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hairyjocktf · 3 months

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Fire in the Forest

Adam sighed deeply as he unlocked the door to his apartment. The familiar scent of old laundry and takeout boxes washed over him as the door swung open. He slid his bag off his shoulder onto the floor and slumped onto the couch. Today had been one of the worst days of his life, to put it mildly. The company he’d slaved away for since graduating a few years ago had unexpectedly let him go as part of cost cutting measures. Every late night he’d spent at the office suddenly hit him as a waste, his hard work had never mattered to those up top. Adding insult to injury was his paltry severance package; with his rent it’d barely last two weeks. He wouldn’t even have time to breathe before having to find a new job.

Before he knew it he’d passed out sitting on the couch, waking up hours later to a dark sky out the window. Shit, he muttered to himself, rubbing his eyes before forcing his body up and off the couch. He tossed a frozen meal into the microwave before setting his laptop up on the table. With the microwave humming in the background he started visiting websites of companies he knew of in the same sphere. Career page after career page yielded no luck. He grabbed his food from the beeping microwave and continued to solemnly scroll through page after page of indeed listings, applying to every one he could convince himself he was qualified for. Soon enough it was two in the morning, and Adam decided to call it quits. He cleaned up his now very cold dinner and went to the bathroom to splash some water on his face and clean up for bed. His red hair glowed under the ceiling light, looking almost like fire. It was one of his more attractive qualities, he thought to himself, looking at his skinny frame and ghostly skin. He flipped off the lights and hopped into bed.

It was around ten the next morning that Adam finally crawled out of bed. He grabbed his phone off the desk and quickly checked for any job notifications. There was only one, and not one he recognized. It was a recruitment email from a logging company, Cascade Lumber. He skimmed over the email, they’d “found” his profile online and thought he’d be a good fit for a lumberjack role? That was ridiculous, he thought, and closed out of his email. Frustrated at no actual leads, he decided to take a walk for the morning and get back to searching that afternoon. While out trying to enjoy the rare sunny day, that email stuck in his mind. Really? A lumberjack? It was absurd, insulting almost. He was a software developer, not some country laborer. He got back to his apartment and threw himself back into the search, sending out applications one after another. The next day was much of the same, desperately trying to find more niche positions that might be hiring. Still no responses, though. Each day he became a little more stressed, a little more frantic in his search. How had no one responded yet? He had plenty of qualifications and experience, he didn’t understand the problem.

Two weeks had passed and Adam was against a wall. His severance cash was nearly dried up, and still nothing had come through, not even an interview. Even his connections had fallen through. With the bills starting to pile up on the counter, he was out of options. That was when he remembered the email from weeks before. At this point it couldn’t hurt to respond, maybe they had a tech position he could weasel into. He wrote a short response and sent it off. Just minutes later, as Adam was in the middle of making lunch, his phone buzzed. They’d responded already, inviting him out to their office. The address was nearly an hour out west, but what choice did he have?

The next morning he was on his way out of the city, high rises giving way to fields and then forest. Dense groves alternated with barren patches of recently logged areas, letting sunlight down to the road. He pulled down a narrow road and a few minutes later parked in front of a modest building tucked into the trees. His car was surrounded by huge trucks filled to the brim with tree trunks, as well as some large machinery he couldn’t identify. Upon walking inside he was greeted with a dim room full of old logging gear. He heard the footsteps of someone large approaching, before a huge man descended the stairs to greet him. He looked enormous in this small room, almost scraping the ceiling, and his frame was equally wide. His open shirt revealed a forest of hair on his chest, and his beard was incredibly thick. Adam suddenly felt very intimidated, despite the large smile on the man’s face.

“Hey there! You must be Adam, so glad you took us up on visiting. We really think you’d be a great asset on the team. Whoa! I’m getting ahead of myself, the name’s Derek,” he reached out his absolute paw of a hand. With a shake Derek immediately began touring Adam around the office. Derek was overwhelming with his enthusiasm, but also in his assumption that Adam had agreed to start working there. He didn’t have another option, but they didn’t know that. They got into Derek’s truck and he drove off into the forest towards a work site. The majority of the information Derek was spitting out went in one ear and out the other, but Adam tried to look as engaged as he could. The truck came to a screeching halt in an area they were currently clearing. The sound of chainsaws was like nails on a chalkboard to Adam as they stepped out of the truck. In the distance he saw machinery whirring away cutting trees, as well as men harnessed up with saws. Derek went into more detail about working in an active logging site, the dangers and safety measures. Adam was instead busy looking at the men working nearby. They had on hard hats and bright orange vests overtop thick jackets or flannels. They all looked big and burly, like they’d been lifting for years. Adam wasn’t sure how in Derek’s mind he would be able to do anything here.

“...and I think that just about covers most of it. Oh! And the salary is $55k per year, with annual raises and benefits. We try to do right by our guys here,” Derek smiled at Adam. That number had finally gotten his attention. Nothing close to his old job, but better than zero. In a decision that probably warranted some more thought, Adam opened his mouth.

“Great, when do I start?”

Derek’s smile doubled in size and he slapped Adam on the back. “That’s my man, let’s get you all set up then while you’re out here,” he said. They both got back into Derek’s truck and drove back to the office. Inside Adam was handed the same hat and vest he saw the men at the site wearing.

“Now that’s just the basics, you’ll probably want some heavy clothing while on the job, and get yourself some good boots while you’re at it,” he chuckled, looking down at Adam’s aging vans shoes. Adam thanked him and walked back to his car. Still unsure of this whole venture, Adam departed. On the way back he stopped at some workwear stores, looking for boots and clothes to fit the job. Having no idea what he actually needed, he just looked for the closest things to what he remembered the guys there wearing. Close enough, right?

Back at his apartment he cautiously tried on all the clothing he’d just gotten. To his surprise, it all fit fairly well, despite his body being much smaller than most of the guys out there. His thin frame looked bulkier under a thick layer of protective and warm clothing. He almost… liked how it looked? Adam quickly put that thought out of his head and stripped off the gear. The sun was already dipping below the horizon and he had to be out there early in the morning from now on.

The alarm came even sooner than he thought. Adam rolled out of bed at four in the morning, and was out the door as soon as he could get himself together. The air was chilly outside, with not even a hint of the sunrise yet in the darkness. He drove straight to the site Derek had assigned him to, finding a group of men chatting together while donning their equipment. Adam introduced himself, and began putting on his own assigned gear. The day flew by as several other guys instructed Adam on how things worked. He was more keen to pay attention to everything this time, listening intently to each burly man who showed him how to use a chainsaw. By the end of the day he’d felled a few trees and learned the basics of the larger machinery the team used. Despite it being cool all day, Adam was sweating up a storm in his thick coat. Maybe he’d overestimated how much layering was needed. The drive home felt shorter than it had the day before, but Adam was frustrated at a recurring itch on his jaw, it just kept coming back no matter how much he scratched at it.

The next few days were much of the same, Adam’s time was highly supervised while he was learning, but he was surprised at how easily he took to it. His original plan of finding a tech position to switch to had already been forgotten. The other lumberjacks seemed to like Adam as well, despite his scrawny stature. His red hair made him easy to point out, even though it was usually covered by a hard hat. The itch on his face reared its head a few more times, as Adam’s baby smooth face was slowly overtaken by a light red stubble. Each day it would poke out just a hair more, reaching out from his chin towards his sideburns. Adam failed to notice this, just as he was blind to the muscle his skinny body had started to put on. In just a week he’d gained serious definition, he had slight pecs and shoulders, and his arms looked like he’d been working out for years. Must be the intensity of the job, he thought to himself when one of his old t-shirts no longer fit. As the days passed, his stubble connected across his face, and some wispy hairs poked out of his growing pecs. Barely noticeable, but there nonetheless.

The weeks continued to pass as Adam got settled into his position. He started to feel like a real lumberjack as trees fell by his hand day by day. He began to fit in more with the other men as well. His bright red stubble thickened. Hairs that were barely more than peach fuzz grew thick and pushed out into a true short beard. The wisps on his chest likewise grew thicker, curlier, as more pressed out of his pecs. The red hairs grew and wove together until the hairy coating could no longer be ignored. His chest hair was normally kept beneath multiple layers, until one of his fellow loggers spotted the rug while he was changing. The crew gave him their old flannels and forced him to wear them and let some of the fiery red hair poke out. They all loved it, he was looking like them with their thick beards and hairy chests. The tiny new hire was quickly vanishing beneath muscle and fur, as the hairs on his chest spread downwards over his tight stomach.

Adam began noticing that each day he would leave work absolutely soaked in sweat. His layers just absorbed it leaving him a sopping mess as the job was so labor intensive. It didn’t bother him, he just bought more work clothes to cycle through, but he was oblivious to the other effects it was having. Adam’s body, steeping in sweat all day, was producing more and more. Not only that, his previously bare pits began sprouting fine red hairs. At first it was just a few thin hairs poking out, but as they were soaked in sweat they grew thicker. More hairs popped out of the damp pit, filling in rapidly. His once smooth pits were growing into a dense jungle of hair, the hairs thick and red, tangling together into a tuft that trapped even more sweat and stench. They spread out of the confines of his pit, connecting with the pelt on his chest and beginning to pop out across his upper arms. He would dig his fingers into his furry pits to scratch, the hair growing in itching like mad. Each day more hairs pushed out, more sweat was trapped, and the more he smelled like the other men around him.

As the weeks rolled on, Adam kept having to buy new clothes between sweat stains and simply outgrowing them. His body had put on a lot of size since starting, his thin frame bulking out as he grew taller and wider. The weather was growing colder, and the added layers were hiding his growing size, as well as his growing fur. The hair from his pits was continuing its march, with wiry hair cropping up across his shoulders, triceps, and was especially dense on his forearms. Red wispy hairs sprouted all over his upper body, filling in gaps and growing into a thick ginger rug. His body was growing at a rapid rate, biceps filling out and pecs becoming real pillows, but it wasn’t all muscle. His size was softened by a healthy layer of fat that only encouraged more hair to sprout. His already dense chest hair thickened further, red hairs swirling around his nipples and growing longer and curlier. The chest fur grew up and over his shoulders, creating a seamless carpet from his hands through his torso. Even his back was beginning to show signs, as light red fuzz was gathering around his shoulder blades and above his waistline. Hair sprouted out of his shirt collars and poked from his sleeves; even under his layers of clothes his coworkers knew Adam was hiding some impressive fur.

What they couldn’t see was below Adam’s waistline. The fur coat from his stomach slowly inched downwards, the wispy hairs occupying his groin quickly overrun with a thick red bush. The hairs pushed out from the base of his cock, thick and curly they sprouted and tangled together as the bush expanded. The hairs climbed up and connected with the rug on his stomach, and out to his thighs before racing down his thick legs. His pubes grew denser into a thick triangle of red hair, his cock growing larger to not be hidden beneath the jungle. Adam hardly noticed as the bulge in his jeans grew day by day, sweat soaking the area as it developed a thick musk that was barely contained by his underwear. He had to buy larger sizes after his balls swelled considerably, dropping lower than before and sprouting with their own rug of red hair. The hairs spread down over his taint before blossoming in his ass crack, a thick fiery explosion of fur pushing out as the hairs grew like weeds over his large cheeks. His legs grew stockier to support his growing body as the hairs continued their march from the thick nest of pubes. His thighs were coated before it spread to his calves. His feet stretched and ached as they grew multiple sizes in just a few weeks, before too being buried beneath a thick mat of red hair.

Winter finally began showing its ugly face, and Adam’s job grew rougher daily as temperatures plummeted up in the mountains. His body adapted, packing on considerable bulk. Gone was his thin, twinky frame, replaced now by a thick and strong body, built for strength and warmth. His thick muscular frame was coated in a layer of fat to insulate him, and his belly seemed to just keep growing. The fur coat he’d been developing only continued to come in. The red hairs grew thicker and denser every day, pushing against his clothing. His fiery red beard, which had been well kept until now began erupting from his face with a fury. Thick hairs curled over his upper lip as the hairs on his cheeks pushed out inch after inch. More hairs filled in between as the coating crawled higher on his cheeks. It surged down his neck and blended with the thick chest hair. He looked wild, but it kept his face warm from the frigid winds. He even got complimented on it, earning a reputation as a real mountain man from his fellow lumberjacks. Adam had fully adapted to his job, there was no going back. He was now a hairy, hefty lumberjack with a fur coat to rival an animal’s. He’d grown to be one of the best in the crew, each tree felled returning as a hair in his pelt.

#male tf #hairy tf #hairy #hair growth #bear tf #hairy chest #hairy pits #hairy torso #beard #hairy shoulders #my writing

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auspicioustidings · 11 months

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Savage

Summary: Request for some Scottish warrior Soap taking an English maiden as a prize.

Words: 3.7k

CWs: Violent non-con (I am so serious, do not ready this if it's not your thing), hardcore smut

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Authors Note: This is very much a rape fantasy. Traditionally rape fantasies have historical grounding in minorities who felt ashamed of their own desires so had to fantasise a situation in which they were blameless for engaging in a stigmatised action because it was forced. It’s sort of where a lot of the noncon trope in bodice rippers comes from because women in unhappy marriages need a fantasy in which they can get rid of the shame for wanting passionate or rough sex because they imagine they fought against it. A lot more people have rape fantasies than people generally realise and truly a miniscule barely there number of them would ever think it was ok to actually assault someone. All that to say, this is not me condoning anything in real life. If you find fantasies like this don’t do it for you, then do not read it, but don’t then shame people who do. There is psychology behind why people fantasise about these things, it’s pretty normal and you don’t need to be worried that it is some moral failing. Mind your business.

It was a miraculously good match for you, a high ranking soldier of the King’s army. You were technically of noble blood, but just barely. You lived simply, not in a large house but in a small village where you held no sway over anyone else and were treated as common. But the village was close to the border between England and Scotland and every day it became more tense as whispers of raids from villages to the West skittered between houses like rats.

You didn’t know how your uncle had made arrangements for this beneficial marriage for you, but it would get you moving South in a few days time to marry and then you would finally be able to relax with this war much further away from you. You had heard horror stories of what happened to young maidens when savages came pillaging. They said that they didn’t wear anything under those kilts, they said it was to make it easy to bury their cocks in any hot hole they could find. They said they didn’t have any tame qualities, not like the English. Scottish men were feral, the comparison to dogs not holding water because at least dogs could be trained.

When you retreated to bed you got on your knees to say your prayers. As always you had to beg forgiveness for the licentious thoughts that sent thrills straight to your cunt whenever you thought about the images all those rumours put in your head.

–

The noise of chaos woke you in a panic, heart hammering against your ribcage as the smell of smoke drifted on the air and war cries sounded. You recognised your own kinfolk of course, the battalion of soldiers stationed here to keep eyes on the border. But it was the cries of those animals from the country to the North that sent you scrambling out of bed in only your chemise, knowing you had to run and hide before they could see you.

You slipped out of the bedroom, a frightened little rabbit looking for a burrow to hop into. The smell of smoke was stronger in the main room and you could see the orange glow of flames through the window. Going outside would be a risk, but hiding in here may get you burned to a crisp should this building be lit up. You did not have time to make the decision as the door burst off of its hinges, a muscular man in a blood spattered kilt with a warrior's mohawk and wild eyes panting like a dog as he caught sight of you.

You were frozen, unable to even breathe. And then after a beat his mouth stretched into a horrid manic grin as he bounded towards you. That finally shifted you from freeze to flight as you scrambled back through to the bedroom, trying to get to the small window. You threw the top half of your body through the gap but his rough hands grabbed your naked ankles and yanked you back, hard. You felt the chemise catch on the window frame, the fabric bunching up to completely expose you to him before he let go of your ankles letting you crash to the ground.

Your knees throbbed from the hard floor and by the time you were trying to crawl away he had his hand in your hair, brutally pulling your head up and craning it to look at him leaning over and getting into your face.

“Hear I have a wee noble bitch on my hands.”

Of course he would know. There were families here who would tell them anything to save themselves and pointing them in the direction of a noble maiden, one who was betrothed to an English soldier at that, would certainly be information that could spare them. The shouts outside sounded more heavily weighted towards those in his own gruff and growling accent now. The English soldiers were losing.

“I-I don’t know what you are talking about ser” you cried gently, not knowing how else to save yourself.

“Bonnie words” he growled, pulling so sharply at your hair that you thought your scalp might be bleeding and using his other hand to grope meanly at one of your breasts through the rough fabric of your nightwear.

You cried out, feeling the tears immediately spill over and stream down your face. He was so strong, you could barely budge against his hold, and he reeked of blood and fire and sweat and hot arousal. You squeezed your eyes shut and he only growled at you.

“Ye’ll keep those eyes open, yer going tae watch yer wee English cunt take me like a whore or I’ll take yer tight arse instead.”

You choked on a sob and opened your eyes, seeing that his were full of sick glee and heat. The hand groping at your tits moved under the chemise to cup roughly at your sex and he pulled you to your feet by that hand. You screamed at how it felt as he abused you with his hand, grinding the heel against you. You felt a hot flood of bitter shame as he swiped a finger violently through your folds. What he found there made him pause for a moment, his face lighting up in unrestrained glee.

“Fucking English slut. Y’er dripping.”

You had heard women who said it would be better to be wet if they were to be taken against their will. You did not agree. Him knowing that your traitorous body found his rough abuse of it arousing was so humiliating you felt you would rather die. He was so oppressive in his demeanour, so big and aggressive above you that you imagined he may break your bed with what he was about to do to you. How foolish of you to think he would have that level of mercy.

“Going tae show all those bastards how their women take Scottish cock” he laughed, spearing two fingers inside you to their full length with no softness at all and pulling you by them.

You could not breathe. You had never had anything inside you and those two fat fingers felt like they were stretching you so much you would tear. He walked backwards so he could keep them firmly inside you and you stumbled pathetically after him, needing to keep as close to him as possible to stop the painful press against your walls that came from him pulling if you did not move.

The shame was overwhelming as you emerged, full of his fingers and stumbling after him with tears streaming down your face, to find that your country's soldiers had been defeated with the survivors on their knees, hands bound. You were being paraded in front of them you realised, they had been put right here in the town square so they could bear witness, the Scottish soldiers standing behind them feral and full of lust as they took in their leader pulling you in front of them by the cunt.

When he ripped his fingers out of you, your knees buckled and a high whine left you. You had went from feeling too full to feeling far, far too empty. You could barely hear anything but the blood rushing through you as your heart hammered. That and him as he taunted the soldiers on their knees.

“Our women would ne’er let ye touch them, they’d die first. Yer clean wee English princess on the ither hand?” he said, planting a booted foot to your chest and pushing until he had you pinned on your back underfoot, “she’s gagging fir it. Foaming at the gusset tae take strong Scottish cock, put a real warrior in her belly.”

His own men cheered at that and you watched on with horror as he cocked his head at one of them and he began to approach you.

“Naw a monster though am I my wee slut? Ye’d be wet enough fir one of their small English cocks nae doubt, but fir mine? Going tae need something to help me sink in good and deep.”

The other soldier went to his knees between your legs and you watched as he pulled his throbbing cock from under his kilt, jerking it violently. You tried to move away, his cock so close you could feel the heat of it between your legs, but the boot on your chest held you still. When you tried to close your legs the man touching himself used his other hand to wrench one of your knees until it was touching the ground, using his own knees between your thighs to help him keep your glistening cunt fully on display.

When the head of his cock stroked through your folks, slicking you with his pre-cum and bumping at your clit, you were so overwhelmed that you didn’t quite manage to bite back your moan. They laughed meanly at you as the man found his release, spurting hot cum all over your pussy, smacking his cock against your stomach when he was done to shake off the last drops.

It was filthy, you felt sticky and like you were on fire. The next soldier took his place and spat right on your already disgusting cunt as he began to stroke himself. By the time he had painted you with his seed and the third was started, the man above pressed his foot harder to get your attention and all you could do was stare up into his taunting eyes, trying to focus on him so you could not think of what was going on between your legs. You cried up at him, trying to find any level of sympathy in him.

“Keep crying and I’ll gie ye something tae cry about princess.”

Oh you hated him calling you that when you were pinned down in the dirt, defeated soldiers of your country watching as their enemies smeared their cum all over your exposed body. Watching as they made a sloppy mess out of you in preparation for their leader to shove his cock deep inside and pump you full of his savage children.

You did not know how long you stared up at him, not able to look away as you felt the heat of his men on your body, your own body getting hotter and hotter with each slide of velvety throbbing skin against your own. He had started to talk to you, his eyes not budging. It wasn’t the defeated soldiers he was taunting, it was you, ruined and disgraced under his boot.

“See how good I am tae ye little whore? Letting my men make ye flush wi pleasure. Don’t deny it, think I cannae see yer face whenever ye feel a cock on that wee untouched pussy? Like a fucking bitch in heat. I’ll fuck ye like one. Get ye on yer hands and knees so ye can look yer precious King’s soldiers in the eye when ye fall apart on my cock. When ye’r fucking begging for my cum. Wilnae even have tae dae any work, ye’ll be fucking yourself back on me ye needy slut.”

You shook your head in horror at his claims, the true fear being that he would make them true. Already you felt in a daze, felt empty and desperate. But you felt fear as well as he put his arm under his kilt, rucking the fabric up to grab at his cock. It was huge and you found yourself panicked and squirming as the last of his soldiers grunted and slapped the meat of your thigh to get you to stay still. You were rambling incoherently as the man above stroked slowly at himself, causing that thick weapon between his legs to throb and seem even bigger.

“It won’t fit, it’s not going to fit, please I’ll die, you’ll split me open. It’s so big no no I can’t, I can’t!”

You didn’t even feel the last of his soldier’s loads splatter onto you, didn’t notice when his hands left your flesh. You would have rapidly purpling skin in the shape of fingerprints all over your thighs from how you had been held still by all of them, but you could not feel the dull pain of it through your fear of what was to come.

“Ye’ll take whit I gie ye and ye’ll fucking thank me princess.”

He removed his foot and it was only then you realised that he had been pressing down hard enough that your breaths had been shallow. The rush of oxygen from being able to fully expand your lungs again made you horribly dizzy, but it also flooded right down to your clit and made your body jerk violently with the sensation.

He didn’t take his hand from his cock and he bent so he could use the other to grab your ruined hair again, yanking your head up and shoving himself into your mouth. You choked, legs scrambling to get underneath you to give you some stability with which to batter your fists against his thighs, trying to pull away. He laughed meanly at your attempts, moving the hand that was touching himself to join the one tangled in your hair on the back of your head and pulling your head at the same time as he thrust forward, settling himself fully in your throat.

You were gagging around him, tears really streaming down your face now as you begged him with your eyes to let you breathe. He held you there, his own eyes glittering with satisfaction, until your muscles started to give in and you felt your eyes dropping closed as your brain became cottony. Then all at once he pulled you off and you were gulping in oxygen around your coughing and sputtering, the rush much more intense this time.

He held your head tilted up at him so he could watch your face as he shoved his boot between your legs and got you over the edge. Oh weren’t you a delicious little thing for him, getting off so hard on how he used you, moaning shakily and wantonly in the dirt beneath him in front of his triumphant soldiers and your defeated ones.

“Good fucking girl” he growled with a feral grin, letting you ride it out with little aborted thrusts on his boot, unable to control your body.

You looked gone, eyes glazed and body slack. Couldn’t have that, he needed you screaming for him. He needed your blood fighting between being frozen with terror and boiling with need. And he needed you full of him, needed to be able to feel his own cock through your stomach so fucking clearly that he could jerk it.

You were thrown forward, top half of your body collapsing pathetically into the dirt right where it was covered in the sweat and cum of his soldiers. He manhandled your hips up, leaving your face crushed into the dirt and your ass up high for him, cunt presented. You felt his hot breath at your ear and it was a sudden shock when you realised he was growling lowly into your ear, his words for you and you only.

“S’going tae hurt, yer going tae scream yerself hoarse for me and then I’ll get ye tae milk me when I rip pleasure out of all that pain. Will treat ye right after little princess, like one of my good Scottish lassies, but right now ye’r my fucking English whore.”

The confusing mix of sentiments cleared some of the fuzziness from your mind but you had no time to dwell. He was right, it did hurt and you did scream yourself hoarse. He had lined himself up and plunged into you, cock coated and slick from the cum of his soldiers but no less huge inside your tight virgin pussy. He had split you in two, you were sure of it. His cock must have broken through you, was sitting in your ribcage and punching all the air from your lungs.

You blacked out for a moment, coming right back to when he pulled out to fuck brutally back into you again, slapping your ass so hard that you felt the sting all the way up to your fingertips and making you choke on the sob that fought through the screaming. He ripped at your hair, making you look at the defeated soldiers on their knees. Making you watch their own cocks swell at your treatment. Your utter ruination was making them hard. Your head being wrenched back meant you had to go to your hands as he pounded you, and you saw how they looked as one of your breasts was fucked right out of the chemise, bouncing lewdly for them to see with every hard thrust.

The humiliation had you digging into the dirt like you had claws, feeling the bite of the earth pushing under your nails. It sparked something in your brain, almost like you could see them sharpen. Like you could feel your shoulder blades become more pronounced, become something sinewy and sleek and animal. He was fucking you like a predator and you were drooling and howling and panting like his prey, back bowed as he pulled your hair harder and had to staring at the sky babbling prayers into the night air.

“S’too much, can’t, I can’t. Full, too full.”

“Ye fucking can. Yer tight fucking cunts trying tae strangle me, wants my cum so bad naw? Perfect English pussy, so slutty and needy for a real cock” he growled, hand letting go of your hair and smacking your ass right over where he had before, causing you to howl at the pain.

The pain and something else, something that had no place here and yet had been lingering from the moment he had caught you. Something that had been getting closer and brighter and more insistent with every abuse you were subject to. Something that he invited in when your arms collapsed beneath you without him holding your heads weight anymore and he ground your face into the ground before bringing his hand to your clit and pinching.

Your scream was raw and hoarse, throat well past being able to produce a clear sound. The orgasm was blinding and every bone felt like it had liquified. You saw white and then you saw hardly anything, only vague shapes and colours. The only thing now was how his cock filled you. The shame was gone, replaced with the truth that you loved this. You loved how he used you like this, how he violated you in front of these soldiers just because he could.

“That’s it princess, fucking take it” he hissed, stopping his thrusts and letting you do all the work.

You didn’t even realise now how you wildly fucked yourself back on his cock trying to chase the pain of overstimulation, addicted to the way it made you feel some sick hazy pleasure. You were drooling onto the dirt, tasting the earth mixed with cum and finding the disgust of it only felt right now. When his hand came to your stomach and pushed to feel himself bulging there you came again, harder, babbling thank yous to him.

He bit out a string of curses above you as your pussy squeezed so hard it was forcing him out, but he was strong as he forced himself balls deep and held there, finding his release as you milked everything out of him and into your womb. The liquid heat of it was the last thing you felt as you passed out, blissed and fucked out of your mind.

–

John MacTavish allowed himself a moment to lean his body against your back, inhaling the scent of sweat and dirt and cum and fear and lust from your limp body. So good for him, took it perfectly. He hissed when he finally pulled out, resisting the temptation to just keep going beyond what would feel good because fuck, being inside you had been a religious experience.

He was nothing if not a man of his word though, and he scooped your body gently into his arms to get you onto a horse and ready for him to take over the border where he could give you that princess treatment he had promised. The surviving soldiers they would leave beaten and bloodied but not dead. After all, someone had to tell your betrothed all the details.

“Fucking MacTavish” he hissed after excusing the man who had given the report.

He had made him give it in full detail, told him to leave nothing out.

“Kept her alive by the sounds of it, maybe looking to get a bastard out of her” Garrick mused.

“Knowing him he’ll keep her near the border to taunt us instead of moving her further up North” Price added.

Simon Riley would not be letting his betrothed get away with allowing MacTavish of all people to take the maidenhood that rightfully belonged to him. She needed a proper punishing fuck from an English man to learn better.

“Doesn’t matter where he keeps her. I’m going to take her, and she’s going to learn what happens to sluts who spread their legs for those Scottish bastards”.

#mhairiwrites #fanfic #cod au #john soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #cw: noncon #rest assured this isn't likely to become the kind of thing I write because it is well out of my wheelhouse #I've got a half chapter of Firewatch written and will finish that off #But I'm looking to do a little more of the Teashop AU after and that is going to stay fluffy and wholesome as hell #darkfic #dark content

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spectralreplica · 24 days

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But do you think the plan will work?

Oumota: tarot reading edition! I had this idea during Oumota Week and just got around to finishing it now 😔. At first I thought about giving Sun to Kaito and Moon to Kokichi (a la Reversed Sun by grayimperia), but I think it works better to have them both in each card, to highlight the parallels. (If you want more explanation of my design thoughts, I'll put it under a cut at the end.)

General tarot meanings:

The Sun: happiness, confidence, success, optimism, innocence/childhood, inspiring others, internal motivation, truth

The Moon: illusion, imagination, uncertainty, secrets, confusion, intuition/the subconscious, fears influencing you, insecurity

The Star: hope, regaining inspiration, renewal, healing, moving on, new purpose, calm after the storm (Reversed Star: despair, lack of faith, pessimism, boredom, anxiety, being overwhelmed by past problems)

I feel like while Kaito is naturally more Sun coded and Kokichi more Moon coded, they have some qualities of both cards. And Star vs Reversed Star is so temping to bring in for DR.

I was thinking of it as a past, present, future kind of reading, but also maybe situation, action, outcome. Starting out with high self confidence and some childish black and white thinking. (Maybe a little over confident and childish to the point of egotism and inflexibility, shades of reversed sun...). Covering for insecurities by projecting a fake persona to everyone around, doubling down on the lies and self-deception a la chapter 5. Finally, either coming through everything stronger, with renewed hope, or else crashing and burning, overwhelmed by unacknowledged issues that have built up.

As for the specific imagery...

Sun: I stuck pretty close to the traditional imagery here. The flag/banner has their respective prints on it, and I put Kaito on Mars while Kokichi remains on Earth. It's also sundown or sunset for Kokichi; is he moving towards the Moon or away? The horse is obv. very chess piece inspired. Kokichi gets his King Horse a la the mask on his bed, and I gave Kaito a pegasus because flying.

Moon: Moving a little bit away from traditional imagery as more of the canon situation seeps in, but still pretty close. The moon floats "outside" the cage, wearing their respective false faces. (We know from the ending that the skyline on those glass panels isn't real...) They both have an Exisal in the background in place of one of the towers, but Kaito has a bamboo grove a la Princess Kaguya; Kaguya came from the moon and she will go back, no matter how much people on Earth love her. Kokichi has one of the racks that sits beside shrines where you're supposed to tie bad/unlucky omikuji (paper fortunes) so that the bad luck doesn't follow you; living in purposeful denial of bad things, but they lurk there on the horizon.

They both still have at least one dog/wolf, but I gave Kokichi a fox because of their association with being tricksters. Also, wolves and foxes, as predators, are framed as villains in stories, but at the same time it's also not uncommon to see them as heroes (stereotype of predator/hunter vs stereotype of bravery/nobility and cleverness). Also, contrast of fox and hound, like the clash of Kokichi presenting himself as childish + annoying vs a genuine threat. Kaito has the dog, monkey, and pheasant that accompanied Momotaro, continuing his fairytale theme.

Everyone seems to argue over what the crawfish means in the original, but I went with the interpretation of moving from water to land, evolution, things coming to the surface. So, Kaito has a koi. I think most people know about the "koi climbs a waterfall and becomes a dragon" thing because of Magikarp, but here it is again just in case! Kaito's got an aquatic creature struggling against its nature in hopes of someday actually transforming into something grander. Kokichi has a poison dart frog. Already amphibious, so it can go between water and land freely, but visibly harmful to anyone who tries to get close.

Star: The least traditional imagery and the most V3 canon imagery. There's still a tree, but it's a pine tree. ...I dunno, no explanation for that, it just looked nice 🤷‍♀️The two jugs are replaced with the poison and antidote bottles. Originally, they're supposed to represent the conscious and subconscious and pour in two different places, but here they're mixing together directly. V3 resolves the "truth vs lies" theme by arguing you have to accept ambiguity. Also, Kaito and Kokichi's whole plan rests on them managing to work together to obscure exactly who is in the Exisal in the end.

There's a figure in the foreground in Kaito's jacket, but they're just a silhouette (a la the culprit); it's not either of them, it's both, and they're reaching beyond the bounds of the game. The star in the sky is ringed by the trial podiums, since all of their hope for the future rests in derailing the next trial. Can they win? Well, Shuichi and Kiibo are at the top, the two people they (or at least Kokichi...) know can be problems, but Tsumugi is specifically blocked from view, always overlooked...

#Oumota #Kaito Momota #Kokichi Oma #Kokichi Ouma #New Danganronpa V3 #Danganronpa #Spectra Art

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femmefatalevibe · 1 year

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Femme Fatale Guide: Products & Services Worth The Splurge

Fashion:

A great couple of bras in black/nude (your best skin-toned shade)

Comfortable, breathable, and seamless underwear

Outerwear (Coats, jackets, blazers)

The perfect pair of jeans

An LBD that works from day to night

Comfortable, sturdy, sleek, and timeless footwear (a versatile black boot, a black heel, white sneaker, and a black flat/loafer/sandal)

A timeless and versatile crossbody or shoulder bag (a larger one for the daytime/work or school and a smaller one for nighttime/events)

One or two well-made classic jewelry item(s)

A conversation-starting item or accessory

Beauty:

Sunscreen

Any skincare/skin cosmetic products that are game-changers for you

A quality hair brush, comb, and hair towel

Your signature scent

A quality razor/hair removal product

Vitamin C/Retinol serums

Reliable hair tools and sturdy nail tools

A quality hair heat protectant/scalp cleansing or conditioning spray

Makeup brushes and beauty tool cleaners

Home:

Lamps/lighting

Couch/desk chair

Everything for your bed: Bed frame, mattress/sheets/pillows, etc.

Knives

Dishwasher-safe and microwave-safe dishes & cups you love

A full-length mirror

Vacuum

Storage solutions/cedar blocks or moth balls

Quality holders for everything: Paper towels, shower storage, hooks, mailbox/key bowls

Name brand paper products/household cleaners

Electric toothbrush & Waterpik

Sound-proof headphones/Airpods

MacBook Air

Health & Wellness:

High-quality lettuce and/or sprouts

Organic frozen fruits and vegetables (if fresh is too pricey)

BPA-free canned goods

Potassium bromate & glyphosate-free grain products

Snacks free of artificial colors

Quality coffee

An at-home massage tool/heating pad

Fur products for skin/hair removal

Vitamin C/Retinol serums

Quality running shoes

Anything that goes near your vulva or into the vagina: Sex toys, lube, condoms, toy cleaners, pads/tampons/menstrual cups, cleansing wipes, etc.

A yoga mat, resistance band, and a pair of small ankle weights

Spotify subscription

Books and audiobooks

Services:

Therapy

A top-tier haircut

House cleaning (even if it's only once every couple of months)

Top-tier hair removal/brow maintenance services of your choice

Best doctors, dentists, OB/GYN, and dermatologists you can get

At least one personal training/styling session in your life

Professional/Social:

Ownership of the domain for your full legal/professional name and/or business name

A CPA/bookkeeper/fiduciary financial advisor

Automation workflow/content management system software

A lawyer for contract review/LLC services

Personalized stationery/"Thank You" cards

Memorable client gifting for the holidays/milestone successes

Niche skill-based certifications (Google, AWS, Hubspot, etc.) or courses made by trusted professionals in your field

Subscriptions in world-leading and industry-authority digital publications

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loveisanimaginarydagger3000 · 9 months

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Kinkmas (12)- Christmas Morning

Wanda X Natasha X Reader 18+

Summary: Waking up on Christmas, you can't help but stay in bed with your girlfriends, deciding that the presents could wait a little longer.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings/Tags: Fluff, Domesticity, Christmas, Polyamory, Threesome, Soft Smut, Dom Wanda/Switch Natasha/Sub Reader, Fingering, Dirty Talk, Praise

A/N- This chapter is set a couple days after the 'Naughty Or Nice?' chapter :) And Merry Christmas!

Kinkmas Masterlist | Part 2

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A gentle tapping against the pane of the window drew you out of your peaceful slumber, tired eyes fluttering open and searching for the source of noise, gaze eventually landing on the small gap in the windows. Gentle streaks of light spilled into the room that was filled with tranquillity and love, your tired eyes unblurring and watching as delicate flakes gracefully fell from the sky, creating a blur of infinitely repetitive white as the outside world was drowned in the winter weather, your body relishing in the warmth of your bed.

Your mind slowly processed that the warmth wasn't provided by the sheer amount of duvet you had wrapped around you but the two bare bodies that were pressed against you, gentle breaths tickling your skin as you relaxed further against the bodies, a contented sigh carefully falling from your lips.

Gradually, your brain started to wake up, remembering the intimate events of last night which lead to the three of you being naked in bed, their soft and sensual sighs filling your mind, the feeling of lingering touches burning into your skin, the pleasure that wracked through your body creating another throb between your thighs as you remember the highs you experienced last night, a small smile toying at the corner of your lips as you tear your gaze away from the spectacle outside, turning to the woman opposite you.

Natasha's face, even whilst asleep, was one of the most beautiful sights you had ever seen, your eyes holding nothing but love and awe in them as you let your gaze slowly travel across her features, making sure to admire them all in as much detail as you could, memorising each and every little intricate part of her beauty. Her red locks somehow still framed her face perfectly, emitting a divine quality from her as her soft and pale skin practically glowed with the little light in the room, your fingers itching to brush over the impossibly smooth skin but refraining from doing so as she looked so peaceful. Instead, you let your gaze drift to her eyes, watching as her eyelashes fluttered slightly with whatever was happening in her mind before travelling lower to the gentle slope of her nose, the way it delicately curved at the end, encouraging your gaze to drop even lower to her plump lips, your mind remembering how soft and addictive they were. Once you had paid attention to her face for long enough, deciding you had appreciated each angelic feature, your eyes casted down to the skin of her neck, a fain mark from last night still visible making you smirk at your work, eyes lowering even further to her chest before dropping once again, noticing how it was her leg that was slotted in between yours, both of her hands also within sight answering your next question.

Wanda's arms were snaked around your middle, the pads of her fingers brushing over the skin of your lower abdomen as her breath fanned across the back of your neck, her brunette locks splaying across the pillow her head rested on, your body subtly pushing back further against hers, wanting to feel her somehow even closer. In doing so, you accidentally woke the witch up, her green eyes slowly adjusting to her surroundings as she secures her grip around your middle, snuggling her body closer to yours as her lips meet the base of your neck and your bare shoulder, a smile playing on her lips as she can hear the amount of flustered thoughts filling your mind as it casts back to last night once again, a small chuckle leaving her.

"Morning Detka," she whispers, her voice quiet as to not disturb the spy who still soundlessly slept, a rasp accommodating the brunette's voice from having just woken up, resulting in her accent becoming more prominent and further increasing the throb that started to build between your thighs.

"Morning Wands," you murmur back softly, hands sliding down your body to reach her hands, carefully prying her fingers off your skin to interlock your fingers, squeezing her hand comfortingly as you feel her press another kiss to your shoulder, your smile stretching that little bit wider.

"Did you sleep well, Detka?" Her tone is barely above a whisper as you occupy yourself with her hands, tracing her digits absentmindedly as you think about how powerful yet gentle her hands could be, how loving her touch always was.

"Mhmm," you hum out in response, confirming you slept well quietly as you didn't not want to accidentally speak too loud and disturb Natasha, your fingers moving to her fingertips, feeling the smooth pads under your touch before you let your fingers drag across her palm and over to the back of her hands, caressing her knuckles repeatedly.

It seems that, despite your hushed voices, it was still enough to stir the spy next to you, an apologetic smile taking over your face as a drowsy sighs escapes her, emerald slowly being revealed to you as her eyes flutter open, her body stretching next to yours and shuffling closer, a small, tired smile playing on her lips as a satisfied groan leaves her when her back cracks pleasantly.

"Morning Krasotka, morning Malyshka," Natasha rasps out, Russian accent lacing her words heavily as she wakes up gradually, her eyes meeting both of yours as Wanda props her head on your shoulder, the spy inevitably moving closer so she could press a chaste kiss to both of your lips, her head soon dropping back to the soft pillow as she gazes lovingly at your both.

"Merry Christmas," you murmur to the two other women as Natasha's fingers cup your cheek delicately, fingers brushing over the warm surface of your pint tinted skin, a little amused at how flustered you already were. You'd forever get butterflies in their presence.

They both wish a merry Christmas into the soft, tranquil atmosphere, your chest full of warmth and love at the way Natasha looks at you, her gaze drifting over your features, admiring you in the same way you did to her earlier.

"Do you want to go and see if Santa came last night?" Wanda playfully teases, earning a huff of laughter from Natasha while you chuckle quietly, happiness engraved on all of your faces as the witch and assassin shared a look between themselves, curious as to if they needed to set their surprise up yet.

"I think presents can wait a little longer," you mutter out softly, your lips tugging up into another smile, the expression seemingly never leaving your lips, "I wanna spend some more time in bed with my girlfriends." You miss the way they share another knowing look at your words, Natasha's alluring green drifting to your eyes, captivating every ounce of your attention as mischief swirls in her various shades of green, her head tilting closer to yours, lips ghosting your own.

"Is that so?" she husks out, her voice still low from waking up, creating a delicious and arousing rasp to adorn her voice, heat naturally taking over you at the sound. When your mouth parts to respond and nothing comes out, Wanda further torments your thoughts as her tone is similar to the Russian's: intoxicating.

"What did you plan on doing in bed, Detka? Hmm?" The witch purrs at the shell of your ear, her fingers sliding down your body in a suggestive way, nails scratching gently into your hip bone as a shaky breath escapes you, Natasha's lips somehow moving even closer to yours, barely brushing them but not applying enough pressure to give you the satisfaction of a kiss.

"I..." you trail off when you feel Wanda's fingers press into the skin of your inner thighs, her smirk growing as she feels you try to squeeze them together to relieve the heat building between them, her eyes trained on the way Natasha teases you with her lips.

"You?" Natasha pushes, her hand gliding down your body in a tantalising manner, goosebumps rising where her fingers brushes, muscles twitching under her touch as you gradually learn how to function again.

"I wanted to thank you both for last night," you eventually manage out, your hand moving to Natasha's perfect curves, caressing her beautifully sculpted body and slowly going lower, building in confidence as she tilts her head once again, letting your lips brush for an innocent kiss. "Consider it another present," you playfully whisper in an attempt to ease your pounding heart, the feeling of Wanda's fingers drifting closer to your core making it extremely hard to think, mind fogging with arousal.

Leaning in, you finally slot your lips over Natasha's, a sensual sigh leaving you both at the feeling of your soft lips pressing against each other, your fingers digging into her waist to ground yourself. You're sure the woman opposite you can feel your heart beating wildly in your chest as she arches her back, pushing her breasts into yours and making your head spin, her lips expertly moving over yours, successfully stealing your breath away.

The kiss remains tender, soft, and intimate despite your fingers sinfully grazing over her abdomen and lower, drifting to between her thighs as you gasp into her mouth, Wanda's fingers having slid to your core, spreading your slick around your throbbing sex, smirking against your shoulder as she peppers kisses against your burning skin, relishing in the way your mind races with lewd thoughts.

"Krasotka," Natasha sighs out and fuck, you weren't prepared to hear such a breathy moan from her when your finger merely grazed over her clit, your finger swiping through her folds and coating your digit in her arousal as her legs spread a little for you, welcoming your pleasing touch. Your lips both linger open against one another as the kiss momentarily breaks, the two of you softly moaning as Wanda drags her finger through your folds and eventually reaches your clit, teasingly circling it at a torturous pace, feeling your hips ever so gently rock against her hand as a wave of pleasure courses through you. You mirror the brunette's actions and do the same to Natasha, slowly growing in confidence as you circle her clit, one of her hands moving to your cheek again, bringing you back in for a kiss, needing to feel your addictive lips pressed to hers as she deepens it.

Wanda can't help but watch in awe as lust and desire creeps into the kiss, Natasha sliding her tongue into your mouth and effortlessly dominating it, the witch able to see the way your tongues lewdly slide against one another, hear the quiet wet noise as you delve back in for kiss after kiss, the soft moans that escape you as she lets the pad of her finger brush perfectly over your sensitive core, pleasure clouding your sane thoughts.

"Fuck, Wanda," you groan into the redhead's mouth, the Russian nipping your lower lip before sucking on it partly, dragging another restrained noise out of you as the witch's finger moves to your entrance, your body turning slightly in her arms to make the position more comfortable for you both. "Please," you plead while Natasha muffles your desperate noise with her eager mouth, Wanda purposely teasing your entrance, enjoying the way your hips roll against her slender digits.

"So desperate already," Wanda murmurs at the shell of your ear, her eyes meeting the darkened green opposite her as Natasha pulls back from the messy kiss, panting slightly as your uneven breath fans across her skin, her gaze drifting between the two of you before pushing her body up slightly to claim the witch's mouth, a moan leaving you at the sight of them.

You're mesmerised by the sight, their sharp jawlines on display as their tongues messily meet, sinful sounds filling the room as they refuse to part, giving you a show to drive you mad. Natasha bites down on Wanda's lower lip teasingly before dragging it down, causing the witch to retaliate and delve in for a more passionate kiss, lust swiftly taking over them both as Wanda decides to thrust her finger into you, smirking into the redhead's mouth at your submissive reaction, Natasha's mind consumed by the both of you, her usual composure crumbling a little.

"Krasotka, I need you," she groans into Wanda's mouth as your fingers still explore her wet sex, teasing her entrance a little before returning to her clit, swirling your finger over it to drag out another noise out of her as her hip subtly bucks against you, Wanda's smirk growing, always amazed at when Natasha starts to grow desperate.

"Come on Detka, give Nat what she wants," Wanda rasps out, breaking off the kiss with the spy and letting you tilt your head to crash your lips to hers, not caring about the dull strain in your neck as her intoxicating mouth meets yours, knocking all sense out of your mind as all you could focus on was the two women surrounding you. "Slide your finger in Detka, that's it," the witch's voice is criminally sinful, you and the redhead moaning at her words as you obediently do as she says, sliding your finger in and groaning into the witch's mouth at how warm and wet Natasha was around your digit, her walls clenching around you as warmth pools at her lower abdomen, her eyes unable to tear away from the way Wanda dominates your mouth.

Your helpless under the witch's control, her toying with your body as you whimper into her mouth, her digit curling inside you at your weak spot, Natasha also moaning as you thrust your finger into her a little faster, eager to make her feel just as good as she made you feel last night.

A sensual sigh spills from Natasha's lips as you curl your finger perfectly inside her, her hips grinding against your hand, causing your palm to brush her clit and send more jolts of pleasure through her as Wanda parts from your lips, motioning for you to claim the spy's lips once again.

The tenderness and intimate touch to your kiss has gone, desire taking over completely as it's a messy clash of lips, teeth and tongue as you whine into her mouth at the way Wanda teases a second finger at your entrance, her digits thoroughly coated in your arousal before easing them in.

"Wanda," you gasp out at the stretch of her second slender finger inside you, her skilful hands working your body up, teetering you on the edge of your release as her eyes watch the way your eyes squeeze close in pleasure, your fingers slowing down in the redhead as you get lost in desire.

"Keep going Detka," she encourages, watching the way the muscles in your forearm flex slightly as you finger the redhead, they spy's free hand moving to your chest, thumb and index finger rolling your sensitive nipple before pinching softly, dragging a desperate noise out of you, her smirking into the kiss at your submissive noise. "That's a good girl," the witch praises sinfully, another desperate noise leaving you as you thrust your finger into the redhead at a steady pace, her moans growing a little louder, signalling how her release was creeping up on her, the less controlled movements of her hips also giving it away. "I want to see Nat come all over your fingers, can you do that for me Detka?" Wanda purrs and fuck. There's no way you'd ever recover from the filth that left her lips.

"Wanda," Natasha moans in response, lips parting to gasp into your eager mouth, fingers moving expertly inside her, curling them and thrusting them in the way you knew made the spy weak, her hand moving to your waist, nails pressing into your curves as she tries to ground herself. "I- fuck," she chokes out, a moan interrupting her as your palm perfectly brushes against her clit, hips bucking desperately.

"Are you close, Dorogaya?" Wanda rasps out teasingly, Natasha's eyes firmly squeezed shut as yours take in her state, lips kiss swollen and pleasure written across her face, the sight of seeing the Russian submit a rare occurrence, one you craved to see.

"Yes, please," she groans out, lolling her head back marginally, encouraging you to attach your lips to her creamy skin, teeth scraping over her warm skin to send a shiver of arousal down her spine, a moan from you muffled against her skin as Wanda keeps her merciless pace with you, a smirk permanently engraved on the witch's face.

"Come for us," Wanda commands and the moan that leaves Natasha is nothing but desperate and unrestrained, the sound going straight between your thighs, walls clenching around the brunette's fingers, heat flooding through your body. With a final curl of your fingers, Natasha is sent tumbling into her powerful release, waves of pleasure consuming her entirely as she pants out both of your names, body tensing against you.

Your lips pepper soft kisses against her skin, trailing up the smooth skin of her neck and along her jaw, ragged breaths leaving you as Wanda still doesn't ease up, eager to see you come undone as well, her lips meeting the corner of your lips, enticing you into tilting your head to meet her captivating mouth, entranced by her.

"Are you close too, Detka?" she hums out tauntingly into your mouth, your fingers pulling out of the redhead as she gently pushes away your hand from her sensitive core, her fingers deftly wrapping around your wrist and guiding your hand up, Wanda breaking the kiss of with you to let the redhead slide your fingers into the witch's mouth to get a taste of her cum coating your digits, Wanda groaning around you which has your mind spinning.

"Fuck," is all you manage out, both you and Natasha watching awe at how Wanda hollows her cheeks around your digits, the sight fogging your mind as she continues to push you towards your inevitable release. "Yes, please let me come," you beg, engrossed at the way she swirls her tongue around your finger, moaning at the taste of Natasha before pulling back, your digit sliding out of her mouth as her lips move to crash to yours, giving you a taste as well.

"Come for Wanda, Krasotka," Natasha rasps out at the shell of your ear as Wanda's tongue slides lewdly into your mouth, a broken moan being torn out of you at the amount of arousal and desire that flooded through your body.

Pleasure crashed through as soon as the words left her lips, your thighs closing around Wanda's hands as her fingers thrusted into you, prolonging the pleasure that consumed you entirely, your body trembling in between them as your vision practically blurs with ecstasy, euphoria filling every inch of you.

You pant out their names desperately as your hips roll against her hand, body twitching as you ride out each wave of pleasure, your moans growing quieter as you experience the aftershocks of your powerful release, body going limp against the bed and into Wanda's embrace, Natasha moving closer and placing a small kiss to your cheek as Wanda slows her relentless mouth.

They listened to every soft pant that left you as you tried to recover, Wanda sliding her fingers out of you and apologetically kissing your temple when you whine, her fingers immediately going towards the redhead who craved to taste you, her mirroring the actions Wanda did earlier and sliding her tongue around her digits. You managed to open your eyes to watch as Wanda slide her fingers out of the spy's mouth, the two of them kissing each other softly before Wanda eventually pulled back, moving to lay behind you more comfortably and pull you into her arms, your body rolling to hide your face at the crook of her neck.

Natasha moved her body so that she was spooning you, arms wrapping around your middle from behind as you snuggled closer to Wanda's warmth, fingers reaching down to play with the Russian's fingers, an onrush of affection flowing through you at their tender actions.

"You were such a good girl for us," Wanda praises quietly, other soft and delicate words spilling from both of their lips as they cuddle into your body, the warmth of both of their bodies lulling you into a peaceful and relaxed state, your breath tickling the witch's neck.

After a comfortable silence of simply just relishing in the intimacy of the moment, Natasha's body slips away from the two of you, a sound of protest leaving your lips at the lack of physical touch, her lips merely pressing against your temple as she finds the three of you some clothes to wear, her eyes meeting the witch's to talk silently within her mind, a smile growing on both of their faces.

Their smiles only grow when you're reluctant to part from the embrace with Wanda, the witch persuading you to get change with the idea of the presents under the tree, your body eventually moving to slip on your underwear and the matching set of pyjama pants you convinced the other two women to get with you.

"Let's go open the presents," Natasha murmurs whilst pressing another soft kiss to your temple, nerves and excitement bubbling within her and the brunette at the thought of the small box that was wrapped under the tree with your name on it.

It wasn't long now...

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Merry Christmas to those who celebrate it on the 24th! I hope you all have an amazing day!

To those who celebrate it tomorrow, Merry Christmas too! I'm hoping to have the second part of this chapter out tomorrow as a mini present (It will be a fluffy drabble) but it all depends on if I can write it in time as I had to finish writing this chapter today 😅

I also want to thank everyone for all the support I've had over the last 12 days and I really hope you have all enjoyed Kinkmas! <3 It honestly means so much to me that you're all so kind and supportive of my work :)

#wanda maximoff #marvel fanfiction #wanda x reader #eventual smut #wanda fanfic #wanda x you #mommy wanda #smut #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff x reader #natahsa romanoff #natasha fanfic #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader

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summerlovingbaby · 2 months

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free show

Eddie Munson was the only dealer in the shithole that most people callled Hawkins. Most people thought it was perfect. Y/N knew better than to call it perfect. It was a shit hole filled with perfect little families, hidden behind white picket fences and the girls wore mary jane shoes and ankle length skirts. And unless you fit into Hawkins idea of perfection than you were shit.

Y/N lived in a trailer halfway across town and mostly ate gas station food. She hated Mary Jane shoes, preferred drumsets and to books, and even though she mircaosuly graduated with all A’s she refused to go to college. She also liked smoking weed and writing music, and though Hawkins had alot of dealers, most of them were awful. Awful old men who seemed less interested in selling her good quality bud and more interested in copping a feel, so that left Eddie Munson.

All things considered it was convinet, he lived a couple trailers down and usually had good deals if you were nice. All you had to do was leave a note on his trailer if he wasn’t home and he would drop by, though he was usually home unless it was a school day. He had been her main dealer for the better part of 4 months, so they were now on a first name basis, Eddie even accepted IOU’s on 3 occasions when she was short on cash.

Y/N got home from a grueling shift at the dinner wanting to wind down, the Carvers spent their whole breakfast loudly insulting her, and their son Jason was a particular piece of work. First they didn’t like her hair, it was dyed a raven black with strands of white in the front. Then her outfit was much to revealing. Her mini skirt and lace stockings and platform shoes with a t-shirt and apron, which was completely in dresscode. Then her makeup was just too much, even though she was only wearing eyeliner.

She wanted nothing more than to come home, smoke, then crash until her show, but her shift left her much too wired to do anything, so she left a note on Eddie’s trailer, hoping he would be back before she had to leave for her show. Took off her skirt and put on some spandex shorts she stole from the mall, stepped out of her platform shoes and slipped on black knee high socks. She changed out of her uniform shirt into a oversized black Metalicka shirt that stopped mid-thigh and grabbed her drumsticks, and twidlded with them until she heard Eddie call for her.

She threw the sticks on the ground and skipped to the door to see Eddie leaning on the door frame.

Eddie thought Y/N was pretty, not in the typically Hawkins pretty, pretty like a moonless sky, or pretty like a crumbled-up map. Hawkins pretty girls wore too much makeup and dressed too much like grown women for Eddie’s taste. Y/N only wore alot of eyeliner, and skirts that were short. And Eddie had a thing for lace. Thats probably why Eddie’s eys drifted directly to her legs, covered with a nearly sheer black lace.

“ How much do you want?” he asked.

Y/N opened the door wide, letting him walk in.

“ How much you got?” she asked, picking up the abandoned drumsticks that she left on the floor.

Eddie realized this was the first time that he been in her house, they always did deals at the door, but for some reason she let him in today, and all he could think about was if she was wearing anything but those lacy stockings underneath that oversized shirt.

“ That bad,” he asked. His eyes drifted to the drumset in the corner. “ You have roommates?”

She followed his eyeline, “ Those are mine if you’re asking?” she said. Most people didn’t believe her when she said she was musically inclined. Her parents didn’t have a penny to spare but made sure she took piano lessons. And a guitar looked kind of like a piano if you turned it sideways and once you learned guitar it didn’t take much to learn the drums.

“ I got 3 oz,” he said, pulling a ziplock bag out of his pocket, “ but if you really want to party I have Special K,” he said, tossing the bag on the bed.

“ How much?” she asked.

“ $40,” he replied.

“ You’re lucky I like you,” she said, bending over to her bottom drawer, where she pulled out a wad of crumpled cash, and unfolded it, making one attempt to count it, before dumping it out on the bedspread, and counting it, mumbling numbers under her breath, “ you are robbing me blind, Munson,” she said.

“ I could give you a deal,” he spoke.

She lifted one brow, “ Oh really,” she said, she had been offered this type of deal before. Old men who preferred blow jobs to cash, she didn’t think Eddie was the type, but then again he was looking at her legs with wide eyes.

“ Play me something and I’ll give it to you half off,” he shrugged.

She nodded, and motioned to both instruments, “ Dealers choice,” she said.

He motioned to the drums, so she reached across her bed for some drumsticks, then walked to the set and sat down slowly on the little wooden stools. People had asked her to play before, and usually, it didn’t take alot to impress people. Bang around a few times, even use the petal, hell she could improvise a whole song, lie about it and most people would be impressed, but for some reason she really wanted to impress Eddie.

She played a simple but quick beat, Eddie nodded along, and before he knew it the she stopped playing with a final thud on the cymbals. Eddie snapped out of his daze, and tossed the bag on her bed, using his free hands to covertly cover his crotch, because now he had a growing obvious and embarrassing boner. All it took was the pretiesr girl in Hawkins to bang around on the drums for a little bit and he had a boner.

Eddie had his fair share of hookups, had too many bad dates to count, but now all he could think about was if Y/N would be another girl in a long string of bad dates or if she would be the diamond in the rough. If the prettiest girl in Hawkins would give him a chance.

“ Well you know what, I’ll give you the 4 oz for free for being such a loyal customer,” he said backing out of the room.

“ Eddie,” she said slowly standing. “ You’re being weird, why are you being weird?”

“ I’m not,” he said stumbling backwards over a plastic plant. “ I just-”

“ Have a boner,” she said, staring at his crotch. She assumed it was larger than averge, no man strut around like that if it wasn’t bigger than most men, but larger than average was an understatement. The bulge in his jeans made it clear that small was no metric that could be used to describe him.

He watched her stare, and realized that she was just as encapsulated with him as he was at her. He smiled at the thought of her getting all hot and bothered with the idea of him, she not so subtly crossed her legs.

“ You’re starring princess,” he smiled.

The nickname seemed to spark something in her because she walked past the drum set, sat on her bed and opened her legs. “ Why don’t you come over here and do something about it?”

Eddie didn’t have to be told twice, he pushed himself to a standing position, and crossed to her bed in one large step. He grabbed the sides of her face and pulled her into a kiss. You would think, with all the time he spent thinking about her lips he would be more prepared for what they felt like, but he had no idea. He pulled away because the intensity of the kiss was all too consuming, but Y/N looked up at him and and batted her eyelashes, and he couldn’t help but do it agin.

He jammed his knee in between her legs and felt her grind down on friction. Her hands reached for his studded belt, but she missed by a few inches, and grabbed his erection through his pants. He groaned loudy, and she smiled, pulling away so she could see, and he couldn’t help but watch.

Her small delicate hands undid the harsh studded black belt and pulled it lose. Her dainty red fingertips pulling his button loose, and slowly pulling down his zipper. Before he knew it he was flat on his back, as Y/N had flipped him over, and was pulling his pants down by the loops, leaving him in his plaid boxers. He only had a moment to be embarrassed, before Y/N palmed him through the thin cotton. He groaned loudly, and rose to rest on his elbows and watch.

Y/N didn’t know if she could wait any longer, so she jerked his boxers off and stared at it with wide eyes. “ Jesus christ, Eddie,” she said.

He had a sinking gut feeling, “ What? We can stop?”

“ Eddie, it’s fucking huge. You walk around like this all day?” she said, she was honestly perplexed. She had seen her fair share of dicks, some smaller, others larger. But never this large, and she had never found herself intimidated at the sight of one.

“ Only for you honey,” he whispered, biting her lips.

She gleamed at the nickname and grabbed his dick, globbed a large spit on the tip and stroked it slowly.

“ You’re gonna kill me princess,” he said, as she stroked faster, before taking the head in her mouth and sucking harshly.

It had been a long time since he got a blowjob so he unintentionally bucked into her mouth. “ Sorry, “ he whispered, “ Sorry, you feel good, damn.” he groaned.

She pulled off, “ it’s okay, just take a breath before you have a stroke,” she said, bending over again, and taking all of him in her mouth.

He groaned and unintentionally bucked as she sucked him down to the base, and fondled his balls with her hands, he lasted only 2 more minutes before he forced her away with a light handed tug on either sides of her face.

“ Keep that up and I’ll finish before we get started princess,” he mumbled. He watched Y/N react to the nickname, so rose to his elbows again and cocked his head to the side, and smiled. “ You like when I call you princess?” he asked, “ you want to be my princess?” he asked as Y/N rose to straddle him, nodding rapidly.

She wanted to be his in every way, she wanted to be his biblically, in a way that is concerning to god. He grabbed her hips under her shirt, “ You want me to treat you like a princess?” he asked. “ You want me to treat you like a lady?” he asked.

His hands squeezed her sides gently, and in one swift motion she was flat on her back. “ Some lady,” she whispered.

“ My lady,” he whispered.

She keened at the idea, his lady, his girl, Eddie Munsons girl.

#eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie munson smut #stranger things fandom #stranger things fic

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infamous-light · 3 months

Text

You Belong to Me Ch. 5

Alcina Dimitrescu x F! Reader

Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3 Ch. 4

AO3: You Belong to Me

Summary: Lady Dimitrescu's obsession knows no bounds as she becomes increasingly possessive over you. Will you succumb to her dark embrace, or find a way to break free before it's too late?

Word Count: 2.5K

Warnings: Yandere, possessive/obsessive behavior

Grogginess clouded your senses as you gradually came to.

The world around you seemed hazy and unfocused, with shadows dancing at the edges of your vision. Every attempt to concentrate or bring clarity to your thoughts was met with a heavy fog that refused to lift, making it difficult to know where you were or how you got there.

You became acutely aware of the dryness in your mouth, each breath feeling like sandpaper against your parched throat. The inside of your cheeks felt rough and sticky, as if covered with a film of grit. Your tongue lay like a foreign object in your mouth, swollen and sluggish, coated in a bitter residue that you couldn't identify. It tasted like a combination of metal and something medicinal, a flavor that made you want to scrape your tongue against your teeth to remove it.

When you attempted to shift your position, you discovered that your limbs weren't being responsive. It was as if your body had forgotten how to obey your commands, each movement slow and half-hearted. Your muscles ached with a deep, persistent fatigue, and a strange tingling sensation spread from your fingers to your toes, like tiny pinpricks dancing just beneath your skin.

As you lay there, a faint awareness began to seep into your mind. The surroundings, though still blurred and indistinct, began to register as unfamiliar. The bed beneath you was far too grand, its dimensions larger and its surface plusher than what you were used to. You could feel the mattress giving way just enough to cradle your body comfortably. The sheets caressed your skin with an unfamiliar softness, a level of luxury that hinted at high quality and expense. Silk, you guessed, or perhaps some other exotic fabric that you had only read about. Above you, the ceiling stretched high into the air, adorned with golden filigree that caught the dim light from the nearby flickering candle.

Turning your head slightly, you caught sight of the heavy drapes framing the windows. The fabric was rich and velvety, its deep red color absorbing the faint light that filtered through. They were only partially drawn, allowing a sliver of the outside world to be visible. Through the gap, you could see the night sky, the moon casting a pale glow over the village.

And that's when reality struck you.

The room, the bed, the view of the village, and the high ceiling all combined into a sudden, shocking realization that sent a jolt through your body.

You were in Lady Dimitrescu’s bedchambers.

Why were you here?

You wracked your brain, trying to piece together the events that led to your current predicament but nothing would come forth. You needed to get out of here.

Summoning every ounce of strength, you attempted to push yourself up from the bed. Each muscle in your body protested, sending jolts of pain through your already exhausted frame. Your arms trembled as you forced them to lift your weight, and a sharp, stinging sensation shot through your back and shoulders. Just then, a tall figure materialized beside the bed. Lady Dimitrescu’s expression was unreadable as she gently but firmly pressed you back down onto the mattress.

“You should stay in bed.” Her tone was soothing, yet it held an edge that made it clear she expected to be obeyed.

Her gaze locked onto yours, piercing and intense, holding you captive. Then, a faint, almost predatory smile played on her lips, sending a shiver through you.

“You're not ready to be up just yet.”

Desperately, you tried to remember what happened, but your mind was a hazy mess. Each thought was slow to form and quick to dissipate like smoke in the wind. You knew something was wrong, that this weakness and disorientation wasn’t normal. Your head throbbed with the effort of trying to recall.

There.

Clinging to that fleeting moment of clarity, you concentrated on the last clear memory you had. It was like grasping at shadows, but gradually, the scene started to sharpen. You recalled sitting at a dining table, a drink in your hand. The memory was vivid for a moment – the cool glass in your grip, the clink of crystal as you took a sip, bright golden eyes meeting yours from across the table – and then it faded into darkness.

The image of those eyes lingered, a focal point in the swirling confusion of your thoughts, drawing you back to that pivotal moment.

“You...drugged me.” You managed to whisper, your voice barely audible and cracking with the effort.

Lady Dimitrescu's smile broadened, offering no immediate confirmation or denial.

With a grace and tenderness that belied her massive stature, she reached out to adjust the blanket draped over you. It was an unexpectedly nurturing gesture, one that contrasted sharply with her cruel nature.

“Why?” The question slipped from your lips, your voice barely more than a quiver in the silence.

You searched her eyes for answers, for any hint of her intentions, but found only a disconcerting calmness.

Lady Dimitrescu's gaze remained fixed on you, her smile unwavering and enigmatic as her left hand rested against the side of your face. The touch of her palm on your cheek was both soothing and chilling. The coolness of her skin was a stark contrast to the feverish warmth of your own.

“All in good time. For now, you should rest.” She said lowly.

You wanted to protest, to demand answers, however, your body refused to cooperate, the strength draining from your limbs as if sapped by an unseen force. The words died in your throat, replaced by a deep, consuming fatigue. Your eyelids grew heavier with each passing second, the room around you blurring into a comforting darkness. The effort to keep them open became a losing battle, the allure of sleep too strong to resist.

The drug's effects were unrelenting, pulling you under and you could do nothing but succumb to its relentless call.

***

The warmth of the sunlight streaming in through the tall windows roused you from a fitful sleep.

You blinked against the bright light, momentarily disoriented as your surroundings came into focus. As your awareness sharpened, you realized that something – or someone – was wrapped around you. The warmth against your back, the steady rise and fall of another's breath. It all pointed to one startling conclusion: you were enveloped in Lady Dimitrescu's arms. Her form was curled protectively around you, her body molded to yours in an intimate embrace.

Instinctively, you tried to wriggle free, your heart racing as adrenaline coursed through your veins. The sensation of her strong, unyielding arms holding you in place sent a jolt of panic through your system. You floundered, your movements frantic and desperate, but the attempt to break away only seemed to tighten her grip, her arms constricting around you with surprising strength.

“Please,” your voice was so weak. “L-Let go.”

Lady Dimitrescu stirred behind you, her presence shifting as she awoke more fully.

“Hush, darling, there's no need to fuss.” She murmured, her voice still thick with sleep but carrying a commanding tone that brooked no argument.

Her words did little to calm you. You struggled again but her grip was too strong, her fingers like iron bands around your arms. The sheer power she possessed was frightening, and the more you fought, the more futile your efforts seemed. It was as if she were effortlessly restraining a child. Lady Dimitrescu chuckled softly, the sound resonating deep within her chest and sending a vibration through your back.

“Shhh, pet,” she crooned, “You must learn to relax. If you don’t stop squirming, I won’t release you.”

Her words sent a shiver down your spine.

The situation felt surreal, like a bizarre dream from which you couldn't wake. Yet, the heat from her body pressed against yours and the firmness of her grip were undeniably real. Resignation crept in, and you stopped struggling, your muscles tensing as you braced yourself for whatever was to come.

“That's better,” Lady Dimitrescu purred, her voice taking on a saccharine sweetness that made your skin crawl. “See? It's not so bad, is it?”

The gentle brush of her lips against your earlobe and the warmth of her breath against your neck was unnerving. It felt invasive, a forced intimacy that left you feeling exposed and vulnerable.

“Now, let's enjoy the morning, shall we?”

***

Lady Dimitrescu sat regally in front of her vanity.

She was already dressed in her signature white dress, the fabric cascading around her like a waterfall of silk. She picked up her lipstick, a small tube of deep red, and applied the rich color to her lips with practiced precision. The crimson hue stood in stark contrast to her alabaster skin, highlighting her sharp, aristocratic features.

As she deftly traced the curves of her lips, perfecting the application, she caught movement from her bed in the reflection of her vanity mirror. Her eyes, sharp and observant, landed on you through the glass, and a small, amused smirk appeared on her lips.

“You’re awake, I see.” She commented casually.

She capped the lipstick and set it down on the vanity with a delicate touch. In one graceful motion, she rose from her seat, her dress flowing around her as she approached the side of the bed where you lay.

You gazed up at her hazily, blinking slowly as you tried to focus, your mind still foggy from sleep. Lady Dimitrescu made a cooing noise as she stared down at you, a sound that was both soothing and slightly mocking. She reached out and brushed your hair away from your forehead, her touch gentle.

“Don’t you look adorable like this.” She remarked.

There was a gleam in her eyes, a spark of satisfaction that suggested she enjoyed seeing you like this – helpless and at her mercy. The corners of her lips curled into a faint, almost imperceptible smile before her expression changed into something inscrutable.

You couldn’t help but tremble as her gloved fingers moved from your forehead and traced down the curve of your jawline. Her touch was cool and calculated, sending goosebumps across your flesh. Her eyes scanned your face with an intensity that made your skin prickle. It felt as though she was dissecting every detail, analyzing and cataloging each feature.

She straightened up once more, her towering form casting a long shadow over you.

“I will have the staff prepare breakfast for you,” Lady Dimitrescu said tenderly. “I’ll be back shortly.”

With that, she turned and walked out of the bedroom.

The space suddenly felt colder and emptier.

All you could do was lay there, staring at the ceiling, trying to recall more of your memories but the fog in your mind made it hard to grasp even the simplest of thoughts. Your brain felt like it was submerged in a thick, oppressive mist, where every attempt to form a coherent idea slipped away into the murk. It made everything that much harder and disjointed. You couldn’t remain like this. The longer you stayed motionless, the more the sense of urgency grew. You didn't want to stay in bed any longer; the idea of being confined felt suffocating, as if the bed itself was a trap holding you in a vice grip.

You forced your muscles to move, straining your arms and legs. The simple act of lifting an arm required immense concentration and willpower, each muscle fiber protesting the command. It felt like moving through thick syrup, every motion slow and difficult. The sheets clung to your body, adding to the resistance.

The moment you hit the floor, a sharp pain shot through your body. The initial impact left you momentarily breathless, and you gasped as the air was knocked out from your lungs. You lay there for a moment, gathering your strength, the chill seeping into your bones, before beginning to crawl across the hardwood floor.

Each movement was a challenge. Your arms felt like lead, barely able to support your weight, and your legs dragged uselessly behind you. The texture of the floor was unforgiving, pressing into your flesh, and you could feel the subtle grains and imperfections against your forearms. Every inch forward was a monumental effort, and your breath came in ragged gasps. Your lungs burned with the exertion, and sweat dripped down your face, stinging your eyes and blurring your vision.

The bedroom seemed to stretch endlessly before you.

Minutes felt like hours as you inched your way across the room, your body trembling with exhaustion. The cold, hard floor seemed to drain the last remnants of your strength with each painful shuffle forward. The door ahead seemed to taunt you, never getting any closer no matter how hard you tried. Just then, the unmistakable sound of heavy footsteps echoed through the hallway, growing louder with each passing second. Panic flared up within you, but you were too tired to quicken your pace.

The door swung open and Lady Dimitrescu stepped inside. Her presence filled the doorway as she towered above you. She looked down at you with a mixture of disappointment and irritation, her lips curling into a frown. Her eyes, cold and piercing, bore into yours, making you feel even smaller and more insignificant.

“I should’ve expected this pathetic escape attempt.” She bit out with each word.

You felt a wave of helplessness wash over you, the fight draining from your limbs in an instant. With a resigned sigh of your own, you let your head rest on the floor, too exhausted to protest further.

Lady Dimitrescu walked over to you in a slow, deliberate stride. The sound of her heels clicking against the floor echoed throughout her bedchambers. Her shadow fell over you as she crouched down, scooping you up into her arms. The weight of her embrace was surprisingly gentle yet firm, cradling you as if you were something precious and delicate. As she carried you across the bedroom, you couldn't help but feel small and fragile in her grasp. Once Lady Dimitrescu reached the bedside, she laid you back on the mattress carefully, ensuring you were comfortable before letting go. She arranged the blankets around you with care, smoothing the covers with her hands. Her touch lingered slightly, as if reluctant to break the connection.

“I want you to stay in bed.” Lady Dimitrescu said firmly.

Frustration and exhaustion took over as tears began to well up in your eyes. God, you hated how vulnerable you were at this moment, the raw emotions bubbling to the surface despite your best efforts to contain them. Your vision blurred, and you tried to blink the tears away, but they only flowed more freely down your cheeks.

Lady Dimitrescu’s gaze softened slightly, her usually steely demeanor giving way to a moment of unexpected tenderness. She reached out, her hand large yet gentle, and wiped your tears away with her thumb.

“There’s no need to cry, darling,” she said, her voice low and reassuring. “Just rest.”

Her touch was oddly comforting, despite the circumstances that brought you here. Leaning in, she kissed your forehead, her lips cool against your clammy skin. The soft brush of her lips stirred a bittersweet ache within you, a mix of comfort and disdain.

You sobbed.

#lady dimitrescu x reader #alcina dimitrescu x reader #lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #resident evil village #resident evil fanfic #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #resident evil #resident evil 8

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ssinboo · 2 years

Text

Midnights To Come

summary: After finding campus heartthrob Kim Mingyu absolutely butchering his trousers trying to fix the hole he'd busted in them, you offer his your sewing abilities. As retribution, he thinks that nothing is more fitting than his ultimate mission: getting you laid.

You and Mingyu spend an unforgettable night together.

pairing: University!AU - Popular!Mingyu x Unpopular!F!Reader, reader does read on the thicker side? Nothing specific.

word count: 6.8k (30~ minute read)

warnings: protected sex (finally), fingering (F rec), drinking, partying

a/n: Thank you so much for the love <3 This is mostly inspired by Taylor Swift's older music lol I'm starting a new job soon, so I'll be mostly MIA for march and perhaps april TT

Kim Mingyu was the ex-boyfriend of a friend’s friend’s cousin, unforgettably handsome with the sort of beauty that belonged in Hollywood. A very tall glass of gorgeous with an incredible personality to boot, that’s why everyone adored him. He was majoring in business to follow in his father’s footsteps but was a star at football and made sure no one would forget just who was the best lineman on their amateur team.

And you’d met once or twice, briefly. Definitely not enough for him to come even close to becoming acquainted with your existence, but more than sufficient for him to leave his mark. He was a campus Idol, a guy you admired for his popularity and his way with people.

It was at a senior’s party your friend had dragged you to, that you met again. You were quietly searching for some solace in an empty room upstairs, when you saw him fiddling with his pants – It was hard not to notice his large frame struggling with a pair of jeans in the dark bedroom corner.

Being quite fair, at first you believed he was relieving himself, carnally. That was a puzzling sight as horrifying as it would be— I mean, the man had lines of women throwing themselves to be his, why would he just jerk off? And then, you noticed the stapler he was using to completely butcher the fabric in a desperate way to fix the large hole.

“Oh my God, just stop!” You exclaim, not being able to watch such abuse any longer. He was known to wear brand-name goods and just the thought of high quality fabric being assaulted by staples made your skin churn.

You, however, had totally forgotten to announce your presence.

Mingyu jumps, falling off the bed in a split-second, clashing into the carpet with a thunderous thump. Eyes blown wide like a moose in headlights, he stares at you from his half-down half-on-the-bed position, suddenly, completely aware of his nakedness.

“Oh- Fuck–!” He exclaims, stumbling off the bed and pulling the jeans to cover his brand-name boxers.

“OH!” You also seem to realise how inappropriate it was to simply barge into his intimate moment with the stapler. “I’m sorry!” You yell from behind your palms, eyes tightly shut.

“...No problem?” It sounds more of a question than anything. I mean, it was the polite thing to say when someone says “I’m sorry” however, there was a problem.

“Do you need any help?” You ask, still muffled and hidden behind your hands. Mingyu has no idea on how to reply, he is familiar with those words, especially coming from a lady, but this scenario is totally different from the sexy ones he’s accustomed to. “I’m a seamstress,” Your brain urges for an explanation, as to make the situation somewhat less awkward.

He seems to be content with that. “You are?”

“Yes!” You turn around, fishing around your purse for a small sewing kit, pink plastic box with teeny tiny everything. “I have some needles and thread.”

“Oh, thank God!”

That’s how you find yourself sitting on some stranger’s bed with a half-naked Mingyu – You’re carefully patching up the seams on his jeans while he sits cross-legged with a pillow between his legs.

Who would’ve known that years into University, your closest call with a boy would be such a weird scenario. Sitting with the campus heartthrob as you stitch up his busted trousers. What a story to tell your friends.

“I’m Mingyu, by the way,” He breaks the awkward silence, reaching out his hand; He then realises you are occupied and takes it back.

You tell him your name, eyes glued to the intricate detailing on the garment.

“Are you new here?” He asks, curiously studying your face.

“No,” You mutter, holding a needle between your lips so you can inspect your stitches.

“How come we’ve never met?”

“We have.”

Mingyu adjusts himself, leaning closer, “No”

“Yes?”

“No!”

“You dated my friend’s friend’s cousin,” You explain, though it doesn’t help.

“I’ve dated plenty of friends’ friends’ cousins’,” Mingyu half-chuckles, practically patting himself on the back for that one.

You roll your eyes, “We met once or twice, nothing major.”

“I would’ve remembered you.”

“You didn’t,” Laughing, you don’t even notice he’s taken offence to his own forgetfulness.

“I don’t forget a pretty girl,” It is said as a matter of factly, a worldly known truth of sorts.

“You haven’t.”

“I forgot you, apparently,” Mingyu is more frustrated than you’d expect – Than anyone would expect for such a laid back guy.

“I’m not pretty, though?”

Oh, he is furious at such a statement, “What?! Of course you are. You are a solid 7.5, no joke, dude.”

A solid seven point five? Wow. Coming from anyone else, that could be taken as an offence, I mean, what about you made them go so high up the scale yet not even give a full number? But you were talking about THE Kim Mingyu.

That not only tickles your ego in the right spot, but does get a good laugh out of you. Mingyu laughs along, not fully grasping the humour of it, but enjoying the sound of your giggles.

“Thanks,” You smile, pulling out your scissors to clip the last of your thread. “Here, it’s done.”

He widens his eyes, “So fast?!”

With a nod, you put everything back in your pocket kit. Mingyu excitedly inspects his trousers and his jaw falls open once he can’t locate where your repairs are.

“It’s perfect!”

You smile, “Great!”

“Wow. You are some kind of sewing genius! Thanks! You saved my life”

Mingyu proceeds to rant about how great you are and how amazing your skills are and you should totally work with sewing – you are, and that you should make clothes – you do. All because you are just that good – from a small repair.

You were happy with just helping him, seeing it as a finished mission, ready to pack up and head home but he would not have that, oh, no. Mingyu was laser focused on repaying your kindness – he said he hates owing people so you had to accept. His manner of retribution? Partying and maybe, if you got lucky, getting you laid. It was his mission now.

So he dragged you downstairs to meet his inebriated friends, all surprisingly welcoming and not nearly as douchy as you’d expected – Soonyoung was especially keen on having you accompany him on the dance floor. Even drunk, his abilities surpassed any of your own and he absolutely demolished the floor with his intricate choreo.

Seokmin pulled you from the dance floor to join him on a cheesy karaoke battle, the one feat no man can accomplish being as stone-cold sober as you were. His usually impeccable vocals suffered under the alcohol and strained over high-notes. So you just plucked the first poor soul you saw in the crowd to substitute you as Seokmin’s duet.

Stumbling through the crowd and away from the karaoke, you finally find Mingyu, giving him “Help me” eyes. He laughs softly at your predicament, stumbling from his friend’s shoulder to wrap his arm around your neck — his exaggerated stature almost sent you crashing down.

“Come on, no one caught your eye?” He slurs his words, wild tongue running over his pretty lips, classic red solo cup dangerously dangling from his long fingers. You can see from up close the drunken blurriness that glazes his pretty eyes with unhinged impulsiveness.

You chuckle, remembering his goal was to set you up for a “Hot date”.

“Not at all. But I had fun.”

“Whaat?!” He whines in frustration, stepping forward so you’re facing each other. His arm is still heavily draped over your shoulders. “You didn’t have fun!”

“I did!” You argue.

“No…” Mingyu pouts.

“I did! I promise,” Offering him a smile, you await his response.

“Have a drink with me?”

God, he was a pro at puppy-dog-eyes. With pouty lips, glistening under the remnants of his drink and sparkling eyes with furrowed brows.

“I don’t– I don’t drink,” You’re so upset with the idea of disappointing him and his adorable pout though he barely pays it any mind.

“Then we can do something else! Come on!”

“No, Mingyu–!”

But he’s dragging you away from the party, placing the edge of his cup between his teeth so he can snatch his coat from the hangers on his way out. You’re stumbling under his weight and hurried steps, but the night air feels so refreshing after the stuffy frat house you practically forget his intentions.

The house behind you thumps under the song that blasts through its brick walls, colourful LEDs flashing from open windows. The front yard feels almost completely separate from the party inside, a world apart from the drunk atmosphere that holds the stifling rooms.

Mingyu drags you toward the pavement and standing before his car, you feel your stomach drop once you see him press the button to open the door.

“Mingyu– You– You’re drunk. You can’t drive,” You stumble over your words, nervously fidgeting with your clothes, even if you left right now, would he still drive?

“I won’t. You’re sober,” He says as a matter of factly and you hadn’t even considered driving this insanely expensive sports car.

Mingyu opens the driver’s door and stands there, gesturing for you to get in. A true gentleman. With a relieved breath, you do.

It’s a convertible – Of course, it is, no other car would fit his personality as well. The chassis is coloured a blinding firetruck red and the rims are a polished silver, it’s so clearly well-maintained you feel nervous about driving it. The leather seats smell so vividly of his cologne, woody and fresh.

Mingyu closes your door and jogs to his seat, he jumps over his door with ease, settling onto the beige leather seat with a soft thump.

“Here’s ignition, turn signals, speed and all that,” He leans over and points to each item.

“Is it stick?”

“Nah, I had it modified, it’s completely automatic.”

“Wow, disappointed in you… I thought you’d drive stick like a real man,” You tease, leaning over to check the height for the seat – It’s obviously too far back so you adjust it forward.

“Too busy getting my dick sucked to worry about changin’ gears,” He sticks his tongue between his teeth, leaning back with a proud smile.

“Oh, god,” You groan, “Should I be touching any surface on this car?”

“Nope.”

You laugh.

After putting on your seatbelt, you look over and notice that of course, he’s not wearing his. With a roll of your eyes, you lean over and pull the seat belt over his chest. Mingyu would’ve flinched had he not been tipsy, his eyes linger on your body over his, how your left hand holds the belt at his chest while your right hand fiddles with the lock.

And you have such pretty long lashes that flutter along your cheeks as you focus on finding the clip for the belt. A soft furrow between your brows, you’re sighing and biting on your lower lip; He notices the pretty shade of red that you wear.

But you’re already done and it’s clipped on with a satisfying click.

“Driver’s rules, shotgun shuts his mouth,” You say before he can protest the safety measures.

You smile so brightly, happily turning back to the wheel, excited over this incredible machine that lays in your hands. More than the alcohol in his bloodstream, your joy is intoxicating.

And the car comes alive with a satisfying roar, you feel the soft vibrating from the wheel course up your wrists. For you, following the speed limit felt perfect, the wheel turned so smoothly and the pedals felt the perfect height. But the little devil on the passenger’s seat kept egging you on to go faster.

Caving to his wishes, you take the highway out of town, breezing through asphalt with no sight of other cars. The confidence that such a smooth ride gives is true, you feel yourself steadily increasing the speed much to Mingyu’s satisfaction.

The wind in your hair, caressing your face with the exhilarating night air, the thrilling constant hum of such a potent engine working to your heart’s content. Nothing could beat the constellation of artificial lighting that lit the night scenery, every building held its own collection.

“Where should I go?” You ask, suddenly remembering you’re supposed to have a destination, your eyes absolutely glued to the road.

“Somewhere nice,” Mingyu hums, thinking for a second.

He leans back, his left hand is carelessly draped over your headrest and you can feel his fingers fidget with your hair so unconsciously. Any of his go-to destinations were made for getting hot and heavy, which wasn’t the goal tonight; He wanted to repay you for helping him out and you hadn’t shown any interest in… other manners of payment. So it left him with only one option.

“Take a left next turn,” He says, leaning forward to dig through the glovebox.

Mingyu finds a pair of sunglasses, putting them on despite the very obvious lack of Sunlight. He offers you a spare set, and though you’d love to enjoy wearing Prada sunglasses that probably cost more than your entire net worth, you also enjoy seeing anything on the road. So you push them on top of your head, pushing your hair back.

Somewhere along the deserted road, Mingyu grabs the AUX cord, connecting it to his phone and going through his very generic musical taste. But the atmosphere is so perfect you can’t help but enjoy the bubblegum pop blasting from the dashboard. You even sing along.

It’s a comfortable silence, filled with Pop music and laughter.

You drive for almost an hour under his strict directions, until you reach a dirt road. There’s an alarm blaring in your mind, realising that you’re far from civilization, in the middle of nowhere with a total stranger. I mean, serial killers were always described as charismatic, right?

Making a deal with yourself, you decide that if he does anything even remotely suspicious you’re running the car off the road. You’ll die, but he’ll go with you.

Against your anxiety, however, he tells you to pull up at a clearing just ahead and once you arrive, there’s no doubt on why he chose this place.

From atop this hill, you can see far into the city, its blinding lights nothing but tiny stars on the horizon, the noise pollution of a bustling metropolis is totally gone and replaced by the calming murmurs of nature. Before he can even say anything, you’re leaving the car to admire such a view.

The moon is full, a pale veil over both of you, standing in the starry sky as the queen, ruling over her stars. The light caressing your body with the warmth of the perfect Summer night.

“What do you think?” Mingyu asks, leaning against the hood of his car.

You can’t help but to briefly admire the picturesque scene he paints with his playboy aura and Hollywoodian beauty, leaning against this straight-out-of-a-movie convertible. He has this side smirk, knowing this breathtaking landscape can’t be topped by any of your past experiences.

“It’s…” There aren’t words you can find to describe such a view. “I– Thank you. It’s gorgeous.”

He visibly relaxes, as if he was waiting anxiously for your opinion, “It’s my favourite place.”

“I can see why,” You laugh, joining him, though you have a little trouble stabilising your butt over the hood.

“Everything feels small when I come here,” He explains.

Turning to face him, your stomach is filled with annoying little butterflies that flutter around and tickle your insides with foolish thoughts.

His moonlit profile is somehow prettier than his beauty in any other lighting, his perfect nose and high cheekbones and his eyes, God, his eyes. They hold in their dark orbs, all of the stars and worlds, in its ethereal shine.

You hum, prying your gaze from him before your brain gets any outlandish rushes of dopamine and creates unattainable ideas.

Mingyu leans back, his lanky body hitting the windshield, his eyes stare up at the stars. At this moment, he wishes he knew constellations from the top of his head, then maybe, he could impress you with his astronomical knowledge.

“You look like a movie star right now… I feel like I’m in a movie,” Joking, you lean on your elbow, unconsciously following his body with your own.

“What do you wanna be when you grow up?” He asks on a spur of the moment.

You laugh, “When I grow up?”

Mingyu realises what you meant by your question and laughs along, “You know what I meant.”

Though you’re caught aback, there’s not much thinking to be done, “I want to design clothes.”

He hums, “It suits you, I think.” He didn’t know you that well, but it seemed fitting.

You chuckle, “You?”

Mingyu lets out a long sigh, leaning on his elbows to stare up at you, “CEO, I guess.”

“Have you always wanted to be a CEO?”

His lips press into a thin line and he hesitates on how much he should tell, throwing caution into the air, Mingyu decides to open up. “I honestly… Don’t want to.”

You furrow your brows, “Won’t you take over your father’s company?”

He nods, “That’s what I should do.”

“Then what do you want to be?”

It’s such an innocent question and in all honesty, sort of childish almost? Something you would ask a small child and just agree with whatever they come up with. But it’s something he was never allowed to question.

“I… Don’t think I know.”

You hum, “You could be an actor,” It’s a bit of a tease as much as it is the truth.

Mingyu raises an eyebrow, sitting up so he can face you properly. You have this soft smile on your face that holds so much warmth for a stranger like him, it almost feels undeserving.

“An actor?” He prods.

“Yeah,” You shrug, “You just have the vibes for it… Living a thousand lives in just one, I think you could play any character really well. Plus, you have the looks. I always told my friends you have a face that belongs in Hollywood.” It comes out so naturally, you barely realise what you’ve said until he’s staring at you. “I– Sorr–”

Mingyu smashes his lips into yours.

You squeak, but don’t shy away from his plush lips.

His left hand reaches for your jaw, fingers softly tracing your cheek with certain hesitancy but you lean into his touch so willingly he can’t help the bubbling feeling that comes to life deep in his belly.

When your lips part, you feel the night breeze caress the parts of your body he touched and you find your body misses his warmth.

Your brain simply can’t function.

In your brilliant academic journey, romance had never been an aspect you entertained. You quickly learned at thirteen that a fairytale story only happens to cute girls with nice hair and pretty bodies. And not the one repeatedly being used as the butt-end of a cruel joke.

Mingyu represented everything you would never have; A popular, rich guy with amazing hair and looks out of this world. And he was nice, too. Took time of his day to hang out with you and to repay what had been an instinctive action; help out someone.

It could only have been a mistake, right?

Mingyu, noticing the dread that paints your pretty face, can’t help the cold shiver that takes over his body, “I… I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine! I won’t tell anyone.” You reply all too fast.

“What?” He blinks a couple of times, “What do you mean?”

“Y’know, I won’t ruin your reputation…”

He practically jumps from the car, standing in front of you, “Say it again.”

You look up, his towering height has never once been intimidating, until now, “...I won’t tell anyone. I promise.”

“No, what the fuck do you mean ruin my reputation, why would kissing you ruin it?” His voice possesses such anger you couldn’t even think he was capable of. But you feel yourself getting upset, how long will he torture you with this? Do you need to say with all words how undesirable you are?

“Because no one in their right mind should be seen with a girl like me!” You blurt out, feeling his anger seep into your body.

“A girl like you?” He huffs in disbelief. “A girl that indulged me, was nice to my friends and let me drag her to the middle of nowhere?” Mingyu leans forward, caging your body in between his arms. “ A pretty, kind girl, who helped me without asking anything for it? What kind of girl, tell me.” He orders, his voice in a low, hushed tone that tickles your nose when he speaks.

Speechless, you’re sitting there, face to face with a guy that genuinely shows interest in you, told you you’re pretty for the nth time tonight and has the most kissable lips you’ve seen.

His jaw is tight with anger, almost as if he’s got a personal vendetta against you self-hatred, but your stupid lustful brain can’t focus on anything but the sharp cut of his jaw, deep veins bulging from tanned skin.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, so quietly you think you hallucinated it. But it’s very much true.

He looks so irresistible, half-lidded eyes staring at your lips while he bites his own.

“Please,” you exhale, melting into his body when he leans forward.

You were never a woman of action, preferring when others make the move, but in this moment you have this newfound confidence, meeting his lips halfway, crashing into a fervorous kiss.

It’s nothing like your first, you feel the heat emanating from his body, scorching hot seeping into your skin, burning every nerve it touches with fervorous want.

His tongue is in your mouth, anxious and exploring and he is humming against your lips such an intoxicating melody that for a second, you’re a stranded sailor falling for the voice of a siren and dipping into the arms of unimaginable beauty.

Saliva drips from your connected lips but he refuses to end the kiss, no. Because you taste of cherry flavoured hard candies, provocatively luscious with a delicious aftertaste that can only leave you longing for more.

He parts the kiss, leaning back and practically tearing his varsity jacket from his body. You’re watching closely as he lays it behind you, over the car.

Right hand moving to your waist, Mingyu pushes forward until you’re laying on the hood, so pretty. Your body is still finding his, your chest leaning forward so you can mould into his warmth, hands gripping the fabric of his shirt, closer, closer.

You’re breathless, eyes trained on his every move with such incredulity as if you believed you were in a dream, hallucinating every moment so far.

He can feel every curve of your body pressing tightly against his. It’s evident the effect you’re having on him, blood boiling in his veins with unadulterated desire.

There has never been a moment in his life where he genuinely cared to go slow, to show his passion and intent; Every partner of his had been as much into the act as he had been.

But you, you’re so fragile and every moment he spends in your presence feels so ephemeral, he can not help the panic that rushes into his body to make it worth it, to make every second last.

His lips trace along your jaw, saliva coating the path he trails down your neck until he reaches your collarbones. And his lips are so gentle and enticing, with their sugary kisses that you lean into because you’ve never felt something so wonderful.

He nibbles and kisses on your exposed skin, teeth grazing across the teeniest bit of cleavage showing from your borrowed dress. So far, you had done an amazing job at keeping the sounds he elicited from leaving your lips, however this once, you couldn’t hold the breathy mewl that escapes.

Mingyu freezes, eyes slowly rising up until they meet your face.

“Oh my god, do it again,” He huffs against your sensitive skin.

“W-What?” You ask.

“That sound you just did, god, you sound so fucking hot,” And he slurs against your chest. Not because of alcohol, no, he had sobered up on the windy car ride, but intoxicated on the effortless warmth that you exude.

You lit a flame on his chest that burns incandescently with nothing but greedy lust, burning its way through his body with an unfathomable hunger that could only be satisfied by your sweetest moans.

He struggles with the buttons that decorate the cleavage of your dress, trying to undo them and seriously questioning his soberness when they do not separate.

“It’s got a zipper,” You admit, but he looks so relieved.

Mingyu leans back, pulling you by your hand until you crash into his chest and he can finally reach the back of your dress. You’re breathing so heavily against his skin, your soft hands grazing along the nape of his neck, fingers tangling into his hair; He can hardly focus on the task at hand.

His right hand runs under the skirt of your dress, clawing at your flesh with heavy hands, almost as if he wanted to hold you fully in his touch. Toying with the band of your panties, he sighs, watching your chest heave at the contact.

You pull your dress sleeves off, letting the fabric bundle around your waist, though you can’t be arsed to properly take it off. Mingyu does not mind at all, no, he’s absolutely hypnotised by the sight of your tits.

Shoving his face onto your cleavage, he’s pulling you closer into his body by your hips, sucking love bites on your unblemished skin. Leaving a trace of him that would last longer than your moments together, a mark of momentary possession that allowed his brain to indulge.

And you’re contaminated with his boldness, clawing at his shirt with relentless anticipation. You suddenly have this peculiar urge to feel his skin on yours, unlike anything you’ve ever felt before.

Mingyu smiles against your skin, finding your hands that touch him fervently, wrapping his fingers around yours. And for a brief moment, you feel as though you might’ve wronged him, but he pulls your hands to wrap around his neck as he finds your lips again while his hands are pulling on the hem of his shirt.

The kiss is only parted once, when he pulls the white shirt above his shoulders and discards it somewhere across the soft grass; completely unimportant at the moment.

And god, Mingyu is divinely sculpted with defined pecs and hardened abs that tense under your touch. You sigh at the dreamy sight of his tan skin completely exposed for your viewing only.

He relishes in the adoring look you exhibit, eyes dripping wholly in an exquisite hunger you’ve never felt before; And he coerces this scandalous reaction from you with pride. Your hands are eager to touch him, so you do. You run your fingers down his supple skin, fingernails grazing in teasing lines.

Smoothing out your hands up his chest, you find his neck and pull him toward your lips, wanting to feel his bare skin on yours, stealing his heat until your bodies are running at the exact same temperature.

His hands, large and calloused from playing professional sports, lay heavy on your thighs. Mingyu pulls at the waistband of your panties and takes a second to lock eyes with you, guaranteeing your approval.

You can only hope you’ve got the good pair of underwear on.

But it doesn’t matter, because he pulls it off at once, discarding it above his shoulder to fall somewhere along his shirt.

Your dress is bunched up around your waist and you should’ve felt more embarrassed to be completely exposed before him but Mingyu looks at you with such reverent eyes, taking every inch of abundant flesh with care.

“Fuck–” He groans, eyes glued to the spot between your legs. You can’t even close them in an attempt at modesty because he is standing right there and not going anywhere.

He runs a slender finger across your slit, breathing heavier at the sight of moisture that pools along the lips.

When you bite your lower lip, unknowingly coquettish and staring at him all bright eyed and pleading, Mingyu let out a strained sound that could barely be classified as a groan.

“Can I?”

His finger dances around your slit and he looks unsure. You nod with a soft “Yeah.”

Nothing like anything you’ve felt or done before.

That’s the only way to explain the feeling of having his long finger prodding at your hole with gentle movement. He soon joins another one, stretching you out with delicate scissoring motions, he’s not focused on making you cum, he wants to prepare you for him.

And that very thought makes your stomach tighten in anticipation.

You don’t even realise when your hips are thrusting against his hand, matching his pace. And you’re definitely not thinking when you ask in a gasp:

“A… Another one–”

Mingyu stills.

“You don’t fuckin–” He leans forward, forehead flushed to yours, uneven breath tickling your sensitive lips. “You have no idea what you’re doin’ to me, babygirl.”

You feel your body consumed with an unstoppable amount of confidence, knowing the grip you hold over Mingyu at this moment, you’re dizzy with power.

“Show me, then,” The lazy smile that finds your red stained lips is a sight to bear.

He smirks, knowing he will make you eat your words soon.

As he pulls his fingers from your cunt, there is a thick string of arousal that coats his skin in a sinful glaze. With a confident smirk, Mingyu

But he doesn’t expect when you lean forward, letting your tongue run all over, cleaning his fingers and tasting first-hand the pleasure he brings you.

Oh, fucking hell.

Mingyu could’ve cum right then and there.

You’re giggling as he fumbles with his belt, he wishes he could’ve stopped to appreciate such a sweet sound, but he was way too horny to think about anything other than plunging his cock into you at once.

When the night breeze hits his throbbing erection, Mingyu shivers.

You’re chewing on your lower lip, equal parts excited and terrified at his sheer size. He is large. And fat, with bulging veins running down his length and a thick head that’s trickling with pre-cum.

“Oh my god.”

Mingyu cowers at your gasp, “What?”

“You’re huge, fuck.”

Oh, your praise runs straight down to his erection. His chest puffs out with absolute pride.

“Do you have a condom?” It was a silly question when aimed toward Mingyu, of course he did. He always does.

He fishes out his wallet and pulls a fresh packet, tearing the foil apart with his teeth and pulling the pre-lubed rubber. Mingyu is about to roll it over himself when your hands find his.

“Can I–?” You ask and he almost sighs.

He watches you with bated breath. You’re delicate, small hands quietly rolling the condom over his seemingly unending length until you’ve reached the base. Your fingers linger in curiosity and he can’t help but to find it adorable.

Properly protected, Mingyu grasps his length as you position yourself better on the hood, legs wide open, dripping in anticipation. Oh, you couldn’t fault his desire to tease, could you?

Running his tip over and over your drenched core, he groans. You’re clenching around nothing, hands fidgeting with the bunched up fabric of your dress. Mingyu has a stupid confident smirk on his lips, watching you squirm at his minimal touch.

“Mingyu!” You whine when he brushes against your clit. Reaching your right hand, you claw at his heaving chest. He doesn’t budge, however.

“What?” He plays dumb, toying with your hole.

“F-Fuck me? Please…?”

Fuck seven point five, you were a ten, a twenty, a one-hundred, no fucking numbers could quantify your allure, no. You could charm your way out of any crime if you pursed your brows and pouted your lips like this, smeared red lipstick painting your soft skin, saliva dripping down your chin so indecently.

And your hand was still, caressing his stomach, like a succubus ready to pounce and devour him like a five course-meal. Consume him whole, body and soul until he has nothing left to give. He would let you have him, any way you wanted, you just needed to say the word.

Just needed to let his name fall out of your pretty lips in a breathy gasp and he would be at your call.

Mingyu enters you slowly, stretching out every millimetre of your walls with a burning feeling of fullness.

“Fuck–” He groans, “Relax for me, baby.”

You take a deep breath, allowing your body to relax as much as your brain allows at the moment and he takes the chance to stretch you out further, hips pistoning forward.

Mingyu feels the pleasure seep into his body in one fell swoop, dissolving in his bloodstream, filling his lungs with heat. You’re snug around him, clamping down on his sensitive erection, pulsing alive and throbbing.

“Are you in?” You ask, not risking looking down and disappointing yourself at the remaining length. Mingyu is hovering just inches above you, hand taut on the hood, using every bit of restraint imaginable to not pound you into tomorrow.

“Just a little more,” He breathes out, head coming to rest on the crook of your neck as his hip comes to meet yours.

He allows you a moment to let the stretch lessen, to allow your discomfort to slowly morph into pleasure. And soon, you’ve got your arms wrapped tight around his broad shoulders, his almond eyes have completely surrendered to the dark gaze of lust, devouring you alive with their insatiable hunger.

“You can move now…” You breathe out, fingers tangling around his silky smooth hair.

“You sure?”

“Oh, yeah.” He smiles against your lips, hips finding themselves a languid, slow and torturous pace until you’re begging for more.

The way his body feels against your is something unforgettably wonderful, every curve of his torso giving into your own, every inch of you filling into the gaps of his in an imperfectly perfect little puzzle.

With every thrust, you’re pulling at the roots of his hair, gaining yourself sharp hisses from Mingyu. Though he enjoys the tugging, leans into your scratching, presents his lips to you with total eagerness.

He fastens his movement, thrusting into you with sheer fervour. His hands are exploring your body, kneading at abundant flesh with excited fingers that leave trails of crescent moons shapes along your skin.

Out here, in the middle of nowhere, caressed by the breeze and the moonlight, you’re whispering his name in an unanswered prayer, letting the syllables dance around in your tongue before you let them slip away into the starry night sky to be forgotten.

You’re clenching around him with pleasure, feeling the knot in your belly tighten and tighten.

“Feels– So good,” Mingyu hisses against your kisses, hips not stuttering even once.

Brain an absolute mush, you can’t find any words to respond other than strained moans.

“So– Fucking good…” Nuzzling along your jaw, he grazes his teeth on your neck, painting your skin with love bites.

“I–” You gasp, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer. He doesn’t even need you to finish your sentence to know what you meant.

“Yeah? Me too– Let go, baby.”

Digging his hands into your hips, Mingyu hurries his thrusts, hitting your sweet spot again and again until you’re melting in his arms, singing praise of his name with your candied voice and luring him into his own orgasm.

He leans forward, capturing your lips in a harsh kiss, hips slowing down as he comes undone, tainting the condom with heavy spurts.

You’re both gasping in complicity, blanketed in the summer night.

Once the condom is discarded, Mingyu lays by your side and pulls you into his heaving chest. You both lay there in comfortable silence, letting the orgasms fade out into strained sleepiness.

“Will you promise to remember me?” You ask, watching the twinkling stars that lay before you two.

“Where did that come from?” Mingyu chuckles.

“Do you promise?” Your voice is a soft whisper that dissipates into a shaky, hesitant breath, “Do you promise to remember me?”

He laughs, but your eyes hold such urgency, he can not ignore the human need to sympathise with your woes. “...Why– Why do you say that?”

“Because…” You sigh, “Because I’ll remember you, – this,” Hands vaguely gesturing toward your conjoined bodies, “For the rest of my life… And I’m afraid even a decade from now, you won’t be able to recall my name or what I look like.”

It’s serious, it’s a concern that has plagued your mind since the moment you laid down. However, Mingyu can only focus on the fact that you’ve assumed the two of you won’t see each other again, ever.

Leaning forward, his slight smile does nothing to hide the clearly confused look that is plastered across his handsome face, “It’s like you plan to disappear. We’ll see each other again.”

You shake your head, “What are the chances, Mingyu? We’re just… Fleeting seconds in centuries. What are the chances alumni – Not even from the same major, – will meet again?”

“What if we promise to meet?” Oh, he’s absolutely set on it, but you find it adorable; this fervorous intent on defying the hands fate has laid before you.

“Then, what happens when we’re bored of each other?” You chew on your lower lip, but he discards your argument.

“That might not happen,” He points out.

“We’re too different. It defeats fate to force it,” You sigh.

Mingyu doesn’t have an answer right now, but he’s seeking one with furrowed brows and pouted lips.

“Remember me like this, no wait–” You run your fingers through tangled hair in an attempt to fix the messing he’d done before. “Done. Like this.” You flash a smile, posing your body in the best angle it has, to construct the perfect memory.

But Mingyu sees your flustered cheeks, smeared lipstick that leaves behind a stained trail of hot red over swollen-kissed lips. Sleep hazed eyes that gaze at him with such warmth, that hold a longing he wouldn’t be able to grasp for another decade. You liked him, you truly did. And that’s why you would never allow your memories of him to be tainted by the grasps of time.

You’d forever remember his dorky smile and dad jokes, his clumsy hands and warmth.

And Mingyu doesn’t realise it yet, but he would forever remember you as someone who marked him forever. To disregard the cards you’re dealt, make your own memories, remember it all fondly.

Maybe in a couple years, you will have a wild dream about this very moment, a fuzzy memory that leaves behind a nostalgic smile that will follow you for the day, reminding you of this perfect feeling. You’ll look back with wistful thinking of the good days.

And will keep it close to your heart.

Where it belongs.

You thought about it often the day after, but days turned into weeks, turned into months, turned into years. And a decade later, you found yourself having a dream about the distant memory, and the sweet nostalgic feeling accompanied you throughout your routine.

After university, you had found a simple job in your area that sufficed the need for experience and filled the empty stop in your resume. Though it was far from fulfilling. There was no creative liberty allowed and you often found yourself overworked and constricted by tight deadlines.

The dream of your own line had yet to die, however. That’s why you had volunteered for such a demanding gig: designing for a historical movie. Luckily, your resume had allowed you a good position, overseeing the wardrobe and designing the pieces that would be forever captured on film.

The main character, a pretty young thing with curly hair, was extremely excited to work with you and almost cried when she saw the dresses she would be wearing.

Today, you would be fitting for the lead male role and designing him some characteristic James Dean style clothes. Your assistant led him to your office while you were gathering your materials.

When you enter the room and you’re met with those gorgeous almond eyes, you can’t help the stupid smile that finds your lips.

“This is the lead actor, Kim Mingyu,” Your assistant explains.

“Yeah, I know,” You laugh.

He stands up, a charming smirk plastered on his pretty face, “Hey.”

Your assistant looks at you with a puzzled look, “You know each other?”

Mingyu nods.

“Yeah, I never forget a pretty face.”

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henrikvanderhussy · 3 months

Text

So I went to Japan and got to stay in a ryokan for a night and definitely did NOT* spend time flailing about how the ryokan in Shadow at the Water's Edge is so accurate

(*lie)

ANYWAY, TIME FOR PICTURES

Apologies for the bad quality/bad framing on some of these. I completely forgot about taking photos until right when we were leaving to catch our train

Our room with tatami mat floors, set up with table for dinner:

LOOK, LOOK IT'S EVEN THE SAME OVERHEAD LIGHT

The table in our room was actually less traditional than the one depicted in SAW. It was raised high enough to accommodate western-style chairs (which I appreciate as someone with knee problems who can't sit cross-legged for long periods of time)

I didn't get a picture with the room changed over for sleep, but the bedding looked identical. And it really does just suddenly appear once it's late enough. The staff come into your room and change it over from dining mode to sleeping mode.

Closets:

The round inset handles!!

Sliding paper doors:

Courtyard garden:

Our ryokan didn't have a bridge, but it's the same stone pillar!

Onsen:

I obviously didn't take any pictures inside the public onsen since it's a bathing area, but it looked a lot like the game! There were even the different colored curtains to designate men's and women's. Thankfully, this ryokan didn't have a secret closed-off haunted onsen, so both were functioning at the same time. Once a day the staff would swap which bath is the women's and which bath is the men's because the two had different water sources and different materials, and they wanted to give everyone an opportunity to experience both.

The room I stayed in had a small private onsen with most of the same features as the public onsen. There's an area to the side where you wash beforehand with a short stool, bucket, and shower head.

The bath itself is covered by a roof structure and has walls around for privacy, but is still very much an outdoor space within the gardens.

And, last but not least, Lobby fish?!?

#clue crew #shadow at the water's edge #nancy drew games #her interactive

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eastbubble · 4 months

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set in the 2000’s ;)

young!09!simon always made sure you had everything you could ever ask for, he never wanted to show it to you how much he was struggling. he could be using his last two pounds up to buy you ice cream that day but he would still pull up in his beat-up car to pick you up from school, bad quality radio blasting as he reached over to the passenger side to open the door for you from inside.

his signature sunglasses that he had been using ever since he graduated from high school always covering his deep brown eyes, proud smile on his lips while wearing that pair of oakleys. they were a size too big on his head but you just giggled and told him he’ll grow into them or whatever.

simon was just one year older than you and he took every chance to flex that he wasn’t in school anymore. he told you every single time he saw you how he was a person who was working two jobs and was earning money for himself and you! but he never told you how he had to help pay the bills at home and that was why one job wasn’t enough. you didn’t have to know.

every friday afternoon he picked you up from school because that was his only free afternoon, and he took you somewhere beautiful. he was begging his friend whose father owned a gas station somewhere two cities away from london to lend him some more fuel and he promised he’ll pay it back as soon as he could. he went to cafes to order the cheapest, plainest tea they had and he sat at the table with the most magazines on it, reading through articles made for middle-aged women about pretty places in this area. he spent hours at a gardening store, staring at the photos on the bags of flower seeds so he could grow the prettest one out for you (because seeds were cheaper than getting an actual boquet..).

he just wanted to show you the beauties of the nature around you. he wanted to show you that everything was alright and he also wanted to show you that he cared. you were his everything, you were worth everything.

and after a long walk in some kind of forest far away, after hours spent staring at the long trees just to finally find and read some kind of faintly painted sign for tourists because you two got lost somewhere, the car seat was always the comfiest bed. it was so inviting, you just sat inside the car and laid your head back against the concrete-hard headrest.

“how ‘bout a shake at maccies on the way back home?” simon asked with a small little grin, but you could only shake your head tiredly, exhaustion running through your body. you tried to collect some of your remaining energy to climb across the center console, turning yourself around and placing one knee between his thighs while your other leg was still on the passenger side. you could already see his smile widening and his eyes shining with the most love you’ve ever seen come from a man. the way he looked at you was really something not even cheesy romance movies could nail to portray.

“wa-wait, sweetheart, hold on-“ he chuckled gently while grabbing you by your waist, making sure you landed safely, right into his lap. “what’s up, baby-“ was all he could utter out before you flashed him the sweetest smile he had ever seen before, and then pushing your lips against his right after that. he was so caught off guard that he even struggled to kiss you back for a few seconds, though he quickly realized what was going on and he began kissing you his favorite way — sucking on your tongue softly.

you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in close as you occasionally broke the kiss to take a few fluttering little breaths and sneak in a few gentle giggles against his sweet lips. in the meanwhile, his palms and fingers were obviously roaming all over your body, mapping it all up for himself like he had done many times before but he could never get bored of tracing and curves. at this point, he could draw your entire body from memory (not like he hadn’t done it before, there were crappy crayon drawings of your pretty frame hung up on his wall).

gentle and warm hands peeled your denim jacket off of you, tossing it aside to who knows where, it couldn’t disappear in this small car anyways. his smile against your lips was huge when his heart swelled with victory, unclasping your bra so easily through your t-shirt — what a talent to have, ladies and gentlemen!

your fingers worked on unbuttoning the buttons under the collar of his striped shirt? you ran your fingertips along the little man riding a horse right above his heart, ralph lauren my ass.. did he read this in some kind of style magazine at the cafe once again? this silly guy. a chuckle left your mouth once again when you realized how much he was actually doing for you, your fingers instinctively leaving the buttons alone and then quickly moving down to the zipper of his jeans, unzipping it while hitting him with a smile that made him feel all dizzy in the head!

setting you free from your shorts, he leaned away for a second, reaching into the glove compartment on the left side of the car, fishing out a box of condoms. he was relieved when he found them there, where else would they be anyways? soft laughs escaped the tight prison of his mouth when he took one out and held it between his index and middle finger, reading the date faintly printed on it — “it’s expired..” he chuckled.

“i don’t care-“

“hm?”

“i said i don’t care, idiot.” you giggled while pulling him in for another kiss, seeing him toss the entire box aside, probably catching him incredibly off guard with your little sentence but his muscles still reacted immediately.

and just one or two minutes later you were already bouncing on his hard cock, lips always connected, if not by tangled tongues then by a thick string of saliva. how nasty! when he realized your thighs were getting sore from moving up and down all the time, he helped you, grabbing your hand that was slipping down from his neck and interwining your fingers with his bigger ones. he bucked his hips up from under you, hoping that it felt good for you.

“fuuuck..” he mumbled under his breath, that cheeky grin never leaving his lips, no matter how much he was melting away at your touch. “so good f’ me-“

and you drank all of his praises up, feeling his veiny length twitch inside of you as he was probably using all of his willpower trying to keep himself from cumming right into you that instant. his head was hitting your cervix when you sat down right on his entire cock, gently moving and swirling your hips while still keeping himself fully inside of your sweet little cunt. you once read on some kind of forum that you should try spelling out ‘coconut’ like this and even though you never really thought it would work too much, you decided to give it a try, moving your body in the shape of the circle-like letters.

he was whining, whimpering even when you were only done with the first two letters of the word, making you giggle so much upon hearing the deep breaths he took and the powerful sighs he let out. “w-what are you doing baby, feels so- so.. good-“ he mumbled out somehow.

“shh.. coconut-“ you whispered, unable to conceal your cheeky little grin.

“what..?” he laughed gently between two moans, his hips bucking upwards desperately as he was probably so damn overstimulated already, the tip of his cock continously kissing your womb. it was too much for him, his brain going foggy and stupid when you resumed your primitive little bouncing on his thick dick, his hands stuttering and clawing at your tight little butt to take handfuls of your soft fat, trying to grab as much as he could. “f-fuck, baby, i think i’ll-“

“si..” you giggled softly. goofy sex every friday afternoon. forgetting about all that debt he had piled up, forgetting about your assignments due monday and forgetting about the windows so obviously fogging up.

it was routine every week until he enlisted.

#call of duty #cod #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost cod #ghost smut #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley #cod mw x reader #cod mw2 #ghost mw2 #ghost #09 ghost

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zillifurniture · 1 year

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Unveiling Opulence: Mont Noir Cal King Bed by Zilli Furniture

Experience lavish comfort and style with the Mont Noir California King Bed from Zilli Furniture. Upgrade your bedroom to a realm of luxury.

#modern furniture #Mont Noir Cal King Bed #Zilli Furniture #California King Bed #Luxury Bedroom Furniture #Opulent Design #Bedroom Elegance #Contemporary Bed #High-Quality Bed Frame #Stylish Bedroom #Comfortable Bed #Alf Italia

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mellowwillowy · 11 months

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I NEED TO TELL A YANDERE BLOG ABOUT THIS NSFW HEADCANON I HAVE-

Imagine a yandere that bought one of those super high quality sex dolls and dresses it up as you with stolen clothes and puts a wig on to match your hair color, etc, used it constantly calling out your name, etc

Also imagine you finDING IT- oml

- ☀️anon

☀️ nonnie you beeg brained :D

ᴡʜᴏꜱᴇ ʟɪꜰᴇ-ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴅᴏʟʟ? (ɢɴ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

♥ warnings — general yandere warnings, reader is a dom? and yan is a subby... doll and yan wears lingerie, degradations toward yan, sub-dom, worship - Master play, slapping and mention of sounding.

—𝒀𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒐𝒃𝒆𝒓 - 𝑳𝑰𝒇𝑬 𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒋𝒆𝒄𝒕 𝑬𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕, ʙʟᴜᴇ

By just dressing this silicone doll in the correct wig, outfits, and makeup and dousing it with perfume, he gets to practice all his fantasies on it. It almost looks like you now, especially with how accurately it's dressed since it is indeed your clothes that he stole. He does enjoy dressing it up with the type of outfits you wouldn't usually wear.

All is great but not the best.

Why? It's not you after all. It's just some silly expensive doll that is dressed to look like you to satiate his needs. Nonetheless, what's better than 0? 1. And that is this doll, a 1/100.

It's mostly used for menial stuffs such as a morning bed buddy, a company for breakfast and a company for when he's sat in front of the computer for a long time, alone.

But when night falls?

"Fuck–, be good." He grunts as he slams his cock into the doll, mindlessly calling out your name like some sort of prayer, eyes rolling to the back of his head. The doll is totally abused by him every night, dressed in countless themed outfits.

"Yeah, yeah, gonna cum, gonna paint you white from the inside fuck-!"

His pace grows erratic, breath raggier and tongue lolling out like a dog. He's already on cloud nine over a doll, what will it be if he's fucking the real deal instead?

"Ah- fuck, gonna cum-!"

The sound of beeping suddenly rings, cutting his panting in half as his eyes are trained toward the door.

Beep. Clack.

"Hey Blue, brought ya' the goods.... s...?"

Your eyes go up and down. Him, naked with a doll beneath him, his cock buried inside the doll, shielding your eyes from it. Hand tugging on the wig of your hairstyle and the clothes you thought you had somehow lost lying on the floor, not to mention the whole room smells like you!

"Uhh... am I supposed to... knock or ring the doorbell from now on?" You motion toward the door as you try to avert your gaze toward somewhere else. Ah yes, the framed photo of you two looks good on the cabinet.

"Wa-wait, wait, don't, I mean, stay! I mean, go-! Arghh..." Blue stutters as he pulls out, his hardened cock now on display for you to see. So he is a grower...?

"Listen, I mean, fuck, look anywhere but me!" Blush creeps into his face as he wraps the blanket around his waist, striding toward you in panic.

"I got ya' the lemonade and uh..." You fail. Your eyes are just a pair of curious souls, looking at how his bulge is seen poking through the blanket.

"... shitfuck. Never knew ya' a grower"

"This is no time for joke..."

"You want the awkwardness to die down or nah pal?"

Blue stays silent for a moment before crouching down in annoyance. He should have just chainlocked the damn door today!

"Been wondering why I've been missing some of my clothes and undies, ya' into stealing or just broke?"

His cock is supposed to be limp by now but it's not. It's twitching from your last words. What has gotten into his head?

"And that lingerie? Oo... never knew yer' a kinky one." Your foot nudges his shin before his bulging cock, giving it a rub. Blue shudders from the contact, falling backward on the butt while the blanket slips from his waist, revealing his aching cock that is leaking precum.

"Fucking masochistic aren't ya?"

You straddle him as you place the plastic bag down onto the floor, knee pressed against his bulge while your tongue licks his sweat from his face, hand slowly taking the glasses off his face, is this prescribed spectacle?

"My pretty boy."

You walk toward the bed and sit on it, your eyes trained on the naked doll, it looks almost like you, thumbs up for him for sure. You beckon him closer with your finger, and so he does.

"Would love to see you dressed in lingerie instead, come on, do a favor for me yeah doll?"

Blue gulps as he nods, slowly undressing the doll before wearing it himself, the size doesn't really fit him but it's manageable. His cock twitches every now and then as you watch his figure.

"Lovely, isn't it?"

"U-unh..."

"Did you pick this lingerie while thinking how it'll look like if it's wrapped around my body? How the color will suit me... how easy the access would be for you to just..." You sandwich his cock with your feet, rubbing it up and down, "feel me like I'm doing to you right now?"

Blue shakes as he moans out, his knees slowly turning into jellies. He needs you, to feel you all over. And so he pleads, "Please..."

You raise your eyebrows, "Please what?"

"Please... do me... yeah?"

You smack his cock with your foot, "Is that how you are supposed to talk to your Master?"

Blue gulps before kneeling down, his lip moving to your foot pressing kisses on it while occasionally licking it, "Please, Master." You try your best to bite your excitement back, eyes swirling in lust as you focus on the lovesick mutt in front of you. You'll collar him later but for now, he is your doll, yours to toy with just like how he's been toying with this doll.

"Come," You pat your thigh, "Let me feel that cheek of yours."

Blue nods and brings his face closer to yours, you can feel his breath fanning you. Your finger pokes his cheek before it turns into a palm that feels his cheek, hard. You slap him.

"Be good, else I'll fucking squeeze a pipe down your cock."

Blue shivers from the idea of sounding. That would totally feel so good, right? His cock starts leaking even more pre-cum, spoiling your thigh with the white liquid.

"Fucking mutt in heat. Why not rut yourself with my thighs?"

It only takes that for Blue to raise your legs by the ankles, his cock in between your thighs as he ruts himself in and out, panting like a dog in heat. You pinch him in response to his action, too bad you couldn't reach his nipple.

"Fucking slut." You rip the lacy lingerie as you claw him, nails digging into his hips, "Gonna fucking chew your cock off later until it's minced."

Blue's cock twitches again from your words, pace even more erratic now. "Please do so!" He is close, you can see it. But he knows better than to come before you allow him to first. "Please, please, please, lemme cum? Need one out so bad, hurts so much."

"Ah? Do I look like I care?" You scowl at him for pulling one of your legs away from him, kicking him by his shoulder, "Fucking mutt, go hold that until your balls are as good as blue and I wouldn't even care."

Blue whimpers at your words but his excitement only grows even more, it only pushes him even further from his limit.

"Please, please, please I beg you. Please..." He begs as he rubs his face against your foot, peppering it with kisses and licks, "Please let me come, just one word I'm all done, please..."

You sneer at him before kicking his face lightly, "Give me a twirl."

He twirls. "Show me how needy your cock is." He shows it to you, lifting the veil for a clearer view. "A striptease for me." He strips, eyes never leaving yours until you suddenly jerk him off, "Good boy... come on." You rub him even faster, his hip bucking toward you for a better angle, "Come, my pretty doll."

Rope of cum soils your feet not afterward, your name rings in the room as he pants, trying to grasp reality after how cum-dazed he was. You rub your spoiled feet against his pelvis, soiling it with his cum as well.

"Come," You open your arms wide for him to dive his face into your neck. You kiss his ear as you caress his hair, muttering praises at him.

"Wanna try the real deal now?"

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silkscream · 9 months

Text

CHAPTER 1: I'LL BE YOUR PLASTIC TOY

ੈ✩ gojo satoru x reader, geto suguru x reader

Satoru Gojo was a lot of things, but he would never be yours. Sleeping with him in his bed as a child didn’t grant you that kind of closeness anymore. Within these halls, you walk past each other like strangers.

ੈ✩ chapter cw/tags: angst, suggestiveness, making out, light bullying

ੈ✩ wc: 5.5k

ੈ✩ a/n: i am here to ruin everyone's lives. apologies in advance

playlist ✸ read on ao3 ✸ series masterlist

March, 2008

“Hey, Twigs. Wanna see something cool?”

His honeyed voice chills your spine, his breath warm right by your ear. You roll your eyes as you turn to face Satoru, grinning with all his teeth as he tugs at your wrist.

“What is it, Satoru?” you sigh.

“You have to follow meee,” he sings, pulling you away from the table you’re setting and towards the side of the porch. It’s secluded. Private. “Bring the spoon.”

With furrowed brows, you oblige. It isn’t like you have a choice. You had followed him around like a puppy ever since you’d met him as a child. You continue to, regardless of your determination to separate yourself from him.

His favorite shadow. His little pet.

The two of you aren’t as close as you were when you were children, but it’s still impossible to refuse him when he has a request. You blame it on your mother and her professionalism. You figure you had inherited it from her. That hyper-politeness. You find that you blame the ocean blue of his eyes more often. Always sparkling.

He walks a few feet away from you, still grinning. You blink at his tall figure. He's currently dressed in a baby blue dress shirt (sleeves rolled up, of course) and black slacks. His Sunday best for the fancy brunch at the Gojo Estate. Every April, your mother summons you to help set up, then rewards you with a plate and time to play with the other kids. She would continue her work, serving the family and their guests. You would pretend that you weren’t part of the staff.

There hadn’t been a point in you staying for the afternoon in years. Only if Satoru begged you to, and even then, he hadn’t bothered to do so since junior high.

“You’re going to get me in trouble,” you huff, crossing your arms. You wipe your sweaty hands on your smock.

“I’d never let you get in trouble, you know that,” he smirks. “Now, throw the spoon at me.”

“What?”

“Just do it.”

“I want to throw way more than a spoon at you right now.”

“Relax, Twigs. Do this for me. Please?” he pouts. You can see his bright blue eyes peeking out of his black sunglasses, framed by snow-white lashes. It was unfair how pretty he was. How easily he could persuade you.

Sighing, you throw the spoon in his direction. It stops right in front of his face as if there’s an invisible wall. He laughs in victory when he sees your confused expression.

“What was that?”

“My Infinity. I’ve perfected it so that it’s automatic. Took me a lot of willpower before but now it’s as easy as breathing.”

“Congratulations,” you reply dryly.

It was typical of Satoru to be invincible. Untouchable. It had been a quality of his since birth, now manifested into a literal power to aid him against threats. You’d been on the outskirts of such threats when you were younger, but Satoru would always spare you the details.

Watching him grow in his adolescence had been like watching a sprout bloom. It shot toward the sky exponentially until it became a tree in record time. You, meanwhile, were still a sprout. A window, they’d called it. Able to see the horrors produced by human nature but unable to do anything about it.

Your head snaps up, alert when you hear your mother yelling your name from the porch. She points a hard gaze at you, then softens it when she sees Satoru.

“Satoru-kun, do you mind if I steal her for a minute? I need some extra hands for the tamagoyaki.”

Satoru nods, expressing his courtesy to your mother in his usual charming poise. It used to work on you before, but it often irks you now. The way he dazzles people to get what he wants. You would rather die than admit it was a characteristic of his that you envied.

He tugs at your braid before you walk away.

“See you later, Twigs,” he calls after you. A playful lilt to his voice.

“You won’t.”

Satoru has you memorized. Since the two of you were five years old, he considered you his mirror image, though you never believed him.

Often, when he sees you now, his heart leaps the tiniest bit in his chest the same way it did when he was thirteen. He’s gotten better at ignoring it. He’s perfected the art of ignoring you ever since high school started.

He likes to indulge during times when you’re not looking. At the moment, you’re concentrated on a flower arrangement, a blush painted on your cheeks from the heat. He’d watch you do this when you were kids, too. Your face would be in a concentrated frown, tongue peeking out. Nimble fingers perfecting an ikebana arrangement.

Sometimes he missed it. He decided long ago that it would be better if he didn’t.

You two had been inseparable since the day the Gojos' hired your mother as a maid. He remembered you hiding behind your mother’s legs, chewing on the end of one of your braids. You would stay in the guest house of the Gojo estate with your mother, and you would become Satoru’s best companion.

Both of your mothers would arrange playdates. Satoru’s mother wanted him out of her hair. Your mother wanted to work without your constant interruptions. You were needy, an only child, but Satoru would always please you with his company. It was why you adored him.

He’d show you all his toys and teach you all the games that his extended family would show him to make you feel included. He’d have you sleep in his bed, which would go under the radar until the two of you were fourteen. It would be innocent and wholesome. Satoru would show you the stars he’d learned about and you would look at him as if he’d hung them in the sky himself.

Satoru often reminisces about the shape of your body to this day. Sometimes, he misses it when he’s alone in his king-sized bed in the winter. Even with the heat on, there’s still something missing, and then he thinks of you.

When you were kids, you’d sleep together, legs and arms intertwined. Drool on the same pillow. Wake up to an abundance of pancakes from your mother.

You had been half a friend, half a plaything. Satoru’s counterpart. Feet kicking each other under the breakfast table.

At age five, you’d seen the same curse together. A harmless thing, chameleon-like, with eight legs on each side. It had a nasty face, one that you had recognized from your nightmares. It had been exciting at first, knowing that you shared the same ability as your best friend. You believed that you would grow with him and become as talented as him.

But that was an exaggeration. Satoru's parents knew how isolating it would be for their son to be the strongest. Your technique never came.

Satoru acted as your protector, then. Expelled the small, vicious curses in the corners of your room like they were bugs. You’d watch him train, his body overgrowing with knobby knees as you sat on the sidelines. And while you grew up with him, you only got smaller in his periphery. Always lesser. Always weaker.

It’s the reason you’d grown apart. At least that’s what he tells himself.

Satoru had grown into a tall, arrogant child. He treated school as a hobby and still made the highest marks, which angered you to no end. It didn’t matter to him, anyway, knowing that he’d become a company's CEO or the best jujutsu sorcerer in the world. He had his future in the palm of his hands. You were not a part of that. You weren’t even sure of a future of your own.

Sometimes he would have nightmares of you dying in his arms at the hands of a curse too big for him to control. During adolescence, he experienced many threats to his safety. He knew he couldn't live with himself. He couldn’t bear to see you endure the same.

So, without explanation, Satoru Gojo pretended you didn’t exist. He exchanged the necessary niceties in school and when you'd come over with your mother, though he'd never ask you to stay the same way he had when you were kids. He was often occupied with new friends, anyway. Often busy working on his technique. Nothing that was your business, of course.

You resented him for it.

Now, you’re enduring your last year of high school with him, and you are trying so badly to be good. You should aim to make good enough marks to attend a decent university on a decent scholarship. God knows you aren’t fit for the world of jujutsu sorcery.

In a way, you’re okay with the mundanity of your life. Satoru’s absence in your heart convinced you of that.

Satoru’s attendance at school is only an illusion of normalcy for his parents. His mother insists on it. Barely a sorcerer herself, she had wanted to give her son the option of living a normal life. With his grades and wit, she knew that he could easily be successful as a businessman or a doctor.

Despite this, Satoru knew he would enroll in Tokyo’s Jujutsu Technical College with Suguru. He had met Suguru when he was fifteen, trying to exorcise a curse that only got snatched by a dark-haired thief, one who would end up as his best friend.

Satoru saw Suguru as his only equal. He had no one else to relate to about jujutsu sorcery.

Certainly not you.

But still, he was closing another year of high school, his last. Then he could be free from his parents’ restraints. It was easy for him to be the best and make the most friends. It was a shame that he’d have to leave them all behind.

You’re a ghost in Satoru’s wake. Always near, never faltering yet never consuming too much space. As the school year progresses, he ignores you like a mosquito bite. Harmless but still itching his skin. Always reminded of your presence even when you do nothing to draw attention to yourself.

And then there are times that you do.

“I’m sorry, sensei,” you mumble, stunned in the doorway of the classroom.

It’s a nondescript weekday in May, one that’s wet with rain, which explains your damp hair and clothes. Your appearance conjures a succession of snickers. The sound of low laughter taunting you and whispers gossiping about you.

You’re too tired for it. You don’t want to be here at all.

“I’m disappointed,” your teacher relays. “You’re usually never tardy.”

“It won’t happen again,” you muster.

You hear more whispers. It hangs on your shoulders as you sit in your seat, still and heavy as you attempt to take notes.

Should’ve worn something more sheer, than she’d get the attention she wants, huh?

Nah, not like her tits are even good enough to be seen like that.

Bet she’s hiding something from all of us. Maybe we can get her to strip in the girls’ locker room and give us a show later.

“Shut the fuck up,” a voice growls. You hear it, turning your head, and your eyes fall on Satoru’s fiery blues.

You wonder if the feeling of his gaze searing into the back of your head is worth mentioning. It makes your face hotter, the flush of humiliation warming your neck as your peers snicker at you.

You manage to get through class without crying. Haru, a boy you were closer with in previous years, offers his sweatshirt to you as you collect your things.

“She’s good,” Satoru interrupts as you strip off your damp sweater. Within seconds, he has you under his arm. He ushers you out the classroom door. His oversized jacket drapes over your shoulders.

“Gojo,” you hiss. “He was just being nice.”

“Or he wanted to see you in a wet t-shirt. I don’t think white was the best move for today, by the way.”

Your face heats up when you look down. You realize the extent of skin that’s visible from the sheerness of your damp white shirt. It mortifies you more when you realize that Satoru had caught it first.

“Right. Thanks,” you mumble, hiking up your bookbag tighter on your shoulder.

“So helpless sometimes,” Satoru sighs. He shoots you a devilish smile that combats your scowling frown. “Why don’t you call me by my first name here?”

“Because we’re in school and it’s polite.”

"Twigs, are you scared of being associated with me?"

He blocks the door of your locker, leaning against it and towering over you. Satoru had always taken up as much space as possible without a care in the world. You were the opposite -– always compartmentalizing yourself to be smaller. Malleable. Amicable.

He’s too close for comfort, nearly breathing down your neck. He only moves when you kick him pathetically in the shin.

Satoru’s smile only grows bigger as you ignore him. He wonders if he could get your fuse to blow in front of him right now. This place is usually where you’re composed, regal, and expedient. One of the school’s top students.

He knew you had an edge to you, wild as you were when he had known you as a child. But you had only grown to be responsible and sensible. He thinks that his mother would be relieved if he acted more like you.

“Coming home with me or what?” Satoru quips. The way he says it makes your stomach stir. It's an almost salacious suggestion despite its innocence. Satoru always made everything sound more exciting than it was.

“Why would I?” you raise a brow.

“My mother would like to see you. She told me she had some hand-me-downs for you to try on." You know I’d love nothing more than to see you parade around my house dressed like my mother in the 70s.” He grins in amusement.

“Okay, sure, whatever.”

“Yo, Satoru!”

His head whips around to see one of his buddies, crowded around other jocks. Satoru is quick to leave you without so much as a goodbye.

July, 2008

After your semester, you end up second to Satoru. It’s no surprise to you despite how much it infuriates you. You are never anything more or less.

"Congratulations, Twigs," Satoru murmurs to you. He startles you from your thoughts. You slam your locker closed.

“Why are you still calling me that?”

“Because you’re my Twigs,” he pouts.

Yours. It’s a funny lie. Satoru Gojo was a lot of things, but he would never be yours. Sleeping with him in his bed as a child didn’t grant you that kind of closeness anymore. Within these halls, you walk past each other like strangers.

He pouts childishly like he always does. There’s a devilish spark in his blue eyes underneath his sunglasses, though you can barely make out his irises from his height. Satoru’s growth spurt had him at over six feet tall by the time he was sixteen. It was obvious that he’d only grow taller.

You scoff, rolling your eyes at the nickname. If you were in middle school again, the notion would warm your heart. It had been a stupid nickname he’d tease you with ever since you were both ten. You had been angry at him for reasons that escaped you, climbing up the tree in the backyard of his estate as high as you could until he begged you to come down.

You wouldn’t, of course. You were always stubborn like that, and Satoru loved it.

You were also much clumsier when you were ten, slipping your foot as you attempted to climb a different branch and falling into Satoru’s arms. It had been a miracle you didn’t break any bones, but thanks to Satoru’s freakish strength, you were unharmed. Only disheveled with leaves and twigs stuck in your frizzy hair. He had called you Twigs ever since.

“I’m not your anything. Even if my mother is still your fucking maid.”

“Aren’t you my maid, too? My little servant?” he teases.

You wonder if he knows how cruel it is, even if it’s a little joke.

“I’m nothing to you,” you mumble. You attempt to hold a faster stride on your walk home. Maybe you’d advance enough to leave him in the dust. You could be the best runner on the track team if you managed that.

But you wouldn’t. You wouldn’t leave him, couldn’t. Not a chance.

“What was that?” Satoru calls after you.

“Nothing!”

“Slow down,” he whines, running fast enough to follow your stride, much to your annoyance. Him and his stupid, long legs. His taunting smile. “Don’t you wanna come over?”

“Why would I?”

“Your mom’s probably there. And we can celebrate the end of exams.”

“I have… stuff to do,” you stammer.

“No, you don’t,” Satoru chuckles. “The semester’s over. Summer’s here, baby.”

“Don’t call me that!”

He laughs again, the sound twinkling in your ears like a beloved song. It makes your cheeks warm. You don’t want him to see it.

Yet, he wraps his arms around you, chin nestled to your collarbone as if you were joined together. In a blink, the two of you are in his kitchen, with whiplash only an after-effect. You still hadn’t gotten used to his ability to warp.

“I hate when you do that.”

“You like it, I know you do,” Satoru taunts. “It excites you. I can tell because your cheeks get all flushed.”

“They do not!”

“Sure, they don’t, Twigs.”

“You’re annoying,” you huff, dropping your school bag on a chair.

Satoru greets your mother with a kiss on the cheek as you follow behind him. She has tea prepared in the sitting room for you and him, along with dorayaki and matcha Swiss rolls.

“Your mom’s the fucking best,” he muses as he gobbles down a third roll. You watch him in feigned disgust. Sipping your tea, you mumble something unintelligible in agreement.

“What, you aren’t hungry?”

“No.”

“Try this.”

“I have. She’s my mom.”

“C’mon, Twigs, open up.”

Satoru leans over the table with a Swiss roll between his fingers, waving it in front of your face. There’s no point in protesting -– he’d probably knock something over from his eagerness to annoy you. You part your lips to take a bite, and at the same time, he shoves it into your mouth.

“Satoru!” you groan.

“Stay still.”

You swallow your bite and he wipes his fingertips on the corner of your mouth. He’s close enough to feel your breath on his face, licking up the frosting on his thumb nonchalantly. He chuckles at the flustered look painting your face into a scowl.

“I’m done. I’m going to do the dishes.”

You excuse yourself to retreat to the kitchen before you can so much as make eye contact with Satoru again. He has to be teasing you with his small touches. It’s something he would’ve done when you were twelve, yet the notion now would be different.

The two of you were in completely different social spheres. He had separated himself from you years prior. It would be a rare sight for him to be so touchy with you in public, acting as if you were like him.

Someone who had a big kitchen. Someone who didn’t have to think about expenses.

It’s a miracle that he leaves you alone as you clean the kitchen, washing dishes to keep your mind occupied. After you’re done, you decide to cut up a bowl of strawberries. You knew they were Satoru’s favorite. Knowing him, he’d still crave something sweet after demolishing all the desserts.

You nick yourself. A careless act — you aren’t paying attention, mistaking the sharp side of the knife for the dull one. It slices the inside of your thumb. Cursing under your breath, you hover your hand over the wound. You heal it within milliseconds without so much as a second thought.

This is when Satoru kicks at something. The wall or a potted plant, you don’t know. But it’s a plea for attention and it brings your focus to him, your head snapping up to meet his gaze and his childish pout.

“I saw that,” he says, lowly.

You freeze under his scrutiny. You don’t say anything.

“So you’ve been lying to me.” It’s a seething accusation instead of a question.

He gets so close to you without you even noticing. He towers over you again, swallowed by the whole of his shadow, and his betrayed frown is petulant like a child’s.

“Satoru—”

“You said you didn’t have a cursed technique.”

“I—I didn’t. Not until later—”

“When?”

Your eyes are wide as you look up at him, hands trembling. He takes a step forward, taking up more space. It reminds you of your worth. The mere fact of him belittles you in that way.

“When I was thirteen. My kitten, Aki. The stray. You remember him, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“He got hit by a car one day, and I couldn’t stop sobbing. And I was holding him in my hands all bloody. And then, I brought him back to life. It just happened.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

You search Satoru’s face. There’s a bit of betrayal in it, mostly surprise. It boils your blood in the slightest bit — because why is it so shocking that you ended up with a cursed technique? You may have hidden it from him for a few years, but was it something so unimagined for you?

You assumed that you would always be a plaything in Satoru’s eyes. Something so easy, so useless.

“It wasn’t enough,” you exasperate.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“It doesn’t matter. None of it does, Satoru. It’s so—”

Insignificant. Small compared to you.

He waits, swallowing the lump in his throat. Eyes flaring like comets.

“It doesn’t matter,” you repeat. “I don’t even want to be a sorcerer, and even if I wanted to be, I could never keep up with you. I don’t see the point in pursuing this if I’m better off just studying at a normal university—”

“Are you fucking kidding me? Your technique is amazing. It’s like Shoko’s! You could’ve —”

“Satoru,” you emphasize. Your tone shuts him up, your hardened gaze, the lightning in your eyes bright and sharp. Menacing, even. You can sense the sound of him swallowing, a lump lodged in his throat loud enough for you to hear.

White lashes flutter. A frown is still displayed on his face. It’s now that he notices the slight bags under your eyes. Evidence of burden, of nights spent awake under the unforgiving moonlight.

You look at him in a way that feels damning — like you’re coaxing something from him. He knows better — knows that his anger is misplaced, that you’re right.

You having a healing technique is nothing compared to him. Even then, he knows that you probably aren’t interested in combat or the world of jujutsu sorcery in general. It doesn’t affect him so negatively. So what is he so angry about?

The question is in your eyes, pleading. He already knows the answer despite not admitting it to himself. He knows that the prospect of you having a cursed technique doesn’t mean you’re stronger than him. He assumes you wouldn’t surpass him, and wouldn’t think you to be someone who would even think about it.

Satoru knows he’s angry because he feels very close to you. He had at least thought he was close enough with you to know about your cursed technique. It was finding out that you were hiding it from him that made him angry. Learning that you had it manifest in front of you and didn’t bother to fucking tell him about it.

He can’t voice any of these frustrations. He knows you’d yell at him, and criticize him for thinking he’s entitled to you. It’s inappropriate and unfair, but in his younger years, he often felt that he was entitled to you. He’d known you since you were so very little, so vulnerable. He had protected you from all those curses, hadn’t he? He held you in his arms in his bed for years. That had to have meant something to you. It certainly meant something to him.

“Sorry. I just wish you told me earlier,” he says softly.

You apologize. Meek beneath him, eyes avoiding him.

“I know,” you sigh. “I have to go. I’ll see you later, Satoru.”

You don’t see him for a week and a half. It should be typical to you. It’s not like him to reach out or go out of his way to see you. He’d always been like that, giving you no expectations. And yet, his radio silence had crawled under your skin.

It’s stupid to expect him, anyway. There’s no reason for him to show up at yours, much more of a reason for you to show up at his, but you don’t need to. Your mother does that for her job and it has nothing to do with you.

There’s a Tuesday that’s so quiet, so plain that even the rain falters after two hours to only grant the town wet pavement. You’re curled up with a book in your living room when you hear a succession of knocks on your door. An erratic rhythm, the same as the special knock you would use with Satoru.

It’s him, of course. He smirks at you, an oversized t-shirt loose off of his lanky figure. You try not to fixate on the sweat of his exposed collarbone. You look him straight in the eyes through his pitch-black sunglasses.

He has a large bouquet in his hands. He grins at you. For the first time in a little while, you feel brave.

“Confessing your love to me this afternoon, are you?” you pester, a brow raised.

Something like that, Satoru thinks.

“You wish.”

He walks past you, brushing your shoulders much to your annoyance. He sets the bouquet on your kitchen table in its little jar, peonies drooping despite how hard he tries to fix them.

“It’s from my mom to yours. As a thank you and a birthday wish and stuff.”

“Thanks,” you murmur. “That’s very sweet of her.”

He hums in agreement, rocking his heels back and forth as his eyes roam your house. It isn’t his first time here, but he acts the part, hands buried in his pockets as he observes you like a wild animal.

“Will that be all?”

“Dunno,” Satoru shrugs. “What were you up to before I showed up?”

You shrug, too, attempting to mirror his nonchalance. You had long ago buried your paperback in a drawer, promising to return to it by the time Satoru left. But still, he lingers, in front of you, taking up unnecessary space in your childhood home. Too tall and too pretty.

“Just cleaning my room,” you lie.

“Can I see it?”

“Why?”

“Been a while,” he shrugs. “I’m just curious.”

“Well, it’s a mess right now. I didn’t get very far.”

“Like I care,” Satoru chuckles.

He stares at you for a bit, heartbeats passing the time in your head. Fuck, he’s serious. He’s already leaning towards the staircase.

“Okay.”

You’re hyper-aware of him behind you, eyes exploring the length of your body. If you had known that he would show up unannounced, you would’ve changed into one of your long dresses or a pair of jeans. At the moment, you feel too bare in your tank top and corduroy shorts. You feel like a child outgrown.

Satoru takes up as much space as usual, long limbs splayed over your tiny twin bed. You don’t permit him to sit on your bed, but he does it anyway. He looks at the pictures on your wall, takes in the sweet smell of your sheets. It’s similar to your clothes, your flesh. Your hair. He’d live in it if he could.

“How cute.” He gestures to a cat plushie by the head of your bed.

“Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not!” Satoru laughs. “It is cute. It’s so you.”

A certain fervor blossoms in your gut at that. The image of him stretched out on your little bed. Despite your closeness with him when you were younger, he had never spent much time at your house. It took you a few years to understand why.

“You should invite me over more often.”

“I don’t invite you over ever.”

“Well, you could start.”

“Why?” You stand by the wall, shifting your weight towards it as you lean backward. You cross your arms in defense, even though he hasn’t said anything to provoke you yet.

“It’s comfy here. I like it.”

“Thanks?”

He sings your name, beckoning you to him. You take three steps at most, holding your breath. Standing in front of his knees.

“Come sit, Twigs.”

“Told you not to call me that,” you breathe.

“Don’t care,” he grins.

He reaches out to you, pulling you between his knees with a hand on your waist. He smirks at the sound of your gasp as he tugs at your wrist.

“In my lap. C’mere.”

It’s difficult to refuse Satoru Gojo. His eyes drink you in, ocean blues glimmering and reflecting the afternoon sunlight. You’re still between his thighs. He tugs you without much effort, making you stumble into him. Your hands hold onto his shoulders as you settle into his lap. He holds the small of your back as you straddle him.

“Wanna try something.”

You say nothing. Your eyes flutter closed when you feel his fingertips grazing your jaw.

There’s a softness against your mouth. You don’t dare open your eyes.

You sense a sharp inhale behind the lips that kiss you, but they stay. Wetting between your mouth with the slight of a tongue. Tasting sweet like honeysuckle.

You whine, opening your mouth a bit more. You swallow down divinity. It's misguided affection that you had wished for when you were so much smaller. It might mean something bigger to you now if you thought about it for longer. You don’t want to. You refuse to.

But Satoru kisses you hard, excited and eager. His tongue peeks into your mouth and you taste strawberries. Lips soft and supple and melting against yours.

He groans, fisting your hair in his hand as he deepens the kiss, falling more and more into you. He smiles against your mouth as he coaxes a small sound out of you. It crawls out of your throat for him to taste with satisfaction. He’s always dreamed of you in his lap, but he could never tell you that.

You’re breathless, weak, and melting into him as he wraps his arms around you. Caging you in so that you can’t escape. So fucking warm in his embrace.

It takes a second for you to notice the hardness growing underneath you. It prods your center as you mindlessly grind into Satoru’s lap. When you realize, you squeak in embarrassment, and he clutches you harder.

You sigh into each other, eating the other up. Heat surges through you, from your forehead down to your core, to your weak, sensitive legs. Hot from the feeling of him in your mouth. Hot from the proximity of your core to his.

You pull away, exhaling unevenly as you try to catch your breath. You’re shy under his gaze, unwrapping yourself and covering your body as if you’re naked.

“What is it?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re so cute,” he chuckles. “Acting like that was your first kiss.”

“What if it was?”

He raises a brow as you look away with flushed cheeks. You’re still on his lap and he takes the opportunity to remind you of this, shifting you in his lap and causing friction. Your eyes are wide as you quickly attempt to untangle your limbs with his.

“That was your first kiss?”

“Yeah.”

You roll your eyes at the sight of his leering smile. God, you knew this would happen. Satoru would never let you live it down.

“I’m going to kick you out—”

“No.”

He grasps your wrist in his hand. It’s small compared to his palm, engulfing you. His other hand grips your hip firmly but softly. He only moves it to cup your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin.

“How was it? Tell me.”

“Good,” you breathe. “Felt good.”

For the first time in a long time, he looks at you like you have invented something new. There’s a bit of astonishment. Wonder and admiration. Maybe you were getting ahead of yourself. You were easily deluding yourself with the expression of his sapphire blue eyes.

“Felt good for me, too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Why did you do that?” you ask, giggling nervously.

“Just wanted to.”

“I want you to kiss me again,” you whisper.

“I want to do more than that,” Satoru mumbles. But he knows better. It’s the best decision for him to get you off his lap right now before he loses composure.

You both hear the sound of your front door opening as if it’s timed -- your mother.

“I’ll kiss you later, okay?” Satoru murmurs.

“You will?”

“My parents will be gone this weekend. To Okinawa. You should come over on Saturday.”

“Okay. I will.”

#gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #juijutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x you

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