#back when I lived in a tiny ass apartment

[withjaejae]

Caught Redhanded | PJM

In which your hot af crush/roommate catches you with your hand in the cookie jar.

parings: jimin x reader

genre: pwp, roommates to lovers, oneshot

warnings: unprotected sex, implied lots of sex, use of toys, accidental and consensual use of aphrodisiacs, p in v, ass play, use of a sex machine thing

enjoy :)

————

The strange noises are back. Sounds like someone is rummaging through the kitchen at 3am. Its not uncommon, Jimin knows this because once a week. He hears your door open, a noise is made in the kitchen and then close.

Unlike usual apartments, the walls in your shared space is thick. Formerly owned by your frind Hoseok who had a drumset and a studio in your now respective rooms.

Its basically soundproof except at 3am when the entire apartment is quiet, that’s when Jimin strains his ears to listen to you walk down the hall.

But this week, Jimin was enjoying a bottle of Soju in the darkness of the living room when at 3am, you emerge from the hall. Your tiny robe wrapped around you, he tries his best not to groan at the sight of your nearly exposed ass. He remains quiet, waiting for the opportunity to scare you shitless.

You rummage through the toolbox.

“Every damn week. Fuck. I should just keep some in my room.” You groan as you rummage. Jimin tilts his head as you frown, trying your best to remain quiet while looking for something.

Just as he was about to make his presence known, you pull out a set of batteries packed together.

“Found you.” You grin. “This will be the last time. A new player will come tomorrow.” You giggle as you pocket the batteries and speed back down the hallway. Not even noticing Jimin who watched you monologue.

A new player? Jimin knows you play games so he shrugs.

What boggles his mind is why on earth do you need batteries every week? He takes a look into your supplies and sure enough the entire case of batteries you purchased for emergencies was nearly empty. And you only bought them 6 weeks ago.

He goes to sleep on the couch eventually despite the theories he’s forming in his head.

The smell of bacon wakes him up. He cracks his eyes open and sees you dressed nicely, a black sleeveles bodysuit and some dress pants. Your hair pinned up nicely away from your face.

“Why are you so dressed?” He rasps, his throat dry from drinking last night.

“I have a virtual meeting in an hour. Wouldn’t hurt to dress up a bit even if they don’t see my pants.” You smile at him. “Come eat.” Jimin gets up and eyes you suspiciously. “What time did you get home last night?” You ask.

Jimin chuckles. “What do you mean? I was here all night.” You stop your movements for a second before resuming to pour each of you a cup of coffee.

“Oh. I thought you went out.” You clear your throat.

“Nah, I fell asleep around 2:30am. Although I did dream that you came out of your room.” Jimin lies and you nod.

“I did come out to come get some… water.” You sit next to him and start piling food up on his plate.

This was normal for you both, alternate cooking, casually taking care of each other by cooking, grocery shopping, tidying up and all. The 6 months of being roommates had been peaceful until your recent 3am habit.

You talk about work over breakfast, Jimin safekeeping the information he knows for later.

“I’m gonna go back to my room. Meeting is in 15minutes. See you later.” You put your plate in the sink knowing he’ll wash since you cooked.

Living with you has been peaceful. But also excruciatingly painful since Jimin has been crushing on you for a year. Hoseok introduced you to each other in one of his parties, here in this very apartment. And he was smitten.

Prior to living together you had always been the nurturing type, always handing him food. Staying by his side every time your friend group goes out, making sure he drinks water before leaving clubs to lessen the hangover. You even gave him some supplements that your client gives you for free. He’s unsure if you’re like that to everyone but so far, nobody talks about it.

When Hoseok offered him the apartment and said it came with a roommate, Jimin intantly said yes so he could finally leave his shitty studio type room. And he had no regrets after finding out that roommate was you.

Jimin was washing the dishes when the doorbell rang. He opens the door to a delivery man holding a huge box.

“Hi! For YN LN.” after saying that you’re disposed for a meeting, the man hands Jimin the box and signs the received note.

He glances at the clock, your meeting has probably started so its best to leave it on the kitchen counter.

He stuidies it, it could be a new CPU for your PC but it seems pretty light. There was no description and packacking was tight.

He shrugs and continues drying the utensils you both used.

After half an hour when he finally cleans up the snack and drinks from last night you rush out of the hall.

You spot the box and inspect it. Sighing in relief as you mutter a quick thank you before bolting back to your room.

Odd. You usually open your packages in the kitchen to avoid taking trash in your room. Judging by the amount of bubble wrap, that’ll immediately fill up your bin.

Still, he tries to shrug it off and focuses on some of his own work. He’s an accountant for various small businesses, he does their taxes. He offered to do yours but you declined since you’re employed by various companies as a virtual assistant/marketer.

Jimin had cooked lunch, smiling at the full table he’s set for you two. You hadn’t stepped out of the room since grabbing the package.

Jimin approached your room and knocked on your door, if you didn’t want to be disturbed, you would hang a sign on your door. But the sign wasn’t there.

As he knocked he heard a loud thud followed by a groan. Fearing you had hurt yourself he opens the door.

Eyes locked on each other, yours were glassy and looking fucked out. Mouth open with drool dripping down your chin. His eyes look down and you were sitting on something pink. You hands fisted into the sheets as you were bent over, reaching for something. Your body was convulsing on whatever you were sitting on.

“Jimin. Fuck. Thank God.” Your eyes close and your moan out his name. “Help. Me.” Your legs locked tight on whatever you were sitting on. You try your best to point at the small remote at the foot of the bed and he snatches it immediately handing it to you.

With a click of a button the humming sound stops. He didn’t even notice the humming.

You roll over and lowe and behold. You were sitting on a fucking machine. There was a dick shaped rubber dildo standing tall and wet on the middle of the saddle like seat. A bump next to it that would definitely hit your clit as you sit on it.

Jimin was frozen, your panting the only thing he hears, his eyes blur as the blood from his brain travels down to his own cock.

You turn over and don’t even bother to cover yourself up, naked from the waist below. It finallg dawned upon you, Jimin caught you redhanded.

“I’m– I’m sorry you had to see that. I couldn’t move.” You bit your lip. Your eyes landing on his dick straining in his pants. “Oh. Shit. Fuck.” You look away, your breathing heavily again.

“Are you okay?” He finally found his voice.

“I got this new client… she made toys and stuff. Gave me this as a welcome pack.” You took a deep breath and looked at him again. “She also made those.” You point at the bottle of jellies on your computer tables. “I didn’t realize I took more than the advisable amount, its like I was possesed.”

Jimin, with all his strength, looked away and picked up the bottle.

Aphrodisiacs. Take two for better experience.

“How many did you eat?” 1/4 of the bottle was missing and if you only received this today, that means you ate at least 10.

“I have no idea. But God fuck. Jimin could you stop?” You frown and so does he.

“I’m not doing anything.” He puts his hands up in surrended.

“Stop looking so fuckable right now.” You cover your face, you tug a pillow to cover your exposed lower extremities.

You take a peek at him, you watch as he puts four jellies in his mouth and takes them.

“What are you doing!?” You panic, you do your best to get out of bed but your shaky legs made you slow. Before you could reach him, he already swallowed.

“How long before I feel anything?” He reads the label again. 5 minutes.

“God you’re so hard.” His eyes snap to you, your eyes locked onto his dick. “Jimin…” you trail your eyes up to meet his. Pupils starting to dilate. “Please.”

The weight of your voice vibrates through Jimin’s body. Making him jolt forward to capture your lips in his, finally.

It hasn’t been five minutes since he took the jellies. But seeing you like this made him go feral. It was amazing how he didn’t pounce as soon as he saw you on that thing.

He pushes you onto the bed, kicking away the machine and landing on top of you. You moan into the kiss, every single touch felt like a shock of electricity.

As you kissed, Jimin felt his control slipping. You rush to get each other completely naked.

You don’t hide how you admire his body. Fingers trailing every curve, every dip, every line he has. He had to hold himself back before he busts haven’t even been inside you.

“Jimin, baby.” Shit. That does it.

He licks you from your neck all the way down to your aching core. You’re completely drenched, loved how you taste. As if he couldn’t get enough, he latches on to your clit and inserts two fingers easily. Fuck, he can’t wait.

“Jimin, please. I need you to fuck me.” Your voice was strained like you were in pain, and you were. Jimin feels it too.

He settles between your thighs and lines himself up. He bends over to kiss you as he takes his time to enter you.

And fuck, if this isn’t heaven. Jimin didn’t know what is. Your walls were clenching around him, legs already quivering from the overstimulation but you keep begging for more.

His hips snap, fucking into you like it would be the last thing he’d do. Equally grunting and moaning with you. He flips you over and fucks you from behind.

Without warning he comes all over your ass cheeks. Just as you were about to protest again he put it back inside, he drills you into the bed. Teasing your asshole as it was puckering up, begging for attention.

He didn’t know why he looked around but he pauses and sees your bedside drawer, a dildo sticking out of it.

“Baby. Please move.” Your voice cracking. “What—“ You turn your head to see him opening your drawer, taking one item he always wanted to try with someone.

Instead of protesting, you smirk and hand him the bottle of lube. The medium sized vibrating buttplug coated in a strawerry scented liquid. He chuckles and furiously fucks you again. You shriek in surprise, holding on to the beddings for dear life.

As your muscles relax, he pushes the plug into your ass. Making you legs shake and your moaning louder.

The sensation of having both holes filled and the fact that you were getting fucked by Jimin felt like a dream. Still thick in the haze of the jellies. The two of you fuck in more ways than you have ever done in your life.

You used every toy you have on each other. Cuffs, collars, clips, ropes. Jimin wasn’t even tiring.

By the evening, you were both spent.

You had no idea when you passed out or when the plug fell out. You’re not sure if it was you or Jimin who passed out first. You were so high and now you can feel every ache as you stretch within his hold.

You turn to face him. You’re going to have a long talk about this one. But you take this chance to stare at your fucking crush for as long as you’d like.

Jimin feels the peck you placed on his lips making him smile and open his eyes.

“Hey.” You greet and he kisses you deeper. It was only cut short when your stomach loudly grumbles making you laugh.

“We missed lunch.” He smirks. “But it was so worth it.”

“Definitely. Join me for a shower then we could heat up the food.” You snuggle closer, making no effort to prepare for the shower you offered.

“If you’d like we could have those jellies for dessert every night. Then you wouldn’t have to do it by yourself at 3am.” You look up at him with a shocked expression.

“Oh my god. How do you know that?”

“We’re running low on batteries. GIven the amount of toys you have, I just put two and two together.” He kisses your forehead. “If I may ask, why are there so many?”

You giggle. “All my clients are toy makers or distributors. Main reason why I can’t make you do my accounting. Their company names are awful and you might think I’m a stripper or something.” He laughs at your excuse. “Come on. Would you let your crush do your accounting if your payslips were from Pleasure Palace?” He stops laughing.

“Crush?” He pulls you closer.

“I thought it was obvious?” You frown at his cluelessness.

“if it was, I would have made a move sooner.” He shrugs. This time his stomach growls. “Okay, shower and then dinner.”

“Get up then.” You playfully push his shoulder. Your giggles filling Jimin’s chest with warmth.

“You get up.” He smiles and tries his best to push you to stand. “I feel like I ran a marathon.” You both groan.

“God, I’m so sore.” You look down and so does he, earning a smack to the chest. “Don’t look at it if you’re not gonna burry your face in it.”

“That sounds like a better dinner.” He wiggles his eyebrows. You push his face away and you both zombie walk to the bathroom.

Once dinner was set, instead of sitting across each other Jimin pulls you onto his lap. You giggle and enjoy your dinner.

You both freeze when someone starts pushing the code to your front door, only the previous owner knows the code.

“Jimin, why the fuck weren’t you picking up your—calls.” Hoseok drops the bag of whatever.

You were wearing nothing but Jimin’s shirt and he has nothing on but some boxers.

“Hoseok.” He grins. “Come in.”

Hoseok slowly walks backwards and leaves. You look at each other and laugh.

“I think we’ve scarred him.” You giggle as you feed him some eggrolls.

His phone pings and he picks it up.

“Its Hoseok, he said ‘For the love of God, please change the door passcode and please pray for my soul. I need new eyes.”

You burst out laughing again. Hopefully, Hoseok recovers soon.

[she-walked-away]

I am just very excited for these final 12 episodes and to get the opportunity to enjoy them for what they are and to see my Lone Star fan one final season 💕

[cappucosmico]

the most devastating shit on earth is that i had a friend in middle school who was like my ride or die. but her only "social media" was Google Fucking Plus. so naturally i have lost her in the wastelands of that shitstorm. but i cannot find her ever again bc she has like The most common name on god's green earth so one facebook search for people with her name in the bronx yields like a million fucking results. so imagine if she's not even in the bronx anymore. 10 million results

[fvsm4x]

Manwhore Roommate - gojo s.

synopsis. After a string of failed attempts to find a new place to live, you reluctantly agree to share an apartment with Satoru Gojo—a cocky, flirty, and insufferably attractive guy known for his endless roster of hookups and carefree lifestyle. From the very first day, his personality clashes with your grounded, no-nonsense demeanor. You’re determined to keep things strictly platonic and avoid getting caught up in his games, but Gojo thrives on breaking rules

+ warnings/content. Roommate! Satoru Gojo x fem! reader - roommate AU - gojo is a manwhore - pinning - MNDI/mature themes - suggestive - teasing/touching - reader is described to have an big ass - gojo is annoying - eventual smut - not proofread

+ wc. 9 k

The apartment smelled faintly of old takeout, worn leather, and something warm and musky—like cologne. Not an overpowering scent, but the kind that lingered, deeply embedded in the fabric of the place. You paused in the doorway, fingers tightening around the handle of your suitcase, staring at the chaos ahead.

The living room was barely holding it together. A hoodie—black, probably expensive—was slung haphazardly over the back of a couch with stuffing poking out of one armrest. The coffee table was an explosion of clutter: unopened mail, a stack of coasters that clearly weren’t being used, a half-empty bottle of water lying on its side. Sneakers were scattered like an afterthought near the door, and one single sock lay abandoned under the TV stand.

You inhaled slowly, letting the air out through your nose. “So…this is it?”

Behind you, Satoru Gojo leaned lazily against the doorframe, the picture of smug satisfaction. He didn’t seem the least bit embarrassed about the state of his apartment. If anything, he looked like he’d just scored some kind of victory.

“Welcome to Casa Gojo,” he said with a grin, spreading his arms wide as if presenting a five-star hotel. “Cozy, huh?”

You gave him a flat look. “Cozy isn’t the word I’d use.”

He laughed, shameless and loud, brushing past you into the living room. “Don’t worry, you’ll warm up to it. It’s got character. Charm. A certain je ne sais quoi.”

“It’s got a mess,” you muttered under your breath, dragging your suitcase inside.

Gojo either didn’t hear you or pretended not to. He was already in the kitchen, yanking open the fridge. The door creaked ominously as he surveyed its contents, completely unfazed by the questionable state of the shelves. From where you stood, you could see a carton of eggs that looked suspiciously close to their expiration date, a pizza box taking up an entire shelf, and…was that a single slice of cake just sitting there, uncovered?

“You hungry?” he asked, grabbing a soda and cracking it open with one hand. “We’ve got, uh…” He leaned in for a closer look. “Eggs. And, uh, mystery leftovers. Oh, wait, there’s pizza.”

“I’m good,” you said quickly, already regretting this decision.

-

You never imagined your life would lead to this—standing in the doorway of Satoru Gojo’s chaotic apartment, wondering if you’d made the worst decision of your life. Just a few weeks ago, things had been fine. Stable, even. You had your own one-bedroom apartment—a tiny but cozy space that you’d worked hard to afford. Sure, it wasn’t perfect. The shower had a slow drip that your landlord swore wasn’t “worth fixing,” and the heating was practically non-existent in the winter, but it was yours.

Then the pipe burst.

You’d come home after a long day to find your kitchen under several inches of water. Your landlord, of course, didn’t pick up your frantic calls until hours later, and when he finally showed up, all he could offer was a half-hearted apology and a shrug. “It’ll take a couple weeks to fix,” he’d said. “Maybe more. I’ll call someone.”

“Where am I supposed to go in the meantime?” you’d demanded, trying to wring water out of your socks without screaming.

He’d just looked at you blankly, as though it wasn’t his problem.

The next few days had been a blur of packing, moving what little you could salvage into storage, and hopping between temporary places to stay. Your best friend let you crash on her couch for a while, but she lived with her boyfriend, and you felt like a third wheel every time you stayed too long. Hotels were an option, but they were expensive, and your savings were already taking a massive hit. Every apartment you found online was either laughably out of your budget or in parts of the city you wouldn’t visit during daylight, let alone live in.

You were running out of options—and patience—when a mutual friend brought up Satoru Gojo.

At first, you thought it was a joke.

“Gojo?” you’d asked, incredulous. “Satoru Gojo? The guy who can’t take anything seriously? The guy who’s practically a walking HR violation?”

Your friend had laughed. “I mean, yeah, that’s one way to describe him. But his old roommate moved out, and he’s got an extra room. Rent’s dirt cheap, too. He could probably use the help.”

You’d bristled at the idea immediately. Satoru Gojo was infamous—not just for his looks, which, fine, you could grudgingly admit were objectively attractive, but for his personality. He was the type of guy who could charm the pants off anyone—literally. A shameless flirt, perpetually smug, and somehow always the center of attention, Gojo wasn’t exactly what you’d call roommate material. The thought of sharing a living space with him sounded more like a punishment than a solution.

But the more you thought about it, the more you realized you didn’t have many other choices.

It wasn’t like Gojo was a bad person—annoying, yes, but not bad. And the friend who suggested him had insisted that, beneath all the arrogance, he was actually pretty decent. “Besides,” they’d added with a grin, “it’s not like you’re gonna fall for him or anything, right? You’ll just be roommates.”

You weren’t so sure. You’d heard the stories—how Gojo had serenaded someone’s girlfriend at karaoke, how he’d once flirted his way out of a parking ticket, how he never seemed to take anything seriously. But your savings were dwindling, your patience was running thin, and no one else was offering you an affordable place to stay.

So, against your better judgment, you’d dialed his number.

“Yo,” he’d answered after the second ring, his voice casual and teasing, as if he’d been expecting you. “Calling to confess your undying love for me? Finally?”

You’d rolled your eyes so hard it almost hurt. “No, Gojo. I need a place to stay. Someone said you’re looking for a roommate.”

“Oh?” His tone had shifted slightly, curiosity laced with amusement. “And here I thought you hated me.”

“I don’t hate you,” you’d replied through gritted teeth. “I just don’t like you. Big difference.”

He’d laughed, loud and unbothered. “Well, lucky for you, I don’t need my roommates to like me. I just need them to pay rent on time and not steal my snacks or. So, what do you think? Wanna shack up with the great Satoru Gojo?”

You’d hesitated, gripping your phone tightly. The logical part of your brain screamed at you to hang up and find another option, but logic didn’t have a flooded apartment and a rapidly draining bank account.

“When can I move in?” you’d asked finally, your voice resigned.

“Tomorrow, if you want,” he’d said, sounding far too pleased with himself. “But, uh, fair warning—my place is a little messy. I wasn’t expecting company.”

“How messy are we talking?”

“…You’ll see.”

-

Now here you were, standing in Satoru Gojo’s living room, suitcase in one hand, a growing sense of regret in the other. The place wasn’t just messy—it was alive with chaos. The kind of chaos that didn’t just happen overnight but had clearly been cultivated over weeks, maybe months.

Gojo sauntered back into the living room, his soda can dangling from his fingers as he leaned against the counter separating the kitchen from the rest of the apartment. He tilted his head at you, a crooked grin tugging at his lips.

“You look tense,” he said, taking a sip of his drink. “What’s wrong? Not a fan of the open floor plan?”

“It’s not the floor plan I’m worried about,” you muttered, eyeing the lone sock under the TV stand. “Do you even own a vacuum?”

“Sure do,” he said, pointing to a closet near the hallway. “It’s, uh…in there somewhere.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Do you ever use it?”

He grinned, shameless. “Why bother? You’re here now. I’m sure you’ll whip this place into shape in no time.”

“Excuse me?”

“Relax, I’m kidding,” he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Mostly. But hey, it’s not so bad, right? It’s got character.”

“Character,” you repeated flatly, glancing around at the cluttered surfaces, the mismatched furniture, the pile of laundry peeking out from behind the couch. “Right.”

Gojo didn’t seem the least bit bothered by your disapproval. In fact, he looked like he was enjoying it. His blue eyes sparkled with amusement as he watched you take in your surroundings, his grin never wavering.

“Come on,” he said, pushing off the counter and gesturing toward the hallway. “I’ll show you your room.”

You followed him reluctantly, dragging your suitcase over the uneven floorboards. The hallway was narrow, lined with a few framed photos that looked like they’d been thrown up haphazardly. One was crooked, and you resisted the urge to straighten it as you passed.

“Oh, heads up—the walls are kinda weird. My old roommate had this thing for, like, anime posters or whatever. I didn’t bother taking them down.”

“Great,” you muttered,

“Here we are,” Gojo said, stopping in front of the last door on the left. He pushed it open with a dramatic flourish, stepping aside to let you in. “Home sweet home.”

You stepped inside and stopped in your tracks.

The room wasn’t bad, exactly—it was bigger than you’d expected, with a decent-sized window and a closet that didn’t look like it was falling apart. But the walls…

Gojo hadn’t been kidding about his old roommate. The walls were plastered with posters—bright, garish, and all of them anime-themed. Characters with oversized eyes and gravity-defying hair stared back at you from every surface, their poses dynamic and exaggerated. One corner featured a particularly dramatic sword-wielding figure, while another was dominated by a group of girls in school uniforms mid-pose.

You blinked. “What…is this?”

Gojo leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, clearly trying not to laugh. “What? You don’t like anime? My old roommate was a big fan.”

“This isn’t a room,” you said, gesturing at the walls. “It’s a shrine.”

“Hey, don’t knock it. You might learn something.”

You turned to glare at him, but he was already laughing, the sound echoing down the hallway.

“If it bothers you that much, you can take them down,” he said between chuckles. “Or leave them up. Maybe they’ll grow on you.”

“I’m taking them down,” you said firmly, setting your suitcase down by the bed.

“Suit yourself,” he said with a shrug, straightening up and heading back toward the living room. “Dinner’s on me tonight, by the way. Consider it a ‘welcome to the madhouse’ gift.”

“Generous of you,” you called after him, already making a mental list of everything you’d need to clean, fix, and replace.

As his footsteps faded, you sat down on the edge of the bed, letting out a long sigh. The apartment was a mess, Gojo was insufferable, and you were pretty sure the next few months were going to test every ounce of patience you had.

But at least it was a roof over your head.

For now, that was enough.

-

You spent the rest of the afternoon settling into your new room. The posters came down immediately, but not without a fight. Whoever had put them up had used enough tape to secure a small building, and by the time you’d peeled off the last one, your fingers were sore, and you were pretty sure you’d taken a chunk of paint with you.

The bed was another ordeal. The mattress wasn’t terrible, but the sheets Gojo had left on it were…questionable. They smelled faintly of old laundry detergent, with an underlying note of cologne. You made a mental note to wash them tomorrow and just threw your own blanket over the top for now.

The rest of the room wasn’t much better. The closet door creaked ominously when you opened it, and the lightbulb in the ceiling fixture flickered every time you turned it on. But it was manageable. Barely.

As evening rolled around, you finally emerged from your room to find Gojo sprawled across the couch, a gaming controller in his hands and the volume on the TV set way too high. Some kind of fast-paced shooting game flashed across the screen, the sound of gunfire and explosions filling the living room.

“Hey,” you said, stepping into the chaos. “What happened to dinner?”

“Huh?” He glanced over his shoulder at you, one hand still expertly working the controller. “Oh, yeah. About that…”

You narrowed your eyes. “Don’t tell me you forgot.”

“Forgot? Never.” He grinned, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “I ordered takeout.”

As if on cue, there was a knock at the door.

“See?” he said, pausing the game and hopping to his feet. “I’m a man of my word.”

You rolled your eyes but followed him to the door, curious about what he’d ordered. When he opened it, a delivery guy handed over two large bags of food, the smell immediately filling the apartment.

“Hope you like ramen,” Gojo said, setting the bags down on the coffee table and plopping back onto the couch.

You eyed the bags suspiciously. “That’s a lot of ramen for two people.”

“Is it?” He pulled out a container and handed it to you with a pair of chopsticks. “What can I say? I like to keep my options open.”

You sat down on the far end of the couch, making a point to keep some distance between you. The ramen, at least, smelled incredible, and you had to admit you were starving.

“So,” he said, between bites, his voice annoyingly casual. “First impressions? How do you like living with me so far?”

You gave him a look, setting your container down on the coffee table. “Do you want the truth, or should I sugarcoat it?”

“Truth,” he said, grinning like he already knew what you were going to say.

You leaned back, crossing your arms. “Your apartment is a disaster. You’re loud, you don’t clean, and I’m pretty sure I’m going to regret this decision within a week.”

Gojo didn’t look remotely offended. In fact, he looked downright entertained. “Wow. rough. Just the way that I like it”

You groaned, picking up your ramen again. “I don’t know how anyone puts up with you.”

“Oh, plenty of people put up with me, if you know what i mean—” he said, winking. “But you’ll see. By the end of the month, you’ll be begging for more of me.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” you muttered, though you couldn’t help but crack a small smile despite yourself.

Dinner turned into a strange, semi-comfortable routine faster than you expected. Gojo, despite being an objectively messy person, was surprisingly good company when he wasn’t actively trying to annoy. The conversation shifted effortlessly between lighthearted topics—like his absurd stories from college—to things you didn’t expect to discuss with someone you’d just moved in with.

“So, why’d you move out of your old place?” he asked suddenly, leaning back on the couch with his half-empty ramen container resting on his stomach.

You hesitated, chopsticks frozen in mid-air. “It’s not like I had much of a choice,” you admitted, poking at your noodles. “My landlord is incompetent, and my kitchen turned into a swimming pool. Not exactly livable conditions.”

Gojo raised an eyebrow. “No kidding. And he didn’t offer to put you up somewhere? Like, isn’t that his job?”

You snorted. “You’d think, right? But no. He told me to ‘figure it out’ and just…disappeared.”

He shook his head, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “asshole.” Then, after a moment, he said, “Well, his loss. Now you’re here, and let’s be honest—you’ve upgraded.”

You gave him a pointed look. “This is what you call an upgrade?”

“Obviously.” He gestured vaguely at the cluttered living room. “I mean, come on—free entertainment, great company, world-class ramen delivery and if you want— someone to keep your bed warm.“ he smiled at you,“What more could you ask for?”

“Clean floors,” you deadpanned.

“Touché.”

He grinned, unfazed, and reached for the TV remote. “Alright, you’ve earned your place on the couch. Let me properly welcome you to Gojo’s world.”

“What are you doing?” you asked warily as he scrolled through a streaming service, the remote clicking in rapid succession.

“Movie night,” he said matter-of-factly, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s tradition. New roommates get to pick the first movie. Consider it a rite of passage.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he cut you off with a dramatic gasp. “Wait—don’t tell me you’re one of those people who’s never seen Star Wars. Or, God forbid, Lord of the Rings.”

“Relax,” you said, rolling your eyes. “I’ve seen them. And I’m not watching them with you.”

“Fine, fine,” he said, mock pouting. “Your call, then. But choose wisely. This moment sets the tone for our entire roommate relationship.”

You sighed, leaning forward to grab the remote. “No pressure or anything.”

Eventually, you settled on a movie—a rom-com you’d seen a hundred times but couldn’t resist—and to your surprise, Gojo didn’t complain. He sprawled out on the couch like he owned the place (which, to be fair, he did), one arm draped lazily over the backrest, the other digging into a bag of chips he’d somehow produced out of nowhere.

“This is cute,” he said about halfway through, his voice dripping with faux sincerity. “Do they fall in love in the end? Kiss in the rain? Ride off into the sunset?”

You shot him a glare. “If you’re going to talk through the whole thing, I’m turning it off.”

He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. No more commentary. Scout’s honor.”

But, of course, he didn’t stay quiet for long.

By the time the credits rolled, he’d managed to make at least three sarcastic remarks about the leading man’s haircut, two unsolicited critiques of the soundtrack, and one entirely unnecessary comment about how he would’ve handled the grand romantic gesture at the end.

“For the record,” he said as he turned off the TV, “I could totally pull off that rain scene. Probably better, actually.”

“You? Running through the rain for someone?” You laughed, shaking your head. “I don’t buy it.”

“Hey,” he said, feigning offense. “I’ll have you know I’m a very romantic guy. People line up for the Gojo Experience™.”

“I don’t doubt that,” you said, grabbing the empty ramen containers to take them to the kitchen. “But romance and whatever it is you do are two very different things.”

“Oh, you wound me,” he called after you, his voice light and teasing.

In the kitchen, you rinsed out the containers and stacked them neatly on the counter, trying not to think too hard about how easy it had been to banter with him. It was strange—living with someone like Gojo, who seemed to thrive on chaos and charm. You’d expected to be annoyed, and you were. But there was something oddly comforting about how effortlessly he filled the space.

When you returned to the living room, he was still lounging on the couch, flipping through his phone. He glanced up as you walked in, a lazy smile spreading across his face.

“Not bad for a first night, huh?” he said.

You shrugged, suppressing a small smile. “I’ve had worse.”

“Don’t worry,” he said, sitting up and tossing his phone onto the coffee table. “I’ll grow on you.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” you shot back, heading toward the hallway.

His laughter followed you all the way to your room.

As you shut the door behind you, you couldn’t help but feel like, for all the chaos and noise, this arrangement might not be as terrible as you’d thought. Maybe.

But oh. How wrong you were.

The morning started off deceptively quiet. When you emerged from your room, the sunlight streaming through the blinds made the living room look almost…peaceful. The kitchen was spotless, the couch was miraculously free of clothes and clutter, and the faint aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air.

For a brief moment, you thought Gojo might’ve actually cleaned up his act overnight.

Then you saw him.

He was leaning against the counter, sipping coffee like a walking ad for morning perfection. His silver-white hair was damp, his loose hoodie hung just right, and his sweatpants rode low enough to remind you he probably didn’t own a single pair of fitted jeans. He looked like someone who just woke up that hot—not a single ounce of effort needed.

“Morning, sunshine,” he said, flashing you a grin that was as disarming as it was infuriating.

You ignored the way his voice sent an unwelcome shiver down your spine. “Do you ever not sound smug?”

“Nope. It’s part of my charm.” He smirked, leaning back against the counter. “Coffee?”

You narrowed your eyes suspiciously. “You made coffee?”

“Of course. What kind of host would I be if I didn’t caffeinate my lovely new roommate?”

“The kind of host who leaves his socks on the coffee table,” you muttered under your breath.

He pretended not to hear that, holding out a mug. “Come on. One sip, and you’ll see I’m full of surprises.”

Reluctantly, you accepted the mug and took a cautious sip. To your utter annoyance, it was good. Like, really good.

“You’re welcome,” he said smugly, reading your expression.

You gave him a pointed look. “Don’t get used to this dynamic. I’m not falling for your weird, ‘charming’ roommate routine.”

“Who said anything about charm?” He tilted his head, a mischievous glint in his eye. “I’m just being myself, baby. If that’s irresistible, it’s not my fault.”

You nearly choked on your coffee. “Did you just call me baby?”

“Hmm?” He feigned confusion, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, sorry. Roomie. Same thing, right?”

“No, it’s really not,” you said flatly, setting your mug down.

„By the way, just a heads-up—I have someone coming over later.”

You frowned. “Someone?”

“Yeah, you know. A friend.” He smirked, the word friend dripping with suggestion.

You set your mug down on the counter. “You couldn’t even wait a day?”

“Hey, don’t judge me,” he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I’ve got needs. And besides, You knew from the start—this is who I am.”

You stared at him, incredulous. “I moved in less than twenty-four hours ago, and you’re already—”

“Relax, it’ll be fine,” he interrupted, brushing past you to grab a bag of chips from the cabinet. “You won’t even know we’re here.”

By the time his “friend” arrived that afternoon, you were safely holed up in your room, pretending to be engrossed in a book. You had already resigned yourself to enduring Gojo’s antics, but as the knock sounded at the door and his voice rang out in greeting, you felt your stomach twist.

Her laughter echoed through the thin walls—a bright, bubbly sound that grated against your already frayed nerves. You couldn’t make out their words, just the ebb and flow of conversation, the occasional rise and fall of her giggles mixing with Gojo’s smooth, low voice.

They moved to the living room, and the indistinct murmur of their voices grew louder. It was maddening—like trying to tune out a conversation happening right outside your door. You couldn’t tell what they were saying, but the rhythm of their tones was unmistakable. The lighthearted teasing, the easy banter—it all set your teeth on edge.

You clenched your book tighter, trying to focus on the words in front of you, but your eyes kept darting to the wall as if you could somehow will the noise to stop. It wasn’t your business, you reminded yourself. You didn’t care what Gojo did with his spare time, or who he brought over. It didn’t matter.

But when their voices softened, becoming more intimate, you felt your chest tighten with dread. The murmurs grew harder to distinguish, and soon, all you could hear was the faint rustle of movement and the occasional low chuckle from Gojo.

And then the real noise began.

At first, it was subtle—the creak of the couch, a muffled laugh that was cut short, followed by a sharper sound, like something hitting the floor. You froze, dread pooling in your stomach.

When the rhythmic creaking started, punctuated by the occasional muted groan, your heart sank.

No. No, no, no.

You pressed your hands over your ears, as if that would somehow make it stop. But the thin walls of the apartment offered no escape. Every sound seemed amplified—the shifting of weight, the faint hum of voices, the occasional laugh that broke the tension.

“Unbelievable,” you muttered, tossing your book onto the bed and pacing the room.

For a moment, you debated knocking on the wall or even storming out there to put an end to it. But the thought of interrupting whatever was happening made your skin crawl. Instead, you grabbed your headphones, shoved them over your ears, and cranked up your music.

But it wasn’t enough. No matter how loud you made the playlist, the creaking and muffled sounds seemed to filter through, like an itch you couldn’t scratch.

When the noise finally stopped, you yanked your headphones off and slumped back onto your bed, letting out a heavy sigh. The room felt unnaturally quiet now, as if the apartment itself was holding its breath.

The front door opened, followed by the woman’s voice, light and cheerful.

“Thanks for today,” she said.

“Anytime,” Gojo replied, his voice dripping with charm. “Drive safe, gorgeous.”

You cringed at the sound of the door clicking shut and the silence that followed. A beat later, you heard Gojo’s footsteps padding toward the kitchen.

Summoning every ounce of patience, you stepped out of your room, determined to at least get a glass of water. You found him leaning lazily against the counter, a smug grin plastered across his face.

“Well, look who’s finally out of hiding,” he said, his tone dripping with mock innocence.

You ignored him, walking to the sink and filling a glass with water.

“Rough day?” he asked, clearly enjoying himself.

You slammed the glass down on the counter and whirled around. “Seriously, Gojo? Can you not keep it down? I could hear everything.”

His grin only widened. “Everything, huh? Guess I should’ve warned you about the acoustics in here.”

You glared at him, crossing your arms. “You’re impossible.”

“Aw, come on,” he said, stepping closer. “Don’t be mad. If it makes you feel better, I’ll keep it quieter next time.”

“Next time?” you snapped.

“What can I say?” He shrugged, his eyes glinting with mischief. “I’m a people person.”

You rolled your eyes and turned to leave, but his voice stopped you.

“Hey, for what it’s worth,” he said, leaning casually against the counter, “you’re more fun to talk to than she was.”

You froze, your face heating. “Don’t even try it.”

“Try what?” he asked, his tone playful. “I’m just saying, if you ever want to hang out, you don’t have to hide in your room.”

You glared at him over your shoulder. “In your dreams, Gojo.”

He chuckled, watching you retreat to your room. “Every night, sweetheart.”

You slammed the door behind you, but not before you heard his soft, self-satisfied laugh echo through the apartment.

A week passed, and life in the apartment settled into a grudging rhythm. You’d managed to avoid another direct confrontation with Gojo, though the memories of that first encounter still made your skin crawl. You convinced yourself you could manage this arrangement if you just kept your distance and stayed in your lane. To his credit—or maybe just your luck—he hadn’t brought anyone else over since that mortifying incident.

The apartment remained mostly quiet, aside from his occasional antics: music playing at odd hours, the clatter of snacks in the kitchen when you were trying to focus, and Gojo humming to himself as he wandered around like he owned the place.

But living with Gojo wasn’t just about tolerating the noise. It was about tolerating him. His overwhelming presence. His insufferable teasing. The way he seemed to enjoy pushing you just far enough to elicit a reaction, like a child poking at a caged animal for fun.

Case in point: the morning you stepped out of your room to grab breakfast, still half-asleep, only to find him lounging on the couch, shirtless, with a bag of chips balanced precariously on his chest.

“You know,” he said without looking up from his phone, “it’s rude to stare.”

You blinked, your brain taking a moment to catch up. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t worry,” he said, flashing you a lazy grin as he finally looked at you. “I get it. I’m irresistible.”

You narrowed your eyes, resisting the urge to smack the smugness off his face. “Or you’re just in my way,” you shot back, walking past him to the kitchen.

He craned his neck, following you with his eyes as you moved. “Feisty this morning. Didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Maybe because I’ve been trying to avoid you,” you muttered, rifling through the cabinets for your coffee mug.

“Aw, you wound me,” he said, clutching his chest dramatically, which sent a few chips tumbling to the floor. “I’ve been nothing but welcoming to you, and this is how you repay me?”

“Welcoming?” You scoffed, finally finding your mug and filling it. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”

He grinned. “Of course. Didn’t you feel welcome when I made breakfast last week? Oh wait, never mind—you hid in your room.”

You ignored him, stirring sugar into your coffee and silently counting to ten. He thrived on attention, and you weren’t about to give him the satisfaction.

“Hey,” he called again, his tone turning almost conversational, like he wasn’t intent on annoying you. “Do you ever, like, not wear sweats?”

You glanced down at your oversized hoodie and joggers, then shot him a pointed glare. “Do you ever, like, mind your own business?”

“Ouch,” he said with a mock wince. “Just saying, you’ve got potential. Might even clean up nice if you tried. You‘ve got an big ass.“

You rolled your eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t get stuck. “Good thing your opinion means nothing to me.”

His laughter filled the space as you grabbed your coffee and headed toward your room, your patience wearing thin.

“Oh, come on,” he called after you, his voice taking on a teasing lilt. “You’re not even going to hang out? What kind of roommate are you?”

“The kind who values her sanity,” you shot back without missing a beat.

His laughter followed you as you reached your door, hand on the knob, ready to escape his relentless teasing. But as you glanced at the clock on the wall, a realization hit you. Your eyes widened slightly.

You turned on your heel abruptly, nearly colliding with Gojo, who had apparently taken the opportunity to stand and stretch—still shirtless, of course. His smug grin faltered for a second as you stopped dead in your tracks.

“I’ll be late today,” you said quickly, sidestepping him to set your coffee down on the counter.

Gojo tilted his head, his grin returning with full force as curiosity flickered across his face. “Late? You? Didn’t think you had a social calendar.”

You rolled your eyes, opening the fridge and pretending to look for something. “People can have plans, Gojo. Even me.”

“Plans?” He leaned against the counter, his tone dripping with mock surprise. “Wait a second. Are you… going somewhere exciting?”

“I don’t owe you an explanation,” you replied, focusing intently on the fridge shelves as if the milk carton was suddenly the most fascinating thing you’d ever seen.

His eyes narrowed slightly, amusement dancing in them. “You’re being cagey. That means it’s something good.”

You grabbed the milk with more force than necessary and shut the fridge door with a pointed look. “Or maybe I just don’t want to deal with your incessant need to pry into my business.”

“Touché.” He chuckled, watching as you began pouring milk into your coffee. His voice softened slightly, the teasing edge giving way to something more casual. “But seriously, where are you going? Work? Errands? Hot date?”

Your hand faltered for the briefest second. It was the tiniest movement—so small you hoped he didn’t notice. But the sharp glint in his eyes told you he absolutely had.

“Just out,” you said, keeping your tone neutral. “Don’t wait up.”

Gojo raised an eyebrow, straightening from his lean. “Out, huh?” He crossed his arms over his chest, the picture of exaggerated skepticism. “You’re not denying it’s a date.”

“I’m not confirming it either,” you shot back, grabbing your coffee and brushing past him toward your room.

“But you didn’t deny it!” he called after you, his voice full of glee. “Come on, who’s the lucky guy? Is he tall? Handsome? Rich? More charming than me?”

“Literally anyone is more charming than you, Gojo,” you replied dryly, not even turning around.

His laughter followed you down the hall, loud and unbothered. “Oh, you’re killing me, sweetheart! At least tell me if I should warn him about your sweats obsession!”

You slammed your door shut before he could say anything else, but his laughter still echoed faintly through the walls.

Inside, you set your coffee on your desk and let out a long sigh. Gojo was insufferable. But even as you tried to focus on getting ready, his teasing words stuck with you.

It wasn’t his business, you reminded yourself. He didn’t need to know about your date—or the nerves twisting in your stomach at the thought of it.

Still, as you changed out of your usual oversized hoodie and joggers, you couldn’t help but wonder how Gojo would react if he saw you now.

And for reasons you couldn’t quite understand, you hated that the thought even crossed your mind.

The minutes ticked by as you debated between two outfits: a casual but flattering dress or a sleek, semi-formal ensemble that screamed confidence. You settled on the dress, deciding it struck the perfect balance—nothing too over-the-top, but enough to make an impression.

You checked your reflection in the mirror, smoothing down the fabric nervously. Your hair was styled neatly, and you’d even put on a bit of makeup—not something you usually did unless the occasion called for it. This definitely qualified.

Gojo didn’t need to know the details of your plans. Still, his voice echoed in your head, taunting and teasing. Hot date, huh? You clenched your teeth and took a steadying breath, determined not to let him get to you.

Stepping out of your room, you found Gojo still sprawled on the couch, now munching on what appeared to be a chocolate bar. His phone was perched on his knee, and he scrolled through it lazily, not even glancing up when you walked past him.

For a second, you thought you might actually escape without another comment. But then his head snapped up, his sharp blue eyes locking onto you like a predator catching sight of prey.

“Whoa,” he said, sitting up straight and letting his phone drop onto the cushion. “What is this?”

You froze mid-step, your heart sinking. “What’s what?”

“This,” he said, gesturing broadly at you. “You. Looking like that.”

You crossed your arms, trying to appear unfazed. “It’s called getting dressed. Some of us do it properly.”

He smirked, standing up and sauntering closer, his eyes raking over your outfit—not in a leering way, but with an exaggerated flourish that made you bristle. “Are we sure this isn’t a completely different person? Because you clean up way better than I expected, Roomie.”

“Gojo,” you warned, your voice clipped.

“Relax.” He grinned, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “I’m just saying you look… nice. Stunning, even. Makes me feel all tingly. The kind of nice that makes me wonder who you’re trying to impress.”

You stepped past him, heading for the door. “It’s none of your business.”

“Oh, it is my business,” he said, following you like an oversized shadow. “If you’re going on a date, I have a responsibility as your roommate to make sure this guy’s good enough for you. Do I need to give him the talk?”

You snorted, pulling on your shoes. “The talk? What are you, my dad?”

“Worse,” he said smugly, leaning casually against the wall near the door. “I’m your roommate. I see all the little things he doesn’t. Like the fact that you leave your underwear all over your room—”

You glared at him, your cheeks flushing,“Wh— were you in my room, you pervert?!“

He smirked, but you quickly turned around and grabbed your bag, not letting him ruin your mood. “Don’t wait up.”

“Oh, I won’t,” he said, his grin turning sly.

“Wait—,” he started, his tone light but laced with something almost mischievous, “if you are going on a date, you know the rules, right?”

You rolled your eyes, ignoring him. “There are no rules because it’s none of your business.”

“Wrong,” he said, pushing off the wall and stepping closer, his grin widening. “Rule number one: if the guy so much as breathes wrong, I’m allowed to deck him.”

“Gojo—”

“Rule number two,” he continued, holding up two fingers as if this were a serious negotiation, “if he breaks your heart, I’m always here to fix it.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “Fix it? What, with chips and bad jokes?”

His grin turned downright devilish, and he leaned slightly closer, his voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “Not exactly what I meant, sweetheart. But if you know what I mean… well, I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

Your face burned instantly, and you glared at him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a flustered reaction. “You’re disgusting.”

“Hey, I’m just offering my services,” he said, backing up with a mock-innocent shrug. “I’m a giver like that.”

You threw your bag over your shoulder and turned toward the door. “Thanks, but I’ll take my chances with the real world.”

His laughter followed you, low and teasing, as you pulled the door open.

“Don’t come crying to me when the real world disappoints you!” he called after you. “But seriously—don’t let him screw this up. He’s lucky to have your attention, even if it’s temporary.”

For a moment, you faltered, caught off guard by the unexpected sincerity buried in his words. You glanced back at him, but the cocky grin was already back in place.

“Goodnight, Gojo,” you said, stepping out and shutting the door behind you.

As you walked away, his last comment replayed in your mind, a mix of genuine care and infuriating arrogance. You hated how easily he got under your skin. And worse, you hated that part of you couldn’t quite stop thinking about it.

-

The date had started out decently enough. He’d been polite when he picked the restaurant, complimented your outfit, and pulled your chair out for you when you arrived. For a brief moment, you thought this might actually turn out okay. Maybe, just maybe, you’d get through the evening without regretting every decision that led you there.

But it wasn’t long before the cracks began to show.

He started checking his phone a few minutes into the conversation. At first, it was subtle—a quick glance here, a soft buzz there. You told yourself it was probably work, something urgent that couldn’t wait. But as the evening progressed, it became increasingly obvious that it wasn’t. His chuckles at the screen, the way he tilted it away from your line of sight—it all screamed disinterest.

Still, you gave him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he was nervous. Maybe he didn’t realize how much it bothered you.

But then came the comments.

“You don’t seem like the type to like action movies,” he said, after you mentioned your favorite film. His tone wasn’t curious or surprised—it was dismissive, like he already had you pegged as someone who wouldn’t understand explosions and car chases.

“Wow,” you said, forcing a polite smile. “What type do I seem like?”

He shrugged, smirking as he leaned back in his chair. “I don’t know. Rom-coms? Something light and fluffy.”

You bit back the urge to roll your eyes. “Right. Because girls only like light and fluffy things.”

He laughed, completely missing the edge in your voice. “Hey, I didn’t say that. But, you know, it’s not a bad thing. It’s cute.”

By the time dessert arrived, you’d had enough. His phone buzzed again, and this time, you didn’t bother hiding your irritation.

“Do you need to get that?” you asked, your tone sharper than intended.

He glanced up, finally noticing your expression, and smiled sheepishly. “Nah, it’s nothing. Just some friends in a group chat. You know how it is.”

“Right,” you said flatly, setting your fork down. “Well, don’t let me keep you from your important group chat.”

For a moment, he looked genuinely confused, like he couldn’t figure out what had gone wrong. But then his confidence kicked in, and he leaned forward with a smug grin.

“Come on,” he said, his tone dripping with self-assurance. “You have to admit, I’m a pretty great catch. You’re lucky I’m even single.”

You blinked, stunned by the sheer audacity of his words. “Lucky?”

“Yeah,” he said, laughing like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I mean, how often do you meet someone like me? Smart, successful, good-looking—”

You stood up, cutting him off mid-sentence. “Thanks for dinner,” you said, grabbing your bag. “But I think we’re done here.”

“What?” He gaped at you, his grin finally faltering. “Wait, you’re serious?”

“Completely,” you said, throwing some cash onto the table for your share of the bill. “Good luck with… whatever this is.”

You didn’t wait for a response. You turned on your heel and walked out, leaving him sitting there, stunned and silent.

By the time you got back to the apartment, your irritation had morphed into something else—a mix of regret, exhaustion, and the dull buzz of the wine you’d downed at dinner. You’d stopped at a bar on the way home, hoping to wash the memory of the date away, but all it had done was make your head spin.

You fumbled with your keys at the door, muttering under your breath about arrogant men and wasted evenings. When you finally managed to unlock it, you stumbled inside, kicking off your heels with a groan.

The living room was dimly lit, the soft glow of the TV illuminating Gojo, who was sprawled on the couch in his usual carefree manner. A bowl of popcorn sat in his lap, and he turned his head at the sound of the door opening.

“Well, well,” he said, sitting up slightly and smirking at your disheveled state. “Look who’s back. And drunk, no less.”

You glared at him, wobbling slightly as you made your way to the kitchen. “Not now, Gojo.”

“Oh, I think now is exactly the time,” he said, following you with a smirk. “Let me guess—date didn’t go so well?”

You grabbed a glass from the cabinet, filling it with water and drinking deeply before slamming it onto the counter. “You could say that.”

He leaned against the doorframe, watching you with that infuriating grin of his. “What happened? Did he turn out to be a secret serial killer? Or worse—a guy who calls movies ‘content’?”

You snorted despite yourself, grabbing another glass of water. “Worse. He thought he was God’s gift to women.”

Gojo let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “Ouch. Tough break, sweetheart.”

“I don’t need your pity,” you muttered, brushing past him toward your room.

He caught your arm gently, stopping you in your tracks. “Hey,” he said, his voice softer now, his usual teasing tone replaced with something almost genuine. “I’m not pitying you. Just saying you deserve better.”

You looked up at him, your vision slightly blurry, whether from the alcohol or the sincerity in his words.

“I know I do,” you said quietly. “But it’s not like guys like that are exactly rare.”

He frowned, his grip on your arm tightening ever so slightly. “Then maybe stop wasting your time on losers who don’t know what they’ve got.”

You snorted, pulling your arm free, as you entered your room. “Oh, right, because the perfect guy is just going to fall into my lap?”

Gojo grinned at your sarcastic remark, that infuriating spark of mischief lighting up his eyes. Before you could process what was happening, he moved quickly, closing the distance between you in a couple of long strides.

“Gojo, what the—”

Without warning, he gave you a gentle push, and your knees buckled, sending you backward onto your bed. You landed with a soft bounce, your protest cut short as he followed, dropping down beside you in one smooth motion.

But instead of stopping there, he shifted lower, placing his head directly in your lap. His face nestled against your thighs, his hair brushing against the soft fabric of your dress.

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart pounding in your chest. “Gojo!”

He tilted his head to look up at you, his grin widening as though this were the most natural thing in the world. “What? You said you were waiting for the perfect guy to fall into your lap. Here I am.”

You stared at him, half in disbelief and half in a panic at the heat creeping up your neck. “Get off me!”

He didn’t budge. Instead, he made himself more comfortable, his arms casually draping across your waist like he belonged there. “Why? Your thighs are pretty nice. You’re comfortable, and I’m saving you from wasting time on all those losers out there.”

Your hands hovered uselessly in the air, unsure whether to shove him off or cover your face to hide the blush spreading across your cheeks. “You’re insane,” you finally managed, trying to ignore the way his breath tickled your skin.

“And you’re cute when you’re mad,” he murmured, his voice dipping into something softer, almost teasing, as his head shifted slightly against your lap.

Before you could snap back, he turned further into your thighs, the movement deliberate, nuzzling deeper as though testing just how far he could push you. Your breath hitched, caught between outrage and something you didn’t want to name.

It wasn’t until you felt the warmth of his breath, hot and steady, against the thin barrier of your panties that you froze completely. The realization hit like a jolt—your dress had ridden up when he pushed you onto the bed, leaving the bare skin of your thighs pressed against his face.

“Gojo,” you said, your voice coming out sharper than intended.

He didn’t immediately move, his lips quirking in a way that told you he knew exactly what he was doing. There was an unmistakable smugness in the way he exhaled, a low hum vibrating against your skin.

“You smell nice,” he remarked lazily, his words sending a shockwave of mortification through you.

Heat flooded your face “You’re disgusting!”

He raised his hands in mock surrender. “What? I’m just being honest. You should be flattered.”

Before you could fire back, he leaned in again, catching you completely off guard. His tongue dragged a slow, deliberate line up the fabric of your panties, the warmth and pressure sending an involuntary shiver down your spine.

Your breath hitched as your hand shot out, fingers tangling in his hair. You yanked, forcing him to pull back slightly. “Gojo—what are you doing?” you muttered, voice barely above a whisper, your cheeks burning hot enough to rival the sun.

His eyes locked onto yours, half-lidded and teasing, as his hands rested firmly on either side of your thighs. “Satoru,” he corrected, his voice low and smooth. “Call me Satoru.”

You couldn’t tell if it was his tone or the way he said it, but something about the moment sent your thoughts scattering. His gaze, piercing and unrelenting, didn’t waver as you tried to form a coherent response.

“Satoru,” you repeated, the name slipping out more out of shock than agreement.

He hummed in approval, the sound vibrating through him and straight into you. “See? That wasn’t so hard.” His grin softened, still playful but laced with something heavier, something you couldn’t quite place. The weight of his gaze was nearly unbearable.

“What are you doing—?” you asked again, your voice catching in your throat. Your eyes stayed locked on his, searching for any hint that he was joking, that this was just another one of his games.

Instead, his expression softened further, the teasing edge of his smirk shifting into something far more deliberate. “Remember what I said before you went out?”

You frowned, confused and thrown off balance, but before you could respond, he reached up. His hand closed over yours where it was still tangled in his hair, his touch uncharacteristically gentle as he pried your fingers free. You let him guide your hand down, watching in stunned silence as he brought it to his lips.

The kiss he pressed to your knuckles was warm, lingering, and shockingly intimate. The sensation sent a jolt through you, your breath hitching as his lips brushed against your skin.

“‘If he breaks your heart, I’m always here to fix it,’” he murmured, his tone lower now, almost a whisper, like the words were meant for you alone.

His eyes stayed on yours, and for once, they weren’t filled with amusement or mockery. There was something raw there, something that made your stomach twist painfully, though whether it was from unease or… something else, you couldn’t say.

You couldn’t find the words to respond, your voice caught in your throat. Your heart hammered in your chest, and your head felt too foggy, too clouded with alcohol and the heat of his touch.

“So…” he said after a moment, his thumb brushing lightly over the back of your hand, tracing absent patterns into your skin. “What do you say? Will you let me fix your heartbreak?”

His smile returned, slow and deliberate, but it wasn’t as infuriating as before. This one was softer, almost tender, though it still carried that maddening confidence that was so inherently him.

The room seemed to shrink around you, the air growing heavier with every passing second. You felt his free hand move, his palm sliding to rest against your thigh. His touch was steady, the warmth of it searing through your skin.

You knew you should say something—anything—but the words wouldn’t come. Your mind was spinning, and it felt like all the blood in your body had rushed to your face. Every instinct screamed at you to pull away, to break whatever spell he was weaving.

And yet, before you even realized what you were doing, you nodded. It was subtle, hesitant, but unmistakable.

His smile widened, a glimmer of triumph flashing in his eyes. “Good answer,” he said softly, his hand squeezing your thigh just enough to make your pulse quicken.

You swallowed hard, your breathing uneven as he leaned in closer, his face still pressed near your lap, his thumb still tracing lazy circles into your skin. Your thoughts felt muddled, trapped somewhere between disbelief and the hazy warmth spreading through your body.

Somewhere deep down, a small part of you screamed to stop this, to regain control of the situation. But in that moment, with the alcohol clouding your judgment and his touch grounding you in ways you couldn’t explain, you didn’t move.

You barely had time to register what was happening before his hands found your shoulders, gently pushing your upper body back against the mattress. The soft give of the bed beneath you made it impossible to resist as he shifted your position, leaving you staring up at the ceiling.

His movements were deliberate, slow enough to let you protest if you wanted to. But you didn’t. You felt the brush of his hands against your thighs, warm and confident as he worked your dress higher, inch by inch, until it bunched at your waist. The cool air hitting your skin made you shiver, and you became acutely aware of just how exposed you were.

Your damp panties were now on full display, the fabric clinging to you in a way that made heat bloom across your face. A small voice in your head begged you to snap out of it, to push him away and demand he stop. But the alcohol’s haze dulled that voice into a faint whisper.

The you from a week ago would be screaming at you right now. She’d call you an idiot for letting this happen, for giving him this satisfaction. You knew Gojo—he’d never let you live this down. Tomorrow, he’d smirk and tease, and you’d be left trying to figure out why you hadn’t stopped him.

But none of that mattered right now. You were too drunk, too tired, too overwhelmed to care.

Just this once, you thought. You’d let him have this one, even if you knew it was a terrible idea.

His fingers slid over the damp fabric of your panties, his touch cold enough to make you shiver but firm enough to send a spark of something foreign racing through you. He pressed his palm against the growing wet patch, massaging gently, as if testing your reaction.

“So wet,” he murmured, his voice low and almost reverent. His thumb brushed over the edge of the fabric, dangerously close to your bare skin.

Your breath hitched, and you bit down on your lip to keep from making a sound. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, your gaze glued to the ceiling as his words hung in the air, taunting you with their boldness.

You should have stopped him. You knew you should have. But instead, your body betrayed you, your hips shifting just slightly into his touch. It was all the encouragement he needed.

a/n: get cockblocked loser ◝(ᵔᗜᵔ)◜

© fvsm4x : do not translate, plagiarise or steal my work.

[jinxvex]

heyy! if u take requests i was wondering if you would make an enemy sevika x reader, where they treat each other like shit until sevika has enough and fucks the shit out of reader 💪😊

♱ enemy. (enemy!sevika x reader) ♱

enemies to lovers is lowkey my fave trope so, let’s go!!

also sorry i haven’t posted! finals week… 🫠😓

cw: nsfw, kink city LOL!! sevika is v rough + punishes reader, possessiveness, BDSM elements, BREEDING KINK (oops), name-calling (slut, whore, bitch, etc), degradation/praise, cursing, arguing, a tiny bit angsty, spanking, she slaps your cunt once, choking, hair-pulling, doggy position, she eats you out!! it's sweet towards the end dw!

there's def more but OOP-

wc: 4.2K! (oops)

sevika hates you.

1. she hates the way your hips sway when you walk.

she’s definitely ALWAYS looking at your ass.

2. she hates how you talk and how you giggle under your breath when you laugh at something you shouldn’t. your voice sounds like music, like wind chimes in the spring that cause her vision to blur.

3. she hates the way your skin glows in the sunlight—as rare as it is in the gloomy grey atmosphere of zaun.

4. she hates how you dress and style your hair. you stand out. you personally customize your clothing, adding your own detailing on platform boots, jeans, jewelry, belts, accessories, tops, and jackets. your uniqueness annoys her beyond belief.

“what a fuckin’ show-off! this isn’t a fashion show,” she mutters under her breath to get a rise out of you.

5. she hates the way you talk back to her, even when she starts an argument first.

“well maybe you could learn something, you wear the same shit like… every day,” you respond briskly, already sick of her berating you as you’ve just walked through the doors of silco’s office.

she’s older than you, you should show some respect! you act so high and mighty like nobody can crack that tough persona you put on to protect yourself from the dark and dangerous streets of zaun.

she scoffs. her thumb and index finger pinching the bridge of her nose to alleviate the stress you’ve subjected her to. she cannot believe this.

“see? this… child is so incompetent! fuckin’ impossible to work with! she’s probably late to this meeting because she’s too busy playing dress up to actually do her job.” she directs towards you although not looking at you, opting to look at the tall chair covering silco’s body as she sits in the chair across from his.

silco sighs, clearly annoyed at both of your antics. he swivels around in his chair to face you both.

“actually, she was doing something i assigned her to. last minute, but she always gets the job done.”

sevika’s eyes flicker to you, and you smirk at her assumption that you were accidentally late.

she scoffs again and drags her grey-ish eyes back to silco as she leans to the left, almost trying to get away from you standing at her right with your arms crossed.

“you see… you two are my best. i cannot afford to have you both acting like children when doing business. it could threaten everything i’ve—we’ve built. one wrong move could tarnish this.”

you and sevika stay quiet as you avoid eye contact with each other, you taking a newfound interest in the bookshelf as sevika’s eyes burn holes into the ground. you knew deep down that silco was right.

“it's time you’ve both gotten along, for all of our sakes. don’t disappoint me again.”

…

you haven’t seen sevika since silco’s ‘lecture’ he gave you two a couple of days ago.

it's evening in zaun, streets and bars filling with people as the night threatens to begin.

you sat on the couch in the living room of your tiny yet, surprisingly homey apartment. your legs resting on the coffee table and you busy munching on cheap snacks, reflecting on the conversation that took place not too long ago. you were livid.

i mean, what else more did he want from you!

sevika was impossible. you tried to get along with her in the beginning but no matter what, she hated you!

she constantly finds new ways to poke fun at you, belittle you, and insult your intelligence. she obviously thinks you aren’t worthy of being a part of silco’s inner circle and that offends you.

and yes, she’s incredibly hot, but all of that was overshadowed the moment she decided you were a piece of gum on her boot!

you sigh incredulously, “damn… i need a drink.”

…

a few minutes later, you’re walking into the last drop and making a beeline for the bar.

as you sit down, your hands graze the edges of the countertop and you close your eyes briefly to let out a breath you’ve held in your throat for…

who knows how long?

that garners the attention of thieram, the kind bartender whom you’d had polite conversation with in the past. you’d taken quite a liking to his kind personality in the past.

“what would you like tonight, miss?” he smiles at you.

as you rummage through your mind for something to order, there isn’t much.

you aren’t a big drinker so it was hard to decipher what was good and what wasn’t because you simply don’t know.

“she’ll have the whiskey, best you've got.” you hear a gruff voice come from behind you. you hear the person’s rough steps come to a stop beside you and they sit.

“ugh.” you scoff out loud and roll your eyes dramatically as you avoid looking in her direction to your right.

sevika.

“coming right up…” thieram, not even wanting to know, swiftly walks off to make your drink.

“what do you want?!” you huff out in annoyance as you finally bring your head up to make eye contact with her.

“nothin’… just enjoying you strugglin’ to order. jus’ was painful to watch, doll.”

your eyebrows raise as your mouth opens and closes, you not exactly knowing how to respond. especially to "doll".

although her tone indicates that she was merely joking, you retaliate against her anyway for the way she’s treated you in the past.

“i- you know what?! if you’ve just come to gloat and make me feel like an idiot just go right ahead and fuck off!” you state. causing a vein to pop out of your forehead and your left eye to twitch in pure anger.

“i’m not in the mood for your shit” you restate your previous point.

“y’know? you’re such a pain in my ass. always bitching and complaining about everything, always in the way, you’re unbelievable.”

you pause your movements, surprised at the lengths she’s going to make you feel terrible.

“i think you look weak.” she finishes, smirking as your eyes threaten to spill with tears out of rage.

“you’re such. a. fucking. bitch.” you emphasize the b in the word bitch as you leap off your chair and stomp out of the bar, trudging back to the comfort of your own home.

thieram walks back over to the side of the bar you were just at and his face scrunches in confusion.

“uh… where’d she go?” he questions as he raises his hands, one hand occupied with your drink.

sevika is still sitting with her mech hand pressing into a tight fist on the counter and her human hand tightly squeezing the bridge of her nose.

she makes up her mind as she stands up and makes her way to your apartment, already having memorized where you lay your head at night.

tonight, you’ll learn respect. obedience.

…

you’ve just made it back to your apartment and you’re slamming the door shut. as you pace back and forth from your kitchen to your living room you’re met with complete and utter silence that taunts you.

“how do i let her get to me? every. single. time.” you’re thinking, mentally cursing yourself for being so stupid. for letting her see you upset.

you hear a loud knock at the door and you pause all moments, as you make your way to answer it, your thoughts race with ideas of who may be at your doorstep at this time of night.

you open the door and you’re met with none other than the sight of sevika. both of her hands clench into fists at her sides as she gazes at you darkly.

it’s almost eerie, her silence. you sense something in her demeanor that is different than usual. it feels… scary.

you both say nothing as she pushes her way into your home, back turned to you as she stops in her tracks.

“wha- what the fuck? g-get out!” you scream out.

her head cocks over her shoulder, one eye looking back at you in a silent warning.

you slowly back up against the door as she turns her full body around to corner you against it. her stare pierces deep into your soul, you feel as though a knife has been jabbed into your gut.

sevika is a scary woman. you know you stand no chance against her strength. that frightens you slightly but you hold your head up high and maintain eye contact with her to stand your ground.

her hands are placed on either side of your head, pressing into the rough, wooden texture of the door. you hear the wood creaking when she leans in, nose brushing against yours. the silence is deafening.

"hmm..." she cocks her head to the right, still looking deep into your irises.

"sevika, l-let me go. what are you doing?!" you try to reason with her but she is unwavering as she takes her mech hand and trails it dangerously slowly up your body from your thigh to your bare stomach, then your arms.

it lands on your neck and wraps around it loosely as a scare tactic. it works as your eyes widen and your shaky hands come up to move the machine off you.

your legs start to weaken and your eyebrows furrow as your underwear pools with your desire.

"so fuckin' pathetic, you are..." she growls, tightening around your neck, not too tight. but tight enough to where your breath hitches in your throat and you're slightly gasping for air.

"y'know, was gonna try and get along with you tonight, doll."

the pet name makes the wetness in your panties become unbearable.

she continues, "ordered you a drink, cracked a joke 'n everything..."

"but, you're a brat to your core, aren't you? should make you apologize..."

an idea pops into your head, another way to disrespect her. you ponder in your head about how you shouldn't. against your better judgment, you say it anyway.

"make me, then,” your eyes flicker down to her lips.

her cocky expression falters slightly—her eyes threatening to look down at yours as well. and if looks could kill, you would die instantly.

"show me your fuckin' bedroom. now."

you're then peeling yourself off of the door. she takes her hand off your neck and backs up to let you pass. you drag your feet, walking slowly to irritate her further. she doesn't like that one bit.

you feel a hand brush the back of your head and she's harshly pulling you up against her chest by your hair. you feel her warm breath tickling your ear, getting ready to humiliate you even more.

"f-fuck! ow!" you yelp out in pain.

"nuh-uh. hurry the fuck up. move." she whispers into your ear.

sevika lets you go, roughly pushing your head forward to emphasize her point. you decide not to push her as you speed up.

as you enter your room, you let out a shaky breath, scared yet excited about the events about to take place. you're not facing her when you hear your bedroom door slam shut. you stop dead in your tracks.

"what-uhm, what's gonna happen?" you question.

you gasp out in surprise as she spins you around to face her and pushes you onto the bed. your ass rests on the edge of it and you're sitting up straight. sevika towers over you, way taller than usual. she looks like she could devour you as she's undressing you with her eyes.

"gonna hurt you, sweetheart. gonna punish you for being such a mean little brat." she smushes your cheeks together with one hand, causing your saliva to pool from your mouth and wet your lips.

"should've done this ages ago... maybe you'd be better behaved by now."

"p-please. i-'m sorry."

it kills you inside, that you secretly love this. you secretly love the idea of her touching you. punishing you, hurting you until you’re utterly ruined.

you’ve dreamt about this moment in light of all the arguments, yelling, and fighting.

in one swift movement, she stands you back up and takes your place on the bed looking up at you hungrily.

“bend over my knee,” she demands.

you feign disgust, and fear, “wh-what?! n-no i-”

“lay the fuck down, and bend over my knee before i spank your ass raw.”

you obey. she scoots back further on your bed so you can maneuver your way to lay your stomach across her thighs. your upper body and legs rest on the bed as your ass is slightly positioned in the air.

you can’t see her face, but you know sevika’s smirking as she’s finally got you where she wants you.

she coos at you, tugging slightly at the loose shorts you threw on after you got home from the bar, “look at you in these little fuckin’ shorts, so slutty.”

she slides her hand up your outer thigh, moving closer to your ass.

all of a sudden, she pauses her movements.

she leans down, her mouth next to your ear, “we can stop at any time. jus’ let me know, doll.”

your heart clenches at her words, feeling the intense emotion behind them and now knowing deep down that she doesn’t want to actually hurt you.

it turns you on even more.

“want it vika, p-please.”

she lets out a sound that’s of a groan and a growl, “fuck yeah, baby. gonna punish you—gonna make it hurt,”

“gonna take it? gonna be a good girl for me?”

“ye-yes! yes!”

sevika hooks the fingers of her human and mechanical hand under the waist of your shorts and roughly tugs them to the floor.

“fuck… no panties too? my god,” she admires you.

you say nothing as her hand finds its way back to moving up your thigh and finally grips your ass, kneading the plush flesh.

“gonna actually do anything or?…” you get cocky, too impatient to feel her hands on you.

a loud ‘SMACK!’ sounds throughout the ambient space of your bedroom, the pain searing into the skin of your right asscheek, making you scream out into the bedspread.

“fuckin’ brat, like i said.”

you’re met with another ‘SMACK!’ in the same spot. you scream out again except this time, it sounds a hell of a lot more like a moan.

“can’t believe you’re gettin’ off to this. bein' my little painslut…”

she hits you again, “you like when i hurt you? don’t you, baby?”

“yes!” you’re repeating, face still smushed into the blankets.

“what was that?” she presses further as she tangles her hand into your hair and yanks it upwards.

“f-fuck! yes, yes!”

she spanks you again and again, alternating between each cheek until you’re sobbing.

although she hadn’t spanked you more than 15 times, you felt as though it was 10 times that much.

she’s soon rubbing a soothing hand over the expanse of your ass, attempting to calm the ache in your ass while neglecting the one in your cunt.

“my girl. did so good for me, baby. so, so good.”

she sits you up and props you up next to her. you wince as your ass meets the surface of your bed.

“we’re not done. gonna make this pussy feel so good, i’ve been neglecting her haven’t i?”

“mhm…touch me please.” you’re out of it, eyes lazily gazing into hers.

“suppose i should reward you?”

her hands caress the sides of your neck and she captures your lips in a gentle and passionate kiss.

as her lips meet yours, the world is silent, all you can think of is sevika.

the kiss soon turns sloppier, needier. your tongues clash against one another causing saliva to drip down both of your chins.

it’s disgusting really, the definition of swapping spit.

neither of you seems to care though. you both moan through the kisses, gripping at each other.

she breaks the kiss to tear your shirt off your body.

“such pretty tits… so beautiful.”

you lean in and peck her lips, “want you bad, vika. please just fuck me already,” you beg.

“you’re beggin’ me?”

“yeah,” you respond.

“fuckin’ beggin’ me, huh?”

“fuck yeah, baby,” you respond another time, your bedroom eyes never leaving hers.

this back-and-forth dirty talk makes the both of you so wet, that the need between you increases with each exchange.

“you don’t even realize how much of a whore you sound like when you say that shit, baby."

oh, you know.

“i love it,” she doubles back.

“gonna eat you first, get you ready for my cock.”

you pause.

‘she didn’t… did she?!’ you exclaim in your head, incredibly surprised she brought an entire strap-on to your house.

“mm… back the fuck up, lean up against the headboard.”

you do as she says, spreading your legs for her in the process.

“good fuckin’ girl.”

she kisses down your neck, stomach, and thighs—her mouth now dangerously close to your naked cunt.

“perfect pussy… so pretty and wet.” she blows cold air on it, admiring the way you clench as she does so.

she laughs out loud, “you’re clenching around nothing, baby… you need this dick in you.”

you don’t even notice you’re looking up at the ceiling, you then look down at her between your thighs—you notice her pants are pulled off. her mech hand is gripping her black plastic cock through her boy shorts.

it’s huge. you’re not sure if it can even fit inside you and that makes you crave it more.

you moan at the sight, “mhm! yes! need it in my pussy. wanna cum on it.” you manage out. your brain is mush!

“soon,” she promises.

she suddenly delves into your pussy, tongue experimentally licking around your folds, then your hole, and your clit.

you’re on cloud 9. your cunt twitches with need because you can feel every detail of her mouth dragging along your heat.

your moans are uncontrollable as she’s practically making out with your cunt, her spit drips onto your clean bed as she’s sloppily eating your pussy out.

she’s nasty with it, spitting on it, getting it dripping wet for you to take her.

“fuck! please!! gonna cum!” you yell out.

all of a sudden, you’re met with cold air. and your cunt is met with a thought to be forgotten ‘SMACK!’

you yelp out in pain and pleasure, the mix too overwhelming for your poor pussy to handle.

“you cum when i fuckin’ tell you to. ask me if you can come next time.”

“‘m sorry vika! promise i won't do it a-again.”

“yeah, yeah. turn around.”

you whine at the loss of her mouth on you; it just feels so good. but you listen anyway.

you’re in doggy facing the headband with your back slightly arched as you look back at her behind you.

she lifts her shirt over her head; she has nothing on underneath, giving you a full view of her sculpted abs. you graze them with your fingertips, amazed at how beautiful she is.

“beautiful, gorgeous…” you state to her and your eyes meet hers once again, showing her you mean what you’re saying.

she huffs out in…shyness? she looks down at the bedspread below you two and she tugs down her boy shorts, throwing them next to all of the other clothes that are splayed out on the floor.

“gonna put it inside, alright? gonna make you feel it.”

you look forward and your eyes trace the design of your headboard, anticipating her cock pushing inside of you, anticipating the delicious pain.

she eventually does push the toy inside of you, bottoming out quickly.

she gives you a moment to adjust. you both are breathing heavily and your nimble fingers grip at the sheets, mouth forming into the shape of an o because she’s so fucking deep.

one of her hands comes up to force your face into the pillows. she starts to move her hips slowly.

“fuuuuck, doll. arch that back,” she can feel the slow grind of your hips on her clit as you press back into her and arch slightly.

it’s not enough for her. she presses her other hand into the small of your back to truly get it so she’s as deep as she possibly can go in this position.

“oh my f-fucking god!” you’re moaning into the pillows, still as loud as if you were screaming.

she’s sped up now, her plastic cock digging into you swiftly yet deliberately.

“yeah…arch that shit, gimme that pussy, baby.”

“fuck, fuck, fuck,” you’re still moaning into the pillow. you can feel every ridge, every detail of her.

your pussy twitches with need, your slick dripping down your thighs, cunt squelching and eyes rolling to the back of your head because of the rough way she’s handling you.

“can feel you around me, i swear. you’re so tight, baby, s-shit…”

she’s bullying your cunt relentlessly and her dirty talk is making you so unbelievably wet.

“you love this dick, don’t you? you love when i fuck this pussy, huh?”

“yes, vika! yes! just like that! love it!”

“say you’re sorry. say you’re sorry for being such a bratty little bitch.”

“hmmph!” you defy her, for fun perhaps.

she slows down tremendously compared to the pace she set before, giving you shallow thrusts to match your attitude.

“say you’re fuckin’ sorry or I’ll make sure this pussy never cums again. you’re only cumming from me, so you’ll do what the fuck i say.”

whew.

“c’mon, baby say you’re sorry so i can give you this dick. gonna make you cream on it so good if you just let go,”

she continues, “i know you want it… know you want it in your guts. know you want my cum in you," she's delirious.

gripping your hip with her free hand and your hair with the other, she lifts your head out of the pillow so she can hear you better.

you cave.

“i’m sorry, i’m so so sorry, baby. i promise i’ll be good! pleeease just fuck me! need you. need your cum…”

she leans down and kisses the small of your back, “see, now how hard was that?!”

she moves her hips at a faster pace than before, seemingly deeper as well. your face has found its way back down, voice muffled into the sheets.

“yeah, baby, take this shit—take it aaaaalll in this fuckin’ pussy. pussy’s so good for me.”

“oh f-fuck, ‘s so deep!” you look back at her once again. her teeth are biting into her bottom lip, hips snapping against your ass as she stares down at you wildly, watching the toy disappear inside of you.

you then meet her eyes, completely cockdrunk. you beg her again, “please v-vika… need your cum in my pussy. need you to knock me up.”

“give it to me, give me your cum! want it deep in me, wan’ it!”

she growls out, “f-fuck shit’s gonna make me cum.”

“fuckin’ pussy is sucking me in, gonna make me get you pregnant, baby,”

her hips are still pistoning into you, the room filling with sloppy wet noises and smacking skin.

“i’m b-begging you to let me cum, p-please!” you’re still looking into her eyes, kindly asking her for permission to soak her faux dick.

“who’s fucking you then? say my name, doll.”

“you, sevika! you!! you’re the only one,”

“fuck yeah, you whore. ‘m the only one that’s gonna be in this shit from now on. that’s right…”

“plea-”

“cum. i want you to cum on this cock, make it yours. cum all over it,” she’s thrusting against your g-spot as deep as she can with one of her legs on the bed and her hands on your hips. you have no choice but to just, take it.

her words cause the coil in your tummy to snap, your orgasm crashing down on you like a brick to your head. like if a large rock were to crush you and kill you instantly. it’s rough, it’s overwhelming.

“fuck!!” you scream through it.

“i’m cummin’ too!! not gonna pull out. i’m gonna put a baby in you, get you nice and full,”

“mhm!! yes!”

the combination of you urging her on and the pressure of her hips and your ass fucking back onto them causes her movements to stutter, “s-shit!”

her orgasm washes over her much like yours, both her hands on your hips making it easier for her cock to kiss your cervix and for her clit to feel it.

you both eventually come down from your highs. sevika pulls out of you and quickly yanks the toy off.

you’re still in the same position so she presses down on your back to get you to rest your body on the comfortable and soft surface of your bed. you’re expecting her to tug her clothes back on and leave, but she doesn’t.

she praises you for the rest of the night, rubs aloe gel on your ass to soothe the welts, and loves on you as if she’d never hated you in the first place.

“you did so good, baby.”

“i’m so proud of you, you’re amazing.”

“you’re so pretty… you’re mine now.”

…

needless to say… she’s ruined you for everyone else. your petty rivalry long forgotten and replaced with the feelings that you’ve both been hiding. and as you’re both waltzing into silco’s office for a second meeting, he’s hoping for but not expecting for there to be a change in your relationship.

he is stunned when he’s met with no more eye rolls, scoffs, and bickering.

‘wonder what’s gotten into the two of them…’ he wonders.

well, something has definitely gotten into you.

…

I AM SO SORRY I HAVEN’T POSTED!! finals are over so i am free from the shackles of college! (for now…)

hope you guys like it! tbh this took me forever because i couldn’t figure out the plot LMFAKOW😭😭

[nadvs]

cam girl (part one)

pairing rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

summary you work two jobs. by day, you’re a maid for the cameron household, where rafe degrades you any chance he can get. by night, you’re a cam girl, hiding your face so nobody can recognize you. when you discover your new subscriber, the filthy-mouthed man obsessively paying you to do everything he can think of, is rafe, you’re not sure what to do next.

» masterlist

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

“Make sure to bend down real low.” Rafe’s deep voice startles you.

You’re kneeling down as you fill the freezer with the groceries that were just delivered. You thought you were alone in the massive kitchen, but sure enough, Rafe is taunting you again.

You don’t even need to turn to look at him to know he’s wearing a self-satisfied smirk. A depraved part of you is excited he’s there.

“Is there anything I can get you?” you mutter, your attention still focused on your work. It’s your go-to phrase whenever he bothers you. Professional, but not exactly friendly.

“Yeah, is that the only uniform they give you?” he asked. “You don’t have anything tighter?”

You stand and turn to finally look at him. His baseball hat is on backwards and his arms are crossed, large biceps bulging beneath the hem of his t-shirt.

You smooth down the loose gray knee-length dress you’re wearing and you swear he’s undressing you with his coy blue eyes. You hate that it arouses you when he looks at you like that.

You’ve gotten used to Rafe teasing you. You’re almost sure he gets off on degrading you. There are other maids but you’re the only one he does this to.

“Nope, this is it,” you say curtly. If you didn’t need this job, you’d cuss this man out. Probably even slap him. But you need to stay cordial, and he knows that, riding the power trip whenever he can.

“Too bad.” Rafe knocks on the kitchen island before turning to leave. “I can tell you’re hiding a nice ass under there.”

You feel your cheeks burn as you go back to work. You only come to work at the estate on Wednesdays and Saturdays and the days can’t go by fast enough.

You appreciate every dollar you can make these days as a struggling college student. Thankfully, your other job as a cam girl has been bringing in more and more money.

After you finish up your day at the Camerons’ estate, you drive your rusted, old car to your apartment in the south part of the island. The space is tiny, but it’s yours, and it’s good enough for now.

You go live for half an hour at 10 pm every other night of the week. Getting your start as a cam girl took some time, but now you have 32 subscribers and are starting to make good money off the website.

Tonight, you’re dressed in a black push-up bra and matching thong. You never show your face higher than your lips, refusing to risk anyone recognizing you.

This is just for the money, although you can admit to yourself that you find pleasure in knowing you can turn on so many strangers with your body. You sit on your bed, your toys ready off-screen.

Over your last session, a new user with the screen-name figure8 joined your chat. It threw you for a loop for a moment, prompting you to worry it was somebody you know from the Kooks’ part of the island, but the chances are slim. Figure 8 is a general term and the man could be from anywhere.

“Hey,” you say slowly. “How was everyone’s day? Mine was so long.”

figure8 didn’t say anything the other night, just watched and subscribed at the end of the stream, but tonight, he types something a minute into the session as you sit in front of the camera, running your hands over your satin bra.

figure8: you gonna show those perfect tits?

You giggle, immediately stepping into your cam girl persona. You check to see that twelve users are now viewing your stream.

“You’d like that, huh?” you ask, peeling off a bra strap. “Anyone else wanna see what’s underneath?”

You notice the bouncing dots on the screen that tell you that viewers are typing.

v2bo: yes

dragon89: take it off

stonyon: play with your tits

You strip off your bra, touching yourself, your breath hitching as arousal tightens in your core.

Without hesitation, you picture Rafe’s hands on you. He’s always on your mind during your cam sessions as you impulsively imagine his broad frame on top of you, dominating you.

You try to play it off when he taunts you at work, but it’s not until you’re touching yourself that you realize just how much it turns you on when he talks to you the way he does in his deep, mocking tone.

figure8: you like to get your tits played with?

You smirk, surprised someone is asking you what you enjoy. Typically, viewers like to simply compliment you or order you around, but you never get asked about your preferences.

“I love getting my tits played with,” you purr.

You press your arms to squeeze your tits together.

figure8: you like a cock between your tits don’t you princess

The sexy nickname makes you quiver a little. You bite your bottom lip.

“I’m so wet already,” you moan. “And thinking about a cock right here…”

You take a dildo you keep off-screen and place it between your tits. You part your lips as you rub the toy up and down, hearing the chimes of tips from your chat coming in.

figure8: bet you’re so good at sucking dick. i’d fuck your tits and that pretty little mouth so nicely

“You wanna see how I use my mouth?” you tease.

v2bo: deepthroat

You put the tip of the dildo on your tongue, flicking and rolling it. When you finally put your mouth around it, you close your eyes, thinking of Rafe in his kitchen, thinking of getting on your knees and sucking him off.

dragon89: put it in your pussy

A new notification pops up on your screen: figure8 is requesting a private show. Your heart-rate skyrockets.

You’d never gotten the request before. You had set the rate at $250 for a private session, half-expecting that you wouldn’t get any takers. You’re excited about the money and the fact that this new, intriguing viewer is the one who requested it.

You quickly type privately to figure8: This session ends at 10:30 and then I’m all yours, baby.

You continue to play with the dildo using your mouth, getting it wet all over, when a private chat comes in from figure8: how much for u to end the live and go private with me right now?

You don’t want to risk asking for too much and scaring the man away, but the possibility of making more in a private session than you would in a live one is compelling.

You never know much the live sessions will bring, but a private show is guaranteed money. Ending your session early might piss off your subscribers and maybe even make you lose some of them… but you impulsively reply: $1000.

Within a few seconds, you get a tip notification.

figure8 tipped you $1000.

You quickly end your live session, deciding to later tell your subscribers that your internet went out, then open the private session with figure8.

“Hello,” you whisper. “You want me to be your own personal toy, huh?”

figure8: i dont like to share

You laugh. If he’s willing to continue to pay you for private sessions, you’re happy to oblige.

“What would you like to see?” you ask. “You wanna see how I’d suck your cock?”

figure8: tap it against your mouth

“You’d tease me, wouldn’t you?” you whisper. You tap the dildo on your lips, sticking out your tongue.

figure8: princess i’d go so slow with you until you’re soaked and begging for my cock

You feel yourself get wetter reading his words. He’s not like any of the other viewers you’ve had. He’s asking what you like, calling you a sweet name, not rushing anything.

“You want me aching for it, huh?” you purr. You put the dildo in your mouth again, slowly sucking and slurping.

figure8: that mouth is so fucking pretty

You continue to lick and suck, moaning on the toy, your panties drenched now.

“I want it inside me,” you say, realizing you’re not even speaking through your persona anymore. You’re actually turned on by him, actually wanting to fuck yourself with the dildo.

figure8: not yet. keep sucking it

You giggle, half-frustrated, and obey him.

“You touching yourself right now?” you ask.

figure8: yeah. wanna see?

You have the option of enabling media from viewers, but you never thought you’d want to see a stranger like that. But this man is something else. You click on the button to allow him to send you a photo.

“Send it so I can imagine you hard in my mouth,” you purr.

A few moments pass before the picture comes in. He’s lying down in bed, showing a bit of his toned stomach, his large hand at the base of his dick. It’s thick and long and so damn perfect.

“Shit,” you whisper. “Such a nice cock. I don’t think I could fit it all in my mouth.”

You’re not just saying it to flatter him. He’s huge.

figure8: you could if you tried hard enough

You lick your lips, pushing the dildo deep into your mouth, gagging a little.

figure8: the way you choke on it is so hot. fuck

“How am I doing?” you coo.

figure8: such a good girl. let me see how you touch your pussy. keep the panties on

The praise makes you ache for it even more. This started off as a job, a way to make money, but now you’re genuinely excited, wishing this guy could fuck you for real.

You tilt your laptop down, spreading your legs in front of the camera as you sit on your bed. Your thong is still on, but it’s see-through. You watch yourself on the screen, tits still in view as you put your hand over your pussy.

figure8: be slow with it

“You’re torturing me, you know,” you giggle. “I’m not a patient girl.”

figure8: i’ll make u be patient. i want u to beg

“Please let me take these panties off,” you whimper. “I need to touch myself.”

figure8: put your panties to the side

You obey, moaning at the pleasure of your fingers finally on your clit. You rub in circles and up and down, trembling.

figure8: wish i could eat you out right now. you want my mouth on your pussy?

“Fuck, I’d love that,” you say, imagining Rafe looking up at you through his beautiful eyes as he licks your pussy.

figure8: show me how wet you are. put your fingers up to the camera

You do as you’re told, showing him your wetness as it shimmers in the white light from the screen.

“See how much you turn me on?” you say.

figure8: take the panties off and stretch out your pussy lips

You eagerly slide your underwear off and throw them beside your bed. With your legs spread again, you pull your lips apart, giving him the perfect view.

figure8: good girl. you listen so well

You get a notification that he tipped you $500. You never thought you’d make this much money in one night.

“Thank you, baby,” you giggle. “You love this pussy, huh?”

figure8: ur so fucking perfect. i want to cum inside u. put the dildo in nice and slow, princess

“Finally,” you say. “Your cock would slide in so easily right now. I’m so fucking wet.”

The toy fills you perfectly, making you quiver. You start to slowly thrust it in and out, but the chat chimes again.

figure8: i know you’re needy but i said slow. put the dildo in and move your hand. i wanna see it inside you

“Sorry,” you tease. You move your hand so he can see the toy inside you. You watch yourself in the screen, the dildo hugged perfectly between your walls.

figure8: you’d squeeze my cock so fucking well

“What if you’re too big for me, hmm?”

figure8: princess we’d make it fit

You’re nearly writhing at this point. You scroll back up to see his nude photo again, imagining it inside of you.

“Your dick is so fucking nice,” you groan.

figure8: show me how you like to be fucked. make yourself cum. don’t fake it. i wanna hear u cum for real

You obey, thankful he’s finally letting you orgasm. You hold the base of the toy and plunge it in and out of you, the lewd sound filling your bedroom, and use your other hand to rub your clit. You whimper, making sure to keep your face out of frame, imagining this stranger thrusting into you.

You let the sounds of pleasure spill out of your mouth, uninhabited, knowing he’s stroking his dick to you right now.

The orgasm hits you hard, your legs shaking. You’re panting as you look at your screen to see what he said.

figure8: i just came so fucking hard

“I wish your cum was inside of me,” you say breathlessly. You try to catch your breath as he continues to type.

figure8: what’s ur favorite position?

“Doggy,” you say, surprised he wants to know more. “What’s yours?”

figure8: thats mine too. you can show me next time, princess

“You wanna do this again, huh?” you tease.

figure8: i dont want you showing your body to any other guy. i’ll pay you double what you make on your streams if you only do private shows for me

The idea intrigues you. It’s sexy how he doesn’t want to share you at all.

“How often you want to do these, baby?” you ask.

figure8: every night. i’ll give you 1000 for every show and tips for when you deserve it. i want to buy you some things and watch you use them. you’re mine and mine only

The thought of making $1000 a night is unbelievable. This guy is loaded with cash and wants to spend so much on you.

You would lose the following you worked hard to get, but you’d undoubtedly make way more money being this man’s personal cam girl.

“Deal,” you finally say with a disbelieving laugh. “Same time tomorrow?”

figure8: don’t be late

The chat window notifies you that he left. You’re still breathless, shocked at how you didn’t have to fake the orgasm with him.

You scroll to find his dick pic again, as if you’re addicted to looking at it. You turn your camera off and now that you can angle your screen up, you can take a better look at the image.

Your stomach drops. The gold ring around his forefinger. The bedsheets you change twice a week. You know who it is.

The man you just orgasmed with was Rafe.

{ read part two here }

[toonfinatic]

Sighhhh if i didnt have pets living at my dads house i'd go non contact/low contact with my family

[snowvies]

Mr. Badgley

Penn Badgley x Fem!Reader

summary: you can't stop thinking about your married piano teacher, Mr. Badgley. and one day he slides under the instrument to show you how much he's been thinking about you too.

wc: 1k

cw: age gap (reader 19, Penn late thirties), cheating, piano teacher x student, pussy eating, fingering, female masturbation

Sundays are your favorite days, especially ones like this when the clouds hang low with a murky swirl in the sky. You're nineteen, and college is kicking your ass but you promised yourself you wouldn't think about the papers due when you're here, at Mr. Badgley's house.

You found his ad on craigslist, piano lessons..fifty bucks an hour you would've scrolled past it until you saw him, and his family. You felt safer in a random man's house when his wife and newborn baby were in the same room with you. So you started going there, ever since your freshman year.

Your raggedy car rolllsss to stop and you get out to see the lonely house, picked apart to be perfect, not a single thing out of place... except yourself.

His wife answers the door a few minutes after knocking, the cold biting your bare legs as you run in for warmth, completely missing her scowl at your lack of kicking the mat with your dirty boots.

Mr. Badgley offers you a warm smile, hair combed perfectly, sweater ironed and pants straight like every weekend. His eyes always look a little empty when you come. His wife jingles her keys around her finger as she readjusts the baby on her hip

"I'm going out, be done when I'm home" the same line. Every week. You smile her way but she doesn't pay mind to it, leaving you and her husband to play. you turn to Mr. Badgley but he's already walking to the connecting living room of the tiny house, sitting on the worn bench as he slides the fallboard up.

You sit next to him as he wears an excited smile, when he's like this, playing with you, it doesn't seem orchestrated by his wife. Every move he makes is analyzed by her, except this. The only reason he's allowed to do this is because they needed the extra money.

"Let's start where we left off last week, yes?" he asked and you nodded, you inhaled the mixture of musk and old books that surrounded the pianist as he began the background cords. his eyes are on you, they shine as his spine relaxes into the music and you begin your part. fingers dancing over keys as you try to remember the pattern

Your eyes squeezed shut once you messed the keys up. He smiles softly and lets a laugh out of his nose at your reaction

"Like this," his larger palm rests on top of yours as he guides your fingers, you nod and try again.

Soon enough an hour passes and you both rise from the bench and you dig into your purse for the fifty bucks you crumpled into it this morning, but, warm hands slide on top of your shoulder and the older man shakes his head.

"No need" he grins and tries to send you off but you insist, grabbing the money but he pushes you out the door.

"I will not have you pay for something that I enjoy just as much, Y/n, have a lovely week" The door softly shuts and you're left stunned.

.

You roll around your dorm bed, restless as the man's words keep ringing in your head. Why didn't he let you pay?

Maybe you're being dramatic. But it isn't like the Badgleys are set either.

You shut your eyes in a huff, suffocating yourself in the pillow under you as you replay the keys in an attempt to lull you asleep

But it isn't just the keys you're thinking about...

It's how his hand guided yours, it's how he looked at you when it was your part to play, it's his scent, it's his being. It's driving you mad.

You arch your back slowly, fingers sliding down your body until you get to your aching core. slick-filled fingers rubbing yourself at the thought of your teacher's hands touching you, grabbing you, loving you.

You moan into the pillow, legs shaking as you cream around your fingers, the thought of him drives you wild.

So just how will you act the next time you see him?

.

Before you know it, it's Sunday and you're back at the Badgleys, with his wife announcing her departure and the formal greetings of you and your teacher, you're back at that bench, side by side.

He starts the cords, and you follow trying to calm your shaking legs as you think about what fueled you that night. You couldn't even look him in the eyes this session.

His hand softly squeezes your bare thigh and you look back at the man.

"You're completely off" he informs you and you don't think your face could get redder.

"I-I'm so sorry...let's try again" you panic but his thumb rubs loving circles on your flesh.

"You usually think the world ends when you mess up, but you kept playing this time, you're mind is somewhere else Ms. Y/n."

"Sorry Mr. Badgley" you murmur

"Talk to me, get it off your chest so we can get back to playing" he smiles and you nod slowly

"...Why didn't you let me pay last time?" you ask, he stops for a moment as the hand on your thigh now rests on his face as he thinks for a moment.

"I just feel like, something so pleasurable shouldn't be bought," he says above a whisper and you feel your entire face glow, and he must have noticed with how he laughs.

"Not those pleasures, Ms. Y/n" he smiles and you don't think you've ever been so embarrassed. But when his laughter stops, his eyes swirl softly into something darker, in that moment you feel exposed to every thought as he eyes you.

He stands, hands finding your shoulders

"Keep playing"

You take a shaky breath as your thighs begin to shake once more, fingers finding the keys as you start the song

"Good," he whispers, his scents overwhelming you now as you feel almost dizzy while playing, you barely notice how he slips under the piano.

"Mr. Badgley, what are you doing?" you gasp as his dark brown eyes gaze up at you

"Keep.playing" he says sternly, and with a swallow, you keep going

He kisses your knees and you feel yourself sticking to your panties as he spreads them apart.

He has a wife. He has a kid. What are you doing?

"You're doing great" he huffs, kissing your thighs, you squeeze your eyes shut for a moment as his fingers dance up to your panties.

He pulls them down slowly, your wetness sticking to the fabric before they are lost in his pockets

Your bare pussy is in front of your teacher's face as he rubs up and down your thighs taking a shaky breath in

You slam the keys as his tongue licks up your pussy, he moans into you before forcing you to scoot closer into his face, his hands wrapping around your ass as he slurps and moans at your cunt.

"Mr.- fuck" you cry, hands climbing to try and stop your moans as your hips buck up to hump his face

"You taste so so good" he groans, making out with your pussy as he sucks at your clit just to tongue fuck your hole

Hot tears flow down your face as he stares up at you, watching you come undone for him.

You shake around him, orgasm approaching closer with every lick, he sucks on your slit before adding a long finger to your hole. You throw your head back as he fingers you, flicking his tongue relentlessly as his finger curls inside you.

You feel him whine and moan against your pussy, and when you look down you see him gripping and grabbing at his hard-on as he eats you out. You cry as that sends you over and you cum around his finger

You're panting as he curls his fingers a few more times before shoving it into his mouth and licking you clean, you're shaking and wide-eyed as hair sticks to your face and he crawls out from under the piano

Right, weren't you two supposed to be playing right now? Isn't his wife about to be home and he's sucking his fingers because they still taste like you?

He helps you off the bench and you stare into the stained cushion but he turns your chin to him before kissing you deeply, tasting yourself on his tongue before breaking it off with a simple

"My wife is on her way...see you in our next session Ms. Y/n"

And you can't wait for next Sunday.

an: lmk how obvious it is idk anything about pianos. This is based on a dream I had last night 😵‍💫🖤 I hope you liked it <333

[kpop---scenarios]

Fulfilled

Pairing: Chan/Hyunjin/Han/Changbin x Reader

Summary: You're in a relationship with all four men, and tonight is the night for something special.

Warnings: Smut [ unprotected sex, creampies x4, oral - f. receiving/m. receiving, light hair pulling, lots of good girl, just smutty things in general] 18+ ONLY. MDNI

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: This was commissioned by @pixie0627 ! I hope you love it! Also HUGE thank you to @iridescentxstars for being my beta reader/helper/idea bouncer/everything else on this. I so appreciate you!!

Everything Taglist: @wife2straykidss @piscesrising01 @baby-stay92 @kisses-too-the-moon @dwaekkiiracha @silly250 @rylea08 @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @satosugu4l @gabriellamarie @tsunderelino @iovecb97 @1810cl @lordmaahes-nsc @sailorkoss @minh0scat @pixie0627 @50-husbands @jinnies-muse @yaorzu-blog @anskiiz @joyofbebbanburg @number1jeonginstan @skzooluvr @jisunglyricist @ambersnowxxx @ayyonoona @31maze13 @stay-tiny-things @thegingerthatwaited @hoesheez @stayatinykatsy @catlove83 @jeonginstulip @kaleigh-2002 @honeycombbaybee @hyuneyeon @flylis @kpop-choco @chloe-elise-2000 @eastjonowhere @stephanieeeyang @nightmarenyxx @0325tiny @m1nn1everse @igot7bulletproofmonstas @imeverycliche @cathyxhaddy

“Who's ready for a movie night?” You yell out as you walk into your boyfriend's apartment, who he shares with your other boyfriends. You close the door behind you, seeing Changbin sitting on the couch, the other three not yet in the room.

“Hi, beautiful.” Changbin smiles.

“Hi Binnie.” You grin, setting down your purse on the chair, walking into the room. Changbin stands up, pulling you into him, giving you a kiss before sitting back down on the couch.

“Where are the others?” You ask, trying to peek into different rooms.

“Uh, Chan's in the kitchen, Hyunjin is in his room and Han had to run out but he'll be back soon.” He responds. You shuffle your feet, making your way into the kitchen, seeing Chan standing at the sink washing dishes. You sneak up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Hi, baby.” He laughs. You move around to his side as he turns his head, planting a kiss on your already puckered lips.

“Hi.” You smile, letting go of him, heading out of the kitchen and to the hallway towards Hyunjins room. Without knocking, you push the door open, rushing into his room to jump on him as he lays in his bed.

“Surprise.” You laugh, your hair dangling in your face. Hyunjin laughs with you, pushing your hair away before wrapping his arms around you, holding you tightly.

“It's not a surprise if I knew you were coming.” He mumbles, nuzzling his face into your neck.

“But you didn't know when I was coming, so it's still a surprise.” You say back. “Come on, it's movie night.” You finish, trying to pry yourself out of his grip.

“Is Han even back yet?” He asks. “I'm sure we've got time before he gets back…” He says, grabbing your ass.

“You know damn well it's not your night tonight.” You giggle, wiggling out of his embrace. You help pull him out of bed, dragging him behind you towards the living room. As soon as the two of you make it to the living room, the front door opens and Han walks in, his face lighting up the second he sees you.

“You're here already.” He smiles, giving you a kiss before taking his bags to the kitchen.

Changbin and Hyunjin pull you down onto the couch with them as you all wait for Chan and Han to be done in the kitchen so you can start the movie.

“What are we watching tonight?” You ask, watching Chan and Han place snacks onto the coffee table.

“It's between The Nun and The Nun 2.” Chan sighs.

“Who put Han in charge of picking the movie for movie night?” You groan.

“Don’t worry, we'll protect you, baby.” Hyunjin laughs as they all settle into their spots. Changbin and Hyunjin sat beside you, while Han sat between your legs on the floor. Chan on the other hand, sat in a chair by himself, which you didn't question, and soon you would find out why.

You had a hard time concentrating on the movie. On one side you had Changbin holding your hand, his thumb gently rubbing the inside of your palm, while Hyunjin on the other side of you, had his hand on your thigh, slowly creeping up, gently squeezing you, making you feel a lot of different things. Han sat below you, rubbing your legs, it felt so fucking good, it made you want to let out a moan, but only for a second until you glanced over at Chan, who paid no attention to the movie, but instead sat there and watched you with the other three. You couldn't gauge the expression on his face, it was too dark in the room, but you could feel his eyes on you.

You wanted to say something to him, but before you could, the movie paused, and the lights remained off. The touches stopped as Chan sits on the edge of the chair.

“Y/N.” He begins.

“Yes?” You respond.

“Do you remember the conversation we had with you a few weeks ago?” He asks

“We've had a few conversations in the last few weeks.” You murmur.

“You know which one I'm talking about.” He says, his voice was firm, unwavering. You knew he wasn't playing around.

“The one…with… all…” you trail off, the knot in your stomach growing bigger.

“The one with all of us baby, use your words.” Chan says.

“Yeah… the one with all of us.” You whisper.

“Are you comfortable with that?” He asks.

“I… um…” You stutter.

“Use. Your. Words.” Chan says, again. His voice is a little more stern now. “If you don't want to, then tell us. This only works if you're honest about what you want and what you don't want.”

You clear your throat. “I want to, but I'm just… scared, I guess.”

“We'll talk you through the whole thing, baby.” Changbin says, squeezing your hand.

“What are you scared of?” Chan asks. His voice is now soothing and calm. You can feel Han still rubbing your leg, Changbins hand still in yours, Hyunjins hand still wrapped around your thigh.

“That it's going to be too much…” You whisper.

“Speak up, baby.” Hyunjin urges, squeezing your thigh.

“It'll be too much for me, that it'll hurt.” You say again, speaking a little louder this time. “Or I won't be good at it… and you'll all be disappointed.”

Chan chuckles lightly. “I thought you would know better by now, baby.” He begins. “There is no way that you could disappoint us. If you want to try and it's uncomfortable for you, or you don't like it, whatever the case is, then we stop. If you're not enjoying it, then we're not enjoying it.” He explains.

“You are our main priority.” Han chimes in. “That's why we have a safe word. You remember what it is, right?” He asks.

“Pineapple.” You say.

“Good girl.” Changbin murmurs.

“This is your decision. If you want to go ahead then say so, but if you don't, you can have your night with Han as planned.” Chan tells you. He slouches back in his chair, legs spread as he watches you. Changbin and Hyunjin both turn their heads to face you, while Han spins on the floor to face you as well. You bite your lip as you try to decide what you want to do. You did want to go through with this, and you knew that if you wanted to stop, they would, but new and out of your comfort zones were always terrifying.

“Let's give her a minute to decide.” Chan says, getting up from his chair. The three others all follow suit, getting up to leave the living room.

“Wait!” You call out, standing up as they walk towards the kitchen. They all turn around to face you, waiting for your answer.

“Yes.” You whisper.

Chan looks at you with another eyebrow raised. You clear your throat, taking a deep breath.

“Yes.” You say louder. “I want to do this.”

**

You had met Chan first, and when you started seeing him more, you had finally told him you were a virgin. In the past some men found it weird and ended up ghosting you, or they became weirdly obsessed with the fact that you hadn't been with anyone else, to the point that you ended things with them. But not Chan. He remained his usual self, and when he brought you home to meet his roommates, even in your lack of experience, you knew there was a certain kind of dynamic there.

A few days into hanging out, Chan sat you down with Han, Changbin and Hyunjin and that's when he started the talk, specifically the talk about all of you being in a relationship together. At first you were taken aback, how the hell were you supposed to be in a relationship with all four of them, what if you didn't like them in that kind of way? Chan somehow knew that wasn't going to be an issue and had you start going out on dates with each of them, of course with your consent. It didn't take long after that for you to realize that you had fallen for each of them. They all brought something to your different relationships that the others maybe didn't have, or it isn't their strong suit. But when it came to sex, fucking, making love, whatever you wanted to call it, they were all on the similar side. Gentle when needed, rough when needed, always putting you first and making sure you were more than taken care of. You had never in your wildest dreams thought you could be happy with more than one man, but here you were, almost 2 years later and you had never been happier.

**

“You're sure?” Hyunjin asks as they all walk towards you.

You nod your head yes, unsure if you were going to be able to actually speak.

“Words.” Chan grunts, grabbing onto your hand.

“Yes, I'm sure.” You manage to squeak.

“Good girl.” Chan smiles. “Let's go.” He finishes, turning around, walking towards a bedroom. You don't follow, feeling stuck in your spot. Han notices first, walking back down the hallway to grab your hand, pulling you towards Chan's room with the rest of them.

As soon as you're in the room, the door closes and there's hands pulling and grabbing at you. Chan stands behind you as Hyunjin comes up to you, kissing you. His lips are soft as they gently move against yours. Your face is pulled away from Hyunjin's, as Changbin presses his lips to yours, slipping his tongue into your mouth to deepen the kiss. He releases you, Han’s hand grabs the back of your head, moving in for a kiss of his own, leaving you breathless. Changbin is peppering kisses against your neck before Han pulls away from you. You let out quiet moans as their hands are all over your body, touching you in places that make your knees weak. Your body tenses, Chan can feel it immediately.

“Just relax baby.” Chan whispers into your ear, placing a kiss on the side of your head.

Han reaches for the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your body, throwing it somewhere in the room. Hyunjin unbuttons your pants, kneeling down to pull them down your body. You step out of your pants, Hyunjin's hands grazing up your legs, his fingers touching your clothed cunt. Chan unhooks your bra, letting it slide down your arms. You can feel his cock slowly hardening as he presses himself against you. Changbin grabs your tits, rolling your nipples between his fingers. You let out a small gasp at the feeling. Hyunjin moves down to wrap his lips around your other nipple while Han pulls down your panties, leaving you naked and exposed in front of them all.

As quickly as it began, it stopped. They all back away from you, quietly admiring your naked body while you feel the wetness seep from inside of you. A chill hits you, you move to wrap your arms around yourself, trying to cover your naked body.

“Don't.” Hyunjin says.

“Don't cover yourself, baby girl.” Chan whispers into your ear.

“We wanna see you.” Changbin whispers.

“All of you.” Han murmurs, motioning to your arms. You move them away from your body, hanging them down at your sides.

“You're doing great, baby.” Chan murmurs as Hyunjin grabs your hand, pulling you towards the bed.

“Lie down.” Han says, motioning to the bed.

“Legs spread.” Changbin adds in.

You walk past them all, feeling a little more confident as you crawl onto the bed, laying on your back with your legs spread wide, waiting for whatever they wanted to give to you.

You watch each man intensely as they all begin to strip, except for Chan. They pull their shirts over their heads, dropping them to the floor, before taking off their pants and boxers, each one of their thick, veiny cocks standing tall. Without a word, they all moved to their positions, as if they talked about where each one was going to go, though you were sure they had.

Changbin walks to the edge of the bed, dropping to his knees as he pulls you closer towards the edge. Not a word is spoken as Chan taps Changbin on the shoulder, glancing towards Han. Changbin silently moves away, letting Han take his place instead. It was, after all, supposed to be his night . Han doesn't say a word as he places your ankles over his shoulders before he spreads your lips, wrapping his lips around your clit.

“Fuck.” You gasp, immediately feeling nothing but pleasure flowing through your body, while Hyunjin and Changbin watch you get your pussy eaten, while Chan watches from the corner of the room. You let out small whispers, trying to contain your noises.

“Let us hear you.” Chan pipes up, his voice is low. “You have to be louder.”

You don't say anything, honestly you barely heard him. Your eyes were closed, you were focusing on what Han was doing and how it felt. It wasn't until you felt a smack on your inner thigh that you realized someone had been talking to you.

“Let us hear you baby.” Hyunjin says, crawling onto the bed. He kneels beside you, grabbing your tits, playing with your nipple. You look over at him, seeing his cock standing tall, twitching, desperate to be touched. You reach over, rubbing your thumb over his tip, spreading the cum seeping out of him around his cock before you slowly begin to jerk him off. Your moans increase, as well as the volume, moaning Han's name as Changbin gets on the bed at the other side of you, playing with the other nipple. You do the same to him, spreading his cum around his cock before beginning to jerk them off. Your eyes land on Chan who adjusts himself in his chair. You swore you could see his cock twitch in his pants as he adjusted to the tightening.

“Does that feel good?” Changbin asks, leaning forward to suck on your nipple.

“Mmhmmm.” You moan, biting your lip.

“Words.” Chan calls from across the room. He stands up, walking over to the edge of the bed, looking down at you. “Answer us when we ask you a question.”

“So fucking good.” You pant. Han switches between sucking and flicking your clit with his tongue, it was driving you crazy. “Please.” You gasp, you let go of Hyunjin and Changbin's cocks, reaching down to Han's head, grabbing a clump of his hair, holding on for dear life.

“Please what?” Chan asks from the edge of the bed.

“Please can I cum?” You whine, feeling your orgasm coming but then dropping back down as Han switches methods.

“She wants to cum, Han. What do you think?” Chan asks, watching your eyes roll back as you try to grind on his face.

“I say we let her.” Hyunjin responds, wrapping his hand around his own cock, stroking himself at the sight of you.

“You wanna cum bad, don't you baby?” Changbin asks.

“Uh huh.” You groan, riding Han's tongue.

“Cum then.” Chan smirks. “Cum on his face.”

With that, Han goes into overdrive, pushing two fingers inside of you while he sucks on your clit, both Hyunjin and Changbin suck on your nipples, making you explode. You scream out as your orgasm pushes through your body, sending you into pure euphoria.

Han pulls away from you, licking his lips to lap up your juices from his face. The four of them surround you, as you pant, waiting for whatever was coming next.

“On all fours.” Hyunjin tells you. Han adjusts himself behind you as you struggle to get up. You can hear a zipper from behind you. You turn to look, seeing Chan getting undressed, you watch him pull down his pants and his boxers, letting his throbbing cock spring free.

You feel Han's hands on your hips as he pushes himself inside of you, Hyunjin kneels in front of you. “Open wide.” He tells you. You open your mouth, letting Hyunjin push his cock inside while Han pushes himself into you deep, letting out a low groan as he adjusts inside you. You close your mouth around Hyunjin's cock, your arms already shaking. Changbin and Chan are on either side of you, stroking their cocks as they watch you get fucked from both ends.

You try to moan, but it's muffled as Hyuniin thrusts his cock into your mouth, doing his best to shove it deep down your throat.

“Fuck baby, your pussy feels so fucking good.” Han groans. He throws his head back as his grip on your hips tighten, but it doesn't last long. Chan clears his throat, halting all activities. Han pulls out of your cunt, while Hyunjin pulls out of your mouth. They all trade spots, with Chan now kneeling in front of you, Hyunjjn on one side of you, with Han on the other side.

“You're finally joining us?” You pant, looking up at Chan. He smirks at you, grabbing your chin.

“Open up, baby.” He murmurs, right as Changbin pushes his cock into you. You cry out as he stretches out your pussy, and Chan takes that opportunity to slip his cock into your mouth, making you gag.

“Mhm, we love that sound.” Chan groans, grabbing onto a clump of your hair, pushing into your mouth harder. You were finding it hard to concentrate, Hyunjin and Han's hands roaming your body, smacking your ass while they stroke themselves, Chan fucking your face, and Changbin ramming his cock into you. Changbin reaches under, placing his fingers on your swollen clit, rubbing it gently but fast. You clench your cunt around his cock, humming with Chan's cock in your mouth, making him moan.

Changbin fucks you hard and fast, you whimper as loud as you can as you feel your second orgasm steadily approaching.

“You're doing so fucking good.” Changbin grunts. “Cum for me… fuck.” He groans.

Your orgasm hits again, Changbin thrusts faster. “Fuck, I'm gonna cum.” He whines, letting out a deep breath as he releases his load into you. “Holy shit.” He breathes, his thrusts slowing down as he works through his high. He takes a moment before he pulls out of you, stumbling back to the chair in the corner of the room.

“You guys keep going, I'm good.” he breathes, resting his head back on the back of the chair to close his eyes for a moment. They all chuckle as they switch positions again.

“On your back, baby.” Hyunjin smirks. You roll onto your back, welcoming the break to your arms. Hyunjin places your ankles on his shoulder, sliding his cock deep into you. Chan and Han jerk themselves off, watching your tits bounce as Hyunjin rails you.

“You're doing such a good job.” Hyunjin murmurs, holding tightly onto your legs. “Such a good fucking girl.”

His words send shivers down your spine as your eyes close, letting out breathy moans.

“How does it feel?” Chan asks you.

“So… good.” You breathe.

“You wanna cum again?” Han asks, groaning while he stroking his cock faster. “You wanna cum all over Hyunjins cock?”

“Yes… yes please make me cum all over his cock.” You moan.

“Fuck, baby.” Han moans. “I'm not lasting much longer.” He pants.

Without another word, Hyunjin pulls out of you, trading spots with Han, letting him fuck you now. Han pushes into you again, moaning loudly. “Jesus fucking christ.” He groans, his fingertips digging into your hips as he fucks you as hard and fast as he can. “Shit, shit, shit.” He cries out, cumming only seconds later, spilling his cum deep inside of you.

“Magic pussy, baby.” Han chuckles, pulling out of you. He makes his way out of the room, leaving you with just Chan and Hyunjin now.

“You want a turn?” Hyunjin asks Chan, motioning to you.

“You can go first.” Chan replies, leaning down to wrap his lips around your tits. Hyunjin pushes his cock into you, making you gasp. You were sore, exhausted and just drained but you were having so much fun and it felt so good, you didn't want it to end.

Hyunjin holds your legs up high, his large hands grasping your ankles while he drives his cock into you. Chan continues to suck on your nipple, while reaching between your lips, rubbing your overly sensitive clit.

“Oh fuck, please, no.” You gasp, trying to sit up. Chan gently pushes you back down onto the bed.

“Let me take care of you baby.” He whispers. He only uses one finger on your clit, slowly rubbing it, making your whole body jolt. “Doesn't that feel good?” He asks.

You nod your head, biting your lip while you buck your hips.

“Words, baby girl. You have to use them.” He whispers. You listen to Hyunjin grunt as you squeeze your pussy around his cock, his grip on your legs tightening even more.

“So good… you both… make me…feel so fucking good.” You cry out, your third orgasm flowing through your body. Your clit felt raw, your pussy throbbed as Hyunjin rammed into you over and over again. But seconds later, he couldn't hold onto it anymore.

“I'm gonna cum.” He pants, slowing down his thrusts as he fills you up with even more cum. He smiles at you as he pulls out of you, his legs shaking as he backs away, sitting on the chair trying to catch his breath.

You lay there, feeling like you're not going to be able to move, until Chan lays down, his cock dripping with pre-cum, standing tall.

You turn your head to look at him, and he smiles at you.

“Ride me.” He murmurs. Without a word, you gather all your energy and get up, crawling over to him, feeling the cum of Changbin, Han and Hyunjin seep out of your cunt. You straddle Chan as the door opens, Han and Changbin making their way back into the room. They sit down with an exhausted Hyunjin, watching you sink down onto Chan's cock. You gasp loudly, your nails dig into his chest. His hands rest underneath your ass, helping you bounce up and down on his cock. You drag your nails down his chest, making him moan as he bounces you faster and harder. Suddenly, you get your fourth wind, you grind your pussy on his cock, riding him as hard and as fast as you can.

“That's it baby.” Chan groans. “You've done so fucking well tonight.”

“Fuck, look at you go.” Han groans. “Riding his cock like the good girl you are.”

You throw your head back, your clit rubbing against Chan in just the right way, you can't help but cum again, all over his cock now. Chan begins to bounce you again, desperate for his own orgasm.

“Fuck, yes, just like that baby.” He grunts, trying to hold it back. But he watches you run your hands through your hair, and the way your tits were bouncing while you rode him and he couldn't hold back. “Goddamn, I'm cumming.” He groans. He holds you down in place while he cums, filling you up for the last time tonight. He breathes heavily along with you, until you roll off of him, unable to move or speak, hell, you could barely even breathe in the moment.

None of them say a word. Instead, Hyunjin gets dressed, and Changbin comes to scoop you off the bed. He carries you out of the room and into the bathroom where the tub is filled with water and bubbles, candles all over the bathroom as well as your favorite drink sitting on the edge of the bathtub. Changbin slowly puts you into the bath, where you practically sink down into the water, the heat feels so nice on your body. Your eyes are closed, you don't feel like you can open them at all. You're completely beat. Han and Changbin sit outside the tub, on the floor and one rubs your head while the other one rubs your feet.

Not long after, Hyunjin and Chan come into the bathroom, smiling widely as they watch you relax.

“So.” Hyunjin starts. “What'd you think?”

“Mhmmmm.” You mumble, letting out a giggle as Chan's reminders flow through your head. “That was…” you breathe. “Amazing.”

“So you had fun?” Changbin laughs.

“So much fun.” You mumble. “But I'm so sleepy.”

“When you're ready, I'll take you to bed. After all, it is my night.” Han smiles. Your eyes shoot open, you stare at him, terrified. You didn't think your pussy could handle anything else tonight.

“To snuggle.” Han laughs. “I think if you ever wanted to do this again, you'd need to rest after first.”

“Rest. Yes. Resting sounds wondering.” You smile, closing your eyes once again.

“I didn't hear a no to doing this again.” Chan laughs.

“That's because there's no way in hell I'd turn down doing this again.” You laugh. “Maybe we could try some new things too..” you trail off.

“Like what?” Hyunjin asks, they all raise an eyebrow.

“I've heard about… double penetration… could be fun.” You say.

“Alright!” Han yells. “Who's the one corrupting her!?”

“You.” You laugh, pointing to Han. “You were the one who said it would be fun.”

“Shit, that's right.” Han nervously laughs.

“Alright, that's it, she's sleeping with me tonight.” Changbin says, throwing his hands up.

“No, if anyone, it should be me!” Hyunjin chimes in.

“Why you? It should be me, actually.” Chan laughs.

You laid in the tub, listening to the four loves of your life argue over who you were sleeping with tonight, and you really and truly had never been happier with your life.

[doumadono]

Warnings: smut w/o plot, riding c*ck, doggy style, creampie, oral (f & m receiving), dom!Dabi, Dabi is a warning himself, overstimulation, mentions of dick piercing

Synopsis: you decide to surprise your villain boyfriend with a uniquely sinful way to celebrate his birthday

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST - PART II

You never imagined love would come so easily — let alone with a villain. As a pro hero, it was the last thing you expected, yet here you were, your heart defying everything you thought you knew about right and wrong.

A grin spread over your lips as you heard a familiar knock to the door of your spacious apartment — three short taps, slow, deliberate, and unmistakably his. You smirked, barely having time to smooth your silky robe over your skin before crossing the spacious apartment. Opening the door, you leaned casually against the frame, giving him a slow once-over. 

Dabi stood there, his hands shoved into his coat pockets, his usual smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. His turquoise eyes scanned you, a spark of interest flickering when he caught the way the silk clung to your curves. “Mmmm, look at ya, all dolled up. What’s the fucking occassion?” Dabi mused. “You expecting someone else, or am I the lucky guy?”

“You know damn well you’re the only fucking one,” you shot back, tilting your head with a sly grin as you raised a brow, feigning innocence as your fingers toyed with the sash of your robe. “Happy birthday, Dabi,” you murmured, stepping aside to let him in.

“Nice place,” he commented, his tone lazy as he stepped in. It was his first time in your apartment. “Didn’t think a pro hero like you would invite a villain into her fancy, little world.”

You shrugged, closing the door behind him. “Consider it a birthday gift. I figured you’d prefer this over balloons and cake.”

“Depends on what’s under that robe,” he shot back with a chuckle.

You grinned, backing up into the open living room, deliberately letting the silk fabric shift over your ass as you walked. 

His eyes darkened, and you felt the heat of his gaze lingering on your body. 

Turning to face him, you reached for the tie of your robe, holding it loosely in your fingers. “Want your present now, Mr. Villain?”

Dabi chuckled, “If you’re offering, Mrs Heroine.”

With a slow tug, the robe slipped off your shoulders, pooling on the floor around your feet. 

Dabi’s reaction was immediate — his smirk vanishing, replaced by a sharp inhale through his teeth.

You were wrapped in black lace, the intricate set hugging your curves in all the right places - a barely-there bra and tiny panties that revealed more than they should. 

His eyes immediately zeroed in on the crimson ribbon tied snugly around your waist, the delicate bow resting just above your navel. 

“Damn,” he muttered, his voice dropping an octave. “Didn’t think you’d actually dress up for me, doll.”

“You like it?” You teased, turning around so he could see the way the ribbon trailed over your hips.

“Like it?” He stepped forward, closing the distance between you in a few long strides. His hands found your waist, his thumbs brushing the edge of the lacy bra as they moved upwards. “You’re making it really hard not to rip it off right now.” His hands found your hips soon, the rough pads of his fingers brushing against the softness of your skin. He tugged on the ribbon lightly, watching the fabric stretch and tighten before letting it snap back. His smirk widened as you gasped. “You naughty, little slut,” Dabi murmured, lowering his head to kiss the column of your neck. He tugged at the material of the ribbon again, the fabric slipping loose in his fingers.

“Hell yeah I am,” you shot back, your voice steady despite the heat pooling low in your stomach.

He gripped  your hips as he pulled you flush against his chest, his breath was hot against your ear when he growled, “I’m gonna do some dirty things to you tonight.” Dabi’s mouth crashed into yours, his kiss fierce and consuming, leaving no room for hesitation. 

You tangled your fingers in his white, unruly hair, pulling on it. Before you could respond after the kiss was broken, he hoisted you up, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist as he carried you to the nearest surface. He dropped you onto the couch, his hands braced on either side of you, his smirk returning as he took you in. Dabi’s knee slid between your legs, spreading them just enough for him to slip a hand beneath the lace of your panties. “Mmmmm, fuck. Already so wet,” he muttered, his smirk audible in his voice as the rough pads of his fingers rubbed little circles around your slick folds.

“D-Dabi…” You whined softly.

Dabi shrugged off his coat, tossing it aside before leaning down to claim your lips again. His kisses were hungry as his fingers kept on rubbing your pussy sill covered by your panties. 

When he broke the kiss, a thin string of saliva still connected your lips, glistening in the dim light of the lamp that was set in the corner of the room. Dabi’s piercing gaze dropped to you, a wicked smirk curling at the corners of his mouth. His fingers found the waistband of your lacy panties, tugging them upward with a slow, deliberate motion. The fabric pressed tightly against your slit and clit, the friction sending a sharp jolt of sensation through your body. 

You arched your back, instantly rolling your hips. “H-hey, not fair!” You whined.

Dabi’s smirk deepened as he tugged the fabric again, the pressure drawing another soft gasp from your lips. His eyes flicked back up to your face. “Who the hell told you I’d play fair?” he asked simply. 

Before you could muster a response, he repeated the motion, dragging the damp fabric slowly against your sensitive clit with maddening precision. Each tug sent sparks shooting through your core, your breath catching as pleasure curled deep inside you. 

He watched every flicker of pleasure crossing your face with growing amusement. “That’s it,” his eyes dropped to the growing damp stain on your panties, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “Look at that. You’re already soaking through.”

He tugged the fabric taut once more, holding it firmly in place this time, just long enough to admire the way your folds glistened, slick and inviting. His smirk darkened, a predatory gleam lighting his sharp turquoise eyes as his free hand slid up your thigh with deliberate slowness, fingers brushing over your trembling skin before settling on your hip. “You like this, don’t you? Me not playing fair?”

The gravelly edge in his tone combined with the insistent pressure of the fabric against your throbbing clit left you breathless. Your hands clutched at his shoulders, desperate for something solid as your legs spread wider to grant him better access. With a shaky nod, you managed to meet his gaze, your voice barely a whisper as you confessed, “Yes.”

"Good," he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his voice a low, gravelly promise. "Because I’m just getting started."

With a sudden shift, his hands gripped your legs firmly, hooking them over his shoulders with ease. In one smooth motion, he tugged your panties down your thighs, the cool air kissing your bare skin as he slid them off completely.

He straightened slightly, holding the delicate fabric in his hands, inspecting it as though it were a prized trophy. His eyes, sharp and half-lidded with desire, flicked to you, a wicked chuckle rumbling in his chest. Without hesitation, he brought the panties to his face, inhaling deeply. “You smell fucking delicious,” he rasped, his voice thick with lust.

You felt your cheeks turning red.

Dabi shoved the panties into the pocket of his pants, his smirk curling higher as his gaze locked on your face. “Mine now,” he teased, his tone low and rough, every syllable dripping with possession. “Gotta keep a souvenir.”

Dabi wasted no time, his movements deliberate as he spread your legs wide, his grip firm on your thighs to hold you in place. He paused for just a moment, his piercing eyes meeting yours with a look that sent a shiver racing through your body. Then, without hesitation, he leaned forward, his head dipping between your legs.

The first stroke of his tongue was slow and broad, dragging over your folds with unrelenting precision. 

A sharp gasp escaped your lips as the heat of his mouth sent sparks of pleasure shooting through you, your legs instinctively tensing against his hold. 

Dabi alternated between teasing, languid strokes of his tongue and hard, deliberate suction on your clit, each movement drawing out a symphony of soft moans and ragged breaths from you. Every lick, every kiss, every brush of his mouth was calculated yet feverish, as if he was intent on tasting every inch of you. “Doll,” he murmured against your slick skin, his voice low, “You taste even better than I imagined.”

Heat pooled low in your belly as your hands gripped the couch cushions tightly, your back arching instinctively to press your pussy closer to his mouth. Every nerve ending lit up under his touch, the tension in your body coiling tighter with every flick of his tongue and every groan that rumbled from his chest.

His moans vibrated against you, a low, guttural hum that sent shivers racing up your spine as his tongue swirled expertly around your clit before flicking it in rapid, teasing strokes. 

The faint scrape of his staples and scars against your inner thighs only heightened the sensation, a sharp reminder of the dangerous man holding you completely at his mercy.

There was no reprieve as his fingers joined the fray, one calloused digit sliding into you with ease. He curled it upward with deliberate precision, finding that spot inside you that made your breath hitch and your pussy tighten around him. He smirked against your folds, his satisfaction palpable as he drew out another desperate sound from your lips. Without hesitation, he added a second finger, stretching you just enough to leave you trembling. His movements were unrelenting, his fingers thrusting in and out of you with a steady rhythm while his mouth never left from your clit.

“Dabi…” you whined, rolling your head back.

“You’re gonna come for me, aren’t ya, doll?” he rasped, his smirk growing as he watched your body arch toward him, trembling with the mounting pleasure. 

He didn’t give you a chance to respond, diving back in with unrelenting fervor. His tongue and fingers moved in perfect synchrony, crafting a rhythm that had your entire body taut with anticipation. The wet, obscene sound of his fingers plunging into your soaked pussy echoed through the living room, mingling with your breathless moans and the deep, satisfied growls rumbling in his throat. “Come on, princess,” he rasped, his voice a dark, velvety whisper that sent shivers straight down your spine. His lips brushed against your slick skin as his fingers curled just right, his tone dripping with wicked intent. “Cum for me. Let me feel you fall apart.”

Your brain was barely working at that moment. Your hands moved on their own, sliding upward to cup your breasts, desperate for any outlet to channel the overwhelming pleasure. Your fingers teased the stiff peaks of your nipples through the delicate lace of your bra, tugging and pinching lightly as sparks of sensation shot through every nerve ending. Your hips moved of their own accord, lifting and lowering in perfect time with the relentless pace of his tongue and fingers. 

Dabi’s tongue moved with relentless precision, circling your clit before sucking it into his mouth with just enough pressure to make your back arch off the couch. The rough texture of his tongue contrasted perfectly with the slickness covering your folds.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he growled against your skin, his voice low and ragged, dripping with satisfaction. “Keep moving like that, doll. You’re gonna come so fucking hard f’me.”

Unable to ignore the ache any longer, he shifted slightly, grinding his crotch against the couch in search of some relief. The bulge in his pants was painfully tight, pressing hard against the rough fabric of his jeans. But he didn’t stop — his focus stayed firmly on you. The sight of your trembling hands teasing your own body, the way you gasped his name like it was the only word you knew, only made him rut harder against the cushion, his breaths coming in shallow, broken gasps. He kept on lapping fervently at you, completely consumed by the taste of your juices.

Your hips bucked wildly as the tension inside you reached its breaking point, your breath catching in your throat as your thighs trembled against the sides of his head. 

Dabi’s tongue moved with relentless precision, flicking over your swollen clit in rapid, teasing strokes.

“Dabi—” you gasped, his name spilling from your lips in a desperate cry as the pressure shattered into an overwhelming wave of bliss. Your back arched off the couch, your head tipped back as your orgasm crashed over you, unrelenting and all-consuming. Your walls clenched tightly around his fingers, the slick heat drawing a deep, guttural groan from him that vibrated against your sensitive core.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he murmured, his voice rough and dripping with desire. His tongue slowed, lapping gently at your clit as he worked you through the aftershocks, drawing out every last tremor until your body sagged against the cushions, spent and trembling.

Dabi finally pulled his fingers from your soaked heat, moving with an agonizing slowness that made you shudder. He watched intently as your pussy fluttered at the emptiness, his turquoise eyes darkening with wicked satisfaction. Spreading your folds with his index and middle fingers, he exposed the glistening mess he’d left behind, your juices trailing down to your entrance. A low, dark chuckle rumbled from his chest as he tilted his head, his sharp eyes gleaming with amusement. “Look at this,” he muttered, his voice a husky growl, thick with smug satisfaction. “You’re dripping everywhere. So fucking pretty like this, little heroine.” Without hesitation, his tongue darted out, tracing the path of the slick, runny juices that spilled from you. He dragged it slowly, deliberately, over your entrance, savoring every drop like it was the finest thing he’d ever tasted. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” Dabi whined, his voice low and rough, vibrating against your sensitive skin. He kissed your pussy again, his tongue flicking over your clit in a teasing caress before he added with a wicked grin, “But what a fucking way to go.”

You were a moaning mess beneath him. And you loved every second of it.

“You taste too fucking good,” Dabi growled. He flattened his stitched tongue, dragging it slowly over your folds. His calloused fingers spread you wider, holding you open with a firm grip, ensuring not a single slick thread of you escaped his attention.

The overstimulation caused your body to twitch beneath him. “Dabi!”

When Dabi was satisfied with his work, he began a slow, deliberate ascent up your body. His tongue left a cool, damp trail on your overheated skin, sending shivers coursing through you as goosebumps rose in its wake. His lips lingered over your trembling stomach, pressing teasing kisses before moving upward. He paused at your chest, his sharp teeth grazing along your ribs with just enough pressure to make you gasp softly.

Finally, his mouth claimed yours in a kiss that was nothing short of ravenous. His tongue slid against yours, deep and commanding, and the faint taste of your own release on his lips sent a wicked thrill through your being.

Your hands moved instinctively to his belt. The faint clink of the buckle was lost beneath the sound of your ragged breathing. Your fingers worked deftly, unfastening the fly of his pants. The moment you freed his cock, it sprang into your hand, heavy and warm as you wrapped your fingers around his length. Your palm moved in slow, deliberate strokes, tracing every vein from base to tip. 

His response was immediate — a deep, guttural groan rumbling from his chest, his head tipping back slightly as your touch unraveled him.

“Shit,” he muttered, his voice a low rasp that sent heat pooling in your pussy again. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

At the same moment, his hand slid beneath your back, his fingers deftly unclasping your bra. He tugged it off your shoulders and tossed it aside without a second thought. His mouth latched onto one of your nipples, the warmth of his tongue swirling over the sensitive peak before he sucked hard, pulling a sharp gasp from your lips. His other hand claimed your other breast, his thumb brushing teasingly over the neglected nipple before giving it a light pinch, just enough to make you arch against him.

The combination was electric, his hot mouth and calloused, skilled hands setting every nerve in your body alight. The pleasure coursing through you was so overwhelming that your grip faltered briefly on his cock, your strokes pausing as your focus splintered.

“Don’t stop,” he commanded against your tit. “Keep going.” To emphasize his words, he flicked his tongue over your nipple again, the teasing motion sending another jolt of heat straight through you. His teeth grazed the sensitive bud before biting down gently, just enough to make you gasp again.

Your head tipped back in surrender.

Without missing a beat, he moved to the other tit, his lips and tongue lavishing it with the same relentless attention. 

Your strokes on his length quickened, your hand gliding smoothly from base to tip with deliberate intent. Each motion pulled a raw, guttural groan from his throat, the sound vibrating through the air like a melody only you were meant to hear. 

His hips began to move in time with your touch, rolling into your hand as if he couldn’t help himself. “You’re driving me insane,” he rasped, his tone a low, gravelly whine. “I don’t know how the hell you do it, but fuck, I can’t get enough of you, you little slut.”

With a surge of determination, you shifted your weight, using every ounce of strength to roll with him. 

The sudden movement caught him off guard, his eyes widening briefly before his back hit the couch.

Now straddling him, you looked down, a satisfied smirk curling your lips as his expression shifted to one of wicked amusement. Dabi's hands slid instinctively to your hips, gripping them firmly as he murmured, “Well, look at you, taking charge now. Let’s see what you’ve got, sweetheart.”

You didn’t waste time with a reply, your actions speaking louder than words as you tugged his pants down his legs with purpose. The fabric slid away, pooling forgotten on the floor as your hand moved to wrap firmly around the thick base of his cock. It pulsed against your palm, a tangible reminder of just how undone he already was. You started with slow strokes, your grip tightening just enough to coax a reaction. 

It didn’t take long — his hips twitched instinctively under your touch, a low, strained groan escaping his lips as his body responded to your every movement.

“Fuck,” he rasped, his voice rough and shaky, his half-lidded gaze locked on your hand as it worked him over. “You really know how to take your time, don’t you?”

You gave him the sweetest smile, leaning forward to spit on the tip of his cock. Jerking him slowly, you spread your saliva all over his shaft.

His smirk faltered into a low groan.

Shifting to kneel between his thighs, you leaned down, stuck your tongue out, and flicked it against the sensitive tip of his cock after pushing the foreskin back, gathering the bead of precum that had already formed there. The salty taste of him on your tongue made you moan, and Dabi’s sharp intake of breath only spurred you on.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his voice low and ragged, one hand gripping the edge of the couch while the other reached for your hair. His fingers tangled in the strands, not to control you, but as if he needed something to anchor himself. “Now, suck my cock, angel.”

Smirking to yourself, you opened your mouth and took him in slowly, letting your lips stretch around his girth. The groan that ripped from his throat as the warmth of your mouth surrounded him was enough to make your pussy clench. You moved with intention, starting with shallow bobs that teased the head of his cock before gradually taking him deeper, your tongue pressing firmly along the underside of his shaft, teasing the palpable veins there.

“Shit,” Dabi hissed, his hand tightening slightly in your hair. His eyes darkened as he looked down at you, the sight of you on your knees between his legs, your mouth working him over, nearly undoing him, made him shiver. “You’re gonna make me lose my goddamn mind, doll.”

Dabi’s cock twitched in your mouth, and you hummed around him, the vibrations drawing another curse from his lips. Using the tip of your tongue, you teased the frenum piercing that decorated his cock, and then you took him whole in your mouth, deep-throating him, letting the tip of his cock tease the back of your throat.

He cursed again.

You began to pick up your pace, hollowing your cheeks as you took him deeper with every stroke, your tongue swirling around his girth. Your movements became more deliberate, your lips sliding down his length with increasing fervor. Your tongue traced the pulsing vein along the underside, each flick and swirl drawing ragged groans from Dabi as his hips began to snap upward, chasing the heat of your mouth.

One of your hands cupped his balls, rolling them gently in your palm while your other hand wrapped around the base of his cock, stroking in time with the bobbing of your mouth. 

“Fuck, doll,” he growled, his voice strained, his chest heaving as he watched you. “You’re too damn good at sucking cock, you fucking, little slut. Gonna make me lose it.”

You hummed around him, the vibration pulling another curse from his lips. His cock throbbed against your flattened tongue, a clear sign he was close. You kept your pace steady, wanting to draw him to the edge, relishing the way his body responded to your every touch.

But just as you felt him begin to tense, his breathing turning ragged, Dabi pulled you off him with a sharp tug on your hair. 

You gasped softly, your lips slick and swollen as you looked up at him, his darkened eyes blazing with lust. “Not like that,” he rasped, his voice dark and commanding. “The only place I’m cumming tonight is inside that tight little pussy of yours.”

You didn’t hesitate, nodding as you sat back, giving him room to shift. His hands were already on you, pulling you forward until you were straddling his lap again. “You want it, don’t ya?” he teased, his voice low as he grabbed your hips, guiding you just enough for you to feel the tip press against your slick hole. “Say it. Tell me you want me to fill your cunt up.”

“I want it. I want you to fuck me senseless,” you whispered in the most seductive voice, making sure to grin your pussy against his cock.

His smirk returned, dark and satisfied as he lined his dick with your entrance, pulled your hips down slowly, his cock stretching you inch by inch as he entered you. A low, guttural groan rumbled from his chest as he sank into you, his grip on your hips tightening. “Good girl,” he muttered, his head tipping back as he buried himself completely inside you. “You feel so fucking good.”

“Dabi!” You moaned at the sweet sensation of being stretched. Reaching hand out, you gently rubbed his cheek. “I love you.”

Dabi didn’t say it back. He never did. Instead, his hands gripped your hips tighter, his half-lidded eyes locking with yours as he rolled his hips forward in a slow, deliberate thrusts. 

The stretch of his girth was overwhelming, your body trembling as a low groan escaped your lips. 

“If you can’t handle it,” he rasped, his voice gravelly and thick with lust, “leave it to me. Snuggle up, doll.”

His hand slid up your back, guiding you until your face was buried in the crook of his neck, your warm breath brushing against his scarred skin as you lay flat on top of his chest. You clung to him, your nails digging lightly into his shoulders.

Then he started thrusting.

The first thrust was sharp, knocking the air from your lungs, and before you could recover, he set a punishing rhythm. His hips snapped upward, driving into you with a force that had you gripping him for dear life. The wet sounds of skin meeting skin filled the room, punctuated by his low, guttural grunts.

“You feel that?” he growled, his lips brushing your ear as his cock slammed into you again, the tip kissing your cervix with every stroke. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

You tried to answer, but the words wouldn’t come. Each thrust stole the air from your lungs, leaving you gasping and trembling in his arms. Your pussy clenched around his cock, every movement dragging his girth against your velvety walls in a way that sent sparks shooting through your nerves.

“D-Dabi!”

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he stated, his voice a rough groan as he buried himself deeper, his pace unrelenting. “You’re taking me so well. Like you were made for my cock.”

Your hands slid up his shoulders, your nails scraping against his skin as you held onto him. You couldn’t moan, couldn’t speak, your body reduced to incoherent shivers and gasps as he fucked you with ruthless precision.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his tone dripping with satisfaction. “Falling apart already, huh? Guess I’ll have to keep this pace until there’s nothing left of you.”

His hips drove into you harder, the angle perfect for his cock to penetrate your pussy deep.

Your face pressed tighter into his neck, your entire body melting into his as he took you apart piece by piece, leaving no part of you untouched by his desire.

Suddenly, with a shaky inhale, you finally found the strength to lift yourself. You began bucking your hips against him, moving up and down with an intoxicating rhythm. 

Dabi’s hands gripped your waist, his calloused fingers pressing into your skin hard enough to leave bruises. “That’s it,” he rasped, his voice low and strained, filled with barely restrained hunger. “Show me what you’ve got.”

You shifted your weight, bracing your hands on his ankles for support. Arching your back, you began moving faster, slamming your hips down on his cock. “Shit, shit, shit, oh fuck!”

His dick twitched and swelled inside you, the girth rubbing against your spongy walls in a way that made your head spin. 

Dabi’s breath hitched as he watched your slick arousal coat his length. “Look at ya, so fucking greedy for my cock.” His sharp eyes locked onto you, his chest heaving as he watched the way your pussy sucked his cock, on and on. His cock throbbed inside you, overstimulated from holding back earlier.

Your hips rolled with a purpose as you chased your high. You shot a hand out to rub your clit. 

But Dabi wasn’t one to let you have all the control. With a sudden growl, he grabbed your waist and yanked you off him, flipping you onto all fours. His hands gripped your hips tightly as he aligned himself with your stretched entrance, and without warning, he drove back into you.

The force of his thrusts was relentless, his pace faster and harder than before. Each snap of his hips sent shockwaves through your body, his cock hitting deeper with every stroke. 

Your pussy clenched rhythmically around him.

“Shit,” he growled, his voice rough and strained. “You’re gonna make me fucking lose it.” His head tipped back, a groan ripping from his throat as your walls tightened around him, squeezing him like a vice. 

With one of his thrusts, your orgasm hit like a tidal wave. Your arms gave out, your body collapsing onto the couch as your walls clenched rhythmically around his cock. “Dabi!! Fuck, Dabi!”

He didn’t slow down, his movements became erratic, his movements desperate as he chased his release. “Fuck,” he growled, his grip tightening on your hips. With a deep growl, Dabi buried himself to the hilt, his cock throbbing violently as he came. Warm spurts of his hot seed filled your pussy. His head tipped back, a guttural moan tearing from his throat as his hips stuttered against you, his climax leaving him trembling.

Your pussy clenched around him again, milking him for every last drop of his cum as if your body didn’t want to let him go.

Even after he came, Dabi thrust a few more times, his cock pulsing inside you as he emptied his balls completely. 

Your body quivered beneath him, your legs useless as you lay flat against the couch, still reeling from the intensity, trying to catch your breath.

Finally, his movements slowed, and he leaned over you, his chest pressing against your back as he caught his breath. His lips found the space between your shoulder blades, planting soft kisses along the line of your spine before trailing up to your neck. Slowly, he pulled out of you.

You whined at the emptiness. With a swift motion, you rolled to your side, and he shifted to join you, his body settling into the space beside yours.

You lay facing each other, the soft glow of the lamp illuminating his sharp features. 

His turquoise eyes, usually so guarded, softened as he watched your flushed face. In a voice barely above a whisper, he murmured, “I love you too, doll.”

@pixelcafe-network

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

Simon needing to hold you after a bad day.

The tiny apartment was completely silent as Simon unlocked the door and stepped inside, head hung low and shoulders tense. Lights were turned down, tv was off; you were most likely already asleep by now. It was late, much later than he had told you he’d be back, but he had been struggling with the weight of his thoughts again today and had barely made it in. He would have let you know that he was going to be late… it was just…he couldn’t find the will to even shoot you a quick text.

It wasn’t like him to be concerned about who knew where he was or what he was doing, choosing to distance himself from everything and everyone that could potentially catch a glimpse of him cracking behind the mask, but right now all he wanted was to get back to the place he called home before he fell apart and the world would swallow him whole.

As quietly as he could he set his things down beside the door and continued on through the flat, catching little bits of you everywhere: your shoes lying scattered by the wall, the blanket you’d just been curled up in tossed haphazardly in a bundle on the sofa, a mug on the coffee table that had the remnants of your drink stuck to the inside. Scattered bits of you everywhere across his life as little reminders of what he had that waited for him here and for the first time all day it felt a little easier to breathe to know his angel was close by.

Passing near the kitchen, Simon spotted a piece of paper with his name scribbled on the front waiting for him on the countertop, your familiar handwriting obvious to his eye. He picked it up and unfolded it.

Hey baby,

I really tried to stay up, I promise, but you know how work has been kicking my ass lately. I thought maybe I could just take a nap until you got in, but I was worried that if I laid down I wouldn’t wake up, so I thought I’d leave this here for you to find. Didn’t want you to think I forgot about you. Just wake me when you get in, alright? I don’t care what time it is, I want to see you!

Love you.

P.S. I left some dinner in the fridge if you haven’t eaten yet. We can reheat it and eat it together. XOXO 

Christ, what did he do to deserve all this?

Always looking out for him, always making sure he had a place back in the real world whenever he came home. He held that piece of paper between his hardened fingers, the note more significant than it should have been after the type of day he had. You were the closest to heaven as he could get, more than he ever thought he would get to have and that’s why it was you he was trying to break down that wall to come to for comfort. 

His sight flicked to the fridge where you said you’d left him something; he was definitely starving, but just the thought of the effort it would take to eat right now was too much and the knot that rested in the pit of his stomach made him too nauseous anyway. There was something that would fill him far better than food could and he knew just where to find it now.

Moving on to the living room, he set himself down heavily on the couch and began to remove his boots and the outer layers of his clothing along with his mask, stripping away all the bits of his life as the stone cold sniper now that he was safe here in his little sanctuary. Stripped bare until he was down to his boxers, Simon gently crept towards the back of the apartment hoping he would make it to the bedroom before this feeling took him. 

Closer and closer he walked towards the other half of his heart.

The door stood slightly ajar to invite him inside and as he stepped up to it, he caught the hushed, rhythmic sounds of your breathing as you slumbered. It sounded so peaceful that he could have stood there in the dimly lit hallway and listen to it all night long. Just a few more steps, barely any distance left, and he would truly be home.

The room was completely dark save for the small crack in the curtains that let in just a bit of light from the streetlamp outside, helping him to find his way through the maze of darkness. As those brown eyes adjusted to the lack of light, Simon turned his attention to the bed and his heart skipped a beat. There you were: the outline of your body silhouetted under the covers, your head buried in your pillow, all cares left behind as you slept.

No sound did he make as he crept to the edge of the bed and lifted the sheets so that he could climb inside and up against your body laying in the center. One strong arm slipped up under your pillowed head while the other wrapped around your waist until you were encircled and he pulled you slowly so that your back rested up against his chest. His body molded into yours still warm from being wrapped up tight.

You stirred awake gently at the feeling of that familiar large body suddenly laying beside you. “Hey you,” you whispered sleepily, a smile on your lips as your eyes fluttered as they worked to open. “Tried to wait up, but I got so tired I had to go lay down. I’m sorry, but I’ll make it up to you.”

Only silence greeted you as a response. No chuckle at your predictability, no picking remarks about how you couldn’t even stay up to see him, just the sound of labored breaths in and out as he lay there in the darkness curled up against you.

Silence only meant one thing and you knew it well.

“You okay baby?” you asked, but again there was no answer. Only the squeeze of his arm around your waist pulling you in tighter to his chest gave you any sort of reply as Simon’s nose nuzzled into the crook of your neck, his eyelashes brushing over your skin.

It was clear just from the silence that he was far from okay, that he must have been bottling this up for God knows how many hours so that the world would not see that he was not always the tough, put together soldier he was supposed to be. But he could not hide it from you...he didn't want to hide it from you.

You heard him inhale deeply, trying to capture as much of your scent as he could until it filled his head: your natural musk mixed with the smell of the sheets and added hints of shampoo and body wash. That comforting scent that belonged to only you that he couldn't ever get enough of, the one that helped to relax his troubled mind. Instantly the tension he had been carrying like a boulder upon his shoulders all day finally released him from its stranglehold. 

Gentle, exploring hands tentatively went up under your baggy shirt, one of his old worn ones you loved to wear to bed to keep him close even when he wasn’t there, as he just wanted to make contact with all that delicately soft skin. He traced over curved paths he knew by touch alone: it was soft, it was familiar, it was safe and his heartbeat slowed as the ache in his chest dissipated enough that he could finally talk.

“Bad day,” he whispered finally, warm breath against your shoulder. "Really fuckin' bad day... again."

You rolled over in his arms until you came face to face with those sad auburn eyes, moved by the shame in his tone. It broke your heart that each time he had one of these days he felt such guilt about it, as if he simply should have been over it all by now, as if he wasn't human, but you were not about to let him overthink the struggle. There was nothing to be shameful about.

“I’m sorry baby. These things just happen, you know, but its alright; we'll get through it together, ” you said quietly, fingertips gently running over the line of his eyebrow, down his cheekbone and further to his jaw in soothing circles.

Together.

Simon closed his eyes and eased into your hand as you traced patterns across his temple and through the cropped sides of his hair, letting the vile, churning thoughts rummaging around in his brain to fall away. No one else could ever see him like this save for you, no one else's touch he craved more than anything to bring him back into himself after the day had brought him down so low. 

He brought his hand up and placed the tough palm over top of yours to hold it firmly against his cheek as if to make sure that all of this was real, that you were not simply a mirage cast by his broken mind. 

“You’re home now, baby,” you reassured him as he took deep breaths in and out with his eyes closed, only wanting to feel you. “It’s gonna be okay, I got you.”

Home, still such a strange word for him.

Wherever you were that was home. Not a place, but a person, one who made certain that no matter how far he drifted she would always pull him back in. Simon had never had such a tether before, but fuck did he need it. He could feel it like medicine running through his blood, when you held him he could feel the chemicals rush to soothe the gaping wound in his heart.

Pulling your hand off his cheek, he brought it to his mouth and pressed his lips to the surface before leaning in to give one to your gentle lips. You embraced him back with such tenderness as if to remind him of that promise you had made to each other that neither of you would have to traverse the hell of this world alone.

“Home,” he repeated the tender word in his gravely tone, letting the emotionless second mask fall away. "I hope ya know... that you are my home, sweetheart."

You smiled. "You're mine too, Simon."

He took a deep breath, trying to swallow down the lump in his throat. "Bein' near ya is the only fuckin' thing that seems to help quiet the shit in my 'ead these days."

Pulling him back in, you gave him another kiss. "Then get nice and close," you said softly as you squirmed up under him more, setting his arm back over you.

Securing his arms around you again he moved over top of you so that his head rested against the middle of your chest, ear pressed in against your sternum to listen to your heartbeat rhythmically thump inside. With his hand still inside your shirt he drew his fingertips along your bare hips, not wanting anything more than your company tonight. 

Your calming fingers ran through his short hair and over his scalp as he counted the beats of your heart until he melted into your body. Discussion could happen later if and when he was ready, for now this was all he needed. However long he wanted to cling to your torso, you’d let him.

You were his life raft, pulling him back in and no matter how far he drifted and it was because of you that for the first time in his life he didn’t feel like he was going to get lost.  

[cumironi]

hi I see you want a request! hb some angst to comfort !drunkgojoxreader where he always shows up drunk confessing his feelings but then acts normal when he’s sobered up. Reader is tired of mixed signals and ends up going on a date with someone when gojo happens to visit sobered up

you can do whatever you want if u happen to be inspired! Hope this helps you get out of your funk

“OH, MY LOVER IS DRUNK” : GOJO SATORU

you and him, you were supposed to be best friends— supposed to. but neither you nor gojo can't keep the feeling of falling. he tries to deny the feeling so hard that he has to drown himself with alcohol, the thing he loves the least, just to forget the feeling, only to come back to you every time he is drunk.

w/c 4.5k

warning : drunk! gojo satoru, non-sorcerer gojo!, angst.

p.s thank you for giving me a chance to write you something, and I'm sorry it took me long enough to write this :'), but i hope you enjoy it! (i don't think i make this angst enough for my liking)

fanart credit to the owner.

it was a tranquil night, the moon casting a soft, ethereal glow through your apartment windows, bathing the room in a gentle light. though the clock read 3:00 AM, sleep eluded you, your mind too restless to find peace. lying on your cold bed, you stared at the ceiling, each pattern and shadow playing tricks on your eyes in the dim light. the blanket was draped neatly up to your stomach, its weight a comforting presence against the chill of the night.

your hands lay flat on top of the blanket, fingers nervously tapping the back of the other hand in a slow, rhythmic cadence. the silence of the night seemed to amplify every tiny sound: the soft rustle of the sheets, the faint ticking of a clock somewhere in the apartment, the almost imperceptible hum of the city outside. despite the stillness, a storm of thoughts churned within you, each one keeping you wide awake and alert, as if anticipating something just beyond the horizon.

you were anticipating something, no— more likely, someone. that someone, neither your boyfriend nor your anything, he just likely is a more sinister thing, disguised as a best friend, unfortunately. sinister thing, you describe him, where a silver thread lies between you and him— a bright and bold, tale of your love, gojo satoru.

he is, my sinister thing’ you thought.

you were adrift, suspended in the air, with no destination, no specific place to call home. you existed in a state of limbo, neither firmly standing nor lying down, hovering in a liminal space. your presence was neither filled with love nor marked by the experience of being in love.

you were perpetually caught in a paradox, always existing in a state of “neither,” but never fully reaching a place of clarity or resolution. your existence was defined by an absence of definitive states or emotions, perpetually undefined and drifting, forever caught between the edges of presence and absence.

it was always waiting, waiting, and waiting.

just like how the night before, and before, and right now, waiting in your bed for him to knock— and when he does, you, mindlessly, like you're in ecstasy running a little by little in the middle of the night to open your door, without realizing there's another door you open— your heart.

stumbling, drowning in a sea of alcohol he hates, gojo satoru walks in. and you, like the idiot you are, guide him to your barely-fits-for-his-over-six-feet -ass couch, comfortably lying him there.

“careful,” you whisper through the night.

your warm hands meet with his cold ones, gripping you as if he's holding on for his dear life. you drape his body with a blanket, big enough for you to shield not only his physical form but also the emotions he holds for you, hidden beneath the warmth, hide his love for you, not that you need to know. gojo‘s blue eyes are warm, and dull as they indulge softly in the moonlight and gentle glow from your little lamp on the cover of your living room, appear soft and subdued.

you find yourself seated on the cold, hard floor, while gojo stretches out on your couch, facing you with a look of serene contentment. his handsome face is illuminated by a crooked yet mesmerizing smile, a testament to his charm even in his inebriated state. his hands, chilled and seeking, grip yours with a familiar desperation, yearning for the warmth you effortlessly provide.

this nightly ritual has become a part of your routine—gojo, drinking away his soul, stumbles through your door, his steps wavering yet purposeful. he collapses onto the couch, and you remain on the floor, the quiet observer of his vulnerable confessions. as he speaks of his love for you with a fervor that seems to swell with each passing moment, it’s as if he fears losing you with the break of dawn.

he loves like you’re the very essence of his existence, the heartbeat of his every moment. his affection is a force that shapes his world, a flame that burns eternally in his soul. to him, you are the embodiment of all his dreams and desires, the one who makes every day brighter and every night more meaningful. his love for you is not just a feeling but a profound truth that defines his very being.

when the alcohol fades and his clarity returns, he resumes his usual demeanor, leaving behind only the tender echo of his heartfelt declarations and the gentle imprint of his touch on your hands. he pretends, gojo satoru likes to pretend.

“always so beautiful,” he whispered, his smile fading as his eyes wandered over every contour of your face. he traced the delicate path of each freckle, every mole, and the subtle lines that marked the passage of time, memorizing every exquisite detail in his heart. his cold hand gently cupped your cheek, sending a chill across your skin that mingled with the warmth of his gaze, as if he were imprinting the essence of your beauty into his soul.

he draws your entwined hands closer to his chest, where his heart, in truth, has always belonged to you. from the very first moment you met, it was never his alone; it has been yours from the start. as your palm rests against his chest, you can feel the soft, steady beat of his yours heart, buried beneath his flesh—an intimate rhythm that pulses with calm and a tender, unselfish devotion.

a small smile graces your lips as you rest your chin on the couch, gazing deeply into his eyes and letting yourself be enveloped by their depth. “i’m in love with you,” he murmurs, his voice heavy with intoxicated. “so in love that i can’t remember a time when i wasn’t, as if my soul has adored you since the dawn of everything,” you listen to his heartfelt confession, witnessing the gradual collapse of his defenses, and your eyes shimmer, heart-shaped.

gojo chuckled softly, his voice thick with intoxication. “do you recall the first and last time we made love? your lips on my neck, since that day, your mouth has been nothing but heaven,” his words tumbled out in a drowsy, slurred cadence.

you, too, remember that day with crystal clarity; it is etched deeply in your mind, an indelible memory that clings to your thoughts like a cherished, haunting presence. each detail, every sensation, has become a permanent part of you, woven into the very fabric of your being. the memory of his touch and the sweetness of his kiss linger, a profound and enduring echo that remains with you always.

you still can feel his touch on your skin.

“of course you don’t know,” he whispered, his voice heavy with the weight of intoxication, as his thumb traced gentle patterns across your cheek. “and i’ll gladly take the blame for that,” he continued, his words slurred with inebriation, “i-i kissed your hair while you slept in the morning,” his giggle, light and childlike, bubbled up with a carefree delight. “i wonder if you ever knew.”

you shake your head gently, a small, small smile touching your lips, just a little. you wouldn't dare to open your mouth, oh, you wouldn't dare. to speak would risk breaking the spell of his drunken state, causing him to sober up and retract the love he has so freely and vulnerably shared. the thought of him withdrawing those tender confessions and retreating into the safety of his guarded heart is a fear too profound to bear. because at that time, it's all you have, his drunkenly confession.

so you remain silent, savoring the warmth of his affection as it envelops you, clinging to this fleeting intimacy as if it were a precious secret. afraid that when the dawn’s approach looms, threatening to sweep away the ephemeral beauty of his heartfelt revelations, leaving only the ghost of his love behind.

it's a frightening, haunting, spine-chilling sensation that grips you, filling you with an aching dread, so you remain silent. because maybe, in those three am confessions are your only salvation. just like a dark mirror to cinderella’s tale, your reality is sinking down from the ceiling, swallowing you whole when he sobers up when the sun hits your cheeks warm.

“oh, god, i love you so much. . .” he whispered, his voice laden with vulnerability as he clutched your hand tightly, pressing it against his chest. “this love i feel—it terrifies me. i'm scared for the love i have for you, it seems so powerful, like it could burn me alive or utterly ruin me. even so, i know that i’ll let it be, but fuck. . . i'm so scared.” his breath was uneven and strained, each gasp revealing the depth of his fear.

his eyes, gleaming with the weight of his emotions, flickered with a poignant brilliance before finally closing. as he drifted into unconsciousness, the full embrace of the alcohol took hold, and the tender confessions of his heart were swallowed by the enveloping darkness.

you remain in quiet contemplation, letting his heartfelt words gently seep into your thoughts. you extend your arm along the edge of the couch, laying your cheek softly against it as you gaze at gojo’s tranquil, slumbering face. his lips, tender and slightly swollen, and his cheeks, flushed a soft, rosy hue reminiscent of crushed cherries from the effects of the alcohol, form a serene portrait of vulnerability.

in the gentle light, his features are softened by the peacefulness of sleep, creating a stark contrast to the emotional intensity of his earlier confessions. the calmness of his face, so vulnerable and exposed in repose, contrasts beautifully with the passionate turmoil of his words.

as you watch him, the room seems to hold its breath, enveloping you both in a tender silence that honors the depth of the moment. the delicate interplay of light and shadow highlights the serene beauty of his sleep, allowing you to cherish the profound intimacy of this quiet, shared space.

when the morning comes, he'll sober up, and the alcohol will have faded from his system, washed away by the sunlight along with his love for you. he'll blame the alcohol in case he said anything foolish, and you? oh, you would find yourself blaming the moon, even the sun, because it's breath away the day for night to come, for casting hope into your soul, into your heart, and also crushing it at the same time in the harsh light of dawn. leaving you to grapple with the fragile hope that was both a blessing and a burden.

it was cruel, worse than cannibalism. you could have borne the agony of having your flesh consumed, but not the ravaging of your soul and heart, oh please, not my heart’ you would plead into the darkness as night falls. you were scared too, not because of loving gojo satoru, loving him is as natural as breathing, but because of the depth of your devotion— you are scared your devotion would turn violent. your devotion would make you believe him like a god, and he'll betray you like a man.

yet, despite the pain, you find yourself eternally awaiting the arrival of night, longing for those confessions whispered at 3:00 AM, even knowing they will leave you shattered by morning’s light. each dawn brings the same heartache, and today is no different.

you awaken to the insistent chime of your notification, your eyes fluttering open to the stark emptiness of your apartment. the couch where gojo once lay is now vacant, the space where he slept cold and unwelcoming. the blanket he used before now wrapped around you, carries no trace of his warmth. the comfort it once offered has dissipated, leaving behind only a hollow chill and the echo of his absence.

your grip tightens on your phone, the pressure biting into your hands, but it’s a mere shadow of the pain coursing through your heart. suddenly, the dam within you gives way, and a torrent of tears spills down your cheeks, cascading like a relentless river. the exhaustion of navigating gojo’s endless emotional games weighs heavily upon you, a suffocating burden that leaves you breathless.

you don't want anything, the only thing you want can't be bought with money. if i ask for your heart will you give it to me?’ you mock yourself. what a fucking loser.

“oh god. . .” you whisper, forehead touching the floor as you wailing in silence.

you feel foolish for clinging to the hope that, perhaps this time, he might remember, that he might repeat the tender words of the night before. yet, as each morning dawns with the same emptiness, your heart aches with the weary realization that your hopes have been in vain, leaving you to grapple with the sorrow of unfulfilled dreams.

the evening was settling into a serene quiet, your apartment softly illuminated by the warm glow of your lights. you were almost ready for your date, anticipation mingling with a sense of hope as you made final adjustments to your outfit. watching yourself in the mirror, you realize how dull your eyes are, losing their spark. after everything, you decided to bury your feelings beneath your flesh until only you know your love for gojo satoru.

a knock at the door disrupted your preparations, and when you opened it, gojo stood there, sober and uncharacteristically subdued. his eyes, usually brimming with playful energy, now reflected a deep, almost mournful sadness.

“hey,” he said, his voice softer just like always. he glanced around the room, his gaze lingering on the subtle details of your evening preparations—the carefully chosen attire, the delicate scent of perfume, and your eyes, those bright, beautiful eyes.

you moved through your bedroom, selecting accessories and adjusting your outfit, each motion a quiet ritual in the evening’s anticipation. gojo watched from the doorway, his gaze fixed on you with a deep, almost reverent intensity. his silence spoke volumes, a contrast to the usual banter that characterized your interactions.

gojo’s voice, tinged with an unexpected vulnerability, broke the silence. “where are you going?” he asked softly, his eyes searching yours with a mixture of concern and hurt.

you hesitated, caught between the desire to protect both his feelings and the truth. his gaze, usually so playful and intense, now bore a raw, wounded quality. the gravity of the question hung heavy in the air, and you could feel the weight of the decision you had to make.

“i’m—” you started, but the words caught in your throat. you could see the hope flickering in his eyes, mingled with the pain of realization. you knew that this was more than just a casual question; it was a plea for understanding, for clarity amid his confusion.

he took a step closer, his usual nonchalance replaced by a genuine yearning to grasp the reality of the situation. “i just want to know,” he continued, his voice barely a whisper, “where you’re going. what’s tonight for you?”

you looked at him, your heart aching with the weight of his unspoken fears. the room felt charged with the intensity of the moment, every detail amplified by the quiet desperation in his voice.

“i’m going out with someone,” you finally admitted, your voice trembling slightly. “tonight is… it’s meant for someone else.”

the words hung in the air, their impact palpable. gojo’s face fell, the light in his eyes dimming as he took in the truth of your plans. he nodded slowly, the understanding settling over him with a heavy sadness.

“i see,” he said quietly, a bitter edge to his tone as he took a step back, giving you space. “i didn’t realize…” the finality of his words and the desolate look on his face were almost too much to bear.

you hesitated, unsure of how to respond, but before you could answer, his gaze wandered over you with a mixture of admiration and sadness. “you look…” he started, his voice faltering slightly as he struggled to find the right words. “you look really beautiful tonight.”

his eyes roamed over your outfit, the careful details you had chosen, and the way the light caught in your hair. there was a softness in his gaze that spoke of more than just physical appreciation— it was as though he was trying to hold onto every fleeting moment, every detail of this evening as if to etch it into his memory.

“you always look beautiful,” he continued, his voice thick with emotion. “but tonight. . .. tonight it’s different. you’re. . . breathtaking.” the sincerity in his words was palpable, mingling with the unspoken sadness in his eyes. he didn’t move, didn’t retreat from the moment. instead, he stood there, quietly observing, letting his admiration and affection fill the space between you.

“i didn’t mean to intrude,” he said softly, his gaze never leaving you. “i just wanted to see you one more time. before you go.”

the room felt heavy with the weight of his gaze, the emotional intensity of his words. you could feel the ache in his eyes, a mixture of admiration and longing, as he took in every detail of your appearance. the compliment, so genuine and heartfelt, seemed to hang in the air, a poignant reminder of the affection he still held for you.

“it's okay,” you nodded softly, gazing at him from your mirror with a little smile, kissing your lips. the date was meant to be an escape, a chance to move forward, but it felt like an endurance exercise.

your date was polite and engaged in conversation, but there was an undeniable disconnect. every word spoken seemed to drift past you, a mere backdrop to the whirlwind of thoughts that consumed your mind. the laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the casual chatter all felt hollow, lacking the vibrancy you had hoped for.

as the evening progressed, the sparkle of the city lights and the charm of the venue did little to lift the weight on your shoulders. the conversations felt superficial, the moments fleeting and unremarkable. you smiled and nodded in response, but your thoughts were miles away, tangled in the memories and the lingering presence of gojo.

you couldn’t help but replay the images of that earlier moment—gojo’s earnest eyes, the softness of his compliments, and the way his gaze had followed you with such unspoken longing. his presence had imprinted on your heart so deeply that everything else seemed to fade in comparison. the way he had watched you, the tenderness in his voice, and the painful silence after he had left all resurfaced in your mind, casting a shadow over every interaction of the evening.

the date dragged on, each passing minute feeling like an eternity. you forced yourself to remain engaged, but the thought of gojo’s unspoken words and the gentle way he had looked at you overshadowed everything. you were caught in a cycle of longing and regret, unable to escape the grip of your own emotions.

as you stepped out of the restaurant, the cool night air was a welcome relief from the stifling atmosphere of the evening. your mind was still heavy with the weight of the date's emptiness, and the city lights seemed dimmer as you walked towards your car.

just outside, by the entrance of the restaurant, you noticed a familiar figure leaning against a lamppost. gojo stood there, his posture relaxed but his eyes scanning the crowd with a determined focus. as your gaze met his, his face softened, revealing a mix of relief and something deeper.

there you are, beautiful, mellow you. walking alone looking pretty in that silk dress that you should be wearing for him, not the other man, him. seeing you so breathtakingly beautiful makes gojo satoru want to crash into every piece of you, and fuck, he swears to god, that's how stars are born.

“hey,” he said softly, pushing himself off the lamppost and walking towards you. the usually playful tone in his voice was replaced by a sincere warmth. “i thought i might catch you before you left.” you stopped in your tracks, a flutter of surprise and emotion rising within you. “satoru, what are you doing here?”

you're in front of him, eyes glimmering under the lamppost and the moon. gojo wants to run, to bury himself under the ground, or just tell you to stop looking at him with those eyes. stop touching me with your eyes’ he thought.

“i-i. . .”

even so, his eyes never leave yours, shaken as he tries to swim into your orbs. how its color slightly changes under the lamppost makes it even harder for gojo to speak as if the ground is a new language for him, and suddenly, he forgets everything he knows about gravity.

“please love me. .” he whispered, throat dry.

for a brief, electrifying moment, your eyes widened in astonishment. your heart is pounded with a frantic rhythm, faster than the fall of distant stars, yearning to escape its confines and find its way into gojo’s hands. it ached with a longing so intense that it felt almost unbearable.

the pain of desiring something so profoundly—something you’ve never truly known—made you question why your heart should yearn for a home it has never experienced. yet, despite never having been there, it cried out with an ineffable need to be held by him.

it was always his and never been yours since day one, but he already holds onto your soul with an unrelenting grip and your heart— your only refuge, is all you ever had to keep living. you can't live your life if all you ever had is just merely flesh and bone.

“satoru, are you drunk?”

“no—” he shook his head, fast enough to hold both your hands and bring them closer against his chest, where his heart was beating faster, also begging to be handed to you. “i'm in love with you, y/n. i'm sorry i always pretend like i don't remember in the morning, but please. . . i don't dare to, maybe if i love you less it would be easier for me to talk, but fuck—”

he paused for a moment, and in that suspended breath, your only fear was the possibility of him retracting his heartfelt confession. the weight of his unspoken words hung in the air, and you found yourself dreading the loss of such a precious revelation. the thought of him pulling back, of his feelings fading into silence, was the only shadow that cast fear over your heart.

so you shook your head, “no, don't stop,” you plea.

gojo swallows his pride, he feels pathetic. but he would bear the life long of feeling pathetic if it is meant to have your eyes on him, to have your skins and bones knit with his then so be it. “i love you—oh god, i fucking love you, in the purest, chaste, most victorian sense,” he says, laughing softly. “even a mere glimpse of your ankle might be enough to drive me mad.” you can’t help but chuckle along with him.

his hands enveloped yours with a desperate intensity, holding them as if they were the very essence of his longing. “i love you,” he breathed softly, his voice mingling with the whisper of the night breeze. “i want every single one of your tomorrows.”

he guided your hands closer to his lips, pressing a delicate kiss to your wrist, his touch both tender and reverent. his eyes locked with yours, revealing a depth of emotion that seemed to illuminate the darkness around you. the moment his lips left your skin, the faintest trace of coldness lingered, as if the warmth of his affection had left an indelible mark.

with a gentle but purposeful motion, his hands slid to your waist, drawing you nearer. his touch was both firm and delicate as he turned you around, guiding you until your back was nearly pressed against the lamppost. the soft glow of the streetlight bathed you both in a halo of light, casting long shadows and highlighting the closeness of your bodies.

in this intimate cocoon, the world seemed to fade away. the chill of the night, the warmth of his breath, and the quiet intensity of his gaze created a fragile moment of connection. his presence enveloped you, a promise whispered in the night air, as if he were claiming every future moment with you, even as the night deepened around you.

“please. . ..” he beg.

he leaned in, his face inches from yours, until his lips lightly brushed against your own. “please, love me,” he whispered once more, his voice tender and pleading. his warm breath caressing your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

the proximity of his lips, the softness of his words, and the gentle warmth of his breath all combined to create a moment of intimate vulnerability. his plea hung in the air, laden with the depth of his emotions, as he sought to bridge the gap between your hearts.

as the world around you seemed to slow, gojo’s gaze lingered on your lips with an intensity that made your heart race. his fingers, still resting on your waist, drew you even closer, the warmth of his body enveloping you. the soft glow of the streetlight cast a gentle halo around the two of you, accentuating the intimacy of the moment.

with a deliberate tenderness, he tilted his head slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. the anticipation built like a quiet storm as his lips inched closer, brushing against yours with a delicate, almost reverent touch. the kiss was soft at first, a gentle exploration that spoke of deep longing and unspoken desires.

his lips moved with a slow, deliberate grace as if savoring every second of the connection. the initial softness gave way to a deeper intensity, his kiss growing more passionate as he pulled you even closer. the world outside seemed to dissolve, leaving only the sensation of his lips pressed firmly against yours. his hands cradled your face, his touch gentle yet insistent, guiding the kiss with a blend of affection and need.

the warmth of his kiss seemed to infuse every part of you, a melding of hearts and souls that transcended words. when he finally pulled away, his eyes still locked onto yours, there was a look of profound contentment and vulnerability. the kiss lingered in the air between you, a testament to the depth of his feelings and the fragile, beautiful connection that bound you together.

as you slowly pull away from the kiss, your lips linger near his, you meet his gaze with a fierce resolve. “if you ever mock me or play with me,” you say, your voice steady yet charged with intensity, “i swear to god, satoru, i’ll fucking hunt you down.” the words hang between you, your breath mingling with his, a silent promise of the depth of your commitment.

gojo’s eyes spark with a playful glint as he hears your words. with a mischievous smile, he leans in, giving your lips a series of soft, teasing pecks. “i won’t,” he replies, his tone light and teasing, but with an undercurrent of sincerity. “i promise.” his playful demeanor contrasts with the intensity of your threat, yet his gentle touches and warm gaze convey a deeper assurance.

[demilypyro]

Quarantine was a bad time for everybody, so far be it from me to imply I had it worse than anybody else. But man.

I was 3 years into college.... and I could tell it wasn't working. Grades were getting worse, assignments were late, internship opportunities were looking dire. I was all set to become a failure. I was gonna flunk out, and unless I found a job, my dad was eventually gonna kick me out onto the street. But I got lucky. Quarantine hit. The world went on pause. I had an excuse. I had time. I could find a solution, and work my ass off to push it through.

I started streaming full time almost immediately when quarantine went into effect. Mostly out of desperation. If I couldn't make this work. If I couldn't take advantage of the meager audience I'd amassed by spending my entire teen years shitposting... I didn't have a plan C. So there I was, for four years. In that room. As much as I could, as much as my health would allow, I'd be streaming. That tiny room, not even 80 square feet, with a single, tiny window. That was my entire world for those four years.

After a year and a half, it felt like I'd made it. I was making money. I was saving money. Deciding to stick with streaming, I formally quit college, and started looking for my own place..... It took me almost two years find one. The housing market was in the shitter. There were few addresses available, and prices were high. And nobody was interested in renting an apartment to some nobody with no degree and almost no provable work history. The only thing I could do was keep trying. Keep working. My income was all there: I was registered with the chamber of commerce so I was legally a self-owned company. I had a stable income. I just needed more time to prove it. It had to go through the system. It had to look stable. I had to look reliable.

Those last two years, I felt so hopeless, all the time. I had no idea when I would finally get lucky and find a place to live. No idea when I'd finally be able to be someone. No idea when I would finally get away from my dad, who I was fighting with more and more. Every time I went to a place for an interview but didn't hear back afterward, I felt crushed. Every time I would get depressed and become sick. As long as I was living with my dad, I didn't have any future to look forward to. Four birthdays had passed since quarantine started. My body was growing older, but I wasn't moving forward. It seemed endless.

That tiny room was all that existed. I had the feeling I would die there. It was my coffin.

It's been six months now, since I moved out. I'm very happy with my apartment. It's pretty large. At least five or six times larger than that room I spent those years in. I have a large bed. I have a large corner where I work. Work is going pretty well. I'm going out more. I'm trying to find out who I am. My therapist says I'm doing very well.

I never want to be in that room again.

[v1sexual]

Gym buddy Vi ! Head-canons + small blurb 𖦹

sfw & nsfw ! nsfw under the cut !

note :

this is lowkey ass guys im not even gonna lie :,) i haven’t written for a year so im really rusty 🫡 anyways ,, hope u guys enjoy ! (my asks are open as well <3)

𖦹

sfw !

Gymbuddy Vi! Who you always had teeny tiny crush on after seeing her absolutely go nuts on one of the punching bags.

Gymbuddy Vi! Whose first encounter with you was when she saw you deadlifting and noticed your form was a bit off so she decided to walk up to you and give you a couple of pointers.

Gymbuddy Vi! Who you found out lived in the same apartment complex as you.

Gymbuddy Vi! Who always helped you out at the gym. Whether it’s spotting, helping you with weights, or motivating you to do another rep.

Gymbuddy Vi! Who agreed to teach you a bit of kickboxing when you begged her to, after watching her totally wreck the punching bag.

Gymbuddy Vi! Who texts you if you’re going to the gym then waits for you outside your door, and drops you off at your door after the gym session.

Gymbuddy Vi! Who brings you pre-workout, protein shakes, or an energy drink everytime you go the gym.

Gymbuddy Vi! Who was totally not looking at how your ass looked in those cute mini biker shorts.

nsfw !

Gymbuddy Vi! Who can’t help but gawk at your breasts that one time you decided to change right in front of her. Her eyes focused on your chest as you wiped the sweat with your shirt.

Gymbuddy Vi! Who only took her eyes off you when you cleared your throat, you raised an eyebrow at her. An amused look present at your face.

Gymbuddy Vi! Who apologized and pulled a crappy excuse out her ass and started changing.

Gymbuddy Vi! Whose eyes found its way back to you, and boy was she surprised to see you bent over slipping your gym short off revealing the pink thong you wore underneath.

Gymbuddy Vi! Who was lowkey disappointed when you immediately put some sweatpants on.

𖦹

“You alright vi?” you called out, still in your sports bra. Vi hummed, slowly peeling her eyes off you. She took her shirt off, your eyes went wide as you got a clear view of the tattoo on her back.

“I didn’t know your back tattoo was that big,” you called out, slipping a hoodie on. Vi turned her head towards you, “Wanna see it up close?” she teased.

You shrugged and started walking towards her. “Can I touch you?” You asked, Vi raised an eyebrow and you immediately stumbled on your words. “I meant your back- I just wanted to take a closer peak at the tattoo. The design just looked really-“

Vi lets out an amused laugh and turned her back on you, “Go ahead shortcake. I don’t mind.”

Rolling your eyes, you placed your hand on her back. Gently tracing the intricate pattern of her back tattoo. As an art major, you’ve always loved seeing unique designs be it on canvas, digital art, or tattoos. Tattoos are what piques your interest the most though, you loved how all tattoo designs are personal, you loved how the intricate pattern of ink on a person’s skin tells a story.

Vi lets out a low groan which pulled you from your thoughts, you quickly took your hand off her back.

“Sorry,” you murmured. Eyes still fixed on Vi’s back. Vi turned to look at you, her cheeks flushed and goosebumps littered her skin. “It’s alright shortcake, I didn’t mind.”

You and Vi stared at each other for what felt like forever, and the next thing you know you were pinned against the lockers. Vi’s face a couple inches away from yours. You could feel her breath on your lips, her eyes never left yours as she slowly leans in.

When Vi’s lips met yours you were caught off guard. You expected her kiss to be hard and rough, but instead her lips moved softly against yours. Her hands resting on your waist as you wrapped your arms around her neck.

“I’ve been waiting forever to do that,” Vi whispered against your lips as you broke from the kiss. You gave her a cheeky smile, “Took you long enough.”

Your lips met again, but this time the kiss was harder. Vi slipped her hands inside your jacket, feeling the soft skin of your stomach. You let your head rest against the locker when Vi buried her head in your neck. She started leaving trails of small soft kisses on your skin as her hands rest just below the strap of your bra.

“Can I—“ Before Vi could even finish her sentence, the locker room door slammed open. She immediately stepped back and quickly put on a shirt just before a couple of girl entered the room. They didn’t pay you two any mind and started gathering their things.

Vi quickly grabbed both of your gym bags, her free hand clasped yours as she leads you out of the locker room. “How about we continue this at home?” She whispered, leaning down to your ear level. You rolled your eyes playfully and hummed in response, as you two walked hand in hand towards your apartment.

[alchemistc]

She's not ...entirely sure this is a good idea.

Even as she raises her hand to knock she's second guessing herself.

The thing is - the thing is there aren't a lot of people in her life who don't take one look at her and make assumptions. She's petite, she's blonde, her face is eerily symmetrical.

When people see her, they think they know her.

Cap is great. The sort of man she wishes she'd known more of, growing up. The kind of man who stood in front of the entire crew and doled out cleaning duties and cooking duties to his men and didn't blink an eye handing her inventory, but pulled aside a guy six years into the job to inform him that if he made a snide comment about having to do Mona's job again he'd be looking for a new station. Respectfully.

The kind of man who let his crew cut loose and created a kind of family behind those bay doors, but didn't take their shit when they got out of hand

The kind of man who looked at her and just saw another firefighter.

Cap is great.

It's just...

Well, the guys don't go to Cap for advice, and she knows once upon a time that kind of hurt his feelings, but this feels like one of those things his husband is better equipped to handle.

("It's because he's older, right?" Cap had asked once, failing miserably at holding in a pout while the team around him demolished the roast he'd obviously spent hours prepping the night before.

Fred had still had half a loaf of bread in his mouth when he explained that talking to their boss about their sex lives just felt like an HR nightmare.

"So you go to my boyfriend instead?")

Mona's still considering turning heel and leaving the way she came when she hears whistling around the side of the house, and before she can make a break for it, Cap's husband is rounding the corner of the porch, winding his hands in a grease rag, and he's catching sight of her, raising a brow, slowing his steps.

He must see the panicked look in her eye.

"I can turn back around and pretend you were never here," he murmurs, the slightest hint of a smile on his face, and Mona feels every ounce of flight just seep from her bones.

Yeah. Okay. She gets why the guys all think he's the one to go to when they've royally fucked something up.

There's an ease to him, a gentleness that she knows for a fact was hard fought.

"No, I..."

The brow ticks up a little more.

"I just found a new sour Evan won't touch with a ten foot pole, if you're gonna be here a minute," Tommy says, and any resistance left vanishes. Mona's been to enough of Cap's barbecues to know his husband always has the best beer in the county.

"Yeah, okay."

Tommy crosses the length of the porch and glances glumly at his greasy hands. "You mind grabbing the door? Evan throws a fit every time I leave fingerprints behind."

She's interrupting his day, she realizes. He's a weird sort of semi-retired - flies for the county sometimes during wildfire season, flips classic cars from their huge ass garage around the side of the house, spends a month teaching courses to new pilots every year out of state and it's always the crankiest they ever get to see Cap. People charter his chopper, sometimes, although lately it seems like he only keeps the thing around so he can take Cap up to watch spectacular sunsets because they're the most sickeningly perfect couple she's ever met.

Mona grabs the door. Shuffles in ahead of him when he shows no signs of moving, and makes her way down the hall to the kitchen because she's been here enough times by now not to feel as weird about how welcoming they both were right away.

He uses his rag to pull open the sink cabinet and grab the heavy duty soap from underneath to wash his hands.

The scent rolls over her in waves, throwing her back about fifteen years to her parents tiny little apartment over the shop, her father's rough and callused hands soaking under shitty water pressure, the grease under his fingernails he could never quite scrape clean.

Tommy tips a chin at the fridge. "Grab me one, too? Bottle openers on the side."

There's an ease to the way he says it, like this is a normal occurrence, like Mona's ever stepped foot across the threshold for anything that wasn't a station-wide get together. She supposes for him it probably is. At least a few of the guys act like he's their dad, wandering into the house without even bothering to knock, gathering around him when he shows up at the station like lost little puppies.

He's used to it.

He hums his thank you when she sets one of the bottles on the island beside him, and Mona glances around to distract herself while he's drying his hands.

A couple dozen pictures of Cap and Tommy, in various stages of their lives.

The fridge is plastered with pictures. A couple she recognizes as Cap's sister and brother-in-law, two adorable kids at their knees. A guy standing next to a kid wearing a cap and gown and leaning on two crutches. An older man she's lovingly heard Cap refer to as basically his dad - the reason they eat better at work than anyone has the right to. A couple she'd seen at the wedding, standing with a kid she remembers Cap staring at like he was seeing a ghost. There's so many people that she doesn't know, but - there's the station pictures too. Candids of the boys when they were living in the Captain's house, back when Cap first got here, when she'd still been a year and a half from graduating high school and didn't have a fucking clue what she wanted to do with her life. The Christmas that Fred had cursed them with the q-word and Tommy had spent the day in the station kitchen putting together a meal they'd all stuck around to eat after shift despite the exhaustion seeping into their bones, all of A shift crammed together around a tiny wobbly table to squeeze into the picture.

She gets stuck on the picture of the two of them in hard hats, building what she's pretty sure is the wrap around porch she's snuck a few cigarettes on when the house gets a little overwhelming. There's something about the way they're looking at each other that makes her want to cry, a little.

Fuck.

Damnit.

Tommy leans over to tap the picture with a grin. "We had a blowout fight the night before our buddy took this picture," he says, the deep grooves of his smile stretched wide across his face. "I'd left my job and sold my house six months earlier to chase him across the country and he was convinced if he didn't find a way to turn every half-thought-out desire of mine into a reality that I was gonna vanish in the night. He bought the lumber without telling me and I came home to him and his best friend ripping out the stairs to the front door."

Mona's instantly drawn in.

He makes them sound like a train wreck.

If she's got the math right, that was her senior year. She remembers seeing them around town and thinking they were annoyingly sweet. She remembers her mom baking Tommy a casserole for the excuse of getting all the gossip about the Captain's mysterious paramour so she had the upper hand at her book club that weekend.

Tommy taps another. The two of them under a pergola, the expressions on their faces so disgustingly smitten Mona remembers wanting to blow a raspberry in the middle of the ceremony. She'd been so convinced she'd never let herself be so fucking dependent on another person for her happiness.

"He kept it a secret that he'd invited my father to the wedding until the night before. I spent most of my night with a punching bag instead of Evan." He points out another photo from the wedding. "The photographer tried to murder me when she saw my knuckles. Evan could barely fit the ring over my finger."

"Who snitched?" Mona asks, narrowing her eyes, and Tommy grins, huffs a laugh. He gestures vaguely at her face.

"You've got the look," he tells her, which doesn't really explain a whole lot. "And none of Evan's crew ever makes their first visit anything but love life issues."

"It could be something else," Mona argues, gesturing with her beer, and one of his brows ticks up. "It's not, but it could be."

"You want something to eat? Evan's been experimenting with cakes again, and the red velvet white chocolate escaped the discards."

"Is my so called look that bad?"

He grins. "Mostly I'm looking for an excuse for cake before noon."

Christ, he's good at this. It's actually a little eerie, how quickly he's set her at ease. It's been over a year and the guys still call her prickly when they think she can't hear them, but she never calls them out on it because they're not wrong. It takes her forever to warm up to people.

"Is that how this usually works? You butter us up with Cap's food and get us to spill our guts?"

He's already digging plates from a cabinet next to the stove. She can't see his expression, but she can picture the grin on his face. "Usually they raid my fridge and put their feet up on my coffee table before I've fully registered that they're here. It's sort of a novelty to get to act like a host in my own home."

That checks out, if she's being honest. They're all a bunch of rabid animals who've been emboldened by Cap's open door policy and his infectious smile and his incredibly hot and talented husband. She's never quite sure if the guys want to be him or screw him - not that Tommy's ever looked twice at anyone who wasn't Cap.

"I think I'm broken," Mona admits, the words coming out in a rush, her eyes on the dutch oven tucked under one of the wide kitchen windows.

Tommy slides a slice of fucking delicious looking cake her way and takes a swig of his beer. Waits.

Mona reaches for the fork and spills her guts.

---

"Oh, hey Mo," Cap says, stumbling his way over the threshold, eyes lighting on his husband and his expression going gooey.

Tommy broke into the rack of Banquet's an hour ago and Mona's pretty sure she's one with the couch. It's a good couch. When she'd told Tommy so twenty minutes ago there'd been a gleam in his eye she didn't understand.

She's still a little too buzzed to worry about the fact that she's oozing into the cushions and emotionally wrecked. She hasn't cried in front of another human being in at least six years. Tommy's probably a wizard, or something.

"Everything good?" Cap asks, and she knows that they've got a sort of agreement - unless Tommy thinks something is gonna affect the work, whatever Tommy talks about with them doesn't reach Cap's ears.

"Men," Mona huffs, and Cap pauses, shoots another look into the living room.

"Yeah. Men."

"No Cap. Men," she repeats, and he nods, a corner of his mouth quirking up.

"Oh. Men," he enunciates, and Mona feels the scowl on her face grow wider when the two of them share a sappy look. It's super fucking inconvenient to be surrounded by the proof of true fucking love when she's trying to convince herself she's already too jaded to find it. "If you wanna stay for dinner I can tell you the story of the time Tommy tried to leave me because he thought he could make my decisions for me."

Even Tommy's scowl is sappy as hell. It's gross. Shes having a hard time convincing herself it's not the best thing she's ever seen.

She tips her neck against the back of the couch to glance up at him. "Who snitched?"

Cap's laugh filters through the room, and right across from her, where the whole world and Mona can see, Tommy's expression goes warm and vulnerable, like the sound has soothed a few decades of wounds. "Word of advice? Never leave Harry with a secret and a crowded room."

[landograndprix]

╰┈➤ ❝ desire us • l.n ❞ ii

part one - part three

➪ life changed after you decided to go through it as a single woman, offering your daughter the best life she deserves, focusing on work, friends and family but damn, that guy.

➪ your friends are up to no good while you make another life changing decision.

➪ mom!reader x dad!Charles (platonic) x lando

➪ you really thought i was gonna keep my babies apart? Y/n's 2nd child = millie & are text messages between millie and Manon ;)

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y/nusername

📍 Paris, France

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris and 476,321 others

y/nusername 🏡

view all 1,312 comments

chilisainz ah you're telling me this is not a happy little family? 👀

↳ yukisan just a couple of besties spending every single free minute together 🥰

chilisainz like all besties do 🥰

julieeeexo this is a last warning for zoë..stop growing

hamilt44n girl I wanna live in Paris, are you looking for a roommate?

landitonorris so you're telling me our girl flew to the UK to 'hang out' with lando and they flew back to Paris together to 'hang out' with each other at y/n her place?

↳ sharl16 they'll probably fly to Japan together as well 😅

landitonorris but they're just friends though 😉

sharl16 oh yeah for sure!!!!!!!!!

milliexoxo ...but when I ask for a sleepover you say no :(

milliexoxo ...just say you don't like me and logan

↳ norry4 love makes blind bestie, you're on your own 😔

y/nusername so dramatic and for what? :')

landonorris princess bed sleept amazing

bott_ass you're not fooling anyone my guy, you're sleeping in the same bed 😂

norrizz actually living my dream life

charles_leclerc my pretty princess ❤️

↳ landonorris thank you, you're a pretty princess too ❤️

landoscar I love this dad and (ex?)stepdad dynamic <3

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y/nusername posted to their story

manon_roux replied to your story

manon_roux

cutest little girl in the world ♡

I'm talking about zoë

kidding you cute too

Also, you can't convince me lando's able to keep his hands to himself at night when you're looking like that next to him in bed

or does he really sleep in zoë's tiny ass princess bed?

I know you're ignoring me

what secrets are you hiding from me girl?

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y/nusername

liked by milliexoxo, landonorris and 541,387 others

y/nusername 🇯🇵

tagged: milliexoxo

view all 1,619 comments

sharl16 babe is okay, you can tag lando <3

yukisan we better get a 3 hours long vlog to make up for all the months you haven't posted 😭

norry4 don't be shy lando, drop those pictures you've taken of y/n

↳ norrizz and zoë

norry4 I just know he's got a ton of pictures of them 😭

hamilt44n damn Logan so lucky

lando4norris once again asking to be a third in whatever relationship y/n and lando have going on

norrislandooo I've gone nearly 6 months without a vlog, this better be worth it ma'am 😭

logiebear can logan fight?

↳ y/nusername logan's a lover, not a fighter

milliexoxo this man fights me 24/7, don't know where you got that information

logansargeant that's one way to exaggerate

milliexoxo get back in your cage captain america

logiebear millie I love u 😭❤️

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Lando taglist: @simp-for-fictional-people @landossainz @christianpulisic10 @bored-brunette2 @i83andrew @mcmuppet @justdreamersdream

Everything taglist; @thomaslefteyebrow @hopefulinlove @smoothopz @honethatty12 @cixrosie @ireadthensuetheauthors @be-your-coffee-pot @heli991113 @kodzuvk @reality-is-a-con @80sloverry @bibissparkles @myescapefromthislife @lanando4 @elliegrey2803 @ravisinghs-wife @harrysdimple05 @minkyungseoki @pretty-little-bunny382728 @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @severewobblerlightdragon @cherry-piee @namgification @mycenterfold @celestialend @jsjcue @d3kstar @themislovesf1 @mehrmonga @destinyg237

Desire taglist; @sainzluvrr @writingworlds @chezmardybum @lewisvinga @xjval @fanficweasley @rockyhayzkid @thecubanator2 @minchedchilli @crimeshowjunkie @alisoncasey21 @eeviepepi08 @shamelesspotatos @sleepybrokenmelle @leireggsworld @janeholt3 @iamahalicinationn @dessxoxsworld @kapsylia @22yuki @dark-night-sky-99 @sheslikeacurse @nerdreader