#and I don't just mean the water hazing

[dribs-and-drabbles]

Thinking about:

The two moments in ep 1 (6:08) and ep 2 (32:37) when Jihyun is seen in the background between Jaewon and Tae Hyung/Eun Ji respectively.

The way Jaewon's taller shadow engulfs Jihyun's smaller shadow as Jaewon walks towards Jihyun on the beach in ep 2.

Yoon Won singing on the beach.

Just how fantastic Yoon Won, Ae Ri, and Jihyun's boss are.

How it looks like Jaewon drew himself and his younger brother and maybe a young Jihyun in the landscape of the Han river in ep 4.

The way Jaewon tugs Jihyun into him after putting the rucksack on Jihyun in ep 4 (7:03).

The tale of the country mouse who ran back home (ep 4)...and me wondering if it's foreshadowing a separation and/or time skip in future eps.

Jihyun keeping Jaewon's art in case he becomes famous...and me wondering if that will come back if there's a time skip/separation at the end.

The fact that the therapist is always in the same top, which might indicate that the therapy scenes are all from the same session...maybe meaning everything else that's happening are flashbacks from the time of the session...which ends in ep 5. There are no scenes of the therapy session in ep 6.

The bust on the shelf in the therapists room, with hands over its eyes...

Jihyun's dream of going to the Hanson Tower with a lover and putting a lock up there...and me hoping he'll do that with Jaewon.

The "traffic won't stop for you" sign behind Jaewon as he gets drunk in ep 5 and talks about siblings. If it turns out his brother died because he ran into the road I will throw fists.

The way Jaewon's little brother is dressed in a light blue t-shirt with something cream over the top in the flashback and then Jihyun is also wearing light blue/grey under a cream jacket in the next scene.

Jaewon's "We are always living in other's frameworks in this world". And "Don't try to get out of the box".

The silence as the credits roll at the end of ep 6.

[heich0e]

ever since you were young, you've fallen victim to at least one terrible cold per year.

it's not your fault—your almost laughably fallible immune system is seemingly genetic, as your family was always the same growing up—but even that biological truth does little to make you feel better when you're in the thick of cough and cold season, waiting for illness to inevitably strike. one faint, meagre consolation from your predictably lacklustre immune response means that you at the very least have a fairly well-practiced routine for when you fall ill. you know the brands of medication that work best, the fever patches with the most reliable adhesion, which teas seem to help decongest you better than others. you've got soup recipes, and hot water bottles, and fuzzy socks tucked away at the ready for when you need them, because you know that you eventually will.

but this season, there's a wild card in the mix. a variable you haven't had the opportunity to plan for in years past.

shouto.

you met shouto last summer at a going away party to which you were a plus one of someone who didn't even know the person who was going away particularly well. you'd been beyond shocked when you turned up to the gathering only to see half the top pro-hero ranking list gathered before your very eyes. even more shocked when the most handsome one in the room—in the world?—bothered to speak to you.

your relationship with shouto built slowly. you were casually dating last cold season, so he hadn't had to witness you at your lowest, but this year you're living together—having moved in rather suddenly just shy of your one year anniversary since your lease was ending and shouto's apartment was more than suitable for two.

so now here you are, languishing in the bed you share with your still unfairly handsome pro-hero boyfriend, drifting in and out of consciousness in a decongestant fuelled haze, with a (now tepid) fever patch stuck to your forehead.

and there is a god awful racket coming from outside your bedroom door.

peeling yourself up from the loving embrace of your mattress is a nearly herculean task, but once you're upright it's not so hard to stuff your feet into your slippers and stumble your way to the the door. your head feels heavy and your cough is still in the nasty hacking stage, but you suspect your fever's dropping, which means the worst of your illness is likely over. any relief you may feel is decidedly shortlived as you turn the corner to the kitchen and freeze in place.

"shouto—" your voice is so raspy it sounds foreign to you "—what are you doing?"

in the kitchen, standing in the eye of what can only be described as a culinary hurricane, is your apron-clad boyfriend. he has one of your barrettes clipping his two-toned bangs up off his forehead, and a smudge of something (presumably edible) across his cheek. his eyes are wide as he turns to face you in the centre of this disaster, a carrot in one hand and a potato masher in the other.

"i," shouto pauses, and though you know it's not for dramatic effect it sure sounds like it is, "am cooking."

you start coughing, and rush to cover your mouth—turning away and bending a little at the waist from the force of it. you see shouto step towards you in your peripheral vision, but with the hand not covering your mouth you wave him away—you should have gotten a mask before you left your bedroom, but in your haste you'd forgotten to grab one.

"you sound terrible," shouto remarks and then follows up his own commentary with another, somewhat reproachful, "that's not very nice."

you look at him curiously, confused as to what he's just said and he points to his ear where he has one wireless earbud in.

"that was bakugou," he explains, and you realize he was only relaying the comment of his friend on the phone. "i'll call you back," he says again, and this time you don't need to wonder who he's speaking to before he plucks his headphone out of his ear and sets it (and the carrot and potato masher) down in the very limited counter space left.

shouto fidgets with his hands now that they're empty, inching a bit closer to you—slowly, like he know's you're going to wave him off again and is trying to avoid it.

"how are you feeling?" he asks.

"a bit better," you say, even though you don't sound it.

"why are you out of bed?" he follows up his first question with another, concern in his gaze.

"i heard... something," your eyes scan the room as you take in the very something you speak of. "why are you cooking?"

"i'm making you soup," shouto says, and then looks around the room at the scene you'd just surveyed. then he looks back at you again with a somewhat grim expression. "i'm trying to make you soup," he corrects himself.

and maybe it's the fever, or the decongestants, or the fact that he's possibly the sweetest man you've ever met in your life (on top of being the most handsome), but suddenly you feel like you might cry. or laugh, maybe. you aren't entirely sure either of them is off the table.

"what kind of soup?" you ask him, and this time your voice is croaky for an entirely unrelated reason.

"chicken soup," he answers, and he's suddenly closer than he'd been at first—having continued creeping closer to you when your guard was lowered. "with ginger. you said you like that."

"i do," you answer, and when shouto reaches out to wrap his arms around you, you have no will left in you to push him away. you tuck your face against his chest and relax against the firm, familiar shape of his body pressing into yours.

shouto peels the old fever patch from your forehead and tosses it aside, replacing it with the delightfully cool palm of his hand. he's been doing this since you fell ill, and was more than a little affronted the first time he came home from work and saw that you'd put a cooling patch on in his absence—as though jealous that it wasn't his touch that you were turning to for relief.

"was bakugou helping you make soup?" you ask, leaning into his hand.

shouto hums, and you feel the sound reverberate through his broad chest. "i don't know if helping is the right word."

"why did you have a potato masher out for chicken soup?" you then ask, remembering the utensil he'd been holding when you first walked into the kitchen.

"potato masher..." shouto says, realization heavy in his tone. he'd clearly had no idea what it was to begin with. "i was looking for a slotted spoon."

you laugh, and then cough a little.

"you should get back to bed," shouto insists.

"just another minute," you sigh, reaching up to hold his wrist and keep his hand in place. shouto freezes, and you feel his eyes on your face, peeking up at him through your lashes.

"what?" you ask him curiously.

in place of an answer, shouto wraps his arm (the one you don't have in your clutches) around your waist and hoists you up, balancing you against his hip like an overgrown toddler.

"sho-shouto! wait!"

he doesn't wait. in fact, he barely acknowledges you've said anything at all as he trots back in the direction of your shared bedroom. before you even manage to get your bearings, shouto's placed you gently back into bed, shucked his apron, and crawled in alongside you under the covers. you hardly have time to miss the cool weight of his hand before it's returned to its rightful place against your brow.

"what about your soup?" you ask him, but even in spite of your own words—and the fact that you've been keeping him at arm's length for days out of concern for his own health—you find yourself curling up against his side in bed, snuggling closer.

"i don't think it was going to taste very good anyway," shouto remarks somberly. he pouts a little. "bakugou said he'd drop some off for you later, because he was worried my soup was going to kill you."

you laugh, and then cough, and then rest your cheek against his chest.

shouto's heartbeat thumps steadily beneath your ear. his hand stays cool against your skin.

you may not have planned for him, but you think you might keep him around.

[itneverendshere]

pogue reader getting sick but she can’t call out, but rafes fr mad at you about it

changed it a bit just bc i want to show reader's progress regarding her hyper-independence, they're already dating and past the "i love you" phase, i felt like some progress had to be made by this point, especially bc this is after their big fight in this. hope you enjoy <3

don't want less, don't want more - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe)

The floor beneath you feels like it's tilting, moving under your feet like a boat rocking on rough water. You blink a couple of times, hoping that’ll shake the haze taking over your vision, but it doesn’t do much. 

The bar lights over your head are too bright, and the music thumping from the speakers makes your head feel like it’s trapped in a vice. The clink of glass, every laugh, every order shouted at you feels like a hammer driving nails straight into your skull.

You swallow hard, trying not to gag. Your throat’s raw, and your chest feels tight, but you’re powering through it because you don’t have much of a choice. Not a choice at all.

"Whiskey sour, extra sour!" some country club douchebag yells from the other side of the bar.

His voice is like nails on a chalkboard. You force a smile and nod, reaching for the bottle, but your hands are shaky. You catch yourself on the edge of the bar before you can drop it.

This morning, you could barely get out of bed. Fever burning through you like you were standing too close to a bonfire, throat too sore to talk, and your head pounding so hard you thought you were going to pass out just brushing your teeth. 

You tried calling in. Tried. Told your manager, Greg, that you were sick as hell, couldn’t make it, but the guy just grunted like he always does. "Can’t afford anyone calling out today," he said. Like the world was going to end if you didn’t show up to sling drinks for a bunch of rich assholes.

So here you are.

You rub the back of your neck, trying to loosen up some of the tension building there, but it doesn’t help. Nothing really does at this point.

"Hey!" The guy who ordered the whiskey sour snaps his fingers in your face. "You deaf or something? Whiskey. Sour."

"Got it," You mutter, trying not to let your voice crack as you finally pour his drink. 

Your vision swims a little as you set it down in front of him, and for a second, you think you might actually faint right here at the bar.

That’d be something. Faceplant into a bunch of overpriced cocktails in front of half of the Kooks on this island. Greg would probably just step over you and ask you to get back to work.

You lean against the bar for a second. Your stomach rolls, threatening to revolt, but you choke it back. You can’t afford to be sick here. Not when you’re already in trouble with your manager for barely making it on time. You think back to the half-assed breakfast you tried to eat—if you can call a slice of toast breakfast—and how your stomach rejected it like poison.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spot Rafe coming in. And suddenly, you’re even more aware of how wrecked you are.

You know he still struggles with how independent you are sometimes. You’ve always been the kind of girl who handles things on her own, and Rafe has this tendency to think that means you don’t need him.

Today, though? You need him more than ever, but you couldn’t bring yourself to call for help.

You immediately know it’s gonna be a thing.

His eyes lock onto you from across the bar, and even through the fog in your head, you can see that look on his face. He’s pissed. Of course, he’s pissed. His jaw’s clenched like he’s biting back whatever rant he’s about to drop on you, and you can already feel the tension creeping up your neck.

Great, as if you didn’t feel bad enough already.

You try to stand a little straighter, look a little less like you're one second from collapsing, but your legs are jelly, and the room’s still spinning like you’re on some messed-up carnival ride.

You don’t want him to see how bad you’re hurting right now. But today? You’re too out of it to even try and explain.

He strides up to the bar, looking sharp, as usual. Meanwhile, you probably look like death warmed over. His eyes are scanning you, taking in the pale face, the way you’re gripping the edge of the bar like you’re about to keel over. You see his lips tighten, and yeah, he’s definitely about to lay into you.

“You didn’t call,” he says, voice low but definitely annoyed. He leans in, trying to keep this between just the two of you, but with how loud the bar is, it still feels like a confrontation.

“I’m fine,” you lie, forcing a smile that probably looks more like a grimace. 

Rafe’s eyes narrow. He’s not buying it. “You look like you’re about to pass out. Why didn’t you call me?”

You hate that you feel guilty.

“Because I’m handling it,” you say, voice softer now. But even you can hear how weak you sound.

It’s not convincing. Hell, you’re not even convinced.

He crosses his arms, looking down at you like you’re a puzzle he can’t figure out. “Handling it? Baby, you can barely stand.”

You let out a sigh, trying not to let it turn into a cough.

"I’m fine," you repeat, but even you know it sounds pathetic at this point. Your head feels like it's full of cotton, you’re not sure if you’ll make it through the next few minutes, let alone your entire shift.

But pride’s a bitch.

Rafe just stands there, arms crossed, staring at you like he’s waiting for you to come clean. You can feel his frustration, but there’s something else, too. Worry. It’s in the way his eyes keep flicking over your face, how his fingers are tapping against his arm like he’s holding himself back from just scooping you up and carrying you out of here.

"I heard from Topper," he finally says, like he’s been holding that card in his back pocket. You blink, trying to keep up. "He saw you at the club earlier, said you didn’t look right."

Great. Freaking Topper. Of course, idiot couldn’t mind his own business. You can almost picture him, all dressed up in some preppy golf outfit, spotting you from across the course and making a note to text Rafe the second he saw something off.

Rafe’s still watching you, waiting for a reaction.

You open your mouth, trying to come up with some excuse, some way to brush it off, but your brain’s too foggy, and all you manage is a weak, "I was fine then."

He raises an eyebrow. "Yeah? 'Cause Top said you looked like you were about to hurl on the 9th hole." He’s trying to keep his voice low, but you can tell he’s annoyed. Not at Topper, not even really at you—just at the whole situation.

You want to snap back, tell him you’re fine, that you’ve got it under control. But instead, all that comes out is another tired sigh. “Greg wouldn’t let me call out. Said they needed me.”

“You serious?”

“Dead-serious.”

Rafe’s jaw clenches so tight you think you hear his teeth grind. His hands come out of his pockets, flexing like he’s about to hit something—or someone. He runs a hand through his hair like he’s trying to calm himself down before he says something he’ll regret.

But you know him—he’s never been great at holding back when he’s pissed. And right now? He’s definitely pissed.

“Greg said that?” His voice is low, but there’s this dangerous edge to it, like he’s two seconds away from losing it, “You should’ve called me. I would’ve come down here, I would’ve—”

“I know.” You cut him off because you do know.

He would’ve dropped everything and come running. That’s exactly why you didn’t call. You didn’t want to be the a burden again. Like you said, you’re still working on yourself.

Rafe leans against the bar, his whole body radiating this intensity that makes you feel both comforted and nervous.

“So, let me get this straight,” he says, voice louder now, not even bothering to keep it low-key anymore. “You’re sick as hell, and that asshole wouldn’t let you stay home?”

You wince. He’s drawing attention now, people at the bar starting to glance over. You hate seeing him like this, but you don’t have the energy to smooth things over.

“Rafe, please—” you start, but he cuts you off.

“No, seriously. What kind of fucking manager forces someone to come in when they’re this sick?” His voice carries, and a couple of the other bartenders are giving you looks, like they can’t decide if they’re more surprised or impressed by Rafe’s audacity, "You’re killing yourself for this job, and he doesn’t give a fuck.”

You glance toward the back, hoping Greg’s still in the office and not witnessing this meltdown. The last thing you need right now is more heat from him. But of course, your luck sucks, because just as Rafe’s ramping up, Greg strides out from the back, clipboard in hand, that same stupid scowl on his face like he’s already annoyed at everything.

Rafe spots him instantly, and if you thought he was mad before, now he’s on a whole other level.

"Greg!" Rafe calls out, loud enough that half the bar turns to look. Your stomach sinks. This is about to get ugly.

Greg stops dead in his tracks, his eyes flicking to Rafe and then back to you. He knows. He knows exactly what’s about to happen, and he’s already losing the upper hand.

“Yeah, Rafe?” Greg’s voice is weak, almost shaky. Like he’s trying to keep it together, but he knows he’s got no chance. Rafe’s family literally owns half the island—Greg’s just some middle manager with too much attitude.

Your boyfriend steps forward, slow and deliberate, closing the space between them like he’s already won this thing.

“You made her come in today?” His voice is calm, but it’s that scary kind of calm that’s worse than yelling. The kind that makes your stomach drop because you know the person holding it together is barely holding back.

Greg opens his mouth to respond, but all that comes out is this pathetic mumble. “We… we were short-staffed.”

Rafe raises an eyebrow, his lips pulling into this cold, humorless smile. “Short-staffed?” He glances at you, and you feel the heat rising in your cheeks. You really didn’t want this to turn into a scene, but here you are. “You see how she looks right now? You made her come in like this?”

Greg’s eyes flick back and forth between you and Rafe, and you can see the panic starting to set in. He’s sweating now, probably realizing that this little power trip he’s on is about to bite him in the ass. “She didn’t… uh… say she couldn’t work…”

“She told you she was sick,” Rafe cuts him off, voice like steel. “You’re the manager, right? Thought that meant taking care of your staff. Guess I was wrong.”

Greg’s mouth opens and closes like he’s trying to think of something to say, but nothing’s coming. He looks like a deer caught in headlights, knowing any move he makes right now could get him fired. Hell, maybe even blacklisted from every job on the island. The Cameron’s have that kind of pull.

“I-I didn’t realize how bad it was,” Greg finally stammers, but even he doesn’t sound convinced by his own excuse.

Rafe takes another step forward, practically towering over Greg now. “You didn’t realize?” He laughs, but there’s no warmth in it. “Look at her, man. How could you not realize?”

You wince as the room seems to get quieter, everyone watching this power struggle unfold. You’d rather be anywhere but here right now, but you also know that Rafe’s not letting this slide.

Greg takes a step back, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. 

“I-I was just trying to keep things running. We… we were slammed.”

Rafe’s smile drops, and now it’s just pure ice. “You think that’s a good enough reason to put my girlfriend’s health at risk?”

Greg looks like he’s about to pass out himself at this point, but he manages to mutter, “No… no, I—I didn’t mean…”

“Here’s the deal, Greg,” Rafe says, voice low but dangerous. “You’re gonna back off. Let her finish this shift if she wants. If she doesn’t? She’s out, no questions asked. And next time, when she says she’s sick, you listen.”

Greg nods so fast it’s like his head’s on a swivel. “Of course, of course, Rafe. I didn’t mean any disrespect. I just—”

“Good,” Rafe interrupts, already turning away like he’s done with this conversation. “Glad we’re on the same page.”

Greg just stands there, wide-eyed and frozen, clearly too scared to even argue. He stammers some half-hearted apology, but Rafe’s already turning back to you, brushing the whole thing off like it was nothing.

You look up at him, still in shock at how quickly Greg folded. “You really didn’t need to do that.”

He shrugs, leaning back against the bar with that easy confidence he always has. “Yeah, I did,” he says, his tone softening now that it’s just the two of you. “I’m not gonna let some nobody push you around like that.”

You sigh, feeling both relieved and slightly embarrassed. “You know he’s probably gonna hate me even more now.”

Rafe smirks, like that’s the least of his concerns. “Who cares? He won’t say a fuckin’ thing. Trust me.”

“Everyone’s going to say a thing, baby. They’re gonna think I have some kind of privilege because I’m dating you.”

Rafe’s smirk softens. He steps a little closer, lowering his voice so only you can hear him over the dull roar of the bar.

“Let them think whatever they want,” he says, his hand brushing against yours. “You’ve been busting your ass here long before I ever stepped in. Nobody can take that from you.”

You bite your lip, feeling everyone’s eyes on you, judgment and curiosity. He’s right in a way—you’ve been working extra hard. But still, it’s hard to ignore the feeling that now, everyone’s going to assume you’ve got some special treatment just because of Rafe’s name.

“It’s not about that,” you murmur, “I just—don’t want people thinking I can’t stand on my own. I don’t want to be the girl who hides behind her boyfriend’s power.”

Rafe tilts his head, studying you with that look he always gives when he knows you're holding back.

“You think that’s what this is?” His voice is steady, his tone a little softer now. “This wasn’t about power, baby. This was about someone treating you like you didn’t matter. And I’m not letting anyone—anyone—do that to you.”

He’s not wrong.

Greg didn’t give a damn about how sick you were, only about keeping the bar running, like you were replaceable. And you hate how right Rafe is, how much you needed someone to step in, even if it makes you feel a little helpless. You swallow hard, the tightness in your chest easing slightly, though your body still feels like it’s been run over by a truck.

“And you’re not working anymore today, or the next week for that matter. You’re gonna get your ass in my car and we’re going to the doctor.”

You nod, knowing there’s no arguing with Rafe when he’s like this, but part of you still feels guilty.

Not for needing help exactly, but for not being able to handle it all on your own. You've always been the girl who grits her teeth and gets through it, but today? Your body is screaming at you that you just can’t. Not anymore.

Rafe’s watching you closely, like he’s waiting for you to argue, but you don’t. You’re too drained. The adrenaline from the confrontation with Greg is wearing off, and now all you feel is this bone-deep exhaustion.

“I’m not going to a doctor,” you say, even though you know you probably should. “Just home. I just need to sleep.”

He narrows his eyes like he’s trying to read between the lines of what you’re saying, but then he just nods. “Fine. But if you’re not better by tomorrow, I’m dragging you to urgent care. No arguments.”

You give him a weak smile, trying to show you appreciate it even though you feel like crap.

“Deal.”

Without another word, he moves around the bar, ignoring Greg’s gawking and the way everyone’s still sneaking glances at you two. He gently takes the towel out of your hand, sets it on the counter, and slips an arm around your waist.

It’s the first time you’ve felt stable all day, leaning into him like you might actually make it to the car without collapsing.

“I don’t think I can afford an appointment.”

He looks at you like you’ve just said the most ridiculous thing in the world. His arm tightens around your waist, steadying you as you start to sway a little on your feet.

"Not worried about the money.”

You try to shake your head, but the movement makes you dizzy, and you stop, letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

"I just don’t want to be that person, you know? Relying on you for everything."

He gives you a side glance, eyebrows raised.

"Baby, you’re not relying on me for everything. You’re literally sick, and I’m not about to let you tough it out just because you’re too stubborn to ask for help. We’ve talked about this a million times.”

"I guess," you mumble, letting your head rest against his shoulder as you walk towards the door.

"No guessing about it," he says, softer now, his fingers brushing your arm in a way that makes you feel more grounded. "You’ve been holding down the fort for too long. Let me take care of you for once."

The air outside hits you like a slap, but Rafe keeps you close, leading you toward his car. Your legs are weak, the fever still simmering under your skin, but his body warmth keeps you upright.

"Thanks," you whisper, even though it feels weird to say. You’re not used to thanking people for basic care, but with Rafe, it feels different.

He pauses, opening the passenger door for you.

"You don’t gotta thank me, okay? I’m just doing what anyone who loves you would do."

Your heart skips at that. You’re still not used to how easily he says stuff like that, like it’s no big deal. But he’s rubbing off on you, because you can say it just as easily now.

“I love you too, sorry for being a pain in your ass.”

Rafe chuckles as he helps you into the car, leaning down to make sure you’re settled before he shuts the door. He bends down and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.

"You're always a pain in my ass," he murmurs against your skin, grinning as he pulls back just enough to look at you. "But you’re my pain in the ass, and that’s what matters."

You can’t help but roll your eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at your lips despite how wrecked you feel. The fever, the headache, the exhaustion—it all takes a backseat, at least for a moment. 

Knowing Rafe’s always got your back? That makes it a little easier to breathe.

[saturnsorbits]

Stuck Between a Soft Place

Fandom: My Hero Academia, Warnings: Tit Fucking, Cum Eating, Pictures/Filming. Word Count: 2k.

'Babe?'

Bakugo's voice floats down the stairs, the question in his tone worrying for a man who has always treated even his opinions as facts.

You pause, head cocked. He'll shout again if it's urgent, if not -

'Babe... Babe!'

Officially intrigued, you skip up the stairs and follow his voice into your bedroom.

Bakugo looks up as soon as you fill the doorway, a weary smile tugging at his lip. He's perched on the end of the bed, boxer-clad and supporting a raging hard on that has already stained the front of his underwear. There's still droplets of water on his shoulders, beads from the shower he must have just stepped out of. It makes his skin glisten, his pale flesh almost glowing in the low light that trickles in through the translucent fabric of your curtains.

You fold your arms. 'You best not have called me all the way up here for: that.' Glaring at his cock, you raise your eyebrows as it twitches in response to your scolding.

'No.' Bakugo barks, but no sooner are the words out of his mouth than he's trying to cram them back in again. 'I mean, I -.' The words stick in his throat. With all the blood currently filling his cock, his brain feels sluggish. His thoughts cloud, coherency evading him as he tries to see past the request plaguing his mind.

Shaking your head, you sigh. 'Should have just come down and bent me over the counter again. I liked that...'

Bakugo puffs out his cheeks, knees bouncing under him.

'Spit it out.'

'I want to ask you something...'

'Oh, I can tell.'

'Not that.'

You scoff, hand moving to your hip. 'You don't want to fuck me right now?

'No. No, I do.' He inhales, pecs heaving as he steels himself against the hesitancy that nips at the lining of his stomach. 'If I tell you something, can you promise not to get mad?'

Popping your hip, you flick your tongue against the corner of your mouth. 'Alright. Did you cheat on me?'

Bakugo looks like you've just slapped him. 'What the fuck? No.'

'Go see 'Chako's new baby without me?'

'No.'

You wince. 'Tell Shouto that I secretly hate his new hair?'

'He's going through a phase.' Bakugo chuckles, the tension in his shoulders slowly leaving with each of your questions.

'It's awful.'

'I didn't tell him you hate it.'

Chewing at your lip, you scrunch your nose and pretend to think for a moment. 'Then no, I'm not gonna be mad.'

The air in the room feels hot. It burns Bakugo's skin, making him want to squirm. Clearning his throat, he ignored the persistent pulsing of his cock and begins to speak. 'Sero was talking about one of his girlfriends giving him a tit-wank and I haven't been able to stop thinking about you doing it to me since.'

'That's it?' You bite your tongue to stop the laughter from bubbling up your throat. The words 'tit-wank' falling from your typically gruff boyfriends lips something you didn't think you'd ever hear.

'Fuck off.' Now it's Bakugo's turn to cross his arms. He pouts, lip turned out as he looks up at you through thick eyelashes. He sulks. 'You know I have a hard time asking for shit.'

Stepping over the threshold, you come to a stop between Bakugo's knees. The spread of his legs accommodates you easily, your thighs brushing as you reach out and gently hook a finger under his chin. 'Don't ask then. Tell me.'

Bakugo chokes. It's a struggle to fight the haze that threatens to overwhelm him, but he manages it. Just. You're a vision, all easy confidence and curves, with your tits so close to his face that it's impossible not to stare straight at your cleavage. Dragging his eyes away, he meets his fate head on and submits to the amused arousal swimming in your eyes.

It takes him a moment to reorient himself, to slip from under your spell, but as soon as he does he dons his ego easily. Clearing his throat, he takes your hand from under his chin and grips your wrist. 'On your knees.'

You obey quickly, hitting your knees with a force that makes you thankful for the carpet. Already you can feel your cunt pulse, the tell-tale beating that promises another pair of ruined underwear and a desperation that only Bakugo can tend to.

'Take this off.' Slipping his finger under the strap of your tank top, he snaps the material against your skin.

You hiss, but waste no time. Stripping off the offending item, you toss it behind you and sit up, pressing your elbows together to make your tits sit pretty for inspection.

Bakugo swallows. His cock bobs. Gritting his teeth, he summons all the strength he has as he lets his eyes roam your naked chest. 'No bra, huh? No wonder you've got me going crazy. Look at what you do to me...' He grabs himself through his underwear, a wicked grin turning his lip as he watches the way your breath hitches.

'Can I?' You blink up at him, hands still poised on your knees despite the urge to touch him running through your veins.

He nods and you're on him in a second. You push your cheek against his hardness and nuzzle against the muscle. Desire radiates from him, causing his cock to twitch as you pull back and lick a long, thick stripe up over his clothed erection.

'Fuck...' Bakugo forces his lungs to take in air, curling over himself he watches, besotted, as you drool over him. The tip of your tongue presses to the rim of his clothed head, flicking at him in a way that makes his stomach tighten. Travelling lower, you encourage him to lift his hips, yanking his underwear off and down his legs.

Bakugo’s cock, once free of its confines, slaps back against his stomach. It’s thick, although average in size with a pretty, pink head that leaks lazily down its length. Pre-cum has given his skin a pearlescent sheen, one that begs to be cleaned and promises salt and satiation as a reward. The veins that run underneath pulse. Purpling as they near his base, they vanish, obscured by a thicket of dark blond hair that grows wiry from his groin.

You lick your lips and whine, knowing you’ll have to wait for your treat.

‘Don’t be like that baby…’ Bakugo reaches down and grips your jaw, mirroring your earlier gesture. ‘Don’t you wanna make me feel good?’

You nod. In your shorts your cunt drools. Your arousal pools, dripping down your calves as you sit ad pretty and wait.

Twisting his wrist, he places a thumb against your lips and ruins your pout. He slips the digit into your mouth and presses down on your tongue. ‘You’ll get your taste. Just gotta let me use you a little first, ha?’

You suck on his thumb, hollowing your cheeks as you curl your tongue and lap at the underside of his digit. The impatience in your stomach kicks, but you fight it for long enough to shift forwards and press your chest to his thighs.

His skin is warm against your tits as you cup yourself in cool hands. Stretching out your spine, you lift yourself up until you can lean over and slide him between.

Bakugo slips his finger out of your mouth immediately. The sight is already too much, the feel of your flesh against his a siren call to a premature end.

Leaning further into him, you press your chest to his cock, a literal flesh light that promises to fulfil all of his sordid dreams. You lock eyes with him, forcing him to bear witness, as you gently begin to use your tits to jerk him off.

The first pass feels like heaven. His cock pulses, balls pulling up tight as he fists the sheets beside his thighs. Each joint in his knuckles pale, his arms locking at the elbows as he viciously fights the urge to begin fucking up into you. ‘Fuck. Fuck -.’ He pants, chest expanding as he struggles to take in enough air.

Tilting your head, you smile sweetly and ask: ‘Is this what you wanted?’

His words jam behind his teeth. ‘Yes. Yes. Fuck - y-you feel amazing, doing so good. So fucking good.’

‘Yeah?’ There’s mischief swirling in your stomach as you watch him struggle to maintain his control. His head is thrown back now, the tension clear in the veins that trail over his shoulders.

You love him like this. Lost to himself. To pleasure. Comfortable enough to bare his throat to you.

‘So you don’t want me to do this, then?’ You don’t wait for his response, just let the tip of your tongue peak from behind your lips and lick at the soft crown of his head. Salt explodes across the back of your tongue, soaking into your saliva as you savour him and swallow him down.

Curling over himself, Bakugo feels his entire body strain with the effort to stall his orgasm.

He snaps forward, eyes watching hungrily as you continue to please him. Still, looking at you doesn’t help. You look debauched with bright cheeks and that twinkle in your eye that lets him know he’s done for. He can see his pre-cum coating your flesh, the softness of your tits glazed already with his excitement. Even your tongue, as you slip it back into your mouth, is dashed with him destined for your insides.

It happens quickly then, as he watches the head of his cock engulfed in your warm mouth. The pressure is too much. Coupled with the wink you toss him over the scene - he really should have known…

You flinch as the first lashing of cum splashes against your mouth. Ropes of it follow as it seems to reach everywhere, saturating you. It makes you feel dirty. Claimed. Take a picture…’ You pant.

Bakugo’s eyes almost burst out of his head, his cock kicking violently between your tits. A valiant effort from the otherwise spent muscle.

You lick your lips, careful not to disturb his masterpiece.

The echoes of his orgasm are anything, but fleeting. His stomach is tense, his shoulders too as he wrestles himself into a state of straightness once more… Already the bone deep satisfaction only you can deliver to him is settling in his joints. It makes him easy, bringing back the bite of confidence he’s so used to.

Reaching backwards, he pats the duvet until his phone bounces into his hand. He flips it, flicking open the camera with a practised ease, but comes to a halt when lays his eyes back on you. He swallows.

Bakugo’s been sure of a lot of things over the years. He was sure he’d go pro. Sure he’d be Ochako’s best man. Sure he’d never find a curry better than how his mum makes it. And, yet, he’s never been more sure of anything than you. Emotion tickles his throat. ‘You’re so fuckin’ beautiful. You know that, right? So fuckin’ sexy.’

You roll your eyes.

‘Oi.’ He cups your cheek, forcing your eyes to lock. ‘You’re so fuckin’ hot, you don’t even know… You could have fucking anything, you could.’

‘That right?’

You smirk and he knows he’s in trouble. Bringing the phone up, he snaps a few shots off in quick succession. All of them promising to have him hard within moments. Your tits are soft, cushioning his cock between them. Only the head of his cock peaks out, red and rosy and dripping in cum. It covers the rest of you too, from breast to face. It's even nestled in the groove of your tongue, something you've openly displayed for the camera, coupled with a wink.

Unfolding yourself, you stumble to your feet, helped by a steady palm on your forearm, but before you can escape Bakugo grabs at your ass and waist, yanking you close to him. His nose bumps against your sternum, tongue flicking at your skin as he cleans a streak of his own cum from your body.

You let him, indulge him for a moment and then, you’re lacing your hands in his hair and pulling: Hard. His neck snaps back, crimson eyes blown wide. You laugh. ‘Keep those pictures. I’m going to get a shower.’

He swallows audibly, the click like a gunshot in the ambience.

You unfurl yourself from him and tap the phone in his hand. ‘Oh, and Katsuki… When I get back, we’re gonna make a movie.’

Bakugo groans, flopping back on the bed. His cock twitches, balls tightening again despite the recent release. Already his mind is swimming, the arousal in his stomach making him dumber by the second. ‘You’re gonna be the death of me woman!’

The door to the bathroom shuts, locking your laughter behind it. ‘And you’re gonna love it.’

-> Full Masterlist

[amhrosina]

Be My Baby

Summary: Frank takes you on a weekend trip to his cabin after you have a rough week at work. Your first stop? The enormous bathtub with enough room for soooo many activities.

Pairing: Frank Castle x fem!Reader Word Count: 2.8k

masterlist // join my taglist // follow me on instagram & ao3

a/n: hello! i'm back! my personal life is still a wreck but i missed writing for frank. this is probably the most self indulgent fic i've ever written lol it is quite literally the most ooey-gooey romantic plot before the softest smut imaginable. what can i say? i'm a hoe for soft frank. enjoy & thank you to the nonnie that requested something similar to this!

warnings: softest smut imaginable, fluff to the max, 'i'm an asshole to everyone except you' trope, a teensy little bit of crybaby reader if you squint, frank would burn the world for reader, reader is sOoOoO in love with frank (who isn't??), they're both a little wrapped up in each other's world and don't give a shit about what's happening outside of them type of vibes, pet names, etc.

From what you had seen, Frank’s cabin was cozy and warm, but since your arrival half an hour ago, you’d only had the luxury of soaking in the tub while Frank took care of unloading the car. He’d insisted on doing it alone, claiming his girl shouldn’t have to lift a finger for anything, and honestly after the week you’d had, you were temporarily glad he was as stubborn as a mule. You were sure that sentiment would fade the next time you were feeling bratty, but for now, you tried your best to relax and forget what an awful week it had been at work.

The heat of the bath water sent a wave of goosebumps down your spine, enticing a low groan from your lips. Sinking further into the water, you realized just how big the tub was. It stretched at least six feet across and was almost deep enough to stand, clearly a custom made feature of the cabin. You supposed Frank probably needs the room, being as large a man as he is. Still, it felt like you were in a luxurious hot tub, rather than a regular bathtub.

“There’s a button to turn on the jets if you want ‘em.”

Frank’s gentle voice carried across the bathroom, startling you from your relaxed state. You hadn’t even heard him come in. You turned, eyeing his powerful figure as he made his way toward you and sat on the edge of the tub. It was easy to get lost in the way he moved, and you tried your best to not stare at the muscles straining against the black longsleeve he was wearing.

“You okay?” He asked, reaching out to softly run his knuckles along the curve of your damp cheek. He was always gentle with you, but the desire to take care of you was even more present in his eyes than usual. It really had been a shitty week.

“This place is amazing.” You said in awe, turning your face away to hide your grin. His hand, already knowing what you were trying to do, softly gripped your jaw and turned it back to face him.

“You barely saw the place.” He chuckled.

“Whose fault is that?” You raised an eyebrow at him and sat up, fully exposing your bare chest to him. His eyes briefly flicked down to your nipples, hardening as the cool air touched them, before returning his gaze upwards. “Get in. There’s plenty of room for both of us.”

He nodded and stood, but began walking in the opposite direction of the bath. You furrowed your brow, watching him tug his shirt off and throw it on the counter. When he saw your expression, he grinned.

“Hang on. I brought something for you.”

“What do you mean?” You called after him, but he was already moving again.

He disappeared through the doorway, generating even more confusion, before returning with an assembly of things tucked under his arms. You watched as he worked his way around the room, placing various objects here and there until finally he flicked off the lights and turned to face you again.

The room was now aglow with flickering candle light, coating Frank’s looming figure in a warm haze. He’d gone for mostly unscented, knowing how strong smells could give you headaches, but had left in a few lavender candles because he knew how much it relaxed you. He also managed to sneak an entire bottle of champagne into the car without you noticing, of which he was pouring into two flutes. You blinked back tears as he handed you your glass, unable to express how warm your chest felt at the effort he was putting in to make you feel better.

“Frank.” You murmured, smiling bashfully, “This is the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.” 

“‘s what you deserve.” He shrugged, stepping out of the rest of his clothes. 

He sank into the tub next to you, tugging your body against his in a swift motion. He sat with his back against the edge, allowing you to easily settle your knees on either side of his thighs, facing him in the dim room. You sat just a little taller than him at this angle - chest pressed against his warm skin, arms resting on his broad shoulders - and God, he looked divine. The drive had taken a few hours, just long enough for the stubble to return to his cheeks after this morning’s shave, giving him a rugged look that you thought was just so handsome. You were unable to resist the temptation of running your nails over it in a soft scratch, eliciting a groan from deep in Frank’s chest. The rumble reverberated through your chest as you pressed yourself fully against him, seeking more of his affection. He tugged your head down onto his shoulder and began running his fingers along the base of your neck in a soothing pattern.

“You never answered my question earlier.” He murmured, resting his jaw against your head. “You okay, sweet girl?”

You sighed, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth for a moment as you mulled over your feelings. You were a sensitive soul to begin with, and your boss had been on edge all morning when he finally snapped at you for something you had no control over, which ultimately had you tearing up for the rest of the day. When you’d walked through the door crying, Frank’s eyes flashed violently between anger at your boss and sympathy for you. The sympathy had won, and now you were in a beautiful cabin in upstate New York, wrapped in his strong arms. Still, you weren’t sure how you were going to deal with your boss’ temper when you returned to work on Monday.

“I don’t know,” you finally replied, shrugging, “Can you ask me again later?”

You felt his cheeks widen into a small grin. He nodded, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Don’t think I won’t.” He teased, calling you on your avoidant tendencies before you could even notice them yourself.

“How long have you had this place?” You wondered, nuzzling into his heated skin.

“I bought it a few months after Maria and the kids.” He said softly, almost whispering when he had to relay his wife’s name aloud. “Thought maybe I was done with the city. Change can be good, ya’ know?”

“But you came back.” You lifted your head from his shoulder so you could look him in the eyes. 

“But I came back.” He parroted, nodding. “And then I met you.”

“And you stayed.” You finished for him.

“Of course I stayed. Couldn’t leave you behind, sweet girl. ‘ve been sweet on you since the day I met you.”

This was true. From the moment you’d met, he’d been nothing but gentle and kind toward you. You had no idea, of course, that this type of behavior was incredibly far away from Frank Castle’s usual attitude until you’d met Matt Murdock, who was so shocked at Frank’s subdued personality and general softness around you that Frank had to physically close Matt’s gaping jaw for him.

“But you never sold the place?” You questioned.

“I figured we might need somewhere to run away to every once in a while. Are you mad that I didn’t tell you about it before today? I wanted it to be a surprise.”

For a moment, he looked genuinely worried that he might’ve upset you.

“How could I be mad when I’m sitting in this enormous tub, surrounded by candles and champagne, pressed up against the man of my dreams?”

He smiled then, and you could tell it was a genuine smile because of the way his cheeks dimpled at the corner of his laugh lines. It was an award winning smile, you thought. You gently set the empty champagne glasses on the edge of the tub before cupping his cheeks in your hands.

“My Frankie,” you mumbled, running your thumbs across his cheekbones, “What would I do without you?”

You really hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but every time you looked at him, you felt yourself being pulled closer and closer to him. His compassion and kindness toward you, even after everything he’d been through, was something you couldn’t avoid leaning into. All your life you’d been taking care of others, and finally, here was someone begging to take care of you.

“You don’t have to worry about that, okay? ’m here to stay.” He mumbled, bringing the pads of your fingertips to his lips for individual, soft kisses. “I love you, and ‘m gonna take care of you forever.”

Tears welled in your eyes as an overwhelming rush of emotion passed over you. In your arms was a man that should’ve been bitter and angry at the world around him. He had earned the right to become spiteful and hardened, and no one could fault him for that. And yet - and yet - in your arms was a man that loved you with his entire being. Who understood you at your core, saw the dark parts of you, and loved those parts even more. Who was soft for no one but you. Who you loved, too.

A tear slid down your cheek as you kissed him, long and slow and sensual because you wanted nothing more than to wrap yourself around him and never let go. He smiled into the kiss, cradling your head with his beautiful, calloused hands. It wasn’t enough. You needed his gentle touch everywhere. Pressing yourself against him, you felt yourself sliding along his achingly hard cock, raising the already warm temperature in the room to searing. Heat pulsed between your legs, begging to be touched.

“My pretty girl,” he mumbled against your lips, kissing the corner of your mouth before following the curve of your jawline to your neck, “My pretty, sensitive girl.”

The praise made your head swim. You rocked your hips again, sliding along his length until you were hovering directly over him, waiting for the go ahead to sink down. He grunted, pressing open mouthed kisses up your throat before coaxing your hips lower and lower. You gasped when he finally pushed into you, and Frank took the opportunity to lick the inside of your gaping mouth as he did so. You shuttered against him, wanting everything he had to offer and more.

“P-please, Frankie.” You murmured, arching your back as he bucked his hips upwards.

“Please what, sweetheart?” He breathed, wrapping one of his enormous hands around the back of your head, forcing you to look down at him as you rode him. His other arm was wrapped around your torso, tugging your hips forward and back to stimulate your clit against the base of his cock. It was such an erotic way to be held that you couldn’t stop the tears from flowing down your cheeks. He leaned his head against your forehead and kissed the tears that made their way down your flushed skin. “Tell me, sweet girl.”

“I l-love you.” You purred, stuttering as he made his way down your body, kissing everywhere he could reach. When he got to your pebbled nipples, you sucked in a sharp breath. He knew exactly how to get you off, and he was staring right at them.

“I love you too, pretty girl.” He grinned and pressed a chaste kiss to each of your nipples, eliciting a pornographic moan from deep in your chest. 

He continued to push and pull your hips in a steady rhythm, grinding your clit against his pelvis as you bounced up and down his length. Slowly, in a teasing manner that had a new wave of fresh, needy tears streaming down your cheeks, he leaned forward and circled his tongue around the sensitive nub. You whined with impatience as he pulled away, only to offer the same kitten lick to your other breast. You knew he would take care of you like he always did, but his teasing was making your entire body tremble with anticipation. 

“I know, I know,” he cooed, kissing the valley between your breasts, “‘t’s okay, baby. Be patient. I’ll take care of you.”

You nodded, squeezing your eyes shut as you let out a mewl. You felt the hand Frank had been using to hold your head steady loosen its grip, and suddenly, he was softly wiping the tears away from under your eyes with his thumbs.

“You’re doing so good for me, bunny.” He murmured, and you very nearly came at the pet name he loved to praise you with. “‘m gonna make you feel real good, okay?”

“Please,” you begged, digging your fingers into his shoulders, “Need you.”

That was all it took for Frank to finally snap. In one swift motion, he wrapped his lips around your breast and began to run his tongue across your sensitive nipple. His hand traveled from cradling your cheek to rubbing small, sloppy circles around your pulsing clit. You keened, overcome with so much pleasure that you felt your entire body trembling against Frank’s.

The bathroom was big enough for your soft moans to echo, and other than the sloshing of the bath water, that was the sound Frank heard as you came apart on top of him. Your head was spinning as the heat in your gut finally found its release, uncoiling in waves of overwhelming pleasure that sent you reeling. 

“That’s it,” he breathed, “Just like that, pretty girl. You’re so good for me, baby.”

His fingers hadn’t stopped circling your clit. You were quickly growing overstimulated and conflicted, wanting nothing more than to keep riding him while also needing to get away from his dexterous and sinful fingers. He watched you for a moment, in awe - the way your lips parted every time a moan slipped out of your mouth, the heaving of your chest as your heart rate tried and failed to return to normal, the intense trembling of your limbs every time he circled your clit. He wasn’t worthy. He knew that. He didn’t care. He’d take care of you for as long as you’d let him, and he’d enjoy every second of it.

“F-Frankie,” you stuttered in between heaving breaths, “I can’t- I’m- It’s sensitive.”

“Shh, sh, sh, sh, I know, baby. I know,” he cooed, pressing soft kisses to your collarbone and up your neck, “Can you give me one more, bunny? Be good and give me one more.”

You shuttered against him, resting your forehead against his and breathing out a sultry whine. He continued his onslaught of kisses along your jawline, following the upward curve of your chin until his lips were on yours again. His agile tongue swept into your mouth mid-moan, sending heat into your already molten core.

“Wanna feel you come around me again, baby.” He groaned and tightened his hold around your torso, sweeping his tongue along your bottom lip before capturing your mouth in his again. 

He had brought you to the brink again already. You squeezed around him, earning a rare groan from Frank. The usually stoic and quiet man let out another sinful moan when you arched your back and squeezed again. He was as close as you were to the edge, and God, the tension was palpable. 

Finally, in a moment of pure bliss, he nipped at your bottom lip and let out a soft, barely there whimper, which sent you careening off the edge and into oblivion. You could feel yourself clenching around him as you came, but your head had been sent straight to a euphoric haze. Your heart thundered in your chest as Frank wrapped his arms around your torso and held you tight against his chest, coming inside your sensitive, throbbing pussy. 

You’d both worked yourselves into a haze, high off each other’s touch. The comedown was gentle and warm - soft caresses of each other’s skin, chaste kisses pressed to collarbones and fingertips, thundering heartbeats slowing in unison. The bath water was surprisingly still warm, and you couldn’t help but nuzzle into Frank’s chest with languorous, droopy eyes.

“You okay?” He asked, running his fingers up the length of your spine.

You nodded into his chest, sighing. “I’m perfect.”

“‘m glad.” He responded, kissing your forehead lightly. “‘m sorry you had such a rough week.”

“I’m not.” You giggled, glancing around at the luxurious bathtub you were in. “This place is like a dream.”

He held you tighter against him, resting his chin on your head before responding. 

“You don’t know the half of it, pretty girl.”

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[bitchimasnake-sss]

Okay so.. what if the monster trios partner just randomly swapped from bottom to top in the middle of freaky time (pretend the word freaky has that funny ass font)

oh,,, you mean 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 freaky. i hear you, i see the vision, and i must torment these men. ps: gonna add ace n law just for funsies <3

🌙thinkin' about: the monster trio, ace 'n law! vs switchin' things up!

VERY SHORT DRABBLES, OKAY? OKAY. NOT PROOFREAD, OKAY? OKAY. cw: pussydrunk men. dom-ish reader. nsfw thoughts include: handjob, teasing, cocky and pathetic men, creampie, doin' it raw. oh, and pussydrunk men. okay, thats it. MDNI OR ILL HUNT YOUR PETTY ASSES. m.list

🍒monkey d. luffy: tonight, let me be your little plaything.

❤️he just laughs when you thread your fingers through his hair and pull it backwards so meanly, "hah, what's wrong?" "w-wanna be on top," you pull him downwards, trying to turn him around and your captain complies happily. too happily, perhaps. grinning, he turns around to be on his back and uses his firms hands to stabilize you on his aching dick. "are you sure? i can—" luffy tries to ask, tries to really show you what a thoughtful and careful captain he is. but you just tilt your face downwards, and you drink in any enquiries he has like it is water. his mouth parts, lewd strings of saliva glistening between you as you slowly sink down on his length, and promptly moan into him as he finally bottoms out. as he looks up at you, he cannot help but fuck upwards into you harder. your hair sticks to your forehead and chest, the strands plastered against your soft skin like modern art, your lips parted and lust-driven, haze eyes trained on him as if he was your prey for tonight. his voice stutters slightly, body tensing in anticipation as you gently run a finger across his taut chest, "w-what?" "shh, let me take care of you tonight." you swipe your thumb across his bottom lips as his eyes roll back as your neat, manicured fingers dig into his chest. as you bounce on his lap, he lets out such pretty, vulgar noises, "mhph baby, l- harder." "harder?" you circle your hips, the motion almost enough to send you both into a orgasmic bliss. luffy digs his fingers into the fat of your hips, bruising and breaking the skin. eyes barely open, his lips slack open as his pace falters, "s-shit, so good. keep going, fuck—" "as you wish, cap'n."

🍀roronoa zoro: don't try something you cannot keep up with.

💚"hm?" the swordsman quirks an eyebrow, his flushed face looking down at you with tepid anticipation, "what now, woman?" you had been pawing at his bicep, weak fingers curling against the taut muscle as if to sway him physically. you pout, the expression enough to disbalance even the greatest, "i wanna be on top, today." "huh?" the swordsman grins in return, gliding his flushed tip against your clit easily, familiarly. as if it was a routine he was well-versed in. well, technically, one could say that. when he speaks, his tone is that of mockery, "think ya can handle that? your thighs start burning after two pumps, 'm not kidding—" "—shut up, why don't y-you, zoro!" your breath hitches at the sudden sensation of zoro abandoning your aching cunt. scoffing, he pulls you up, "alright then," the swordman lays down, pulling you on top of him firmly. gazing up at you with a challenge drawn into his features, he husks, "c'mon, show me what you're made of." "don't get co-cocky. i'm gonna ruin you tonight." you hiss as his length toys against your inviting opening. you throw your head back at the feeling the intimate veins and ridges against your gummy walls as he sinks in deeper and deeper and depper. zoro hisses, "shi- hah. easy now." rocking your hips, you both moan as he finally bottoms out. looking down at the (once) cocky swordsman, you're delighted to find a man entranced by you. his half-lidded gaze falls on you, lips parting as he raises his hips to slam into you, "go on, s-show me what you can do." you laugh, something sort of airy, as you thrust back into him with just as much vigor. your pace fastens and you swear you see his eyes roll back as he gasps, "ngh shit. w-wait a min—" resting your palms flat against his chest, you rasp, "don't order me around tonight, roronoa."

🫐vinsmoke sanji: whatever my girl says, i do.

💙you could ask vinsmoke sanji to give his life up for you and he would in a second. so, don't expect him to question you as you close the door behind and push him onto your shared bed, unbutton his blue shirt and tell him you want him right now, right here. of course, he doesn't question, but that doesn't mean he doesn't quirk an eyebrow and address you breathily as you straddle his clothed hips, "what's with the haste, love?" "need you." you admit so quickly that you're surprised your words sound coherent at all, "need y'so bad." "hm?" the cook hums in delight as you rub against him even with all your clothes on. his strong arm wrapped around your torso, bringing you down to face him. his breath is hot against your lips, "that bad, darling?" before the cook can attempt to turn you around and pin your to the mattress, your hand tug his wrists to pin them up instead. he doesn't even struggle under you, accepting his fate all-too-happily as you rasp from above, "no. you're bottom tonight, vinsmoke." and you're crazy if you think sanji does anything but grin in delight, fighting an erection and the insane urge to submit to you fully within a second, "as you say, ma'am." the cook of your ship moans under you as rut against him. your lewd fluids seeping into the fabric of his dress slack and drenching his weeping cock in such an unholy manner. his breath stutters as your pace fastens, as you throw your head backwards and push yourself harder against him. "g-gonna tease me all night long, gorgeous?" the cook smiles deliriously and you tug his tie to pull him up and kiss him senseless. admitting through hot pants and restrained breaths, "if that's what you want, then sure." "i'm all yours." the cook admits dopily, his lips still entangled against you as your aching cunt rubs against his straining erection, "whatever you say, goes." "in that case," you pulled your top off easily, looking down at him unhurriedly, "strip."

🦋portgas d. ace: oh really? think you can do this? yes, yes you can.

🧡"oh, baby." ace throws his head back, his pretty locks falling backwards to show his pretty face, "don't tease me like that." "like what?" you echo back, looking down at your boyfriend so innocently as his arms tighten around you, "i was s'posed to be finishing paperwork, angel." "do that, then." you softly take off his hat, putting it on yourself against the backdrop of his moans, "i'm not saying anything." "y-your hands are saying more than enough." and at his words, you tilt your head downwards to see the sight of your hands fisted around his pretty cock. your thumb swipes over his wet slit and ace moans, his arm going slack against you, "sh-shit, okay. i get it, you wanna fuck. i won't make you wait." his arm tightens around your waist once over as he picks himself up from the chair he was sitting on. dragging himself to the bed, he throws you just to cage you under him. "no." you say loud enough for him to stop, "what is it?" you entangle your index against his red-beaded necklace and pull him downwards just to ghost at his lips, "i'm going on top tonight." the section-commander just quirks up his eyebrows in delight, "really?" and in a minute you're on top of him, looking down at such a flush-faced, shirt-less man. ace hums, "okay, then. have your fun. i've missed seeing you like this." you adjust his hat, the beaded string dangling as you rid him of his pants, "and i've missed making you cry out my name." "hm?" ace hums hotly into the air, balancing himself on his elbows to peer up at you, "guess we have a lot of catching up to do." his voice waivers pathetically as you run your soft hand up and down his shaft, looking at him with your predator-like gaze, "seems so." you lick the tip languidly, tasting the salty pre on your tongue. moving your hand up and down, never once breaking eye-contact, you command, "now shut up, and let me do the talking." "as you wish, angel."

🪻trafalgar d. water law: don't give the man new kinks, please.

💜"captain," you say the word so softly that law finds himself keening at just the sound of your voice. his voice is breathless, raspy, undone from the way he was thrusting within your gummy walls, "y-yeah, what?" you look into his eyes, words falling into an easy smile, "change positions, please?" and soon enough he realizes that that's not a question, rather a command, "i wanna be on top." and so, law complies. mostly, to flatter his own ego when you'd get tired and complain about your thighs burning like you always do when you're on top, but a little bit to make your bratty ass happy. with his tattooed chest on display and his arms tucked behind his tousled head, law looks up at your leisurely, "go on." you grin, hips moving down so suddenly to take all of him in, "wasn't waiting for your permission, captain." shit. and now, law might be the one going into a neuro-psychotic breakdown from the way you move your hips. up and down, sideways, sometimes circling him as your greedy, snug cunt swallows him whole. your gummy walls gnaw at him, pulling at him so greedily that he has no choice but to buck up fiercely, white-knuckle the linen sheets and purse his lips lest he utter something so embarrassing. "what's wrong?" you ask in that same airy tone, as if oblivious to the way your snug cunt was sucking him in and milking him dry, "having fun?" "ohmygod," the captain brings up a tattooed hand to his face, covering his eyes as his hips buck up into you wildly, "don't stop, don't fucking stop." his voice falters. it quietens pathetically, in a manner that is so unlike him, "p-please." "that good?" you ask softly, tracing your index finger up till it lands against the column of his throat. as you close your hands around his throat, you can feel the stuttering breaths under his skin, "law?" "wh-what?" his eyes widen as he takes his hand off, and you squeeze his throat in response, "ya like it?" the fact that you feel his hips stutter under you, his breath fasten and the familiar, warm fluid splatter against your walls should be enough of an answer. "seems like you do."

a/n: how much do i love pathetic men? yes. AND OKAY YEAH THIS ONE'S FOR THE HOT GIRLS WHO GET TIRED AS SOON AS THEY GO ON TOP (like me 😞). anyways, my writer's block goes wild. either i don't write for two weeks or i write like five things in one day. anyways, this is a scheduled post, hope you hotties enjoy mwuah <3 m.list

[catcze]

⠀「 Kisses to chase away the nightmares 」 

Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!

[ Reader wakes up from a nightmare. Lots and lots of comfort ensues. ]

Aight. Had a Day™️ at work so this is what we're eating today

You sit up with a gasp, eyes wide and feeling lightheaded. The blanket is crushed to your chest, the hands that grip it shaking like a leaf. Each breath that leaves you is gasping and every inhale is no better— ragged gulps of air that practically sting your lungs with each mouthful that you swallow down. You're borderline frantic, eyes trying desperately to blink away the haze in your mind. You shiver.

Too cold. The air is too cold.

But that's something, isn't it? That you can feel the cold. That you can feel the scratch of the sheets under you, that you can hear the whirr of the air conditioning. It means that you're awake. That this is real. Not a dream.

That's the first thought that brings you even the slightest of comfort, that makes your racing heart calm just a little. Barely.

But your head is stuffed with cotton. The world feels muted, as if you've got water stuck in your ear. Your hands are still shaking. You look around— the bed is cold aside from where you've been laying down.

"Babe?" you call out quietly, in case he's nearby. No response. You swallow. Your heart is aching and thrumming in your chest, pushing you forward to find him right now. To ask for a hug. A kiss. Comfort. Anything.

You toss the sheets off, shivering when the cold air licks you and just manage to remember to put on your slippers before you head out the bedroom door.

Even so late at night, you find him in his office, eyes scanning over a sheet of paper with a thoughtful frown on his face.

You hesitate just beyond the crack in the door, peeking into the light of his office from the shadows of the hallway. Unsureness takes a hold of you, squeezing you painfully until you feel wrung-out and like this was just a stupid idea.

He's busy. Clearly he is. And it must be important too, if he's up so late fretting about it. You shift on your feet, swallowing, about to close the door back up.

This was a stupid idea, you think, deflating. You can just... bury yourself under the blankets. Maybe watch some animal videos. Hope that you fall asleep before he finishes and wonders why you're still up so late at night.

"You've been standing in the doorway for five minutes," he suddenly says, gentle but all-too-loud in the dead of the night. You freeze.

When you look back at him from behind the doorframe, he's already dropped his pen and paper back on the desk. All his focus is on you, and there's a worried crease to his brow.

He notes the shaky way you stand, how you worry the inside of your cheek. No doubt he can see the way you fiddle with the edge of your (his) sleeping shirt, too.

"What's wrong?" he asks, already getting out of his seat. His worry propels him forward, making him reach you at the doorway before you can even step foot inside the office.

You look away. "It's nothing. It's dumb, now that I think of it."

He clicks his tongue in disagreement, his hand reaching for yours and weaving your fingers together. "Try me, honey."

"... I had a nightmare."

There's a gentle squeeze on your hand, encouragement to keep going.

You take a breath. "I... can't remember what it was about. I just know I felt sick when I woke up. And I didn't want to be alone. I don't want to be alone."

He hums, rubbing soothing circles on the back of your hand with his thumb. "I don't want you to be alone, either," he says softly, and your heart practically melts.

"Do you want to try to go back to sleep?" he asks. "I can accompany you." You can already see him reaching for the lightswitch with his other hand, but you shake your head.

"I don't want to pull you away from your work—" he opens his mouth to protest, the I'm just about finished, anyway undoubtedly on the tip of his tongue. "And I don't think i can fall asleep yet either," you admit. "Can I just... stay with you for now?"

He smiles at you, small and sweet. "If that's what you want, who am I to say no?"

With ease, he tugs you back towards his desk, making sure to close the door behind you. You expect him to pull out a chair for you or to lift you and deposit you on the edge of his deks, but instead he sits back down in his seat and gracefully sweeps you off your feet to place you in his lap. All you can do is gasp in surprise, head a little too fogged up to really register it until your legs are swung over one of the armrests and your head is tucked below his chin.

"This wasn't really what I was expecting," you laugh, and he stares at you questioningly.

"Does it make you uncomfortable?"

"Mm, no. Didn't say that." As if to prove a point, you lean further into his chest, closing your eyes as you bask in the warmth of his body heat like a cat napping in the sun. You can feel the rumble of his chuckle under your ear.

His arm snakes around your middle, holding you to him, and a kiss is pressed to the crown of your head. Despite your earlier claims, your eyelids are growing traitorously heavy and your limbs are becoming more sluggish by the second. It must be how warm he is, you think. Well, either that or you just instinctively know that you're safe in his arms.

"Feel free to fall asleep," he murmurs, just low enough for you to catch. "I'll carry you back if you do."

You try not to yawn, burying your face in his chest. "Mmkay. You better not draw on my face or something while I'm asleep."

He has to hold back a laugh— it's good to see you joking around. Good to feel the tremble in your body lessen with each passing second. Good to feel you fitted up against him like a perfect puzzle piece.

"I wouldn't dream of it."

You yawn again, bigger this time and more insistent. The edges of your vision grows darker, sleep claiming you sooner than you thought. "Thanks," you manage to say just before you begin to drift off. "Love you."

He hums, rubbing a hand over your back, soothing you further as your breaths even out.

"Of course," he says quietly. Softly. "I love you too. Sleep well, dearest."

[ — Wriothesley, Neuvillette, Ayato, Diluc, Cyno, Kaveh, Albedo, Zhongli ]

[ #Taglist registration here !! ]

[wileys-russo]

Emily fox, “you’re quite intimidating you know”, night club/team night out

e.fox II intimidating

"why don't you just go and say hello, she doesn't bite!" lotte teased, nudging her friend who blushed red and elbowed her. "we've spoken before!" emily defended with a huff and a roll of her eyes.

"yeah at training, 'i'm open on your left!' hardly counts as a conversation." alessia chimed in on her other side, the three tar heels squished together on a lounge chair, the entire team out for the night to bond before everyone was due to head away to portugal, captains orders.

"em, you've been here for two weeks man and you've said about ten words to the girl! i don't get it, she's lovely." lotte pushed again nodding in your direction where you were stood at the bar laughing at something kyra said, shoving her head away from you.

"why are you two being so bossy! there is an entire team for me to bond me." emily gestured around to the multitude of mostly blondes gathered around the little area they'd booked off for dinner and a few drinks.

"exactly, but there is only one forward that you keep avoiding like the plague." alessia grinned knowingly. "is that maybe because you think she's fit." lotte teased, poking at the brunette who huffed.

"no! we don't say fit anyway, thats so english." emily pulled a face and sipped on her drink. "i hate to remind that you now...live in england." lotte laughed with a shake of her head.

"sorry. do you just think she's so hot?" alessia chimed in again with a horrendous attempt at an american accent. "not the valley girl voice." emily sighed with a shake of her head.

"i don't even know her! you're both idiots." emily insisted finishing her drink. "well you clearly want to know her. you're always glancing at her, watching her from afar, blushing when she smiles at you. since when are you so shy around pretty girls foxy!" lotte grinned as the american buried her face in her hands.

"what is this? haze the new girl?" emily grunted with a roll of her eyes. "she's very single, you're very single. we're not telling you to get on one knee, but you can't avoid her all season." alessia laughed before a new look settled across her face.

"no less don't give me that, i know that look. thats your meddling look!" the american groaned, having seen it many times throughout their time at college together.

"me? meddle? i don't know what you mean." alessia gasped in mock offence, sliding away from them and standing to her feet. "less where are you going? less? less!" the american defender whisper shouted to the blonde who pointed to her empty glass and pouted, but headed right over to you.

"next rounds on you less? thats so kind!" kyra cheered in greeting, slinging an arm around the blonde as you chuckled at your national teammate. "kyra stop being a pest for thirty seconds would you? shoo!" you gestured with your hands as the younger girl scowled and flipped you off but slunk away to find someone else to annoy.

"what are you drinking?" alessia smiled, bumping her shoulder into yours and nodding down to the lack of a drink in your hand. "water." you winked in return as the blonde pulled a face.

"boring! tomorrow is a day off. i thought australians knew how to drink?" alessia teased, waving over the bartender and respecting your wishes none the less.

"this ones emily's. i'm dying for the toilet, can you take it over to her for me?" alessia asked nodding down to the other drink she'd ordered, basically running away before you could even say something.

"typical." you sighed, dodging kyra who tried to steal the other drink and making a beeline for your newest teammate. "hey i need to speak to leah about something, be right back." lotte interrupted her friend mid conversation, emily frowning at the sudden way she stood and hurried off.

"hey!" but her face paled and eyes widened as you smiled down at her, offering her the other drink in your hand. "less got it for you, ditched me with it at the bar though." you rolled your eyes playfully and raised an eyebrow when the american didn't make a move.

"its not poisoned, you can drink it." you teased, but the friendly demeanor faded as emily tried desperately to make her brain and mouth match up, only able to open and close it wordlessly.

"okay...i'll just leave this here for you then." you frowned, slowly placing it on the table in front of her with a smile that this time didn't meet your eyes as you turned to leave.

"no wait! please sit." emily finally found her words as you hesitated for a second and she slid over slightly, gesturing to the space beside her. though as you sat down and she grabbed the drink with a quiet thank you, the uncomfortable silence returned.

"you know i think those four words are the most i've heard you speak. i thought americans were supposed to have big personalities?" you tried again with a slight teasing tone, leaving the space open for if she'd jump in.

"well i thought australians were known for drinking!" emily tried with an awkward smile as you shook your head. "why does everyone think that? there is more depth to us than that!" you laughed, sipping on your water.

"well you're quite intimidating you know." emily admitted as you looked at her in a mix of surprise and shock. "me? like you're one to talk you avoid me like i have a disease!" you laughed as the brunette look confused.

"i don't! i promise. or i didn't mean to if it seems i have been." emily sighed apologetically. "i thought you may have been avoiding me after the last time we played the US, that tackle." you winced at the memory, given a yellow card for the way you'd accidentally swept her legs out after she'd gotten rid of the ball.

"that? oh i was ready to kill you...months ago. i hadn't even given it a thought since then, well until now." emily assured with a smile that you returned, seemingly relaxed a little more at her words.

"i'm just...awkward? and you seem to have everyone and everything figured out, i've not heard anyone say a bad word about you." emily revealed as your smile softened. "you don't seem awkward. and i've had a couple of years to find my feet, you'll do the same too!" you bumped your shoulder into hers gently.

"okay i'll tell you a secret." you placed your water down on the table and turned to face her a little more. "i'm not drinking because i'm taking my driving test tomorrow and i've already failed it three times, last thing i need is a hangover." you groaned quietly, cheeks warm with embarrassment.

there was a pause of silence and you wondered if you'd said the wrong thing until finally as you were about to stand up there was a break through.

"stop laughing at me it isn't funny! i told you that in confidence." you huffed glaring at her as she clutched her stomach. "how did you fail it three times? i've been here a month and i passed first try!" emily shook her head in disbelief.

"i can't parallel park." you mumbled, eyebrows furrowing and crossing your arms as you huffed. "what? its easy!" emily laughed again as you sighed. "i just get all the angles wrong and i panic and well the last time i clipped the car in front." you blushed bright red, something emily had to admit was an adorable sight.

"no way." "way, its tragic."

"hey kyra! thirsty?" you frowned in confusion as emily called over the younger girl, handing over the drink she'd barely touched as the midfielder snatched it with a beaming grin and a thank you.

"what did you do that for? you know she won't buy you one in return, she's a massive scab." you rolled your eyes knowing the girl all too well, owed many a drink you know you'd never see.

"what are you doing on your day off tomorrow?" emily questioned ignoring the one you'd asked her as you shrugged. "groceries, sleeping in-" you started to list off the errands on your list as the american shook her head.

"wrong. we're going to get up early and get a coffee, maybe some breakfast, then i'm teaching you how to parallel park before your test." emily responded confidently, waving off your attempts to say no.

"okay, its a date." you eventually gave in with a grin, noticing the slight change in her facial features and the way her eyes widened. "oh i'm so sorry i don't mean like-" you hurried to back track but the american held up a hand, catching alessia's eye over your shoulder.

"yeah, it is a date."

[skyahri]

Shock |Kakashi Hatake X Reader|

Summary: An uninvited guest on Kakashi’s doorstep might be a little trouble, but it's worth it in the end.

Warnings: canon compliant violence, mentions of blood and death, reader is in shock, medical equipment.

Word Count: 5.2k

Masterlist Ko-fi

- - - - -

"I'm sorry, I um- I don't know why I'm here."

Out of curiosity, Kakashi cracks his front door open just a bit wider so he can get a better look at you. You're in your anbu attire, blood coating your clothes and splattered on your face. Your hands are shaking and you're shifting on your feet. You look manic- pupils blown and an unreadable expression on your face.

"It's kinda funny that I am, though, right? Knocking on your door in the middle of the night, covered in blood like a lunatic."

He peeks out into the hall, but there's no one else. No secondary footprints or chakra residuals. It's just you, like you said, covered in blood like a lunatic.

"You don't even like me and yet I still came here. I could've gone, well, anywhere else. I probably should've gone home... or the Hokage's office."

In your senseless muttering, you had gotten it right- you should've gone somewhere- anywhere- else. Why come here? While he's never been unnecessarily mean, he'd also never been kind to you, and yet here you are, waking him up at three in the morning, talking his ear off in some sort of haze.

"He'll probably want an update on my mission. He has to send a recovery team for the others, too. I think I need a medic before that, though. I hope he doesn't mind waiting."

He furrows his eyebrows at your rambling. You've always been a talker, but never like this. Never this unorganized and rushed, like your only goal was to fill the silence the night brought-

Wait.

"Recovery team?"

"It's kinda cold out don't you think? Usually, we have a few more weeks until it snows, but I think it's coming sooner this year. I've been trying to knit a blanket between missions, but I don't think I'll finish it before-"

You don't answer. You don't even acknowledge that he's said anything at all. You just keep talking. He's not sure what possessed him to do so (maybe it's his trauma responding to your off handed comment about a recovery team), but against better judgement, Kakashi sets his hand on your back and guides you inside his apartment. He locks the door before sitting you at his dining room table and searching around his cupboards for a cloth. He wets it, rings it out, and turns towards you.

"I found some really pretty yarn in Suna last year. Forest green and dandelion yellow and the most beautiful shade of blue I've ever seen. The woman who makes it gave me a pattern for an Afghan, said it's perfect for winter."

He wipes the cloth across your face, folding it over a few times to get as much blood as possible (why was there so much?) before returning to the sink to rinse it out and start again. He notices how you continue to stare straight ahead, completely unbothered by anything he's doing. Your words never falter, not even when he takes a firm hold of your face to make his task easier.

"I have four chakra natures... never really picked up lightning if I'm being honest. Did you know that? Nevermind, you're Kakashi, of course, you know that."

He tosses the rag into the sink and slowly moves to undo your weapon holster. It's light, and a quick peak in the pocket confirms that there's nothing left in there. He sets it aside, not really caring about the red puddle it's creating on the floor. He removes your gloves and kneels to untie your shoes.

"I copied that mudslide you use, by the way. It's crazy... changes the entire course of a battle in a split second. I'd say I hope you won't mind, but I know you will. You always mind when it comes to me."

He had you stand up and ushered you towards his bathroom. He turned on the faucet and tested the water to make sure it was warm. He grabbed the hem of your shirt and tapped your side, hoping that somewhere in your spaced out mind you'd get the hint and undress yourself. Lucky for him, you did, but not without falter.

"Your apartment's nice by the way. Very clean and organized and looks like someone actually lives here. All I have is a bed and a dresser. I don't have much time to appreciate anything else."

The motion was less than graceful. You used one hand to slip the tight fabric over your head and down your left arm, which stayed at your side despite the obstacle it caused. You expertly unclipped your bra and let it fall forward off your shoulders and to the ground, and had your pants and underwear there a second after. He doesn't stare, partially because he's already seen you naked before in the locker room from time to time, and partially because even in his perverted mind, he knows it's not the time.

"When I retire one day like you, I want my apartment to be just as homey. I'll be able to enjoy it since I'll be home longer than a day at a time."

He isn't too sure what to make of the current situation. He's pushing you under the showerhead, absently listening to you drone on, but all he can think about is how off-putting the whole thing is. You'd been in ops for a long time- long enough to not warrant a reaction like this after just any mission. Despite any sort of way he may have felt about you in the past, you've never been one to be affected by the carnage, a quality he's always appreciative of in his teammates. So what the Hell happened?

"My fifteenth anbu anniversary is coming up in December. Owl said he'd throw me a party, but I guess that's not happening anymore."

Your eyes fall from the wall in front of you to the drain on the ground. The water is muddy- the blood, sweat, and tears acquired from a month-long mission being washed away like nothing.

"I don't think I even like parties. I've never had one, which is why he offered in the first place. He wanted to celebrate my birthday, but I wouldn't tell him when it was. Drove him crazy."

Why is he even doing this? He must be losing it, honestly. Standing behind you, washing your hair as his clothes get completely soaked. This isn't something he's ever done, and even now, it's something he could never imagine doing for anyone else. You used to annoy the shit out of him, following him around in your youth and trying to be overly friendly when he clearly wasn't interested. If sixteen-year-old him had seen him in this moment, he'd surely have a fit.

"It's June 2nd, by the way. I don't think I've ever told anyone that. I don't even know why I told you. It's fine. You probably won't remember and even if you do, you aren't much of a gossip."

When the bulk of the debris is cleared away, he finally gets a good look at what's causing you to favor one arm. A gash curves around your shoulder blade and wraps around your torso, going all the way down to your pubic bone. It's deep and jagged, most likely from a dull kunai.

"I bet I'll get a few days off after this. Gai has been pestering me for a while now to try that new cold soba place. I think I'll go. He'll probably ask you to go, which would be nice, especially if Kurenai and Asuma come."

He hands you a soapy washcloth and watches as you diligently clean your hands. It's interesting, the way you scrub under your fingernails and between your fingers. It's probably muscle memory from years of trying to get the image of blood off your hands. He thinks, for only a moment, that maybe you aren't so different from him, you just put up a different front.

"I can't wait to have a nice meal. I'm so fucking sick of the MREs. It's a dumb thing to care about, but I think it's the smaller stuff that matters in this line of work."

He dries your hair before handing you the towel, leaving you to finish it off so he can grab you some clothes, changing his own while he's in there. Just sweats and a tee, and a pair of briefs if you'll take them. He hands you the bottoms first, withholding the top until he can get a better look at the wound.

"We were gone an extra week. My neighbor's gonna lecture me for sure this time. She always worries that I won't come back."

He thought for a moment, debating on whether or not he should outsource your injury. Honestly, even with immediate medical ninjutsu, this severe of an injury, not to mention how old it seems to be, is sure to leave a pretty nasty scar. Jostling you around to get across the village to the hospital may do more harm than good at this point in time.

"She's got three kids. All super loud, but they're really sweet. They think I'm the coolest person in the world, always saying they wanna be like me when they grow up. God, I hope they realize they should want more."

He grabs the first aid kit from the closet in the restroom and pulls up a chair next to his bed. He pushes you face down onto the mattress, your words becoming slightly muffled by his pillow. He's only ever stitched himself, and even then it was just a few here and there, not a hundred.

Your skin is soft compared to his rough hands. You seem like the kind of person to take care of yourself whenever possible, so he supposes it's not too surprising. He almost feels bad, being an accomplice to the desecration of your otherwise flawless body, but there's nothing to be done. All he can do is try and be as precise and delicate as possible and hope the wound heals nicely.

"Kumo is really nice this time of year. They don't have a lot of greenery but their flowers bloom around this time, just before the first snow falls- AH!"

It was like someone woke you up with a bucket of ice water to the face. You flinch hard when he sticks the needle through your skin. The area is tender, obviously, and the not-so-gentle tug of your flesh is enough to knock you out of your shock.

"Ah, there she is."

In the onslaught of your panic, you don't register, well, anything. You start to get up and the fact that you're half naked on his bed goes over your head. Before you can even prop yourself up onto your elbows, he's pushing your body down, large hands taking up the majority of your uninjured back.

"Relax. You're gonna fuck up the clotting if you keep squirming like that."

You lower yourself, but can't seem to loosen up at all. The blood loss and adrenaline crash are making your head spin. You feel sick and disoriented, and can't seem to to get a grip.

"Seriously, relax. Can't do what I need to if you keep freaking out."

You try to focus on his hands. They're rough from years of training, calloused, and strong as any other man would be, but the way he rubs his thumb back and forth over your spine is soft and doting. Years of unfamiliarity and pushback have left you hardly knowing him at all, but even you can tell this is his way of saying he's calm, and you should be too. Kakashi is a reasonable man, and it's safe to lower your guard around him.

When your breathing evens, he continues with the sutures as if it were nothing, emitting the same energy someone would put towards sudoku. Without the cushion of shock and adrenaline, you can feel how serious the wound really is. You push the unsettling feeling of the cool air against your exposed muscle to the back of your brain, preferring to instead lean into the warmth of his comforter. It has a more natural, woodsy, type of scent, similar to the shampoo he'd washed your hair with.

Kakashi is completely immersed in his work. He still has a ways to go, but he's rather pleased with his progress. Even spacing and perfectly taught, Rin would surely be proud.

"You're different."

He's caught off guard when you speak. If he's being honest, he assumed you'd somehow managed to fall asleep.

"Retirement has mellowed me out."

You don't respond and he doesn't bother to continue the conversation. The silence is comfortable. You hadn't talked to him in over a year, and even before that you were never on friendly terms, but the warmth in the air would lead an outsider to believe you were close.

It isn't long before he's offering you a hand and guiding you into a sitting position. He tugs a black shirt over your head and you pull your arms through, wincing at the stretch of your stitches. Your eyes go to the smear of red on your stomach, and subsequently the bedding. You absentmindedly thumb over the stain on his dark blue duvet cover.

"Don't worry about it. Just lie back down so I can finish the front."

You're too tired to argue with him, so you comply. He's leaning over you now that the injured side isn't directly facing him. His arms are warm against your skin and you have a better view of his face. Of course, he's still wearing that stupid mask, but you can easily make out the contours of his nose and lips. He's entirely focused, eyebrows pulled together and eyes fixed in front of him.

You hiss when he gets to the indent of your hip, knicking the bone. Your hand reaches to stop his, carelessly ignoring the fact that there's a needle sticking out of your skin. He looks up at you- your eyes are squeezed shut and your breathing is heavy.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"'s fine. Just need a second."

He sets the needle driver down and splays his now free hand against your midriff. He's concerned for your comfort, a quality he wasn't aware he had, but that he apparently holds for you. He isn't even sure what he's doing with all of these subtle touches and acts of affection. Yesterday, you were just an annoying girl from his past, not too unlike Gai, and now he's finding himself losing his aloofness in favor of a more intimate moment.

Your hand eventually slides down his, gripping the juncture between his thumb and forefinger, a subtle sign that you're ready, before you fold your arms above your head.

He squeezes your side and resumes his previous position. He's more careful this time, not that he wasn't before. He's done within ten minutes, finishing it off with some dressings and tugging down your his shirt. He tugs the blanket out from under you and goes to grab the spare. It's a quick swap, the dirty one getting tossed in the general vicinity of his washer and the clean one is lazily thrown over you.

He starts to say something, but shuts his mouth when he notices you sleeping. You finally look peaceful. Your lips are chapped, your hair's a mess, and you're paler than usual, but peaceful nonetheless.

He sways his head side to side to side as he contemplates his next move. He could certainly just wait it out and situate himself on the couch with a book until you woke up. Or, he could do what Kurenai would call 'the chivalrous thing to do' and continue to care for you.

With a sigh, he summons Pakkun, who appears in a puff of smoke.

"You think you can keep an eye on her while I take care of some business?"

"You got it boss."

- - - - -

Your eyes felt heavy. It took more willpower than you'd care to admit to force them open, and even more to lift your hands to rub the sleep away. The soreness that spread across your shoulder and hip quickly reminded you where you were and what had happened.

You sat up and swung your feet over the side of Kakashi’s bed, planting them on the floor and setting your face in your hands. You hear footsteps, but don't bother to look up. Your head is swimming, your stomach is in knots, and your body is fighting to not collapse.

"Dinner is almost ready if you're up to it."

"I have to give my report before I can even think of anything else-"

"No need. It's already been handled."

You lift your head to give him a confused look, and that's when you see it. He's a bit uneasy, shuffling awkwardly until he's leaning against the door frame. He won't meet your gaze and you can see his Adam's apple bob up and down.

"Handled?"

"I informed Lord Third of your return. He said not to bother with your full report until tomorrow morning at the earliest."

You turned your gaze back to the floor and sighed in relief, but the feeling didn't last as you began a rather fast paced descent into madness. You mulled over all the events of the day and couldn't help but think of all the things you should've done differently. You should've taken first watch. You should've forced an opening to send someone, or even a summoning, to get back up. You should've said no when the others wanted to camp for the night and insisted on moving forward.

But you didn't, and now the people you spent nearly every day of the past three years with paid the price, slaughtered in the blink of an eye.

While you had never been one to grow unnecessarily fond of your teammates in the past, you couldn't deny the personal affection you'd acquired for your team over the years. It was stupid to get so attached to people who signed up for a job that damn near guarantees death, but you couldn't help it. Not when Sato was convinced that the person responsible for his meal rations had it out for him by giving him all the worst options. Not when Kaito was complaining about another failed date that he definitely ruined by being, well, himself. Not when Yue always made the time to nicely braid your hair after an impromptu bath in the lake.

Especially not when they all went out of their way to ensure you that you were valued and loved.

Kakashi can't see your face, but he doesn't need to. The slight tremble of your frame and the shakiness of your breath tell him all he needs to know. Despite how uncharacteristically nice and patient he's been today, he's still not used to actually caring for people outside of just making sure they don't die. So he does the only thing he can think of and sets his heavy, uncoordinated dog paw of a hand on your head and ruffles your hair, much like he'd do for his ninken.

"Relax."

You can't help but snicker at the action. It's awkward, so much so that you can feel it radiating through his skin. Unlike him, though, you are very well versed in this area. You rub your hands down your face, drying any tears that may have fallen, and pull him closer, wrapping your arms around his waist and laying your head on his firm stomach. He tenses but doesn't make any effort to move. Eventually, you feel his rigid hold on your head loosen, his fingers grazing across your scalp and then running through your hair.

"You suck at comforting people, you know?"

"It worked in the end, didn't it?"

You can't argue with him, not after he had so easily shut down your rapid spiral. Instead, you choose to focus on the moment and can't help but notice how intimate it feels. You're no stranger to physical affection, oftentimes using it to get out of difficult or uncomfortable questions, but never before has it felt like this. It could be that you're wearing his clothes and smell like his soap, or maybe it's the way one of his hands is cupped around the back of your head and pressing you further into his abdomen, but this feeling is definitely different from anything you've experienced up until this point.

Unbeknownst to you, Kakashi is having similar thoughts. His mind is going a thousand miles a minute, trying to push away his avoidant instincts. This past year has given him the opportunity to rewire his brain to be less... guarded, and he's hardly done anything with the newfound sense of freedom. Sure, he's managed to salvage his friendships, but even that much was due to other people's persistence, and not his own doing.

Maybe, just maybe, there's something specific about you. This entire experience has been ridiculously natural. You look like you belong in his apartment, in his clothes. Talking to you doesn't feel forced and there's not that weight he usually associates with social interaction. It's almost like you belong-

"Kakashi?"

Your voice snaps him out of his thoughts. He shifts his gaze down to see you peering up at him. He gives a slight hum to acknowledge you.

"Weren't you cooking?"

Cursing himself under his breath, he pulls back, his hands sliding out of your hair and along the underside of your jaw. He quickly makes his way back into the kitchen, shutting off the stove and removing the pan from the burner. You follow after him and sit at his table. It's funny, really, the way he haphazardly moves around the kitchen like he's never touched a pan before. You shouldn't laugh at him, not after he's been so good to you, and especially because you probably wouldn't fare much better.

He set a plate in front of you and your face instantly lights up. You clap your hands together and thank him profusely for the food. It's quiet for a while. You're enjoying your first real meal in weeks and he's giving you the space to do so.

It's hard to ignore the looks he keeps sending your way. You avoid looking directly at him to preserve the bits of his face that his cupped hand doesn't cover, but you can still feel the holes burning into your skull. You know what he wants, and to be honest, you're surprised. It seems Kurenai was right with that off-handed comment a few months ago- Kakashi had become rather nosey in recent times. Or, maybe, he's always been keen to information, but due to his particular place in the ranks, he's never had to ask for it before.

Growing more uncomfortable under his gaze and sensing he won't be the one to break the ice, you take the initiative.

"Why'd you let me in?"

"I'm trying to be more receptive to people's efforts at friendship."

You nod. You were once on the receiving end of his less-than-amicable approach, and you were glad he was actually allowing people in after everything that happened in his youth.

"Why come here?"

You sigh, nervously running your hands up and down your thighs. Honestly, you hadn't been very present-minded when you knocked on his door last night. The journey back to the village was hard to recall. Even the few hours you spent awake with Kakashi earlier were blurry.

Every other time you've needed someone in the past, you've turned to Kurenai. It was easy to unwind around her. You didn't have to think about anything, just letting her force feed you snacks from a variety of vendors and drag you around to different shops.

That's not always enough, though, and even if you pretend it is, there's always a part of you that seeks out something more. Apparently, last night you had sought out that something.

"Sometimes... it's nice to be around people who understand,"

Kakashi nods. He's been on the receiving end of said behavior, and he knows exactly how exhausting it can be.

"Don't get me wrong, Kurenai and Gai are great, but... they ask so many questions. There's a big difference between regular Shinobi work and ANBU, especially with what I do, and it's just, I don't know. I just don't usually want to talk about the details."

"I get it."

Even though Kakashi is obviously curious, he doesn't pry. He really does get it. Constantly being asked if you're okay, if you wanna talk about it, being offered a shoulder to cry on- it's kind, but it gets old after a while. Especially when you're just trying to spend the limited free time you have as a person and not just an off duty shinobi.

"Can I ask you personal questions? Or are you gonna get all angsty on me?"

"Angsty? I'm not angsty,"

One pointed look from you is all it takes for him to cave.

"Yeah, yeah, just ask your damn questions."

"How's retirement?"

It's kind of complicated. He should be training genin right now, but he sank that ship before it even left the dock. Poor kids didn't even make it a day before they were right back in the academy. Or wait, could you mean personally? That's probably at least a little complicated, too. There's been a lot of change for him this past year, but that doesn't really mean much compared to others when you're practically crawling at the ripe age of twenty-four.

"I'm only asking how you've been doing, Kakashi, there's no need to fret."

He must've taken too long to answer. That's why you're filling in the blanks for him. He should feel embarrassed, but he doesn't. Your teasing tone is enough to subdue any negative connotations your interruption may have offered. Honestly, he's more so just confused as to how you knew exactly what he was thinking.

"... I have a lot of free time."

Man, you really do have to walk him through everything, huh?

"Is that a good thing?"

He shrugs and mulls over it for a moment.

"I'm used to being busy. It's just difficult to get used to. I imagine you'll have an even harder time adjusting once you retire."

"Why's that?"

"You've spent nearly your entire life in ANBU. The cool down from that is gonna be hard after it's been ingrained so deeply."

He's right about that. You'd joined at just seven years old, hadn't even been a genin a year.

"Do personal questions go both ways?"

"I don't see why not."

"Why'd they recruit you so early?"

Damn, he really went right for it. You swallowed hard. Your fingers drummed lightly on the pair of pants he'd lent you.

"It was the only way Lord Third could keep me out of root."

Oh God. Root. Kakashi knew all about Danzo and his followers, courtesy of Tenzo, of course. That place was disgusting and cruel. It was a wonder why it hadn't been shut down already.

"I'm not very smart, so I didn't stick out in the academy, but once I got onto the field and found my calling... let's just say Danzo had taken an interest in me."

Oh, Kakashi knows exactly what you're talking about. It's true. You couldn't do a henge or substitution jutsu to save you're life, but you made up for it tenfold. It's only fitting that the person dubbed 'Calamity' in bingo books be a force of nature, right? You had an abundance of chakra and raw strength that only Tsunade could parallel. All the jutsu you knew were hard hitters- mudslides, tornadoes, tsunamis- anything massive that didn't require a lot of concentration, you could pull off.

"It's fine, though. My fighting style isn't exactly useful on standard missions. Too much collateral damage."

You manage a laugh. It's a little awkward, but genuine nonetheless. Most people get a bit stiff when talking about your unorthodox recruitment, but you don't hold the same sentiment. You'd lucked out with an amazing team right off the bat. They were all men in their late teens and early twenties, eager to take you in as their little sister and raise you into a fine shinobi.

"Why’d you get recruited?"

"Me? Minato-sensei had some personal tasks for me."

"Oh yeah? Is that your mysterious way of saying you were solely recruited for baby duty?"

Now that had taken him aback.

"How did you-"

You, apparently, knew the couple very well. How that fact got past Kakashi all this time is beyond him. You told him about the first time you met Kushina- how she cried because the chest plate on your uniform was too big for little seven-year-old you. You told him about how Minato tried desperately to free you from ANBU during his reign, but couldn't find any loopholes that'd keep you away from Danzo. How they'd sometimes run into you on the street and offer to take you to dinner.

Kakashi shared his own stories of his sensei and his wife, which, in extension, got him to talk about Rin and Obito. Before either of you knew it, it'd been several hours. The last rays of sunshine had disappeared in the midst of your discussion some time ago. The pain of your injuries had dulled and were pushed to the back of your mind, buried in the new found connection.

He hadn't felt that stress-free in decades. There was no pressure when he was talking to you, even when it came to the people he lost. You were just... talking. No prying, no judging, no eggshells- just talking.

It was easy to admit that Kakashi was different from the others. The conversation had revived memories you hadn't even realized existed. This is what was lacking in all of your other encounters- depth. Screw mission details and gossip. These were the kinds of things you wanted to spend your time mulling over.

"Kakashi?"

"Hm?

You smiled at him and he swears his heart might be failing him. It's so soft and genuine, the kind of smile that soul mates share with one another.

"Thank you... for everything."

He doesn't respond. Actually, no more words are spoken between you two as you ready yourself to leave his apartment. There's a peaceful silence as you gather your belongings and head to the door.

When you're finally standing on his welcome mat, you decide that it's now or never with him. Maybe you're being a bit bold, but the Copy Nin is exclusively difficult to connect with and you aren't about to take any chances.

"When Gai inevitably invited you out to dinner-"

"I'll go."

That was surprisingly easy.

Another one of those beautiful smiles lights up your face at his response. He knows that whatever is going to come of this is sure to be troublesome, but he can't find it in himself to care.

"Good."

And just like that you're walking away.

[remlionheart]

⟡˙⋆ MDNI ⋆˙⟡

Teacher's Pet

♡༊·˚ the second installment in my euphoria x jjk drabbles. this takes place where megumi's left off, but it's still a standalone fic so it's not necessary to read both parts if u don't want to ♡ tw for drug use and slight coercion. gojo x shy fem!reader. 𐙚 praise kink girlies who have ever dreamt of an authority figure having their way with you - hi, hello, welcome, enjoy your stay 𐙚 your former teacher's house was a place where anything and everything happened. a place people came to let go of their responsibilities and lose themselves for the night. there was only one rule: no one was allowed to step foot in his bedroom... shout out to the loml @bratbby333 for literally being gojo. 3.9k words. porn with a plot. lemme know whatcha think, luv u ♡༊·˚

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Satoru Gojo had never been the most morally sound, neither in his personal or professional life. There were many things he was willing to turn a convenient blind eye to, secrets he was willing to keep in order to protect himself and those he deemed valuable enough. In a world predominantly made up of black and white, he was the condemning shade of silver that connected the two. Always towing the line but never really committing to either side.

With the amount of wealth and status he possessed, there was hardly anything he couldn't have - not a person or a drug or material object that was off limits to him. The entire world had always bent to his will, and he intended on keeping it that way.

His footsteps were heavy as he maneuvered through the crowd of sorcerers that were scattered about his living room.

Every weekend was the same, a hazy blend of laughter and smoke and blue lights. Girls snorting coke off of his marble countertops and couples fucking in the pool, not caring at all who saw. It was the place that people wandered to when they needed to let go of their inhibitions for the night and succumb to their own vices. "Gojo's house of debauchery" as Megumi would so endearingly name it.

He tilted back the rest of his drink while he made his way upstairs, pleased with the way bodies parted for him without him having to say a word. He was imperious, subconsciously operating with an effortlessly powerful presence anywhere he went, but especially within the domain of his lofty penthouse.

He came to an abrupt pause, noticing the door of his bedroom was cracked open. There were hardly any rules when it came to his Saturday night depravities, but the one thing that everyone knew was to not step foot into his room.

His jaw clenched, grabbing onto the door handle with every intention of having to drag someone out when the tension in his shoulders suddenly settled. A small smirk crept across his face as he closed the door behind him, his annoyance completely overruled by a new sense of perverse curiosity as he noted the way his sheets hugged the side of your hip.

"You lost sweetheart?"

Your eyes snapped open when you heard the click of the lock, your mind was racing trying to piece together where you were. You'd taken at least 4 shots too many before you'd stumbled upstairs.

The last thing you remembered was searching for a bathroom, barely being able to push your way through the crowd when Nobara noticed you. "You don't look too good," she had shouted over the music, "here, follow me." She'd forced you to drink some water while you peed and then guided you to the connecting bedroom. "You need to lay down for a little bit, 'kay?" It was the last thing you had heard before your head hit the pillow and your surroundings finally stopped spinning. You'd assumed that she'd taken you to one of his many guestrooms, but no, in her own drunken haze, she'd managed to leave you in his bed.

"Gojo-sensei," you immediately grimaced at your own formality, scrambling to correct yourself while you rolled over to face him. "I - mean, Gojo." Satoru? No, definitely not. You shook your head at the thought. "I'm sorry, let me just grab my stuff and -"

His smirk only grew at your hesitation though, a slight laugh leaving his lips as he waved a dismissive hand and took a seat on the edge of the bed next to you. "You're already here. Stay."

Your body froze when you met his stare, the low glow from the red light above his headboard emphasizing the sharpness of his face. You were surprised he even recognized you considering you hadn't seen him since graduation. Out of all of his former first-years who would so frequently pass out after overindulging, you had never been one of them.

Never, until now.

His eyes drifted along your silhouette, noting the curves that had replaced your once slender frame. The maturity that had stolen your timid teenage smile. You’d always piqued his interest, but you were now piquing something much more sinister inside him as he continued to look you up and down.

"This is new for you, hm?" He asked, looping a slender finger under his blindfold before pulling it down. "I mean, you were always a good girl, right?" Your heart stuttered in your chest when your stare caught his fully. An impossible shade of cerulean gazing back at you through thick lashes. "A bit shy from what I remember."

You shrugged, thankful for the way the lighting was covering up the heat that had migrated to your cheeks. You were better off than you were 2 hours ago but you still weren't as coherent as you should be, especially for this situation. "I was a kid back then." You finally managed.

"Seems like you're still one seeing as you couldn't handle a few shots without needing to lay down." His tone was more amused than it was scolding. "Look, it’s all about balance. If you're drinking or taking more downers than you're used to, you need an upper to counter it."

It almost felt like you were back in his classroom listening to one of his lectures, only the lesson he was about to teach you was definitely not Jujutsu High approved. He leaned over, grabbing a black Versace box from his nightstand. "If you're ever bordering on the verge of blacking out, the quickest way to regain your composure is this."

You watched him pull out a bag of white powder along with a dainty, almost doll-sized spoon, scooping out a bump before holding it to the left side of his nose while another finger covered the right. His pupils bloomed as he inhaled, letting the drug enter into his system with ease. "Come here." He instructed. 

You leaned toward him, it was almost muscle memory the way your mind and body both followed his directions with such blind obedience. A slight grin pulled at the corner of his lips as he brought another spoonful up to your face, his free hand closing one side of your nose for you. “Take a deep breath f’me.” He gave you a low nod as you complied without a second thought. “There you go, just like that.” 

Your jaw tightened, an odd sense of clarity washing over you when you looked back at him this time. The coke had managed to reel you back in, neutralizing at least some of the alcohol in your system as your body buzzed from the stimulants. Reality suddenly had a stronghold over you, reminding you that you weren’t just in your former teacher’s bed, but you were in it with him while he spoonfed you drugs.  

“Better?” he asked, cocking his head at you with the same smirk.

All you could do was nod, gradually coming to terms with the fact that you were powerless to the two opposing substances that were now working within you. Your heart rate was slowed by the alcohol but accelerated by the coke, neither one of them necessarily overpowering the other. They were instead coming in waves, almost taking turns as they flooded your thoughts and calmed your nerves. Gojo-sensei was always right, but you never imagined this would be something you’d learn from him. 

“A lot better.” You admitted, watching him set the box on the nightstand, wondering if the way he left the bag inside of it open was intentional or not. 

“Good.” He pulled at his tie, loosening it around his neck as he stripped out of his black blazer leaving him in just a white button up. “What were you doing here tonight anyway?”

Your mouth opened and then closed as you met his stare again. There was no subtle way to admit that you were still recovering from your latest breakup. That you’d come out tonight in a sad attempt to maybe, accidentally run into him.

“Oh, god,” he groaned, reading like you a fucking book. “Please don’t tell me you came here to get Takuma's attention.”

Your pupils dilated for an assortment of reasons, embarrassment churning in your stomach as you shook your head in denial. “What? No, I just wanted to get out for a few and -"

“Bullshit.” Despite the sharp edge in his tone, he was still wearing the same coy smile, his leg lightly grazing yours as he positioned himself closer to you. “You always had a thing for him. I remember the way you used to follow him around the hall like a lost puppy.” 

“That was years ago.” You countered, trying to process the fact that he’d watched you that carefully. 

“But you did, didn’t you?” His hand reached up, his slender fingers gently tangling into your hair, his voice dropping down to a pointed whisper. "I even heard you wanted him to be your first."

Your heart was racing, but it suddenly had nothing to do with the coke. Gojo-sensei had never been the most professional teacher. He was always joking with his students. Always getting into gossip that had absolutely nothing to do with him, but you never thought that his interest in his student's personal affairs extended to you considering you hardly ever had anything noteworthy going on. You sat in the back of the class. You barely spoke to anyone. You were a wallflower from hell. The fact that he remembered your crush on Ino was astonishing. The fact that he knew you wanted Ino to be your first was insanity.

His hand was still attentively drifting across the back of your neck, light fingertips gliding across your skin while his eyes roamed along your lips. You were forgetting how to breathe between the way he was looking at you and the sudden realizations that you were quickly having to come to terms with.

"You didn't actually let him take your virginity, did you?" His tone was dripping with taunting curiosity.

"He -" you faltered as his palm met the small of your back, the oxygen all but gone from the room. "He was my...first and...." You nearly choked on your own honesty, your face matching the deep red lights decorating his wall. "...only."

Satoru's body stilled, an incredulous look taking over his face before a vicious laugh erupted from him. "You're joking. So, have you ever cum then? Like, even just by yourself?”

"Of course I have." Your response was immediate. Almost too defensive to be true. "Plenty of times." You tacked on, which only made it worse.

You froze as his grip found its way around your waist, his fingertips lightly digging into your skin. "Show me then." he challenged.

Your heart felt like it was going to explode. His touch equal parts tantalizing and intimidating the closer he got to you, his hand cradled your jawline, his thumb tracing over your bottom lip. "Show me how you make yourself cum when no one's around."

Your breathing came to a complete stop when he closed the already small gap between you, his hand gliding down your neck as his tongue parted your lips. His body was warm and inviting, pressing against yours with ease. "Let me see it," he continued, slipping the straps of your tank-top down your shoulders.

You were stuck somewhere between the desperate desire to pull him closer and a nagging sense of insecurity that you couldn't shake no matter how hard you tried. You weren't stupid, you knew that he was much more experienced than you. He'd probably been with plenty of beautiful women who had given him more of a show than you felt capable of giving.

He pulled away slightly, picking up on your apprehension as his eyes met yours again. "You wanna be here, right?"

You nodded back at him, an aching feeling building between your legs at how dominant yet unexpectedly gentle he was being with you. "I do, I just -" You felt your jaw clench, the coke mixing with your self-doubt causing your body to tighten up even though it was the last thing you wanted it to do. "My head is just kind of everywhere right now." You admitted sheepishly.

"Here," He shot you a small smile before leaning over to reach back into his nightstand while you stared at the ceiling, trying to relax into the softness of his bed. "Open." he said, hovering over you again.

His stare was locked firmly with yours as you lolled your tongue out for him obediently, swallowing down the yellow circular pill he'd given you. "Good girl." He praised, tracing over the side of your face with his finger. "We'll take things slow, yeah?"

You didn't know what you'd just taken. Truthfully, you didn't even care with the way he was talking to you. His voice was like silk when he leaned back into you, carefully wedging himself between your legs as he kissed you again. His movements were fluid but thoughtful. His fingers grazing along your skin softly, leaving little goosebumps in their wake.

He may have been with more people than you had, but you were gradually starting to realize that it was more of a positive than it was a negative. He was able to read you so easily, he knew exactly where and how to touch you.

You let out a faint whimper as his palm met the inside of your thigh, slipping up your skirt and moving your panties to the side. "Keep your eyes on me, okay?"

The way your bottom lip lodged between your teeth while you looked back at him with a doe-like expression made it all the harder to restrain himself, but he somehow managed to keep his resolve.

His long digits spread you apart before his middle finger slid between your folds and began drawing light but firm circles against you. He could see your timidness slowly dissipating, the Valium he had slipped you clearing doing its job as you arched your back from him and let out another whine.

You were overwhelmingly comfortable, your body completely melting under his touch. He was running uppp and downnn your clit with just the right amount of pressure, creating a heavenly amount of slick for the both of you.

"That’s it. Gettin' so wet for me." He breathed, his lips just barely ghosting yours. "Do you have any idea how perfect you look right now?"

The moan you let out was beyond your control, your vision was blurred by silver hair and blue eyes and how unbelievably good it all felt. "Gojo-sensei," you panted, your body writhing beneath him as he slid in a thick finger inside of you this time. "F - fuck."

Satoru groaned, plunging even deeper into you. He never knew how badly he needed to hear you moan out his formal name until you suddenly couldn't stop doing it. Your hips were bucking up towards him, your lips urgently crashing into his as more dazed out noises poured out of you.

"Keep going." He instructed, reeling in the way your eyes widened as he added another finger. "You're doin' so good."

You were grabbing onto the collar of his shirt, your walls clenching around him. He was hitting spots that you'd never been able to reach before. Spots that Ino had apparently neglected too. You felt yourself slipping. Your mind was racing. Your body grinding against him desperately and your voice breaking with each word you tried to get out.

"Go-jo... I'm - gon-na..." But you didn't have to say it for him to know. He slammed into you, nodding at you in encouragement as fire flickered through his steel eyes.

"Let it out." There was a fierceness to his tone that he couldn't mask anymore, his composure was crumbling right along with yours. "C’mon, let me fucking feel it.”

Watching you come undone like this was such a sharp contrast from the shy schoolgirl he once knew that used to skip class just to avoid group projects. You squirmed under him, mewling out his name like it was the only word you knew as an orgasm finally raked through your body, stealing away every last bit of hesitancy you once had.

You were staring back at him like he'd told you to, never breaking eye contact no matter how hard it was for you to keep still. Your irises bloomed with pleasure, a noise you didn't know you were capable of making escaping you as you drenched his hand.

"Good fucking girl."

He pulled out of you, bringing his fingers up to your mouth. Your lips parted without him having to say anything, sucking them clean as you continued to look back at him with the same innocent expression. He was afraid he was going to no choice but to get you pregnant if you kept this up.

"Takuma ever make you cum like that?" he asked, releasing himself from you so you could speak.

You bit back a smile as you shook your head. "No," you conceded, helping him lift your tank-top above your head. "Not like that."

"I didn't think so." He smirked, unbuttoning his own shirt while you slid out of your skirt, both of your outfits being tossed to the floor.

You felt your center throb watching him strip out of his boxers. An overwhelming sense of neediness flooded over you as you took in the intimidating masterpiece that was Gojo-sensei's body. You'd be lying if you said you hadn't imagined what it looked like a time or two when you were in his class. It was hard not to with the way girls fawned over him, but you'd managed to keep your infatuation to yourself up until now.

Seeing him stroke himself as he lined up with your entrance was prettier than any daydream you could've ever conjured up.

"Need you to focus on your breathing.” he said, rubbing his tip between your folds to wet himself with your slick. The temptation to absolutely destroy you was plaguing his mind, but he knew he needed to ease you into it. The only person you'd been with was Ino for god's sake, you deserved to be fucked properly.

You followed his lead and inhaled slowly, thankful for whatever magical relaxation pill you’d taken you as he prodded into you. It didn't take long to realize why he'd told you to breathe, his tip alone was stretching you out more than you were used to. You found yourself grabbing onto his forearm, your nails digging into his skin as a hazy whimper filled the space between you.

"It's alright, you can handle it." Your walls were smothering him, so impossibly snug and tight that he struggled to keep his eyes from rolling into the back of his head. "Just like that. Juuust like that."

He pressed into you carefully, harnessing all the restraint he could possibly manage while you tried but failed to hold back your whines. "God, you feel fuckin' good." He groaned. "Takin' me so well."

You were still clutching onto him, your mouth dropping open the further he went. You'd never felt this full before - this entirely enamored by someone being inside of you. You thought that you knew what you liked up until this point, but he was drawing noises and feelings out of you that you didn't even know existed.

Gojo's urge to break you was getting harder to ignore. You were so pouty and delicate and naively trusting of him. He'd been trying to keep a steady pace, watching you intently to make sure you were still comfortable, but the moment the words "deeper" and "please" left your mouth, he felt something inside him snap.

His hand laced around your throat, his thumb and index finger pressing firmly into the sides of your neck. The smirk he shot you was lethal. "Deeper? You sure that's what you want?"

It was your one and only chance to back out, but you couldn't. There was a coiling tension in your abdomen. A depraved craving coming from your core. It wasn't just that you wanted more, it was that you needed more. You could barely get out another, "please." before he was suddenly plunging into you.

His rhythm was merciless, his grip tightening around your airways turning your moans into strained gasps.

He leaned in, his hair brushing against your forehead as he watched your eyebrows knit together, your eyes locked with his once more.

"You've always been so fuckin' cute, y'know that?" His hips met yours with another damning thrust. "So good at doing what you're told."

The red lights blurred together, a mixture of stars and sedatives clouding your vision as the aching feeling between your thighs amplified. Your cunt felt like it was pulsating, that burning build suddenly breaking away from just your stomach and spreading throughout your entire body.

"Oh, fuck." He grunted. "There it is. Keep goin’.”

Your walls spasmed, drool spilling down your chin while you wriggled under his grasp. Your pelvis tilted up feverishly to meet his as you took every inch of him. You were teetering on the verge of passing out. Nearly crying from how overwhelmed your senses were when another orgasm ripped through you.

His grip loosened on you, his movements becoming more frenzied. The fucked-out look on your face coupled with the pouty, suppressed cries you let out when he removed his hand from your throat was enough to drive him over the edge too.

His lips caught yours with feral urgency, his hand tangling into your hair as a lewd warmth filled you, spilling out onto his sheets. “I want you over here again next weekend," he said in between breaths. “Got it?"

You nodded back at him, your mind humming from overstimulation as he slowly pulled out.

He took a moment before getting to his feet, admiring the mess that he'd made of you. "C'mere." He smirked, helping reposition you up to the front of the bed.

He placed a pillow under your head and brought the blanket up over your shoulders. There was no way you were making it home tonight.

He lazily slipped his pants back on, only bothering to button up half of his shirt as he ran a hand through his hair and reached for the Versace box on his nightstand. He divvied out another bump and held the spoon to his nose, inhaling sharply before turning off the light for you and venturing out of the room to see how many people were still up and about.

The music had died down for the most part, the once packed hallway now mostly empty. He rounded the corner, just about to head downstairs when he came to an abrupt pause.

"Ino." he called out, noticing the brunette wandering out of one of his guestrooms. "Didn't realize you were here."

"Oh, yeah." He shrugged, tilting back the rest of his beer. "Was just lookin' for someone, Nobara said that -" he stopped himself before he could finish his thought, shaking his head. "Y'know what, it doesn't matter. She's too needy to deal with anyway."

Gojo's eyebrow raised, an arrogant smirk cutting across his face as he played along, offering him faux words of shallow comfort. "Ah, yeah. Bet she's pretty whiney too, huh?"

"Right." Ino snorted, completely oblivious to the condescending trap he'd just walked into.

"Probably says you're not deep enough." Gojo pressed, earning another clueless drunken laugh from him. "Always so pouty."

"Exactly. Like she's never satisfied."

"Girls," he mused, adjusting the collar of his shirt from where you'd grabbed onto earlier while you were soaking him. "Sounds like she needs someone to teach her a lesson..."

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

[v1x3n]

⸝⸝ ꒰ BROTHERS BESTFRIEND ⁞ ˎˊ˗

simon 'ghost' riley ⸝⸝ navigation

୨୧ 𝘴𝘺𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘴𝘪𝘴 : hes your brothers best friend and a friend you've known since the three of you were children, you could class him as family. so the place he chose when he needed somewhere to stay was of course your place.

୨୧ 𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 : angst, fluff, smut - longtime crush, regret, dry humping, praise, degrading words, cumming inside.

You were 10 when your brother, Jack, invited his best friend over. He was 13. It just so happened that every other day he would come over, hang out with your brother and talk a little with you. Soon you began to gain a little crush on him, but he was your brother's best friend - ofc you couldn't do anything. Plus he was older than you, at the time even 3 years apart seemed like a million. Maybe when you're older?

Growing up with your brother and his best friend constantly around you, causing Simon to be classed as ‘family’. So when he needed a place to stay after a 3 month mission, your family let him in instantly. Meaning he would live with you until his next mission - hopefully he wouldn't be as annoying as he was when he was younger. You hadn't seen him for maybe a few years after he joined the military - 3 years at least. At least your brother and him still talked so there was some sort of contact.

Knock knock knock

The door. Without thinking you stand yourself up and head to the door. You knew it was Simon and you wanted to greet him kindly. Perhaps he was still fit - ofc you would wanna be nice looking and get dressed up all cute for your old crush, definitely if he was fit. Almost sprinting to the door whilst sorting out your outfit, trying to make yourself look more presentable. Just so he doesn't think you're a scruff or anything of the sort.

"Hi!" cheerily greeting him as you fling open the door.

He retorted with a small nod and a grunt - as if he was telling you hello back. Swiftly shuffling out of the way to let him through, you couldn't help but feel like he was avoiding you. You watched him walk away, a puzzled look plastered on your face.

Entering the kitchen - leading the once known man along with you. "Tea?" murmuring trying to get away from this very awkward situation. Simon gives a slight nod, still not spilling words from his mouth. An uncomfortable atmosphere fills the space around you as you make his tea, grabbing one of your brothers' mugs, pouring the heated water into the cup. "Your brother around?" he hums, finally speaking up. A quick shake of the head comes from your person as he looks over at you mixing his tea bag into the water. One fast, clean swoop - passing the mug over to Simon as he looks into it, almost checking if it's good enough then he nods at it. “At work.”

Taking a small taste test of it as you lean against the counter, glaring into his eyes as he sips on the tea you had made for him. He smiles at you, a warm but slight one, before taking another sip of his tea. Gazing into his eyes and finally checking him out, head to toe.

You could tell he had just come from battle, war, revenge, just by how he was dressed. Grey sweater with his camo army pants, his vest and his big puffy black boots. Stained in blood, mud and gravel. A haze of red rushes to your cheeks as he speaks up. "like what you see or what?" grumbling with an obvious grin smelted onto his lips, under his Black, skull printed balaclava whilst he catches onto your eyes peeking at his body - lingering for more than his liking. "Oh sorry. i..i was just uh." trembling through your words as you search for an excuse.

"I was just joking, god you haven't changed a bit" he slightly laughed, your face burning through with embarrassment.

"Say yourself, you're still the cold, sarcastic little shit you were years ago." retorting back at him as you start to giggle as well. Simon stops himself from laughing more whilst holding the mug, making sure he won't drop it. "Well," he chuckles. "But at least I don't get all nervous and blush from silly, small things." Your two's banter had gone on for years, since you had met. That's probably the main reason you're so close - and the reason you fell for him whilst you were a dumb child. You both share a knowing look, and then start laughing again.

"Heard you're a lieutenant now?" you question, full well knowing the answer because your brother had told you. He gives a miniscule nod, still sipping on the tea that was almost empty now. A small smile on your face burned from the joke fight a minute ago.

Simon was never a talker. Yeah, he would piss around a bit, but still not much speaking. He would whip up some snide or mocking response in a flash if he wanted to - but most of the time he wouldn't bother. You knew Simon and you knew what he was like. So seeing him this quiet was normal - even though you were used to having a mad, loud life. Simon would only really banter with close mates, mates he had been with for a long time. It wasn't a surprise he was like this with you then, you know years of pissing each other off to mockery to small lil crushes almost made you more than just a mate he had known for a very long time.

You take a deep breath and continue with the conversation. "Anyways," biting your lip subtly while stretching and standing back up - grasping his cup away from him. The once filled mug was now just cold leftovers from the tea - pushing it from the counter and into the sink, ready to wash later. "I'll go show you your room, yeah?" without even waiting for a reply you scatter off down the hall. Eagerly following you down, up the stairs then back down another overly long corridor: then there it was, Simon's new room.

The room was plain, with a few pictures on the wall, a nice king-sized bed with soft, plush bedding. A small desk with a few documents scattered on the top of it, across was a wardrobe - filled with some guest clothes, PJs, towels and a robe. Stuff like that. There were some shirts he had guessed you had bought specially for him - seeing the size of them.

Not like he was fat or anything but you cannot say Simon wasn't a big guy - he was excessively muscular and quite tall. Tall enough that you had to almost strain your neck to look up at him properly.

"Here," you added, passing him a towel that you had picked up from the bed.

A quick glance gets chucked at you and he greatly accepts it into his arms, "bathrooms just next door and clothes are in the wardrobe."

"I stink that much?" He already snickers, removing his jacket from his person as he does so. You scoff. Almost instinctive too.

"you're alright, just don't want you going around spreading blood and dirt round the house. i don't think my parents would like that." He rolls his eyes and smirks at you. "Yeah, yeah." He steps out of the bedroom leaving his filthy jacket behind. "Your brother told me your parents are away for a bit?"

Your parents had left for some work thing for a few months - leaving you and your brother at home alone. At least now Simons is here you could have some more fun.

"gone for the next two months." you reply from his bedroom, chatting while he turns the shower on. You neatly fold up his dirty jacket and take a slight huff.

Around an hour goes by, lying down in your bedroom - scrolling endlessly through your phone as Simon stays in the shower. Thuds. Loud foot-slamming thuds blast from the bathroom. Pull yourself up and out of bed to check on Simon just to see him with just a towel on his bare body, the towel slowly descending down his hips. Peeking down at his pelvis as crimson rushes to your eyes, you swiftly glance back up to see his smug face gazing down at you.

"You good?" the man before you pondered, staring down at you as your eyes hovered around his damp body.

"Yeh, fine." you mumble, averting your eyes. "Jacks not back until late tonight, works keepin him behind so I'll just order someit" you added, your voice barely audible.

He nods, swiftly and heavily - great you were stuck with him for a few more hours seeing as your brother was busy. Sighing when you move away from him, back to your room to order some food. You couldn't get the image of Simon out of your head. His naked person, water dripping from his hair. His chiselled and smooth face. Plump lips that would just be great to kiss. Bet he would be a sloppy kisser, especially when drunk. God can imagine. With his glistening brown eyes that had seen more things than anyone could ever think of, you could tell his story, his life through his pupils. You loved his soft, flowy hair - it was the perfect length that showed off his sharp but still soft jawline. Dirty blonde colour that you would actually just die for. It just suits his fine hairstyle.

Let's not even talk about his body. Shit his sexy ass body. His perfect waist. God he looked slutty. You could see the outline of his cock through the towel. Aaaa. Thinking about it makes you wet. The towel was slanted so you could see his nice hips. It felt for your eyes only, as if he had done it for you. His muscles are just flawless - not too chiselled so it's not rock solid, but not too soft so there's still an outline. His alluring pecs, they looked as soft as a marshmallow. You need to get your hands on them instantly. knead them, give them seductive, black and dark purple bruises, lick his pretty ass nipples. Maybe you shouldn't be thinking about this.

Fuck did you still like him? Pack it in honestly! He's your brother's best friend, plus it wouldn't be like Simon was attracted to you. You weren't his type. Now that you think of it you don't recall Simon ever mentioning a girlfriend or crush or anything of the type. Has he ever had a girlfriend? I mean there's nothing to disapprove of when it comes to him. He was sweet when needed, sarcastic, funny, hot, fit, cute, cold. However, you don't mean a mean cold. You mean a sexy, mysterious, snarky, controlling cold. If he wanted you too, you would bend over for him and let him take control - do whatever he wanted. That's just the type of person you wanted and it was lucky you had someone who seemed like that type naked right now in your house. Fuckkkkkk. Were you starting to recatch feelings again? Maybe you're just needy and need to get laid.

With an irruption the thoughts hault as you hear Simon, “is there eh.. anything I could do? Chores or whatever?” he asks with a certain nervousness in his voice. You didn't quite catch exactly what he said with your head half still in the clouds.

“what? No no. "you're a guest it's not your place” sweetly laughing at his ridiculous ask. A subtle ‘oh’ sound pours from his lips. You stare up at him - making quite uncomfortable eye contact with him as he sighs in and out and walks towards the living room. “You sure? I wouldn't mind.” His rough accent formed out through his lush words. It was hard to tell whether you thought he was cute or not.

"Oi" you warm him when you see him picking up some rubbish and putting it into the bin, pointing your finger at him as if to tell him off while following him into the living room. As you see him sitting on the couch you continue, "shut it, it's fine.” sighing softly when you sit beside him.

Soon you two began to talk a little - carrying on your banter from before as a shitty TV show sounds in front of you. Throwing harmless insults side to side to each other as it starts to get more physical - jokingly hitting each other, pushing and messing with each other's hair and now this… Simon was chuckling and pushing you over onto the cushions to then tower over you - pinning you to the couch. "Hey!" you howl as he grips onto your arms to keep you down. Grimacing as he snickers above you, almost mocking your tiny body with his. He lingers there for way too long, staring down into your eyes - his contact deciding whether to look into your eyes or those distracting lips of yours. Then he chooses; his glaze loiters over your cherry lips as he leans more into you. The sensation of his scent fills your nose as he gets closer, blocking the space that divides you two. "S-simon?" whispering your answer to him while he gets way too into your space.

That was enough of a sign for him to make his move. And before you can resist, He closes the gap between you, his lips find yours, claiming them in a passionate kiss. It feels surreal and wrong, but part of you can't help but be swept up in the moment. The moment felt electric as your tongues met in a sensual way. Your heart is beating faster and faster. You can feel your body melt into his, all traces of thought and logic vanishing amidst the heat of the moment.

He grabs onto the side of your waist and calmly smooths it out as he increases his kiss, stopping every few 30 seconds to breathe. "Wait!" you burst out and push him away from you. He breathes heavily - catching his breath as you scoot yourself to the end of the couch. Swiftly picking yourself up and exiting the room that now forever holds that memory. Simon was left confused and dazed. You were sloppily kissing him one second then you had just picked yourself up and left him; not saying anything about it.

Emotions of confusion to lust to anger to sadness flood your mind as you figure out what the fuck had happened. I mean it wasn't like you didn't like him but you liked the kiss. But that's normal right? Liking the kiss? It didn't mean you liked him. You had told yourself for years so you had told yourself again: you cannot like him. He's your brother's BEST mate. There's no way your brother wouldn't stab you if he found out you were even thinking about Simon like this. Making your way to the bathroom floor - the slick cool floor so you can just slide onto and rethink your entire life. You sit there with your head in your hands, trying to make sense of the feelings you were feeling. Sighing as you fight with your inner self.

It wasn't like you hadn't kissed before though. It was after parties a lot- both of you were hammered and in each other's company and then it would just kinda happen. The warmth of his lips were always on your mind, after the amount of times you two had kissed it was almost like his plump lips were imprinted onto yours. You could draw them with your eyes closed almost. "This is wrong," you whisper to yourself, "this is wrong." But it felt so right. The feeling of Simon's lips on yours, the way his body pressed up against yours like a perfect fit, and the way he looked at you with those irresistible deep brown eyes.

“y/n?” a rough voice sounded from the room behind the bathroom door, scared to even answer at the act you had just pulled.

“‘M sorry si.” whispering so he can just barely hear you.

He then pops open the door to see you were on the floor and hiding yourself from the world almost. "Love? You got all upset?" isn't wasn't really a question - more of a statement.

You had kissed him and then left him. Maybe you should at least give him an explanation?

“It's- it's just I can't…

Your Jack's best friend man, and- and it's wrong. You're one of my mates for fuck's sake.” Whimpering kinda through your words, looking up at him with your nearly pricked eyes.

“Maybe we should yk… not do this.” Your words slip out as you regret the thoughts spewing out of you.

Without another word, you two had lived out the rest of the day in silence - not talking about the situation nor anything in general. It was weird, almost eerie how quiet the house was. Faint blasts of media when either of you switched on a TV or your phones but other than that no sound came from your mouths. Jack still hasn't come home, god his shifts were ages.

It was awkward- too fucking awkward. You two had sat down on the couch, put on some TV show you both enjoyed and ate your takeaway. All you wanted was a big fat burger more than anything and maybe to unsay everything that happened a few hours ago. It was a fucking mistake to kiss him then.

“Simon” a small voice creeps out of your mouth, barely audible. His head swings in your direction, so fast he could actually break his neck. God it was too embarrassing to bring up before, “your food alright?” fuck why the shit did you say that?

“Yeh. Fine." Fuck, you were fucked. Holy shit. The air was dead silent, it was pure threatening. You knew you had upset him. He didn't show his emotions tons but you knew you had. You almost felt like you were in the eye of the storm. Not a word is spoken and the air is thick with tension.“Good, good” your tone progressively gets quieter the more you talk. "Listen" words get cut off by the blast of the door opening. The sounds of stomping follow through the hall and into the living room.

“Oh Simon!" Jack almost squeals out.

Simon looks at Jack with his heart pounding in his throat. Jack looks back and smiles, seemingly unaware of the tension in the room. He ruffles Simon's hair and grabs the extra bags from the takeaway, snacking on them as he settles down in his chair. The air is thick and unbearable. You try to act calm and casual, but your nerves are getting the best of him. Your leg is bouncing off the floor like crazy, bounce bounce bounce - over and over until Simon lays his hand on your knee. “Pack that in."

“Ooooo, Simon!" Jack laughs as he smirks at you two, “you better not be touching up my sister.” He chuckles once more, as if he didn't know the obvious sexual tension in the room as his hand touched you. You wanted his hands to touch elsewhere but you had fucked up. The pooling puddle of guilt only increasing with time just made it worse, the little voice in your head chanting ‘simon, simon, simon’. JUST SHUT UP!

“I wouldn't go anywhere near her '' Simon laughed it off as if he wasn't on you a few hours ago. You feel your heart sink and a wave of embarrassment wash over you. You try to force a smile but your face feels numb. You take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart and ease the tension in the room. You take a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. You force yourself to make eye contact, hoping you look confident and composed. You take a deep breath and attempt to speak up. "oi twat," you speak to Jack while pushing Simons hand that was still on your knee away, "work alr'ght?"

"what yous been up too?" jack smiles over at you.

"Oh uhm," a blush spreads across your cheeks when you remember the kiss you and Simon had shared on this same couch a few hours ago. "Just watching uh tv" you smile to try to make yourself seem less suspicious. “Oh well, I'm goin’ to bed” Jack states and then moves away from the living room to his bedroom. Leaving you and him alone once again.

“You didn't need to lie." His eyebrows knit softly, and he looked at you in a way that indicated there was more on his mind.

“Way what else was I meant to say? That we made out on the sofa, his best friend and his sister, then i ran off cause im too much of a fucking pussy because the person i like finally kissed me and i was scared?!”

He sighs out loud, then shakes his head in his hands, “you like me?” Simon's breath hitched in his chest. He didn't hide the colour that crept into his cheeks, his eyes searching for yours as he breathed in and out - trying to process everything. As his eyes looked at yours, yours were glued shut. Trying to block everything out.

“N-no.. I- it just came out. I didn't mean like- like that." Your body stiffened. His nostrils flared as he took an uneasy breath, his expression turning sour. He cleared his throat once and took a slow breath. "Good." Simon muttered. His voice was cold as he looked away.

“Good? Why's that good?” Your scoff becomes almost deadly when you hear his mumbles that he obviously didn't intend on you hearing.

He glares at you, knives being thrown at you through his firing pupils. “Wouldn't wan’ get into that” simple but saddening answer. Your eyes mould shut and you sigh at him.

“Whatever” you set yourself up and start to step off, away from the scene - once again. "Fine, pussy off again" He's trying not to show how pissed off he is, but it bleeds through every syllable.

“What the fuck?” Your eyes squinted as if you were trying to see him. Stomping towards him, your footsteps create thunder and lightning with every step forward. Getting himself up and then backs up and glares at you with that dead expression he had only used on the pricks he met. “Why are you acting like this?”

“Why are you leaving again?”

Letting out a harsh sigh as a response, you stop in front of him as if defeated.

“Cause we fucking kissed!” you shout at him, pushing him from his chest but he doesn't budge, the tears calmly falling from your tear ducts, calmly despite how fucking angry you are, “and maybe i like you but im just some fucking toy for you!” your voice quieting while the tears cloud your mouth. The salt seasoned your tongue. Simon groans. "It's complicated love.” His voice has taken on that husky tone that sends wet heat straight to your core even though all you wanted to do was fucking kill him right now. "You are not a toy to me, your- it's-''

“It's fine Simon, I understand."Mumbling and whispering your answers.

“No you don't. Even I don't even fucking understand. You're amazing but I'd fucken ruin you doll. ‘M not right for you. Love, you need to move on.” He said, sputtering, like he didn't want this to happen. You could sense a hint of sorrow hidden in his eyes.

“I DON'T WANNA. I WANT YOU!” finally shouting at him, to knock it into his head. Not caring if your brother hears your desperate words anymore. You could see him fighting against anger. He was trying hard to control his anger in order to respond calmly. In the end, he couldn't hold back and barked at you. “Love. Fucks sake” he cursed under his breath, the words wrought with exasperation and longing.

The details melted from your brain, like you fought and now you two were on the couch - the place you two had been earlier that day, kissing once again. You positioned yourself atop him, feeling his hands curve around your waist as his grip intensified. Your body pressed firmly against him, enhancing the closeness of the intimate embrace. The kiss was deep - almost smothering you with his lips. The groans that fall from his mouth to yours echo through you both could make your little cunt throb. But instead of your cunt throbbing, his cock does instead. The tight tent growing under you, the sensation pushing up against your pussy, the gentle, sweet moans that drip from your lips only create an even smaller free space in his boxers.

He presses his lips to yours after slipping his tongue out of your mouth, a small peck on your lips and then releases you. Simon's heavy breathing mixed with his blush filled face made your wet spot glow. “This - is this alright?" you nervously whispered into his ear to check up on him. Simon pulled back so you two were not in each other's face to catch his breath before leaning back in and kissing you more. It’s deep and passionate, a lot of feelings built up inside him for you, and it was all being unleashed through his actions and kisses. The length underneath you being unable to leave your head, your mind running with lewd thoughts. As if you were sleepwalking or something but as soon as you thought about riding his girthy, thick, hard length it was almost magically your cunt started dragging against his size, humping his pathetically rock hard cock.

The kissing stops as he lets out a short whimper before pulling you back in for a rough kiss, almost eating your face off. Like he needed you so fucking badly, like he had wanted this for hundreds of years. Like a hungry lion when meeting any piece of meat near. Dangerously gripping onto your hips and helping you through your grinding. He knew it would be pathetic if he came from this, no actual contact- it was just you humping his hard on through layers of clothes but he was close. The heat from both your bodies combined with your passionate, deadly kissing and then on top of that the grinding, it's all intoxicating to him.

As your breaths synchronise and the space in between you grows as he leans back against the couch, letting you do whatever - surrendering to your touch.

His head gets launched back and a groan falls from his mouth when you grind faster as your hands trail up your body and lift the fabric over your head. The shirt drops to the floor as he aws at your chest, the plump skin that flows above your pretty yet basic bra. “So fucken pretty" he groans into your breasts and kisses the fat.

His hands comfortably lay on your thighs, squeezing the fat and gleaming his smile up at you. His mind is hypnotized by your perfect body, the way your body curves at the right place, soft skin and fuck your sensitive spots. Could almost finish with the way you moan when he grabs onto a sensitive spot. His gaze lingered on your figure. The only thing that snapped him back was when your voice reached his ears. "This okay si?”

“More than okay darling.” He smiles sweetly up at you, "You okay with more?”

Swiftly you nod at him, ready to take anything. Within a second he took off his shirt, his hand still around your waist so you don't fall with his movements. His shirt fell down to the floor, exposing his bare chest that you had seen so many times before but… today was different. He then pulls your body up and places you on the other side of the couch.

As your eyes follow his chest he unzips his pants, his rough voice sounding through your ears. “Pants off.” He commands you to do as asked - and you follow through. Scrambling to tug off your pants and then your panties, your cunt gets a hit of the breeze to it. He gazes at your bare form, no pants, no panties and no shirt. Only a bra yet to be ripped off. He groans at the sight of you. As you look back towards him you see him getting out his cock, the length bouncing out. You were a little scared to touch, after the events from before you weren't sure what was okay now…

“Come ‘ere love” Simon's voice mixed between his rough voice and one that's trying to be as loving as possible. Following his commands brings you to be sitting on his lower stomach, he was laid down with his hands rubbing up your hips. Murmuring sweet, soft things to slowly melt your brain.

“So so pretty dove” he hums to himself and smiles, meeting your gaze with his own.

Without asking you had enough, enough of the build up, enough of practically edging since the shower scene, enough of not being filled with his cock! Pulling your hands to his chest and lifting yourself, making sure to be careful and not hurt him. He questions, “what are you up to love?" not angry, just curious. No reply came but a soft whine while you sink yourself onto his cock, feeling him fill you up. Hovering just above, not taking the full thing. His groan just makes you a little more scared, well not scared just you wanted to take this slow. It's your first time with him, Simon Riley - the man you had a crush on for years maybe, and you didn't wanna drop down onto his big cock and cum instantly. That would be so fucking pathetic. But then again you feel the knot ripping already by just seeing his face making those sounds and his cock being slightly in you.

Simon's hands wrap around your waist, gripping his fingernails into you - small curved cresents buried into your skin. A groan growls from you, then when he lifts you up, and plops you all the easy down onto his cock, a loud gasp follows. Spearing your cunt. “S-si!” you loudly moan out. Your cunt squishes his cock, his groans only make the heat maximise. Eyes roll back when his strength lifts you back up and spears you onto his length once more. After a while of the same movement you were basically a flop. Just his fleshlight.

“Fuck princess!” Simon whines when he stops force impaling you, then you start bouncing up and down. Your tits bounce along with your movements, creating a hypnotising target for him. Up and down, following every jump you make. Your walls tighten around his cock. The wetness from you running down his cock, creating almost a fountain from your moistness. “Keep going doll” groans drop from his lips as his orgasm nears, your wet cunt engulfing his dick. Your cunt is filled with his cock. Honestly if he were to come, you'd just burst. You thrust yourself up and back down. His groans and your moans create one big potion. A potion that would surely have you, Simon and your brother all sitting down at the dinner table tomorrow talking about what the fuck was going on.

Your guilt gets closed off when Simon's voice whispers out, “‘m close!” fusion between being quiet and being loud. Bouncing faster, more mewls fall out of you. Being ping-ponged onto his cock just felt so fucking good. “Me too” barely formed your words, too busy with the pleasurable activity.

“Your body's so fuckin’-” his groan slices through the sentence, “so fucking perfect, fucken made to take my cock. Werent you? Cute little slut all f’ me” His blabbers between his shut teeth came out louder than he wanted. He was very clearly trying to last as long as possible and not cum. Your bounces fasten up when your high glows closer and closer, so desperate for a release and his release. His length hits all the right fucking angles.

“Let me cum inside you.. Please please please" His plea filled the living room, so eager to fill you up. With your mind elsewhere and letting your slutty body take control you let him. His grip onto your waist tightens, forcing your movements to grow. His cock feels every wet spot inside you, the pressure building up. He moans out, his grip tightening as he thrusts up into you. His rhythm increases, you feel yourself getting closer and closer, your body trembling and your mind spinning. The small sweet faces you make, your eyes rolling back into your currently empty brain. Soon his warm, salty cum fills you up, spurting down from your pussy. Your orgasm soon follows after, both your cum mixing together - creating one big sticky mess. A mess that surely you'd regret in about 10 hours. His eyes almost fell back with his head, leaning back against the sofa.

He slowly pulls out of you, a small trail of cum following behind him. Taking a deep breath and a big stretch. You feel a rush of pleasure course through your body as he leans in and plants a soft kiss on your forehead. Your eyes are glued closed, savouring the moment. His lips linger on your skin, and you can feel the electricity in the air. You take a deep breath and open your eyes, looking into his addictive eyes as you smile weakly at him.

Perhaps you were right to fuck him and it was for the best. You finally shagged him and the faux images didn't have to be in your head anymore - you finally put an end to those fantasies. Now for all the consequences for shagging him. Simon Riley. Your brothers' best mate.

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[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗔𝗖𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗠𝗜𝗖 𝗩𝗔𝗟𝗜𝗗𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡

　　　　　𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x student!reader

SUMMARY: Amid relentless academic pressure, Y/N finds herself consumed by the desperate pursuit of perfection in her college. Her obsession with validation leads her to neglect her own basic needs until a sudden accident forces her to confront the reality of her situation, receiving the complete help and support of her boyfriend, Chris.

WARNING: Comparison, crying, dark thoughts, fainting.

REQUESTED?: Yes, by @sturniolowhore

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Y/N sat at her desk in the corner of her shared room with Chris, surrounded by mountains of books, papers, and her laptop, whose screen glowed brightly in the semi-darkness of the room. The clock on the wall showed 2 a.m., but for her, time had lost all meaning.

The sound of Chris' light snores, who was sleeping soundly in the bed just a few meters away from the girl, sounded muffled against her ears. She had tried to sleep, really, but sleep wouldn't come at all, and when Y/N was sure that her boyfriend had finally slept, she was able to get up.

Her mind was totally immersed in study. Every cell in her body focused on absorbing every detail of the laws, the precedent cases, and the doctrines. She was obsessed with academic validation, an incessant compulsion to be the best in her law school, not because she wanted to be better than others, but to show herself that she was capable of something.

The pressure to achieve excellence was overwhelming. Every time a score was posted, her heart raced in anticipation, and each less-than-perfect mark was a stab at her already fragile self-esteem.

Y/N never felt like she was enough, no matter how hard she worked or how well she did. There was always that underlying fear of not being good enough, of not living up to other people's expectations and, even worse, her own unrealistically high expectations.

Days and nights melted into a haze of books and coffee as she sank deeper and deeper into her quest for perfection. She found herself studying until the early hours of the morning, neglecting her basic needs.

Eating had become a sporadic activity, limited to quick and insufficient snacks. Drinking water was a luxury she couldn't afford to waste time on. Taking a shower or even going out to get some sun was completely out of the question.

Her body began to show signs of abandonment, her eyes sunken and tired, her skin pale and lifeless. The dark circles that adorned her face were like badges of honor, marking the sleepless nights and days of incessant study.

But Y/N ignored all the signs.

She was determined not to be overcome by her own limits, even if it meant sacrificing her physical and mental health in the process.

Chris, worried, tried in vain to bring a little normality to her life. He watched from afar every day, helpless in the face of the web of obsession that enveloped Y/N.

He would try to talk to her, sometimes even begging Matt to do so - his brother had a way with words, but she would always evade it, sinking deeper into her bubble of study and self-denial.

Y/N didn't want to worry him, didn't want to admit she was losing control. She was determined to face this battle alone, no matter the cost.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The clock on the wall read almost 9 pm of a Tuesday, and Y/N was still locked in her shared room with Chris, immersed in a sea of ​​books and papers. Her desk was a chaotic mess, with crumpled papers and several tabs open on Google on her laptop, each representing a different subject that she was desperately trying to absorb. Her hand hurt from writing so much, her eyes burned from reading so much, and her body was weak from the time she had spent there.

Chris entered the room for the fifth time that day, carrying a glass of water in one hand and a pink plate with a simple sandwich in the other. His heart sank when he saw Y/N's state, her tense and exhausted expression, her almost obsessive determination to continue studying, ignoring everything else.

His blue eyes traveled across the mess of the table slowly, noticing the plate of Y/N's favorite cookies, which he had brought hours earlier, still untouched, and he swore he felt his heart break again.

"Hi babe... Here, you need to eat something." The boy approached cautiously, trying not to scare her. His voice sounded softly, showing her the plate with the sandwich.

Y/N looked down at the ceramic, her tired eyes reflecting a mix of stubbornness and exhaustion.

"I... I need to keep studying." She murmured, shaking her head, her voice weak and shaky. "I have an important test, Chris. I can't stop now."

Chris felt a wave of frustration and anger rise up inside him. He knew how important that test was for Y/N - and all the others she studied incessantly, but he also knew that she was pushing her limits. He refused to stand by and watch as she destroyed herself.

“Y/N, you can’t go on like this.” He insisted, his voice rising slightly with urgency. "You need to rest, you need to eat, you need to do something besides studying!"

"I can't, Chris. I can't stop now. I need to..." Y/N shook her head determinedly, keeping her blurry eyes fixed on the papers in front of her.

Chris sighed heavily, dropping the plate and cup onto the wooden surface with a thud, his own frustration spilling over into angry tears.

“You’re destroying yourself, Y/N.” He murmured, his voice choked by the weight of his own emotions. "And I can't stand here and watch it anymore."

With that, Chris turned and left the room, leaving a very lost Y/N behind, her teeth biting her lower lip hard in an attempt to stop her feelings from taking over herself, an atmosphere full of tension and despair taking over the environment.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Then came the day when her body finally said enough was enough.

It was 2 a.m., and Y/N was sitting at her desk as usual when a wave of exhaustion hit her with full force. She felt dizzy, her vision blurred, and her hands shook uncontrollably. The world around her seemed to fall apart as she fought to stay conscious.

The girl gripped the edge of the wooden surface tightly, trying to stabilize herself, but the force used was almost nil, her fingers sliding across the table and her arms falling limply. Her senses gradually disappeared, causing her body to bend to the right until she completely collapsed, escaping the safety of the chair.

The sound of Y/N's body hitting the floor made Chris jump out of bed in instant fright. The boy sat up abruptly, his sleep-clouded eyes traveling around the room in search of the source of the rude sound. His heart raced with panic when he saw his girlfriend lying on the floor, motionless.

Chris ripped the blanket off his body, quickly standing up and running to her, ignoring his own confusion and worry flooding his mind.

"Y/N! Y/N, baby, wake up!" He shouted, desperate, as he knelt beside her, pushing the pink gaming chair away.

With shaking hands, he checked her breathing and pulse, relieved to find that she was still breathing. Carefully, Chris turned her onto her side, briefly remembering when Nick told him that this was the correct procedure to do when a person suddenly passed out. His wide blue eyes ran frantically over her body as he silently counted the seconds in his mind.

Relief flooded him as he saw Y/N begin to regain consciousness, her eyes blinking slowly as she tried to understand where she was.

"Chris? What... what happened?" She murmured, her voice weak and her brow furrowed in confusion, her right hand rising from its limp position and reaching towards her head, pressing against the side, a pained expression spreading across her face.

Chris ignored her question momentarily, lowering himself to her level and pulling her into a hug tightly, sighing deeply as he repeated in his mind that she was there, alive and fine.

"You passed out, sweetheart. I heard the noise and... Oh God, Y/N, I thought you had..." The tears - which the boy barely noticed coming into his eyes - began to flow freely down his cheeks, his heart aching at the thought of the possibility of losing her.

His thoughts self-sabotaged him, making him feel guilty, he felt that he should have realized sooner - despite all the countless attempts to try to bring her out of her bubble, that he should have done something to prevent her from getting to that extreme point.

Y/N slowly sat up with the support of Chris's hands after he backed away, still feeling weak and bewildered.

Upon hearing her boyfriend's words, she felt her own eyes fill with tears, the accumulated emotions overflowing into a torrent of anguish and despair.

"I'm sorry, babe. Fuck- I'm so sorry. I... I can't do this anymore, Chris." A sob escaped her throat roughly, her voice choked with crying. "I'm destroying myself because of my own expectations. I... I don't know what to do anymore." She whispered, lowering her gaze to the ground, trapping her lower lip between her teeth in an attempt to stop the ugly sounds that wanted to escape in an avalanche. "Oh my God, I hurt you."

Chris held her gently, pulling her to lay her head on his shoulder, cradling her in his arms like a baby while they were still on the floor, unburdening herself of all her worries and fears. He listened intently to her ranting, his heart clenched by the pain Y/N was facing alone.

“Hey, hey, baby, don't do this to yourself. You’re not alone in this, Y/N.” Chris murmured, gently kissing the top of her head. "I'm here, always have been and always will be. I promise we'll get through this, love."

"I'm so sorry, Chris." The girl murmured, lifting her gaze from the ground and focusing on the brunette's orbs, wondering how he still allowed himself to love and help her so much, even after causing him such worries and fear.

Chris shook his head, silently reassuring her that everything was fine. He pulled his girl's pink chair towards them, slowly lifting himself so as not to hurt her and sitting on the plush seat, before guiding Y/N onto his lap, sitting her sideways on his thighs and laying her face on his shoulder, his mind working hard to come up with an idea to help Y/N find a healthy balance between her academic aspirations and her personal well-being.

"Why don't we establish a more realistic study plan, hm? With time to rest and all the self-care that will be good for you, I'll help you." The brunette whispered, looking down anxiously, hoping she could understand his point. "We can also seek professional help, a therapist, who will help you deal with your emotions and anxieties. If you want, I can participate in all the sessions with you."

Y/N looked at Chris with gratitude in her teary eyes. She knew it wouldn't be an easy journey, but with Chris's loving support by her side, she felt a spark of hope light up in her heart.

"Would you do that for me?" Her voice came out in a broken whisper, her heart warming at his sweet words.

"I'll be right by your side, my love. Always." Chris responded without blinking.

He lowered his head, sealing the top of Y/N's hair for long seconds, stroking the area with his nose lightly. His hands wrapped tightly around her body, keeping her secure in his lap and against his own body, before beginning to draw invisible circles with his fingers against her covered back.

"Sleep, sweet girl. I'll be here when you wake up. Everything will be alright."

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[themultifanshipper]

“I don't know why you're laughing… Having powers gives you a huge responsibility!”

You laughed at Max's offended expression.

“Okay, spiderman, whatever you say”

Part of my Halloween event!

Warnings: driver!reader, smut, inappropriate use of supernatural abilities, theres barely any plot tbh, kind of dark!max? , everything is consensual but not safe or sane, public sex technically

You both managed to stay polite whenever you found yourselves in social settings, but you weren't going to give up an opportunity to rile him up when it presented itself.

You were at dinner, joking about Max's powers with a few other drivers while the man sat across from you, pouting moodily at the turn the conversation had taken.

You and Max didn't exactly see eye to eye, often coming together on track, and it always ended with one of you in the wall.

“I mean I suppose he's right” Lando giggled “He's got a responsibility not to use his powers for evil or anything like that”

“Evil? Max? You're joking!” Charles guffawed and everyone around the table laughed.

Max wasn't laughing however.

“Please Lando, be serious” you smirked “Max couldn't hurt a fly, he's too nice”

You were only teasing, but Max was getting increasingly frustrated.

He could be evil if he wanted to!

He voiced that thought out loud and you laughed even harder at him.

Max could move things with his mind, big deal.  It wasn't like it was even that useful. Like, sure he didn't need to get up to get a drink, and that ‘s great, but it couldn't really go much further than that.

You didn't notice, but as the hazing went on, his eyes got darker as he got angrier.

The only reason he brought it up was to impress his friends, and feel superior to you, but it had horribly backfired and now everyone was laughing at him.

“Okay but really” George interjected “I suppose if he was angry enough he could lose control and cause some serious damage”

You grinned “Yeah, I'll believe that, when I see it” you scoffed.

You weren't even looking at him, you weren't even giving him the respect of looking him in the eyes while you humiliated him.

He felt it coming too late, the urge.

The urge to make you understand. He was a dangerous man, he just didn't show it.

It happened so fast no one noticed except you.

You felt something turn your head towards Max.

Like some kind of supernatural force had gripped your jaw and physically force your head forward.

Your eyes widened when you made eye contact with the Dutch driver facing you.

His eyes were stormy grey and fixed you intently.

The hold on your face loosened, and the feeling shifted downwards.

It came to rest around your neck and squeezed.

No one else had noticed, all absorbed into their own conversations either side of you. You tried to tell Max to stop but it was useless, the feeling had gotten so tight it was cutting off your blood flow and the edge of your vision was getting blurry.

Before you could pass out, it loosened and you heaved in a breath, staring at Max, who quickly picked up his fork and started eating as if nothing happened.

Your heart was beating out of your chest.

How could he do that to you? And why on earth did the thought that Max could do that make your heart race?

You let out a quiet ‘Max’ to get his attention.

He smirked and his eyes snapped back to you.

“Not dangerous, hmm?” he spoke lowly. “I could kill you right now and nobody would notice until it was too late…”

The feeling curled back around your neck, and you could almost feel the pressure of individual fingers, as if it was Max's hand around your throat.

The thought made you shudder and as it squeezed again, your eyes closed and you let out a tiny whimper.

The feeling stopped immediately and Lando turned to you.

“You okay?”

You swallowed hard and gave him a thumbs up.

“I just choked on my water, all good now” you managed to say while willing away the embarrassment of what you'd just done.

Lando went back to his conversation and you glanced at Max.

His eyes were full of mischief and he bit his lip trying not to laugh.

You glared at him as if to say “shut the fuck up” and he raised his hands in mock-surrender.

The phantom hand came back to its place around your neck, not squeezing this time, just ensuring that you felt its presence.

You were just a girl. A hot man secretly choking you with an invisible hand in public would get anyone wet, right?

Right.

So it was no surprise to you when you rubbed your thighs together and felt your panties getting quite damp.

“I'm not going to kill you, obviously” Max whispered across the table “but I think you deserve a punishment for underestimating me”

“Not here, not while our friends are here” you hissed.

“Well you're just going to have to be quiet then” he smirked and took another bite of his meal.

The hand on your neck trailed lower and you shivered when it cupped your breast.

What felt like a thumb was circling your nipple lightly, making you feel absolutely insane.

There was nothing there, and yet you could feel it. A phantom touch gliding over your body.

Max raised an eyebrow, checking in with you, and you nodded quickly at him.

‘Don't stop touching me' your eyes seemed to say and Max smirked.

The hand went lower still, landing on one of your tense thighs.

You trembled in your seat, this was equal parts terrifying and exhilarating.

Obviously you were very much turned on by the situation, and the fact that you were incapable of stopping Max if you tried was turning you on even more.

You were completely at your rival's mercy.

You decided  to test out resisting, to see what he would do.

The hand tried to unhook your legs to pull them apart but you kept them firmly clenched together.

Max chuckled darkly and whispered across the table.

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way…”

You smiled at him with as much confidence as you could muster, and muttered, careful to not be overheard.

“Do your worst, Verstappen”

The look he gave you was the scariest you'd ever seen on him.

He smiled like a cat that got the cream as he cracked his knuckles and put one of his hands under the table, hiding it from view.

The effect was immediate.

Despite your legs being closed, the unmistakable feeling of two fingers inside you made you bite your hand in an effort to not make a sound.

Looks like Max's powers transcended clothes, and even flesh, as the fingers were hooked upward and rubbing harsh circles into your g-spot, making you shake with the intensity of the pleasure coursing through you.

You could see Max's bicep flexing from where it was visible, but somehow no one else was seeing what was happening as he stared at you darkly, while making you fall apart even with several feet separating you.

“stop” you said as quietly as you could “too much, too much, Max”

“spread your legs for me, then” he muttered.

You opened your legs reluctantly and the hand didn't stop completely, but it did slow down and was more gentle as it stroked your inner walls.

You let out a breath and relaxed your body, glancing around to check that no one was watching, but they were all absorbed in their own conversations.

“Good girl” Max growled under his breath.

After a minute it stopped, and you were about to ask why when the sudden feeling of your underwear being dragged down your legs made you jump slightly.

A couple of seconds later Max looked down at his lap (that you couldn't see) and his jaw hung low as he let out a breath.

“Soaked” he mouthed silently at you and you blushed.

What a perv, using his powers to steal your underwear right off your trembling frame.

You saw him stuff them into his back pocket before the feeling of two hands crept up your legs, stopping at your knees to push them apart and spread you open further.

Thank god the table cloth was long enough hide all of this, because you didn't know what you would do if any of your friends found out what you were doing right now.

The hands slowly rose up your thighs, thumbs digging into your flesh, hard enough that you couldn't close your legs if you tried.

You felt incredibly exposed under Max's dark gaze, and couldn't help but let out a low whimper as one of the hands came up run a finger through your wet folds.

Max visibly shivered, sinking a finger in and curling it upwards again.

The touch was incredibly gentle this time, and the contrast from earlier made butterflies erupt in your stomach.

Despite what he was capable of, he was being almost careful with you.

Another finger slipped in and you had to bite back a moan as your hips twitched every time he curled them up.

You felt a pressure circling your clit and it took everything in you not to react to the feeling, but you could feel yourself getting closer to an edge that you didn't want to reach in front of everybody.

Suddenly, George stood up and announced he was going for a bathroom break, and the movement made the others want a smoke break so one by one they all shuffled out, leaving you and Max alone at the table.

“Who knew you were such a dirty slut? Letting me use you like this in front of our friends” he snarled as the movement of the fingers quickened and you swore under your breath.

“It's not like I actually have a choice, is it” you replied and the scoffed.

“If you weren't enjoying this you wouldn't be so fucking wet. I can hear your cunt leaking all over my fingers”

Now that you were a tiny bit more free to react, you whimpered louder as you also heard the obscene squelch, barely muffled by the table cloth.

As you got closer to the edge he slowed down, not quite pulling out but your legs shook as the pleasure was ripped from you.

“Oh I’m sorry” Max drawled mockingly “Did you want to come?”

You whined as the pressure on your clit increased. “Yes, fuck-“

“Then beg for it. You need to learn that I can be evil when I want to be.”

Ah so that's what this was about, he was just trying to prove a point.

"Sorry I bruised your ego, Max. I didn't know it was so fragi- Aah!”

Another finger squeezed in next to the other two and started a rapid pace, abusing the spot that made you see stars, and the other hand went to thumb even harder and quicker on your clit.

“If you want to come you'd better do it soon, the others are coming back”

You didn't need to look to know that he was right, you heard the boisterous laughter of the other drivers from across the room.

You came hard, muffling your sounds in your palm as your eyes squeezed shut.

You rode the waves as the burning pleasure slowly subsided and you opened your eyes to see the chair facing yours was empty.

A hand on your shoulder made you jump and you turned to look at Lando, who looked rather concerned.

“You sure you're okay?”

You nodded and waved dismissively.

“Just a bit tired”

“Okay, well some of us are gonna share a tiramisu, you want some?”

“Sure” you smiled, and he went off to oorder.

You jolted again when you felt a pair of hands return to your thighs.

You closed your legs instinctively but they were blocked by something large and suspiciously Max-shaped between them.

“Where's Max?” Alex asked as he sat down a few seats away.

“Dunno…” you hesitated “I think he went to the bathroom”

You hoped you were convincing, and that your voice didn't tremble too much, because Max's tongue was currently running up your inner thigh and making its way to where you had made a mess before.

He lapped at your cunt like there was no tomorrow, licking up your juices until he'd thoroughly cleaned you up.

By the time he'd finished, all the other drivers had returned, chatting amongst themselves, none the wiser.

He placed a tender kiss just above your clit, and closed your legs for you before his touch disappeared completely.

He popped up from under the table, back on his side, and went into some long winded explanation about how his phone had slipped out of his pocket and he was looking for it under the table.

No one really payed his obvious lie any mind, except for George who looked like he was having a mental breakdown.

A slight blush had spread over his cheeks and he’d run his hands through his hair so many times in frustration it was starting to stick up in places.

He was scowling at you and Max and it hit the two of you at the same time.

George also had powers. George was a telepath, and had probably been privy to every single thought you and Max had had while in his presence…

“Sorry George” you and Max both thought as hard as you could, hoping he could hear you.

He pursed his lips and rolled his eyes disapprovingly before clearing his throat, loud enough for everyone to hear what he was going to say.

You panicked, looking to Max for help, but he just looked at you helplessly.

“I think that in the spirit of cooperation and good-faith” George announced loudly “Max Emilian Verstappen, and his most esteemed rival, should pay the bill today”

He glared at you and you let out a breath.

Thank the lord for small victories.

[milliesfishes]

꣑ৎ౨ৎthrowing a halloween party as coriolanus' first lady (part one)꣑ৎ౨ৎ fem reader x coriolanus snow

You unzipped part of your dress, brow furrowing as your mind wandered far away from the closet. Stepping out of your heels, you rocked back and forth on your feet for a moment. Parallel to you, Coriolanus was stripping off his suit piece by piece, neatly hanging his shirt on a hanger and now removing his pants.

In a haze, you tried to reach the rest of your zipper, but everything in your head stilled your fingers, every motion limp and halfhearted.

Coriolanus came up behind you, undoing the rest of your zipper. You thanked him absentmindedly, and he kissed your shoulder. "Everything alright?"

"Uh huh." You stepped out of the dress; clad only in the lace lingerie you'd donned long before you'd known what would become of this evening. Hearing his hum of approval, you leaned back as his arms wound around you, back touching his bare chest. He pressed his lips to your hair, using hands on your waist to spin you around.

Catching your mouth in a kiss, Coriolanus lifted you into his arms, bracing you under your legs to carry you to the bed. You distractedly returned his attentions, moving your lips methodically against his.

Once he had you in his lap, lips finding your neck, you tangled a hand in his hair and let it stay there, staring at the bedframe in front of you. After a moment of blank stillness, you realized he wasn't kissing you anymore and looked down. "Hmm?"

He quirked his eyebrows, fingers soothingly stroking up and down your back. "Back to earth?"

You sighed, leaning your head down on his shoulder and groaning. "I'm sorry. Just thinking."

"What's wrong?" Coriolanus slid his hands to your waist and rubbed softly, trying to dissolve any tensions left over. You relaxed into his touch, thoughts flowing from you like warm water.

Sitting back on his lap, you said, "I heard some of the women at the party talking."

"Uh huh." He seemed wary and you knew he was thinking of times in the past where they hadn't necessarily been the kindest to you. Your adjustment to life as the First Lady had been rocky given your shy demeanor. Often at parties you clung to your husband's side without really meaning to, the prospect of meeting new people daunting. And of course he hadn't minded, but the comments of others made you shrink back.

Sighing, you continued, eyes on your fingers trailing back and forth across his collarbone. "They were talking about how we haven't hosted any parties or events."

Coriolanus frowned, kissing your nose. "And why is that a problem? It's none of their business." You shifted on his lap, leaning forward and pressing your cheek to his shoulder. He breathed in once, leaning to the side to kiss your hair. "Darling, if you're not ready to do something like that then we don't have to. It isn't a big deal."

He was being sweet. You played with a strand of your hair, shoulders relaxing as you watched him watch you. Upon his election, Coriolanus had made it very clear to you that he wouldn't force you to do anything you didn't want to regarding traditions of office. He was very aware of your anxieties and hesitations, almost scarily so. Your husband knew every tic of yours better than you did.

You were grateful for his patience. But you also wanted to uphold your image as his wife, to support him in any way you could. It felt silly for him to baby you out of something as simple as throwing a party. It was the least you could do- plan something exciting that would leave everyone talking.

Sitting up straight, you wrapped your arms around his neck, giving him a soft peck. "I want to throw a party. I can do it."

He raised his eyebrows, giving a nod. "I know you can. But are you sure you want to, sweetheart?"

Taking in a breath, you nodded back. "I do. Very much." You played with some of the hair at the back of his neck. "I want to be a good First Lady for you."

"You are a good First Lady," he corrected, settling a palm on your cheek. You leaned into it, searching his eyes and watching him visibly melt. "But if you want to do this, I'll support you." He brought your hands to his lips. "Spare no expense. Throw the best party the Capitol's ever seen."

A smile lit you up like sunshine and you threw your arms around him again, burying your face in his neck. "Thank you."

"Anything for my wife," he murmured into your hair, rubbing your back gently. His touch sent warmth pulsing through your body and you sighed happily. With his permission and acceptance, a bit of the tension flew into the night, and you found it in you to relax, let him kiss you and make you forget anything else for awhile.

As you laid in the cradle of his arms later, listening to him dream, the thoughts in your mind kept sleep at bay with images of dancing and champagne. Outside the leaves were turning golden and fluttering down to the ground, the sunsets bleeding orange. The next fall holiday would be perfect for your theme. You burrowed into Coriolanus' arms and shut your eyes, kissing his chest. He shifted in his sleep, tightening his arms around you.

Drifting off, you started a list of everything you would need to do to prepare. You'd aided your mother in throwing enough parties when you lived at home, and so in your head there was a general idea of what you needed to do. It unfolded in your mind's eye: every detail you imagined that would make this extraordinary.

Really, how hard could it be?

tagging @kellielovesmovies because <3

[wlntrsldler]

how to disappear | luke castellan

warnings: betrayal, fluff, mean!luke for like five lines, extremely long, not canon, drug use and language, probably got some things wrong but it's for the plot; i sobbed writing this. (this might be my favorite piece i've ever written)

part 2: shades of cool

pairing: aphrodite!reader x luke

description: based on how to disappear by lana del rey

i. all of the guys tell me lies, but you don't. just crack another beer and pretend that you're still here.

"hey, angel," a voice startled you out of your thoughts. your feet were dangling over the pier as you stared out into the lake. you twisted your head to see luke approaching. a soft smile was on his face. "been looking for you everywhere."

"needed a breather," you said, scooting over so he could join you. "sometimes i forget how overwhelming being back here is."

he rolled his cargo pants up to his knees, letting the cool water touch his bare skin. "i get it. sometimes i wish i could take a break."

"you can, you know," you nudged his shoulder, "you're old enough to leave camp during the year. nobody would fault you for wanting to go away for a while."

he dug into his front pocket, pulling out a messily rolled joint and the pink lighter you gave him last summer. the heart you drew on the plastic with sharpie was starting to fade. he placed the joint between your eager lips and lit the end. he tried to ignore the sparks that shot up his arm when your fingertips brushed against his.

luke shrugged, "i know, but then who would take care of the kids? mr. d isn't really the model citizen."

you quirked an eyebrow, passing him the joint, "and you are?"

"better than mr. d," he let out a chuckle before taking a drag. luke closed his eyes as the smoke escaped his lips. he could taste your lipgloss. "maybe when you get your own place, i'll take some time off and visit you."

"i'm off to college soon," you said. "going to california. i got a scholarship."

"of course you did," he grinned. the weed didn't take effect yet. usually, when you smoked with luke, his brown eyes are hazed over by the effects, but while he was speaking, his eyes twinkled in pride. "didn't doubt it for a second."

"you'd leave camp and visit california for me?"

luke had a knowing smile on his face now, as if you were ridiculous for even asking that question. "'course. only problem would be that i'm broke as shit right now. being camp counselor doesn't really pay the big bucks, y'know."

you hummed. it was weird really, how camp was just a fraction of your life. your dad made sure that you could have a semi-normal life, or at least as normal as a half-blood's life could be, but not all demi-gods had the luxury, luke included. his dad made sure of it.

at first, luke despised you for it. why was it fair that you were your mom's favorite child while his dad barely cared enough to make sure he survived his failed quest? if aphrodite was his godly parent, he was sure that he wouldn't have this ugly scar on his face to remind him that he was nothing but a failure. she would stitch him up and make sure that he was okay.

this is not to say that luke liked any of the gods; he just preferred aphrodite above all of them. she gave you to the world, after all.

"what else is new?" he prodded, passing you the joint again after his third drag. "anything else exciting happen in your life since last summer?"

"nothing much," you coughed slightly. you didn't smoke unless you were at camp with luke. "just the usual senior year things, i guess. graduation, prom, you know."

"no, i don't know, actually," he laughed, "well, i know the idea of it. did you decorate your graduation cap? did your senior year live up to your expectations? did you have a date to prom?"

"yes, yes, and no." you pretended not to notice how luke's shoulders relaxed at your answer. "i did decorate my grad cap. my dad has it framed with my diploma. the design was my college's logo. i didn't have a date to prom because i didn't really like anyone at school. i would rather take a date i actually enjoyed the company of."

"that's fair," luke said. he took another hit from the joint. you watched the smoke evaporate into the air, the smell of weed surely sticking to your clothes. "tell me about your senior year."

"it was fun," you said, longing on your face. "it's weird to think that i'm kind of on my own now. after camp, i'll be shipped off across the country to take classes for some bullshit degree that i probably won't need because i won't make it long enough to see the workforce."

luke chuckled at that. it was morbid, sure, but he would be lying if he said that that reality wouldn't be a possibility. he didn't like to think about it much, the idea of you dying, but the life of a demi-god was unpredictable. he's surprised he even made it to eighteen.

you continued, "but i got to be a kid and i'm thankful for that. i just can't stop thinking about how this is my last summer here. i'm eighteen now. i've aged out."

"you can come back, you know," luke said. these summers with you were the only thing he looked forward to each year ever since you first arrived. "i'm still here."

"that's because if you step a toe out of this camp, they'll find you," you said, although you knew luke knew this already. he was powerful. he would attract monsters left and right and he'd be putting himself in jeopardy if he left. your suggestions for him to visit you were more wishful thinking than anything. in those moments, you let yourself pretend that you and luke were normal, that nobody would be trying to kill you if you tried to watch a movie at a theater or something.

"fair," he offered you the last hit, but you shook your head. you already felt your head spinning. "beth wants to go to college, too."

"does she?"

"yeah," he put out the joint on the wooden pier. neither of you spoke as the flame was extinguished with a sizzling sound. "told her to talk to you. you know more about it than i do."

"i'd love to talk to her. i think she'd do great in college."

"she would," he smiled, sadly. his eyebrows furrowed in thought. his mouth opened and closed a few times, like he was trying to find the right way to frame his words. you sat in silence patiently. he gulped, "i feel like everyone is moving on without me."

luke propped his elbows on his knees. he looked across the lake, watching the sunset turn into a pink horizon. he couldn't look at you while he spoke. "don't get me wrong, i'm so proud of you for leaving this place. and i'll be proud of annabeth when her time comes, but i think i just hate the fact that at the end of it all, i'll be alone. everyone in my life has a life outside of this, but i don't. this is it for me. i don't know what it is about this place, about this life, that keeps me stuck here, but i am."

you weren't stupid enough to correct him. you both knew the gods had a plan for luke. it was something bigger than the both of you, though neither of you truly knew what it was; but it was always this looming dark cloud above him, a second shoe waiting to drop. luke tried to ignore the feeling most days, but sometimes, he couldn't help but feel himself get pulled into the darkness; like in these moments, when reality hits him a little harder. you probably won't be back after this summer.

"well," you placed a hand over his own. he flipped his hand over to hold yours properly. he still wasn't looking at you. "let's just make the most out of this summer, yeah? think about everything else when we get there."

he squeezed your hand, "yeah."

ii. met me down at the training yard, cuts on his face cause he fought too hard.

"castellan."

luke winced, not because of the pain of the open cuts on his face, but because of the tone of your voice. that voice meant that he was in trouble.

he mustered up the courage to smile weakly at you, trying to ignore the droplets of blood that spilled from his open wound. "hey, angel."

"don't angel me," you hissed, marching to him. you grabbed his face gently, inspecting the damage. "what were you thinking?"

"i was thinking the kid was a bitch."

"castellan."

he cringed, "sorry."

"what happened?"

"i haven't been getting much sleep," luke whispered, "nightmares are back."

you sighed, picking up a cotton ball soaked in alcohol. the apollo kid who was tending to luke earlier was smart enough to leave the room when you walked in. you muttered half-hearted apologies as he hissed in pain. "i'm sorry to hear that, but that's not the answer i was looking for."

"he was just talking shit," luke said through gritted teeth. whatever the ares kid was saying must've been really bad because you could feel luke's anger rising again. you rubbed his back slowly until he calmed down. "don't wanna talk about it."

"okay," you resigned, finally wiping away the final remnants of blood off his face. you stared at him; even with an open lip, red bruises, and flecks of blood on his face, luke was still beautiful. he plopped his forehead against your stomach, wrapping his arms around you to pull you closer.

this was common with luke. he acted all big and bad around all the other campers, but in your presence, he turned into this; always looking for comfort, always touching you somehow, like he was finally allowed to breathe. you cradled the back of his neck as he let out shallow breaths, leaving feather-light kisses on his crown when you thought he wouldn't notice them. he always felt them, but he never let you know that he did. he was afraid you'd stop doing it if you found out.

"how bad are they?"

"bad," he sighed, eyes closing. he tugged on you to bring you even closer, though you didn't know how that was possible at this point. "haven't slept in days."

"why didn't you come find me?"

"your sisters don't like it when i interrupt their beauty sleep."

"why didn't you tell me sooner? i could've stayed in the hermes cabin."

"it's gross in there," he laughed. "you deserve to sleep on your soft bed in a cabin that smells like fucking roses, not on my cardboard thin cot in a room that smells like sweaty socks."

you lifted his head up to look at you, "yeah, it's pretty bad in there."

luke snorted, finally letting you go, but a hand stayed connected to your hip. he played with the loose thread on the hem of your shirt. "i still won, by the way."

you cocked your head, "huh?"

"the fight," luke's cocky smirk was back on his face. "you should see the other kid. if i'd been well-rested, he wouldn't have been able to land a blow."

you smacked his shoulder, laughing as you fell onto the bed beside him, "shut up, castellan."

"there it is," he mumbled, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. he was so close to you.

"what?"

"castellan," he mimicked your voice, but there was no mockery there. he said it like he treasured it, like he was trying to memorize the way you spoke. "you're not mad at me anymore."

it was hard to stay mad at luke. the longest you'd gotten mad at him was when he didn't choose you for his quest. he stood outside the aphrodite cabin the entire day before he was set to leave, begging for you to let him explain. you were too stubborn, too hard-headed, to listen to him. when you were sure that he was gone, you finally left the aphrodite cabin to find a letter from him tucked away under the welcome mat.

you kept the letter, but you never opened it. it wasn't until he returned from his quest, on the brink of death, that you opened it. you were sitting beside his bed, eyebags darker than ever that even your mother couldn't salvage you. your eyes were stained red from crying so much.

in his letter, he explained how he didn't want to put you in danger, how he would never forgive himself if something bad happened to you because of him. your insecurities just got the better of you. you always feared that people saw you as shallow, like you didn't actually have the skills to fend for yourself. many people had misconceptions about the aphrodite kids, but not luke. luke knew that you were incredible. you just didn't resort to violence as quickly as he did.

you felt stupid then, even now, you regret how you treated him before his quest. you hated yourself for how you acted. he never gave you a reason to doubt him, to not trust him; you should've known that he had his reasons. you hated yourself for even questioning him for a second.

luke pulled you into his chest, allowing you to cuddle into his neck. the beads of his camp necklace rested beside your temple. you reached over to play with them, letting the beads thump against his collarbone when you let go. you felt luke twirling strands of your hair around his finger, gently undoing the knots that formed at the ends of your hair because of his antics. you lay there in silence, just enjoying the presence of one another. you felt luke's breathing even out, a sign that he was drifting off.

luke's words from the pier bounced in your head then. did he think that you'd forget about him after you left camp? as if you'd forget about this, about him. a life without luke castellan became unimaginable when you met him when you were fifteen. there was no version of your life that didn't have luke in it.

it was foolish to think that way, you knew that. it was stupid to let someone have a hold on you like this, demi-god or not. even your friends from home warned you about being so attached to luke, though in the version of events you told them, the stakes were much lower. to them, he was just a boy you see at summer camp a few months out of the year; he was just another hometown boy that they urged you to forget when you moved away to college so you could live your life unrestricted.

but luke wasn't just that to you and you knew you weren't just that to him either. there was something between the two of you that was hard to explain, but didn't need an explanation at the same time. even your mom noticed it. she let you know once to tell luke to stop praying to her to give you a sign whenever he missed you.

"i can't keep making flowers bloom whenever he misses you," she wrote, "it wouldn't make much sense for flowers to bloom in the winter, my child, or for flowers to bloom every second of the day."

sometimes, though, on particularly hard days when you'd miss luke, your mom made exceptions. you'd find bunches of hibiscus growing within the cracks of the sidewalk of new york city on your way home from school.

you knew luke was thinking about you then. just the thought of it made your day better.

iii. i know he's in over his head, but i love that man, like nobody can. he moves mountains and pounds them to ground again.

luke didn't know what you'd say if you found out. well, he did know, but he deluded himself into thinking that you'd listen to his reasons, that you'd actually understand why he did what he had to do. maybe you'd even join him.

percy had left camp with annabeth and grover for his quest yesterday. the air at camp felt different since percy was revealed to be a forbidden child. luke, as much as he tried to keep his resentment for the gods at bay because percy was hard to dislike, the poor kid just wanted to save his mom, felt his blood boil when poseidon claimed percy.

he hated the gods, this wasn't new, but luke struggled to understand how he was supposed to feel. he saw so much of himself in percy. he thought of his mother; her hugs that he hadn't felt since he was nine, the taste of her burnt cookies that he hated at the time, but now he just wished he could taste the burnt crisps on his tongue one last time. he even missed her frantic mumbling in the middle of the night.

luke saw a version of himself in percy, the version that had a chance at happiness. luke hated it.

it was too late, anyway. the plan was already in motion. his allegiance to kronos was set. kronos visited him in his dreams often. luke stopped calling them nightmares because nightmares are only nightmares if they happen once in a while. what made them bad dreams was when they were compared to good ones. he didn't have those anymore.

luke hadn't slept much since he stole the bolt. it was easier to think about you, about the happy times, when he was awake. he smoked more now. it helped sometimes. he would pretend your lipgloss was still on the tip of the joint and that you were beside him on the pier, trying to get away from all the noise of camp.

as he walked toward the hermes cabin, smiling cordially at the younger campers who beamed at him, he saw the corner of a pink bag against his bed. his face dropped. luke stopped in his tracks, clutching the beads of his necklace.

you weren't facing the door. your back was turned while you folded the sheets on his bed. he saw you spray perfume on his blankets. he could almost smell the sweet fragrance from where he stood. it took all his might not to run to you and hold you in his arms. it's been months since he last saw you, since last summer. luke's hands fell to his sides before he twisted his body to turn the other way.

he went to the one place that gave him comfort. with his cargo pants rolled up to his knees, he watched the sun fade into the dark sky. there was no pretty sunset tonight. luke didn't think too much of omens, but he figured that was a bad sign. and when your soft footsteps thumped against the boards of the pier, he was certain that it was.

"you damn near running away from me when you saw me was not the reaction i was hoping for."

luke closed his eyes and took a deep breath. out of habit, he moved a bit to let you take your usual spot beside him. when he opened his eyes, he was met with the face he'd thought about for months. a kind smile adorned your lips. you looked different. your skin was a deeper shade, no doubt due to the california sun; your lips were pink and torn apart, like you'd been chewing on them; but your smile was the same.

"what are you doing here?"

"sorry i was late," you said, sheepishly. you played with the small braid in your hair, "i had to move out of my dorm so i had to take a later flight."

"i thought you weren't coming back," luke replied.

"heard there's a war coming," your voice sounded small. luke knew why. he'd listened to you talk about the dreams you had for yourself for hours over the past summers. the idea of an impending war meant that those dreams would take the backseat and you'd have to fight before any of them could come true. "is it true?"

"percy, a forbidden kid, poseidon's, is trying to make sure it doesn't happen."

"do you trust him?"

luke felt his heart crumble in his chest. how cruel is he to keep you in the dark like this? when the only thing you needed to feel okay was to hear that he trusted the kid meant to stop the war?

luke's voice was hoarse, "yeah, i do. beth does too."

"okay," you placed a hand on his thigh. luke stiffened at your touch. you pulled away, embarrassed. "sorry."

"don't apologize," he placed his hand next to yours. he could feel the warmth of your skin. "i've just been on edge."

"it's just me, luke."

he didn't know how to tell you that that's exactly why he was on edge. it was you. the girl he'd been in love with since he was fifteen. the girl he told everything to. the girl who knew him so well that if you were to touch him for longer than a second, you'd know everything.

this summer, for the first time since he met you, he was glad you didn't show up to camp. he knew that the minute you were in front of him, he'd tell you everything and there was a chance you'd want nothing to do with him after it. that was something luke couldn't handle. but now you're here, looking at him like this like his actions just hurt you.

"'m sorry, angel."

"you're acting different, luke."

"'m sorry."

"i don't need an apology," you said. "i want to know why."

luke rubbed his face with his hands, "i don't know, okay?"

"you're lying to me," you were frowning now. luke was angry. he wasn't angry at you, he was angry at the whole situation, but it didn't matter. he was taking it out on you.

"gods, angel, can you just-- not right now," he groaned. you got a good look at him. his eyes were tired, shoulders slumped like he'd been carrying a weight on his shoulders with no reprieve. "i don't really feel like talking."

"you don't have to be mean about it."

he didn't feel like himself anymore. he would never talk to you like this, but there was something in him that made him snap. luke scoffed, "i'm not being mean, you're just being so pushy right now."

you blinked, pulling your hand away from his. shivers ran down your spine, "luke, what the fuck?"

"what?" he stood up. you followed suit. under the moonlight, you saw how dull his brown eyes were. they no longer carried the same glow when he looked at you. luke's eyebrows were furrowed, eyes narrowed, "i just can't handle this right now, okay? can you just drop it?"

"i'm just trying to talk to you!" you raised your voice, disbelief on your features. you walked towards him. holding his face in your hands. he was crying. you wiped away his tears. "i just missed you, okay? i just wanna talk to you because i haven't gotten to in months and i'm miserable."

he let out a shaky breath, your touch grounding him. he felt himself coming back to him. he nuzzled his cheek in your palm, kissing the flesh there as he mumbled apologies into the night.

"i missed you so much," a sob escaped your lips. luke didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around you, continuing his train of apologies into your ear. you continued, "i-i thought that you'd be happy to see me because i've been counting down the days until i saw you again and i just thought that even though the world was falling apart, we'd be the same. it's always been us, you know?"

"i know."

"and then you avoid me and run away from me and i just needed to see you, luke. i needed to talk to you."

"i missed you, too," he confessed. "so much, you have no idea."

"you have a funny way of showing it," you joked through your tears.

luke laughed. it shocked him. it was like he had forgotten how to. he hiccuped, removing one hand from around you to rub the tears away from his eyes, "come on."

selfishly, he ignored the pit in his stomach. he allowed himself just one more day to have you like this. as he lay on his bed, he held you close to him. he was overwhelmed with how much you filled his senses; the smell of your perfume, the feeling of your lips ghosting on his chest as you told him nonsense stories from college, the sound of your quiet giggles when he made some stupid joke, the look on your face in the dark, staring at him.

an unfamiliar feeling took over his body, rest, he realized it was, a while into lying in the darkness with you.

"i love you, you know that, right?"

luke didn't trust his voice anymore. he pulled you closer, hoping that that was enough for now.

iv. think about those years as i whisper in your ear. i'm always going to be right here.

"i love you."

you turned your head at the sound of luke's voice. camp was in disarray. percy was badly hurt and annabeth was frantic, sobbing about how luke was behind it all. you ran away after hearing it.

you didn't want to believe it, but it was annabeth. she wouldn't say that about luke unless it was true. you knew it killed her just the same to accept it.

"what are you doing here, castellan?"

it felt like a dagger was plunged into luke's heart. he'd heard his name leave your lips in different ways over the years; jokingly, angrily, but never like this. disappointment.

"i couldn't leave without telling you," luke licked his lips, keeping his distance. he was pressing his shirt on the spot percy broke skin. he looked down at his feet, "couldn't leave without letting you know that i love you."

"why did you do it?"

"i don't know."

"okay," you walked towards him. "when did you get so comfortable with lying to me?"

"angel," he sounded broken. "please, don't do this."

"you were wrong, by the way," you said. "you're not stuck here anymore, but i don't think the place you'll end up in is any better than this."

luke was silent.

"go, luke," you whispered. "don't make it any worse than it already is."

he nodded. this was it. you watched as he disappeared into the dark.

you were too preoccupied with your thoughts to notice it then; your mind was plagued with worry, but in the gaps of the wooden pier, a single hibiscus flower bloomed under your feet.

[literaila]

stay

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: you're in denial (no you're not)

warnings: pining, no plot

a/n: i had to give you a little look at what they do when they're alone

last part | next part

*

year two.

“what?” satoru asks, his voice blurred in the haze you're thinking in. 

honestly, you haven't been looking at him for that long. 

you've only been watching his arms as they move across the sink, veins drenched in water, hands scrubbing at a pot that you've made his responsibility. 

you've only been thinking about him for the past five years. the way his mouth moves when he's focused, the subtle curve of his jaw from this angle. 

and you're only staring now because you don't want him to mess up the kitchen. god knows how much it's worth. 

you shake your head, subtle grin disappearing automatically. “hmm?” 

“you’re staring at me.” 

you blink. “oh. sorry.” 

you and him both know that there's no denying it. 

“and you think i’m spacey,” satoru mutters, turning to you with his arms crossed, a smirk adorning his lips. apparently, he’s perfected his dad stance. “what do you want?” 

“what?" you look away, for one moment, when your heart feels a bit warm, then back to him. "why would i want something?” 

“that’s what tsumiki does when she wants something.” 

“well, unlike tsumiki, i’m not a child, so…” 

“i beg to differ,” satoru leans towards you, raising a brow. “what are you? thirteen?” 

he's different like this--when he knows that you're paying attention. 

so ridiculously stupid that you can't look away from him. 

“you are a single year older,” you tell him, “and i had to teach you how to do the dishes. our age gap is easily filled by my years of experience—“ 

“blah blah blah,” satoru interrupts, rolling his eyes, “hard work, torture, bills to pay. we get it.” 

you shrug, lip twitching. “you started it.” 

“by being born?” satoru asks, fluttering his eyelashes, trying his hand at flirting with you. 

unfortunately, he's dreadful at it. even with his waggling eyebrows and throat when he swallows. 

“oh my god,” you put a hand to your chest, mock shocked. “did i forget to become clan head the second i was born? my bad.” 

“seriously. slacker.” 

you roll your eyes.

then you turn to the counter again, messing with a stack of bills satoru has left there. you're probably going to be the one to deal with them anyway. 

it's been twenty minutes since you put the kids to bed--frowning at satoru when he swore that they'd already brushed their teeth (they hadn't)--and you've already lost sight of getting out of his house. 

some small part of you wants to stay, just so you can sneak some more glances at satoru.

“why are you staring at me?” he asks, nudging your arm with his hand. "get lost in my eyes?" 

you scoff. “i just zoned out, satoru.” 

“looking right at my face?” 

you smile deviously, reaching a hand out to trail a finger across his cupids bow. “i was contemplating the different plastic surgeries that could improve you.” 

satoru does nothing to push away your hand, but you snap it away when you feel him shiver. 

“please," he frowns. "we both know there’s no room for improvement.” 

you raise your brows. he says it more like a question than a statement, so you keep the same teasing smile on your face. 

“don’t be mean,” he says, pouting. 

“sorry.” 

“no, you’re not.” 

your smile brightens and you walk towards the door--listening to his heavy footsteps as he follows--and reach towards the hook for your coat.

you better leave before he convinces you to touch him again with nothing but his eyes.

“where are you going?” satoru continues pouting. 

“home? the kids are asleep.” 

he huffs. “but i’m not.” 

“do you need me to tuck you in?” 

“what if i do?” 

“tough luck, satoru," you shove his hand away from where it grabs your jacket. 

“c’mon,” he says, pulling at your wrist instead. “stay a little bit longer. let’s talk.” 

“all you ever want to talk about is digimon," you answer, rolling your eyes. 

you deny the fact that you'd probably listen to him talk about anything, just to hear the slight drawl in his throat or the teasing in his voice. 

“well, duh.” 

“and i don’t understand a single thing you say.” 

satoru pulls you towards him, even when you dig your heels into the floor. “you think after five years you’d trust me enough to take one of my recommendations," he says, chiding you. like he's the most trustworthy person you've ever met. 

like you might trust him with your life (you would). 

“last time i trusted any of your recommendations i almost got kicked out of school," you finally pull away, smoothing out your sleeves to put your jacket on. 

“first of all, that was your idea—“ 

“i was kidding.” 

“and i was just trying to cheer you up," his hands gesture to you, obviously, "plus yaga didn’t even care that much. it’s not like we crashed the car. he just had to threaten us or he would’ve gotten fired.”

you roll your eyes, zipping up your jacket. 

“stay,” satoru whines. “i get lonely when you’re not here.” 

“that’s because you’re supposed to be asleep.” 

“i can't sleep without you.” 

you scoff. “we’ve slept in the same room twice.” 

neither one of you dares to mention the several nights you’ve spent together on the couch or the brief moments when you wake up in the morning and realize who you’re clinging to. those are brief lapses in judgment. nothing more. 

“third times the charm,” satoru says, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. 

despite his age, he is still a teenage boy. 

the same one you've liked since you were fifteen. 

“goodnight, satoru," you whisper, turning around. 

“don’t you get lonely in your apartment all alone?” he asks, almost pleading, spinning you around again from the hem of your jacket. “what if you have a nightmare?” 

because satoru has ever been concerned about a single thing that happens to you. 

you roll your eyes. “i wake up, like an adult, and remember that it’s not real.” 

satoru raises a brow. 

“seriously, it’s late. i need to go before—“ 

“stay.” 

“we’ve talked about this.”

“no. i make a suggestion, and you don’t listen.” 

“because i already know what you’re going to say.” 

“no, you don’t.” 

“‘c’mon, y/n, i have a bedroom just for you. it can even be mine if you want.’” 

“i don’t sound like that," he says frowning. though how could he deny the obvious?

“satoru, we need space--" more like you need space from him. several decades of space, just to catch your breath. "i can't spend every waking moment with you. i have a life.” 

“yeah, me.” 

you laugh, shaking your head (he's not wrong).

“just for tonight?” 

“no.” 

“just for an hour? what if one of them wakes up? you know i don’t know what to do," he says, very convincingly. his voice is quiet like he knows some sudden movements will scare you away. 

you pretend to pause, humming. “send them back to their rooms…?”

“please," he begs you, so close that his breath is almost yours. 

“no.” 

“we never get alone time anymore,” he pouts, “i miss you.” 

you know that he's using this to his advantage. like he's sure that his quiet voice and soft mouth will get you to break, will get you to stay here like you already want to. 

but you refuse. 

“stop.” 

“and it’s cold. you don’t want to go home yet," he acts like he can read your mind. 

“i promise you that i do," you reassure him, taking a step back. satoru only follows. 

“we can watch a movie or something," he answers like you've already agreed to this. "i saw a trailer for this dumb comedy and it looks—“ 

you groan. 

“what if i promise to sit on the other side of the couch?” he bargains.

“no," you frown, "you’re a liar.” 

“what if i let you pick the movie?” 

“no.” 

“what if i pay you to stay?" 

you flick his forehead. “are you kidding?” 

“please,” he repeats, softly, leaning even closer. “you don’t have to stay for long…” 

and it reminds you of every other time you've felt like your heart has disappeared. like your head has been eradicated by his low voice and his sparkling eyes. 

it feels like being the same teenager you might still be, hoping that something will come from his pleading. from yours, however unspoken. 

and you almost break, almost push him so far away--

but then there’s a tiny cough. and a sniffle. “y/n?” a voice asks, so soft you almost can't hear it over the sound of satoru’s ego. 

over the sound of your own beating heart. 

satoru smiles like he planned this all along. 

you sigh. “an hour,” you tell him, sternly. 

he only smiles, slinging an arm around your shoulder, spinning you both towards tsumiki. 

* 

you don’t say a thing when you wake up the next morning, sweat staining your neck, legs tangled in much longer ones. 

your head is pounding from a night spent on the couch. from so many hours spent laughing at satoru, at the stupid things he says. 

and he’s already looking at you like he could sense this moment coming. 

like he can see beyond you, into your soul. into the very wanting you're sure is on your face. 

you don’t say anything as you stare back into his eyes.

this is the one moment where he’s not allowed to comment on it. to make fun of you for your small smile, or laugh at your bed head. 

this moment is just for the two of you. the rest of the world can disappear, right now. every terrifying thing, every horrible mistake, completely eradicated by the sound of satoru's heart, his eyelashes as they flutter open and closed. 

you breathe in, almost about to say something. to break this thing before it can form. 

and then you hear something banging in the kitchen, and it’s time to get up. 

*

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