#but really don’t sleep with your windows open

[sigh-tofm]

when you’re sick…

… price

half-humourusly tells you to walk it off. when you don’t laugh, he calls in sick too and stays home to take care of you. he can do paperwork from anywhere and lord knows there’s always some paperwork to do. honestly, you did him a favour. now he has an excuse to get ahead on all those reports and forms he hasn’t had the time for yet. carries you, blanket and all, to the couch in the living room. makes you your favourite tea and puts on the tv for you. sits himself down in an armchair next to you with his laptop, one hand on the keyboard and the other one stroking your hair while you doze.

… kyle

takes care of you like nursing was his second job. knows exactly what is in your medicine cabinet and what is an effective ailment for whatever you happen to have. if you have a cold, he insists on opening all the windows in the house to let in clean, fresh air (he did a stint on a german base where he learned this trick) an dabs a menthol salve on edges of your nostrils to relieve your stuffy nose. if your head is killing you, he makes sure you have water and a healthy snack nearby and keeps the house dark and quiet. if you’re having a depressive episode and simply can’t take care of yourself, he undresses you gently and showers with you, giving you all the love he has.

… johnny

insists on making out with you so you can be miserable together. nothing sounds better to him than an excuse which enables him to laze about all day in bed with you. even when you tell him no sex in the middle of a coughing fit, he doesn’t let up. you don’t allow him to kiss you but him getting sick was inevitable when you live in the same house (and he refused to let you sleep alone on the couch, even though you insisted. the crook of your neck is his happy place.). so when you’re past the worst of it and on the mend again and, he’s just getting started with his round. come to think of it, you could still use a couple more days of rest, so you join him in bed, even though all you can do is hold his hand while he moans and groans from the man flu.

… simon

tries his best even though he has no idea what he’s doing because nobody has ever done it for him. but really, he does step up. his first instinct when something is wrong is always to make tea, so in the period you’re under the weather there’s always a perfectly warm mug of tea on the nightstand. while you’re functionally passed out with fever he calls price for advice and frantically googles proper protocols for how to best help you. in the end he’s put two pairs of socks on your feet and covered you with an additional blanket to keep you warm and opened the windows to keep you cool. he sits in a chair next to your bed and nervously watches your chest rise and fall. usually he has the patience of a saint (and a sniper) but without you to guide him, he doesn’t quite know how to handle domestic life.

[aquaholicsanonymousworld]

Everything’s Fine | Pairing: Thunderbolts x Reader x Robert Reynolds/Sentry/Void | Warnings: ED themes, Mental Spiral

They call again.

Your phone buzzes against the cracked kitchen counter, the screen flickering weakly like it’s as tired as you are. Another call — another name flashing. Bucky this time. Or maybe it’s Yelena. Maybe it’s Ava again. You’ve stopped checking.

You let it ring. You always do. Because everything’s fine. Everything’s fine. Bob just needs time.

Your reflection in the window says otherwise.

Hollow eyes. Skin tight against sharp bones. Bruises blooming dark and sickly along your arms, your ribs — marks of walls hit in your sleep, fists slammed against doors when you were trying not to scream.

Your hands shake as you clutch the phone. Don’t answer. Don’t let them come. Don’t let them hurt him.

Void is watching.

You feel him even now, a shadow curling at the edges of the room, a low thrum in your skull. His voice — deep and poisonous and soothing all at once — whispers: "They’ll take him from you. They’ll destroy what’s left. Only you can protect him. Only you understand."

You swallow hard. You haven’t eaten in days — not really. Nibbles here and there, just enough to stay on your feet during training. But your body is screaming now, muscles weak, stomach gnawing itself hollow.

And still, you whisper back: "I can do this. I can be strong. I can fix this. For Bob."

It’s been a week. A week since Robert vanished inside himself, swallowed by the Void. A week since you last saw the golden flicker of the Sentry in his eyes. A week since you locked the doors of the old Stark Tower and told the world outside that everything’s fine.

The Thunderbolts have been patient. Too patient. But today they stop waiting.

The knock at the door isn’t a knock — it’s a battering ram of authority.

You flinch so hard you drop your phone, heart slamming against your ribs.

Void growls in your ear: “They’re here to take him from you. Are you going to let them? Weak, pathetic little thing. You couldn’t even hold your own in training — always second-best, always failing. You’ll fail him too.”

Your hands clamp over your ears. “Stop. Stop—”

But the door crashes open before you can sink deeper.

They see you.

Ghost. Bucky. Walker. All of them — frozen in the doorway as they take in the wreck you’ve become.

The once-proud Siren, shining and strong, now gaunt and gray-skinned, trembling in too-big clothes, dark circles so deep they look like bruises. Your lips are cracked. Your cheeks are sunken.

And still you smile weakly at them, voice hoarse as you croak: "Everything's fine. Bob’s just… he just needs more time. Don’t fight. Don’t make this worse—"

But your body betrays you. Your knees buckle and Yelena lunges forward to catch you before you hit the ground. Your pulse is weak. Your skin is cold.

And when she pulls you close, she can feel the fine tremble of someone who’s been running on empty — no food, no sleep, just adrenaline and sheer willpower that’s finally running dry.

"Where is he?" Bucky’s voice is sharp and cold. His jaw ticks.

You try to answer, but the shame chokes you — thick and heavy.

Void curls around your spine, hissing: “Look at you. A disgrace. You call yourself a Siren? You’re nothing but bones and failure. Couldn’t even beat your class. Couldn’t keep him safe. Couldn’t save your own damn self.”

Your hands claw at your chest as the spiral starts — ugly and familiar: "You’re worthless. You let them down. You let Bob down. You let yourself rot away because you thought if you just got smaller if you just got better, it would fix everything—"

"Hey!" Yelena snaps, voice cracking through the storm. She grabs your face and forces your glassy eyes to meet hers. "Stop it. Come back. Don’t let him do this to you."

Somewhere in the shadows, Void snarls — the presence flaring so dark and cold it makes the lights in the room flicker.

"You don’t touch what’s mine," the Void rumbles, using Bob’s voice but twisted, guttural. "She belongs to me."

The team braces, weapons out. And you — shaking, crying, bones aching — still try to stand between them and the Void.

"Please… don’t fight… he just needs time… I can fix this—" But your body gives out.

You collapse into Yelena’s arms, sobbing, the weight of a week’s worth of starvation, bruises, failure, and love gone toxic finally crushing you down. And that’s when they know. This isn’t just about saving Bob anymore. It’s about saving you, too. Before the Void swallows you both whole.

"Don’t touch her." The Void’s voice slithers out from the darkened corners of the old Stark Tower, slick as oil and cold as space. Black tendrils pulse and writhe, the air humming with that low, oppressive static that makes your skin crawl.

Your body is deadweight in Yelena’s arms — but it’s not Yelena this time. It’s Ghost, Ava, her glitching form flickering as she crouches beside you, whispering sharp, fast words you can barely process.

"Focus. Breathe. He’s in your head. Fight back."

But you can’t. Your chest is tight. Your stomach is empty. Your throat is raw from nights spent sobbing into your own shaking hands while the Void crooned lies about love loyalty and sacrifice.

Above you, the Thunderbolts fan out like wolves.

Bucky’s metal arm flexes, gun already aimed dead center at the biggest tendril. His mouth is set in a hard, grim line — soldier mode. Zero tolerance.

Yelena flips her baton in her hand, eyes sharp as razors. She glances at you and flinches — just a little — at the sight of how wrecked you look.

Red Guardian cracks his knuckles, broad shoulders rolling back. "We take Void down, we take Bob back," he grunts. "Simple." But his eyes flicker toward you too, and there’s a flicker of something pained behind all that bravado.

And John Walker — US Agent — is already itching for a fight. "About damn time we shut this thing down," he snaps, shield slamming against his forearm. "Look at her. She’s falling apart. You let this thing keep her like some goddamn hostage? Not today."

"You’re weak." Void's voice spikes again, cruel and coiling, directed at you. “Couldn’t even finish your training. Couldn’t even keep food down. All that power they promised you — wasted. Useless. Not worth saving.”

Your breath hitches. Your fingernails dig into your palms, so hard you feel the sting of broken skin. Not worth saving. Not worth saving.

Yelena’s voice cuts through like a blade. "Get up."

You blink through tears. She’s standing over you now, her baton crackling with electricity, gaze locked on yours — sharp and merciless.

"I said, get up." she growls. "You are not dying here. You are not letting that thing keep you down. You are Siren, yeah? Then act like it."

Ghost’s hand clamps around your wrist, grounding you. "Breathe. In. Out. You know how. Come back."

Bucky’s voice, gruff but steady: "We’ve got Bob. You get you."

Void shrieks — the walls shudder. Black energy lashes out, slamming into Red Guardian, who grunts and stumbles back but stays standing.

"You can’t save her. She belongs to me."

John Walker’s had enough. He charges, shield-first, slamming into the tendrils with brute force. "Get the hell outta here, freak!" he snarls. "She’s not yours!"

And something breaks inside you.

Because for the first time in a week — after starving, breaking, crying yourself raw —you hear someone say it: You’re not his.

Your breath shudders in. Your hands flex weakly.

Yelena sees it. She crouches down, grabs your face roughly, cheeks hollow and bruised under her grip. "You hear me? You are not his. You are ours. Thunderbolt. Fighter. You get up now, or I swear to god I drag your bony ass up myself."

Above you, the Void roars. "Lies. Lies. She’s mine—"

Your voice cracks, hoarse and trembling but yours: "No… I’m not… I’m not yours—"

Bucky fires. The shot slices through a tendril, black mist hissing as it evaporates. Red Guardian wades in, fists swinging, bellowing curses in Russian. Walker slams his shield again and again, driving the Void back with sheer stubborn violence. Yelena doesn’t let go of you. Her fingers dig in harder. "Get. Up." she snarls.

You scream. A raw, broken, ugly sound — all your shame, all your failure, all the self-hate Void fed you — ripping out of your throat. And you push yourself up. Shaking. Crying. But standing.

"Bob—" you gasp. You can feel him now, buried deep under the Void’s storm, small and flickering like a dying ember. "Bob, come back—"

Void lashes out, enraged — but the Thunderbolts are already on him, battering down every inch of black with fists, batons, bullets, and shields.

Yelena shoves you forward. "Call him back. Now!"

Your voice breaks again as you scream through the static: "ROBERT REYNOLDS—COME BACK TO ME!"

For a heartbeat — everything stops.The Void freezes. The tendrils flicker. And then—gold light. Faint. Weak. But there. Behind the black.

"…Y/N?" His voice. Small. Cracked. But Bob.

You fall to your knees, sobbing, as the Thunderbolts keep fighting, buying you those precious seconds to reach him — to drag him back from the dark.

"Please, Bob—please—come back—"

Void howls — but you don’t hear it anymore. Because for the first time in a week, the gold light gets brighter.

The Void shrieks as it breaks apart. Like tar peeling off burning gold.

Your knees hit the floor hard — but you barely feel it. You’re too busy clawing through the dark with your voice, hoarse and cracked and desperate. "Bob—please—come back—"

And then—light. Not blinding, not golden, and godlike like he used to be. But soft. Flickering. Human.

Robert Reynolds collapses out of the storm like a broken angel. Face pale, sweat-soaked, trembling. Blonde hair matted and tangled, golden aura flickering weakly around him.

His eyes open — blue, dazed — and the second they land on you, they shatter.

"Y/N—" he croaks, voice breaking. And then louder, panicked, raw: "Y/N—oh my god—"

You flinch. Instinct. Too used to pain, too used to the Void’s voice crawling down your spine. Your body, thin and shaking, tries to curl in on itself like you can disappear.

But Bob is already scrambling toward you, crawling on his hands and knees like a man on fire.

"No—no—look at me—" His hands grab your face, gentle but shaking as if he’s terrified you’ll vanish if he squeezes too hard.

His eyes take you in, the sharp bones under your skin, the bruises blooming like wilted flowers, the way your lips are cracked and bleeding because you chewed them raw trying to stay silent.

"I didn’t know—" His voice breaks on a sob. "I didn’t know he was doing this to you—"

Behind you, the Thunderbolts stand down. Walker’s breathing hard, Yelena turns her back, giving you privacy. Bucky lowers his gun. Red Guardian mutters something soft and bitter in Russian, but even he looks away. They give you this. Because they know this is your moment.

"I’m sorry—" Bob sobs, pulling you into him. His body shakes so hard it rattles your ribs. "I let him—I let him get into your head—oh god, Y/N—"

You’re crying, too hot, messy, choking sobs that scrape your throat raw. Your hands clutch at his shirt, thin fingers knotting in the fabric like you’re drowning.

"You left—" you sob against his chest. "You left me alone—I—I didn’t know what to do—"

His arms crush you tighter, desperate. "I’m here—I’m here now—I’m sorry—I didn’t know—I swear—"

His fingers map over your battered body like he’s trying to count every bruise, every scar, every rib poking out from weeks of not eating.

His voice cracks again: "You’re so thin—what did he—god, what did I—"

Your knees give out completely. But he holds you up. Both of you shaking. Both of you crying. Both of you broken. But together.

You don’t even notice the others moving — Ghost pressing a protein bar into Bucky’s hand, and Bucky quietly, carefully, setting it down next to you.

Walker grunts. "We’ll handle clean-up. You two… fix this." Yelena just mutters: "Idiots." But her voice is rough. Emotional.

Bob cups your face again, and presses his forehead to yours, golden light flickering weakly between you like a dying flame trying to catch.

"You didn’t fail." His voice is soft but fierce now. "You didn’t fail me. You didn’t fail yourself. You fought. You stayed."

You hiccup through tears. "But I—I couldn’t eat—I couldn’t sleep—I thought if I just got smaller—if I just waited—"

His sob chokes out. "No—no, baby, no—you don’t have to do that—you never have to do that—"

His hands tremble as they cradle your head. "We get better now, okay? Together. I’m getting you help. I’m staying. No more Void. No more lies. No more hurting yourself for me. Please—"

Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer. Your voice is barely a whisper: "Don’t leave me again."

His answer is instant. "Never."

He kisses your forehead, tears dripping onto your skin. "Never again."

Behind you, the Thunderbolts give you that space. They know the fight is over —and the healing begins now. Messy. Slow. Painful. But real. Because this time… you’re not doing it alone.

[pagesfromthevoid]

I literally can't stop thinking about Thunderbolts and how emotional it is. I desperately want to eat snacks with Bob in his reading nook

OKAY BUT SAME. I have a book nook and I just KNOW that man is so content in his corner because it’s my favorite spot too. With one of those big comfy chaise chairs?? Hear me out….

For the first few months after the Incident™️ (as the Thunderbolts group chat has deemed it), Bob isn’t very social. He feels bad, and he’s waiting for any and all of this…niceness to go away.

It always does.

The one thing he finds solace in is this little corner by the window that he’s deemed his. At first, it’s just a pillow and some throw blankets he piles up and sits in because that’s all he really has. But then, a chaise chair shows up one day. Nothing fancy, but big enough for at least three people for some reason.

He tests the waters because he was really content with his little blanket corner. But the chair is really nice, and it’s so comfortable. And it’s nice to have because he sleeps better when he’s around the others so he naps whenever they’re around in the corner.

Then a bookshelf shows up. Not a big one. Just one of those Billy bookcases from IKEA. But it’s sitting there, with the stack of books he had collected set up neatly on it. There’s empty space for him to add more. It’s hard to focus on books for long periods of time but that’s okay, because now he can just…set them on the shelf.

More books show up slowly over time. Little sticky notes from the team on the covers, telling him they thought he’d like them (he uses them as bookmarks).

You leave him a book one day. Bright pink sticky note on the inside cover that says:

Thought of you when I saw the cover. I hope you like it. Let me know —I’m reading it too.

He has to out the note in the back because he gets distracted, reading it over and over instead of the actual book.

He’s about halfway through the book a month later, still trying to focus on it, when he finally feels like he can kind of talk about the book without sounding stupid.

He waits for you to walk by before he says anything.

“Hey, I’m —I’m almost done with that book,” he says, holding it up.

He swears to god that his heart melts when your entire mood shifts. You’re excited, and your smile is contagious and god, he made you smile like that? Can he keep doing that?

“I haven’t had a chance to read it in a week or so,” you explain, but you hold up a finger. “Give me a sec, I’ll be right back.”

And you are right back. Book in hand and a bag of chips. And you don’t even hesitate to take up the empty space next to him, opening to the last page you left on. Bob almost cries when he sees he’s only a chapter behind you.

“Catch up, and we can talk about it.” You offer, settling into the chaise —though you’re careful not to touch him. He appreciates that you don’t mind he’s a little alarmed by touch but he’s too happy to care. He settles in close to you, shoulder brushing yours gently.

The two of you are too absorbed in your book to notice that members of the team keep dropping things off on the shelf.

Yelena brings a bag of M&Ms. Ava two cups of tea. Bucky doesn’t leave anything, but he watches with a soft grin. They ban Alexei from bugging you two, but he leaves a pizza for actual dinner. And John is about to leave condoms —mostly as a joke —but Bucky smacks him upside the head. Then the arguing starts.

That’s what brings you two to attention for the first time in a few hours.

Bob wouldn’t trade it for the world though.

[kitkatkitzune]

STEPPING UP

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your daughter attends a daddy daughter dance.

Warnings: Mention of young pregnancy?, An absentee father, A drunk man, A tiny bit of angst, inconsistencies in the tense it’s written in (whoopsie)

Notes: I’m obsessed with this concept and I’m not sorry… also your daughter is named after Rory from Gilmore Girls. Sorry not sorry.

I’m going to start trying to post more consistently, I promise!! I’ve been busy lately, I swear I haven’t disappeared!!

Word Count: 2.1k

———————

When you picked your daughter up from school, you instantly knew that something was wrong. Rory was usually very bubbly and outspoken, excited to tell you all about her day but today, she was silent, leaning her head on the window as you drove home.

You really knew something was wrong when she instantly dropped her bookbag and ran to her room the second you stepped inside your apartment.

Being a single mother was hard, you had Rory when you were relatively young with your now ex-boyfriend. He would pop up every once in a while to say hi but he was never a constant in your or your daughter's life. It had also made dating hard, most men would run the second you mentioned your child, it was hard to find one that wouldn’t.

Still, your daughter always comes first which is why you drop your phone on the couch, ignoring the message from Elijah (a man you had been talking to) so you can follow Rory to her room.

You stand in the doorway for a moment before moving to sit on the edge of her bed. Rory had her face buried in her pillow, shaking as she sobbed. She doesn’t react when the bed dips from your weight but she does react when you begin to rub her back. She tenses up before beginning to sob harder.

Suddenly she turns and sits up, throwing herself into your arms, “Mama…”

You shush her softly, still rubbing her back as she cries. Once she mostly calms down you pull back, brushing some of her hair from her face while she hiccups.

“What happened, baby?” you ask softly.

“Why don’t I have a daddy?” she asks, eyes glimmering with tears.

You frown, “Sweetie, you do, he’s just… he’s not… around… much… you know this… sometimes you get to go out to eat with him… remember?”

Rory sniffles, rubbing at her eyes, “Everybody else has a daddy around! Why don’t I get one?”

“Rory…” you say quietly but she interrupts you, “Why can’t Mr. Elijah be my daddy?”

So maybe Elijah was more than just ‘a man you had been talking to’. You had been seeing Elijah for a little over a year, he had never been bothered by Rory, in fact, he’s quite good with her. The seemingly stoic man would play dress up and attend tea parties every time your daughter asked. He always made an effort to accommodate for her as well, always willing to adapt plans at the last minute. He understood and accepted the fact that the two of you were a package deal.

Your face flushes at the mention of Elijah, because you really did like him and you really hoped that your relationship could continue to bloom.

Pulling Rory back into a tight hug, you sigh, “Baby, what brought this up?”

She doesn’t answer, only nuzzling further into neck. You decide not to push her, allowing her to cling onto you until she falls asleep. It was the weekend so you weren’t too worried about messing up her sleep schedule. Carefully, you pull her off of you and tuck her into bed before going back to the living room.

On your way, you pick up her backpack, opening it to check her homework folder when something catches your eye. It’s a flyer from the school, advertising the daddy daughter dance next month. You let out a sigh as you connect the dots, realizing why your daughter was so upset.

A week had passed since the initial incident and Rory had mostly moved on from it. Still, you could tell she was distraught about it so you decided you were going to make a tough call. Literally.

Rory was still at school while you stood in the kitchen next to Elijah, with your phone in your shaking hand. Reluctantly, you dial your ex's number. You had thought about asking Elijah to take Rory, it was her first thought after all, and even though he clearly loves the girl and cares for her, you didn’t want to risk burdening him.

After the third ring Jonathan answered, “Who is this?”

You let out a sigh, trying your best to not let your voice shake, “It’s Y/N.”

“What do you want?” he asks, his tone clearly annoyed.

You stand up straighter even though he can’t see you, clearing your throat, “Rory has a dance…”

“So?”

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you sigh, “It’s a daddy daughter dance… I’m calling to ask if you’d take her… so she isn’t… excluded…”

There’s silence for a moment and you feel rage beginning to bubble up in you but just as you’re about to yell at him he answers, “When is it?”

“It’s on the 30th, three weeks away at 6pm.”

Jonathan hums, “Alright, I’ll be there- and I'll even take her out to eat before, that way I can get the court mandated, monthly dinner out of the way at the same time.”

You decide it best to bite your tongue, your daughter was the sweetest little girl you ever could have asked for, you never understood how Jonathan couldn’t love her- why he didn’t want to spend time with her. He hardly follows the custody agreement, never really wanting to see her but anything you needed to get his permission for- like a small trip to the beach, he would not grant, just to upset you and keep a sense of control over you and your daughter.

Instead, you thank him, not wanting to be on the phone any longer. When you hung up, Elijah began to rub your back, pulling you to his chest to kiss your forehead.

And when your daughter got home, she was ecstatic to hear that her father would be taking her to the dance, she immediately asked to go dress shopping.

Working as a server, you weren’t super wealthy and had no choice but to set a limit on the amount you could spend on a dress for her. Unfortunately, Rory fell in love with a gorgeous, flowery, blue dress that was way out of the budget. Fortunately, Elijah was there, and he insisted on paying, even before Rory had picked out a dress outside of what you could afford. You told him that you’d pay him back but he refused.

“Seeing Rory’s little face light up is more than enough payment.”

Everything was going great until the night of the dance came. The dance didn’t start until 6pm but Johnathan said that he’d be there at 4pm to take her out to eat but he never showed up and now he wasn’t answering his phone.

Rory was sitting at the table, watching the clock that she had just learned how to read in school with a sad expression on her face.

You turn away from her, walking down the hall with your phone pressed to your ear, practically growling into the phone as you leave another voicemail, “Jonathan. This is the seventh time I’ve called you. It’s 4:30, where the hell are you?!”

When you walk back into the room, Rory immediately looks up at you. “Dad’s not coming, is he?”

You sigh, setting your phone on the counter, crouching in front of her, “I’m so sorry, baby,” you hold her hands in yours and smile sadly.

Just as the first tear is about to fall from her eyes, the doorbell rings, making Rory perk up, assuming it was her father. You, on the other hand, had a feeling that it wasn’t.

And it wasn’t. Rory flung open the door just as you appeared behind her, revealing Elijah, dressed in a fancy suit as he always was.

Rory let out a little sigh, “Oh, it’s you.”

Elijah frowns, crouching down in front of her, “You, Rory, should be at your favorite diner, eating fried mozzarella sticks like the picky child you are.”

You had invited Elijah over for a date night, you didn’t often get time alone together and you thought the dance would be the perfect opportunity to have a few hours to yourself.

“He… he’s not coming, I don’t think…” Rory began to rock back and forth on her heels, looking at the floor.

“Well, I think, he just needs a little reminder,” Elijah responds, standing up and for a moment, just a moment, you could have sworn you saw the veins beneath his eyes, ripple.

“Really?” Rory grins.

You take a step forward and press a kiss to the corner of Elijah’s mouth, you whisper, “Elijah… I, he’s probably drunk… you’re not going to be able to convince him…”

He hums, “Trust me, Darling, I can be very persuasive… and if not, I have another plan,” he then turns to your daughter, “just be ready Rory, you will be going to that dance.”

Elijah knocked on the door and straightened out his cufflinks, moments later it swung open to reveal Jonathan, in only his boxers, clearly not ready to go anywhere.

Jonathan looks Elijah up and down, “Did you miss the- the no soliciting sign?” his speech was slurred, a clear sign that he had been drinking.

Elijah raises a brow, “I am not here to sell you anything, I am here to tell you that you made a previous commitment to your daughter, Rory.”

“Oh hell,” Jonathan scoffs, “Let me- let me guess, you’re… you’re the whores new guy? She sent you here to what? Scare me?”

Elijah’s jaw clenches before he lets out a breath. He wanted nothing more than to grab the drunk man and put the fear of God into him, maybe even kill him. But alas, he could not, Jonathan still stood safely in the doorway of his home that Elijah had not been invited into.

“The stupid little bitch is fine… no dance, she’ll cry for a day before she forgets and moves on… she’s just a dumb kid…”

It would only take one toe out the door, Elijah told himself, only one drunken move out the door and I could strangle him.

Which is exactly what would happen.

It seemed that Elijah’s lack of response angered Jonathan, the drunken man leaned forward, his hand curling around the door frame and that was all Elijah needed. In a second, he had the man pinned to the side of the house by his throat.

Jonathan’s legs dangle as he desperately tries to touch the ground, gasping for breath.

Elijah had come here to convince Jonathan to go to the dance but the way he spoke about you, about your daughter, gave him a new purpose.

“You’re going to relinquish custody of Rory, granting Y/N full custody. And afterwards, you’ll never bother either of them even again…” Elijah releases his grip a bit, allowing Johnathan to slide down the wall.

The drunken man is horrified, “I’ll… I’ll go to the cops!”

“You won’t,” Elijah grins, pupils dilating.

When Elijah returned back to your home, there were only thirty minutes left before the dance started. Rory was sitting on the counter when he walked through the door, carrying a little bouquet of blue and white flowers.

“M’lady,” he greets you, before approaching Rory, holding the flowers out for her to take, “These are for you, sweet pea.”

Rory smiles and throws herself into his arms, he picks her up with ease, holding her on his hip.

“I’m so sorry, I couldn’t make him come… but I can take you, if you’d like… and if that’s okay with your mother…”

You smile softly, “Of course that’s okay with me.”

Rory clutches the flowers to her chest, “I wanted you to take me in the first place…”

Elijah looks at you, raising a brow, “Is that so?”

You sigh, “I didn’t want you to feel obligated…”

He chuckles, walking over to press a kiss to your forehead, “I never feel obligated when it comes to my favorite girls,” he turns his head to look at Rory, who he’s still holding, “Now we must go. There’s a dance waiting for us.”

“Wait wait!” you call out just as they’re about to reach the door, “I need a picture.”

After the dance, Elijah would take Rory to her favorite restaurant where she would eat her fried mozzarella sticks.

And days later, you received a letter in the mail from Jonathan’s lawyer, declaring he wanted to relinquish his custody rights, granting you full custody.

Finally, you could begin your new life with your daughter and your lover.

[morganaawriterr]

Late Night Dancing; Nishimura Riki

SYNOPSIS ➺ You find yourself staring at the ceiling and recalling the cute memories you have of your old best friend, now boyfriend, Ni-ki. He soon catches you red-handed and begs you to do an activity that shouldnt be done in the am.

REQUEST ➺ For this cutie @enhayaya! Her bundle was: Tiger's eye (Ni-ki). The lovers (Best friends to lovers). Rainwater and lavender (Human). Suggestive.

WARNINGS ➺ A bit Suggestive; Very cute; Kissing, Ni-ki is cutie pie :)

Check out "Enchanted Corner" to see the original post with the waiting list since the event is over!

Being with Ni-ki is incredible. Since he is a loverboy, so you guys always end up doing romantic and crazy things together. Both of you love the feeling of freedom and the taste of each other’s lips, so nothing else matters in this world.

You can still remember how it was to be his best friend, comforting and safe. But now, you have all of that with boyfriend privileges, like kissing. As you concentrate your eyes on the top of your boyfriend’s bedroom, the memories of all the crazy things that you guys have done pass in your eyes like a movie.

You could listen to his laughter in your mind, so vivid and delighted. In slow motion, you saw Ni-ki running on the warm sand of the beach, his oreo hair shifting gradually in front of his eyes and his lips opening wide to a welcoming smile.

“Why are you giggling at the ceiling?” Ni-ki’s voice interrupts your movie time. You peek at him, admiring his rosy cheeks and your plump lips.

“I can’t sleep.” Your answer, slowly moving to your side to face him.

“Hmm, what can we do about it?” The boy by your side smirks and stretches his body, only to put one of his naked legs on top of your half-naked body.

“I dunno.” You pout, observing him.

Besides being sweet and caring, Riki is also a tease, and he will take advantage of every moment he can to tease you. So, his lips quickly come in contact with your neck. He starts to leave short pecks all over it because he knows you are ticklish, and he loves to hear your laugh.

“I had this crazy idea…” He whispers against your skin, hot breath on your skin.

“Oh really?” You inquire him, eyes locked on his. Ni-ki’s fingertips travel to your face, caressing your warm cheek.

“Can we dance?” Riki asks with his eyes locked deeply in yours, as if this were the most natural thing to ask in the middle of the night.

“Now?” You ask him, and he nods.

You explode in laughter. Your eyes closed shut, and your lips curling upwards, he can't possibly be serious.

“I’m serious. I want to dance with you…” Ni-ki answers sassily and then pretends to be mad at you, his eyebrows arched and a sad pout resting on his pretty lips.

You don’t answer him, just pause to watch what he is going to do next. The tall boy gets up from the bed and walks towards his radio and synchronizes it with his phone.

As “One Life” from Justin Bieber starts playing, you find yourself laughing again. Riki is only wearing a white T-shirt and black boxers. His hair is somehow perfectly fine, and a lazy smirk is placed on his lips.

“Are you joining me?” He asks, his pointing finger telling you to get over to his side.

With a seductive look in your face, you get up and walk towards him, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your head on his chest.

As both of you danced calmly to the music, the time appeared to fly out of the window, the full moon twinkling brightly in the sky.

Ri-ki takes your hand and you spin, your hair moving slowly and the large t-shirt you’re wearing getting lifted, showing your black thongs and glorious thighs that Ri-ki gets lost in, oftentimes.

Of course, your boyfriend has his eyes on you all the all-time, admiring you and thanking God that you are his. You end up curled against his chest again, a proud smile placed on your lips as you inhale his intoxicating cologne.

“You’re so beautiful.” Ni-ki compliments you as his hands secure your midsection. You keep your head high and your eyes on his.

“I love you… Thank you for everything…” Your cheeks are red by the time you finish those words, and Riki is lost in your cuteness.

“I love you, too, Princess. And you’re welcome.” Riki whispers before his lips find yours, while his hands get lost under your white t-shirt.

Author's Note: This was so cute to write!! I hope you liked it!! As always, thank you so much for all the love, reblogs are always appreciated! Masterlist

Taglist: @mrsjjongstby @kawaiichu32 @maewphoria @tunafishyfishylike @deluluscenarios @firstclassjaylee @rjssierjrie @reibelhearts @pshfan0812

If you wanna be added or removed from the taglist just comment below!

[vaginalvr]

oh my gosh the gif where you asked for requests, it has me thinking. perhaps like a spencer x bau! reader and it’s just kinda pillow talk and where they sort of talk about the future, ya know like getting married and having kids type of stuff.

i supposeeeeeeee 🤗🤗🤗

a/n This is super cutie. enjoy!

REQUESTS ARE OPEN! Come submit an idea :)

cw: Emotional intimacy, mild suggestive content, but mostly soft and romantic

The case had drained you both—physically, emotionally. One of those long, exhausting weeks where sleep was fleeting and grief clung to your clothes like smoke. But the worst was over. The unsub was in custody. The family would get answers. The BAU jet was quiet on the flight home, everyone lost in their own silence.

Now, hours later, you’re wrapped up in a pair of Spencer’s sweatpants and one of his old cardigans, warm skin still humming from the shower, your body curled against his under the comforter.

The room is dim, moonlight pooling through the window. Spencer’s lying on his side, propped on one elbow, his fingers lazily stroking the bare skin of your arm. Your head rests on his chest, right over the steady beat of his heart.

Neither of you has said much since you got home—just a few soft kisses, a murmured “I love you,” the kind of quiet that only happens when you don’t need words to feel safe.

But now, as your limbs tangle beneath the sheets and sleep threatens, his voice finds you.

“Do you ever think about what comes after this?”

You tilt your head, chin resting on his ribs. “After what?”

“This,” he says softly, gesturing at nothing in particular. “The BAU. Chasing monsters. Jet lag and cold coffee and hotel rooms.”

You hum, shifting so you can meet his eyes. They’re thoughtful, distant in the way they get when his mind is half in a memory and half in the future. You reach up and trace your fingers down his jaw, gently grounding him.

“Sometimes,” you admit. “I used to be scared to.”

“Why?”

“Because I didn’t think I’d get an after,” you whisper. “Before you… I didn’t picture anything past the next case.”

Spencer’s eyes soften, and he brings your hand to his lips, kissing each knuckle slowly. “Me too.”

The silence that follows is full of understanding. You’ve both seen things that make the idea of ‘later’ feel fragile. But here, wrapped in each other, it feels possible.

“I think about it all the time now,” he says. “Not in a desperate way. Just… little flashes.”

“Like what?”

Spencer smiles, that boyish curve of his lips that still melts your heart. “Like you in a wedding dress. A quiet ceremony. Maybe just us and the team. And then this ridiculous honeymoon where we forget how to do anything except be happy.”

Your breath catches a little. He says it so casually, like he’s just listing grocery items. But you can see the honesty in his eyes.

“You want to get married?” you ask softly, more touched than surprised.

He gives you a look. “Of course I do. I’ve been in love with you for three years. I want everything with you.”

You blink back the sudden sting in your eyes, smile wobbling. “Well, you’re in luck. I want everything with you too.”

Spencer’s hand rests over your stomach, fingers idly brushing beneath the hem of your shirt. “Do you think we’ll know when it’s time to stop chasing monsters?”

You exhale, thinking. “I don’t know if we ever really stop. But I think someday we’ll want to stay. To build something instead of always cleaning up after what’s broken.”

He nods. “Yeah. I want that. A house. Not too big. Maybe a porch. Some bookshelves I can overfill.”

You grin. “You’ll overfill every room.”

He chuckles softly, then quiets, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Do you want kids?”

The question lands gently, not like a bomb but like something sacred. Something careful. You swallow around the lump in your throat.

“I think I do,” you whisper. “I used to say I wasn’t sure. Too dangerous. Too messy. But lately… I see a life with you, and it feels different. Like it’s something we could protect.”

Spencer’s eyes shine in the moonlight. “You’d be such a good mom.”

You snort softly. “Yeah? Even when I swear like a sailor and get hangry on stakeouts?”

He laughs. “Especially then. You’re real. You care so deeply. I see it every day. And any kid would be lucky to grow up with you as their mother.”

You press a kiss to his collarbone, overwhelmed with love. “What about you? Think you could handle the chaos?”

His smile fades into something more vulnerable. “I used to be terrified I’d turn into my mom. That I’d pass something down without meaning to. But now… I think I’d be okay. Not because I’d be perfect. But because I’d have you. And because I’d try.”

Your heart swells at the tenderness in his voice.

“You’d be the most loving dad,” you say, fingertips brushing through his curls. “You’d read them stories with all the voices. Make them pancakes shaped like animals. Teach them to be kind and curious.”

Spencer closes his eyes, like he’s imagining it. “I want to teach them chess. And long division. And how to spot a lie.”

You laugh quietly. “You’d turn them into little profilers.”

“Just the healthy kind,” he promises. “Smart, but not afraid to feel things. I want them to know it’s okay to cry. That being strong doesn’t mean being silent.”

You rest your forehead against his. “We’d build something beautiful.”

He nods, and his voice goes soft. “You make everything feel possible.”

You lie there for a while, breathing each other in, wrapped in a future that hasn’t happened yet but feels real enough to touch.

After a few minutes, Spencer murmurs, “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Of course.”

“I already have a ring.”

You pull back just enough to look him in the eye, heart stuttering. “You what?”

He smiles sheepishly. “I’ve had it for a few months. I’ve just been waiting. For the right time. The right moment.”

You stare at him, heart thudding wildly. “Spencer…”

“I wasn’t going to do it tonight,” he adds quickly, voice warm and calming. “Not like this. Not after a long case, in bed with no grand gesture. But now that we’re talking about the future, it feels silly to keep it a secret.”

You bite your lip, eyes stinging again. “Is it weird that I love that you told me like this?”

He shakes his head, brushing your cheek. “No. Because this—us, talking about our lives in bed, dreaming together—this is what I want forever to feel like.”

You lean in and kiss him, slow and deep, full of promise.

When you break apart, you whisper against his lips, “So… when you do ask, I’ll say yes.”

Spencer smiles against your mouth. “Good. Because I plan on asking a hundred times over the years. Just to hear you say it again.”

You laugh, pulling him close, and he settles into the crook of your body, arms tight around you.

The future is still uncertain. The work is still hard. But for the first time in a long time, you feel like it’s okay to dream. To imagine wedding rings and bedtime stories and messy pancakes on Sunday mornings. A life that’s more than surviving.

And in Spencer’s arms, you know—whatever comes next, you’ll face it together.

[moondustbaby]

Sunlight Torture and Other Love Languages

Bsf!Rafe x Bsf!Reader

summary: You show up to Rafe’s room before 8 a.m., mascara-smudged, heart heavy, and in desperate need of the one person who’s always made you feel safe. Too bad there’s a half-naked stranger tangled in his sheets. But that’s never stopped you before—and it won’t today. A soft, complicated, best-friends-since-forever kind of morning.

⸻

It’s barely 8 a.m. on a Sunday when I let myself into the Cameron house without knocking. I don’t care that I probably look like a disaster—hoodie half-zipped, slippers on, mascara smudged from crying through a 2 a.m. spiral about my parents that I can’t even fully explain. I just need Rafe.

And I already know where he’ll be.

Up the stairs, down the hall, second door on the left. Same as it’s always been.

I push open his door and step into the dim, stuffy room. There’s the soft, unmistakable sound of sleep breathing, and when my eyes adjust, I spot her. Some girl, naked and tangled in Rafe’s sheets, half-sprawled across his chest like a warm prop. Both of them are knocked out, dead to the world.

I don’t flinch. I don’t hesitate.

I march straight over to the window and yank the curtains wide open.

The sunlight explodes into the room like a spotlight. The girl jolts upright with a startled gasp, grabbing at the blanket to cover herself. Rafe groans, throwing an arm over his eyes like it’s any other morning.

“What the fuck—?” the girl snaps, blinking against the light as she scrambles to sit up, dazed and hungover.

“You should go,” I say calmly, like I’m reading off a script. “Thanks for playing.”

She’s still blinking as she tries to figure out what’s going on, grabbing clothes off the floor and fumbling into them. She doesn’t even ask who I am until her shirt’s halfway over her head.

“Is this your girlfriend?” she mutters, like she already knows the answer but wants the satisfaction of hearing it.

“No,” I say at the same time Rafe mumbles from under his arm, “Yeah, no. She’s just—my best friend.”

Her stare lingers on me a little too long. Like she wants to argue, but knows she’s already lost. She gathers the rest of her stuff without another word and leaves in a blur of irritation and smudged eyeliner.

I shut the door behind her.

Rafe’s still barely awake, shirtless under the blankets, just in boxers. He shifts lazily, squinting at me. “You really had to go full sunlight torture?”

“You were asleep. I needed you awake.”

“You couldn’t text first?”

“You didn’t text me first last night when you ditched our group to go hook up with whatever-her-name-was,” I say, already pulling off my hoodie and crawling into his bed like it’s mine. “So.”

He sighs, scooting over automatically, lifting the blanket so I can climb under. “Fair.”

I settle beside him, tucking myself into his warmth, trying to ignore the scent of someone else’s perfume still lingering in his sheets. But his arm finds its usual place around my waist, and just like always, I feel better the second he touches me.

“You okay?” he asks, quieter now.

“No.”

He waits.

“It’s my parents. Same old bullshit. They’re fighting again. And I know it’s dumb, and I know I’m being dramatic, but it just—it gets in my chest and I hate being there alone.”

His fingers move slow and steady against my side. “You’re not dumb.”

“I kicked a girl out of your bed and climbed in like it was mine.”

“It kinda is.”

My breath catches, but I don’t say anything. Just stare at the ceiling.

“I hate that I’m used to this,” I whisper.

“To what?”

“To feeling like I’m the only one holding everything together.”

His hand squeezes lightly at my hip. “You don’t have to hold anything today.”

And he means it. In the way only he can.

We don’t talk much after that. I just let myself sink into him, like I have since we were kids, pretending everything in the world could be fine as long as I had him next to me.

༶⋆｡ﾟ☽✿⋆˚✧✿☾ﾟ｡⋆༶

a/n: this has been in my drafts for a whileeeee. no thoughts just sunlight torture, casual girlbossing a hookup out of bed, and then climbing in like the lifelong menace you are. anyway. this one is for the girlies who cope by being delulu and dramatic before 9 a.m. love you.

♥️ lani

Send Me Requests! 💌

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[killmeleatherface]

OneShot-

The Incident

This is a companion to my series “It Had To Be You”

AN: This is it guys! I’m on a writing kick right now and instead of including this part in a chapter I figured I’d write it out separately.

TW: cheating, hospital setting, crying, no smut, maybe some angst??

—

It was one of those slightly chilly spring mornings in Pittsburgh. The air smelled crisp through your open bathroom window. It smelled inviting. But you didn’t care. All you could focus on was the item in front of you.

A white stick with a blue lid. One that dawned +Pregnant in its grey window. You were leaning against your bathroom counter in disbelief. Well, not disbelief because you know how this happened. More…shocked. You didn’t think it’d happen already. So soon.

You don’t know if you should laugh, cry, dance, or scream. You were having a baby. You and your fiance were going to have a baby.

Then you thought of your fiance. The dark haired man that you loved still sleeping peacefully in your bed. Should you wake him up? You think.

You decide against it and pick up the stick, slide it back into its original foil packaging and stick it in a plastic bag. You hide it in your makeup bag in hopes of telling him later.

After zipping up your makeup bag you head over to the shower, turning it to a hotter setting where steam eventually fills the space. You lean against the towel rack on the wall and soak it in. Life was about to change in a big way.

You pick your head back up and start undressing. After you’ve taken your shirt off you look at your bare stomach. You place your hand on your lower belly and feel the no longer empty space. There was a very early stage embryo living in your body. A mixture of yours and your loves best parts, joined together.

You step into the shower, immediately enveloped by the hot water and steam. It feels amazing. You let your eyes close and lean your head back under the stream. Suddenly there’s a knock at the door.

“Hey” Robby peaks his head in. “I need to get in there.” He says softly.

“Then join me, my love.” You call out. There’s silence in response.

“Uh, no, it’s uh, it’s okay. I can wait until you’re done.” He says and closes the door.

You open your eyes and want to say something back but choose not to. Just another thing he’s been doing that’s been so weird lately. Whatever. Maybe it was pre wedding jitters.

You finish your shower and dry off. You do a touch of makeup and get dressed, making sure to snag the pregnancy test and stick it in your scrub pocket on the way out.

Robby’s pouring coffee into 2 thermoses when you step into the main living area. He’s looking the other way and doesn’t notice you’re walking towards him. You instinctively reach your arms out to wrap around his waist when your apparently sudden touch seems to surprise him. He immediately turns around pushing your hands down in the same movement.

What the hell?

“Hey baby good morning.” He softly smiles.

You soften because you immediately feel like you’ve been overreacting.

You return the smile and good morning. He holds out your favorite thermos and offers “I’ve gotta head in early. Jack called me and I guess it’s chaos there.”

This isn’t at all unusual, but for some reason this heightens your curiosity. Maybe it’s the pregnancy hormones.

“Oh, bummer. I was hoping we could’ve had breakfast this morning, but duty calls. I can head in with you.” You say.

“No, my love, it’s alright, I uh,” he stammers, “I’m gonna go. Love you.” He picks up his thermos, plants a kiss on your head and turns around, heading for the front door after he slings on his hoodie and backpack.

Well damn. Already gone. You were really hoping to head to your favorite diner a couple blocks from the hospital together and tell him your great news. It was his news too, anyways.

Oh well. You sit at the kitchen island and sip your coffee before you ultimately decide to head in too.

—

On your walk into The Pittsburg Medical Trauma Center you realize you were right about it being a nice day. You have a light sweater on can actually enjoy walking towards your job right now.

Crossing into the metal detector and saying pleasantries to Ahmad like usual, you pass a full waiting room. But that’s not unusual. It’s a main trauma center in a busy area, there was sadly hardly a time it wasn’t packed.

You get buzzed into the main receiving area and see a mostly empty nurses desk. It’s quiet in there beyond the usual beeps of monitors. Hmm. You decide to put your bag down and find your fiance, intent on bringing him his favorite pastry from a bakery you passed by on your walk to work. But where is he?

Holding 2 pastries in one hand you begin searching for Robby. He’s probably in a trauma room, no big deal. After searching 10 minutes you decide to head into the break room and send a text, saying you’re waiting for him there when he gets a chance.

But you’re stopped in your tracks when you hear familiar voices by the staff lockers. It’s a girl and a guy. Who is that?

It’s Robby and Heather Collin’s. Otherwise known as your fiance and his ex girlfriend.

What the hell?

“Robby, I can’t. I can’t do this.” Heather pleads quietly.

“You’re getting married and I-I- know that but there’s something in me that I just need to” and silence.

Is he still there? Did he walk away?

You step forward, not knowing what you’re doing but curiosity getting the best of you. What you see breaks you. It makes you want to scream, cry, and punch a hole through the wall next to you.

You’re frozen. You think you might actually die. You feel your insides drop to the floor. You want to collapse.

Michael Robinavitch and Heather Collin’s are kissing in the emergency department. The love of your life, the father of your child, your other half, is kissing another woman.

You come back to yourself and quietly walk away as fast as you can. You drop the pastries on the front desk and bolt out there. You grab your bag and head for the exit, everything and everyone a blur around you.

AN: thanks everyone for the love!! And yup, our beloved Robby is a cheater!! I knooooow. But trust me, ;) This def won’t be the only one shot of this couple. I have a few more ideas for suuuure.

[joelmillerssugarbaby24]

Joel’s Girl- Part 8

This will make up for the last chapter (hint hint, desperate Joel ;) lemme know what you think after reading, ILY♥️♥️♥️

Chapter 8- Desperate

Your sleep that night was fitful. And it continued to be for the rest of the week. You woke up thinking of Joel, you fell asleep with his name on your lips. He haunted you, followed you everywhere. You caught glimpses of him wherever you went, reminders of him in everything that caught your eye. You ached for him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to approach him. You’d already fucked things up royally in that department. If he wanted you, he knew where to find you and that was that. You fisted the comforter and jerked it off your legs, frustrated. You hadn’t touched yourself since that night. You refused to. You couldn’t keep entertaining this fantasy of him or you would never be able to walk away.

But nothing else did it for you. No one else.

You stood shakily, already in a foul mood despite the early hour. You fumbled through your room, attempting to get ready for your morning shift at the bakery. Your fingers were stiff as you applied some light makeup and pulled your long curly hair into a high ponytail. You opted to skip breakfast, your appetite absent, and left the house, not bothering to stop the door from slamming behind you.

The air was crisp, not too cold or too warm, exactly how you preferred it. This did little to lift your spirits, though. Especially when you spotted Jimmy hanging around the entrance to the bakery. You plastered on a fake smile and waved.

“Mornin’” you muttered, fumbling with the ring of keys on your belt. You selected the right one and slipped it into the lock on the front door, swinging it open. Jimmy took this as permission to enter, breezing past you into the semi-darkness.

“Morning! You seem like you woke up on the wrong side of the bed.” He teases, leaning against the counter.

You really want to tell him to fuck off, but unfortunately you are too nice for your own good. So instead you laugh airily and nod, shrugging your shoulders.

“Just tired. Want a donut?”

“Mmmm yes please!” he exclaims, peering through the glass that covered an array of baked goods on the front counter.

‘How is he so chipper this early in the morning’ you wonder to yourself, begrudgingly plucking a vanilla iced donut from behind the glass and wrapping it in parchment. You hand it to him, carefully avoiding brushing his fingers. He smiles, accepting it eagerly.

“Thanks! Well I gotta be heading out. See you later, yeah?” He chirps before leaning in to kiss your cheek. You grimace, allowing it but cringing inwardly as he pulls away and all but skips out the door. Huffing a sigh, you go to tie your apron around your waist when your eyes lock with none other than Joel miller, standing frozen outside the window. He’s not moving, hands hanging by his thighs, shoulders squared, eyes dark. His demeanor is annoyed. No- angry. You smile and wave, pushing open the glass door and motioning him in.

“Hi, Joel. You hungry?”

He stares at you for a moment before begrudgingly entering, letting the door swing shut behind him. He’s only a breath away from you now and your breath catches at the nearness. You clasp your hands together to stop yourself from doing something stupid and step back, motioning behind you.

“I have some muffins, donuts, you know that kind of thing if you-.”

“You send me away the other night cause of him?”

His accusation cuts through the heavy silence like a barb and you flinch.

“What are you talking about?” you counter, hands on your hips, shoulders squaring.

“Im talkin bout that kid.”

He motions behind him to the door, “the one you just let kiss ya.”

You wave your hands in a dismissive motion, scoffing at his clear agitation.

“Jimmy? Oh that was nothing. I don’t like him like that.”

He huffs, running a thick hand through his hair.

“Like hell you don’t. I saw you two last week.”

You pause, eyebrows raising.

“Okay you’re gonna have to clue me in here, Joel. I’m confused.”

He grunts sharply, dark eyes boring into you. Why is he so angry? He doesn’t even want you. Does he?

“The day I got back. You were wearing that damn yellow dress, gigglin and shit like he hung the fuckin moon.”

You scrub a hand down your face, shaking your head in disbelief.

“Why the hell do you care anyway, Joel? You walked away, you said you didn’t want this. I’m just living my life and now you’re what? Fuckin spying on me?”

He bristles, hands fisting at his sides.

“That ain’t what I meant, just that-“

“What, if you can’t have me no one can is that right?” you shoot back, hip resting against the counter, arms crossed against your chest tightly.

“N-no. That’s not what I’m saying. I’m just- fuck. He’s not right for you, is all.”

You chuckle darkly.

“And how would you know that? How would you know what’s right for me?? Maybe I do like him. And you know what? Maybe I’ll let him fuck me. That’s MY business, Joel. I’m not yours, never have been. I can spend time with, fuck and talk to whoever I please.”

You’re angry now, cheeks flushed red, eyes blazing as you stare him down.

How dare he? How dare he cast you aside without a word and then have the audacity to tell you who you could spend your time with? The fact that you didn’t care for Jimmy that way was beside the point and you had no intention of telling him that. Not when he was so clearly jealous. Jealous of someone getting to touch you, laugh with you- hold you. A sick part of you enjoyed this, watching him squirm. Seeing that maybe he wasn’t so stoic after all.

He stands as still as a statue, the only sign he’s alive the flashing in his dark eyes and steady rise and fall of his chest. His jaw clenches tightly. You feel naked beneath his stare, laid bare. But you refuse to back down and square your shoulders in response to his scrutiny. Finally he speaks.

“You’re right.” he begins, softer now, voice resigned.

“I ain’t got no right. I don’t know what’s wrong with me- what you’re doin to me. I just can’t stand the thought of- of him..”

He runs both hands through his silver streaked hair, leaving it sticking up all over his head. Even in the haze of your anger you have to stifle a giggle at the sight. His gaze softens as he gazes at you, lips moving but no words coming out. Then you see it, as clear as day- his walls snap back up like a barrier and suddenly he’s scowling down at you.

“Sorry to bother you. See you around.”

You watch his broad back retreat further and further as he walks away, your chest squeezing. Your first instinct is to call after him but you stifle it. He’s in the wrong here, not you. You don’t owe him anything.

So why does it hurt so badly?

—————

Later

The day is uneventful following your confrontation with Joel. You lose yourself in baking, hands buried to the elbows in dough, sounds of conversation and the clanging of utensils lulling you into a numbing pace. You refuse to allow yourself to dwell on this morning. You couldn’t bear how he left, how defeated he had looked. Joel, your Joel. So strong, so manly, so sure and yet he had looked like a lost puppy as he grappled with your words. It still stung, and you pushed the image away every time it flashed across your mind.

You walked home in a daze, legs like jelly. The week of sleeplessness nights have begun to catch up with your body and you can’t wait to fall into bed despite it only being early evening.

You stumble inside, shedding clothes as you go until you arrive in your bedroom. Falling into the comforter, you moan and find yourself immediately drifting off into a deep and dreamless sleep.

You jolt awake when you hear a knock at the door. Still groggy, you look at the alarm clock on your bedside table. It reads 2:13. What the hell? Who is knocking at your door at 2 in the morning? You grumble nonsense to yourself as you pull on a big tshirt that hangs to the top of your thighs and stumble to the front door. Another knock resounds in the quiet house, and you huff.

“Keep your pants on, I’m coming”

You unlock the door and swing it open, leaning an arm against the doorframe and rubbing your eyes with the other.

Through a giant, face splitting yawn, the identity of your visitor registers in your sleep addled brain and you sigh.

“What do you want, Joel.” You mumble, head tilting to rest on the door.

“M sorry baby.” He says, his gravelly voice washing over you, lulling you into a haze. You smirk at him, suddenly not caring how you left things- just happy he is here now for you to admire. You want him to talk more, you realize. You missed his voice.

“Didn’t know you was sleeping.” He grumbles, running a palm through his hair. He looks agitated. You watch him, a smile tugging at your lips.

“It’s 2 AM.” you slur, “of course I’m sleeping.”

You yawn again, covering your mouth with your hand.

He tracks the motion, gaze softening. He reaches out then, gently twirling a stray piece of hair around his long finger. He tugs it gently.

“I missed you, baby. Missed you so much.”

“I missed you too, Joel.” You moan softly wrapping your arms around his neck. Maybe it’s the early hour. Maybe you’re just too tired to fight the insistent pull to him that never fades. Whatever the reason, you inhale his scent deeply, digging your nose into the crook of his neck. God, you missed that. His hair tickles your face and you giggle. His strong arms grip your waist, fingers digging into your hips.

“Need you. I need you so bad. Please let me come in, darlin. Need to feel you.” he draws, voice syrupy sweet, dripping straight to your core.

“Mmm thought I was too young” you whisper, tugging at his earlobe with your teeth. He grunts, gripping the underside of your bare thighs and lifting you, wrapping your legs around his waist. You squeal.

“Don’t care. Need you.” He says gruffly, stepping inside the house and kicking the door shut behind you.

“Can’t stop thinking about you.” he continues, “where’s your bedroom?”

“End of the hall” you murmur distractedly, peppering soft kisses along the underside of his jaw. He follows your direction, kicking open the door and closing it with one hand, careful to keep you wrapped tightly to him as he does. He’s so strong, carrying you with no effort at all. The realization melts you, pooling deep in your tummy. You grind your core against his clothed groin gently, insistently. He shudders, immediately hardening beneath you. You grin against his neck. Gently he sits on the bed, settling you onto his lap. You rest your hands on his shoulders and look down at him. His eyes are wide, pupils fully dilated so they’re no longer brown but black. His lips are parted and he’s breathing harshly, the hot air fanning your cheeks. You note the desperation in his gaze, the desire, and shudder.

“Did you fuck him?”

The question takes you by surprise. He asks it so softly, his voice strained. His fingers dig into the meat of your hips, his eyes searching yours. You lean forward, running your fingers through his patchy beard. He leans his face into your touch, eyes fluttering closed.

“No, Joel. I haven’t been with anyone but you.”

His eyes pop open. A rush of air leaves his lungs and he kisses you then, fiercely, his tongue immediately slipping past your lips.

“Good girl.” he murmurs against your mouth, hands running along your spine to your shoulders then back down. “Sweet baby. That’s my girl.”

You sigh heavily as he coos at you, the praise lighting a fire in your chest that licks through your veins voraciously. You thread your fingers through his curls, tugging lightly the way you know he likes and he rewards you with a low gutteral groan. He reaches beneath the hem of your shirt and lifts it over your head, tossing it to the corner, eyes never leaving your body.

“Missed these” he pants, hands immediately leaving your hips to cup your breasts. You arch into his touch, shuddering softly as his thumb brushes across your nipple.

“Joel.” you whine. His hot mouth closes over your peaked nipple and sucks softly. Gasping you push his head tighter against your breast, legs squeezing his hips.

“Yeah, like that. Mmmm just like that.” you moan breathily, pleasure coiling tightly in your stomach.

He hums approvingly, digging his fingers in your hair, pulling your head back for better access as he dives into your neck. He sucks hard beneath your ear as he grips two handfuls of your ass, squeezing.

“Fuck I missed you. Shit. W-Wanted this so bad.”

He’s slurring his words, soft moans punctuating every phrase and it sends you reeling.

“You want him to touch you like this?” He hisses raggedly in your ear and you moan, gripping the strands of his hair tighter.

“Huh? You want that baby?”

You shake your head, keening when he sucks his nipple into the heat of his mouth again.

“No. No don’t want him” you moan drunk on his touch, body screaming for more, more, more.

“That’s right. You want me, dontcha? Want my hands” he says, his voice impossibly deeper, rougher. “Want my cock”

You nod quickly, gasping when he flips you into your back, crawling up your body like a hungry predator, nuzzling your hipbone with his nose before biting down gently. You arch into his mouth. He hums softly against your skin, a smile curving his lips.

“That’s my girl.”

His rough hands grip the small of your back, tug you lower beneath him. You smile shyly up at him, melting beneath his hungry gaze. His eyes devour you as he pants heavily above you, cock hard against your inner thigh.

“So pretty” he coos, his long finger lazily tracing your collarbone, swirling above the curve of your breast then gliding to your tummy. You grab his hand, push it between your legs. He groans, a guttural sound that rattles his chest when his fingers brush the wetness there.

“Needy girl” he whispers, eyes locked on your core, teasing the entrance with the pad of his thumb. You marvel at the way his bronze rough skin contrasts with yours. He leans down, nuzzles his nose against your thigh, trails kisses up, up toward your core. He inhales deeply as if reveling in the very essence of you and the action sends violent shivers licking up your spine. He puts a big hand on each of your thighs, pressing down lightly, baring you to him. He stares then, so long you begin to squirm beneath his intent gaze. He licks his lips.

“Prettiest thing I ever seen.” He says quietly, reverently- devouring you with his eyes. You realize then this has to be sexiest thing you have ever witnessed. Your Joel, a man who had killed and mangled countless people, whose skin had bronzed from years of hard labor in the sun, a man who bowed to no one, who wasn’t afraid of anything- brought to his knees at the sight of your cunt, glistening for him. The realization sends a new wave of wetness rushing to your core and you writhe beneath him, desperate for him to touch you.

Suddenly his head is between your legs, hot tongue lapping at your core like a man starved, rubbing his beard against your inner thighs- devouring you. You can bring yourself to do nothing but take it, head falling back on the pillow, fingers curling in his hair. His lips wrap around your clit and you cry out at the sensation. The heat in your belly curls further and you feel your orgasm cresting.

“J-Joel”

“Mmmm” he rumbles against your cunt, continuing to feast upon you with a fervor of a man who might die if he doesn’t taste you.

“M gonna cum.” You breathe, a pornographic moan ripping from your throat as the coil pulls tighter and tighter before exploding, warmth spreading through limbs, mind hazing with pleasure. Your eyes roll back in your head as Joel continues to lap at you, working you through the final waves of pleasure, wringing you dry and leaving you panting, boneless beneath him. Finally, he withdraws his mouth, and you shiver at the loss of contact. He kisses you softly on the soft spot beneath your knee, big hand dragging up your thigh. Your eyes flutter closed, your hands gripping his biceps, tugging him to you. He chuckles darkly, acquiescing to your demands. He braces himself above you, lips a breath from yours. “My Sweet girl” he breaths, kissing one corner of your mouth then the other. You hum, lips curving upward, hands reaching between you to glue across the head of his painfully hard cock. He flinches violently, gritting his teeth.

“Mm so sensitive” you purr, running your soft fingers along the veins on the underside of him. He hisses through his teeth, head dropping your shoulder.

“That’s it, honey let me make you feel good” you coo as you continue to tease him with a gentle touch, basking in every groan as if it’s a reward, chest glowing with pride that you and only you had this power of him.

“Wanna be inside you” he slurs, kissing your neck sloppily, hands growing more urgent in their groping.

You hum and guide him to your core, the tip of his cock resting against your arousal. He hisses again, biting the inside of your shoulder. You gasp when he thrusts into you, giving you a moment to adjust before filling you completely. The sweet sting sends a bolt of pleasure through you and you wrap your legs around his waist, encouraging him to go deeper, harder. Your hands scrabble for purchase on his broad shoulders as he continues to thrust into you, his tip brushing that spongey part inside that has you curling your toes tightly. Your run your nails along his back, no doubt drawing blood but he only groans and quickens his pace. You know he’s close. His hips snap into you harder and harder, thrusts growing sloppier, needier. You bite his earlobe.

“That’s right. All yours baby. Take what’s yours” you whisper into the shell of his ear and that pushes him over the edge. He comes with a low gutural rumble that rips itself from his chest and shudders as he spends himself inside you, falling to the bed weakly, arms still loosely wrapped around your body. His chest heaves, beads of sweat trickling down his temple, and you trace each one with your finger. He turns his head to gaze at you, tired eyes tracking every inch of your face. You smile at him sweetly, snuggle into his chest. You know there are things you need to talk about. But it can wait. Tonight, Joel Miller is in your bed. His masculine scent invades the air all around you, cradling you in a cocoon of safety and protection. You snuggle closer into his broad chest, and kiss it. Talking can wait.

Tonight Joel Miller is yours and you’re his. And that’s enough.

————-

This was so fun to write. Enjoy, my lovelies!! Give me your feedback in the comments! Hope you love it!

[warfaredoll]

𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮

[𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐟𝐚𝐫𝐞] 𝐄𝐫𝐢𝐤 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Erik finds himself at your door again, like he always does.

𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, fluff, slight angst, wc 1k, the marias inspired this , got a filthy Tommy ver. in my drafts 🤭🤭🙂‍↔️

your restless. the sheets are warm, maybe too warm. you kick them off then pull them back. nothing helps. you lie still, staring at the dark ceiling your eyes beginning to involuntarily close from how long they’ve been open.

then a soft click of the lock.. the doorknob turns slowly, the door eases open without a creak, whoever it is slips inside quietly. heavy boots shift on the floor but barely make a sound

whoever it is calls your name softly

not bunny, not sweetheart, none of the things the other men call you. just your name. your real name. the one only him and one other person know about.

you know that voice quiet and hoarse, Erik.

you don’t turn when you hear your name. you don’t need to

his footsteps draw nearer, slow and almost hesitant. then the bed dips at the edge under his weight not much, just enough to tilt your body slightly toward him

you feel the brush of his fingers against your arm barely there, he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear with care. you don’t see his face, but you can feel his eyes on you

he slowly moves, then lies down behind you.

one strong arm slides around your waist, the other settling under his head. his chest meets your back, his breath warm at the nape of your neck as he pulls you in

“Can’t sleep” he murmurs, “Thought I’d come and see you.”

you hum understandingly, your fingers find his where they rest on your stomach. you trace the curve of his knuckles, the space between them and then gently press your hand over his.

Erik’s breath slows against your neck, his arm tightens just a little around your waist, you can feel the tension in his hand begin to ease, fingers unclenching as you trace small, absent shapes over his skin.

then, without a word he leans in and presses the softest kiss to your shoulder. It’s barely there, just the brush of his lips against your skin

you feel him nuzzle in a little closer, his nose brushing your hair as he breathes you in. and then his hand still resting protectively over your stomach starts to move. gentle strokes of his thumb over your skin, tracing the hem of your shirt, then back again.

his fingertips lightly graze yours where your hands touch, and he curls his pinky around yours. his arms stay wrapped around you but your body shifts slowly in his hold gently, carefully until you’re facing him. his eyes meet yours instantly as if he’d been waiting

you lay like that nose to nose in the dark, his forehead barely a inch away from yours. he doesn’t speak and neither do you. you take the opportunity to really look at him. the sharp curve of his brow, the small furrow between them that never quite smooths out, the look in his eyes, like he’s always half-here and half-somewhere he doesn’t want to be.

your hand comes up slowly, fingers brushing the stubble on his chin. he leans into it without thinking, eyelids closing shut at your touch like it’s the first real comfort he’s let himself feel in days maybe longer.

you trace the angle of his jaw, then the soft slope of his cheekbone, your thumb resting just under his eye. he doesn’t move. doesn’t stop you.

“Are you okay Erik?” you whisper.

he opens his eyes again, but doesn’t look away.

“Yeah…” he says voice low and raspy, “Just… been a lot lately.”

he slowly shifts releasing you from his hold. he sits up from his position in the dark, the bed creaking softly under his weight. moonlight from the small window softly lights across his back catching on the worn fabric of his shirt as he pulls it over his head and lets it drop to the floor without a care. scars trail faintly along his skin old ones, some faded

when he lays back down, he reaches for you gently guiding you into him until your cheek rests against the warmth of his bare chest. his arms wrap around you, one hand pressing lightly to the small of your back, the other stroking slow, absent circles along your spine

you always knew Erik’s needs were different, more emotional than physical. where others came to you looking for a distraction, he came to be known. he didn’t want your body he wanted your closeness, your presence that didn’t demand anything from him.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you” he murmurs into your hair

you smile softly against his chest, “You’ll never have to find out” you whisper back

he doesn’t respond, he just simply kisses the top of your head.

you tilt your head just enough to meet his eyes again, “I’m always here Erik” you say. “always.”

he pulls you in tighter, letting your warmth melt into him

you stay there, pressed against his chest, wrapped up in his arms. you can hear his heart beating a little quick, a little uneven like him having you this close makes him nervous

and this isn’t the first time, not the first night he’s come to you mentally and physically drained. not the first time he let himself be just Erik with you not Captain, not soldier, just a man who needs to feel something soft, something genuine. and with you, he always could

It’s always been like this

your fingers drift upward from his chest, slow brushing the strong line of his neck, your thumb tracing just under his jaw. he watches you eyes half lidded and soft, you can see the way he’s letting himself feel just for a moment, just here with you.

you lift your head just enough, tilt your chin slightly and kiss him

gently, not rushed, not desperate. just lips brushing his with the same care he always shows you intentional, warm, soft

he kisses you back. his hand curls against your lower back pulling you closer, like he wants to feel every inch of you pressed to him. his lips move against yours softly

when you pull back just a little, breath mingling with his, his forehead rests against yours, eyes closed.

you stay curled against him, your hand resting gently over his heart and Erik holds you even tighter

he should feel comforted. safe. you always gave him that.

but instead, he feels everything

His eyes stay open long after yours drift closed, staring at the ceiling like it might give him answers. he listens to your breathing soft and steady, your body warm against his so trusting, so close and still, part of him unsure of what to do with all of this

sometimes, he wants to tell you he loves you

the words sit on the edge of his tongue when you’re touching him like this, when your voice is soft, when your eyes see right through the man he pretends to be for everyone else. he wants to whisper it freely while he softly kisses you, wants to feel the way you’d melt into him if he just said it.

but other times he just wants to shove it all down. pretend it doesn’t exist. pretend you don’t mean what you do to him. because you’re a barracks bunny, and he’s the captain. he should pull away, close his eyes, let himself drift off to sleep. but he doesn’t.

he lays there still, while your body fits perfectly against his like it’s meant to. like it always does. and he hates how right it feels. because everything about this is wrong, isn’t it?

you’re not his.

you were never supposed to be more than just a easy escape, just a body he could fall into when being in command became too much. that’s what a barracks bunny is.. comfort without commitment, no complication of feelings

but you mean something to him. you always have.

he tells himself it’s the circumstances you're both in. that war makes people reach for warmth and company wherever they can find it. that if he had met you somewhere else than maybe he wouldn’t look at you the way he does. wouldn’t feel his chest tighten every time he came to see you. wouldn’t ache when you pull away in the morning and leave him staring at the spot where your body laid warm and close against his.

but deep down, he knows that’s a lie. It’s not the circumstances or war that make him feel this way.

It’s you. the way you touch him without asking for anything in return. the way you see straight through him, and still choose to let him in. you never try to fix him. you just stay. quiet, patient, kind. and that undoes him more than anything else.

he watches you for a long time. his hand still on your back, moving in slow circles. you shift a little in your sleep a sweet soft sigh slipping from your lips as you unconsciously nuzzle closer.

he could never say he loves you. because if he says it what’s left of him then? so he settles with just closing his eyes for tonight, burying his face in your hair, and holding you tighter while saying nothing.

it’s getting messy.. situationship with Ray or sweet Erik 💔

@spacec0wgirl777 @meetmeatyourworst @f4nfic-lover @tenseoyong @ddlydevotion @https-junebug @glassbxttless @legoflowrs @samslvrgirl @vinecstasy

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 - 𓊆ྀི 𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐢𝐞𓊇ྀི

[iloveyanderes]

Part 2 of my sagau-ish thingy!

(name) was having a really weird day. She had worked the overnight shift at a children’s hospital and then was scheduled to work the day shift just two hours later. Going home would be useless so she instead went and found a nice tree to lay under, a bunch of kids had pulled on her hair making her braid a little bit messy but at this point (name) was too lazy to redo it.

When she sat down (name) noticed she had accidentally grabbed a bag full of medical supplies rather than her actual bag full of stuff, it was fine though she could return it later today.

Placing the bag behind her (name) drifted off to sleep and the weirdness began when she woke. There were three children looking at her weirdly, probably siblings though.

One of them was clearly not well and being a doctor (name) couldn’t help but run to him, and weirdly enough when she was going to stitch his stomach back together it closed by itself.

The twins were staring at her weirdly and it gave her off vibes, well she did manage to save their brother-well somehow did, some weird magic put it together. So maybe when they’re gone she’ll wander around and maybe find out where the actual heck she was.

Speaking of that…

Where is the hospital!? Why is she out in the wilderness!? Why do all these children dress very differently!? Did she get kidnapped!? Why did she feel so weird-like stronger somehow?

Before any question could be asked (name) got shot,

By an arrow,

In the chest,

What? Do people even use arrows anymore? Well she’s certainly not in Canada anymore.

Looking down (name’s) brain hadn’t registered yet that there was supposed to be pain, so she took the opportunity to give medical advice.

“Uh-don’t take the arrow out-” her knees were wobbly and she struggled to stay up, “until you get a medic….” (name) fell to the grassy floor, it was a soft landing for whatever reason.

Huh, her blood wasn’t red or even blue…was it yellow?

Or gold.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(name) woke up sweating, it was so hot. Hot enough that her first thought was to get up and open a window.

Stepping on the floor, her bare foot met with rather soft carpet but it was so hot that (name) ignored it. Opening a window (name) was met with a cold breeze, oh thank god, that felt great.

“Your worship?” huh?

Turning around (name) sees someone who appears to be in a maid outfit, an old one from probably the 1800s, brown hair and brown eyes graced the maids' features.

“Who?” was the first word that came out of (name’s) mouth, the maid then freaked out and ran out the door faster than a cheetah.

That was weird, wait…where is (name) now? She’d been so distracted by the heat that she’d didn’t take anything else in.

Did she…get transported into the Victorian era? It looks like it, but somehow more fancy actually, like it was made out of better materials.

There were three gigantic victorian-like couches, two of them faced each other while the third faced a rather beautiful fireplace. Of course they were all on top of a red lacy carpet. Multiple vanities and dressers captured the room but the bed she’d been on stole the spotlight with its fluffy pillows and silky sheets. What the actual heck happened?

“YOUR WORSHIP!” oh that voice is a little bit more familiar, there wasn’t any need for (name) to turn around as she’d already been facing the door.

Oh, it's lyney.

Wait, how did (name) know this guy again?

“Your worship?” he asked again, a lot more quiet this time.

“Who?” (name) asked confused, she was no priest so she didn’t know who lyney could be talking to.

“You”

“My name is (name) I don’t remember being named your worship”

“Oh gods, you have brain damage too!” a maid that had apparently been behind lyney fell to the ground dramatically, probably passing out from shock- wait wait could be so surprising about that that it would cause someone enough shock to shut their brain down?

Long story short they freaked out because (name) had been out for a week and pretty much recovered from being shot in the chest with an arrow in that little time. However they were still insistent on her Being pushed down onto the bed. It was kind of annoying because everyone was trying to doctor (name) when she herself had studied for over 8 years to get the highest doctor degree possible but at the same time had it been anyone else she wouldn’t let them out of bed for at least 8 weeks.

“Your worship, please do stay in bed, you may be healed but we don’t know any other side effects”

“I feel fine” truly, despite getting shot only a week ago (name) feels fine, maybe a little wobbly at worst because she hadn’t stood up in a while

“You got shot by an arrow in the chest a week ago your not fine” that made (name) fold, she complied and sat down on the bed, quickly getting served breakfast in bed-well soup. But kudos to these guys for serving (name) something that her stomach would be able to handle.

Before digging in (name) saw lyney stare intensely at her, staring back she found that it was the appropriate time to ask lyney the question that's been plaguing (name’s) mind.

“Hey lyney, where exactly am I?” She asked. He was quick to respond, everything about him felt oddly respectful now.

“Fontaine, your worship”

“....I.. I have no idea what that is” the maid in the room proceeded to pass out again, while lyney only looked like he was falling deeper into despair.

“You haven't heard of the country Fontaine? One of the seven in teyvat. A world run by elemental energy ?The world you created where pretty much everyone worships you?”

“.......no, I'm from earth-the country of canada? Have you heard of it?” What is that type of book teenagers like to gush about to (name) when she’s treating them- uhm something about reincarnation, regressing? Uh no (name) had to die for that to happen and she’d be in a new body…there's one more word for it….

“Is everything alright your worship?” oh there it is, isekai! That’s the word. You don’t necessarily have to die to be Isekai’d so that's probably what happened, thank all those teenagers that (name) treated who were obsessed with light novels and mangas

“Oh yes, maybe a little bit hot, it’s humid in here so it’s making me a little bit sweaty” (name) smiled at him, when your isekai’d theres still a chance you can return back and that’s something (name) needs to do, there's already a doctor shortage it’ll just make things worse.

Not to mention (name) can’t abandon any of the children she’s vowed to stay with, they are so good to her so (name) had promised to always be with them. Because most of them don’t have anyone else.

“Would you want anything your worship?” oh yeah, another reason to leave, the people here seem to think she’s some sort of God. Being timid 90% of the time won’t help with that, (name) might actually start losing her sanity if she doesn’t return to earth.

“Oh yes just a bath please”

But first (name) hasn’t washed in over a week so she needs to bathe.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(a week ago)

Lyney really felt bad for that doctor- not her worship but the doctor they’re making treat the divine being, if word got out that they're harboring the divine creator of teyvat it would cause far more harm than good. Having all of the 7 nations suddenly trying to go into one place even as great as the house of the hearth will not end well.

So when the doctor finished lyney was forced to sneak up behind them and slit their throat, he really didn’t want to do that but no matter how much they threatened the doctor they would still tell everyone they know about this because who wouldn’t.

Letting his siblings clean up the body lyney stares at the most important person in the world, he ended up having to get lynette to change her clothes as they had been drowned in golden blood, her worship was now lying peacefully on the bed.

She was wearing extravagant fontaine nighttime garments, for whatever reason that filled the magician with a sense of pride, well when the most holy being is wearing stuff you have a sense of nationalism too lyney supposes that can happen.

Walking around the bed, lyney grabbed one of the dried bandages doused in golden blood, placed it in his pocket, then walked out the room.

Placing it in an envelope with no letter lyney summoned the quickest bird they had. Stuff like this had no need for words.

“Bring this to father” he instructed the bird “it’s your number one priority” he tied the envelope to the bird's leg(i realize this is weird but just ignore pls) and watched as it flew away.

Father would be here in a week.

End chapter

[toasttt11]

quiet

January 6, 2024

Allison sighed looking out the plane window as the airplane landed in New Jersey.

She had been out most of last night celebrating the gold medal and gotten two hours of sleep before she had a flight that her parents booked for her.

When she woke up she saw all the texts of Jack getting hurt in the game while she was sleeping. She got more texts that it wasn’t horrible but he would probably be missing some time and would not be playing in the game the next night.

Allison grabbed her backpack as she stood up and reached up grabbing her carry on suitcase and quickly got off the plane, it was a bit past noon when she landed in New Jersey.

She let out an annoyed breath as she pulled her large suitcase and hockey bag off the conveyor belt tossing her large hockey bag on top of her suitcase and walked through the airport to outside.

Allison wiped her face feeling a snowflake land on her cheek as she looked around for Luke’s car.

She walked over seeing Luke pulling in and Quinn got out of the passenger and quickly helped her out her bags in the car before they shared a quick hug and she hopped into the back row.

Allison softly patted Luke’s arm as he pulled away and started driving them back to the apartment.

“You did so good.” Quinn turned to her and looked at her with a proud smile.

“You said this already.” Allison teased her voice hoarse and quieter than usually from all the yelling last night, she still smiled softly at his compliment and she had face timed her brother last night after her game.

Quinn just shrugged softly in reply.

Allison just chatted with her two brothers the drive back to the apartment.

They helped her bring her bags up to the apartment and Quinn and Luke brought her bags to the guest room as Allison was smothered in a hug by Ellen even if she saw her less than 24 hours ago.

Once Allison saw both of her parents she headed down the hallway towards Jack’s room after not seeing him in the kitchen or living room, she opened the door seeing him sitting on his bed with a sling.

She walked over and he didn’t even glance up as she sat down next to him, “Well hi to you too.” Allison teased him whispering.

Jack glanced up not realizing it was Allison that came in, “Hey buddy.” Jack said quietly with a weak smile.

Allison softly leaned her head on top of his head and grabbed his hand softly squeezing, “Hi Jacks.” She spoke back very softly.

Jack just sighed softly disappointed with what happen last night and he closed his eyes leaning into his baby sister who really isn’t a baby anymore especially not with being taller than him now but in his eyes she was always gonna be his baby sister.

Allison didn’t say anything and just sat there letting Jack lean on her and she just softly kept squeezing his hand.

Allison sat with Jack for a while long enough that her eyes were shut and she definitely had fallen asleep for a few minutes sitting up while using Jack’s head as a pillow.

Ellen peaked a little while later as Quinn and Luke were getting ready for the game and saw Allison half asleep leaning on Jack and shook her head softly.

“Maybe you two should lay down?” Ellen softly spoke up making Jack glance over and realize Allison was barely an awake and his lips turned up and he gave their mom a nod.

Jack leaned back on to the bed lying in his back and Allison tiredly followed him kicking her shoes off and curling into his sides as she immediately fell asleep.

Ellen’s face softened and she walked over and gently brushed a hand across Allison’s hair, “Why don’t you try to get some sleep too.” Ellen softly suggested to Jack.

Jack softly nodded, Ellen picked up Jack’s phones and turned an alarm on just in case.

“Your Dad and I will be leaving earlier but Allison can go with you and drive, she said she was happy to sit with you during the game.” Ellen told Jack quietly, Jack didn’t really want to sit in a full suite box right after being injured and was gonna sit in the press box.

Jack’s face softened at what Allison offered to do and he gave their Mom a soft nod.

“Get some rest my loves.” Ellen kissed both of their foreheads and pulled a blanket over them before walking out and closing the door behind her.

“Of course you offered.” Jack mumbled softly to himself and kissed a sleeping Allison’s forehead bedard closing his eyes and trying to get some sleep too.

Jack and Allison were asleep for a couple hours and they both woke up to the alarm and Allison rubbed her face as she slowly sat up.

“I’m gonna take a shower.” Allison mumbled still waking up and she headed to her guest room and got ready for the game. Tossing a pair of black flat leggings, a knit red quarter zip sweater and red sneakers, she grabbed her purse and headed out of the guest room.

Jack was waiting for her by the front door with his jacket in hand and Allison helped him put the jacket on his good arm and lay across his sling.

They headed down to Jack’s car and Allison got in the drivers seat getting her self situated, “I know how to drive.” Allison snipped giving him an annoyed look seeing his nervous look at her driving his car.

“Mhm.” Jack hummed giving her another nervous look that was more teasing than actually nervousness.

Allison shook her head fondly as Jack chose music and she pulled out the parking spot.

Allison drove them to the Prudential Center and they walked in together up to the press box, they both got something to eat and sat down next to each other just as the game started.

Allison hasn’t been at a hockey game with just Jack in years and while his injury sucked it was a really nice time to her with Jack.

Jack didn’t realize how much he missed being at a hockey game with his sister especially as they shared a pretzel making quips about a play.

Vancouver won this game 6-4.

Jack and Allison walked out of the rink just heading back to the apartment instead of waiting at the locker room as Quinn was coming back after the game and of course Luke, Ellen and Jim were too.

Allison had a few more days in New Jersey before she headed back to Boston for her next semester and it was the few days of winter break that she would get a real break.

[brinasheqrt]

Sundays Like These

pairings - sabrina carpenter x fem!reader

warnings - none!

wc - 1.5k

The rain taps gently on the window, a soft, rhythmic percussion that fills the quiet morning like a lullaby. The light outside is grey and sleepy, slipping lazily through the gauzy curtains. The world is hushed, like even the city’s decided to sleep in.

Sabrina stirs beside you, her blonde hair tangled across the pillow and over your shoulder, a few strands tickling your nose. She doesn’t seem to notice your giggle, just hums and burrows closer, one leg sliding between yours like a human puzzle piece.

“You’re warm,” she mumbles, voice scratchy and deliciously sleepy.

“You say that every time,” you whisper, wrapping your arm tighter around her waist. “Like you’re surprised.”

“I am surprised,” she says, voice muffled by the crook of your neck. “Every time. It’s like dating a space heater.”

You laugh softly, fingers lazily tracing patterns on her back beneath the oversized tee she’s wearing—your shirt, technically, with a faded Fleetwood Mac logo and a small hole near the hem. It hangs off her shoulder, and you can feel the curve of her spine under your fingertips, the rise and fall of her breath. There’s no rush. No alarm. No calls. No rehearsals, no shoots, no makeup artists waiting with coffee and an itinerary. Just you and her and the sound of rain.

“You’re staring at me,” she murmurs after a moment, not even opening her eyes.

“I like looking at you.”

Sabrina finally blinks one eye open, squinting at you playfully. “Creep.”

“You love it,” you say, grinning.

She shifts a little so you’re nose to nose, and for a second, you forget about the cold outside, the rain, the laundry you should be doing. Her fingers curl into the fabric of your sweatshirt, tugging you a little closer.

“Of course I love it,” she says, more serious now. “I love you.”

It’s soft. So soft you almost miss it. But you hear it, and something warm blooms in your chest, even though she says it all the time. It never stops feeling like the first time.

“I love you too,” you reply, pressing your forehead to hers.

For a while, there’s nothing but the sound of your shared breathing, the rise and fall in sync like waves.

Eventually, she shifts again, rolling onto her back and pulling you with her until you’re lying half on top of her, your head on her chest, her hand running slow circles on your shoulder.

“You know,” she says, “if you hadn’t insisted on washing the sheets last night, I might’ve never left this bed.”

“You literally left the bed to get cookies at midnight.”

“That doesn’t count,” she scoffs. “Cookies are an emergency. That’s like… a survival mission.”

You snort, nuzzling her chest. “Survival mission, huh?”

“Yeah. Like… if I didn’t have a snickerdoodle at that exact moment, I might’ve died.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

“I am an artist.”

You laugh again, lifting your head just enough to kiss her chin. “An artist who eats cookies in bed.”

“An artist who thrives in bed,” she says, grinning.

The double meaning doesn’t go unnoticed. You raise a brow. “Is that so?”

She hums innocently. “I meant emotionally.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I mean it,” she insists, dragging her fingers along your arm. “You’re my safe place.”

That makes your heart skip a beat. She says things like this when she’s sleep-soft and vulnerable, when the walls are down and her voice is nothing but truth. You tuck your face into her neck, trying not to melt.

“I don’t think I ever really knew what calm felt like until you,” she whispers.

You tilt your head up again, meeting her eyes. “You are calm. When you’re with people who see you.”

Sabrina holds your gaze for a long moment, like she’s trying to memorize every part of you, every word. Her hand lifts to brush your cheek.

“I see you too, you know,” she says. “All of you. And I don’t want to look away.”

There are a hundred things you could say in return, but none of them seem big enough, deep enough. So you just kiss her, slow and easy, like you have all the time in the world.

And maybe today, you do.

When you finally pull back, Sabrina’s smile is small and content. “Wanna make pancakes later?” she asks.

You chuckle. “I thought we were never leaving the bed.”

“Okay, but hear me out—bed pancakes.”

“Bed pancakes?”

“Yeah,” she says, eyes wide with faux innocence. “You make the pancakes, and then we eat them… in bed.”

You squint at her. “So I make them?”

“Well, yeah,” she says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re better at flipping them. Mine always come out sad.”

You sigh dramatically. “Fine. But only because you said I’m your safe place.”

She beams. “Emotional manipulation works every time.”

You poke her side and she squeals, laughing, limbs tangling with yours until the bed is a mess of blankets and limbs and muffled giggles.

Eventually, you settle again, breathless and tangled. Her head rests against your shoulder now, and your fingers comb through her hair absently.

“This is my favorite version of us,” she says quietly.

“In bed?”

“No,” she laughs. “Well, yes. But I mean… when it’s just us. No cameras, no people. Just this. Just you.”

You press a kiss to the crown of her head. “It’s my favorite too.”

Outside, the rain keeps falling. Inside, the bed is warm and full of softness and sleepy confessions.

Sundays are for this. For pancakes and cuddles and the quiet certainty that love doesn’t always need fireworks. Sometimes, it just needs a rainy morning, an old t-shirt, and someone to hold onto.

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

Every time I see anything about Europeans not having screens on their windows I remember that one post “this is why you got the plague”. I cannot read anything about Europe and window screens without remembering that post, and honestly, I am still confused as to why people there don’t have screens

[kurooh]

☆ US AFTER POUNDTOWN ! — JJK

⊹₊˚. what aftercare looks like with gojo satoru, geto suguru, nanami kento, fushiguro toji, & kamo choso.

warnings: 18+ content — mdni, fem! reader, intimacy, cleanup, fluff, no graphic smut, pillowtalk, showering, brief discussions of pregnancy and kids. i needed to write this okay

GOJO SATORU.

silky pink ribbons slide off of satoru’s wrists, curling into themselves once they hit the bedsheets. he can’t help but watch you, more wide-eyed and teary than he should be, as you take each wrist between your fingers and rub gently. his skin is flushed where he’d been securely tied to the headboard, and it doesn’t hurt in the least, especially when compared to fights he’s been at the center of.

you hum, thumb kindly sweeping over his pulse point. “you okay, ‘toru? i know that went on a little longer than usual.”

you watch as he blinks, diamond eyes glassy with traces of euphoria. he’s still coming down, he realizes, when your words bounce around his brain after you speak them, echoing endlessly in the space.

“i’m okay, sweetheart,” satoru replies, feeling something in his chest begin to melt when you settle beside him on the bed. the air still smells faintly of sex, though the scent rides away on the breeze filtering in through an open window. it is almost completely dark in the bedroom, to make the strain on his eyes a little easier after a long day—he closes them, automatically wrapping a strong arm around you.

“there’s a new restaurant a few blocks down,” you begin, fingers reverently stroking over the curve of his side, “many of the reviews mention the dessert and sweet treats. it’s supposed to be good.”

fully nude, satoru curls against you, taking note of how easily you fit in beside him. like you were always meant to be here, something whispers in the back of his head. “heh, sounds like you’ve already vetted ‘em. i’ll take a day off next week and we can go.”

“you’re always so busy,” you tease, pulling him closer as though he might just slip away when you fall asleep. as you breathe, satoru feels the swell and sink of your back beneath his palm, and he considers maybe not going to work tomorrow. as if he could take days off on a whim—he might be the strongest in the jujutsu world, but he can’t even make his own choices. then, more quietly, you murmur, “i hope you aren’t overworking yourself too much, satoru.”

when he replies “‘m not,” reflexively, your body momentarily goes rigid, as if he wasn’t meant to hear you. before you can look up and refute him, satoru tugs you closer, making sure to sit his chin atop your shoulder. “really, angel, i’m okay. i can totally handle it.”

he totally can’t, even if he won’t admit it to himself. but satoru doesn’t want you to worry, get caught up with his issues during your day to day—this is simply what comes with the weight of ‘the strongest’ as his title. you huff like you don’t entirely believe him, although you don’t pull away.

“if i don’t pry any further, do you promise to sleep more than three hours tonight? and in this bed, not at work.”

you’re not even asking that much of him. if satoru can wipe out hundreds of curses in less than five minutes, he can definitely try to sleep until sunrise. at home. when there’s work to do. right?

he bites his lip, protesting weakly, “i don’t need to sleep, though, baby. i’ve also gotta get in early to deal with the first years.”

the coolness of sheets in an empty bed flashes through your head, and you decide to push, though there’s a tinge of selfishness behind it all. “please? you still need to rest and let your technique cool down.”

it’s not that difficult to convince satoru to stay after all, especially when he’s feeding off your body heat and you his. the bed does feel more comfortable than his office chair, and just as he comes to this realization, a headache has the nerve to come on, only persuading him further. slowly, like he’s submerging himself in a pool, his body begins to succumb to the comfort of the queen bed, the softness of your skin, the sweet smell of your body wash.

“fineeee. but only because you asked so nicely, angel.”

GETO SUGURU.

“i’ll get the water started for you, honey.”

so he does, turning on the faucet and letting the water heat up as it rushes through the pipes, then out of the shower head in a warm spray. from your seat on the toilet, you can’t help but feel a lovesick, fuzzy warmth building in your chest.

muscle ripples in suguru’s back as he carefully takes down his hair, undoing the band to allow the dark tresses to fall past his shoulders. his hair is impeccably taken care of—he lavishes it in only the best shampoos and conditioners every few days, his side of the shower almost overtaking your own. it’s made up of hair products and a few scented bars of soap, the way a shower should look. (not barren and home to a single bottle of two in one, two dove bars, and a dull razor, like satoru’s.)

when the glass door slides shut and suguru steps into the spray, you hear him exhale with relief. the toilet flushes and you stand, joining him in the shower.

“i’ll wash your hair,” you say, as if it’s second nature. though it seems simple on the surface, he’s allowing you to touch one of the most intimate parts of him—his scalp has only known his own hands, and yours, on the occasion that you help him wash it. “shampoo, please.”

suguru laughs, angling the shower head down so you don’t get too wet. shampoo is squirted into your extended, expectant palm and the ritual begins.

“are we taking more showers after sex specifically so i can wash your hair, suguru?”

there has been an increase in the amount of showers after sex. he’ll make a mess of you on the couch, drink some water afterward, and carry you to the bathroom like a princess to her chariot. you can’t quite place your finger on when, but you’d started washing his hair at some point during your baths.

“the curses really have been . . taking a toll on my arms,” he says cheekily, settling on that excuse just to hear you laugh, “perhaps i’ve been having difficulty reaching back and dealing with my hair.”

suguru’s got quite the mane, which anyone could surmise just from looking at him. but as wet hair slides through your fingers, you can see why he likes your help so much. you’re gentle with him, making sure to never yank on anything as you make your way through his hair. even the light sensation of your nails raking along his scalp relaxes him deeply, and all the tension in his shoulders bleeds out and washes down the drain, along with the suds.

“yeah, okay. if i mess up one of my arms, you’re outta luck.”

“we could take epsom baths together, so then you’d have no excuse.”

it’s endearing, the way he’s able to come up with a solution so quickly. you laugh again, light and airy in the thick steam, and suguru decides he never wants to leave this place.

“wash my back while the shampoo sits, sugu?” you ask, switching places with him to get your back thoroughly doused with water. white suds slip down his temples and he pushes back his hair from where it’s piled on top of his head, looking like a child’s sloppy sand castle on the beach.

“want me to pick the body wash this time?”

“that’s a trick question,” you say, eyes sparkling when you look at him, “you’re just going to choose peppermint vanilla like always.”

suguru already has the bottle in his grasp and is squeezing the wash out into his palm, but he still manages to look affronted. “no, i wouldn’t.”

you turn around, stepping out of the spray to playfully wiggle your ass at him. “i can barely smell it anymore, that’s how much you’ve worn it out.”

“it’s your smell,” he shrugs, shoulders rolling with the motion, “it’s your signature soap scent. you can always cover it up with perfume tomorrow anyway, it’s not that strong.”

“is that why you’re always sniffing me at night?”

you can hear him breathing you in when you’re cuddling at night? embarrassing! still, his eyes crinkle at the corners. “it’s comforting, so sue me.”

you sigh in relief when his hands coast over your skin, palms firmly pressing the soap into your back to both wash you and make the scent stick. a comfortable quiet settles between you, and he continues to lave your back with the wash, fingertips tracing the dents and lines of muscle.

it’s domestic, and entirely him.

he pauses, sputtering and gracelessly coughing on the water. “i’m sorry.”

you turn, helping him rinse the bubbles away from his face. “what’s wrong, sugu?”

“not to ruin the moment, but, well, i got soap in both my eyes.”

NANAMI KENTO.

“i can’t believe you made me breakfast, ken.”

kento returns to the bedroom with one of those lap trays made for eating at the couch, carrying a plate of fluffy waffles garnished with a colorful array of sweet berries. there’s even a full cup of syrup on the side to pour to your heart’s content.

he’s pulled on his boxers, the ones that are tight around his ass, and an apron with kiss the cook in calligraphic script embroidered across the front of it. a smile plays on his lips, the kind he wears when he’s biting back an ear-to-ear grin, and he takes a seat beside you. your excitement is something he thinks he’ll never get tired of. with a creak, the bed dips under the newly added weight, and you carefully slot the tray over your lap.

“how’d you know i was craving something sweet?”

“sweetheart, i know you,” kento shakes his head, laughing around the words. “go ahead and try them, i added something new.”

red blooms around the bite marks littered across his collarbone and around his chest, only becoming visible with his occasional shifts beside you. kento watches you eat with a distinct softness in his eyes, his heart swelling in his chest as your face lights up with every bite.

light and sweet as can be, the waffles burst with flavor, although a small tweak has been made to the recipe. maybe kento’s added finely chopped coconut or a few extra spoonfuls of sugar?

“you’re staring,” you point out, cheeks growing warm. his gaze is obviously lovesick, and strong enough to make you feel the littlest bit shy—a hand comes up to rub at the back of his neck, and he looks away with a short chuckle. “we can share, ken.”

“that’s okay, honey. i had some while i was making them earlier. so, how do they taste? have you figured out the extra ingredient yet?”

“i’ve got no idea,” you reply after a large bite, setting the fork back on the tray before gently nudging it away. kento’s forearms flex as he lifts it, placing it on the bedside table for later.

he unties the apron and scoops you into his arms, pulling your giggling form close to his chest. “i decided to add more buttermilk.”

a warm kiss is pressed to the space beneath your ear. through your back, you can feel his heartbeat syncing up with your own—relaxed and content in the presence of one another.

“thank you for this morning,” kento whispers, adding, “was i too rough with you, angel?”

“perfect, ken. you almost put me back to sleep, though.”

you share a laugh with him, curling up in his warmth. kento’s fingers trace mindless, ticklish doodles into your side as he begins to slip further into a state of drowsiness. “i don’t like to make excuses, but i find it difficult to hold myself back with you.”

the admission isn’t inherently sexual, not in the way it’s said so delicately. kento is right, he does have difficulty holding back, but only because he’s so known. you’re essentially on the same wavelength, finishing his sentences for him before even he’s able to conjure up the word he’s looking for; you understand him wholly, in the kind of way that transcends the surface and physicality of it all. unspoken feelings make no difference—kento’s open like a book for only your eyes to pore over.

even now, in this embrace, it’s nearly impossible to tell where one body begins and the other ends.

“all mine?”

“all yours, ken. pinkie promise.”

“pinkie promise?” he sighs without exasperation, letting you loop your pinkie with his own. if this wasn’t something he was doing with you, kento would be the first to ask something like isn’t this a bit childish? but this isn’t like making an agreement with gojo; this is a promise he wholeheartedly intends to fulfill. after all, what would he be if he wasn’t yours?

“pinkie promise.”

FUSHIGURO TOJI.

“on your stomach.”

you turn back to throw him an incredulous look, eyebrows drawing together in surprise. “more? toji, i thought you—”

he scoffs, rolling his eyes and motioning toward the couch cushions. “yes, ya heard me. on your stomach, doll. don’t make me ask again.”

“don’t make me ask again,” you mimic him, flopping forward onto your belly as requested. it’s odd that toji’s even vying for more when he’s the one who tapped out first, panting so hard he could barely form a sentence of explanation beyond a few muttered words.

instead of positioning himself at your ass, toji remains sitting beside you, though he turns to press his hands into your upper back. faint as can be, the scent of lavender curls in the air as the worship begins—toji’s suddenly a professional at effleurage, palms circling upward near your shoulder blades.

slow and firm, his hands seem to iron out any aches that may have taken root there. lotion spans almost the entirety of your upper back, serving as both moisturizer and lubrication for the easy glide of skin against skin.

“really, toji?” you ask, lips curling up in amusement, “you wanted to give me a back massage?”

you completely expect him to retort something sassy and annoying, maybe even call you a damn brat or start torture tickling you. instead, toji’s voice rumbles low and meaningful from his chest. “had ya laid out on your back for a while, and on the couch, no less. jus’ wanted to make sure you’d be able to sleep comfortably tonight.”

toji’s answer does something that it never has before. it shuts you up, and at the same time, makes heat rush to your cheeks. embarrassment and a particular fondness, of all things, stir in your chest at his thoughtfulness. you haven’t messed around on the couch in many months, and yet he still remembers the small, almost unnoticeable hunch of your back after getting up last time.

he laughs at you, feeling proud to have finally ‘won’ all the bantering.

“didn’t expect that, huh?” toji pauses, fingertips lightly dragging down the planes of your back. before he even speaks, you can already hear the smirk in his voice. “anyway, i wish ya could see how pretty you look right now.”

“you can’t even see my face, toji.”

a huff escapes him, and he makes sure to dig his fingers in, just so he can hear you squeal in both laughter and pain. “just can’t take a compliment, huh? you’re such a brat, swear to god.”

“your brat,” you remind him cheerfully, feeling his hands slide to the middle of your back. “as much as i’m enjoying this, i wouldn’t mind taking care of you, baby.”

he snorts. you’re calling him baby like he isn’t 6’3 and nearly 200 pounds of muscle—but there’s something endearing about the idea of being taken care of too. toji actually . . . wouldn’t mind it.

“oh yeah? and what do ya plan to do to me?”

you hum thoughtfully, turning your head around to fix him with a playful look. “i’d turn on one of the movies i’ve been telling you we need to watch and then scratch your back so you wouldn’t get up in the middle of it.”

“this better not be about—”

before he can begin trashing on your favorite movie, the one he hasn’t watched yet, you bulldoze right over him. “as the movie starts, i’d be whispering sweet nothings into your ear.”

“wouldn’t that just make me bend ya over? kinda defeats the purpose of aftercare, doll.”

“the key word is sweet, toji,” even with your clarification, he still looks a little lost, making the same confused face he does when shiu cracks a sly joke at his expense in front of you. “sit down and i’ll show you what i’m talking about.”

the comforting pressure on your back lets up, and for a split second, you almost wish you hadn’t suggested to demonstrate. toji sits down, remote looking dwarfed in his closed palm, and smirks expectantly, like there’s something funny to say. “i was just thinking. what if all the aftercare turns me into a spoiled brat?”

you scoff as he turns on the tv, settling on your knees behind him. “we can’t both be spoiled brats, toji.”

KAMO CHOSO.

“did i hurt you?” is the first thing to come out out of choso’s mouth when you finally return to yourself, a few crystalline tears starting to dry on your cheeks. you hadn’t quite noticed them during the pandemonium, too wrapped up in the overwhelming sensations of sex to focus on something so unimportant. but now, there’s a warm stinging that you trace to your neck—where he’d been biting and sucking the most in the moments before orgasm.

“‘s okay, cho. i’m okay, just tired now,” you laugh breathlessly, watching the worry drain out of his face, “i’ve gotta get up and wipe off, or i’ll end up getting pregnant.”

choso’s eyes are shining. “our kids would be so pretty, all ‘cause of you.”

you sit up on your elbows, a knowing smile tugging at your lips. this is the same look you give him every time he mentions it, and not wanting to nag you too much, he remembers himself. “okay, i know. have to wait more than five years first, i got it,” with the mildest degree of resignation making its way through his huffed words, choso slips off of the bed and pads toward the bathroom.

shortly after, he returns with a damp washcloth and settles on his knees between your thighs. even in the low light, his movements are perpetually delicate and skillful, a direct result of his understanding of your body, built through touch. with the way he’s comfortably wiping cum off your inner thighs, it’s hard to believe that choso had once been so awkward he’d stalked off mid-sex to let out a few tears of embarrassment.

“it’s not too hot, is it?” he checks in, more worried than he should be. it isn’t difficult to imagine him as a father, gasping as your child toddles around recklessly, jumping off of the couch and into his awaiting arms. he’s the type to always come to the rescue, no matter what.

“no, it’s just right,” you murmur, feeling the sweep of the lukewarm washcloth at the top of your thigh. “no need to be so concerned, choso. i trust you, baby.”

pink blooms in the apples of his cheeks at your words, just as it always does whenever you pay him an innocent compliment. he takes comfort in your relaxed sigh, folding the washcloth into itself and setting it on the bedside table before sliding himself up to lay his head on your chest. “you need to stop indulging me so much,” he groans when your fingers slip into his hair, combing gently though the dark strands, “keep up the ‘put a baby in me’ and i might actually do it.”

choso feels his entire face burn once he repeats a line that’s supposed to be yours, a shudder rippling through his body when a memory from earlier flashes behind his eyes.

“i know, cho,” you hum, nails lightly raking against his scalp in your odyssey through his hair. it’s painfully intimate, and impossibly soothing for him—he could say just about anything to you, even confess something deep and dark without the usual constraints of your daily routine. this is just you and him, simple and naked.

then you giggle, “but i also know how crazy it makes you.”

it does make him more wild than it should, the idea of getting you pregnant and then the concept of raising the baby itself. choso pauses meaningfully before he answers you, letting his eyes close. “maybe something’s fundamentally wrong with me.”

a gooey hybrid of affection and sadness races through your veins upon hearing his words. it’s hard to say something—even anything at all—when you know just a little about his struggle being half-human, half-curse. choso is constantly feeling guilty about taking the easier path in life as a human, wondering if someone like him could possibly deserve something greater than himself to love and care for.

it’s quiet now, save for the steady hum of the fan and sweep of your fingers through his hair, loose and languid. “sorry,” choso exhales softly, tilting his face to the side, “i didn’t mean to become so negative.”

“there isn’t a thing wrong with you, choso. i know you’re wanting a family of your own, and i don’t disagree with that in the slightest. i see a future with you, but there’s no shame in taking it slow, is there? we aren’t even engaged yet, baby.”

“engaged?” he echoes quizzically, voice low.

“it’s when two people agree to get married in the future after a proposal with a ring,” it’s hard not to smile at the thought of the two people being you and him, even though choso’s baring his soul to you right now, raw and all himself. he hugs you tighter, arms straining as if he’s trying to prevent you from slipping away. “don’t worry, cho. we both still have a lot to learn.”

[madamechrissy]

Baby You're a Star

Art in the banner by Kerravi on x!

Pairings- Pornstar Satoru x shy f!reader

Summary- You meet Satoru Gojo at a wild Hollywood party, insanely out of place, waiting for your friend to show up. The two of you hit it off, spending time together, and share a kiss, but you're a good girl, and you just don't do this, but he is the top pornstar there is, and the top .01 % on OnlyFans. Once you find out, you know there's probably no match, as Satoru doesn't date, and you don't sleep around, but after meeting, you keep in touch- and soon Satoru can't get hard without thinking of you, and you get over curious, and join a livestream of the boy you like. Just how will that go for you both!? WC this chap- 11.5k (longestt)

Warnings- WOW this chap has it all, heed the warnings - filming porn masturbation ( m) oral (m and f receiving) spit kink HIGH KEY, mentions of cum, multiple rounds, switching positions, size kink, swallowing (M and F) explicit sex, feral Gojo, squirting, mating press, tummy bulges, lots of fucking goddamn- Gojo is whipped mutual pining, obsessive Gojo. Angsty asf in places, lots of jealousy

A/N- Taglist closed- This was so smut filled I took MULTIPLE breaks aha, maybe my most smut filled one ever? don't read in public actually - please comment/rb if you enjoy <3

<<<Chapter Two - Masterlist- Playlist- Chapter Four>>> (coming soon)

Chapter Three

You can’t escape the desire you have, even in your dreams.

Waking up cumming was not just new, it was ridiculous, and you didn’t even know that happened until this morning. Waking up with your cunt throbbing around nothing, and gushing arousal, as your dream was filled with Satoru kissing you, fucking into you with that thick, huge cock, hitting spots deep inside that felt real even in your dreams.

That’s it, sweetheart, cum all around my cock, hmm? Lemme feel her- there you go, baby.

That had done too much to your sleeping brain apparently, because you couldn’t stop cumming either, crying out and whining when you’d touched your cunt and felt the slick coating everything. After shaking violently from it, you’d peeked and seen a good morning text from him, all while you had to go get cleaned up, trying to compose yourself before you texted back.

Jenna calls now, shaking you out of your reverie, and the two of you plan lunch the next day. “You’re having dinner with him?”

“Yeah, but as a… friend?”

“Oh baby, you’re too cute.” You sigh, leaning back as you stir up some dough for cookies you were baking later, the sunlight filtering in through the little kitchen window you have open wide. You peer out into the sky, thinking it’s not as pretty as Satoru’s eyes.

“I do really feel things, but Jenna I can’t not be near him, if it’s as a friend, then it’s as a friend.” Jenna sighs louder than you did. “Are we having a sighing contest?”

“I’ll win any loud moan contest, but your sighs are cuter.”

“Jenna!”

You both laugh then, and a beep sounds on your phones. “Ah, looks like he’s going to stream. Gonna go watch your friend?”

“You’re an instigator. Maybe.” She giggles again, as you finish preheating the oven, scooping the dough onto the parchment paper.

“Be careful, you’re a grown woman, and things change, but don’t forget yourself, okay?” You pause then, emotions catching in your throat at her words. “I’m not trying to be the ‘mom’ I swear.”

“I know, Jenna. I love you, see you soon?” You end the call after she says goodbye, popping the cookies in the oven and turning them on. You set up your laptop, deciding to do some work for the weekend on a project your friend hired you for, but the temptation of seeing Satoru keeps nagging at your mind.

The man certainly has a pretty cock, but you think it’s the way he looks at the camera that fucks you up, it’s probably why he’s so good at it, his job. And he clearly enjoyed it, even though you know he was having a little difficulty with the last shoot, perhaps he prefers solo lately? To think you had anything to do with that was foolish, so you wouldn’t allow the thought.

The timer beeps, you stand up and stretch, turning off the timer and oven then, grabbing a bright red oven mitt and pulling out the sheet pan, smelling delectable, the steam hot and rising, scent filling your nostrils. You loved to bake, especially when you were stressed, and you suppose you were, having feelings for a man currently stroking his cock for the camera was conflicting at best.

You keep trying to tell yourself that it’s not feelings, that you’re inexperienced and confused, but you know you’re lying to yourself. You eye that silver laptop again, remembering the last time, the image of him sucking his own cum off his fingers is burned deep, a core memory at this fucking point. You shake it off, then sigh, giving into temptation.

You’d just tip him a hundred again to be supportive, you tip Jenna all the time, it’s fine, it’s something a friend can do.

Right?

You log in to the onlyfans platform, the black and blue OF making you just a bit nervous, clicking on the stream then, taking several breaths as you click on it. Fully prepared to be soaking wet, the sight that greets you is not Satoru stroking his cock, it’s another woman, her thighs spread, while Satoru runs circles on her clit. She’s propped on his lap, her head against his bare collarbones, moaning.

Your heart shatters then, and it shouldn’t, no you’re so stupid!

You are Satoru’s friend, and it was your choice to check his stream, to tip and be supportive but ultimately you know what you potentially signed up for. You saw him with Jenna, and for whatever reason that had not bothered you- maybe because it was before he touched you, looked at you like that.

The girl in front of him has two of his fingers shoved deep as he has her feet propped up on his thighs while you blink away stupid tears that shouldn’t exist, there’s no anger but there’s so much jealousy you shock yourself. You’re a girl’s girl, you’re supportive, what is this!? You’d like to rip her right off his lap, and you hate yourself for it right now.

You shake it off, looking away as the cookies fill your home with the sweet scent of sugar and chocolate. It should be a cheery morning, but you can’t even focus on anything but the conflict in your heart. You stare back again, hearing Satoru’s soft, husky voice, watching all the comments in the chat while he grips one of her breasts in his big hand.

Her head falls forward, and the way you vividly imagine it being you instead has you heating up, in more ways than excitement, embarrassment - you’d never be that girl for him, you wish you could be that way. But Satoru and you together felt too special, especially to share, how could you fall when this was your idea!?

You can’t be upset.

You take a breath, shutting your eyes and looking away as his voice resonates through the laptop’s speakers, echoicing in the quiet. If you were crazy enough you’d say it sounded different than with you, that he let go more, that you were even wetter when he touched you, but you’re starting to think you’re delusional.

“So, we wanna hit this spot right here, for any men watching, you’re gonna curl up here, that spot feels good, doesn’t it honey?” Your jaw sets, swiping tears from under your glasses now.

“Ah, y-yes Gojo!” Her moan echoes too much, he pauses then, the squelching of her cunt stops, it’s all quiet as he just stares at the camera like he’s staring at you, his lips parted, eyes widening just a bit, but there’s no way.

You’ve lost it.

You tip him the hundred as you’d intended to, quickly shutting your laptop and damn near hyperventilating. What’s wrong with you!? His job is to fuck women, so you saw him touching one, what do you expect? The man had a gang bang scene just yesterday, and dinner with you tonight. You have to shove it all down then, you have to remember what he does.

It didn’t mean it wasn’t special though, for you.

Did he do things off camera with-

Stop it!

The phone rings a few minutes later and you just stare at it, lost in your own head, wishing you could compartmentalize it so much better, that you could separate the two. You were so stupid for engaging and knowing, but at the same time, to not have Satoru seems like something you can’t compute, even if it is just as a friend, even if you can’t be sexual.

Maybe you read it all wrong, that night.

Satoru calls again, shaking out his hand as his co star is now fucking herself quite expertly on a dildo, since Satoru can’t get hard for anything - it’s worse today than yesterday - he decided to turn it into a guided masturbation video. At least his fucking fingers still work, despite jerking off to you so much his cock is raw, remembering your lips surrounding it.

Even fingering her he’s picturing your pussy, fuck he wants to just bury his face in it again, he knows the two of you are ‘friends’ or whatever the fuck this was, but it’s exceedingly difficult when it’s affecting him like this. He keeps wondering if you all sleep together, will it make it worse or better? Was he all in his head, as if you would go for someone like him if he did date.

What was he thinking lately?

He saw your name in the stream and his stomach had dropped - and why, you’re just a friend, it was fine if you wanted to see a bit of a stream and tip, he knows it is to be supportive. You’re supportive and sweet, so sweet, god your taste and scent still haunt him, he’s been dying to see you tonight, in any capacity, but when he saw the name he felt awful.

He only wants to fuck you, touch you, but he has a career and commitments, to get her to agree to this instead of fucking was already difficult and he was slowly losing it as his cock kept refusing to work. Even if he could get it up, he didn’t like the idea of fucking someone else at all, after the debacle of a gang bang yesterday. But even touching someone was doing nothing for him.

Now he saw you leave so quickly, and decided to gently smack his co star’s ass, smiling as he bent her over, murmuring he needs a break. She eagerly took over the spotlight, the opportunity was a huge one for her anyway as a smaller star. Satoru keeps staring at your picture, sighing as he notices the little reflections in your glasses, touching the screen softly.

You saw him touching someone, did you care, did it bother you-

Why is he thinking like this!?

He calls again, and you answer, much to his relief, as his hands let go of the bathroom counter he’d gripped too tightly. “Hey Satoru, sorry I popped in, I thought it was um… you…”

“Jerking off?” He finishes the sentence, leaning back against his wall and shutting his eyes.

“Yeah, I didn’t know you did um… shoots at home. You should get back to it, why are you calling me, silly? Looks like um… you were, ah… doing… good.” You’re breaking out every voice, cursing yourself quietly, why can’t you just speak? You’re shoving it all down, trying not to cry - there’s no reason to!

“Ah, yeah I thought I’d try to teach people how to make women cum, they fail often you know.” He tries to make it light, as his stomach clenches, a sick feeling when he hears your forced laugh.

“That’s very true. Someone should give you a Nobel prize for this work.” He snorts then, as the laughter becomes a little more genuine. “No you’re amazing at that. Why not show them how?”

“You thought I was amazing, hmm?” His tone changes, cock throbbing when he just hears your sigh, picturing you vividly in his mind, while the sounds of his co-star echo, moans and squelching wetness that does nothing for him.

Didn’t he used to enjoy all of this?

“You know I thought that.” Your heart pounds, you have to remember, Satoru is amazing and just because you’re hurt, you can’t be mad or upset at him. He’s not yours in any way, even if you’re starting to wish he was. “Isn’t your co-star waiting?”

“She’s occupying herself fine. It’s not… sex…” Because I can’t get hard unless it’s you. “It’s just a tutorial.”

“Oh,” your relief shouldn’t exist, you shouldn’t care, but to hear that does make you slump over just a bit, before taking a breath. “Do you want to do dinner another day, it’s already four-”

“No, no!” Satoru panics then, since when does smooth pornstar Satoru freak the fuck out and act desperate? “I mean, no. I want to see you tonight. I have time to shower and get there.”

He wants to wash any of this girl off, frantically actually, he wants you all over him, even if it’s just him pleasing you more. But moreso, even if you just wanted to have dinner and that was it, he’d be happy, though the thought of fucking you with his fingers while you eat dessert is insanely tempting, making his tip drool precum quite annoyingly as he glares in the mirror.

“Okay good, I was looking forward to it.” Your whisper is soft and genuine, as he sees the red on his cheeks, the black pupils, just thinking of you shifts his entire face.

Fuck.

“I’ll start getting ready, I think it’s time you see I can get dressed up.” You tease softly, swiping stupid tears and trying to plaster a bright smile on your face as you stare in your mirror. Your eyes are puffy, the color drained from your face, lips trembling - just seeing that has affected your entire face, taking off your glasses so you don’t even have to look at yourself for a moment.

“I bet you’re gonna kill me, you look so pretty any time I see you,” his voice is hoarse, as he spills the vulnerable truth, and the two of you shut your eyes, leaning against your bathroom counters. “But I’m excited to see you dolled up.”

“Are you, Satoru?” You try to hide the insecurities haunting you, hearing his sexy, heavy sigh on the other line.

“Very excited. I’ll see you soon, sweets.”

The two of you hang up and you sigh, eyeing the clock now - you have about two hours to get ready, and you’re so nervous your palms are sweaty and numb. It may just be two ‘friends’ having dinner, but you want to shove that image back you just saw, and focus, and try to look beautiful tonight.

Satoru’s own hands are numb, as he curses, slamming a hand on his forehead, unable to think of anything but you, barely able to pull himself together. When he walks out, Suguru is there, nibbling in the kitchen, raising a brow at him. “You good, Satoru?”

“Fine, I… you wanna finish that for me?” He gestures to the room, while Suguru sips down water. “I think I have a kind of date or something.”

“A date!? Huh?” Satoru just looks away, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I don’t think it’s a date, it’s friends or something? Maybe... I don’t know. Is dinner a date if it's not with a costar?” Suguru rolls his violet eyes, sighing as he washes his hands now, patting them dry with a paper towel.

“You’re acting weird as fuck lately, that cute little good girl got you simping?” Satoru scoffs, rolling his blue eyes now.

“Suguru, just do me a solid.” Satoru pouts, earning Suguru’s scoff.

“Fine, fine, but you owe me one.” Suguru and Satoru enter the room, as Satoru eases the transition, the notes in the chat are going insane, he can’t help but exhale in relief, before pausing at the thought.

Was there some way to save his malfunctioning dick?

*****

Satoru whistles when he meets you at the restaurant that evening, running just a little late, you're sitting there nibbling on your thumb, peering at the menu when he arrives. Your eyes light up behind a different pair of glasses, these have cute red rims, matching the red dress you're wearing that's making him ache.

He hasn't seen you in something like this, not that you weren't always pretty, but when you stand up and he sees how it fits your body it almost takes him everything to hold back. Vividly picturing bending you right over that table and fucking you in front of the entire restaurant, gripping the red shimmery fabric that drapes across every line and curve of that body.

He can't form a word, notoriously known for never shutting up, but he can't think of anything to say, when you shyly look down, hands fidgeting in front of your lap, and he’s standing there sputtering. It’s awkward even, until the waitress comes up and smiles over at Satoru, gesturing to a seat, saying - ‘This must be the friend you were waiting for!’

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting, you look beautiful.” He says finally, pressing a kiss to your cheek, feeling it heat up against his lips. You shake your head with a sweet turn of your lips, kissing his cheek in turn.

“You’re fine, Satoru, I still haven’t learned LA time.” He chuckles at that just a bit, sitting across from you now, before deciding to sit next to you instead, shoulders brushing together.

“This feels more comfy? It feels all formal the other way.”

“Does it feel too… date like?” He falters then, because that was not it, but the doubt has crept in on your face, when the waitress asks you all for your order, and he has to blink back the confusion. “What do you suggest?”

“Want me to order for you?” You nod shyly, god the submissive nature of you makes him ache in way too many ways, knowing how perfect of a girl you’d be for him in every aspect. “We’ll have this,” he says, pointing to the menu now. “And bring two glasses of champagne please.”

“Are we celebrating?” You tease, handing the waitress the menu, Satoru chuckles a bit, shaking his head while you take in how handsome he looks, brushing your fingers against his suit jacket. “You look so good, Satoru.”

“Thank you, sweets.” He holds your hand then, fuck it feels too good, pressing it against the dark red suit jacket that truly only he could pull off, black button down shirt left open, showing enough of his chest to make anyone die over. Your eyes look at it now, a few of the chains he wears resting along the strong muscles, settling between his collarbones. “You’re making me look bad, wearing in that dress.”’

“No way!”

“Absolutely, you are. You’re so pretty, fuck…” He’s brushing back a tendril, as you eye him, that look that drives him insane, the look that’s ruined him since he met you. He tries to smirk, to act calm, teasing, “I look that good?”

“Yes, shit. Sorry.” He laughs softly, shaking his head when you pull your hand back gently.

“We match, great minds you know.”

“Indeed, we clearly coordinated telepathically!” He laughs then, and it's just like that first night, when you and him just hit it the fuck off. It’s comfortable, it’s fun - so fun - that people smile at the two of you, as you laugh like friends for years. It’s how it feels, like you’ve known him, a way you can’t explain.

But you wished it was just the friendliness, not the heat in your tummy when he wipes a droplet of clear, bubbly champagne from his plump lips, if every time his thigh brushed yours you didn’t melt. Someone comes up then, a really pretty girl, and you feel Satoru stiffen a bit, making you tense, sipping on the tart champagne and averting your eyes a bit.

“Gojo, it's been what, a year?!” He smiles with ease, standing and kissing her cheek, hugging her tightly.

“It has been, shit, how you been?” It’s all very Hollywood, their exchange, you feel you’ll never figure it out, the two years you’ve been here after relocating and you still couldn’t get being kissy on everyone.

It makes you think of him earlier, his fingers in that-

Stop that!

He’s saying your name you errantly realize, you plaster on a smile as she looks at you curiously, eyeing you up and down. “Co-star?”

“No, no, she’s my friend. She’s a good girl.” He winks down at you, and she giggles then, holding her hand out.

“It’s awesome to meet you!”

“You too. Are you um…”

“A former co-star, yeah. Satoru is the best in the industry.” Ah, so she fucked him, too. You want to be petty and scowl and you hate yourself for it more.

You never, ever are like this.

You never have been.

She’s touching his shoulder and making you sick, when your eyes catch a familiar face, a man standing with a group of other men, smiling over at you, he’s one of your co-workers that is always working. You wave at him while Satoru finishes his conversation, and he adjusts his tan jacket, touching the arm of one of the men, letting them go as he walks to you.

You tense just a bit, while the girl finally leaves, and Satoru’s sitting next to you once more, as his phone rings. He turns it off, jaw tensing when a blond man takes your hand and bends down at the waist, like some old school gentleman, pressing a kiss to the back of your delicate wrist, the pretty bracelet slides down your arm as he does it, and he watches your blush.

The fuck.

He was trying his best to get that girl to go on, so he could get back to talking to you, but now some random guy has your attention, and Satoru doesn’t like it, not one fucking bit. “Nanami, this is Satoru.”

“Nanami, huh?” He leans back, flipping off his phone again, you look at him curiously.

“Need to grab that?” You ask, and he shakes his head, swiping it off once more, ignoring his manager while this Nanami guy eyes you behind green glasses.

“You look stunning, is that alright to say?” You giggle again, Satoru glares at you, how dare you giggle at him!?

He told you that you looked beautiful. Did you giggle?

He wants to punch this smirking man in the face.

What’s wrong with him!?

“Thank you, Nanami, I guess you don’t see me too dressed up at work, huh? You always dress so well.”

“Oh stop, you’re flattering me. And this is your…” He trails off, looking at Gojo, who has to wipe the glare off his face for a moment.

Say it, Satoru.

More than a friend.

You look at him then, as if you’re waiting for him to say that, to say something, while Nanami’s lips quirk up just a bit, making Satoru want to smack him again. He takes a breath, smiling then instead of glaring, but his hand is on the small of your back. “We’ve become close friends, very quickly.”

“Oh? I’ve known her for a long time,” Nanami says, rubbing the back of his neck and looking away. You look at Satoru, whose phone starts ringing again, and he curses, rolling his blue eyes. “Need to take that?”

“It’s my manager, they have horrible timing. I’ll be right back.” He murmurs, you smile understandingly, while his manager trips on him about earlier.

He knows his dick doesn’t work, and now he knows he hates touching anyone, but he doesn’t know how to explain it to anyone when he has no fucking clue why this is happening. He’s obsessed with a sweet, shy little thing that is currently getting hit on by a dude buffer than him.

Maybe he’d be good for you.

Satoru is too petty to admit it though, glaring instead while his manager goes on and on. “Listen, I get it, you need content.”

“We need you with women, a lot of your viewers are men, they’re not gonna tune in to watch you solo. Find someone that works for you, I don’t care who at this point, but we’re just not gonna make profit if you keep turning down roles. Or, I heard, you shoved a girl off on Geto.”

“I didn’t… shove her off, I just…” Satoru frowns again, the blond man is sitting next to you in the other seat, your eyes are on Satoru however they turn away when he catches your gaze.

He just wants to fuck you right in front of that fucking man now. God, if you would be interested in starring in something, you’d make bank, it’s not just his obsession, your pussy is the prettiest one he’s seen. Your tits, your body, they’re all so sexy, and your pretty face with those glasses? You’d kill any sexy nerd shoot there was.

“Satoru!”

Shit.

He can’t get the vision of you in some slutty ass librarian outfit from running through his head.

“Yeah, I got it. I’ll try to get something going, I mean I was gonna do a solo tonight anyway.”

“That’s fine, but remember you’re a lot more than just Onlyfans. You’re a star, Satoru, that comes with a certain level of appearances. So whatever is going on, you gotta get it together, or we’re both not making shit.” He sighs, leaning back against the wall now, eyes going back to you, giggling at something he’s said.

He’s too close to you.

Why does he mind so much?

“I’ll get a shoot done.” The words feel horrible, the thought of fucking anyone else just seems like an impossibility, and he doesn’t know how to compute it in his mind.

What did you do?

“Alright, I expect some video with a woman - not with Suguru. Though…”

“I’m not fucking Suguru.” He chuckles as people look at him a bit, running a hand through his white locks. “He is pretty but not my type.”

“He’s gonna be your type if you turn down every other actress.”

“Ugh.”

“Mmhmm, talk to you later.” He hangs up, frowning at his phone, trying to gather himself before he does something so stupid, jealousy filling him and for what?

You’re talking. You’re not his. He had his fingers buried in a girl this morning, why does he care if you did anything? He knows you’re not that girl, though, but you choose to be with him. It makes him feel far, far more special than he’d admit, the fact that you want him, that you trust him. Was he mistaking the look in your eyes, was it just desire there?

“If you are single, would you mind a date sometime? I haven’t had so much fun talking in a long time.” Nanami says softly, making you look down shyly, lashes casting shadows on your cheeks from the soft lights hanging above you in the dimly lit, pretty restaurant. “Am I too bold?”

“No, no. I just haven’t been on a date in forever.” Satoru feels like he’s been punched in the chest as he hears, nearing the table and acting like he didn’t wanna yank you to him and kiss you then and there.

But he chose to tell him you’re friends, that’s what you were, a friend he wants to fuck all night in every position imaginable. Then lick his own cum out of your cunt, abused from his cock, and fuck you all morning. God he can’t stop thinking about them all, have you dragged on his face, his hands on your waist, let you ride his mouth till he couldn’t breathe.

Real fucking friendly.

Satoru’s hands grip and release while he hears your answer, “I will think about it, Mr. Nanami, it may be fun.”

That’s almost a yes.

Fuck.

“Think about what?” He asks with a smile, leaned back in the booth, a hand brushing your bare thigh under the table, where your dress had slid up from you sitting, he feels it tense while he drags his fingertips across it, eyeing you then.

Was Satoru trying to confuse you more? You look at him again, some toxic part of you that you don’t recognize wants him to claim you, what the fuck was that!? You have never been that way, you’ve never been a lot of things until you met this blue-eyed man, however, and even with a handsome Nanami flirting, you can’t get Satoru’s moans out of your mind.

Snap out of it!

“A date with your lovely friend. You two are just friends?” He looks between the two of you now, and Satoru opens his mouth, but what can he say?

It’s what you ‘are’.

Would he be worthy of dating you if he wanted to, when his job was fucking other women? You didn’t deserve that, you deserved to be the only one, fuck you literally had become his one singular, consuming thought. He smiles good naturedly, eyeing you now, watching you bite your lower lip, teeth digging into the plush of it, while your thighs tremble just a bit.

“We just met at a party a few weeks ago, but we are really close. Quickly.” He murmurs.

“Can’t see you partying.” Nanami’s hand comes to touch your other thigh, and for a girl who hasn’t had any in forever, the sensation of two big hands on your thighs is addling your mind. “No offense, darling you seem a little straight laced…” his words are trailed off with his hand squeezing gently.

Satoru scowls at him.

Is he touching you!?

Do you like it?

“I don’t party, it’s true.” You smile now, a hand over his, thumbs brushing his knuckles, while Satoru’s squeezing so hard you wince before he realizes it, letting go of his grip, but the hand staying on your knee. “I think we could go on a date sometime, as long as it doesn’t make work weird.”

“Not at all, all right I’ll leave you two to hang out then,” he stands, holding out a hand for Satoru, he squeezes the shit out of Nanami’s hand with a forced smile, only for Nanami to squeeze tighter. And fuck he’s strong. Then, he takes your hand, murmuring a - “I’ll see you at work, then,” and kissing the back of your hand. “Darling.”

Darling.

Satoru will show him darling.

You giggle, only pissing him off more, nodding shyly, fuck you’re cute even when you’ve made him furious. He’s shared women so many times he can’t count, even girls he got closer to, regular girls that you could almost say he ‘dated’ he’d still regularly bang out with his friends. He’s not possessive in general, he’s open minded and a free spirit.

Or he was!?

“Sounds good, Mr. Nanami.” He hates how you say his name, when the man in the khaki suit and dumbass cheetah tie leaves, finally. “He’s so sweet.”

“Yeah, so sweet.” You look at him then, narrowing your eyes curiously.

“You don’t like him?”

“I don’t know him. Seems boring, pretentious.” You blink in confusion, eyeing the retreating figure walking out, he even waves at you, which you return.

“He doesn’t seem like either to me. Satoru, you said we are just friends, are you worried that we won’t… do all that we do if I date someone?” Your words drop to a quiet murmur, and he sighs.

“Yes I would be very upset if I didn’t get to taste you again, why wouldn’t I be? It’d be a fuckin’ tragedy, sweetheart.” His words are too husky, when he leans against you, turning just so, his fingers slipping up your inner thigh, a side of sweet, nice Satoru you hadn’t seen yet, you almost think he looks…

He can’t be jealous.

Right?

You're delusional.

“I don’t just sleep around, so if we went on a date I wouldn’t do that. But, if I hit it off, and got serious, I wouldn’t continue our… lessons. I can only be with one person at one time.” He tenses then, is he going to lose you before he even gets you? “I don’t care if you do the same, I know it’s your job, but I couldn’t.”

“I’m not fucking anyone right now. My manager is bitching at me about it.” You tilt your head curiously, the chandelier earrings dancing in glittering prisms along your neck as you study him. “I’m having issues on set.”

“Is everything okay?” You ask, concern in your voice now, as he shakes his head. “Satoru, what's wrong?”

“I’m not in a good headspace it seems, the gang bang I failed, and I pushed the girl this morning on Suguru. So if I don’t give my manager something, they’re gonna be pissed. And no money for us if I can’t show up.”

“What’s wrong though, you seemed fine with Jenna in what I watched? Is this a new problem?” God you’re clueless to your effects, aren’t you? You touch his thigh too, instantly making his cock hard, looking down and getting flustered, he feels your heat, just making him harder. “You seem to work fine to me. Are the cameras getting too stressful?”

“I don’t know, but it really is a problem. Do you think… you could help your very handsome, amazing friend out?” You look up at him, curious.

“Help how?”

“Your good video skills, film a hot jerk off stream, good angles? Maybe that will get enough money he’ll chill some until I get over this.” You look away, the images of Satoru stroking his cock are burned in your brain. “Too much?”

“No, no. I can help, I feel I am taking up your time-”

“You’re not.” He cups your face then, turning it to him. “You’re never taking up my time, I enjoy being here. Okay?” You exhale, fuck had you been worried about that!?

How could you not know how badly he craves your presence?

“I feel bad that you’re going through this, is it the lesson?”

“The lesson did bring your taste into my mouth, and maybe no one tastes as sweet, it’s true,” his thumb brushes across your jaw line, smiling at how embarrassed you get then. “I think your taste would help me out.”

“Then, I’ll film you, but I can’t guarantee the quality.”

“It’ll be impeccable.” He raises two fingers, making your mind go to places it shouldn’t, you know another ‘lesson’ or session, or any time at all with Satoru was dangerous.

You’re teetering on the edge of feelings constantly, but you can do this, right, separate the two? He seems so good at it, at being your friend and then doing more, and you almost failed completely. You almost couldn’t say yes to Nanami because you are currently so delusional you think this star is so interested in you for more.

You have to accept him for who he is, no matter what, this was your choice to join his life at all. You take a breath now, trying to flip that switch off, the one that can’t stop thinking how much you’d love to kiss him, every minute of every day. The side that’s upset his fingers were inside someone, you have to throw her aside, and enjoy what’s here while it’s here.

He makes you question so much constantly, like every minute spent under that cerulean gaze brings out a side of you that you never knew of, some inner sexual side that only he can ignite. It’s so beautiful and special, his breath against your lips, you want to press them to yours, but so unsure, was he not about to be affectionate in public with you?

Was this just left for home?

He changes your thoughts when he kisses your forehead, far too sweet, then your cheeks, hot to the touch, down to your nose, making you giggle, relax. “You never ever waste any time.”

“I needed that.” You exhale, kissing his lips quickly as he smiles against your lips, and you pull back quickly. “I’d love to help you out.”

“I’ll make it worth your while, pretty.” His thumb brushes the slick on your upper thigh, right by your panties, watching your lashes flutter shut, as you take a shaky breath. “Come back to my place?”

“For the night or…”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure-”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” Satoru’s paying the bill, signing a signature and leaving a hefty tip, then, holding out a hand for you.

“Did you drive here?” You shake your head, and he smiles, snatching up his phone now. “Perfect, I’ll have my driver take us over.”

*****

The second time coming to Satoru’s home was a little different, you were more comfortable, slipping off your heels now, he bends down to help you again, kissing your knees as he does, hands slipping up your thighs. Your hand brushes a lock of his white hair back, the unreal way you feel this comfortable, this drawn to him, makes your heart ache.

You’re so scared you’ll get hurt more, but you can’t stop yourself from being near him, from him looking at you like you’re the only fucking girl there is, are you so delusional?

Just enjoy it.

You close your eyes, sighing as he stands, kissing your lips again, easing your hand bag off your shoulder, brushing his thumbs across the mark it’s left on your shoulder. “Want another drink?”

“Yes please, if I’m going to be a porn director.” He laughs softly, shaking his head and taking off his suit jacket, laying it across the back of a chair when he pulls out the same bottle you’d sipped last time.

“You liked this one, hmm?” You nod, surprised he’d remember, taking the sweet liquid in the crystal glass, fingers brushing now. “Don’t get drunk though, I can’t have a shaky ass camera.”

“So demanding already, you really gonna make it worth my while you say?” You’re trying to tease back, like you can breathe or function in his presence, he just sighs, brushing back your hair behind your ear.

“That and more, sweetheart. We have hardly started doing things together, there is so much I can think of,” his hands slip lower, down the side of your neck, watching the goosebumps raise as he does, sighing at how perfect you look in his kitchen. “So many positions.”

“How many are there!?” He laughs now, at your embarrassed little look, pressing a boop to your nose.

“You’re endlessly adorable. Corruptible.”

“Oh!” He’s taking his own glass now, guiding you by your hand.

“Suguru’s out for the night, so we won’t get interrupted.” He’s leading you to his room, yanking off that black top, pausing as he sets up the ring light and grabs the camera, handing it to you, fingers brushing against each other. “You ready?”

“Ready,” your squeak of an answer makes him pause, taking your free hand, putting it on his bare chest as your heart hammers, trailing the hand lower to his belt and swallowing. “Need help?”

“Yes, I do.”

He needs you.

He’s desperate for you, fuck.

You’ve helped him undress, on your knees on the soft, plush carpet, when you start the stream, and he starts stroking that long, thick length right in front of you, he keeps looking at you, even when you gesture to the camera. He’s moaning, spitting on his tip, making it slicker for his big hand which still can’t come close to covering it, twisting and moving it all for you.

For his fans.

It’s hard to remember them when your cunt throbs, when you’re so overheated you can hardly stand it, and Satoru’s talking, low and hoarse. “Gonna cum so much, fuck…”

When he’s cumming you damn near do just looking, thighs pressing together for that friction, mouth fucking dry when your shaky legs nearly give out, while you come from a lower angle, reading the comments of his spurting cum, shooting up against his silvery happy trail, sticking all over, making you ache to drink it up.

“Fuck, I’ve made a mess, need someone to clean me all up.” Satoru whispers, while you barely are able to hold up the camera any longer, the livestream is avid with questions, namely - who is filming Satoru Gojo? And offers from many viewers to lick every bit of him up.

Satoru should stare at the camera, but he’s looking up into your eyes instead, stroking his cum soaked length slowly, just pumping more cum out of his tip, so much it’s ridiculous, dripped down to his balls and inner thighs. You swallow nervously, tummy clenched with desire, knowing you needed to stay quiet for the stream of curious viewers.

Satoru murmurs cut then, and  you do just that, shutting off the feed, and setting down the phone with a shaky hand, clearing your throat. “They loved it I think.”

“C’mere.” He crooks two fingers, and you eagerly obey, walking up to him now, tempting him to no end with the way your eyes drink him in. “On your knees, sweetheart.”

You obey again, eagerly in fact, looking up at him under lowered lashes as his clean hand slips up the side of your pretty neck, then around to the nape of it, entangling in your locks. Your soft whine and shift of your hips are all he needs to know you’re enjoying it, your hands obediently on your thighs, as if waiting for his every order, so sexy he feels his cock twitch back to life.

“Do you want to clean me up?” He asks softly, but the command in his tone is there, you nod and he exhales, tugging you towards him then. “Then do a really good job, sweets. Lick every bit clean like a good girl, and I’ll reward you.”

“I’ll do a good job.” Your whisper wrecks him, as he guides your head down, and you suck him, still hard, into your hot, eager mouth. Your soft whine vibrates around him, his head falling back as your mouth moves.

He can’t help but think of earlier.

A date, you were gonna go on a date, and he hates the idea, no, he fucking detests the idea in fact, the rage alone making him fuck your throat deeper, harder, feeling you gag and choke on him instead of anyone else. He shouldn’t feel possessive over his friend, a friend who’s sucking his cum, who’s swallowing him up, all he can think is his, his, his.

But you weren’t his.

How could you ever be?

Satoru’s never felt anything better than your throat, except he’s a million percent sure your cunt is better, he knows it would suck him up so greedy. When tears fall from your pretty eyes, it’s hotter than any blow job he’s had on set, the eagerness and desperate need to please far surpasses experience, your glasses fogging up when you pull back to take a breath then.

Satoru looks at his slick, spit covered cock, to thin trails of saliva disintegrating between your lips as you pull back, swiping at your lower lip. “How did I do?”

“Perfect.” His whisper is genuine, the words feel too good, you know you should stop, that you already wish he was yours, but you’re too addicted to how those blue eyes make you feel like you’re the only girl there is.

Even if it’s an illusion, a trick of your brain, or a practiced look.

The feeling is too euphoric not to be corrupted by it.

“You did such a good job, look at it, not any cum left. You sucked it all down, so greedy huh?” His hand comes under your chin, squeezing your neck gently yet so possessive, he wants to say it - his - but he knows he can’t. But it’s too easy to teeter off the edge, when your breaths come faster, breasts pressed up in that dress, rising and falling with each one.

“Satoru… I can keep going.” Your soft voice nearly ends him, little hand stroking his cock again.

“I was thinking of something, but if you don’t want to, it's okay.” You blink a bit then, tilting your head, tendrils falling against your bare shoulders.

“What is it?”

“A scene with me, but not showing your face at all,” your gasp and pull back makes him sigh. “It’d be like me eating your pussy, we could have it zoomed so no one sees your face.”

The thought, along with Satoru's sweet cum down your throat makes your tummy clench, while he brings out more and more of you that you didn't know existed. Your hands tense on his thighs now, taking a shaky breath, fingers along the downy hair on his thighs. “I don’t… Satoru you have a million options for costars-”

“I want yours. It’s the prettiest I’ve ever fucking seen.”

“Satoru…”

“It is. Wanna argue about my expertise here?” You just get more flustered and flushed, looking down nervously, but he tilts your chin with his big hand, angling your gaze upward. “I’ll split all the pay, you get eaten out, and anonymously. I’d never tell anyone, I’d never risk your career or anything. But I do need to do one, and I hate the thought of it not…” Satoru trails off now, the words sinking in.

“You like eating me out that much?” Your whisper makes him chuckle then, nodding and swallowing nervously.

“That pussy is perfect. How about we film it, and you watch it, and if you don’t want to, I just keep it to jerk off to…” Shit, he said that.

He’s so desperate and pathetic.

But you flush again, surprising him with your nod.

“Shit really!?”

“We can film it for us to watch, and… I doubt I’ll be okay sharing it, but we can see if you- ah!” Satoru’s got you lifted so fast you barely can blink, unzipped and turned in moments, leaving you in the prettiest red lace lingerie that makes him groan, his fingertips trembling on your skin. “I said probably not, don’t get excited.”

“I’m excited to bury my face between your thighs again, sweetheart.” You cry out when he’s pressed you on the bed, spreading your thighs and groaning, fingers tugging at your panties.

“How can you make sure my face isn’t there?” You ask softly, he grabs the camera and the stand then, cock just swinging around, balls smacking his thighs, so used to being naked he doesn’t realize his effects. You can’t stop staring when he gets it at the perfect angle, clicking his tongue.

“Just like that,” he murmurs, viewfinder showing your pretty cunt up close, he’s almost furious to think anyone could see it like him, but his career is teetering on the brink of nothing, and if you truly were okay with it, he only sees it as a win.

You broke his dick and now he’s begging to just lick you, and split pay with you, he never thought he’d be so pathetic, but it’s no wonder, thumbing your pussy and spreading it, sighing. “Mnh!”

“So, to keep it anonymous if you decide to show this, don’t speak too personally, okay sweets?” You nod shyly, gasping as he shoves your thighs up. “Also, hold them up high, so all we’re getting is a view of your pussy.”

“Yes, sir.” You tease, but his cock starts leaking again, earning his moan.

“Don’t speak too much, to be safe, I don’t ever want you to feel like anyone would know it’s you. Speak when we’re done, though, you can absolutely moan.” You nod, so nervous, what are you doing!?

It’s as if Satoru Gojo brings something insane and wild out, because there is a thrill of your pussy on camera suddenly, and knowing he is about to worship you, potentially in front of people has your cunt drooling for him. He hits record then, angling his face so his tongue was in perfect view lapping up the arousal, exhaling now as he shoves your thighs up higher.

Perfect, you’re perfect.

“God, look at this pretty pussy,” he murmurs into the camera, parting your folds so all that syrupy arousal can pool out, he hears your sharp intake of breath, watches your red nails pressing into the plush of your thighs. His cock is already back hard, he has to stroke it and whines out as he laps you up, making you gasp.

He's slurping you then, head tilted just so the camera can see, smacking your clit gently, watching you jerk, pressing your thighs up higher and tilting the camera so it's higher, right over his head, looking at it and the reflection of your perfect cunt while he slips the tip of his tongue up. You're moaning at the sensations, twitching hips bringing your cunt more in his face.

Satoru can't stand it, how good you taste, he wondered if it was an illusion but no, you are the sweetest thing he's ever had. “You're so wet, god, take a look…” he's fingering you now, and you hear it while he watches it, glimmering from the soft ring light glowing on your perfect pussy. Making him so dumb he's just burying his face then, forgetting he's filming.

“Mnh!” You're trying not to call out his name, thighs still so high you can't see his face, to protect you from getting seen, until he adjusts it, spreading your thighs further, leaning up to look down at you under lidded eyes, chin coated in your slick. “Satoru…”

“You okay sweets?” His whisper touches you, his concern for you even during this, making sure you're okay. You nod and he exhales in relief, kissing you for a moment, knowing it's what you need, brushing your hair back, sighing as he looks down at you. “You're doing so good. Can you cum for me, baby?”

You nod again eagerly, and he’s dived back down, fingering you with two curled right in your cunt, hitting that spot that blinds you every time, his moans so filthy, guttural while he watches, angling his wrist and hitting something then, you feel so much pressure you panic, gasping, writhing under him.

“Oh my - ngh! Fuck!” You’re struggling to keep your voice a whisper, palming your mouth while you shatter.

“That’s it, right there, cum for me, lemme drink it up. Let everyone see how much you love my fucking tongue.” Pornstar Satoru was ridiculous to handle, hitting you with his fingers and the tip of his tongue on your clit, when the pressure releases, and your orgasm hits so hard you can’t help but scream, twitching as he pulls back in surprise. “Fuck, you’re squirting f’me?”

You have no clue what he means, you don’t see it as it starts pouring all over, making a mess, wet spot under you even as Satoru grabs you by the fat of your ass, licking up as much as he can. You’re a twitching, soaked little mess, your hands gripping his hair now, screams echoing in the room while he eases off you just a bit now, ready to fuck your slick, messy cunt.

He trembles as he pulls back and does one more shot, pressing a sweet kiss to your pussy before shutting off the camera, and leaning up, kissing you, so desperate, while your slick thighs rub together, and you feel the mess. He pulls up and takes a breath, flipping you then, making you gasp, handing you the camera while he kisses the backs of your shoulders, hands on your ass, spreading it wide.

“Watch it, sweetheart,” he whispers, kissing across your shoulder blades, brushing your hair to one side while you barely have the strength to press play, and that’s when you see it. “Look how perfect you are.”

Your pussy right on camera, and him eyeing it like he’s worshipping it, like you’re his fucking altar and his mouth is that offering. Your cunt starts throbbing while he works you, kissing every inch of your body as you fall more and more into the abyss of sin, of lust, of desire- of Satoru Gojo.

“You love it, don’t you baby?” His words are hot against your ear, while you watch him on the screen licking your cunt, watch your thighs tremble, all while he’s behind you, sinking his two fingers so deep in your quivering hole again. You arch your back, moaning now, it feels so good you can’t stand it, so erotic watching this video you two took, while he’s fucking you with his thick fingers.

“I do, but it’s insane… ah! Satoru…” He sighs now, taking his fingers out, pressing them into your mouth for you to suck, which you quickly obey, eyes fluttering shut, the image of his tongue fucking you reflecting in the darkness.

“Keep it for us, or share? It’s all up to you. I’ll never pressure you either way,” he’s soft then, turning your chin as he lays heavy weight over you, and you eye the phone now, hand shaking just a bit, to close it out or to share, he takes your hand, steadying it. “It’s fine to be how you are, you’re perfect, okay?”

“It’s fine to be how you are, Satoru Gojo. A… question, though.” He sighs, leaning close, while he keeps holding your hand, hovering just so.

“Mmhmm?”

“Would I be your favorite co-star?” Your teasing question makes him laugh at the ridiculous nature.

You’re the only one he can even get hard for.

“You’re the prettiest, yummiest, sweetest co star I could have,” his words are just a little broken, as he almost says more. That he hopes your date sucks with that Nanami guy, that he’s planning to show up at your work tomorrow to glare at that man, that he’s become fucking obsessed, but instead - “How could you think you’re not?”

“And we’re… still friends…” You ache for him to say - no, it’s more - but he nods, against your neck, pressing kisses against it. “Even if we fuck?”

God.

He’s dying.

“You think I wouldn’t be your friend anymore? I’m not the guy to get what he wants and go. I promise.” You nod then, smiling just a bit, and tap the share button then, surprising both of you.

“Holy fuck, I did that…” Your whisper is met with Satoru’s kisses now, as your video plays for all to see, your moans on camera mixing with the ones induced from his play, one arm wrapping your body as his cock presses insistently against your ass, hot and heavy.

“Stop me now, because I can’t think of anything but fucking your pretty pussy raw right now,” his desperate words and dilated eyes just serve to ruin you, when you arch your ass up. “Fuck, you sure?”

“I want you inside me, please,” he eagerly leans back, gripping his cock and lifting your thigh, pressing into your tight ring of muscles, almost cumming from the fucking tip. “Ah!”

“You’re so tight, relax I don’t want to hurt you, please.” Satoru whispers it as he grips your chin.

You nod, as he is slipping a little deeper from the back, the stretch burning so deliciously, you’re convulsing while the viewers are going wild over Satoru’s devoted pussy eating skills with his mysterious, faceless co-star. His silk hair brushes your cheek as he exhales heavy in your ear, whispering your name.

You eye the video, the comments, vision blurry, while he sinks his cock deeper, and he moans as he reads the comments to you, filling your cunt so full of his cock, inch by inch - and there are so many, each thrust deeper while you cling to his wrists, his arms wrapping you. He keeps reading them, even as he shoves in all the way, making you jerk and gasp.

“Perfect pussy, look at Satoru go, god she’s so wet for him, she’s cumming so much - is she squirting? Look at that, you’re a regular star, huh? F-fuck…”

“Mnh!” Your eyes roll back in your fucking skull now, lost in him, lost completely. So deeply unraveled under him you can’t remember what this is, that it’s a friend, that it was a scene, that you’re now the girl who did that, anonymous but to know it’s you on that screen with Satoru devouring you does something, fuck it does too much.

He’s murmuring more comments, and his huge cock is stretching your slick, tight heat beyond its means. “That’s it, you love it, huh? They all want to be in your place, or they want to lick you instead, but it’s me, isn’t it baby?” He shouldn’t be possessive, he tries to tell himself it over and over, but how can he not be, when he’s shoved in so deep, he feels the bulge of your tummy, groaning. “Feel me, sweetheart?”

You can’t speak, just nodding desperately, while the feed goes insane, watching your cunt squirt on Satoru’s face while he’s buried inside you, filling you to the hilt, stretching you out so good you forget to breathe. “Toru!”

He pauses at the nickname, your slurred words and pulsing cunt ending him, he could almost cum then and there and he has amazing stamina, but he has to hold back, wrapping a hand around your throat and leaning up on an elbow while you gush down his cock. Satoru kisses up your neck hungrily, eyeing your pussy on the video and then your face, your eyes almost black with pleasure.

“Only I can hit that spot, hmm?” His tip drags along your spongy spot now, and you’re twitching, nodding, so consumed as he surrounds you, breath against your neck, moans in your ear, hand squeezing your throat just so under your chin. His cock twitches as he shoves deeper, impossibly deeper, while you helplessly grip the blankets beneath you. “Answer me, like a good girl.”

“Y-yes.” Your whisper drives him insane, feral, the way your walls quiver around his cock is exquisite, that grip unreal, but more than anything it feels perfect.

“Made for this cock, aren’t you pretty?” The words fall out before he can stop them, and your eyes rolling back, drool spilling out of your mouth while your cunt is pulsing is his answer. “Perfect, fuck…”

“Mnh!” You can’t take it, his words urging you when he shoves his cock so deep, the tip bruising your cervix, making you scream as his guttural moan fills the room, his hand squeezing just enough pressure to make your orgasm blinding, white hot.

“Cumming all over me, so good, listening f’me, hmm?” You just nod weakly, gasping when he flips you to your back, lifting your thighs and shoving them wide, slapping the tip on your slick cunt and groaning. “Wanna watch me fill you up?”

You nervously nod, swallowing now, and he sees it, you’re overwhelmed, he leans down, kissing you, and you’re desperately clinging to his back, eagerly kissing him despite being damn near slack jawed. You exhale nervously, eyeing him is even more intimate, impossibly more, his plush lips still tasting like your honeyed arousal from earlier.

“If it’s too much, tell me, I want you comfortable.” It’s hard for him to speak, but he does, making sure to reassure you, kissing your forehead before he leans back.

“It’s intense, Satoru but… I want it.” He moans at that, sliding his cock back inside, sucking in a breath when you’re gripping him fucking tighter this time, slipping in slowly, inch by inch. “Ah! Satoru, so d-deep!”

“I am, huh? I can get deeper, baby.” You cry out when he shoves his cock in deep with a sharp thrust, and then pauses, eyeing that bulge in your stomach. “Look.”

“Look at… oh.” You’re heating up at the image, and he’s all about angles, he makes sure your eyes catch every bit of his slow thrusts, filling your tummy full of his enormous cock, too much to take, but your cunt is willing and eager, struggling to take his size.

“Fucking you so deep, see it? Your body is so small compared to my cock, pussy stretched too much, f-fuck… god look at you…” He’s losing it, he was trying to talk sexy to you, which comes naturally, but now he’s just obsessed with the image, thin white brows lowering over his eyes, while he slams inside you, your thighs trembling as they wrap his slutty waist. “Oh my god…”

“Satoru… ah!” He’s done, he’s fucking lost in you, in your eyes when he shoves your thighs up, gripping your face with his huge hands while he’s got you bent in half, slamming so hard you scream. “Too much!”

“I need all of you, fuck… can you take more?” His eyes are so bright blue they burn to look at, but you can’t stop yourself, nodding and cupping his face in return.

“Kiss me please.” He moans at that, slamming his lips down when he rocks his hips, cock filling you so deeply you scream into his mouth, hands slipping to his hair while he’s got his heavy weight over you.

“I can’t control it anymore, baby, if it’s too much just fucking hit me at this point,” he’s nonsensical, leaning up now, hands on the back of your thighs in a mating press, fucking you hard now, powerful strokes that take you the fuck out, cumming in moments with a few strokes, making him whimper.

That’s a sound you know he’s never made.

You may be delusional, but you’re sure you’ve only heard him whimper for you, you’ve never seen that look in his eyes on any video or stream, not when he’s staring right into your fucking soul and slamming his cock deep over and over. You’re barely able to cling to the earth, so much pleasure rushing through your body, you feel every vein and ridge of that huge cock as it fucks into you.

“Perfect, pussy is perfect, fucking knew it but god. God… fucking feel her,” he slams into you again, head falling back, giving you a view of his throat before he eyes you once more, shaking his head and slamming his cock harder. “Can she take it?”

You just nod, you’d take anything, the way it feels to be ruined by Satoru Gojo is far beyond his balls slapping your ass, his cock stretching your cunt, his hands bruising your fucking thighs, no it was more. You want to be filled by him, folded under him, you want every bit of it, losing yourself in him, in his bright blue eyes, in his filthy fucking words, in his cock slamming your cervix.

You were ruined, and you knew it.

You feel too much, far too much, when he’s leaned back, holding your thighs high and watching his cock pull out and enter, slowing and rubbing your abused clit. “F-fuck, cum one more time, I’m close… your cunt is so fucking perfect, shit… c’mon, like a good girl, there you go baby…”

It’s like that goddamn dream.

Word for word.

You cum harder than you have, when he shoves into the hilt, stuffing your slutty little hole, blinded and dizzy, hardly able to breathe, while he watches you shatter under him, so fucking beautiful he can’t take it. Your brows drawn together, that sweat making your skin glisten, your mouth open in the sluttiest O, he can hardly stand what the image does to him.

He knows it then, he’s fucking beyond destroyed, and terrified at that fact, at the power you’re oblivious to over him. He almost busts inside you, something he has never done - he doesn’t even go without condoms - the thoughts of filling your cunt full are far, far too tempting. He stops himself, cursing and holding his slick cock at the base while you’re spasming around him, back arching.

“Where do you want all this cum, sweetheart?” He manages to ask, you’re so fucked out you’re dizzy, blinking Satoru’s white hair and pretty face into view as he pulses inside you, just thickening and making you whimper.

“W-what… where… you want, I… mnh!” You’re still cumming, aftershocks rocking you, making your skin so sensitive when he eases your sore thighs down, parting them and pulling out finally, stroking himself as you catch your breath, watching him spurt thick white ropes all over your cunt. “Oh! Oh…”

“Fuck, fuck… god… oh my…” He’s moaning as he’s desperately jerking his slick cock, so much cum it seems impossible, since he just busted so much, and you watch him, enthralled as the hot sticky sperm is coating your cunt. “God, look at it, fucking look at us baby.”

He’s too much, he’s too much.

You thought him eating you out fucked you up mentally, what is he, his insane ass eyes bright as he trembles, strong muscles bunching and tensing, a work of fucking art pouring his cum on you. You’re stuck, at a loss for words, mouth opening and closing, brain not even functional as you look up at this man, knowing this isn’t just sex, it fucking couldn’t be.

It can’t be like this with someone.

You almost spill every feeling then and there, lost in him, in his desperation when he rests his head on yours, moaning against your lips, tip brushing your engorged clit and making you whine out. “God, your pussy is too perfect, it’s… you’re too perfect, feel too good, look too good…”

“Satoru, are you okay?” You whisper softly, he’s slurring his words, almost hard to understand in their hushed whispers in between his pants.

He can’t even answer, pulling back and looking at your pretty cunt, all abused from his cock and puffy, covered in his white ropes. “Can I have a picture? Please, just for me.”

“Y-you want one?” He laughs softly, breathless, nodding, and you heat up at it, looking down shyly. 

“Only you can be adorable with your pussy beat up and coated in cum, huh?”

“Oh god!” He can’t take it, how cute you are, the affection eating at him, as he takes a deep breath, leaning back. “Just one.”

“Fuck…” He takes the phone, eyeing the amount of comments and tips while your breasts heave, trying to catch your breath, sticky cum dripping across your folds when you shift your hips.

“What is it?” You ask softly, he shows you the number, and your eyes nearly bulge out. “Holy fuck!?”

“This is good even for me, shit. Pussy is made for porn.” You’re blushing harder, biting your lower lip when he angles the camera, taking several photos and exhaling at how pretty it looks. “God, look at you.”

“Are you talking to me or my pussy?” He grins then, so boyish and charming it’s as if he wasn’t just fucking you into a mating press and filming your cunt. “Also I said one!”

“Sorry. I’ll make it up.” He’s kissing your thighs then, lapping some of his own cum off your slit, you gasp at the sensation, his tongue on your sore, overstimulated pussy now. Your hands entangle in his hair as he groans. “Fucking taste us.”

“Satoru you’re in-insane and- mnh! Fuck!” You’re shaking when he laps more off of you, desperately lapping at every inch of your cunt now. “Satoru!”

“Gotta clean my pretty costar up, she’s only my costar you know, only one I’ve ever-” He pauses, stopping himself, when you eye him, breasts still gently moving up and down as you eye him.

“Only one you’ve… ngh! Satoru!”

“Taste us.” He’s lapped more of his cum and yours, murmuring for you to open, which you eagerly do, letting him spit his cum and yours in your throat. “Swallow, there you go, see it’s perfect, huh?”

You’re lost then, in the filthy string of words, when he’s back down cleaning you up with a tongue that’s lethal in its precision, rocking his cock on the bed, hard for the third time with you as he moans desperately against you. He’s latched onto your clit, sucking, while you can’t stop cumming, pushed past overstimulation, but not once do you tell him to stop.

You want it.

You need it.

In tears from how much you’ve cum, desperate for more, swapping his cum and yours mixing, against your tongues as he talks you through it, as you lose yourself, Jenna told you not to, she told you not to forget. You are trying to keep it separated, but how the fuck can you?

It felt worth losing yourself, for him, under him, him inside you - around you - taking over everything, while he’s back inside you, his lips murmuring desperate, dirty words into your sweet mouth. When you’re so fucked out you actually pass out blissfully in his arms, you can’t even remember the girl you were a few weeks ago, waking up just to be filled by him again from behind.

Being in his arms, you hope it’ll counteract the pain when he moves on, when he’s kissing you while fucking you from the back, sweet little nothings against your lips filling the room along with the squelching of his cock filling your cunt again. Every inch of your body kissed by him, licked by him, head to your fucking toes, shifting you to some other dimension as you drink each other in, exhausted and desperate.

You’ll think about that pain later, for now it’s all pleasure, aside from the ache in your heart for more, endlessly more.

The love on this story is so sweet, it's FAR from over. Please be patient as these are long chaps and I have other projects, if you're not on the tags you can subscribe to me on ao3 or turn on notifs <3 Can't wait to hear your thoughts

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