#also. icy lips | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 3 months ago

Text

FIREFLIES NEVER CAME ; SATORU GOJO

synopsis; your seat is close to the heater. that’s the only reason gojo comes there to warm up.

word count; 4.2k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, teen!satoru, set in a canon au, mutual pining, fluff, a little bittersweet (melancholic winter vibes <3), introvert/extrovert, reader is antisocial and dense as a brick (black cat vibes :3), also kind of self-deprecating, satoru is very shoujo manga coded, just lots of puppy love!! feat. wingman!suguru <3

a/n; this wasn’t meant to be a fic …… it was gonna be really short and sweet ……… (T_T) anyway i am very fond of this reader/character dynamic so i hope you enjoy reading abt my emotionally stunted kids 🫶 biggest mwah in the world dedicated to professor logan (@staryukis) for teaching me about physics so i could find a loophole in satoru’s infinity :3c all for the sake of lore-accurate (kinda) fluff <3

”what are you listening to?”

your seat is close to the heater.

it was nothing but a lucky draw, really. yaga-sensei was organizing the desks when you transferred, and so he gave you the first choice; one you had no trouble making, latching on to the chair in the very back, right by the window, right by the sole heater of the room. vital for surviving your chilly winter classes.

so there you sit. a warmth sneaks through your fuzzy socks, tends to your restless legs. your feet tap and tap, on the cold floorboards, in rhythm with your never-ending thoughts, spinning like a planet in orbit.

through the fogged-up, frosted glass of the window to your left, you observe the world. headphones covering your ears, safe and snug, muffling all noise. you watch as snow falls, wholly entranced, eyes stuck on the icy snowflakes descending from the wool-gray sky — blanketing the frostbitten landscape of the courtyard. it’s pretty, all those skeletal trees, glittering and gleaming like they have something to say. sometimes they look like stars.

”… hey. did you hear me?”

gojo is being particularly chatty, today.

out of the corner of your eye, you see him wave his hand right in front of your face. you’re almost certain he doesn’t realize that it’s rude; he must be used to all eyes being on him, from the moment he speaks.

with a flutter of your lashes, you lift your weary head. meeting his gaze, the blurry shine of your own visage, reflected in his circle-frame glasses. a soft tilt of his head, and then his lips are twitching upwards, just barely, snowy strands gliding across his forehead and falling over his face. like an excited puppy.

”what are you listening to?”

you read the words off his lips, all sound muffled by your headphones. quick to lift one of your hands, pulling one of the heavy ear cushions away — letting all white noise in the room flood your senses. the snarls of the wind outside, ieiri’s laughter, the scribbling of geto’s pen against paper.

it’s overwhelming, but a small price to pay. his voice is softer than usual, during moments like these; there’s a pleasant lull to it.

gojo tips his head to the right, still awaiting your response. all you can do is stare, watching your own reflection, fingers gripping onto the edge of your desk. as if seeking to ground yourself.

with a spoonful of hesitance, you part your lips.

”… do you like music?”

the words seep out into the air, a softly exhaled breath. gojo watches you, silently, for just a moment.

then he gives you a shrug.

”i guess?” he hums, shifting his weight from one foot to another — hand slipping into the pocket of his uniform. ”that’s more suguru’s thing.”

ah.

your mouth forms around the syllable, as if responding, but not making any sound. gaze fleeing from his glasses, crumbling under their weight, straying towards the frosted window to your left. safe, familiar, rotting trees and twitching branches. snow just as pure as the boy in front of you.

silence overtakes you both, once more.

”... not gonna answer?” he asks, with another tilt of his head, absently rocking side to side as he lets out an exhale. ”is it a secret, or something?”

(it is, you think. but you can’t say it out loud.)

before you can part your lips again, the classroom door slides open — and you know it’s yaga-sensei just by the way his feet hit the floorboards, the decisive weight behind every step. you know even before he’s telling you to get back to your seats.

on cue, gojo stands up straighter, shooting you another glance. bright-eyed, easy-going, every star in the sky leaping out from the glimpse you get of his eyes when he angles his body. two blue pools, flecked with white, like frozen puddles in the street.

and then he’s strolling away.

gojo leaves, and you take off your headphones; stretching your legs underneath the desk. reaching for your ballpoint pencil, flipping open your textbook, and indulging in sleepy blinks, as yaga begins to drone on and on. you stifle a yawn with the sleeve of your blazer, resting your jaw on the heel of your palm. eyes inevitably straying towards a head of white hair.

but your name is called before you can get lost in your daydreams.

”page 27, from the top.”

your chair scrapes against the floorboards, as you sluggishly stand up. holding onto your textbook, flipping the pages until you land on the correct passage. with shaky hands, not enough to notice, you read out loud; voice controlled, almost monotone. all you can think is that you feel his frost-clad eyes on you, from the row straight ahead.

but you continue to speak. you speak until you reach the end of the page, until you’re allowed to take your seat again, happy to feel the warmth of the heater radiate against your legs. it’s this warmth that’s important, the most important thing of all.

without it, gojo wouldn’t bother to stop by your desk.

nearly every recess, as soon as yaga leaves the classroom, he’s waltzing over — leaning against the wall, stretching his arms out, purring contentedly as heat spreads throughout his body. you think he must run cold. chatting with you, just to pass the time, just until your teacher comes back. just to warm up.

then he’s leaving, again.

that’s all it is. a cold boy, and a heater by your desk — a conversation that otherwise wouldn’t have occured. even the strongest is vulnerable to changes in temperature, you suppose.

though if warmth is all that binds him to you, it’s bound to dwindle away.

(you’re sure he’ll stop as soon as spring comes.)

the next day, gojo is nowhere to be seen. you saw yaga-sensei drag him out of the classroom this morning; something about a clan meeting, something you weren’t paying attention to.

but now you wish you had.

(it’s quiet, without him around. eerily so.)

with nothing to lose, and nothing else to do — you push your chair away from your desk, and walk up to your classmate, a question on your mind.

”… music? are you looking for recommendations?”

you nod.

geto blinks. caught off guard, you’re sure, surprised that you’d approach him without any prior coaxing. he’s usually the one striking up a conversation with you, like a responsible class president, making sure the weird kid doesn’t feel left out. you’re almost certain he doesn’t realize that it’s patronizing.

”hmm... well, that depends.” he gives you a smile, soft around the edges. it never feels as genuine as gojo’s, but it’s calming. ”what kind of music do you usually listen to?”

…

you glance down at the floor. bundling up the cuffs of your uniform, fingers clawing softly at the fabric, bottom lip trapped between two sets of teeth.

”… what kind of music does gojo like?”

silence. your words are barely spoken, just above a whisper, just like always, but geto picks up on them anyway. you can tell he does, can feel the weight of his keen eyes on your face. analytical.

then he parts his lips.

”… ohhh.” a low hum, ripe with meaning, buzzing at the bottom of his throat. the corners of his lips quirk up into a knowing smile. ”i see.”

heat rushes to your cheeks, blossoms under your skin. if he notices, he’s even more composed than you thought he was, because he doesn’t mention it. only continues to speak, in that soothing voice, crossing his arms in silent thought.

”hmm…” you follow his gaze, out towards the window, the same webs of frost as always. it’s not snowing, but you still can’t see the blue of the sky. ”i’ve never seen him listen to music before, so i wouldn’t know.”

you can’t help but deflate, at that.

geto only smiles. exhaling, through his nose, mildly humoured — though he’s good at hiding his amusement. ”… what do you think that means?”

a blink. your lashes flutter, as you gaze up at him.

”… huh?”

”satoru doesn’t listen to music, but he wants to know what you’re listening to.” he says the words almost coachingly, like he’s listing off a string of numbers. you realize he must have been listening in on your conversation, but it doesn’t bother you nearly as much as his tone. ”what do you think that means?”

…

(you haven’t got a clue.)

geto lets out a chuckle, laced with mirth, no longer trying to hide it. paired with a soft shake of his head, a crinkle to the corners of his eyes. ”why do you want to know about his taste in music, then?”

(… that’s a good question.)

he seems to notice your hesitance, your apprehension, the way your teeth seek to trap your bottom lip; always the victim of your muddled mind. you know the answer, of course you do — but it isn’t something you want others knowing.

thankfully, geto breaks the silence for you.

”i don’t think you need to try so hard, when it comes to him.” his voice is soft, almost sincere, something warmer than usual. glancing away when you meet his eyes. ”… he isn’t worth the effort, anyway.”

but that’s where he’s wrong.

satoru gojo is a special case. a special person. in the orbit of your life, there’s no star you’d rather keep — no one quite as ripe with colour.

geto couldn’t possibly understand, because gojo is always with him — always orbiting around him. he always will, until you graduate, probably even beyond that. geto has him. they’re the strongest, a pair, always matching their steps to one another. but you only have these quiet days, these chilly classes in between never-ending missions — and that’s all.

when the frost outside the window thaws, gojo will surely stop visiting your desk. your lonely little world.

that’s exactly why — you need to find a song. if you just teach him about something wonderful enough, if you can give him something other than warmth…

(… maybe he’ll stay with you even after spring comes.)

”next time, why don’t you say what’s on your mind?”

geto’s suggestion breaks you out of your thoughts. when you raise your head, to meet the warm pools of amber in his eyes, he gives you a smile. there’s nothing patronizing about the way he’s looking at you now — if anything, you think it may even be slightly fond, but you can never tell what he’s actually feeling. he’s frightening, like that, always a mirror to his circumstances. a chameleon, tilting his head at you.

… though you can’t help but fall victim to the kindness in his eyes. the velveteen purr of his voice.

”i’m sure he’ll appreciate that.”

a nervous pit opens up in your chest, an empty space that gnaws incessantly at your heart. will he?, you want to ask, but it feels like the words are made out of lead. you can’t get them out of your throat.

”… okay,” is all you end up whispering, a soft lull of your tongue. ”i’ll try… thank you.”

geto rewards you with a full smile.

”don’t mention it.”

spring is closer than you thought.

it’s all you can think, when you step onto the pavement, when you feel the morning air gnaw at your frostbitten cheeks. it’s freezing, it’s winter, but the signs of changing seasons are still there — a lonesome snowdrop, the crackle of an icy puddle beneath your feet. the frost is beginning to thaw.

in a month or so, spring will be here — there’s no stopping it.

”did you bring your card?”

your headphones rest around your neck, allowing you to listen in on your classmates' conversation. all four of you are together, for once, all first-years, walking towards the nearest konbini — at gojo’s insistence.

it’s been a week since you had that talk with geto, but you still haven’t made any progress with him.

”huh? was i supposed to?”

”… are you kidding me?”

you glance up at the pair. always walking just a little bit ahead, their tall statures obscuring the view in front of you; shoko lags behind, with lazy steps, a trail of tobacco drifting out into the crispy air. all while snowflakes fall from the sky, gently, landing in your hair, on your shoulders, melting on the inside of your palm when you hold it out to catch them. watching as they turn into droplets of water, slip through the gaps between your fingers.

someone taps your shoulder.

geto has snowflakes stuck in his hair. they’re melting, in the strands of ink-black framing his face, matching the colour of the thick polo jacket he’s wearing. a bright red scarf is tied around his throat, and there’s a weighty look in his eyes — something telling.

a silent cue.

he falls back, slowly but surely, into ieiri’s lazy pace. not before murmuring something unintelligible to gojo, and shooting you a wink — one that makes you frown, confused, a low heat blooming at the base of your spine and crawling up your neck.

and then you realize what he’s done.

gojo is looking right at you, through the black glass of his specs. only wearing a baseball jacket, no gloves or scarves to keep him warm, despite the harsh bite of the open air. for a guy who runs cold, he must not put much thought into his clothing.

more importantly…

it’s just the two of you, now.

you blink at him, silent as a mouse. it only takes a moment for him to start moving, for you to follow, taking your place beside him while staring right ahead. if he’s bothered by geto slinking away, he doesn’t show it — only continues to walk.

”… that’s so unfair.”

gojo’s voice breaks the silence. you turn your head to gaze at him, the way his lips wrap around the vowels, haphazardly hanging onto every word he speaks.

”just ’cause i have clan money,” he kicks at a pebble on the side of the road, wisps of white hair swaying with a shake of his head, ”suguru thinks i should pay for our snacks. isn’t that unfair?”

you hesitate. then you nod along, absently.

he seems to take that as a yes, because it makes him brighten — as if gleaming with your approval, standing a little straighter, puffing out his chest with an exhale that turns into white smoke.

”right? they only give it to me because they want me to come back to kyoto, anyway…” he trails off, holding the tip of his tongue between his lips. ”… not that it matters. anyway, i just think he’s oppressive.”

”… mm.”

from this angle, you can see a sliver of his eyes. can see the way he steals a glance at you, without even turning his head — hands slipping into his pockets. there’s a moment of silence, until he’s parting his lips again.

”… i can buy some for you, though.”

(you barely pick up on the words, spoken almost in a whisper — as if an afterthought.)

he clears his throat.

”… if you don’t have the money, i mean.”

you can’t help but blink, at that — lashes fluttering in rapid succession, wondering if you heard him correctly. he doesn’t seem keen on elaborating, though. walking on, ignoring all snowflakes descending from the sky, eager to nuzzle in between his locks. his infinity keeps them out.

”… why?”

it’s all you can say. all you can verbalize.

(in a story like this, why would the brightest star of all orbit around someone like you?)

gojo gives you another glance. his iris cuts into your skin, observes you on what you’re sure must be a molecular level. he lets silence linger, for a moment, tipping his head back to look up at the sky.

gray, and more gray. flecks of white. you’d see the same thing he does.

”hmm…” he lets out a breath, head falling forward again, snowy strands ghosting against the skin of his forehead. ”let’s call it a trade.”

another series of blinks.

gojo turns towards you, then — a fresh grin blooming on his lips. white teeth, pink gums. it makes him look boyish, innocent, just another city boy with too much time on his hands.

”i buy you snacks — and you tell me what music you’re always listening to.” he bends his body forward, tilts his head at the same time, all lanky and charming, like a big cat. ”deal?”

you stay silent.

he’s looking at your headphones, still left neglected around your neck. your gaze falls down to the icy concrete, the thin layer of frost, waiting to be melted by the first sunrays of spring. whenever that will be.

geto and shoko are still behind you — you can hear their low, muffled chatter, smell the remnants of tobacco in the air. and you swear you can practically hear geto’s words, echoing through your head.

(why do you think that is?)

gojo is still looking at you. expectantly, lips curled up into a lazy smile. he’s waiting, you know he is, and you also know he isn’t very good at that. you know a lot of things — what you don’t know is what to say. you don’t know if you can believe in whatever geto was insinuating, don’t know if you can grapple with your own longing to do so.

(next time, why don’t you say what’s on your mind?)

geto doesn’t get it. he doesn’t know what your feelings towards gojo truly look like. doesn’t know that what’s on your mind when he’s around is always something horrifically embarrassing. something like, i want to know more about you, or maybe i wish i could tell you more about me. something awfully cheesy, like — i’m jealous of how bright you shine, but i can’t help but like you anyway.

if i become your friend, would it be okay to say i understand your loneliness? that i notice it, even just by a fraction?

would that be okay with you?

(words that should be left unspoken.)

”… well, it’s not like you have to.” gojo exhales, again, the words a heavy weight seeping past his throat. his shoulders slump, as he turns forward, fingers trailing up to scratch at the back of his neck.

all you can think is that he’s getting ready to leave. that nothing will change, at this rate, that spring will wash winter away. that geto should be more direct with his advice, and that if it’s not the music itself that gojo is interested in knowing more about, then surely —

” — i don’t listen to anything.”

gojo stills. the words have flown past your lips before you can reach out and grasp them, slicing through the open air.

he spins around, glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose at the sudden motion, exposing his widened eyes. those white lashes, fluttering softly, like a pair of doves eager to get above ground. you grip onto the insides of your pockets, warm and cozy against your freezing hands — it grounds you, keeps you tethered down to earth, down to him.

”music,” you continue, sputtering slightly, as if your lungs don’t quite know how to work under pressure. winter air seeps into your windpipe, cuts the skin there. ”i don’t listen to music.”

you lift your hands, fingers curling around the soft earmuffs wrapped around your neck, hesitantly meeting gojo’s gaze — an overlapping sequence, blanketing his view. then you’re gazing down.

”it’s just… comforting,” you try to explain, speaking softly. ”to wear them. white noise.. tires me out, so…”

the sentence trails off, unfinished. you feel silly. silly for saying anything at all, for building it up so much. silly for being the way that you are.

but when you look up at gojo, he’s brightened like a star.

white teeth, pink gums, that breathtakingly boyish grin. his blue eyes gleam with colour, almost spilling over the corners, like watercolour paint on a too-small canvas. he tilts his head, looking at you carefully, as if truly seeing you for the first time; absently swaying side to side.

if he had a tail, you’re sure it’d be wagging.

”i see!”

a silent breath spills into the air. your lips part, but no sound comes out, only vapour; heart pumping blood through your writhing veins, warming you up from the inside, a co-conspirator to the heat blooming in your cheeks. gojo continues to speak.

”i guess that counts,” he nods, crossing his arms with a satisfied hum. ”alright. i’ll get you any snacks you want! you can be greedy, it’s okay.”

a murmur of thanks escapes you, although you’d like to tell him there’s no need. something tells you denying him this would be like taking another step backwards, in this budding connection between you.

(… if you can even call it that.)

geto and ieiri catch up to your unmoving figures, finally, and only then does gojo spin on his heel and pick up his previous pace. calling back to you over his shoulder, a smile you can’t see but still hear.

”just don’t give any of it to those two, yeah?”

”cheapskate,” ieiri calls back, lone cigarette hanging between her lips. geto lets out something like a chuckle, his shoulder brushing up against yours.

you watch gojo’s back as he moves forward. unbothered, untethered. you think of him a snowflake in the breeze.

spring is almost here, now. it’s a bittersweet feeling, to know your conversations during recess will surely dwindle out — but at least you’ll have had this. one normal conversation, the knowledge that he was curious about you, even if you may just be the classmate by the heater in his eyes.

you’re too cold to keep him warm all on your own, so there’s no helping it. you’re willing to accept that some stars only show from the surface during winter.

you’re willing to accept this. it aches, a little, but you’ll be okay.

”i’ll take it things went well, then?”

geto is wearing his signature smile, when you look up at him. an expression of carefully concealed composure, lips curled up, but a knowing look in his eyes — something that borders on teasing.

you give him a nod, a bow of your head, to silently convey your appreciation. chameleon or not, you don’t really mind his ways. it’s hard to fake the warmth in his voice, when he speaks.

”i’m glad.”

the two of you watch gojo’s back, like birds gazing out at a body of water. silence lingers.

”won’t that moron get cold?”

ieiri’s voice cuts through the mold of your mind, low and gravelly, right beside you. she’s pointing towards gojo — the flimsy jacket he’s wearing.

you’re wondering the same thing.

geto casts her a glance over your head, before gazing down at you, seemingly noticing your curiosity. he lets out a low hum; reaching a hand out to brush away the snowflakes on his shoulders.

”temperature,” he begins, slipping his hands into his pockets; that familiar coaching tone to his voice, purposefully slow. ”is just a measure of atoms in rapid motion.”

you tilt your head, in tandem with ieiri — looking to your classmate for further elaboration. he seems to enjoy your confusion, lips curling up just a bit. gojo calls out to you, in the distance, waving both his hands, and geto returns it with a wave of his own.

an amber eye flicks towards you, an explanation on his tongue. ”his infinity can regulate that motion.”

… another tilt of your head.

geto lets out an amused breath. it scatters out into the air, a cloud of smoke, almost a chuckle.

”basically…” he sighs. ”he does just fine, in the cold. don’t worry about it. he’ll keep himself warm.”

ieiri mutters something, beneath her breath, something like you could have just said no, but you don’t really hear it. you think your heart must have climbed up, somehow; got caught in your windpipe.

ah.

gojo can keep himself warm.

the thought spins inside your mind, over and over, a realization that makes your inner palms feel clammy. stupid, silly, this pitter-patter of your heartbeat. but what else could it mean? if the cold doesn’t bother him, if he doesn’t run cold, then…

(he wouldn’t need it. he wouldn’t need it here, wouldn’t need it during recess, within the chilly walls of your classroom. he wouldn’t need it to stay warm.

gojo isn’t after your heater. if that’s true, then…)

…

you bury your nose in the soft wool of your scarf. breathing in the fading scent, vanilla and cinnamon, grounding you to earth, lingering in your nostrils. distracting you from the rush of warmth, that blooms in the frostbitten apples of your cheeks.

as if sensing your thoughts, or maybe just noticing your embarrassed expression, geto laughs — soft and breathy, shoulders shaking to your left. you hear it, only nuzzling deeper into the comfort of your scarf. feeling your heartbeat spin out of orbit.

in the distance, gojo continues to wave, yelling out something unintelligible. you could mistake him for a star.

spring is almost here, now. in just a month or so, it’ll be at your doorstep — waltzing right in.

(but you aren’t worried.)

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #gojo fluff #jjk fluff

4K notes · View notes

crushpunky · 1 month ago

Text

drew and actress!reader being the best couple for 10 minutes

masterlist | actress!reader masterlist

compilation of funny moments based on this ask <3

when they got too into playing the wii…

“Get off of my side!” Y/n squealed, hitting Drew with her hip as the two of them stood in front of the TV waving their Wii remotes around wildly. Madelyn panned the camera around the room, Just Dance played on the screen and the couch filled with the Outer Banks cast as they watched the couple play.

“I’m not on your fucking side!” Drew laughed, wedging himself in front of y/n, essentially blocking her view of the screen. The two of them continued dancing, bumping into each other and giggling as the intense game continued.

“Get down, get down!” Y/n laughed, jumping on Drew’s back like the character’s on the screen, the room erupting into cheers as Drew held onto y/n’s legs. The two of them started giggling, their entire bodies shaking with laughter as the game ended and they fell to the ground in a heap.

when y/n interrupted drew’s beauty sleep…

“Are you filming?” y/n asked JD as he held her phone, camera focused on Drew’s soft, sleeping face. JD nodded, his small giggles audible as he zoomed in on Drew on the couch. Y/n waved to the camera before holding up the box of crackers in her hand.

“My name is y/n y/ln and today JD and I are going to find out how many crackers we can put on Drew’s face before he wakes up.” Y/n whispered, digging in the box and placing a cracker on Drew’s forehead.

“One.” Y/n said. JD stifled his laughter as he handed the phone back to y/n, grabbing a cracker from the bag. With a dramatic flourish, JD gently placed a cracker on Drew’s ear, the man not even moving the slightest.

“Two.” JD said. The two of them continued, passing the phone back and forth as they placed more and more crackers on Drew’s sleeping face.

“Four–” y/n giggled as she placed another cracker, “–teen.”

Drew let out a groan, his eyes blinking open slowly. He lifted his hand to his face, wiping one of the crackers away from his eyes as y/n and JD collapsed into laughter.

“What the fuck?” Drew grumbled as he lifted one of the crackers, examining it groggily before his lips curled into a confused smile.

“Fourteen,” y/n said to the camera. “Fourteen is the number of crackers we can put on Drew Starkey’s face before he wakes up!”

when they weren’t paying attention in an interview…

Drew and y/n sat next to each other, both of them staring at each other as Chase and Madelyn answered a question from the interviewer. The camera picked up Drew mouthing something to y/n, causing her arm to shoot out and grab him. Her movement a bit too quick, her already unstable chair wobbled, sending y/n tumbling to the floor with a squeal.

“Oh [bleep]!” Y/n swore, laughing as she climbed back into her chair. The entire cast turned around, their faces confused.

“What is going on back there?” Madison laughed, y/n smoothing her dress down as she settled into her seat.

“I have no idea. I am not involved.” Drew said, a smirk dancing on his lips.

“You are such a liar!” Y/n groaned, elbowing Drew lightly as he bit his lip, attempting to hold back laughter.

when y/n saw drew’s new hair…

“Ok, are you ready?” Drew asked, sneaking up behind y/n with his new platinum hair. Y/n stood with her back to Drew, nodding enthusiastically as Drew placed his hands on her hips. He had convinced her to film it under the guise that he was shaving it all off again, his hair getting quite long, but what he left out was that he was also bleaching it the color she had expressed her love for in the past.

“I already miss your long hair.” Y/n said with a faux pout as Drew ran his hands along her sides before spinning her around to face him.

“Oh my god!” Y/n gasped, her hands flying over her mouth. Drew smiled, tilting his head down so she could get a closer look at his short, icy hair.

“What do you think?” Drew asked, raising his eyebrows as y/n continued to look at him silently.

“You look like young President Snow.” Y/n giggled, her hands running along his head lightly.

“What?” Drew laughed, furrowing his brows as y/n continued to admire his hair.

“It’s a good thing. I promise. He’s hot, just like you.” Y/n said, biting her lip before pressing a kiss to Drew’s still very much confused face.

when they went to the club…

Madison filmed as Drew, Chase, and Austin danced in sync, grins on their faces as they danced humorously. She panned the camera around to y/n, who stood staring at them, her brows furrowed and a drink in her hand.

“I don’t think y/n likes it.” Madison laughed, causing y/n to grimace at the camera before turning back to the boys’ dramatic and embarrassing dance moves.

“Oh no, oh no!” Madelyn laughed as Drew danced over towards y/n, his eyes locked on her as he took her hand. Handing her drink off to Madison, y/n followed him as he spun her around, the two of them laughing as they stumbled along the dance floor. With a flair, Drew dipped y/n down, causing the rest of the cast to let out gasps before erupting with laughter.

“Drew!” Y/n squealed as he brought her back up to her feet, dancing around her with a smirk on his lips.

“How about that?” Drew said into the camera before grabbing y/n by the waist, spinning her around to pull her into his chest.

when they made a tik tok…

Y/n and Drew sat on the couch opposite each other, y/n holding her phone as they started their video:

“I’m passing the phone to the person who is always on their damn phone but never answers my texts.” Y/n said. The video cut to Drew, a smile on his lips.

“I’m passing the phone to the person who always has a stomachache.” Drew laughed.

“I’m passing the phone to the person who once got so drunk he fell asleep on the kitchen counter and—” y/n giggled, Drew gasping behind the camera, “Chase had to carry him back to his room.”

“Ok, so we’re doing that.” Drew said once he got the phone. “I’m passing the phone to the person who once farted so loudly—”

“Drew Starkey, no!” Y/n said off camera.

“...who once farted so loudly while we were babysitting my niece she made her cry.” Drew finished, laughing loudly, leaning off the couch. A loud crash sounded before the video abruptly cut to y/n, tears in her eyes as she keeled over in laughter.

“I’m passing the phone to the person who just spilled an entire bottle of wine on our brand new couch.” Y/n laughed, panning to the large, red stain on their couch before panning up to Drew, who was picking up the overturned bottle with a groan.

“I am the person who spilled an entire bottle of wine on our brand new couch.” Drew said with a thumbs up.

when they couldn’t get through a scene…

Y/n and Drew stood opposite each other, clad in swimsuits despite the freezing cold air around them. They were shooting a scene where their characters, Caroline and Rafe, shared an intense moment, Caroline following Rafe as he drunkenly stumbled down the beach

Take 1

“You can just [bleep] whoever you—” y/n said in character, but stopped once Drew’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Oh, sorry I forgot… not allowed to say that.” Y/n giggled.

Take 2

“You can just sleep with whoever you want and I’m just supposed to wait around for you?” Y/n scoffed, crossing her arms across her chest.

“Uh… yeah?” Drew furrowed his brows, turning to face her with a drunken smile on his face. Y/n tried her best to bite back a laugh but failed, her hand covering her mouth.

Take 3

“You can just sleep with whoever you want and I’m just supposed to wait around for you?” Y/n crossed her arms across her chest. Drew spun around, but misplaced his foot, causing him to stumble.

“[beep]!” Drew swore, catching himself just before he face planted into the sand.

Take 4

“You can just sleep with whoever you want and I’m just supposed to wait around for you?” Said with a huff.

“Uh… yeah.” Drew said, cocking his head to the side as he looked at y/n, a drunken smirk on his face. Y/n scowled, shaking her head.

“You’re an asshole, Rafe.” Y/n scoffed, biting her lip as she gazed at Drew with disgust. A shocked expression fell over Drew’s face, him taking a dramatic step backwards.

“An asshole?” Drew said incredulously, causing the two of them to break into giggles.

Take 5

“An ASS-hole?” Drew scoffed, y/n giggling.

Take 6

“An asshole?” Drew gasped, a smile wide on his face.

Take 7

“An asshole?” Drew scoffed, taking a step forward. Y/n took a step away from him, a look of disgust on her face.

“Yes, you’re an asshole. Don’t call me.” Y/n spat, turning on her heel and leaving Drew behind. He kicked at the sand in front of him, mumbling to himself lowly.

“Cut! We got it!” The director shouted, y/n turning back around and running full speed at Drew, tackling him into the sand.

when drew set off the smoke alarm…

Y/n wheezed behind the camera as she filmed Drew, a panicked expression on his face as the smoke detector blared in the background.

“Shit! Shit!” Drew laughed, reaching into the oven with a dish towel. He pulled the pizza (now burnt to a crisp) out before running through the apartment. Y/n followed him, stumbling with laughter as he flung the backdoor open before throwing the pizza onto the concrete.

“Oh my god!” Y/n squealed, dumping a glass of water onto the pizza. With a sizzle, the smoldering pizza melted into the patio.

“Holy shit.” Drew panted, leaning over to catch his breath as he looked down at the smoking pizza. Y/n continued laughing behind the camera, zooming in on Drew as he shook his head.

“You’re never cooking pizza again.” Y/n laughed, causing Drew to whip his head to the side and look directly into the camera, his mouth agape.

#drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey x actress!reader #actress!reader

2K notes · View notes

madamechrissy · 19 days ago

Text

୨♡︎୧ You Got Me Thinking Nonsense ୨♡︎୧

୨♡︎୧ Pairings: Satoru Gojo x Fem Reader

୨♡︎୧ Summary: You're Suguru Geto's little sister, which means you've dealt with both him and his best friend Satoru Gojo being overprotective little shits for most your life. You've also been in love with Satoru Gojo that long, but he sees you as nothing but his best friend's little sister. Finally taking the steps to move on from the delusion, you decide to go on a date with a sweet boy from college, Yuuta. Only... then Satoru seems furious, even as Suguru finally approves of a boy. You wonder why he cares, and he wonders why seeing you with someone makes him sick to his stomach. Is Satoru, this overbearing best friend of your brother, actually into you?

୨♡︎୧ CW- MDNI/NSFW- Reader is 20, Satoru is 24- Reader is Suguru's lil sis, you're down bad forever, Gojo is a dick but lowkey sweet. Explicit sexual content, oral (m&f recieving) porn w/feelings and a lil plot, mutual pining, loss of virginity (reader's) rough sex, creampie, Satoru being a cocky lil shit. (Yuuta and reader go on a date but it's SFW, and just to make Satoru jealous) Wordcount 11.6k

୨♡︎୧ Comments/reblogs very appreciated if you enjoy!! ୨♡︎୧ Also happy birthday Satoru!! 🎂

You’ve had a crush on Satoru Gojo for as long as you can remember, there are just two big problems. Problem one- his best friend is your brother.

Being Suguru Geto’s little sister was not for the weak, he constantly chases any man off, big and strong and intimidating, your entire life. Even more so now, that your parents are gone, and even though you’re now in college, he doesn’t care, in fact he’s even more ridiculous. He not only scares every guy off, he is constantly dragging you around with him.

Every outing he goes to, he never lets you just go alone, even though you’re now twenty years old and he’s only twenty four. He acts a million years older than you, and he’s the most overprotective brother you can imagine. He feels it’s his responsibility to take care of you, he doesn’t even see you as an adult. You know he just loves you, but it’s overwhelming lately.

There’s also another problem- Satoru Gojo is a dick to you.

He’s never done anything but pick on you, ruffle your hair and call you a baby, a little brat, little kid when you’re a whole ass adult, and all you can do is drool over him, all these years. Satoru was a little shithead to you, all through your teen years when you wanted to hang out, he’d throw you out of their room, he’d pick on you, pinch you. Why you feel something for that ass you don’t know.

You’d pined away so long, but finally Satoru has set you off.

You’d been dressed up to go out with your friends, sporting a little crop top and a pleated mini skirt, fishnet stockings with boots. You looked cute as fuck, spinning in the mirror nervously, Satoru has surely never seen you in this way, you think, in a lacy bustier like this, body on full display. You stepped down the stairs, and his icy blue eyes had gone wide.

He’d had pink on his cheeks, lips parted as you walked down, and you think to yourself, it’s like every movie, your moment. The moment Satoru would see you’re not some little girl, you’re not just Suguru’s little sister, you’re a whole ass woman, grown and your own person. And when his eyes trailed down your body, you felt your heart pounding in your chest.

He’s just sputtering when you bounce down the last step, smiling up at him, fuck he’s pretty, and he just gets better looking every year it seems. You’ve had it bad since you were ten years old, and he was fourteen, even then he’d been so tall and pretty, and even then he’d been a little shit to you. You’d gone from being jealous of him getting your brother’s attention to craving his attention.

“What do you think, Toru?” You ask now, and he clears his throat, blush creeping further up his cheeks, nothing like the confident, cocky jock he and Suguru were, the sureness of them with any ladies, who fawned over them.

“What now?” Is all he manages, as you lean forward a bit, hands behind your back, and your breasts on full display for the tall, white haired man you can’t stop thinking of in the worst ways.

“How do I look?” You ask now, feeling your cheeks heat up when those insane blue eyes stare at you, framed by a fringe of snowy lashes.

“How you look…” He trails off now, opening his glossy ass lips again, it’s not fair for a man to have such glossy lips or lush lashes, truly.

“Mmhmm. New outfit.” You do a little spin, popping a foot out then. “New boots. I think they’re so cute.”

“The boots… mmm.” He is staring at your fishnet clad thighs now, exhaling, blinking as he shoves his hands in his pockets. “Um. They’re fine.”

You blink now. “And I look?”

“Fine I guess.” He looks off, before looking back directly at you, glaring now, while you feel yourself close to fucking tears. “But you know Suguru won’t let you out like that, all… are these even clothes, brat?” Satoru tugs on your mini skirt, you smack his hand now, scowling.

“Yes they’re clothes! I’m an adult, he can’t tell me what to wear anymore.”

“An adult, hmm. Still a little brat.” He ruffles your hair and you smack his hands again, glaring now. “Go put on a hoodie or something.”

“You know what, fuck you Gojo.” He blinks now, before glaring back.

“Fuck me? No sweetheart.” You gasp, stepping back, feeling the tears start to form in your eyes. “Don’t… why are… are you crying?”

“N-no!” You turn now, swiping at your eyes, taking a breath, he literally turned you down, stone cold. How stupid were you?

Suddenly you feel a big jacket on you, and you hate how good it smells, that expensive, musky cologne Satoru wears, the one that drips money. Suguru did very well for you both, but Satoru had come from money, and you could see it in everything, from his Gucci shades, to his Givenchy clothes, and his Rolex watches, including this damn cologne probably $100 a spray.

You hate that it makes your tummy clench with need when he’s standing behind you, feeling his body heat almost, drawing you in and tempting to no end. You also hate that you find your thoughts drifting to him when you play with yourself, even when you have so many twitter links pulled up, no, it’s still him.

And now?

“I don’t want your jacket.” You say, slipping it off, and for a moment his long fingers touch your bare shoulders, you have to bite your lip at how good it fucking feels, a touch from him.

“You’ll get cold.” His voice is husky, a voice already deep and sensual naturally, now it sounds like pure sex.

“What do you care?”

“I’m your brother’s best friend, we both-”

“I don’t care, I’m not a kid! You’re barely older than me.” You turn now, shoving his letterman’s jacket in his hands, wishing instead you could stay in it forever, but he’s never going to see you differently, you realize now.

Never.

“What’s going on, you two bickering?” Suguru comes out now, and glares when he sees you. “Excuse me young lady, no. Get changed now.”

“Young lady my ass, Suguru you are barely older!”

“You’re still a little-”

“I am not a little kid. I’m over it. I’ll wear whatever I want.” Now Suguru is following you, he’s throwing his own coat over your shoulders, as Satoru is snickering, making you even angrier. “No!”

“Some creep will try to grab you, or worse. Where are you going, and who are you going with?” He turns you to him, violet eyes assessing your face, as if you’re some lying little kid. You roll your eyes and cross your arms.

“I’m going out with my friends, I’m an adult, I have a car and a licence, shit I work at college! Maybe I should live at the dorm.”

“No, you will not. It’s not safe, you don’t know what kind of guys are there.”

“I’m grown, Suguru.”

He blinks now, violet eyes emotional, making you feel like shit. “You’re my responsibility.”

“I don’t need to be. Now here.” You take off his jacket, and Satoru stomps up now, shoving it back on you. “Oh fuck off somewhere, Satoru, go enjoy some boyfriend time while I’m gone.”

“I’m not gay!” He says, and you smile meanly.

“Sure you’re not.”

“Just because I don’t find annoying little brats like you attractive doesn’t mean I’m gay now.” You blink again, stepping back, and Satoru rolls his eyes.

“Lots of people think I’m pretty.”

“That’s why you should wear actual clothes. And why would Satoru find you attractive, you’re like family to him. You’re a little sister to him.”

“Fuck both of you. I’m not coming home tonight, don’t wait up.” You stomp out to your car, flipping them both off from your tinted windows as you drive to your best friend’s house to go out. Of course Suguru is protective, but Satoru!?

A little sister huh.

After that night last week, you have decided you damn sure will go out with someone finally. You have a date tonight with your classmate in college, Yuuta, he was sweet and a gentleman, there was no way Suguru could find fault with him. And if he did, so what, and if Satoru did!? So what.

You take the pictures you have collected of Satoru and shove them in that shoebox, the one with all the love letters you’ve written him and never sent, and kick the box under your bed frame. Fuck that, fuck him, it’s not as if he ever thought of you any different, it’s like every stupid moment was imagined.

Now you’re dressed tonight in a pretty little black dress and red bottomed heels, red lipstick on and your hair done up, earrings glittering and dangling as you catch your reflection. You tend to have a bit of a baby face, you always have, but how you look tonight is mature, womanly, body showcased but it’s still covered enough Suguru can’t say shit.

You hear the door knock, and you panic, knowing the two of them are going to try to scare Yuuta away, so you dart down the stairs, only to trip, Satoru sees you and catches you so quick you are left breathless. You’re cursing yourself for being so damn clumsy, as his hands are on your back, arms wrapped around you, steadying you to the floor.

When you’re in Satoru Gojo’s arms, you forget he’s an asshole, you forget everything but how good it feels, for him to hold you like this, feeling his steady heart thrumming against your breasts. Your nipples perk up at being pressed on his hard body, your tummy tightens at how badly you want him, when your eyes lock and you see his blush again.

You’ve seen Satoru blush a few times, but especially recently, it just makes him look more attractive even. Fuck he’s the bane of your existence. When he sets you down, his hands linger for just a moment too long, addling your psyche, wrecking your thoughts to just let him go, let the idea go.

His eyes glide down your body, mouth open, and you brace for whatever stupid comment he is going to say, but Suguru comes over then with Yuuta, and he actually smiles at you now. Yuuta has his jaw dropped, quickly clearing his throat as he clutches flowers he’s brought, earning Satoru scowling at him, for no good reason.

“You look so beautiful…” Yuuta says your name softly, brushing back his dark hair, giving a tired little smile, making you flushed under the praise, so nice to hear after constantly being around two assholes.

“Oh thank you so much, sorry I’m so clumsy.” Your heels click on the tile as you walk to him, taking the flowers and inhaling their sweet scent. “Oh you didn’t have to do this at all!”

“Nonsense, of course I did. Do you like lilies?”

“I do!”

“She likes sunflowers.” Satoru grumbles, earning a look of shock from you, and a curious look from Suguru. “Well she has them all over her shit, and wears them all the time.”

How did he notice that about you?

“I love them, thank you.” You lean forward, kissing his cheek, feeling Satoru’s eyes rip through you. Suguru tenses now, stepping between you both, and you sigh, shaking your head. “Do you want to get to know Yuuta before we go out?”

“I sure would. C’mon, kid.” Yuuta looks at you nervously with his sad brown eyes, and you smile encouragingly.

“I’m twenty?”

“Kid.” Satoru says, snorting, you glare at him.

“You all act old as fuck, I swear. Yuuta they’re not even a couple years older, and don’t be scared. He’s a softie.” You nudge Suguru, he snorts, inclining his head. “May the force be with you.”

“I really like you.” Yuuta says with a grin, and you giggle, watching Suguru drag him for ‘a drink and a talk’ aka- how your brother tries to scare everyone.

You are giddy as you look at the gorgeous flowers, heading to the kitchen to find something to put them in. You set the flowers on the counter, tiptoeing in your heels, to try to reach the cabinet. Satoru’s behind you suddenly, you feel his hard body against you, right against your ass, and you damn near trip into the counter, as he reaches up and grabs a vase.

“You show off.” You huff. “Must be nice being a giant.”

“It’s pretty nice up here. Air quality.” He’s grinning, and it makes your tummy do flips, you look away, taking the vase to the sink.

“Thanks. They’re beautiful, hmm?” The water is sloshing gently, filling the vase up halfway, Satoru stops you then. “What?”

“If you clip them diagonally they stay fresh longer.” He snatches up the kitchen scissors, of course he knows where everything is, Satoru is here more than he’s home. He uses those long elegant fingers to unsnap the rubber band the flowers are in, starting to clip the green stems.

“How do you know these things?” You ask curiously, he shrugs a broad shoulder, that dress shirt stretching over those muscles.

“I remember my mom doing it when she’d get roses.”

“Oh, that’s sweet.”

“I guess.” Satoru clears his throat, like Suguru and you, his parents were gone, which you believe is why Suguru and him were so very close, amongst other reasons, you’ve never seen two people closer. Even you and Suguru aren’t.

“I bet she was beautiful.” You say then, and he pauses, putting the flowers in the vase and arranging them.

“What makes you say that?”

“Look at you. Gotta be strong genetics. Oh thank you.” Satoru hands you the pretty vase now, eyes drifting down your body quickly before looking away.

“She was beautiful.” He says then, softly, and you feel it, his pain emanating. It is as if you feel it yourself. You gently put a hand on his shoulder, feeling him tense at the contact.

“I shouldn’t have brought that up…”

“No, just… I don’t like to think about it.”

“I get it.”

“Yeah I know you do.” His hand comes on yours, and for a moment you pause there, and you wonder… does he see you as the woman you are? He eases your hand off his shoulder, patting your head again with a smile, a gesture he has always shown you, and it makes you emotional.

Will you ever let this fantasy go? He just doesn’t see you.

You gulp now, looking away to where Suguru is actually laughing, and Yuuta smiles nervously at you. “Knew he’d love him.”

“You never dated. What’s the rush?” Satoru asks casually, leaning on the counter with hands in his pockets.

I want to get over you, that’s what.

“I’m twenty, Satoru. I know you think I’m a kid, but I’m not. I want things… to be desired, to be close to someone.” Your voice is quiet, Satoru’s snowy lashes lower. “I want someone to make me feel beautiful.”

Satoru swipes a hand over his face, shaking his head and stiffening. “You are-”

“Okay, okay, I like him.” Suguru says, and you bounce up and down, hugging your brother, he kisses your head and sighs. “You’re allowed.”

“You can’t tell me what to do anyway.” You stick out your tongue. “But, I’m glad you approve. Yuuta, you’re brave.” Yuuta laughs a bit, hugging you by the waist, Satoru’s eyes dart right there, jaw tensing when Yuuta’s fingers press into the nip at your waist.

“I like him too. What was your name?” Yuuta asked, and Satoru walks up, holding out his hand.

“Gojo.” He says, then he squeezes the shit out of Yuuta’s hand, smirking, but Yuuta squeezes right back, and Gojo blinks. “Damn, strong kid.”

“We’re not children, stop acting like the Golden girls. All right, you ready?” You ask, and Yuuta nods. “We’re out!”

“Don’t be out late.” Satoru says, narrowing his eyes, you laugh out loud.

“Oh jesus. I’ll be back when I get back, maybe go home, Satoru?”

“You need a jacket.” Satoru says now, and Suguru nods.

“You do need a jacket.”

“I’m fine!” Yuuta grabs his jacket off, slinging it over your shoulders, you smile gratefully, and you see your brother smile at you too.

“Have fun kids.” You roll your eyes as you walk out, hand in hand with Yuuta, and it feels nice, his presence, how interested he is.

“Not too much fun.” Satoru’s words are terse, however, not teasing. You peer back at him for a moment as Yuuta opens the door for you, blue eyes glinting in the dark night, before sliding in and shoving him in the back of your mind.

Yuuta is the sweetest, and you want to feel those butterflies, maybe you do a bit, but you can’t get Satoru out of your damn head. It’s like he’s right there, you’re unable to get rid of him, even having so much fun, even enjoying yourself like this, you can’t stop thinking of how he looked at you, how he almost seemed sad.

But how can he be?

Yuuta is walking you up now, you hand him his jacket he’d placed back on you, smiling as you stand in front of your door, he takes your hand and pulls you just a bit closer. “I had so much fun.” He says.

“I did too, so much. Should we…”

“Do it again?”

“Yeah?” He nods with a smile, tired eyes lighting up. You nervously step even closer, and his hands rest on your waist, you both stare at each other in the quiet night, hearing the distant sounds of cars whirling on the road, a gentle breeze brushing against your skin.

You’ve kissed of course, but it’s been little hidden kisses at parties you’ve snuck out to, or sneaking around at school, Suguru had been that strict with you. So you haven’t gone past it, despite your never ending sources of smut and porn links - you’re very thankful that you have a big house and Suguru is nowhere near your room- when you take care of things.

But… Yuuta’s hands slipping up and down your back are feeling good, when he leans down, you lean in and meet his lips, soft and gentle. You exhale, wrapping your arms around his neck, and his hands are pressing into your hips now, bringing you flush against him. His tongue slips in your mouth, and you gasp a bit at it, at how sensual he is with you.

“Is this all right?” He asks softly, pulling back for a moment, you nod, dragging him back down for more, until he’s pressing you against the wall, kissing down your neck, tickling your skin, earning a little moan. “Oh you’re so sexy.”

“Me, sexy?” You giggle, and he nods, eyes dilated when he’s cupping your cheek with one hand.

“Very. Beautiful. I am not usually so forward.” He pulls back just a bit, you bite your lower lip, hands running up his chest now.

“I like it, Yuuta.” He kisses you again, hands brushing down the sides of your breasts. “Mmm, Suguru will kill you.”

“It’s worth it.” You giggle again, letting his kisses wash through you, his sweet words, his touch, but your mind is flitting to Satoru, you almost feel terrible, but how can you? It’s not like he’s a possibility…

You wish you weren’t so pathetic for him.

“I can’t invite you in, they’d lose it.” You murmur, his hands are slipping lower down your back, looking at you for permission, you nod and now they’re slipping up your thighs, sliding your silky dress up, baring your thighs. Fuck it feels good, being so desired, and he’s such a good kisser…

“I could sneak in your window.” He teases, you grin, shaking your head, but feeling the thrill of him touching you, thumb brushing over your hip, toying with the elastic of your panties, you cry out softly just against his lips, when the door opens, and Satoru Gojo stands right there, keys in his hand.

You pause, he’s wide eyed as he sees you like that, Yuuta pulls back, clearing his throat, earning Satoru stepping up to you, grabbing your arm. “Time for good night, I think?”

“Whatever, aren’t you leaving?” You shrug your arm out of his hold, and Yuuta is bright fucking red, taking your hand and kissing it.

“Text me?” He asks, you nod then, smiling and stepping to him, kissing him right in front of Satoru, a brush of the lips but still, you feel something so petty doing it.

Maybe he’ll see you’re a woman.

Yuuta is so sweet and perfect, you wonder if you’ll one day shove those thoughts of Satoru far enough away. “Good night, Yuuta, I will.”

“Good night, beautiful.” You feel your cheeks heat up at it, turning when he heads inside his car, and bumping right into Satoru.

“Shit… go on, I’m safe.” You say, shoving past him, but he doesn’t move, glaring down at you now, towering over you, you’ve never seen him so damn mad. “What, gonna tell my brother I kissed someone? Snitch.”

“That was more than kissing.” Satoru leans down, blue eyes raking down your dress, still scrunched up just so, you tug it down a bit. “Boy probably came in his pants touching you.”

“What!? You’re so stupid!”

“I’m stupid?”

“You are. Think I don’t wanna be touched, Satoru? Think I wanna be a virgin forever because you and Suguru are so overbearing?” Satoru blinks at that, leaning back now, you cross your arms, trembling with anger and the chill of the night.

“And he’s who you want? On one date?”

“Don’t you even, I know you like the back of my hand. How often do you sleep with women? Plus I wasn’t yet.”

“Yet!?”

“Satoru why the fuck do you care? Your big brother act is getting old. I don’t need you to babysit me. If I wanna sleep with someone eventually, I will.”

He scoffs now. “You don’t even know what fucking is.”

“Not with you and Suguru cockblocking my life away. But I feel I’ll be a fast learner.” You pat his shoulder, smiling and tilting your head. “Are you mad?”

“Me, mad? No. I just care about you. I just… want you to make good decisions. I just…”

“He’s sweet, he’s got his shit together. And he thinks… I’m beautiful.” You say softly, brows drawing together. Satoru exhales now, hands gently pausing you, tilting your chin up with two fingers.

“Who wouldn’t think you’re beautiful?” His voice drops an octave, then you feel it, the tension coiling, not sweet butterflies, no Satoru’s touch is destroying you, like a fire that you want to burn from. His words muddle your mind.

“You don’t think I’m anything but ‘fine’ remember?”

“What do you want me to say? If I say what’s on my mind I’ll be a shit friend, a shit person.” You blink rapidly now.

“What’s on your mind?”

Satoru’s hands slip down your body slowly, every bit of you responds, when he’s leaning so low, you can feel his breath on your lips, you can taste his sweet breath, feel your pulse pounding in your neck. “Last week in that outfit, all I could think of was bending you the fuck over, ripping those fishnets.”

You gulp now, vividly imagining it all, shaking with need, feeling your cunt dripping wet, embarrassingly. “Y-you what!?”

“And this dress? Unzip it slowly, brushing your hair back as I do.” Satoru lifts your hair now, turning you to where your back is pressed against him, you can barely control your breaths as his fingers trail over that zipper. “Kiss down your back, every pretty inch of your skin, until I got here.”

His hands press on your thighs, slipping up one, and you’re a mess when he presses up against your panties, your drippy cunt throbbing around nothing, letting out an embarrassing moan. He exhales at it, pressing long fingers up against your clothed clit as he wraps an arm around your waist, you feel like you’re in some Satoru Gojo fucking wet dream, damn near cumming from that.

“Wh-what… since… you never…ngh!” Satoru laughs softly, tickling your ear with his breath, sending shivers down your spine as you get wetter and wetter, shamelessly grinding against his hand, your own gripping his arms.

“Think I haven’t wanted you for so long? That I don’t die every time you run around in those slutty boy shorts you sleep in?”

“Then why… why…”

“I can’t, I can’t do it. But don’t think I don’t fucking want you, so badly it makes me stupid. F-fuck, feel how wet you are, that from that boy?” His voice gets darker, as he’s swirling his fingertip, coating it with your slick, your head falls back, eyes fluttering shut at being touched this way.

“Maybe I am.” You taunt, and he laughs, slipping his finger under the elastic, slamming a hand on your mouth to cover your cry, fingers brushing your slick folds, you almost cum, pathetic for him.

“Nah, sweetheart, think that’s from me. Barely touch you and…” He takes some of your pooled arousal, bringing it to his lips then, moaning. “Fuck you taste good.”

“Satoru what the fuck… do you know how long I have-” You both hear steps now, and Satoru is off you in a flash, leaving you a flustered mess with sticky thighs, panting as you try to pull yourself together.

“I can’t do this to him.” Satoru says, brows drawn together, and your lips tremble, breath catching.

“You want me?” You whisper, then Suguru opens the door, leaning on the doorway, assessing you both as Satoru hastily yanks out his keys again.

“Scare the boy off?” Suguru asks, Satoru lets out a big grin, so genuine looking you wouldn’t know it was fake.

“Of course I did, he was getting a little handsy.” You glare at him now, simply earning a smoldering look from him, before he waves.

“You little shithead.” You earn a laugh, and Suguru glares.

“Handsy?”

“Night!” Satoru bounces off to his sleek sports car, as if he hadn’t just tasted your pussy, as if he hadn’t just wrecked everything for you.

How can you get over him now? Is it some game to him?

“Handsy how?” Suguru demands, you shove past your brother, rolling your eyes now.

“Go to bed!”

“Excuse me-”

You’re off to your room before Suguru can catch you, back against the door, struggling to catch a breath. You yank off your heels, unzipping your dress, picturing his hands doing it. Picturing what it would be like to kiss him, to kiss Satoru Gojo. You huff as you lay on the bed, pussy aching, you clench your thighs together and cover your face, overheated from everything.

“What a dick. What an ass.” You yank your phone out then, dialing him now, and to your surprise he answers.

“What, brat?”

“What was that!?” You whisper, leaning up on an elbow, Satoru sighs heavily, you hear it in his voice.

“Me fucking up once, it won’t happen again.”

“It won’t happen again?”

“Why, ya want it sweetheart, my fingers on you?” You let out an unwilling moan, and he moans in response, cursing. “Do you have to sound so fucking hot?”

“Since when!”

“You’re his sister, you know what that means?”

“I’m not just his sister, I’m a woman, okay? My own woman.”

“Yeah, I know, how can I not? I can taste you on my tongue.”

“Jesus, Satoru.” You can’t stop yourself from reaching down, touching your clit, puffy and slick, crying out as you do.

“You’re not… are you… touching yourself to my voice?” Your hips buck up as you rub in circles, whining out. “You’re a slutty little virgin.”

“Satoru, I want you.”

“Want me, hmm?” His voice is too much, you can’t stand it, you nod though he can’t see. “Want me to taste you there? Drag my tongue over your slit?”

“Please, please, want it.” You’re moaning now, and he’s cursing, cock hard and straining under his jeans as he drives, cursing you mentally. He can hear your cries, picturing your perfect body as you play with your pussy, the one so yummy, so hot and wet. “Satoru…”

“Shh, what if he hears?”

“He never has before.”

“You’ve cum to the thought of me?” His words are a whisper, you don’t even know what to say, the entirety of this feels so surreal you have no sense of shame over it or embarrassment.

“Just… keep going, please I hurt.” Satoru practically drools as he pulls into his driveway, leaning his head back, hand rubbing his cock over his jeans now, eyes fluttering shut as he listens to your cries, picturing his face between your thighs.

“You’d hurt when I got done with you, would fuck your pretty cunt so good. Have you… fuck…” Satoru’s having trouble concentrating, releasing his cock, it springs and smacks his stomach, dripping pre cum all over.

“Are you-”

“Keep touching yourself. Fuck I wonder how pretty it is.” He huffs, and you bear his own gasps as he strokes his cock just making you drip more. “I hear how wet you are.”

Your eyes roll back at him. “Want you to. To touch me again, more.” You're gasping as your fingers move in sure circles, listening to Satoru stroke his cock in sync. “Want you… for my… first.”

“Oh my fucking- slip a finger in.” You nervously do as he says. Feeling your finger in your slick hole but wanting him so badly, it’s just a tease for what you want. “That’s it, god I can hear it through the phone.

“Satoru… jus’ come back.” You’re pressing a finger inside your little drippy cunt, panting breaths, breasts rising and falling.

“Yeah, you want me to come back? What do you want?”

“W-want your fingers. So long- ah!” Satoru moans as he listens, his mind going insane with images of all the times he’s watched you in your bikini, all the times you’ve bent over in front of him, remembering how wet you were on his fingers.

Fuck.

“Want 'em deep in you, so greedy.” His words just edge you more, and you’re huffing, oversensitive, not hitting what you need. “Aw baby can’t cum?”

“Fuck you, Toru.”

“I know, you want me too hmm? Break your tight little pussy?” You’re on the edge of cumming, while you hear him moaning, picturing what his cock must look like, it drives you insane, your pussy so slippery your hands nearly fall off.

“Yes, I do. Do you want it, to be inside?”

“Fuck…” Satoru’s tip is sensitive as he spits on it, mixing with the drooling precum, pinching his tip as he tortures himself with thoughts of you. “Wanna bury myself in you.”

“Ah!” You’re screaming out, covering your hand as the phone falls next to you, Satoru hears as you shatter, cumming so hard your pussy throbs, entire body sensitive, so sensitive just your sheets against your skin have you shivering. Your hand is covered in your own slick as it trembles. “S-Satoru, can you cum for me too?”

“Oh my god.” Satoru’s cock starts twitching as he cums so hard he can’t remember, white hot sticky ropes dripping all over his hand, as his head slams his head against the driver’s seat, jerking as he’s so sensitive.

“Satoru, I-”

“This can’t happen.” He says tersely, you blink back tears, so damn weak from cumming to his voice, to hearing him say the words you’ve literally dreamed about, that he wants you.

“You want me.”

“Yes, god how don’t you know!?” Satoru embarrassingly cleans himself up with napkins, cursing. “Got me acting like a dumb fucking teenager.”

“Satoru please just come back over.”

“No, because at this rate I’ll knock you up when I get in you, and your brother will literally hate me forever.”

“You don’t know that! And okay then we be sneaky.”

“You’re still a little brat. No.”

“And you’re a dick!” You get into pajamas now, staring at the mirror in your dark room, lit only by the little fairy lights hanging over your bed.

Satoru scoffs, swiping at that silky white hair as he walks into his home, cock twitching at the thought of you. “I won’t do it, this is terrible enough.”

“If you wanted to, why were you so mean to me!?”

“So you’d stop having a goddamn crush on me. It clearly failed.”

“Yeah, no shit. Fine, then I’ll go on another date.”

“What!?”

“No hope for us, and well Satoru now I’m so wet.”

Satoru glares at the phone, you don’t see it but you can sense it, as he remembers how mad he was seeing you. “You do what you want, we can’t be together so it doesn’t matter.” He curses himself as he says it, leaning over the counter.

“Fine then. You’re immature.”

“Me!? You’re a little annoying thing I swear. You have to forget what I did, what we just did… I can’t.”

“Forgotten then.” You say, choking on a cry. “You’re so scared of what, Suguru would love you even if we were together.”

“You just don’t do that. And I don’t date.”

“You fuck?”

“Yep.”

“Then fuck me.”

“Oh my… go to bed, brat.” You sniffle, shaking your head, hating how weak you constantly are for him, you hang up, slumping back on your bed and screaming into your pillow.

How can you get over him now!?

Meanwhile, Satoru slams into the counters, grabbing a drink and pouring it, throwing it straight down his throat.

How can he get over you now?

“Satoru! Are you ready for this?” Suguru asks, and your heart damn near beats out of your chest when you see Satoru Gojo shirtless. You've seen it here and there, it was not something one got used to.

His rippling, lean muscles make your mouth dry, you struggle not to look, arms covering yourself a bit in your bikini, while he stares at you in shock, eyes drifting down you in a moment’s glance while Suguru is snatching up bags and slinging them over his shoulder.

Your breasts are on full display in the bikini top, and Satoru can’t get his mind off it, that night last week, he’s avoided Suguru all damn week because of it. How he’s jerked it to the memory of your moans, and now he has to see you like this in this bikini that barely covers your tits, pretty and pink, popping against your milky skin. It takes so much not to tear it off and suck on your nipples.

He sees them perk up through the thin material, tempting him more, how can they not perk up when you want him so bad? You can barely formulate a thought in your head, when his muscles flex just so, and your eyes trail to his trunks, where you see the outline of his cock.

Great, you’re wet.

You quickly clear your throat when your brother smiles, bringing you the little white cover up. “Thanks.”

“Mmhmm, let’s go, Shoko, Nanami and Utahime will all be here.”

“You gonna talk Shoko up finally?” Satoru teases, a heartbreakingly pretty grin on his stupidly pretty face.

Ugh.

“You gonna get Utahime not to hate you?”

“Ha, no fucking way.”

“She’s hot though.”

Satoru looks back at you, something swirling in his blue eyes. “I guess so.”

“You guess so? Didn’t you think so like a week ago?”

“Yeah. Sure.” He only can think of you, little brat driving him insane, have you seen that guy again!?

“She’s pretty.” You agree, smiling brightly, putting on a show. “My friend Maki is coming too, and Yuuta will be here.”

Satoru’s fists clench, raising a white thin brow. “Oh?”

“Mmhmm. A full pool party.” The doorbell rings now, and everyone starts piling around the house, you grab the appetizers and drinks with Suguru’s help, greeting everyone as you all head to the pool.

Watching Satoru Gojo grill out was doing things, things that made you unable to focus, even as Maki comes, and gives you a big hug, so pretty with her emerald hair and glasses, her body lean and muscled. “Maki you look hot!”

“You look hot, baby. Oh, is that your boyfriend?”

“Not a boyfriend. But we went out. You’ll like him.”

“Give up on Gojo?” She asks, peering over, she knows you’ve been in love since you were a teenager. You sigh, nodding. “Suuree.”

“Oh stop. Yuuta!” You give him a hug, he smiles and hugs you back, lean and cut in his swim trunks, and when he sees Maki his mouth drops, though he quickly clears his throat.

Maki blushes, and you look between them, smiling then.

“Yuuta, come meet Maki, my best friend. Isn’t she gorgeous?”

“What!?” Maki hisses at you, but you see it the moment they meet.

“You’re both beautiful.” Yuuta takes Maki’s hand and she is bright red, you lean over to Yuuta’s ear.

“Think she likes you.”

“What!?” You just giggle.

“I’m hopping in!” You wave at everyone else before you jump in, and Satoru watches the way your ass bounces when you do, to the point he has to turn and adjust himself, semi hard from that.

You hop up in the pool, covered in dripping wet water, hair slicked back and sticking to you just so, tempting him to no goddamn end. It’s like you know it too, smirking at him with a bratty raise of your eyebrows. He holds the spatula and thinks of beating your ass with it, when Suguru walks up.

“So I thought I liked the kid, but look.” Suguru nudges his head, shaking Satoru out of his reverie, as Yuuta is clearly flirting with Maki, then he looks back at you, smiling at them.

“I think… She's matchmaking.” Satoru says, and Suguru sighs.

“I guess, but I was hoping for her to get a good guy, not some dick you know. He seems like a good kid.”

“Yeah, she deserves the best.” Satoru’s voice gets hoarse, and Suguru puts his hair up in a ponytail, tilting his head curiously at Satoru.

“She does. Not some shithead like me and you were at her age.” He jokes, smacking his shoulder, Satoru feels the words like a punch to the gut.

“I mean we’re not much older.”

“What now?” Suguru’s called over, and Satoru is barely able to breathe, Nanami walks up and takes over cooking with a tired smile, leaving Satoru to watch you, swimming across the pool in smooth strokes.

All he can picture is carrying you up to your little room and hearing those moans in person, making you moan. If he hadn’t touched you, if he’d just held himself back, maybe he could keep this in, but now you’re pulling him in, he’s a stupid moth smacking a fucking lightbulb.

Satoru grabs two drinks, cracking them open, sitting on the edge of the pool now and handing you one. You smile so damn pretty he’s dying. “Ah thanks, Toru, I’m old enough now?”

“I guess so. Fuck I was wasted in a frat house at your age.”

“I bet you were a slut.” Satoru glares, earning your grin, damn he’s sexy when those blue eyes narrow.

“You don’t know shit. Your brother was the slut.”

“What? No!”

“Sure was.” Satoru slides in the pool, you two are the only ones in there, and he’s dangerously close, the cold water chilling you as he warms you up, his gaze takes in the goosebumps on your breasts and how the water is just pressing them up more. “I’m no virgin but I’m not what you think.”

You sip the beer now, nodding a bit. “I was teasing, really.”

“You tease a lot, run your mouth all the time.” You scowl, and he smirks. “Wonder if I could put it to better use.”

Fuck.

Your body hums, stepping closer, your legs brushing against Satoru’s, strong and so damn long, and you watch him tense, but you act so casual, just sipping your drink, eyes locking with his. “Something wrong?”

“I swear to god you’re annoying.” You feel his hand on your back, taking it over with his long fingers, slipping lower where no one can see, grabbing an ass cheek and exhaling. “Annoying with a nice ass. And perfect tits.”

You’re flustered now, for all your talk, his hand is gone as quick as it was there. “Did you just compliment me?”

“It’s no compliment, it pisses me off.” He sips his drink with a scowl, then he jolts as you teasingly brush the back of your hand on his cock under the water, his free hand snatches your wrist.

“What, you did it to me?”

“You’re a slutty little brat you know that?”

“Hmm, am I?”

“Lucky your brother’s here, I’d drag you out of this pool and beat your ass.” You’re further turned on, he sees it, in your dilated eyes and parted lips, how your breasts rise and fall quicker. “I swear you’ll kill me before he gets to.”

Soon everyone else starts to get in the pool, and Satoru goes as far from you as he can, avoiding even looking at you, lest he has a stupidly hard cock in a pool with all of his best friends. The women there are beautiful too, but his eyes are only on you, his mind is overtaken in the most annoying way, you had the audacity to touch him now too!?

He wants to beat that bouncy little ass.

You end up a little overheated from the sun, deciding to head inside and chug some water, only to shut the fridge and there he is, snatching you by your arm before you can blink, dragging you into the pantry. You blink in surprise, also to adjust your vision, before gasping as Satoru turns you around, pressing you against the wall, smacking your ass.

“Ow!” You hiss, it stings so bad, but you’re clenching around nothing when he smacks your other ass cheek. “You dick!”

“That’s for touching me, brat.” He turns you back around now, bending low, cupping the side of your face, and your breath catches in your throat, hammering when you taste his sweet breath on your lips, lingering so close. “Stop it.”

“Stop what?” You whisper, hand sliding up his bare, slick chest, his eyes slam shut, forehead resting on yours.

“Stop looking at me that way.”

“I’ve just hid it. You think I haven’t always wanted you?”

“You can’t. So stop.” You laugh softly, shaking your head. “We won’t do it.”

“What, kiss?” You pull on him, but he refuses to budge. “You don’t kiss?”

“I can’t kiss you, it won’t end there. I’m not that boy. I’d have my fingers in you at dinner.” You gasp as he slides your bikini bottoms to the side, sinking a finger in, you have to cover your mouth not to scream, he has to bite back a moan. “I’d have been licking you right in the car, have you on the hood of my fucking car, making you cum all over my face.”

“Satoru, please.” You yank on him again, and he’s shaking his head, sighing over your lips, knowing you’ll end him when he does, your cunt squishing so loud in the little pantry, as you soak him, and he slides a second into your eager hole. “Please.”

“Stop making me want you so fucking bad. Now.” He presses on that little spot in your gummy walls. You can't even see then, gripping him, dizzy as he studies you.

“I was swimming-”

“Stop looking so good.”

“Don’t stop!” You beg, when he’s slipped his fingers out, sucking on them and exhaling, pressing you against the wall further, a thigh between yours now, pressing up and making you gasp.

“I can’t do it to him.”

“Satoru who’s to say he won’t approve? You’re his best friend.”

“Ha, and not good enough.” You frown now, hands sliding up, wrapping around his neck, entangling in drippy silvery hair.

“You’re good enough for anyone.” He melts at your words.

“Not for his little sister, you don’t get how much he cares, he feels like a damn parent to you.”

“He’s not though. Satoru just… kiss me.”

“No I’ll be fucking you and crash the shelves.” You sigh frustratedly when he pulls back, shaking his head when you grip his arms.

“Then let me please you-”

“Jesus christ you’re a whole monster meant to fuck me up.” You snort at that, at his eyes bugging out. “You’re a virgin, you’ll be with someone special.”

“You’re special.”

“Fuck me.” He storms out, once again edging the fuck out of you, you go to chase him when Suguru and his friends are all walking in, and Satoru puts on the role of unbothered so damn well, all while he’s fucking you up.

You storm to your bathroom after making an excuse you don’t feel good, letting the hot spray of the shower hit, trying to focus on anything other than him, and his face when he thinks he’s not good enough. How can he ever think that!? You lean back against the wall, the water beating your skin, scalding hot on full blast, trying to blank your stupid mind out.

“No, I'm not mad at all!”

“But you went on a date-”

“Maki, I… I can’t get over Gojo.” You say softly, leaning against the door of your room. “I just can’t let the love go.”

“Baby, maybe just tell him?”

“I think he knows, but he’s too scared of Suguru to do shit, I am not sure he feels the same anyway.”

“How do you know?”

“I don’t know, but how do I say- oh yes, I love you Satoru Gojo, I have a box of your pictures and love notes- aha it’s chill though!” Maki snorts in laughter over the phone.

“You need clarity or you’ll never move on. Are you really okay with me and Yuuta hanging out though? It’s like the only date I’ve seen you on.” You hear the concern in her voice.

“No, it’s fine, he’s so sweet Maki. I think he’d be good for you.”

“Oh don’t get so serious, just a movie. But okay, I believe in you!”

“You shouldn’t.” She laughs and you say your goodbyes, it’s been another week since Satoru had fucked you up again. You’re annoyed by his back and forth, you’re annoyed you can’t think of anything but kissing him.

You open the door then, to go get water, and he’s right there, making you gasp, jumping when blue eyes lock on yours. Suguru is out on a date tonight and you didn't expect him to be here, pouty lips set in a thin line when he looks down at you. You stare at each other for a heart stoppingly long time, just breathing, until his arm drops from the door frame, and he steps inside your room.

“God how much did you hear?” You whisper, Satoru shuts your door behind him then, the resounding click echoing.

“I heard all of it.” He says quietly, brushing a hand down your hair, making you tremble.

“That's not how I wanted you to find out.”

“Were you ever going to tell me? That it's not some little crush?” He asks, eyes darting across your face, his own chest heaving.

You look down, trying to find any words. “I didn't want to scare you away even more.”

“Is it true?” Satoru cups your face now, and you nod, tears in your eyes.

“Satoru Gojo, I have loved you since you first met Suguru. I know I was a kid, I get it, but it never went away. It's more intense, my feelings, aching to be with you every moment of every day.” Satoru stands there, listening, and you step closer, a hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat. “I thought if I went on a date I could try to get over this, but you occupy all my dreams, all my thoughts.”

Satoru exhales, shocking you when he picks you up in his arms, holding you like you're nothing, your legs wrap slender hips, your arms around his neck. Satoru’s huge hands are on your bare thighs, as his hard body presses against you. You're so close to his lips, lips you've ached to kiss since you first knew what kissing even was.

“I'm in love with you, Satoru.” He exhales, his eyes swirling with emotions. “I can't stop how I feel, I have tried. I'm so in love with you, I just wish you could see me as more, I'm not a kid okay? I'm not just Suguru’s sister. I'm-”

“You're beautiful.” He cuts you off, his words melting you completely, his voice hoarse as he whispers. “I know you're you, I see who you are. I see more than you know.”

“That's all I ever wanted, for you to see me.” Satory carries you to your bed, laying you on it now, hovering over you, lips tantalizing when you run a thumb across them. “I do love you, fuck I think I always will, it just won't go away. It's okay if you don't feel the same, but you deserve to know.”

Satoru leans down, and he kisses you, the sparks from his lips like electric tingles everywhere, your every nerve ending is on fire as he does. You moan into his mouth, hands sinking in silky white hair, and he deepens the kiss, moaning himself, sinking low onto you, hard body pressed on yours. You're arching up against the thigh he has, braced on for support, gasping as it brushes up, firm and strong, bumping where you're so needy.

“You're so hot for me.” He murmurs, pulling back, before diving back in, tongue swirling with yours, and it's so breathtaking, the intensity in which your tongues meet. When he's biting your lips, sinking lower, on his elbows now, your tongues dripping saliva, so messy. Satoru takes over everything, long limbs too long for your small bed, you drown in him.

“Please.” You whisper, and he exhales, kissing down your throat, your chest, big hands gripping your breasts, you cry out at it.

“Are you sure about this? It's important, sweetheart.” He whispers, slipping down your shirt and moaning audibly. “Perfect.”

“I've never been more sure about anything.” Your words strike a cord with him, when he's sucking a nipple into his hot mouth, you cry out, pussy wetter and hotter against your shorts, he feels you on his thigh, dying to shove his cock so deep, you grind on his thigh as he sucks on your other pretty titty.

“So desperate, gonna cum from that?” He raises a sarcastic ass brow, and you remember, Satoru is a cocky asshole.

One that you love.

You roll your hips again, he gasps at it, leaning up on his knees, you whine. “No, get back!”

He smirks now, peeling down your shorts, revealing your bare cunt to him, glistening with your arousal. He moans as he looks at you, parting your lips and looking at your pretty cunt. “So wet already…”

Your thighs shake as he stares at you so intimately, then he's kissing down your waist, between your breasts, your tummy. You're whimpering and soaking wet by the time he's kissing up your inner thigh, breath teasing your entrance. “Satoru… you don't have to um… if you don't…”

“I love to eat pussy, especially when they're this fucking pretty.” You're dripping wetness out of your little hole, when his lips press, you jump now. “So pretty it'll ruin me forever.”

“Satoru!” You scream out when he slips his tongue up your slit now, nothing you've felt or done can prepare you for it, for him flicking his tongue on your engorged clit, you see him staring at you under lidded eyes, big hands pressing into the plush of your thighs. “Oh my god.”

“You taste s’fucking good.” He whispers, flicking his long tongue up against your clit again, you’re screaming out from just that, earning his little laugh. “So easy, I’ve barely started, baby.”

Baby.

Satoru called you baby.

Satoru called you baby as he’s grinning against your pussy, tongue slipping between your folds again, licking up your slit, your cunt is gushing down his pretty face, coating his tongue in your arousal. He takes a hand off your thigh, using it to separate your lips, slipping his tongue inside your tight little entrance, you’re falling apart under him.

Your entire body reacts to the sensation, your hands unwillingly pulling at his hair, hips arching up for more of him, and then Satoru leans up a bit, spitting on your clit, grinning as he watches it slip down your pretty pussy. “S-Satoru…”

“So pretty, look at her.” He muses, swirling the saliva around with your own slick, shoving two fingers in your cunt, stretching you so good you gasp out, then he’s using his tongue on you with them, pumping them in and out of your slick walls, pressing on a spot that makes you drool, closer and closer when he sucks your clit in his mouth, humming on you.

“Oh my- f-fuck I… Satoru!” You’re crying his name as your orgasm wracks over you, arousal drooling out of your cunt all down his mouth, his chin, he groans as he laps it all up.

“Messy little brat.” He huffs, grinning again against you, before nipping at your clit, the sensation of sharp pain only egging your orgasm on further. “Mmm.”

Satoru now holds your hood up, thumb and finger pinching your clit as he fucks you with two fingers, hearing the sloppy mess he was making your pussy, looking up to see your pretty face flushed and fucked out already. Your pretty breasts are heaving up and down, the peaks taut and begging for his mouth again. He presses up on your spot again, watching you fall apart.

“That’s it, you’re so easy f’me.” He teases, but you don’t talk shit, you don’t talk back like usual, no you’re just whimpering, your thighs tightening on his head on either side.

“Ngh!” Is all you manage, walls pulsing around his two fingers now, fingers deeper than anything you’ve felt, you’re so slippery and messy his fingers slip, he’s drinking you up, you hear him sipping you, devouring you, you’re losing it as his hand presses on your tummy, curling his fingers just so, sucking your clit again, bringing you to another climax. “Toru!”

“Mmm.” He finally lets you go, leaving you a twitching mess and smirking, charming fucking asshole over you, having so casually wrecked you, you’re so flustered when you see he’s glistening with you. You wipe at his chin. “You feel better, brat?”

“I want more.” You whisper, hand slipping down his abdomen, his breath catches at it, brushing your hair back, kissing you. You taste yourself on his lips, hands trembling as you unbutton his shirt, revealing his strong chest. “Please.”

“We can stop here for now.” You see it then, the concern on his face, you shake your head.

“I want you inside me. I wanna feel you. Satoru I love-”

“I love you.” He cups your face, eyes darting back and forth, your heart pounds so loudly you hear it in your ears, body thrumming and reeling from the orgasms, from his words.

“What!?”

He laughs now, shaking his head and kissing you. “I love you too, annoying little brat. I don’t have a box of love notes and pictures though, simp.”

“Oh fuck off!” You giggle then, sniffling as emotions hit, and he grins, so beautiful your heart breaks.

“You’re a regular yandere.” You laugh once more, kissing him over and over, slipping his dress shirt down his shoulders.

“I am no yandere, I just am in love with you, Satoru. How could I not be? How could anyone not love you?” His own lips tremble, but he catches himself, glaring.

“Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“Make me sappy. Are you sure, I could eat you out every day all day, we can wait for more.” He kisses down to your breasts again, touching you so deeply, worshipping you with his hands, his lips, his tongue.

“I’ve been ready.”

“Masturbating to me?” He teases.

“Yes.” Satoru groans now, kissing you again, pressing between your thighs now, you feel his bulge against you, frustratingly inside of his jeans, you rub on him eagerly, earning his huff of frustration.

“Do you have to be so sexy?” He murmurs, pink lips glossy from your kisses, you nip at one, earning a breathy whine from him.

“Yes I thought of you, it’s hard to think of or see anyone else when there is a Satoru Gojo at your house all the time.” You unbuckle his belt, gasping when he springs free from his boxers, huge, long and thick, two veins wrapping around his cock from the base to the pink tip, all leaking precum. “You’re so big…”

“Did you ever do it while I was here, hmm?” He asks, standing up now, slipping off his jeans and boxers, and his cock slaps his belly button before it settles back, hard and throbbing. You feel your tummy clench again, he’s so perfect, but also…

“Will it fit?” He snorts, as he eases you to sit up, brushing your hair back as you stroke it, little hand nowhere close to covering any of it.

“We’ll have fun making it try to. Open your mouth pretty.” You eagerly obey, and Satoru Gojo’s cock enters your mouth, you taste his salty precum on your tongue, swirling the tip as he leans his head back for a moment, moaning.

“That’s it, fuck… mouth feels s’good.” You whine out now, thighs pressing together as you lap at him, sucking as much as you can into your mouth, but there was no possibility of deep throating as you’ve seen, at least not yet, Satoru Gojo is way, way too big. He’s pulling at your hair, thrusting into your mouth, groaning as you take more and more of him. “Did you?”

“Hmm?” You look up at him with dazed out eyes, drool dripping down your full lips, he smirks then, cock aching to slide inside you.

“Did it while I was here?” You feel your cheeks heat up now, looking down shyly, nodding. “You did!?”

“Oh shut up! Yes, do you really wanna talk right now?” He glares again, pulling at your hair, it feels so good, the pricking of pain on your scalp you moan.

“Tell me a time.” He murmurs, tilting your chin up, as you stroke his cock, aching for more and more of him as your eyes drift down his perfect, chiseled body.

“You’re such a perv.”

“Me? You were playing with your pretty pussy in the room next to me.” His words fuck your brain up more, while he presses you back down on your bed, kneeling between your thighs, you gasp when his length presses against your inner thigh, hot and heavy.

“There were lots of times.” You whisper, and he moans, slipping his tip against you, drooling tip pressing on your clit, you cry out, shaking. “First night was my high school graduation, after my eighteenth birthday, remember the party we threw?”

“Fuck you looked pretty in that little dress.” You melt further, eyes catching him as his tip presses just so in your entrance, you feel it, the burning stretch, almost cumming from his tip alone. Satoru cups your face with one hand as he leans on an elbow, lips hovering over yours.

“Y-you noticed?” You whisper, he smiles then.

“That was the first time I noticed you grew up, your little graduation cap and that pretty blue dress. Fuck… could cum from this.” He kisses you again, desperately, just staying there, not going further, fucking you with his tip, a ridiculous tease.

“Mmm, that night I imagined you in here, my graduation gift, all tied up in a big ribbon. Even better than the car Sugu got me. Ah!” Satoru presses deeper, eyes lidded as he feels your tight walls gripping him.

“In ribbon!?” He demands, you just giggle a bit, before whining out, he’s pressing deeper, your cunt stretching to accommodate. “For you to have your way with me.”

“Absolutely. Ah! Please…”

“It’ll hurt for a sec, okay?” You nod, and he kisses you so sweetly then, a hand sliding down the curves of your body to your thigh, then he shoves past the little barrier, nestling himself in your snug entrance, you scream out at it, tears pricking your eyes at the pain, he pauses, cursing. “Fuck, you okay? Breathe.”

“S’big… so full…” You feel too full, never anything like it, Satoru’s about halfway in and already you don’t know if you can take him. He kisses you, slipping his hand between you both, thumb pressing against your swollen clit. “T-Toru!”

“That’s it, relax, breathe. You’re too tight, please.” He lets out a strangled sound, as you grip him so good he could bust right there, fucking embarrassing. He looks at your pretty face, hating the tears in your eyes, he wants it to be so good for you, he eases out then sinks back in, easier as he plays, and you let out a moan. “Good girl, listening for once.”

You sniffle and smile tremulously, before your eyes roll back in your skull, mouth in an O, and Satoru’s sinking deeper in your cunt, gushing around his cock, feeling him fill you so good as his fingers work your clit. Soon it starts to feel so fucking good, you’re gasping, arching your hips up, earning his snowy lashes fluttering shut before he slams his lips on yours.

“Feel so fuckin’ perfect, baby, she’s tryna milk me already.” He huffs, starting to pump into you, continuing the circles, your velvety walls suck him in greedily as he fucks you deeper, sinking almost balls deep, tip smashing your cervix. “Oh my god, I feel it, cum on me please.”

His little whimper and his plea end you, you cum so hard you’re seeing stars, your pussy spasming around his cock, your orgasm so intense it’s like your whole body is seizing. You’re twitching embarrassingly as his thumb stops its circles, and Satoru is panting, his breath hot against your cheek as he kisses your neck, his cock still buried to the hilt inside of you, not moving now.

“You’re perfect, doing such a good job.” He whispers, his voice strained and full of emotion, his kisses sloppier as feels you ride out the aftershocks.

“M’just laying here, you’re doing the work.” You mumble, he laughs then softly, grinning at you.

“Next time, on your knees. Ah- f-fuck…” He’s groaning as he bottoms out, balls smacking on your ass, you hear the sounds of it as he’s flushing on top of you, eyes getting darker and darker. “Then, on top the third time.”

“Y-yeah?” You whisper, and he moans, nodding before kissing you again, fingers dipping into the jut of your hips, he pulls back on his knees, hand on your white headboard, rolling his hips and making every abdominal tense, as you look down, seeing him in your tummy, bulging. “Is that… your…”

“Ha, look at it. Fucking you so deep, feel me there?” He takes your hand, pressing it on your tummy, and you feel him, his movements slower, sweat dripping down his porcelain skin, dripping onto your lips as he works you.

“I feel you everywhere.” Your words ignite something in him, the nostrils of that thin perfect nose flare.

"I can't hold back baby, can you take it harder?" His voice is strangled, you nod eagerly.

"Y-yes, I can." You gasp out, still panting, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. "I want it, I need it, all of you."

"Fuck…" Satoru groans, his eyes darkening even more, pupils huge as he pulls back a bit before slamming back into you, making you scream out again at the sensation, it hurts so fucking good. “Hang on t’me baby.”

Your hands grip his shoulders, pressing in, then he leans down, and his hips begin to piston, his cock makes you feel like you’re going to split in half, but it’s so good you crave more, weakly whining out. You wrap your legs around his waist, trying to keep him as deep as possible, your nails digging into his back, leaving crescent marks, earning his hiss of pain.

“Brat.” He huffs, you just whimper, hearing the sounds of his pelvis slamming you, and you feel another orgasm building, your pussy clenching around his shaft, your walls fluttering. Satoru’s eyes widen, feeling your muscles tightening around him. "You gonna cum again? You’re so easy."

"F-fuck off… just… y-yes, fuck yes!" You scream, your body shaking as he picks up the pace, his cock hitting that spot, tip dragging on it over and over, you’re a drippy mess down his cock, your thighs, dripping down your ass to the bed as he works you, pounding your pussy. You cum again, harder than the first time, crying it’s so good, burying your face into his neck, shaking from it.

“Oh my god…” Satoru feels his own climax approaching, his movements becoming erratic and desperate. "I'm gonna fill you up, baby, so full of me. Fill your pretty pussy, yeah?"

“Please, please.” You beg, sniffling, tears so pretty from the pleasure, from the overwhelming feelings you have as he pounds you.

“Can you take it?” He asks, shoving your thighs up high, until you’re bent in half, so small under him, the bed is small compared to him, hands pressing into your thighs and squeezing almost painfully as his cock works you, fucking harder and harder, you watch him come apart over you.

“I can, I can.” He moans, leaning over you, cock bottoming out balls deep, you do feel him everywhere, when he slams into you one last time, his cock swelling and releasing hot ropes of cum inside of you, filling you to the brim with him.

“Baby… filling you s’fucking much. Fuck.” You’re cumming just from his heat inside you, from him throbbing inside you so deep, kissing you, you cling to him, thighs shaking around his hips, while he pumps it in and out of you.

“Oh my god...” You whisper weakly, eyes fluttering shut, struggling to keep them open.

“You’re so fucked out. Cute.” He huffs, and you glare, earning his chuckle as he lays on top of you, his weight pressing you into the bed, his heart hammering against your chest. "That was..." He can't even find the words, his breathing ragged while he stares at you, brushing back your hair.

"Amazing." You whisper, stroking his sweat-slicked hair back too.

He lifts himself up, looking into your eyes. "It was more than that. I’ve never felt anything like you.”

You heat up at his praise, and he watches you with a lazy smirk, kissing down your chest, to your breasts, so sensitive, every bit of you is, his cum dripping out of your pussy along with your own. “Can we do it again?”

“What a fiend, give me a minute!” You grin up at him, so beautiful fuck you make his heart ache, his cock already having blood rush through it when he slips out, fluids pouring from your hole as he does. You look down nervously.

“Oh it’s…”

“Shh, lemme clean you up.” You nod nervously, and Satoru runs out to the bathroom, running back and cleaning you up carefully, kissing you between each gentle wipe of your pussy, you feel the soreness set in, but it’s delicious. “Only happens once, okay?”

“It doesn’t bother you?” Your brows draw together, he shakes his head, finishing cleaning you up, kissing your pussy now, and you feel her throbbing again for him. “I don’t think I’ll get enough of this.”

“Neither will I. That's why I tried to avoid this.” He exhales, kissing your hood, darting his tongue out to circle your clit again, you scream out, pulling on his hair, and it urges him on, as he starts tasting his own cum mixing with yours on his tongue.

“Toru! Y-yes!”

“What the fuck!?” You both hear it then, Suguru slamming the door, and you separate quickly, Satoru’s jumping into his jeans, falling backwards as you hastily slide up your shorts, grabbing your twisted tank top and yanking it over your tits as you hear footsteps up the stairs.

“We’re screwed.” Satoru grumbles, kissing your lips deeply, and you cling to him as your brother walks up into the room, furious.

“Satoru Gojo, what the fuck are you doing with my sister!?”

“A kiss before I die.” Satoru asks, tilting up your chin, and you kiss him eagerly as he’s dragged off you by Suguru, but Satoru and you both can’t stop the stupid fucked out grins on your faces even as Suguru loses his shit.

A/N- this was a request fill for you loving your big brother's best friend, so ofc I made it Suguru lol! <3 Hope you enjoyed! Tagging below!

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61154809

#gojo x reader #jjk smut #gojo smut #satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jujustu kaisen #jjk gojo #satoru gojo x y/n #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #satoru smut #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #gojo x female reader #gojo x f!reader

1K notes · View notes

ode2rin · 8 months ago

Text

new boyfriend rin would never ever, under any circumstance, admit that he likes the pet names you call him. well… unless you would stop doing it. (also me pushing the bffs to lovers pipeline)

You must be upset with him, Rin is convinced so. It’s the only logical and sensible explanation behind this unusual behavior.

And he's going mad about it. Itoshi Rin is going mad any second now if he can't get to the bottom of this, he’s certainly convinced.

Every instinct screamed that your recent behavior was a reaction to something he'd done, but what? Was it the late replies to your text messages? No, you knew he was at practice and you told him you didn’t mind. Was it about the souvenir he brought back home to you from Paris? Sure, you teased him about its impracticality, but nothing that warranted this icy distance.

Or maybe it was something he said now? It must be, right? Everything boils down to his reckless poor choice of words, he supposes.

Slowly, Rin approached you by the couch you’re seated in. With your attention preoccupied by the selection of shows you’re browsing, you settled on looking at him briefly through your peripheral vision. Amused by how he’s slightly tiptoeing around, you let out a half-suppressed laugh to yourself.

He looks like a cat sometimes, you thought from the sight. And acts like one too. Like a big black cat who would hiss at you if you looked at him funny, or one that would bite your hand if you stopped petting him to sleep. Funny how Rin could be like that too.

The moment Rin settles into the plush comfort of the couch, he gazes at you through lowered lashes, trying to read the play of emotions on your face, if there’s any.

There’s nothing worth noting, and he doesn’t know if that should assure or bother him.

“Are we… alright?” he drawled.

What the fuck. He did not just sound like that.

He did not just ask that and sounded like an anxious pathetic wet cat who just had a new home waiting for its owner’s permission over anything (highly specific because he’s a bit dramatic). Just what kind of loser have you reduced him into, really.

Oblivious of the internal turmoil in Rin’s mind, you turn to him, “Hmm? Yeah? Why’d you ask?”

“Nothing,” he grumbled. It’s enough that he already humiliated himself for the way he asked if the two of you were cool— doing it again by exposing himself that he thinks you’re mad plainly because he hadn’t heard you call him a pet name (like you always do) would be mortification in its final form.

“Okay, Rin.”

That’s it. This needs to end. Forget humiliation. He would rather choose to feel pathetic over any day than continue with this charade.

“Are you mad at me?”

“Why would you think that?” you asked back instantly, shocked and extremely confused because of your boyfriend’s question. You’re literally just looking for a movie the two of you can watch— how is that any indication of being mad at him?

“Just answer the question,” he fumed, impatience settling on the furrow of his brows.

You said in the beginning of your relationship that you didn’t appreciate the silent treatment and guessing games, so don’t you think it’s hypocritical of you to do the same to him? (You’re not, but he just doesn’t know that.)

“I’m not mad at you, Rin.”

“You so are!”

“I am not! But you, yelling and instigating it are making me right now!” you countered, voice hinted with irritation, “What is your problem, Rin?”

There it is again. Rin rose from the couch to face your sitting form, as if standing would better prove his point. “See? You’re calling me Rin!” he blurted.

“Well, maybe because it’s your name?!”

“Not to you, it’s not!”

A beat of surprised silence. Until your lips grew to such a wide smile that made Rin physically feel his heart melting.

Yet, in Rin’s true fashion, he’ll never let you know how much air you knock out of him because of your beaming smile. Instead, he’ll say something along the snarky lines of, “Stop smiling like that.”

“Did my big bad grumpy Rinnie here thought we’re on a fight because I hadn’t call him baby?” you ask, purposely stressing out the words to disarm him more.

With a feigned exasperation, he comments, “I forgot how annoying you are.”

“And I forgot how childish you can get sometimes,” you countered.

“I’m not childish.”

“You don’t mind me calling you Rin then?”

Rin rolled his eyes at you, but you know better than to put meaning to it. He lowered himself onto the couch beside you. With a swift tug, Rin pulled you closer, closing the distance between you effortlessly. His arm found its way around your waist, drawing you snugly against his chest.

“But I don’t see why you need to…” Maybe he could be a bit childish.

“I thought you didn’t like it,” you shyly muttered, drawing shapes in his arm. “The pet names, I mean,” you clarified, sensing the confused look he’s probably giving you behind.

“What the hell are you talking about?” He is baby. He is Rinnie. Fucking hell, that’s so loser of him to even voice it out in his own mind.

“What? You call me by my name!” you defensively pointed out.

“Doesn’t mean I don’t like your nicknames of me,” he mumbled, the words barely audible.

The pet names— they were more than what they served. It was important to him more than what he would admit.

They were a secret language, a way you marked him as yours. A reminder that he wasn't just Rin anymore— just your friend.

He was now something more, something special.

A ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Besides… I love your name,” he whispered, his voice velvet against your hair.

It’s tender— no, it makes him tender. Saying your name has been the softest, kindest, and most tender way he’s used his words for.

Maybe it’s a little pathetic, feeling this undone by a name. But then it’s you.

It was your name— a name he could whisper with adoration, a name that belonged only to him to claim.

You melt to his words, leaning deeper into his chest. A contented sigh escaped your lips, the sound swallowed by the warmth of his embrace.

Looking up at him, your eyes held a softness he often found himself getting lost in, “I love your name too, but I also like calling you pet names. Is it okay?”

“Whatever you decide.” He’s yours, either way.

note. this is basically rin being "my nameeee is whatever you decideeeee and i'm just gonna call you mineeee i'm insane but i'm your baby!!!!" yeah that song basically.

#☁️ my ode to you #i have more drabbles like this i am fucking insane about him #itoshi rin x reader #itoshi rin #itoshi rin fluff #itoshi rin x y/n #blue lock x reader #blue lock imagines #blue lock fluff #bllk x reader #bllk imagines #rin itoshi x reader #rin itoshi

5K notes · View notes

rockingbytheseaside · 8 months ago

Text

✦ How you have contrasting personalities but they drop everything for you anyway

Pierro, Capitano, Dottore, Scaramouche (separate)

They say love can change anyone, but you have yet to agree with this statement. You never wanted anyone to alter themselves for you, especially if that someone is your beloved. Instead, you always believed that people should stay true to themselves while maintaining mutual love and adoration for each other. And that's how you and your beloved were - contrasting in looks, attitudes, and habits. Yet it made your beloved cherish you all the more, even if it caused unsuspecting passers to raise eyebrows in shock… Maybe it's because your beloved is actually a dreaded Fatui Harbinger, and people didn't expect him to be head over heels whenever you’re in the same room. But what can you say? He always was a softie for you.

✧ Pierro doesn’t attend public gatherings. Period. Ask any of the high-rank Harbingers and they would tell you how lucky it would be if he were even present for a Harbinger’s inauguration, like when Arlecchino was declared 4th or when Tartaglia received his Delusion. Nevertheless, it is clear that The Jester does not squander his time with social events or benign pleasantries; he’s present only on important occasions.

If you can define what’s important in his book, that is.

An example being was a certain Fatui party. It is not uncommon for the Regrator to organize lavish evenings, especially in recognition if a Harbinger obtained a gnosis, or if another significant mission was masterfully accomplished. The grander was the task, the bigger the event would be. Of course, Pierro never attends those either.

During one of those organized events - you, of all people, decided to come. Dressed in your finest, glittering lotus flower silk and white silver adorned your figure while you timidly stood amongst the high nobles of Snezhnaya. Your presence was not an unwelcome sight, but you did not strive to bring attention to you either. Expensive parties with Fatui diplomats and Snezhnayan aristocrats were not your usual cup of tea.

Your presence did not bring awning gasps, but Pierro’s did.

Unannounced, the Director arrived at this sudden party, bringing hushed murmurs amongst the crowds of subordinates and colleagues. Likewise, he wore his most exquisite suit, a mantle-like cape flowing elegantly over his broad shoulders. Before guests and attendees could greet his arrival, The Jester marched straight ahead, not bothering to gaze at whoever tried to initiate conversation.

No, the man’s attention was focused straight at you, as he passed through everyone and swiftly approached you. With an outstretched hand, a knowing gaze was cast upon you, as he spoke:

“If I may,” - he brought the back of your hand closer to his lips “Would you honor me with a dance?”

You obliged. Now everyone in the gala was gaping at you two with grandiloquent murmurs.

“My most cherished, why did you not warn me you’d attend the ball?” - The Jester whispered to your ear, his gloved hand intertwined with yours as the two of you waltzed elegantly.

“Well, I just thought it would be futile to bother you. You usually hate such occasions.” - you muttered back, overwhelmed at the prospect of meeting his icy gaze; a gaze that only looked at you in tender love and yearning.

“Then may I inquire on why you decided to attend this one? You avoid them as well.”

“Okay, just please don’t laugh,” - you whispered. As Pierro kept a hand on your waist, he danced with you across the ballroom, using his broad form to shield you from the unwelcoming gazes of the guests. “You gifted me this fancy attire that I kept hiding in my closet for many months… I simply didn’t have a reason to wear it. So I forced myself to go out just so I could have the excuse of wearing something nice. U-um, that’s it.”

“And that’s it, love?”

“...Yeah,” - you nodded defeatedly “Also because I didn’t want to busy you from work.”

“Oh, my most beloved.” - The Director emitted a hushed chuckle as you two conversed and danced, making sure his words were heard only by you. “I can make all your attires gala-worthy if you so desire. You do not need to be coy, ask and I shall accompany you on any grand occasion."

Thus, the jester may not attend social events, as he only frequents important ones - the ones you're in, that is. As he whisked you away with a dance and a dip, he kept his hand delicate around you to escape the company of noisy guests who wished to bother you two. But what would be a ball with his lips gently grazing your cheeks at the end of each dance, telling you:

“Besides, I cannot allow other attendees to assume you are available, now can I? Not while you look so stunning tonight.”

✧ When Il Capitano was first spotted with you during workout practice, people didn’t even fathom you were his beloved, the only person equal to the Captain. The two of you were simply so… opposite. The Harbinger was big and imposing, while you were smaller and approachable; which isn’t even a fair comparison, because Capitano just towers over anyone. Everyone looks small next to him!

Nevertheless, when Capitano had his usual daily practicum along with his rumored significant other, some Fatui soldiers tried to sneak glimpses. Yet what a jarring spectacle it was to see the immovable, assertive Harbinger dismiss his commanding tone in favor of being patient and attentive.

“My dear, you’ve already run a set of laps and tried to outbeat me during pushup exercises. You are putting too much strain on your ankles after your previous training. We should-”

“No, we can still go for another round! Fight me!”

“But, my love-”

“Fight me!!!”

Anyway, the fight abruptly subsided. Not because you lost, but because Capitano swiftly lifted you into his arms the instant you launched yourself onto him, consequently refusing to put you down. Therefore, you find yourself being carried by your partner's muscled arms while your feet dangle.

“Aw man, not fair…” - you mumbled, settling to rest on Capitano's forearms. “It's not even a duel if you're just lifting me like a toddler. Set me down, Cappy!”

“It’s an effective tactic, one that easily neutralizes a hotheaded opponent like yourself.” - Capitano explained calmly. In reality, his body moved with pride as he held onto you securely, as if you were his prized reward for today's training.

The captain set you down, his armored hands trailing down to your leg, sending a tingling graze onto your skin. And indeed, his punctilious gaze spotted how you tried to hide a limp when exercising.

“You sprained your ankle,” - Capitano stated.

“Listen, it's not a big deal. Just a strain, I had worse happen.”

You tried to defend yourself, but The Harbinger already expected your excuses. The man knew better than to argue with you, and instead settled on removing your footwear and gently checking on your injury.

“This is no condition to continue training, my dear. If I let you continue, you'd stubbornly reach Celestia with bloodied knuckles and broken limbs.”

“Yeah! And you bet I'd win!’” - you retorted brightly. At the sight of your confident smile, Capitano chuckled deeply, his pitch-black helmet pressing into your forehead with tender motion.

“I am certain you will, my love. You'll drag The Heavenly Principles by the ear, and have them weeping by your gaze alone. But now, we should get you to rest and apply some ice to your ankle. Shall I carry you?”

You sighed deeply, having no option but to let your beloved's experienced hands help you with your soreness. “Oh well… fine.”

Capitano's training could wait. There was a more crucial matter at hand, literally. With his massive yet calm form carrying you away, your gaze remained fierce but forbearing.

If some Fatui soldiers witnessed today's event, they'd have to conceal their inconspicuous glances and smiles. After all, the sight of Il Capitano being the big, loving teddy-bear, while you being a menacing gremlin was undoubtedly shock-inducing.

Nonetheless, who else is worthy of being carried by the 1st Fatui Harbinger and pampered by him? Only you, of course.

✧ Il Dottore is a destructive, stern man. Hunched over the examination table, his gloved hands were tainted in blood while his jaw clenched in aggravation. His hours of working in the lab easily make him irritated, and this irritation further increases whenever certain scientific experiments do not bear fruit. A tense air of suspension was now lingering in his lab; a sign of an upcoming violent outburst.

“Lord Harbinger…” - one of Dottore's lab assistants began, trying to muster the courage to speak without shaking. “This experiment requires another round of testing, w-we might need to start over,”

The Doctor remained still, but the dangerous clutch of the scalpel in his hand didn't go unnoticed. “Perhaps I did not make myself clear?”

He straightened his shoulders, his masked expression gleaming with malice and murderous intent with each syllable hissed.

“I have given you one simple task. Bring me the results. If this experiment is not completed by tomorrow at the earliest, I will have to remind you how brittle, and puny your useless bones can be-”

Suddenly, the lab door slams open. From the heavy metal doorway, a hasty but familiar person quietly saunters in, unknowingly saving the poor soul that was about to be Dottore's next target. Of course, the person in question is - you.

“Dottore?” A small murmur escaped you. You stepped closer to Dottore and tugged at his sleeve. “I’m sorry, I can't sleep…”

An abrupt silence settled in the lab.

The unnerving tension of the lab was diverted as if a switch was flipped in Dottore's brain. The man swiftly set his scalpel aside, discarded his bloody gloves, and turned into a softer tone when talking to you.

“Hm, is it so late already? I apologize dear, time must've slipped past me. Do you want me to brew us some tea and join you in bed?”

“Yes, please… Chamomile. if you're not busy, of course.” - you nodded, a tender smile settling on your face.

The sight was fascinating. The eccentric, mad scientist was instantly replaced by a doting partner, who would lower himself to kneel before you and put his hands on your shoulders as if all his lab work and blood-stained messes were already forgotten. Dottore's assistants were indeed quite baffled when you entered the lab. But what was more confusing is that the sudden change of attitude was so drastic, that they all froze in silence and subordination. The poor, unfortunate underlings; one minute dealing with their Lord Harbinger's harsh demeanor, and the other witnessing him hugging you and gazing at you like a lovesick puppy.

“Perhaps it’s time to wind down for today. I was about to finish for today, anyway. I'll make your tea as you like it and accompany you in bed, dearest.” - Dottore's hand gently rested on your back, as he leisurely ushered you to leave with him.

“And as for the experiments,” - just before the Harbinger could leave with you in his arms, he sent an ominous glance towards his assistants, one that even through a mask portrayed lethal resolve - “deal with it.”

Oh well. Someone is staying overtime in the lab. That's how The Doctor was with his work - cruel and unattached. However, unbeknownst to people, when he's back with you in bed, that man is clinging to you throughout the night, groaning about his research while burying his head against your chest. His face takes refuge against the warmth of your body, arms encircling you in a needy embrace around your torso.

Sometimes, he just needs a good squeeze from you when you cuddle him, that's all.

✧ A day cannot be concluded if there wasn’t a single instance where Scaramouche’s grumbles weren’t accompanied by your bright grins. Scaramouche has a reputation for his sour disposition whenever he is discontented, that much is known. What isn't known is that the only person who tolerates his cynicism is someone as bright and cheerful as you. Like two sides of the same coin.

“Hmph, Pathetic. Just because some flowers are blooming doesn’t mean it requires a whole festival to be commemorated for.”

“Oh, come on, Scara. You accompany me to every Hanami event.” - you smiled back in response to the Harbinger’s scoffs, but the 6th crossed his arms.

“They are no different each year. Same cherry blossoms, same food stalls you drool over.”

“But Scara…! The Dango!”

That’s how the two of you wind up in a narrow cobble street, protected under the soft shadows of cherry blossom, while cascading pink petals gently fall around you. Well, that is how you wind up here, while Scaramouche was naturally dragged by you. Arms linked with one another, the Puppeteer kept his iconic look of displeasure, a huge contrast to your joyous one. One would assume The Harbinger could easily flee your torment and make you scram, but on the contrary:

He is the one who makes sure your hand is intertwined with his, says “To keep you from running away like a child in a crowd”.

He is the one running his thumb over your skin, his hand squeezes yours, and says “Don’t get too excited over the food stalls.”

He is the one rushing with you to find a good secluded spot, away from the crowd, while his hand pulls you closer by the waist, and says “It’s too loud. Here, stay closer.”

And of course, he is the one buying your favorite Hanami Dango and says “You asked for it so you better enjoy it. And make sure to chew it properly - dango is sticky.”

For someone who underlines his disapproval vocally, he sure pampers you with no objection about your interests. You’d muse and tease, saying that it was his way of enjoying flower viewing without saying it. However, before you could utter the words, a strong gust of spring wind blew past the street, sending a plethora of flower petals blowing into everyone’s faces. You shielded your eyes, whereas Scaramouche gently tugged at his ichimegasa hat, pulling you closer to further shield you.

“See? I told you this yearly custom is a nuance.” - he lamented, but his words came out more as a murmur than a groan, perhaps because he held you directly in his proximity. Your faces were closer, and the veil of his hat served as concealment from any public eyes.

You’d smile. He sure complained a lot, and Scaramouche didn’t like sweet deserts like you did. But whenever the opportunity arose, he’d make sure he had you under the veil of his hat, pressed flush by the hip to him. And if he was lucky, he might taste the sweetness of Dango through your lips instead.

Listen, I'm a sucker for fluff, okay?

3K notes · View notes

seattlesellie · 3 months ago

Text

ೀ spoiled. ( part one )

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

pairing: ellie williams x rich fem!reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Somaybeit’snotanxiety and maybeyou’rejustloney.

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

You read the first question out loud.

The correct formula for aluminum nitrate is…

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

Nope.

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

Al(NO2)3? or maybe it’s Al(NO3)3…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

With her long fingers and all.

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

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

You wonder if Ellie likes cats.

You know she likes pussy.

You have got to get a grip.

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

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

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

You try and follow your command.

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

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

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

As a tutor, of course.

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

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

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

You groan and slap your palm against your forehead.

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

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

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

So you send her your address.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ellie makes you feel anything but dry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Toodles meows once more.

Yup. You should keep it down.

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

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

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

Noted. She has more than one pair of shoes.

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

Amber, citrus, musk, lavender.

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

When you hug Ellie you focus on her scent.

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

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

Then she coughs.

“Hey”

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

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

Then her eyes hyper-focus on… the ceiling?

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

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

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

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

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

“Walked, like, not ran ran”

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

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

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

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

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

You nod in complete amusement. “Oh?”

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

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

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

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

“Psh, so presumptuous”

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

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

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

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

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

"Yup..."

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

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

You like it.

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

You giggle.

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

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

And she likes it.

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

"It suits you" she murmurs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You like that side of her.

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

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

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

“Anything specific?”

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

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

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

She hates wine.

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

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

“Impressive” you note.

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

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

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

She's starving.

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

"Oh, uhh... nope"

Famished.

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie smut #ellie williams #tlou smut #wlw smut #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams x femme reader

2K notes · View notes

morganaawriterr · 14 days ago

Text

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ Unspoken Truths;

Pairing; fem!reader x loser boxer!Park Sunghoon Synopsis; Your best friend shows up at your door late at night with a bloody face. You lead him inside and take care of his wounds as the both of you try to ignore the growing tension between you. Warning; Suggestive; mentions of blood; sensitive!Sunghoon(sexy tension because Sunghoon has never seen you in pajamas?)

A/N: I love this drabble so much :(( I love Sunghoon so much :(( Likes and reblogs are always appreciated, thank you so much <3

When you unlocked your front door and found your best friend standing there, his elegant face stained with dark blood, your eyes immediately welled up with warm tears. Your hands trembled as a wave of nausea rose from your stomach to your throat.

Sunghoon stood in front of you with puppy eyes and pouty lips. Thick drops of blood dripped from a cut across his prominent nose. His eyes were swollen, with dark purple shadows beneath them, and his thick eyebrows were red with open wounds. Despite his battered appearance, as soon as his gaze locked with yours, he smiled—a genuine expression of relief.

He wasn’t sure why he had come to your house at such a late hour on a random Tuesday. He just needed to see you, to confirm with his own eyes that you were okay.

“Sunghoon…” you whispered, your voice cracking. “What happened?”

His response was subtle—his ears and neck flushed pink, and his smile faltered. Taking a step into your home, he wrapped his arms around your waist. His cold, strong embrace sent shivers racing across your skin. He leaned down, resting his head against your chest with a grip that felt desperate.

Your loose pajama shirt shifted slightly as he hugged you, the buttons slipping open to reveal a hint of your chest, though he seemed oblivious. As his nose caught the familiar scent of your warm skin and soft perfume, the tears he’d held back began to fall freely.

You had never seen Sunghoon cry before, so you knew something serious must have happened. He also knew how much you hated when he got into fights, yet here he was, battered and vulnerable at your door. Though he was strong and skilled in fighting, his emotions often betrayed him. And when he emotionally fights he becomes obsessed and weak.

After a long moment of soaking in your presence, Sunghoon lifted his head to meet your gaze. He noticed the small tears streaming down your cheeks, as if you were sharing his pain.

“It’s alright, Hoonie. It’s over now…” you murmured softly, your fingers brushing against his damp cheeks with tender care, hoping to relieve his pain.

At your soothing words, his arms tightened around you, and he buried his face in your chest again. Loud sobs filled the quiet room. You stepped back very slowly to close the door behind him, then stood patiently, allowing him the time he needed to calm down.

As his cries subsided, your hands never left his dark hair. Your fingers moved gently, massaging his scalp, while your lips pressed light kisses into his messy locks. Feeling his icy tears soak through your shirt and hearing his vulnerable sobs made it feel as though his pain was your own. Your own tears slowly rolled down your cheeks.

Minutes later, Sunghoon’s breathing had steadied, though his nose still bled, staining your gray pajama shirt.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?” you said, gazing into his dark, expressive eyes. A familiar warmth stirred in your chest, the same feeling you tried to push away every time. Sunghoon always had that effect on you.

“Yeah, let’s go…” he replied softly, glancing down at the floor. He quickly removed his trainers before looking back at you, waiting for you to lead.

You giggled at his cute behaviour and took his hand, guiding him toward your small bathroom. Tonight, more than anything, he just wanted to stay close to you.

In the cramped, white-tiled bathroom, Sunghoon sat awkwardly on the toilet lid. He didn’t know what you were planning, but even if all you did was let him hold you for hours, he’d feel better.

You rummaged through the cabinet for your first-aid kit, knowing it had the essentials to clean his wounds. All the while, Sunghoon’s eyes followed your every movement.

It was the first time he’d seen you dressed so casually, and to him, the sight was mesmerizing. The way your pajama shirt lifted when you stretched, revealing a glimpse of your tummy, or how your loose pants sat low on your waist, perfectly hugging your attractive frame, made his heart race. He was already overwhelmed emotionally, and seeing you like this sent his hormones into overdrive.

He was stupidly in love with you, there was no denying that.

When you stepped out briefly to grab the kit, he exhaled deeply, trying to banish the scenarios in his head. But to his dismay, you returned just as quickly, the kit in hand.

You placed it on the sink, preparing some cotton soaked in alcohol. Standing between his parted legs, you leaned down to clean the cut on his nose, your movements careful and precise to avoid hurting him.

Sunghoon barely noticed the sting of the alcohol. His attention was fixed entirely on you—on your lips, softly bitten in concentration as you tended to his wounds. You were such an angel, so good to him…

He studied your face intently, his gaze tracing the careful lines of your expression. But soon, his wandering eyes drifted lower.

The neckline of your shirt had shifted further, and the undone buttons revealed more of your chest. Though you hadn’t meant to, the way you leaned forward gave him a view that made his breath hitch. The soft curves of your breast and the warm scent emanating from your neck left him dazed.

He felt his body grow even warmer, so he shifted his gaze elsewhere—only for his eyes to land back on your lips, now stained in a deep burgundy from how hard you were biting them. They looked irresistible, plump and glistening, tempting him beyond measure. As you carefully placed a small bandage on his nose, he murmured:

“I can’t do this anymore…”

Sunghoon gently tilted your chin downward, bringing your face closer so he could lock eyes with you. You looked down confused, your body getting warm to the feeling of his icy fingers on your face. His intense gaze seemed to reach straight into your soul, leaving you frozen and unable to look away.

Heat rose in your cheeks, and though you wanted to hide, you remained in place. His fingers held you firmly, keeping you exactly where he wanted. Sunghoon offered a faint smile before leaning in, pressing a soft, testing kiss to your lips.

They were gentle, warm, and utterly addictive. As soon as he pulled back, you instinctively leaned forward, seeking his touch again, desperate to reclaim the fluttering sensation in your chest. Your fingers slid into his dark hair, tugging lightly and drawing a soft groan from him. His thumb traced your flushed cheeks as his lips moved in sync with yours. When his tongue brushed against yours, you surrendered completely, letting the moment consume you.

The position wasn’t the most comfortable, so you shyly shifted onto his lap, settling on his firm thighs. When you finally parted to catch your breath, you straightened your back and looked down at him. His lips were reddened and glistening from your sensual abuse. Your eyes locked, and you reached out to cup his face, gently stroking his cheeks.

“Why did you get into a fight?” you asked softly, your voice tinged with concern. When he didn’t respond, pressing his lips together in hesitation, you added, “If you don’t want to tell me why, at least tell me what upset you so much.”

“He was talking badly about you,” Sunghoon finally admitted.

You held his gaze, waiting for him to say more, but he stayed quiet, his eyes lowering to your legs as you perched on his lap. The closeness seemed to make him nervous.

He didn’t want to repeat the cruel words the guy at boxing practice had said about you. Sunghoon couldn’t stand by while someone reduced you to a mere sex object, something so undeserving of your worth. When he confronted the guy, the taunts only escalated, pushing him over the edge. Sure, he walked away with a cut on his nose and a few bruises, but the other guy left with a broken nose and a swollen face. Sunghoon wasn’t about to tell you all that, though—he knew how much you hated his fights outside the ring.

“Promise me you won’t fight with those people again,” you said firmly, though your voice was soft. “Let them talk. I don’t care what they say about me, but I care about you. I hate seeing you hurt…”

Your words carried an unspoken confession, a hint of the feelings you’d been hiding all along.

“I won’t… I promise. But only because you asked so sweetly,” Sunghoon teased, his tone playful. It worked, drawing a shy smile from you.

As you rested your head against his broad shoulder, savoring the quiet intimacy, Sunghoon’s hands slid to your thighs, cautiously testing your reaction. When you smiled and leaned in, your eyes full of unspoken desire, he knew you wanted him just as much as he wanted you.

For Sunghoon, you were—and always would be—the only one who mattered.

Taglist; @grandlightcandy @seokseokjinkim @strxwbloody @enhasunghoonishot @contyynishimura @heewanrik @ranwonbin @leanderexists @lovelyyf @youngheejay @crimson-reaper576 @rikifever If you want to be added or taken off the taglist, just let me know!

2K notes · View notes

gravegoer · 25 days ago

Note

now that you mentioned pirate!sevika x siren!reader I NEED it omg

just thinking about it is making me go crazy

I hear your call ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ

THANK YOU !! ive been waiting for this one i also have a mermaid one, idk which I'm putting out first but ill link it when it here when it does come out but thank you for the asks! masterlist , part 2

part 3

You lured many crews to their deaths, men followed your alluring voice into the thrashing waves of the ocean. Willingly drowning themselves in the salt.

Once they heard your song, and saw your beautiful face their fate was already sealed. You were cunning and dangerous, not hesitating to go after any ship you saw.

This didn't change when you saw a wrecked ship on the shore of an island. The pirates were obviously disoriented, and fixing their ship to leave.

One tall, strong figure commanded them, voice booming and most definitely angry. When they walked off, you took this as your chance to strike, rising onto the shore, and from between your lips came a song.

The pirates in your vicinity turned their heads to admire you in awe, at that you smirked, beckoning them closer with a finger adorned in jewels.

Unexpectedly, a woman came out from behind the trees, you assumed she was the loud voice you heard earlier. Shit.

A woman being the captain of this crew was the last thing you expected.

She didn't hesitate to pull her gun from the holster and aim it in your direction. The bullet barely missed your side as you jumped away. The sharp sound made you stop your song immediately.

The men, previously in a trance, looked around. Their eyes eventually settled on you. You pushed away from the shore, but before you could swim, heavy hands grabbed you from under the arms.

The woman had managed to seize you in all your shock, and you thrashed and flailed in her strong hold. She pulled you from the water, metal arm clawing into your flesh, most definitely leaving red marks.

You could feel her warm chest against your back. It contrasted the cold that you usually felt on mens bodies when you pulled them overboard into the icy waves.

She held you up for the men to see, "We caught us a pretty one, aye?" A short, stout man spoke.

"She would sell for a lot, y'know."

"Nah, I think I wanna keep her. She's rather stunning."

"Are you serious she tried—"

"Enough."

The womans stern voice was loud enough to quiet the whole crew. You could feel the vibration of her chest when she spoke. It was a deep and gutteral hum.

"I want to be off this island by nightfall."

All the men scurried at her order, returning to their original positions. They spoke amongst themselves and murmured their complaints, now completely disregarding your presence.

She threw you into the sand, and you landed with a thump. You didn't skip a beat before you tried to claw your way back to shore, but were stopped short by her hand grabbing your tail.

"Now, what am I going to do with you." Her voice was surprisingly husky.

You let out a yelp and turned around to face her, holding yourself up on your elbows. You were now met with her smokey grey eyes and dark scarred skin that anyone would recognize.

Sevika.

She was a ruthless leader and led an even more unforgiving crew. Her reign was seemingly endless, ruling the seas for the better half of her life. Men and women that sailed the seas all respected her alike.

You parted your lips to start a song. But before you could even let out one note, she interrupted you, "That shit isn't going to work on me."

You knew that.

It was worth a try though.

She crouched over you, one knee digging into the sand beside you, and her other leg thrown over you, boot awfully close to your tail.

She reached out to your face with a warm hand, but you pulled back, baring your teeth to her in a snarl. Then she palmed your jaw more ferociously, smirking at your actions. She tilted your head from one side to another, eyes following the trail of scales down your neck.

Her lips were parted ever-so-slightly, and you could see the small gap between her teeth, showcased by her thick brown lips.

You had never been interested in humans, especially human men. Their sexual desire outruled any curiousity you had towards them. Men completely ruined the human race for you. In fact, they disgusted you. But you had never been this close to a human woman.

Usually, you targeted pirate ships, so coming across a woman was especially rare. At one point, you started to wonder if they even existed. But your doubts were disproven as the woman on top of you caused your breath to hitch in your throat.

"What are you going to do to me." You hissed.

"Oh, so she does speak," Sevika smirked before getting up and brushing sand off her pant leg, "I could chop you up and serve you to my men.. But that would be a waste. Plus, im not a fan of killing the local wildlife."

She was clearly amused by her joke, but you werent, you glared daggers at her, now crossing her arms as she towered above you. It was a clear display of her power and authority.

" 'M gonna have to keep you in my sight until we leave." She said, more in a teasing way than strict.

"I need water." You shot back at her, slightly grateful that she wasn't going to kill you, but the sun might just kill you itself if you didn't get back to the sea.

"Alright. I'll let you go to the shore. But if you even seem like you're going to swim away, I won't hesitate to shoot," She pulled her gun out of its holster again, flashing it to you as a warning.

At that, you turned to start clawing your way back to the rocks where you orignally resided. But you felt a large arm scoop you up instead. You were basically folded over Sevikas forearm, her hip balancing some of your weight as she walked you to your destination. You couldn't do anything but let your arms dangle over your head, fingertips brushing the ground. (maybe not if your short)

How embarassing.

When she plopped you into the water, you sighed deeply, feeling your gills thank the salt in the sea. The crew was now hidden from your view as the rocks were big enough to fill your vision. Sevika, on the other hand, was sitting atop one, eyeing her men.

You could take this perfect opportunity to swim away, but a part of you knew that she wasn't looking away because she trusted you to stay. She was looking away because she trusted herself to be able to shoot faster than your tail could hit the water.

So you opted to keep your place. You saw her shake her head at what you assumed to be the antics of the crew. Reaching into her pocket, she grabbed a zippo and lit a cigarillo that was now between her fingers.

You rolled your eyes at her, gills retracting when she blew out hot smoke in your direction. You rested your chin on your arms, laying against a smaller rock.

"What? Not a fan of tobacco?" She mused.

"I am not a fan of any human trinkets." Your lip curled in disgust at the smell.

She eyed the sparkly jewerly that hung from your limbs, "Doesn't seem that way to me."

You got defensive, "Enough. I found it myself."

That wasn't a lie. You kept a lot of the treasures you found in mens pockets, jewerly, watches, and compasses.

You didn't exactly fancy small talk, but Sevika insisted that they would be there for several more hours until her ship was fixed. So you would tell her some stories and let her look at your treasures.

The sun started to set on the horizon, and eventually, you were sitting on the rock next to her, her large hand tracing your scales with intrigue. You didn't feel disgusted by her touch or bored with her presence. This feeling was forgin to you, and you wanted to let your guard down.

But you also wanted to wrap your cold fingers around her throat and strangle her until her warm breath left her body. Leaving her there to swim back into the ocean.

You disregarded that and leaned into her touch, watching the sunset. Some kind of ease has settled itself into your bones, knowing that you couldn't control her with song or seduce her with melody.

And maybe you were finding yourself too much in thought, but you might have her wrapped around your finger without help from the sea. And maybe she was allured by your fantastical stories and airy laugh.

Suddenly, your train of thought was interrupted by a scraggly voice, "Aye, cuddling up to the captian?"

You jumped into the water, away from Sevikas side. She grabbed the handle of her gun with wide eyes before stopping when she saw you, unmoving and clinging to a rock.

She wasn't lying when she said she would shoot you at any attempt to flee. But a pang shot through your chest anyway.

She cleared her throat and spoke, "What could you possibly want."

He tilted his head to the now finished ship. "Told ya we could do it, cap."

She sighed, standing up from the rock and sparing you one last glance before walking back to her ship.

I guess this was your queue to leave, but after the day you spent with her, a part of you couldn't leave. She had piqued a feeling that nobody ever had before.

So you watched her speak to her crew from a distance, bobbing in the dark waters. Your lips were curled down in a pouty frown.

She let everyone board before her, patting a heavy hand on the last man's back. Just before she stepped onto the ramp, she caught your gaze. Her eyes widened, and you dipped back under the water, out of sight.

She sighed and started to ascend the ramp to the deck, but not before hearing a splash from beside her. It was you, your fingers grasped at the wood, head balancing just above the ramp. Your torso was completely out of the water, and it dripped from your skin.

Her heart lurched at the sight, and she reached towards you, bending down into the water. You lowered yourself back into the sea as she closed the distance between you now. Her hat barely balanced itself on her head when she stroked a thick finger down your cheek.

You held her hand against your face and closed the gap between your lips completely. Sevikas lips were thick and warm and tasted roughtly of tobacco.

She was so unlike you, but you yearned for her deeply. Her form was rugged and large compared to your swift elegance and shiney scales. But when she pulled away and you looked into her eyes, you didn't seem to care whether she had legs or a tail.

Only that she was yours.

"I'll follow you wherever you go."

can you tell that i love pirates, and this is my favorite trope.. ALSO, tell me why i rewrote this 3 times because tumblr kept deleting it.. and not proof read pls correct me on anything! and reposts + feedback is always appreciated <33 thank you for reading !!

2K notes · View notes

the-darklings · 1 month ago

Note

FOR YOUR ARCANE PROMPTS LIST POOKIE: "hands under your lover's clothes" w/Silco??? perhaps?? perchance?? PLS PLS POOKIE, MY GLORIOUS QUEEN, MY EVERYTHING <3

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ silco x gn!reader, complicated relationship, a little angst, no spoilers for s2, cat & mouse dynamic but who is who? wc: 768

“It’s dangerous playing games with a patient man.”

“Are you? Patient?”

Silco’s mouth flutters into what could pass for a fleeting smile. It’s a rare expression on him, an ease that is seldom seen in the years since he left Vander’s side. Nowadays, he is nothing like the fresh-faced youth so desperate to fix the world you first met.

“More so than many, I’d reckon,” he replies placidly, watching you with idle interest. You lean on his oak wood desk, the rough grain of the wood warm beneath your fingers as you skim over his notes and ledgers. His meticulous nature is evident in the way he organised everything about the Shimmer trade. It’s almost irritating. “You are here for a reason.”

The gentle accusation falls on deaf ears.

“I was just saying hello,” you drawl, your voice low, swinging your attention his way. Silco’s scoff is a low, throaty sound, barely audible, but filled with disdain.

You’re not sure when it started, you and him. If it was survival or a desire for a better life that drove you both from the start. You wanted freedom and independence and then he took the Undercity, and, in a way, you too. Since then, you’ve existed in his sphere, enjoying his favour. Flaunt it without making it obvious, slipping past the cracks of his rules.

He appears so collected on his chair, a king on his throne in truth, but his immaculate clothes are wrinkled, buttons undone, and his Adam’s apple bobs when you touch his tie. You know better than to go near his throat. The last time you did, fingers eager and teeth nipping at the taut flesh there, he jerked back as if shocked. Terror and rage had overcome him, twisting you on his bed, still tangled in each other, before you could turn back your instincts. When his hands closed around your throat in response, you didn’t fight him off, and maybe it was that above all else that made Silco snap out of his spell.

No, instead, you slip your hand past the unbuttoned shirt, tracing over his sharp collarbone. Silco rests his cheek lightly on his hand, watching you through a narrowed eyed stare. Daring you, yes, but also curious. The heavy scarring on his face never bothered you. You didn’t lack scars of your own, but this…

You slip forward, knee resting on the chair between his parted legs, hand slipping lower, to rest over his thudding heart.

“Hello.” Your lips shape the word before you breathe them against his lips again. Your free hand cups his face and the hard beat of his heart echoes against your palm.

The kiss is gentle, more civilised than either of you are used to, a sweetness that lingers even though it’s not what either of you normally craves, but when he doesn’t pull away, a secret thrill shoots up your spine. His deep inhale fills your ears, the heat of his lips imprinting on yours. A deep, rumbling sound vibrates through his chest when you deepen the kiss, your fingers moving in gentle circles over his skin.

With a viper’s swiftness, Silco snaps his hand behind your head when you break the kiss, keeping you close. Nose to nose, your breaths mingle. You can’t quite tell what lingers in his burning gaze, one icy blue, another molten gold.

“Are you hoping to endear yourself to me?” he asks, knowing and throaty. “A foolish play.”

“I won’t say that,” you say, breathless. “And if I was… well, I think you’re holding up just fine.”

Licking your lips, you pull back, grinning at him. He hasn’t moved, his knuckles returning to his cheek. Nonchalant, except for the heavy weight with which he still examines you. Silco won’t indulge you in admitting you do this because you’re the only one he can rely on in this shitty, twisted world of yours. You support his vision, you’ve always believed it, even when you were younger.

Adjusting your dishevelled clothes, you look over at him once more. Not so crisp and orderly for once. Satisfaction nestles in your gut at the observation that the usually perfectly groomed and dressed man—this infamous crime lord—is a mess in the dim light of his office. Undone. Caught. Even if predatory hunger reflects in that golden hue.

You wag your fingers in a playful wave. “It’s dangerous playing games with patient people, love, haven’t you heard?”

#arcane #arcane x reader #silco x reader #arcane fic #arcane silco #arcane silco x reader #ANYTHING FOR YOU POOKIE BEAR.

2K notes · View notes

eu-nicola · 1 month ago

Text

Morocco part 1

summary: Rafe says goodbye to Sofia and leaves her in outer banks while he goes to Morocco, where you are also and the danger that happens there rekindles the spark both of you thought had lost

warnings: mention of death, weapons, cheating, pregnancy, etc. only things of s4

word counter: 9000

author's note: spoilers of s4, many things have been changed but there are still spoilers, english is not my first language, this is long so get ready to read

There was a warm breeze blowing in from the ocean, bringing with it the smell of salt and adventure. You stood on the shore, watching the waves crash against the sharp, black rocks of the Outer Banks coastline. The sunset dyed the sky deep oranges and reds, painting long, brooding shadows across the sand. In the distance, the lighthouse flickered with its intermittent light, marking time. Your thoughts were filled with questions now that you were going to Morocco, and Rafe’s silhouette approaching along the wooden walkway only intensified that unease.

Rafe had that look in his eyes that you had always found difficult to read, a mix of defiance and nonchalance that gave him an almost untouchable air. He walked with a confident gait, hands in his pockets, white shirt fluttering lightly in the wind. When he was close enough, you stopped, feeling tension take hold of your muscles. He noticed your expression and, without a word, stood beside you, staring out at the ocean as if you shared a secret that only he understood.

“How are you?” you asked, breaking the silence with a voice that sounded shakier than you had planned. It wasn’t a casual question; you both knew he was carrying a heavier weight. His eyes narrowed just a little, and after a moment that seemed like an eternity, he let out a sigh.

“Sofia is going to stay here,” he said suddenly, as if he had been waiting for you to ask. His words fell like stones to the bottom of your stomach, sinking you into a feeling of emptiness. “I didn’t want to risk taking my future wife to Morocco.”

It took your mind a while to process what he had just said, as if your brain had hit an unexpected wall. Future wife? The icy surprise ran across your skin, leaving you feeling cold in the stifling summer heat. You forced yourself to keep your composure, to not let the confusion become visible, but it was too late: Rafe was already watching you with that look that knew too much.

“Are you engaged?” you finally asked, trying to make your voice sound natural, but feeling the lump in your throat tighten a little more with each word. He gave you a slight smile, which barely curved his lips, but was reflected more intensely in his eyes.

“Yes,” he answered, and the weight of that simple statement crushed your chest. You looked back at the horizon, looking for a respite in the immensity of the sea. The waves continued to break, indifferent to human emotions, while you struggled to maintain the balance between surprise and the pain that you did not dare to let out.

Rafe nodded, his smile wider and more sincere than yours. “Thank you,” he said in a tone that revealed a kind of relief, as if he had been waiting for your reaction with hidden caution. There was a moment of silence, awkward and dense, in which neither of you moved or looked away from the ocean. The waves continued their eternal back and forth, and for a moment you wondered what it would be like to be anywhere else in the world, a place where Rafe’s words couldn’t reach you and where the echo of “future wife” didn’t resonate in your mind like a persistent hammering.

The breeze blew harder, carrying with it the echo of distant laughter and the voices of seagulls, and as Rafe looked back out to sea, you felt everything moving around you, except you.

You fell silent, allowing the sound of the sea and the wind to carry away the unspoken words. You didn't want to talk about Rafe's engagement anymore, or about Sofia, or what it meant to you. You had learned to swallow your emotions, to let them burn inside you until they became something more bearable, like ashes after a fire. So you didn't say anything. You just nodded almost imperceptibly and took a step back, as if you were walking away from a conversation that had already ended.

Rafe watched you with fleeting curiosity, but he didn't insist. He, too, knew when it was best to leave things as they were. Without another word, he turned around and walked back along the same wooden path he had come by, his footsteps echoing in the increasingly dark afternoon. You stayed a few seconds longer, trying to let the cold in your chest dissipate and your breathing return to a normal rhythm.

When you finally turned around, your thoughts were already far away from there, beyond the ocean, in the dunes of Morocco, in the legends surrounding the Blue Crown. That relic had been the center of stories and rumors among treasure-hunting circles, a lost jewel whose importance went beyond wealth: it was said to have the power to change the fate of whoever possessed it. And now, it was sought not only by you and Rafe, but also by the Pogues, and others.

You had no time to be distracted, and you couldn't let your emotions prevent you from acting with the coolness that the situation required. You returned to your home where on the worn wooden table, the map of Morocco was spread out, with handwritten notes and markings indicating the places you had investigated before. You sat down, letting the weight of determination replace the pang of jealousy and disappointment you still felt.

You looked through your things: an old compass that had belonged to your grandfather, oil lanterns, a sharp knife, and a copy of a manuscript with cryptic clues about the location of the Blue Crown, clothes, and a lot of money.

As night fell over the Outer Banks and the stars began to twinkle in the sky, you promised yourself that you would find the Crown, no matter how many obstacles stood in your way. You weren’t interested in having it, but in what it took to have it, the deals you could make, and how proud your father would be if you did. It would be your victory, your vindication with your father after he nearly “killed” you when he found out you weren’t with Rafe anymore and you ruined his perfect life by not marrying a Cameron. You pushed those memories from your mind, focusing your eyes on the map and letting the adrenaline and obsession with the search take over.

Tomorrow, everything would change.

The Moroccan sun was merciless, a golden blaze that seemed hell-bent on burning your skin and sapping every ounce of energy you had. The air was dry, with a hint of sand that seeped into your mouth and stuck to your skin. You walked through a bustling market, where the aromas of spices, leather, and sweat mingled in a heady, chaotic mix. Vendors shouted in Arabic and French, selling everything from hand-woven rugs to intricately detailed gold jewelry. Despite the fascination you could feel for the place, the heat made every step a struggle.

“Damn heat,” you mutter as you wipe the sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand. Your clothes, light but already soaked, clung to your skin uncomfortably. You were tired, overwhelmed, and everything seemed even more complicated in the middle of that maze of narrow streets.

Behind you, you hear a low, familiar laugh. “Are you really complaining about the heat?” Rafe’s voice comes with a hint of sarcasm you know well. He’d joined the expedition at the last minute. He wore dark sunglasses and a smile that made him seem completely unfazed, even under the relentless desert sun.

“It’s not that different from home,” he adds, raising an eyebrow and giving you a look that mixes defiance and complicity. His words hit you with an unexpected truth, and although you hate to admit it, you agree with a slight nod.

“You’re right,” you acknowledge, trying not to show the irritation you felt. Outer Banks might be stifling, humid, and wild, but this dry, scorching heat had its own way of imposing itself. Still, the comparison was still valid.

Rafe stops next to a stall where an old man sells copper and silver amulets. He takes one between his fingers, examining it with that calm attention he used to display before making a major move. His presence is as familiar as it is exasperating, a constant that forced you to stay alert.

“Don’t forget what we’re here for,” he murmurs without looking at you, as he returns the amulet to the old man with a polite smile. His words bring you back to the present, to the mission.

You take a deep breath, letting the warm air fill your lungs and force you to focus. “I never forget,” you reply, and although your words sound firm, you both knew that heat, distractions, and personal tensions were silent enemies.

Rafe smirks, a gesture that could be either respect or mockery. Then, without further ado, he walks into the crowd, motioning for you to follow him.

Hours later, night fell over Morocco with the speed of a closing curtain, leaving the air still warm and charged with the promise of new intrigue. The market streets, which during the day were a hive of life, were transformed into a labyrinth of shadows and flashing lights, where low-voiced conversations and distant laughter mingled with the hum of oil lamps. You found yourself in one of these streets, walking briskly alongside Rafe, whose eyes seemed to scan every corner, alert for any sign of movement.

You knew the Pogues were in town. They’d been following the treasure trail for almost as long as you had, and though your paths had crossed in the past, you’d never considered joining them. Until now.

“Are you sure about this?” you asked Rafe, feeling the weight of doubt like a stone in your stomach. It was an idea that had seemed absurd to you when it first came up, but the more you thought about it, the more logical it made. Two opposing forces joining forces for a common goal. But with Rafe, you could never be completely sure of anything.

Rafe cast a glance over his shoulder, his lips twisting into a smile that was more of a warning than a friendly gesture. “Relax. It suits them as much as it suits us.” You stopped at the edge of a crossroads, the yellowish light of a streetlamp illuminating half of his face and leaving the other half plunged into darkness. “Don’t worry so much, if there’s one thing I know about them it’s that they can’t resist an opportunity,” she added, lowering her voice and moving closer.

The meeting was scheduled in an old warehouse near the port, a place where stacked wooden boxes and hanging ropes created a scene that seemed straight out of a pirate tale. The place smelled of salt and damp wood, and the echoes of the waves crashing against the docks filled the space with a constant murmur. When you arrived, the Pogues were already there, standing in a tense semicircle, exchanging glances and whispers. John B, with his disheveled hair and alert expression, was the first to spot you. Beside him, Sarah tensed her jaw at the sight of Rafe, and you couldn’t blame her. The wounds between them ran deep, scars that would take a while to heal, if they ever did.

“What are you doing here?” JJ’s voice was the first to break the silence. His eyes, normally full of spark and humor, were now hard as steel. Kie stood beside him, arms crossed and an expression that clearly said he didn’t trust what was happening.

Rafe raised his hands, as if to show he had no ill intentions. “Relax. We’re not here to fight. We’re here to help.”

“Help?” John B repeated the word as if it were a joke, and a bitter laugh escaped his throat. “Why the hell should we trust you?”

“You shouldn’t,” you intervened, taking a step forward. All eyes fell on you, and you felt the weight of uncertainty in each gaze. “But if we want to find the Crown before others do, we have no choice. Rafe and I know things, we have clues that can lead us to it. And you also have information that we need.”

There was a moment of tense silence. Eyes met, searching for answers that neither was willing to give. Pope was the first to move, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes as if he were assessing the situation. “What kind of information?” he finally asked, his tone calculating and full of caution.

Rafe smiled, and you knew he’d been waiting for that question. “We know the last clue leads to a site in the Atlas Mountains. But it’s not a place you can get to with maps and courage alone. You need someone who knows the terrain, and we just happen to have people who do.”

Kie let out a sigh, lowering her arms and casting a quick glance at her friends. “It’s crazy,” she muttered, though there was a glint in her eyes that suggested the idea, as dangerous as it was, intrigued her.

John B gritted his teeth, his gaze shifting from you to Rafe, then to his friends. There was a decision to be made, and you both knew it. Finally, he nodded, though not willingly. “Okay, but if this is a trap…”

“It’s not,” you interrupted. And though your words were firm, you knew that everyone there had reasons to doubt. The alliance was not perfect, and past scars still hurt. But in the search, distrust would be a luxury they could not afford.

Rafe crossed his arms, pleased, and looked at John B with a flash of defiance. “Then we better get started. The mountains aren’t going to wait for us.”

The group exchanged glances, a tacit agreement that felt like a leap into the dark.

Dawn in Morocco came with unexpected warmth, as if the sun had risen early with the sole purpose of testing everyone’s patience. The souk, which had just awakened with the first light, was filled with life in a matter of minutes: merchants displayed their wares, children ran through the alleys, and the air was filled with the aroma of spices and freshly baked bread. The relative calm of the morning didn’t last long.

It had been barely two days since you formed that precarious alliance with the Pogues and, as you feared, things quickly went awry. You weren’t sure what exactly had caused the chaos – whether it was Rafe trying to “get information” the way he usually did, or whether it was an unfortunate run-in with another group of treasure hunters who had gotten wind of the treasure. The truth was that you now found yourself running at full speed between clay buildings and narrow alleys, the sound of your footsteps echoing off the walls as the screams and curses of your pursuers filled the air behind you.

“Rafe! This is madness!” you shouted as you dodged a fruit stand that you nearly knocked over in your wake. Oranges rolled across the ground, and the merchant let out an enraged scream that was lost in the melee. Rafe, running beside you with a grin that bordered on reckless, barely turned to look at you.

“Calm down, I’ve got it under control!” he replied in a tone that made you want to punch him in the midst of all the confusion. The shadow of a smile remained on his face, as if this was all just a game and not a race to keep his skin intact.

“You better fix it, Rafe!” you roared, feeling the burn in your legs and the metallic taste of effort in your mouth. “I wanted at least a couple of good days in Morocco!” You couldn’t remember the last time you’d had a moment of true tranquility, and in that instant, the desire for everything to be different mixed with the adrenaline that drove you to keep running.

Rafe let out a laugh, one you didn’t know whether to admire or detest. “Good days? That’s not part of the deal, friend.” His words seemed laden with irony, but also with a truth that stuck in you like a thorn.

You turned a corner and felt the sunlight hit you directly in the face, blinding you for a crucial second. You staggered and almost fell when you tripped on a small step, but Rafe grabbed your arm and pushed you forward without stopping. The footsteps behind you were getting closer, and you could hear shouts in Arabic that, although you didn’t fully understand, made it clear that the intentions were anything but friendly.

“To the right!” Rafe shouted, letting go of you and pointing down a side street that seemed narrower than the one before. Without thinking, you turned, your heart pounding in your chest like a crazed drum. The alley narrowed even further, and the terracotta-colored walls seemed to close in around you. You could feel the adrenaline bubbling through your veins, sweat soaking through your shirt, and the sound of the chase ringing in your ears as a constant reminder of how close they were.

Suddenly, a thud to your left caught your attention: John B and JJ had emerged from a hidden passage, expressions mixing surprise and relief at seeing you. “What the hell did they do now?!” JJ shouted, a spark of reproach in his eyes.

“This isn’t the time for details,” you replied between gasps, and without stopping, you walked past them, followed by Rafe, who still had that impassive smile.

“We have to split up,” John B said, taking the lead and pointing with a sharp gesture. “We’ll meet at the meeting point! Go that way!” And before you could answer, he and JJ disappeared into another narrow passage, like moving shadows.

You and Rafe kept running, the chase now divided and the sound of footsteps diminishing. The alley opened up into a small square, where the midday shadows were deeper. There, you leaned against a wall, trying to catch your breath and process what had just happened.

Rafe glanced at you, his breathing ragged but a spark of excitement in his eyes. “You see,” he said, wiping the sweat from his brow with a quick gesture, “this is what makes everything more interesting.”

You looked at him, feeling a mixture of exasperation and a strange camaraderie wash over you. Maybe he was crazy, or maybe you were crazy for keeping up with him.

After the chase, everything had calmed down, they continued doing their thing during the day and at night when they went to rest at a place where they were staying while you slept you were startled by a thud in the next room. You barely had time to stand up when the door was flung open and a tall man, with scars on his face and eyes as dark as night, pointed a gun at you. “Not a single move, girl,” he hissed in broken English, the threat in his voice as clear as the gun in his hand.

Rafe, who was in the other room, burst in without a second thought. The fight was quick, a clash of bodies and blows that echoed in the small room like war drums. With your heart racing, you searched for something, anything to defend yourself, and your fingers found an old metal lamp. You didn’t think about it. With all the strength you could muster, you threw it at the intruder’s head, the metallic sound echoing as it hit him and sent him reeling.

“Get out!” Rafe shouted, his voice a roar that snapped you out of your trance. You moved toward the door as he finished subduing the intruder. Outside, the streets were deserted, a blanket of silence that was almost as dangerous as the bustle of the crowd. You knew they couldn’t stay there. They had to move.

The next day, things only got worse. Despite having agreed on a meeting point with the Pogues, the pressure of being under constant surveillance and dodging suspicious glances became unbearable. Pope had managed to decipher an ancient map that seemed to lead to a cave in the Atlas Mountains, but they hadn’t counted on the other hunters who caught wind of the advance.

The chase began in the market, with the clatter of falling pots and screams from confused vendors who barely understood what was happening. You leapt up a stone staircase that led up to the rooftops, Rafe hot on your heels and JJ and Kie a few feet behind, bringing up the rear. From above, the flat roofs of the souk stretched out like a makeshift battlefield, dotted with hanging clothes and rusty antennas. The air was thick with heat and dust, making every breath a challenge.

Gunshots rang out in the distance, the echo spreading through the streets like a wave. You threw yourself to the ground just in time to avoid a second shot, feeling adrenaline turn your fear into a searing drive. Rafe held out a hand and helped you up, the urgency in his eyes clearer than ever. “We have to get down from here now!” he shouted over the din, pointing to an old staircase that led to a narrow alley.

They managed to climb down and into the tangle of streets, but the sense of impending danger never left. The group briefly took refuge in a cellar, where John B pulled out the map and spread it out on a splintered wooden table. “The cave is close, but we need to make a detour. We’re being followed closely,” he said, his gaze fixed on the markings that indicated a winding path into the mountains.

The tension in the air was palpable. No one fully trusted Rafe, and Kie kept giving you worried glances, as if trying to gauge how much more you could take. You were tired, exhausted, but at the moment the idea of stopping seemed as far away as peace itself.

That night, when the group decided to split up, you found yourself alone with Rafe in a dark passage, the echo of screams and gunshots still haunting you. The shadows on the stone walls seemed to lengthen and twist as if they were alive, too, watching you. You walked in silence, your breathing still ragged and your body on high alert. Rafe, ever alert, stopped suddenly and put a hand on your arm. The touch was cold, but it also had a hint of urgency that made you still.

“Listen,” he whispered. You barely noticed the sound of footsteps coming toward you, slow and calculated. Before you could process it, someone grabbed you from behind and dragged you into the darkness of an alley. You kicked and punched, fighting with all your might as Rafe tried to reach you.

You knew you had been missing for no more than a couple of hours, you had learned to count time without a watch and without getting lost and you knew that you had been exactly two hours with your head covered, except for your mouth.

In an unexpected twist, it was John B who appeared out of nowhere, pulling your captor and slamming him against the wall with a force that seemed impossible for his build. Once free, you breathed heavily, feeling the world around you blur. You were tired, but John B’s gaze, full of concern and determination, reminded you that you were not alone.

“We have to move. Now,” he said and you quickly followed.

The streets began to calm down as John B led you through a maze of passages further and further away from the bustle of the souk.

Finally, John B stopped in front of an old wooden door, dark with age and dust. He knocked three times in a rhythmic manner, and the door creaked open. You entered behind him, feeling tiredness creeping through your body like an unbearable weight. The small room you entered was lit by an oil lamp in one corner, casting a dim light that made the shadows lengthen and distort.

There, sitting in a chair with an expression somewhere between worry and relief, was Rafe. When he saw you, his eyes lit up with a flash of excitement that he quickly tried to hide under a facade of serenity. You had no time for words; you threw yourself at him, hugging him tightly, feeling the warmth of his body and the accelerated beat of his heart under your arms. For a moment, nothing else mattered.

Rafe hugged you back, his grip firm, almost desperate. For an instant, he wasn’t the troubled, arrogant man you’d shared so many moments of uncertainty with, but someone who shared the weight of the same struggle, the same fear, and the same need to find respite amidst the chaos.

“I thought I’d have to kill someone to find you,” he murmured, his voice husky near your ear, heavy with a feeling he couldn’t or wouldn’t admit. You felt his hands tighten around you, as if he feared that if he loosened his grip, you might disappear into the dimness of the room.

“I almost did,” you admitted, pulling back just enough to look him in the eyes.

John B coughed softly, breaking the tension in the air and reminding you that you weren’t alone. You looked over at him, and behind him, JJ and Kie had gathered, each with expressions ranging from relief to distrust. Kie smiled briefly, but JJ kept his stance alert, always the first to suspect Rafe.

“We need to decide our next move,” John B said, crossing his arms and glancing around at everyone in the room. “Those following us aren’t going to stop, and the cave in the mountains isn’t going to sit around waiting for us.”

Rafe let out a low, almost inaudible laugh and looked away, as if he was considering John B’s words. You felt the knot in your chest slowly unravel, replaced by the determination they all shared: to find what they were looking for.

After the conversation, the small room fell into a heavy silence, interrupted only by tired sighs and the occasional creaking of chairs. The tired looks, the few words. The adrenaline of the day was finally beginning to fade, and exhaustion took its place with relentless force. John B and the others found corners in the room to rest, spreading threadbare blankets on the floor and chairs.

Rafe looked at you and nodded silently, both of you knowing you wouldn't stay there. Without exchanging another word, you walked out the back door, into the shadows of the streets of Marrakech. You walked in silence, unhurried but not stopping, following the paths you already knew by heart. The house you shared was a few streets away, a replica of the many modest buildings in the neighborhood, but set back enough to offer you a semblance of privacy and safety.

Upon arriving, Rafe opened the door and let you in first. The interior was dark and cool, a welcome welcome after the scorching heat of the day and the tension that seemed to have been tied to your back like a weight. You closed your eyes for a moment, allowing yourself to feel the ephemeral peace of the place, before letting out a deep sigh and moving towards the small room in the back, where a low, simple bed awaited you.

Rafe stood in the doorway, watching you with a mix of tiredness and something else you couldn’t quite make out. “Do you want me to make you something to drink?” he asked, his voice soft and husky.

You shook your head as you kicked off your shoes and dropped onto the bed. “No, I just… need to sleep. It’s been too much for today.” You laid down on your side, hugging one of the pillows and feeling your eyelids begin to droop. You didn’t expect Rafe to do the same, but suddenly you heard him move. The floorboards creaked beneath his feet, and the lamplight flickered for a moment before he blew out the last spark and everything went dark.

You flinched slightly as you felt the weight of the bed dip beside you. You turned your head, and though you could barely see his features in the darkness, you could feel his proximity, the heat radiating from his body. “I’m not staying in that house with them,” he murmured, like an explanation, though you didn’t need one. You didn’t respond, just closed your eyes, too exhausted to think about what it meant.

The silence stretched between you, only broken by the slow, deep breaths that began to come together. Without realizing it, as tiredness dragged you to sleep, you turned a little, looking for a more comfortable position. Your hands brushed Rafe's arm, and he moved barely, as if responding to your touch was a reflex. Before you could think about what was happening, you felt his arm slide around your waist, pulling you towards him. It was a protective, warm gesture, and although at another time you would have said something, in that instant you only sighed, feeling your body relax completely.

With his breath close to your ear and the safety of his arms around you, the tension that had accompanied you for days finally dissolved.

The next morning the sun began to filter through the cracks in the window, filling the room with a soft light that contrasted with the darkness you had fallen into the night before. You woke up slowly, eyelids heavy, body still marked by the tiredness of the day before. Without moving, you felt the warmth of Rafe’s body beside you, his arm still around your waist, and for a moment you couldn’t help but smile quietly.

You tried to turn around to get out of his embrace without making a sound, hoping you wouldn’t wake him, but when you tried to move, something pulled at you. Rafe, still asleep, pulled you closer to him, a gesture so automatic that it made you sigh silently. Your body tensed at first, but then you realized it couldn’t be that bad, at least for a moment longer.

“Don’t go,” he murmured quietly, his tone rough with sleep. The softness of his words made your chest tighten unintentionally.

You stayed still for a second, staring at the ceiling, feeling the warmth of his embrace envelop you, as if the entire world had disappeared, leaving only that small corner of peace between the two of you. But reality, as always, quickly took over. You didn’t want to be that person, you didn’t want to confuse yourself or complicate things further. It was a hug, nothing more.

“Rafe...” you began quietly, almost afraid to interrupt the peace that had formed between you. “I’m not Sofia.”

The sound of his breathing changed, and then, with a calmness that surprised you, he replied, “I know,” as he held you even tighter against his chest. His words were soft, as if there was nothing to clarify, nothing to change. “I just… want to keep sleeping.”

Despite his relaxed tone, you couldn’t stay there all day. You already knew that time was pressing, and things were still moving outside of that little bubble of calm you’d shared with him. “There are things to do, Rafe,” you said, your tone firmer this time. “And we need to eat.”

A frustrated sigh escaped his lips at that moment, but eventually he relented. His body tensed a little as, with a grimace, he began to pull away from you, his arm finally releasing you, though his gaze was still a little clouded by sleep.

“It’s okay,” he said, sitting up with a hand on his head, as if trying to clear his head a little before getting up. “But only because you have to eat.”

The smile that escaped you upon hearing his tired, yet resigned tone was almost inevitable. You got up first, stretching and looking for clean clothes. As you watched him prepare his way to get up.

After a simple but necessary breakfast, with the morning warmth streaming in through the windows, the pace of the day continued. The conversations about the map and the cave in the mountains were quickly forgotten as each of you went about your own business. The chaos and paranoia of the day before had subsided, but danger was still present in every corner of Morocco, lurking in the darkness, waiting for the right moment to emerge.

Rafe, as always lately, had decided to act without thinking too much about it. There was something in his nature that pushed him to throw himself into risky situations without measuring the consequences. And, as always, it ended in trouble.

That trouble came in the form of an old acquaintance who appeared in the square, with clear intentions of collecting old debts. Rafe tried to negotiate, to talk to him in terms he clearly didn’t understand, while you watched from afar, feeling a growing unease in your stomach. There was something about the man’s posture, his cold gaze, that told you that they weren’t going to get out of this well.

The exchange of words escalated quickly, the tone of the conversation going from tense to aggressive in seconds. You knew it wasn’t going to end well, but what you didn’t expect was what happened next.

The man moved quickly, his hand searching for something in his jacket. You didn’t need to be told, it all happened in the blink of an eye. Rafe had backed away, but the man already had a gun in his hands, and his intention was clear. Rafe’s gaze hardened, and in that moment you understood that he couldn’t escape.

The man raised the gun towards him, and the world seemed to slow down for an instant. You knew there was no time to think about it. Fear transformed into action without your brain being able to fully process it. Without thinking, you pulled out the gun you had taken from the cellar the night before. In one swift movement, you aimed and fired.

The sound of the gunshot rang through the air, the echo repeating in your ears as the man fell to the ground, with a grunt of pain, the gun slipping from his hand. Quickly, you turned to Rafe, who was only a few feet away from you, watching what had happened with a mix of surprise and gratitude, but also with the awareness of what had just happened.

“Are you...?” you began, but the words got caught in your throat. Adrenaline was still flowing through your veins, making your hands shake slightly, but there was no time to reflect.

Rafe, after a moment of silence, finally spoke. “Well done,” he said in a tone you couldn’t quite read. But there was something in his gaze, a deep gratitude, and also a concern that he didn’t want to admit.

“It’s nothing,” you lied, quickly putting the gun away, though your heart was still racing. “Be careful, I need you to be the Rafe who makes deals with the worst people possible and comes out on top.”

Rafe didn’t say anything. He looked at the fallen man, then turned to you, and without another word, he nodded. “Let’s move on.”

The two of you walked quickly, away from the scene, the shadows of the streets covering you. Rafe walked a few steps ahead of you.

Your breathing was still irregular, the adrenaline already starting to wear off. The question that had formed in your head escaped your mouth, more out of impulse than out of need to know the answer.

“Isn’t there a minute where we have peace? Where I don’t have to get your ass out of some trouble?” you blurted out, the irony in your voice evident. You didn’t know if you wanted to laugh or scream, but something about the situation made you blurt out that question as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Rafe, without turning around, let out a dry laugh, the one you already knew was the only way he had to deal with the situation, a defense against the chaos that surrounded him. “Like with Sheriff Peterkin,” he said, and although his words seemed light, there was something in his tone that he couldn’t hide: the heaviness of that memory.

The mention of the policewoman made you pause for a second. You knew exactly what he meant. That time, long before they got to this point, you remembered the local police who had almost caught Rafe and his family, so he took it upon himself only for reasons that were never fully understood, your father intervened, paying whatever it took to cover it all up.

You knew that, in some way, your father’s hand was always present, ensuring that Rafe’s problems didn’t affect him, although it had left you with a bitter feeling in your stomach. Your father never talked about these situations, but it was clear that he had ways of cleaning up messes that others couldn’t. And in some way, he included you in his world, which you were used to and liked.

“I know,” you answered with a wry smile. You couldn’t help but think of everything you had done to protect Rafe, everything you had put aside for him, for his sake. And what did you get in return? More trouble, more chaos. But at the same time, you couldn’t deny that something about that connection dragged you down, something you couldn’t control.

Rafe glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, and for a moment, his eyes softened, as if you were reading his thoughts. “Thank you,” he said quietly, though it wasn’t the kind of thanks that made you feel completely at ease.

“Don’t be,” you replied quickly, feeling the moment become more tense than it already was. “I don’t need you to thank me, Rafe. This is what always happens. But I don’t want to be your fixer all the time.”

Silence fell between you again as you walked through the streets, the sun already warming the air uncomfortably. Your dress, though light at first, now felt sticky and dirty. Sweat ran down your back and the line of your neck, and the dust of the streets stuck to your skin only made things worse. You rubbed your forehead, desperate, and muttered more to yourself than to Rafe.

“This is unbearable. I’m sweaty, dirty, and… I need a bath urgently. This is torture.”

Rafe walked a few steps ahead, but his eyes shifted to you for a moment, as if he was trying to process what you had just said. He didn’t seem worried, but he did seem a little amused to see you in this state.

“I know, but it’s not the most important thing right now,” he said, in his usual, somewhat carefree tone. “We have to stay focused.”

You frowned as you brushed off your dress. “Yeah, sure, very focused… but I could be a lot more productive if I wasn’t so uncomfortable.” You looked around, realizing how ridiculous it sounded: here you were, running away from one problem after another, and all you could think about was a bathroom.

Rafe, noticing your tone, let out a low, amused laugh, as if the idea of worrying about something so mundane in the midst of all the chaos was completely absurd. “It’s not my fault you’re not going to take a bath with me,” he said, as if to joke.

You turned to him, one eyebrow raised, and prepared to respond, but before you could say anything, he gave you a small tap on the arm, almost playfully, while smirking. The way he did it seemed so natural, as if everything else around them disappeared for a second.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” he added between laughs. “You can wait a little longer before you get in the water.”

He looked at you with that lopsided smile that, despite everything, couldn’t take away the discomfort of being drenched in sweat and dirt. But you couldn’t help but laugh, despite how upset you were.

“Easy for you to say, right?” You said, trying to make a face, but you couldn’t help but crack a slight smile. “When you’re not the one stuck in a sticky dress with your hair stuck to your face.”

Rafe, hearing your tone, simply shrugged, still smiling. “I promise that once we get somewhere safe, you can shower all you want. In the meantime, just hold on a little longer. It’s not all that bad, right?”

You stayed silent for a moment, looking at his relaxed face as you walked. You knew he was partly right. In the end, the sweat and heat were nothing compared to what you had already faced. But, despite everything, you couldn’t help but think about how much good a nice bath would do you.

“Okay, but don’t make me wait too long,” you said in a more relaxed tone, feeling your body ease up a bit as the tension was released with those words. “Because really, Rafe, I need something more than water to cool off.”

Rafe, looking at you with that look of his, just nodded, and with a mischievous smile on his face, he replied, “I promise, just hold on a little longer.”

You pushed yourself gently against his arm, and laughed.

Although the hours had felt endless, they ended up being productive for you and Rafe. The search for clues had paid off, although not in the way you had expected. They had managed to find some things and talk to some people who would help them, and they had also made some important progress in getting an address that seemed more promising than the previous ones. Despite the discomfort of the heat, the chases they had barely dodged, and the tensions between them, you felt that the hours had been worth it.

The streets, which had previously seemed overwhelming and chaotic, now felt more familiar. They had managed to blend in a bit with the locals, and although curious eyes continued to follow them, they managed to move more confidently, at least until it got late. Finally, after a day of intense work and a couple of altercations, night fell over Morocco, and the cool breeze that was beginning to blow made you breathe a sigh of relief.

As the shadows lengthened, the city seemed to calm down a bit, the streets less hectic, the heat of the day slowly easing. You were tired, the sweat stuck to your skin was no longer just uncomfortable, but had left you feeling heavy. All you wanted at that moment was a bath, but you knew things couldn't be that simple.

Rafe had disappeared for a moment, perhaps to talk to someone or continue digging into some clue that had surfaced, but you couldn't wait any longer. You quickly walked to the house you had rented, the temporary shelter where you could only think about taking off everything you had endured that day.

Entering the small dwelling, you closed the door behind you with a sigh of relief. You no longer had to be on alert all the time. There was no immediate danger in sight, and at last, you had some time to yourself.

You quickly headed to the bathroom, where a large, old tub was waiting for you, filled with water that still felt somewhat warm, as if someone had prepared everything in advance. You didn't hesitate for a second and, without thinking twice, you began to undress, removing clothes soaked in sweat and dust from the day. Each piece of clothing you dropped on the floor seemed to take a little more of the weight off your shoulders.

You sank into the tub with a sigh of relief, letting the warm water envelop your tired body. You lay back with your arms outstretched on the edge, closing your eyes and letting the warmth surround you, covering you completely. Each bubble that formed on the surface seemed to soothe you more, as if you were letting go of all the stress and tension you had built up.

The sound of the water gently moving around you was the only thing you could hear, and for a moment, you felt like everything else was left behind. You only thought about yourself, and the movement of the water.

The warmth of the water was beginning to relax you completely, and every part of your body that had been tense during the day was slowly letting go. You had your eyes closed, enjoying the moment, when you finally managed to disconnect from everything else, even Rafe's presence. At last, you felt like the world could wait a little.

The soak in the tub was beyond relaxing. Without thinking, you began to completely relax, the hot, bubbling water enveloping your body as tiredness slipped away from you.

You allowed yourself to stay there for a few more minutes, enjoying the peace that so rarely came to you.

When you finally got out of the tub, you felt like new. The water had done wonders on your tired body.

You decided to replace the water in the tub before Rafe arrived. The water you had used was warm, but it wasn't as hot anymore, so you decided to fill it up again for him. You did this more out of instinct than anything else, you wanted to offer him some peace of mind after everything you had been through that day. The sound of the water flowing in the tub was the only thing you could hear as you prepared to go get some clean clothes.

You didn't notice it at first, but when you returned to the living room, you heard the door open. Rafe walked in with his tired, somewhat heavy gait, but it wasn’t until you turned to look at him again that you noticed something odd about his posture. Something about the way he walked, slightly hunched over, made you frown.

Rafe was hurt.

The sweat on his face and the blood stains on his clothes didn’t go unnoticed. There was some wound, perhaps superficial, but enough to make you worry. You hurried to approach him, but he raised his hand, stopping you before you could say anything.

“I’m fine,” he said, his voice tense but firm, as if he didn’t want you to treat him like he was a child. “Just a couple of scratches. A bath will do me good, and that’s it.” His tone was so direct that it left no room for further discussion, as if the idea of being helped was something he preferred to avoid.

You stared at him for a moment, feeling a lump form in your throat. You wanted to help, to do something, but you knew Rafe wasn’t going to let you do it. You knew him too well to know that he wouldn’t accept help easily, especially when it came to something as “minor” as a wound.

“I’ve already filled the tub for you,” you finally said, trying to hide how much it worried you to see him in that state. Your voice sounded calmer than you felt, but there was still a note of concern that you couldn’t hide. “It’s ready. Just… be careful, okay?”

Rafe looked at you with a crooked smile, that smile of his that used to be so trusting, but now seemed somewhat forced. “Thank you,” he said quietly, giving you a slight nod in thanks.

You stood there for a few moments, watching him head towards the tub, where he paused for a moment before beginning to strip off his blood and dirt stained clothes.

The tension in the air between the two of you was palpable, but in the end, you knew you couldn’t just leave him like that. If he wasn’t going to accept it, you would take the lead. No matter what was between you, you couldn’t leave him hurt and alone.

You approached the tub with a clear decision in your mind. Without thinking too much, you grabbed a clean rag and dipped it into the hot water. The sound of the water sliding down his skin, the warmth emitted by the steam, turned it all into a kind of calm that at first seemed disconcerting. Rafe stayed silent, watching you as you moved the cloth gently across his torso, careful not to touch his wounds, cleaning away the dirt that had accumulated on his body.

You didn’t think about his nakedness. You knew that, at this point, it was just a practical matter.

Rafe, despite the awkwardness of the situation, kept looking at you, and with a crooked smile, decided to break the silence. “Are you really doing this?” he said in a sarcastic tone, raising an eyebrow, as if he were in the middle of an awkward joke. “Aren’t you afraid of getting wet?”

You laughed despite yourself, almost unable to help it. The laughter came out of you spontaneously, lightening the heavy atmosphere that had formed a little. “If I get wet, I get wet. It’s not like I haven’t gotten wet before.” You replied, cleaning the part of his shoulder more carefully, always aware of the wounds.

Rafe’s sarcastic tone never faded, though at the moment it seemed more like a way to cope than anything else. He stared at you, but this time, something in his gaze changed.

“You’re beautiful,” he said casually, as if it were just a comment. But there was something in his eyes that left you speechless.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you immediately felt uncomfortable. For a second, you froze. “Please don’t say that,” you murmured, trying to look away to avoid him seeing it in your eyes.

The atmosphere between the two of you grew tense, as if the words were floating in the air, weighing more than anything you could say. There were too many things left unsaid between you, too many intertwined feelings, and the complications of everything going on in your lives. But, in that instant, the comment seemed to change something.

Rafe didn't respond immediately. Instead, he gently took your hand, guiding it through the water as you ran it over his chest. The closeness of his body, the way he touched you, made your breathing quicken. Before you could react, he pulled you towards him, into the tub, unexpectedly. The warmth of the water surrounding both of you only intensified the feeling of closeness, of warmth.

You stood there, not knowing what to do. Your whole body was telling you to get away, that it wasn't the time, that this shouldn't happen. But something in his gaze, something in the way he held you, made your own thoughts fade away. The doubts and voices in your head seemed to fade away when his lips met yours, in an intense but silent way, as if there was no turning back.

Despite what your mind was telling you, what was warning you that this could be a mistake, you couldn't help it. The touch of his body, the unexpected connection, made you lose control for a moment. The pressure in your chest disappeared, and for an instant, there was only the sensation of his lips, of his closeness, of the passion you hadn't planned.

You knew that, after all this, nothing would ever be the same again. But in that moment, you surrendered to the sensation, to the connection you both shared, even though everything around you told you not to let yourself go.

You both stayed there for a long time, in silence, only the sound of the water and the ragged breaths filling the air around you. There was no rush, no urgency to move away. The warmth of the water and the closeness of your bodies enveloped you, and for a moment, you let yourself go, you let the chaos of the world be replaced by the calm that only he could offer you in that instant. The tension between you seemed to slowly fade away, as if time had stopped and everything else no longer mattered.

When you finally pulled away from him, a little dazed, it was Rafe who broke the silence with a soft, but determined voice. “Come on,” he said, taking your hand gently.

You didn’t have time to say anything else before he led you out of the tub and into the bedroom, but you didn’t care. There was something comforting about the idea of spending the night with him, of sharing a space, even if it was just for a few hours. You felt calmer than you had in days, something you didn’t even know you needed until that moment.

#fanfic #oneshot #imagine #x reader #rafe imagine #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe obx #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x female reader #outerbanks rafe #rafe x you #rafe x reader #rafe fic #rafe outer banks #obx x reader

1K notes · View notes

thecoochiefairy · 19 days ago

Text

bratty. toji.

𑄽𑄺 warnings 𑄽𑄺 7.8K words. blackfem!characters, drabble, toji fushiguro, drifter!toji, grumpy!toji, sweet!toji, dominant!toji, nasty sex, car sex, sweet sex, black woman, vaginal penetration, rough, lil bit of sweet talkin’, hair pulling, creaming, oral [f], choking, praising, LOTS of dirty talk, missionary, condomless sex, fingering, bratty main character, kissing, spanking, minors aren’t welcome!

━━ 𝒄𝙤𝒐𝙘𝒉𝙞𝒆𝙛𝒂𝙞𝒓𝙮 𝙩𝒉𝙤𝒖𝙜𝒉𝙩𝒔 .ᐟ my man, my man. my man. plz listen to all the songs attached within the drabble! it’ll give you the full experience. the song i chose for toji felt so him coded.

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ :: slow strokes. nasty ass. you hear that, baby?

PINK METALLIC BEAMED UNDER THE STARS OF THE NIGHT, your grin from ear to ear as you watched people snap pictures of your flawlessly wrapped car. It was a 2001 Honda S2000, Hello Kitty headlights blinking rapidly in the back, magenta LED lights glowing underneath the vehicle, the inputted speakers shaking the ground as Aghora Hills fell on the next mixture within your playlist. Suki, you called her.

You were unsure of how you’d been surviving for most of the night, the skimpy chrome heels you wore thin as a needle, dark wash grey shorts having your ass poke out the bottom, sheer top clinging against your pierced nipples. Beauty was pain. You pull the dark tresses of your curls behind your ear, pressing your brown and mauve lip combination together impatiently.

It was the monthly car meet, a high influx of people showing up to show off their custom vehicles, motorcycles—or even to simply network, share knowledge and socialize. You had worked on your own car with your bare hands, never shying away from people complimenting it. Your father had been a mechanic for years, teaching you the ways to create your dream car. Here it was.

But besides all that, you were irritated at the moment. Your boyfriend was supposed to show up with his car, telling him that you didn’t want to be a part of the drifting show, saying that you’d sit in the passenger seat of his and look pretty. As always, he’d reply back.

But he was late. An hour and a half to be exact, and the only people you had accompanying you was Suguru and Satoru, here with their own cars, but also trying to lessen your irritation.

“Want some of my churro?” Satoru asks, waving the sugary dessert in front of your face. Your arm is crossed as you lean along your vehicle, shaking your head as you say, “No. You shouldn’t be eating that shit either, it gives you gas.”

They were essentially attached at the hip, your bodyguards if your dilatory ass man wasn’t around. They were even dressed similarly tonight. Both of them were wearing long sleeve black tops clinging to their muscular frames, Satoru’s dark shades shining under the light as he leaned along his own car. Suguru was a bit grumpy at the moment because he couldn’t find a cigarette off of anyone, re-tying his hair into a low bun, trying to keep his patience with his high energy friend.

Satoru frowned, icy blue eyes faintly blinking as he narrowed them, “You lie. That was only that one time!”

Suguru’s hand clutched around the top of the churro, snatching it from his friend. His long hair shined beneath the lights bathing along the other vehicles as he snapped to him, “Give me that. Your farts could clear a whole fuckin’ continent. You know you’re lactose.”

Satoru pouts, puffing out his bottom lip and shoving his hands into the confines of his pant pockets as he rocks back and forth on his heels. He crosses one ankle across the other as he lets out a sigh. His azure hues land back onto you, “C’mon. Cheer up. Pretty girl.”

“I’m fine,” you brush off, “He’s always late. I asked him once to be on time—the drifting show starts in less than an hour!”

Satoru rolled his eyes, “You should know by now that he just does what he wants.”

Suguru chimed in as he shoved the churro back into whatever food bag he had, “Maybe he found someone better than your hotheaded ass.”

“Awe, jealous that you can’t have me? Yeah, shut the fuck up,” you punch his arm, moving forward anyway as he tries to duck your swing. You then say, “That’s why both of y’all cars are ugly!”

Satoru’s eyes widen, mouth slacking open as Suguru’s arms drop to his sides—incredulous. He huffed out a scoff, “My car looks good as fuck!”

Satoru crosses his arms over his chest, narrowing his eyes at you as he adds, “I agree with Suguru. Mine looks great.”

Your eyes move over to their vehicles you talk shit on, seeing Suguru’s Porsche 911 GT3 R, navy blue with black interior. It contrasts in Satoru’s shiny white Ferrari SP-8, the wheels even a stark alabaster color. You shrug, “They’ alright.”

“Yeah, whatever. Don’t be mad cause you got a man that can’t be on time for you,” Suguru glances out to the crowd of people, standing in lines at the food trucks, drinking their livers away before the actual shows begin.

You raise an eyebrow, “Want a scratch on that expensive ass car of yours? ‘Cause my fingers feel itchy.”

Satoru let out a whistle as he took a step back, leaning back against his car. He smirked, icy eyes flickering between you two, “Aye, chill. This night is supposed to be fun. No reason to get violent. Let’s do a Baddie-Baddie Shot O’ Clock! Where’s my Cognac?!”

He dips inside the window of his car to search, your crossed arms shifting as you watch two girls begin to walk towards you. You assume it’s for them to compliment your car.

“Hey, where’s Fushiguro? Is he bringing his truck?”

The question is followed by giggles, your eyebrow raising in between the two blondes as you say, “Excuse me?” Ignoring the way Suguru mutters, “Uh oh,” while Satoru still searches within his seats for the bottle.

They’re both dressed the exact same—which was creepy—their heels matching their short skirts and crop tops. The taller of the two pushes her blonde locks behind her shoulder as she repeats herself, “Fushiguro. The guy with the Dodge RAM truck? He’s coming, right? He’s sooo fucking hot!”

“He is!”

Both of the girls began to giggle again, it almost makes you want to slam their heads together, hoping they’d morph into one and disintegrate. You were known to be a crash out, uncaring of where your anger had you end up.

Satoru’s hand finally pulls out a thick glass decanter of Cognac, the bottle making a satisfying thud against the window of his car. He glances between you and the girls, almost feeling sorry for them.

You began to giggle aggressively with them, emphasizing on your dramatization of how they sound. You then say, “My man is running late, but the groupie section is right here, actually! Did you buy a ticket?”

They both blink owlishly, the expression making them look more bimbo-like. They’re visibly confused, as if you were speaking a language they could barely understand, the shorter of the two asking, “What groupie section?”

Satoru snickers, attempting to hold back his laughter while Suguru’s eyes narrow.

Satoru took his chance to make a comment after finally containing his amusement. He cleared his throat, taking a few steps in your direction as he raised the decanter.

“We don’t gotta fight, me and my friend can actually escort you ladies to his section—“

Suguru waves, “I don’t even like blondes.”

“Satoru, please shut the fuck up,” you warn, “Are y’all dense? I just said my man, meaning you need to step the fuck back.”

The shorter blonde girl’s head tilts to the side, clearly still not understanding what you’re implying. Her lips pursed together as she pouts, “Who’re you?”

“And why are you so aggressive?” the tallest of the girls asks, blonde tresses shaking as she cocks her head to the side.

Satoru was about to make another comment on it, but one look from you shuts him up and has him chugging a shot of alcohol. He swallows it, a grimace taking over his

expression as he wipes his lips with the back of his hand.

“I’m the bitch who’s about to give you the brain you don’t have!”

You’re like a wind up toy, coaxed in reaction when someone pulls you. You were too busy giving these girls the business to notice the monster truck that screeches as it parks close by, sleek black—windows tinted—Dodge Ram 3500 terrifying in comparison to the other cars. The spiked wheels, blinding headlights and LED strips along the bottom excel along the concrete. He already knows you’re somewhere cussing someone out.

Dropping down from the truck, his leather jacket and hefty boots hit the ground as he’s already coming towards you. You’re lunging towards the women who squeal like school girls, feeling an arm tug around your hips, yanking you back, scarred lip already pressed along your ear as his deep voice transfers up to your brain.

“Knock it off.”

The sudden gruff of his voice, so close to your ear, it makes you pause. You look up at him, his expression stern while the girls from before took the chance to scurry away before you could get to them. They were smart at least.

“I wouldn’t have done shit if you’d been here already,” you’re already glaring, finally turning your head to look up to him.

His expression doesn’t falter, if anything it hardens as his jaw clenches. He still has an arm wrapped around your middle, keeping you in place while he glances over to Satoru and Suguru, who try to not look at him, knowing your already shitty mood would only be made worse by the addition of their commentary.

“And where the fuck were y’all at when she was about to beat up two girls, Barbie and Ken?” Toji’s glare follows Satoru and Suguru, seeing as they only watched.

Satoru frowns at that, “I’m not liking your attitude. Am I Barbie? I hope I’m Ken.”

Suguru crossed his arms over his chest, not looking guilty in the slightest as he replied, “We were just letting her get that shit out of her system. Stopping her would’ve made it worse. You know that.”

Toji’s lips press into a thin line at that, knowing that what Suguru said was in fact true. Though, the last thing he wanted was for you to get into a physical fight in the middle of a car meet, surrounded by at least 400+ people.

“You’ done with your temper tantrum?” he asks rather than comments, his dark eyes locking back onto yours.

“Are you?” You snarl back, ignoring as he now fully pins you against your car, your back along the pink wrap as he traps you with his large arms.

Your attempt to be bitchy didn’t affect him as much as you thought it would, only having the effect of narrowing his eyes at you.

Toji was a tall man, especially when compared to you, even with your heels on, you still have to look up at him. He doesn’t care that you’re pissed off at the moment.

You cross your arms, “What? Am I annoying you or something?”

“You’re being a pain in the ass is what you’re being. You knew I wasn’t gonna come on time. You just wanted to be here early.”

“Oh, so he does know why I’m mad. Good use of your comprehension skills!” You’re incredibly sarcastic, giving him a big smile.

His fingers reach out, gripping your chin as he angles your face to look at him. You were always a mouthy thing. Especially when you get in a mood like this. It’d be cute if it wasn’t something you were capable of continuing on for hours.

“Cut it the fuck out. I’m here now. Just say you missed me.”

You huff, but nonetheless, he was right. It was coming from a place of hoping he’d been here already, wanting to enjoy your time with him at a place you loved attending.

You then admit with less aggression, “I just wanted you to be here with me.”

Toji knows you. He’s heard this pouty voice from you so many times.

He leans in, locking an arm around the back of your neck to pull your face close to his, “You’ done acting up now?”

His forehead touches yours as you then say softly, “Maybe.”

Goddamn it. You were too cute. He hated when you got in a mood like this because he was so hard-wired to respond to it with something soft in return. He then let his arm drag down to your ass, gripping the flesh in his hold, “You were smart to put this flimsy ass outfit on while you weren’t around me.”

“Can you just say I look pretty?” You ask, smacking your lips, immediate irritation crawling back in your veins, attempting to turn your face away from him when he pulls it back.

His lips twitch up at the sight of that irritated expression taking over again. The fact that you were pouting made his heart clench in an annoying way that he didn't fully understand. He loved when you were difficult, because he knew how to handle you. He pulls your chin back to him again.

“You look pretty as fuck, baby,” he responds, his tone smooth as he gives you a smirk, “Although you don’t need the compliment. You know you look good.”

You roll your eyes, briefly pulling them back to the crowd of people. When you meet his face again, you’re immediately pulled in. Those damn grey eyes. Your lashes flutter as you lean up, accepting the kiss he was waiting for, feeling your face go warm as he sloppily tongues you down, never caring if anyone was around to do it.

It’s a bruising and possessive kiss that sends chills down your spine, his tongue dominating over yours as he pushes you back against your car. He can already feel the heat rising in you, the way your skin felt warm on his and how your body pressed against his. Your head even tilts back a bit, your hand clutching the bottom of his shirt to keep your weight steady.

“Alright, nasty asses,” Suguru interrupts, Satoru beside him who’s dry heaving at the sight, “Y’all done fighting? Can we enjoy our night?”

When you pull back, your cheeks are sure to be a little red, hiding your face within his chest as you hear his deep tone chuckle from that.

Toji glances at the two over your head, almost smug at the sight of them being visibly irritated at the kiss, “Shut the fuck up, dweeb.”

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” Satoru groans out, clutching the decanter in his hand, “Now, can we show everyone your pretty Suki? Let's do some shots! You hear that? Your favorite song is playing!”

It was in fact one of your favorite songs from when you were a little girl, Move Ya’ Body by Nina Sky. Satoru begins to wave his hands above his head from side to side, causing you to shake your head with a giggle, “You’re a terrible bottle girl.”

“I’d make bank,” Satoru smacks his lips, “C’mon, Suguru. Dance with me!”

Suguru deadpans, “I’m not dancing.”

Satoru groans, “I’m a ray of sunshine with three clouds trying to rain down on me, and that’s cool! Fuckin’ haters!”

That makes all three of you laugh, but he was right, it was time to enjoy the night. The drift show began to start— this was something that put you in your element. It was a different experience each time, especially drifting with three different men.

You always hopped into Satoru’s Ferrari first—essentially the warm up—Satoru was entirely too safe considering his car was his precious baby. You enjoyed yourself nonetheless, hollering with him as he swerved around the parking lot with other vehicles.

He could accelerate his car, but drifting with it was out of the question. It was better to leave it to the actual drifters like Toji and Suguru.

Suguru was next. He was the complete opposite, reckless to be the perfect word. But it was the adrenaline you looked for within Satoru.

You watch Toji within his truck from across the Porsche you sit in, seeing as Toji tosses a cigarette to Suguru with a warning, “Keep my girl safe as fuck, unless you want your heart to be pulled out through your ass.”

“Aye, don’t worry,” Suguru responds, giving the middle finger to Toji, one hand on the wheel while the other laid behind your seat as he grins, “I’m about to show

Princess how to really drift a fuckin’ car.”

Toji throws an equal finger up to him, watching as you lean over his friend's lap playfully, taking the cigarette to press in between Suguru’s lips, his smirk cocky as you light the object for him. You can feel Toji’s glare as you hear him call, “Quit being fuckin’ cute.”

That’s the last thing you hear as Suguru takes off, your head reaching out the window as you shriek in a girly manner, his one hand on the wheel twisting as music hums against the speakers, 4X4 by Don Toliver vibrating the entire car.

Suguru was a good drifter, not as great as Toji, but enough that it had you cheering and laughing with him as he weaved through abandoned parking spots, just missing the car swiveling next to him. There was a moment when he almost lost control, causing you to scream and slap his arm.

He smirked beside you, enjoying the slap, “Oh, you liked that shit, huh?”

You managed to smack his bicep again, “No, I did not! I’d like all four tires to stay on the ground while I’m in your car!”

“Should’ve stayed with your man then.”

And then, there was Toji. There was only one word that came to mind—effortless. He was a professional, your giggle unable to stop itself as he aggressively picked you up to place you in his truck with his wheels being high, smacking your ass as you jumped into the large seat. You’re all riled up from previous activities, seeing his muscular frame leaned back into the seat, engine roaring as he begins revving it up. You’re already climbing halfway out of the window, your hair a little messy from the wind, a nonetheless flawless look to you.

He glances over at you, his eyes locking onto your nearly hanging body sticking out of the passenger window of his truck. He smirks at the sight of you, the way you looked like a woman who was having the time of her life. You probably were enjoying yourself, with your messy hair and flushed cheeks.

He reaches out to smack your ass again, the force rocking your body forward, “Sit down.”

You playfully swirl your hips, the shot you’d finally accepted from Satoru beginning to kick in. Of course, you don’t listen, arching your back farther outside of the window, heels pointed towards him, showing off your back dermals.

When he steps his foot on the gas, he grunts as he grips the back of your shorts to pull you somewhat back, brilliant with his hands as he’s already burning the tires rubber, swerving dangerously, always knowing exactly which way he wants to go.

The song ILUV by Yeat plays exactly on time. Toji was a demon behind the wheel. He was capable of spinning his truck around, leaving behind clouds of black smoke, burning through tires faster than anyone at the car meet. He was cocky, but he was good. He’d been doing this longer than anyone else at these kinds of meets, and it showed. It didn’t come as a shock when he took every sharp turn perfectly, even on two wheels for some seconds.

He loved when you got loud. The sound of your laughs, shouts and screams fueled the adrenaline that pumped through his veins. You were a sight to behold, sitting in his passenger seat, body half-hung out the window with your hair flying around.

When you turn back to him, your dopamine levels sky high—it riles you up even more. His dark hair, muscles flexing as he’d removed his jacket before he turned on the truck, strident jaw clenching from the cigarette between his lips. You couldn’t help it—maybe it was also that shot you’d taken—but you were horny.

You crawl over your seat, making your way onto him. You made sure his eyes were still in sight of driving the truck as you sat on his lap, dragging your mouth along his neck, grinding yourself against him with a breathless giggle.

His head tilts back slightly as you begin to nibble on his throat, his hands gripping the steering wheel a bit more tightly, muscles tensing under your body. You were the very definition of a distraction, your giggles against his skin sending heat right to the pit in his stomach.

One of his hands reaches out to grab the back of your shorts, gripping the material to keep your hips rolling against his. “You’re needy as fuck tonight.”

Your tongue flattens along the skin of his throat, seeing the bruise that comes from your actions, fingers clutching for his belt as you lightly moan as a response.

He groans as you lick on his neck, leaving behind a spot of saliva in the process. He feels the way your hands grip his belt, pulling at the leather material, your small fingers slipping under his shirt, pressing against his taut stomach.

He can feel the growing bulge in his pants from your movements, the friction against the thick material only adding more sparks in the pit of his gut.

“Quit playing, you’re gonna cause a fuckin’ car wreck if you keep it up, baby.”

Yet you continue anyway, a throb producing between your legs as you drag yourself along his bulge. You hold onto him when you feel him do a harsh swerve, not realizing it was purposeful, making you scream out in fear as you panic, “Sorry!”

Once you realize, you punch his arm, “Fushiguro!”

“Just making sure you pay attention,” he grins, grabbing the back of your thighs, angling you sideways as you now pout.

When the drift show ends, it’s finally the moment you’d been waiting for overall—the race. You hadn’t customized this car with a supercharger and a performative exhaust system for nothing.

You smile as you rev your engine loudly beside Suguru, Satoru and Toji’s vehicles, other cars included.

Suguru had his car next to yours, the loud revving of the engine causing him to smirk over at you. “I’m eating the fuckin’ dust!”

You had Toji and Satoru on the other side of you, Satoru’s windows rolled down, his white hair ruffling against his face from the wind of the other vehicles. “Shittt, not if I win!”

“The fuck y’all won’t—they got four grand on this shit!” Toji calls out, watching you as you sit in your seat, your foot holding down the gas.

“Stop putting money on shit, broke bitch!” Suguru raises his middle finger, the both of them flicking off each other.

You then call out, “Y’all talking too much shit to be losers!”

And just like that, the flag is thrown, tires screeching horrifyingly as you take off, expertly making your way through every. single. car.

You were an experienced driver and it showed, especially when you began to pick up speed, your hands gripping the wheel tightly and eyes narrowed. You had a lead over everyone, including Toji who was right behind you in his truck. He was keeping up with you, even when you passed car after car.

Suguru and Satoru were slightly behind, but quickly catching up, just barely though. They were no match for the way you weaved through everyone, taking each turn with ease.

You were neck and neck with Toji. You watched as his engine matched your speed, the two of you excellerating as you approached the finish line. In a last ditch effort, you put more force into it, the force of the engine making your body lean back into the seat as you watched your speedometer rise higher.

Unfortunately, your man still ended up winning. You could hear his low voice howling as he sped farther down, quickly turning the car around as all the others had begun slowing down, pulling back to where your car halted. As everyone begins to circle around one another, you lean along your car, rolling your eyes as you knew his cocky ass would never let this go.

You turn towards Suguru and Satoru as they’re talking massive amounts of shit, ignoring Toji’s heavy steps behind you as he wraps his arm around your neck from behind, you roll your eyes as his hands immediately travel towards your ass.

Satoru was practically shouting as he approached your car, his fist reaching out to hit the top of it several times, “I want my payout! I got second place!”

“Ask your friend who was talking all that shit to pay you out! I’m taking my woman somewhere with that money!”

That makes you suppress a giddy smile, not wanting to give him the satisfaction as you turn around, “Mmm, what else do I get, since you’re in such a good mood?”

You giggle as he pulls your legs around his waist, grunting as you give him pecks along his mouth.

“Anything you want, baby. That smell good ass Miss Dior, a pink Telfar. Whatever your fuckin’ heart desires.”

“What about me?” Satoru says, fluttering his eyelashes.

Toji pulls back, scrunching up his face as Satoru leans into him before he says, “You get a fart, bitch.”

As the night continues on, you’re standing around with Toji, Suguru and Satoru as they mingle and socialize with other men, the decrease of women making you want to leave. At this point, you were ready to be somewhere secluded, riding your man in the nastiest way you could. Yet he’s more occupied with his friends.

You lean your head on his shoulder, which makes him turn his head down towards you. You mumbled lowly, “I’m ready to go,” knowing that he wasn’t.

“We’ve only been here for an hour.” He retorts, leaning down to speak into your ear, his voice low, “You can wait a little longer.”

You become drastically more horny just from him speaking in your ear, and even more impatient at his decline. You raise your hand to grip his hair, pulling him down to kiss you, sucking his lips into your mouth, uncaring if anyone watched.

That got his attention real quick, his body twisting to face yours at the kiss, his jaw clenching at your grip on his hair. When your lips move against his, his mind goes blank, a growl pulling from his mouth as he pulls back with a warning, “Chill.”

Whatever. You fully roll your eyes, dropping your hand as you say, “I’m going to your truck. Go fuck your friends since they have your attention.”

He can’t help but glare as he watches you stomp over to his truck, his dark eyes locked on your hips as you move further away. You hopped within the backseat, your aching feet causing you to remove your heels and fully lay your body out to scroll on your phone. He was used to your attitude, and he was extremely patient with it. But you’d worked on his nerves a couple of times tonight, and he was now weighing his options of letting it be, or knocking that shit out of your system.

His jaw clenched as he raises off of the hood of Satoru’s car, already walking away while Suguru calls, “Yo! You’ leaving, Fushiguro?”

“Nah. I’ll be back in twenty minutes,” he doesn’t turn back, hopping into his driver's seat.

Your head sits up as you hear the door open and shut, “Are we leaving?”

He doesn’t say anything as he pulls off. Your face pulls into a frown, sitting in between the middle part of the back seat as you frown, “Are you ignoring me?”

Once again, nothing. You scoff, crossing your arms, “Typical.”

He ends up going to a roof top not too far from where everyone was, the lot surprisingly empty as you make it to the top. You become more irritated, narrowing your eyes as you start again, “Fushiguro—“

He’s already climbing into the backseat with you, causing you to scoot closer to the door, thinking maybe he was fed up with your shit. You thought he was gonna rough you up just in the way you liked, or even put you in your place. Either way was in your favor.

But instead, he clutches your face, rubbing your cheek with his thumb as he asks, “You need me, baby?”

You blink at the question. It makes your throat go dry, and as you search his eyes, there’s no anger in them. He just needs you to answer.

So you reply softly, “…Yes.”

His fingers dig into your cheek, forcing your head back slightly as he moves in close, his warm breath ghosting over your lips.

The softness is unexpected. It makes you a little more relaxed as he grunts,”Let me take care of you,” hovering himself above you, your back now pressing against the seats.

“You’ comfortable?” He questions within your ear, his voice sounds concerned. Your breath hitches lightly as his gentle touch. You were unsure why this sudden moment had your spine tingle. At that, you nod your head as you pull him closer, giving him a soft peck on the lips.

“Now you wanna be sweet and shit.”

You’re silent, your eyes fluttering shut as you feel your cheeks becoming warm. Toji brings your face a centimeter closer, gently pressing your lips together by the drag of your throat. You feel as his full lips overpowered yours, overlapping along your mouth as he sucked your tongue. It makes your breath hitch, pressing your hand along his forearm, your nails lightly digging into the skin.

He was nasty in the best way. He kept sucking against your lips, beginning to nod his head back and forth, thrusting his own tongue in between, the erotic pleasure of it all making your eyes roll to the back of your head. You try to keep your head from spinning as you reach up to pull his hair, deepening the kiss, enjoying the feeling it gave you. It made you shy, you could admit.

He could feel your body begin to tremble as he kisses in between your shoulder and neck, the taste of your skin being sweet on his tongue.

Your eyes fluttered shut, breathing slightly heavy as you dug your nails into his hair—you hadn’t felt this good in a while.

You shiver in between your light giggle, “I—It tickles…”

He chuckles against your skin, his tongue licking along the sensitive spot as he gruffly says, “You’re so fuckin’ sensitive.”

At the drop of his words, your head lightly kneels back, a light gasp coming from you. It was soft, tiny, feminine.

His hand moved further up your thigh, placing a leg over his shoulder as he sucked the skin of your ankle. His tongue tasted every inch he could, wanting to get more of you in his mouth.

With him being hovered over you, his hand was trailing along your inner thighs, the ball of your foot fidgeting along his shoulder. It made you naturally use your free hand to slow down his, knowing that wouldn’t stop him.

He pressed his forehead against yours, your eyes coming down to watch your legs becoming trapped on both sides of his shoulders, his fingers coming down between your hips, making you full on jump.

“My shy, pretty ass baby.”

You felt like you couldn’t breathe, nowhere to hide as your face felt on fire, feeling your hips tilt up from the reaction of his hand. His fingers grazed over your clit, and your hips were so warm, you almost felt cold.

Your chest began to lightly come up and down, digging your teeth into your bottom lip as your thighs wanted to close at the feeling. Your inhales were low, hesitant, as your exhales were able to hear, shaky in your throat.

You struggled even more with your breathing, your thighs trying to close, face scrunched up in concentration...it only turned him on more.

He applied pecks against your throat, telling you gruffly, “Spread your legs more.”

His voice within your ear makes your eyes want to flutter shut. You attempt to listen, pulling your thighs more apart, feeling as he begins to rub at your swollen clit slowly, your opening squelching from how you had become.

He growled low in his throat as he watched you squirm and struggle to breathe. It was like a challenge, getting under your skin like this.

“Imma’ put a finger in there,” he tells you, your heart in her ears, unable to prepare as he stroked his index finger along your pussy, before slowly sinking it in between your folds. He leaned up as he kissed your ankle, pumping slowly, your walls tightening heavily around his knuckle.

Your mouth dropped open the moment he came back down to kiss you. You lightly cried along his lips, broken and whiny as you warned, “T—Toji…”

He chuckled lowly at your whimpering protest, “Relax. Imma’ add another finger.”

You feel a stretch, aching with a burn that feels a little too good, it makes your knees weak.

“Ooh, fuck,” he grunts, your face turning away from his again as you pull his head down with another gasp, wanting to hide your face next to his ear. He talks to you, “You’re so fuckin' tight…”

He punctuated his words with a thrust of his finger, your juices dripping down his wrist as he fucked you gently with it, thumb circling your clit.

Your head fell back, making him kiss into your neck more—which made your mouth part— trembling as you tried to grip at the back of his hair. You were always trying to keep yourself together in moments like this, not wanting to be embarrassing. You finally get a clutch at the back of his hair as you whine softly, “Don’t talk like that…”

"You're so fuckin' perfect," he ignored your plea , nipping at your pulse point, "I could play with this pretty ass pussy all night...You hear her? She keep suckin’ my fuckin’ fingers in.”

And your pussy was. His fingers were too familiar, dragging in, coming out more soaked than before. You were practically gushing on them, your abdomen tightening each time his palm grazed your clit from how deep his knuckles went in.

A messy moan parts from your mouth, broken and struggling, quickly hushing itself as you suck in an inhale to quiet yourself. Your face is hot as you raise the back of your hand to your mouth, covering the sound you made.

"Fuck all that holding back. Imma’ make you cum on my fingers.”

He slowly withdraws his fingers from your heat, bringing them up to your lips, smearing your arousal across them.

"Open up," he instructs, holding his coated fingers near your mouth, "Clean them off. Taste your pussy."

His mouth is volatile, you’re never sure if you can handle it. You part your lips, feeling him slide his fingers to the back of your throat, choking lightly on them as you taste your arousal. It was sweet, tangy almost.

When he pulls them out, he grunts, “Good fuckin’ girl,” roughly pulling you into a kiss, spreading your legs wider as he fucks his fingers back inside of you. His arm traps the back of your knees, keeping your thighs spread completely open, allowing you to feel everything. Your lids blink rapidly, clawing at the skin of his arms as you nearly fight with him, gasping out, “O—oh my god. Toji.”

“You’ sound cute as fuck. Haven’t heard you like this in a minute,” he brings his ear closer to your lips, “Keep talking to me, pretty. Tell me how you feel.”

You can’t exactly see his face, which makes you more comfortable as you express in urgency, “Fingers feel too big…” you whimper, “…but it feels good…”

"My dick is bigger. Imma’ keep my fingers deep where you need them most," he growls lowly in your ear, twisting his hand to push deeper inside, "I’m not gonna pull them out until you cum. So take my shit like a big girl, I know you can.”

You close your eyes to shield your red face, his finger hitting a particularly good spot, which makes you nearly jump out of your skin, thighs wanting to slam shut, jolting upwards, whimpering as he tugs you back.

"Nuh uh, keep 'em wide," he demands firmly, thrusting his fingers harder against that sensitive spot, curling them to hit your g-spot directly which makes you moan out, quickly pressing your hand to your mouth again, “You’re clenching around my fingers hard as fuck. You’re about to cum.”

“Toji,” you can’t stop that pleading whimper, wishing he’d stop talking. It makes you gush even more on his fingers, tightening your hold on his arms, “Your mouth is bad…”

“You love how I’m talking to you, nasty ass.”

He starts pumping his fingers faster, twisting and curling them to stimulate your inner walls, "Stop makin' those fuckin’ noises and cum already. Them’ little cute ass whimpers making me wanna put my mouth on you, let you gush all on my face. Don’t piss me off.”

You gasp out, “I…think I’m cumming…” you feel numb, your walls kidnapping his fingers, so much that he couldn’t move them anymore. Your hips tremble as your thighs shudder chaotically, holding onto him as you groan out a deep moan, sticking your own fingers into your mouth to hush your sounds.

Too blinded by your own pleasure, your brain is fuzzy as Toji unbuckles the belt of his pants, pulling out the heavy weight of his dick that slaps along his abdomen, fingers cuffing his fat tip that smushes along the sensitive gush of your folds.

The pressure in between your legs is at its peak, seeing as Toji hovers atop of you, pressing his forehead against yours as he begins nudging himself inside. You’re chest to chest. You feel like you’re being torn, an aching pleasure that always makes your eyes roll back. Your legs shudder ridiculously as you gasp, pressing your hand along his abdomen, that inexplicable pinch all the way to your chest. It’s like the deepest cramp you’ve ever experienced, if that cramp was twisted with an intense amount of pleasure.

You whimper as you feel his arm reach down, taking your hand within his palm as he grunts, “Hold it,” listening with a pout as you intertwine your fingers together.

He slowly sinks deeper into you. His muscles flex beneath your touch, the ridges of his abdomen pressed firmly against your palm.

With each inch he buries inside, your body clenches around him, the sensation bordering on pain yet feeling so good as your back arches beneath him. You can see the effort it takes for him to hold still, his control evident in the tautness of his jaw.

“I'm tryna to go slow, baby. I know,” he coos to you, bottoming out, filling you completely.

Your eyes are fluttering shut at the fullness, pulling your face up to drag your mouth along his, digging your fingers into the palm of his hand as let out a long, desperate moan. You feel yourself gush in between his balls pressed along the back of your thighs, gasping deeply as the pressure builds up before finally releasing.

He groans lowly, a rumble vibrating through his chest as he feels your walls spasm around him. "Ooh, shit, baby. Cumming all on this dick. Goood fuckin’ girl,” he praises, his voice husky with desire.

Keeping your hand captive in his, he lifts it to his lips, planting a gentle kiss on your knuckles before bringing it back down to rest on his side once more. Withdrawing almost all the way, he lets you adjust to the emptiness before pushing back in, setting a steady, deep rhythm. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the car, mingling with your ragged breathing and muffled cries.

You finally find words to say, but they come out in pathetic whimpers, chest heaving up and down as you pant, “Feel so full, baby. Just n—needed you…” your eyes begin to glisten with pleasured tears, your other hand reaching around to claw at his back, “Harder. H—harder, please.*”

“Harder, baby?” He mocks your words in your tone, arrogantly chuckling as you sniffle in response, whiny, “Yeah…”

A smirk plays on his lips at your desperate pleas, his movements becoming more forceful as he pounds into you. A serenade of skin ricocheting, his dick dropping in and out, bruising your outer walls.

One of his hands slides down to grip your hip, using it to pull you onto him harder while the other continues to hold your interlaced fingers.

You take your free hand, using it to spread yourself as you whimper pathetically, “Yeah, Daddy. Ughn, right there,” blabbering nonsense, only focusing on the way his dick sinks deeper and deeper each time.

“This how you wanna be fucked?”

He then raises arm, muscles flexing within the veins as he clutches the door handle above your head, shoving his hips down, watching as you frown, you’re being fucked too good.

You brokenly gasp, blinking your tears away as you drag out, “Ba-by, I…” you can’t stop gasping, “Love the way you handle my pussy, baby…”

He leans closer, arm still flexing above your head as he deeply grunts, “Keep talking.”

Your face is warm at that, and you nod, trying to make your words sensible as you say, “Been wanting you to fuck me like this all night…”

“Just like this, huh?” He gives a hard thrust, a whine coming from you as you kneel your head back, groaning as you yank his face closer to yours, spreading your legs wider, letting him go even deeper.

“Augh—oh my fuckin’ god, baby.”

You’re spent, crazy even, taking your free hand as you go in between your hips, grabbing for his dick that drops in and out, wrapping your fingers around the base as you help him fuck you. The wrist of your palm bounces and rubs along your clit, and you softly cry, “Justttt like that.”

He starts moving faster, the car rocking from the force of his thrusts, your moans echoing off the metal. His grey eyes narrow, fixated on your face as he watches you fall apart under him.

With each snap of his hips, his tip hits that sweet spot inside you, making you writhe and beg for more. The wet sounds of sex fill the air, mixing with your needy whines until you're a mess of pleasure and desperation.

"You never took dick like this. Always running from me,” he pulls his hand out of yours, raising your legs directly next to his face on each side of his head—you hated this position. You were trapped.

“‘Can feel you milking my shit, sucking me in deeper,” he’s circling his hips, impaling himself inside, watching as your pussy becomes creamier each time he pulls out.

You’re silent at this point, unable to talk, move, anything. You try to place your hand over your mouth, or even pull him closer to scream, but he’s there, snatching your hand away, and you can’t hold yourself back anymore.

As you lose control, he wraps an arm around your waist, gripping your hip tightly as he continues to pound into you mercilessly. His other hand reaches up to cover your mouth, muffling your screams as he fucks you senseless.

“Should let you be loud as fuck. Put the fuckin’ windows down,” he grunts, “Cum on Daddy’s dick, baby. This what you’ been crying for all night. I need it. Imma’ drink it all up.”

Your body shakes violently, overwhelmed by the intensity of his thrusts and the stifling of your sobs. He doesn't relent, driving into you with unbridled passion, determined to claim every ounce of pleasure from your quivering form.

“Toji—” you’re clawing him at this point, another orgasm hitting you, your abdomen trembling as his tip coats white, and you’re crying like a baby.

“‘Fuck are you crying for? This is what you wanted. Spread your pussy. Open that shit up, I’m not done with you.”

You’re a sobbing mess, listening to him nonetheless, taking your shaking hands down as you spread yourself more, watching him go in and out, in and out. You’re unable to do anything else, bringing your face up to meet him as your eyes roll back, “Fuuuck.”

He smirks, pleased with your submission as he claims your lips in a dominating kiss, swallowing your cries of ecstasy. His tongue invades your mouth, mimicking the deep, hard thrusts of his dick.

“You’ cumming again?” He questions, only messing with you, knowing you were.

His face is shoved into your cheek as he cockily laughs, your teary eyes rolling back as you grunt out, “I’m cumming again.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeahhh.”

“Who’re you doing all that for?”

“You, baby. Fu-ck,” your last curse is as if you’re mad at him, your cum dripping onto the seats, spreading all along his abdomen as you spurt out again.

You’re about to black out, your fuzzy state of mind begging him in a whine, “Cum in me. Cum in meee, baby.”

But he’s already pulling out, leaning down as he shakes his head chaotically, running his heavy and long tongue all around your pussy, cleaning you up as your legs shake as if you’d been tased. He can see you’re finally coming back down, toes curling as you hold your legs, almost covering your face with them as you put your knees to your chest. Now you’re realizing everything you’ve said.

He smacks his lips, “Don’t do that,” pulling your legs open to look at you, “You okay, baby?" His voice is calm, almost tender, a stark contrast to the brutal fucking he just gave you.

He gently strokes your thigh, waiting for you to come back to yourself. "You’ good now?”

You blink a couple of times, searching his face in almost disbelief. You nod your head, wiping your eyes as you ask, “…Can I have a kiss?”

He smiles, tilting his head to the side, “Cute ass," leaning in, capturing your lips in a soft, gentle kiss. His warmth envelops you, soothing the aftermath of your intense climax. You feel him gently rub his tip in between your folds again, whimpering against his mouth as he chuckles against yours, spanking you harshly as he then says, “We need to head back.”

“You love me? You’re not mad at me?” You ask softly, keeping his face hovered along your mouth.

He pulls back, looking at you seriously, “Never mad at you, baby. Just frustrated when you act up. You’ ready to go?”

You blink, tilting your head as you then say, “Maybe I wanna act up a little more.”

“That’s cool. Imma’ fuck you outside this car next.”

“Fushiguro!”

“Fushiguro!” he mocks back in a girly squeal, ignoring your groan as he sucks your mouth into a kiss. He was gonna love you in any mood you were in.

“Yeah, okay. Shut that shit up. Get dressed.”

#toji fushiguro x reader #toji imagine #toji smut #toji x black character #toji fushiguro x black reader #jujutsu toji #jjk #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji zenin #toji x y/n #toji x reader

1K notes · View notes