#smut with plot

[adelineriley999]

you loved shopping. but you loved showing it off to your husband even more.

The door shuts, and this time you don’t even try to be subtle. Breath heaving as bags hit the bed with a thump. You kick your shoes off and fix your hair. As you move around the room in a hurry, you catch your reflection in the mirror and pause.

Ohh Yeah. This wasn’t just shopping baby ,this was strategy.

You prep yourself as if you were about to enter a warzone. knuckles cracking , you peak into the living room.

Simon's home. Of course he is. Sitting somewhere like a statue that decided violence was a hobby.

You rummage through the dumped bags on the bed, heart doing something annoyingly dramatic, and start pulling things out. Outfits. Wayy too many outfits. This was supposed to be “just a quick trip.”, Sure. A few minutes later, you step into the living room, heart giddy.

Simon’s on the couch, leaning back, arms crossed, mask off staring at the literal wall like he hasn’t moved in hours. His eyes flick up the second you enter. “You rob a store?” he mutters in that gravel like voice.

You spin once flicking your hair away , a little dramatic. “Fashion show. Sit properly.”

He doesn’t move. “…Please.” you pout at him , half knowing he would definitely fall for it.

A beat.

Then he shifts, eyes narrowing ,elbows on knees now, attention locked in. “Go on then.”

"that's more like it!", you chime as you lean in to leave a peck on his cheek, earning a low grunt.

Outfit one.

Something casual. a low cut top and flared jeans. You do a small turn, trying to act confident even though you can feel his gaze.

He tilts his head slightly, leaning back against the couch.

“hmm...nice,” he says, low and approving and absolutely dangerous for your ego. You practically run back to the room , trying not to smile, already excited for the next one.

Outfit two.

You get your hands on the flowy dress. it was more body hugging , more...appreciative of you.

You step out again, slower this time. His eyes drag over you, jaw tightening slightly as you turn and yeah, okay, that reaction was worth every dollar you probably shouldn’t have spent.

“Turn around love.”, he drawled ,one arm stretched along the couch. And you do, slower than necessary.

“… oh yeah...,” he mutters, almost to himself. That does something to your brain chemistry, raising goosebumps across your exposed skin.

you hurry back to the room , trying to hide the blush creeping in.

Outfit three.

This, was the final one. The one which would decide your fate, knowing you would end up being fucked either on the couch or if you're lucky....bent over on the table. And oh did the lingerie piece add fuel to the fire.

You walk toward him this time instead of staying across the room, the skimpy red fabric accentuating every dip and curve. You stand little closer, practically between his legs.

Simon didn’t say anything immediately. Which is worse, because his eyes were saying plenty.

You stop right in front of him. “Well?”, your voice coming out more breathy than expected.

His hand comes up, slow, grazing your hips ,resting at your waist. The weight of his hands just...there.

“Think you bought too much,” he mutters, drawing slow circles on your exposed thigh.

You blink rapidly ,“Excuse me?” ,did he not like the show that you put on for him?

His thumb presses lightly against your side, massaging you through the cloth. your breath catches.

“…or maybe not.”

“So?” you say, softer now.

He looks up at you, eyes dark, unreadable in that way that’s somehow worse than obvious.

“Keep all of it.”

“ That good of a show huh?” you tease, earning a rare smirk from him, already feeling him slide your panties down.

“Best one I’ve seen.”

Which was impressive, considering the man probably has seen actual combat zones and still decided this was the most intense experience of his day.

Honestly. You win.

oh, and you did end up getting your brain fucked out on the couch.

. ܁₊ ⊹ . ܁ ⟡ ܁ . ⊹ ₊ ܁.

inspired by a fanfic i read the other day , where my cod community at?? not proofread💔

[claredevee]

Smut dictionary bank (NSFW, 18+)

I’ve been compiling a smutwordlist and other handy tools, so I thought I’d share them in case they’re useful for other smutwriters💜

Tumblr resources:

The Smut Writer’s Dictionary by @maybeeatspaghetti

Smut Thesaurus [18+/NSFW] by @prurientpuddlejumper

smut guide by @iguessweallcrazyithinktho

A list of terms for smut by @thebleedtheory

Writing Smut 101: Overcoming Smut Shame by @slightlyrebelliouswriter23

🌈Is it okay for a straight writer to write smut for lgbtqia characters? Anonymous question answered by @thatspookyagent 🌈

🌈Gender Identity Resource List by @pocunion 🌈

🟡🟤⚫️Praising Beauty Without Fetishizing PoC Anonymous question answered by @writingwithcolor 🟡🟤⚫️

🟡🟤⚫️The skin tone guide part 1 by @writingwithcolor🟡🟤⚫️

🟡🟤⚫️The skin tone guide part 2 by @writingwithcolor🟡🟤⚫️

AO3 guides:

The Ultimate Guide to Writing Smut Fic by QuinnAnderson

The Fic Writer's Guide to Formatting by AnisaAnisa

The Fic Writer's Guide to Writing by AnisaAnisa

External articles/glossaries:

The Sexy Thesaurus 1

The Sexy Thesaurus 2

The Sexy Thesaurus 3

BDSM glossary

Dictionary of Sexual Terms

How to Write Smut

Here’s Your Everything-to-Know Guide on Erogenous Zones

🌈Gay Foreplay 101🌈

🌈Bottoming 101 🌈

🌈Gay Sex 101: A Comprehensive List of Queer Erotic Terms and Their Definitions🌈

🌈How to Write LGBT+ Characters🌈

TW->Thoughts on the Depiction of Rape in Fiction<-TW

Funny/Lighthearted:

70 Weird and Wacky Words for Vagina

A Definitive Ranking of 30 weird (And Funny) Words for Penis

If you have any recommendations please comment so I can include them!💜🤭

Also, please let me know if any of the sources I use are outdated, not working or problematic in any way so I can remove them or replace them💜

Last updated: October 2025

My masterlist

[yut2achoya]

mdni. catching feelings for your sneaky link, frat president! toji, is the worst idea ever. you plan on staying away from him, going no contact again so you can lock tf in. only problem is: toji won’t allow it.

18+ sneaky link frat president! toji x reader. smut w/ plot, oral (m/receives), lowkey rough, kinda need dat, daddy toji, breed me pls (toji moans).

part one ✧ part two ✧ part three ✧ part four ✧ part five

———————————⚞^. .^⚟———————————

you made it three weeks this time. three weeks of dodging and ducking into lecture halls for classes you didn’t take, out of the cafeteria where you were supposed to be meeting your friends, in to the sports hall during men’s basketball practice. for nearly a month, you’d been as stealthy as the FBI.

then you got sloppy. maybe he was busy. maybe he was out of town doing frat president things. maybe he’d found someone else. whatever the reason, you’d gone an entire three weeks without bumping into him, and it made you let your guard down.

that was the reason you’d barely had time to react when you felt a firm hand wrap around your bicep. warm. rough. accompanied with the scent of sandalwood and spice, you knew exactly who your captor was before they’d even fully pulled you into the janitor’s closet. before you heard the click of the lock falling into place.

you look up at toji, carefully expressionless despite the rapid pace of your heart. despite the traitorous mixture of nerves and heat that was already spreading low in your stomach.

he looks down at you, bulky arms crossed over his chest and crowding the small space. tilts his chin up when he says,

“you get your period this month?”

you scrunch up your nose instinctively at how random of a question it is. “yeah. why?” you say.

toji tuts. “thas’ a shame,” he hums, eyes flitting over your features like he might’ve forgotten them. like he missed them.

then you remembered. maybe i should put a baby in you. make sure you can never ignore me again. the fucker meant every word.

you press your lips together. he was clearly insane; you guys are 21 with a whole nother year in college! but your cheeks heat when you recall how much you’d wanted it. how quickly you were ready to toss aside your dreams of being childless, just at the mere idea of your belly being swollen with toji’s baby. being tied to him forever. you watch him watch you. when he doesn’t say anything else, you huff out a breath and cross your arms to match his stance.

“what do you want, toji?” you ask impatiently.

you have more resolve this time. you’re considerably less horny and susceptible. you’re supposed to be meeting your friend at 12, but every moment you stand here, every moment your head spins with his scent, with memories of the last time you were together, your month of hard work unravels in front of your eyes.

toji tilts his head, dark hair falling over his brow. “don’t you have anything to say to me?”

you frown. “no?”

he grabs your chin. so quick that you barely had the chance to process that he’d moved. not hard, but firm, tilting your head up to meet his eyes fully. his lips are curving at the corners, but his eyes are completely humourless.

“i didn’t like it when you ignored me the first time, y/n,” he says, breath ghosting over your lips. “and i didn’t like it a whole lot this time, either.”

your heart squeezes when you recognise the look in his eye for what it was. not indifference. he was hurt. your chest aches so profoundly that you’d have reached up to rub it under different circumstances. instead you reach up to grip toji’s thick forearm, pry his hand away from your face.

“i’ve been… busy,” you tell him quietly. only a half lie.

he studies you for what feels like ten minutes, but is probably only 10 seconds. then he tugs away the arm you didn’t realise you were still holding, folds it back over his broad chest.

“i understand,” he tells you, as measured as a diplomat. which is why you think you must be losing your hearing when he says, “ but i need’ta cum, so i’m gonna fuck your throat. that okay?”

a strangled half-laugh escapes you. “what?”

“you heard me.” he reaches out again, thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “get on your knees, pretty.”

“toji,” you frown, and smile, and all the while, he’s deadly serious.

somehow, he sees the moment your resolve splinters, even before you realise it yourself. you know he does, from the dark, sinful glint in his eye. you could walk right out of this closet, and he would let you. of course he would—toji would never force you into anything. but you haven’t, and you won’t. which is why when you lower yourself to your knees in front of him, he knows its because you want it just as much as he does.

“good girl,” he murmurs, reaching forward and pulling your hair into one fist. “take it out.”

you do. unbuckling his jeans, pulling his boxers down so that his thick cock springs free, hard as rock.

“i wanna feel the back of your throat,” he tells you quietly, feigning aloofness, but you know him better than that.

even in the darkness you can see the way the muscles in his arms are pulled taut, the way his lower abdomen is tensing. he’s holding onto a barely there thread of control. he needs your mouth on him. needs you, now.

you bite back a smirk, fingers stroking his stomach, down to his pelvis, to grip him at his base. you brush your lips over him, feather light, but you feel him twitch in your hand anyway. you stick your tongue out, let the tip of his leaking cock glide across it.

toji lets out a choked noise, like he’s fighting hard to keep it in. a muscle in his jaw ticks as you grin up at him, planting a kiss along the side of his shaft.

“y’know i usually don’t like being told what to do, ‘ji.” you kiss him again. barely there. not enough. “but only ‘cause its you.”

you slide your tongue from base to tip, and toji can’t help the hum that rumbles through his chest. impatient, he reaches for your hair again, wrapping it once around his fist, before he thrusts his hips forward, and his cock down your throat.

the shock of the stretch punches the breath out of you, making your eyes well up and spill over in one movement. you try to focus on breathing through your nose, but can’t help but watch the way toji’s stern expression gives way to one of sheer pleasure. the way he grips your hair with both hands, then moves them down to cup your face, holding you like you’re a gift.

“why do you keep nngh— why’d’you keep doing this to me, baby?” he groans, voice cracking as he slowly begins to move again, nudging himself further into you throat, cradling your jaw thats stretched wide around his dick.

you can’t answer, for obvious reasons. but the hum you let out around his shaft makes his head fall back against the shelf. he returns his gaze to you quickly, like he can’t bare to miss even a second. you swallow desperately, eyes blurred, gripping at his jean-clad thighs.

“s’is the only time y—” he sighs, fingers trembling as they brush over the bulge in your cheek. “only time i can get that mouth of yours to stop talking.” he huffs out an amused laugh. “the taste of my cock that good, huh, sweet girl?”

you nod immediately. it wasn’t that you liked giving head. it’s simply because it was him. hell, you refused it flat out before toji. the taste of his skin, his arousal on your tongue was what did it for you. you’d meant it when you said you’d eat him if you could.

you thought you might do anything he asked you to.

your hand drifts between your thighs without you even meaning it to, applying much needed pressure to your clit through the denim of your shorts with the heel of your palm. toji fucks a steady rhythm into your mouth, leaking on the back of your tongue, wiping the tears from your cheeks with the pads of his fingers that are rough from hours on the game.

“why’re you so set on keeping us apart, y/n?” toji asks, voice tender, desperate, and you think he might cum any minute. you relax your throat to prepare yourself for it.

you can’t exactly tell him that it’s because you think about him too much. need him too bad. that your body is broken for anyone but him, and that you’re saving yourself the pain because you know he isn’t serious. you know toji fushiguro hops from girl to girl but will never settle down. that it’s only your turn.

he sees something in your eyes, though, because his brows become marred with a crease even as he rocks into your throat, lewd, wet sounds coming from your mouth. his movements become more and more rigid, less controlled, and his grip on your chin tightens ever so slightly.

you don’t break eye contact when he groans, gutturally, pulling you forward by the back of your head so that your nose presses against the hair dusting his pelvis. he moans, deep and long, as you desperately try to gulp down the load flooding your throat, convulsing around him while he fucks into your mouth. you wish you could see his face as he cums, and cums some more.

when he jerks your head back you gasp in a breath. look up at him bleary eyed and watch as he catalogues the line of spit and sperm connecting your lips to his still hard cock. you see his lips move with words, but no sound leaves his mouth.

toji tucks himself away first. lifts you up until you’re standing on unsteady feet, second. he wipes his thumb over your mouth and then casually licks it off. brushes your bare and tear streaked cheeks with the backs of his hands. reaches around to comb his fingers through your tangled hair. he crouches down so that he can brush off your bare knees, imprinted with the pattern of the ground beneath you.

when he stands, he reaches into the pocket of your jorts to pull out your phone. it unlocks with his face ID, and his scarred lips tilt up at the fact that you haven’t deleted it. after a moment, he holds the phone out to you again. you take it.

toji strokes your hair, then pushes your head to his, mouth to yours in a deep, almost punishing kiss. not nearly enough.

“don’t block me again, y/n,” he tells you, unlocking the door and cracking it open. “and when i call, you answer.”

and then he’s walking out of the supply closet that you forgot you were in. in the middle of a school day. walking away from you this time, before you have the chance to walk away from him.

part three

———————————⚞^. .^⚟———————————

@ yut2achoya. pls do not copy or feed into ai !!!

a/n: chat am i reaching flow state lmk in the chat

[bunnysb1ogg]

pairing: clark kent x f!reader

summary: clark and his big hands

warnings: explicit sexual content and smut, graphic sexual descriptions, fingering and oral sex, sexually explicit language and dirty talk, sexualized body focus and objectification, power dynamics involving pinning and commanding language, nsfw material intended for 18+ audiences, and consensual sexual activity.

→ bunny talking: ouu i just want him to crush me with his body ...

Clark always had his big veiny hands on your body. Touching and squeezing at art no other man could have the luxury of touching. "Feel so good in my grip, baby." He says as he palms your ass sweetly.

Other ways his big hands came in handy were when his thick and girthy fingers were prodding at the folds of your slick cunt, back arching off the couch, he pinned you down too with his thick arms wrapped around your thighs. "Sit still, baby. I can't fit them inside if you do all the squirmin'." He was overly pussy drunk, not even having a taste yet. His first digit entered your core in a way that made your legs want to close around his body. Your hole sucking him in with ease.

"Atta' girl. Feels good, yeah?" His eyes on you as your own are at the back of your head, the steady pace he set is enough to already send you over the edge. You can only bring yourself to nod, small whines escaping your lips in ways that make the bulge in his jeans even more prominent. "Can I put another baby? Can you handle another finger?"

He sounds so innocent, but he knows exactly what he's doing when he talks like that. "C'mon, speak up and tell me." You stutter before finally finding your words, a small squeal leaving you as he pushed the finger already intruding, deeper into your sopping cunt. "Y-yes! Yes- can handle it, Clark."

He grins, his second finger finding its way to your now stretched hole. "Gonna make you cum with just my fingers. Gonna cum f'me?" He sounds sloppy, pressing kisses to your thighs as he penetrates you further. "Hurry up and cum on my fingers, darling."

You buck your hips as he hits your sweet spot, in and out, his fingers go in your cunt. "Sloppy pussy. So sloppy." He can't help himself, pressing his tongue to the slick that escapes, your back arching off the couch and into his mouth in hopes he'd give you what your body was begging for.

"M'so close, Clark-" You cut yourself off with a groan at the feel of his tongue on the nub in between your slick folds. Your hands can't do anything but reach for his head in between your legs, suffocating him in a way that feels so good. Your legs are shaking as you release onto his tongue, thighs closing around his head. A guttural groan leaves both of you. "Fucking hell, baby. You came so much."

His thick fingers leave you feeling empty as he holds the slick-covered digits in front of him to admire. His tongue darting out to get a one last taste of your essence.

Man, you love Clarks' big hands.

send in your suggestionss :3

[princessaddz]

☆Fire Lord Zuko x Fem!reader. ☆Word Count: 1.6K. ☆CW: Unprotected sex, Oral Fem receiving, Zuko with a breeding kink??? Smut with a plot????A bit of fluff.

Masterlist Zuko Masterlist

Tip of the Tub

The first sign your husband was on his way to you was the sound of boots in the corridor and the second was the sigh. That long, exhausted sigh only Zuko made after a full day of council meetings, trade disputes, and generals arguing in circles.

You looked up from where you were seated near the bedroom window. He paused in the doorway, looking worn in that way only responsibility could make a person look. Robes slightly disheveled. Hair coming loose.

“There’s my favorite person,” he murmured.

You smiled. “Tough day?”

He came close enough to lean down and press his forehead briefly to yours. “Today I mediated an argument about shipping routes for three hours.”

“That sounds terrible.”

“I missed you.” He grumbled.

You touched his sleeve. “Come with me.”

He let you lead him toward the bath chambers. The royal bath had already been prepared, steam curling into the air, lanternlight warm against the stone, flower petals floating over the water. He looked at the bath then at you.

“You planned this?”

“I had a feeling you’d come to bed grumpy.”

“I am not grumpy.”

“You’re very grumpy.”

He gave you that offended look that never worked because it was too endearing.

Soon you were both sunk into the warm water, shoulders bare, the heat loosening the day from his muscles. Zuko sat behind you, arms loosely around you, your back against his chest. His chin rested near your shoulder. One of his hands lazily traced patterns over your wrist beneath the water. “This,” he murmured, voice half sleepy, “is better than ruling.”

You turned slightly. “High praise.”

“I mean it.” His lips brushed your temple.

Then almost shyly, he began giving your shoulders a massage. His fingers moved gently down your back, careful and unhurried.

“That feels nice,” you whispered.

“I know.”

“You sound very confident.”

“I have been studying.”

You laughed. “Studying what?”

“How to spoil my wife.”

Later, you returned the favor, working sandalwood soap over his shoulders. “You’re tense,” you said.

“I am relaxing.”

“You’re bracing.”

“I am not bracing.”

You pressed your thumbs into a knot near his shoulder. He made a sound… A very surprised sound. You raised a brow.

“Was that the Fire Lord whimpering?”

His ears turned red. “That did not happen.”

“Oh, it happened.”

You laughed so hard you nearly splashed water on both of you. He pulled you closer until you were in his lap.

“There,” he said. “Now you can’t mock me.”

“That is not how this works.”

“It is now.”

You looked up to meet his eyes, they glowed golden in the lanternlight. Then he kissed you.

Slow, warm, lazy with affection. He murmured your name against your mouth. You felt his hand slide up to cup your jaw, thumb tracing your cheek, drawing you into a deeper kiss. His other arm, strong and firm around your waist. Water slid back and forth across your bodies. The world reduced to the steam, the soft sound of water sloshing, the feel of his mouth on yours. He kissed your jaw, down the line of your throat, leaving a trail of goosebumps over your skin. His hand, warm and damp from the water, slid down your side, fingers lightly digging in. You leaned back, breathless, his mouth still on your neck.

"Zuko-" you gasped.

He nuzzled the side of your neck, lips now on your shoulder. He whispered something inaudible against your skin. You shivered. His hands drifted lower, fingers pressing into the dip of your waist. He looked at you then, eyes dark, mouth parted. He was disheveled from the bath, hair coming out of its bun, firelight making his features glow.

"I want you." He murmured, voice barely above a whisper,

“I can feel that” You giggle as you mention the feeling of his hardened cock between your thighs. 

"Good," he growled as he lifted you onto the edge of the bath, his eyes never leaving yours. He moved close between your legs, hands splayed over your hips. You were flushed and breathless and he was watching you in a way that made heat coil low in your stomach.

"I have been thinking about you all day." He murmured.

“Yea?” You say as you grapple his hair between your fingers. 

His mouth moved slowly up your thigh, lips and tongue on your skin, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. He took his time, looking up once to meet your gaze.

He moved higher, kisses brushing along the inside of your hip. You shivered, fingers gripping the edge of the bath. He nipped lightly at your inner thigh, then soothed it with his tongue. He made a low sound in the back of his throat, eyes darkening. 

He lifted one of your legs over his shoulder before his tongue took a roll over your clit. At the same time, one of his hands slid up your stomach, fingers splaying out against the underside of your breast.  He growled, low and pleased. One hand slid to grip your hip while the other slipped lower, two fingers pressing inside your vulva. He continued circling your clit with his tongue  as his fingers moved in a slow rhythm till you were dangerously close.

You gripped his hair tighter and you bite your lip trying to contain the moan that wants to escape and failing.

“Baby, I need…”

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his fingers stilling inside you. His lips were wet, breathing ragged.

"Need what love?”  His thumb pressed down in slow circles on your clit while his other hand tightened on your hip.

“I need you”

"You have me," he said, the words thick with need. "You have all of me, baby."

Then he pulled back his fingers back after the first wave of pleasure washed over you and shifted, lifting you off the edge of the bath and into his lap. The change in position left you straddling him, his hands on your hips, mouth against your throat.

He groaned, a rough sound ripped from his chest as he pulled you down onto him in one slow thrust.His forehead dropped against yours as he bottomed out inside you. "Fucking hell you feel perfect."  

He swallowed your moans with his mouth, tongue hot and demanding, hands moving from your hips down to your thighs. He held your hips and he helped you ride him. Your legs around his waist and his tongue on yours. When he broke the kiss, his breath was rough and ragged.

"You okay?" he murmured suddenly, hands brushing a stray strand of hair from your face and his eyes searching yours.

“Yea” A moan slipped out. “Don’t stop”

He made a deep, pleased sound in the back of his throat. Then he gripped your hips and pulled you against him rougher than he expected. He was just being greedy. His mouth moved to your jawline, teeth scraping against the sensitive skin before latching onto your neck with a possessive bite.

A thought popped in his head and his brain short circuited. His heart stopped. The whole world tilted sideways. Every other thought faded away until the only thing that existed was you, and the overwhelming need to make his thoughts reality.

"I want you to have my babies" he said, voice barely above a whisper. " Do you want to carry my babies?”

“Give em to me” You said as you dropped your head to his shoulder, where your hands were gripping for stability. 

He shifted again, his thumb brushed over your skin, the touch feather-light. "Sweetheart, look at me.”  

He lifted your chin, his face inches away. 

"I'll give you whatever you want, sweetheart. I'll give you my babies. Anything you want.” His eyes fluttered shut for a moment. One hand stayed on your hip, holding you tight. His other hand skimmed over your stomach, the touch sending a shiver through your whole body.

"Can you give it to me, baby?" he murmured. "Can you let go for me right now?”

He was a mess of ragged breaths and desperate need, his head dropping against your shoulder, fingers digging into your hips as he held you tightly against him. 

"I love you," he muttered against your skin. 

“Love you more” you mutter back. The water made slooshing sounds as he continued to rock in you with a steady pace. 

The sight of you lost in pleasure was probably his favorite thing in the world. His fingers stilled against your skin, knowing you were right there. He pressed a rough kiss to your neck, teeth scraping over your skin as he spoke into your ear.

"You're amazing.” He took a few ragged breaths, gathering what little self control he had left before looking up into your face again. His eyes never left yours as you came undone, he didn't want to miss a single second. His body thrummed with need, with a deep and consuming satisfaction that was so intense it almost hurt.

He shuddered against you, a ragged groan tearing from his throat as he felt himself spill inside you. His forehead dropped to your shoulder again, breathing hard, body still thrumming with the aftershocks of pleasure.

He stayed close after, arms wrapped around you, breath hot on your skin. His fingers traced slow, absent patterns on your skin, almost like he was trying to memorize every inch of you.  His hands slid down to grip your hips again.When the water cooled, neither of you moved; you just stayed there curled together.

You talked about nothing, about turtle ducks in the palace pond and about your family that you’d build together.

Eventually, Zuko stood and stepped out, then held out a hand for you. You took it, wrapped in robes, you ended up tangled together beneath blankets.

His head on your chest and your fingers in his hair, he was nearly asleep.

“Feeling less grumpy?”

“Marry me again.” A sleepy murmur 

You laughed softly. “I already did.”

“Do it again.”

“Okay. I will marry you in my dreams”

Disclaimer: I don't own Rights to any characters mentioned nor do I consent to plagiarism of any kind. Thankyou for reading loves ;)

[mootersun]

And I'm Stuck on You

╰ moduloYuji x fem!reader 𖹭.ᐟ - 9.1k words (oneshot)

synopsis: yuji hasn't been with a woman in decades, but after spotting a beautiful woman at a bar he finds himself damn near obsessing. Is it possible to fall in love after one night?

cw: smut w/ plot // no use of y/n // yuji is freaked out // lowk stalks you // touched starved & horny ash // cums in you // he talks you through it // yuji hasn't fucked in decades // set in canon universe (sorry if I butcher ts out of it) // steals/jerks off w/ ur panties // tbh he's just a perv // also this has angst and sadness // poor yuji can't catch a break

notes: ts took me forever to write actually, for some reason I didn't consider that making a oneshot w/ a plot would take me longer. Anyways ty guys so much for 300+ followers I would've made a post sooner, but I was in the TRENCHES. I really hope u guys like this one ALSO special thx to my girl @twdlvrr for giving me an excuse to write a long ass Yuji fic.

The club was overflowing with people—sweaty and suffocating as everyone crams together. The music booms through the small space as Yuji Itadori weaves through the crowd, already more than a few shots in, when he spots a breathtakingly beautiful woman he just has to talk to.

Nothing about this is normal, not when he only comes here to drink, maybe laugh a little in the rare moments he gets to simply exist. But wanting a woman? He hasn't thought about that in years—shit, maybe since he was a teenager. Now, the most he does is fuck his hand while half-asleep so his dick won't keep him awake, not even because he wants to.

When he finally makes it to you, his arms slip around your waist, head dipping so his lips brush close to your ear as he murmurs, "God, where've you been my whole life?"

You're so caught up in the music, completely lost in it, doing anything to forget about your shitty ex and your even shittier week, that you don't even notice him at first.

You turn your head, glancing up at him, your breath hitching as his eyes dip to yours.

"Sorry," he says, voice softer now. "Did I scare you?"

You turn around, your hands coming up to rest flat against his chest. 

"No… you're just so–" God, between the alcohol and how insanely sexy he is, your brain is all sorts of fucked.

"So what, beautiful?" He teases, lifting your chin with a finger.

Heat rushes to your cheeks, burning as you realize what you were about to say.

"Oh– I…" You glance away for a second, but he brings your face back to look at him.

"Don't look away, please. I wanna see that pretty face of yours." Yuji murmurs, his thumb brushing softly along your cheek before grazing your bottom lip. "What's your name?"

You tell him, stumbling over your words, cheeks still flushed—and it's so embarrassing, the way he has you stuttering like a mess, half-surprised he hasn't walked away yet. "And you?"

"Yuji… Itadori." He trips over his words, like, despite the confident front, he hasn't actually done this in a while.

"Oh." You give him a small, shy smile. "So do you come here a lot?"

"A little, but not for women," he says with a shake of his head, laughing softly. "Honestly, I'm not even sure the last time I went on a date."

You tilt your head, curious. "Is dating… not really your thing?"

His eyes widen, realizing you probably think he's some prick, fucking any girl he finds attractive.

"No– not like that." He runs a hand nervously through his hair. "Fuck… I'm already messing this up, huh? It's just been a while… all of this. And you?"

Fuck, it's probably so obvious to you how inexperienced he is when he's a fumbling mess. But you're just so pretty, it has him losing it.

You shift your gaze. "....I just got out of a shitty relationship, actually."

Someone treating you like shit? It shouldn't make him mad—hell, he hardly knows you—but he already hates this guy for letting a pretty girl like you end up here.

"Well, he's the one who fucked up," He says, pulling you in closer, hands sliding just below your hips.

Your breath hitches as he presses closer, head dipping so his lips brush against yours. Are you insane? Did someone spike your drink? Because here you are, fresh out of a relationship, practically throwing yourself at some guy you just met at a bar, but fuck. The way he looks at you, the way his hands move over your body so carefully, so gentle as if he's scared to hurt you. It's intoxicating.

You close your eyes as his lips finally meet yours, slow and testing, before deepening the kiss. His tongue slips past your lips, tasting you, so sweet, so tempting. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer as his hands drift lower until he's palming your ass. Fuck, you feel so good, too good that he can't keep from pulling you closer, pressing his throbbing cock against you. His kisses turn desperate, like he's already losing himself in you, earning a soft moan from your lips.

Yuji forgot how good it felt to kiss someone. It's been decades since he's even thought about it. He lets himself, for once, get swept up in the moment. The feeling of your tongue against his, the way you press into him like you want him just as badly, making him frustratingly hard, already leaking pre from his flustered tip. 

"Come home with me?" The words slip out in a low, drunken murmur against your lips.

You nod without hesitation, like the answer was already there. You'd do anything to have more of him, to feel more of him, and it doesn't help that his cock pressed against you has your mind already wandering.

He smiles down at you, biting his lip before leaning in, pulling you into another kiss.

────﹒♡﹒────

By the time the two of you make it to Yuji's place, he can't contain himself. He's picking you up, your legs wrapping around him as he carries you through his front door, kicking it shut behind him, taking you straight to his room. His lips stay on yours, guiding you blindly—but hell, he's done this in way more fucked up states, so getting you there is no problem.

He gets you to his bed, laying you down gently, and for a split second, you're not sure what to expect. What it means if he really hasn't been with anyone in a while, but you barely have time to dwell on it before he's on you again, shirtless, biceps flexing as he holds himself above you.

"Gonna make you feel s'good, baby," he mumbles against your lips, trailing down to your neck.

He was trying—really trying, to take it slow, to not rush things, even with how hard he is, his cock throbbing relentlessly in his pants as he shifts, rubbing against your thigh, desperate for any sort of relief.

And fuck, it turns you on, having you so soaked and needy, writhing beneath him as you roll your hips against him, wanting him so desperately inside you.

He breaks away for a second, breathing ragged, chests rising and falling together as you toss your shirt off the bed, breasts spilling out from your top. He doesn't even try to hide the way his gaze drops, drinking you in as he imagines rolling your perky little nipples under his thumb. 

Fuck—that does it. He's already off the bed in seconds, pulling his pants off, and you follow, slipping out of your skirt, leaving you only in your lacy panties. His gaze darkens as he sweeps over you, pupils blown wide, taking in the sight of you laid out on his bed like that—all pretty and flushed, ready to be all fucked out under him.

Your eyes drop straight to the bulge in his boxers, and christ he's big. Almost too big. And you nearly faint when he pulls them down, thick veiny cock slapping against his abs, leaving your cunt clenching pathetically at the sight.

He takes his cock in his hand, stroking his length slowly as he watches you, legs spread for him, hair messy on his bed, looking at him through half-lidded eyes.

"God, you look so beautiful like this." His cock twitches as your hand slips into your panties, circling your clit, pulling soft moans from you as you try so hard to keep your eyes on him.

The room fills with messy sounds, Yuji's ragged breathing mixed with the sound of his spit slicked hand against his cock, and your own whiny sounds that spill out as you finger your little hole.

"Couldn't wait f'me, huh?" he rasps, his strokes turning impatient, pre leaking down his length at the sight of you.

Fuck, he can't take any more—climbing on the bed, your stomach fluttering as you watch him crawl between your legs, face stopping in front of your panties as he hooks his fingers under the lace, slipping them off. His eyes flick down to your pussy, your slit so wet it's glistening—he knew you'd be pretty, but this? It's a sick joke, really, how pretty your pussy is, a wet spot already forming on his sheets from his leaky tip as he presses his lips softly to your clit. A soft laugh escapes him as he pulls back slightly, the warmth of his breath alone has your skin burning, his eyes flicking up to yours.

"Sorry, I'm just a bit nervous," He murmurs, voice low and a little breathless. "Wanna make you feel s'good, beautiful. It's just been a bit…"

It shouldn't be so sexy, but Yuji being so worried about your pleasure, has your pussy throbbing, aching with need. And he doesn't even realize how stupidly attractive he is, how he could do anything, and you'd be putty in his hands. Just the thought alone of his tongue all over your cunt, has your body reacting on its own, your hips rolling up, as his nose brushes against your sensitive clit.

"You already feel s'good, Yuji–" you're cut off as his tongue drags along your clit, making you whine at the contact.

And the anticipation stirring in your stomach is almost unbearable as he flicks his eyes up to yours again, searching your face to know he's making you feel good, before going back down. His tongue flicks over your clit, gentle and slow, before lightly sucking, as you mewl out, hands tangling in his pink hair.

His face is pressed so close against your cunt, he can't breathe, but he doesn't care. Not when you're reacting like this, every movement having you moaning, legs wrapping around him so tight they're trembling, as you pull on his messy hair, bringing him impossibly closer. 

He just lets you—lets you set the pace, rubbing your wet pussy all over his face, having his nose dripping with you. All of it drives him insane, his tongue slipping into your fluttering hole as he reaches down to stroke his throbbing cock, becoming a muffled mess against your drenched pussy.

"Fuck! That feels s'good," You whine out, "too good, Yuji… you're gonna make me cum."

That only makes him want it more, the feeling of you cumming on his tongue, your legs trembling around him as you let yourself go. He drags his tongue back up to your clit, slower this time, more deliberate as he licks and sucks your swollen bud, focusing on your pleasure.

His tongue feels so fucking good on your clit, having your walls clenching pathetically, until his tongue dips back in, feeling you pulse around him as you rub your cunt against his face, using his tongue to ride out your orgasm, screaming his name in a way that has him hoping it stays in his head for the rest of his long life. 

He waits until you come down, pulling away, breathing uneven and lips parted as he looks at you, his face dripping from your pussy. And seconds later, he's kissing up your body, making his way to your lips while you struggle to catch your breath, still an absolute wreck from earlier. He starts rubbing his length against your slit, his cock gliding between your slippery folds as he pushes the tip in, making you gasp as he stuffs your pussy full, and he's not even completely in yet.

"Yuji, I don't think I can t-take all of you–" Your voice breaks as he drives his cock deeper, stretching your cunt with every stroke.

He lets out a strained moan, the filthy wet sounds filling the room as his balls slap against your cunt. "But she's taking me s'good," he brings a thumb to rub your clit, still sensitive from cumming.

You can't take it anymore, your hands going to his back, nails digging into his skin, leaving trails of red. "Mhnnn… Yuji!"

"Fuck–" It comes out rough, almost desperate as his hips snap forward, driving his cock so deep your eyes flutter shut, overwhelmed by pleasure as his tip kisses your puffy cervix.

His hand goes around your neck, squeezing enough to make your breath hitch, and—fuck, he almost cums. You're just so damn sexy, drool dripping from parted lips, as he holds you in place, watching your slutty face.

"Fuck, she's so tight," he grunts, fucking you as you silently cry out, his grip tightening around your throat.

He pulls out, releasing his grip around you as his hand drops to his pussy slicked cock, stroking slowly as your eyes flutter open, your cunt still pulsing at the lack of fullness. 

"Turn over, beautiful. I wanna fuck that pretty pussy from the back, see how good she looks taking me from behind."

You do as he says, flipping over, your face pressing into the mattress—and even his sheets smell like him, god it's enough to overwhelm your senses, making you arch your back, putting your dripping cunt on display for him. He lines himself up behind you, his thumb brushing against your slit, lazily parting your folds with his thumb, before easily slipping inside.

"Stop teasing me, Yujiiii–" You whine, pressing back into him as he takes his thumb out, slamming his cock into your cunt.

Drool drips from your lips, your hands gripping the sheets, as messy sounds echo in the room, so filthy and wet from his hips snapping against your ass. He rams his cock deeper, brows knitting as his balls grow frustratingly tight, trying so hard not to cum in you.

"Mhnn… Fuck! Yuji, you feel s'good." Your whines come out muffled against the mattress as you press back against him, needing him closer, deeper. "Want more… want you to stretch her out, make her soo full."

That sends him over the edge. Hips bucking up, his thrusts turning desperate as he puts his hands on either side of you, struggling to hold himself up. His jaw tenses as he slams into your pussy a few more times before pulling out with a shaky breath, chest heaving as he shoots thick milky white ropes all over your pretty back. 

You're a complete mess beneath him, pussy throbbing, whining in protest from the sudden absence.

"Shh, baby. He's already back between your legs, hands gripping your plush thighs as he licks your slit, "You think you can cum f'me?"

You press back, rubbing your pussy against his tongue as he finds your clit, working your sensitive bud until you're crying out.

"That's it, cum f'me, baby. Cum all over my tongue," He coaxes, sucking on your swollen clit, as your cunt pulses, cumming on his face.

"Yuji– Oh my god! Fuck–" 

He's still sucking your clit, helping you through your orgasm as you scream out, and god he loves that sound so much. He's almost tempted to keep you there, having you screaming his name like that for hours.

Your legs give out, collapsing on the bed as the room spins around you. You're so dizzy from your night of drinking and cumming, that you're hardly aware of anything around you. You feel the bed shift before Yuji's back with a towel, carefully wiping his mess off your back. You sleepily roll over, and he leans down, pressing a kiss to your cheek, before reaching for your panties and slipping them back on. Then he pulls one of his shirts over your head, watching it as it swallows you whole, before pulling the sheets over you. 

Yuji slides in next to you in only his boxers, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you close. His nose is buried in your neck, breathing you in like he's trying to memorize it. He stays like that for hours, until he finally feels himself drifting off—knowing that once he wakes up it'll all be gone, and as his eyes close he pulls you just a little tighter, not ready to let you go.

────﹒♡﹒────

You thought you left that morning without Yuji noticing, but he did. He noticed the exact moment you woke up, shifting slightly in bed, your eyes fluttering open only to realize you were in some stranger's bed, wearing only his shirt and your panties. Just like he instantly senses your quiet panic as you slip out of bed, quickly rushing around the room trying to gather your things, while trying so hard not to wake him. 

His chest aches hearing you slip out of his room, even if he doesn't have the right to feel anything about it. Not when he's only a stranger to you, a hot rebound for a pretty girl with a shitty ex—but he's never wanted something, someone, so badly.

Which is how he finds himself rationalizing that it's not creepy as hell to make excuses just to go and see you—every waking second of the day—making sure that you're not in some sort of danger. Even after tirelessly fighting curses, he finds himself sneaking around, exhausted, just to make sure you're okay. Which sounds a hell of a lot better than the truth—that he can't get you out of his head. Your petty smile, your laugh, fuck everything about you is so perfect, he's damn near obsessing over you.

Christ, he really is a creep, a fucking weirdo.

Yuji rubs his face in his hands, wondering how the hell he managed to end up here. It's already been a couple of months since he started watching you like this. Tonight, he's watching you walk back home. It's late, and he just got back from beating the shit out of cursed spirits, his body drained and heavy, yet he still finds himself following you, needing to make sure you're safe.

And that's when he fucks up, because in his tired state, he carelessly lets himself be spotted by you.

At first, you almost do a double-take, brows furrowing as you slow, because there's no way that's him… right? But you really do think that's the hot guy you hooked up with from the club, but the odds of that are damn near impossible in a huge city like Tokyo. You squint harder, narrowing your eyes as you try to make out the face hidden under the hoodie, convincing yourself that you're only seeing things. 

But even with his hood up, there's no mistake, it's him. His face, the way he stands, everything about him is burned into your memory, so ingrained in your mind you could pick him out of a crowded room by the way he touches you alone.

You don't know what comes over you as you start walking toward him, your pulse quickening with every step, adrenaline washing over you as you close the distance.

Meanwhile, Yuji's fighting the panic rising in his chest, his mind turning into a scattered mess, he can't think, can't make himself move—and god he needs to move, needs to move so badly, but he's frozen in place, choking—fuck, he can't even remember the last time he felt like this, nervous, terrified of what might happen when you finally reach him.

Move. Move, move, move. Fucking move!

But he doesn't; his feet stay stubbornly rooted in place, hands still shoved into his pockets as you finally stop in front of him.

"Hey–" you start, already blushing. "Sorry, is this weird? Just coming up to you like this– Shit, I'm sorry… I didn't even think about it, I just–"

"No, you're okay." He gives you a small smile, but it barely lingers, eyes flicking past your shoulder, scanning the street behind you, like he's looking for something.

"Are you okay?" You ask, starting to feel like an idiot for even walking up to him.

"Huh?" His attention snaps back to you, expression softening as he sees the worried look on your face. "I'm okay, just… tired."

Your palms grow sweaty, knowing how stupid you must look to him, when he's clearly not interested.

"Look, I'm sorry for coming up to you–"

His hand suddenly slips out of his pocket, fingers wrapping around your wrist, and you don't even have time to react before he's pulling you into a nearby alleyway.

Your back meets the cold brick as he presses closer to you. "Please," his voice is low and ragged, "Stop apologizing– fuck. Don't ever apologize for wanting to come up to me."

Your head spins, heart thudding against your chest as he leans down, pressing his lips to yours, needing to taste you again. His hands find your hips, pulling you flush against him, like he's been waiting to have you in his arms like this again.

Your fingers curl into his shirt before you pull away, breath shaky as you look up at him. "I just… don't want to be one of those girls…"

A shy smile tugs at your lips, a soft, nervous laugh slipping out, that has him thinking perverted thoughts that he definitely shouldn't be.

He rubs slow circles into your soft skin, his thumb dipping under your shirt. "You? One of those girls?" He shakes his head, giving you a boyish smile that has your knees buckling. "I'm not even sure what that means…" He laughs softly, running a hand through his hair. "But I do know, every little thing you do, drives me absolutely crazy. Makes me want you in ways I'm ashamed to admit." 

Fuck… was that insane to say?

To you, he's only seen you once or twice. But to him? He's seen everything. Months of it. Of watching you move through your daily routine, your habits, the people you surround yourself with. God, he even knows where you fucking work, and he's so caught up in you, he's managed to learn everything you could possibly know about someone from only watching them. And it was supposed to stay that way. Careful, controlled, specifically crafted so that you wouldn't get too close. But now, it's all slipping, crashing down in one careless moment.

"Well, if it makes you feel less crazy, I've really missed you." You sheepishly admit, as you shift, feeling your panties damp from your dripping cunt. 

He doesn't answer, lips finding yours again, slower this time. Deeper as he slips his tongue past your lips, tasting you, before pulling away just to trail kisses to your neck. He's sucking and nipping at your skin, leaving purple marks, as he presses his erection against you, wishing he were balls deep in your pretty pussy. A soft moan escapes your lips as his hand slides past your skirt, briefly hesitating before slipping into your panties, long fingers circling your clit.

"Hm.." He hums, dragging his finger down to your slit, feeling how wet you are for him. "Aw, does she need that badly? She's already so wet and ready."

He spreads your folds with two fingers, before slipping one in, leaving you whining, throwing your head over his shoulder. "Yuji, fuck!"

"Shh, baby." He pumps his finger in and out before adding another. "Someone might hear you."

You bite his shoulder, earning a groan from him as you stifle a moan. His cock strains against his pants, aching, balls so tight it has him whimpering as your teeth sink into his skin.

"God, she feels s'good around my fingers, so fucking wet f'me." He rasps, becoming a babbling mess as he presses against your leg, pre wetting through his pants.

"Only for you, Yuji." You whine out, as he curls his fingers, hitting that spongey spot that has you muffling cries against his hoodie.

"She's only mine, baby?" God, he wants you to say it, needs you to say it.

His cock twitches in anticipation as the words leave your lips, "She's only yours, Yuji!" 

Your lips crash against his, muffling your moans in his mouth as his thumb brushes over your clit, "Fuck. How are you so irresistible, so fucking perfect?"

He can hardly keep his composure, watching you throw your head back over him, shuddering, body trembling as you cum around his fingers. Taking him deep as he fucks you through your orgasm, slipping his fingers out to taste you.

He moans as his fingers slip past his lips, and god you taste just like he remembered, so good and sweet. It was almost unbearable spending so many nights—too many nights—alone, thinking about his face buried in your pussy, having him a whimpering mess behind closed doors.

You lift your head up, drinking in how sexy he looks. His lips are swollen, wrapped around his fingers, his eyes trained on you as you watch him, lips parted, your heart pounding in your ears. 

He pulls his digits out with a pop! leaning in to press a soft kiss to your lips, making your head spin.

"Go on a date with me," he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip as he pulls away. "Please."

Dammit, he knows he shouldn't be asking. Knowing that it goes against every rule, every boundary he's forced himself to keep. But he can't not have you, even when it's selfish, reckless, a fucking stupid idea—he still finds himself asking. A part of him really believing that—maybe—he can actually pull it off. That he'll be able to have you, while keeping a distance between you and his 'work'.

You smile up at him, "I thought you'd never ask."

He laughs softly at how adorable you look, your cheeks still flushed from cumming around his fingers.

"I'll pick you up," he says, pressing a gentle kiss to your rosy cheeks. 

It's such a small gesture, but it has you smiling like an idiot.

And as you part ways, it never really hits you that you never told him where you live.

────﹒♡﹒────

The next night he's driving you out to a little trail that has a scenic view of the mountains, with little creeks scattered along the way. It's really late, nearly pitch black outside, and if you didn't trust him so much—for whatever insane reason—you wouldn't find yourself caught dead in a situation like this. 

As you're walking along the dirt trail, your shoulder brushing his every now and then, you glance over at him, unable to stop yourself from asking.

"Do you normally take girls on dark walks, alone… at night?"

He blushes, the color creeping to his ears, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck as he lets out a nervous laugh. "Fuck… I messed up again, didn't I? I just thought it'd be better to talk." 

It was partly true. He really did want time alone with you, to talk, to know all about the pretty girl who's been cumming all over him. Who has him wrapped so tightly around her finger, he's starting to lose parts of himself in her.

On the other hand? He knows you'll be safe here with him. Almost certain that there's no way something would attack the two of you out here, and if anything did happen, he would be there to protect you.

"It's okay, it's nice." You smile back, reassuring him, as you slip your hand into his.

His heart skips a beat, lacing his fingers with yours, glancing down, lingering at your intertwined hands for a moment—like a part of him doesn't fully believe this is real.

Making your way further up the trail, you eventually come across a creek, the water faintly glinting under the moonlight.

"You think we should stop here?" You ask, giving his hand a small tug. "I think it's really pretty."

He nods, smiling as he watches you, more focused on you than the creek, "It's perfect."

You pull him over to a cluster of rocks, sitting down, and he follows, sitting beside you, close enough that your shoulders touch. 

"You know," he starts, voice quieter now as his eyes slip past the water. "It's nice. Just stopping for a second… getting to ignore all the bullshit for once."

You nod, understanding what he means. Until you met Yuji, life was constantly giving you shit to worry about. "It is nice." 

He looks at you, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close. "It's just been a while for me… all of this. I know I've said that, but–" he's smiling again, his free hand going to the back of his neck, because how could he possibly begin to explain it all? To tell you it's been literal decades since he's been with a woman.

"It's okay," you gently interrupt him, leaning up to kiss his cheek, stopping him completely. "We could be anywhere, go anywhere, and as long as you're there, it'd be perfect."

He melts at your words, at how easily you find the right things to say. How's that even possible? How can you be so perfect, so right for him, and still feel just out of reach. 

"Can… I ask you something?" you ask after a moment, feeling a little shy.

"Yeah, of course. Anything."

"It's just–uh… your scar," you hesitate, knowing it's probably too personal to ask, but it's hard not to be curious when it's such a big scar. "How did you get it?"

That was the last thing he was expecting you to ask, which is ridiculous, because it's not like it's hidden. But after so long, it's just become a part of him now, that he forgets other people even notice.

"I–uh…" He stammers, racking his brain for an answer. "Got it from a fight… a long time ago."

"Oh…" you feel like an asshole now, seeing him fumble over his words, knowing you definitely asked too sensitive of a question. "I really shouldn't have asked."

"No, it's okay," he says, his hands cupping your face, pressing a quick kiss to your lips to further reassure you he means it. "I fight for a living and this," he points at his scar, "...I got it from a really bad accident, when I was fighting."

You feel like he's not telling you the full story, but you brush it off, figuring he'd tell you when he feels comfortable. "A fighter? Like professional… or?"

"Yeah," he nods, "like boxing."

"Really?" Your eyes light up, "maybe I could go to a match of yours sometime?"

He tenses, his chest tightening, hands sweaty, because he's not just some 'fighter' and there's no match, but he can't tell you that. Fuck, he doesn't want to make you feel like he's blowing you off, but what the hell else is he supposed to say?

"Actually uh…" he trails off, searching for anything to say, and it looks so bad, fuck he knows this looks horrible right now. "Maybe sometime… yeah."

You feel it, how weakly he agrees to you coming to a match, and it makes you so confused, thinking you were reading all the right signals, because everything he says and does points to him liking you. So much so, you find yourself brushing the entire thing off, figuring you're overthinking it.

"Do you like it?" You ask instead.

"Fighting?" he pauses.

Does he like it? It's such a simple question and somehow not simple at all, so complex in fact—and you have no idea.

"I think," he exhales quietly, gaze drifting for a second, "it's what fate chose for me."

"You believe in that, fate?"

He nods, tilting his head slightly at you. "Do you not?"

"I'm not really sure… I guess it depends what 'fate' would mean for me." You answer softly, leaning into him, resting your head on his chest. 

His big arms wrap around you, muscles flexing as he pulls you close, resting his head on yours, breathing in your sweet perfume.

"You know," he murmurs, voice quieter now as he melts into you. "Just because your ex was an ass doesn't mean your fate isn't a good one."

You crack a smile at that, "You trying to say something, Itadori?"

His lips twitch at your flirty tone, loving the way you say his name. "Someone's being all flirty now, hm?"

"Me?" you giggle, peeking up at him. 

He laughs, unable to stop himself as he watches you. You're so adorable, your smile, your laugh, everything about you so infectious it leaves him wanting more.

"If there's one thing I do in this life," he says as the laughter dies down. "It's making you believe you're worth more than whatever you think in that head of yours." He tips your chin up, leaning down so his lips ghost over yours, whispering, "you're too damn pretty, too damn perfect, to be thinking like that."

You close the distance, pressing your lips to his, wanting him closer as you climb into his lap, straddling him, his hands gripping your thighs. "I want you, Yuji, so bad."

"I want you too, beautiful," he says, voice low and needy as he brings his lips back to yours. "But not here."

You whine, rolling your hips against his hard bulge, making him throb at the contact. "But Yuji, I need you."

"Trust me," he presses another kiss to your lips, "I need you too. Just not here."

Not when his guard is down, not when anything could happen while he's fucking you, because lord knows the only thing he'll be thinking of when he's buried in your pretty pussy will be watching you cum underneath him.

"Wanna come back to my place then?" You offer, wanting him so bad, you're throwing yourself at him. He probably thinks you're fucking pathetic with the way you're acting—but you couldn't be more wrong, because he's saying yes, wanting you just as much.

────﹒♡﹒────

Next thing you know, you're making out, fumbling for your keys, laughing breathlessly against each other's mouths as you manage to unlock your door, never fully breaking the kiss. The two of you stumble inside, any restraint gone, as you make your way to the shower, tugging at clothes, stripping away layers in desperate urgency until there's nothing left but your naked bodies. 

You finally break apart as he reaches into the shower, turning the water on, his muscles flexing with every small movement, making your cunt ache. He holds a hand out testing the temp, while his other hand goes to his hard cock, stroking his length as he turns his head, eyes raking over your body, looking so fucking beautiful, standing there, face flushed, your body hot and sweaty from your walk.

His arms go around your waist, pulling you into him again, kissing you deeply, as his tongue slips into your mouth. You gasp as you feel his hands drop to your ass, turning red under his grip as he presses his throbbing cock against you.

You pull away, dropping to your knees as you take his thick, veiny cock in your hands, flicking your eyes up to him. Your lashes flutter as you bring his tip to your lips, his dick already leaking pre at the sight, and your tongue slips out, licking him up.

"Fuck–" He hisses, your tongue feeling so sensitive against his slit.

You wrap your lips around his tip, moaning around him as he jerks his hips up, making you gag. You're blushing now, your nose brushing against the hairs trailing down to his cock as you take him whole, his cock twitching in the back of your throat, so deep your eyes prick with tears. You reach down, fingers circling your clit as your body ignites on fire, wanting him so badly it hurts.

He holds your chin in his hand, almost swallowing your face as he slowly starts fucking your pretty mouth, your swollen pink lips bottoming out on his dick as he continues to fuck stiffled little moans from you.

"Fuck, baby," he coaxes, voice shaky from how good you're making him feel. "You're doing so good."

He's trying so hard to hold on to some sort of composure, but he hasn't had someone's lips wrapped around him in so long, fuck—and your lips are so soft, your mouth so warm and wet around his flustered cock, it makes it impossible. 

His balls are tight, squeezing, as he fights the urge to cum in the back of your throat. He pulls his cock from your pretty lips with a pop! as his length slaps against his abs. His breathing ragged and uneven as he holds a hand out to you, helping you to your feet as you make your way into the walk-in shower.

He follows, pushing you up against the tiled wall, water slipping down the two of you as he presses a teasing kiss to your lips. "Sorry, I had to stop you, your lips felt too good, beautiful."

You blush, and he smiles against your lips, "I just wanted to be able to make you feel good."

His lips are back, crashing against yours, as he reaches for his cock, rubbing it between your slippery folds. He nips at your lip, teasing, before slipping his tongue in. Your hands fisting his wet hair as his hands go to your breasts, rubbing your perky nipples with his thumbs, having you mewling in his mouth.

"Does that feel good?" He murmurs, lips still ghosting over yours as you manage a nod, hardly able to think straight around him. "Aww, is my pretty girl feeling this good from me already?" He purrs, rolling your nipples between his fingers.

You're panting, head resting against his shoulder as your cunt flutters pathetically around nothing. 

His cock twitches, a breathless laugh escaping his lips as he watches you become a filthy mess for him, "Yuji–"

"What is it, beautiful?" he rasps, lips brushing your ear. "I need you to use your words."

"I–it's too much…Y-yuji!"

He immediately stops teasing your nipples, rubbing his cock along your slit. "See, that wasn't so hard." He presses his tip between your folds, teasing your little hole, before pushing inside, grunting as he feels you squeeze around him.

He's a total babbling mess, his thrusts shaky as fucks your dripping cunt, unable to hold back after months of dreaming about this—it's embarrassing, really, how much of a mess you have him.

"Mhnn… Yuji, you're too big– can't take it all." You whine, still taking his cock like a good girl as your cunt drips down his length.

"But she's doing so good," he purrs, a hand slipping to your clit, pulling a shaky moan from you as your eyes roll back, overwhelmed by pleasure.

Then the feeling becomes too much, "Y-yuji– I'm cumming!" You're crying out, head tipped over his shoulder, cunt pulsing, fluttering around him as he fucks you through your orgasm.

His eyes are glossy, pupils blown wide, as he watches your slutty face, all fucked out on his cock. He groans, hips jerking up as his tip leaks milky white, filling you up so full it's coating his length with every thrust.

He pulls out, shoulders shaking as he catches his breath. "S-sorry, I didn't mean to cum in you… shit." His voice breaks when he realizes how bad he fucked up—god, he didn't even mean to cum in you, your pussy just felt so good and warm, he couldn't stop himself.

"It's okay," you lift your head, looking at him through heavy-lidded eyes, your cheeks still flushed. "I'm on the pill."

He lets out a quiet sigh of relief, shoulders relaxing. "Want me to help you shower, beautiful?" 

You bite back a smile. He's so thoughtful, always thinking about you. "You wouldn't mind?"

He tilts his head, "Why would I?"

"I don't know…" You trail off, and he laughs softly at how adorable you are, gently turning you around, your back facing him.

His hands move carefully, fingers massaging your scalp as he works the shampoo through your hair—and holy shit, it feels amazing. A soft moan slips from your lips as his fingers continue to work their magic.

"Shh," now he's the one biting back a smile, pressing his lips to your ear, his voice dropping teasingly low. "If you keep making sounds like that, I'll have to fuck you again. And you're already so tired, beautiful."

You flush deeper, the color reaching your ears. "Yuji!"

"What?" He grins, feigning innocence. "It's true. You sound too pretty like that."

Your stomach flutters as he brings the shower head down, rinsing your hair. The water's warm and soothing, his hand running through your hair as he works the rest of the soap out.

"I really like taking care of you like this," he admits, softly pressing his lips to your shoulder as he lathers the washcloth, moving it gently over your body.

You weren't used to being touched like this, so gentle and careful. All your previous relationships never bothered to factor you in, always taking advantage of your kindness and never doing anything in return to show they care.

"I like it too," You admit too, your voice soft and quiet.

He smiles at your admission, rubbing the washcloth over himself, before gently turning you around. "Ready to get out?" he asks, cupping your face in his hands.

"Yes, please." You let out a small yawn, "I'm so tired, I can barely keep my eyes open." 

He steps out, reaching for a towel, wrapping it around you gently, before taking another and securing it around his waist.

"You need help getting dressed?"

Is this how men are supposed to treat you in a relationship?

"You… would?"

"You have to stop asking that," he pulls you in by your waist, "I'd do anything for you."

"I'm just not used to it…" You glance away, sheepishly admitting, "I've never had someone treat me like this… like you do."

"That's because they didn't realize what they had was so special," he leans down, pressing a kiss to your lips. Hell, he'd kiss you a thousand more times if it'd make you believe him.

"You're just saying that, because you're always saying nice things." You pout.

"I wish it was that simple," His thumbs brush over your hips, "go get in bed and I'll get your stuff." 

You sleepily make your way to the bed as he stumbles around your house in the dark, gathering your scattered clothes along with his own. He somehow manages to find your hamper, dropping your clothes inside, before fumbling through your drawers for something comfortable. When he comes back, he helps you into a shirt—wishing it was one of his instead—and slips on one of your favorite pairs of panties.

He pulls his boxers on after, sliding into bed next to you, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling your back flush against his chest. He nuzzles into your neck, loving how you smell. How your entire house smells like you, your room, your sheets—hell, he's even starting to smell like you.

"Is there a reason you don't date…?" You mumble, half asleep.

"Hm?" He hums, brushing a damp strand of hair away from your face. "Just been too busy, that's all."

A pause lingers between you.

"Are you going to be too busy for me?"

His arms tighten around you, his voice softer. "I'll never be too busy for you." He looks down at you, a small smile tugging at his lips as he watches you fall asleep. "It'd be impossible when my whole world's already falling into place around you."

────﹒♡﹒────

The next few weeks are spent with Yuji—always somewhere at night with hardly anyone else to be seen. It's not that it's bad. In fact, every date with him was perfect, but you can't shake the gnawing feeling that something's off.

You tried to brush it off, desperately wanting to shove away the thought that he could be hiding something, because everything else about him is perfect. Which makes it harder when all the small inconsistencies start adding up, too many that you can't bring yourself to ignore them any longer.

You're walking through Tokyo at night, streets quieter than usual, only a few people scattered around, all minding their own business. Yuji walks beside you with his hoodie up, pulled low, like he's trying not to be seen.

Your chest tightens. Is it really that embarrassing being seen with you?

"...Why do you only want to see me at night?"

He stills, and your heart drops. 

"It's not like anything you're thinking," he says quickly.

It still doesn't make sense. If anything, it makes it worse, the pit in your stomach twisting, "Not like anything I'm thinking? What the hell does that even mean?"

"Like–" fuck, he can't get a single word out, panic rising in his throat as he feels you starting to pull away. "I'm trying so hard to explain… I just–"

"No." You pull away from him, shaking your head as you back up. "I'm not fucking doing this again."

"Please– don't. I can explain–"

"No, you can't 'explain'," you cut in, voice breaking. "You just tried, and it didn't even make sense. Is there anything else? Are you fucking someone else, is that it?"

A breathless, disbelieving laugh slips out of you, probably looking insane to the few people still out.

"Are you even a boxer, or was that just bullshit too?"

His breathing is ragged, chest heaving, struggling to catch his breath as his eyes search over you frantically, like he's trying to find the exact words that will make you stay.

And when he sees the tears forming in your eyes, it absolutely breaks him. "No, but if you—"

That one word is all it takes to confirm all your worst fears, that he's been lying to you this entire time. All while fucking you in your bed, sleeping in your bed. Playing you like a fucking idiot, and you let him, just like you let every other sleaze before Yuji.

"You're a fucking liar," you say, voice trembling as everything spills over, fed up with all the lies. Fed up with letting pricks like him walk all over you. "Honestly, it's my fault, because for some stupid fucking reason, I let myself think you were different."

He takes a step forward, "Just let me explain, please," he pleads, eyes glassy as tears slip down his cheeks. "Please, just– if you'd come home with me–"

"Come home with you!?" You're almost hysterical when the tears spill over. "Why? That way, you can lie to me again, so I'll sleep with you?"

That hits him harder than any blow ever has, your words cutting deep as he takes it all, knowing he deserves it, that he should've never lied to you in the first place.

"You were never that for me."

"Yeah?" You quickly wipe your tears with your arm, laughing bitterly. "What else?"

"Please, stop…" the words come out in broken sobs—he can't stand this, can't stand the hurt look he put on your face. "I need you."

"You know what?" You can't even look at him anymore, "I'll make it easy for you," you swallow hard. "I'll go. Since you can't stop lying to me for a single fucking second. Can't even give me that little bit of decency after stringing me along."

You turn, and his hand catches your wrist, "I–"

You jerk your hand away, "It's over, Yuji."

────﹒♡﹒────

Yuji felt like such a perverted loser, so pathetic jerking off with the panties he snuck from your house. The lacey fabric gripped tight around his cock, whimpering as he fucks his fist.

God, it was so fucking wrong—so fucked up for him to be getting off to you when you hate him, wanting absolutely nothing to do with him. And still, he can't move on. Still stuck on you, too afraid to even wash his sheets, worried he might lose the last lingering trace of you.

His grip around his cock tightens, hips bucking as milky white leaks out, coating his hands, ruining your pretty lacy panties. He brings the fabric to his nose—his eyes rolling back when he smells you, his cock twitching against his abs.

And when he's finally coming down, it hits him all at once. The reality that he'll never have you like that again. The one bit of happiness in his life, and he went and fucked it up, driving you away. And the worst part is knowing he hurt you. But maybe it's better this way? Without him, you won't get hurt anymore.

But christ, he'd be lying if he said he didn't miss you. Didn't want you in the most selfish ways. To the point he couldn't focus on anything, taking cheap blows in fights, finding it hard to concentrate on anything other than you.

Not to mention how utterly pathetic it is when he always ends up in the same place—just close enough to your house to go unnoticed as he stands there, making sure you're okay. And it breaks him the first time he sees it, you falling apart in your friend's arms, struggling to hold it together over the pain he caused. He thought he did everything in his power to keep you safe, but in the end, he was the one to hurt you. 

Tonight, he's at your place again, closer than normal, finding himself standing at your doorstep. His hand briefly lingers in the air for a moment as he takes a sharp inhale, before knocking on the door. It's stupid, really, and he knows it. But he still finds himself hoping against all logic and reason that you'll open it—that you'll just hear him out for a second. Anything, as long as you don't walk away from this believing you meant nothing to him. 

The door opens, your eyes widening as you see him, immediately trying to shut the door in his face. He stops it, palms flat against the other side, foot wedged between the crack, keeping it open. He knows how crazy he looks, and he hopes he's not scaring you, but fuck if you'd just listen.

"Yuji, quit." You say, straining against the door, desperately trying to close the gap.

He doesn't budge, not even breaking a sweat as he holds the door in place. "Please," he says, voice already breaking. "Just give me a few minutes."

"It's over." You're shaking your head, tears welling in your eyes—why is he doing this to you? Coming into your life after you finally learn how to breathe without him, starting to move on with your life.

And here he is again, undoing all of it. Breaking your heart all over again, like every time he shows up, you're right back where you started.

Your name slips out of him in a choked sob. "Please, just let me in." Tears stream down his face as he pleads with you. "I'm not leaving until you listen."

You open the door at that, "are you kidding me!?"

He steps inside anyway, even as you shoot daggers at him with your tear streaked face, fuming.

"I know I'm an asshole," he says quickly, wiping his face on his arm. "I know I'm confusing, infuriating—"

"An idiot."

"Yeah," he lets out a shaky breath, "an idiot. It's all my fault, too, for thinking I could protect you without hurting you in the process."

"Protect me? From what?" Your voice cracks, "Yuji, you ruined me."

"Don't say that," his voice is barely above a whisper, eyes puffy and red as the tears continue to pour. "Fuck…"

You step back further into your house, letting him in. Not able to stand looking at him like this, barely holding himself together, like he's a second away from falling completely apart in front of you.

"I'm not a boxer," he blurts out.

"I know," you say flatly, the ache in your chest knotting at the reminder.

"And I wanted to tell you," he continues, running a hand through his hair, racking his brain for the simplest way to put it, "it's going to sound insane, but…" He braces himself as the words leave his lips, "I'm actually a Jujutsu Sorcerer."

You're at a loss for words as you blink at him, not believing a single word coming out of his mouth. "...a what? Are you fucking with me right now?"

He shakes his head, "I promise I'm not." he knows how ridiculous this all sounds, but you deserve the truth. "There's these things called cursed spirits, that normal people can't see. But I can… and I have to fight them, it's actually how I got the scar."

You look at him with disbelief written all over your face. "There's no way you actually expect me to believe that."

"I don't," He blinks away the tears pricking his eyes, "But I was scared, you'd get roped into my shit. That I'd get you hurt, it's why I lied. Thinking, if I just kept you hidden, nothing bad would happen to you." His voice cracks again, "I was only trying to protect you because… I love you."

You still, your voice barely above a whisper. "Love me?"

His eyes widen as the realization hits him, but fuck, he means every bit of it. He loves you so much it hurts, so much that admitting it has another stream of tears falling, because how is he going to move on with his life, once you're gone.

"More than anything," he admits, reaching for your hand, taking it loosely in his. "I wasn't just saying things when I said my life was falling into place around you."

He steps closer now, slow and careful like he's afraid that if he moves too fast, he might scare you.

"You're not messing with me?" you ask, fluttering your lashes up at him as he closes the distance.

"No, baby." He says, cupping your face in his hands, "I promise."

Your eyes search his, knowing, as crazy as it sounds, that you believe him.

"I know it sounds insane," he admits, "and none of it makes any sense right now. But I can explain it all with time. Show you everything you need and more, no more hiding."

Tears prick your eyes, "Yeah?"

"Yeah," he nods, pressing his lips to yours. "I'll never hide you again, never make you feel like you're worthless. Fuck I love you so much."

You melt, your body molding perfectly into him, as your lips crash against his, and for once, everything in your life is falling into place. And for a moment it feels like if fate really does exist, this one wouldn't be so bad.

divider creds: @/anitalenia @/dividers-are-us @/saradika-graphics & fanart by @/lloeydd

As always thank you for any reblogs, comments, and likes!! <33

[almostsaidiloveyou]

Imagine #27: “You shouldn’t spend your birthday alone.”

(Reader x insert female love interest, oneshot(?), wlw, fluffy, soft nsfw, smut w/plot, reader giving (oral) & receiving (fingering), indulgence in alcohol and cake, sad ass birthday party, kinda friends to lovers, didn’t proofread 3.3k words)

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.☆ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.☆ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.☆ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁

“Happy birthday.” Your co-worker messages you. You reply with a smiling + hugging emoji, before dropping your phone to your side. The first person who wasn’t a family member to message you happy birthday almost 24 hours later.

Usually you didn’t care, you really didn’t. Yet, celebrating everyone’s birthday this year and last, you thought you would get the same energy back.

But no.

Twenty-something now, and you’re spending it alone, sitting on your apartment floor, with a cardigan way too big for you stained with frosting. The same stale frosting that took over the air and mixed with the scent of candle wax.

It’s too quiet in your living that eventually it gets too loud. So, you put on your shoes and walk to the nearest corner shop that’s open this late.

The dull lights buzz the moment you walk in, alongside a small bell. Immediately the cheap alcohol section is calling your name, singing thou happy birthday louder than anyone has all day.

The basket gets heavy as you put in the six-pack, your forearm dropping slightly. You fill the basket: chips, chocolates, more cheap alcohol.

You got birthday money from a family member, “might as well put it to you,” you mumble to anyone who’s around you, but the store’s empty.

You’re grabbing one more bag of chips when you hear:

“…No way. Is that you?”

You furrow your brows, freeze a little. You’d recognize that voice anywhere.

You turn and there she is behind the counter. Your old High School classmate. The girl who wore her lanyard either on the loops of her pants or around her wrist. The chick who wore boots during the rain and snow, whenever she walked all you heard was: ‘squeak squeak.’

Same girl who wasn’t really a close friend. Though, in some blurry memories, once made your stomach flutter-cheeks burn up for reasons you never understood at seventeen.

She leans forward on the counter, smiling like she’s genuinely glad to see you. And you, cursed at yourself for wearing the: ‘no one I know will see me,’ outfit.

“You look like you ransacked the place, and are about to ask me for the money in the safe,” she teases. “Everything okay?”

You shrug and lift the basket slightly. “Birthday.”

Her face changes, not pity, but like she just recognized something. A quiet “oh,” look appears into her expression.

“It’s your birthday? Tonight?”

You nod, and she lets out a little laugh, stepping around the counter so she’s closer. Too close for someone you haven’t seen in years.

“I remember…” she murmurs. “Back during homeroom, you used to bring cupcakes for everyone. Different colored frosting, rainbow sprinkles; like you were a birthday fairy. Cute little crown too.”

You feel your face heat up. “Yea…well that was before everyone ditched me right after graduation. Hard to keep a reputation when no one sticks around.”

The words came out harsher than you meant it. Regretting the whole: “woe is me.” She notices. Her expression softens again, this time in a way that kinda hurts.

“I didn’t ditch you,” she says quietly. Yeah she didn’t, you did though. Her gaze drags over your face like she’s searching for the old you she used to know. “None of that reputation shit ever mattered to me.”

You gulp, the store feeling too warm. Or maybe it’s her.

She plucks a bag of chips with her knuckles out your basket. “Tell you what. You shouldn’t spend your birthday alone…” she looks at the clock behind you, red lights on. “I get off in ten minutes. Stay? Keep me company while I finish my shift?”

It’s the way she looks at you: softly, familiar, almost like she’d been waiting for you to walk back into her life. Shit, now your heart fluttering, it’s like you’re seventeen again.

You nod before your brain even fully understands what she ask. And she grins.

⟡

She clocks out as the neon sign in the window glides: ‘24-Hours Open’ Her position behind the counter, replaced by another employee who barely looks up from their phone. She grabs her jacket, slinging it over her shoulder and nods towards the door.

“Cmon birthday girl.”

The night air hits a bit cooler than before. And the beer you crack open as soon as you step outside sends warmth down your chest. The streets quiet, just the sound of your footsteps and cars passing by occasionally.

She bumps her shoulder gently into yours, “So…big plans for the rest of your b-day?”

You laugh, bittersweet: “This is the most social thing I’ve done all day.”

She gives a look, curious she tilts her head: “Did you at least get birthday calls? Messages? Something?”

You shrugs, “Apart from family…” you shake your head. “No one said anything.”

You pause for a second, “Actually, yeah. My coworker who’s an elderly woman said happy birthday.”

You don’t want pity, and she knows that, cause she doesn’t give you any. She just walks closer, her arm brushing yours.

“You know…” she begins, taking a sip of her beer. “You usually post on your birthday.”

You surprisingly glance at over at her: “Do I?”

“Yea,” she laughs softly. “You didn’t this year. If you had , I would’ve said happy birthday right away.”

You stop walking for a second. “You…follow me on social media?”

She raises a brow, grinning: “Of course I do. Why? You don’t follow me?”

You open your mouth, then close it. The silence answers for you.

She burst out laughing, the sound: teasing, affectionate, kinda warm all at once. “Oh my goodness. Wow, so you really just never noticed me there?”

You look away all flustered. “I-I…you’re not really someone I expect to keep up with me after school.”

She slows her pace until the two of you fall into sync again, but this time she’s closer. You look over at her before quickly looking down at the black plastic bag filled with what you bought.

Her tone is lower. “Well I did.”

You don’t know what to say to that. You nervously bite your bottom lip. The apartment complex appears around the corner, streetlights making everything gold. You feel her eyes on you.

“Which one?” She asks, nodding towards the buildings.

You point, the motion a little wobbly from the alcohol. She reaches for your elbow lightly, not holding you more like steadying you.

That touch makes you have butterflies.

She smiles, “Alright, Apartment 312.”

⟡

“Do you wanna come in? For one more drink? I still have cake. Might as well pretend is a birthday party.” The words slip out without hesitation. You’re not sure whether it’s the beer, the tingling feeling of her hand still lingering on your elbow, or the way she looked at you under the streetlights…

She looks at you for a second, her expression making you nervous. “Yea, I’d like that.”

Your apartment inside? The right amount of messy that comes from living alone and not expecting people to come over. A blanket on the couch, an empty mug, a candle that burned out days ago. Yet she doesn’t seem to mind. She just takes it all in with curiously, then flops on your couch like she’s been here hella times.

You grab the cake from the fridge, store bought—frosting smushed, and two forks. She whistles dramatically.

“Damn, a private cake tasting. I feel honored.”

You laugh and hand her a fork. The two of you eat straight from the container, washing it down with another round of drinks.

You talk about everything and nothing. How you moved back to this town after swearing you’d never return. How the other city you lived in, drained you out. The way it took you so long to unpack, and how you barely go out, only to work.

She listens, knees angled towards yours on the couch.

“It’s kinda nice you’re back,” she admits quietly. “Everything now feels nostalgic.”

Blaming it on the alcohol, the comments feels deeper than it probably is. You swallow another sip.

From there, the convo switches to high school. Old teachers—stupid rumors—ugly ass yearbook photos. The friendship between you two: never close but shared memories of events during lunch or field trips.

Both of you laughing hard, leaning into each other the more drink you two get.

At one point she groans, dropping her head back dramatically.

“God, your friend group was lowkey lameee.”

You cackled, “I KNOW! They were…ugh I dunno. I mean…” you pondered briefly. “They were cool sometimes. I just don’t know how I survived all the drama.”

She rolls her eyes and snorts. “They thought they were cool.” after a sip, “…them ditching you after graduation?….Never liked them.”

You tilt your head, “I never knew that. You never mentioned it.”

“You never asked…and why would I tell you that?” She teases.

Another drink enters your system quickly. Now your head feels light. The line between rational judgment and drunken honesty blurs, you say it:

“There was this one time…in the girls locker room.”

Her eyes goes to you instantly, amused and curious. And now you wish you didn’t bring it up.

“Go on,” she smirks. “This already sounds interesting.”

“Ahh, no no, never mind.” You drop your face into your hands for a second, but the alcohol pushes you. “Ok ok.” You caved in so quickly.

She taps your knee, “…come onn, say it.”

You exhale. “You remember, sophomore year. We had the same P.E class. It was after class.”

She lowers her chin a bit, “You gotta be more specific. I try very hard to forget that locker room existence.”

“You were always the last one to finish changing,” you mumble. “You’d be at your locker, shirt half on, hair a little messy from whatever we did that day.”

She now looks more curious and amused.

“And?”

“And…” you look all around your living room except her face. “There was this one day. You were laughing at some joke someone made, and you-your shirt was kind of…stuck…?”

You gestured badly, “Like halfway up. And I just…I dunno. That image stuck in my head for a while.”

She blinks slowly. What was even slower was that little wicked smile that forms.

“So, what I’m understanding is…you were checking me out during our time in the locker room?”

You blush: “I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to,” she leans closer, voice deepens.

Her knee presses between yours a little. “You fantasized about me in high school?”

She’s making the room spin more than the alcohol. You gulp hard, “it was just one time.”

“That you’re admitting…”

You wanna deny it, but her stare is steady, flirty, soemthing you can’t really give a name to. Just feel down to your core.

The air between becomes heavy with alcohol, nostalgia, dare even say….lustful?

She leans back a bit. Answering the last thought, when she licks the frosting off her fork and watches you like she knows exactly what she’s doing.

“Should’ve said somethin’ back then,” she says playfully.

You met her gaze.

“You wouldn’t have believed me.”

And for the first time all night, she doesn’t laugh. She just looks at you. The way she wouldn’t dare to do in high school.

You feel her shift closer on the couch. Her knee brushing yours again. Her hand slides along the back of the couch until her fingers hover near your shoulder, like she’s testing the waters.

“What?” You sniff nervously.

“What?”

“You’re staring,” your whisper.

She slowly smiles, “I know.”

Her breath mixes with yours, a touch so gentle when you feel her thumb on your jaw. Makes you breathless

“Can I…” she starts, her voice barely audible.

You don’t let her finish. You close the space and press your lips to hers. A fluffy kiss at first: careful like if you’re painting with a small thin brush. The she makes that damn sound. Just one sound that’s needy and desperate. That small sound is all it takes to unravel everything.

She grabs your waist to pull you fully onto her lap; your knees on either side of her thighs. The couch creaks from the sudden shift. Her firm hands sliding up your back. Under your shirt, her touch is hungry and your thighs tighten around her.

You can tell something inside her awoken by the way she moves her mouth against yours. As if she’s been waiting years for this. You as well…

You pull back enough to catch your breath, but she chases you. Lips brushing against yours. Gosh she can’t stop.

“Mmphhh,” she humms against your lips, “you have no ideas how long I wanted that.”

Your heart flips, “High school?” You ask, out of breath.

She laughs, air hot on your neck as she kisses down to your throat. “Maybe.”

Her hand slips lower, gripping your hips, guiding you against her. Your body reacts: ASAP. You’re already wet. You grind down without thinking, and she lets out a hushed, strained groan that sends shivers down your spine.

The apartment becomes irrelevant: the cake, the cabs, the mug, the frosting stain on your cardigan. All of it doesn’t matter as she’s kissing you again, thus time deeper.

“Bedroom?” she whispers on your lips.

So dizzy~

You nod.

She stands, hands on your waist. You wrap your arms around her neck as she walks backwards, unknowingly, til you point at the right room and you back hits the wall. You kiss her like you need her, like you’ve imagined for all these years without even knowing.

⟡

Clothes hit the floor: her jacket first, then your pants, then her tank top. You barely make it to the bed before she pushes you gently on your back, climbing on you with a look that you only read in books.

Her fingers trace your waist, tickling your ribs, mesmerizing your chest. “You’re so beautiful,” she says, in a tone of almost frustration at how true it is.

You pull her down and kiss her again: deeper, messier. Hair tangles between your fingers as she shifts between your legs. Her thighs slide against you and you gasp, hips lifting towards her instinctively.

She notices. She smirks. She does it again.

You playfully bite her shoulder and like she’s done all night: laughs…except this time it’s breathlessly and followed by a rolling of her hips against you. Yummy, slow, calculated.

Your mind goes fuzzy. Soft moans fill up the room. Yours plus hers, overlapping. Her hands explore every inch, guiding you.

You feel her everywhere: mouth on your neck—fingers tracing between your thighs, coated with slick—breathe trembling when you tug her closer.

God, she wants to ruin you. You want her to.

You lightly gasp an exhale. You felt pressure against your clit as she keeps the heel of her palm on your bud and slips inside her index and middle finger.

⊹

Your lips journeyed back down her neck, her chest as you slowly grind on her hand.

You cum with your mouth on her collarbone and riding on her fingers. She’s whispering your name through it, in way that she can’t even believe she’s actually doing this with you, needy and desperate.

She kisses you tenderly through the aftershock, holding your jaw steady. Then take your hands to her body, and you take your time exploring.

“Your turn,” you whisper.

Her lashes flutter. “Mm yea…” she breathes, “please.”

You’re a bit more feral, palms grazing her nipples then filling your hands with her breast. Leaving wet spots on the valley of her breast with open kisses.

‘It’s MY birthday, and she’s like my gift. I’m going to enjoy her, like I deserve.’ you thought to yourself, selfish thoughts.

You trailed your gaze down to her bare bottom, and trailed your mouth over it. Her fingers slid into your hair, and you just lost it.

You tasted her slowly. Lingering, your hands sliding up her stomach feeling her muscles quiver in pattern. Toying and teasing her breast. She tugs your hair, and rolls her hips against your mouth.

She got on her elbows as she shook, knowing she was close. You lightly stroked a fingertip over her slit, teasing the opening as your mouth traced lazy circles around her clit. Your eyes watching hers, looking for her reaction.

She let out a throaty low groan and you loved it. You were no longer thinking: ‘My birthday, my gift….’ it’s now a ‘Thank you. Thank you for spending time with me on my birthday.’

You learn what makes her gasp, arch her back, grab the sheets. Seeing her come undone under you ignited something…that you didn’t want to think about right this moment.

“Oh god,” she gasps. Her hips twisted subtly, and you slid your finger out, letting her watch as you slowly sucked it into your mouth, tasting her.

She basically rolled her eyes back, letting out a chuckle, she didn’t think that you even had this side. “If I knew you were going to be like this, I would’ve given you more.” She managed to say audibly.

“Don’t worry about it.” You kissed between her thighs. Tasting her one last time.

“You’re…” she swallows. “You’re unbelievable.”

You crawl up to her. Clinging onto her close, you don’t really mean to. She doesn’t pull away. She kisses the corner of your mouth then your lips.

Eventually, later on you’re both exhausted, drunk, tangled together asleep. One arm over your waist, the other drape over her eyes, your face against her collarbone.

⟡

2:43 a.m

You wake up to the soft rustling of sheets and the fabric being pulled away gently.

For a moment you think it’s morning, until you glance over at the dim lights glowing in your nightstand.

She’s sitting at the edge of your bed, fully dressed, slipping on her shoes. The room is dark except for the light you left on the hallway, drawing over her shoulders—curve of her neck—and the messy flyaways of her hair.

She glances over at you as you move.

“Hey,” she whispers, voice groggy from sleep. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

You slowly sit up, the sheets slipping down your chest. “You’re good. You heading out?”

She nodded, tying her shoe. “Unfortunately—yea. I have to…”open,” the store tomorrow. Well…today.” Her tired laugh is soft and real and makes you grin foolishly.

There’s no awkwardness, no panic, or regret in her gaze. Just pure exhaustion, and a tiny bit of hesitation if she should leave or not.

You shake your head, “I get it.”

She stands, smoothing her top sliding into her jacket. Then looks at you with something gentle and tender.

“I had a really good time,” she quietly says. “Like…honestly the best night I’ve had in a while.”

Your chest is warm: “…me too.”

She steps closer, stopping in front of you. Her hand lifts, fingertips brushing your cheek, jaw, slow and respectfully. Memorizing you again before she closes the door behind her.

Then she leans in and kisses you. Not hungry like earlier. Not rushed like she wants to leave.

Just a soft kiss, sweet and honest.

When she pulls back, her forehead rest against yours for a moment:

“Happy birthday,” she murmurs.

You blush and hold your breath.

“And…I hope I see you again.”

You open your eyes. “You will.”

She smiles, before stepping toward the door. You watch her walk out through the hall, listen to the soft click of your apartment door closing behind her.

You bite your bottom lip with a smile.

The room feels different now: still quiet, but not lonely.

You roll over, grab your phone from the nightstand, and open social media: search her name….There she is.

Profile photo you somehow never noticed. Thinking how you missed her entire online existence.

That follow button you should’ve pressed years ago: You tap it.

Then you go on every other media: follow, follow, follow…

It’s stupid, you feel silly. Also feels huge. It feels like the best birthday gift you could’ve given yourself.

You set your phone down, sink back into the warm spot she left behind, and close your eyes.

For the first time all day…maybe even all year;

you feel wanted.

Definitely looking forward for tomorrow.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.☆ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.☆ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.☆ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁

My previous oneshot :)

A/n: been a while since I’ve written a little smut smut :p Let me know if you want to be tagged. Thank you for reading mwah! 💋

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.☆ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.☆ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.☆ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁

[yaskore]

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟnot your friend, written by yaskore

18+! smut w a little plot, mean!mikewheeler x f!reader, not really enemies but a strong dislike?, banter, p in v, teasing, 18+ characters

3.9k

You’ve been sitting in Mike’s basement for fifteen minutes after everyone left, staring at the same dent in the wall while your brain scrambles. You just found out your roommate wasn’t even in town tonight to pick you up. Lucas took off with Max, your original ride, and now you’ve got no way home.

“Isn’t Mike your friend?” she’d said over the phone, way too casually. “How long have you known his family? I’m sure they won’t mind if you sleep over for the night.”

Friend. For the love of god.

Mike Wheeler was not your friend. He barely tolerated you on a good day. You existed in his life like a problem no one asked him to solve, one he was forced to deal with because everyone else liked you too much to let him shove you out. You were part of the Party whether he liked it or not. Which, he never struggled to make clear; he really didn’t.

But that was only the tip of the iceberg. From the start, the two of you never stood a chance. You challenged him, talked back, took up space he of course thought belonged to him. He’d tried to push you out early on, but none of it worked. You were too close with everyone else, too stubborn to disappear. So the dynamic shifted.

Now it was just open hostility, verbal jabbing, passive aggressive remarks, pretending the other didn’t exist until it was convenient to tear each other down. It was easier than acknowledging the weird tension that sparked every time you were alone… Easier than questioning why his eyes lingered a second too long after he scowled.

And now, because the universe apparently hated you, you were alone in his basement. Late and trapped. You weren’t even sure he knew you were still here.

The silence starts to crawl under your skin. The basement feels wrong without everyone else…abandoned dice scattered across the table like the old days, empty soda cans tipped over like casualties. Your heart slams in your chest the longer you procrastinate.

Because Mike was going to lose his shit. The thought almost makes walking home sound worth it. Almost. But Hawkins at midnight? After everything? No chance. Your stomach twists as panic creeps in. You take a breath, force yourself up, and grab your jacket and bag.

You’re halfway to the stairs when—

“I’m going!” Mike yells upstairs, his voice sharp as the doorknob rattles. The basement door swings open, and you freeze.

Mike’s halfway down the stairs when he sees you. He stops short, eyes narrowing immediately, like he’s just stepped in something unpleasant. Surprise flickers across his face before it hardens into that familiar irritation, that familiar disgust. But somehow his eyes always spoke something different.

“Are you serious?” his face scrunches up, already becoming dramatic. You take a long blink, tired just from preparing yourself for the whining.

He looks at you like you’re a problem he thought he’d already gotten rid of. His jaw is tight, shoulders are tense, and his eyes are locked on you in a way that feels a little too intense for someone who can’t stand you. But you don’t think about things like that. That would be ridiculous.

“I’m leaving,” you say coolly, adjusting your bag. “Relax.” You start toward the stairs, refusing to look at him. But after he scoffs, you stop, forced to look up at him once again when he doesn’t move out the way.

“Yeah,” Mike says, flat. “I’m trying to figure out why you didn’t think to do that earlier.” That smart ass tone is as apparent as ever, per usual. It makes you clench your jaw. “Well, I am now, so will you move?” Irritation quivers into your tone, and you have to swallow hard the second his eyes meet yours. They narrow, mean and sharp, but feels like something else. Something else you gave up trying to decipher.

“That was a question,” he says strictly, not moving. He’s a step above you, towering in that annoying way, looking down like he’s got the upper hand. But his eyes linger. They flick down— then immediately back up again. If this is how he hates, there has to be something seriously wrong with you for the way it flips your stomach. It makes you hate him even more for it.

“You think I want to still be here?” you snap. “I’m walking home.” You finally shove past him, brushing his shoulder as you head for the door. The basement goes quiet—too quiet—until your hand’s on the knob. For some reason you don’t turn it yet.

“What do you mean you’re walking home?” Mike huffs, like just the idiocy of the idea is an immense aggravation. The silence that follows stretches on forever, and you’re frozen in place for reasons you don’t have words for yet. “It’s nearly midnight,” he adds. “Are you crazy?”

His brows are furrowed heavily, and his lips are in that same snarl he always has when you speak. But it all throws you off. He sounds annoyed, exasperated, like you’re an inconvenience. As always, though, so you don’t get why he won’t just let you go. It’s not like you guys acted this way for fun. He hates you, and you hate him.

Especially the way his stupid eyes look at you. It’s infuriating. The way they never match his expression or his words. The way they stay soft no matter how sharp his tone gets, no matter how hard his face tries to look pissed. It’s a pointless thing to notice. A stupid thing. But it makes your stomach twist anyway.

You swallow, forcing yourself back into your body. “You heard me, Mike.” You say it like it’s final, like it doesn’t cost you anything, and then you make yourself walk. Every step feels slower than it should, heavy and uncertain, but you ignore it and push through the door anyway.

The air outside hits you all at once. You stop at the edge of his driveway, staring down the street you’re supposed to take, and that’s when the anxiety finally catches up. Fuck it looks horrifying, and past memories flood your mind like stinging, annoying wasps. You’re standing there in the middle of his driveway with nowhere to go but forward.

So that’s what you do. Or at least, that’s what you plan to do, until you take one step forward and Mike’s voice cuts in behind you, sharp enough to make you flinch. “You’re not serious.”

You swallow, half turning your head. Your mind scrambles, coming up empty for once. No comeback, no bite. Just the sound of your own heart, too loud, and the thought of the long, dark walk home you’re trying to brace yourself for.

“My mom would be livid if she knew I let you walk home alone this late,” he says. Then, like it annoys him to even admit it, “Or—at all.” His tone is rougher than usual, almost forced sounding. There’s something under it, though. Something tight. You’re too cold, too on edge, to figure out what it is. Standing out here, alone in the dark, Hawkins feels bigger and emptier, and your anxiety only gets worse the longer you hesitate.

So you don’t fight it, things feel desperate enough already. Despite how weird it is knowing you’re about to sleep in his house, knowing his mom would probably insist on feeding you breakfast, knowing Holly would be thrilled to see you in the morning. The thought almost makes you laugh. Almost. You can already imagine how much Mike would hate that.

You ignore your thoughts and clench your jaw, turning fully to face him, arms crossing over your chest. He’s standing a few steps away, but the cold has already turned his nose red. His eyes look glossy under the moons light, fixed on you with an intensity that makes your stomach flip. You watch his throat move as he swallows, like he hadn’t meant to look at you that long.

You swallow back, forcing yourself to look away. You lift your chin and turn back toward the house. Without looking at him as you pass, the breeze carries his scent anyway. It’s faintly familiar, stronger than anyone else’s in the party, something you’ve always noticed and no one else. You shudder as you exhale, hearing him mutter something under his breath as you head straight for the basement, not checking if he’s behind you.

You drop your jacket and bag beside the couch but don’t sit. Instead, you stand there, take a slow breath, and stare at the basement door. You swallow, barely letting yourself question why you care so much about whether he comes down or not—barely letting yourself register the thought at all.

The doorknob turns. Mike steps inside, stops when he sees you standing there, and his face shutters instantly—cold, flat, unreadable. He shuts the door and walks down the stairs. “I’m only down here to say you need to be gone before you get invited to breakfast.” He stops at the bottom step.

You knit your brows and shake your head, looking away. “Okay,” you say, voice sharp. “Did you really have to come all the way down here just to say that?” The attitude slips out easily, even with the relief settling in your chest. You hate that it’s either this or walking home alone. You hate that this is the safer option.

He scoffs. “I’m not yelling from upstairs and waking someone up, dipshit.” You roll your eyes, suddenly very aware of how quiet it is down here. Just the two of you. Nothing to hide behind. There’s a pause before you notice the blanket behind him and move toward it. As you pass him, he speaks again.

“I don’t need any of the others knowing about this.” He speaks with a disgust dropping from his tongue. It’s blunt... It’s harsh. And it snaps something in you.

You spin around, dropping the blanket at your feet. “What the hell is your problem with me?” Your shoulders slightly raise, unable to ignore his attitude any longer.

The anger comes out, and it isn’t loud. It’s sudden and sharp, but something feels off with it. The fury burns in your chest, on your face, in your voice. And he falters. Just for a second. His brows lift, surprise breaking through before he scrambles to recover, stammering.

“I don’t know how the others don’t have one with you!” he snaps, the words coming out jagged and loud.

Your face twists, scrunching toward his absurdity. You swallow. “I would rather get fucking mauled out there than sit here and listen to your bullshit.” You turn, ready to storm off. Planning to go anywhere, anywhere but here, but before you can even take a full step—

“This is exactly what I’m talking about, you’re acting like a—“ he scrambles as his irritation falls through, but trails off and pierces his lips together before he says something vile, something he doesn’t really mean. Even he knows not to cross that line, no matter how hard he tries to believe it himself. Your eyebrows raise, and your lips part. You can only muster out a scoff, a humorless laugh falling out as you turn to face him. “Like a what?” You ask, daring him to finish that.

He’s quick to stammer again, but he doesn’t apologize. He doesn’t even begin to look apologetic. His words just stumble out until he says something like “well, you—!” Getting ready to name all the reasons he hates you.

But before he can finish, or really even begin, you snap back and shove his shoulder. “Do you ever stop whining?!” you practically yell in his face, exasperated with his attitude. But he’s quick to get defensive at your touch.

“Don’t put your fucking hands on me,” he spits out, way too fast to be angry, his voice sharp and disgusted. He’s more appalled by your touch than pissed about the shove itself.

And then a beat passes. Two. You don’t even say anything back, you’re both just catching your breath, giving up. Mike’s jaw clenches, tight enough you can see it working, looking at you like he’s losing a war with himself. It feels like it stays this way forever. It feels like you’re losing one too.

Then his hands are on you.

After saying it, after warning you. After every ounce of hatred you thought he had, you thought you had, he’s pulling you into him. You groan into it immediately, a low, betrayed "ngh" that vibrates between you, hands flying up not to push him away but to grip, to pull. The same boiling hatred is now spilling from your lips, out of your throat, into your touch.

Fuck, you didn’t know he had it in him. He’s devouring your mouth like he’s been starving for it, like every mean comment, every snarl was just restraint from having you exactly how he wanted. Your feet dance around eachother as you move, never stopping, keeping your hands on eachother, bumping into the wall until he spins you and you feel yourself back into the table where the game pieces scatter.

You fail to hold back a whimper, tugging at Mikes collar and pulling him into you, opening your mouth to allow him entrance. He takes the bait immediately. His tongue found its way around yours, dancing like velvet waves, tasting way too sweet for the nasty words that would spill off of it. You back up onto the table, feeling the cool wood press against your thighs, and sit down, legs brushing the fallen dice, ignoring them completely as your focus is solely feeling him. You pull him closer, rougher than before even, like that hatred hasn’t gone away, only got fiercer.

He presses into you harder, hand sliding down your spine to grip your lower back, pulling you flush against him, pressing, demanding, nudging your knee aside as he steps further into you. “Fuck—Say it,” he murmurs, low and husky between kisses, “tell me to stop.” The heat of him pressed against you, the unrelenting pressure, makes the words impossible. You don’t tell him to stop. Instead, you wrap your legs around his torso, pulling him closer, bucking your hips, grinding, needing. He lets out a defeated “shit” before melting into your lips, fingertips roaming your back, brushing against skin that sparks like static.

Every move he makes has you kissing him harder, filthier, teeth nipping, tongue tangling messy and wet, another soft moan spilling out of you, "mmph, fuck." God, he tastes like sin, feels like it… all the sharp edges you’d been holding melt into something stupid and hungry between your thighs.

You hear your name fall from his lips in the sexiest, most annoying way—a low growl that makes your chest skip. Breath ragged, eyes locked, he starts, voice low and rough, “You better stop before I fuck you right h—” Just hearing it ignites something in you. All restraint evaporates. You cut him off by pulling him closer, grinding against him. The friction sparks something wild and unbearable.

Your hands move with a mind of their own, fumbling his belt, unbuckling, tossing it aside. You find the button, and work down the zipper. Your fingers linger over the waistband of his boxers, teasing, brushing, testing him. He bucks slightly, growling in frustration. The way his body reacts drives something primal in you… fuck, you wanted to ruin him. But he wanted to ruin you just as badly.

He buckles under your teasing, growling into your mouth, hands gripping your hips, tongue tracing your lips before shoving back in. He’s faster with your pants than you ever were with his—and now you’re in just your underwear and socks, shirt clinging stubbornly to your chest as if daring him. There’s a moment of vulnerability, a flash of shyness at being exposed like this, despite the fact you feel like an eager wolf foaming at the mouth to pounce on him right now.

You swallow, chest heaving, feeling the desperate softness in his gaze press into you. He looks… different. Pathetic almost, undone in a way that makes you thrum and ache. His sharp brows softened, a faint shadow of anger lingering, but a raw truth underneath, making you tremble.

Your brows curve the same way his do, and when your eyes finally meet, the two of you crash into each other’s lips again, this time pathetically desperate. You finish pulling his pants down, and he kicks them off. Dice clatter across the floor, barely noticed over ragged breathing and quiet moans.

Once both shirts are off and you’re in just underwear, he presses into the fabric covering you, and you gasp, hips jerking at the pressure. Your clit pulses against him, slick and throbbing, desperate for more.

You start rocking your hips immediately, rubbing yourself along his length, feeling him pulse and twitch behind the fabric of your underwear. He groans, low and broken, desperate and messy… it makes you clench tighter. You move in just the right way to force a real, unhidden moan out of him, and it sends shivers through you. He lifts your leg, propping your foot on the table, and the grip on your hips is so hard you can already feel the potential bruises forming, a sweet reminder for later. He thrusts harder, like he can’t wait. Even with panties on, it’s almost too much.

“I can fucking feel how wet you are through your—ffuck—” he breathes out, thrusting. You throw your head back, thighs clenching as you let out a moan. “Take it off,” you breathe, desperate, and with a nod, he pulls his boxers down, letting them pool at his feet. The slight bounce of him freeing himself has you staring, mouth gaping, struck by how hard, throbbing, and needy his dick is.

"So pretty…" you mutter, rubbing yourself along him slowly. His hands anchor on your hips, fingers digging in like a promise he won’t last long. You bite your bottom lip, teasing. Your fingers pull your panties aside slowly, drawing out the tension. He whimpers, curses, dick twitching as he looks at you. His eyes are wide and glossy, but not ruined—yet.

He bites his bottom lip, unable to take his eyes off you as fingers slide down, teasing between your lips. The sensation, already overwhelming, makes you clench, struggling to stay still. It’s not even for your pleasure but his own—just to feel you, to feel his fingertips get coated from you. He breathes out a shaky moan, stepping a little closer, his tip grazing your folds.

Your panties shift slightly after he dropped them, and that’s all it takes. He tears them off, tossing them across the room. Hands settle on your hips, teasing with the head of him, every movement deliberate and torturously slow. “Ssshitt—” he moans, saliva catching, eyebrows curved in frustration and need.

You rock your hips to match, every nerve screaming for more. “Mike…” you breathe, a low, needy plea. He twitches, puppy dog eyes desperate, faltering, barely holding back. “I need you…” you whisper, almost a whimper, but refusing to break eye contact. You notice him inhale and gulp, forcing a blink. “Yeah?" he breathes out, but it's shaky and uncontrolled. His cool front is instantly diminished. Because your words were all it took.

You grin toward his faltering demeanor, but he lets out an unsteady curse and pushes himself into you, wiping that grin off your face and forcing you to gasp. He groans, your walls clamping down around him almost instantly, moaning back. It’s messy at first, uncoordinated, every thrust uneven. But he finds a rhythm fast—his movements perfect for you. He gives neck kisses, lips back to yours, tongue teasing. Your body feels electric. Finally his fingers are on your clit, but he circles delicately, slow enough to make you whimper and curse, which has him groaning.

“Fucking harder, Mike—god!—” you curse, bucking, swallowing him deeper. You fuck back against his teasing. He falters instantly, shaky whimpers melting into your movements, gripping tighter, moans and curses spilling.

And just when he starts thrusting back into you, you stop, refusing to let him continue. The sudden halt sends him over the edge, and watching him get frustrated makes something coil tight in your stomach, your body on fire. “Fuck you,” he growls shakily, gripping you tighter. And now, in return he drills into you. Your moans are messier and louder, and you know you should be worrying about how thin these walls could be, but you can’t think of anything other than the stars Mike is fucking into your vision right now. His fingers aren’t teasing this time either. They’re hard, fast, merciless on your clit, and it’s nothing like you’ve ever felt. Even as he pounds into you, his face is ruined, desperate, pathetic, like he might break under the weight of his own need, and the sounds he’s making push your body further over the edge. His body takes control while his face looks like he’s losing it. Fuck yes.

You’re quick to start shaking under him, gripping his shoulders so hard you’re probably leaving marks, arching into him, trying to muffle your guttural moans into his neck as you finish. You wrap your legs around him, pulling him deeper, forcing him as far into you as he can go, and that makes him hit his own release, trembling against you. He nearly collapses on top of you, breaths loud and ragged, both of you trying to catch yourselves.

He pulls his head back slightly, still buried in your gaze, mouth open, breath heavy, taking in the wreck he’s made of you. He looks so fucking ruined, so fucking beautiful, and you hate it. His hair is tousled, eyebrows arched, eyes glossy, lips red and wet. Utterly pathetic, utterly him. You hate it. He hates it. And still, you crash into each other’s lips again, desperate, hungry, before he finally slides out.

After you’ve cleaned up, you sit on the couch, your bed for the night, while Mike stands a few feet away. He’s paying you no mind, grabbing something from the basement to bring upstairs—just some random object you barely notice. His movements are stiff, controlled.

“Goodnight,” he says, low and clipped, that old edge of coldness trying to creep back in. Trying to. You watch him with that frosty, deadpan face like you always did, but something playful skips in your chest. And you swear it does for him too. The way his chest heavily rises and falls might admit it for you. The faint scent of his hair, the way his fresh shirt clings onto him—it all presses in, and your stomach flutters painfully.

But then there’s a pause. He doesn’t walk, or, look away. He doesn’t even blink. You sit there, caught in the look that lasts a heartbeat too long, and you know... he’s not done. He swallows before moving toward you, too quickly to process exactly when he broke. It doesn’t matter; your mind goes blank the second his lips crash into yours again, melting you into him. Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, needing him the same way he’s needing you.

You curl together on the couch, grinding into each other despite being fully clothed. His warmth is seeping through, grounding you. This time, the way his hands brush your skin, the way he holds you so softly, the warmth and delicacy in his kisses… it makes you wonder. What came first? The hatred or the longing? Whatever it was, you knew.

Mike Wheeler was not your friend.