever really want something with you when the world’s her fucking oyster and she can have anything she wants.

And you want to feel bad when she texts you intermittently through the days, checking in, offering to meet you, anything. But part of you is angry, unforgiving, tired.

You could’ve gone the rest of the school year unscathed if she’d just left you the fuck alone, but she pried and she tugged and she settled, and she made a home inside of you and you hate that you let her.

xxxx: i really miss you.

You block her number, block her social media, and even though finals are imminent, you now know that Vi’s been playing you for a fool this whole time and you cancel every last one of the sessions she’s booked.

You hope she’d get the message, figure that you’d caught onto her little game and aren’t willing to play anymore, but she doesn’t, that much is clear when you’re finishing up your two thirty session and find her stalking into the library just as the student leaves your table.

“Are we going to talk like adults or are you going to keep acting like—”

You don’t entertain a response, just pack your bag and sling the strap over your shoulder because the tears are bubbling and you don’t trust yourself not to break.

“Seriously?” Vi bites, hot on your heels as you throw all of your weight against the library doors and suck in the icy air.

“Leave me alone, Violet,” you warn.

“No, fuck that,” Vi spits, hand closing around your bicep. “You don’t— You don’t get to make me fall for you and then try to leave with no explanation.”

“Fuck you,” you whisper.

“What?”

“Fuck you, Violet,” you hiccup, yanking your arm from her grasp and putting as much distance as you can between the two of you. “I hope you and your friends got a good laugh out of it.”

Her face is screwing up and if she wasn’t confused before, she’s definitely confused now.

“Listen, I can’t fix something if I don’t know what’s wrong,” Vi argues. “I’m so fucking lost right now.”

You hate how believable she is. How the thought of hurting you seems so inconceivable to her. But that grainy video was clear enough.

“I hate you,” you murmur. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.”

Your name comes out broken, like you’ve wounded her. But you’ve officially folded your hand, won’t dare look her in her eyes because the both of you know it’s not true.

The championships roll in fast like a tide and neither your or Violet are ready for it.

You hear they’re live streaming the game, it’s the most anticipated one in the season. Piltover Stallions against the Zaun City Tigers. A part of you wishes you could support them, but then you’re starkly reminded that you’re a laughingstock amongst them.

The library on a Friday night is as quiet as can be, the hum of the fluorescents background to the voices in your head that are loud. You’re so engrossed in the study material that you don’t realize someone’s making a beeline for you until they’re knocking on the tabletop.

Ellie Williams stands before you in all her lean glory, hands sunk in her pockets as she stares down at you.

“Aren’t you supposed to be playing?” Your tone is clipped, disinterested because you believed that you and Ellie could be friends once upon a time.

“Coach sat me out because I socked one of those dickhead Zaun City Tigers in the mouth last weekend.”

You humph.

“Listen, we don’t have much time left, so I’m going to make this short and sweet,” she says. “Whatever happened between you and Vi is obviously personal and that typically would have nothing to do with me, but she can’t get her shit together because all she can think of is you.”

“And that’s my problem because...?”

“I know that Vi comes off a certain way, but she’s my best friend, like my best friend in this entire shithole of a world, and she’s—”

“No offense, Ellie,” you cut her off. “But if Vi sent you here to plead her case, I think that’s pathetic and—”

“Okay, well maybe if you shut up for three seconds and let me get to my point—”

You close your textbook and shove it in your backpack before standing to signal the end of the conversation.

“Whatever, I don’t have time for this.”

Ellie watches you walk away, takes in a deep breath because wow, you’re a bitch when you’re mad, but she absolutely gets why Vi is whipped.

“Violet’s in love with you.”

And that statement makes you freeze. Tears cloud your vision as your fists tighten around the strap of your bag.

“If you fuck someone else while you’re in love, I want nothing to do with it,” you bite.

Ellie’s brows shoot up.

“Whoa, what?”

“Violet fucked someone else as soon as things got tough, and if that’s the kind of person she is in love, I’d rather be alone,” you say stiffly.

“Respectfully, there’s no way Vi’s interested in getting pussy from anywhere else with how down bad that bitch is for you, but even if she was, I spend over seventy percent of my day with her and know that all she’s been doing the past two weeks is moping over the fact that you handed her ass to her on a silver platter.”

“There’s a video.”

Ellie’s brows must be mingling with her hairline right about now.

Her reaches a palm out.

Show me.

You open the DM from sev.94, watching as Ellie’s expression morphs from morbid curiosity to disbelief, to a quiet rage.

She’s handing your phone back to you and grabbing you by your forearm.

“She’s fucking dead.”

When you enter the rink, the ice is tense.

It’s the middle of the second period and the game is tied 3—3.

Your eyes comb the playing area, can’t find Vi’s jersey number in the mix, but finally settle on her on the bench, shoulders terse and obviously on edge.

She doesn’t clock you yet, had given up on the idea of patching things up with you after your last conversation.

“Vi’s been missing her bracelet since practice on Saturday,” Ellie’d told you on the way there, then pulled out her phone to show you the photo she’d taken of Vi passed out in nothing but her boxers on the couch the night of the last game, fucked up and sad. “We went out for like an hour after the game, but that was it. Vi was too fucking in her head.”

The girl from the tunnel, the one who’d been taunting the two of you, you piece together, has been the one behind it all, stirring the pot.

Throughout the end of the second period and all through intermission, Vi doesn’t notice you, too busy trying to get off the fucking bench to survey the crowd.

It’s only during final puck drop in the third period that their coach finally gives in, smacks the back of her helmet and tells her to make him proud that she lifts her head up.

And there, front and center of the student section is you.

Her eyes are wide, body frozen in place as she tries to figure if you’re just a figment of her imagination, but then the horn’s blaring and she’s having to zone back in.

At this point in time, she doesn’t give a fuck if they win or lose, she just needs to get to you.

“Your little bitch looks cute tonight,” Sevika comments wolfishly. “Bet she tastes as good as she looks.”

Vi easily intercepts her pass, cuts between two players as she shuffles it along with practiced precision. She sends the rubber flying and the goalie narrowly misses block.

“Maybe if you played as good as you ran your mouth, you’d wipe the floor with my pissbaby team you big bitch,” Vi calls, resetting in their corner.

And perhaps you’re her good luck charm, the only thing she needed to see to get back into it, because Vi reignites. The adrenaline pumping through her veins fuels every shot, and soon the timer’s buzzing.

7—5.

The roar is deafening, but you’re all she sees in the ocean of cowbells and pompoms.

She barely inches forward before something arcs through the sky and lands before her feet.

Her bracelet.

You watch from the sidelines, the final confirmation as Vi picks up the loop and launches herself at Sevika.

The crowd cheers.

Fight, fight fight!

You don’t know how many swings Vi gets in, just know that she’s flashing you a bloody smile before she skates off the ice.

Ellie emerges from the locker room and you’re perking up.

Most, if not all, of Vi’s teammates had come and gone and you’d been waiting patiently, anxiously, for her to emerge since the end of the game nearly an hour ago.

“She’s the last one in there,” is all Ellie says before strolling off.

“What if...what if she doesn’t want to see me?” you ask hesitantly.

Ellie chuffs a little laugh, doesn’t bother turning as she calls from halfway down the hall, “Find out for yourself, sweetheart.”

Vi’s pulling a tank top over her head as soon as you enter and your cheeks bloom when you catch a split-second of her tits.

She glances up at you, nose bruising and lip busted.

“Hey,” she spares you, stuffing her uniform and skates into her gym bag.

“Hi,” you squeak.

A pregnant pause as you take her in, hesitant to close the distance between the two of you.

“Didn’t think you’d make it,” she observes.

And you don’t really have a bullshit response, know that you had every intention of staying as far away as humanly possible, so you settle on humming your agreement.

“Ellie told me,” she starts. “Why you lashed out on me.”

You swallow.

“And part of me gets it, I really do,” she continues, “but I also thought you had more faith in me than that.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “Fuck, Violet, I’m so sorry.”

“I told you to free up Friday night a few weeks ago,” she says, shuts her locker door and slumps down on the bench behind her. “I was going to tell you everything, officially ask you out, but then all that shit happened and it caught up to me.”

You take a step forward, and then another, and another until you’re standing in front of her.

“You have to know that I would never do something like to anyone, but especially not to you,” she says softly, taking your hands in hers.

“I know.”

She brushes her lips against your knuckles, pulls you in closer so that you’re standing between her legs.

“You’re right,” she continues, voice hoarse. “I don’t have a spotless track record, but I meant it when I said that I don’t give a shit about anyone else but you. I would give you anything I can if you let me.”

Your hands rest on her shoulders, her chin resting against the plush of your belly as you look down at her, speechless.

“That night, in the car, you said that you didn’t see what made you so different.”

“I don’t,” you admit.

Vi stands, caging you between strong arms as she drops her face into the hollow of your neck. You shiver when you feel her lips press to the skin there.

“We could start off with the obvious.”

One of her hands rests on the small of your back, pulls you flush so that the only things that separate you are the flimsy fabrics of your clothes. The other grabs a handful of your ass.

“I meant it when I said that you’re the kind of pretty that makes me wanna do bad things.”

You gulp, thighs squeezing as her lips part and she bites.

“Vi.”

“You got a giant brain,” she laughs breathily, fingers coming around the fiddle with your belt.

She kisses you, mouth hot and breath warm. It’s better the second time around, no doubt obscuring you from truly indulging.

“Pl—ease.”

“You’re kind and you’re selfless, and you’re my sweet, sweet little crybaby.”

“Violet,” you sigh breathlessly. “Listen to me.”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Fuck me,” you pant. “Please.”

Violet nearly runs two red lights and whips into your neighborhood on two wheels.

The two of you are stumbling up the stairs and she’s spanking your ass on the last step as you fiddle with your keys and try to find the right one under the dim light of the complex hall.

Violet’s already unbuckling her belt as you turn the key, nearly taking you down as she shoves you inside and up against the front door.

“Maddie home?” she breathes.

“Out of town,” you answer quickly, kicking off your sneakers and pulling your sweater over your head. “Visiting her family upstate.”

“Perfect,” Vi hums. “I’ve been fantasizing about fucking you on your couch.”

“Oh–”

One of her rough hands comes to cup your tit over your bra, her tongue laving over the other while her free hand makes work of the clasp.

You walk her back to the couch, stand between her knees as she flops back into the seat. Her arms spread over the back as she settles in, legs widening to give you ample room to strip.

Her eyes never leave yours as you easily unclasp your bra and shimmy out of your jeans, leaving you in nothing but a tight pair of little lace panties and pink socks that has Vi wet.

“C’mere,” she rasps, pulling you to straddle her lap.

Her lips immediately latch onto one of your pebbled nipples, tongue hot as her hands wander.

“Fuck.”

“Tell me what you want,” she husks, biting down on the swell of your breast.

And having Violet this close, her touch excruciatingly featherlight and tempting, you wind tight.

“Want you inside of me,” you whimper, fingers fixing around her throat. “Please.”

“Yeah?” she eggs you on, lips brushing yours as her palms settle on your ass. “You want me to fuck you?”

You nod eagerly, hips rolling in her lap as her breath pitches.

“Vi.”

Her nickname puffing from your lips makes her crack. You’re wound in her arms, face in her neck as she peels your thong taut, away from your waiting cunt, and runs her fingertips from your slit down to your clit.

“F...F—uck,” you sigh.

“Holy shit,” she marvels, licking her lips when she easily glides through your folds. “You’re really fucking wet.”

You grind down against her, clothed clit catching against her belt buckle. The cool metal sends a jolt through your pussy and you’re moaning loud in her ear.

And Violet really wants to take her time with you, wants to milk the first time she ever gets to fuck you for as long as she humanly can, but she’s still fully dressed and you’re practically naked, perfect tits pressed to her chest and fat ass in the palm of her hand.

She shifts you further into her, so that she can peek over the arch of your back as she sinks her middle and ring finger three knuckles deep into your needy heat.

“Ah, fuck, Violet.” Your voice breaks as she starts pumping into you, your arousal coating her fingers and the sound of her easily slipping through your pussy reverberating through the living room. “Fuckfuckfuck.”

She kisses your jaw, litters them until she’s catching your lips and licking crudely into your mouth.

You cry out when her fingers slip out.

She’s leaning the both of you forward, easing you from her lap and onto the couch as she takes a moment to shuck her shirt off and pull her belt through the loops in one tug.

You watch her through it all, the way the trim muscles of her biceps and shoulders flex as she leans over you, takes you by the ankles and yanks you until your ass is half-hanging from the edge of the couch.

She kneels before you, strips you out of your thong.

You don’t miss the way she shoves the soiled fabric in her jeans pocket.

“Jesus,” she breathes, gaze fluttering between your eyes and your pussy. “You’re so fucking pretty, sweetheart.”

Your toes curl at the praise, fingers closing around where Vi’s holding your legs apart.

“You know how bad I’ve been wanting to taste your pussy?” she rasps, gathering the lewdest amount of spit to dribble onto your clit. When you don’t answer, she’s freeing a hand to slap your slit.

“Nnngh, fuck!”

“Think I’ve always wanted to have you,” she admits. “But it was that stupid party fucking party and that stupid fucking skirt. God, I would’ve fucked you in that skirt if you let me.”

“Yeah?” you whine breathlessly. “Tell me.”

She’s stuffing you again without warning, curling her fingers in a way that has your back arching off the couch.

“Would’ve bent you over that sink and made you watch yourself while I ate you out,” she says easily.

And it’s so fucking delicious, the nasty shit Vi’s saying to you while she pounds your aching heat; the way she finally gives in and tastes you, sucking on your clit like she’s starved and you’re the only thing that can sate her hunger.

Your fingers curl through her hair as you teeter dangerously over the edge, nails grazing her scalp and tugging when she hits the spot deep inside of you that has you keening for more.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ cum,” you choke. “Holy fuck.”

You feel Vi grin against your pussy, watch her with a slack jaw and half-lidded eyes because the sight of her between your legs in your moonlit living room has your insides twisting hard.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” she encourages you. “Cum all over my fingers. Wanna see you gush.”

“Hah, h—” Your thighs tighten around her head, fingers curled so hard in her hair, she moans in a mix of pleasure and pain. “Don’t stop, Vi, please.”

She moans into your cunt, savoring the heady taste of you as you practically ride her face.

The sound that fills the room is downright filthy, the sight that Vi beholds when she peeks from where she’s devouring you equally so. It’s picturesque, the way she has you writhing. A sheen of perspiration glistens over your flesh as she eats you out and it’s a perfect mix of her tongue and her fingers that send you soaring over the edge.

It’s a pitched whine that echos, the staccato of your shaky breathing that sings like music in her ears as you cum. And hard.

Her lashes flutter against the skin of your inner thighs as she peppers kisses there, her lips slick with spit and arousal.

“Fuck, babe,” she whispers. “That was...”

She can’t really choose a specific word, is just mind blown at the fact that she’d just made you cum so hard and so fast. It makes her tense and tingle, a smug wave of pride washing over her as she starts mouthing a trail from your belly, between the valley of your tits, up your throat, to finally press a chaste one on your lips.

You taste yourself first and foremost, but then you taste everything she’s ever wanted to say to you, all the unspoken words and the things she’d been too scared to share. Feel it in the way her hands are roaming, squeezing, caressing.

You breathe a disbelieving laugh, peck her lips again when she pulls away to brush your hair from your face.

“Vi—” Your breath hitches and your eyes glaze.

“I know, I know.”

You wrap your arms around her shoulders, legs hooking around the narrow of her waist as she bears your weight and picks up your boneless figure.

“I’m not done with you yet, sweetheart.”

The sun is warm against your skin when you wake up the following morning, your bedroom bathed in an orange glow.

You feel bone tired, body sore and muscles tight as your arm sweeps the other side of the bed in search of balmy skin, but instead you’re met with cool sheets and swelling dread.

You sit up quickly, find that you’re still naked, and take a moment to asses your bedroom. The bathroom door’s cracked, light off, and everything else is exactly where you left it.

Everything except Vi.

Oh, you think to yourself.

Almost don’t want to leave your room because your empty apartment will be confirmation enough that Vi really did get the last laugh in the end.

But you force yourself out of bed, shrug on an oversized t-shirt before finding the living room just as still as it had been before the two of you had barreled in the night before and she’d left her mark on you.

The only sign that the entire thing wasn’t just a figment of your imagination was Vi’s belt strewn haphazardly on the coffee table.

You feel hollow, almost numb, and even if a persistent part of your brain was consistently telling you that you should’ve known better, the tears well in your eyes because you’d really hoped Violet was different.

You knuckle the tears away angrily, mind racing far too fast to register the door quietly unlocking and the soft footfalls coming down the hall.

“Babe?”

Your gaze snaps up.

Like a vision, Vi’s standing in the doorway, a handful of plastic bags in tow. She’s wearing her clothes from last night and the puffs under her eyes make her a little worse for wear.

She sets the bags down on the eat-in, rounds the couch to take you by the shoulders.

“What’s wrong?” she worries. “What’s going on?”

You hiccup, crumpling in her arms because you were so fucking scared.

“Thought you left,” you croak.

Vi breathes a sigh of relief, blowing out a hollow laugh because her girl’s such a baby.

“You have jack shit in your fridge,” she teases lightly. “How am I supposed to make you a five star breakfast with greek yogurt and carrot sticks?”

You whine.

“Don’t care about breakfast,” your muffled voice sounds from where your face is pressed in her chest. “Just wanted to wake up to you.”

Violet groans.

“You’re so cute,” she laughs, kissing the top of your head.

“I wanna go back to bed,” you mutter petulantly, emotional whiplash making your eyes droop.

“You’re not gonna let me make you breakfast?” Vi picks, smoothing the hair from your face.

Your eyes catch the bracelet refastened around her wrist and you grin softly, taking her fingers to press a kiss to her palm.

She could combust, gaze gooey as she watches you watch her.

Yeah, Vi has a huge problem.

One that’s particular, and overarching; one she doesn’t think she can go without.

And frankly, she wouldn’t have it any other way.

neng © 2024

Hi, I hope you're having a nice day! Congrats on 500 btw, can I request the “Can we finally go to that place I was talking about?” / “I’m busy.” / “Yeah… you always are.” Angst/Fluff prompt if its okay? Could have childe in there ahem ahem... childe simp right here, but the others (If you want it multiple characters, its up to you) (IM SORRY IF IM AWKWARD THIS IS THE FIRST TIME IVE DONE THIS)

Maybe Next Time

Childe x Insecure!GN!Reader (Modern AU)

Summary: For the past month, you had tried to plan something for you and Childe to do together, but he's busy, as always. You were hurt that he wasn't giving even just a portion of his time for you. Too scared to confront him, you just chose to find solace in another person.

(Also, Childe fighting hard for your attention after, hehehe ಡ ͜ ʖ ಡ)

Prompt: "Can we finally go to that place I was talking about?" / "I'm busy." / "Yeah... you always are."

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

You looked at the face of your lover sitting on your bed, his expression serious as his eyes were glued to his laptop screen.

"Sooo... When will you be free?" You asked him, hoping that this time, you'll finally be able to spend time with him outside of your home. Childe sighs as he stops typing to look at you.

"Not for another month." You visibly frowned at his answer.

'You said that last month...' That was what circled in your mind, but it was something that you refused to say to him, scared that it may do more harm than good.

"Maybe on your day-off... we could finally go to that place I was talking about...?" You discreetly suggested, his eyes missing the hopeful gleam of your own. The man beside you looked back at hos laptop screen.

"Sorry, I've been so tired lately, I'm not getting enough sleep... But maybe, if I have the energy." Well, at least it was a maybe and not a no. You lied down, getting comfortable in your shared bed as the thick blanket covered your body.

"You should get some rest too, Childe." You said to him, but he didn't answer. "Night..." You whispered to the air, knowing he wouldn't answer you anymore.

...

"What about tomorrow? You said that a lot have finally been off your shoulders since last month." You tried again, you always kept trying.

Too bad you always seem to fail.

"What...?" The ginger had questioned you, unsure of what you're trying to suggest.

"...The amusement park I was talking about, I thought maybe we could go tomorrow?" You finally clarified, hoping that he'll finally say yes.

As you were both sitting on the couch, his work papers in his hands again, "Uh-huh." Your eyes lit up at what he said.

"So we'll go, what time do you want to go?" You asked in excitement, clapping a bit.

"Okay..." Your eyebrows knit together in confusion, but seeing that his eyes have not even left the paper in his hand, you can only sigh.

"Childe?" You called for him, and the man finally looked at you. "Are you listening to me?" You feel hurt as you look at his speechless expression, knowing full well that he didn't listen.

"Oh... Uhh, amusement park, right?" Childe had scratched the back of his head in nervousness. "Can't really go right now, there's a new project coming up for our department and..." He trailed off, smiling apologetically. "I'll be very busy again."

You just smiled at him, despite your hopes being crushed again, you understand, he needs to work hard for both of you... maybe that's why you're scared to confront him about how you really feel for the past months.

You just nodded, standing up to head to your bedroom. As you walked up the stairs, there was something you wanted to say so badly.

"Yeah... you're always busy..."

"Something on your mind?" You hear Zhongli deep voice behind you, as you looked around the amusement park that you've been wanting to go to for so long.

You looked back at him, smiling as he offered you one of the two ice creams he bought for both of you before taking it with a thank you. "Nothing in particular, just looking around." That was a lie and you knew that within yourself.

You had so much fun! Going on rides that made even the ever so composed man with you scream in absolute horror, eating the tastiest and probably the most unhealthy food ever, winning small prizes like the hat with kitty ears you're wearing right now and even a little fluffy puppy keychain... yeah, you two weren't that good with the games, but it was still a lot of fun!

You just wished that you could actually share such a happy moment with your boyfriend, yet he's probably busy drowning himself in work, as always.

Zhongli was a nice company, a good person to be around with. But the man with you right now is just so undeniably different from the man you wanted to be here with you right now.

"Well, what do you want to do next?" You asked him as both of you started walking around, looking for other stuff to do.

You hear the man beside you chuckle. "Despite my distaste for very crowed places such as these, you've shown me such a good time tonight, Y/N. Thank you." Zhongli had told you, sounding very genuine and thankful.

You giggled, "No problem, Zhongli. I had a great time to! Even more than I thought I would." As you said that, your ears perked up as you heard a faint yell of someone... someone that seemed like they were calling out your name.

You looked around, as did the man with you, he did also hear someone call for you. Just then, you see a man with familiar orange hair run up to you the moment his eyes landed on your figure.

"Y/N!" You look at the direction of where the yell came from...

"Childe...?" Your lover had smiled at you after he had reached your point. "What... what are you doing here?" You asked, in somewhat disbelief and excitement.

He pouted at you, "I just saw your text to me today, you said you'll be here. Is there something wrong with me wanting to join you?" He had asked in a jokingly pained voice, making you laugh. As Childe's eyes landed on the man beside you, however, his smile tightens. "You know, cause I'm your boyfriend and all."

"You're off work early tonight. What happened?" You asked him, concerned a bit. His hand landing on your head, ruffling your hair slightly.

"Just asked to leave early today, I thought that maybe I could join you. Need a little bit of a break to be honest." Childe had answered, making your heart leap in happiness.

Your smile widened, he's finally getting a bit more time off, to spend time with you. It made you really happy.

"Let's go see what other stuff we can do!" You said excitedly, making Childe chucklem

Zhongli knew exactly what the younger man in front of him was on about, yet his expression stayed composed. He must say that he is a bit amused, your boyfriend only coming here once he found out that your hanging out with another man.

Throughout the entire day, you would briefly bring up Childe everytime you two would do something that reminded you of him.

"Oh, Childe would hate this ride. If he's too dizzy he's gonna puke."

"Childe really likes curly fries, extra spicy. Sometimes, even the smell would make me cry." That's what you said whilst you two were in line for snacks.

"Childe's really bad at shooting. Once, we had a bet that whoever could throw a dart closest to bullseye can make the loser do whatever they want. He didn't even hit the board." You laughed as you told him that story.

As you two were eating, you told him a bit about your troubles too, the whole not being able to tell your lover that you wanted a bit more of his time, because you're scared that he think you're too clingy or insensitive when he's already flooded by work.

Zhongli felt amused about everything, as you were leading them to another mini game, he felt Childe's attitude so soft and warm towards you, but so murderously looking at the man behind both of you.

"Hey, I wanna play that!" You exclaimed, the two men looked at what you're pointing at, seeing a game with water guns attached to a table and a target mounted on a wall a few feet away from the water guns.

"Come on!" You grabbed them both by the wrists, jogging up to the stand. As you were about to ask the person behind the table for a go, you feel Childe's hand on your shoulder.

"How about a friendly competition between me and your friend over there?" Childe tilted his head to the brown haired man, who just smiles at you as you looked back at him.

You look at your boyfriend confused. "But... you're not good at aiming."

Zhongli had to keep his laugh in when you said that.

"It's fine, love. I'm still gonna kick his ass." You raised an eyebrow at him, unamused.

"If you say so." You look at Zhongli again. "What do you say, Zhongli?"

The man walks closer to both of you, "I'll try my best."

...

As it turns out, "Zhongli's best" is another term for "winning everytime". At their fourteenth round, with the worker just absolutely done with them, Childe had to finally throw in the towel.

"Y/N, you can choose anything from the prizes I won." Zhongli showed you an entire bag of stuffed animals he go from winning all those rounds.

As Childe was grumbling behind you, you pick up a little brown dragon, golden spikes decorating its form. "Aww, I want this one! Reminds me of you." You said to him, bringing the stuffed dragon to your chest.

"Oh please, it looks like a turd with gold flakes." Childe had dissed the cute dragon, making you slap his shoulder with the stuffed toy.

"He does not!"

The ginger laughed, taking your hand in his, "Fine, come on, let's get you something that reminds you of me." You nodded smiling, scouting out for another game to play.

Meanwhile, Childe had slipped beside the brown-haired man. "Just so you know, I was just going easy on you."

Zhongli took a whale plushie out of his bag of stuffed toys, offering it to the man beside him. "Between you and me, I don't think you'll be winning anything for Y/N with all the rigged games in this place."

Childe was just about to spit back an insult when you called out for him. "Childe! Let's go over there. There's a whole line of games."

And true to the older man's words, Childe did not win anything. After that, you went on more rides!

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

You were buzzing with happiness on your drive back, the dragon plushie and the whale plushie on your lap as Childe drove back home.

Oh yeah, the whale plushie... Zhongli gave it to you and said that Childe had won it while you weren't looking, ignoring the death glare of the ginger behind you.

"I really had fun today, especially after you showed up." You looked at him smiling, despite his eyes fixed on the road.

He smiled as well, "Yeah... me too. I'd go with you sooner if I knew that it would be so nice." You sighed in content, melting into your seat and closing your eyes. "It made me realize something too." Your ears perk up at that.

"We hadn't done something like that in such a long time, have we?" Childe asked, his voice seemed to turn a bit sad. You just nodded, him seeing your gesture on his peripherals.

"You've been busy..."

"I know." Your lover sighs deeply. "Today made me realize that... it wouldn't hurt to just share my workload with my co-workers, so I could..." He drifted off, hoping that you would get what he's saying.

"Spend more time with me?" You guessed, eyes glimmering at what he just said. His smile widened, nodding at your question.

"...Thank you." You leaned to him a little, kissing his cheek, before sitting back properly.

Childe can't believe that he might have to thank that old man you called a friend.

"Y/N told me a lot about you." Zhongli said whilst you were away getting some cotton candy.

Childe didn't answer, just looking at your figure near the cotton candy stand, looking in awe as the worker forms the rainbow cotton candy into the shape of a flower.

"They said you're a very busy person, never had time to go with them here." Zhongli wasn't really trying to make conversation, just trying to make the younger man understand what you felt, since you were too insecure to tell him yourself. "That's why they invited me."

Childe will just let that be his little secret. Like he's gonna let another man one up him in your heart.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

So this is more just fluff rather than angst to fluff, but I hope you liked it. Plus, I really liked writing jealous Tartaglia, hehehe. Thank you for requesting!!!

Also don't worry, clxevr you weren't awkward, you're cute uwu~

ellie & abby twitter links pt. 2 ♡

18+, minors DNI.

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els <3

♡ ellie feeling on your ass <3

♡ ellie pleasuring her girl

♡ ellie fingering you

♡ grinding w/els

♡ ellie fingering you in her car (hint: skip to 0:44)

♡ choking w/ellie (you!receiving)

♡ sub!ellie riding you

♡ ellie using a dildo on you

♡ ellie rubbing herself on you <3

♡ els caring for you

abs <3

♡ abs’ strap-on

♡ abby getting off to you

♡ eating sub!abby from the back

♡ dom!abby doing dom!abby things <3

♡ rough strap-on sex w/sub!abby

♡ abby’s strap-on (again!)

♡ doctor!abby, coming home to fuck you post work

♡ abby fingering you w/her heavy hands

♡ abby rewarding you w/her dick

♡ possessive!abby fucking you to remind you you’re hers