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reidologys · 3 days ago

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The Tortured Poets Department

People put wedding rings on..

paring: spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: after a dinner at rossi's, you start to look back over the past few months with spencer, wondering if his actions were more than what you thought.

content warning: 4.1k words! i pictured season 6-7 reid when writing this but you're 100% up for interpretation!!, a man who yearns coded, spencer is truly a tortured poet, talks of marriage, tooth rotting fluff, spencer is better than matty healy i promise, linguistic! reader, weed, mention of going to a bar but canceling, reader gets her period and is emotional

a/n: if this flops i'm quitting (jkjk), also i need friends guys

TO SAY YOU were nervous about dinner at Rossi's was a complete and total understatement. You were apprehensive--this was your first time meeting Spencer's team. And that thought alone was nerve-wracking.

But here you were, all dressed up and clinging onto Spencer's forearm as his calloused, veiny hand knocked on Rossi's door with an echo that made your stomach twist snd turn.

You'd spent the past few hours getting ready and thinking about every way you could potentially embarrass yourself during this dinner. What if you dropped something or spilled something? What if this was all a ruse to give Spencer a reason to leave?

Spencer Reid was a profiler--- and a superb one at that. He saw the crease in your eyebrows and the tremors in your fingers while you curled your eyelashes. He made sure to reassure you of your worries. Spencer always had a way with words. He knew what to say to still your bouncing knee.

Rossi opened his front door with a tremendous smile pulling at the corners of his lips, showing off every smile line and wrinkle on his face. Showing his age.

"Boy Genius!" Rossi called out, bringing Spencer in for the most dad hug you'd ever seen. He patted Spencer's back before turning to you. "And you must be ━." He grabbed your hand with such ease. Such delicacy it made you wonder if he saw you as a porcelain doll that would shatter. He shook your hand with a practiced, firm grip.

"It's really nice to finally meet you, Dave. Spencer talks about you---all of you---frequently." You shook the older man's hand back, not wanting to be impolite. Spencer had informed you on the millions of pathogens---an estimated 5,209---passed during a handshake and you've never been able to stop thinking about it since.

Rossi led the two of you through his house and into the dining room. You looked around in awe, missing the pristine dining table the rest of Spencer's coworkers were sitting at. The room looked so elegant. Like a five star restaurant, except this was a wealthy man's mansion.

Spencer's hand that rested on the smallness of your back, gently patted your side to call back your focus. "Baby." He gently murmured, not wanting to speak too loud in hopes you weren't too embarrassed. You could feel your face heating up already.

You turned back to the slightly familiar faces sitting at the table, smiling at you and Spencer. You quietly cleared your throat while your fingers intertwined in front of you. "Hi, I'm ━." You introduced yourself, a mousy smile pulled at your lips.

A black haired woman couldn't hold back her giggle. Your eyes sheepishly looked from her to Spencer, eyes widening slightly as if you were scared you did the wrong thing.

Sensing your complexion, she spoke up. "Spencer, she's precious." The girl cooed. She pushed herself ip from the table, stalking over to you. Her arms wrapped loosely around your shoulders. You had to admit you were a little confused by this domestic feeling, but your hands eventually found their way to the girl's back, hugging her.

When she pulled away, she combed her fingers through her hair that looked to be blown out. "I'm Emily. Spencer talks about you all the time." When you giggled, brushing it off as just a little confidence booster, her face grew serious. "No, I'm not kidding. Spence always finds a way to beings you up in passing. It's honestly really--" "Okay, Emily. That's really unnecessary.."

Spencer's face flushed a shade of pink, his ears reddening and splotches starting to appear on his neck. He hadn't expected Emily to just expose him in front of his perfect girlfriend.

He pulled your chair out for you, allowing you to sit down before pushing it back in. His hands moved your hair from the chairs backing, not wanting it to tangle. While he was at it, he situated the necklace that sat around your neck so that the clasp was in the back.

Eventually, he sat down beside you, warm hand brushing up against your knee under the table. His fingers gently tapped in a pitter pattering motion against the flesh of your knee.

Rossi was quick to bring out dinner. The pasta he'd spent hours cooking looked filling as he dished out plates and poured expensive wine into glasses. When he sat down at the head of the table, he smiled at you.

"To Boy Geniuses girlfriend we've heard so much about." He lifted the glass up, the entire table mimicking his actions. You felt your face heat up for what felt like the millionth time tonight. All the attention on you was a little petrifying.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

The team had long finished dinner but no one dared to get up as the conversation flowed throughout The conversation that felt more like an interrogation.

Spencer's hand gripped tightly onto yours, delicate fingers softly rubbing against your cracking knuckles. The fall air outside had taken its toll on how soft your hands normally were. Spencer didn't mind, however. He never seemed to mind.

While Garcia was teasing JJ about her husband, Will, Spencer's fingers pulled the ring off of your middle finger. He romantically slid it onto your left ring finger. Wordlessly. The finger people put wedding rings on.

You could feel your heart exploding.

Hotch cleared his throat, sitting across from Spencer but looking at you. He waited expectantly for you to answer, thick eyebrows knitted together.

"I'm sorry. What did you say?" You felt embarrassed for asking Spencer's boss to repeat himself since you'd been occupied by Spencer's casualty about putting the shiny jewelry on your ring finger. But maybe it didn't mean anything. Maybe it was casual.

Hotch gave what looked like a smile but you could never be too sure. "I asked you what you and Reid did on your first date." His breath came out in what sounded like a slightly buzzed laugh. He seemed a lot less tense since the beginning of the dinner. Must have been the wine. Spencer told you that Hotch never loosened up.

You couldn't suppress the smile that pulled the corners of your mouth. "It was really cute, actually.."

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

You and Spencer had been in the same poetry class. It was hardly even a class. It was an extra curricular that the Quantico library offered to all ages. Except it was mainly older people.

Spencer had been at your apartment, the two of you having been given homework to research poets from at least two centuries ago. It was a group project. You and Spencer had settled on Dylan Thomas.

A bulky typewriter sat on your dining room table. Spencer'd brought it over to write a poem inspired by the poet the two of you picked.

Hours later, when Spencer had long left, you noticed the hunk of metal still perched on your table. A breathy sigh left your lips as you hauled it down the stairs and into the back seat of your car.

When your shaking fist knocked on Spencer's apartment door, he opened immediately. "You--sorry I'm so cold. You left your typewriter at my apartment." Your cheeks were pink from the chill that blew around you outside on your dreadful decent up Spencer's twisty, windy, rickety staircase.

He gave you a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of his neck. His ears grew red while spots showed up on his neck. This was when you first saw him blush, a soon to be familiar sight.

"Thank you for bringing it over. Uh--come in. You look like you could turn into a popsicle any second." His voice showed no signs of being shallow or rude. It was all teasing. You couldn't help but giggle softly, slipping into spencer's apartment.

You slipped your coat off, hanging it on his coat rack. He stalked into his kitchen, beginning to make two cups of tea. Peppermint flavored. How festive.

The two of you talked while the tea warmed up. He had a way with his words, constantly making you double over in laughter.

Once the tea was done brewing, the two of you found your way to his couch, sharing a throw blanket while Frosty the Snowman played in the background of your conversations.

It'd been hours you'd spent at Spencer's. Your head was leaned against his shoulder, body long being warmed up. Long having been defrosted.

It'd been comfortable silence of the two of you watching Christmas movies--The Santa Clause 3 now playing. Spencer cleared his throat, fingers rubbing small circles into your hip bone while your entire body leaned against him.

"I left it on purpose. I wanted to spend more time with you but I was too nervous to just..say it out loud." He confessed. You thought it was strange that the genius with an eidetic memory had forgotten such a hefty object on your table.

You couldn't help but snicker, curling your body closer to him. You thought something you'd never say: who uses typewriters anyway? You should've realized from the minute he walked in with that thing that he had a plan.

"You're a dork, Spencer." You hummed, eyes shut while you spoke. You felt his lips press against the top of your head before you eventually drifted off to sleep. He mumbled something about love that night. But you were too tired to hear it.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

"Who uses typewriters anyways?" Morgan was laughing at Spencer for how he'd gone about your first date. It was silly to him. But to you? That was the perfect first date.

Spencer shot Morgan a humorous glare, his brows pitched together. "I didn't know how else to ask." He huffed, a mouthiness to his words.

Morgan held his hands up in surrender. "Got me there, Pretty Boy." He chuckled, watching Spencer roll his eyes at his teasing.

"Wait, wait, wait. Spencer randomly texted me one night confessing his love for you--and Charlie Puth. What happened that night?" JJ couldn't stifle her giggles.

Your eyes went wide because you remembered exactly what had happened that night. It was hilarious.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

You and Spencer had gone put for a coffee shop date that day. He picked you up in his Volvo Amazon, driving the two of you to this cafe in downtown D.C.

His eyes had immediately picked up on your socks. Spencer had always worn mismatched socks with strange patterns because he believed it was good luck. His exact words were; "I've worn mismatched socks every day of my life and I haven't died." It was the least scientific thing you'd ever seen him do.

So when he saw you wearing these socks with a strange patterns-- t-rex's with Santa hats and and the words "Tree Rex" stitched onto them to be exact--he knew he was deeply in love.

The date was fine. Perfect even. Because every date you had with Spencer was amazing. The two of you went back to your apartment where you got ready for your works Christmas party.

You were a linguist, working for a newspaper company that often covered the cases the BAU solved. It made you feel like you were helping in a way, even if you weren't. Spencer often told you that you belonged somewhere else.

It wasn't meant to be belittling. It was far from that. Because Spencer believed you to be highly intellectual. He thought--no he knew that your abilities should be used somewhere that could actually skyrocket your career instead of a dingy news office.

But he supported your choice to stay close to home. Stay close to him. Though there was hardly a difference between home and Spencer Reid.

Upon arriving to the office's annual Christmas party, you and Spencer were completely oblivious to the fact that the brownies had pot in them. The two of you had eaten one each, and you weren't entirely sure what was happening.

You just knew that the two of you craved more. So you found out who had made the brownies--Charolette Avey--and she'd graciously given you a joint to share with Spencer.

So the two of you sat on the steps of the building, lighting the rolled paper. You took a decently sized inhale, feeling the warm sensation fill your lungs while your muscles loosened. Spencer took a deep breath, inhaling once the weed touched his lips.

Once the two of you had gotten the paper down to a small stub, you stepped on it with the heel of your Mary Janes, putting out the ember.

Going inside was difficult. The two of you sprayed yourselves with the perfume you kept in your glove box before going back inside.

Spencer, ever so lanky and scrawny, devoured seven whole bars of Santa shaped chocolate once inside.

When the party was over, the two of you sat in your car trying to sober up before driving off. Charlie Pith played on your car's radio.

Spencer's veiny hand turned the volume knob ip, Charlie Puth now playing at a decently high volume. "You know, I never hear about him anymore. And he's so good. I think Charlie Puth should be a bigger artist." Spencer declared, his voice rising an octave or two so you could hear him over how loud the music was.

You covered your mouth to giggle, knees pulled up against your chest. "He's actually not bad. You've got good taste, Doc." You clicked your fingers at him.

Once you were sober enough, you drove the two of you back to your apartment. You helped Spencer climb the steps and get himself through the door.

He was still high. And it was obvious. The two of you laid in your bed, his head plopping down into your lap. Your fingers traveled down to scratch his head. "I told JJ about you. I really love you, ━. Like.. I think I'm gonna marry you. I already thought about it in my brain. I want--don't tell him this--I want Morgan to be my best man."

You tried not to take any meaning to his words. He was stone off his ass. It meant nothing. Just mindless babbles.

"Go to sleep, Spence." You chuckled softly, scratching his head. He fell asleep in your lap like a golden retriever.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

Upon explaining that story to JJ, your face grew a little confused. Your face contoured in deep thought, voice trailing off at the end of the story.

Spencer rubbed your arm soothingly. "Somethin' on your mind, Angel?" He murmured, lips pressed close to your ear.

And there was something on your mind. Did he really mean what he said that night? He told you he planned to marry you. And then he put that stupid ring on your finger earlier. You couldn't let the action leave your mind and it bothered you to know end.

You shook your head slowly. "No. 'M okay, Baby." You reassured, forcing a smile back on your face so that maybe you'd stop overlooking everything.

But now it was impossible. It was infuriating that you couldn't let your mind wander anywhere else for the rest of the night. Your mind flickered back to a phone call you overheard between Spencer and Morgan from a few months ago.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

You laid in your and Spencer's shared bed. The two of you had moved in together three months into your relationship. He had his phone pressed to his ear, thinking you were still peacefully asleep.

But you'd woken up the second you felt the dip in his side of the bed recoil back to the normal shape.

"I don't know, Morgan. I think--I think she's the one. I don't know what i'd do without her." He murmured into the phone, just loud enough for Derek to hear, but not loud enough to wake you. If you were sleeping that is.

Your interest was immediately heightened upon hearing his words.

"I think I'd stop breathing if she left. I don't want her to feel stuck or anything. But she's like oxygen to me. I don't think I'd be able to go on with my life. I know that I lived twenty-seven years without knowing her, but I can't imagine spending another eternity without her. It feels like she's been the oxygen I used for my entire life. I love her with everything in me. I think the marrow of my bones deteriorates when I even imagine a life without ━."

You felt tears prickle your waterline hearing the way Spencer spoke so highly of you. He was so poetic. His voice cracked like he'd been tortured for years. Like he was a tortured poet coming straight from a metaphorical tortured poets department.

"It's like.. if I was Dylan Thomas and she was Patti Smith. Our apartments like the Chelsea Hotel and we belong here together. Just the two of us." He finished with a soft smile darting your way.

Spencer walked to the bed, sitting on the edge next to you. You felt his weight shift the bed to dip on your side while you squeezed your eyes shut so he wouldn't know you were awake.

A fragile hand moved the tangled hair out of your face. Spencer's chapped lips pressed against your temple and from how close he was to you, you could hear Morgan on the other line. "You're a bunch of modern idiots."

Spencer let out a hearty chuckle, standing up and walking into the kitchen. Leaving you to process everything he'd just said about you.

When he went into work that day, you called your friend, wanting to feel seen. Wanting her to understand why you'd suddenly decided you'd never leave Spencer Reid.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

Garcia walked into the kitchen to bring out the pies she'd baked for your special introductory dinner. But you were still deep in thought, not even noticing the sweet girl excusing herself from the table.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

You and Spencer were supposed to have gone out to the bar the previous night of this memory. But you had such a sharp pain digging into your side that the two of you canceled last minute You'd awoken with dread, a feeling of nails pounding into your skull causing you to groan.

There was a sharp pain in your back and stomach, causing you to clutch it with tears welling up. Spencer, ever so attentive, had tracked your cycle from the moment you started dating.

He wasn't in bed when you woke up. "Spence..?" Your hoarse, sleep induced raspy voice called out. He came in a few moments later, a hot water bottle in one hand and a warm cup of coffee in the other. He sat down on the bed beside you.

"Hey, sweet girl. You not feelin' good?" His voice was soft. He was so warm. He felt like a prayer. Like he was everything you'd asked for. You shook your head, a pained expression evident on your face.

Spencer frowned, brushing your hair away and setting the mug down on the bedside table. "Let's get you taken care of and then we can watch your show, yeah?" He didn't wait for you to answer before scooping you up and carrying you to the bathroom.

Once you'd cleaned yourself up and taken proper menstrual care of yourself, he carried you back into bed, wrapping a blanket around you and placing the bottle on your upper abdomen.

Spencer held a painkiller in his hand. "Open, Angel." He instructed before placing the medication on your tongue. You swallowed, making a sour face at the bitter after taste the pill left in your mouth. Spencer laughed a little at the face you made.

He held you while the two of you watched your show. You'd seen this episode over a hundred times. Spencer heard sniffling and his face grew concerned. He moved you so that he could see your face.

"What's wrong, Honey? Are you hurting?" He instantly grew careful, trying to figure that out what was wrong. But you just cried instead. "They just killed off Tyler!" You sobbed, face wetting the fabric of Spencer's shirt.

He looked at you with a puzzled expression. You wiped your eyes with the sleeves of spencer's your hoodie. "I've seen this episode and still love the show." You admitted, perfectly okay again.

Though he would never understand a period, Spencer learned to decode you eventually. It took a lot of time and patience but he had done it. He'd seen you come undone on multiple occasions and yet he still chose this cyclone with you.

Because who was gonna hold you like him? Who was going to know you like him?

Nobody.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

Leaving the dinner that night, Spencer's hand rested on your back, opening his passenger door for you and helping you in. When he climbed in, he started driving back to your shared apartment in a comfortable silence.

But the way you'd seemed a little off bothered him. Spencer placed a gentle hand on your thigh, rubbing the inside oh so carefully. "Baby. What's going through that pretty head of yours?" He quipped.

You knew it was impossible to hide the way you were feeling from an FBI profiler. You huffed, taking a deep breath to steady your quickening nerves.

"I'm curious, I guess. I keep overthinking, I think. I just looked back on a lot of the nights we had tonight and it had me wondering." You tried to be as bland as possible, not wanting to give away to anything you felt directly.

Spencer cocked an eyebrow at you, his eyes steady on the road. His rough unoccupied hand that always felt so gentle gripped the steering wheel loosely. "Tell me about it. Talk to me, Angel." He hummed softly l.

"I just--" You let out an annoyed huff of warm air. How did you word the fact that you can't figure out if your boyfriend wants to marry you or not?

"At dinner you took my ring off my middle finger and put it on the one people put wedding rings on and that's the closet I've come to my heart exploding. And I guess that just had me looking back on everything. Like you getting high and telling me you wanted to marry me. Telling me you wanted Morgan as your best man. But I just figured it was mindless babbling. But then there's that phone-call I overheard between you and Morgan where you were so poetic it made me cry. But maybe you only said that because you knew I was listening. And the way you treat me when I'm on my period is just so loving. I guess I'm just confused." You'd rambled.

Spencer's eyes went wide when he processed your rambling. He exhaled through his mouth, face not giving anything away.

Finally, he cleared his throat. "Woah, Baby. Those are some big feelings.." He admitted, parking the car when he pulled into your apartment complex.

When you two walked up the stairs, you knew this was it. This was the end of your relationship. You wanted to get married and he didn't. But when you pushed the front door open, you saw a bunch of papers scattered on the floor.

Your face dropped, looking at the mess. "Spence? What happened?" You asked. But he feigned obliviousness. "I dunno, Honey." He shrugged.

Spencer walked over to the kitchen counter. He grabbed a book that sat atop the counter. "I picked this book up for you on my way home today. Open it, see if it's something you'd be interested in." He pressed a kiss to your temple.

Your brows furrowed but you nodded, holding the book in your hands. When you opened it, your heart dropped and you immediately felt tears rolling down your cheeks.

The book had the pages hollowed out in the shape of a heart. Inside of the heart sat a shiny ring. Written in the margins was the question you'd been dying to hear for months. Will you marry me?

You turned to look at Spencer who had a shy smile on his face. "Are you serious?" You asked through tears. Spencer pulled you in for a hug, kissing the top of his head.

"Will you make me the happiest tortured poet and marry me, sweet girl?" He asked, his hands holding your face so he could see the beauty he admired every day.

You nodded your head rapidly, tears dripping down your cheeks. You pressed your lips against Spencer's, proud to call him your fiancée.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

You found out later that the dinner was just so Spencer's friend, Ethan, could set up the apartment. Spencer's coworkers were already in on it.

Everyone you knew understood why it was meant to be. You two were crazy for each other.

#spencer reid x reader #୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ reidologys #spencer reid #criminal minds fics!!#criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid criminal minds #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fanfiction

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asoftsighh · 1 day ago

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₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ eddie munson x reader ₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

eddie paints your nails

770 words

By the time Eddie gets around to painting your second hand, your first is completely dry where it rests on his jean-clad thigh.

Painting your fingernails had seemed like a good idea at first after you found old polish in your room. With nothing better to do today, a Saturday, you had sat down on the couch and immediately gotten to work. Then Eddie started declaring how “pretty girls like you shouldn’t have to do any hard work,” and here you are.

Watching his face is distracting you from your impatience, anyway; the way his tongue sticks out a little between his teeth, his hair tied in a bun at the nape of his neck. With the way he’s hunching over your hand, you can just start to see the edges of his tattoos on his collarbone.

“Like what you see?” he asks. His voice is low, almost like if he were to talk any louder, it would ruin his concentration. His hand is gentle where he holds it steady, his other beginning to apply the polish to your pointer finger.

“Shut up.” You’re smiling anyway, unsure of whether you already were in the first place. You’ve found that you usually are when Eddie is around there.

He huffs, like he wants to say something more but currently can’t.

“Can I ask you something?” You ask as he moves on to your middle finger.

He glances up at you curiously, then back down. His thumb rubs a line against the back of your hand. “You know you can, baby.” His quick movements cause some hair to escape its loose hold, falling in front of his face. He blows at it passively.

You tuck his hair back before it can truly bother him, with the already-dried hand. Your hand lingers on the side of his face, index finger tracing the line of his jaw before falling back down. Your finger has barely left the edge of his jaw before Eddie sighs, loud and theatrical, like a pivotal moment of his life just occurred.

You giggle before you can help it. Completely forgetting what you were about to say, you ask “What was that for?”

He doesn’t say anything until he’s finished with your pinkie, then lifts your hand up to the light to admire his work. He hums in approval, still cradling your hand like it’s glass, something delicate. He brushes his lips atop your knuckles and the inside of your index. When your hand (and still-wet fingernails) are safely in your lap, he gives you a strange look, one that you know very well: the why-are-you-so-far-away? look.

“I sighed-” he starts, hand finding your waist and giving it a tug, “-because you are so far away. Don’t I deserve a kiss for painting your nails?” Before you can move closer, he takes matters in his own hands, pulling you across the foot of space between you. Your thighs straddle his, and you press your hands flatly into his shoulders, trying not to smudge your nails.

The smile he gives you is wide, practically beaming. “Well hello there, gorgeous.” His lips are warm, and slightly chapped, on the underside of your jaw. His hands are even warmer against your back.

“Hello.” You tip your head back, his hands giving your waist a squeeze of thanks. His lips travel down the side of your neck, the kisses chaste. “Don’t make me mess up my nails.”

His chuckle tickles the skin of your neck, his face coming out of your neck to look up at you. “Sorry, sorry,” he says, not sounding sorry at all. He tugs you closer until you can feel his chest rising and expanding with each breath. “What were you gonna ask?”

It takes a few moments to remember; it doesn’t help that his hand has started to rub circles onto your back.

“Oh, would you let me paint your nails?”

His brows raise, like he wasn’t expecting that. “That’s what you were gonna ask me?”

You smile sheepishly down at him. “It’s a serious question, Munson.”

He hums, thinking, his hand not stopping his ministrations. “Hm, do you have any black?”

Your cheek presses into your shoulder, thinking. “Well, no. But we can go get some.”

He leans forward, nose brushing against yours as you straighten out. “It has to be black, though. I have to keep up my metal head rep.”

It’s hard to stop the roll of your eyes. “Does that reputation include painting your girlfriend’s nails? Doesn’t sound very metal to me.”

"Tell no one. I've got an image to uphold, sweetheart."

criticism is welcome as long as it’s kind ✮⋆˙

i’m very new to writing ✮⋆

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things fluff #eddie fic #eddie munson fic

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venusandsaturnsrings · 7 hours ago

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this might be up there as the stupidest thing i’ve ever talked abt but whatever!! saw @porcelainbirdss mention vape shop employee phainon and i giggled and then it got stuck in my head bc its so funny and also canon to me personally!! so im here to provide entirely unserious headcanons mwah ∩^ω^∩

^^tiny phai with his mod i edited is transparent. use and abuse him, send him to the backrooms, idc he’s small and can’t be trusted to not rip clouds in closed spaces

ANNOYYYYINGGGG!! you walk into the shop for the first time already knowing what you need but there’s this giant man-puppy-thing suddenly in front of you asking a million different questions?? his name tag is crooked but it says phainon and he will not shut up.

takes way too long looking at your ID. you’re almost worried he’s trying to memorize your address when he slides it back to you and says he likes your name. you scurry out of there FAST afterwards but he was… charming in a way so you unfortunately know you’ll be back.

the second time you go in you actually see him outside first. he’s talking to some other guy who looks irritated but he himself looks just as cheerful as the last time you were in.

(other guy in question is mydei who’s a line cook at the restaurant across the weird complex from the vape shop. hates his job. likes fist fighting phainon in the parking lot. they line up their breaks purposefully so they can scrap. loser has to fork over free food/dispos.)

it’s like second nature when he waves you over way too enthusiastically. you’re cringing but it would be worse to pretend you don’t see him to you shuffle over when a strained ‘hiiii phainon…’ and the other guy grimaces as well. mydei has heard about you from phainon who refers to you as that ‘cute girl im too scared of asking for her number!’

there’s a little bit of blood coming from phainons nose but more coming from mydeis, evidence of the winner, and he asks if you like garlic bread. of course you like garlic bread but why is he asking? so he can force you to stick around till mydei brings it over for you to share, duh. he’s a genius.

you sit together on the curb, he’s doing most of the talking, but it’s kinda nice and you think his blue raspberry smells nice with your peach. the garlic bread is also the best you’ve ever tasted.

the third time you go in he actually asks for your number, red faced and stuttering, and against better judgment you fork it over. phainon is beaming and you internally sigh knowing he’ll surely blow up your phone after his shift.

surprisingly pleasant to text with. uses kaomojis and sends lots of photos of dog that you think might be his twin based on the matching white coat and thoughtless blue eyes. not a single braincell between the two of them.

when he finally asks you out on a date, he takes you to a quirky cafe and then to a bookstore where you choose books for each other. painfully cute. he somehow nails your taste and you get him a book about ancient artifacts (lots of pictures) and he actually really likes it.

fast forward to when you’re official, mydei comes back to his and phainons shared apartment to the two of you getting down and dirty WAY more than he’d like. phainon definitely totally doesn’t do it on purpose.

has definitely blown clouds in your face while you finish before because he sucks and likes being annoying.

tldr; ANNOYYINGGGG but he’s cute i fear

#and if i added phai to the incel au then what #it tempts me everyday i fear #he leans heavy towards the simp side of the scale tho #down bad in every universe…#anyways #phainon x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #honkai x reader #phainon x you #honkai star rail x you #hsr x you #honkai x you

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junrenjun · 1 day ago

Note

heyy lu! for my request for ur summer writing event, i would like to order smut, enhypen heeseung, prompts: 16, 33, 36, 37 & 50. For the modifiers: idol reader but they are lovers.

wishing u a happy summer!! thank you!!

that damn skirt

lee heeseung x idol!reader

wc: 929

warnings: slightly suggestive

a/n: part of my summer writing event. sorry to anon, i didn't catch the smut part of your ask until after i had written this. maybe a smutty part 2....thoughts?

prompts: "i'm always thinking about you" "that's my girl" "stop staring at me" "you did so good" "you have no idea how much i want you"

Heeseung wishes he were anywhere but here right now. Award shows are the worst. The room is way too hot to be wearing a suit, the music is just slightly too loud, and you…you're walking around wearing that damn skirt.

Now, he knows it’s not your fault. It’s wholly your entertainment company’s fault for giving your group a sexy theme for the newest song and a skirt that’s a little too short for his liking. But he curses you just a tiny bit for having the audacity to look that good. In front of other people too!

He watches as you disappear backstage, your group finally getting to prepare for your performance. And now his only source of entertainment is gone. Don’t get him wrong, he loves to see all the other groups perform. But this is the 4th show that Enhypen has attended in the past month and he’s getting sick of hearing the same songs over and over. In the meantime, he busies himself with keeping an eye on his members. Nudging Sunghoon’s leg when he starts nodding off. Nodding along as Jake whispers something about P1Harmony in his ear. Doing some half-hearted aegyo with Jungwon when the fans grab their attention during a break.

Finally, the MC announces your group and the stage has Heeseung’s attention once more. His eyes never leave your frame once, watching as you move around effortlessly. It’s no wonder you are the group’s main dancer. And fuck you look good doing it. Maybe he needs to have a conversation with your stylists.

The first song ends and he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Before he can steady himself once more, the next song plays. His brows knit in confusion for a moment. You hadn’t told him you were performing this one. In fact, you’ve been complaining about how you never want to sing it live. One of the high notes has been giving you trouble during vocal practice and it’s been frustrating you to no end.

He bites his lip momentarily, his heart rate picking up nervously. Every part of his being prays that you hit that note, knowing it will be a huge blow to your confidence if you don’t. The bridge of the song finally arrives and the next line is yours. He holds his breath once more as you sing. You hit the note perfectly, just as you had been wanting it to sound and he sighs in relief. “That’s my girl,” he mutters under his breath, smiling slightly.

Though it must have been louder than he originally thought because Jake groans softly. “Dude, I thought we talked about this. Keep the horny comments to yourself.” Heeseung just rolls his eyes in response.

Your group’s performance comes to an end and you leave the stage. He lets himself zone out again until you emerge once more. Your members walk quickly back to your seats, bowing at everyone as they pass. Heeseung’s eyes remain on you the entire time. Your leader takes you a different route this time, passing directly in front of Enhypen’s seats. You end up right in front of him, pausing for a second. As you bow, your eyes remain downcast but you whisper, “stop staring at me, Hee.”

Immediately, his eyes widen in surprise, but he catches himself and ducks his head to return the bow. Meanwhile, the rest of his group is in a fit of giggles. He prays their PR team is willing to work overtime to explain this interaction once it hits social media.

The rest of the night, he forces himself to keep his eyes off you. And god is that a difficult task. He’s resorted to pinching himself every time his eyes drift over to where you sit. And by some miracle, the show ends before he’s made a big enough crease in his slacks. His stylist would be proud.

Backstage is chaotic as always. His eyes flit around the hallway, looking for any sign of you in the mix of idols. He’s about to grab his phone and text you when he catches a flash of that damn skirt again. In an instant, he’s moving.

He grabs your hip lightly, squeezing quickly three times. You recognize the pattern instantly, spinning around and hugging him. He wraps his arms around you, not too worried about the scene it may cause. Your relationship is pretty much an open secret to the rest of the industry anyways. “You did so good,” he whispers into your hair.

He feels the “thanks,” you mutter into his chest. His gaze flits down a bit and meets the garment that’s been torturing him all night. “Baby, can you please change now?” he says, voice low. “You’ve been driving me insane.”

You pull away and giggle, a telltale sign you are about to start teasing him. He preemptively rolls his eyes. “Oh? Have you been thinking about me all night?” you taunt.

“I’m always thinking about you,” he concedes.

You giggle once more. “How sweet. I’m going to change now. If you want me come find me,” you tease, turning in his arms.

He tightens his hold on you, preventing your escape. Then, he leans down to whisper softly in your ear. “You have no idea how much I want you.”

A shudder passes through your body and he smirks. You don’t say anything, but give him one more sultry look before walking away. Right before you turn the corner, he gets one more glimpse of you in that damn skirt.

#lee heeseung #lee heeseung x reader #heeseung x reader #heeseung imagine #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagine #lu writes #summer writing event 2025

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l1v-jzn · 22 hours ago

Text

„Bite The Blade” Series – Chapter 05 – Games & Graves

pairing: Ghostface!Seong-Je x FinalGirl!Reader

genre: Horror, Thriller, Dark Romance

summary: Silence hangs heavy over the city. At the hospital, Si-Eun checks on Su-ho—until a call from Hu-min then a sudden appearance by Seong-Je at the hospital.

Meanwhile, outside the bowling alley, the Union boys are mid-beatdown when they freeze—Seong-Je is coming. Inside, Si-Eun and Baek-Jin trade words in his office, each sentence laced with quiet menace.

Later, under flickering lights at a convenience store, Hu-min vents to Y/n about his father—until a message arrives after. A photo. A threat. Baek-Jin knows they’re together… and he's watching.

taglist: @thepoeticfirefly @kyungjunnies @hikaerys @d4ily-s-nsh1ne @miyawwn @sanaxo-o @feralmaneater @jeewhat @satorustorm @jaymiwrld @satoru2716 @heeknow @indarius @yinyangcchii (and anyone wanna be tagged here!)

— All Chapters — — Next Chapter —

the hospital was cold—not the temperature, but the air. Quiet. Still. The kind of silence that felt like it was listening. Si-eun stood at the front desk, pen in hand, filling out the visitor form.

Patient Name: Ahn Su-ho

Visitor's Name: Yeon Si-eun

Relationship to Patient: Friend

he stared at Su-ho’s name for a second too long before putting the pen down. The nurse barely looked up. Suddenly his phone buzzed.

[Incoming Call: Hu-min]

“Hello?” His voice was quiet, flat. Unbothered on the surface.

the voice on the other end lit up with sunshine. “Yeon Si-eun? It’s me, Hu-min.”

the hallway stretched quiet around him, Si-eun didn’t reply right away—just blinked, lips parted slightly, not because he was surprised, but because he was calculating. Searching the tone. Feeling the shape of the conversation before stepping into it. “What’s up?” he finally said.

“Nothing’s up, man.” Hu-min’s voice came a little too fast, a little too light. “Just checking to make sure you got home okay. So, nothing happened, right? No one followed you or anything?”

that stopped Si-eun in his tracks. A slow pause.

“No,” he said after a moment. “I just went home.”

a pause on the other end now—just a split-second crack in the conversation.

then Hu-min’s voice brightened again. “Really? Hey, anyway—you know how I got turned down by those girls today? Well, it occurred to me… maybe girls are into guys like you these days. So what do you say? Why don’t we pick up chicks together next time? Deal?”

the smile in his voice was aggressive—like a joke he already knew wouldn’t land but told anyway.

Si-eun didn't even blink. “Why would I do that?”

the question landed like a brick. No sarcasm. No inflection. Just cold math.

there was silence on the other end. Then a sigh, like Hu-min was trying to pretend it didn’t sting but it did. “Okay, fine. Asshole.” The line cut off. Just like that.

Si-eun lowered the phone and just stared at the blank screen. His gaze stayed locked for a few seconds longer, breathing shallow. Not sad. Not surprised. Just tired.

he sat quietly on a bench beside Su-ho's room. The hallway was empty, Si-eun pulled out his phone again, to type something—to rant about his day. The SMS app glowed soft blue in his hand.

“I did some volunteer work today. Once I got there, it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. The weather was nice too. More than anything, it took my mind off things for the first time in a while. I wondered how that happened. I think it was because of the guys I was with.” His thumbs stopped.

he just stared at the text. No expression. But his eyes betrayed him—just a flicker of longing, of something broken. It felt like a confession. A truth too raw to press “send” on.

through the hospital door's glass panel, a figure was peering in—hands in pockets, His hands were deep in his jacket pockets, like this was all casual. Like he’d just stumbled across something interesting and wanted a better look.

but his eyes, those sharp, and cold eyes were locked on Su-ho. That smirk curling on his lips… It was the kind that made your blood run cold.

he didn't say anything at first. Just stood there, watching Su-ho’s unconscious body, taking in the machines and the fragility.. "So that's Ahn Su-ho. Your friend. The one whose life you ruined, right?"

he turned slowly, like a wolf bored with its prey.

their eyes met. Si-eun’s heart slammed once in his chest—too loud, too fast. But his expression didn’t shift. Not much. He stood, measured and careful, not a single twitch wasted.

Si-eun’s face didn’t move, expression unreadable, except for his eyes. His terrified eyes. "Why are you here?"

Seong-je stepped closer. "What? What are you gonna do?"

Si-eun didn’t respond. Just stared. "Come with me for a second." Seong-Je said smirking at Si-Eun. "You shouldn’t interrupt your friend’s sleep."

he turned, motioning toward the hallway. His voice was more casual than it should’ve been. "Damn, you have a real punchable face. Just my type." He laughed under his breath.

Si-eun didn’t move at first. Just clenched his jaw, his hands tight at his sides. But then, as Seong-je walked further down the hallway— he glanced back at Si-Eun. "Hurry up, you fucking asshole." Then he laughed. Not a loud one. Just a little breathy snicker.. Si-eun stood frozen in place. And then he followed.

Bowling Club — ?:?? p.m

the alley behind the bowling center reeked of cigarette smoke, wet pavement, and trouble.

it was late, the kind of late that made everything feel lawless. The only light came from a flickering overhead lamp, buzzing like a fly trapped in amber. Shadows pooled in every corner, but the boys from the Union weren’t hiding.

they were loud. One of them—a lanky, tall, wide-eyed freshman with shoulders too small for his hoodie, flinching with every word thrown at him.

“You’re part of the Union now,” barked the older student, and an ego twice his size. His palm slapped the side of the newbie’s face—once, twice, harder the third time. “So do as I fucking tell you, okay?” The kid nodded furiously.

the older boy sneered. “Fucking answer me.”

another slap. More snickering from the others. They were gathered in a loose semicircle, like a pack of hyenas watching someone else bleed for once.

but then—one of them froze. Eyes squinting into the darkness beyond the alley mouth.

a silhouette approached, slow and deliberate, hands stuffed in the bright orange windbreaker that clung to his lean frame like fire. A lit cigarette dangled from his lips, the cherry burning like a devil’s eye. He wore a pair of clubmaster glasses—dark, sharp, deliberate—perched on the bridge of his nose.

“Hello, Brother!” one of the boys shouted, too eager, straightening up as if summoned to attention. He gave a quick bow.

the others followed like dominos. “Hello, sir,” they chorused, heads down, voices tight with nervous respect.

he didn’t even glance their way—just kept walking, straight through their little circus of false bravado like it wasn’t even worth noticing. The cigarette stayed pressed between his lips, untouched, smoke curling lazily from the tip. Eyes half-lidded behind those clubmaster glasses, jaw slack with indifference, he let the silence hang for half a second before cutting through it like a blade.

“What the fuck is this?” he muttered, voice low but razor-sharp. “The mafia?”

“Don’t talk to me,” he said flatly. “Or I’ll kill you.” No one laughed. He wasn’t joking.

his voice didn’t rise. Didn’t snap. It dropped—low, dangerous, like the edge of a blade pressed against skin. “People will report the noise, you dumb fucks.”

the tension popped like static. In sync, the Union boys snapped into a chorus of apologies. “We’re sorry, sir!” Heads down. Shoulders hunched. All swagger gone.

Seong-je didn’t respond. He just kept walking, as if the alley didn’t deserve his time and none of them were worth his gaze.

behind him Si-eun followed, silent as a shadow. But his eyes were wide, jaw tight.

they walked in silence. The kind of silence that didn’t feel empty—but loaded, like a gun cocked and ready. Every footstep echoed against the concrete, the thump of Seong-je’s sneakers hitting pavement calm, unrushed. Si-eun trailed behind, eyes locked on the back of that orange windbreaker like it was a warning sign dressed in neon.

Seong-je didn’t speak. He didn’t need to.

just as they neared the side door of the bowling alley, he brought the cigarette to its curtain call—took one, long drag without missing a beat. Smoke coiled from his lips like it knew not to linger too long.

then—without looking, without hesitating—he flicked it away with a lazy snap of his fingers.

it spun through the air like a shooting star no one made a wish on, bounced off the curb, and died in a quiet hiss on the wet pavement.

they got inside of the bowling alley. Si-Eun looked at the surroundings of the place—loud noises, neon lights, lots of people there, union guys. But it didn't matter, they just kept walking until they got into the back of the counter—lockers, helmets, and other things that is belong to union. Seong-Je stopped in front the door, as well as Si-Eun, he looked at door then at Seong-Je. Seong-Je looked over at his shoulder, “What the hell are you staring at? Go inside.” with that, Seong-Je turned to leave, leaving Si-Eun in front of the door.

Si-Eun approached and opened the door, revealing a simple white interior with a glass table and two leather couches on either side. Si-Eun proceeded directly to the desk of Baek-Jin. “Just a sec.” Baek-Jin was too preoccupied completing the problem off his test paper to even look up to check who it was. "I'll say this only once. Listen carefully.” Si-Eun spoke in a deep, hoarse voice. Baek-Jin halted in the middle and slowly turned to face him. "I don't care what Park Hu-min and all of you are up to. And I didn't need to come here.” Si-Eun went on to say, “But I came... just to make this clear.” Si-Eun stopped and looked at Baek-Jin, her eyes wide with fear and rage. "If I ever see you again around Su-ho's hospital..."

“I'll kill all of you. I will kill all of you.”

Baek-Jin scoffed at Si-Eun and leaned back in his worn leather chair. Baek-Jin sighed, and Si-Eun sighed, looking down briefly before returning his gaze to Baek-Jin's page. Then he glanced back at him. "You need to separate the variables to solve it quickly," Baek-Jin said, looking down at his notepad and listening to Si-Eun. "A fixed range variable is no different from a constant." Si-Eun continued, then slowly turned and proceeded to the door, about to leave, when Baek-Jin spoke up, stopping him in his tracks. "Keep your words, and no one will be hurt." Baek-Jin gazed at him, "Stop hanging out with Hu-min." Si-Eun turned to face Baek-Jin, "Fine. I understand. So keep your words, too.”

Si-Eun exited the office and headed directly to the stairs, ready to depart, until Seong-Je called him out, phone in hand—playing games on it, left hand inside his orange windbreaker, "Hey. Don't look at me like that or I'll gouge your eyes out," Seong-Je remarked, chuckling and smiling as he looked at Si-Eun. Si-Eun then stared at him for a moment before turning to go.

Seong-Je lighted a cigarette from his lips while sitting on the couch and leaning against it. "Is that fun to read?" he asked. "You just let him go? Then why did you tell me to bring him?” Seong-Je questioned Baek-Jin. Baek-Jin sighed. "Do I have to explain it?” Seong-Je took a drag from his cigarette and wheezed before removing it from his lips. "I mean, fuck, why are you so obsessed with Eunjang?" he said. Seong-Je then turned to face Baek-Jin and said, "It's not like they bring in much money."

“You know you can't outmuscle Baku. Right?”

“So I need to make him come to me.”

Seong-Je squinted, eyes narrowing in disbelief as he tried to process what had just been said.

“Did our boys go to his dad's restaurant?” Baek-Jin continued.

Hu-min’s House — 10:52 p.m

“44, 45, 46..” Meanwhile Hu-min was working out in his room, doing push-ups, “47, 48, 49, 50, 51, 52, 53, 54, 55–” Until his phone started ringing, making Hu-min stop mid push-ups, turned to look beside at his bed where he put his phone to see who it was, [Incoming Call: Dad], “Five more!” Hu-min said continuing his push-ups, “50, 60, 70, 80, 90, 100!” then Hu-min switched his position, before grabbing his phone and answering it. “Yeah, Dad?”

“Hey, Hu-min. It's Officer Han. Your dad got into trouble again. Can you come talk to him?”

Hu-min quickly ran to his Dad's restaurant, two police cars were in front of the restaurant, some policemen were trying to stop Mr. Park from getting near the boys, as Hu-min already got close to the scene, he helped them stop his father. “Dad, stop.” Hu-min said, as he tried to drag his father away. “Come on. Please stop!” Hu-min couldn't handle his emotion, and snapped. Hu-min's Dad stopped, and looked at him for a moment. “You punk.”

Hu-min faced the police who was stopping his dad and bowed at him—apologizing for what just happened. “I'm sorry, I'm really sorry.” Mr. Park pushed Hu-min away—angry, “Why did you apologize, punk?” Mr. Park said—angrily, “I did nothing wrong at all! Why say sorry?” Mr. Park continued, “ Damn, please–!” Hu-min didn't continue his words, “Mr. Park, I understand.” One of the policemen said, “So let's go and fill out a report first. We have rules to follow.” The policemen continued, “He wasn't a minor! I even checked his ID! His photo too! Damn it” Mr. Park debate back. “Yes, so let's talk at the station.” The policemen pleaded—trying to lead Mr. Park into the car. But Mr. Park keeps fighting back, until he gets tired of defending himself and goes into the car, with the lead of policemen.

the other cops there also led the teenage boys to another car, one of them stopped in front of Hu-min, “Hey, Baek Jin asked me to tell you this, ‘I miss you’. ” Then started to walk away. Hu-min then suddenly got a call, he lifted his phone to see who it was, it was Baek Jin. He answered the call. “Where are you?” Hu-min asked furiously—almost gripping the phone in his hand from anger.

“Tomorrow, I'll send the address.”

After the Incident on Baku Chicken restaurant — 11:38 p.m

the convenience store hummed quietly beneath the weight of things unspoken.

it was late—so late the city felt like it had paused, leaving just two souls sitting at a plastic table in the back corner. Fluorescent lights cast a sterile glow over Hu-min’s face, washing out the color, but not the rage in his eyes.

Y/n watched him, patient. He hadn’t touched the can of coffee in front of him. Just sat there, hands trembling slightly around it, eyes fixed on a point past the freezer aisle like it owed him an answer.

“It wasn’t even his fault,” he finally said, voice low and strained.

Y/n didn’t interrupt. She knew better. Hu-min didn’t rant often, not unless it cracked him wide open.

“He didn’t know they were minors,” he continued, jaw tightening. “They had fake IDs. Good ones too—legit as hell. You would’ve believed them.” His laugh came out sharp, bitter. “He checks every ID, Y/n. Every single time. Now he’s sitting in a holding cell like some scumbag.”

Y/n’s hand moved across the table, gently tapping his wrist for reassuring. No big comfort. Just enough to remind him he wasn’t alone.

Hu-min shook his head, breath shuddering out of him. “They planned it. The Union boys. Walked into our restaurant like it was theirs. Drank, laughed, made a scene and when the cops came, they were smirking. One of them even winked at me.”

his voice broke on the last word, and he gripped the coffee can tighter, as if it might keep him grounded. “They knew what they were doing. Setting him up. Like it was just... sport.”

Y/n leaned in, voice soft but unshakable. “He’s going to be okay, Min. We’ll make sure of it.”

His eyes flicked to hers, wide and furious and scared all at once.

“I want to fight back,” he said. “I don’t care if I get beat bloody. I can’t let them get away with this.”

“I know you won’t,” she said, not missing a beat. “But you have to do it smart.”

he stared at her like she was the only steady thing left in the wreckage. Slowly, his hand inched forward, settling over hers. No heat. No drama. Just the quiet weight of two childhood friends who’d weathered too many storms and still kept showing up for each other.

outside, the neon sign flickered. Inside, they didn’t need words for the rest.

they just sat there, hand in hand, while the city moved on without them.

the cold air clung to Hu-min as he walked down the quiet street, kicking at a stray soda can that rattled along the curb. The city had thinned out—most shops were closing, and the occasional bus hummed past like background noise in a dream. His hands were stuffed into his hoodie pockets, the same ones that had just waved goodbye to Y/n.

she had insisted she was fine walking home alone. “I can handle myself,” she’d said with that sly little smile that always managed to shut him up. So he nodded, told her to text when she got in, and watched her figure disappear down the sidewalk.

ding.

Hu-min flinched. The sound echoed louder than it should’ve in the stillness.

he yanked out his phone, expecting a "got home safe" message. But the screen showed something else. Baek Jin. The contact name alone made his stomach twist.

a single image glared back at him—a photo of him and Y/n outside the convenience store.

she was holding her banana milk, mid-laugh. He was leaning in, grinning at something stupid he’d said. It would’ve been a cute pic if it weren’t for the off-kilter angle and grainy zoom—someone had been watching. Beneath the photo, Baek Jin sent a message.

“If I were you, I'd move faster. Childhood’s a fragile thing. Real easy to ruin.”

Hu-min’s jaw clenched just by reading it. He tried calling Y/n. Straight to voicemail. He tried again. Still nothing. He was getting worried as hell.

Hu-min’s pulse roared in his ears. His fingers trembled—but not from fear. From fury.

he turned on his heel and ran. He couldn't let this happen again, not her, not his friend again.

The Next Day — Billiards, 6:04 p.m

the billiards hall buzzed with low music and laughter, bass humming beneath the floorboards. Neon lights bled over green felt and polished cues, casting everything in electric blue and sinful red. The air smelled like waxed wood, soda, and sweat.

Y/n leaned over the table, cue sliding through her fingers with practiced ease. She didn’t blink as the 9-ball sank into the corner pocket—clean, precise, deadly.

Soo-min groaned. “Swear on my tuition, you’ve done this before.” Y/n smirked without turning. “Maybe you’re just easy.”

Soo-min gaped, then laughed—loud and dramatic. The kind of sound that let Y/n forget, just for a second, the world outside this glowing room.

then the door chimed. A sound barely louder than the music. Y/n didn’t even flinch. Didn’t care. People came and went. None of them mattered.

“Oh. My. God,” Soo-min hissed. Y/m sighed. “What?” Still, Y/n lined up her next shot.

but a ripple moved through her, low and deep. That eerie, pricking awareness, like the air got heavier just behind her. Like something dangerous had entered the room wearing skin.

tall. Cold. And wearing those black Clubmaster glasses like he owned the word intimidation. The neon light kissed the sharp lines of his jaw, making the silver chain under his collar gleam like a secret. His dark hair was artfully disheveled, and his expression? Utterly unimpressed.

behind him, three boys from Ganghak swaggered in, loud and brash muscle for the Union. They laughed too loud, jostled each other, clearly the reason Seong-Je was even here. He looked ready to leave. Seong-Je, though—he looked out of place. Or maybe he was the place. Everything else just moved around him.

until his eyes found her. He smiled. Not the charming kind. The kind that said I’m going to set you on fire, and you’ll thank me for it.

he murmured something to the others, shook them off, and stalked toward her like gravity worked differently around him. The crowd parted. He didn’t look at anyone else. He started walking towards her.

“You play?” he asked. His voice was low. Laced with heat and challenge.

Y/n blew on her nails. “Obviously.”

“You stalking me now?” she added, turning just enough for him to see the gleam in her eye.

“I don’t need to.” His gaze dragged across her grip, her posture. “You always end up exactly where I want you.”

“Life’s full of disappointments.”

“Mmm.” He stepped closer, glasses reflecting the table lights. “Not tonight.”

his eyes swept her up and down like he was reading a blueprint he already memorized. “You hold that cue like you’ve broken people with worse.”

“Haha, funny.”

a pause. A flicker in his smile. He leaned in. Not enough to touch—but close enough for the heat of him to brush her skin. The scent of him—smoke, spice, something sharp and expensive—coiled in her lungs.

“You shouldn’t look so calm,” he said, voice barely audible. “Unless you want me to misread you.”

“And you shouldn’t look so desperate,” she snapped. “Unless you want me to call your bluff.”

his lips parted. A sharp breath—barely there. His gaze flared.

and then he grinned. Full teeth. Dangerous joy. Like pain was something he wanted to wear.

“Careful,” he whispered. “You talk like that, and I’ll start thinking you want me to lose control.”

just then, Soo-min stormed over like a war siren. “Okay, break it up, Bonnie and Clyde! Some of us are trying to not get turned on in public.”

Seong-Je chuckled low, like he actually enjoyed being interrupted. He stepped back—but never looked away.

“This place just got interesting,” he said, more to himself than anyone else, then turned and wandered back to his group like nothing happened.

Y/n watched him go. Watched how the air didn’t move quite right after he left. Her pulse still thudded loud and traitorous beneath her skin.

Soo-min dragged Y/n a few steps back by the wrist. “Girl, that man is the final boss of bad decisions.”

“I’m aware,” Y/n said, voice calm. Too calm.

Seong-Je was halfway to his group. One of them tossed him a cue stick. He caught it without looking. Started lining up a shot like he actually cared about the game. Then he glanced back right at her.

cue still in hand, he cocked his head and mouthed, “Watch this.”

Y/n narrowed her eyes. The nerve of this man.

he didn’t break eye contact as he sank the 7-ball with a single, sharp shot. Cocky. Clean. Effortless.

then he turned—sauntered back. Like gravity pulled him to her. “You like watching?” he asked, lips barely moving. “Or do you just like watching me.”

“Oh?” He tilted his head, stepping into her space again. “You think I lose often?”

“I think you like to pretend you're in control,” she said, tone soft but cutting. “When really? You only play games where pain is the prize.”

his smile went crooked. Deeper. More... unchained.“Who says that’s not the fun part?”

he leaned in again—too close for public, not close enough to be satisfying. His fingers brushed the cue she held, ghosting over hers.

“You’re sick,” she said, chin tilted up.

“I’m yours,” he said, grinning. “If you ask nicely.”

still, Seong-Je didn’t move. His voice dropped lower, velvet over a knife’s edge. “Next round, me and you. One-on-one.”

“I don’t play with guys who can’t handle losing,” she said.

“Oh, but I can.” He leaned in, lips nearly brushing her ear. “In fact... I think I like it.” He whispered to her before going back to his group.

After the conversation of Seong-Je & Y/n

the game was still going when Y/n wandered toward the vending machines near the back, her jacket half-zipped, the buzz of neon giving her skin a cold glow. The hallway was quieter here, tucked between the restrooms and a storage door. She didn’t notice the guy at first—just another college-age dude in a beat-up hoodie, beer can in hand, eyes a little too glassy.

until his voice slurred behind her. “Hey… you got a name or just a face like that?” Y/n barely turned. “Walk away.”

the guy chuckled. Wrong move. He stepped closer, arm swinging up—and suddenly, there was a hand on her waist. Fast. Unwanted. Too casual. Like he thought he was owed something.

her reaction was instinct. Sharp. She twisted, elbow flying back hitting him in the ribs—hard enough to make him stumble back to the walls. He grunted, stumbled, and reached again.

she shoved him hard. “I said don’t touch me.”

“You're playing hard to get–”

it happened faster than her breath could catch. The guy staggered forward. A blur of motion shoved him violently against the vending machine with a metallic screech. Then another blow. A fist connecting with jaw. Bone-on-bone. Blood sprayed.

“Touch her again,” Seong-Je growled, voice low and steady and deadly, “You'll not be able to walk again 'till you die.”

Seong-Je wasn’t yelling. He wasn’t swearing. He was smiling. That slow, terrifying curve of his lips that meant something inside him had snapped, and now he was enjoying it.

the guy tried to crawl—gasping, whimpering, drunk bravado long gone. But Seong-Je grabbed him by the collar, slammed him back down, and punched again and again and again.

the thud of knuckles against flesh echoed like war drums.

the guy was barely breathing now—coughing up blood, slurring some weak apology but Seong-Je didn’t stop. Couldn’t. His knuckles were already raw, skin torn open from bone-deep rage, but he just kept going.

blood splattered against the sticky billiards floor. Somewhere in the distance, a pool cue rolled off a table. No one moved to stop him. No one dared.

until sirens can be heard from a distance. Red and blue lights danced against the grimy windows, flashing in rhythmic pulses—like a countdown ticking toward disaster.

one of the Ganghak High student called him out. “Seong-Je!” he hissed. “Cops.”

Y/n’s friend, Soo-min, was already moving. Her hand shot out, grabbing Y/n’s wrist in a panic. “We have to go,” she whispered, urgent, pulling her back, away from the scene unraveling in front of them.

Y/n couldn't say any word just by looking at that scene, it leaves her speechless—couldn't process what in the world just happened. It's brutal as heck. Y/n didn't even bothered on being pulled away by Soo-min. She yanked Y/n toward the back exit, pushing past crates of cue chalk and cigarette smoke.

Seong-Je has already stopped, he stood up and moved away from the unconscious body on the floor. He smiled at the sight in front of him, just the corner of his mouth, twitching upward.

sirens, screaming louder now—cutting through the smoke and sweat of the billiards room. He didn’t run. He just let the police get inside and grabbed him from the back. He didn’t fight it.

the door burst open—sirens howling, boots pounding against concrete—and before the echo of the chaos could settle, they had him. Hands yanked behind his back, metal cuffs biting into bruised wrists. A knee shoved him forward. He stumbled.

still no resistance, no curses, no struggle, just a laugh—low, breathless, bitter.

after the Billiard Incident — Sunday, 2:13 a.m

the storm had passed, but the world still felt soaked in it.

pavement shimmered under dim streetlights, puddles reflecting the broken skyline in fragments. The air clung to everything—humid, thick, charged. The kind of quiet that comes only after thunder has screamed itself hoarse. In that silence, Seong-Je waited.

ghostface mask sleek and unforgiving, black hood pulled low. The fabric of his coat hugged him tight, the hem still damp from the storm. His boots moved like whispers—no splash, no sound. The knife in his gloved hand gleamed like a secret.

then the man from the billiards that day—still has that bruise from the beat up on his face, suddenly got a call—the man flinched, cursing under his breath as he fumbled in his pocket, damp fingers slipping on the screen. His heart thumped once—too hard. The screen glowed against the darkness.

[UNKNOWN NUMBER]

he snorted. “Who the hell…” He swiped to answer.

“Yo, who is—”

“Do you always talk so loud when you’re about to die?”

the voice on the other end was distorted. Glitched. Smooth like smoke, sharp like broken glass.

the man froze. “What kind of sick prank is this?” The man turned in a full circle, breath quickening.

“You don’t remember her,” the voice drawled, amused. “But I remember you. I remember what your hands did. And I remember what mine are about to do.”

the man jerked the phone away, stared at it like it might explode in his hand. “Who the fuck is this?!” Click. The line went dead.

the man’s breath caught in his throat, legs twitching like they couldn’t decide whether to run or drop.

that’s when Seong-Je moved. A blade flashed—quick, clean. The man turned just in time to see the glint, and slash.

the cigarette fell from his lips as Seong-Je pinned him to the wall with one hand, blade at his throat, the Ghostface mask tilted like he was smiling underneath.

the man struggled. Big mistake. Seong-Je dragged the knife down—not enough to kill. Just enough to scar. Just enough to teach his muscles what helplessness felt like.

the man begged. Mumbled excuses. Said he didn’t mean it.

Seong-Je leaned in. Close. “You touched what’s mine.” That was it. The switch flipped.

the knife plunged deep—once, then again, then a third time for good measure. Not frenzy. Precision. Controlled, almost graceful. Like choreography soaked in vengeance.

the body dropped. Limply. Blood pooling beneath him like spilled paint on concrete.

Seong-Je stood over him, shoulders relaxed, breaths steady, not even a flinch from him it's like he’d just finished stretching—not murder. He wiped the blade on the guy’s shirt.

he stared at the corpse for a moment. Tilted his head and with one last look, he vanished into the alley.

#geum seong je #geum seongje #keum seongje #wolf keum #geum seong je x reader #geum seongje x reader #keum seongje x reader #wolf keum x reader #weak hero x reader #weak hero class 1 #weak hero class 2 #weak hero class one #weak hero class two #weak hero class x reader #crossover #ghostface!seongje

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dr-trafalgar-law · 3 days ago

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Trafalgar Law X CisFem Reader

Hongo stood in the break room waiting for his coffee to brew while taking a moment to watch you sitting outside with Azul during your lunch. Today you were on the ground leaning against the outer brick wall of the hospital. Azul rested over your lap as usual. You had a paperback book perched across her back while you nibbled on crackers and read.

Law entered the room slowly following his line of sight and cleared his throat quietly.

“Oh, hey…” the blonde perked up seeing Trafalgar, “maybe you know.”

“I know lots of things.” Law muttered while picking up the coffee carafe.

“Good.” Hongo chuckled, turning from the window, “What's her deal?”

“Her deal?”

“Yeah, what's-her-face, ya know, the receptionist. What's her deal?”

“F/N-ya.” Law confirmed filling his mug, “I don't know what you mean by her deal.”

“C’mon,” Hongo slapped a hand over Law's shoulder, “y’know, she single?”

Law focused on the yellow mug in front of him, a weird knot twisted in his gut. He knew the answer to the question.

Why didn't he want to share it?

“Not very appropriate.” He managed nonchalantly.

“Hey, I don't work here, so it's not my company ink.” The blonde smirked, “That's the best part about relief work. All the cute receptionists.”

“You really are friends with Red Hair.” Law tore into a couple of sugar packets and dumped them into his coffee.

“Our reputation precedes us.” Hongo chuckled.

“Right, well I don't know her status.” Law lied hoping to end this ridiculous conversation so he could get back to work.

“I can work with that.” Hongo poured his own cup of coffee as Law took the opportunity to escape.

“You could have just lied and said she was taken.” Penguin commented while helping Ikkaku get a Newfoundland puppy situated on the radiology table.

“But she’s not.” Law muttered.

“Newgate isn’t going to like this.” Ikkaku chuckled rolling the pup onto her side.

“Now this guy thinks he just has the greenlight to take F/N.” Penguin nodded toward Law to confirm the puppy was positioned how he wanted.

“I don’t know why Newgate would care.” Law pressed the floor pedal to take the radiograph, “Roll her over.”

“What if she falls in love with him and they run away to start their own practice?” She joked.

“She definitely won’t.” Law rolled his eyes.

“You don’t know that.” Penguin argued, “You haven’t tried to get to know F/N.”

“I know he’s not her type and she is kind enough to let him down gently.” Law pressed the pedal again.

“You’re so difficult.” Ikkaku accused.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Ugh, just tell her you like her already.”

“Pen!” Ikkaku snorted.

“Conversation over.” Law grumbled exiting the room.

“Why would you say that?” She scolded lifting the huge fluffy pup off the table.

“Maybe he’ll finally admit it to himself.” He shrugged, “Now, let's get this angel back to her mom.”

“She’s such a good girl.” Hongo sat on the floor with Azul in his lap behind the reception desk.

“Yeah, the perks of bringing her to work - everyone has trained her.” You swiveled in your chair to face him.

“Oh I'm sure.” He rubbed her ears and looked up at you with a charming simper, “So, I was going to ask if you had some time, maybe you could show me around town?”

Immediately your face went hot. You were flattered, he was very attractive.

But…

“You're not a stranger to Lvneel.” Law's irritated voice sent your stomach to the floor.

Azul hopped up and trotted over to him.

Hongo frowned but recovered quickly, “It's been a long time though.”

“I'm happy to give you a list of newer places to visit before you leave.” You made sure your voice was bubbly and innocent.

Really your nerves were standing on end. A semi public rejection was not on your bingo card for the day.

Law almost couldn't hold back the smug smile that was tugging at him as the other doctor stood a little defeated.

“I'll take that list little miss.” He winked and made a quick exit.

You exhaled, slowly turning back to your desk to find Law still standing there. His jewel toned gaze locked on you. There was something there you hadn't really noticed before.

Something warm.

“I-uh… thanks for the birthday stuff the other day. I haven't celebrated in a while.” He glanced down at the desk, “It was nice to be acknowledged without making a big deal out of it.”

Fuckfuckfuck.

Your face was hot again, “You’re welcome. I'm glad you liked it.”

A strangely comfortable tension hung between you as he fidgeted.

“Also,” God, why was he still talking, “sorry for yelling at you that day.”

“Shachi told me how private you are about it. No worries.” You waved your hands in front of you.

His eyes met yours again with a little more determination, “It's not just that F/N-ya. It's for your safety.”

Your brain must be glitching.

“You know how the government is.”

“R-right,” you nodded, “I won't say a word. I promise. Dr. Newgate and Chopper can tell you.”

“I understand that now.” He smiled.

A true genuine smile that seemed to soften all of his features. It made your heart clinch and your stomach drop.

“I mean, what was that conversation?” You groaned, leaning against Zoro, “And he smiled at me! SMILED!”

“Don't sound so upset about it, love.” Sanji chuckled from his seat across the table.

“I'm just so annoyed.”

“With what?” Zoro asked, “It seemed like a pretty normal interaction to me.”

“I'm annoyed because sometimes he's so attractive. Just… ugh.”

“Did you give her liquor?” The greenette questioned his husband.

Sanji shook his head, “Women can be complicated creatures.”

“Look, he's the reason people have quit. He's scary and unpleasant and dismissive. But like,” you paused and sighed, “there's something there. I hate it.”

Your friends laughed.

Azul whined and came out from under the table alert, her tail slapped against your leg.

“Hey sweet girl.”

Your neck almost snapped as you turned to see the subject of your conversation dipping down on the deck of Sanji's Cafe to greet your dog. She tugged her leash to get to him while letting out little yips of excitement. Sanji and Zoro shared a glance as you struggled to breathe.

It felt like you'd been caught. How long had he been there? Was he close enough to hear your conversation?

“Ya gotta stop sneakin’ up on me doc.” You tried concealing your nerves with humor.

Law looked up at you with an amused simper, “Ikkaku says I should wear a bell. Perhaps she's not unfounded.”

This was new.

Why wasn't he ignoring you?

#lyndsyh24 #one piece #slow burn #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar law #marco the phoenix #puppy love #x reader #18+ mdni #fem reader #veterinarian trafalgar law

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tunamayuuu · 1 day ago

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tuna i am so absolutely intrigued by kunicchou i need you to yell at me about them asap…. their similar values despite being on opposite sides oh god they’d be so fascinating

see the funny part about them is that they are both righteous people but the way they approach justice is so different. you'd Think they'd be similar because they're assigned the rational one/good authoritative figure in their respective duos (kunizai and suegiku), but they're just. they're so different the more you look at their actions.

ok onto similarities first, tecchou literally sees himself as the Justice guy. he's the strongest hunting dog in terms of physical strength, and he's the most Hunting Dog you're ever gonna get. he's the blade that kills upon command (jouno's command as we've seen him tell tecchou to kill yosano, and tecchou does so without question/complaint), and he'll punish evil whenever he sees it. the funny inclusion to this value is reprimanding jouno because fukuchi commanded him to do so whenever jouno acts out of line (has a little too much fun playing bad cop). he comes off as extremely rigid, in his blunt words, straightforward to a fault (cutting down a whole forest) approach to everything, and his will to exact justice onto others.

kunikida is similar in that rigid appearance. he's very strict about his schedule, is just as blunt in his words, his story constantly revolves around his ideals and how its challenged by the reality around him (especially azure messenger and cannibalism arcs). not only is he next in line for the director position, but dazai describes kunikida as the symbol/representative of what the armed detective agency is, more than any other ada member. just like tecchou, he also regards his ideals very high in his priorities, and he deems himself the only one responsible to fulfill his ideals. he will do everything in his power to protect those in front of him, even at the cost of his life.

in a way, they put a lot of pressure in themselves to fulfill the values they chose to live by. and both of them went through phases where they broke down when reality shows them that they've failed in upholding said values.

^ (plus cannibalism arc where he breaks down after the girl killed herself in front of him)

though they have a significant difference in character because,

tecchou will kill anyone in front of him, to punish evil and to achieve any additional goals

kunikida will protect anyone in front of him, and find a different way to fight evil

which makes sense! many tecchou fans agree that tecchou must've grown up in the military, or at least have been exposed to it at a young age. his job entails killing people for the sake of good, it makes sense why that's his ideal. however, kunikida, as far as we know, has been a regular citizen unaffiliated with the government. as a detective, his only job is to solve cases and uphold the law given that the ada actively works with the police. he wants to avoid unnecessary deaths, that's his justice.

tecchou will not hesitate to almost kill a child, because he sees that child as a terrorist who must be punished and is liable for jouno's disappearance. kunikida, on the other hand, will try to cheer up a little girl who's holding on to the bombs around her neck, and broke down over the fact he failed to save her, completely ignoring how that bomb was meant to kill him.

how they live out their values is so different and god i wish asagiri writes them interacting more. :( that clashing of approaches to upholding an ideal world is so fucking good and i'm seated....

also i'll be real i got into kunicchou cos of these fics, and they're literal perfection to me. i need to draw kunicchou actually hmmmm....

i think they'd be more qpr than traditionally romantic because they're just so? work-oriented? i don't doubt they'll find time to be together but like, as they are now, hunting dog and armed detective agency member, they're more emotionally involved in their line of work.

but if they were romantic? i see them as the type of couple to go out for dates a lot, fishing, eating out, visiting amusement parks, any public space is their oyster. also tecchou is banned from the kitchen. (this does not stop tecchou when kunikida is not at home, or sick)

#kunicchou #spliqi #SPLIQI THATS MOOT #thanks for letting me ramble :) i will now go back to cramming #this is very impromptu so forgive me for any particular inaccuracies or failure to cite more scenes

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paranormal-taters · 8 months ago

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I'm rereading Lockwood & Co. and I just started The Screaming Staircase and. the thought of little 8-year-old Lucy Carlyle walking around in an agency uniform actually makes me so sick to my stomach.

#sometimes while reading something i come across an image that i have to immediately block out of my head #and this time it's thinking about that little girl on the front lines #and it being NORMAL #and her being PROUD OF IT #THAT'S ANOTHER LEVEL OF BRAINWASHING #'it seemed a fine thing to be part of this select and important company'#'walking tall in our mustard-coloured jackets'#'with the great Mr Jacobs at our head'#those were child soldiers enlisted by adults #and they were convinced to be proud of it #at 8 years old #it's the hunger games in a different font #someone hold me i'm thinking about little Lucy Carlyle again #lockwood and co #lockwood & co #lucy carlyle #the screaming staircase

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seilon · 2 months ago

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I’m sure someone’s said this before but. I can’t stop wondering whether gemma really was actually infertile. like. what if she had her miscarriage for an unrelated one-off reason, went to the fertility clinic for help trying again, and was given faulty/rigged supplies by the clinic (lumon) that guaranteed failure (a contraceptive effect and/or false readings) in order to intentionally traumatize her and condition her for being a test subject.

#would not be surprised if that was the whole purpose of the fertility clinic #and all the insinuations about disappearances and whatnot. I have to think gemma was not the first test subject and not the first one found #through infertility trauma either. she’s maybe just the only one who survived the process of being severed 25 times #idk mannnnn but I definitely think that fertility clinic was some sort of lumon front. if not for this then maybe for indoctrinating parents #through their mailing list material and other ‘recommendations’ so that they give their children up to lumon’s schooling and wintertide and #etc.#I’d have to rewatch that part of Gemma’s episode but I remember wondering if that little girl in the clinic waiting room could be ms huang #but I’m not sure the timeline lines up there I think she’d probably? be too old by that point to be that little girl. interesting thought #though #kibumblabs #I’ve got brain rot grhsshxghshh there’s alot going on and my mind is so scattered #severed…….if you will #severance #severance spoilers

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madamechrissy · 1 month ago

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Baby You're a Star

Art in the banner by Kerravi on x!

Pairings- Pornstar Satoru x shy f!reader

Warnings- mentions of sex and sexwork, masturbation (M and f) back shots, threesomes on set w/ Suguru and Sukuna, cum drinking, weed smoking, drinking, lots of longing, reader is innocent DON'T read if you don't like that, pining, obsessive, he can't get hard if it's not you, whipped ass Satoru because that's how I NEED HIM, a lot of mentions of sex, cum, etc- it's about porn so lol. A lil bit of angsttt, a lil bit of cuteness, demisexual reader, hoe Satoru what a pair.

Summary- You meet Satoru Gojo at a wild Hollywood party, insanely out of place, waiting for your friend to show up. The two of you hit it off, spending time together, and share a kiss, but you're a good girl, and you just don't do this, but he is the top pornstar there is, and the top .01 % on OnlyFans. Once you find out, you know there's probably no match, as Satoru doesn't date, and you don't sleep around, but after meeting, you keep in touch- and soon Satoru can't get hard without thinking of you, and you get over curious, and join a livestream of the boy you like. Just how will that go for you both!? WC 10k!

Based on Pornstar Satoru- Playlist- Chapter Two>>>

Chapter One

Satoru Gojo was one of the most famous pornstars there are, and the baddie arched right in front of him, sucking on one of the other most famous stars’ cock - Satoru’s best friend Suguru Geto - shows exactly why he is. When he slams his latex covered cock so deep inside her she screams, squirting all down his cock while she chokes down Suguru…

That’s not just for the camera.

Satoru knows every spot on his co-stars, shouldn’t it be fun for them too? He never would let a single one of them not cum several times, hence the long, long line and insane demand he has. The amount of onlyfans collab requests he gets, along with shoot after shoot, he has to be extremely picky, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t eat up how desired he was.

Even now, he winks right into the camera, knowing how many people were watching this livestream, gripping his costar’s hips and slamming his cock so deep, while Suguru is gripping her face delicately, moaning. Blue eyes and violet eyes meet the camera, dual smirks while they make this girl shatter for them, until they know it’s time for the money shot.

She’s eagerly on her knees, at the most perfect angle in the room they use as a stage, fully lit with pro lighting, and the comments and tips from this livestream are going insane, all while she looks up at both of them. Satoru takes off his condom, while she strokes him, sucking his cock and then Suguru’s, so huge and heavy, though Satoru loves to brag that he’s just a little longer, and Suguru brags he’s thicker.

They love competing, including who cums more, both of them moaning, though Satoru is a little more occupied with how good his abs look in the camera, fuck they’re glistening really, as she starts jerking them off now with practiced hands. Suguru looks at Satoru then, brushing back dark locks.

“I’m gonna cum way more than you this time.” He murmurs, so that the camera’s couldn’t hear, but the girl stroking them giggles a bit, clearly fucked out.

Satoru stretches his arms up, folding them behind his head, as the strokes get faster, as she laps up his milky precum from his perfect pink tip. “Nah, no way, I will this time.”

“So competitive, hmm?” She says, drawing their attention, then she hits that twist just right, and Satoru and Suguru are cumming all over her eager face, her hands, her open mouth, shooting milky ropes and groaning out.

Satoru gets paid to cum on pretty girls faces, and he gets paid a lot, with his best fucking friend - just how do you beat that? He grins as the livestream is popping off, and Suguru is delicate in swiping their cum all over her for one more money shot, Satoru leans over, stroking himself right on camera once more, to the many happy tips and replies of all his fans.

“And that’s a wrap.” Satoru’s cocky voice follows a click, as he takes in just how much they made, whistling. “Goddamn, we should celebrate.”

“Um… guys…” Satoru turns then, as his co-star is covered, and he laughs a bit, rushing to grab soft wet wipes for her.

“I’m sorry, shit!” Him and Suguru carefully clean her up, and now her manager walks in, along with Satoru’s and Suguru’s, a freshly cleaned costar hugs the two of them.

“Thank you for letting me join, my OF is gonna blow up!” Satoru smiles then, while their managers all spread out the cut.

“Of course, you did great.” She beams, hugging Suguru now.

“Amazing, love.”

“You all are the best!” Soon it’s just Satoru and Suguru with their managers, and Satoru is yawning, bored, still not dressed, cock just swinging and still huge on semi hard, much to his manager’s annoyance.

“We have a big shoot tomorrow, don’t be out partying.” He says, avoiding Satoru’s cock in his vision so much Satoru laughs.

“Yeah, yeah.”

Satoru and Suguru absolutely listen…

Not.

They’re smoking a blunt right in the middle of a Hollywood party, lit off their asses, perhaps they partook in a little coke to celebrate, but who’s to say, just a residue of white in their nostrils to really know. They’re surrounded by women, free drinks all over of the highest quality, to celebrate breaking the bank with the star they shot with, why should they turn it down?

Satoru Gojo loves his life, really.

It feels good, it’s always busy, full of pretty women and an insane amount of money and fame, shit he loves to read comments on himself, but he wouldn’t admit it, about how badly everyone wants him. And why wouldn’t they? Satoru finds himself attractive as fuck, first and foremost. But at times, alone in that penthouse when Suguru would leave for days at a time…

Sometimes he got a little lonely, if he was being honest. Hollywood was full of fake and fleeting friends, and even costars wanted his fame, his cock, his money, not really him. But that was something Satoru shoves far, far back, instead returning his mind to the party at hand, a sea of bodies in a huge mansion right on the coast, littered with entangled and dancing bodies.

It all seems perfect, until Satoru sees someone walk in, a pretty girl who just doesn’t fit in, she just sticks out, nervously clutching a teddy bear cased phone, pushing up her tortoiseshell glasses. As Satoru leans forward, and Suguru hands him a blunt, he can’t get his fucking gaze of the girl, her baggie tan sweater, white pleated skirt and converse.

She stands out completely from the half naked women, many blondes with fake bodies, fake asses, fake tits… not that Satoru minded, he loves all tits and asses, silicon or not. But you look natural, your lips don’t have all that filler, the lips you’re biting, but when your teeth release them, they’re still full and fucking gorgeous, just a bit glossy, the low soft lights glinting off them.

The music of the party fades, everything fades, it’s like some stupid nineties rom com where the room parts, and it’s just this girl. A sweet girl with her hair falling over one shoulder, the other bare, and if Satoru could pick a body part that’s oddly turning him on, it’s your bare shoulder, your collarbones, with a pretty necklace that looks like it must be your zodiac sign.

Someone comes up to you then, handing you a glass of champagne, and he watches you shift a bit, looking down shyly, tucking your hair behind your ear, eyes traveling up and down your body, dying to know what your outfit is hiding. Your eyes catch his suddenly, a sweet, shy smile that just fucks him up, it’s like you’ve punched him in the fucking chest.

“Satoru… Satoru… earth to fucking Satoru… M’gonna smoke all this blunt myself, then-” Satoru finally realizes Suguru is calling for him, when he waves a hand in front of Satoru’s face, ruining his field of vision.

“Who is she?” Satoru and Suguru know most of the industry, sex workers and actors alike, and he sure the fuck has never seen you. Suguru eyes you then, his lips quirking up as you look down shyly once more, poking at your phone.

“I don’t know, she’s pretty though.” Satoru scowls, and Suguru leans back on the crushed velvet couch, purple as his eyes, handing Satoru the much smaller blunt than he previously saw.

How long had he been staring?

“Looks like a good girl, don’t corrupt her.” Satoru glares deeper, blue eyes glinting as he snatches up the blunt, wrapping his lips around the tip and inhaling that smoke deep in his lungs, leaning back and blowing the smoke up in a puffy cloud.

“Just curious, looks like she doesn’t belong here.” Suguru shrugs, taking the brown paper tube back, ashing it in a tray along a dark black table, humming a bit to himself.

“We don’t date.”

“And?”

“She doesn’t… she looks like… she dates.”

“Huh, you can tell that?” Satoru raises a thin brow, and Suguru sighs, smirking a bit.

“I know lots of things.”

“Yeah, whatever… I’m talking to her.” Satoru stands up now, brushing his hands down his white dress shirt a bit, taking a breath.

Fuck is he nervous!?

Satoru Gojo, who strokes his dick on the camera, who grins as people comment that they want it in their mouths, their cunts, fuck- their asses, all their holes - filled up with his white cum. Satoru Gojo who is the top .01% of anyone on his OF, who has pro roles in the highest quality porn there was, was not a shy or nervous man, especially with women.

Why are his hands sweating then? His blood rushing through his ears every step he takes closer to you, your eyes lower a bit, so shy and cute and fucking precious, he has to smile a bit at you, drink in his hand, his other in the pocket of his dark armani slacks. He casually leans over a bit, as your eyes meet his, behind dark shades, his grin bright and enigmatic.

“Hey sweetheart, Satoru Gojo.” He expects you to notice maybe, but you just smile, oblivious, holding out your hand, small in his huge grip, and Satoru has some insane urge to kiss it, that he gulps down.

The fuck is this.

This feeling just touching your skin, inhaling your scent, fuck you smell sweet like some cupcake, you have him intoxicated as his eyes dart to those lips, teeth indentations he feels an urge to run his thumb across. Your eyes look up from behind your own glasses, as the two of you just hold hands for a moment, just a moment, and Satoru can hardly describe just what it is drawing him like a magnet.

You give him your name, and he repeats it, making your own heart race just a bit at the tall stranger, when his blue eyes glint as he slides off his shades, snowy lashes lowering over beautiful blue irises, your breath is caught in your chest. Swirling blue storms unlike anything you’ve ever seen, so intense and beautiful it’s almost difficult to look right at.

“Are you new to the area? Or…” You giggle a bit, sipping on the bubbly champagne that tickles your nose just a bit.

“I look that out of place huh?”

“No, you’re cute. Very cute. Pretty.” He’s stuttering damn near, Satoru fucking Gojo, watching the flush that decorates your cheeks, as your lips touch the rim of the glass, and he can’t stop thinking how much he’d like to kiss those little bite marks away.

“Thank you, that’s sweet.”

“Sweet is not what I’m usually called.”

“Oh really? What are you usually called?”

“Daddy.” You nearly snort out your champagne then, covering your face in a fit of laughter, and he pouts now, swirling those shades casually.

“Are you serious?”

“Oh yeah. They all do, they can’t help it, you know.”

“Mmhmm.” You’re giggling so much you snort, so cute Satoru can’t help but laugh with you, the first genuine one he’s done in a minute, not so forced to always appear so carefree. “I snorted, oh no!”

“It’s cute.” He brushes your hair between two of his fingers, and the both of you pause now, taking a breath, your lids lower just a bit, stepping closer, like Satoru himself is pulling you with his gravity. “What brings you here?”

“My friend invited me! She said seven, so I came a little early… but she’s not even on her way.” You sigh then, and he smirks just a bit.

“LA time is different. Twenty minutes late is on time, and forty minutes late is ‘fashionable’. No one comes early.”

“Shit!” You smack yourself in the forehead, and he takes your hand once more, enveloping your little one in his own.

“I can keep you company, want another drink?”

“Um… sure.”

Soon the two of you are sitting on one of the many couches in the taupe and white decorated mansion, the splashing and screeching of people in the pool mixing in a cacophony with the people dancing and the music inside. Satoru’s enraptured as you begin to talk, soft and thoughtful, while sipping on another glass, his arm just a bit across from you, behind your neck, fingers brushing your soft cashmere.

Every time he does you heat up that much more, you haven’t been with someone you felt this comfortable with in… maybe, ever. The instant feeling that he’s a sweet guy, natural, funny, and you almost wonder why he’s wasting time on you, with all the elegant women in various states of undress. But his eyes don’t even leave yours, his beautiful azure depths.

You can’t be so interesting or beautiful, sure you are very pretty, but more soft and sweet and not the Hollywood babes that were all over. But he’s laughing right with you, he soon starts busting out purple and white fuzzy weed, breaking it up and starting to roll a blunt, and you’ve never thought about being a paper until you watch a wicked pink tongue dart across it, long fingers sealing it.

“What’s wrong, don’t smoke, sweets?” The nicknames make you shift nervously, he’s too charming, too handsome, fuck not even handsome…

Pretty.

He’s too pretty to be real.

“Are you an actor, or model?” You blurt out, you don’t have much… thought before your words. He blinks a bit in surprise, flipping that blunt to smoke it now, lighting it up, you watch the orange and red of the cherry as he inhales.

“Hmm, a bit of both.” He exhales the puff of smoke, leaning closer to you, so close his thigh brushes yours, just that alone has your tummy fluttering.

“What are you in? I’d love to see your work.” Satoru starts coughing now, uncontrollably, eyes wide, as you stare in concern, coming to tap on his back. “Are you okay!?”

“Shit… yeah…” He’s coughing more, covering his mouth before looking away a moment, taking a breath.

Satoru was not ashamed of what he does for a living, and he never fucking will be either, but suddenly he doesn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry, am I being nosy?”

“No, no… want a hit?” Clearly trying to avoid the question, you wonder… was he in some flop of a movie or something?

“I’ve never smoked.” You’re looking down again, those converse pointing in as you shift once more, so adorable he really can’t stand it.

“Never?” You shake your head, and he grins, teeth glinting as he leans even closer, holding the blunt up high, the smoke swirling around the two of you, creating an even headier atmosphere, like you could get high off him.

“No…”

“Let me be your first.”

“What now!? You’re teasing me!” You cross your arms as he bursts into laughter, taking another hit.

“You’re too adorable not to.” You can’t help how good that makes you feel, he makes you feel… reckless, this stranger. “I can blow it in your mouth?”

“Blow it in my…” You bite your lip again, Satoru leans forward, thumb releasing it from your row of teeth, and the action makes you both pause.

“You bite it too much.” He murmurs softly, and just touching your soft lips, thumb touching the plush of it, is hotter than cumming on a girl’s face this morning, in fact he’s not done something so sensual.

The man who last night was banging a co-star in a mating press, the night before he had two women, one on his face, one riding his cock. The other day, him and Suguru shared another girl, this time dual penetrating her, fuck they were both in her pussy- she clearly was miraculous to take it. This week alone he’d done six shoots, with the best Hollywood had to offer.

But this girl blushing, who’s never smoked a blunt, is so fucking sexy he barely holds back.

He’s leaking precum from your proximity.

“Will blowing in my mouth get me… um, high?” Your words shake him from his revelry, where he’s still touching your pretty little chin, making him clear his throat, plastering on a cocky smile like your scent alone doesn’t have him throbbing.

“A little, but not as intense as a hit yourself. Call it shotgun, you’ve really never heard of it?”

You shake your head, scooting closer and leaning forward, that tan and brown sweater falling just a little more over your shoulder, as your lips are too close. Any other girl by now Satoru would have on his OF, or have in a bedroom, a bathroom, maybe just here on this couch for everyone. He’d have his fingers on them, have them sucking him off.

But he’s just enjoying barely touching you.

Satoru shakes his head, wondering if he’s so high he’s imagining how intense this must be, but looking back down into your pretty eyes behind your glasses, he can’t shove it down. “Trust me?”

“Should I?” He wiggles his brows, grinning.

“Maybe you shouldn’t, maybe it’s a ploy to kiss you.” You’re giggling again, sighing now, and tilting your chin up, your hand resting on his thigh, while he cups your face.

“I doubt you need to ploy anyone into kissing them.”

“Never have before, no.”

“Then… I trust you.” You lean forward again, eyes fluttering shut, your lashes just barely brushing the glasses, and he pauses, before inhaling the blunt deep into his lungs, tilting your chin up and opening your lips.

“Suck in.” His words carry far too much intent, when he blows his smoke directly into your mouth, and you do just that, sucking in all the smoke you can, as he sighs into your sweet mouth, lips full and plush on your own.

Fuck.

Satoru blows all the smoke, and you’re sucking it in. “Good girl.”

Fuck.

You almost die then, coughing a bit, embarrassingly wet for him, and this is not normal. You’re a girl who has to have a relationship to have sex, you’re a girl who has to really know someone, feel so comfortable, but Satoru Gojo was completely wrecking you now. You let the smoke go, the fog rising, when he leans low once more, one hand pulling you closer.

“Another?” He asks in a whisper, you can’t stop but nodding, watching his plump lips circle that blunt again, and he’s blowing it back in your mouth, pulling you closer, while you inhale it deep. He pulls back a bit now, as you’re holding it, sighing. “Blow it back in my mouth.”

You do as he asks, and soon your tongues touch, sloppy and drippy wet, making you whine out from the back of your throat, the sound making Satoru fucking feral. You kiss fully, your hand slipping up his shirt now, lightheaded from the smoke and his ardent kiss, how he possesses your fucking mouth, and the blood rushes to your ears, your head so light and fuzzy.

“Fuck…” His words come out in a low growl, pulling you even closer, until one of your thighs is over his, and he’s pressing a kiss across your jaw, up to your ear, you’re gripping his soft, expensive shirt like your life depends on it, whimpering so softly only he can hear. “Taste so sweet, do you everywhere?”

“I… huh… I… mmm…” You’re dizzy when he nips your ear, a big hand brushing your waist, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake, before he pulls back, eyes so bright, his pupils shrunk to little pinpoints now. “Gojo…”

“Satoru.”

You’re blushing furiously, eyeing your surroundings, when you’re soaked now, it feels so… naughty but exciting, fuck. You have to gather yourself, taking several shaky breaths, as he’s leaning down further, your heat against one of his thighs now. “Satoru um… I need a moment. That was intense.”

“Shit, of course.” He pulls back, taking his own breath, putting out the blunt now, eyeing the glossy redness of your now swollen lips.

He can picture them so perfectly wrapped around the tip of his cock. So innocent, did you do that? Would he have to show you, direct you? The perfect angle of your eyes, the way to open your mouth, how to take him deep down that little throat, one he can imagine seeing his cock bulge out of. All the thoughts are running insane while you lean back a bit, hands loosening their grip on his shirt finally.

“Want a drink, sweets?” You nod now, your eyes are so dilated they look black, glasses just a little fogged from his breath and the smoke.

“Yes, please. You didn’t tell me um, what movies can I find you in?”

“Like looking at me?” He’s cocky, conceited, but you just nod a bit, making him falter now. “Indie films, low budget, obscure.”

“Oh? I love indie flicks!” He grimaces now, a girl who’s never smoked weed and screams inexperienced may not like him if she knew he cums on girls' tits and their faces for money.

He wants to just say it.

But…

“You’ve not heard of ‘em. Let’s get you a drink, hmm pretty?” You nod shyly, standing with his help, and soon the two of you have made it in the center of one of the main party rooms, there are women getting lines done off them, men with several women on them at once, all kissing, grinding, along with those dancing. And now Satoru has your hips in his grip, showing you how to roll them.

You’re not a dancer, a little awkward and off beat, but you’re laughing, a pretty peal of a sound that melts him, and he can’t remember the last time he has had so much fun, as he does working you in a figure eight, kissing your neck teasingly. You’re ticklish, he really notices when his fingertips graze your hips under your sweater, earning your little gasp and look up at him.

“Cute.”

“You keep saying that, like I’m a little kitten!”

“Maybe you are. Or a little bunny.”

“Oh!” You’re giggling though, when you turn and get just a little dizzy, but he captures you, and you finally say it. “Um… why talk to me?”

Satoru frowns now, thin brows together, as the song is slower, and you’re damn near grinding against his thigh, with how he holds you. “What do you mean why?”

“You’re so… there’s so many…”

“Shh.” He puts a fingertip to glossy lips, taking a breath. “I’m enjoying myself, are you sweetheart?”

“Yes but…”

“Want a secret?” You nod and he leans down, breath tickling the shell of your ear. “You’re the prettiest girl here.”

“No way!”

“Mmhmm, and I’d know. Expert.” You tuck your face against his chest, giggling again, as your arms wrap his torso tighter.

“You’re being too nice.”

“No, just saying what I think. But your cheeks turn a really pretty color, don’t they?”

“Shh.” You look back up, eyes glittering, and it takes everything for Satoru not to take you then and there, lap up that heat he can feel emanating from your surely pretty little cunt. You peck a kiss on his neck, earning a little exhale, when Satoru pulls your little body even closer against his, so huge, tall, hard, everywhere. “Satoru…”

Suddenly your friend hits your field of vision, pausing and widening her pretty eyes as she takes in the sight of you two. You clear your throat, tapping Satoru then, whose hands are dangerously close to gripping your ass, your scent overtaking him, the feel of you in his arms driving him insane with need. He blinks a bit, as he then turns where you’re pointing.

“My friend!” You’re grinning then, and Satoru’s heart drops just a bit, when he recognizes her, since he’d been inside her just last week.

Shit.

“Come meet Satoru!” You’re bouncing practically as you drag Satoru by his hand, and your friend smiles just a bit, as Satoru clears his throat, and you’re adorable and oblivious.

“We’ve met.” You blink a bit in surprise at her words, looking at Satoru, who’s put back on his shades, hand that was on the small of your back falling.

“Oh, where? A movie set? She does some acting too!” Your best friend takes your hand then, as Satoru looks away.

“Yeah, a set. Um, can I steal you baby?” She asks, brushing your hair back, you nod with a pretty smile.

“I’ll be back!” Satoru smiles a bit, cursing softly, when Suguru comes walking up to him, sipping on a whiskey, eyeing the two girls.

“Didn’t you…”

“Fuck her friend? Yep.” He answers with a pop of his lips, hand brushing his hair back then, sighing. “Shit I really like her.”

“Like her or want her?”

“Both. More. Shit.” Suguru contemplates his friend, then eyes you and your friend together.

“Her friend is Jenna Juggs?”

Satoru’s lips quirk up a bit. “She is indeed. Fuck I need a drink, I am sure she won’t want to talk to me now.”

“Since when do you care?”

“Shut up.” Satoru’s all pouty, and you frown now, looking up at Jenna, who is tugging you far away.

“What’s going on? You always say I need to try to meet someone!”

“Yes, but…” She sighs now, looking over at him, then back down at you. “You really don’t recognize him?”

“He said he’s in like… indie films?” She snorts just a bit then, shaking her head and sighing.

“Indie films huh. Babe aren’t you on my OF?”

“To support you! I’ve never looked, oh god.” Jenna giggles, sighing.

“I thought you peeked a bit huh?”

“No. I read my porn.”

“So classy.” You both giggle, and you feel blue eyes boring across the room, sending a shiver down your spine as you look over your shoulder.

“I’m not any better than you because you like to watch or… participate. But anyway, what’s OF have to do with it?”

“We… collabed last week.” You watch her shift a bit, eyelashes lowering as she now giggles at the memory, and you feel your tummy clench just a bit, eyes catching Satoru’s again, he’s leaning against a counter, ignoring everyone that comes his way with a casual shrug of his shoulders.

“Collabed as in…” She nods a little, and you exhale. “Oh.”

“He’s a huge name, like the top porn star there is, him and his friend over there.” You see him now, long dark hair, as tall as Satoru, leaning against the counter right with him, but Satoru still hasn’t peeled his eyes off you. “It was a big deal to get him to join, and he’s really sweet but…”

“But?” You raise a brow now, and your friend brushes her hair back, looking in their direction again.

“He’s amazing in bed, like the best I’ve had.”

“Ah… that good?” You’re clearing your throat nervously, drinking your glass slowly, trying to ignore the odd feelings in your tummy.

Were you really envious right now?

You shouldn’t feel this way, she’s your best friend and you don’t even know him, but also you could never just…

Could you?

“He hasn’t dated a single girl in the eight years he’s done porn, him or his friend, notoriously single even for the industry.”

“Shit are they together?” She laughs a bit then.

“People certainly ship them but…”

“Ship, like characters, are they that famous?”

“Mmhmm. Now if you just want to have fun, he’s amazing but I know you.” She puts one of her hands on your shoulders now, cool thumb running little circles on your bare shoulder. “You’re sweet, innocent and you want love.”

“I’ve done things!”

“With how many people?”

You sigh now, drinking the rest of your drink in a gulp. “Just my ex.”

“That’s what I figured, and that’s fine baby, if you need a connection, or something deep? He’s not it. That’s all, I see how much fun you were having, and I don’t want you hurt if he gets… what he wants and goes. In this industry how you see sex is very different.”

“Ah. I get it, you think he just wants to…” You can’t even say it, fuck you’d been wet, ready, and you were never like that with a stranger, your experience as a demisexual just is limited, where you crave connection, comfort, and meaning behind sex, you can’t just ‘have fun’.

But he’d had you questioning it all, because you felt something in that kiss- was it just his experience?

“He’s walking sex, I can’t blame you one bit. And I support anything you do- shit I highly recommend it. But you…”

“Yeah no, I am not into hooking up. I’m glad you told me but… something about him…” You trail off then, swallowing nervously, as her hands come to your sides, and she hugs you closely.

“I know, it doesn’t mean you can’t talk to him, but you had to know.” She nibbles on a nail then, lashes lowering. “He gives mean backshots, if you go that route.”

“Jenna!” You’re both giggling, and the party goes on then, the two of you smiling and waving as you keep finding each other around the room, soon Jenna is good and sauced, and you know you need to make sure you both get home okay. But you can’t help but stop by Satoru before you go, nervously fidgeting with your hands in front of you.

“Hey sweets, heading out?” He asks softly, a hand coming to grip your wrist, swallowing it with his long fingers, you eye the connection, feeling yourself heat up at it, trying to remind yourself, it’s him ‘dripping sex’ it’s his job. Maybe he thinks you’re pretty enough not to fuck for a shoot, maybe he’d actually like to know you a bit, but her words hit hard.

“Satoru, do you date?” Your words make him pause. “Not me, just in general.”

“Do I date?” He blinks a bit, lips opening, then shutting. “She told you.”

“I would never judge, my best friend does it, if anything I’m envious that you all can just do that.” Your eyes are glimmering just a bit, now his hand slips up your wrist, thumb brushing the delicate veins there, sighing. “I just wanted to clarify that part.”

“I haven’t dated since like college, no.”

“And you’re…”

“Twenty eight.” You nod a bit now, calculating, a good eight years since he’s dated- since he’s been in the industry. “I was enjoying our time.”

“I was too, very much. Got me high you know.” He grins then, and you can’t help but smile back, heart racing in your chest - and you realize it, Jenna is right. What you’re feeling from one meeting could hurt you. “I’d still like to be friends?”

“Friends, hmm?” You nod as he leans down, his other hand pressing against the nip of your waist, pulling you against him, watching the catch of your breath, the dilation of your pupils. You’re biting that lower lip again, a little soft whine in the back of your throat escaping.

“I’d love to be. I really like you, Satoru.” He melts for you then, at your cute little smile, your hand slipping up his chest. “I had a lot of fun tonight.”

“So did I. Friends, then, I could use some.” He kisses your lips softly, a mere brush, that’s not what friends should feel from a little kiss, right? That ache between your thighs, your pulse racing, as he can’t stop thinking how good you feel in his arms, thinking he’d like you to stay.

“Me too, maybe you’ll make me a stoner, hmm?”

He laughs then, genuine and charming. It’s hard to think of him ‘giving Jenna backshots’ a mix of sweet and charming, you try to remember just that. “So she didn’t have a bad review for me?”

“Quite the opposite, you’re apparently the best in the industry.” The softness and break in your voice makes him pause, usually he’d be cocky about hearing that, but he doesn’t know just how that makes him feel. “I haven’t watched your kind of work, I’m afraid.”

“I didn’t think so. Too obscure.”

“Clearly.” You both laugh softly again, you are leaning back now, taking a breath, trying to remember yourself, but it’s hard when all you can think of is his lips.

“Can I have your number?” Satoru Gojo has never asked for a girl’s number, but he damn near gets giddy when you nod, slipping out your phone, giving it to him then, which he saves under your name.

“I don’t do casual, I’ve never even kissed someone I’m not serious about. Um… but I really had fun.”

That innocent?

He figured close to it but…

“Did I corrupt you so much in one night?”

“Maybe so. I have to get my friend home safe, so I will talk to you sometime?”

“Any time.” He brushes your hair back again, kissing your cheek once more, your eyes shut at how good it feels, sighing.

When you’re gone, Satoru does not like the feeling left.

The rest of the party is dimmed now, he can’t stop thinking about you, about watching you inhale that smoke, about watching your cute, shy little fucking smile, but why would you like him, he fucked your best friend last week. And you’re clearly a good girl, a sweet girl, and that’s what he would do - corrupt you.

But the thoughts of corrupting you start taking over, so intense he can hardly stand it, imagining teaching you everything. How to arch your ass up just right for him, have you cum so hard you’d squirt and drip down his cock, fuck he’d love to watch your eyes roll back in your head, as he hits spots he’s sure no one ever has, cumming so hard you cry pretty tears.

It’s so ridiculous he’s throbbing, and as some of his co-stars come and flirt with him, he can barely give them a little smile, a playful wink, turning down the endless opportunities tonight with one excuse- ‘he’s tired’ - is about all he can come up with. Because what is this!?

What’s the feeling that night when you’re laying in your bed, scrolling through your friend’s OF for the first time, heating up as you scroll, you’ve seen her naked a ton, you’ve taken her pictures, but when you see her bent over, and that sexy white haired man wrapping an arm around her waist? His other hand, wrapped around her throat, and her eyes rolled back?

The scene alone without clicking play is too much, you’re trembling, imagining pressing play, hesitating. You barely know him, but something clicked tonight, you had fun for the first time in forever, but to know that you maybe already developed a crush on someone unattainable seems a cruel joke.

Hopelessly single because you’re so picky, because a lot of time your interests don’t align - how could you like someone who doesn’t think Lord of the Rings is a classic, for example - or if you’re not feeling something. Your friends think you put too much into it, they think you should let go and have fun, and maybe you did, tonight, but that was because of him.

You keep furiously flushing as you go back and forth, thumb hovering over the screen, Jenna wouldn’t care if you saw, and maybe Satoru wouldn’t, but something feels so different to you, so naughty, like inhaling smoke from his mouth tonight. You keep shutting the phone off, then turning it back on, when suddenly you get a text from him.

Satoru - Hope you got home safe, sweets.

He’s sweet, he’s thoughtful, he’s fucking gorgeous and…

He would never date.

It’s a really mean joke someone’s playing on you.

You - Thank you, I did! I hope you did too.

You can’t look at the video! Can you?

Satoru’s laid up in his bed, picturing you, god he can taste your lips on his still, swiping a hand over his face as you send some little emoji, far, far too cute, so cute you make him ache. He wonders then just what is it about you, surely you’re beautiful, but it can’t just be that.

He can’t get you off his mind.

You can’t stop yourself from pressing play.

Your breath catches when you finally do, and you see it, him fucking Jenna, looking right at the fucking camera, a smirk and blue eyes, as he thrusts up inside of her. You don’t enjoy porn, it’s not intimate enough for you- but looking at him makes your cunt throb, you touch it to find it hopelessly drenched, watching him manhandle and flip her like she’s nothing, right on her back.

You watch him put your best fucking friend in a mating press, watch him smack his cock against her tummy, pulling his condom off, cumming on her then. When you get a good look at his pretty pink tip, veiny long cock and ropes of fucking cum, you mindlessly touch your cunt, soaking your sleep shorts, crying out before you catch yourself, cursing.

You shut it off, huffing and yanking the blankets over your face.

It must be… the drinks, the smoke, him, making you act this way. A good book with meaning, a perfect man in your head, that’s what you want, what you need, right? Not whatever he was doing to your mentality, fuck it’s your friend too, how could you ever get wet to that?

“Fuck this.” You grumble, swiping away from your friend’s OF, but the image is firmly burned into your mind, of Satoru moaning with his lips parted, jerking his cock along her in pretty patterns. You pull up your book instead, filling your mind with anything and everything else, when another text pops up.

Satoru - Good night, sweetheart.

You just watched him cum, now you feel horrible, ugh! What is up with you tonight!? He’s probably being friendly and you’re over here touching your sensitive little clit watching him. You struggle to compose yourself, finally having to go wipe up, splashing yourself with cold water in your little bathroom, you dry your hands on a towel, looking at yourself in the mirror for a moment.

You look fucked up.

You finally text him back.

You - Good night, Satoru, sweet dreams.

Satoru can’t stop the dopey smile on his face, cock annoying and throbbing, and instead of letting it get taken care of, he’d just focused on how badly he wanted you, how much he can’t get you off his mind. Fuck just your shampoo and whatever heavenly fucking body spray spritzed on you made him harder to remember, how pretty you’d look in his bed, under him.

‘Friends’, you’d like to be ‘friends’.

Satoru doesn’t think anything in his mind was friend appropriate currently, not when he’s stroking himself, crying out and picturing just peppering your shoulder and neck with kisses, biting you, marking you. Leaving bruises along a perfect neck while you grip his hair, crying out, head falling back. Having your heat he could still feel on his fingers.

As you’re struggling to calm down, Satoru’s giving up, jerking off for the first time maybe in forever alone, sure he does for videos, but he doesn’t have to make himself cum often when everyone was lining up to suck him. But instead he’s stroking a famous cock thinking of a sweet girl with a brown sweater that falls just so, hiding a body he’s dying to know.

As you’re finally asleep, mind racing, he’s cumming ropes into his palm, picturing much better places for this cum- like inside your sweet little cunt - and that’s one thing Satoru Gojo does not do. Trying to come down himself, cleaning up, he looks in the mirror, seeing the pink of his own cheeks, shaking his head then.

He looks fucked up off you.

*****

While you are at work that next monday, sitting at your desk typing away, Satoru Gojo has an entirely different sort of work to accomplish, this time with his costar Sukuna, who he frequently worked with, and the two of them either popped off on each other or competed for who could make the girl squirt the most. Sukuna was currently lapping at the co-star’s cunt with his pierced tongue.

She’s she’s bent over sucking Satoru’s cock with expert suction, and he should be loving it, he’s worked with her before and she is a sweetheart and highly fucking skilled, and this shoot pays extremely well. A win win, even with Sukuna running it, currently at least his mouth was occupied. The director zooms right in, maybe that’s what’s bothering him, the cameras, the bright lighting.

Satoru’s cock is not staying hard, even as she’s choking back moans with the pink haired munch of a man going so intense, her nails gripping Satoru’s thighs so tightly, pressing in. He tries to focus on how it feels, shutting his eyes, but all he can think of is you.

Your lips.

Your eyes.

Those glasses on the bridge of your nose.

How you shift your fucking thighs, heated from desire.

God, he can’t stop thinking of you, what if you saw him on a video? Would it make your surely pretty pussy wet? He’s suddenly hard fully once more, grabbing his co-star’s hair and shoving his cock so deep she’s choking, gasping, but he can’t manage to open those eyes until the director says something then.

“Gojo, the eyes- look at the camera.” He sighs now, they were part of his money, the eyes that no one had, the ones that entranced so many, he manages to open them, eyeing the camera, but instead of his usual smirk there is a pout, and his co-star pulls back, frowning just a bit, as Sukuna pulls away from her cunt, tattooed face glistening.

Amongst the most famous pornstars, Sukuna rivaled Satoru- the alternative, rougher version perhaps to the pretty boy, he slips two fingers in her cunt, and she moans, as he eyes Satoru. “Who’s fucking her first?”

“Me, of course.” Sukuna chuckles, her cunt is so loud it’s squishing and clicking, much to the delight of the director, and Satoru has her on top of him then, as Sukuna guides her onto his cock, slapping her ass loudly. Satoru struggles, gulping as she sinks on him over his condom.

It feels warm and good but…

He can’t even look at her.

She’s bouncing up and down him while Sukuna plays with her from the back, and Satoru forgets he’s even on a set, lips parted in a sigh as he looks away, and realizes he’s gone soft again. “Is something wrong?” She asks softly, he shakes his head now, gripping her hips.

“No, no it’s fine, wanna ride him for me?” She nods, and Satoru then helps her ride Sukuna’s cock, as he kisses down her shoulder, shutting his eyes once more, trying to hide how soft he is and failing.

“Cut.” The director calls, Satoru sighs, as Sukuna moans, yanking her down his length, and her head falls back. “I said cut.”

“We can fuck while we’re waiting for him to get on board.” Sukuna grins up at her as she giggles, and Satoru glares. “Go get a viagra.”

“I don’t need one, fuck it’s just… the lights.”

“Need a break Gojo?” His director asks, and he manages a nod. “Go ahead to the dressing room, we’ll… make sure they are ready to go when you come back.”

“She’ll be fucked out before you get it up.”

“Whatever Sukuna, fuck you.” Sukuna snorts in laughter, Satoru stomps over to the dressing room, cursing then and resting his head against that door, taking several breaths and scowling at his cock. “Work, shit…”

What is this!?

A pretty girl at a party shouldn’t ruin his whole cock, ruin his enjoyment, cloud his goddamn mind, a girl who’s a - friend - what’s his problem!? He’s sitting down on the couch then over a towel, still literally naked, stroking it, once, twice, three times. Nothing helps, the condom hanging just so off his cock, when he grimaces, pulling it off and tossing it in the trash, pulling out his phone, and he pauses at your name.

Satoru - Hey sweets, I don’t have a pic for your caller ID, could you send one?

He tenses as he sees you immediately typing, cock twitching right back to life from three stupid dots wiggling. He bets you’re biting that lip.

You are.

You’re nervous as you look around your quiet workplace, you’re a graphic designer and it’s a little late, so you’re nearly alone, finishing a project, when you see he wrote to you. The man you have not looked back up, but it’s taken every bit of self control not to watch his content, and boy does he have so much, up to and including his own asmr.

That’s dangerous.

He’s dangerous.

Because you could never just enjoy him for who he is, you would want more, fuck you already feel it, the odd sensation knowing he’s likely fucking someone constantly, picturing yourself wildly for a moment with him behind you. Surely you couldn’t be a co-star, you’d flip on camera, too shy, but you keep envisioning it regardless, him choking you as he sinks deep.

Stop that.

You turn in your big black chair, spinning it just a bit, seeing the beautiful soft lighting of the upcoming evening pouring in through the floor to ceiling windows, deciding it’s good lighting. Your chest rises and falls with your nerves, you didn’t know how to be sexy in photos, but do you want to?

You do.

Fuck you do.

You’re leaning back and angling the phone just so, glasses off for a moment on your desk, since they’d been giving you a bit of a headache, throwing a peace sign and parting your lips, you don’t know exactly how to pose. You knew what art was, what beauty was, but a little clueless how to angle yourself like your friend Jenna has always been able to.

After peering through a few photos, brows drawn together in concentration, you send one his way, he’s viewed it and he instantly hearts it, making you exhale, relieved that maybe he thinks it’s cute enough. But little do you know, you have him full hard now, thumb brushing his leaky tip, making him whimper, picturing rubbing his cock right on those pretty lips of yours.

God you’re just in a blouse but he can see your nipples pressing from the material, begging for him to pluck them, suck them, and he can’t stand the longing, the need making his body ache. He curses softly, wiping a sticky thumb on his towel, trying to compose himself, he’s acting like some stupid lovesick boy, not the entire star he knows he is.

And your eyes, eyes he didn’t get a good enough look at, so fucking gorgeous, it’s hard to look away, but as he does, he notices more, your bitten lips, the gentle slope of your neck, the way you have little marks from the pads of your glasses on the sides of your pretty nose. God, all of you is delectable.

Satoru - Gorgeous, thank you. Saved.

You - Thank you, Satoru um, can I have one too?

He smirks now, because if he was good at anything - aside from making women cum - it was taking the perfect selfie. He’s lifting the camera high, showing far too much of his strong chest, his rippled, cut abdomen, down to those v cuts and his veins running just above his snowy white pubic hair. Not his cock, of course, but enough for you to get the idea.

He sends it with a smirk, and you open it with a gasp, eyeing a body you saw somewhat in the shoot, but nothing looks quite like what’s in front of you right now on your screen. He’s got his brilliant eyes bright and lidded, tousled white hair, lips parted just so, making your lips tingle at the memory. You touch them longingly as you study his body, glistening with sweat.

Fuck he’s sexy.

You shift in your office chair, sighing, putting back on your glasses for an even deeper inspection- and since when are you so turned on by looks? You’re into who someone is, of course looks are great, but to have your pussy clenching over a picture is insanity.

And for Satoru to have a raging hard cock over a selfie is batshit insane, but here the two of you are, you saving an obscenely sexual photo, and him saving a demure little picture, both smiling at them. But then you frown a bit, taking in the couch, the lighting, realizing it then.

You - Are you on a shoot?

Satoru - Yes.

Why does that make you feel just a little envious of whoever gets to kiss and touch on him?

Why does it make you a little jealous of who gets him on them, his plump lips on their skin?

You shake it off, smiling tremulously as your hands shake, typing a

I know you’ll kill it, have fun! Got the pic saved thanks. <3

Satoru leans his head back again, before looking at your photo once more, rushing out before his cock decides not to work again, slipping on another condom. When he’s gripping her hips and smiling at the camera as he does, however, he doesn’t know if he can keep it up, luckily he’s so huge she barely notices, while she’s gushing down his latex covered cock.

He’s encouraging her, pressing his thumb against her clit, while she’s sucking on Sukuna, and he tries to remember how amazing his life is, and focus, surely this is something that will pass. Some infatuation, and he’ll get back to normal in no time, he’s sure of it.

Right?

******

Wrong.

After a string of highly unsuccessful shoots that Satoru’s had to push off on Suguru and Sukuna, he’s decided the only hope for it is to give in and jerk his cock to your pictures. That week you’ve sent others, all cute and innocent, but how do you manage to make him so obsessed? Every pretty inch of skin you show he’d litter with bruises.

Not that there was much skin shown, the plush of your thighs over cute knitted knee high socks, and god you’re as hot with your glasses as you were without, he couldn’t figure out what he liked more. Your shoulders are just a little bare, begging for his teeth to sink into them, since when he is so turned on by hints of skin than soaking wet costars?

The first time he jerks it, he cums so much he knows the best solution, to focus on his solo career, at least until whatever the fuck this is - this obsession - could pass. He’s making bank as he does them, actually, and he can’t help but grin as he’s become the top onlyfans creator, stroking his cock for so many of his fans, all while he can prop his phone up and look at what new selfie you’ve sent.

“Hah- I know, it’s pretty, isn’t it?” He’s winking right at that camera, stroking faster and faster, spitting down on his tip, spreading it with a lewd squishing sound as the comments go insane.

Satoru cum for us!

It’s so pretty

Want a taste

Want it in me

What a win-win, making bank for stroking it to you, all while getting his ego filled by all the comments, he’s stroking his ego with his length, smirking as his free hand uses the mouse to scroll down. “Ah, I know, it’s huge, is it sensitive, mmm… a little bit if I do this.”

He’s twisting just so, eliciting a little cry, when he sees a name pop up, pausing his movements- and you’re staring right at Satoru Gojo’s live stream, heart hammering, worried he’d notice you. His little look of shock confirms it, as his hand finally slides back down his shaft, and your eyes follow the movement, so hungry for him you can’t stand it.

When Jenna teased Satoru had a live stream - she clearly knows now that you are infatuated with him, god he’s all you can think about, daydreaming at work, in your sleep he’s kissing you everywhere with those plump lips. You couldn’t help but talk to Jenna about him again, and she sighed, smiling at you.

“You never know, people change, maybe you two should at least hang out?” You’d repeated it softly, shaking your head. “No?”

“Why would he want to?”

“Well, I heard he’s had no shoots for a bit, and is doing solo things, maybe you could peek?”

You can’t believe you’re on Satoru Gojo’s onlyfans live.

You can’t believe you fucking subscribed to him, too.

And now it’s like he’s looking right fucking at you.

Shit.

He begins stroking his cock once more, murmuring - “I see a new subscriber here, like what you see?”

He’s so pretentious.

But…

You do love it, his veiny cock, which leaks precum on his flat belly button over tense abs, pale thighs spread, muscled and perfect, god all of him was. But something was a little more than just his looks, which sounds insane, but it wasn’t those looks that made you - fuck, lowkey obsessed!?- with him, it was so much more. His eyes elicit far, far too many feelings.

You take a breath for courage, before leaving a comment.

Do you taste sweet everywhere?

Your comment sends him as he reads it, blinking snowy lashes and pausing, while on the other side you’re covering your mouth, panicking- did you really just say that, shit!? You’re taking several breaths, hand on your mouse, ready to leave the chat, as the comments pop off, going insane, asking the question over and over, but Satoru strokes his pretty cock ever so slowly, leaning forward.

He cums when he starts picturing your cute little embarrassed face, he can’t stop himself, knowing you’re watching has him so sensitive, he’s cumming so much it feels so fucking good. His moans are low and gutteral as his cum starts pouring over his slick fist, and you’re watching avidly, breath caught in your chest, heart fucking hammering, so wet it’s dripping through your panties.

You’re on the edge of your seat when he finally opens those blue eyes, to the endless tips pouring in for him, but he’s thinking of just one viewer-

You.

“Do I taste sweet everywhere?” He’s murmuring your name- you’re so dumb to have it as your real name, shit- but the way he chuckles, his eyes going insane as he lifts his hand off his cock then? “Let’s see.”

He’s bringing a white, sticky coated finger to his mouth now, sucking his own milky seed off them, cheeks hollowing as he does, and you can’t help the soft whine that escapes, grinding against your seat, desperate for some fucking friction. He’s insane, surely, you’ve never even thought of it, a man sucking his cum up, it’s so sexy and just obscene it fucks you mentally.

Just who is this freaky ass porn star!?

He’s chuckling now, like he can somehow see your damn reaction from behind the screen, it’s like it’s just you and him, and not a fucking stream full of people, as the tips go insane. The comments are going so quickly he can’t keep up with them, grinning as he sucks more of his cum off another thick, long finger you’d love buried inside of you.

“Hmm, I do taste sweet.” He watches as you tip hundreds, smirking before you log completely off.

He pauses now, you’d had him so fucked up he went full out, he wonders if he’s scared your innocent ass off, sighing now, ending the stream with a laugh and a friendly little good bye, as he always does. He has made so much money it’s stupid, and surely you encouraging his little stunt helped, but now he can’t help but call you after he’s cleaned up the mess you’ve made of him.

You watch the phone vibrate and ring, jumping damn near, covering your hands with your mouth as you see his name, with his half naked fucking picture. Shit, shit, shit…

You slowly pick it up, eyes shut. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what- did you like the show?” His voice is so arrogant and cocky, but you hear it then, the vulnerability under his layers. “I liked that you joined.”

“You did?” Your voice is practically a squeak, he chuckles a bit, laying back on his bed now, phone against his face.

“I did. Now, what did you think?”

“You’re… really… this is embarrassing!”

“It’s not, I promise. I’m flattered.” You sigh now, leaning back in your seat, wishing the air overhead would cool your overheated skin. “Answer me, be a good girl.”

“Satoru, god.” He’s chuckling, but your nipples are pressing out, taut and needy, cunt gushing so much it’s embarrassing. “I liked it but I never do these things.”

“Then I’m more flattered. I’m taking all your firsts.”

“Stop it, you're so ridiculous.” You’re laughing with him then, softly, shaking your head. “How’d you notice me with all those fans?”

“You certainly stand out.” His husky admittal makes you feel far too much, and the next thing out of your mouth makes you question everything.

“Satoru this is stupid and reckless-”

“Perfect, sounds fun!”

“Hush.” You sigh as he grows quiet, words stuck in his throat, how he’d do anything just to see how you taste. “I watched some of you with Jenna.”

He pauses, heart hammering. “Shit, yeah?”

“Yeah. You’re really good at it, um, pleasing.”

“I love to have a pussy drooling on my fingers,” he’s murmuring so fucking soft now, you’re struggling to compose yourself. “My mouth, my cock, fuck my whole face soaked, I love it.”

“Oh?”

He’s chuckling again. “Oh. Cute.”

“Shh. Give me a moment, what if you showed me some things? Off camera, please, I could never-”

“Huh!? What!?” You’re panicking again, embarrassed as he can’t believe his fucking ears.

A chance with you?

Fuck.

“Sorry it’s so rude- that’s your job, and I know you don’t date, but I thought maybe since I feel so comfortable-”

“You feel comfortable with me?” His words are softer now, your eyes shut, sucking in a breath.

“Very. Oddly comfortable, and well I’ve only been with one person, I am sitting here waiting for some romance book love I guess? It’s stupid.”

“Why’s it stupid?” He frowns as he leans his head against his mirror now, standing and trying to pull himself together, cock leaking already thinking of you in his bed.

“I don’t know if it’ll happen but, you’re so sweet and gorgeous and… I’m going on too much.”

“Just say what you want, sweetheart.”

“You to show me things.” You’re shutting your eyes again, waiting for the rejection, but he shocks you once more.

“Then I’ll send a car to get you.”

“Now!?”

“It’s LA, it’ll be thirty minutes at least, if you live where you said, over by that coffee shop on Main right?”

“You remember?”

Of course he does.

“You wanna learn, sweetheart? I’ll teach you anything.”

“Like, free?” He’s chuckling again, the sound so genuine it just makes the ache grow, you’re crazy for this, right?

“Yes free, you’re adorable. Okay then send your address and get ready. Eat something, drink something with electrolytes.”

“Wha-!?” He’s smirking as he eyes his shower, surely he has enough time to wash up for you first.

“Gonna need energy, sweetheart. Lots of it.”

When you’re standing there at the door of Satoru Gojo’s penthouse, and he leans down, his hand on the doorway, veins bulging from his bare arm, hair tousled and still damp, you know it then. When he brushes fingers across your damp hair, bringing it to his nostrils and inhaling your scent, you know it more. But especially when he tilts your chin up, and murmurs - come in.

He’s going to hurt you, but you’ll enjoy the pain.

Ahhh I can't believe all the love the hcs got, like that blew me away, I SO hope you love this, and will enjoy where these two go! I always say - oh this will be four parts- but they always go longer so lol. I hope you all enjoyy I'm so excited to hear what you think! Taglist is closed bc it's so long I'm sorryyy

Taglist 1 - @rjreins @juicu @kalulakunundrum @gojoswaterbottle @aldebrana @simp-plague @wedojustbevibin @lucciferr0 @officialholyagua @privthemis @coffee-and-geto @homesickes @msniks @emi311 @mai-505 @gojoslovelylover @ren-ren23 @yihona-san06 @emochosoluvr @sylvermoon @bunheadusa @karvokr @starmapz @queenexplosonmurderr @musiclover2119 @saitamaswifey @reagan707 @midorissi @ghostskilledmyaddiction21 @itsinherited @maisiefrancesca @gyarubunny @theonlyhonoredone @chosslut @simperisksksk @xlilycoco @howlsdarling @femaholicc @maymaymarch @miseryyouth-99 @swoozleee @zeunys @cryingdevil @leafynightmares @princess-bblgm @gojosconsort @insomnicshello @joonunivrs @myahfig4 @silviscosplay

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tonycries · 5 months ago

Text

O-O-O-OBSESSED!

Synopsis. When he’s gonna hit it, he’s gonna hit it till your mind breaks.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Ino x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, dúmbifícation, running from it, cervíx kíssing, matíng presses, PÚSSYDRÚNK JJK MEN, bréeding, GOJO’S POWERS, mentions of kíds, p talking, headIocks, true form Sukuna, dp, spítting, cúmplay, MEAN Geto, breaking the béd, p spánking, marathons, proposals, pet names, swéaring.

A/N. PHEW hoping you have the loveliest week <3

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - 3 min. 12 secs

“Tch- where the hell do ya think you’re runnin’ off to, doll?”

Toji’s trapping both your droopy ankles with one dextrous set of his thick fingers, dragging you about halfway down the king-sized mattress in an instant. He’s oh-so-greedily pinning them over the curvaceous dip of his deltoids with a mean, sweat-slicked palm, “Don’t tell me yer hah- tapping out after only three minutes?”

Punctuating his filthy push and pull with a few syrupy thwack! thwack! thwacks! of his strawberry-pink tip down your sappy slit. He’s leaving generous wiry ribbons of pre that smudge and smear a pretty lipgloss as you clench.

“N-nooo m’not–” You’re shaking your dizzy head as urgently as you could, huffing at the utter teasing in Toji’s sleazy, dimpled smirk. “I’m just…”

But what could you even say at this point?

“Oh?” Toji’s letting his dark brows scrunch at your hypnotized silence, the way your gaze was practically plastered with little heart-eyes and- Oh. Oh. He can’t help but loosen a breathy snicker as the realization hits. “Already?”

Yes, already.

Because Toji Fushiguro never held back - he never ever hid that his exact goal in these lecherous sheets was to fuck you until you saw stars.

Always ruthless whenever he’s kissing your spongy cervix with such copious French kisses of his fat, rotund head. Always swollen so thick, with probing little veins sprinting against every one of your tender spots.

The stretch so maddening that it left a translucent trail of dribble spilling from the corners of your mouth. Puddling out with every pressurized pound to swirl wet splotches all over that magical spot until you were sure it was bruised and battered.

Until you were sure you couldn’t even formulate the thought process let alone the words to vocalize that he’d utterly fucked you stupid in all but three minutes.

“Heh- shiiiit-” You’re blinking away the glazed film of lust that’d taken over your eyes, just in time to catch the way that Toji peeks his willowy eyes down below. Letting out the sexiest low whistle at the mess he’s making, “Think s’ a new record. Now, where’d my ngh- mouthy girl go, huh?”

Roughened circles of his digits dig into your legs, tightening and tightening when - with a ragged grunt - Toji bends. He hunches his bulky body until you’re compressed in half, washboard abs melting into your front, your heels imprinting into his back - into the dirtiest mating press. Gruffing, “Have ya seen her?”

And you swear you catch the way that Toji’s fattened tip only stretched tautly wider, swabbing around your sloppy hole in a teasing circle. He’s buttering you up with numerous lecherous slurps until you were dripping.

But he was so slow - so taunting. Sharp malachite eyes dazzling with sheer amusement when you’re raking frustrated red, red lines down his muscular back. Mumbling tearily, I-If you’re not gonna hngh- fuck me properly already then–”

“Mhm- ya really are fucked dumb already.”

Hah, as if he already needed to confirm.

Because of course he was waiting for just this exact moment.

Flooding your honeyed lips with the prettiest broken whines when he’s plugging you mind-splittingly full. Rasping out a low fuck! at the gummy resistance, Toji’s vice-like restraint on your legs grow even sounder as he all but hauls you down every snug inch of his cock.

So solidly and completely spearheading his upright curve into your molten walls, it’s like you were scorching all around him. Sucking him up for more more more-

“Heh, do ya even r-realize how much you’re ngh- milkin’ me?” He’s cooing, pumping you with grinding ram after ram that has your clit massaging against Toji’s tufted black happy trail. Scratching. Filthily.

“T-Toji—” And it’s the only thing you can say - the only thing replaying in your mind again and again and- Your maw slacks so scandalously open when his gluttonous fat head sugarcoats your g-spot in a melty mess of precum. Sloshing and sheathing your rummaged insides in a sticky second layer. “There- more- more please- m-more-”

You didn’t even have to ask.

Because Toji’s second-ever weakness was having you completely cockdrunk and stupid on his swollen length - his first being, well, you in all your entirety - and his third? Making you even stupider.

Breath hitching, he’s angling his toned hips just right to brush up recoiling pecks on your precious spots exactly the way you like it. Making the splintering bedframe creak and whine almost as much as you.

Eyes lounging lazily to the back of your head, your tongue lolls out with every dredge of creamy pre making it’s home near your g-spot. “Ngh- yeah- m-m…” Couldn’t even speak.

With a hoarse belt of chuckles, Toji’s free hand pokes your fuzzily cotton-filled head. “Oiiii- d’ya even hngh- have anythin’ else in yer cockdrunk mind? Ya always get so ah- greedy when yer like this, hm?” Those very same fingerpads hovering over your buttony clit, he’s giving you a sudden pinch. “Especially…her.”

Oh, that did it - just as Toji knew it would.

Because you’re giving such a gluey squeeze of your adhesive-like walls around Toji’s throbbing shaft - making his chest stutter with a condensed heave, mouth lathering in a fresh batch of saliva that coats his sinful scar, and his brain short-circuiting just enough to feel the way you cum.

And not just any old orgasm - Toji’s spitting out a sharp few slews of profanity when he feels his hefty base soak in shiny, vicious waves of your slick. Blinking his dazed eyes down at his glistening abs - his pecs - to titter at how drenched he was.

How you’d squirted until his weepy cock was dripping with every ounce of sopping wet juices. That blankly loving filter in your stare that made him wonder if you even realized how hard you’d squirted - or whether you realized that you did at all.

You looked so tempting that he really, really can’t help but drag a thick thumb around your saturated pussy lips, drawing little hearts round and round where you were still bulging with all his bloated inches.

“Awwww– already?” Toji’s hips were still so mean, panted out through each scouring jackhammer of his cock. He’s drenching little puddles on his digit, slipping it into his mouth with a greedy pop! And- shit, maybe he’s the one fucked stupid now. “How sweet. S-sooo generous this pretty pussy is.”

Because in a split-second he’s coiled two big, beefy arms around your waist. Biceps digging into your mounds of flesh, silky sheets hot against his back as he manhandles you to pliantly flip over however he wanted.

Ruddied cock still buried deep into your goopy depths. So easy. So filthy. “Don’t think we’re gonna be hah- done for a long, long time, doll.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - 7 min. 4 secs

“My love.” Nanami’s engulfing hand oh-so-sweetly cradles one side of your pretty face as you ride him senseless. Running his fat thumb down the tear-slicked rim of your lips. He’s warm, soft - the complete opposite of that chilling wedding band of his against your scorching flesh. “My love- a-are you alright?”

“Mhm— M’doin’ juuuust fine.” you’re barely able to mumble out, head lolling behind you as he thwacks his plump tip once more against your gummy cervix. Twice more. Thrice. “Ngh- easy, baby, the k-kids are sleeping.”

But your dear husband can sense that something is off. Something is…different.

Maybe in the way that you’re looking up at him with bigger and bigger heart eyes after every rolling jackhammer, maybe in the way you’re practically plastered against his hulking body. Soft tits glissading up and down up and down the sweat-slicked plane of his wide, cushiony pecs. So drunken. So pliant. And he can’t help but plant a soppy smack! against the hooded of your puffy clit with one free hand.

“Oh!” Your back curls into such a slutty arch - such a heavenly sight that makes him wish he had a photographic memory - squirmy hips bucking down harder and- “H-harder- Kentooo- wan’ some more–”

Oh?

And Nanami’s feeling his thickened head splurge your gooey insides with creamy wads upon wads of glossy pre at the mere thought - just the simple idea of you fucking yourself dumb while riding him.

He could probably cum just from watching you like this.

Breath hitching choppily, he’s grabbing your throat - dragging you like some ragdoll until you were only mere condensed inches away from him. You couldn’t be…could you?

“Ken—” Your spit-slicked bottom lip juts out, weighty shuffling forward to press a pretty peck against that shallow dimple on the corner of his lip. Oh, you’d meant for it to land on his lips…but. “Awww, I missed.”

Oh.

But of course he can’t leave his dear wife hanging - especially not when you’re all fucking yourself stupid on him like this.

He’s gifting you with an utterly dizzying kiss - making your tummy so melty with butterflies even after all these years. And you can’t help but keen-

“D-darlin’-” Nanami almost feels like he’s the utterly speechless one now, curling a singular hand around your waist to help your stumbling hips use his cock steadier. Deepening the angle to pound battered hit after hit against your tenderized favorite spots. Those manicured nails of his leave pretty crescent marks all over your fleshy skin when his uprightly curved cock thwacks! upwards. Feral. “Do you- ngh- know how b-beautiful you look right now?”

“Huh?” It’s so adorable how you’re stealing a few sloppy gyrations first before even registering what he’s asking. Cockdrunk and wordless that he’s coaxing out your answer with a sodden thumb smearing your waterfalling drool. “N-no?”

And without a second’s warning - without even a single speck of hesitation - the hand around your tender throat turns vice-like. Shackling. Cutting off both your airway and your heavenly view of a sexily prespired, half-lidded Nanami - turning that bleary gaze of yours towards the specially-installed mirror by your bed.

Head craning to the side to catch how fucking ruined you looked right now, hips moving out of control. Cunt just bawling with a syrupy slick mess pooling underneath you two with every shuddering spearhead of his cock.

“See? Just see h-how ngh- pretty my wife is.” Nanami’s rasping out, utterly wrecking your insides despite his sweet, sweet words. Branding circular divots of his head right into the very resiny bottom of your cervix. His lightning bolted veins just thump cheekily against your g-spot. “Always so pretty- could cum j-jus’ from seeing your ah- gorgeous face ‘nyways b-but…” Fuck- if you were in any better state of mind you’d have caught the way his stoic ears burn red. “...especially when you’re dumb like this.”

“Kento-” You’re crying out, mussing a hand through his dampened strands of blond. Tugging. Pulling to make him hiss. “C-cum inside me. Please. Wan’ it all i-inside- want you to make me pregn-”

“A-another?”

“Another.”

Fuck.

You were making him lose it.

So rudely swatting your hands away to pin them behind your back with only one of his - metallic wristwatch cold against your heated skin. He’s curling your back into a simpering inflection before hammering you with the almost-inhuman thick curvature of his cock, splotching out a wet few wisps of creamy white-

“Not yet- not yet-” Nanami’s muttering, and in your stupidly fucked state you’re not sure if he’s talking to you or himself. “Can’t- can’t ngh- yet-”

Rapturing it like a mantra over and over while blotting your g-spot with sloppy, dirty remnants of precum. Sloshing and glazing his bulky base and all the way down to his tight, thwacking balls. Making such a mess that only leaves you whining incoherently, jolting as if spiked by a sudden million volts of bliss when Nanami’s scooping up the sugary gloss and smearing it back into your gaping entrance.

Until you’re curling your toes taut enough that you can barely move, fingers digging into the pale skin of his back, your vision tinging with a sudden flurry of stars as you cum.

“Tha’s it- that’s right–” he’s breathing out, labored and throaty. So fucking grateful for those sound-proofed walls he installed when you had your first. Voice dipping into almost whiny territory as your husband’s babbling everything that your dumbfounded maw can’t, “Ride me- f-fuck- ride me until ya cum. Ruin me until I can…”

And with a sopping pivot of his fat shaft to hit right against the edges of your womb, he’s flooding your melty cunt with copious ribbons upon ribbons of thick seed. Milky. Heavy. Icing your weepy insides in his favorite white.

“M’gonna take c-care of it- take care of ya-” Nanami’s whispering in a hot pant against your ear, breath so strained and heated that it’s sending shivers down your spine. “Got a place hah- alllll safe n’ sound right- here-”

Nanami can only grin at that inflationary little nudge of where he’s feeling his spattering cum seep press gluey little kisses into your glutinous walls. Because yes, you were gorgeous when you’re fucked dumb like this…but you were even more gorgeous when you’re all round and glowing for him. Patting your pretty tummy, just so impatient for his newborn daughter - yes, daughter - already.

He’s batting his loving eyes down at your fatigued figure with so much adoration that it’s practically palpable. Sensitive tip twitching a perking jerk dangerously…Nanami licks his lips. When you look like this, he wants m-

“Kento—”

Your needy whine snaps him out of his pussydrunken hypnosis, smacking a few innocent smooches against the side of your forehead. “Yes, my love?”

“More.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - 4 min. 27 secs

Shit- shit.

You were so fucking cute - so dangerously ruined on Geto’s cock after only a few sloppy slathers of his thickened shaft down your spongy cervix that it was almost dangerous. That the ever-teasing Geto Suguru is finding his smirking mouth fill up with a few sing-songy coos.

“Awwww, always so ngh- mouthy. What happened- you doin’ alright, gorgeous?” he’s breathing out in a hot baritone up against your ear, opaline white canines sinking into your lobe eagerly. “Though- guess she’s hah- talkin’ in yer place now, hm?”

She being your goopy cunt, the way it was resonating out the most sinfully saturated squelches! with every sheathing lamination of Geto’s cock inside your gummy walls. Practically talking - begging for more with every probing jackhammer of his angry, ample tip.

And with your teary gaze tiredly panned over your shoulder, you can make out the way that Geto was nodding. Dewy eyes scrunched shut like he was in deep thought, pretty lips moving to speak absolute filth. “Mhm– you’re heh- right. That would feel b-better, huh?”

Conversing - but not to you.

And within one frowzy bat of your lashes, Geto drags up one of his thick, muscular legs. Years upon years of flexibility in battle being taken advantage of when he’s planting a foot down on your dizzy head and pinning you there.

“Ngh! Sugu—” you can only whine, struggling and soaking yourself with the deepening change in angle.

He’s only tutting at your sappy cunt, “I know- such a nasty girl, huh? So fuckin’- loud- too.”

Loud. So loud - and you weren’t even trying to be. Streamy rivulets of your glossed slick slurp out with every thudding thwack! of Geto’s sweltering hot tip drilling its way inside your elastic depths. He was so burning hot - feverish.

Shoulders slumping, head bowing at just how lecherously you were sucking up every. Single. Blow he gave. And he can already feel the languid trickle of drool spattering at at the corners of his lips, “So cute- sooo cute- but the- ngh- the whole fuckin’ association’s gonna hear ya, y’know~”

Before you know it you’re being engulfed with one of Geto’s massive palms - cold, slender, reaching over to muffle the utterly scandalous noises spilling uncontrollably from your sagging mouth.

“Not you, though-” he’s tittering, eyes locked down on the way all those weighty inches of his were disappearing and dabbing its way into your needy cunt. “You—” Leaving a particularly wet drag down your mushy insides, “Can ngh- talk allll you like- hah, because you didn’t get fucked stupid after only f-four minutes.”

“Ugh! So mean S-Sugu—” you’re sobbing out when his puffy head sponges against your poor g-spot for the nth time this night. Throbbing veins massaging your walls until you were sure your own heartbeat was syncing up with that staggering cadence. Nails raking down his strong forearm, “M-more–”

“What was that—?” He’s leering his head as close as possible, making your mouth lacquer with a greedy volume of saliva at the way his shoulders flex. Overflowing down his palm. “Heh- making such a m-mess, filthy girl. If ya want something, say it l-louder.”

Oh, by now you’re not just dumbstruck by his relentless pace - but also by how pretty Geto looks. With his long, inky hair freefalling in a soft curtain that tickles your curvaceous spine, half-lidded eyes unfocused and mean, cheeks flushed an innocent pink that matches his weepy tip.

And it’s just about all your melty mind can manage to hiccup out, “More.”

“Awww how cute- s’that all you can s-say?” He’s chuckling in a delirious little tone from above you, free hand nuzzling against your pulsing clit softly. Teasingly. Fully enjoying how you’re struggling against his hold to let out just a few more pretty noises. “Tell me.”

You’re nodding - nodding and nodding so hard that Geto snickers.

But, well, who ever said that Geto Suguru was a merciless man?

“Fine- I’ll let ya have yer little fun.” He’s rasping out with a hoarse sort of shudder at the very thought that makes him whimper. But- shit, was he glad that you’re too stupidly ruined on his achy cock to notice. Too drunkenly ecstatic when he’s suddenly setting free your wobbly mouth, “If you can first hah- speak a proper s-sentence while takin’ my fuckin’ cock- how about it?”

“I-I- ngh!”

But, shit, Geto wasn’t making it easy for you - the weight of his herculean body being pressurized into his foot even harder. He’s driving his hips into you so rocky that you’re sure you spot a few purplish bruises on his sultry hip bones.

“Heheh-” Ah, he’s having so much fun leaving you stupidly speechless like this. You’re only whining when he toys a thick thumb around your clit, before pressing down on that buttony hood. Hard. “Biiiig stretch makin’ you stupid, gorgeous?”

It was. Oh, it really, really was - and right now you’re so far gone that the only thing you can do is take it.

And Geto’s so perfectly practised in ruining you this way, too. Planting dense drivels of his fleshy tip against your sweetened spots, dragging the tubby divot in wet little smears in expert time with every squeeze of your clit.

“Yes-” you’re mewling out a belated response to his question. “Yes yes yes-”

Only to be cut off with Geto’s palms smearing back onto your dozy mouth, blocking out the slews of addicted whines that just won’t stop.

And, honestly, that heartbrokenly teary look in your eyes is so adorable that Geto’s throat clogs up with his own little whine.

God, you were breathtakingly contagious.

Voice strained - halfway through breaking - dipping a few octaves higher than usual when he’s hushing out, “Shh shhh- no needa force that ah- pretty lil’ head to overwork-” Leveraging the hold around your mouth to drag you backwards into his cadence. Filthier. More. “-you jus’ focus on t-taking my cock like a ngh- good girl and I-” Oh, he’s almost collapsing onto you - already in for a long, long night waking up the association. “-will focus on fillin’ this talkative cunt up.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - 6 min. 18 secs

“Ch-Choso–”

And, to Choso, it was like the pearly gates of heaven had already opened their way up - and sat right front and center waiting on the other side for him was you.

With your trembly legs splayed out on either side of his vicious hips, hands sticking oh-so-desperately to the leather seat of his sleek black Hellcat. You’re lathering his swollen cock with thick, lustrous coatings of his cum from just before - when he’d crashed into his orgasm simply from putting it in. Drowning out your thoughts with the most saccharine sweet slurps from down below-

“Cho, baby–” Tapping his lovingly blushed cheeks a few times to knock your dear best friend back to at least an ounce of his senses. You brush away a few chestnut strands sticking to his prespired forehead, “D-dunno how m’gonna face your f-family after- ngh- this!”

And it takes him a few sloppy seconds - it takes him everything to even think of a jumble of words that might count as a reply.

Clammy hands latching on greedily to your vigorous hips, Choso has to force your cadence to slow down until he can string together a few syllables with his slack mouth. “Wh-why? I already hngh- parked a few blocks away from dad’s, s-so they won’t catch-”

“I know but—” your whining comes out so treacly condensed in the heady air of his car. Making him mindlessly ram another syrupy snog into your cervix. “But- you’re just fucking me so- so stupid.”

Oh.

That’s enough for Choso’s head to fall attractively backwards until his full weighty body was being supported solely by the cushiony seat. Pretty twinkling tears of sensitivity clinging onto his batting lashes, he’s whimpering, “M-me? I’m fuckin’ you hngh- stupid, baby?”

“Mhm—”

Nodding your head, your thighs just burn after every shuddering dab of Choso’s thickened length probing inside your gooey insides. Mushing up a spot modeled after him, an angry circumference of his fat tip indented into your poor g-spot. You’re feeling rivulets of his veins reaching each and every sensitive spot you never could.

He was drilling into you so filthily. So dirtily that your head was spinning with each sloshing wad of his seed swirling your insides.

And Choso - fuck, Choso looked like he was on the very urge of sobbing. Or, perhaps he was, you were much too cross-eyed at this point after every ram to confirm.

“I’m fuckin’ you s-stupid- Me.” he’s breathing out with such an air of worship. Blindly clasping one of your hands smeared against the foggy window to guide up to his lips and kiss. “S-say it again, my pretty baby. Heh…”

And right now, you don’t think you would’ve wanted to even if you could.

Jostling your hips with fresh pound after pound that leaves your soppy mounds of flesh stinging at the impact, every doughy thwack! of Choso’s plump, cum-filled balls against your ass has you gasping. “F-feel so- hngh- dumbstruck right now, Cho–”

“Because of m-my cock?” He’s giggling - giggling, a sleazy grin splitting that handsome face of his. Choso’s steering your needy hips to bounce down his copious inches faster. And faster. “Heh- is takin’ my cock like a hah- good girl m-makin’ you feel good?”

Fuck- and you can only nod.

“After o-only a few minutes?”

Punching your fists against his broad chest, but to Choso it only feels like a few kittenish bumps. “Cho! M’gonna g-get off if you t-”

“No! No no no no—” His knees thwack! against the car interior when he’s manspreading even wider. Legs jerking tightly up and down to collide your tender insides with plumpish mushroomy cockhead, “Stay- stay. Hngh! Hafta fuck you s-soooo much stupider.”

Fully as stupidly speechless as Choso was right about now, you didn’t know who was faring worse.

His muscular thighs slipping and sliding against yours with a glazed coating of cum and your honeyed slick. A low ah! ah! ah! slipping out every few seconds from those rosy pink lips of his with every drooling blow into your slobbery pussy.

“R-ride me until ya can’t even think, baby-” He’s pleading - begging. Viscous ropes of spit spattering out between his slack maw, he was drooling. Lips trembling, “Ride me- hngh- ride me a-and…choke me.”

Oh, the very second those pretty fingers of yours take Choso’s favorite position around his neck, his proudly globular head racks up a few gauzy wisps of pre. Dangerously creamy. Icing down your walls and making his overstimulated self keen.

Unable to even your sentence, your face hides in the very crook of his neck. Nuzzling against his sweat-simmered skin with how positively heavy your entire body felt. “G-god- feels s-so…”

“Nuh uh.” Choso lets his words drag out into a cute whine, chest hitching purely parched when your digits block off his airway even more snugly. “N-need to see your ngh- pretty face, baby- please- I need you to- need-” Sheer yearning flashes in his eyes when you’re tilting your head towards his fucked-out features once more, “-need you to kiss me.”

You’re giggling out, words airy. “S-so bossy, Cho–”

“Jus’ can’t get ‘nough of you.” He’s mumbling - hot and and heavy against your rawly kissed lips.

And it was a wonder that Choso could manage to strangle it out from his heaving chest, that he could even manage to breathe. Because with one last shuddering smooch of his rotund crown into your g-spot, you’re both tumbling headfirst into your high - Choso’s second orgasm of tonight.

And with every toe-curling flash of white, he’s smearing such streamlined splatters of seed into your melty insides. Hot. Sploshing down your walls and milking velvety rings upon rings around Choso’s hefty base - so viscous that you could almost taste it.

He’s making such a mess, too, giggling at how utterly speechless you were. Shrilling out nothing but mewling calls of his name.

Shit, music to his ears that Choso finds himself hypnotized to. Barely even registering when he’s patting the nudge of his puffy tip against your womb, pushing - just slightly - enough for tumbling dredges of cum to spill down your seeping slit and luster him until he was drenched.

“G-gonna hafta clean the c-car before we get back and ah- announce…” He’s looking up at you with stars in his eyes, so adoring that you could almost cum again from just this. “-our engagement.”

Your words choke up into a rolling ball of lead - an engagement? To your best friend? All the way before dating? And, yet, maybe it’s because your mind is still left in completely stupid shambles from before that you find your lips curling-

THUD! THUD! THUD!

A knock, and Sukuna’s voice through the black-tinted windows.

“OI! Jin is searching for you brats all over the place- SO YOU BETTER BE IN HERE-”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - 2 min. 8 secs

“Fuck- fuuuuck would ya look at that cute lil’ bulge.” Sukuna’s chest heaves with rumbling little chuckles that echo against your back, two out of his four beefy arms pinning you so helplessly into his cushiony chest. “Well…heh, not little.”

The notorious king of curses was standing so tall - towering - and his dually rock-hard cocks were just the same. Swabbing open your slickly flooded insides in such a lecherous full nelson, he’s splitting open your glutinous walls with branding, thorough thrusts.

Knocking up against each and every bullseye of magical spots that he’d already memorized. You’re being shovelled with a girthy indent of his upper tip against your mushy cervix, managing out a broken K-Kuna—

“Tch, I know I know-” he’s rolling his eyes, leveraging the sinful uses of gravity below to watch you slip and slide your snug channel languidly down his left-curved shafts. “Ya want more- ‘sn’t that right, spoiled brat?”

But the only thing that thunders in Sukuna’s ears are the melodies of your sweetly singing cunt, slushy squelches of your puffed-up pussy lips slurping up every one of his numerous inches.

And, now, don’t get Sukuna wrong - it’s one of his favorite songs, one of his few weaknesses - but where was your honeyed voice?

“Oi- silly girl- forgot how ta ngh- speak?” You’re hearing from above you, all monstrous seven feet of Sukuna’s figure hunching over just enough for him to snarl hotly against your ear. “How else is the ngh- entire palace gonna know that m’makin’ my wife feel good?”

Punishing your plump clit with a lingering swat! of his thick fingertips, “Not answerin’ your king, huh? Guess I’ll jus’ hafta-”

“Ngh- m-more-”

Oh? That tone sounded familiar.

And now usually Sukuna would growl at you for speaking out of turn, usually he’ll plant a few sodden thwacks against your battered cervix to remind you exactly who you’re dealing with. But right now, he’s only scoffing, “The hell was that? Speak up.”

“More, Kuna—” Fuck, the utterly primal neediness in your voice has even Sukuna stuttering his vicious hips - much to your disappointment. And you’re wrangling in his vice-like grasp to gulp down a few more clingy gyrations of his cocks inside your gluey depths. “More- I n-need more- harder.”

“More?” he’s whispering. Seething. Shaking with a humorless little grin that oh couldn’t have been directed by anyone but you. “More. Heh fuckin’ slut. M-my little human wants more- oh, new record.”

Ah, new record indeed.

It’s been only what? A minute? Two? And here was his beautiful queen, all fucked dumb on his cocks again. So ruined that you could barely even speak, a smooth staccato of only wanting more replaying in your mind when your husband plunges in a capsizing few jackhammers.

You barely even register it when one of his hands tighten on your scalp, overgrown fingernails craning your head uncomfortably up, up, up for him to splatter your tongue dripping wet with a sleazy wad of his saliva. “Yer fuckin’ gone arentcha?”

And he might just be, too, with how pliantly you’re letting that thickened mass slide all the way down your tastebuds. Huffing, “F-fuck- more.”

“Greedy lil’ thing.” He’s puckering up your sodden folds with a slow circles of his fingers, before clashing another good smack! Dragging out velvety ribbons of your honeyed slick that cling to his digits, “Such a filthy pussy, even after- hah- after I can see my bulge in that ah- puny human cunt o’ yours, woman. Ya still want more?”

“B-bulge?” Your head lolls over to rest against one of the curvaceous cushions of Sukuna’s muscular deltoids, glazed eyes drifting all the way down-

Oh.

Fuck- the sight as complete heaven.

Your lips were parting way for Sukuna like butter, slobbering down your sweet sap of juices to him like you were glossing every inch of him. Bludgeoning in his rotund mushroom tip until your ass was bruising against the unruly trail of drenched pink that led to his swollen hilts. And the bulge- shit.

The bulge was rummaging itself to all the way up about halfway down your tummy - edging at your fucking lungs it felt like - was such a perfectly cylindrical outline of Sukuna’s matching cocks. Smearing open your gluttonous walls so widely agape, he’s crashing his smooching tips against your g-spot, your cervix. Both at the same time. Everywhere and anywhere that you could see now.

“Oh-oh-” you’re whining out, lower lip trembling every more frenzied with every glissading dab against those spots. The way that Sukuna had your clingy walls milking him so tight. “S-s’so big, Kuna–”

“Oh? So ya can speak other words.” He’s chuckling, fat fingers pressing a curving little pattern down on your sensitive nub. Pinching. Tugging. So harshly that you can’t help but flail in his hold mid-air. “Easy, easy there, brat. Jus’ thought ya f-forgot how to, heh.”

Oh, he was such a tease.

Such feral darkness oozing into his words when a third of his hands guide your own to caress that lecherous bulge. “Here- don’ be shy- wanna touch it, ngh- dontcha?” And of course, you do. Rubbing over the creamed divots of his outlined tips. In awe. “-yeah like- fuuuck like that- heh…such a cutie when you’re all f-fucked dumb.”

Shit- so utterly adorable that he can’t help but leave another sopping wet smack! on your clit. Another. And another. And another and another until the heat curls up scorchingly in your stomach, and Sukuna’s taking your star-struck moment to snicker, “Mhm– m’feelin’ a little bad for this ngh- p-poor cunt though. Maybe I should take out one cock…”

“No!” You’re crying out, hips trying so ravenously to scoop up every sloshing glob of pre that butters up your insides. And you’re sucking in every inch that you get, every merciless ram. All while boring your eyes into Sukuna’s tearfully, “N-nooo I wan’ it- wan’ them both s-so badly.”

Fuck, you were dangerous.

And the most powerful can’t do a single thing. Because, really, who was he against you?

Can’t do anything but lacquer your drooly tastebuds with another syrupy ball of spit - enough to make you cum.

Sparks of your high sprinting throughout your body, sheening an almost-sparkling wet slobber around Sukuna’s bucking cocks - all the way down to his flexing thighs. It’s thwacking and skidding your jiggling ass against his mounds of muscles even harder, riding out your orgasm on the way that Sukuna’s gifting sopping smacks! on that poor hooded peak of your clit.

Blinking back overstimulated tears, “Kuna–”

“Ah ah- ignorin’ the king when he’s t-talking to ya, cutting me off, cumming with no warning…” he spits hotly against your ear. “I should make ya pay for treason, woman.”

“H-how?” Still so cockdrunken. Still uselessly struggling against his twitchy gyrations, zig-zagging little wet paintings down your inner walls.

Sukuna pretends to think, a sleazy grin plastered permanently on his face. “Hmmm, how about…ya ah- squirt f’me.” All the while boring his devilishly red eyes into your heart-eyed ones. How cute. “If that pretty lil’ empty head remembers how that is, h-heh.”

♡ INO TAKUMA - 11 min. 6 secs

“C-can I cum inside? Again? P-please?” Ino’s hissing - more to himself than anything. Words bubbling out after each and every lazy swat! of his fat, ruddied tip down the very bottom of your pappy wet cervix. He wants more. He need more. “Shhh sh sh- jus’ a lil’ more- please. Just some- ah-”

Shit- it’s been what feels like hours now.

Your beloved boyfriend stuffing you full of ropy smears of cum over and over. Until your slick-filled cunt was flooded with an excess of his seed, until you couldn’t even think over the deafeningly saturated slurps of thick wads oozing out from you down below.

Until you were fucked stupid after only a few greedy hits of Ino’s fattened tip into your melty core - until he was utterly spellbound, too, after about solely ten minutes into this new round.

“T-Taku…” You yelp, throat scratchy with how strained your poor whines have become. Your legs dangle helplessly off his strong shoulders, such a sloppy mating press by now that it would be embarrassed to even be called one. “Baby- harder. Wan’ more…wan’ you to f-fill me up.”

Fuck.

Now, Ino knew that you were thoroughly drowned and cockdrunk - but he didn’t know you were this ruined. And fuck- fuck, he’s giving the side of his fatigued thigh a harsh pinch. Once. Twice.

Trying oh-so-hard to blink back some semblance of thought into his dizzy mind. He feels like he’s nodding drunkenly, planting a damp trail of pecks down your cheek because shit, he missed your mouth. “Oh. Wh-what was that? Ngh- say it again f’me, pretty? P-please–”

“Taku—” you’re whining impatiently. Cloying wet grinds of your hips swirling his thickened length around you so blissfully, sugarcoating thick rings of pre around your insides. “J-jus’ cum inside me again.”

“Sh-shit-” Ino’s pretty features scrunch up in such bliss, plumped-up balls squeezing to dredge out another wispy chain of cum. “Ohh ya have n-no idea what ya do to me.” Decorating your familiarly bruised cervix with a freshly lathered glaze, he’s whimpering. “C-can you say that f’me a-again, sweetness?”

And you’re letting your pouty maw fall slack in order to - to demand for more. A few stupidly mewling sentences on the edge of your tongue when Ino’s reeling his hips back and thudding numerous wet collides into your sloppy cunt. Prespired body glissading easily - so sloppily - against yours in determined smack! smack! smacks! such a tangled mess of limbs and need.

God- it almost hurts. Overstimulation and pleasure hitting him doubly all at once, he’s gritting his teeth with a rough groan of your name before planting more pounds after pounds.

“D-didn’t say it f’me- ngh- ah! again–” Ino’s panting into your dumbstruck-open mouth, sweat-lacquered forehead resting against yours. Pinching his thigh over and over to just keep his senses. And his deep voice cracks into a whine at the very end, “Talk to me. Please, tell me- ngh- t-talk me through it, pretty. Please-”

But his actions spoke the complete opposite.

Ino was clashing the steamy curve of his rotund tip against your g-spot so hard, beating it like a sloppy drum with every jackhammering dab of his hips. Fucking out every thought and gurgling syllable out of you with a pussydrunkenly boyish grin.

Spitting a thick pwah! of saliva onto two of his slender fingers, he’s dipping them down, down, down to roll a few zig-zagging patterns on your pulpy clit.

“C’mon- w-wanna hear your pretty voice—” he’s babbling, pearly tears making their home at the crinkled ends of his delicately pretty eyes.

“T-Taku–” You don’t think you could’ve spoken even if you wanted to, tugging through his smooth woody hair. Until it makes him hiss, and his sultry crownhead gush out wet globules of precum. “No ngh- fair.”

“Heh. Who has ya f-feelin’ like ah- this, sweetness?” He’s snickering into the corner of your mouth, chestnut eyes drooping further and further half-closed the deeper his veiny shaft was poking into the goopy bottom of your pussy. The further he was milking his seething tip on every miniscule cling of your walls. Teasing, “Who? Oh whoops- h-heh- tha’s right…you can’t talk right now.”

But oh, Ino had forgotten that just how fucked stupid that his brain was meant the exact same for his body, too.

Because in a split-second, you’re elbowing the pillowy mattress determinedly to flip the two of you over - Ino’s swollen girth still sunken inside, your brain still woozy. Even more so when straddling the slender curve of your boyfriend’s hips, trembly palms trekking down his mountainous pecs to push him flat onto the silky sheets.

Ino has such a sexy look of drunken adoration in his eyes when you’re bouncing your squelching cunt to ride him out of his mind. Prattling with your currently one-tracked brain, “S-said I wan’ you to f-fill me up, Taku–”

Oh. oh. And then he is - both of you are.

You’re jerking almost-violently at the wracking bouts of high that take over your body, flashing silvery stars behind your scrunched-up lids. Those sobbing thwack! thwack! thwacks! of his bulbous tip have you shrilling, letting Ino reach out a hand to draw little circles over your overwhelmed clit.

And he isn’t any better off - has his eyes sliding all the way back until all you could see was pure ivory, Ino’s chest arching deliciously into yours. His lower lip strawberry-red from being bitten hard enough gulp back those wrenching whimpers threatening to burst pathetically free.

One hand leaving a quick smack! to the fat of your ass before swirling it in hypnotic little circles to feel those ribbony globs of his cum sloshing around. Ah, he can feel it steaming thick masses so deep inside you - jittery fingers feeling for that familiar hot nudge at your womb. Such voluminous amounts that laminate his twitchy shaft with layers upon dripping wet layers of glistening seed, making such a mess-

Ino ends off with a giggle - a giggle. “Oh, I love it when yer r-rough w’me, pretty.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - 25 secs

“-twenty-three…twenty fouuuur-” Gojo’s dragging out, rounded tips of his fingers ghosting over your pulpy clit - just far enough to zap! your sensitive hood with an atomic buzz of jujutsu. Grinning down at you from where he’s holding you captive in a lecherous prone bone, “-twenty-five- h-heh…n’ already gone. New record, sweetheart.”

And you would’ve snapped back at your utterly ecstatic boyfriend if you could, you would’ve huffed out that he totally drawled on the count far longer than it should’ve lasted - but how could you?

Because just the sappy peck! of Gojo’s globular tip down the treacly pucker of your slit makes you dizzy. Meady wet spurts of his precum strolling languidly down your pussy lips, making such a mess - and he’d barely even shovelled you overly snug of his full, thickened tip.

But oh what was unfair - what was so completely dirty - is the way he was buzzing his filthy fingerpads with a shimmer of cursed energy, pinching your sensitive clit just enough to make you see stars.

“Ngh- oh my god.” you’re babbling out through slacked lips that feel like they’re fucking numb. Hips dizzily confused whether to bury yourself in a cocoon of those silken navy sheets or to run away.

“Yes- yes tha’s right–” he’s cooing, one hand swiping away the globular pearls of sweat that trek down your forehead, the other ringing out against your peaked clit with a miry swat! “Talk t’me ngh- l-loove hearin’ what that empty lil’ haaah- cockdrunk mind of yours has ta say.”

Sobbing out, “S’jus’ so- so big, Toru—”

“Heh…see?”

Yeah, he loved the cute wafting nonsense that spilled from your lips whenever you were fucked stupid on his thick, throbbing length. Red and angry to make your head even emptier-

And you’re scrambling helplessly towards the plushy pillows, the edge of the bed, the fucking headboard - only for Gojo to slam! one massive palm down on the mahogany headrest. Splitting it straight down the middle-

Muttering in your ear so sultry, Gojo’s slurring out a stumbling, “Now now- where’d ya think you’re going?” Your entirely shivering body being scooped up with a single curl of his bulging forearm around your throat. Fuck- his sweat-glossed biceps flex as you’re hauled back down, down, down onto his thoroughly rummaging cock.

“B-barely even halfway in n’ yer already so heheh- fucked dumb.” Giggling - giggling - deliriously in your ear in condensed little pants, he’s so hot glissading his weighty body down your back. Rows of ivory white teeth sinking into your precious ear lobe, you’re graced with a firm set of six-inch fingers on your waist. “Get- get ready for a hah- biiiig stretch, sweetheart.”

And a big stretch, it was.

It feels like you’re being rawly split apart - Gojo’s intruding girth caving out a bulging cylindrical pathway down your slobbery pussy. Puffy, crowned cockhead smearing open your gluey walls until you were sure you could feel every ridge, every thumping vein. Feel him poking his weepy divot into your mushy cervix in thick drags - you could cum from just this.

And you think you do - without your poor, spellbound goo of a brain even realizing. Your back arches into an almost painful curvature when you’re throwing your head back and cumming.

“Please- please please-” Garbling out, so fucking cute that he can’t help but lick a sleazy stripe down the glistening middle of your back and hum.

You’re gasping at the thickly vicious splatter of something on your shoulder - only to bleary your heart-filled eyes over your shoulder at the way that Gojo was drooling.

Whining, with every pap! of his prettily full balls against your ass. Slumping his heavy bodyweight like he was melting into your, ridged washboard abs massaging your back, hefty bodyweight pinning you down onto the mattress. His bicep curls into an even tighter headlock around your straining neck, “Yeah- ohoho yeahh that’s the stuff- t-talk to me s’more, my girl.”

“C-can’t even-” You’re whimpering out, hips jostling upwards in embarrassing little grinds that swirl the very rounded tip of Gojo’s tip around your melty insides. Milking out heaps upon heaps of creamy precum with every one of his greedy drives. “-can’t even think- can’t even b-breathe. J-jus’ want you…”

God - he was making a sheerly sludgy mess out of you. Branding your sweet insides with sugary coatings of precum, with thorough bruises.

“What do ya w-want, sweetheart?” Gojo’s muttering all over again, bearing your puffed-up clit with another pinch. Then another. And another. “Anything m’gonna give ya- ahhh, fuck- anything.”

Blinking up tearily, “A-anything?”

Which only makes him fuck you hard enough to practically mesh into one with the mattress - and then some. And it’s like he was pounding himself just as stupid on your cunt as you were with every one of his animalistic rams.

Sodden. Heavy. French mushes against your bruised g-spot - and you could already tell by the scarily bittersweet accuracy and those stray bolts of tiny blue lightning that Gojo was using his six eyes to cheat his way buttering your pretty cunt with lethal hits.

To spy your sweetest spots inside-

“M’gonna marry ya-” Promising over and over when he’s routing a wet trail of kisses down your perfectly arched spine. “-buy us a niiice big mansion- or a small one- your hah- choice. Grow old together, n’ I’ll kill off anyone that dares object.”

“Satoru…”

“Yes- yes?” Sapphire eyes wide and wild now - like he was in the middle of a fight, like he was prowling for prey just the way his fat tip was probing down every orifice of yours. “Tell me- tell me, sweetheart.”

“I-I want-” your lower lip wobbles adorably, and Gojo can’t help but slither his own down and suck like his favorite gummy candy. Making you mewl, “-wan’ a baby.”

And you swear you could hear the lilting crack in Gojo’s voice when he’s echoing out a highly-pitched. “A b-baby?”

The only thing your poor brain can manage out is a nod, and the only thing he can manage out is to just barely not fucking snap.

THUD!

Gojo’s got you locked in his powerful hold - muscled figure pinning you to the soiled bed, his deadlocked bicep hauling your mouth onto his. And he’s snapping his hips to yours so hard that you wince ever-so-slightly at the bruise surely formulating by now - or, well, would have formulated had it not been for Gojo’s reversed curse technique.

Working overtime now to not break a bone when he’s plugging your sodden insides with thick knots of cum. He’s cumming and cumming so hard that Gojo thinks he can’t stop - thinks he doesn’t want to.

“H-how I love when ya talk outta yer ngh- pussy, sweetheart-” Your shoulder stains with a few more translucent spatters of drool - and tears. Big and overstimulated, beading behind his glazed lids.

Gojo can’t let a single swashing wad of his seed drizzle to waste, plugging in numerously overspilling ounces back in through your puckered pussy lips. The sheer volume making his achy balls twitch with more and more. Doubly penetrating your sloppy hole with two fingers, he’s taking the sinful opportunity to slither a few spiralling patterns around your sensitive entrance.

A baby.

“A baby. A…a fuckin’ baby.” Gojo’s shaking his head - crazed. Smile humorless and dangerous where it was directed at you, and for a moment you’re wondering who really is the one fucked stupid right about now. “Oh, my girl, I’ll give you ten.”

A/N. Smooches to that one nonnie for sparking the idea hehe <3

Plagiarism not authorized.

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yzzart · 1 month ago

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⋆˙⟡ BOYFRIEND!DANTE ── HEADCANONS!

── content warnings: F!reader, mention of anime, Dante being needy, fluff, cute and light content and part two is here!

── word count: 653!

⭑.ᐟ Dante is always, ALWAYS, in contact with you and it doesn't matter where or when. — This is not an exaggeration, or a complaint, never. — Whether through physical touches or messages, SMS, — that man only uses his damn cell phone because of you and even though it's risky — he never lets you keep in contact.

“thinking about you right now ;)” “Dante, you only left about 5 minutes ago…?” “painful, isn’t it? do you believe i have an amazing joke ready? i need to tell you when i get back.”

⭑.ᐟ The demon hunter loves to snuggle up to you, to cling to you; being unable, and in his words, impossible, not to be close to you. — Well, that's his biggest weakness. — Dante always kept his hands around you, usually on your waist and caressing the region. — Like holding your hand, caressing your face and massaging your thigh.

⭑.ᐟ He loves receiving your attention, especially when he is between your boobs and receiving caresses, which make him fall asleep instantly. — you know this very well — However, there was one night, after a long and unbearable killing against beings from the underworld, Dante ended up falling asleep during one of the night conversations, which was your routine, and ended up drooling on your shirt.

⤷ The scene was…naive, also pitiful; your boyfriend was tired, he needed rest more than anything else. — And you, wanting to make him comfortable and pleasant, tried to get out of the position, which was to be underneath him, but an extremely sleepy and heavy Dante prevented your action and mumbled inaudible words — asking you to stay there, with him — and even without understanding, you obeyed.

⭑.ᐟ DDR — DanceDance Revolucion nights? This has become a routine worthy of you and Dante. — Every night, no matter what time it is, and even knowing that you have things to do the next day, this gentle game becomes a competition; Dante, without even caring who is in front, doesn't miss the chance to have fun with his girl.

"Come on, ma'am! Make me impressed, go, go!" + “It was with that swagger that you won me over, right, you smart little girl?” + “I can’t believe you beat me at my own game?”

“Shut your pretty mouth, big boy.”

⭑.ᐟ You are the only person, the only thing that can breathe, that can touch or question his necklace. — There is no discussion about that. — Dante trusts you, until his last breath, even though he has reason to distrust everyone and everything, he would never leave or abandon his loyalty and trust in you. — Out of fear, and respect and common sense, you don't dare to touch it on some occasions and Dante realizes this, he finds it funny, cute, pure; feeling loved and so cared for by you.

⤷ “There’s not a day, not a single day, that the memory of the day she gave me that necklace doesn’t cross my mind.” — Dante mentioned his mother, able to feel a small and unbearable burning in his eyes; he sighed, arranged you in his lap, directing a compassionate look in your direction as your fingers pass through the cord, without touching the amulet. — “And every day, i’m sure she would adore you.”

⭑.ᐟ Dante knows how to be a knight with you, and he really does. — Last piece of pizza in the box? He makes a point of leaving it for you, and that's a high-class knightly role in his eyes. — Even living such a complicated life, working with something so violent and filthy, he can't help but indulge his girl in a few whims.

⤷ Little writings on small pieces of old newspaper, which he left in his pants or jacket pocket, telling some joke or unfunny pick-up line and decorations are typical of Dante. — Teaching you to play pool and then beating him and your prize are moments of grabbing? Oh, Dante is a lucky boy.

#dante #dante sparda #dmc dante #dante x reader #dante x you #dante sparda x reader #devil may cry #dmc #devil may cry x reader #devil may cry netflix

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sunni-stuff · 6 months ago

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Part 1 This is part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

With the train ride now over, the sergeants ran, scouring the market for two familiar faces. Their footsteps in sync, crunching delicate mounds of white snow. Soap broke through the crowd first, then Gaz and Gary were right with him.

“Where the hell are they?” Gaz pants out, his breaths misting in the cold air.

“You said the marketplace,” Soap huffs.

“Yeah, I said the marketplace, but it's not like I know exactly where they went!” Gaz snaps back.

While the two sergeants bicker, Roach quietly breaks away, scanning the area until he spots the familiar figures they’d been hunting for. Price and Ghost stand outside a cigar shop, deep in conversation. The satisfied grin on Price's face tells Roach everything—he got what he was after.

“They’re over there!” Roach exclaims, snapping his partners out of their lovers' quarrel.

Gaz and Soap go silent, their eyes following Roach’s line of sight until they, too, spot their Lieutenant and Captain.

In a heartbeat, the three of them are sprinting toward their unsuspecting targets. Soap grins like a madman, practically buzzing with mischief, while Gaz shakes his head, both amused and slightly wary of what might unfold. Roach, meanwhile, is simply thrilled to be along for the ride.

They skid to a stop right in front of the two men, chests heaving as they catch their breath in the biting winter air.

“The hell is wrong with you lot?” Price’s voice cuts through, laced with a mix of annoyance and bemusement as he shifts his attention from Ghost to the winded sergeants.

Ghost, arms crossed, eyes them with quiet scrutiny. His winter coat does little to conceal his bulky frame, a silent reminder of his imposing presence as he stands beside Price.

Price and Ghost waited for an explanation, knowing well everytime those three got together, they were definitely up to no good.

Like how they put semi-permanent green dye in Ghost's shampoo for Halloween.

“We… we saw. A kid with your face,” Gaz manages, still catching his breath, pointing straight at Ghost.

Ghost raises a brow, baffled. A kid with his face? What the hell did that mean? Did they think he looked like a baby?

Soap huffs in mock disappointment, shooting a playful glare at Gaz. “Oi, I wanted to say it!”

Predictably, the two dive into another back-and-forth. Gaz isn’t one to shout, but Soap has a talent for riling anyone up.

Price lets their little show go on for only a moment before his stern voice cuts in, slicing through their bickering. “One of you properly explain, or you'll be walking back to base.”

Roach steps up, eager to clarify. “There’s a kid, probably about two, and she looks exactly like the Lt. Scowl, glare, and all!”

Price and Ghost pause, their expressions twisting as they both try—and fail—to imagine a little girl with Simon’s permanent scowl.

Price shudders, shaking the thought from his head. “That is not a face a kid should have.”

“That’s exactly what I said,” Gaz chimes in, nodding emphatically.

Ghost throws him an offended look, his usually hardened eyes showing a glimmer of hurt. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing!” they all exclaim in unison, even Price, who quickly averts his gaze as Ghost’s glare narrows on him.

Ghost huffs, then crosses his arms. “Did you take a picture?”

Soap snorts, leaning against the wall with a smirk. “Aye, right, 'cause that wouldnae be creepy at all.”

Ghost stares daggers Into Soap, rolling his eyes and pushing himself off the wall. “Okay, then where is she?”

The three stooges lead the charge once again, this time with their Captain and Lieutenant in tow. They weave through the crowd toward the train park, where Soap eagerly scans for the woman and kid he’d spotted earlier. But the line they were in is empty, the pair nowhere to be found.

“Shite. I think they’re gone,” Soap mutters, his Scottish accent thickening in his frustration, the words rolling out with a clipped bite.

“So the imaginary woman and kid don’t actually exist,” Ghost deadpans, unimpressed.

“They exist!” Gaz insists, voice edging on exasperation.

“Sure,” Ghost replies, his tone flat and thoroughly unconvinced.

Roach snickers, then glances over at Price—only to see him staring slack-jawed through the window of a nearby café, his cigar dangling from his mouth, forgotten.

“Cap?” Roach says, touching the older man’s shoulder.

Price doesn’t look away, nodding toward the café. “Found them.”

Everyone turns toward the café, eyes landing on you and Adira. The little girl is happily weaving between your legs, her tiny hands gripping your coat as she entertains herself, all while you order hot chocolates to fend off the winter chill. A soft smile touches your lips as you watch her play, blissfully unaware of the audience gathering just outside.

The barista, with a warm smile, hands over two cups, one with a little extra marshmallows for Adira, her voice bright as she wishes you both a merry Christmas. You take the cups with a grateful nod, handing one to Adira. She immediately takes her drink, sipping eagerly, her small feet bouncing on her heels from the sugar rush.

“Yummy?” You ask, glancing down at her with a soft smile, a wave of motherly pride swelling in your chest as you watch her delight in the simple joy of her drink.

Adira nods eagerly, her eyes lighting up as she pulls away from her straw with a satisfied sigh. “Yummy.”

With a soft chuckle, you both leave the warmth of the shop, stepping out into the crisp air. Hand in hand, you walk back toward the park, the world around you feeling peaceful despite the cold. As you reach the crosswalk, you stop, waiting for the light to turn. Adira looks up at you, her little face filled with contentment as she swings your joined hands back and forth, her sugary energy still buzzing.

Across the way, the team stood frozen, unable to look away from the scene unfolding before them. Everyone but Ghost was struck by how much Adira looked like him—her features unmistakably mirroring his, save for the color of her hair and skin. The resemblance was uncanny, and for a brief moment, it felt like the world had stopped around them.

“She looks nothing like me,” Ghost stated plainly, his voice cutting through the stillness as though it were fact. His expression was unmoving, a wall of stubbornness in his eyes. He was ready to die on that hill.

Then, as fate would have it, a woman walking her dog passed by, and Adira’s cherub-like face hardened into a cold, calculating stare. It was subtle, but unmistakable.

“Nevermind,” Ghost muttered, his earlier conviction faltering as he watched her shift before his eyes.

“So… you’ve been having fun these past years?” Roach asked, his gaze flicking between Adira and Ghost, curiosity getting the better of him.

“Not that I know of,” Ghost grunted, his eyes still locked on you and Adira, a mix of unease and something else flickering across his face. He couldn’t pull himself away.

“Let’s get closer,” Price commanded, already making his move. Soap and Roach exchanged a shrug, falling in line without hesitation.

“Excuse me?” Gaz sputtered, though his body had already begun moving before his brain could catch up, unable to defy the Captain’s order.

Ghost fell silent, teeth gritted. This wasn’t a situation he was used to, especially not one where he was forced to go in blind. He stood stiffly at the crosswalk, trying to hide his glances, his focus split between the team and you.

Soap ended up the closest, standing just next to Adira. The little girl paused, her big, doe-like eyes lifting from her drink to catch sight of him. The recognition was instant. Her lips pursed into a small line, and her gaze grew heavy with annoyance.

“Ugee…” she whispered, scooting closer to you.

Soap froze, his mind stuttering for a moment. Did she just—? Did she call me ugly?

Gaz, standing behind him, couldn’t contain himself. A muffled laugh broke through as Soap turned to look at the others, wide-eyed and speechless, completely taken aback.

“Do ye lot think I'm ugly?” Soap asked, his voice thick with disbelief, clearly thrown off by the little girl's words.

“Not the time, Mctavish,” Price said, a tiny laugh tugging at the corner of his lips despite the situation.

The streetlight flickered green, signaling it was time to move. You adjusted yourself, ready to cross the street. Each member of the team started mentally preparing, unsure of how—or even if—they should approach you. Ghost, however, was the first to make a move, determined to intercept you. But Soap, ever the opportunist, beat him to it.

Ghost wasn’t exactly subtle, and having him try anything would probably send you running in the opposite direction.

“Excuse me, aren’t you the lady from the train?” Soap called out, his voice light, though his intentions were clear.

You paused at his interruption, recognition flickering in your eyes. You remembered the man who bumped into you earlier. “Yes? Is something the matter?”

“Do you happen to know where I could find Leslies?” Soap asked, a hint of uncertainty creeping into his voice, though he tried to mask it.

“The pub?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes,” Soap confirmed, his face lighting up with a mix of relief and surprise at your easy response.

You look around for a moment, trying to remember and see the street names of your current location. “Uh…it should be about a couple blocks south from here. They have a big sign, you can't miss it.”

Thank God for Soap, because that one question was all he needed to keep you trapped in a conversation, his charm working its magic as you giggled and chatted away easily, the awkwardness of the situation melting away.

Meanwhile, Ghost’s attention shifted to Adira. He looked down at her, and she, almost instinctively, looked up at him. Their eyes locked in a silent staring contest, each of them studying the other. The intensity in their gaze was undeniable, both sets of eyes reflecting the same quiet, unwavering strength. It was like looking in a mirror—a mirror that mirrored back his own hardened stare and no-nonsense attitude.

Adira was, quite literally, his mini me. The resemblance was impossible to ignore.

“How old are you?” Ghost asked bluntly, his voice low as he kneeled down to Adira’s height, his gaze intense but trying to soften.

Adira paused for a moment, glancing up at you for help, but you were still caught up in conversation with Soap. She turned her focus back to Ghost, her small fingers fidgeting with the hem of her coat as she murmured shyly, “Two…”

She was two. Two. Ghost’s mind raced, trying to piece together the details, but nothing clicked. Nearly three years ago… what had he done three years ago? He kept everything categorized, stored in his mind like a well-organized file system, but this was something that didn’t fit.

Then, Soap’s voice broke through his thoughts.

“You don’t seem like the type of lass to frequent Leslies.”

You giggled, a soft blush creeping up your cheeks at Soap’s question. He wasn’t wrong… at least, not entirely. “I’ve only been to Leslie’s once, and, well… it’s how I ended up with my little blessing.” You glanced down at Adira, the warmth of your smile radiating as you spoke.

Everything shattered in that moment. Ghost’s stomach twisted painfully, his heart skipping a beat as the realization slammed into him like a freight train. Leslie's. Almost three years ago, during that stupid holiday.

His mind began to piece it together, the hazy memories from that night slowly coming into focus. He remembered the bar, the laughter, the way you had caught his attention. You were easy on the eyes, easy to make laugh, and most importantly—unlike everyone else. You didn’t ask questions, didn’t pry, you just let him lead, let him slip into the night with no strings attached.

But now, as he looked at Adira, everything fell into place. The way she stared at him, those familiar eyes, the resemblance he couldn’t ignore. His breath hitched, and the weight of the truth crushed him—she was his daughter.

A knot formed in his throat as he tried to process the fact. Adira. His daughter. The little girl standing before him was his flesh and blood, the result of a moment he'd long since buried in the depths of his mind.

---

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#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #ghost x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #Singlemom!Reader #sunshine-sunni

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