#Uninviting Waters | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shotmrmiller · 5 months

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Uninvited, Unexpected.

a/n: it's nice until the very end. it hints at baby trapping. one solid sentence that's kinda degrading (i couldn't help myself ok) this was in the works for so long, i did so much research just to use words. english is hard. and ignore the plot holes, for my sake. my sanity.

this is SMUT. 18+mdni please (if im missing anything else, lmk)

ty to my wonderful beta readers @waves-against-a-cliff & @xoxunhinged

wc: 3,1K

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!reader

my contribution to the @glitterypirateduck ghost challenge. idc if i wrote it much earlier lol.

You're awoken by a loud noise. At first, you think you dreamt it. Exploding head syndrome, maybe. You strain your hearing but it's quiet, save for the occasional creak of the house settling, its old bones creaking in the dead of night. Rain gently patters against the windows, blurring the world outside.

A flash of sudden light illuminates the bedroom, casting elongated shadows across the floor, followed by a loud crack that rattles the glass. Thunder. You should've guessed.

The frantic beating of your heart slows to a gentle roll, and your eyes leaden with sleep. The soft pillows beckon, the warm blankets cradle you as you sink back onto the mattress.

Only for you to be snapped back into reality, drowsiness dissipating like a morning mist.

Someone's knocking on your door.

Your heart is in your throat as you quickly peel off the blankets, the chill of the floorboards underneath your bare feet seeping into your bones.

In the bookshelf sits the gun Simon had given you before he had moved out, the rumble of his voice a ghost in your ear. "For protection," he'd murmured, placing the cold metal onto your open palms. "Jus' in case."

Your trembling fingers fumble as you search for it in the dark, flinching as a couple of books spill from the shelf onto the floor, pages rustling in your urgency.

The knocking persists.

The metal of the grip is unyielding in your clammy hands. You've never tested it before, never had the displeasure. As you hold it close to your chest with a quivering breath, you hope tonight won't change that.

Simon's instructions echo in your mind as you approach the front door. "Thumb the safety. Hold the grip with both hands. Do not, under any circumstance, put your finger on the trigger unless you're plannin' on sendin' hate. Clear?"

Your throat tightens, a phantom snake coiling around the narrow passage, and panic grips your heart as you reach for the blinds, slowly hooking two fingers and carefully pulling down to look at who is—

Simon.

Simon?

Sweat-slick fingers flip the light switch before quickly undoing the locks, the hinges groaning in protest as the door opens.

"What the hell?"

It's Simon, disheveled— maskless— swaying on his feet. His eyes are half-closed and unfocused. Johnny's holding him up by the arm, struggling to keep him upright.

"S'ry, bonnie. We wen' out fer a few 'nd clearly, he's out 'is face. Quite crabbit, too. He said ye'd let 'em sleep 'ere," he slurs.

Simon's not the only one who's pissed. With a resigned sigh, you gesture at the couch with your free hand. "There, I guess."

That he thought of you even in his drunken haze tugs at your fragile heartstrings.

Johnny guides him to the catch, a quiet C'mon LT to spur him forward. Heavy boots thud against the floor as they stumble toward the living room while you carefully place the gun on the kitchen countertop before reaching for a water bottle in the pantry. Johnny snickers under his breath as Simon collapses onto the sofa, the springs protesting his weight.

Two bottles, then.

You watch Simon's head loll as you hand Johnny the water. "Tell me you aren't the one driving, Johnny," you grumble.

He takes it with a quiet thanks. "Naw. Cap'n's stone cold sober."

Small mercies.

Johnny gives Simon a rough slap to the side of his leg as he bids him goodbye, pulling you in for an embrace tight enough that your spine pops before walking out the door.

You let out another sigh as the lock clicked back into place. The tangy, sour scent of stale alcohol mixed with stings at your nose, as does the invasive smell of smoke.

His boots are mud-caked, and you'll be damned if he stains your nice furniture with his mess. "Shoes off." He groans but complies. The laces come undone quickly, and you tug his shoes off with a grunt. "Simon."

His glassy eyes meet yours. "Drink your water." The burning need to chuck it at his head is one you have to vehemently smother into embers. Moron. Only Simon would have the gall to show up unannounced months after the separation. And drunk.

You push the bottle into his chest roughly and make to go back to bed when he encircles his hand around your wrist and the world spins on its axis, suddenly finding yourself beneath him with his face nestled in the crook of your neck.

Simon's breath is hot against your skin, the weight of his body pinning you down so achingly familiar. It stirs up past memories that would have you pressing your thighs together if he wasn't right there, using his broad waist to spread them apart.

"Missed ya, love." A confession. "S'much."

The breath you draw is jagged, his slow-spoken words hanging in the air. You want to push him away, scream at him for stumbling in and disrupting your night, your rest, your carefully crafted peace. But there's a part of you that can't help but soften at the tenderness in his tone.

"Simon," you whisper. "You're drunk. You don't know what you're saying—" his lips find your fluttering pulse. You find purchase in his shirt, shaky fingers grasping at the hem.

"'M drunk, no' no liar." Your resolve wavers. No, he never had been. Honesty hadn't been the reason for the split. It wasn't the truth he'd spoken but the truths he'd kept to himself. A fortress around his heart, the bridge to its gates raised. Unwilling to share a burden, share a life.

His warm tongue licks a hot stripe up your neck reaching the lobe of your ear where his blunt teeth sink into it. A choked gasp spills from your mouth, spine arching in reflex— your treacherous body remembering his touch, yearning for it.

"Simon—" your words get caught in your throat; snag like fishhooks when he undulates his hips, arousal creeping along your veins like ivy.

"Don't ya miss me, pet?" You've asked him to not call you that because it never fails to stoke the fire in your belly, to sodden your knickers. Before you can chide him on his choice of words, he shifts. One arm, an inked column under the soft light of the living room, holds him up just enough to bring his rugged face into focus. His eyes, like a stormy night's sky, swirl with untamed desire.

You know it's dangerous to play with fire. Touch it and burn, ache, blister. But the passion of this old flame beckons like a siren with sharp teeth. Each drag of his prominent erection against your core only succeeds in pulling you away from the shore of clarity. It's disorienting, insistent.

Relentless.

"My pretty little love," he mumbles. Simon's gaze drags from your glassy eyes to the delicate contours of your collarbone. His fingers trace lines of intimacy onto the swell of your breasts before using the pad of his thumb to swirl the stiffened peak of your nipple. "Say the word 'nd it all stops."

The scent of alcohol clings to him, a bitter reminder of the loss of inhibitions it brings as it warms one's chest. Blurred lines he might not mind, but you do. Lost boundaries. Rejection sits on the tip of your tongue, on the edge of your teeth when he says something that frays the last threads of your resolve.

It comes undone.

"Please. Jus' tonigh'. All I need." His words sound like footsteps in winter mire, slushed, syllables blending together.

You'll just have to kick him out on his arse in the morning.

"Okay," you breathe. Just one night, you tell yourself. He's always been good to you in the bedroom. One last hurrah wouldn't hurt. Maybe it'll allow you to finally close this painful chapter in your life and start anew, with pristine white pages and fresh ink.

Your hands, trembling with nerves and anticipation, cradle his face. The roughness of his stubble in contrast with the softness of your palms is grounding, keeping you from being pulled under your own swirling emotions.

" 'M righ' 'ere, love. You're safe with me, always." He whispers the last words reverently, a vow. Simon's breath mingles with yours as he leans in for a kiss.

The world around you fades, your senses tunneled on the feel of his lips, the taste of him— mildly sweet with a hint of peppermint. He slants his head to deepen the kiss, and the bruising ache in your heart is replaced by another, one that burns brightly and threatens to sweep you away.

The lulling sound of the pouring rain outside is drowned out by the beating of your racing heart.

The bed creaks when Simon perches you on the edge of it, quietly ordering you to take your top off.

"What about my bottoms?" You bite down on the gummy inside of your cheek when he pins you in place with a look— a predator eyeing its prey.

"Those are mine." Resounding. Final. A gavel in a courtroom.

You fling your shirt off, tossing it into some forgotten corner in the room, and cheekily watch Simon undress. It's not methodical like it used to be. No longer a means to an end. Experienced fingers undo the buckle of his belt before he takes it off, the leather material snapping in the air, slicing through the silence.

A quip tumbles out of your mouth faster than you can stop it. "Gonna spank me with that?"

The air around you thickens— or thins, you can't be sure— when his eyes flash to you. He kicks off his jeans, one foot after the other, wobbling as he does. "Tha' wha' you want?" The words he didn't say ring out loud and clear.

Don't rattle the cage, sweetheart. This dog isn't muzzled.

You sink your teeth into your bottom lip to keep from saying anything else, something that he might take you up on, instead focusing on the way his heavy cock hangs in between legs (dangling with each step forward—)

"M'eyes are up 'ere." Your nose scrunches at his joke. Cute.

He lowers himself onto his knees, your legs cradling his face as it hovers over your sex, close enough to feel the warmth of his breath on your heated skin.

The sleeping shorts you're wearing are ratty and worn. They're thin too, practically translucent from constant use. Which means that he can see that you're not wearing any undergarments underneath.

"Hope you know I can—" Heat licks up the sides of your jaw, pooling in your cheeks as you cut him off with a snappy remark.

"Yes. I know."

The tip of his pointed tongue drags along the seam of your shorts, right along your slit. Your breath hitches, and you clench your jaw to keep from making a sound. Your back bows involuntarily, the feeling startling, intense.

"Can see tha' clear as day, as if lookin' through a windowpane, pet," he taunts. The words that are forming, almost ready to spill out, freeze in place when his mouth comes in direct contact with your slippery cunt. He licks once, twice, through your folds, slightly dipping into your slick entrance, only pulling away to nuzzle your pearl with his misaligned nose.

"Sweet as a peach, jus' like I remember," he purrs, the timbre of his voice buzzing against your puffy lips. "Missed this." A mewl slithers past your grit teeth when he gently sinks one thick finger into you, curling and twisting. Arousal drips onto his knuckle, tracing a hot path down to his wrist. He coos at you when he adds another digit, hissing at the sharp but brief pinprick of the stretch.

"Bloody fuckin' tight." Simon rises off the floor, the quiet sound of his knees popping swallowed up by your harsh pants. "Gotta let me in, love. Relax."

He keeps the thrusts shallow, his fingers dragging deliciously along your nerve endings. The sting soon fades, giving way to a gentle warmth that unfurls inside of you, letting Simon reach deeper until—

Your muscles stiffen, tight like a spring when he brushes over the rough patch of skin that has bursts of light appearing across your eyelids.

"Look at ya. Droolin' like a mutt with my fingers stuffed up your pretty cunt."

There's a pressure in your lower belly that's steadily building with each sloppy thrust of his hand, pulling squelching noises from your sodden pussy. He finally, finally, latches onto your neglected clit, lightly sucking on it in tandem with his fingers.

Your chin drops to your chest as everything nears a breaking point. The pressure inside you has your body wound tight. The fibers of your muscles contract, almost painfully, preparing for the release of what's to come, what can't be ignored.

The swirling of his golden tongue pushes against the boundaries of your endurance, pushes you to the precipice, where you finally hit the point of no return. You can feel something about to give, ecstasy trickling through the cracks in your foundation, uncontrollable, raw. Your fingers thread through Simon's hair, curling tightly, pulling it taut when you feel something about to give—oh fuck—

Snap.

The structure that holds everything in place collapses.

A sudden release of pent-up energy and emotion erupts like a dam bursting, a cleansing flood that washes away the grime of old wounds, of bitterness, leaving the edges softened so they can heal; knit closed and scar over. Closure. It touches every part of you, filling you with a sense of liberation.

Your heart beats freely, it throbs with life as a wave of relief washes over you, soothing, a balm over scraped flesh, a rush of cool air into starved lungs.

A lightness that comes after being weighed down with burdens for so long.

Simon's hands encircle your arms firmly— fingers digging into the meat of your biceps— and effortlessly maneuvers you toward the center of the bed as if your lethargic form were a feather caught in a breeze; weightless, insignificant.

Gentle but unyielding.

There's a ringing in your ears that muffles his voice, blurring the edges of his words, an unintelligible hum, as if you were underwater. The sensation leaves you feeling adrift in a tranquil sea, cradled in its silken embrace. The only anchor you have to the muzzy reality is his warm touch.

"'M sorry, sweetheart. I can't," he apologizes, hooking your right leg over his shoulder. You let out a sibilant hiss as he leans forward, pushing your knee to your chest, the corded muscle of your hamstring pulling to its limit. "Can't wait anymore, 'm sorry."

Simon gives you a sloppy kiss as his heaving length prods at your swollen entrance, the tip breaching your pussy with a warm burn that starts from under your navel and only flares, radiating from your core outward. It's searing, the initial bite of the stretch disrupts the haze in your muddled mind, bringing the world around you into cutting clarity.

A guttural noise claws up his throat as Simon sheathes himself halfway, his growled words not the salve he was hoping for. It only grates at already raw nerves, abrasive.

"Jus' a little more, you can take it." He winds a hand downward to draw messy circles on your slippery clit, to stifle the roaring fire in your stomach, your chest. "You already have."

His jerky touch does its job, transforming the sharp burn of him wrenching your walls apart fiber by fiber into a quiet glow; smoldering heat now simmering. You soften, mellow and pliant, accept him into your body as he sinks to the hilt with a quiet groan.

"There's my girl. Takin' all of it like you were made f'me." Simon's words of praise tangle around your spine, electric, prickling. Your heart gallops like a herd of horses, wild and free. "Liked tha' did you? Jus' about strangled my cock with your tight cunt."

He rolls his hips once, twice, searching for signs of discomfort, but when only warm pleasure laps at your heels, when the barest of moans spill from your open lips, Simon begins to put his weight behind his thrusts.

Through half-lidded eyes, you see a raw, primal hunger reflected in his eyes— his soul, the one he'd claimed to have lost long ago, back with his reason, his sanity.

Yet he looks down at you as if you were his only salvation. A lifeline he grabs onto with an unyielding grip, his only tether to hope, purpose. A lighthouse shining in a raging storm, a beacon calling him home.

Simon presses a large hand onto your lower stomach, his work-worn palm pushing until you wince, brows furrowing at the fleeting whisper of pain.

"Can feel myself right here," he sluggishly mumbles, drunk of the feel of your cunt, the taste of your skin on his tongue— sweet like ripened figs. The sensory overload has him sinking his fingers into your flesh until it dimples.

He murmurs something under his taxed breath, something akin to mine, only mine as his lips leave a slick trail of saliva on the dip of your collarbone, the gentle curve of your shoulder, the thin, soft skin of your bicep up to your inner wrist, where he laps at your pulse.

As if savoring the present. The precious gift he's unwrapped, here and now. The last taste of you, which he hopes with a reverence that borders on prayer, lingers on his tongue long after the fruit— the sweet evidence of this one last intimacy— falls from the bough.

Simon comes with his teeth in the crook of your neck, biting down with a crushing pressure that has an acute pain digging its spurs into your consciousness, cutting the blazing euphoria of your own release short.

His cock is still twitching as he fills you with his spend when he takes his thumb and collects some of your slick to take you over the edge one last time.

"F'me. You can take it, yeah? I'll go slow, I promise."

Simon presses a kiss on your sweaty temple, his large hand cupping your jaw as he lazily watches you succumb to sleep, your breath evening out.

He reaches for your arm again, feeling for the birth control implant you'd had there when the both of you were still together.

Gone.

Sweet girl. You'd let him in without a fight. (He makes a mental note to wash the beer off of his clothes tomorrow.)

He knows your cycle better than the lines that are etched onto his palm. Better than the voice of the captain who rumbles in his earpiece, ordering him to go for the throat.

From the moment you'd stepped into his life with eternity in your eyes and the warmth of the sun on your lips, you were his. And he'll do anything to remain in your orbit.

(left unable to distinguish prison from paradise when each poison-coated kiss softens the world he'll build for you and for what's to come.)

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #cod mw2 #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley smut #cod smut #simon ghost riley x f reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley smut #GhostChallenge

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fawnindawn · 6 months

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even at our worst, we know we'll still be okay (luke castellan x apollo fem! reader)

summary: Where Percy's insistent pestering forces Luke to rethink on his possibly not platonic feelings for you, his best friend, and Percy's questions are answered for him with Luke's reaction to you being heavily injured on your return from your quest.

pairing: luke castellan x apollo fem! reader

a/n: i'm actually in love with this, maybe it's just the friends-to-lovers in me (where a love confession happens because one of them was near death's door-) but man.. also, i love including percy so much he's such a kid.

masterlist for this series next

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"Face it, man. You're whipped."

Percy watched Luke choke on his water, coughing as he tried to swallow past the sudden accusation. Wiping at the excess that dripped past his chin, Luke raised a brow at Percy.

"Whipped? For who?" Luke questioned, eyes averting and staring straight ahead, beyond the training grounds towards the meadows in the distance, seemingly searching for something or just doing a poor job at avoiding Percy’s unimpressed stare.

“I’m not blind, as much as Annabeth claims, to this...love stuff.” Percy huffed, half in exasperation and half in exhaustion as he leaned forward using his sword to balance himself. “You’ve been depressed ever since she left for her quest.”

Luke doesn’t need to hear your name to know who Percy was referring to. It’s been weeks since you were chosen by your father, Apollo, to descend on some mighty quest to fetch back his lyre that had been stolen. It wasn’t supposed to be a dangerous quest, but Luke had felt his gut sinking when he first heard the news from you.

“Why does he need to send you out there, where you could possibly be tracked down by monsters to get back a musical instrument of all things?” Luke snapped, exasperated as he runs his fingers through his curls, pacing back and forth in the Hermes Cabin, while you laid on his mattress looking undeniably calmer than he was.

“Luke, my dad won’t purposely send me on some death trap. I'll be fine.” You tried to reassure him, waiting for him to calm down in his pacing before you extended your hands in his direction right as he turned to make another round through the cabin for the seventh time. “Hey, come here.” You gestured. “Sit with me.”

He hesitated, stopping in his tracks as he finally took the time to look at you, noting your concerned expression at him. As if you weren’t about to descend on some ridiculous quest to god knows where all because your father couldn’t pluck up the effort to collect the instrument himself.

The longer your hands stayed outstretched for him, the more his anger and frustration dissolved into the overwhelming need to be near you. One second, he’s standing and the next, he’s laying in bed with you, your arms wrapped around him to stabilise him even though he should be the stronger one. The one to look out for you.

Laying his head on your shoulder as he wrapped one of his fingers around your hair, curling it in his palms, he spoke again in a soft whisper only for you to hear. “I’m worried.”

“I know.” You responded, your hands tracing at the curve of his shoulder, stopping at his collarbone, before your finger moved to tilt his face by the chin to look at you. “You trust me, right?” You ask, knowing his answer but wanting to hear the reassurance all the same.

“Course' I do.” He replied immediately, his eyes intense as he made eye contact with you. That was without question. You could ask him to walk into blazing flames, and he'd trust you would ask for good reason.

“Then you can trust that I’ll make it back alive.”

“Alive can mean lots of things.” He muttered, his eyes growing distant, the ghost of blood and a stinging burn running down the half of his face appearing uninvited in his mind.

“I’ll make it back alive and unharmed.” You reiterated, a knowing look in your eyes as you unconsciously traced at his scar, leaving warmth where it resides, making him shiver instinctively. “It’s a promise, Luke.”

He stayed silent, before slowly moving his hand to cup yours that rested over his scar. “I’m counting on it, sunshine.”

That promise rested over Luke’s conscience, gnawing at the back of his heels, chasing him daily from the early hours as he forced himself not to break over the stress and anxiety before putting on his golden boy facade, to pretend that he wasn't constantly distracted and nauseous over the thought of something happening to you without him being there to protect you.

He would've snuck out of camp if he could, just to find you, but Chiron had been tight-lipped on your destination, his all-knowing gaze piercing right through Luke when he had tried to nonchalantly ask about your whereabouts.

"I wish I could help you, Luke." Chiron had told Luke a few days after you had gone. "However, Apollo's request was clear. Only she shall take on this quest. No one else." The pin-point gaze Chiron had locked onto Luke made it clear he was talking about him.

"I am not whipped." Luke denied. "She's my friend. Like how you're my friend."

"I don't think your friendship with her is normal though." Percy fired back quickly, sipping on his own water as if he didn't casually demolish the older boy. "I swear I caught you bringing her back after curfew to your cabin, a few times in fact."

Luke felt his cheeks flush at Percy's sudden interrogation, smashing facts after facts on an early Tuesday morning. "I've been having.. nightmares lately. She's the only one who keeps them away." He didn't know why he felt like he had to explain himself to the kid, but the longer his friendship with you went under fire, the faster he wanted to get out of this conversation.

"You don't think that's something you should think deeper about?" Percy muttered with a shrug.

Luke is left speechless, his mind short-cutting at the sudden implication of.. him feeling something more for you? His most recent memories flashed through his mind. You tucked under his blanket as you laid beside him for the last night before your quest, a sleepy smile etched on your lips before you whispered him goodnight and he pulled you into his chest so he could feel your heart beating against his to push away any tricks currently playing on his mind, bringing light to how you're the only person he believes could calm him down and bring him peace-

"She's my best friend." Luke replied, more to himself than to Percy. "I'm just worried for her. A quest like that shouldn't take so long, and I keep imagining-"

He stopped in his tracks, not wanting to say his fears out in the open in fear that his words would jinx it, but Percy knew where he was getting at. Percy inched closer to Luke, moving to pat him awkwardly on the back in an effort to comfort him. "It's normal to be worried. From what I heard from Annabeth, you two are really close. I didn't have much conversations with her before she left, but she seems brave, and smart too. I have no doubts she'll make it back. If she's half as good as you, there's no way she wouldn't."

Luke felt a real smile crossing his face, the corners of his lips quirked up at Percy's words. "She's not half as good- she is better than me." He turned to look at Percy, that shine in his eyes noticeable as he talked about you. "Don't let her hear that when she gets back though, she'll talk my ear off for ages."

Percy returned his own smile, elated to see Luke have some improvement in his mood, proof being the first genuine smile Percy's seen in weeks coming from him.

"So.. do you want to stop for today?" Percy attempted with a casual tone.

"Why? Backing out already?" Luke teased, a smirk playing on his lips as he inched towards the kid jokingly with his sword raised.

"No!" Percy denied frantically. "I swear I'm not using the sympathy card as an excuse to get out of training-"

The sounds of a horn cut off his words, groaning across the camp, reaching the training grounds in record time. Luke felt his heart palpitate, nearly crashing into his rib cage.

He barely had time to think, yelling to Percy with urgency flying off his tongue. "Catch you later, Perce!" Then, he was off, his legs carrying him up the hills and back towards the camp entrance.

He heard Percy yell his name in confusion, but he could apologise later for his sudden departure.

You had come back to him.

The journey seemed too long, his shoes scrambling for ground, barely scraping the dirt as he ran towards the front of camp. He didn't know what to expect, a celebration with cheers from the other campers on your arrival, a glimpse of your face with that smile he loves. What he didn't expect was the silence as he came towards a slow jog before ultimately stopping at what seemed to be a crowd gathering around something- or someone.

He pushed his way through, barely making the effort to apologise over the thought of seeing you. His eyes finally caught onto what the onlookers were staring at, and his heart dropped.

You laid on the ground, passed out with what seemed to be dark, angry coils covering your skin, ranging from your neck to the outstretch of your back that was exposed from the gash in your shirt. That stupid lyre laid not too far from you, its golden strings ripped apart.

The sound that tore from his throat barely sounded like his voice, yelling out your name as he pushed through the final barrier in the crowd before reaching for you. He nearly made it before someone dragged him back, grabbing him by the shoulders and pushing him away.

The curses that left Luke's mouth would make anyone wince, and he had to resist the urge to punch whoever was holding him back as he twisted his head to face his repressor. "Chris! Get out of my way." Luke hissed, still trying to make his way to you, fury twisting in his gut as he couldn't fathom why no one's helped you yet.

"Calm down, Luke!" Chris pleaded, desperation in his eyes forcing Luke to falter. "I know you want to help her but you have to listen to me. Whatever attacked her left something contagious on her body. Someone already tried helping her but it spread to their skin too!"

Wait? While whatever was attacking your body seemed to grow more intense by the minute, as Luke's gaze locked onto your form and watched the sickening, black coils spread further and further up your neck.

"Rodriguez, does it look like I care if it spreads to me?" Luke spat out, giving his friend a final push. "If she dies, I won't ever forgive myself for standing on the sidelines. Let me go now."

The cold venom in his tone made his friend loosen his hold just enough for Luke to rip himself out of his arms to drop his knees beside you. He grabbed hold of your shoulder, which still had shreds of your shirt to prevent him from being stung by whatever was infecting you, but his other hand which grabbed hold of your back did not face the same fate. The coils snaked onto his palm, and he gritted his teeth at the burning sensation.

Just as he turned you around so he could lift you up, he heard the familiar sound of hooves stamping against the soil and he looked up to see Chiron approaching with a grim expression. No words needed to be said as Luke met eyes with the centaur, a mutual understanding as Luke wrapped his arms around your torso and legs.

He pushed through to help carry you up, barking orders for the crowd to part way as he made his way to the infirmary. The longer he held onto you, the more every bone in his body seemed to scream to let you go, but he only focused on every step it took to get you closer to help, his eyes unable to look away from the paleness of your skin, the blue to your lips.

It seemed unfit for a child of Apollo, a child of the sun, to be dull and lifeless. You looked dead, and if it wasn't for the faint drumming of your pulse he could sense from your wrist, he would've struck the name of your father with such unbridled hatred, Apollo himself would descend from the heavens to condemn him.

"Please." He begged, holding onto you tighter despite his body's cries not to. Begging to who, he did not know, but if any being could save you from the fate you did not deserve, and pass it to him instead, he would gladly offer his prayers and worship. If it meant saving you, he would take your pain and suffer it tenfold just to see you open your eyes again.

It took you five days to recover. The infirmary had been quarantined and no one save for Chiron and Will, the main healer from the Apollo cabin, was allowed in. In those five days, no one dared approach Luke, who seemed near death's door despite having received his own small dosage of ambrosia to heal the coils that had managed to sink into his skin. He had begged Chiron to let him visit you, but Chiron deemed him too unstable to be near you, your recovery process a fragile thing that required tentative hands and patience.

Waiting to see you was a torture not even he could have envisioned for himself. He had been torn apart at the seams, of his belief in the gods and the scars that were immortalized onto his body. He had lived through days of water and nothing but false hope, hiding from monsters and other horrors before he made it to camp, arriving as a scrawny boy with eyes having witnessed events no kid his age should have to go through. Yet, no pain he had experienced could compare to his fears of losing you. If he-

He couldn't think of it without wanting to puke, but if he lost you somehow, he would lose his faith in this world. There would be no one to hold him back, no you, to stop him from letting go of the world that failed him and tearing it down.

It didn't help that in those five days, he had dreams. Of a different world, of salvation. A dark, ancient voice called to him, older than time, with whispers of promised glory and revenge. There was no you, none of your soothing touches or voice to wake him. In those five days, his strength faltered and he made a deal.

On the sixth day, he was woken frantically by a shake on the shoulder from his sleep. He roused awake, dizzy and still-half asleep to see Chris talking to him in rushed incoherent words.

"Awake- She's awake, sleepy-head!"

Luke was half-dressed, still fighting off sleep with aggressive rubbing to his eyes as he tugged on his t-shirt, rushing towards the infirmary with Chris hot on his heels.

He burst through the front door, holding his breath when he finally saw you, propped up on two pillows talking to Will. Tears pricked in the corners of his eyes, blurring his vision as he rushed over to you.

You turned to him then, just in time to see him blink his tears away. "Luke." You called to him softly, and time seemed to stop just for the two of you, and he could only see you in his vision.

"Can you guys give us some privacy?" You asked politely, eyeing Will and Chris, but your eyes never drifted far before moving back to him.

"Of course." Will responded, quickly getting up from his chair towards the exit, dragging a confounded Chris with him with a tug on the back of his shirt. "Hey! I wanted to see her too-" "Give the two lovebirds some time alone, you idiot."

Luke inched closer to you, his heart beating so loudly in his eardrums he swears you could hear it too. You lifted your arms to him and he didn't waste time, taking you in his arms and embracing you so tight, and yet he felt he couldn't be close enough.

"You were dying. In my arms. I felt it when I carried you in here." He muttered into your shoulder, shaking as he finally let out the exhaustion and pain he had been feeling since the day you left.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry." You apologised, rocking him back and forth as your voice croaked up. "All I thought of was you. When I fought against that beast, I kept repeating my promise to you. That I would come back to you. You saved me."

He shook his head, feeling his tears wet his cheeks as he pulled back to grab you by the chin, a gentle touch like he was afraid you would disappear if he couldn't see you talking to him, that your voice would be a hallucination he concocted. "I should've stopped you from going. I had a bad feeling since I heard about it. I should've protected you- prevented you from getting hurt in the first place-"

You stopped him with a kiss, desperate yet shy, before pulling away and pressing your forehead to his. "I love you, Luke. I was so scared I would never get to tell you and it would've been my biggest regret. I love you so much, Luke, and I'm sorry if this ruins anything between us but I can't hide it anymore-"

Luke cut you off the very same way you did, but with such intense hunger you gasped when he kissed you, sloppy and with even more desperation, tugging at your bottom lip and pulling you closer with his hand at nape of your neck. "I love you." He muttered through quick breaths. "I love you, it actually hurts because of how much I do." He admitted, grabbing your hand to place right above his heart, which is owned completely and only by you.

He leaned in once more, addicted to the taste of you, kissing you with one hand holding yours to his heart, the other pulling you close so that there was no space between the two of you. When he had to stop so you both could gasp for air, he pressed his forehead back to yours, the first smile stretching at his lips in days. "I never want to be apart from you ever again, you hear me, sunshine?"

You giggled at his words, nodding slightly. "Wouldn't dream of it."

Extra: Luke reappears with you the next day when you insisted on wanting to get out of the infirmary after being cooped up away from the sun for so long. ("You're such an Apollo kid." Luke teases, which you ignore with a roll of your eyes.) He's with you every step of the way, and now that your feelings are out for each other in the open, he doesn't hesitate to kiss you on the cheek or fawn over you without hiding his intensity.

When he makes eye contact with Percy over the room, the damn kid gives him a wink and a thumbs-up.

a/n: i want to expand so much more on this, with kronos taking advantage of luke's weak mind during your recovery and more, OMGGGGGGG. tell me if you guys want more pls and i'll make more parts. thank you for reading if you made it this far <3

update: I am officially making this into a series called ‘everything in between’. To those who want to follow more on their story, you can comment on whether you want to be added to the tag list for this series or check the masterlist!

#luke castellan #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x apollo!reader #luke castellan x fem!reader #pjo #luke castellan fanfic #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #im actually dying inside #luke castellan fluff #luke castellan angst

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bsturnzmtt · 3 months

Text

Accident - M. Sturniolo

Enemies to lovers

Part 2 here

Paring: dom!matt x sub!fem reader

Contains/warnings: Smut, oral (male receiving),very rough, forced but not actually, usage of words like, slut, whore, cunt, good girl, cumdump.

Summary: You are best friends with Nick and Chris Sturniolo, Matt hates you for some reason. One day you’re home alone at their house, or so you thought so. Looking for a charger you enter Matt’s room. You walked in on Matt doing something no one wants to walk into…

—————————————————————————————————————

You’re best friends with two of the triplets, Chris and Nick. But with the other triplet Matt, well you guys don’t get along so well. (he hates you).

You were hanging out with Chris and Nick all day until they had to go out, you assumed Matt went with them too. Right now you’re chilling in Nicks room until you realize your phone is 14%. “shit” you say to yourself.

You stand up and start looking for a charger in Nicks room, but nothing. So you go to Chris room, and again nothing. “Ugh, great” you say to yourself as you walk up to Matt’s room. You walk in without thinking, only to find a very explicit scene. As you open the door your eyes immediately land on Matt who was sliding his hand up and down his hardened dick. Matt turns around and sees you there, his eyes immediately widening.

“WHAT THE FU- GET OUT!” Matt screams at you.

“IM SORRY I WAS LOOKING FOR A CHARGER. I- I DIDNT KNOW YOU WERE HERE” you immediately get out and shut the door behind you, in shock of what you just saw.

You take a deep breath and start making yourself to the kitchen as you replay the image of Matt jerking off in your head. You feel as your panties start to get wet. “What just happened?” You say in your head. “Why is he so hot?… why is his dick so big!?” You say in your head frustrated with yourself for thinking that and getting turned on with what you saw. You get to the kitchen and pour yourself a glass of water.

Matt watches as you leave his room, the weight of the embarrassing situation settling in. He can’t help but feel frustration and anger towards you, but his dick can’t help but get harder. He follows you, frustration bubbling within him.

Your body immediately turns around as you heard Matt come in into the kitchen.

“You better count yourself lucky I don’t fucking strangle you right now.” Matt say with a rough tone.

You stand there not knowing what to say, you feel embarrassed but turned on at the same time.

“I- .. Matt I’m so sorry”. That’s all that came out of your mouth.

Matt steps closer to you. “You know, you never fucking learn do you? Every goddamn time it's something new with you. You always find a way to annoy me.”

“It was an accident!! I- I didn’t know you were here, or that you were doing… that. I thought you went out with Chris and Nick!”

Matt rolls his eyes and chuckled. “Yeah, I'm sure it was just an accident.” He says with a smirk appearing in his face.

“It was.” You immediately say.

He scoffs and crosses his arms over his chest. “Sure it was. You're always in my business, always snooping around. Always doing anything to get me mad.”

“You think I wanted to see that!? I’m literally traumatized”. You say nearly raising your voice at him.

He raises an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his eyes. He takes a step towards you, towering over you with a devious smirk. “Oh? And what exactly did you see that has traumatized you so badly? Was it the sight of me getting off?”

“Yes, it was disgusting don’t bring it up.” You lie and take a step back.

He chuckles and shakes his head, taking another step closer to you. “Your face said otherwise when you saw me”

“Shut up”

His smirk widens, and he leans in closer, his breath hot against your face. “Oh, I'm not shutting up until you apologize for barging into my room uninvited”. He says, his hand trailing down your arm.

“I already said sorry” You take a step backwards as you say that.

He smirks, knowing he's got you right where he wants you. He walks you backwards until your back is against the fridge, pinning you in place with his body. “That's not going to cut it.”

“what?” You ask in a nervous tone.

His hand slides down to your hip, gripping it tightly as he presses himself against you. “I want a real apology. On your knees, now.” he commands, his voice low and demanding. “Show me how sorry you are.”

His words go straight to your wet pussy. “What!?” You say with a scoff.

His grip on your hip tightens, his voice dropping to a growl. “Don't test me”, he warns, his eyes flashing with a mix of anger and desire. “You know damn well what I want. Now get on your fucking knees.”

“what, you didn’t get to finish?” You say in a teasing voice giving him attitude.

His eyes narrow, his grip on your hip becoming almost painful as he tries to control his frustration. “I said, on your knees” he repeats, his tone firm and unyielding. “Now.”

“Mmm what if I don’t want to?” You say with a daring smirk.

In a swift motion, he grabs your wrist and forces your hand to his crotch, pressing your palm against the growing bulge in his jeans. “You're not in a position to say no” he hisses.

You gasp as he forces your hand to his hard dick.

“See what you do to me?” His voice is low and strained. “I want your mouth on me.”

You can’t feel but get more turned on, you’re panties soaked at this point.

He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “I'll give you a choice. You can either suck me off right here, or I can bend you over the nearest surface and fuck you until you can't walk straight.”

That was it. Those were the words that made you lose control. You wanted the second option, you wanted him to fuck you senseless. But you decided to be obedient and get on your knees for him.

As you get on your knees his smirk widens. “Good girl” He immediately pulled his pants and underwear down. His fingers running through your hair as he guides his cock to your lips. “Suck it like the good little slut you are.” Your tongue immediately goes to lick his tip, teasing him a little.

His grip on your hair tightening as you swirl your tongue around the head of his cock. “Don’t fucking tease.” He groans, pushing himself roughly into your mouth. You let out a muffled moan and he forces his cock into your mouth. You start sucking him off moving your tongue around his cock.

His hips start to move, thrusting into your mouth with increasing urgency as you work his cock. “Fuck, just like that” he moans, his breath coming in short gasps. “Take it all, you filthy little cumslut.” Those degrading words encouraged you to go faster and deeper making you gag a little. He smirks at your gag, pulling out for a moment before sliding back in, giving you a chance to breathe. “You're doing well.” His words make your pussy clench around nothing.

He keeps throat fucking you being rougher with every thrust. “Fucking slut”. As he goes faster and rougher you start gagging and your eyes start to tear. He relishes the sight of tears in your eyes, reaching down to grip you by the hair and fuck your face harder. “Take it all, I want you to choke on it.” You start to let out more muffled moans.

As Matt continues to fuck your mouth, he reaches the brink of his climax, his thrusts becoming more erratic. “You want my cum, slut?” His voice is rough and commanding. You nod eagerly. “Then fuck get ready.” With a final, brutal thrust that made you gag he releases himself down your throat. “Swallow it.” And that’s exactly what you do, you swallow every last drop of his cum.

As he rides out his orgasm, he holds your head firmly in place, making sure you swallow every drop. “Good girl”, he praises, his grip easing once he's finished. “You're such a good little cumdump.” He pulls out, his cock still semi-hard. You finish swallowing everything and start catching up your breath.

Matt watches you swallow the last of his cum, a cruel smile on his lips. “See how good you are at taking every inch and swallowing my load?” He pumps himself a few times, watching as his cock hardens once more. You look at his hardening again and then you look up at him, your face still with tears. You see his face signalling you to take his cock again.

“Matt.. I- I can’t” you say in a trembling voice still catching up your breath.

He chuckled and gave you a demanding glare. Matt waits a moment, giving you the chance to take his cock again. When you don't immediately comply he grips your hair, forcing you to look up at him. “I didn’t fucking ask. Start sucking slut.” He said in a rough and demanding tone as he positioned his dick in front of your face again.

You’re in shock with his words, but at the same time you can’t help but feel your pussy clench around nothing again and your mouth watering. You take some seconds to finally catch your breath and start sucking him again.

Matt lets out a sigh of relief, his irritation melting away as you start sucking him once more. He uses your hair to control your movements, guiding you back and forth along his length. “That's it, slut. You know exactly what I like.” One of your hands start sliding down the rest of his cock that didn’t fit in your mouth.

Matt moans at the feeling of your hands on his cock, his hips bucking involuntarily. “Yes, just like that.” His hands continue to guide your head as he starts fucking your mouth more roughly, forcing his cock in and out between your lips as muffled moans leave your mouth. Matt's breathing becomes more labored as he nears another orgasm. “You want more, slut?”He pulls your head back, his cock slipping from your lips. “Open your mouth. I'm going to fill it again.” You obediently opened your mouth and sticked your tongue out.

With another growl Matt starts to stroke his cock, aiming it at your open mouth. He comes hard, firing stream after stream of cum into your waiting mouth. “Fuck, slut.” He watches with satisfaction as you swallow each spurt of semen, making sure you take every last drop.

As you swallow the last of his load, Matt smirks, his chest heaving with exertion. “Good girl.” He reaches down, brushing some of the cum from your lips with his thumb before pushing it into your mouth. “Clean up.”

—————————————————————————————————————

Heyy this is my first fic. Hope you guys liked it, I’m not that good at writing but I tried my best.

Hope this does well 💕

And let me now if you guys want part 2 when he actually fucks her.

Please like and follow 💕❤️

Tags: 🏷️

#matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #matt smut #sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo

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angelbwrry · 2 months

Text

𝒮𝒜𝒯𝐼𝒱𝒜. 𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐣. 𝟗𝐤.

𝐜𝐰꣑ৎ spiritual! reader x skater! eren, smut with a plot, cannabis consumption, outside sex, facial, ass eating, fingering, oral, boob job, praise, creaming, use of the n word, explicit language, multiple orgasms, lots of flufffff . . . or in which you remind him of a fairy. mdni.

𝐥 𝐞 𝐱 𝐢’ 𝐬 𝐧 𝐨 𝐭 𝐞 𝐬꣑ৎ i hate this???? alsooooo ignore any errors, i did edit but there’s prob still errorssss. i wasn’t gonna post but i want it out of my drafts. as alwaysssss please reblog, like, or comment if you enjoy :)

the woods are a tranquil haven, bathed in the golden hues of summer. the air is crisp, with a gentle breeze that occasionally stirs the leaves, sending whispers through the trees. the soft voice of jhene aiko plays from a speaker perched against a sturdy oak, her melodies blending seamlessly with the sounds of nature.

you sit on the yoga mat, eyes closed in deep meditation, posture serene and composed. this moment, surrounded by the beauty and calm of the forest is exactly what you needed after a long stressful week.

the world outside fades away, leaving only the harmonious symphony of the woods and the soothing cadence of your breath. the forest is alive, yet peaceful, with birds singing their songs and the distant rustle of small creatures moving through the underbrush. sunlight filters through the canopy, creating a kaleidoscope of light and shadow on the forest floor, where wildflowers bloom in vibrant colors, adding splashes of pink, yellow, and purple to the green expanse.

the brook nearby gurgles softly, its clear waters reflecting the sky above. the air is filled with the rich scent of pine and earth, grounding you even more deeply in your practice. as you breathe in, you feel the coolness of the breeze on your skin, and as you exhale, you release the tension of the past week.

each moment here is a gift, a reminder of the simple, profound beauty of nature and the peace it brings to the soul. this is your sanctuary, a place where you can reconnect with yourself and find the balance you seek.

eren was just looking for a place to smoke; he hadn’t expected to see anyone out here this far in. so, you can imagine his shock when he laid eyes on you. he pauses, confused, wondering what you’re doing there. his presence disrupts the serenity, and you can feel his eyes on you, piercing through the quiet like an uninvited guest.

the soft rustling of leaves under his feet seems louder in the stillness, and the faint scent of weed mingles with the fresh air. he hesitates, torn between retreating to give you back your peace and staying to satisfy his curiosity.

“do you always spy on women like this?” a hint of annoyance and curiosity laces your voice.

he kisses his teeth and responds with a smirk, "only when they’re doing something as weird as this." his remark hangs in the air, a blend of sarcasm and intrigue.

you narrow your eyes at him, feeling the tension rise. "it’s called meditation," you quickly retort, trying to maintain your calm demeanor. "ever heard of it?"

eren shrugs, shaking his head. "yeah . . i’ve heard of it. just never seen anyone take it so seriously out here in the middle of nowhere."

you take a deep breath, trying to center yourself again. "well, it's my way of finding peace. what about you? what's your excuse for being out here?"

he shrugs again, pulling a joint from his pocket and lighting it up. "needed a place to chill. didn't expect to find anyone else out here." his piercing green eyes meet yours, and for a moment, the forest seems to hold its breath. despite the initial friction, there's an undeniable curiosity between you two.

you watch him take a drag, the smoke curling around his face, and wonders what stories he carries with him. he looks at you, seeing more than just a girl meditating in the woods, sensing a depth he hadn't expected to find.

"mind if i join you?" he asks, surprising even himself with the question. you hesitate, then nod slowly. “sure, just . . keep it quiet, okay?"

he grins, settling down a few feet away from you. "deal."

you have to admit, he’s a sight for sore eyes. he sits there, effortlessly cool in a plain black shirt layered over a long-sleeved white one, paired with baggy black cargo pants that seem to hang just right. his white air forces are scuffed, telling stories of countless adventures. his chocolate hair is pulled back by a dark blue bandana, though a few rebellious strands fall into his face, which he occasionally brushes away with a casual flick.

his face is a perfect blend of chiseled and soft, like a sculptor’s masterpiece given life. but the thing that pulls you in the most is his eyes. they look tired, with faint shadows beneath them hinting at sleepless nights or deep thoughts. yet, despite the weariness, they hold a captivating beauty, like a forest after the rain, fresh and full of secrets. it’s easy to get lost in them, and as your gaze travels, you notice his eyebrow piercing, the tiny piece of metal gleaming in the sun, adding a touch of edge to his already striking appearance.

“what’s your name?” he asks, blunt wrapped in between his fingers as he looks at you.

“ೀ?” your voice is soft as you speak, it makes him smile.

"i’m eren . . . or ren, guess it doesn’t really matter." he inhales another puff of the toxin, eyes watching as the smoke floats. "so, you come out here like a weirdo all the time?” he doesn’t look at you as he asks this, opting to swipe dirt with his thumb off the side of his shoe.

not like it would do anything; those shoes had come to the end of their life.

“nig-,” deep breaths. “ i come here to to find peace and clarity. the forest has a way of . . grounding me, i guess.” eren nods, he’s intrigued. “i get that. sometimes i come out here to escape too. different reason, but i guess we’re both looking for something. meditation though . . . wouldn’t mind trying it.”

your brown eyes study him for a moment, noticing the way his eyes soften as he talks. "you don’t seem like the type to meditate." an innocent, playful smile forms on your lips as you tease him.

you catch the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth, almost like he’s fighting back a grin. his rough exterior seems to crack just a bit, revealing a glimpse of vulnerability. the way he shifts his weight tells you he’s not used to being scrutinized like this.

he laughs, “yeah, well, i might surprise you. maybe you could teach me sometime?”

fluffy eyebrows raise on your forehead, “you really want to learn how to meditate?”

“why not? could be fun,” he says, leaning back on his elbows. “plus, it means i get to hang out with you more.”

is he flirting? he is definitely flirting.

eren finds you extremely cute, especially now that he was so close to you, breathing in your perfume—sandalwood? he presumes. you remind him of a fairy. with your curly hair pulled back by a emerald green scarf, edges smoothed to perfection across your forehead, curls dancing wildly in the wind. a crotched strapless bikini top clings to your chest and he finds it hard not to stare at your boobs.

or the way your waist-beads cling to your curvy hips that adorn a long green skirt that matches your scarf. his eyes linger on you, taking in every detail, as if trying to memorize the moment. the soft glow of the setting sun casts a warm hue on your skin, making you look almost ethereal in the fading light.

he notices the way your smile reaches your eyes, creating a sparkle that makes his heart skip a beat. your presence exudes a calm yet vibrant energy that he can't quite put his finger on. the gentle sway of your skirt in the breeze, the way your voice mingles with the rustling leaves, and the subtle scent of your perfume—all these little details make it impossible for him to look away.

“alright . . . i guess i could show you, but you can’t get bored and back out, okay?”

“me back out? pft, never.” he once again kisses his teeth, raising the joint to his mouth. he wonders if you smoke, and before he knows it, he's extending the joint to you. you grab it, bringing it up to your lips and inhaling deeply. it's been so long since you last smoked; you were trying to stop. but who were you to decline such a generous offer from your new friend?

as the smoke fills your lungs, you feel a mix of nostalgia and slight guilt. you glance at him, noticing the way his eyes study you, curious and slightly amused.

you exhale slowly, watching the smoke swirl and dissipate into the air. the joint passes back to him, and he takes a drag, his eyes never leaving yours.

“alright. we’ll meet back here tomorrow at five.” you watch as he nods.

“so, what do you do when you’re not meditating?”

you shrug, pulling your knees into your chest and resting your head on them. “i’m a student, i also teach yoga classes at a wellness center in town. what about you?”

“well, i’m also a student. and when i’m not balls deep in essays, i skate. and if i’m not skating, i’m at work”

you lean in, “where do you work?”

“record store. it’s not much, but i love it.”

"music is powerful," you finally speak up after a few seconds. "it can be a form of meditation too, y’know?”

he looks at you, surprised. "really? never thought of it that way."

you nod. "it’s all about finding what brings you peace and helps you connect with yourself."

eren takes another drag from his joint, considering your words. "you know, you're pretty cool. different, but cool."

you can’t help but laugh softly. "i’m gonna take that as a compliment. you’re not so bad yourself, eren.”

time flew by as you sat there with eren in the woods, chatting about everything and nothing. the ambiance of the forest, the rustling leaves, and the distant call of birds created a serene backdrop that made the conversation flow effortlessly. you weren't sure if it was the weed, but you found him incredibly easy to talk to. his presence was comforting, and you felt a sense of ease that you hadn't experienced in a long time.

you even let him sit beside you on your mat, feeling your arms brush together occasionally. each touch sending a subtle, yet significant, wave of warmth through you, making you realize how much you enjoyed his company.

eventually, eren glanced at his watch and sighed. "i have to get to work," he said reluctantly, standing up and brushing off his pants.

"already?" you asked, unable to hide the disappointment in your voice.

"sadly, duty calls," he replies with a small smile. "but i really enjoyed this. i’ll see you tomorrow."

you nodded, feeling a mix of contentment and longing. "definitely. it was nice talking to you, eren." he gave you one last lingering look before turning to leave.

"take care, weirdo.”

you roll your eyes, fighting the smile on your lips as you watch him walk away.

౨ৎ

you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a bit bummed that he hadn’t shown up the next evening. you racked your brain for excuses on why he’d flaked out on you. had he been faking interest in you? maybe something urgent had come up, or perhaps he just wasn’t as intrigued by your shared passion as he had seemed. you didn’t even know why it bothered you so much; he was just a guy. a guy that you’d talked to for less than an hour.

so why was he plaguing your mind?

the summer sun glistened off your skin as you made your way to the record store, each step feeling heavier with the weight of your thoughts.

was it a bit stalkerish? yes. did you care? no.

curiosity was gnawing you alive, and no matter how much you meditated and tried to ease your mind, you couldn’t shake eren. the memory of his smile and the way his eyes lit up when he spoke lingered, making it impossible to forget.

you replayed every moment of your conversation, analyzing every word and gesture. was there something you missed? some sign that he wasn’t as interested as you thought? the more you thought about it, the more questions arose, each one more frustrating than the last.

the record store came into view, the only one in town. you took a deep breath and pushed open the door, the cool air inside a welcome relief from the summer heat.

you knew it was him. you could see that familiar chestnut hair pulled back by a bandana, this time a light pink one. his back was turned to you so he didn’t notice you gawking. a bored “welcome,” spilling from his lips. he was talking to a customer who you assumed was asking a question about something.

the record store had a cozy, nostalgic vibe. the walls were lined with wooden shelves, each packed with vinyl records of every genre imaginable. posters of classic rock bands and vintage album covers adorned the walls, giving the place a retro feel. the floor was a mix of worn hardwood and patterned rugs that added to the charm. small potted plants sat on the windowsills, basking in the sunlight that filtered through the large front windows. the light streaming in creating a warm inviting glow.

in one corner, a listening station was set up with old-school headphones and a turntable, inviting customers to sample the music before making a purchase. the air was filled with the faint scent of aged paper and vinyl, mixed with a hint of incense burning somewhere in the back. soft indie music playing in the background, creating a relaxed atmosphere that made you feel at ease.

“do you always spy on men like this?”

touché.

“only when they lie to me.” you turn around, eren’s hand is propped under his chin as he looks at you.

“well, i didn’t lie.”

you fold your arms over your chest, “so why the no show?”

he rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish smile playing on his lips.

“s’ kinda embarrassing but i couldn’t find the spot," he admitted, his eyes darting away for a moment before meeting yours again. "got turned around. i tried shouting your name, guess i was too far." he shrugs.

you immediately felt like an asshole for assuming he was a liar, and of course, stalking him. embarrassment washed over you, leaving you momentarily speechless. as if he could read your mind, he spoke up again, his voice soft and reassuring.

“for what it’s worth, i’m glad you decided to stalk me.” he said with a playful smirk. it was hard to fight the smile at his words.

"you’re so weird," you laugh.

god, he could get used to the sound of that. he doesn’t know how but you look even prettier since the last time he’d seen you. today you wore a green flare long-sleeved top that showed your midriff, and a white skirt that showcased your brown smooth strawberry legs. your hair frames your face in waves a single fish braid with jewelry shimmering brightly, scent of mango filling his nose as the fan breezes you.

“maybe. but you’re a little weird too," he teases. "my shift is almost over. let me walk you home? we can get ice cream or something on the way. my treat for flaking." the sincerity in his offer made your heart flutter, and you couldn’t help but nod, feeling a hint of excitement.

so you waited, and waited, and waited until eren’s replacement came. he looked a bit bummed when he’d pushed open the doors and didn’t see you, eyes lighting up as he saw you sitting outside on the bench.

"thought you ditched," he laughed, a hint of relief in his voice.

“i’m not like you."

“shut up," he said playfully, giving your shoulder a gentle push.

you stood up, and as you walked side by side, the tension from earlier seemed to dissolve. the evening air cool and refreshing, a stark contrast to the warmth of the day.

"so, where to?" he asks, glancing over at you with a curious expression.

"how about that ice-cream you promised?" you suggest, your grin widening.

"deal," he replies, his smile mirroring yours.

as you made your way to the ice cream shop, the conversation flowed easily once again. you talked about everything and nothing, sharing stories and laughing at each other's jokes. it was as if the time you spent waiting had never happened, replaced by the comfort of his presence.

"i thought you were weird, but you’re an actual freak.”eren’s face scrunches as he watches you eat the mint ice-cream. “what are you, a toothpaste enthusiast?"

you roll your eyes playfully. "oh please, mr.chocolate. you can't get more basic than that."

a smirk pulls on his lips. "what can i say? i like chocolate,” he takes a look at you before continuing his comment, “it’s rich and satisfying.”

you can feel your neck warm at his comment. "rich and satisfying? more like predictable," you shoot back, trying to hide your smile.

"predictable? i think you mean dependable," he says, leaning in a bit closer. "besides, chocolate has layers, just like me."

"layers, huh? are you saying you're deep and mysterious?" you ask, raising an eyebrow, your voice dripping with playful challenge.

"maybe i am," he grins, eyes locking onto yours. "but can you handle all these layers?" he took a slow, deliberate bite of his ice cream, his gaze never leaving your face.

you laugh, trying to shake off the butterflies in your stomach. "please, i can handle anything you throw at me."

"that a challenge?" his smirk widens, and you can see the mischief in his eyes.

"maybe it is," you whisper, leaning in just a little, your faces inches apart. "what are you gonna do about it?"

he pauses, his eyes flicking to your lips for just a second before meeting your gaze again. "i guess you'll have to wait and see," he murmurs, voice low and teasing.

you swallow hard, the air between you thick with unspoken tension. "well, don't keep me waiting too long," you hum, voice barely above a whisper.

he sucks his teeth, leaning back but never breaking eye contact. "wouldn’t dream of it. after all, good things come to those who wait."

"is that so?" you take a bite of your ice-cream with a raised brow.

"absolutely.”

the urge to press his lips against yours is strong, but he refrains. you’re so damn intoxicating. your laugh, your smile. he can't help but admire the way the beads around your waist gently clink with your every movement, adding a mesmerizing rhythm to your presence.

"you ready? i wanna show you something," eren’s voice is filled with excitement as he leans in closer. his eyes sparkling with anticipation, a clear sign that he had something special planned.

you raise an eyebrow at him, curiosity piqued. "show me what?" you try to read his expression and figure out what he could possibly have up his sleeve.

eren clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth and nudges you with a elbow. "wouldn't be a surprise if i told you," a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

"come on, just a hint?" you pout, poking your lip out, voice tinged with playful desperation, hoping he might give in and reveal a little bit more.

he shakes his head, his grin widening even further. "nope, not a chance. you'll just have to trust me," he says, his tone teasing yet sincere. he holds out his hand, waiting for you to take it.

you hesitate for a moment, placing your hand in his. his fingers wrap around yours, warm and reassuring. "alright, lead the way," you huff, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness as you follow him.

he led you through the park, the summer sun casting a golden glow on everything around you. the scent of blooming flowers filled the air, and the sound of birds chirping added a serene backdrop to your walk. you couldn't help but steal glances at him, wondering what he had planned and why he seemed so eager.

after a short walk, he stopped in front of a skate park. you looked around, confused as to how this could be the surprise. "a skate park?" you asked, a puzzled expression on your face.

he turned to you, his grin never fading. "yep, but that's not the surprise," he said, his eyes twinkling with amusement. he walked over to a nearby bench and picked up a skateboard, holding it out to you.

your confusion deepenes. "what's this for?" you asked, taking the skateboard from him and examining it.

he laughs, clearly enjoying your bewilderment.

"remember when you said, 'i can handle anything you throw at me'?" he asked, mimicking your earlier words with a playful tone.

you blink, the memory of your bold statement coming back to you. "wait, you want me to get on this?"

he nodded, his grin widening even more. "yep, it's time to see if you can really handle it," he said, voice filled with challenge and encouragement.

you looked at the skateboard, then back at him. a smile slowly spread across your face as you realized he was serious. "alright, let's do this," you said, feeling a surge of determination.

he helped you onto the skateboard, guiding you with patience and care. as you started to find your balance, you couldn't help but feel a sense of exhilaration.

with eren’s support and encouragement, you began to glide across the smooth surface, laughter and excitement filling the air.

he can’t help but smile as he watches you glide effortlessly on the skateboard, movements fluid and confident. you’re a natural, and it’s a sight that fills him with a mix of admiration and anxiety. he hasn’t felt this way in a long time, and the intensity of his emotions is both exhilarating and terrifying.

“look at you go, weirdo!” eren shouts, his voice carrying a note of pride and encouragement. you giggle, a sound that’s music to his ears, as you try to maintain your balance. skating wasn’t as hard as you thought it would be, probably because you’d spent so many of your younger years ice skating.

your continuous laughter rings out, blending with the sounds of the city around them, as you weave in and out of the path, occasionally glancing back to see him watching you with that same mesmerized expression.

time seems to blur as you skate, lost in the rhythm and joy of the moment. eventually, your legs begin to tire, and you decide to slow down, making your way back to where eren’s standing. you’re slightly out of breath, cheeks flushed with exertion and happiness, but the smile on your face is radiant. as you come to a stop in front of him, you can see the admiration in his eyes, a look that makes your heart skip a beat.

he thought you were interesting before, but now? god, he was entranced by you. every movement, every laugh, every glance – it all captivated him. you’re more than just a pretty face; you’re a whirlwind of energy and grace, and he finds himself drawn to you like never before.

he watches you intently, his eyes tracing the delicate lines of your face as you stand in front of him, bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun. your hair cascades in gentle waves, catching the light and creating a halo effect that makes you look almost ethereal.

"you know, you really were amazing out there. i couldn’t take my eyes off you."

"thank you, told you i could handle anything," you huff, voice tinged with a mix of shyness and pride.

“so i see,” eren hums.

the air between you is charged with an unspoken tension, a magnetic pull that seems to draw you together. he reaches out, his fingers brushing against your skin as he gently tucks a strand behind your ear. the touch is light, almost hesitant, but it sends a shiver down your spine.

"you’re making me nervous," you laugh softly.

“sorry . . you just look beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice filled with genuine admiration. the words hang in the air, carrying a weight of sincerity that makes your heart flutter. you looks up at him, doe eyes wide and vulnerable, and for a moment, everything else fades away. it’s just the two of you, standing on the precipice of something new and exciting.

"stop it," playfully you swat his arm, but you can’t hide your smile.

“you’re too much," you say, shaking your head.

"just the right amount, i think," he counters.

he leans in slightly, his breath warm against your ear. “i should get you back to your dorm,” he whispers, the intimacy of the moment making his words feel like a shared secret. you nod, teeth catching your bottom lip as you try to steady your racing heart.

“yeah,” you reply softly, voice barely above a whisper. the simplicity of the word belies the complexity of your emotions, a swirl of excitement, nervousness, and anticipation. you two start walking, the silence between you comfortable and filled with unspoken words.

౨ৎ

you and eren had been consistently hanging out for about a month now, and each hangout was a new adventure, filled with different activities that brought you closer together. sometimes, you’d find yourselves smoking in the woods, the thick canopy above creating a serene and private atmosphere where the world seemed to fade away. other times, you’d meditate together among the trees, the sounds of nature providing a calming backdrop as you both sought inner peace and clarity.

you both enjoyed skating, feeling the rush of wind as you glided down streets and paths, laughing and challenging each other to tricks and races. often, you’d sit and listen to eren passionately talk about his favorite music pieces, his eyes lighting up with every word as he explained the intricacies and emotions behind each note.

even though you weren’t officially dating, eren had brought up the topic, but you wanted to wait a bit longer. perhaps it was your commitment issues, but you needed to be sure he was the one before you took that step. it terrified you how fast you were falling for him. he was perfect—sweet, kind, considerate, and cute—everything you’d ever wanted in a partner.

yet, despite all his wonderful qualities, you found yourself second-guessing. the fear of getting hurt or making the wrong choice loomed over you, casting a shadow on your budding feelings.

you still hadn’t had sex, just shared the occasional kisses that left your heart racing. you appreciated how patient he was with you, never pushing your boundaries and always respecting your pace.

“am i doing this right?" eren sits perched on the blanket you’d brought along. usually, you’d just bring your mat, but he wanted to sit closer to the water today. the brook's gentle babbling and the sunlight dancing on the surface created a serene and calming atmosphere. you can’t but giggle at him, his legs awkwardly crossed over each other, his face scrunched up in concentration. you smile and place your hands on his back, gently guiding him.

“straighten up," you say, your touch soft but firm. he adjusts his posture, looking up at you with a grateful smile, and you can’t help but feel a surge of affection for him.

“have i told you how beautiful you are?” eren hums.

“yep. only everyday.”

“well it’s true, c’mere.”

giggling, you crawl over to him and press a kiss against his lips. the kiss starts off soft, a gentle brush that sends a shiver down your spine. slowly, it deepens, becoming more intense and passionate. you can feel the warmth of his breath mingling with yours, his hands gently cradling your face as he pulls you closer. he slides his hands down to your waist, pulling you firmly against him. in response, you straddle him, feeling the connection between you intensify.

“are you ready... because we don’t have to—” eren starts, his voice tinged with uncertainty. you cut him off, smiling down at him with a mix of admiration and tenderness. “i’m ready,” you whisper, your voice steady and reassuring. leaning in, you place a gentle kiss on the corner of his lips, a gentle promise of your commitment.

he nods, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. finding none, his fingers move to the hem of your dress, the fabric cool against his warm touch. with deliberate care, he pulls it over your head, the dress slipping away to reveal the trust and anticipation that lie between you.

“so f’kin pretty,” he mutters, his voice thick with desire as his hands knead your bare breast between his fingers. the sensation sends a shiver down your spine, and you groan, eyelids fluttering shut.

you feel the warm, wet touch of his tongue as it circles your sensitive nipples, each lick sending waves of pleasure through your body. his movements are slow and deliberate, heightening the intensity of every touch, and you can't help but arch into him, craving more.

“ren, touch me please.” your voice is strangled and needy as you speak.

“and i thought i was the impatient one,” eren kisses his teeth, gently placing you on your back. you hadn’t been wearing underwear nor a bra, and eren was twitching as he soaked you in, legs slightly parted.

“shut up,” you breathe out shakily, watching eren lower himself to you. there’s a dark glint in his eyes and you swallow thickly, your arousal leaking onto the blanket. he groans at the beautiful sight, his hands roaming possessively over your body, taking in every inch of you with a hunger that makes your heart race.

his fingers trace the curves of your hips, moving up to cup your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples, sending jolts of pleasure through you. his lips follow, trailing hot kisses down your neck, pausing to nip and suck at your sensitive skin, making you hiss.

his gentle pecks lead down to your pussy, his large hands kneading the soft flesh. the way you fill his hands drives him wild; he can't get enough of your thick ass.

“o-oh fuck,” a whiny sigh fumbles from your lips as you feel eren’s tongue on your slick cunt, hands still digging into your flesh as he slowly glides his tongue over you.

you’re the perfect blend of sweet and salty, a taste that leaves his mouth watering, hands desperately tugging you further onto his face. eren had barely started, yet here you were trembling underneath him. falling apart as he licked, kissed, and sucked on your bud.

"tsk, tsk, tsk. already trembling?" he murmurs, his voice dripping with tease. he takes advantage of your flexibility, pushing your legs until your knees almost touch your face. his eyes darken with desire as he watches your body bend to his will, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips.

here you were, in all your glory. your wet pussy quivering with need, asshole begging for him to stick a finger inside. every inch of your skin tingles with anticipation as you feel his intense gaze drinking in the sight of you.

“e-eren!” you mewl out as his tongue spazzes against your throbbing clit. his subtle deep hums sending vibrations through your body.

“love when you say my name like that,” he grunts, lips coated with your juices as he presses a tender kiss on your shaking inner thigh. the sensation of his warm breath against your skin only heightens your arousal, making you arch your back against the blanket.

his hands roam over your body, fingers tracing every curve and dip, igniting sparks of pleasure with each touch. he moves his mouth back to your trembling clit, tongue flicking and swirling, driving you wild with desire. your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as your moans fill the air, the tension building to an almost unbearable peak.

"f-feels s-so good!" you cry out, your voice trembling with pleasure as his tongue flutters against your aching pussy. his hands grip your thighs firmly, holding you in place as he licks and teases each movement sending waves of ecstasy through your body. your hips bucking involuntarily, seeking more of his touch, as you felt the heat pooling in your core, ready to overflow.

he eases your slick folds open and slurps at them, each stroke of his tongue sending shivers through your body, making you writhe in pleasure.

"mgnhn!" you cry out as his tongue flutters against your aching pussy quicker, the sensation overwhelming you. your hands gripping the blanket tightly, knuckles turning white as you tried to hold on.

“this shit so beautiful,” he groans out, his dick hardening in his gray sweatpants. his eyes are locked on your face, watching every expression of ecstasy that crossed it. he has to reach down to adjust himself, the sight of you driving him wild with desire.

you gulp back a sob as he slides two thick fingers inside you. your pussy holding his fingers firmly as you adjusted, the sensation both overwhelming and intoxicating.

his fingers began to move, slowly at first, teasing you as they explored every inch of your inner walls. soon, gentle moans escaped your open mouth, the squelching noises of eren playing in your pussy echoing throughout the forest, mixing with the sound of your heavy breathing.

“doing so well, pretty,” eren coos, voice dripping with lust. he pumps his fingers at a quicker speed, his thumb circling your clit in tandem. dark eyes watching your every reaction as his fingers curled inside you, hitting that perfect spot.

“ughh’m fuck,” your back arches off the blanket as you feel the pleasure building, ready to explode. his free hand grips your thigh, holding you steady as he works you closer to the edge, the intensity of his touch making your whole body tremble.

“you’re so tight,” he murmurs, breath hot against your thigh. “do you like the way i’m making you feel?”

“yes, eren,” you whimper, voice filled with need. “don’t stop, please.”

“i won’t,” he grins, fingers kissing your cervix as they moved even faster. “i want to hear you scream my name when you come.”

eren’s fingers were so damn deep inside you it made you cry out.

it didn’t help that he’d attached his lips back to your swollen clit, teasing you with every flick of his tongue.

"o-oh gosh!" you moan in pleasure as your hips buck to meet his fingers. if you’d seen the way eren’s face was covered in your juices, you would’ve been embarrassed, but in the heat of the moment, all you could focus on was the intense pleasure.

eren slowed his pace, finger fucking you gently. your cries complemented by the squelching sounds from your wet heat. his eyes never leaving your face.

“you like when i fuck you with my fingers?” eren husks. you nod your head, unable to find your voice. a loud smack echoing through the air as his hand thunders across your thigh, sending a jolt of pleasure and pain through your body.

“use your words like a big girl.”

"y-yes, i like it when you use your fingers," you whimper, rocking your hips desperately against his hand. eren grins at the sweet quiver in your voice as he curves his fingers inside of you, hitting that perfect spot that made you see stars.

your moans were so fucking pretty.

shit, everything about you is pretty to eren. he loves the way your body responds to his touch, the way your eyes flutter shut in ecstasy.

“you so fuckin’ wet, you needed this, huh?”

"y-yes, mhgm," you cry out, his long fingers reaching every corner of your walls, driving you crazy. with his tongue playing over your clit and his fingers pumping into you, you felt that familiar sensation build in your stomach, a tight coil ready to snap. your body trembled, teetering on the edge of release, completely at his mercy.

eren’s pace increased, his fingers moving faster and his tongue swirling around your clit with renewed vigor. the pleasure was overwhelming, your vision blurred as you felt the coil in your stomach tighten even more. your breathing becoming ragged as you felt your climax approaching rapidly.

“clenching my fingers so good,” eren murmured against your clit, his voice sending vibrations through your core. that was all it took to push you over the edge. your body convulsing as the orgasm ripped through you, waves of pleasure crashing over you. you cried out eren’s name, hands gripping the sheets as you rode out the intense high.

eren moaned into your pussy, making sure he ate you through your climax, his tongue flicking and swirling with precision. the intense pleasure brought tears to your eyes, your vision blurring once again as you were overwhelmed by the sensation.

“fuck!” you gasp out as eren continues devouring you, his lips and tongue relentless on your sensitive clit, making it tingle and throb. you put your hands in front of your poor clit, trying to shield it from the overwhelming stimulation, prompting eren to deliver another hard smack on the side of your thigh.

“move it.” he demands, voice low and commanding.

shaking, you remove your hands.

eren didn’t stop, his fingers and tongue continuing their relentless assault, prolonging your orgasm until you were a trembling, panting mess. finally, he slows down, gently easing his fingers out of you and placing soft kisses on your inner thighs.

he looks up at you, his face glistening with your juices, a satisfied grin on his lips. “you’re so beautiful when you come,” his voice filled with adoration. he crawls up your body, wrapping his familiar inked arms around you and pulling you into a comforting embrace.

you huff tiredly, sitting up and pressing your lips against his, tasting yourself on his lips. eren groans as you slide your tongue against his, hands tugging his shirt over his head. eren was an avid fitness junkie, and his sculpted body told that story. his muscles well-defined, each one a testament to his dedication.

“stare any longer and i’ll charge,” eren teases, his voice laced with humor. you rolled your eyes playfully, unable to hide your admiration.

“lay back, i wanna try something,” you instruct, your voice filled with anticipation. eren eagerly nods, watching as you tug his pants off and toss them aside followed by his boxers. his eyes are filled with curiosity and desire, his body ready for whatever you had in mind.

you swallowed hard as you watch pre-cum glisten on his pink tip.

"someone's happy to see me," you laugh. eren flashes a smile. his muscles tensing slightly, the veins in his arms more pronounced as he leaned back on his elbows,giving you full access. your heart raced, the anticipation building as you moved closer, your breath hitching at the sight of him so ready and eager.

a soft mumble of your name falls from his lips as you glide his dick between your titties, pressing them together as you slide up him vertically. his breath hitches, his eyes fluttering shut momentarily as the warmth and softness of your breasts envelop him.

you can feel the heat radiating from his body, his muscles tensing further under your touch. each movement is slow and deliberate, creating a delicious friction that has him groaning in pleasure.

his hands grip the dirt, knuckles turning white as he tries to hold back, but the look of pure ecstasy on his face tells you he’s close to losing control.

his hips begin to move on their own, thrusting gently as you continue to slide up and down. you can see the desperation in his eyes, the way his jaw clenches as he fights to keep cool. his breathing grows ragged, each exhale a mix of a groan and your name.

"you feel amazing," he manages to gasp, his voice thick with need. his leaking tip coats your tits, making each glide smoother and more intense.

you pick up the pace, feeling the tension build in his body.

“does it make you wanna cum seeing me stroke your dick like this?” your voice dripping with seduction.

eren nods, face scrunching in pleasure when you focus on his tip.

“use your words, for me?”

“ugh fuck,” he drawls out deeply. “y-yes.”

each time you slide down him, his stomach clenches tightly, and the soft sound of skin against skin dulls his senses, driving him deeper into a haze of pleasure.

his breathing becomes more erratic, each breath a shallow gasp that escapes his lips. the sensation is overwhelming, each movement sending shivers down his spine.

you can feel his body trembling beneath you, his toes curling with every stroke. eren sits up now, his hands gripping your hair in a clenched first, as if trying to anchor himself in the moment.

“d-doing so good,” eren whines, watching your big tits envelop his dick, they’re covered in pre-cum and the sight makes him even harder.

how the fuck do you look so innocent?

your eyes, wide and seemingly naive, betray a hidden intensity as they lock onto his. each deliberate movement of your tits, slow and teasing, sends waves of pleasure through him, making it hard for him to think straight.

your lip, caught between your teeth, adds an edge of raw desire to your expression, making it clear that you know exactly what you're doing. the contrast between your innocent appearance and your skilled, confident actions creates a tantalizing tension that drives him wild.

the slick feel of your skin against his is almost too much to bear, and he can barely keep himself from losing control. the sensation is electric, each touch sending jolts of pleasure through his body.

his breathing becomes heavy, and he struggles to maintain his composure. every movement, every brush of your skin against his, pushes him closer to the edge. the intensity of the moment is overwhelming, making it nearly impossible for him to hold back.

“you wanna cum on my face?”

“yes—fuck, yes.”

eren's whole body is on fire, every nerve alive with sensation. his mind is a haze of pleasure, unable to focus on anything other than the exquisite torment you're putting him through.

he hates how quickly he's losing control, but at the same time, he craves more of it—more of you. the way you touch him, the way you know exactly how to push him to his limits, it's intoxicating. and as the pleasure builds to an unbearable peak, he knows there's no turning back.

his hands, once clutching the sheets in a desperate attempt to anchor himself, now hold your hair, pulling, a silent plea for more.

the intensity of his desire is palpable, a raw and unfiltered need that consumes him entirely. he can barely form coherent thoughts, let alone words, but his body speaks for him, responding to your every touch with an urgency that leaves no room for doubt.

as the crescendo of pleasure reaches its peak, eren's moans grow louder, more desperate. his body trembles, teetering on the edge of release.

every fiber of his being is focused on you, on the sensations you're eliciting from him. and then, with a final, shuddering gasp, he comes undone completely, his body convulsing in the throes of ecstasy.

ropes of him string your face as you continue stroking, determined to milk him dry.

"m-my tip is so sensitive... fuck," eren mewls, his thighs shaking uncontrollably.

the sight of him, so vulnerable and overwhelmed makes you throb. you finally pull your hands away and eren lets out a breathy shit.

“you’re amazing.” he grins, grabbing his shirt and cleaning your face off. you shrug, “i know.”

“don’t get cocky!”

“too late.” you giggle.

“mm, we’ll see about that when i’m fucking you.”

before you can react, eren has you in doggy-style, his hands spreading your cheeks as he eats your ass. his warm breath and skilled tongue send shivers down your spine, “s-shit!” you bury your face in your arms, arching into his face.

“oh god,” you hiss as eren swiftly rolls his hips into you, burying himself at your hilt. he can’t help but clench his jaw at how fucking tight you are, he wants nothing more than to fuck your sweet hole until you’re gushing with his cum but he refrains.

he’s so damn thick your pussy burns and throbs at the unfamiliar stretch, “you’re so big,” you whine.

“mhm, taking me so well,” eren praises, kneading your ass between his fingers. you began to loosen up around him and he takes that as his que, hands gripping your hips as he rolls his hips into you fluidly.

airy curses tumble from your lips as eren pounds into your pussy, the sound of your ass riveting against his stomach disrupting the serene atmosphere.

“fuckkk,” eren groans, watching as your greedy pussy suckles at his thick cock. you’re so fucking wet, the slight gush as eren continually rocks his hips a testament of that.

your soft moans are like music to his ears, each whine and grunt spurring him to fuck you deeper. “h-harder!” you demand, hands neededly gripping the fabric underneath you. a loud cry fumbles from your lips as eren cracks his hand against your ass.

“ask nicely princess.” he grunts, voice thick with desire.

“mm, please ren. fuck my pussy harder.”

“your wish is my command,” eren latches a hand around the back of your neck to brace himself, hips snapping into you with inhumane speeds.

"you like getting your pussy ravaged like this?" eren hums, his hand squeezing your throat harder, causing you to let out a soft moan. each powerful thrust and the grip on your neck overwhelms you with ecstasy, eyes clenching shut tightly as you jerk forward with each motion.

“y-yes,”

eren’s breath is hot against your ear as he leans down, latching his hand around the front of your neck. “you’re so beautiful like this." his words send shivers down your spine, heightening the sensation of every movement. you can barely think, lost in the overwhelming mix of pleasure and intensity. the air feels electric, every touch and sound magnified as you both move together, completely in sync.

“you hear her talking to me?” you shiver as you feel his cold silver chain against your back, lips pressing an array of kisses along your spine.

“look at you, getting so wet for me,” he whines, and you want to cum right then and there. you love his moans; a mixture of breathy and whininess that you can’t get enough of.

cream coats eren’s dick, building on his base and sticking to his pubes. his thumb rimming your asshole before he pushed it in.

“it’s okay, baby. relax,” his voice soft as you tense.

“oh eren,” you squeak, his hips jolting against your ass as he fucks you even faster, thumb stretching out your asshole.

both your holes being filled has your stomach flipping. eren fucking you wildly. he would pull himself out, leaving just his tip. then ram himself all the way back into you, a queef leaving your pussy each time.

his fingers dig into your skin as he thrusts deeper. the sound of skin slapping mingling with your moans and his grunts. every movement sends waves of pleasure through your body, making you feel like you’re on the edge of ecstasy.

“gonna fill you up soon,” eren mutters, voice strained. you can feel the tension building inside you, ready to snap at any moment. eren’s pace quickens, his thrusts becoming more urgent as he chased his own release.

“i’m close,” you gasp, your body trembling with anticipation. eren responds with a deep, guttural moan, his movements growing even more intense. the pressure inside you reached its peak, and with a final, powerful thrust, you both tumbled over the edge together, lost in the overwhelming sensation of pleasure.

“cummin’ cummin’!” tears fall from your eyes as the hot sensation of eren’s cum fills your pussy, spilling out dripping onto the blanket.

“ughhhhh,” eren shudders, “m not done with you yet sweetheart.”

before you know it eren has you in missionary, you watch with half-lidded eyes as he lines himself up with your creampied pussy. hissing as he pushes into your wet entrance. your moans synchronized, and you arch your back in pleasure. his hands lock onto yours, holding them above your head. his thrust are slow yet deep. moaning softly you wrap your legs around him, driving him further.

eren wants to climax immediately, seeing your fucked out face. your eyebrows furrowed, swollen lips caught between your teeth, chest bouncing with each thrust of his hips.

“so pretty,” he mumbles, pressing sweet kisses onto your face. your stomach churns as he continues rolling his hips into you, tip prodding at your cervix.

“open your eyes and look at me while i fuck you like this,” he rasps, the sounds of your wetness filling his ears. your eyes flutter open to look at him. his lips are swollen from the shared kisses, jaw clenched in pleasure, a thin layer of sweat covering his skin. you yearn to release each time his chain swings across your face, but resist.

his eyes seem to glow as you locked gazes with him.

"you’re so gorgeous," he whispers, sending chills through your body. you can feel a knot tightening in your stomach again. “gna’ cum again baby,” you whine, eren gripping your thighs and them for better leverage.

“ah-fuck!” you sob out as the new angle, his length hitting directly into your g-spot.

he continues hitting that spot until the knot in your stomach finally releases. you sob in pleasure, squirting. he waste no time pulling out and smacking his length against your sensitive clit, urging you to let it out.

“mhm, love this shit.”

the two of you lay in a puddle of your fluids, but eren doesn’t care. he pushes back into you groaning as your walls convuls around him.

you sense he was near climax as his eyes shut tightly, you cup his face as his thrusts become more erratic.

“that’s it, cum for me handsome.”

and that was all it took.

with a loud moan, eren withdrew and rapidly pumped his shaft, releasing hot jets of cum onto your belly. his blissful cries echoing as his muscular frame tightened in release.

“fuckkkkk,” he whines, shaking.

the breeze is cool as you’re cuddled up beside eren, your naked legs intertwined. the world around you feels calm and serene, and you can't help but wish that life could always be this simple. eren's fingers gently dig into your frizzy curls, massaging your scalp with tenderness.

“you’re my girlfriend now,” he murmurs, his voice firm yet filled with affection. “i won’t take no for an answer.”

you look up at him, everything feels perfect, and you can't imagine being anywhere else but here, in his arms.

788 notes · View notes

livebeforeyoulearn · 17 days

Text

Kiss It Off Me

Warnings: Smut, 18+

Word Count: 2.5k

Summary: Alexia kisses away your insecurities.

The bathroom is still, the air cool against your skin, the mirror reflecting your bare body back at you in quiet scrutiny. Every line, every curve, every imperfection is laid out in front of you, stark and unfiltered. You find yourself standing there longer than you intended, your eyes tracing the familiar shape of your waist, the gentle swell of your hips, the fullness of your chest. In the privacy of this moment, there's no one to judge but yourself, but that’s the hardest part.

Your body is ordinary, a normal woman’s body – there’s nothing wrong with it. But the longer you look, the more you find yourself nitpicking. The soft flesh of your stomach, the way your thighs touch, the slight roundness that clings to your form. It’s not that you hate your body. You’ve lived in it, loved it at times, but tonight, it feels… inadequate.

And then the comparisons creep in, uninvited but persistent. Alexia – she’s built differently. Her body, honed from years of training and discipline, is strong, defined in ways yours could never be. You’ve seen her in moments of vulnerability, caught glimpses of her when she wasn’t thinking about how her body looked. The firmness of her abs, the sleek power in her thighs, the sculpted muscles in her arms that ripple under her skin when she moves so effortlessly. She’s athletic, a picture of strength and control, and suddenly you can’t help but wonder: what if your softness doesn’t appeal to her?

The thought sends a tightness curling in your stomach. What if she wants someone more toned, more disciplined? Someone whose body reflects the same kind of rigorous care and precision she pours into her own? What if she looks at you and wishes for something more – more muscle, a slimmer waist, more definition? The thoughts twist and coil, each one gnawing at your sense of self until you're left feeling small, insecure, vulnerable.

The weight of it presses down on you, heavy and suffocating, until you hear footsteps, soft but distinct, approaching the bathroom door. Alexia. Her presence is immediately recognisable, even in the muted sound of her movements. She stops just outside, and you feel your breath catch in your throat. For a moment, there’s silence, and then a gentle knock on the door.

"Hey... are you okay in there?" Her voice is warm, tinged with a hint of concern, as though she can already sense that something isn’t right. She must have noticed the lack of sound – the water isn’t running, and there’s no sign of you moving around.

Your heart lurches, panic bubbling up alongside the insecurity. You’re not ready for her to see you like this. You’re not sure you’ll ever be ready. You force yourself to respond, but your voice betrays you – shaky, uncertain.

"Yeah, everything’s fine."

The words come out unconvincing, hollow. There’s a pause on the other side of the door, and you can almost hear her thinking, weighing whether or not to push further. Her hesitation is brief before she speaks again, this time softer, more tentative.

"Can I come in?"

Your pulse quickens at the question, panic now seeping into your chest. You glance around, your mind scrambling for an excuse, something – anything – that will explain why you can’t let her in. But nothing comes to mind. The only thing you can think of is that you’re naked. Completely, utterly exposed.

"I– " You begin, your words faltering. “I’m naked.”

Before you can protest further, you hear it – a soft, muffled chuckle from the other side of the door, warm and affectionate, as though she’s amused by your hesitation.

"It’s fine," she reassures, her voice light, gentle. "I don’t mind."

Of course she doesn’t mind. Why would she? You’ve seen parts of each other before, shared moments of intimacy that, while tender, had never escalated to this. But this is different. This is full exposure, in every sense of the word.

You swallow hard, feeling the lump in your throat grow as your hand reaches for the lock, trembling slightly. There’s a moment of hesitation as you grip the cool metal, your body tense with anticipation, before you finally, reluctantly, turn it. The lock clicks softly, and you step back, your heart racing in your chest.

The door creaks open, slowly at first, as if even Alexia is aware of the tension that hangs in the air. When she steps inside, her eyes find yours immediately, her expression soft and curious. She takes in the sight of you standing there, arms crossed over your chest in a vain attempt to shield yourself from her gaze. Her eyes, warm and filled with affection, sweep over you with a quiet intensity that makes your breath hitch.

She smiles gently, her head tilting slightly as she looks at you, her voice a soft murmur. "Why do you look so nervous?"

The question is simple, but it catches you off guard. How can you explain the tangle of thoughts swirling in your head? The insecurities that have crept up on you, uninvited and unwelcome? You try to speak, but your words come out in fragments, stammering and uncertain.

"I just… I don’t know," you mutter, feeling your cheeks flush with embarrassment.

Alexia’s gaze lingers on you, her eyes narrowing slightly, not in frustration but in understanding. She steps closer, her presence comforting yet powerful, and reaches out for your arms. When her hands gently rest on yours, coaxing them away from your chest, you hesitate for a moment before allowing her to take them in her grip.

"You don’t need to hide from me," she whispers, her thumbs brushing small, soothing circles on the backs of your hands. "You’re beautiful."

The words are simple, yet they strike you deeply. You want to believe her. You want to take comfort in her reassurances, but the weight of your own doubts is heavy. You lower your gaze, unable to meet her eyes as the words slip out before you can stop them.

"I just feel… insecure," you confess, your voice barely above a whisper. "You’re perfect, and I’m just… me."

There’s a brief silence, and then a soft, almost resigned sigh escapes Alexia. When you glance up at her, you’re met with a smile – soft, understanding, and full of something deeper, something that makes your heart ache in your chest.

"And I love you being just you," she says, her voice steady and sure. "That’s what I’m drawn to. That’s what makes you… you."

Her words settle around you like a comforting blanket, and when she cups your chin gently in her hand, tilting your face up to meet hers, you feel the tension in your body start to melt away, slowly but surely. Her eyes search yours, and then, without another word, she leans in, her lips meeting yours in a kiss that is soft and tender, yet filled with an intensity that makes your heart race.

The kiss deepens, her lips moulding perfectly against yours, and you let yourself sink into it, into the warmth of her touch. When she pulls back, her lips still hovering just above yours, her breath mingling with yours, she whispers, her voice low and intimate.

"Can I show you how much I love you? For you, not just for what you look like?"

Your heart skips a beat at the question, the vulnerability in her words wrapping around you like a warm embrace. You nod, a small, tentative movement, and her smile returns, soft and full of adoration. She leans in to kiss you again, this time slower, more deliberate, her lips moving against yours with a tenderness that makes your chest tighten.

Her kisses trail away from your lips, moving across your face, each one more gentle than the last. She kisses the tip of your nose, your closed eyelids, your forehead, her lips brushing against your skin with reverence. Each kiss is like a promise, a quiet reassurance that she sees you – truly sees you – and loves every part of you.

When her lips reach the curve of your neck, you feel a shiver run down your spine. Her breath is warm against your skin, and the soft press of her lips sends a wave of warmth through your body. She lingers there for a moment, her lips moving slowly, tenderly, before she continues downward, her hands sliding over your hips, guiding you gently back against the cool counter.

Her lips trail lower, over your collarbone, her kisses becoming more insistent, more purposeful. Your breath hitches as her mouth finds your chest, her lips pressing softly against the sensitive skin. When she kisses the swell of your breasts, her touch is filled with such reverence, such care, that it makes your stomach flutter.

Your heart races as her kisses continue, each one sending a spark of warmth through your body. Her hands, steady and sure, glide down your sides, her fingers tracing the curve of your waist. You gasp softly when her mouth moves lower, her kisses now trailing down your stomach, each one making your skin tingle in anticipation.

When her lips reach the heat between your thighs, she pauses, her eyes flicking up to meet yours. The look she gives you is one of pure adoration, her gaze soft but intense, and when you part your legs for her, her smile widens ever so slightly. She leans in, placing a soft, lingering kiss just above your core, her breath warm against your skin.

The first touch of her tongue is gentle, exploratory, as if she’s savouring the moment. You gasp, your hands flying to the counter beneath you, gripping the edge as your body tenses in response to the intimate contact. Alexia’s hands are steady on your hips, her fingers firm yet gentle as she holds you in place. Her touch is confident, reassuring, a grounding presence against the building storm of sensation.

Her tongue moves slowly at first, teasing, tracing a path through your folds with a softness that makes your breath stutter. It’s almost too much, the intensity of the moment, the intimacy of it, but then she quickens the pace, her movements becoming more deliberate, more focused. Each flick of her tongue sends a jolt of pleasure coursing through you, her lips pressing firmly against your most sensitive places. Your legs tremble involuntarily, and you have to fight to keep yourself standing upright, leaning heavily against the counter for support.

Alexia seems to sense this, and her hands tighten around your hips, anchoring you, holding you steady as her tongue delves deeper. The way she moves is both precise and passionate, as though she’s fully absorbed in the act of pleasing you. There’s a rhythm to it now – her mouth working expertly, her tongue gliding over your core in a way that makes your entire body hum with pleasure.

A soft moan escapes your lips, unbidden, and you feel your knees begin to weaken. The sensations are overwhelming, building higher and higher with each stroke of her tongue, with every tender kiss she presses against you. It’s as though she’s everywhere at once – her mouth, her hands, her breath – and it’s consuming, intoxicating.

You can feel yourself nearing the edge, your body tightening in response to the growing pressure. Alexia’s mouth works faster now, her tongue moving with more intensity, and you can’t hold back the sounds that escape you. Your fingers dig into the counter, your knuckles turning white as your body begins to tremble under the force of the pleasure she’s giving you.

Her grip on your hips is strong, steady, as she holds you in place, her tongue never faltering. She knows exactly how to unravel you, exactly where to touch, exactly how to bring you to the brink. Your breath comes in ragged gasps, your body trembling, and you feel the tension coil tighter and tighter inside you until it snaps.

Your release washes over you in waves, intense and powerful, and you cry out, your body shaking with the force of it. Alexia doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up. She continues, her tongue still moving, her mouth still working against you, coaxing every last bit of pleasure from your body. You can feel yourself tightening around her, the pleasure cresting again and again, until finally, you have to reach down, your fingers threading through her hair, pulling her back gently as the sensation becomes too much.

She looks up at you, her lips glistening, her face flushed with warmth and satisfaction. Her eyes meet yours, and there’s something almost reverent in the way she looks at you, as if she’s in awe of you, of this moment. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips before she stands, her hands sliding up your body as she rises.

When she reaches your face, her fingers cup your cheeks gently, and she leans in, pressing her lips to yours in a soft, tender kiss. You can taste yourself on her lips, the warmth of her mouth mingling with your own, and the intimacy of it sends a shiver down your spine.

“You’re perfect,” she whispers against your lips, her voice soft but full of conviction. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted… and more.”

Her words wrap around you, comforting, soothing the last remnants of insecurity that linger in your mind. You feel the weight of her love in every word, in every kiss, in every touch, and for the first time in what feels like hours, you allow yourself to believe her.

Alexia smiles again, her hands still cradling your face, and you can’t help but smile back. It’s a small smile at first, tentative, but it grows as she presses her forehead against yours, her breath mingling with yours in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

“I find you so beautiful,” she murmurs, her voice low, almost a whisper. “Every single part of you.”

Your chest tightens at her words, a wave of emotion rising up inside you. You don’t know how to respond, how to express the gratitude, the love you feel in this moment, so you do the only thing you can – you kiss her. It’s a soft, lingering kiss, filled with all the emotion you can’t put into words, and when you pull back, you see the warmth in her eyes, the love shining in her gaze.

She pulls you into her arms, holding you close, her body warm and solid against yours. You rest your head on her shoulder, feeling the steady rise and fall of her chest, the reassuring beat of her heart. Her fingers trace soothing patterns on your back, and you close your eyes, letting yourself relax fully into her embrace.

All your insecurities, all your doubts seem to fade away, replaced by the overwhelming certainty that Alexia loves you – not just for how you look, but for who you are. And that’s all that matters.

You stay like that for a while, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside the bathroom forgotten. The quiet intimacy of the moment lingers, a sense of peace settling over you both as the warmth of her love surrounds you.

And in that silence, you finally feel free. Free to be yourself, free to love and be loved, just as you are.

#alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #alexia x reader #woso x reader #woso blurbs #woso one shot #woso smut #woso #barca femini x reader #barca femeni #woso fanfics

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caffeinewitchcraft · 4 months

Text

The Hero and Hope 4/5

Okaaaay, so there's 5 parts instead of 4! I realized that the last part was over 6k words, so we're splitting it into two! The last part will still be posted next Friday, so this will keep us on track!

Summary: The picnic has an uninvited guest that you're uniquely suited to greet.

-------

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3)

“Didn’t think I’d see anyone able to catch Marie,” the Lord says, brows raised. His golden eyes track Isla across the garden and he whistles when she jumps to tag his former knight. “That was not within the capabilities of a Villager.”

Ivan scans the crowd around them. Most of the townsfolk are too far away to eavesdrop and the ones close enough to potentially hear are engaged in their own conversations. “Careful, Brennan. If the Director hears you speculate…”

“Yes, the Director,” Lord Brennan sighs. He brings his teacup to his lips, but doesn’t drink. He contemplates Director Sarah where she crouches with a glass of water near Annie. “You know this is the first time we’ve met?”

It’d been a fight to get Sarah to agree to today at all. Ivan chooses his words carefully. “Your predecessor did not have the sort of…kind interest you do.”

The former Lord’s interest Sarah shared with them was a lot more horrifying. There’s a reason that Isla at only fifteen years old is the eldest at the orphanage.

“That’s one way to put it,” Lord Brennan agrees. He settles back into his seat and sighs in satisfaction. He watches the children gradually grow tired of their game and drift towards the dessert table. He grins when the townsfolk naturally make room for them, a few of them even fetching treats from the center of the table for the littler ones. “See my people together? It was very good of me to lure you and Marie to my territory.”

“You gave us a castle,” Ivan says. They weren’t so much lured as bludgeoned with generosity. Some days it feels like they blinked and ended up standing amongst fine silk and filigree.

“It’s a manor as far as paperwork goes,” Lord Brennan says.

“It has buttresses.”

“A very fortified manor.” Lord Brennan finally sips his tea and sighs again. “This tea is from our fields, isn’t it?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“It’s delicious.” The full canopies of the trees enveloping the estate rustle in the wind. The sun shines warmly overhead. Lord Brennan takes another drink. Delicious. “The land’s come a long way since we ousted my father, hasn’t it? Plentiful harvests, an established trade route, a new school. If it weren’t for the demons, my work would be done.”

“I would prefer you had no work then,” Ivan says dryly.

“Me too.” Lord Brennan sets his tea aside and rubs his eyes. “Any updates?”

“None,” Ivan admits, frustration leaking through his words. His face is still amiable and the disconnect between his tone and his visage is jarring. “We investigated the wolf tracks in the woods and only found carnage. No signs of the demons themselves.”

“So they are demons?”

“Regular wolves wouldn’t be able to evade a squadron of your knights, my lord.”

“Neither would demon wolves,” Lord Brennan says. He rubs his chin, brow furrowing. “I don’t like what that implies. Any sign of larger foes?”

Ivan doesn’t want to discuss this here. Marie’s eyes are on him, sensing his rising distress. He smiles and waves to her. “Besides the horned rabbit migration?”

“Is it a migration?”

“Isla saw five within the first four weeks of summer,” Ivan says.

The Lord’s attention falls on the teenager. She’s patiently letting one of the other children – Hera? The one who’d curtsied to him like a little noble – weave flowers into her braid. He tries to imagine her fighting a horned rabbit and his lips thin. “I’ll call for reinforcements from the capital.”

“Marie and I can—”

Lord Brennan waves Ivan off. “No, no, I’ve asked too much of you already. Aren’t the two of you too busy in your retirement already? I thought you’d be settled with a child by now.”

“It’s not good to rush these things,” Ivan says as he has the last three times Lord Brennan has asked. This time it’s Ivan who sighs. “It took Marie and I a good few months to win Director Sarah over after our misstep.”

“Asking about Destinies, was it?”

“Implying we’d value any child less for not being a knight like us,” Ivan corrects.

“There seem to be a lot of unusual Destinies in the orphanage,” Lord Brennan says. He’s not an Identifier but he’s got a good eye. Though no one can know for sure until a child either develops their mark or comes into their power at fifteen, he’s seen more than a few signs of a Scholar, a Guardian, and a Teacher. Once again he finds his gaze being drawn back to Isla. She’s got a child under each arm and is running from Marie again, the game having resumed after their snack break. “That one is a Guard, at least. Nobody else would have physical abilities like that.”

Ivan ignores the Lord’s comment. “It’s been worthwhile getting to know them all.” His smile turns a little more genuine. “They’re all good kids.”

“Surely you and Marie have an inkling of who’ll be a good fit?” When Ivan doesn’t reply, the Lord clicks his tongue. “You can’t choose all of them.”

Ivan’s voice is a study in nonchalance. “Can’t we?”

Lord Brennan opens his mouth only for no words to come out. At length, he has to laugh. His knights do like to keep busy. “You’d need a castle.”

“You did give us one, my lord.”

“I suppose I did.”

The two men lapse into a pleasant silence. It is good to see the townsfolk this cheerful. This town is the furthest from Lord Brennan’s own castle and he rarely has a chance to visit. The first time he had had been very different. The people still bore the wounds of winter in gouged cheeks and brittle smiles. Now he sees the glow of health everywhere he looks.

He contemplates the Director once again. She’d been the only one back then to not seem pleased to see him ride in on his white horse. Even now he can feel the chill of her scrutiny as she stood defensively between him and the orphanage. None of that chill is present today. Her smile is as sweet as his tea while she tends to a scrape the little Scholar sustained in this round of tag. “Ms. Sarah is very pretty, isn’t she?”

“I know we can’t adopt them all,” Ivan blurts out. He doesn’t seem to have heard Lord Brennan. His gaze is turned towards his own inner conflict which is why he also doesn’t notice the blush dusting the Lord’s cheeks. “It wouldn’t be fair to them. Marie and I decided to adopt a child who would benefit from what little we can offer. Military arts and luck.”

“I don’t think you’re being fair,” Lord Brennan says with raised brows. “You and Marie offer a lot more than a Knight’s experience. Haven’t you shown that already in your actions?” He’s not aware of everything his former knights have done, but he’s heard plenty from the children today. He didn’t think Marie had the patience to teach anyone how to read.

Ivan’s hands fist. “It’s not enough, it’s not—the little boy. Josiah. He’s so smart. I don’t even know where to start with him and even Marie says that he’ll soon outpace her—”

“Well,” Lord Brennan says, “Neither of you are Teachers, true, but there is a school for that--”

“And Annie wants to know why bread rises and why the sun sets and how many seconds are in a day—”

“All kids are curious—”

“Hera staged a whole theater production for my birthday and all we could do was clap—”

Is he missing something? “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?”

“We don’t know any actors or directors to introduce her to!” Ivan cries out. He quickly lowers his voice, but can’t hide the stress around his eyes. “What could we give to a child like her? Like any of them? Marie and I are out of our depth. It would be so much simpler if one was a Knight!”

The Lord tentatively offers, “If Isla’s a Guard--?”

Ivan gives a cry of distress that he barely capture in the palm of his hand. “Isla! That girl feels like my daughter already, but…she’s been through so much. She doesn’t need a father who teaches her how to fight or a mother who teaches her how to withstand a siege! She deserves to never have to fight again. What could we offer her? What could we possibly give to her she hasn’t already learned on her own?”

A light goes on in the Lord’s head. He takes in the festivities with new eyes. The town’s Baker, Blacksmith, Teacher… His friends have invited every possible parent they could in hopes of providing for the children in ways they felt incapable of doing themselves. As noble as that was…“Ivan, being a parent goes beyond the skills you can give a child. It’s more than fostering talent or an offering an apprenticeship. It’s—”

A horse’s scream drowns out the Lord’s next words.

Ivan is in front of Lord Brennan with his sword drawn before the horses and their blood-splattered riders even round the side of the castle.

-----.

You throw Annie and Josiah behind you the moment you hear the sound of hooves galloping towards the manor.

“Isla, what—” Josiah starts to ask and then cuts himself off as the innkeepers and their entourage burst into the party.

You smell blood before your eyes register the terrible red staining their fine clothing.

“ORCS!” Mr. Innkeeper screams over the frightened snorts of his horse. He stumbles down from his mount and staggers towards the Lord. “They overtook our carriage—please, my wife, she’s hurt—”

Mrs. Inkeeper is holding her side and seemingly barely holding onto the saddle horn. “Our guards won’t be enough to hold them off—”

“Inside,” Sarah hisses into your ear. She points after Hera who’s already shepherding the younger kids into the building. “Now.”

“—an army—”

“—fast—”

“—waiting for us—”

You move faster than you’ve allowed yourself since you arrived. This is no time to take care in hiding your abilities; there are roars coming from the forest unlike anything you’ve ever heard before. Your senses seem to dial up with your heartrate and you can hear the clash of steel against rock and flesh. You scoop Annie into your arms and leap after Josiah and Sarah.

Mr. Dallen’s face is pale as he ushers you all into the manor. He holds the door open for the townsfolk. The hall fills with the sounds of panic and sobs as fear washes through you like a tidal wave. There have never been orcs south of the mountains, there have never been demons bigger than a horned rabbit in the last twenty years, even when the Winter froze the river—

Mr. Dallen waves down Marie as she sprints to the large doorway. You think that he’s going to pull her inside to safety, but instead he thrusts her bow into her outstretched hands.

“Do not open these doors,” she commands. Behind her the knights are assembling into a formation, their Lord at the center. Ivan stands before them all, barking orders to ready their spears as the trees in front of them begin to sway. Marie pulls a dagger from under her skirts and slices the bottom half of her dress clean off. She kicks it away from her feet as she talks. “Take everyone to the basement—”

“Ma’am, the escape tunnel still isn’t cleared of debris—”

Marie swears so violently that half the townsfolk gasp. She grabs Mr. Dallen by the shoulder, her eyes flicking back and forth between him and her husband. “Then we will draw them away. The moment you think you can, run to the wagon. Get the children to—” She bites her lip. You can see the devastating truth flash through her mind. There isn’t anywhere to go. “Damnit. Bar the door and arm everyone you can.”

Mr. Dallen’s lips are bloodless as he nods. “My lady.”

Marie turns to everyone. Her voice is unlike anything you’ve heard come from her lips; it’s harsh and barking. A commander giving orders much like Ivan is doing outside. “Listen, everyone. We are in danger. Our best estimate is that 25 orcs are marching on the manor. There is no guarantee of survival. The moment this door is breached, it will mean the knights have failed. You must be prepared to fight. Do you understand?”

Twenty-five? Your hands ball into fists and your breath catches in your throat. You’ve heard of entire villages being wiped out by three.

“Then we’ll fight with the knights,” the Baker says. He pushes away from the center of the group and marches to the wall. He pulls down the crossed axes, keeps one, tosses the other to the Blacksmith. She catches it easily. “You’ll need everyone who can hold a weapon.”

Marie never voices her protest. You can see the strain of holding it back in her tense shoulders and her poignant silence. At long last, she nods. “You’re right. Stay behind the knights. They know how to handle the frontline better than you.”

There’s a flurry after that. The townsfolk divide in half. Those unable to fight slide back as those who can start scavenging for weapons. Mr. Dallen grimly pulls two long daggers from under his coat while pointing your neighbors to decorative swords, to ornamental spears, to the heavy coatrack just inside the parlor.

Grimly, you stride past Sarah, ignoring her hiss and darting hands. You can leave the weapons to the villagers, there’s a large knife on the dessert table you can use—

Marie slams a hand against your chest. You stagger back at the weight of the blow, breath knocked from your lungs. You’re more stunned than hurt as you gape at her.

“Children stay here,” Marie says. Her eyes narrow. “No exceptions.”

“But I’m—”

“We don’t have time to argue!” She pushes you further back, clearing the doorway for the armed villagers to run outside towards the knights. “You’re strong Isla, but this isn’t your fight. Stay here. Guard the door.”

The winter wind howls in your mind. You splutter. “But I—”

Marie spins away from you. “Director Sarah.”

Sarah’s arms slide around your shoulders. “Yes, lady.”

The closing of the door feels like a blow in itself. You stare sightlessly at the unyielding wood as your emotions rage. How could she? You’re strong, you can do more, you can help, you’re the one who kept everyone from starving—

“We need to barricade the windows,” Director Sarah is saying to the townsfolk. Half of them gaze at her uncomprehendingly. Her hands slide from your shoulders slowly, as if testing that you aren’t going to leap outside. When you don’t move, she lets go entirely. “Isla, move the furniture. Hera and Josiah, find something to tie it down with.”

You move on autopilot. There are other hands alongside yours as you push the sofa and armchairs in front of the windows, the townsfolk coming together to defend the manor. Hera darts between you all and pulls the curtains closed, reclaiming the curtain ties to use as rope. She’s got a grim determination in her eyes that looks uncomfortably familiar.

Your attention is on the noise outside. The orcs are slow, but loud. The roars change to squeals and bellows of challenge. Branches break and there’s a terrifying, splintering crash as a tree falls. Metal rings as the knights raise their shields. You can see it all in your mind’s eye, the knights in a defensive line across the length of the garden, the Lord securely in their center. Ivan is shouting about this being what they’ve trained for, that there are more of them than there are orcs, that this city won’t fall—

And the Lord is speaking too, quickly and quietly to Marie. The escape tunnel? Damnit, I should have sent more men—

It will be fine, Marie says. Her bow sings as she holds it ready and you know the way her muscles flex and her eyes narrow from experience. We won’t let a single one of those monsters past us. We won’t--

The knights bellow alongside the orcs. Your heart leaps and your focus is jarred. You’re standing in front of the door again, your hands balled at your sides. Everyone can hear the battle now and the townsfolk scream when the orcs’ battle cries shake the manor.

“Quiet!” Is that your voice? It is. Your eyes slide to the frightened faces behind you. “You’ll distract the knights.”

Sarah steps up alongside you. “And let the orcs know exactly where we are.”

The villagers quiet into aborted whimpers and muffled sobs.

The battle rages, louder and louder. Are orcs big? They sound big. When you close your eyes you can hear the way their feet pummel the earth. Do they have weapons? Metal clashes. A knight screams that their hides are too thick. The Lord shouts back to aim for their eyes. A table splinters, a bow sings, there’s a liquid gasp—

BOOM!

You slam your hands against the door, muscles straining as another blow lands against it. The wood convulses under your hands and the lock creaks. The villagers scream.

“No,” someone whispers. “No, they found us.”

You’re eight and the snow spirits are howling for blood. Your shoulders ache with the effort to hold the door against the wind. The cold is biting at your fingertips and there is an old hope dying in your chest--

Small hands slam against the door next to yours. Hera is snarling and swearing, Josiah is crying. Sarah is telling the kids not to worry, Isla and Hera and Josiah won’t let them in –

They’re here. You’re not alone.

“GET AWAY FROM THERE!”

The orc’s bellow isn’t nearly as loud as Ivan’s roar.

The blow you’re bracing for never comes. Ivan goads the orc to follow him, to leave the manor alone, to eat the man readily available to him—

It does not sound like the knights are winning now.

“My Lord!” Marie’s voice is strained.

“Do not fall back, they’ll corner us—”

“Who is that? Who is—”

The crack under the door lights with a sickly purple. The smell of ozone seeps into the manor. For a moment there is a silence so complete you think you’ve been struck. What was that? Magic? You’ve never seen magic before--

Screams rocket across the field. The Blacksmith’s screams. The Baker’s screams. Marie’s rage-filled howls.

“DEMON KING!”

Your Destiny burns.

---.

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3)

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Thanks for reading! If you'd like read the last part of Isla a week early, please consider supporting me on Patreon(X)!

#my writing #the hero and hope #fantasy writing #writeblr

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 2 months

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Azriel with a high maintenance mate.

They have been together before the Archeron’s came to the NC.

And azriel is obsessed with his mate. And how she doesn’t give a fuck about being judge cause she is a girly girl.

He loves it. I’m so sorry but you can’t convince me otherwise.

Because he enjoys watching your eyes glow and quiet honestly through the years all he did was save and save and save his money because besides new daggers and leather, he had nothing else to spend it on. So now he can spend it on you.

You want to go do your nails? Add it to his account. He loves your nails. Loves them long and claw-shaped, loves the coffin shape. You add a smoky touch to them. Little black swirling mists to imitate his shadows. Yeah, Azriel is a gonner. And he is one of those boyfriends who genuinely get excited to see what you come up with. So the moment you walk through the apartment door he’s motioning for you to give him your hand. “Oh, fuck yeah”, he muses as he leans closer, “I like this”, he brushes his fingers over the little blue gems.

You like getting your hair done and it’s too long for you to manage? Say less. You get a reminder note carried in by one of Azriel’s shadows. “Appointment at the river flow 5 pm”. And you have no idea how he managed to book you a spot since everything has been filled up for weeks but you’re not about to complain.

Azriel might even come to watch. Genuinely it’s his way of decompressing. Does he stick out like a sore thumb there? Yes. Because the walls are pink and he’s in all black and the ladies are tiny and he feels like a giant but hey, he gets to see you smile. That’s all he needs.

“Do you like this one or this one best?”, you pull up two almost identical-looking scraps of lace in front of Azriel. Does he see a difference? No. But it matters to you so he is willing to see a difference. “This color seems nicer”, he points to one of the craps. You hum, “and the pattern?”, you turn to examine the material. “Everything looks good on you, baby”, Azriel shrugs making you roll your eyes as you chuckle.

Not to mention that he loves his apartment so much more now that you brought your colorful pillows and changed out his black curtains. You didn’t just come robbing his style. There’s so much of Azriel there still. But now it feels alive. The apartment doesn’t seem cold and uninviting. He wants to go home at the end of the day instead of dreading it. Because it finally feels like home.

“Watered the babies”, Azriel announces walking into the study with two water cans in his hand, and a water spray bottle between his armpit. “Did you water the one in the kitchen? Top shelf?”, you turn from the ladder. “Yep, all sorted, new leaves coming in��, Azriel salutes, coming in to stand beneath you. Guarding you just in case your foot slipped.

#azriel acotar x reader #azriel acotar imagine #azriel x you #azriel x oc #azriel imagine #azriel x reader #azriel spymaster #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel #acotar imagine #acotar x reader #acotar x you #acotar fanfiction

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delicrieux · 3 months

Text

…TAKING WHAT’S NOT YOURS ! ⋆｡°✩

⋆.˚𖦹⋆✮⋆.˚ chapter summary. some things in life are unbearable, and in yours? they’re titled gojo satoru and trying to ruin you.

pairing. gojo satoru x f!sorcerer reader

genre. enemies to lovers, ‘my bully is actually in love w me,’ comedy, light-hearted romance, aged up characters (in college), gojo being touchy bcs boundaries do not exist to my king

warnings for this chapter. gojo is being particularly troublesome

wc. 3k

author’s note: HOW ARE WE FEELING JJK NATION?!

ੈ✩‧₊˚

masterlist | buy me coffee☕ | twny masterlist | next >

CHAPTER 1: imagine minding your own business undisturbed omg

tokyo jujutsu tech is big. real, real big. but no matter where you go, he's there.

gojo satoru has made it his life's mission to relentlessly annoy you for no apparent reason. it was hate at first sight, or something equally despicable as that. for three years now, you’ve had to endure jeers raging from your sorcerer's ability to the size (or lack thereof, as you’re often reminded) of your ass. yes, that does count as harassment. no, gojo does not care.

you don’t know why he can't just leave you alone. he seems to delight in your anger and misery. they say you need to stand up to your bullies and give them a taste of their own medicine, but that does not work on gojo. the angrier – the better. he wants a reaction. he wants attention. he wants your despair served on a platter for him to lick clean and mouth, “delicious, thank you, more please.”

it's the silence and ignoring he can't take. it's like a personal insult. some deep rooted fear you hope he'll choke on.

gojo claims to hate you quite loudly. boisterously, even. wears his spite like a badge of honor, keeps it nice and clean pinned to the lapel of his uniform.

yet everywhere you go, he’s there – by your locker, outside your dorm room, on every mission you’re sent on, and always in the places you frequent. it's not exactly stalking, but it's like...gojo's way of being just as clingy without getting called out. you have called him a stalker. he laughed, pointed, and said, "what kinda idiot would even want to stalk someone like you?”

out the women's showers, you waddle to the common area. there's a vending machine, and you’d like a bubbly drink to refresh yourself. first, from the moist heat of the showers and then from the humid summer just outside the window. it’s peaceful, despite the temperature. the water still clings to your skin.

you just to locate and rejoice the last bottle of cola before you feel eyes on the back of your neck. of course. of course he's here, and you didn’t even hear him. of course.

"ugh," you groan aloud, fingers stalling against the cold buttons

"your ugliest pj's?" you startle from how loud he is, right next to your ear. too close. he’s always too close.

he makes sure to whistle long enough to make you squirm away. fuck him, he towers over you. can’t see his eyes underneath those super expensive designer glasses, but you know they keen for your reaction. once, to shoko, he said he bought them because they looked cool. unprompted, uninvited, unwanted, you chirped that they looked dumb as hell.

"whaddya got there?" his fingers press into your spine, and maybe he uncovered a new technique to turn you into stone. there is absolutely no personal space in this equation. he has none, and he has no concept of invading yours. with anyone else, maybe you wouldn't mind.

keep cool. you’re cool. stone-faced, unmovable. you don’t care if he’s trying to claw into your marrow with his neatly trimmed nails.

you hesitate for a single moment before you punch in the number. the machine whizzes and thunk, “fuck off, please,” you say, bending down to snatch your drink. he hums, sounding too satisfied for your comfort.

"you're gonna fuck yourself up on all that carbonation. never thought you could get any more hideous, but alas!"

you turn to him, and he has the good sense to move back a step to avoid the mouth that’ll insult him. there's a twitch to his brow, and an ease to his smile as he regards you leisurely. the latter is almost never a good thing. it means he's really enjoying this interaction.

if you shake your cola enough, maybe you’ll be super lucky and the spray will land on his face. now that's an idea. but even if you caught him off guard, his cursed technique would likely be in motion and the soda wouldn't touch him. how troublesome. a waste of a drink. you decides against it.

gojo leans on the vending machine. his own personal attempt cower her into submission. for what exactly? no one knows. maybe getou would have an idea, if he’s merciful enough to share. when you don’t say anything or flinch away like ijichi often does, he sighs heavily.

"aw, are ya still mad about last time? that was days ago. c'monnn, kami-”

"don't say my name."

"i forgot. kawakami-chan doesn't like me, right?"

you thought about switching schools. kyoto tech is also very good. you’d be at peace there. utahime hates gojo just as much as you do, and you have already bonded closely over this shared distain.

it's likely gojo would transfer after you. just to spite you.

"don't you have anything better to do than harass me?" you question.

the most infuriating thing about gojo, and about this situation, is that he’s happy. when you’re like this – huffing, shoulders taut, and frowning – he seems to be enjoying himself the most.

"don't pretend like you don't like it, kami-chan."

this asshole has a god complex. he seems to truly believe the earth would have ended up in a heap of smoldering ruin if not for him. to be fair, he's probably right, but still. you would first bite of your tongue than admit to that. you have considered a lobotomy to get the idea out of your head, but in the joke that is your life, gojo would likely be holding the orbitoclast.

you resent him so much you find yourself burning in his presence. it's like he took a personal class to master the art of pestering.

"doesn’t this ever get boring?"

he laughs, pressing a hand to his cheek as if embarrassed, "i never get bored of you, kami-chan. when are you coming back to the field? been too busy hanging out with losers to do some missions?"

"how pathetic must you be," you snark, "to be thinking of me when i'm not there to torment."

gojo ignores you and moves to tug at your top. the audacity has you reeling, and you attempt to smack his hand away only for it to be stopped at the last second, "yup," he inspects the quality of the fabric, his teeth flashing and making his already smug features look haughtier, "cheap.”

you open the can so forcefully the contents fizzle and spray on your hand. gojo grins so hard you expect his face to crack in half. if only.

"can i have some?”

"stop touching me," you hiss, trying to slap him away again, "why are you always touching me?"

gojo sidesteps. the dodge and dash he does, coupled with his agility, is incredible. had you not seen his many victories in battle, or spent any amount of time with him, you might be enamored. impressed, even.

perhaps that lobotomy is still an option.

"just," his arms dart out to pin you to the vending machine and you immediately aim a high kick to his thigh. but, of course, his infinity protects him. bastard. he doesn't let up though, and those hands slide along the expanse of your thighs until they meet your sides, leaving a warm trail, "makin' sure i can see all of these pores up close."

gojo, as disgusting as you often think he is, does always have a bit of honesty in his insults. you want to scream, maybe, because your pores are fine. great, even, you’ve invested into a new skincare routine, and it’s clearly working. it even works on shoko’s dark circles. he’s so full of shit, it's nauseating.

"fuck off," you shove his hands away and gojo lets you, surprisingly.

"really gross," he comments.

"you're the gross one. self-absorbed stalker."

gojo, an absolutely foul looking monster if you’ve ever met one, waggles a finger at you.

"careful, kami-chan," there's no trace of warning, only amusement, "we wouldn't wanna accidentally bump into each other too many more times."

his meaning isn't lost on you.

you hold up a finger, too. right in his face. pause. take a sip of your soda. there's no reason you should indulge this maniacal sadist in any capacity. gojo has an aura. an attitude. he comes off as unrelenting, and for all intents and purposes, he is unrelenting. in and out your life, an unshakable constant, with a lopsided grin and piercing eyes. you hate him.

you try to sidestep and flee to your room, but he blocks you. step. block. step. block. step block. stepblockstepblockstepblockstepblock-

"god! you're fucking infuriating," you explode.

you want to clock him, strangle him, castrate him, kick his head through the concrete. he's ruining a perfectly nice evening. what is it about you that he just loathes to see, so much so that it drives him to see you hurt all the time? is he truly so bad off? does he live a miserable and joyless existence?

"thanks," he looks genuinely honored, "but how'd you come to the conclusion, huh? after a little brainstorming session or-"

"what do you want?"

"lately?" gojo taps his chin, his tongue poking out, "seemed like you needed some space, so i just waited around here till you were done."

christ, he really is a stalker. you’re starting to worry he's like, actually insane.

"but now we can hang out!”

"i'm going to bed," you declare.

gojo ignores your announcement. gojo always ignores whatever you have to say.

"where we heading? your place or mine?"

"you are not going anywhere with me!"

he reaches out to flick your temple. it's so juvenile it takes you by surprise. your hands immediately fly up to protect yourself.

"huh," his face softens as if you’re this small, pathetic thing. not pity exactly, but definitely a worrisome expression, "look,” he snaps his fingers, “look. look,” he snaps them again and you will tear your hair out in 83 seconds if he doesn’t go away immediately, “we both gotta take a mission, right? might as well go together."

"go with suguru,"

gojo sighs dramatically and his whole upper body collapses, like he's pretending you kicked his shin. you reel back a bit from the proximity.

"mmm, but suguru’s so uptight lately," he comments. that’s good. getou suguru, ever the diligent one, was the first person in your sorcery class who made you feel welcomed. you quite like him, but the fact that his best friend is gojo implies there's something deeply wrong with him. you really don’t want to know what.

"go with shoko then," you state.

"shoko's just..." his arms jerk violently as if he's pretending to smash a plate, "not really on board with my mission types lately. says she can’t leave our only doctor since the patients are dying before they have a chance to enter the trauma room."

sad news for shoko, but your mind works quick.

"go alone," you smile, tilting your head to the side. the motion seems to catch his interest, "and don't come back."

gojo clicks his tongue, clearly peeved. victory. you relish this tiny bit of triumph. he starts to walk away and you watch him retreat, hopefully from your life, "i can't,"

"no way you've fallen so far."

"suguru told me to check in with someone before going on my own. it'll just make him and yaga-sensei super worried!"

"oh no," you chime, "i think you should go alone. and die."

he laughs, "come on," a pause, "it'll be fun! team-bonding and shit."

team-bonding and shit is you having a cola and reading a magazine. not fighting alongside the man who torments you like you’re some sort of pet: ‘kami-chan, do a split,' ‘kami-chan, do a roll,' ‘kami-chan, how big is your cup size again?'

the most effective way to hurt him is silence. you turn your eyes away and hum. this must be done delicately. if he catches even a whiff of your intention to flee, he’ll barge right after you. get you in a headlock and make you cry, because maybe he’s grown demented and will enjoy the sight of your tears.

with as much ease as your taunt muscles can muster, you casually pad in the direction of your room. he hasn't tried to tear down your door yet, but that's likely because the senseis would have to reprimand him.

gojo won't leave you be though, will he? as if it's a struggle to keep pace with you, he follows closely and peppers you with requests:

"come with me."

"shut up."

"we can grab dinner and-"

"you can shut up."

gojo sings, "team-building exercise, you're supposed to make a comrade's wishes come true, so come with-"

"i'll kill myself if force me to go with you. stop begging. it's so lame."

he laughs so loudly and unexpectedly that you jolt. this asshole thinks your threat is baseless. it isn’t. you’ll do it, or so god help you. you aren’t one to bitch out on anything, and maybe that’s why he’s so intent about this.

you wish he'd just give up, but it's highly unlikely. he's stubborn, and you aren’t enough to bend him.

"are you implying you'd kill yourself in front of me? for what? to mess with me?"

your face is very serious when you say, "yeah."

"shit, and you expect me to not want to see that? sorry babe, i'll have to tag along," he grins wickedly and you find yourself fighting down a spring at nausea at the sickly pet name. that’s a new development.

you move to stomp away, but he's right there to cage you to the wall. no, please, you’re at your limit. you might crumble into a heap on the floor and never rise again, even if he consistently poked at you for days.

"come," his glasses slide down his nose a bit and you’re met with gleaming, impossible, revoltingly beautiful blue eyes, "on," and he leans down. this close his infinity is gone, and you can feel the hard planes of his muscles, "a mission with me."

"kill me," you bite out.

you don’t like this, nor the rising fluster or the scent of his cologne. he always smells fresh, even in the summer months where sweat sticks like second skin. the cool wall against your back has your skin prickling. maybe this is a new advanced torture method. much more effective than waterboarding, which you would willingly take if that meant he’d let you go.

why must he be so tall? the sunlight bleeding from the windows douses his hair in a halo. it’s completely deceptive to how absolutely giddy he looks. your breathing picks up. what a nightmare. you’d attempt to knee him again if your limbs weren’t suddenly immobile.

he leans forward and murmurs, "is that an invitation for some freaky shit? cuz i like where we are now."

"gross!" you lean back as far as possible.

"i knowwww," he's undeterred by your snappiness, "seriously," he tries, "what else are you doing tonight, huh?" and you wonder why he's getting closer as your neck protests, "don’t tell me," there's a lilt to his voice you don’t trust, "you afraid you can't handle me?"

"is sexual harassment on your daily agenda?" you bite.

he moves away slightly, looking perplexed, as if you’ve given the world's toughest question. his posture becomes defensively slouched. a frown pushes his brows together and for once, the smooth talker has no quip or response.

you’re not one to look a gifted horse in the mouth and scramble.

"hey, hey, you didn’t answer!” he calls out, rushing after you, "hey! kami-chan, where'd your manners go? i need a clear answer."

damn pride. damn self-respect. you’re fleeing.

gojo doesn't let you get away that easy. your path to sanctuary is obstructed again as gojo halts you by plucking at your shoulder. you shake yourself off like a wet cat and bail. yes, you’ve resorted to running, but your room is just within reach.

"why are you running?!" his whine echoes down the empty hall, "answer the question!"

just a bit more and-

he catches up with you and hauls you up by the armpits, spinning, laughing. you squirm, and there goes your drink, your damned, tasty drink. all his antics have been on the short side, but he's never done this before: cradle you against himself, as if he was going to play catch with you.

"let go, creep!"

"creep?!" his voice is scandalized but still mirthful, "for all my gentlemanliness, huh?!"

he tosses you and you can barely right yourself with a solid landing. that's new too, the physical handling. why today of all days has he decided to pick your fights with his hands? does it make you less immune? why are you wondering? you should be running.

"and anyways, where'd your manners go huh, huh, hu-uh? no thank you when a nice gentlemanly guy takes the time of his day, the greatest guy, the-"

you might go insane. actually snap and go coo coo coconuts. kill everyone. this might be the beginning of your villain origin story. your personal vendetta to kill gojo satoru.

"seriously?!" he yells, and you open your eyes (you don’t remember closing them. it's probably a last resort sort of deal. if you can't see gojo, gojo isn’t real), and gojo's much, much, closer.

"would you mind-" you hiss.

"really," he chides, not an ounce of his good humor on his face, and you’re unable to tell if he's taunting or sincere, "all those classes you went to when you were little, and you still can't pay attention to the first thing a good guy says? do i have to spell out your obligations for you?!"

"would you kindly go fuck yourself and allow me to exist in peace?!" you shriek.

a door down the hall opens, and someone, maybe a fellow student or maybe a teacher or maybe someone unrelated all together, pops their head out the crack of their bedroom. you see this in slow-motion, watch a silhouette tilt their head and stare. it's so stupid it could be considered a scene from a comedy.

"would you two keep it the hell down already!?" your would-be-rescuer screams.

gojo glances to the side, unbothered but maybe curious. you run. before gojo can pick up his wits, you slam the door to your room open, lock it, and even fumble a deadbolt for added assurance. your room is dark save for a nightlight plugged into the corner.

your legs are shaking. you feel like throwing up. you’ve never been so terrified in your entire life.

the news reaches you via a text from shoko a good few hours later. gojo goes on the mission alone.

'please die please die please die please die,' you pray.

he returns an hour later, unharmed and cheery.

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