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cuntyji · 3 months ago

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HOW TO LOOSE YOUR DIGNITY IN FIVE SECONDS: A HOLI SPECIAL ౨ৎ JJK MEN HEADCANONS

synopsis: holi, the festival of colors, love, and inevitable regrets, has finally arrived. you’ve been waiting all year for this, but the real highlight of the day? your boyfriend’s first holi. whether he’s excited or absolutely dreading it, well… that depends on which one you’re talking about.

content warnings: gender neutral reader, jjk men headcannons (gojo, nanami, geto, toji, shiu, choso, no sukuna this time rip). mentions of hemp. lots of crack, based on many true stories <3

author's note: tell a friend she's back!! thank u for being patient with my break. happy holi if you celebrate, stay safe and have fun :)

gojo’s white hair is a warzone. not a single strand has been spared from the riot of colors that have taken him hostage. you can practically map out the battlefield on his head—electric blue from nobara’s ambush, a blotchy green courtesy of megumi’s grudge, streaks of pink and yellow from random kids who saw an opportunity, and, of course, the deep purple near his roots that is just part of him. his blindfold was a victim early on, ripped away in the opening skirmish, which left his poor six eyes to fend for themselves.

but does he regret it? absolutely not.

“this is the best holiday ever,” he announces, lying on the ground, looking like a pack of expired skittles. he’s positively beaming, grinning wide enough to blind anyone who still has uncolored vision left. “i am beauty. i am art. i am suffering.”

he sits up, running a hand through his hair, then pauses when some of the color transfers onto his palm. his grin falters for half a second before he recovers with a nervous chuckle. “this’ll come out, right? right?”

you don’t have the heart to tell him that some of these colors might have permanently altered his hair. it’ll be fun when he washes it and realizes his shampoo is an accomplice in ruining his life.

nanami thought he was prepared. in his mind, he had planned the ultimate holi defense strategy. crisp white shirt (because nothing says class like a man in white), sunscreen slathered on every inch of his exposed skin (because he would rather die than let the sun and colors double-team him), and a last-minute decision to invest in contact lenses because, well, the alternative was his glasses being held hostage by a bunch of lunatics.

big. mistake.

he comes back looking like a broken man. his shirt? unrecognizable. the white fabric has been violated in every color of the rainbow, some areas more aggressively attacked than others. his hair? streaked with color despite his best efforts to avoid it. and the worst part? the contacts.

nanami rubs his temples, his face twisted into a deep frown. “never again,” he mutters, looking like he’s reliving chapter 120 in real-time. he blinks rapidly, eyes irritated beyond belief, and you realize his biggest mistake was trusting those flimsy lenses to protect him.

you try—really try—to hold back your laughter. “so… the contact lenses?”

he lets out the slowest, most exhausted sigh. “i thought they would protect me.” a pause. then, bitterly: “i was wrong.”

you take in his utterly defeated state, the way he looks more emotionally drained than physically tired, and pat his arm sympathetically.

“on the bright side,” you offer, “you don’t have to worry about wearing white ever again.”

nanami closes his eyes. inhales. exhales. then, in a voice heavy with regret, says, “i miss my old life.”

toji fushiguro is that guy—the one who shows up to holi in all black like he’s at a funeral, fully aware of what’s about to happen to him but too stubborn to dress accordingly. maybe he thought he’d intimidate people into leaving him alone. maybe he thought the dark clothes would somehow hide the damage. either way, he thought wrong.

his face is mostly untouched, purely because no one can reach him. at his height, the average holi enthusiast doesn’t stand a chance. the few who dared to aim for his head either missed or got that look—the one that made them rethink all their life choices up until that moment. but his torso? completely massacred. the black fabric of his shirt has been ruined by every color imaginable, soaked through and weighing him down like a second skin.

toji tugs at his drenched shirt, scowling. “this is bullshit.”

you raise an eyebrow. “it’s literally holi. what did you expect?”

“not to be walking around in clothes that feel like they weigh twenty kilos,” he grumbles. he shifts uncomfortably, flexing his arms like that’ll somehow shake off the moisture. “shoulda just taken my shirt off.”

you glance at his utterly destroyed torso, streaked with a chaotic mix of colors, and smirk. “probably wouldn’t have helped. they went straight for your chest.”

toji knows. he can smell the disaster on himself—especially that horrible silver paint someone had the audacity to slap onto him. it’s clinging to his skin like a bad memory, and the worst part? it’s shiny. he feels like a failed art project.

he huffs, rubbing at a stubborn stain. “if i gotta be drenched, might as well be in red. at least then i can scare the little brats off and tell ‘em it’s blood.”

you give him a look. “so your solution is to traumatize children?”

toji shrugs, unapologetic. “ain’t my fault they’d believe it.”

geto approaches holi with the grace of a man who thinks he can organize chaos. he is all about class, aesthetics, and, most importantly, justice. while others run around like feral animals, flinging colors with reckless abandon, geto has meticulously arranged brass plates filled with neatly piled color powders. the water? prepared in large buckets, not for anarchy, but for people to responsibly fill their water guns. everything is meant to be orderly, beautiful, a functionable and fun holi experience.

he forgets that during holi, no one cares about any of that.

the moment he turns his back, all hell breaks loose.

one person—an absolute menace to society—takes a single look at the perfectly filled water bucket and dumps the entire thing on him. and just as geto is still processing the betrayal, the rest of them follow suit, overturning the entire mountain of color onto him like an avalanche.

it’s a spectacle.

he is left drenched, color clinging to every inch of his soaked clothes, dripping down his face in thick streaks. his once dignified, elegant aura? gone. instead, he’s standing there, utterly stunned, spitting out what can only be described as liquid rainbow.

you approach cautiously, trying—failing—to suppress your laughter.

geto wipes a hand down his face, looking at the sheer amount of color that comes off. he then glances at you, eyes filled with the weary realization of a man who should’ve known better.

“i’m going to have blue teeth by the end of this, aren’t i?” he mutters.

you nod, absolutely delighted at his suffering. “at least you made holi… functional.”

he exhales sharply, color still dripping from his chin. “never. again.”

shiu kong is the epitome of holi with class. while others are running around like headless chickens, he’s standing off to the side, nursing a drink that could only be described as delectable. a perfect mix, smooth, refined—enhanced, of course, with a liiiiittle hemp, because holi is about tradition. he’s not here to get drenched like some peasant. he’s here to enjoy himself.

or so he thought.

he doesn’t even realize the impending disaster until it’s too late. a horde of parched, wide-eyed kids approach him, looking up expectantly, their little hands outstretched. and shiu, in his blissfully buzzed state, barely registers what’s happening before he just hands over the drink with a lazy flick of his wrist.

there’s a beat of silence. then, chaos.

within minutes, he has unleashed the apocalypse. half the kids are suddenly hyperactive, screaming like banshees, running at inhuman speeds with fully loaded water guns, soaking anything and everything in their path. the other half? slumped against walls, swaying slightly, looking like they just saw the secrets of the universe and were not prepared for it.

shiu blinks. realization dawns. he looks down at his now-empty glass.

“…ah, shit.”

you stare at him, half-horrified, half-amused. “tell me you did not just give bhang to an army of children.”

shiu drags a hand down his face. “…i was feeling generous.”

a high-pitched, manic shriek cuts through the air as a color-streaked child launches a water balloon with the accuracy of a trained assassin. shiu watches it fly in slow motion before it smacks a poor soul across the face.

he exhales, stepping back like a man about to abandon ship. “alright. time to leave.”

choso is excited. painfully so. he’s that guy—the one who stations himself in a corner of the arena (or wherever the battlefield of holi has been set) with mountains of snacks and drinks, ready to distribute them at a moment’s notice. hydration is key, he insists. everyone should be well-fed. he’s got an entire system set up, like some kind of holi hospitality committee operating out of sheer enthusiasm.

but when people call him over to actually play, he gets all bashful. he waves them off, shaking his head, mumbling stuff like, "i’m good! you guys have fun!" like he’s some self-sacrificing monk who exists solely to ensure the well-being of others.

that is, until he joins in.

the second he steps into the fray, it’s like something possesses him. the bashfulness? gone. the gentle, food-distributing guardian? replaced. choso goes feral. suddenly, he’s dual-wielding a water gun and a hose pipe, simultaneously, with the skill of a trained marksman. he’s unstoppable. entire groups of people scatter in sheer terror because how is he this accurate?! even those his age shriek and flee for their lives when he mercilessly drenches them.

“WHAT HAPPENED TO BEING SHY?!” someone screams, barely dodging a ruthless stream of water.

choso, entirely deadpan, reloads his water gun. “i changed my mind.”

it’s absolute carnage. colors flying, people falling, screams ringing out—until the moment food is announced.

the instant he hears the words "lunch is ready!" the switch flips right back. suddenly, he’s all smiles again, cheerfully walking toward the food like he wasn’t just waging war seconds ago. he’s even helping people up, brushing color off their faces, offering them a drink like he didn’t just personally destroy them.

you stare at him, still catching your breath, completely drenched. “you’re insane.”

choso beams, already stacking his plate with food. “want some snacks?”

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unwantedtomost · 2 years ago

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so dirty — miguel o’hara

dbf!miguel o’hara x fem!reader

word count: 888

summary: miguel, who just so happens to be your dad’s best friend, fucks you in a bthroom

warnings: dirty talk, degradation, unprotected sex (i’m back to my old ways)

a/n: hehe two in like a day? look at me go. send me requests because i need more ideas.

“We shouldn’t do this,” came out of your voice in a tired tone. You tried to fight it but it got harder every time. How could you fight something that felt so right?

“I know, amor.”

Then he kissed you and you stopped fighting.

Things got dirtier every time he touched you. The first time he kissed you he was so soft, so delicate. He touched you like he thought you could fall apart in his hands. Now he was bending you over the bathroom sink with the whole neighborhood in the backyard—not to mention your father, his best friend. He still loved you all the same, you never doubted it for a moment. Something about the switch felt right. This was a dirty little secret, not a Romeo and Juliet love affair. It was meant to be dirty.

He used to kiss every inch of your naked body, muttering how much he loved you every time his lips left your skin. It was a harsh comparison to how he shoved your panties to the side and rubbed his rough fingers up and down your slit.

“You’re soaking,” he stated with pride. “This all for me, honey?”

“‘Course it is, Miguel.” Sometimes you try to be soft in times like this. He’d give you a small smile then it would leave. His eyes were hungry, you almost felt like prey.

“‘Course it is,” he repeated before bending you forward.

He spit on his hand, pumping himself a few times. He rubbed the head of his dick against your clit, causing you to shutter. So dirty.

“Beg for it.” Your brows knitted together, giving him a confused look in the mirror. “You heard me. Beg for it.”

“Give it to me,” you demanded, standing your ground.

His large chest was flush against your back, his chin grabbing your chin and making you look into his eyes. His lips brushed against your ear and his other hand gripped your hip like a vice. “I said beg. Or we’re going back downstairs right now.”

It wasn’t the worst threat in the world but at some point these little hookups became something you needed. He knew that. He felt the same way too.

“Please, Miguel,” you whined. “I love you so much. Need to feel ya inside me so badly. I promise to be such a good girl. I promise. I’ll be such a good girl.”

The tiniest smile came to his lips as he saw the tears lightly brewing in your eyes. God, how he loved you. He planted a sweet kiss on your temple. “Such a good girl, only for me, yeah?”

“Only for you.”

Suddenly, the head of his member entered your entrance. You gasped, causing his hand to clasp over your mouth. “Got to be quiet, amor, yeah? We can’t have anyone find out what a dirty little whore you are for me.” He quickly pushed the rest of his length inside of you. You screamed into the palm of his hand, gripping down on the countertop.

“Fuck, princess. Best damn pussy I’ve ever had. Such a good fucking girl.”

His thrusts were brutal and you loved every second of it. Something about the strange circumstances made something dormant in Miguel come out. He said the dirtiest things. His mouth sputtering whatever came to mind as he pounded into you like both of your lives depended on it.

“Letting me fuck you while half the neighborhood is in the backyard. You wanted me that bad. You’d let me fuck you anywhere, wouldn’t you, honey? Want to be my little fuckdoll. Let me take you wherever I want. As long as we don’t get caught, right?”

You nodded vigorously as your eyes screwed shut, your head resting on Miguel’s shoulder. He let you stay like that for a while until his fingers started to rub your clit.

“Look at me,” he cooed. You had no choice but to pry your eyes open and look at the disheveled state of the man you were falling in love with. “Keep looking at me when I make you cum on my dick. Look so fucking beautiful.”

You had to use your last amount of strength to keep your eyes open, losing all control of the noises coming out of your mouth. Both of you were glad that his hand was clamped over your mouth. You tried to hold back your orgasm just a little bit, something you did often in these scenarios, you wanted to hold on just a little bit longer.

But it was always impossible. As soon as he figured out what you were doing, his fingers worked quicker.

“Please, cum for me baby,” he begged. And how could you refuse him? Quickly the coil snapped and you turned to absolute putty in his hands. “I love you, honey. I love you so much.” He whispered in your ear as he came inside of you. “Love you so fucking much.”

Slumped there, panting, you had that terrible wave of realization of the predicament you were in. Doomed to be in love with a man you could never really be with. Banished to a life of dirty secret hookups in bathrooms. But you didn’t need to worry about that now. Not when he was smiling at you.

“I love you too.”

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #smut #oscar isaac smut #oscar issac

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grandisknight · 8 months ago

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kiss me through the phone | caleb

summary: You hit Caleb’s line one night, wondering how he’s been. Little did you know, you were about to find out all about it and more.

tags: nsfw (mdni), gn!reader (no specific descriptors), teasing, banter, phone call (phone sex), swearing, dirty talk, (semi) guided masturbation, mutual masturbation, ejaculate

wc: 2.6k | ao3 | kinktober in deepspace masterlist

a/n: replaying through the early main story brought this about caleb i miss u sm

When the sun rises, the moon falls in perfect harmony. Such was the way of the world, but it doesn’t lift the heaviness lingering in your heart any further. Especially when that same sky separates you from someone you miss so, so dearly.

A dedicated fighter pilot of the Deepspace Aviation Administration, Caleb was away from Linkon City more often than not.

Either having his nose buried in the paperwork or wings soaring through the skies—he always reassures that he was safe, all in one piece for you to inspect when he returns for a monthly visit. Still as tall as ever, as lovingly annoying as ever when he pretends to be hurt at a pinch to his arm. His laughs only grow in volume the longer you chastise him for it.

Caleb was the apple of your eye. And currently, the same apple plainly stares back at you through a phone screen. A pair of poorly drawn eyes and a lopsided smile overlaid the crisp, red apple beneath; it looked silly, befitting of the man who doodled it on.

You wonder how he was doing—if he ate today, were the clouds kinder than the last storm he told you about. Taking a glance past your bedroom window provided you no semblance of an answer. The blanketed stratosphere was only a pitch black of night and stars littered about them plenty, neatly settled into the evening.

(Call him, you should call him.)

Your fingers hover above the button, room for second thoughts lost to time when you instinctively pressed down. Bringing it to your ear, the dial tone drones on, and so does your heart in wait.

He doesn’t answer on the first ring, and a feeling of unease curls into your gut. Far too soon to jump to conclusions and worst case scenarios, but what if… just, what if something was wrong?

Your heart lodges itself into your throat when you press again, letting the ring dull your ears and become nothing but a monotonous doom. Again, and again. Your own worries are bound to eat you alive by the third ring.

(Please pick up, please, please, please.)

Miraculously, the receiver crackled and a voice so warm greets you, albeit a bit… breathless. “Hey there. You’re still up?”

“Caleb,” you exhale, feeling relief wash over your nerves. Of course he was fine, you scared yourself over nothing. Straightening your back against the headboard, you return the phone to your ear and ask, “Are you okay? You don’t sound so good.”

Rustling could be heard from his end—laundry, maybe? And a faint snap catches your attention, especially when he only hisses and delays his response.

“I’m—“ He clears his throat. “Yeah, all good. What’s up, pipsqueak?”

“Don’t ‘pipsqueak’ me, Caleb,” you say firmly. “Did you break a bone before picking up the phone?” The joke was light-hearted at best, though a hint of your concern faceted the same words.

“No,” he heartily laughs. Even the muffled receiver doesn’t conceal how lovely the sound is. “Sorry, I was just… preoccupied, before I saw your call.”

Your brow quirks at the odd phrasing, and you point out, “Doing what, exactly?”

You pull back your phone to read the time, seeing it’s only a quarter past nine. There wasn’t much to do around this time of night, when the streets were quieter and people kept to themselves within their abodes.

“Stuff.” He off-handedly replies, doing the most to answer you indirectly. “Anyways, what’d you call me for? You’re not hurt or anything, are you?”

“Physically? No. Emotionally? Depends,” you answer. “But I’ll live.” Toying with the edge of your blanket, you add on, “Don’t change the subject, either. I can hear a liar when they come and go.”

“You never let me off easy,” Caleb muses, seemingly conceding to your observation. “Listen, pick a number, one or two, and I’ll tell you.”

“One and a half,” you snicker.

He sighs in disbelief. “That wasn’t an option at all.”

“It counts as both,” you reason with a shrug. “That way, you’ll tell me what’s up either way.”

Caleb doesn’t answer right away, seemingly pondering his response. A part of you feels guilty for finding a loophole to a simple play. “No pressure or anything, really. I was just,” you pause, puffing out a small sigh. “Wondering how you were doing today, that’s all.”

Maybe a text message would’ve gone over better; that damn apple had a good reason for staring so stupidly at you on the screen.

“I can hang up—“

“No,” he interjects, with some tone of urgency that has you stilling your fingers. “Wait, hold on. Don’t hang up just yet.”

More shuffling could be heard on his side, before he softens his words and says, “Today was kinda slow, so I’m alright. Better actually, since you called.”

Ah, there was the answer to one of your questions. You can’t help but let out a small laugh, though appreciating his intent. “Caleb, that’s really cheesy.”

“You like cheesy things,” he points out, and you could practically see the grin on his face. “And it’s the truth. Dinner was fine too. Nothing exciting really happened, and y’know how they are at the DAA.”

Secretive, though maybe it was for the best. You have asked him in the past, though met to no avail because of the very reason. Another checkbox to your wonders is met.

“I missed this,” you quietly admit, now pulling apart one of the frayed strings the blanket once had. “Hearing your voice.” And seeing you, though the unspoken words linger in your throat.

There was still some time before he was due to fly down into Linkon, yet every time felt longer than the last. To you, at least. It was the highlight of your month, knowing he would be around. Walking through Bloomshore together, pointing out sights you’re well-accustomed to, but enjoy every time because you’re with him. Sometimes, you’ll notice little things you miss along the way, and he’ll tease you about the finer things in life.

Caleb fondly returns your confession, as kind as ever. “I miss you too, silly.” A moment of comfortable silence passes, before he asks, “Isn’t it late? You should get some rest.”

You chew your lip, eyes wandering off to the night sky beyond cool glass. He wasn’t wrong, but you weren’t ready to let him go just yet. And you still have another curiosity seeking its answer. “Stay on the line until I fall asleep?”

“I can never say no to you,” he says in acquiescence. You inwardly cheer at the victory. “But… Ah, could you give me like, five minutes?”

You hypothetical pom-poms pause their feathery shakes at his request. “For?” It isn’t that you are unwilling, but your curiosity only increases tenfold.

“I didn’t finish,” he mumbles, quick and low in its delivery. He was more so speaking to himself, but you caught the faint breath all the same.

“Finish what?” You question. “Caleb, I can’t hear you if you talk like that.”

“I was in the middle of a session,” Caleb quickly answers. “There, I said it. Now you know.”

Oh. A session. That was the last thing you were expecting to hear. The puzzle pieces finally make sense then—his breathless entrance, and shuffling that most definitely wasn’t laundry. Then, surely, the snap must have been, “Your underwear?” You finish your spoken train of thoughts in surprise.

“Way to put me on the spot,” he awkwardly chuckles, before clearing his throat once more. “Look, I’ll call you back once I’m done—“

“Stay,” you say. Though, it takes everything in you to speak without wavering to reveal the heat quickly budding in your body. You press your legs together instead, hoping the suppression would tame you some. “And let me hear it.”

Caleb nearly chokes on his saliva.

“You—You’re joking, right?”

“I didn’t stutter,” you tell him. “I’ll help you through it. After all, I’m the one who interrupted your precious alone time.”

“Okay,” he murmurs in thought. Then in acceptance, “Okay, fine. I’ll entertain you for now, but promise to sleep after.”

“Promise.”

Even when it was concerning his manhood, he still had it in him to put your well-being into foremost consideration. How thoughtful. Sweet even, if it weren’t for the direly lewd context of the matter.

You didn’t have the patience for such kindness, chirping instructions of, “Great. So get to work, yeah? Carefully remove those boxers for me, first.”

“Roger that,” Caleb chuckles. You could make out the snap and slide of a waistband, fabric rustling to be likely thrown aside for tomorrow’s Caleb to deal with.

“Use your dominant hand,” you say, raising your own in thought. “And give yourself some nice, slow strokes from base to tip. Squeeze when you get to the head, just enough to get some pre out.”

“Ah, fuck.” You could hear a faint wetting of his lips before they produce a slick spit, surely coating his palm in preparation. He dutifully follows your words with a moan, and you bite down your own just so you could savor the sounds.

“Talk to me Caleb,” you breathe out in turn. “How does it feel? Where are you right now?”

“My room, just me in here. Need—hah—more, but it’s so good,” he manages between breaths. “Would feel even better if you were here with me.”

“Mhm,” you confirm with a hum. “I bet you’d like that. The way my hands would wrap around your cock, pumping you the way you need.”

He hisses through his teeth, more than pleased at the idea. “You’d look so pretty doing it too.”

You find yourself salivating, fingers itching at the ghosting feeling of such illusory warmth. You wet your lips, your own hands slowly creeping towards the warmth between your legs and past the blanket. It was instinctual, though you couldn’t hide your gasp in time and Caleb snickers.

“Oh? Was that what I think it was?”

You could map out his cheshire grin from the question alone, though you didn't have it in you to deny him. “Not my fault you sound so hot like this,” you sigh, pressing the pads of your fingers in a slow rub. “Thinking about you right now has me all worked up.”

“What, you think about me when you touch yourself?”

The answer is as clear as a cloudless day in Linkon, and a sense of want seeps into your voice. “Can’t help it,” you nearly whine. “Happens ‘cause you’re gone so much.”

“Fuck,” Caleb curses. “Me too, trust me. I’ll be home soon,” he promises, though it fades off into a quiet grunt and strained sighs. “Soon, I’ll be there and you can have me in any way you need me.”

You pray that eventuality becomes your near reality by the time morning comes, even if it was an impossible dream. “You can go faster,” you encourage, increasing your own touches against clothed skin. “Do what you need, I’m right here.”

A slight clunk draws you from the lust hazing your thoughts, a pin of concern dropping into your mind. You ask, “Caleb? You okay over there?”

“Phone was in the way,” he says hurriedly. “Speaker’s on, I need both hands.”

Much to your delight, the audio becomes clearer through the speaker as a result. The slaps of skin every time his hand moves up and down his length, to the faint slick of lubed saliva messily enhancing his strokes—they were all there. But the prettiest sounds of all were the gravelly groans stemming from his throat in perfect harmony.

You think about how his abdomen would contract with every breath, the way his brows knit together in concentration. The luminous glow of his amethyst eyes, their sparkle now overlaid in clouds of unadulterated want. The shapes of his lips when he smiles so sweetly to creating the desperate moans you’ve endeared yourself to the entire call. You miss him, and it hurts.

And how much you crave to hold that image between your fingers, instead of needlessly curling and pressing around the fabrics of clothes and their cotton. Your thighs squeeze instinctively with a particularly drawn out moan from the receiver.

Caleb’s voice lowly calls out to you. “Do you hear it? How my cock aches for you?” As if you weren’t lasered in on the very noises this whole time, only growing feverishly with every pump.

You mewl at his cadence. “I do, oh I do. What I would give to have that cock all for myself, hot and heavy and mine.”

“It’s a shame.” His breaths grew increasingly shallow with every word punched out. “You won’t get to enjoy all this cum I’m about to—haah—give, such a shame.”

Your hands shake, closer to the brink than you once thought. “A-ah, you’re not wrong—!” You fall back against the headboard, shoulders sinking in and legs shifting in ardent need.

“Caleb, are you, please tell me you’re—“

“Close?” He pants, arousal embedded into every breath. “Oh, I have been. Practically leaking and waiting for you to tell me when you want to come.”

Your mind dizzies, his voice the perfect charm that pushes you to the edge of release. “Do it now, please, please, please.” Babbles of direction and your pleasure blur together, unable to hold back and with the trembling of your muscles. “Wanna hear you come for me,” you gently cry out, fingertips circling faster over your surely ruined undergarments. “I’m about to—mmh!”

“Coming for you,” Caleb bites out, relentlessly keeping his pace over his sensitive cock. “Fuck, fuck. So much, it’s a mess, ah fuck.”

Your name draws out into a long and decadent moan when he releases, burning into the phone’s static and shooting straight to your heart. The melody sends you spiraling into a wave of bliss, coming undone with just haphazard touches and the vision of his creamy release painting his hands white.

His panting and your own begin to even out in the following silence. Clarity wipes at your muddled thoughts, though Caleb was the first to speak up.

“Hey,” he says softly.

You meet him with the same tone, a small laugh to your calling. “Hi.”

“Feeling alright?”

“Mm. More importantly, are you good?”

Caleb’s chipper reply gives you confirmation. “I’m pretty sure you heard me a few minutes ago.” Another rustle and creak later, you hear his footsteps padding his words. “Need to clean up. You should too, right? Surely it’s not comfortable to be in soaked underwear before bed.”

You gasp, feeling exposed and instinctively pull at your blanket. A poor shield at the moment, if anything. “How did you know I kept them on?”

“I didn’t,” he plainly says. “But now I know.” You could hear him smirking in glee, only growing further when you bemoan the circumstances.

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh all you want, I’m changing out of them.” You slide off of the bed, shuffling footsteps towards your dresser. Out with the old to the laundry basket and in with the new, you return to the pillows and exhale.

“In bed now?” Caleb asks. He lets out a soft laugh when all you do is grumble a response. “Alright. Promise is a promise, I’ll stay on call until you really hit the hay.”

“M’kay,” you mumble through pursed lips, before bringing the screen to them and planting a soft kiss.

You don’t recall much of what happened afterwards. Only your hushed whispers and Caleb’s gentle voice going on about aviation and work mishaps fill your lingering consciousness. Soon enough, it lulls you into a dream of clouds, where bright eyes of amethyst awaited you with open arms.

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sttoru · 2 years ago

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♯ 𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐊.

⟣ sypnosis. kento has been extremely busy lately, going on business trips and so forth. he decides to surprise you by coming back earlier than expected. that’s how you end up finding your lover on top of you, showering you in his affection at 3 in the morning.

⟣ tags. nanami kento x female reader. fluff, bit of angst, suggestive towards the end. reader gets called 'sweetheart, angel, dear' wc: 1.8k

⟣ note. okayokay finally an adition to my event heheh ive almost forgotten about it but then i saw this prompt & was like . ok nanami , i must write this rnnn no delaying anymore so here i am :3 its also very bad. i hate it sm LOL i hope u at least like it t_t

kento often asks himself why he had returned to the world he despised — the jujutsu society; his old high school. the sprawling curses everywhere are the main cause of his current misery.

he had been sent out on missions left and right, not catching a break in hopes of reducing any more civilian causalities than necessary. kento had even thought that maybe his previous 9-5 job wasn’t as bad as he had considered it.

overtime was every day for the sorcerer now. that wasn’t the worst thing - no - the fact that he was pratically living a long distant relationship with his beloved irritated him most.

a thought he had in his high school days reoccured in a moment of distress: ‘why not leave all those missions to gojo?’

you were still pretty understanding of his situation. kento appreciated that, though the guilt still ate away at him whenever he tried to sleep. an empty bed welcomed him each time he re-entered his hotel room — you saw the exact same scenery when returning home to your shared apartment.

both of you were adults; both knowing that life was unfair. the two of you being unable to see each other from time to time was a part of your life. kento and you still maintained a healthy relationship. that was all that really mattered in the end.

11:49PM. . . tonight wasn’t unlike any other night; you were preparing yourself to go to bed—changing into your pyjamas after showering, snuggling to a pillow under the covers and texting your lover one last message.

‘good luck on your mission as always! stay safe, i love you.’

you stare at your phone screen for a minute longer than intended. even if you tried to be mature about it — you longed for kento’s warmth and undivided attention. you want him with you, his strong arms holding you to his chest as you rest, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine in the best way possible.

you sigh defeatedly and put your phone down on your nightstand. just two days until you could see your partner again. you can hold onto that hope to keep you calm.

despite you trying to stay positive, you tossed and turned in your bed as you thought about kento’s safety. there was always a chance of him not coming home to you — always the possibility of that bed to be empty for the rest of your life.

all you could do was pray for his safety in your head whilst your eyes eventually closed from fatigue, your mind drifting off to a deep slumber.

03:14AM. . . kento opens the door he had wished to have opened way earlier. the door that lead to the place where his heart lays; the person who claimed his heart and soul for eternity. you.

he didn’t think he’d actually do it. kento had originally planned to finish his last job as soon as possible and then get home afterwards, but there seemed to be a change in routine.

the special grade sorcerer simply assigned the mission to ino — the person whom he could trust most to finish the job in one piece. as much as kento dislikes to put his juniors in possible risky situations, there are also situations where it’s fine to depend on them. besides, the mission could easily be done by a grade one sorcerer.

kento sighs. the familiar scent of your home was one he could recognise from miles away. one that could calm his nerves instantly. it was that same distinctive scent you carry; thus why your lover sometimes calls you his home.

‘i can’t wait to be home’ ‘i want to be home’ ‘i’m going home’ — all these sentences, which kento has uttered before in earlier conversations, weren’t referring to a place. rather to a person he held dear.

“oh, my sweetheart.” the blonde man whispers under his breath as his eyes catch the shape of your figure under the blankets. he quietly enters the master bedroom and closes the door behind him, not making a sound as to not interrupt your well-deserved sleep.

kento slowly undoes his dotted tie, along with the upper buttons of his blouse. he probably needs to go take a good shower before he could settle down with you — but that’d risk waking you up.

you look extremely angelic in his eyes. especially with your left cheek squished by the soft pillow your head rests on. you never once fail to convince him that you are indeed the woman of his dreams; the woman kento ever had and will have eyes for. it’s like you get more attractive to him as the days go on.

“mh,” your sudden and soft groan makes him realise just how disturbing his behaviour could be interpreted as. kento’s body was hovering over your sleeping one and he was just. . . staring at you with a soft smile. a smile which he didn’t even notice had permanently found its place on his weary face.

kento sits down on the edge of the mattress, callused hand gently tucking you in properly, putting the blanket over your shoulders to make sure you didn’t get cold. he can’t rest if you’re not comfortable— even if he himself was exhausted to the point his eyes were starting to feel heavy.

yet that exhaustion doesn’t last long. it never does when kento’s able to see you again after a tiring week of countless missions and other jobs. your presence alone grants him the energy to stay awake and take care of you. and himself. you’re the reason he keeps it going.

“i love you so much, my beautiful girl — my angel.”

kento sure was a romantic. even when you’re unaware and asleep.

he couldn’t help it; the feeling stirring inside of him. the feeling of adoration and love for you. you are simply resting, yet kento felt an urge to kiss you all over, show you the unending love he has for you. but. . that’d probably be disturbing your peace. you are sleeping after all. he

not that that would stop kento.

your eyes flutter open due to a sudden presence hovering over you. your entire face and neck area was feeling ticklish, like someone was placing tens of kisses all over the skin.

strands of blonde hair is the first thing showing up in your blurry vision. kento’s face follows afterwards as his head tilts back up, the warmth against your jawline disappearing along with it —

“ah, i’m sorry.” a low and almost guilty chuckle tumbles out of his sore throat. the visible confusion on your face makes him let out another, “shh, shh, it’s just me, sweetheart.”

your arms flew around kento’s torso the second the realisation dawns upon you. your heart went from a slow pace to one that caused your entire body to warm up immediately; the adorable reaction and increase in heart rate not going unnoticed by your lover.

you wordlessly hug him — almost still in shock by the sudden appearance. kento doesn’t fight off your tight embrace, instead, welcomes it with open arms. the delicate kisses on your skin continue, each being placed with precision whilst one of his hands keeps your head tilted a little — rough fingers being a contrast of the gentle grip they had on your jaw.

“i missed you lots,” kento murmurs, eyes closed as he basks in the warmth of your body, his lips refusing to let go of your neck, “i couldn’t wait anymore. i couldn’t be separated from you any longer or i’d lose it.”

his gruff voice sounded even deeper than it usually would. maybe due to the overuse of it during his missions. the lone thought makes you pout — the thought of kento working super hard just to provide for you both.

“i missed you more, love.” you mumble, bottom lip trembling a little as kento’s hug triggers a whole lot of emotions in you. his hugs were special, his muscular arms giving you a sense of comfort you couldn’t find anywhere. no one could hug you like he did, “you did well. you did so well.”

those were all the words kento needed. his lips come to halt right above your collarbone, his breath a bit heavy from how much he's holding himself back from doing more. one hand moves from your cheek to your waist, fingers toying with the fabric of your shirt.

“thank you, dear.” kento says. his words carrying a load of unending affection. your simple words of appreciation and encouragement makes him shiver in delight. this is what he longed for; this is what he did it all for.

it was clear. the answer to his question - of why he had returned to the jujutsu world, to become a teacher at his former high school - it was all for you. to be able to be with you, see you and hold you like this. to have someone like you appreciate all of his efforts.

“may i?” kento asks through a quiet whisper as he gently removes the blanket covering your figure, his eyes darting down towards your cleavage. he's asking for permission to cross that barrier — to cover you in the love you deserve.

you just stare at the blonde man above you for a second. you watch as he climbs onto the bed with you; the bed which was once empty and dull, now suddenly becoming your favourite place to be at. your fingertips graze against kento's sharp cheekbones. a habit you always did when you were appreciating his looks.

“go right ahead.” you answer with a confirming nod.

both of you were touch starved and had been deprived from each other's embrace for way too long. now was the perfect time to make up for all the time lost.

kento wasn’t going to let the opportunity slip past him. he smiles at you, a gentle and handsome smile, whilst a few of his blonde locks fall over his left eye — his hands already prying away the blanket covering your shape. it was time to show you just how much he has longed for you.

“hold on to me, sweetheart. i’m not stopping until you realise just how much i’ve missed all of you.”

#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader #jjk fluff #nanami x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #nanami kento x reader #nanami x y/n #nanami x you #jjk fic #jjk fanfic

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yurinaa-world · 9 months ago

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Idk if u did this but... I would like to request how Aventurine, Jiaoqiu, Dr. Ratio and Sunday would be in aftercare... 👀👉🏻👈🏻

"𝒫𝑜𝓇𝒸𝑒𝓁𝒶𝒾𝓃 𝒢𝓁𝒶𝓈𝓈"

💫𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈: Aventurine, Jiaoqiu, Veritas Ratio, & Sunday x Gender-Neutral reader

💫𝒮𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: how would they be in aftercare

💫𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: Fluff, Suggestive(We're going into wild territory), & Spelling Mistakes

💫𝒜𝓋𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓊𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑒 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒮𝑒𝓃𝒾𝑜𝓇 𝑀𝒶𝓃𝒶𝑔𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝐼𝒫𝒞 𝒮𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓉𝑒𝑔𝒾𝒸 𝐼𝓃𝓋𝑒𝓈𝓉𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝒟𝑒𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉"

Okay, that depends on how vulnerable he was feeling before, what I mean is he wasn’t vulnerable with you then I like to imagine: he’s taking care of you because your lower half (and upper half) is pretty much out of it.

He got things done quickly, so it’s just your body wrapped in a blanket, while he lays beside you since you didn’t want him to leave or move, clinging onto him while he teases while lovingly looking at your face as you go in and go to sleep.

If he were vulnerable with you (rare days that happens), then it would be more emotional afterwards, both of you are just exhausted. He usually keeps a face but just with his tired eyes looking down at you, who was already asleep.

He can’t help but want to be in the warmth of your body, just bury his face against your sleeping body and lose himself to sleep.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Didn't you say you were tired? Now you're clinging onto me so tightly.”

You looked so pretty like this, body all tuckered and sore wrapped in the softest blanket, hair messy—covering your eyes yet you were too tired to even push away the hair from your face, but he can’t forget that cute expression plastered on your face, looking up at him with sleepy eyes and weakly intertwined his fingers with yours—your hold on him wasn’t tight at all like he was trying to make it out to be.

“I didn’t want you to leave..”

how clingy, he loves every second—just gazing at you always makes him go soft, he always takes hold of this moment and keeps it forever.

Your tired voice makes his heart jump at the sound of it, like a symphony played under the moonlight. his other hand gently rubs the top of your head.

“So adorable, how lucky can I be?” He praised, moving the strands in front of your face to the side, a better view of your pretty face. You were tempting him badly like you could hypnotize him without even meaning to.

“You really are my worst addiction,” he tongue clicks, leaning down till you’re inches away from each other, even when you try to lean to take a kiss for yourself, yet he stops you, only to kiss you on the forehead. He chuckles at your disappointment that it was just a kiss on the forehead.

“Go to sleep”

💫𝒥𝒾𝒶𝑜𝓆𝒾𝓊 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐻𝑒𝒶𝓁𝑒𝓇 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒳𝒾𝒶𝓃𝓏𝒽𝑜𝓊 𝒴𝒶𝑜𝓆𝒾𝓃𝑔"

He’s prepared, he’s got everything ready before you start anything. He’s got you sitting, laying your side against him while he’s got his tail wrapped around your body while trying to make you take some medicine to help with terrible pain in the morning.

After making sure you're alright, he gets clingy with you, holding you close to him—he twitches as you sluggishly gently rub his tail, he can’t help but for his ear to twitch and flicker, you just have to tease him about his clinginess even though you’re exhausted.

He can’t help but go a little red in the face, while gently cleaning you off with a soft cloth, cleaning off your body—maybe paying attention to your neck a tad bit too much.

He wants to stay like this, he may be a healer, and his top priority is taking care of others but may he be selfish for wanting to stay like this forever and not let you go? Yes? He found this soft moment with just the best. Just watching you slowly fall asleep, he wants to stay up to admire more but can feel sleep also take him over.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“At least try to drink the water, even if you're tired, I don’t want you to be sick.” he chides, pulling your exhausted body to sit better upright, while holding a glass of water in his unoccupied, groaning as your shaky hand take the glass of water from his hand—his tail and other arm was still wrapped around you to help with balance.

The warm water, dripping down your dry throat—as if you were stuck in the desert with a drop of water—the warm water doesn't hit the back of your throat like you want it to.

“It’s so warm,” you complained, You feel your throat just close up more at the taste of it, while he just sighed at those words before just popping a pill into your mouth. It’s the best way to make your throat feel better.

“warm water is very beneficial for the throat even if it may not feel good to drink.”

taking the glass of water away from you which just causes you to slump back more, he just takes this chance to start cleaning you off with a soft cloth, cleaning your neck off, he can’t help but stop at some marks and pay a bit more attention to them, his fingers putting pressure on it.

Seeing you shake and muffled whines leave your throat as if he was torturing you.

“Jiaoqiu, please…”

He choked on his spit at the sound of your stutter of his name, his tail and ears immediately twitched. The blood rushed to his face, you know how to make him red in the face without even trying to.

He just can’t help but tease you a bit more by touching a couple—putting pressure on them, he’s going to enjoy this moment with you like this.

💫𝒱𝑒𝓇𝒾𝓉𝒶𝓈 𝑅𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜 "𝑀𝑒𝓂𝒷𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝐼𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓁𝓁𝒾𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓈𝒾𝒶 𝒢𝓊𝒾𝓁𝒹"

His muscles aren’t just for show, they are real both in and out of bed. He’s gentle with you of course, he knows you're a deer stuck in headlights because of how you are incoherent right now, your body just covered in marks while you groan in pain every time you even think about moving.

He ends up carried to the bathtub, with a plethora of tired complaints leaving your horse throat. You were too tired to even take a bath with him, but no, hygiene over sleep any day, he cares about your health, it’s not like he’s going to let you drown, he’ll be there for your safety.

Have you lying your back against his chest while your brain isn’t exactly fully there—it’s probably still melted—while veritas just washes your back for you? You complain a lot, it’s like you want to catch something nasty for fun.

He’s loving you the whole time, he has to admit that seeing you tired, slumped against his chest and eyes hooded staring back at him, he finds it adorable. Only for you to move your position and fall asleep—he’ll have to bring you out himself.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“M’ tired.”

To say you were exhausted was an understatement, you feel your body become jello, and your back is just killing you, but Veritas cares about health more than anything which is why he won’t let you lay against to at least get some shut-eye. Your horse voice doesn’t stop for a second to not voice your exhaustion, you just lean back anyway, treating him as if his chest was a pillow.

“Many negative side effects can come from sleeping in a bathtub, I would rather you not drown.” He gently shakes you awake, making you groan, before just pushing you forward, off his chest, leaving a gap between you two.

Turning your head back at him with an annoyed look—seriously you feel like you’re going to pass out, if he’s that worried he carries you out like he did when he brought you in.

He just sighs at your expression, feeling slightly bad. “Stay still” you hear murmurs. you feel a cold foamy liquid touching your back. “Why bother to scrub—” You stop yourself from finishing your sentence at the gentle scrubbing his hands were doing, it was very nice, it felt like a mountain was taken off your shoulders.

his hand goes to your tense shoulders, easing out the nasty knots that were in your shoulders—all while you groan and suck in your breath at the relief, those sounds you make aren’t that unfamiliar to him. Once he’s pulled his arms away from your shoulders, making you more relaxed (truthfully it makes you more tired).

“Now I'm just more tired.”

Veritas frowned, taking your words seriously and pouring water on the top of your head, instead of your shoulders. At this point, you don’t care at all. Leaning back against his chest—closing up the gap between you—he can deal with the consequences of his actions.

“I’ve already told—”

“I’m too tired…you left me like this so deal with it.”

💫𝒮𝓊𝓃𝒹𝒶𝓎 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐻𝑒𝒶𝒹 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒪𝒶𝓀 𝐹𝒶𝓂𝒾𝓁𝓎"

He already has everything prepared no matter where or when, the maids have already prepared a bath, water, and anything else you would need afterward, he tries to make sure you are alright, complementing and praising you while your face is buried in his neck and his arms tightly around your body.

Comforting you more by gently rubbing your sore skin, feeling a little bad when you whine at the sore feeling from the marks engraved into your gentle skin, it’s like he was a vampire…

Trying to tempt you into drinking some water even if you’re dazed and completely out of your mind. He even tries to persuade you to at least take a bath, he knows you are tired but he can’t have you be messy in the morning, yet that’s not what you want, you just don’t want to move.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“You did well.”

One of many sugar-drenched words he spoke into your ears, it was all you heard from him along with the featherlight touches from his nimble fingers, caressing your back—circling over marks inscribed into your soft skin as if you were his majestic canvas.

You on the other hand were befuddled, sucking in your breath at the feeling of his fingers while you buried your face in his neck—feeling his wings gently flicker against your face.

“Sunday…”

“You should drink some water,”

The harmony left from your mouth—which is your voice, sounding lost and completely out of it, denying his offer with a gentle squeeze on his shoulder. “Maybe a bath instead? I don’t want you to be messy.” He hummed, gently pulling you back to get a look at the pretty face you’ve been hiding in his neck.

“I don’t want to.”

Your expression turns from relaxed to slightly annoyed, leaning into his neck—as if you were trying to escape from the cold. Yet he disproves this, he can’t leave you like this, not with you’re body in a state like this before going to bed, you don’t know how painful it might be in the morning.

“This won’t do, I’ll bathe with you if you don’t want to be alone.”

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

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theladybrownstarot · 1 year ago

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Future Spouse first impression V/s Yours

❀ Here's my masterlist for more !

❀ Make sure you like/follow/Comment/reblogg for more pacs like these !

❀ This pac will be guiding you to how to manifest your connection with some channeld messages from them

Pile 1 . Pile 2. Pile 3.

𐙚 Pile 1 .

Namaste pile 1 ! Let's get with your reading :-

❀ Their first impression over you :

Okay , pile 1, from what I can see feel read and understand is that this person is gonna think of you someone as a hopeful person , even when you are in difficulty you will get instant solution . I guess when you will be meeting them you two or either one of you maybe going thru some problems and one of you will offer help .

They may see you as someone serious also . they feel that light and passion dripping from your eyes and melting their hearts to see as who you are . they will see you as someone brave , passionate , bold , honest , warrior or fighter , someone who stands out among everyone , someone who they can depend on wow pile 1 hands up to you ! this person is gonna study you like their favorited subjects .

They will see you as someone who doesn't give up and really you will be their type they had like to be passionate with . They think that you expect honesty from everyone and really they will do same for you ..they will show who are they like in actual to win your heart and they do see you as someone rational and smart and someone who is good at proving their logic.

It is possible that you may appear cold , defensive and bit egotist but its okay because for them you will matter most . this is gonna be an instant strong attraction for them .

❀ Your first impression of them :-

okay pile 1 are you ready for it ?! lets dive in buds, hmm so it maybe possible that you will actually feel like " finally I found you at last" when you will meet this person for sure . I can see you thinking about them as an achiever ; who got may accomplishment . this person is gonna astound you up for sure haha .

you will see them as someone is who is giving , loving , caring and who got people to support them . I can see you as if you will feel like he\she is my pure air to breathe under in forever . I feel this person is very good by heart and nature . you will think of them as someone calm , rich , luxurious by their nature , appearance and personality . they are an extrovert for sure , but ig u may even thin that this person may give a lot but in end may sometime get in trouble but I also feel that this person won't hold grudges because they don't care about people , they have best emotional and mental control babies and i guess you want someone like them . This will be a dream come true for sure for y'all .

𐙚❀˖° How to manifest with connection fast ?

you need to be expressive of your emotions and about yourself so you can transfer and spread your energy in this crowded world to signal them .

𐙚❀˖° Channeled Messages From Them :-

(1) just hang in there my love im coming so don't be sad I will save you up from the darkness .

(2) meet more people and find me darlo , I m around you haha .

(3) with you my life seems more prosperous and I will be blessed to u have you as my greatest gift .

𐙚 Pile 2 .

Namaste pile 2 ! Let's get with your reading :-

❀ Their first impression of You :-

so i see that this person will think of you as someone strong minded or we say overall strong in nature . someone who can take a stand alone for themselves in the worst situations , someone really positive during hard times. aah i see self made individuals an mature people .i see leo and sun astrologically by vision . they will see you someone who is really charming even when you are silent .

okay , it must be possible that when you will meet this person you will a some sort of breakup or breakdown out there . this person will want to hug and console you for sure . i don it just hit me maybe when you cry you look more beautiful . or it maybe at least case that they had a breakup when they met you .

They will see you someone very charming , transparent , innocent , clear minded, focused , beautiful for sure .

❀ Your first impression of them :-

Okay , i can see you seeing them haha someone of a dominant personality lmao . this person ur future wife/ husband basically will be of an obsessive of nature . you may see them as someone who may restrict or cross boundaries of someone else . they person will be strong minded for sure . they will be strategic . could be boss or into military or police service . they will be muscular .

since i you will see them who is clear headed to do achieve the aim . they aren't that dominant to but can be little bit more caring . its possible that this person is gonnaaa be lazyy uff ... and could be that isn't that adventurous or stuck somewhere in their life ..will be having some transition and will be kinda scared or confused to how to go through this transformation . maybe you can help them somewhere.

𐙚❀˖° How to manifest this connection fast ?

SO , u may meet them at some sort of celebration or something maybe a party . you need to maintain your ownself like be careful of what you do and think plus be yourself ! enjoy your life .

𐙚❀˖° Channeled Messages from Them :-

(1) You know i need some time ; i'm stuck try now .

(2) I will come to you when you will show you real self .

(3) I want to have a happy family with you . i wanna take care of you as a queen/king of my life and will be loyal to .

(4) I want some rest i'm tired mentally .

𐙚 Pile 3 .

Namaste pile 3 ! Let's get with your reading :-

❀ Their first impression over you :-

Okay , I sense that this person will think of you as someone who is doing alot of self love or we say someone who is interested in themselves.

They won't be shocked to see you at first instead I see them as being like I wanna be with her/him even If I have to let go of things .

I see that u maybe would have left toxic people behind in your life to know and establish your own self worth and this person will sense same .

They Will daydream about u and their scenarios in Mind haha ♡ cute ! They will see you as someone beautiful and maybe one part of ur body is chubby like 🧸 ♡ .

❀ Your first impression of them :-

Okay , it feels like that you may not notice them as you must be having some fights and mental conflicts and even when you will see this person you may see them as someone smart, observant and intelligent. Your Mind will be playing games with you tbh . You will feel shy infront of this person.

For some people OR few I see that u may see them as someone who is experienced and matured after prolong emotional breakage .like bad relationship experience and failures ect or vice - versa .

It might be possible that you will get people saying that no bro don't focus on that person,that person is mine kinda jealousy vibes tbh .

I see for most of the people that u will be meeting them during high-school time.

𐙚❀˖° How to manifest this connection fast ?

You are being told to cooperate with others . To ask help from others like your friends or colleague to recommend some choices and all . For least to go on a trip of some sort .

𐙚❀˖° Channeled Messages from them :-

(1) show ur strength but be In a flow .

(2) I'm so attracted to you that I wanna take you from everyone ,just to trap u and protect u in my heart .

(3) you are my most unexpected gift from divine and universe .

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:

#theladybrownstarot #tarot community #free tarot #tarot reading #pac #tarotblr #tarotscope #daily tarot #pick a pile #pick a card #pick one #tarot love reading #love reading #artists on tumblr #tarot witch

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bakugoushotwife · 2 years ago

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kinktober day twelve: threesome kink

>>> brain go brrrr! i can only write a stsg threesome i swear it's bad these days. i just love this dynamic so bad and am clinically addicted omfg i hope u all love it as bad as i do--it is officially the longest piece thus far

>>> starring: satoru gojo x curvy!fem!reader x suguru geto >>> cw: mfm threesome, m/m interaction, fingering (f! receiving), oral (f! receiving), spitroasting, reverse cowgirl, double penetration (same hole), overstimulation, hard dom!geto, pleasure dom!gojo, switch gojo, switch reader, squirting, creampie(s). >>> wc: 5.3k >>> event masterlist

he’s not sure when things changed. he’d always seen you in one light, he thought: his friend, his teammate, and a powerful sorceress that made the group a triple threat. you were easy to get along with and impressive to work alongside. you were also funny and had the same taste in music as him, which was a method of bonding during your early years of school. and sure, you were also insanely beautiful, but it was inappropriate for him to have a crush on his classmate. besides, yaga says it’s best not to intermingle with other sorcerers anyways. it would only complicate things, especially as you grow to be closer friends. so geto dated around to distance himself beyond missions and tried to to forget the butterflies your smile gave him for the sake of your group. with his luck, you were probably into satoru anyway.

he’s always been in love with you, he thinks, but enjoyed playing hard to get. unlike suguru, he didn’t shy away from spending time with you. he loved to follow you around campus with his arm hooked around your waist, all big grins and pick up lines that made you roll your eyes every time. he was able to play it off on his nature, claiming that annoying you was worth every extra second of his time. he was all too fond of your amazing skill and intellect, your immense beauty and body for days was only an added benefit. gojo made it a point to train with you exclusively, something that brought the two of you closer and allowed you to see the serious side of one of your best friends. he could never bring himself to make a real move. with his luck, you were probably into suguru anyway—like everyone else.

this delicate balance continued through the rest of your years at jujutsu tech and into your young adult years. the strongest, the curse-eater, and the girl that captured both of their hearts–and connected theirs to each other. gojo was able to satiate himself on his little touches and glimpses of your flustered smiles, shamelessly jerking off at night to the daydreams he has of his precious little girl best friend bouncing on his cock and moaning his name. geto tries to delude himself into feeling like a protective older brother, making it his job to monitor your safety and suitors. but no matter how much he tries, his hand still finds his cock in the comfort of his own bed in the middle of the night, shamefully pleasuring himself to the idea of having your body rocking beneath him and his hand around your neck.

everything gets worse—or better, depending on who you ask— when you all move in together. it was gojo’s idea, claiming his home was too big for just one singular man. so of course he would invite you to come live with him, he hoped to make you woman of the house at some point in the future anyway, so why not now? he extends the same invitation to his other best friend, only because he knows geto would kill him for taking you for himself. the men were close, closer than most friends in multiple ways, so it was no mystery that their shared crush on you eventually became common knowledge. neither of them minded the competition, seemingly convinced he would win your heart on his own before the other could do the same—or in the worst case scenario they would share you! (and whose idea do you think that was?)

but they had to up the ante.

it started small, geto dropped all his flings, even earning a few comments from you about how lonely he must be with his lack of company these days. he always chuckles and give you that suave smile of his, purring out a it’s time i get serious with a wink. he offered to make dinner nightly, making sure the brunt of housework didn’t fall on you since you were already on laundry duty. he always gave you rather selfish relationship advice, making sure you knew how differently he would treat a woman. it wasn’t lost on you, nor were gojo’s efforts.

he encouraged you to take his card and go crazy, often accompanying you on shopping sprees for the house and making sure you leave with an armful of new clothes and whatever else your eyes lingered on too long. satoru showed you his serious side, keeping the house regularly dusted and the floors cleaned, insisting a family should clean up after themselves and not keep servants to make their lives more detached. he invested in your hobbies, letting you try to teach him how to knit, play video games, even trying to do a little book club with you—that unfortunately, suguru was better at, much to his disappointment.

you weren’t dim, you could tell what was happening. you had your suspicions for a while, the two of them practically glued to your sides at all times nowadays—unless one of you was away on a mission, which happened far too often for their liking. you would be lying if you said their attention didn’t make you feel like the luckiest woman in the world, the two were easily the strongest sorcerers the world had to offer if you didn’t take one of those spots for yourself. they were both undeniably gorgeous in their own ways—so how could you possibly choose? your forced obliviousness is the only thing keeping you three firmly planted in friendshipville. though, it’s been more than obvious that you haven’t been seeing anyone outside of them, thank god, and you’re getting antsy. you have to apply more pressure, figure out something that would push them over the edge. you had to keep them competing for you since you couldn’t pick one over the other on your own. aha, you’ve got it—it’s low, scheming even, but you’re growing desperate. you’d just have to dust off your best acting skills and sluttiest outfit.

it was late that night. you knew the boys were still awake, able to hear their laughter from your room. with one final and steadying breath, you peeked into the living room. they were sitting together on the couch watching a movie that was forgotten about as soon as you walked in, the soft sound of your door closing behind drawing their attention. you were evil in your cropped tank that made it painfully clear that was the only thing covering your perky tits, and it didn’t stop there. you didn’t bother with shorts, a cute thong cupping your pussy and sitting along those glorious wide hips. they could die–the effect you have is clear immediately. suguru clutches a throw pillow over his lap, hoping to smoothly hide the throbbing erection just looking at you gave him, while satoru only makes his more obvious by spreading his legs—at least geto tried to respect you. their eyes are practically bulging from their heads, suguru’s lip was between his teeth meanwhile satoru’s curls into a smirk.

“you guys are being so loud out here.” you bat your eyes innocently, twirling a lock of your hair around your finger as you let your gaze bounce between them. gojo slides his glasses off, a bit starstruck as he sets them aside and looks over to suguru, needing him to be on the same page.

“sorry princess,” satoru pouts, patting the spot in between him and geto. “since you’re up…why don’t you hang out with us?” you note the greed swimming in those all-seeing eyes. you force some bashfulness.

“oh–dressed like this?” you rotate your hips a little bit to further your point and suguru has to clench his jaw tight to not groan aloud. “i wouldn't wanna make you guys uncomfortable.”

“you won’t.” suguru blurts out, tucking some of his overgrown bangs behind his ear. satoru nods his agreement.

“yeah! you’re our girl, you could never make us uncomfortable.” the white headed one says, cunningly petting the cushion again. you smirk to yourself, giving them a faux-reluctant nod before striding to sit. your ass ripples as you step past suguru, and his dick throbs pathetically. as soon as your back touches the couch, satoru’s arm is around your waist to tug your upper half into a lean; then suguru puts a massive paw over your thigh, kneading and stroking the exposed skin gently. they’re both so close, the heavy feeling of their hands on your skin was intoxicating; you could hardly tell where one stopped and the other one began. their scents were so overbearing, suguru’s spicy cinnamon and bourbon contrasted the honeyed vanilla sweetness of satoru so perfectly it had you drunk and losing sight of your master plan before anything had even really happened. but don’t worry, they’ll take very good care of you. you’ve gotten the ball rolling, which is good enough, right?

they pretend to keep their eyes on the tv, heads forward like they don’t notice what the other was doing. satoru’s hand starts to creep under the hemline of your tank top, sinewy fingers long enough to brush against the underside of your breast. you hum softly at the touch, only encouraging the lean man to do it again. suguru watches patiently, waiting for more of your approval. you burrow deeper in his side, pushing your chest out even further. he could practically giggle with excitement at your eagerness. suguru scoots closer, sliding his arm across your lower back to grab handfuls of your thick ass free to fondle thanks to your slutty panties. your weight falls back to the middle, wanting to give geto more of your attention. he smiles at satoru at the action, taking it as a sign of your affection. the other man rolls his eyes, leaning into your side to nuzzle your cheek.

the black haired man does the same into your neck, their hands kneading and rubbing and stroking your skin. you lean your head back against the couch, throwing your arms around them to encourage them further with a blissed out grin of your own.

“our slutty little roommate came dressed like that for a reason.” satoru snickers, bringing his other hand to cradle your jawline, tossing a wink towards his dark haired counterpart.

you hum, prying your eyes open to look at him with a smirk. “course i did…just like you asked me to move in for a reason and sugu gives me back massages for a reason.” you muse, humming as you walk your fingers down their spines. they look at each other with slight surprise, clearly they thought you were unsuspecting of them all this time. you chuckle softly, trailing your digits down their arms to close around their wrists, moving their massive hands to your chest, a boob each. you smirk at them. “everything that’s about to go down is only because i want it to happen, understand?”

you look at gojo first, reveling in his amused expression. he hadn’t expected you to take over and become the boss, but he wasn’t necessarily opposed either. it was sexy to think that he had fallen for your trap, and not the other way around. he’d happily do anything that you wanted, all he wanted was you. you arch your brow and he nods dumbly, nuzzling into your cheek again to show his devotion. no woman had tamed him before, but it wouldn’t be so bad to start now, especially not when the woman in question is his very sexy best friend. you give him a soft smile of approval before turning to the real work, geto.

many women had tried and failed to tame him, and he thought it was pretty funny each and every time. but now here you are, his gorgeous lady best friend, prepared to tell him what to do and exactly how to do it. now that was just plain adorable. you could see see the flames of intrigue flicker in his obsidian eyes, a gaze so intense it made you shrink into satoru a little bit. suguru was being hand gifted the only thing he’s ever wished for, but he would still have it on his terms. he squeezes down harshly on your breast, making you squirm. “cute. we wanted this longer though, so. how about you listen to me instead?”

you scoff, looking down at his hand on you. “don’t act so bold now, sugu. if you wanted to be in charge, you should have acted like it.” you tease, and even gojo smirks behind you. he thought it would be pretty amusing to watch you two battle for dominance, though he’s smart enough to capitalize on an opportunity when he sees one. he pulls you against him, kneading your hips and giving your exposed neck sweet sloppy kisses, all playing into your favor. “maybe i’ll let you give out orders next time–but if you want to be a diva, i’ll just fuck satoru—i’m sure he’s more than enough.”

the mentioned man hums, happy to be in your good graces and your leveraging tool. nothing drives suguru crazier than watching gojo get all the attention. geto gives you a look of dissatisfaction, only pushing you to climb onto your lanky friend’s lap, smiling down at him like an angel from heaven. gojo thought he may die right here. you’re perfect, the way your weight feels in his lap pressing up against his semi is so glorious already he’s afraid he may embarrass himself. his hands find your waist, and he’s looking up to you like he has no idea what to do next. he really is so clueless that it’s adorable. satoru acted like a pussy magnet, which wasn’t necessarily wrong since he is so gorgeous, powerful, and tall, but he never knew how to interact with them—especially since all his fantasies consisted of you, anyway. you smile down at him again and he knows it will be alright, that he’ll do what he does best and learn on the fly—he has to make you feel good.

“take my shirt off, baby.” you coo to him, lifting your arms a bit so he could peel it off. He leans forward unsurely, almost looking to geto for approval before he pinches the fabric and brings it over your head. your tits fall from the little tank top holding them in place, a beautifully heavy chest with pebbled buds wait, calling gojo’s name. his face turns red and he looks up to you for the next order, feeling his semi grow into a full blown problem. geto watches you with narrowed eyes, aching bulge straining against his pants still, and you were only making it worse. he curses himself for being enamored with someone like you, an expert in pushing buttons. you’re his woman whether you know it or not, and he’s only willing to share you with his bestest of friends, even if you were grating on his last nerve.

“do what feels natural, sato.” you breathe out, focused on the way his eyes grow at your permission and his tongue darts out to lick his lips. he’s been fixated on you as long as he can remember, and now it was his time to prove that he was the one for you. he drags your hips closer, wanting you to feel his erection pressing into that tiny thong you had the nerve to put on. you gasp in surprise, though a giggle quickly replaces the sound. you rest your arms on his shoulders, content to twirl locks of snowy white around your fingers. he groans at the sensation, struggling to keep his head on straight already. your body is so warm beneath his hands, so soft and pliable. you duck your head down to kiss him, and he tilts his head up to receive it. it swallows up all his senses, tunneling out everything around him to only focus on your touch, taste, and smell. he’s hungry, eager to prove his worth as a lover, wanting nothing else but to make you feel good. he grabs at your hips to feel you closer, and you indulge by circling your movements in his lap. he moans into your mouth as he feels your tits brush up against his shirt, making him break the kiss and lean back so he could get it off. he does it so quick that you aren’t prepared for his mouth to smack up against yours again, teeth clashing. you giggle again, enchanted by his boyish charm and overwhelming affection for you. it was sweet, and even though he was inexperienced, his kisses were full of passion and heat.

geto had mixed feelings. on one hand, you looked magnificent. your body is like nothing he’s ever seen before, almost to the point of unfairness. no woman could ever compare after this. he’d either have to marry you or be forever disappointed. but, on the other hand, you were wiggling around in gojo’s lap instead of his, and that’s only tolerable for so long. gojo is lucky still, if it were anyone else there would be no tolerance at all. but his patience is wearing thin, especially once you start letting little moans of your own go because of satoru’s big hands massaging your tits and his bulge catching on your puffy clothed clit. you even sound angelic, and it’s pissing him off. this was just a display of your power over them, but suguru wanted to teach a few lessons of his own. he scoots closer, letting his hands mingle around with satoru’s, feeling the dips of your body.

you can feel his touch, easily differentiating between satoru and suguru. your lanky friend’s hands were slimmer and warmer–moving around clumsily. your dark locked counterpart moved with more experience, his fingers thicker and rougher. you smirk at his impatience, clearly not able to be as obedient as dear satoru. you knew it would go like this, with gojo doing anything to please you and geto vying for control himself. you didn’t mind—you know it would push gojo to compete.

geto wastes no time in pulling you off of gojo’s lap and into his own, much to his friend’s disappointment. you give him a pointed look, brow raised and all, but you still wrap your arms around his shoulders the same way you did your other bestie. he smirks up at you, expecting nothing but your compliance once he sees how wet gojo got you. he can tell from the look in your eyes that you don’t have a lot of fight left in you despite the way you act, and that’s perfect for him. he plans to make you brainless, able to remember nothing but him anyway.

“greedy much?” you tease, tossing a look to the pouty white-haired boy watching with contempt. suguru shrugs.

“hardly, just proving that he is not all you need.” he smiles up at you innocently, raking his touch over your thighs. unlike gojo, he knows exactly how to work you up and melt in his hands. gojo harrumphs in the corner of the couch. geto’s brow creeps up even though his head is laxly leaned back against the sofa. he watches you like he owns you, and you love the contrast between the two boys. you roll your eyes and lean down to kiss him anyway, and his lips tell you that the show is over. he gnashes his teeth against your lip, making you squeal and open up for him, wherein he promptly shoves his tongue in to smother yours out. your fingers card through the black tresses cascading over his shoulders and down his back as you hum into his mouth. he’s humming at your eagerness, letting his hand drift from the meaty parts of your hips over to the wet patch on your panties, grinning when you gasp. he works his deft fingers over your heat, and gojo makes a strangled noise as he watches you lewdly suck on geto’s tongue. you let your hips roll into his hand, his other one coming down on your rippling ass. you moan softly, prompting him to spank you again, much to satoru’s enjoyment.

“s’fat, looks so pretty when you do that.” he compliments his friend, shoving out of his pants in anticipation of what comes next. his hand grabs around his proud length, pumping the curved shaft for minimal relief. geto hisses, feeling your hips move desperately towards your own release. he slaps your ass a third time, making you groan out and toss your head back, the picture of a perfect mess.

“gonna cum already?” he tsked, though the smirk on his face betrays him. you nod, tugging on the roots of his hair hard enough to cause a little sting. satoru groans, tired of watching and desperate for any form of aid, but you’re too intoxicating to rush. “then cum.” he demands, stopping his touch.

he knew he had pushed you far enough already, feeling your pelvis stutter against his hand. he watches you come undone, digging pearly white teeth into swollen lips as you dampen your panties another level. he doesn’t give you any type of reprieve before he’s pushing and tugging and arranging you for his preference on the cluttered couch. your brain is foggy already, clit throbbing from satoru’s craze and suguru’s abuse. he’s got you on all fours, face positioned over a huge cock nestled in trimmed white hair.

“be easy on her, satoru.” geto warns as gojo gets to his knees, fisting your hair to get your attention. if you enjoyed suguru’s dominance then he would try some of his own. he directs your mouth over his leaky tip, and you stick out your tongue to encourage him. he nearly shudders just from that, and you whine at the feeling of geto sliding his hands down your ass and thighs with his breath fanning over your shiny hole. you’re gagging on satoru’s length hitting the back of your throat as suguru his fat tongue licks a teasingly slow stripe down your slit. you can’t help but pressed yourself further back into his muscle and force yourself down to the hilt of satoru. he groans loudly, giving you a taste of your own medicine with how he pulls on your hair. he guides you along him, amazed at how much better you feel than his hand. your velvet cheeks feel so wet and warm, it’s amazing he doesn’t cum down your throat instantly. meanwhile geto eats you from the back, sucking on your lips and nudging up against your bud in alternating motions, making your head cloud up with dizziness. that could be from the lack of air you’re able to get in around gojo’s cock stuffing your mouth, tears sliding down your flustered cheeks and drool spilling out around him. he’s whimpering, the sound of him coupled with squelching from both ends had suguru grunting into your folds, letting your sweet essence dribble down his chin. he’s grabbing handfuls of your ass, bruising and smacking the fat. your hands explore the lean expanse that is satoru’s body, muscular thighs keeping you steady and flexing abs making you clench around your other friend’s tongue.

“gah, this—is amazing–fu-huck.” satoru whines, fisting your hair as his cock jumps at the sight of you. you moan your approval, pussy spasming for geto once again without warning, releasing on his face this time. your vision is already blurring, pleasure ripping through you all at once. he’s drunk on the taste of you, sitting upright on his knees as he scoops some of your cum out, coating his fingers with the slick. he may be the slightest bit possessive, but what’s his is gojo’s, and he had to let the other man taste you and get just as pussydrunk as he is. his other hand tugs you off his friend’s dick with a pop, pushing his hardness to the crack of your ass. he leans over you, body like a slab of concrete as he extends his hand to gojo. he leans up immediately, and you’re amazed at the sight of satoru sucking your juice off of suguru’s fingers, moaning slightly at your taste. geto smirks at him, settling back to his original spot. gojo grins widely as he wipes some residual tears from your face.

“she’s so pretty, tell her suguru.” he sings, pushing some hair out of your face as the aforementioned wraps a beefy arm around your waist and pulls you to a sitting position against him. he’s so solid, you can feel how thick and long he is against your back, and it makes you tingle with need like you haven’t came twice already. he pulls you along as he repositions himself, sitting on the couch like it’s intended to be used for with you balanced on his abdomen.

“oh of course, our pretty lady is the only girl i see.” suguru croons, pulling your hair into a ponytail just because he could. you look down at his cock, biting down on your lip at the sight. he was an inch or two shorter than gojo, but made up for it with his thickness. he had veins running along the shaft much like his muscular arms, and a dark tip growing impatient. they were perfect, you knew they would please you in different ways, but you had to have them both.

when satoru gets to his feet and stands in front of you, pale fingers stroking his pretty cock, you knew that was their plan.

geto snakes his hands to your thighs, prying them apart with little resistance from you. he lifts you with this grip, lowering you down all at once on him. he chuckles when you hiss and squirm at the stretch, feeling like a hot knife just gutted you. suguru continues sinking his hips into the cushions below and slamming them back up into you, locking eyes with his best friend eagerly awaiting his turn. you were a whimpering mess, falling back against the man railing you and leaving him responsible for holding you upright as your head finds home on his shoulder.

“if i go easy on you now, you won’t be able to fit us.” suguru explains with a labored breath, your walls so tight he didn’t know if you’d be able to take them anyhow—but he’d be damned if he didn’t try. you nod your understanding, moving your hips to help his strokes hit even deeper. you already feel so full, you can’t imagine what it’s gonna be like when satoru tries to push in. “so fucking wet for your best friends, you’ll take us, won’t you?”

you nod vigorously. it feels like you’re floating, every snap of suguru’s hips slammed his cock impossibly deeper. you knew your little act of control would only last so long, but it worked beautifully. if not for you, they’d probably be jacking off to you for the foreseeable future.

“say it, wanna hear it from our girl’s mouth.” he coos, the tone of his voice so contradictory to what he actually says. it makes your pussy squeeze him anyway.

“wanna take my best friend’s cocks.” you babble, feeling satoru’s hands on your waist again.

“and what else?” suguru groans, almost irritated that your pussy fucked this good and you’ve had the nerve to keep it to yourself all this time. his hand closes around your throat this time, trusting satoru to keep you from falling over. you were so pliable and it was such a treat to hear you talk like this.

“and i’m soaking wet for you both, god–stop teasin’.” you whine, batting your eyes at satoru. he’s sympathetic to your cause, wanting nothing more than to shove his rod deep in you and wonder who makes you feel better, not keen to wait for orders anymore, eager to earn your praise. suguru has your legs spread open perfectly; so while geto snickers from your answer, gojo steps forward and shoves his cock over his best friend’s and into your choking cunt. the feeling takes even suguru aback as you cry out from the stretch. It’s impossible, it’s too much, you feel like they’ll break you in half if they start to move, but the burning subsides, your fingers digging at gojo’s chest when suguru starts to move.

all three of you moan. it’s too good not to, your cunt locking the men against each other, rubbing against your silken walls and the bumpy texture of the other’s ridges was the best way to fuck, they found out. suguru is slow, and prompts gojo to go even slower, feeling you loosen up as the pressure of them in your gut only makes you delirious. you’re so loud, nasty moans and curses coming from your lips as their pace increases, the two men locked in competition to make you and even the other cum first. satoru leans in, pressing his rock hard abdomen against you and deepening his angle. he has to balance himself by bracing his hand on suguru’s other shoulder, both of you close enough to kiss. this was how it was always meant to be, the three of you. he gives you a sloppy kiss, his free hand cupping your cheek to tell you how much this means to him. geto’s caught up in the moment, he tells himself, but everything feels so clear. they were never in competition—you needed them both, and he needed you both, and satoru needed the two of you both. then he feels it, a sloppy kiss meant for him, and he hums in realization. it wasn’t much different from kissing you, though satoru certainly needed the practice. you moan lewdly, the sounds of your cunt being stuffed and their grunts and groans of pleasure provide the soundtrack as they work in tandem to drive you crazy.

“g’na–ngh–cum boys, ohhh~” you cry, legs starting to shake in suguru’s grip. they break their kiss to watch you jerk and jump, fucking into you as deep as their hips will allow. Satoru presses his fingers to your clit, hoping to increase your cute little spasms, but what you do instead is even sexier. you push at his shoulders, a clear liquid gushing and spraying over his abdomen and dripping down your cunt to cover suguru’s balls, leaving them both gaping in amazement.

“that’s a good fucking girl, shit–” suguru mumbles, watching satoru’s face scrunch up in overwhelming pleasure. he doesn’t warn you, holding your hips down to receive all of his cum, the hot feeling making you writhe and moan in his lap to send satoru spurting too. it’s so much, the burning warmth in your gut, their seed mixing together inside of you and gushing out around them both, making such a mess you’re almost embarrassed. satoru slumps forward to kiss you all over, mumbling out thanks for letting them destroy you like this as he lifts you off of suguru, cuddling up with you—mess be damned. you’re panting, sensitive, and dripping but you can’t stop grinning at your success. suguru rolls his eyes at satoru’s childishness, but it really just amuses him. he’d rather you have company as he cleans up the messes anyway, cleaning you and even satoru up before himself. satoru spoons you from behind and suguru shoves himself on the couch to hold you the other way, content at his display of power over the two strongest sorcerers in the room. everyone settles their breathing and into a lull of peace, the only sound in the room was the forgotten movie on the flatscreen, until.

“hey—i didn’t get to eat her outtttttt.” gojo whines, squeezing your body. you laugh, expecting geto to do the same, but he entertains this argument.

“you got your dick sucked—i didn’t get that—”

“we have plenty of time to even the score, shut up and let me sleep before i use my technique to un-fuck you.” you giggle.

#kyleewritesjjk #kylee's kinktober event #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #gojo smut #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #geto smut #jujutsu kaisen #jjk geto #stsg #suguru geto #suguru geto x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader

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7-deadly-cats · 2 months ago

Text

♡ buried down below ♡

// P A R T O N E

♡ G E N R E ♡ character portrait, angst but happy ending, hurt/comfort, this is for anyone whose favorite characters always happen to be poor little souls who crave comfort the most

M A S T E R L I S T | T A G L I S T F O R M | P A R T T W O (soon)

♡ P A I R I N G ♡ s1!rafe cameron x gentle!reader (f)

♡ C O N T E N T W A R N I N G ♡ LOTS of rafe angst, strong/suggestive language, substance abuse, coke addiction, rafe having intrusive/violent thoughts, childhood trauma/parental loss, mention of ward neglecting and abusing him (mostly emotionally but mention of mild violence), rafe experiencing a panic attack, unresolved grief and suppressed identity, symbolic depiction of inner death/ buried inner child, honestly just very angsty but bittersweet bc of gentle!reader, read at own caution

♡ S U M M A R Y ♡ beneath the heat, noise and mess of being rafe cameron, a boy is buried. he's been rotting down there for years, right next to the memories of his dead mother. neglected by his father, overwhelmed by grief, and eaten alive by how unfair the world feels — his anger turned outward into spite, recklessness, self-destruction, and a toxic idea of what affection is supposed to be like. but when he meets you at a party—the new girl in town—it hits him like a punch to the gut. something about you brings back the way his mother made him feel. and for the first time in years, rafe is given a choice: leave the boy buried underground, or finally let him breathe again.

♡ W O R D C O U N T ♡ 8.7k+ (i know it's a lot but i tried my best)

♡ A / N ♡ this is my personal love letter to rafe cameron as a (comfort) character. an attempt to understand him. this is why this may feel somehow different from how and what i usually write. i'm genuinely sorry to anyone who just wanted the prompt they voted for. either part 2 or part 3 will include it, so you can skip to that part as soon as i've written them. those who still decide to give this one a shot, hope you enjoy and it would mean a lot if you decided to leave a comment <3

Rafe Cameron was not an easy person. That much became clear to anyone who's ever had the slightest interaction with him.

The impulsiveness, the bluntness, the recklessness, the aggression issues that flared up more or less depending on the day, his self-destructive tendencies—even the drug addiction—all of it was deeply ingrained in him.

These weren’t just traits, they were a heavy, embedded anchor that couldn't simply be ripped out.

And even if he ever managed to shed that unbearable weight, it was so deeply rooted, so firmly and wildly intertwined with who he was, that it would leave painful marks behind.

Ugly memories, emotions, and scars.

But to even begin moving that massive anchor—even by just a single inch—there had to be a willingness to change in the first place.

Because the anchor wasn’t just a part of Rafe. It was him.

The worst part? He had tried. He had wanted to change. He wanted to be the son Ward Cameron could be proud of. He wanted to make his dad happy. Fuck, he'd even wanted to protect him.

Rafe had gone so far in trying to reclaim his place in the family that he'd become a murderer.

Sheriff Peterkin—just shot. No second thoughts, no hesitation. Of course not, this was about his dad. He’d done it for him, right?

Taking the life of a stranger to save his father's... it had felt like the right choice. A simple one, even. For the family.

And for Rafe himself.

Because how the fuck was he supposed to go through losing someone else again? Someone he believed he was close to?

First his mom... and then his dad? Fuck no. No way.

Just thinking about his mother—his gentle, loving momma—made the hole in his chest feel even deeper. And honestly, he’d pushed those thoughts so far down, locked them away in some mental drawer, that if it weren’t for the pictures hanging on the big photo wall by the staircase, he could barely remember what her face even looked like.

It had been hard at first.

Seven-year-old Rafe, sitting on the couch with little Sarah one night as their dad knelt in front of them, taking their small hands in his, and telling them that their mom wouldn’t be tucking them in tonight.

Not tonight, not the night after that, never again.

She was gone. Dead.

An accident. Or some bullshit like that. Shit, Rafe didn’t even remember anymore. What did it matter anyway? What difference did the cause make?

His mom was dead.

And from that moment on, something in Rafe shifted. The routine in his life disappeared, that gentle, comforting presence that had always made him feel safe—eradicated.

And that kind of loss? That was worse than any kind of withdrawal could ever be.

At first, little Rafe had just been confused, overwhelmed, lost without the constant love and safety his mom had provided.

He couldn’t understand the why. He needed answers.

Naturally, he turned to the next person a kid his age would expect love and comfort from: his dad.

But Ward Cameron was drowning in his own grief—haunted by guilt, rage, and a sorrow only he truly understood. For reasons he never spoke aloud, he seemed to carry a deep sense of blame for her death.

And every time he looked into Rafe’s eyes, he saw her. The same soft eyes that would grow cold in the years to come. The same smile, barely visible these days. That same curiosity about the world—a light Ward snuffed out before it could grow.

So Ward Cameron pulled away. Not from both his kids—no, just from his son.

While Rafe, desperate for love and a father’s attention, was left in the cold, Ward turned toward Sarah.

Fucking bitch Sarah—Daddy’s little favorite. Independent, headstrong, always standing up for herself. And while their mom had endless love to give to both her children, in Ward’s eyes, it had always just been his perfect daughter, Sarah.

Sarah, Sarah, Sarah.

That imbalance—or rather, that lack of love in Rafe’s life—quickly created a deep crack in the foundation of the whole family.

By the time he was eight, Rafe had developed a fragile sense of self-worth and, with it, an insatiable hunger for acceptance, understanding—a place to belong.

Even though his dad neglected him, treated him in ways no boy ever deserved, Rafe still chased after him. Craving his approval. Desperate for praise and love he never received.

And watching Sarah receive that care, that warmth, that affection he longed for, without even having to ask for it—it planted something in Rafe. A seed of rage, jealousy, and hatred so intense it cracked the bond with the one person he’d once truly been close to after his mother: his sister.

But it didn’t stop there.

That gnawing guilt, the haunting question of whether he was the problem—if he had done something wrong, if Rafe was the reason Sarah received more attention, if he was somehow responsible for his mom’s death—it started eating him alive.

And soon, all that pain started turning outward. It became this violent tug-of-war between retreat and explosion.

Locking himself in his room after Ward yelled at him, and beating the crap out of kids at school just to let the anger out. Running away from home when the memories and pictures of his mom became too much—and stealing a bottle of whiskey from some careless Pogue’s backroom stash just to drown it all out. Pushing away any closeness when little Sarah knocked on his door at night—just as scared, just as grieving—unable to bring himself up to open the door. Couldn’t trust himself not to hurt her.

That was the worst part of it all—the intrusive thoughts. Dark, sudden, terrifying. They scared the hell out of this little boy.

But the thing that really sent it all over the edge?

A stranger his dad brought home, not even three years after his mom had died.

Rose.

A pathetic, laughable replacement. Someone who was supposed to take his mom’s place.

But this stranger—this intruder in their house, in his family—was nothing like her. Rose wasn’t as kind. She wasn’t as soft. Not as understanding. She wasn’t her.

Shit, she wasn’t even a poor imitation—she was a clear sign of betrayal. His dad’s attempt to replace what could never be replaced.

You couldn't trade beautiful peonies with dirty weeds.

And ten-year-old Rafe wasn’t fooled by her fake kindness. He refused her food. Didn’t want her bedtime stories. Pushed her disgusting hands away when she reached out.

That’s how the bright, once-disciplined boy became a bitter wreck, full of deep, tangled complexes.

The fear of never being enough clashed violently with this growing sense of superiority, creating a fracture so sharp it split Rafe right down the middle.

And to cope with that ongoing inner war, he created a new kind of constant.

First, it was the wine and whiskey he’d sneak out of his dad’s cellar. Then came weed—something he first tried from his new friend Kelce during his early high school days.

But weed wasn’t enough. It numbed things, sure—but Rafe didn’t want to be numb. Fuck no. He wanted to feel the high. He wanted euphoria. A way to fill the hole inside of him with something.

So at just fifteen, he spiraled deeper.

It happened at some shitty bonfire party—one of those nights where Kooks and Pogues mixed, and even a few annoying Tourons showed up. There was some greasy guy there selling the stuff.

“Makes you feel good,” the guy had said.

And fuck, that was exactly what Rafe needed.

For forty bucks, he bought a line. Snorted it right off the toilet lid in the beach bathroom.

And that—holy shit, that was the first time in years Rafe felt something real. Pure bliss. Energy. Confidence. Fucking power.

It was sick and hilarious at the same time. That one little line of white powder replaced everything he’d ever been missing.

So Rafe wasn’t a victim anymore. No—he was in control now. He decided when and how good he felt. If his dad started comparing him to Sarah again, throwing insults and pushing him away—no big deal. Rafe would snort a line or two, and suddenly, everything was fine again.

Better than fine. In that state, he felt like the only clear-headed one in a world full of hypocrites.

But it became obvious real quick: the high came fast and so did the crash, hitting even harder.

Rafe’s impulsiveness, irritability, and aggression only got worse. There was even a moment—just one tiny stupid moment—where he dared to raise a hand at his dad in a brutal argument. Just once. And never again.

The beating, followed by a tight embrace, was something he’d never forget.

That’s how Ward handled their relationship: he’d push Rafe away, tell him to get his shit together, to be more like fucking Saint Sarah, to finally pull himself together—and then, on other days, when he looked into Rafe’s eyes and saw his wife’s memory shining through, softened by nostalgia, his behavior changed.

Suddenly there were apologies. Praise. A pat on the shoulder. A smile. A hug.

It was a sick, toxic cycle—and it became Rafe’s understanding of love.

And if the universe had decided that this poor boy had endured enough, everything changed the night you came into his life. At Kelce’s first high school party of their senior year, to be exact.

Kelce had invited you because you’d just moved in next door and, well, he thought you were cute. Said you probably needed someone to “properly introduce you to island life, right?”.

You were a new face on Figure 8. Your parents owned a major fashion brand that had recently opened a branch in the Outer Banks. But what set them apart from the rest of the Kooks was the fact that they were pouring a chunk of their profit into a side project called OuterLabs—focused on research and preservation of the local flora and fauna.

Most Kooks saw this as a clever marketing strategy—to make them seem grounded and “caring.” But it was real. Their love for nature, and for people, was honest. And it showed—especially in their daughter.

Rafe noticed right away. That you were different, at least.

The first time he saw you was when Kelce introduced you to him and Topper at his party. “Y/N Y/L/N,” Kelce said. “Moved in last week—figured I’d bring her around.”

You gave a soft laugh, sweet and warm, and it stirred something in Rafe. Something familiar his mind couldn’t quite place, making his chest clench painfully.

And then you looked at him—with such warmth and kindness, the kind barely anyone in Figure 8 carried. You smiled, genuinely curious, and said something like, “Rafe? A sweet name. Is it short for Rafael?”

Kelce and Topper chuckled, clearly amused. That should’ve pissed Rafe off—but your voice, that name… it awakened something deep in him. Something that had been buried for years.

Because not Ward, not Sarah, not Wheezie, and definitely not that witch Rose—none of them ever called him by that name. They avoided it like it was cursed like it dragged up something painful that needed to stay buried.

And honestly? It did.

Because there was only ever one person who made that name sound like it meant something.

His mom.

To hear it again, after all those years, in such a gentle, warm tone—bittersweet didn’t even begin to cover it.

That setting, that party, three beers and a line deep, Topper and Kelce cracking jokes at his expense—and then you.

Smiling like that. So honest. So warm.

So intoxicating.

So fucking wrong.

Rafe’s brows furrowed. He shot his idiot friends a deadly look that shut them up instantly, shoved past Kelce’s shoulder, said something like "Fuck this", and stormed off toward the bathroom.

There were a few girls inside, comforting a crying friend. He threw them out. Slammed the door shut, not caring to lock it. And with shaky hands, he started prepping his second line of the night on the bathroom sink.

Because, fuck, what the FUCK was that just now? That pull in his chest, the bitter taste on his tongue, those memories?

So caught up in the noise in his head and the music outside, he didn’t even hear the knock on the door. Or the second one. Didn’t notice that you’d quietly slipped in behind him.

It was your concerned voice that pulled him out of his focused trance as he tried to shape a halfway decent line with his credit card.

"You okay?"

Rafe let out a startled breath, brows furrowing in pure annoyance as the precious powder scattered off the sink.

"Fuck." He straightened up, already opening his mouth to call you a dumb bitch, when you quickly moved toward him with a soft, "Oh no, I’m really sorry."

You dropped to your knees and—no fucking way—actually tried to scoop the coke up with your hands.

The sight was almost pathetic enough to amuse Rafe, and he found himself smirking, the anger slowly dissolving. "That’s fucked. It's a lost cause."

You shook your head, still focused on the floor. "It’s money."

"Not even a fucking Pogue would stoop down for that," Rafe muttered, amused at your stupid little comment.

Eventually, you stood back up, hands cupped together holding a sad little pile of white powder. "Here." Carefully, you let it fall back onto the sink, brushing the rest off your palm with your fingers.

Then your eyes met his again—warm, sincere, with that sweet little smile. "Earlier... did I say something wrong? I didn’t mean to upset you."

Rafe's expression shifted instinctively. You looked genuinely concerned but why the hell would some chick be nice to him without a hidden motive? Your family probably wanted to stay in Ward’s good graces. Or you just wanted to tell your new friends how you managed to suck Rafe Cameron’s cock on your very first party here.

Classic playbook.

He just shook his head, brushing you aside with a hand so he could check if anything from that powder-floor disaster was still salvageable. "Shit, don’t you have anything better to do? Go back to Kelce, I’m sure he’d love the attention."

You let out a soft chuckle and sat down on the toilet lid, hands folded in your lap. "Yeah, he seems like a very social guy. Full of energy." You watched him quietly as he started forming a new line. Then, calmer, "He also advised me not to go after you. But I think I said something I shouldn't have. I’m sorry about that."

God, how could someone be this fucking annoying?

Rafe didn’t even look up when he said, "Seriously, unless you’re gonna suck my dick, get the fuck out."

Then he bent down and snorted the line in one go. Straightening up, he felt that familiar kick hit him—energy, euphoria, that brief moment of clarity.

Fuck, he felt good. Alive. Clear.

"May I ask why you’re doing this?" you asked softly. You still hadn’t moved an inch.

Rafe turned to you, pissed, pupils blown wide, eyes still red from the first line half an hour ago.

And then—there, under the harsh bathroom light—he actually saw you. Not just your soft eyes and pretty face. Your whole presence.

So calm and kind, with this sweet undertone of innocence. But not the naive or stupid kind he’d seen in almost every party girl desperate to feel something by sucking some random guy's dick and getting wasted.

No—there was something real behind your eyes. A curiosity. A warmth. Something human. Something that sparked a memory hidden so deep inside him it made his chest ache again.

And the worst? You looked at him like you saw him. Like you were trying to coax out the little boy he’d buried at seven years old and never looked back on.

But like always, when Rafe didn’t understand something, it made his head hurt—and that made him angry.

"Okay, what the fuck is this?" He tilted his head with an irritated smirk. "You playing fucking babysitter at this shitshow of a party? Or looking for some sad little girl talk moment or whatever? There’s plenty of bitches out there who'd love to listen."

And fuck, the way you didn’t react how he expected made his blood boil. That same annoyingly sweet smile still on your face.

"I don’t think you need a babysitter," you said, voice calm, almost playfully gentle. "And I could talk about a lot of things, for sure. The people here are pretty mixed. A little reserved around newbies, I’d say, but still very welcoming."

This bullshit? It made zero fucking sense to Rafe. Maybe you were just some naive little girl, clueless about what really went on in places like this.

He scoffed condescendingly, tapping his temples with both hands. “Jesus, did you pop something before coming here? These people are all fucking fake—posers.” He gestured toward the door. “You really think any of them give a shit about anything besides your fucking last name? Of course, they’re welcoming. That’s how this works. ‘Your daddy does business with my daddy, so let me kiss your ass until it bleeds.’”

He shook his head, running a hand through his hair, a light sheen of sweat on his forehead. “And that crap earlier?” He let out a bitter laugh. “Like—what the fuck even was that? If some bitch had seen you kneeling like that in front of me, your daddy would've had to hear all about his little whore of a daughter the next morning.” He lifted his hands in mock innocence. “But hey, if you’re into that shit—since we’re already here.”

Kelce had told you a lot about Rafe Cameron when he'd invited you to sit on his porch your very first day.

Big, bad Cameron who either tolerated your existence or made sure you knew how much he despised it. Rafe, who showed up at every party, every event, only to end up talking to Kelce or Topper, and maybe some girl that drove him crazy in all the right ways. Ward’s son, known by everyone as the black sheep—but no one dared say it to his face.

Rafe Cameron—someone even his closest friends couldn’t quite describe because he was too unpredictable, too impulsive. The kind of guy you approached carefully… or not at all.

But in his words, gestures, the fury in his eyes—in everything about him—you saw something else. Someone whose light once shined too bright and was burned by it in return.

A lone wolf, cast out by the pack or chose to walk away on his own, unable to track the scent that'd lead him back.

And it filled you with this aching kind of sadness, a quiet understanding. Not pity. Something deeper, almost instinctive. You just wanted to hold him, brush his hair back. To let him feel your presence and know it was safe.

Even though you didn’t know what pain he carried, even though you didn’t know his story, his reasons, or what kept him angry and guarded—it didn’t scare you.

You didn’t need to know his trauma to feel something real. A bond, raw and honest, only human to human could feel.

And it wasn’t some ‘I want to fix him’ fantasy. He wasn’t broken. No, people weren’t glass to be shattered and glued back together. That’s not how it worked.

No. This boy—this soul—wasn’t broken. He was misunderstood. Shaken. Confused. Carrying something heavy. And somewhere along the way, he’d learned to armor up so hard that everything tender in him had to come out as rage.

Like an animal that bared its teeth when it was scared.

And with an animal like that, you didn’t force your hand. You didn’t try to pet it. You didn’t reach out and hope to be the one it trusted.

You’d get scratched if you were lucky. Bitten if not.

But someone like Rafe—someone high, already teetering on that edge of a crashout—you knew one wrong move could end badly.

So all you gave him was a soft smile. A warm look. A small nod.

“You’re probably right. A lot of people here aren’t looking for anything real. That’s fine, though. Not everyone has to like you, right?" You tilted your head, keeping your gaze locked with his. “Still… I think it’s sad. That most people here are so scared of being seen, they pretend to be someone else. Maybe it’s all they know.”

Rafe scoffed harshly, clearly disgusted by your worldview—or maybe by the way your words hit something inside him he didn’t want to acknowledge. “Shit, if you actually believe that, you’re fucking naive. Is that your game or something? You think that fake-ass sympathy and hippie bullshit is how you bag a guy? Go try that shit on Topper. He eats up that empathy crap.”

And even though your curiosity burned hotter now, even though your mind wanted to dig deeper, to understand the beautiful chaos that was Rafe Cameron, you also knew not to corner a wolf when it was already baring its teeth.

So you stood up slowly, your eyes still soft as they studied him. You glanced down briefly at the sink, just where the line had been.

“You want to know what I believe?” You smiled gently. “You don't need this. I mean… doesn’t it just amplify what’s already there?”

Rafe’s jaw clenched hard. He wanted to tell you to shut the fuck up. To get the fuck out of here. That you didn’t know shit. That you were just another new bitch on Figure 8 trying to feel important.

But that warmth in your eyes… That fucking look...

Something inside him twisted again. Bitter and sweet, like a memory he’d locked up and tried to forget. Something that breathed light into the darkest drawer in his soul, the one he’d stuffed full of everything about his mother he couldn’t bear to feel.

You don’t need this.

Her voice. Soft and kind. A sound he thought he’d forgotten.

Hadn’t she said something just like that once?

When he’d fought back tears in grade school after studying for nights, trying so hard to make his dad proud.

And failing anyway.

Wasn’t it the same gentle look on her face, the one she’d had when she wrapped her arms around him when he’d broken down crying?

And who the fuck did you think you were, showing up to this shitty party, calling him by that cursed name, looking at him with those damn understanding eyes, feeding him those sweet little lies?

It felt like Rose all over again. Like someone trying to force their way into his life. Only, this time, there was no outer force. Just that pressure building in his chest and throat.

But Rafe knew: if he gave into it, if he let you in, as much as every part of him ached to—you’d be the one to push him away, to laugh it off, tell some bitch at the party all about it.

Fuck that.

But before he could open his mouth, you were already moving, stepping around him toward the door, still wearing that addicting smile. “Again, I’m sorry if I said something wrong or pissed you off. I’m not trying to be nosy or anything. I just... I can’t help it, being drawn to people, you know?”

Your smile widened, and your eyes lit up with that same warmth. “See you around.”

With a soft sound, the door clicked shut behind you.

Rafe just stood there. Staring at the spot where you’d just been, a bitter emptiness washing over him. That warm little spot he hadn’t even realized had been there, not until the clouds came rolling back in, bringing a cold wind with them.

There was so much churning in him. So much fucking chaos.

He didn’t understand the thoughts or emotions you’d stirred up in him. The memories you’d unearthed of a time he thought he’d buried for good. And as much as it pissed him off, as much as it confused and infuriated him, he wanted to chase after you.

Not to open up, fuck no. Just to be seen by that gentle kindness in your eyes again.

Because for one moment, he’d seen his mother in you. For the briefest second, you’d awakened something in the little boy deep inside him. The one who’d always longed for that soft warmth and love from a gentle woman.

But as his own thoughts echoed off the bathroom walls, and his pulse hammered in his ears, Rafe shoved that stupid little boy back into the dark hole where he belonged.

He stepped up to the sink, met his own blown-out pupils in the mirror, and saw only rage. Turning the faucet all the way to cold, he splashed water on his face—once, twice, four, five times. Washing off the sweat and thoughts. Washing you away.

Fuck, who even were you to shake him like that?

He grabbed a towel, dried his face, and tossed it onto the sink. Taking a deep breath, he rubbed his nose and clung to the high from the line.

Yeah. Better.

Rafe ran a hand through his hair one last time, then left the bathroom—back to this shitty party, the shitty music, and all these shitty people.

Two guys from the country club tried to pull him into a convo. Absentmindedly, he dapped them up but quickly waved them off afterward.

His eyes scanned the room without thinking.

For you, he realized irritated. For your warmth, that soft gaze. But you were either in another room or somewhere outside.

“Yo, bro, there you are!”

Rafe turned. His heart pounding louder than the bass.

Kelce grinned, all shiny white teeth, that cocky smirk in place. He slapped Rafe on the shoulder, a drink in his other hand reeking of Jäger and Red Bull. “Where’d you run off to, dude, huh? You’re not usually this shy when I introduce you to a chick.”

Oh, Rafe wanted to deck him for that. But the thought that you might see it? What the fuck?

Rafe just scoffed, irritated, slapped Kelce’s hand away, and shrugged. “Needed a line to survive your shitty party.”

“Ayo, without me?”

“Am I your fucking boyfriend or some shit that I gotta take you everywhere?”

Kelce chuckled, amused. “Man, you’re the last person with boyfriend material.” He took a sip from his mix, eyebrows raised all innocent. “Saw Y/N chasing after you. Pussymagnet without even trying. Damn.”

For some reason, that pissed Rafe off even more.

“Don’t fuck with me, Kelce.”

The idiot raised his hands like a saint. “Yo, why so salty? Mad she refused you head? Should’ve told you, man, I mean—”

“Jesus Christ, shut the fuck up already,” Rafe cut him off, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Go annoy Topper with your bullshit.”

“He’s busy railing your sister.”

Oh, fuck that.

The image of Topper all over Sarah triggered this sick, crawling feeling in Rafe’s chest like he suddenly needed to find them—but for what exactly? The fuck was he gonna do?

Let her hook up with every guy in school. He didn’t give a shit. Maybe then his dad would finally get it: his precious little angel wasn’t all that perfect.

Rafe dragged a hand through his hair. Everything—the bass, the shrieking giggles of drunk-ass girls, the smell of sweat, alcohol, perfume, and all kinds of cologne mixing into this disgusting cocktail—it had his nerves buzzing so hard he felt like puking.

But go home? Fuck no. That’d mean facing his dad and gold digger Rose. Poor Wheezie was the only one stuck with them tonight.

She was the only good thing Rose ever brought into their lives. Baby Wheezie made him used to think they were raising another Sarah over at Tannyhill.

Yeah, she could be a pain in the ass but she was the only person in his life who actually had some fucking sense. The only one Rafe ever made space for willingly.

Shit, if he'd felt like being responsible, he might’ve brought her here tonight. But playing babysitter? Nah.

So the only reasonable option?

“Let’s dip to your dad’s office,” Rafe said. “I’m done with this fucking place.”

Kelce grinned wider. “Damn, bro, you just had your second.”

Rafe’s fingertips tingled. If Kelce wasn’t such a suck-up with the loyalty of a stupid fucking golden retriever, Rafe would’ve smacked the shit outta him a dozen times by now. But he never did. Because Kelce was the one person who didn’t make a big deal out of shit. And Rafe respected that, at least.

So he just raised a brow. “You coming or what?”

“Damn, no need to ask twice.”

And that’s how Rafe spent the next two hours: chilling with the dumbest bastard alive on the stupidly comfy office couch, snorting three, four—fuck, maybe six lines (who was counting), ranting about bitch Sarah, witch Rose, and all the fucked up people at that party.

He bounced from one topic to the next, letting Kelce throw in his dumbass commentary, laughing whenever Kelce dropped an especially embarrassing story of his own. Rafe got up, paced the office, ranting about shit even he stopped registering—just trying to drown out the fucking rush in his head.

Those thoughts. Those images of you. That smile. Your eyes. Everything.

Why Kelce stuck around and listened to his rambling instead of trying to hook up with some chick, Rafe had no clue. But honestly, what greater honor was there than being friends with Ward Cameron’s son and doing lines with him in private?

Sometime around the sixth or seventh line, Rafe’s heart was pounding so hard it felt like his skull was shaking. His mouth was dry as fuck, jaw clenched, back slick with sweat. And his hands? Jesus, he couldn’t keep them still.

He was either playing with a lighter, gesturing like a maniac, or scratching at his chin, nose, neck—fuck.

Rafe needed to do something. Anything. He didn’t know what, just knew he had this deep, itching urge in his chest. He needed to act.

He snapped his fingers, brain jumping from thought to thought, nodding at whatever dumbass story Kelce was telling—and that’s when his eyes landed on a gleaming blade mounted on the office wall. He’d never noticed it before but now it looked like a damn spotlight was shining right on it.

“Ayo, yo, yo, dude, wait, what the fuck are you doing?” Kelce stood up, cutting off his whatever-the-fuck story. “That belongs to my dad.”

But Rafe already held the katana in his hand. He let out a low, amused laugh, brushing his fingers along the surface of the blade. “Shiiit, imagine doing a line off this thing.”

The thought—fuck—it lit something in Rafe. Shit, and honestly? It kinda turned him on.

“Do whatever, bro, but I ain’t paying for your second nose,” Kelce muttered. Rafe didn’t miss the nervous edge in his voice—and yeah, that just made it all the more fun.

Grip tight, he gave the blade a little swing through the air, soaking up the way Kelce laughed nervously.

Stupid idiot, always been a kissass.

Rafe's gaze landed on the little bead of sweat on Kelce's throat. If he wanted, one clean swing would be enough to—

What the fuck.

Holy shit, what the fuck.

Rafe took a step back, deeply irritated by his mind.

Cold horror spread through his already suffocating chest.

Had he overdone it? Taken one line too many? Fuck, fuckfuckfuck, or—worse—was the high starting to fade and he was—

“Yo, dude, your nose is bleeding.”

And right on cue, a deeply unsettling feeling started creeping through Rafe’s body.

And Kelce was here. He saw him like this. Fuck, this wasn’t an overdose, right? This wasn’t an overdose? fuckfuckfuck

He had to get out. Now.

The horror started eating away at his nerves.

He dropped the katana onto the desk, ignoring Kelce’s pissed-off yelling behind him, and bolted out of the room, clumsily wiping the blood off his nose on the way out.

Out into the hallway. Music. Loud. The bass. Fuck.

Rafe winced as the vibrations tore through his skull.

He looked for the upstairs bathroom door but a bunch of girls were giggling inside.

Annoyed, he rattled the handle but the giggling just got louder.

No other choice.

Unsteady, he gripped the railing tight and made his way downstairs.

But everything down there got worse. Louder. Overwhelming. From one of the side rooms, he heard Sarah’s stupid fucking laugh, and the sound shot pure adrenaline into his bloodstream.

Fuck, if that bitch saw him like this, she’d snitch to Dad and then—fuck. Fucking hell no.

Rafe moved on instinct, pushing past some guys and annoying chicks, making it to the bathroom door and—

Fucking hell.

Locked.

His heart pounded against his skull, head foggy and somehow way too clear at the same time. Shitshitshitshit.

He started banging on the door, twisting the handle, something awful churning in his gut.

“Fuck, come on, open up!” Rafe could swear he heard his own voice echoing. He almost said please, almost begged, but bit down on his tongue instead.

The taste of blood filled his mouth.

The horror surged like cold floodwater rising.

Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. Holy shit. If he didn’t—

You.

Two gentle eyes met his as the bathroom door opened.

“Oh dear, are you okay? You don't look so well.” Your soft, concerned voice cut right through the chaos in his head, silencing the spiraling storm all at once.

For a second, he got lost in your gaze, your eyes, the scent of your perfume—something he hadn’t even noticed the first time you met. Sweet like an unspoken promise, floral in a way that was warm and full and—

A hammer slammed into his skull. A blade through his chest. A kick to the gut.

The boy inside him—he screamed, clawed at the coffin where Rafe had buried him. Right next to his mom, beneath the peonies.

That bittersweet scent triggered something awful in his stomach, every sense overflooded and raw.

Rafe’s brain didn’t even register how his body shoved the door the rest of the way open, pushed past you, dropped to his knees in front of the toilet, hands trembling on the rim—and puked it all out.

Once. Twice. Fuck, it felt like a thousand times. All the dirt, all the pressure, spilled out of him like poison.

Somewhere far away, he heard a voice—your voice—maybe the door opened or closed or maybe both, fuck, he couldn’t tell. At some point—seconds or minutes, he had no idea—he felt a presence beside him.

He thought he felt the warmth of a hand hovering just above his sweat-soaked back. Not touching, just there. Hesitant. And without even looking, Rafe knew it was you.

It should’ve pissed him off, made him snap, made him yell at you to leave, but the only thing racing through his mind, the only thing that truly panicked him was the thought of someone else coming in. If Sarah—

“The door,” he croaked out, wiping spit from his mouth with a shaky hand.

“It’s locked. Don’t worry.”

And just hearing that in your caring voice let a small breath of calm settle somewhere deep inside him.

Then you moved away from his side, and something tugged hard in his chest. The sound of running water next to him. A second later, you were back, and that ache disappeared.

“Here,” you said, handing him a damp towel.

Rafe didn’t dare meet your eyes. Swallowing his pride, he reached out and took it, wiping first his forehead, then his mouth.

Fuck, only now did he register that sour, disgusting taste on his tongue. His throat felt like the fucking Sahara.

Face twisted in a grimace, he tried to spit the bitterness out. Water. He needed—

“Wait. Rinse with this.”

This time, Rafe looked up, saw the red cup in your hand.

This was so ridiculous. So pathetic. Him, kneeling there in front of you—a sweating, fucked-up wreck, the stench of his own vomit still hanging in the air. And the fact that you’d caught him doing a line just a few hours ago.

He had to look like a fucking junkie to you. A disaster with no control over his life. And for some reason, that was so fucking humiliating it made him want to throw up all over again.

Still, he dared to meet your eyes. He had to. He needed to see it—that warmth. Right now, he was starving for it.

And all he saw in there was pure warmth and concern. No judgment. No amusement. No disgusting pity.

And that pissed him off. Because he didn’t fucking understand it.

Rafe took the cup anyway and forced himself to look away. Rinsed his mouth once, then drank the rest of the water.

You flushed the toilet. The sound thunderous in his head but he endured it.

“Why the fuck are you doing this?” he asked, letting the cup fall beside him, still leaning over the toilet.

You bent down and filled another cup. “Being here?” There was a sweet, honest amusement in your voice.

Rafe wanted to puke again but his stomach was empty. “What the fuck do you want from me?”

Any other girl would've left him here, disgusted. Left the door open on her way out.

Why didn’t you?

You sat down on the edge of the bathtub to his left and placed the cup next to him. “Nothing, I'm here to help.”

God, and the way you said it—so honest, so genuine.

Like his dad, after shoving him into a wall and pulling him into a hug right after.

You were probably gonna blackmail him later. Threaten to tell people. Shit, maybe you were filming him right now—had your phone set up somewhere he couldn’t see.

Rafe scoffed bitterly. Drank the second cup in one go, then somehow found the strength to turn and lean back against the toilet, knees up, shaky hands hidden in his lap.

Then he looked up at you. “Don’t bullshit me. What do you want? Some shitty-ass story to tell some girls about?”

Oh, and then your face did something weird. A tiny crease formed between your brows, just enough to bring a touch of sharpness to that otherwise soft face.

“Nothing. Why do you think I’d use you for this?” you replied—and fuck, there it was again. That honesty.

A part of Rafe wanted to believe you.

“I swear to god if you go out and tell anybody about this—”

“I won’t.” That crease between your brows vanished and a small smile appeared. “I promise. I just wanted to help. Do you feel any better?”

No, Rafe wanted to say.

He could feel that terrifying emptiness creeping in after the high—whatever the fuck he had just experienced. He could feel it now. The sharp claws around his throat, the cold breath on his neck.

And your question, it triggered something awful inside him. Like a tiny stone inside him dropped that really shouldn’t have.

His brows knit together, feeling that pull in his chest, that tightness in his throat, that sting in his eyes.

He was cold. Weak. And you? You were giving him this feeling of warmth and safety, and he didn’t even fucking know you. He’d met you today, and fuck, that confused the hell out of him. This whole thing—your honesty, you, whoever you were, Kelce with his dumbass party and having invited you, Topper probably taking Sarah's virginity right now somewhere, and Rafe being here, like this, exposed, seen—and then he thought of his mom again, and that’s when it all broke loose.

“FUCK.”

Rafe shook his head, fists clenched from still-trembling hands, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms.

His head was full of shit and he had no idea what the fuck to do, everything was just so—

“This pisses me off,” Rafe got out, his eyes still hidden behind his fists, not even sure what he meant or why he said it. “All of this fucking bullshit.”

“I can leave if you want,” you said softly, and Rafe's head snapped up in panic when he heard you shift to get up.

“No!”

And before he could stop himself, it was already out.

Fuck.

Rafe clenched his jaw, felt like a goddamn deer in headlights. Fuckfuckfuckufkc.

Why the hell had he said that?

But you just sat back down on the edge of the tub, that understanding smile on your face, and said, “Okay. I’ll stay.”

And just like that, some of the tension in his chest loosened. Unfortunately, it also knocked loose other shit that wasn’t supposed to move.

He shook his head again, eyes fixed on some dead spot in front of him. “I'm not like this, okay? This... I’m not some fucking junkie or whatever.”

That lie to you felt worse than lying to himself, and the shame clawed at his chest. He didn’t even want to look in the mirror—he had to look like fucking hell.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to explain yourself to me,” you said, and even without looking, Rafe knew you had that soft, warm smile on your face.

He let his hands drop onto his bent knees, still shaking just a bit. “Do you actually mean all that shit you say? All that... talk?”

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t. What makes you think otherwise?”

And when Rafe met your eyes—feeling that warmth—he let it in. Too tired to fight back.

His face twisted a little and he shrugged, voice low and bitter. “I don’t know, it’s just—fuck, I don’t know, it’s like...” Weakly, he tapped his fingers against his temples. “Something’s not right.” Then he scoffed, almost laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. “My head... it’s like there’s all this noise. Not voices or schizophrenic shit or whatever, just...”

“Too much.”

Rafe nodded. “Like a ton of shitty music playing all at once, all at different speeds and volumes.”

“Maybe the problem isn't your head but the DJ's taste in music at this party", you replied softly.

God. That smile of yours was way too sweet, and that stupid little joke you made about Kelce came out of you so damn sweet and gentle.

It made Rafe let out something close to a laugh. “Why’d you even agree to his invite?”

It didn’t make sense. You were soft. Warm. You had this calm vibe to you. And Kelce... he was fucking Kelce. Loud. Annoying. A dumbass. You two weren’t even in the same fucking solar system.

And the thought that maybe you did like the guy, that maybe that’s why you showed up tonight... Yeah. That pissed Rafe off for reasons he couldn't quite place.

You tilted your head. “He was really welcoming on my first day. His parents too. He had so much to tell. About himself, your school, the people here, you and Topper,” you chuckled softly, “I thought he’d never shut up. But I didn’t mind. Kinda sweet, isn’t it? Having that much good stuff to say. He��s always in a good mood, has a lot of positive energy. I like that.”

Rafe’s stomach twisted.

Now he really didn’t get why you were here. With him.

“Yeah, nah. I think he’s just trying to suck up to you,” Rafe said, not even trying to hide the annoyance in his voice. “Probably thinks a few nice moves will get you into bed.”

But to his surprise, you laughed again. Honest. Genuine. And Rafe couldn’t fucking place that tingling feeling in his stomach.

“Maybe,” you said, “but to me, it seems like he just enjoys meeting new people. He seems like someone who’s got a lot to give—and enjoys doing so."

Rafe frowned. “Yeah, well, maybe ‘cause he’s afraid of ending up like some lonely-ass loser.”

“There’s nothing wrong with not wanting to be alone.”

Jesus Christ.

Rafe was starting to think you had his mom’s soul tucked inside you or something. Because this? You? Everything about you reminded him of her, in the best and most cruel way possible.

Even though every part of him wanted to get up, leave, maybe snort the seventh or eighth line of the night and forget all of this, he was too fucking tired. Too pissed off with everyone out there.

And somehow, your calmness—no matter how bitter it tasted in his mouth—somehow it brought peace to him the same way only his mom ever could.

“I don’t fucking get you,” Rafe said, tapping his finger to his temple. “Are you like... some voodoo hippie eco crystal chick who’s all about good vibes and shit, or are you just fucking oblivious to the world?”

You gave him that honey-sweet smile again, and Rafe couldn’t help but wonder how soft your lips might feel.

“It’s true,” you said. “I try to see things—people especially—in the best light. Maybe that does make me blind to some stuff.” This time, your smile was almost sad, and something in Rafe tugged, hard. “People often tell me I’ve got a savior complex. That I shouldn’t try to be so caring. It'll eat me alive someday.”

Then, for the first time that night, your voice took on a serious tone. “But I’m not stupid. I’m not blinded by what I believe. I know there’s a lot of bad out there—in the world, and in people. And yeah, I know a lot of people still think I’m naive. But I can’t change that, and that’s okay. I’m not here to change anyone. All I can do is try to broaden someone’s horizon, maybe offer a different perspective. And if just one person ends up holding the door open for another because of that, maybe that inspires the next. And if not... that’s okay too.”

Your words did something weird to Rafe.

He could practically feel that little boy inside him clawing his way up from some deep, buried grave, pushing through thick layers of rotting dirt just to catch the smallest glimmer of light, just to feel one single sunbeam of your warmth on his skin.

Fuck. That pathetic little boy—he was starving for kindness, for a gentle smile, a warm hug, compassion. Love. For someone who made him feel like he was enough.

And from this point on, Rafe had two choices:

Push that naive little asshole back down, cement the grave shut and make damn sure he never even thought about gasping for air again.

Or let him.

Let him keep digging, let him breathe in that supposed fresh air. Let him come up—just once—after all these years.

But if he did, he’d be handing you the key to a drawer that was never meant to be opened. Its wood so dry and dusty and dark, a single spark could set the whole damn room ablaze.

But hadn’t Rafe always been the kind of guy to play with fire?

“You’re not stupid,” he finally said, shaking his head with a bitter little smile, more at himself than anything else. “Shit, and anyone who says otherwise is a fucking asshole.” Myself included. He let out a dry scoff and ran a hand through his sweat-soaked hair, disgusted with himself. “I don’t know where you lived before, doesn’t fucking matter. But this place? These people? That’s a whole different breed.”

Rafe braced himself on the edge of the bathtub and sat beside you, leaving a respectful distance. “They’re fucking sharks, okay? Just waiting for someone like you to get tossed in as bait. Fake-ass girls acting like they’re your bestie one minute and turning you into fucking gossip the next, or I don't know—some piece of shit guy who sees your kindness as an open invite to get you laid.”

You simply listened, brows slightly raised, your face calm. Then, for the first time, you looked away—something uncertain stirring beneath your composed exterior.

“This strong two-class thing here... you guys call it Kooks and Pogues, right? I noticed something was different here. I’ll admit it confuses me,” you said, your gaze finally finding him again. “But maybe I just need some time to understand it. The rivalry.”

A soft little chuckle left your lips. “It's kinda funny. Earlier, I was talking to a guy from one of your country clubs. We talked about this whole thing and I just said a Pogue isn’t really that different from a Kook, like—at the end of the day, we’re all just people, right? And the way he looked at me... I believe I’ve never been stared down like that in my life.”

And even though you said it so genuinely amused and lightheartedly, that sweet chuckle escaping your lips—

FUCK.

Something snapped in Rafe. Like he wanted to punch every single person who'd ever dared to look at you sideways.

And that fucking guy…

Rafe wouldn’t even eat at the same table as a Pogue himself, but fuck if he didn’t want to hunt this bastard down right now.

“But that’s okay,” you said, before Rafe could ask who this motherfucker was. “Some people just can’t be reached. That’s how it is.”

How could you carry that much understanding, that much warmth in you?

If Rafe didn’t know better, he’d think you were some kind of angel. A hallucination. Fuck, maybe he was still passed out on Kelce’s office floor with an overdose and this was some pre-death type shit.

But a knock on the door yanked him back into… fuck, he didn’t even know. He hadn’t realized he’d completely tuned out the party.

“Ayo, Rafe? You in there? You dead?”

Kelce.

This fucking idiot always had to stick his nose up shit. Especially Rafe's.

“What do you want?” Rafe called back, voice sharp.

Silence. Then: “You takin’ a shit?”

Rafe pulled a face, while you just let out a soft little chuckle beside him.

“Me and Markus still need two beer pong players, and you’re the only one who can land a damn shot,” Kelce continued. “Or you found someone to give you head in there?”

FUCK. What was happening? Rafe felt fucking heat in his cheeks.

“I’d love to join you,” you said quietly beside him. “If you also want to.”

And when Rafe looked at you, that sweet, innocent little smile almost tricked him into thinking you were just some clueless girl after all, looking for a good time. He nearly said, 'Down for what? Blowjob or beer pong?'—but holy fucking shit, he'd rather bite his damn tongue off than think of you like that one more time, even for a second.

And in just a few hours you'd proven him wrong. Shit, he even could’ve stayed right here with you forever. Drink in your warmth, gaze at your beautiful eyes and lips. But if you wanted to leave this room, then fuck, he was walking out with you.

Also, no way he’d let shitface Kelce catch him in here like some crying little loser.

So the only thing he shouted back was: “Five minutes.”

Whatever nasty, godless comment Kelce threw back, Rafe didn’t hear a word of it. Because all he could think about was the way you just chuckled, soft and sweet like you hadn't just been the target of some filthy joke made by the most annoying bastard on this planet.

And in that moment, Rafe realized, you were the only person at this fucking party whose presence he actually wanted by his side tonight.

And even though you lived barely ten meters away from Kelce, Rafe would damn well make sure you got home safe. He wouldn't be leaving until your front door had clicked shut behind you.

Then, he’d head back to the party and find that fucking country club motherfucker who'd dared to give you mean glances earlier because of the Kook vs Pogue topic.

If Rafe was in a good mood, he wouldn’t hit him that hard.

And tonight, thanks to you, he was.

So that asshole better fall to his fucking knees and say one hell of a thank you. Because you just might be the reason, he’d still have a jaw left to do it.

♡ A / N ♡

if you made it to to this point, thank you sm for taking the time and reading this. somehow i feel more self-conscious about this than the smut i wrote but i hope you enjoyed this (not so) little writing. and i'd LOVE to know what you think about it <3

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