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chosok-amo · 2 months ago

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⠀⠀𝜗𝜚 ⠀⠀⠀HAIL TO THE ‘ GHOST ’

♱ summary. bent over, bent down and said cheese to the camera, click! one, two, three... another, cheese! it was fun, haunting down by a ghost, gojo satoru.

warning. college! au, séx tape, hāte sex, háir-pulling, name-calling, pet names, praise, cunnilingūs, fingering, anāl, spanking.

wc. (♱) MASTERLIST

“all hail to the ghost.”

your voice carried through the cavernous, darkened library, bouncing off the towering shelves and echoing in the dimly lit room. a few weak lamps flickered in the corners, casting long, distorted shadows on the walls. the heavy wooden door groaned as it swung shut behind you, sealing you in the silence.

you stood still for a moment, heart pounding, eyes scanning the vast emptiness. your friends had insisted this was the place, that if you wanted to buy a joint on halloween night, all you had to do was come here, say the words, and wait. the atmosphere was oppressive, thick with the musty scent of old books and something else—something unexplainable.

your breath hitched slightly as you strained to hear even the slightest sound. a quiet shuffle of footsteps or the rustle of pages would have been comforting. instead, only the oppressive silence of the library enveloped you, making you wonder if this was just some elaborate joke to freak you out.

suddenly, from the corner of the room, a faint, almost imperceptible noise—like the swish of fabric or a breath being drawn. you turned quickly, nerves on edge, hoping that the “ghost” your friends mentioned wasn’t just some urban legend to mess with the new students.

“well, well, well, look who we have here,” the voice was unmistakable—smooth and smug, dripping with the kind of confidence that had always grated on your nerves.

you froze, instantly recognizing the person behind the bookshelf even before seeing him. slowly turning, you saw him step out from the shadows, standing not too far away in black dress pants and a crisp white button-up shirt, a black tie knotted perfectly at his neck. his face was covered by a cheap ghost mask, but that damn smirk was impossible to hide. and, of course, there were those striking, infuriatingly bright blue eyes peeking through the mask, brimming with amusement.

gojo satoru.

of course it was him. it had to be him.

your jaw clenched involuntarily, a familiar surge of irritation rising in your chest. gojo had been a thorn in your side since middle school—always there, always teasing, always making your life just that little bit more difficult, always. it didn’t matter that the years had passed and you’d both matured; the rivalry had stuck, and seeing him now, in the dim light of the library, with that arrogant smirk plastered on his face, brought back every frustrating memory.

“what the hell are you doing here?” you spat, crossing your arms over your chest, already regretting stepping foot into this ridiculous halloween prank your friends had set up. if you had known gojo would be here, you would’ve stayed far, far away.

gojo tilted his head, pushing the ghost mask up to rest on top of his head, revealing his full face—his cocky grin only deepening. “what, you didn’t miss me?” he teased, his tone light and playful, as if your years of mutual antagonism were just a game to him. “i figured you’d come crawling in eventually after hearing about the ghost. guess curiosity really does kill the cat.”

you rolled your eyes, biting back the urge to snap at him. you weren’t going to let him get under your skin tonight, no matter how hard he tried. “you’re the ghost?” you asked incredulously, voice laced with disdain. “seriously, gojo, this is pathetic—even for you.”

he chuckled, stepping closer, hands casually sliding into his pockets as if he owned the place. “don’t be so mean. i’m just here doing my civic duty, giving the people what they want—some mystery, some excitement. it’s halloween, after all,” he said, his grin never faltering. “besides, who else would play the part better than me?”

“literally anyone,” you shot back, your eyes narrowing as he approached. “and i didn’t come here for you, so don’t flatter yourself.”

“really?” he drawled, stopping just a few feet in front of you, his blue eyes gleaming mischievously. “you sure about that? you came looking for a little halloween fun, right? maybe a little thrill?” he leaned in slightly, his voice lowering just enough to be annoying. “and here i am, ready to entertain.”

your fists clenched at your sides. gojo had always been like this—always pushing, always trying to get a reaction. in middle school, it was pranks, teasing, and outsmarting you in class just to prove he was better. in high school, it was constant competition over grades and sports. even now, in college, the rivalry hadn’t dulled, and neither had your mutual disdain.

his eyes flicked over your tensed body—the tight grip of your fists, the stiffness in your shoulders. he always loved riling you up like this, feeding off the tension between you. as he moved ever so slightly closer, he couldn’t help the smug grin spreading across his face. there was something about the way you reacted to him, the fiery anger you barely contained, that thrilled him. the closer he got, the thicker the air between you became.

“looks like i hit a nerve,” he crooned, his smirk widening as he took another step, now standing just inches away. his tall frame towered over you, those damn blue eyes twinkling with amusement. “you still can’t stand me, can you?”

you glared up at him, your body stiffening even more at his words. the audacity of this man—always thinking he could get away with anything, always acting like he had some upper hand. it makes your blood boil.

you met his gaze head-on, refusing to back down, and shot back with a venomous edge in your voice. “congratulations, gojo. you finally noticed. i can’t stand you,” you spat, sarcasm dripping from your words as you took a step closer, poking his chest with your finger. “in fact, you’re like a bad rash i’ve had since middle school—just as irritating, and just as impossible to get rid of.”

a small, amused scoff escaped him as you jabbed his chest. any other person might have been offended—or at least, feigning offense—but not gojo. in fact, your anger seemed to only add fuel to his fire. he relished in your irritation like a cat playing with a mouse.

he didn’t back off. in fact, he stepped even closer, closing the gap between your bodies until you were almost chest-to-chest. “aww, you’re hurtin’ my feelings,” he drawled, feigning disappointment. his eyes, however, were full of mirth.

his eyes… they were full of mischief, sparkling with amusement. he was enjoying this. too much.

before you could pull back, before you could fire off another insult or push him away, he reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. the gesture was soft, almost gentle, and it took you completely off guard.

“what the hell are you doing?” you hissed, trying to yank your hand free. but his grip tightened, his long fingers wrapping securely around yours, holding firm despite your resistance.

gojo’s smirk grew wider, his eyes dancing with amusement as he tilted his head slightly, watching you struggle. “what’s wrong?” he teased, his voice smooth and low. “you look nervous.”

his gaze flicked down to your hand, still trapped in his. “here,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a softer tone as if he were being sincere—though you knew better than to believe it. “let me hold your hand. it might calm you down.”

your heart pounded in your chest, both from the anger and the sudden gesture. gojo was a lot of things—annoying, arrogant, frustrating, but never soft. this unexpected gentleness was throwing you off.

but you refused to show any sign of weakness. you tried to pull your hand back again, only to have it held even tighter in his grip.

“i don’t need to be calmed down,” you muttered, bristling, trying to ignore the feeling of his long fingers wrapped around yours. the heat from his hand was starting to spread through your body like a spark.

gojo just grinned, clearly amused by your resistance, and before you knew it, he was pulling you along. his grip remained unyielding as he led you toward the nearby wooden table. with a fluid motion, he sat on the edge of it, pulling you to stand between his legs. his tall frame loomed over you again, but this time, it felt different—less playful and more… something else.

he finally released your hand, and for a brief moment, you thought you could breathe again. but then he pulled out a joint, waving it lazily in front of your face with that ever-present smirk. “so… is this why you came here?” he asked, his tone dripping with amusement as his bright eyes flicked over your face.

you found yourself standing way too close to him, suddenly hyper-aware of his presence. his legs bracketed yours, the heat from his body a stark contrast against the cool air of the library. your heart was lodged in your throat, the familiar mix of anger and something unidentifiable swirling together in your chest.

the sight of the joint in his hand felt like another jab. it was a reminder of your stupid decision, a reminder of why you were here. and all your efforts to stand your ground before were vanishing, replaced by a growing sense of unease.

you swallowed, forcing your tongue to work.

you narrowed your eyes at him, your irritation flaring up again. “you really think i’d come all the way here not just for that?” you crossed your arms over your chest, refusing to back down.

gojo chuckled, the sound light and teasing. “well, your friends said that’s the magic phrase, right? ‘all hail to the ghost.’” he grinned, twirling the joint between his fingers. “but maybe you came for something else. something… more interesting?” his voice dropped slightly, the suggestiveness in his tone unmistakable.

gojo's sudden shift in tone, in demeanor, was throwing you off. you were used to the arrogant, cocky side, but this new, slightly dangerous vibe was uncharted territory.

he leaned in closer, the joint spinning between his nimble fingers. a hint of a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, his eyes locked onto yours. “come on,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth, “let’s be honest. a pretty girl like you, all alone in the library on halloween night, looking for a joint. there’s more going on here than just that, isn’t there?”

you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms in front of your chest. the motion made your boobs puff slightly under your corset, though you didn’t think much of it at the time. you were more focused on maintaining your composure. “i came here for the joint, gojo. nothing more, nothing less,” you said with an air of finality, refusing to give him the satisfaction of riling you up further.

his eyes flickered over your body, the corner of his mouth curling in amusement as he lit up the joint and took a slow puff. the scent of smoke drifted between you, and his gaze wandered down, settling on your halloween costume. his smirk deepened as his free hand reached out, fingers lightly brushing the hem of your skirt—a skirt that, to his eyes, was far too short for his liking.

he exhaled slowly, the smoke trailing from his lips as he let his hand linger there for a moment longer than necessary. “what’s this supposed to be, huh? what are you dressed as?” his tone was mocking, eyes gleaming with mischief as he leaned back slightly, his smirk turning wicked. “a slut?”

you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms tighter against your chest, feeling a spark of irritation. of course, he wouldn’t get it. “it’s a police bunny,” you muttered, pouting slightly as your annoyance flared. “you know, like the one from zootopia?”

gojo’s smirk widened as if he found your frustration amusing. he took another slow puff of the joint, blowing the smoke out lazily. “oh, right, that bunny cop,” he drawled, eyes flicking over your outfit again with an air of mock understanding. “well, looks like she’s had a bit of a wardrobe update, huh?”

without breaking eye contact, you reached up and snatched the joint from his hand, bringing it to your lips with a deliberate slowness. gojo raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his bright blue eyes as you took a puff, inhaling deeply before exhaling the smoke in a slow, controlled stream.

you shifted, feeling a bit more self-conscious than you’d care to admit. it wasn’t your fault that nobody seemed to get your costume, probably because you’d… well, modified it to be more eye-catching. sure, the skirt was shorter, the corset a bit tighter when the original doesn't wear one, but can you really blame a girl for wanting to look hot and beautiful?

you huffed, still pouting as you shot him a glare. “it’s halloween, gojo. i wanted to look good. sue me for not wearing a full-blown mascot suit.” you muttered, resisting the urge to roll your eyes again. deep down, though, you were slightly upset. nobody seemed to get your costume, but all you wanted was to have fun and feel good in it.

gojo chuckled, his gaze roaming over your body once again. he watched intently as you took a drag from the joint, the smoke drifting from your lips in a controlled stream. “looks good on you,” he admitted, surprising you with the compliment. his smirk was still there, but there was a hint of something else in his eyes—something you couldn’t quite place.

he leaned back, resting an arm lazily over his lap as he continued to eye you up and down. “a little revealing, though,” he added, his tone casual, yet laced with a teasing edge.

his eyes slowly raking over your costume—taking it in a little more thoroughly this time. the smirk widened into a wicked grin, his gaze lingering on the curves emphasized by the corset.

you hummed, caught his gaze as it lingered on your breasts, his eyes tracing the curve emphasized by the tight corset. the way he looked at you made your skin heat up, but you weren’t going to let him get the upper hand.

“you’re such a perv, gojo,” you muttered, rolling your eyes, though the slight smirk on your lips betrayed the frustration you tried to hold on to. you placed your hand on his shoulder, feeling the tension between you two spike again, the air heavy with something unspoken yet undeniable. “i didn’t come here for a show. sell me the joint already. i’m not leaving empty-handed.”

his grin never faltered, his fingers brushing lightly across your skin as they played with the hem of your skirt, teasingly close to your thigh. it was always like this. no matter how much you insulted each other, no matter the hatred you’d built up since middle school, whenever you were alone together, things always took this turn. a touch here, a lingering glance there— like the insults only serve to fuel the tension crackling between you.

gojo's eyes darkened with amusement as he responded to your insult. he leaned in closer, the scent of smoke and his intoxicating cologne washing over you. “and you’re a princess,” he retorted, his smirk widening. “always wanting something, never satisfied.”

he tilted his head slightly, his fingers still tracing languidly on the hem of your skirt, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. “you think it’s that easy?” he murmured, the words a sultry edge to them. “i don’t give handouts, princess.”

you narrowed your eyes at him, his words only stoking the fire of irritation burning inside you. “i’m not asking for a freebie, gojo,” you shot back, voice dripping with sarcasm. “i’m going to pay you. it’s not like i came here expecting charity.”

you took another puff from the joint, inhaling deeply, the taste of smoke filling your lungs as you tried to push down the growing heat between you two. you exhaled slowly, letting the smoke drift between you before you passed the joint back to him with a cool, challenging look in your eyes.

“i don’t need handouts from someone like you,” you added, voice firm as you stood your ground, refusing to let him see how much his teasing was getting under your skin. but there was no denying the way his fingers still toyed with the hem of your skirt, his touch sending sparks across your skin. no matter how much you hated him, there was always this pull—a line neither of you seemed willing to stop crossing.

gojo chuckled, accepting the joint from you and taking a slow drag, his gaze on you the entire time, studying you. he blew out the smoke in a thin stream, the smirk still etched across his face. he was clearly enjoying this back-and-forth.

he leaned in again, his voice low, his words filled with thinly veiled provocation. “oh, princess,” he drawled, his eyes glimmering with a dangerous edge. “you’re not paying. not with money anyway.”

he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your skin. you could feel the heat of his body radiating off him, igniting a fire within you. his hand moved, slowly and deliberately caressing your thigh, his fingers tracing a path up your bare skin. he was testing the waters, seeing how far you’d let him go.

“you’ve come to me a lot, princess,” he said, his voice lower now, filled with a hint of danger. “every time you need something.” he leaned back, his hand dropping from your thigh as he took another drag from the joint. “you’ve never come here just to see me,” he continued, the joint hanging from the corner of his mouth, his gaze boring into you. “and i think we both know there’s something you want more than that joint, princess.”

he held your gaze for a moment, letting the suggestion hang in the air, then he smirked and leaned in again. his fingers brushed against your skin, leaving a trail of sparks in their wake. he was drawing closer, the gap between you shrinking with each passing moment.

with a playful hum, you reached up and pulled the ghost mask from his head, inspecting it closely as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. the cheap plastic crinkled slightly in your hands, and you couldn’t help but smirk at how ridiculous it looked without his signature cocky grin behind it.

“so, what’s it gonna take for you to sell me that joint, huh?” you asked, feigning innocence as you leaned in closer, eyes sparkling with mischief. “should i let you hunt me down? if you win, you can do whatever you want. but if i win… well, you’ll have to give me all the joints for free.”

it was supposed to be a joke.

gojo's eyes darkened with mischief as he watched you hold the mask. the corner of his mouth twitched into a smirk. “clever, princess. trying to bargain with me now,” he chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down your spine.

he considered your proposal for a moment, his hand resuming its lazy tracing on the hem of your skirt. “a hunt, huh?” he asked, his voice a low growl. “so if i win, i get to do whatever i want with you. and if you win, you get all my weed for free.”

you leaned in, a teasing smirk playing on your lips as you let your fingers trail softly over his undercut. “are you scared you’re going to lose all your weed, gojo?” you asked, your tone light and playful, but there was an edge of challenge in your voice.

your touch sent a jolt through his body, his eyes flashing with challenge. “scared?” he echoed, a cocky grin spreading across his face. “you’re the one who’s going to lose. and when i win, i’m going to make sure you pay up, princess.”

he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your skin. “you really think you can hide from me?” he asked, his voice dropping to a low murmur, “or are you just hoping i’ll catch you?”

you felt a surge of exhilaration as you pulled him to his feet, your fingers brushing against his in a way that sent a thrill through both of you. a teasing smirk danced on your lips, your heart racing with the thrill of the chase. “all talk, gojo, always all talk,” you murmured, your voice sultry as you let your hands linger in his for just a moment longer.

then, with a quick, playful tug, you turned and walked deeper into the shadows of the library, glancing back over your shoulder. the sight of his wide, amused grin ignited a rush of adrenaline. “catch me if you can,” you called out, your voice echoing in the quiet space as you disappeared around a row of shelves.

you could hear his footsteps behind you, the sound of him following eagerly, and it only spurred you on. you weaved between the towering shelves, the thrill of the hunt igniting your senses. the darkness felt alive, and every corner turned was filled with the promise of what would happen when he finally caught you.

as you ventured further into the maze of books, you couldn’t help but feel a mix of excitement and defiance. gojo might be your enemy, but the electric tension between you was undeniable, and you were ready to play this game to its fullest. each step you took was a dare, a challenge, and you were determined to give him a run for his money.

gojo’s heart raced as he watched you slip away into the shadows. your challenge echoed in his ears, fueling his competitive spirit. and as he followed after you, the thrill of the hunt coursing through his veins, he found himself smiling.

he was excited, eager even, to catch you. to finally have you at his mercy. you were always a challenge, fiery and defiant, and he couldn’t help but admire that about you. every corner he turned, every glimpse he caught of you, only served to make his blood run hotter.

he moved quickly but quietly, prowling closer with each step, watching as you darted between the towering shelves like a nimble cat. “oh, princess,” he called out, his voice low and taunting, “don’t get lost now. i’m coming for you.”

gojo followed close behind you, his footsteps echoing through the library as he stalked after you. a wicked smile played on his lips, his eyes locked onto your shape in the shadows. every bend in the shelf, every turn, he followed, his keen eyes never leaving you.

he chuckled softly to himself, enjoying the thrill of the chase. the game had been set, and he was determined to win. he could sense your excitement too, the way your heart was racing, the way you kept glancing back over your shoulder to see if he was catching up.

gojo couldn’t help but tease you as he pursued. “you’re only making it easier for me, princess,” he called out, his voice dripping with arrogance. “the longer you run, the more i get to watch your pretty little body move.”

you chuckled from somewhere in the shadows, your voice muffled but laced with sass. “you better take your time, gojo,” you called out, playfully taunting him, “because you’re never going to touch it.”

the thrill of the chase was intoxicating, and you could hear the confidence in your voice despite the flutter of nerves in your stomach. you glanced around the dimly lit library, searching for a good hiding spot while keeping an eye on his movements. the thrill of his pursuit only made you more daring.

gojo grinned, his eyes lighting up at your playful words. “oh, princess,” he replied, his voice lowering into a growl, “don’t tempt me. when i catch you, i’m going to touch a lot more than just that pretty little body of yours.”

he continued his pursuit, his senses on high alert as he searched for you in the shadows. his steps were measured, calculated, as he scanned the library for any sign of you. he could hear your heartbeat, racing as fast as his own.

gojo's laughter echoed through the aisles, a sound both frustrating and enticing. “just wait until i catch you,” he added, shot back, the determination in his tone unmistakable. “you’re only delaying the inevitable.”

you smirked to yourself, feeling a surge of confidence as you ducked behind a particularly tall shelf, your heart racing. the game had just begun, and you were determined to keep him on his toes.

gojo’s eyes darted towards the tall shelf where you had just disappeared, his smirk growing wider. “can’t hide from me forever, princess,” he called out, his voice dripping with confidence. “the longer you hide, the more eager i am to find you.”

he crept closer, each step deliberate and calculated. he could tell you were close; he could almost hear your breathing, feel your presence. the thrill of the chase only heightened his senses, making him more focused and determined.

“come out, come out, princess,” he called out, his voice filled with mock sweetness. “there’s no use in hiding. you can’t escape me.”

you couldn’t help but chuckle as you walked silently past him, brushing your fingers against his arm just enough to send a jolt through him. the thrill of the moment sent a rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins. “there’s a sweetness for those who wait, gojo,” you called out, your voice teasing and playful, before slipping back into the shadows.

you could feel his gaze looking for you, the intensity of his focus making your heart race even faster. hiding felt exhilarating, the dark corners of the library offering a temporary sanctuary. you knew he wouldn’t give up easily, and the chase only made the game more enticing. you watched him from the darkness, smirking to yourself, relishing in the thrill of the hunt. he was determined, but you had no intention of making it easy for him.

as your fingers grazed his arm, gojo’s eyes darkened, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. “clever little thing, aren’t you?” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly. “but you won’t escape me for long.”

he continued to stalk through the aisles, his gaze scanning the shadows intently. he could almost feel you nearby, but every time he turned a corner, you were gone. your quick movements and quick banter had his blood pumping, and that only made his determination to find you all the stronger.

gojo walked deeper into the library, his steps measured and careful, his senses on high alert. the silence was deafening, broken only by the sound of his footsteps. he knew you were nearby; he could almost taste your presence.

he couldn’t help but chuckle at your taunts. you were feisty, a challenge he had yet to fully defeat. “you keep hiding from me, princess,” he said, his voice carrying through the darkness, “but we both know you want me to find you.”

as you were about to turn around the shelf, a hand suddenly grabbed your wrist, and before you could react, you found yourself bent over the wooden table, your cheek pressed against the cool surface. a gasp escaped your lips, quickly followed by a frustrated groan. the unexpected movement caught you off guard, and you could feel your skirt ride up slightly, exposing your ass and your thong.

gojo’s presence loomed behind you, his breath hot against your ear as he leaned down closer. “gotcha,” he said, a triumphant smirk evident in his voice. the thrill of victory was palpable, and you could sense his excitement radiating from him.

“you thought you could outsmart me, huh?” he continued, his tone teasing yet laced with a hint of something more dangerous. “now, what should i do with you?” his fingers grazed your waist, lingering for just a moment too long, sending shivers down your spine.

you squirmed beneath him, feeling trapped and exposed. your face flushed red as you realized how vulnerable you were in this position. “let me go, asshole,” you demanded, though there was no real bite to your words. deep down, you reveled in being caught, in the thrill of the moment.

your heart pounded wildly as you felt his fingers trace along your curves. a small whimper escaped your lips, betraying your true feelings. you wanted him, craved his touch, even as you tried to resist. “you cheated,” you retorted weakly, hoping he couldn't hear the desire in your voice.

you arched your back slightly, pressing your rear against him. the friction sent electric sparks through your body, igniting a fire within you. you bit your lip, trying to stifle another moan.

“cheated?” gojo repeated, his voice low and mocking. “princess, this is war. and in war, anything goes.” he stood behind you, his presence overwhelming.

gojo chuckled darkly, his hand drifting further up your body, his touch exploring every inch of exposed skin. he could feel the heat radiating off you, the subtle arch of your back hinting at your desire. he knew he had you right where he wanted you, at his mercy and completely at his command.

he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. “i don’t know about cheating, princess,” he murmured, his voice almost a growl. “after all, you were the one who decided to hide from me.”

gojo smirked, his hand still firmly holding your wrist as he loomed over you. the position was vulnerable and submissive, leaving you exposed and at his mercy. he savored the sight of your bent over the table, his eyes grazing over your body, taking in every curve and contour that was now on display.

“but you put up a good fight, princess,” he said, his voice a low, dangerous rumble, chuckled as he felt your frustration, loving the thrill of having overpowered you. “but you can’t outsmart me. not when you’re like this— at my mercy.”

he placed his hands on your shoulders, holding you firmly in place. “you thought you're a sly fox, huh?” he asked, his tone teasing yet laced with a hint of something more dangerous. “you are just a dumb bunny, now, what should i do with you?”

he squeezed your shoulders gently, massaging the tense muscles. “you're mine now,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear, “and i’m not letting you go.”

you trembled beneath his touch, your body responding to his dominance despite your best efforts to resist. “i'm not yours,” you insisted, even as your traitorous body betrayed your words. your nipples hardened, straining against the fabric of your shirt as gojo's hands roamed your curves possessively.

“please...” the word slipped out before you could stop it, a desperate plea for more even as your mind screamed at you to push him away. but you couldn't move, frozen in place by the intensity of his presence and the heat building between your thighs.

“i...I hate you,” you gasped, even as you arched into his touch, craving more of his intoxicating caress. your resolve was crumbling, your willpower eroding with each passing second. you could feel he flushed his bulge further into your ass.

“go ahead, say it louder,” gojo teased, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “i want everyone here to know how much you hate me.” he took a step closer to you, invading your personal space and forcing you to look up at him. “but we both know that isn't true, don't we, princess?” he challenged, his voice low and intense.

gojo smirked as he heard your words, sensing the weakness in your voice as you began to lose your resolve. he could tell how much you wanted him, how much your body was aching for his touch, despite your protests.

he moved his body closer, pressing his bulge against you firmly, making sure you could feel his arousal against your backside. he knew he had you now, completely at his mercy. “princess,” he murmured, his voice a low growl, “you may say you hate me, but this body of yours?” he squeezed one of your hips firmly, his touch possessive and dominating.

you let out a soft sigh, unable to deny the truth in his words. your body was betraying you, aching for his touch, craving his dominance. you hated him for making you feel this way, for turning you into a helpless mess beneath him.

you bit your lip, trying to suppress a moan as he squeezed your hip. your body was throbbing with need, your pussy clenching emptily as you fought to keep your composure. “stop... touching me,” you pleaded, your voice shaky and filled with desire.

you shifted uncomfortably, your thong riding up higher and revealing more of your ass to him. your cheeks clenched involuntarily, your body reacting to his touch without your permission.

gojo’s chest pressed firmly against your back, keeping you pinned against the table. your body trembled under him, but your words of protest fell on deaf ears. instead of loosening his grip, he only tightened it, his fingers curling into your hair. with one swift motion, he tugged it back, forcing your head up to face the phone he’d pulled out.

your reflection appeared on the screen—flushed cheeks, eyes wide, a mixture of defiance and vulnerability playing across your features. above you, gojo’s smirk was prominent, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of victory and mischief as he held the phone closer, framing the shot perfectly.

“cheese,” he murmured in a low voice, his grip on your hair firm, but not painful. he angled the phone just right, capturing the moment with himself looming over you like a predator who had finally caught his prey.

the flash went off, and he chuckled, pleased with himself as he glanced down at the photo. “you look perfect under me,” he teased, his voice dripping with satisfaction, before lowering the phone and leaning closer to your ear.

gojo's laughter echoed through the room, a low, throaty sound that sent shivers down your spine. he released your hair, his hand moving to stroke your cheek tenderly. “so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice husky with affection.

his other hand slid down your body, tracing the curve of your waist before resting on your hip. he squeezed your flesh, his touch firm and protective. “such a shame to cover this beauty up,” he murmured, admiring your elegance. he pulled your skirt upward, fully exposing your ass to his hungry eyes.

you squirmed uncomfortably as he lifted your skirt, your bare ass now fully on display for him. you could feel the cool air conditioning hitting your sensitive skin, making you shudder. your face burned with embarrassment and humiliation, knowing that he had complete control over you.

you tried to pull your skirt back down, but gojo grabbed your wrists, pinning them to your back with one large hand. his other hand drifted lower, cupping your mound possessively before flying a spank across your skin. you gasped at the intimate contact, your body tensing as you felt his fingers brush against your covered slit.

“fuck, gojo...” you whimpered, but there was no conviction in your voice. deep down, you craved his touch, needed him to claim you completely. your panties were soaked through, the evidence of your arousal clear for him to see.

gojo smirks at your feeble attempt to cover yourself, his grip tightening on your wrists. “there's no use hiding from me,” he purrs, his fingers tracing the outline of your folds through the damp fabric. “i can smell how much you want this.”

with a swift yank, he tears your panties away, leaving you fully exposed to his hungry gaze. his thumb finds your clit, circling the sensitive nub with maddening precision. “so wet already,” he taunts, two fingers dipping inside your slick heat without warning.

he pumps them slowly, his palm grinding against your clit with each thrust. his other hand releases your wrists, only to tangle in your hair, tugging your head back to expose your throat. he licks a stripe up your pulse point before biting down, marking you as his.

a sharp cry escaped your lips as gojo’s teeth sank into your neck, pain mixing with pleasure as he claimed you. your body bucked against his hand, your inner walls clenching around his fingers as they pumped in and out of you.

moans spilled from your mouth, lost in the heat of the moment. you were completely at his mercy, your senses overwhelmed by the sensations he was evoking within you. every touch, every bite, every filthy word sent sparks of electricity coursing through your veins.

“ahh... fuck, gojo!” you panted, your hips rocking against his hand desperately. you could feel your orgasm building, coiling tighter and tighter in your core until it threatened to snap at any moment. your nails dug into his arm, the only anchor holding you grounded as gojo worked you over, “w-we were in the library, anyone could walk in here,” you stammered hardly between your moan.

gojo chuckles darkly, the vibrations sending tingles through your neck where he still lingers. “let them come,” he breathes against your skin, his fingers never ceasing their relentless pace inside you. “i’ll make sure they get an eyeful of my precious princess standing up to her arch-nemesis.”

he leans in close, his hot breath fanning over your ear as he whispers, “and when i’m done with you, they’ll all know why you're so desperate to defeat me.“ his free hand snakes around to rest on your waist, gripping tightly.

with a deft twist of his wrist, he curls his fingers to hit that sweet spot deep within you, sending shockwaves of pleasure rippling through your body. your cries echo through the empty library, a symphony of determination that only serves to spur you on. “i won't let you win,” you gasp, pushing back against him with renewed vigor.

you grit your teeth, determined not to give him the satisfaction of seeing you break. even as your body trembles and your moans grow louder, you refuse to submit to him entirely. you lean forward, bracing yourself against the table as you grind back against his hand, taking his fingers deeper inside you.

“i will beat you,” you pant, your voice strained with exertion and pleasure. “one day, i'll prove that i'm stronger than yo— oh my god.” but even as the words leave your lips, you know it’s a lie. in this moment, with his hands on you and your body singing with ecstasy, you've never felt weaker. gojo owns you, mind, body and soul, and you know it.

gojo laughs, a rich, full-bodied sound that seems to reverberate through your very being. “oh, my dear, you already have,” he murmurs, his fingers never ceasing their maddening rhythm inside you. “you're mine now, whether you admit it or not.”

to punctuate his point, he adds a third finger, stretching you deliciously as he pistons them in and out. his thumb finds your clit again, rubbing tight circles around the sensitive bud. “come for me,” he demands, his voice low and rough with barely restrained lust. “show everyone who you belong to.”

his other hand slides up your spine, tangling in your hair once more. he pulls your head back, forcing you to arch into him as he continues his assault on your senses. “that’s it, princess,”

you can feel your resolve crumbling, piece by piece, as gojo works you over. your body betrays you, arching into his touch, seeking more of that delicious friction. you try to hold back, to maintain some semblance of control, but it's a losing battle.

“no...” you whimper, even as your hips buck frantically against his hand. “i won't... i won't...”

but your protests ring hollow, even to your own ears. gojo knows it too, his chuckle rumbling through you as he feels you start to shake and quiver. “mhm!” you cry out, your voice breaking as your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave. your vision whites out, stars exploding behind your eyelids as your inner muscles clamp down around his fingers, milking them for all they're worth. your beautiful, freshly done nails scratch into the wooden table.

gojo groans as he feels your pussy flutter and clench around his fingers, your release drenching his hand. “that's it, princess,” he croons, continuing to pump his fingers slowly as you ride out the waves of your climax. ”so fucking gorgeous when you come undone for me.”

when your shudders finally subside, he withdraws his fingers, bringing them to his mouth to suck them clean. his eyes roll back slightly as he savors your taste. “mmm, exquisite,” he purrs.

he spins you around to face him, capturing your lips in a searing kiss before you can protest. you can taste yourself on his tongue as he plunders your mouth, claiming you utterly. when he finally breaks away, you're left panting and dazed, clinging to him for support.

you stare up at gojo, your chest heaving as you struggle to catch your breath. your legs feel like jelly, barely able to keep you upright. you know you should push him away, should tell him to go to hell... but the heat in his eyes makes your core throb with need.

“you... you bastard,” you manage to gasp out, even as your hands slide up his chest, fingers curling into his shirt. “you think you've won just because you made me come?”

you hate him, you always hate gojo satoru. you have how his cheeks shape shifting to slight crushed cherry when winter's come, how well it blends with the snow and how his blue eyes become brighter and suddenly feels warm.

you hate how your hands are running to his chest to his nape, feeling the soft stubble of his undercut beneath the pad of your fingers. you hate how he makes you sit in the quiet library, just the two of you, and trying so hard as simply as breathing.

you always hate gojo satoru.

gojo smirks down at you, his eyes glinting with mischief and victory. “oh, i haven't even started winning yet, princess, i told you i'm going to touch more than just your pretty body,” he whispers, leaning closer until his breath fans across your flushed skin.

his hands roam over your curves, tracing every inch of your exposed flesh. he unclasps to your corsets, pushes it aside to the table after he takes it off of you, leaving you only with your blue crop button up shirt to expose your hardened nipples, pinching them gently between his fingers. a low growl escapes him as he watches your breasts bounce with each movement.

“go ahead, fight me,” he taunts, his free hand sliding down your stomach to dip into your dripping slit once again. “show me how much you hate me.”

your breath hitches as gojo's touch sends sparks through your body. despite your anger, despite everything, your hips cant help but grind against his hand, seeking more friction.

“fuck you,” you hiss, but there's no real venom behind your words. instead, you find yourself arching into his touch, chasing the pleasure he so easily draws from you. “this isn't fair,” you whine, but it comes out more like a moan. your hands claw at his shoulders, nails digging in just enough to leave marks.

gojo chuckles darkly, amused by your feeble protests. “life's not fair, princess. get used to it,” he says, pumping his fingers faster, harder, determined to make you fall apart completely.

with his free hand, he rips open your shirt, sending buttons flying everywhere. he leans down to capture one of your nipples between his teeth, biting just hard enough to make you cry out before soothing the sting with his tongue before he pulls away.

you whimper softly as gojo's teeth graze your sensitive nipple, the mix of pain and pleasure making your head spin. your back arches involuntarily, pressing more of your breast into his mouth.

when he pulls away, you're left panting, your chest heaving. you try to meet his gaze, but can't bring yourself to look him in the eye, not when you know what you see there— triumph, lust, and a hint of cruel amusement.

he looks at you for a moment, tracing his thumb to your flustered cheek. “do you know how long i've been waiting to have in my arms, y/n? you are always being a bitch and grumble and hate me every time, and now..” he trails off, “when i finally have you where i want you to, you think i would just let you go?” he added.

as he speaks, you feel a shiver run down your spine. his words are a threat, a promise, a declaration of intent. you know you should be scared, outraged, horrified... but all you can focus on is the ache between your thighs, the desperate need for more of his touch.

he scoffs at you, how your eyes look at him beautifully, as if you are silently begging him to ruin you without you even realizing. so gojo grabs his phone on the table and opens the camera. he places the phone on the shelf where it shows you clearly on the table and it will catch a glimpse of everything gojo plans to do to you.

you notice the phone, the camera trained on you like a predator stalking its prey. you grab his hands when he walks back to you and in a second, your lips meet with his. “you... you sick fuck,” you breathe on his lips, but the words lack conviction.

gojo smirks at your half-hearted insult, enjoying the taste of your bitter resentment mixed with something sweeter, something he recognizes as desire. he captures your lips again, kissing you deeply, thoroughly, drinking in every gasp and whimper that escapes you.

his hands roam over your body, mapping out every curve and dip, committing them to memory. he breaks the kiss only to trail his lips down your neck, nipping and sucking at the tender skin until you're squirming beneath him.

“go ahead, call me names,” he murmurs against your throat, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. “it only makes me harder for you.” with those words, he pushes your legs apart and settles between them, the thick bulge in his pants pressing insistently against your core.

you moan shamelessly as gojo's lips and teeth work over your neck, leaving marks of possession. you can already imagine the bruises blooming on your skin tomorrow, a visible reminder of his claim on you.

“gojo...” you hiss through clenched teeth when he presses against you, the heat of him searing even through the fabric separating you. your hips buck up instinctively, seeking more friction, more contact.

gojo lowers himself until his knees are rooted to the wooden floor of the library. he hugs your thighs before spreading it apart, parading your glisten cunt to his hunger self. one of your hands fists in his hair, intentionally making his ghost mask fall to the floor while the other claws at his shoulder, nails digging into skin. you want to hurt him, to mark him as he's marking you. you want him to feel the same desperate need consuming you.

“i hate you,” you pant, looking down to the man, even as your body betrays you, arching into his touch like a cat in heat. “i hate you so much...”

gojo chuckles darkly, the sound vibrating through you where his face is buried between your thighs. he inhales deeply, relishing the scent of your arousal.

“i don't think you do,” he says, his voice muffled slightly by your flesh. “not really.“ his tongue flicks out, teasing along your slit, gathering the evidence of your desire. “your body tells a different story.”

he parts your folds with his fingers, exposing your swollen clit to the cool air before sealing his mouth over it. he suckles greedily, lapping at the bundle of nerves like a starving man.

you cry out sharply at the sudden assault of his mouth, your head hangs low to meet his gaze, overwhelmed by the intensity of the sensations. each pull of his lips sends shockwaves of pleasure radiating through your core.

one hand slides up your stomach to cup your breast, kneading roughly as he pinches and rolls the hardened peak between his fingers. the other grips your hip tightly, holding you in place as he devours you. “but tell me, darling... does it make you crazy? does hating me make you wetter?” he asks, a wicked gleam in his eyes as he watches your reaction.

“mhm— no, i hate it,” you lie, fingers tightening painfully in his hair. tears prick at the corners of your eyes from the sheer force of your reactions. gojo groans appreciatively against your sex, the vibrations only adding to your torment. he doubles his efforts, alternating between long licks and quick flicks of his tongue, determined to wring every drop of pleasure from you.

“you love it,” he growls, releasing your nipple, “you love being at my mercy, being used for my pleasure. you want me just as much as i want you.“

gojo looks up at you, eyes dark with lust as he continues to lavish attention on your sensitive flesh. “admit it,” he commands, punctuating his words with a particularly sharp nip to your inner thigh. “tell me how badly you need me.”

his free hand drifts lower, fingers circling your entrance teasingly but never quite penetrating. “i can feel how empty you are, craving to be filled. your pretty little pussy is aching for my cock, isn't it?”

he dips the tip of his finger inside you, just enough to gather some of your slick before bringing it to his lips. gojo makes a show of tasting you, humming in approval. “delicious. almost better than sake.” he returns to devouring your cunt, driving two fingers deep inside you as he slurps and laps. the wet sounds fill the room, mingling with your moans and whimpers.

you gasp, hips jerking involuntarily as he sinks his fingers deeper within you. your walls clench around him reflexively, desperate for something more substantial.

“yes...” you admit breathlessly, “i need you.” your hands find their way into his hair again, nails digging into his scalp as you grind down onto his face. “please, satoru... i can't stand it anymore.”

the sensation of his tongue sliding inside you, curling and twisting, pushes you closer to the edge. your orgasm builds rapidly, coiling tight in your belly before erupting with a loud cry. your thigh pressing together, unconsciously crushing gojo's head in between while you shaking uncontrollably.

gojo moans into your cunt as he feels your release wash over him, your juices flooding his mouth. he laps them up greedily, prolonging your climax with skillful strokes of his tongue and fingers.

when the aftershocks finally subside, he pulls back slowly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. he smirks up at you triumphantly, eyes glinting with satisfaction. “there we go. wasn't so bad admitting the truth, was it?”

he rises fluidly to his feet, towering over your trembling form. gojo palms his straining erection through his pants, the thick outline clearly visible. “now then... what shall we do about this problem?” he asks huskily, thumb brushing over the damp spot on the fabric.

your body still quivers from the intensity of your orgasm, leaving you feeling weak and vulnerable beneath gojo's imposing figure. his words and actions make it abundantly clear that he intends to claim you fully, and the thought both terrifies and excites you.

“we're in the library for fuck sake, gojo,” you manage to spit, despite the heat pooling in your core at the sight of his arousal. “what if suddenly someone said ‘all hail to the ghost’? you're just suddenly gonna sell your drug, then? besides, we hate each other, remember? shouldn't we don’t do this?” your thumb touching his chin, wipe your juice clean that covers his chin.

but even as you protest, your legs instinctively part wider, silently inviting him to continue. the ache between your thighs grows more insistent, begging for relief only his cock could provide. gojo chuckles low in his throat, seeming to read your conflicting emotions easily. “nonsense,” he dismisses, beginning to unfasten his belt, “we’re already past ‘should’ and ‘shouldn’t’.”

gojo's smile widens as he shrugs off his tie and tosses it aside, revealing his neck clad in a crisp white shirt. the buttons strain against his growing arousal, hinting at the impressive length concealed beneath.

“besides,” he adds, voice dropping an octave as he steps closer, “i’d much rather ravage you here than anywhere else. the thrill of doing it where we shouldn't... it only heightens the pleasure, don’t you think?”

he reaches out to trace a finger along your jawline, tilting your face up to meet his piercing gaze. “and as for our rivalry, let’s just say it won’t change a thing. enemies or not, i intend to claim every inch of you.” with a swift motion, gojo rips open his shirt, buttons flying everywhere.

you watch, transfixed, as gojo's shirt falls open, exposing his toned chest and abdomen. the air seems to vibrate with tension as he looms over you, his intense gaze boring into your very soul.

a shiver runs down your spine at his words, a mix of fear and anticipation coursing through your veins. the idea of being thoroughly claimed by your sworn enemy sends a thrill straight to your core.

“you really are insane,” you breathe, even as your body betrays you, arching into his touch. your hands come up to rest on his bare chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. the heat emanating from his skin is almost palpable, drawing you in like a moth to flame. you lean closer, taking his nipple in your mouth without breaking the eye contact.

a guttural groan escapes gojo's lips as your mouth closes around his sensitive nipple, his fingers threading through your hair to hold you in place. “fuck, that’s it,” he growls, hips jerking forward involuntarily.

his free hand slides down to cup your cheek, angling your head for better access as he guides your movements. “suck harder, i can feel my cock throbbing for you already...”

gojo's words are punctuated by sharp intakes of breath, each one a testament to the pleasure you're eliciting from him. his grip on your hair tightens slightly, a subtle warning not to stop, not now when he's so close to losing control. the musky scent of his arousal fills your nostrils, mingling with the earthy smell of old books and dust that permeates the library.

the encouragement in gojo's voice emboldens you, and you redouble your efforts, sucking harder on his nipple while grazing the tip with your teeth. his reaction is immediate and visceral— a low moan, a twitch in his hips, a surge of heat that radiates from his chest to yours.

emboldened, you release his nipple with a soft pop and trail your lips down his stomach, pausing to nuzzle the waistband of his pants. the fabric is warm and damp, clinging to the unmistakable bulge straining against it.

“gojo...” you murmur against his skin, looking up at him through hooded eyes, “let me see you. all of you.” your hands fumble with the button and zipper of his pants, eager to free the hard length you've been craving.

a shudder runs through gojo's body at the sound of his name on your lips, combined with the sensation of your breath ghosting over his clothed erection. “shit, you have no idea what you do to me,” he groans, head falling back as he fights the urge to thrust into your face.

when your fingers finally free him from the confines of his pants, gojo lets out a hiss of relief. his cock springs forth, thick and heavy, the swollen head already glistening with pre-cum. he's long and girthy, easily the biggest you've ever seen, and the sight makes your mouth water with anticipation.

“is this what you wanted?” gojo taunts, fisting his shaft and giving it a slow stroke. “to see how hard you make me? how badly i need to be inside you?”

your eyes widen at the impressive sight before you, gojo's cock standing proud and erect, begging for attention. you lick your lips unconsciously, already imagining how he would taste, how he would feel stretching you open. “yes,” you breathe, nodding eagerly, “i want it. i want you.”

without hesitation, you go down on your knees and lean forward and run your tongue along the underside of his shaft, starting at the base and working your way up to the weeping tip. you swirl your tongue around the head, lapping up the salty-sweet essence of his arousal.

“mmm, you taste so good,” you purr, looking up at him with lust-darkened eyes. “i could suck you off forever.” your eyes gaze towards his phone that is still recording just for a moment before focusing back on his cock.

gojo's eyes roll back in bliss as your hot little mouth works over his aching cock, his hand coming down to tangle in your hair once again. “just like that, just like that, my perfect little cocksucker,” he moans, hips rocking subtly to meet your movements.

he watches through heavy-lidded eyes as you worship his dick with your tongue, committing every second of your ministrations to memory—and to video. the knowledge that he's capturing this intimate moment only serves to heighten his arousal, his balls drawing up tight with the promise of an impending orgasm.

“keep going, don't stop,” gojo demands, his grip on your hair tightening as he starts to thrust shallowly into your mouth. “want to feel that pretty throat squeeze my cock as i come down it.”

you relax your jaw and take him deeper, inch by inch, until your nose is buried at the base of his shaft. you hold him there, swallowing convulsively around his thickness, reveling in the feeling of being completely filled and stretched.

you groan around his cock, the vibrations adding another layer of sensation. you start to bob your head, setting a steady rhythm as you suck and slurp obscenely, determined to bring him to the edge. one hand comes up to fondle his heavy balls, rolling them gently in their sack as the other grips the base of his shaft, stroking what you can't fit in your mouth.

gojo grunts loudly, his thighs quivering as you deepthroat him expertly. “fuck... you're amazing with that mouth of yours,” he praises between ragged breaths, the pleasure coursing through him like wildfire.

the sensation of your hands on his balls and the base of his cock is too much—too damn perfect—and he can barely resist the urge to just slam into your face and fill your mouth. but he holds back, savoring every moment, knowing full well that this is going to be one hell of a climax.

“go on, keep doing that,” he urges, pushing his hips forward slightly to encourage you. “make me cum, let's get this fucking video started right.”

you double your efforts, sucking harder and faster, hollowing your cheeks to create the most delicious suction. your tongue lashes against the sensitive underside of his cockhead each time you pull back, flicking rapidly over the slit to lap up the copious precum leaking out.

your fingers massage his balls firmly now, rolling and squeezing the taut skin, coaxing out his load. you can feel him getting closer, his shaft throbbing and pulsing against your tongue as his breathing grows more labored.

with a muffled moan, you take him impossibly deep one last time, swallowing repeatedly around him as you look up into his eyes with pure need and hunger. you want it, want him, want to drink down every last drop of his cum.

gojo lets out a guttural groan, his body tensing as he reaches the brink. “’m gonna—!” he gasps, his voice cracking as he fights to hold onto control.

but it's no use—the pleasure is too intense, too overwhelming. with a final, sharp thrust of his hips, gojo spills his seed deep inside your eager mouth, filling you up to the brim with thick ropes of cum.

“ahh... fuck, yeah!” he groan triumphantly, his entire body shaking from the force of his orgasm. “swallow it all down—you're my good girl.”

you swallow rapidly, gulping down every drop of his hot essence as it floods your mouth. some dribbles out the corners of your stretched lips, running down your chin obscenely, but you do your best to catch it all.

when he finally finishes emptying his balls, you release his softening cock from your lips with a wet pop. you sit back on your heels and look up at him with lust-glazed eyes, licking your lips clean of his cum.

“delicious,” you purr sultry. “i could get used to having you feed me like this.”

you reach for the camera, making sure it caught everything. then you stand up and press yourself against his sweat-slicked body, nuzzling into his chest affectionately. everything feels new, addicting, so sudden and your head feels like spinning from the pleasure and sudden change. “oh god, what the fuck am i doing with you, gojo?”

gojo chuckles breathlessly, pulling you close and draping an arm around your waist. “what are you doing with me? baby, we both know it’s the other way around,” he replies playfully, giving your ass a light smack.

he glances over at the camera, satisfied that it captured the moment perfectly. “look at us, already blowing each other’s minds before we’ve even gotten started,” he remarks with a smirk. “and you say that like it's a bad thing. i’d be happy to feed you like this anytime, anywhere.”

his hand slides lower, cupping your mound possessively. “you are gorgeous, did you know that? have i ever told you that?” he asked huskily, rubbing slow circles over your ass before giving a spank. “let me worship this gorgeous body of yours properly...”

you shiver as his hand cups your sex, pressing back into his touch eagerly. “mmm, yes please,” you breathe, arching into his palm. “worship me gojo, make me forget my own name...”

you wrap your arms around his neck, standing on tiptoe to capture his lips in a searing kiss. you pour all your pent-up desire into it, kissing him deeply and filthy, tongues tangling together. when you finally break away, you're both panting softly. you spin him around just a little until your ass touching the wooden material of the table behind you and he stand in front of you.

“oh, i will make you forget everything except my name, trust me,” gojo growls against your lips, hands gripping your hips tightly. he easily lifts you up and sets you on the edge of the table, pushing between your thighs to claim another hungry kiss.

his hands roam your curves greedily, caressing every dip and swell. “fuck, you feel amazing,” he groans, squeezing your breasts roughly. “i wonder how you feel when my dick deep inside you.”

gojo lean down, burying his face in your cleavage and motorboating you playfully. he nips and suckles at the sensitive skin there before trailing kisses down your stomach before standing tall. “want me to worship this sweet pussy of yours?” he asks wickedly, looking at you through his white lashes. he nudges your legs, opening them wider while his hand slapping your dripping cunt roughly.

you gasp sharply at the slap, feeling your clit throb with pleasure. “gojoooo,” you cry out, writhing beneath his touch and whining. your free hand grip his waist closer as you look up to him and pouting.

your fingers tangle in his messy hair, urging him closer to where you ache most. “don't tease me,” you plead, bucking your hips towards his waiting hand, “just fuck me already.”

gojo smirks down at you, clearly enjoying your desperation. “patience, baby,” he purrs, running his thumb over your swollen clit. “we’re going to savor this moment.”

he leans in to capture your mouth again, tongue delving deep to taste you thoroughly. as he kisses you, his fingers slide through your slick folds, teasing your entrance before circling your clit once more.

“gojo, please,” you whimper against his lips, trying to grind yourself onto his hand. he chuckles lowly, breaking the kiss to trail open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down your throat. “you want it so badly, don't you?” he murmurs hotly against your skin, nipping at your pulse point. “fine, but you better be ready for me to destroy this tight little cunt of yours.”

you moan loudly as he nips at your sensitive skin, your body trembling with anticipation. “sooo bad!” you whining, voice hoarse with need as you tug his hand.

you fumble with his chest, skating your hand down to his still rock-hard cock while your other hand is pushing his hips closer to your already itching cunt, begging for him to fuck you. “pleaseee,” you breathe another whining.

gojo grins at your eagerness, his body shaking with barely contained laughter. “you're so desperate,” he teases, his hand moving to guide his thick length to your needy entrance. “i'm gonna make you scream my name,“ he promises darkly, thrusting home in one smooth motion. “and nothing else.”

you let out a loud gasp as he fills you completely, stretching your walls deliciously. “o-oh shit—” you stammer, your back arching off the air towards gojo with the sudden fullness. your eyes goes widened just for a moment before it goes back to normal. gojo satoru's dick is fucking huge.

your nails dig into his flesh, scratching down his back as you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper inside you. “harder,” you demand, bucking your hips to meet each of his powerful thrusts. never once in your life have you ever thought about having sex with gojo satoru, but here you are in the quiet library with nobody around.

gojo lets out a growl of satisfaction at your demanding tone, picking up the pace of his thrusts. each movement sends waves of pleasure through both bodies. “you like that?” he asks huskily, leaning down to capture a nipple between his teeth. he bites gently before soothing it with his tongue, all while maintaining an unrelenting rhythm inside you.

“fuck... i can feel how wet you are,” he groans, pulling almost entirely out before slamming back into you. “mhm, uh, just like that,” you cry out, head thrashing against the gojo's chest as he pounds into you mercilessly. your body trembles with every powerful thrust, your inner walls clenching tightly around his thick shaft.

you can't help but moan louder, not caring who might hear you. all that matters right now is the intense pleasure coursing through your veins, building higher and higher with each passing second. “more,” you pant, fingernails digging into his shoulders, “don't stop, please don't stop!”

your hips move frantically, meeting each of his thrusts with equal fervor as you chase your release. the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the room, mixing with your moans and his grunts of pleasure.

gojo's breathing grows ragged as he continues his relentless assault on your senses, sweat dripping down his brow. he grips your thighs tightly, holding them spread wide as he drives into you with abandon.

gojo snarls, feeling your inner muscles flutter around him. “you're gonna make me cum if you keep squeezing me like that,” he warns, his hips snapping forward with renewed vigor. his free hand moves to your breast, kneading roughly as he pinches and rolls your nipple between his fingers. he can feel the tension coiling tighter within you, urging him on.

“i want to,” you gasp, biting down hard on your lip to suppress the sounds threatening to spill from your lips. your pussy clenches tighter around gojo's throbbing member, milking him for all he's worth.

each deep thrust sends jolts of pleasure straight to your core, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. “’m gonna...” you whimper, unable to finish your sentence due to the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body. the sensation of being filled so completely by gojo makes you dizzy; there's no way you could hold back much longer.

gojo grits his teeth, fighting the urge to let go as he feels your impending orgasm approaching. he wants to prolong this moment, savor the exquisite tightness surrounding him. but your quivering walls are too tempting, begging him to succumb to bliss.

gojo's movements become erratic as he feels his own release approaching. he buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent deeply as he pants harshly against your skin.

“cum for me,” he demands, his voice strained with effort and pleasure. “let me feel you come undone on my cock.” he changes the angle of his thrusts slightly, hitting that special spot inside you with every stroke. combined with the relentless stimulation of your sensitive bundle of nerves, it proves to be too much.

with a final cry of ecstasy, you shatter beneath him, your inner walls clamping down around gojo's cock like a vice as wave after wave of intense pleasure crashes over you. you scream in pure ecstasy as your climax hits you like a cold shower, your vision going white as your body convulses uncontrollably. every nerve ending feels electrified, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your trembling form.

gojo follows soon after, with a guttural groan he spills himself deep inside you, his hot seed filling you to the brim. he tries not to collapse into you, putting his weight into the table as his gripping tightly on the edge, both of you panting heavily as you try to catch your breath.

for several moments neither of you speak, simply basking in the afterglow of your shared passion. finally, gojo lifts his head to look at you, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips.

“beautiful,” he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair away from your sweaty forehead. “so fucking beautiful.” you smile hearing his words, swimming your delicate fingers in the air for a second before it lands to wipe gojo's sweat of his eyebrows. “who knows, fucking my enemy can feel this good,” you utter jokingly, lean your hands on the table.

gojo chuckles, a low rumble emanating from his chest as he leans back slightly, still buried deep within you. “well, i guess that just means i've got to fuck you again sometime soon,” he teases, his eyes glinting with mischief behind his sunglasses.

he pulls out slowly, watching with satisfaction as his thick essence dribbles out of your stretched opening. gojo gives your ass a playful slap, enjoying the reddening of your skin beneath his touch.

his gaze drops to your swollen lips, eyes sparkling with mischief and lingering desire. without breaking eye contact, he captures your lips in another searing kiss, tongue delving deep to claim your mouth once again.

as he explores the warmth and sweetness of your kiss, gojo's hands begin to wander, tracing the curves of your body with a reverent touch. he cups your breasts, thumbs circling your nipples until they stiffen against his palms. breaking the kiss, gojo nuzzles his nose against yours, exhalting softly.

you gasp feeling his hot breath on your flushed skin, your heart pounding wildly in your chest. you reach up, your fingers threading through his messy white hair, pulling him closer if possible. your hips buck involuntarily, seeking more friction, more of him. you moan softly, biting your lip to stifle the sound as his thumb brushes over your nipple, causing sparks of pleasure to shoot straight to your core.

you’re completely lost in the sensations, your mind foggy with lust and desire. you arch your back, pressing yourself harder against his touch, silently begging for more. gojo nuzzles his nose against yours, exhaling softly. you let out another breath, soft and warm against gojo's cheeks. you lean closer, hesitantly erasing the gap between his lips and yours before you draw back just a little, also nuzzles your nose against his.

“what are you doing, you silly girl?” gojo asks playfully, nipping at your bottom lip before soothing the sting with a lick.

“i want more...” you whimper needily. at your response, gojo grins, a devilish gleam lighting up his ice-blue eyes. he presses a tender kiss to the tip of your nose while you grinding shamelessly against him resulting with gojo groans, his hardness stirring to life again at the sensation of your slick heat rubbing against him.

a contented hum vibrates through gojo's chest as he savors the intimacy of the moment, relishing in the closeness and connection he shares with you. your fingers tangled in his hair only serve to heighten his arousal, and he can't help but grind his hips against yours, letting you feel the evidence of his renewed interest.

“i want you, y/n, again,” you murmur, breaking the gentle nose-to-nose contact, gojo trails kisses along your jawline, pausing to nibble and suck at the sensitive skin there. he continues his exploration downwards, licking a path across your collarbone before dipping lower to tease the swell of your breasts with his tongue.

his hand slides down to grip your hip, fingers digging in possessively as he guides you to stand. once on your feet, gojo spins you around, pressing your front against the cool surface of the table. before he walks to grab his phone and back to you, still recording.

you gasp as gojo spins you around, the sudden change in position leaving you momentarily disoriented. you press yourself back against the cold surface of the table, a shiver running down your spine, you feel vulnerable yet electrified, your senses heightened by the intimate act.

the air between you is charged with an electric tension, every breath you take seems heavier than the last. you bite your lip to suppress a moan when gojo's fingers dig into your hip, claiming you as his own.

when he steps away, you glance over your shoulder, watch him with wide eyes, the sight of his muscular back flexing as he moves filling you with a new wave of desire. you shift restlessly, your legs trembling with the effort of keeping yourself upright. you catching gojo's piercing gaze as he continues to record you with his phone. a shiver runs down your spine at the realization that he's still capturing this moment, preserving the raw, unfiltered desire between you two.

“gojo...” you whining.

by the time he returns, you're panting lightly, your body already responding to his mere presence. you look up at him through half-lidded eyes, a silent plea for more in your gaze.

gojo's presence looms large behind you, his towering frame casting a shadow over your smaller form. you can feel the heat radiating off his body, mingling with the chill of the table. it's a stark contrast that sends a thrill through you.

“don't worry, i won't let you fall,” gojo whispers, his voice low and husky, filled with promise. he leans down, pressing a searing kiss to the exposed curve of your neck, his hands roaming freely now that he had returned.

one hand finds its way to your breast, palming the soft flesh, thumb circling over your nipple, coaxing it into a hardened peak. the other travels lower, slipping beneath the hem of your skirt, fingertips brushing against the damp fabric.

you arch into his touch instinctively, a soft moan escaping your lips as pleasure shoots straight to your core. you squirm against him, desperate for more friction, more of his talented hands exploring your sensitive skin.

“hold me,” you whimper, your voice barely above a whisper. you tilt your head back, giving gojo better access to your neck, a soft gasp escaping your lips as he kisses and nibbles at your tender skin.

your breasts ache for his touch, nipples hardening further under his skilled ministrations. you reach back, threading your fingers through his messy white hair, pulling him closer to you.

his hand on your breast squeezes gently, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. the sensation of his fingers tracing the edge of your skirt, teasingly close to where you need him most, drives you wild. you grind back against his hand, seeking relief from the building pressure.

“i’ve got you,” gojo murmurs against your skin, his hot breath ghosting over your ear. he slides his hand higher, pushing your skirt up around your waist. his fingers skim over your inner thighs, tauntingly close to your aching center.

he nips at your earlobe before soothing the sting with his tongue. “you're so responsive, so eager for my touch.”

gently, he eases you onto your stomach, the cool surface of the table a shock against your heated skin. he leans over you, his chest pressed to your back, one hand sliding up your side to cup your breast, while the other dips between your thighs, finally touching you where you needed him most.

“i'm going to make you feel so good, baby,“ he promises, his fingers stroking along your slick folds. “have you ever getting fuck in your ass before, baby?” you send a soft spank on your ass before spreading them apart.

“no..” you admit breathlessly, your hips bucking slightly as gojo's fingers find your entrance. you bite your lip, trying to stifle a moan as he begins to explore your most intimate area. his touch is electric, sending sparks of pleasure racing through your veins.

“please...” you whimper, unsure what you're begging for but craving more of his skilled caresses. “more...”

gojo's fingers press deeper, curling inside you as he strokes your inner walls. you clench around him, your body responding eagerly to his invasion. the thought of taking him in your ass sends a thrill through you, a mix of apprehension and excitement. “do you want to..?” you trail off, leaving the decision in his capable hands.

“we'll start slow, alright?” gojo reassures you, his voice dripping with seduction. his fingers slide out of you only to tease your swollen clit, coaxing another moan from your lips. then, just when you think you can't stand the teasing anymore, he presses two fingers back into your tight hole, stretching you slowly, methodically.

“relax, i'll take good care of you.” gojo presses another open-mouthed kiss to your shoulder blade as he slowly works two fingers into your tight heat. he scissors them, stretching you gently, preparing you for his cock.

“let me take care of everything,” he whispers, kissing along your spine. his thumb continues to work your clit, adding to the mind-numbing pleasure. you can hear the slick sound of your arousal coating his fingers, mixing with the wet slap of his palm against your sensitive bud.

once you've adjusted to the initial intrusion, he adds a third finger, pumping them steadily as his other hand continues to knead and massage your breast. he rolls your nipple between his fingers, pinching lightly until you arch your back, pushing yourself more firmly into his touch.

the tension builds within you, coiling tighter and tighter until you're on the brink of release. suddenly, he withdraws completely, leaving you panting and needy. “are you ready for more?”

you nod frantically, unable to form words as waves of pleasure continue to crash over you. “yes... please...�� you beg, your voice trembling with need. you spread your legs wider, inviting him to continue his ministrations. “i need you,” you confess, turning your head to look back at him. the sight of his confident smile, combined with the lustful glint in his eyes, sends another wave of desire coursing through you.

“good girl,” gojo praises, his voice low and husky. he trails kisses down your spine, pausing to nibble on your lower back before positioning himself at your entrance. “get ready, because i'm going to fill you up nice and slow.”

his thick cockhead nudges at your tight hole, applying gentle pressure as he starts to push in. you gasp, feeling the stretch as he buries himself inch by delicious inch. “breathe,” he commands, holding still until you relax again.

gradually, he sinks deeper, filling you until there's no space left between you. “ohh, fuck... squeezing me too fucking tight,” gojo groans softly, his hands gripping your hips tightly. once he's fully sheathed inside you, he pauses, giving you a moment to adjust to the sensation before beginning to move.

“shit, shit, shit,” you cry out as he finally pushes past the ring of muscle, sinking deep into your tight passage. the fullness is unlike anything you've ever experienced before— intense and overwhelming in the best possible way. you feel so deliciously stuffed, every nerve ending alight with sensation.

your walls flutter and clench around him instinctively, drawing him in even deeper. “slowly— god, slowly, gojo,” you whimper, having your forehead pressed against the cold tabletop and your eyes tightly shut.

“fuck, your ass is so tight, like it wants to swallow my whole cock,” gojo groans, starting to thrust slowly. he pulls out almost all the way before sliding back in, burying himself to the hilt. “i love how you feel around me, so hot and wet...”

he sets a steady rhythm, each stroke sending jolts of pleasure through your body. his hands roam your curves, caressing your sides, your breasts, your thighs. he leans over you, pressing his chest against your back as he rocks into you. “you're doing so well, taking me so deep,” he murmurs in your ear, nipping at your earlobe. “such a good little slut for me, aren't you?” his dirty talk combined with the intense sensations quickly drives you towards the edge.

“fucking hell, gojo! slowly!” you moan and groan wantonly. your gaze meets his over your shoulder as you glare at him, pushing your hips back to meet his thrusts. the filthy words falling from his lips only heighten your arousal, making you feel deliciously dirty and used.

your body trembles and shakes, overwhelmed by the intensity of the sensations. your fingers scrabble for purchase on the smooth surface of the table, nails digging into the wood as you try to ground yourself. “it hurts a bit, okay?” you grumble between your moan.

“i know, baby. just breathe through it,” gojo coos, slowing his thrusts even more. “i'll make it feel so much better, i promise.” he reaches around to rub circles on your clit, trying to distract you from the slight pain. “focus on the pleasure, let it wash over you...”

he kisses and licks at your neck, alternating between soft sucks and sharp nips. his free hand slides up your body to pinch and tug at your nipples, rolling them between his fingers.

“that's it, just like that,” he encourages as you start to relax into the sensations. “let me make you feel good, sweetheart. i want to hear you scream my name when you come undone.”

his thrusts gradually pick up speed again, each one hitting that sweet spot inside you that makes stars explode behind your eyelids. your forehead pressed harder against the table top sending a wave of disapproval from gojo. his hand took a fist of your hair and pulled your head back, “no, no, no, don't hide from the camera, let the camera see your beautiful face when i fuck you,” he said, grinning happily towards the camera.

you whine softly as he pulls your head back, but then you force yourself to look at the camera, even as tears prick at the corners of your eyes from the intense stretching and pleasure. your cheeks flush a deep crimson as you bite your lip, trying to stifle a scream.

“fuck, fuck, fuck, gojo,”you manage to gasp out, your voice trembling with need. the dual sensations of his thick cock pounding into you and his fingers teasing your sensitive clit are too much to bear. gojo growls approvingly, watching you struggle to hold back your cries. “you’re so fucking beautiful when you're in pain,” he says, his tone filled with lustful admiration.

he quickens his pace once more, driving into you with relentless force. each thrust sends ripples of pleasure coursing through your body, making your legs quiver beneath you. his grip on your hair tightens as he yanks your head back further, forcing you to arch your spine and present yourself fully to him. the change in angle allows him to hit even deeper, his cockhead brushing against your wall with each merciless plunge.

“look at how hard your nipples are getting,” he taunts, pinching them sharply between his thumb and forefinger. “you're such an exhibitionist, loving every second being filmed while we fuck...”

you can't help but cry out loudly now, your moans echoing off the walls as gojo pounds into you relentlessly. “gojo, shit, shit— ahh,” you chant breathlessly, your hips bucking back to meet his brutal thrusts. the mix of pain and pleasure is dizzying, overwhelming your senses until all you can focus on is the feeling of his huge cock splitting you open.

tears stream down your face as you stare wide-eyed at the camera, your expression a perfect mix of agony and ecstasy. your tits bounce lewdly with each slam of his hips against yours, the buds of your nipples stiff peaks begging to be sucked.

“harder,” you plead desperately, lost in a haze of lust. “ah! want you— harder, mhm..”

“oh? you want it harder?” gojo smirks wickedly, his eyes gleaming with sadistic delight. “as you wish, my little slut.” with a dark chuckle, he suddenly grabs your hips in a bruising grip and starts to absolutely rail into you. the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room as he pistons in and out of your tight hole at a breakneck pace. your whole body jolts with each violent thrust, your breasts swaying wildly beneath you.

“fuck, your ass feels incredible,” he groans, angling his hips to drill into your g-spot dead-on. “so hot and wet and tight... made to milk my cock dry.”

he leans over you, pressing his muscular chest against your back as he continues his ruthless assault. his teeth find your shoulder, biting down hard enough to leave marks. he leaves his tongue over the abused flesh, soothing the sting before moving higher to nip at your earlobe.

you wail in agonized bliss as gojo fucks into you like a man possessed, each savage thrust shaking you to your core. your pussy clenches greedily around his pistoning shaft, desperate to hold onto him as he ravages you.

“oh my god!” you keen shrilly, your screams growing louder and more frantic by the second. the wet squelch of your juices filling the air only adds to the filthy symphony of your coupling.

your nails scrabble uselessly at the table as gojo's teeth sink into your tender flesh, marking you as his. the sharp pain mixes deliciously with the mind-numbing pleasure, sending you hurtling towards the edge. “gonna cum, gojo, ’m cumming!”

at your words, gojo redoubles his efforts, slamming into you with abandon. “that's right, cum for me,” he commands, his voice thick with lust. “let me see just how much of a good girl you can be...”

his fingers curl around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp and arch your back further. the added stimulation pushes you over the brink, your climax crashing over you like a tidal wave. your inner walls clench tightly around gojo's throbbing member, milking him for all he's worth.

your orgasm triggers his own release, his cock twitching inside you as he spills his hot seed deep within your womb. he grunts loudly, the sound mingling with your high-pitched whimpers and the steady rhythm of your heartbeat.

your entire being shudders violently as your orgasm rips through you, every nerve ending alight with electric pleasure. your vision blurs, colors bleeding together as you lose yourself completely to the sensations coursing through your body.

gojo's hand around your throat sends an extra jolt of excitement zinging straight to your clit, pushing you over the edge into a mind-bending peak. your pussy spasms uncontrollably, gripping his cock in a vice-like squeeze as you ride out the waves of your climax.

when gojo finally releases inside you, coating your insides with his scorching hot cum, it's almost too much to bear. your already sensitive nerves are overwhelmed by the sensation, leaving you a quivering, boneless mess.

the feeling of your tight walls pulsating around his cock, milking him for every drop, draws a guttural moan from gojo. he holds you firmly in place, refusing to let either of you move until every last bit of pleasure has been wrung out. his fingers tighten slightly on your throat but not enough to cut off your air supply. instead, it's another form of control, keeping you right where he wants you— helpless and utterly at his mercy.

as the aftershocks continue to rock through both bodies, gojo gently withdraws from your slickened ass, gently flipping you on your back and stepping away just enough so he can admire the sight of your flushed face and heaving chest.

you lay sprawled across the table, legs splayed wide and gojo's cum leaking out of your thoroughly used holes. your skin glistens with a sheen of sweat, hair sticking to your forehead in damp tendrils. you look absolutely debauched, and you know it.

gojo drinks in the sight of you, his gaze roaming hungrily over every inch of exposed flesh. “you're such a good girl,” he praises, voice low and rough. “i don't think i can get enough of you now i get a taste of you, y/n, looks like i just have to spend the rest of my life with you.”

the threat sends a thrill down your spine, even as a small part of you knows you should protest. but the thought of belonging to gojo fully, of being at his complete mercy... it's too exciting to resist.

gojo's words hang heavy in the air between you, the promise of a lifetime spent as his personal plaything sending a fresh rush of arousal through your veins. you know you should put up some kind of resistance, insist on maintaining some semblance of independence, but the idea of being owned so completely by someone as powerful and dominant as gojo is simply too tempting to pass up.

“great, now i'm stuck with you,” you manage to say breathlessly, trying to inject a note of teasing bravado into your tone despite the way your body trembles with need. your body was still trembling as you slowly pushed yourself up from the table, the heat of the moment still lingering in the air.

a dangerous smile spreads across gojo's face as he watches you struggle to sit up. he leans down, bracing one hand on the tabletop next to you, his gaze roaming over your flushed features, taking in every nuance of your expression.

“you say that like it's a bad thing,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. “and we both know you don’t really mind being mine, princess. you love it, admit it.” he leans down to kiss your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin. “mine,” he whispers, his voice low and possessive.

as he pulls back, his eyes lock onto your face, seeking any hint of reluctance. but he finds none. your breathing is shaky, and your cheeks are flushed, and despite your feeble protest, your body betrays your true feelings. you know you're his, and he knows it too.

he straightens up, taking a step back to give you room to sit up fully. “don't worry,” he says, his tone almost reassuring. “i'll take care of you, princess. i always take care of what's mine.”

you glanced at gojo, who was now standing tall, watching you with that same smug, satisfied look. despite everything, there was a hint of softness in his eyes as he watched you regain your composure.

“at least help me clean up,” you muttered, still slightly breathless. your cheeks flushed as you stretched your hand towards him, fingers brushing the hem of your skirt to adjust it. “you made the mess, after all.”

gojo's lips curled up in a playful smirk at your request. “oh, princess,” he drawled, taking a step closer and closing the distance between you. “always demanding, aren't you?”

he leaned down, his face inches from yours as he gently pushed your hand away from your skirt. “don't worry, i’ll clean up,” he murmured, his voice low and sultry. “but i think i’ll take my time and enjoy the view first.”

“shut up, gojo,” you snapped, your voice sharp as you glared at him. “i’m mad at you for making a mess out of me when i was supposed to be having fun with my friends.”

gojo just chuckled, clearly unfazed by your frustration. he knelt down, picking up your discarded corset from the floor, his eyes still twinkling with amusement. “you always blame me for the fun stuff,” he teased, but his hands were already working, buttoning up your shirt first with a surprising tenderness.

as he helped you back into your corset, his fingers brushing your skin as he tightened the laces, you couldn’t help but huff in frustration. “because you always annoy me and i always blame you for everything, you better make this up to me,” you muttered under your breath.

gojo chuckled at your irritation, his hands still working to button up your shirt. “can’t help being a bit mischievous, princess,” he replied lightly. “it’s part of my charm.”

he finished buttoning up your shirt, leaving a few buttons undone, his gaze lingering on the exposed skin at your throat before moving on to your corset. his hands skimmed the lace and silk with a hint of reverence as he slowly laced you up.

“make it up to you?” he repeated, his voice low and playful. “i thought i just did, princess.”

you smacked his chest lightly, your frustration evident. “shut up, gojo,” you grumbled, rolling your eyes as you started scanning the floor for your missing thong. “where’s my thong?” you muttered under your breath, feeling the irritation bubble up again.

gojo, now pulling his button up shirt over his arm, glanced down with a smirk. “it’s probably somewhere around here,” he teased, watching you with amusement as you searched. “i think it flew off when you were, you know, too busy being ‘mad’ at me.”

as you shot him a glare, he chuckled softly, picking up his own clothes and tossing them on, clearly enjoying the aftermath of your little encounter. “here, princess,” he said, suddenly bending down and tossing the thong toward you, his smirk still lingering.

you caught the thong instinctively, feeling a fresh wave of irritation. gojo's casual demeanor only fueled your annoyance, but the way he was watching you, his gaze lingering on your body, was both infuriating and exciting.

you slipped the thong back on, fixing your skirt as you straightened up. your cheeks were flushed, and your breath was still coming in slightly labored gasps. you did your best to compose yourself, feeling the weight of his gaze on you like a physical touch. gojo had finished dressing himself and was now standing casually, leaning against the table as he observed you.

“all fixed up, princess,” he teased, his eyes roaming over your form. “although i have to say, i do enjoy the disheveled look on you.”

he pushed himself away from the table and sauntered towards you, his steps leisure yet deliberate. he stopped just in front of you, his body close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him. “you know, it's quite adorable when you try to be mad at me,” he murmured, his voice low and sultry.

you glared at him, still flushed with a mix of annoyance and lingering desire. “shut up, gojo,” you snapped, your voice laced with frustration. “and stop looking at me like that, you perv.”

gojo chuckled, not the least bit deterred by your glare. “can't help it, princess,” he replied, his voice dripping with mock innocence. “you're just too damn hot to ignore.”

he took a step closer, closing the gap between you so that his chest was almost pressed against yours. “and i see that you still haven‘t fully composed yourself,” he murmured, his eyes trailing over your flushed cheeks. “still a little flustered, are we?”

you narrowed your eyes at him, huffing in frustration. “shut up, gojo,” you muttered again, your voice firmer this time, but the hint of a pout on your lips betrayed you. “shut up and let’s just go already.”

gojo smirked, clearly enjoying your reaction, but he grabbed his mask and your bunny band without another word. he handed you the bunny band, but before you could take it, you looked at him with a softer, slightly sheepish expression. “hold me?” you asked, your voice a little quieter now.

gojo's smirk softened into a small smile as he heard your softer tone. he knew your irritation was fading, and what was left was your playful, more vulnerable side. he reached out and gently took hold of your waist, pulling you closer against him.

“of course, princess,” he murmured, his voice low and gentle. “i'll hold you. i'll always hold you.” he wrapped his strong arms around you, pulling you flush against his chest. he nuzzled his face against the top of your head, inhaling the sweet scent of your hair.

you leaned into gojo's embrace, your irritation completely gone now, replaced by a shy warmth. as you felt his arms tighten around you, a thought crossed your mind—one that made your cheeks flush slightly.

you looked up at him, remembering how he had recorded everything earlier. your voice came out quieter, almost hesitant. “gojo,” you murmured, biting your lip slightly, “about that video... can you send it to me?” a wave of shyness washed over you as you avoided his eyes, feeling a bit embarrassed for even asking.

gojo raised an eyebrow, surprised by your sudden request. he tried to keep his voice even as a small smile played on his lips. “you want that, princess?” he asked, a hint of incredulousness in his tone. “you want me to send you a video of us?”

he gently gripped your chin, tilting your face up so that you had to meet his gaze. his eyes searched your face, trying to read the expression in your eyes.

“uh-uh,” you murmur, slightly embarrassed for asking for a video— more likely a sex-tape— of you and him. gojo grinned, his eyes sparkling with amusement and a hint of genuine affection. “princess, are you feeling a little kinky?” he teased. “asking for a video of us?”

he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. “i don't mind sending it to you. i’m quite proud of my performance in it.”

you rolled your eyes at gojo’s teasing, a smirk tugging at your lips despite yourself. "don’t flatter yourself, gojo," you replied, your tone laced with playful sarcasm. "it’s not that impressive."

as the two of you walked out of the library, his arm still comfortably wrapped around your waist, you gave him a side glance. “i just want it for... research purposes,” you added with a mock-serious expression, unable to hide the mischievous glint in your eyes.

gojo's smirk widened at your response, his eyes glimmering with playful mischief. he chuckled and pulled you closer to his side, clearly enjoying the banter.

“research purposes, eh?” he echoed, raising an eyebrow in mock skepticism. “and what kind of research, pray tell, does a princess like you need that video for?” he leaned down, his voice dropping to a low, seductive tone. “or is it for... private viewing pleasure?”

you smirked up at him, clearly amused by his teasing. “oh, i’m going to sell it,” you said, your voice dripping with mock seriousness. “think of all the girls out there willing to pay for a glimpse of the great gojo in action. i could make a fortune.”

gojo let out a low chuckle, a mix of surprise and amusement. he tightened his arm around your waist, pulling you even closer against him.

“selling a video of me? princess, i'm both flattered and offended,” he teased, feigning hurt in his tone. his eyes sparkled as he continued, “but don't forget… there's two of us in that video. they’ll be paying to see you too.”

gojo’s grin widened as he guided you toward the parking spot, his arm still firmly around your waist. “let’s go to my place, princess,” he murmured, his tone carrying that familiar mix of teasing and suggestion. “we can discuss this little business venture of yours in private.”

he glanced down at you, his eyes glinting with mischief. “besides, i have a feeling you'd want to make sure the video’s... edited to your liking before you sell it.” he winked, clearly enjoying pushing your buttons as he led you toward his car.

gojo gives your ass a firm squeeze before stepping back, to open the door of his car for you, “we can see how our little video turned out. maybe we can even edit in some close-ups of that pretty face of yours while you're sucking me off...”

you feigned annoyance at his shamelessness, but you couldn't help the flush that spread across your cheeks at his words. you ducked into the passenger seat, trying to hide your flustered reaction.

“you're impossible, gojo,” you huffed, trying to maintain a tone of feigned indifference. “always so confident and shameless.” but even as you spoke, you knew that you were just as eager as him to get back to his place and see that video. you were just unwilling to admit it out loud.

TAGLIST :

@fairiesthrum @22marie16 @pe4rl-diver @meowingtatum @prettymoonlightsworld @sonotpattismith @leidypop @anthastudios @luminiso @blueemochii @rumi-rants @wakashudou @ameeeeeliie @reverrieee @iheartsuya @starlightglimmersworld

#jjk x reader #gojo smut #gojo x reader smut #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #anime smut #satoru smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jujutsu kaisen fic #gojo satoru #satoru x reader

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the-kr8tor · 1 year ago

Text

Hobie meets your cats for the first time.

Pairing: Hobie Brown x f!Reader / Spider-Punk x f!Reader

Word count: 1.8k

Tags: Smut Implied, Kissing, established relationship, no use of Y/N, No specific physical description of the reader.

Synopsis: your cats interrupt your alone time with Hobie.

My Masterlist

*I don't consent to having my work translated/published on other platforms*

Your keys jingle in your hands as you try and find the right key to your flat, you would've found it earlier, if it weren't for Hobie hugging you from behind while kissing your neck distractingly.

"Hobie, can you wait till we get inside?" You crane your neck to look at him. You sigh in pleasure.

"Mmph?" He answers while his lips are still on your skin.

"I can't find my keys, you're distracting me" you try not to move your neck to the left to give him more access to your skin, you bite your tongue instead to focus on choosing the right key.

Hobie stops kissing you for a moment to grab your key ring from your fumbling hands. "Let me try"

You miss the press of his lips on your skin when he pulls away, still reeling from the feeling, you forgot to roll your eyes at Hobie. This is his first time at your place. How would he know which key?

Click

Of course the door opens after only two tries. Hobie smirks at you teasingly.

You finally roll your eyes, snatching your keys from Hobie swiftly.

The second you're inside, Hobie attacks your neck once again, pushing you towards a wall, he cages you in his arms as he pushes the door closed with his foot.

He kisses the underside of your chin, forcing you to look at your beige ceiling. He nips and licks at your skin passionately. Grabbing the back of his neck to guide him towards your lips, you kiss him, while your free hand grabs one of his belt loops to pull him towards you, closing in the small gap between you. Heat emanates from the both of you.

Meow

A small mewl stops you both in your tracks, you both look to the side breathlessly, stuck in the same position, Hobie raises his brow.

"Oi, bruv, d'you mind? We're having a moment here" He gestures to you.

"Meoww" the orange tabby cat pushes her empty bowl in front of her. The sound of the bowl moving across your wooden floors acts like a dinner bell, two more cats appear from somewhere.

"Ah, shit, it's way past their feeding time" you look at Hobie apologetically.

"I don't mind" he pecks your lips, as if to say: we'll continue this later.

"I'm really sorry," You rub his kiss bitten lips with your thumb to swipe some sheen off them "I'll make it up to you later, I promise"

You turn your back from Hobie still holding his hand, you slowly let go when you went further in your home.

Once you're in your kitchen preparing their food, Hobie crouches down in front of the orange tubby.

"Cockblocker" he scoffs while Hobie holds out his hand for the cat to smell. The cat tentatively sniffs at his outstretched hand. Once she's satisfied, she bumps her head on his hand. She looks at the other cats then back to Hobie.

The other two follow her lead and they both sniff at him, one of them, a cream colored shorthair, moves towards Hobie's legs, she begins to circle around him while she rubs her face on his leg.

The last cat, black as the night, stares at Hobie with his bright green eyes, his eyes turn to slits as if to say - you're good to stay, but I'm watching you.

You finally head back to Hobie, Gasping at the scene in front of you.

"Oh. My. God." You squeal, quickly grab your phone to snap a picture of the adorable moment.

Hobie looks up at you "guess they like me" he gives you a lopsided smile, the previous emotion slowly dissipates around you both.

"This is a miracle, they usually don't like new people"

Hobie stands up to his full height, careful not to step on the cats. "They've probably smelled me off you before"

Heat rises on your cheeks with his implication, you cross your arms to not give away the effect he has on you. He saunters towards you, the cats run off towards their food.

"Do you have catnip on you?" You eye him suspiciously.

Hobie chuckles deeply "Nah, cats just have a natural affinity towards me" he grabs your face lovingly, "you wanna frisk me, to make sure?" He gives you his signature smirk.

You let out a breath you've been holding. He comes closer to you until he's mere inches away,

"Fuckin' hell! What is that?"

He lets you go, running towards your cat tree. Your excitement deflates.

"It's their cat tree, the employee at the pet store called it a cat condo" you huff at another interruption.

"A condo? Love, that's a full on mansion right there" he gestures toward the expansive structure, numerous branches, platforms and cubbies hang on it.

"Too much?" You wince, terrified he might get turned off by it.

"For them? Nah, I'm sure it's worth every penny" he looks at it, curious to see if he can DIY a few more floors to add to it.

"You wanna meet them formally?" He turns back around, he sees you carrying the orange tubby, her full stomach protruding.

"Yes," Hobie says a little too fast.

You bounce the orange blob, "her name's Crumpet! She's the oldest one," you whisper the next part "I adopted her five years ago"

"Why are you whispering?"

"Because she doesn't know she's adopted" you whisper back.

Hobie looks at you fondly, "dork" he softly says as he holds Crumpet's paw, "your mum's a dork" he looks at Crumpet with a smile.

"Myeow" she answers back

"I think that means she knows" you chuckle at your own joke.

"You're my dork" Hobie leans towards you for a kiss, he finds you adorable, he thinks you deserve a kiss just for that.

Before he could though, he felt movement around his leg. He looks down to see your other cat, the cream colored one.

"Oh," you clear your throat, trying to push down your excitement again. "That one is Teacup, When I got her she was so tiny she could fit inside a teacup"

Hobie chuckles at the name "Tea and Crumpets, then?"

You nod, "Yep, and that one," you point with your head since your hands are occupied, at the black void sitting on top of your kitchen counter, looking directly at Hobie. "Is Crowley!"

Upon hearing his name, Crowley drops down gracefully, he rubs his face on your leg, purring loudly.

"He's a bit overprotective, ain't he?" Hobie looks at Crowley. Crowley glared at Hobie when he spoke.

"Well, he is the man of the house" you shrug, as you sit down on your sofa.

The second your back hit the soft plush of the sofa, your other two cats ran towards you, Crowley curls around himself on your lap while Teacup sits next to you looking at Hobie, like she's waiting for him.

You notice Hobie still standing, inviting him to sit next to you by patting the space closest to you.

"Nyeow" Teacup whines towards Hobie.

"Can't say no to that" Hobie heads towards the space next to you, lifting up Teacup by her arms so he could sit closer to you. He places Teacup on his lap, she curls around herself immediately, purring loudly.

"It's a bit concerning how much she likes you" you softly say, craning your neck to look at Hobie lovingly petting Teacup.

Hobie puts his non-petting arm around your shoulders moving you closer to him. "She has good taste, just like her mum" he leans towards your lips, slowly closing the gap.

"Do you really like them? They're not too much?" You whisper against his lips before they meet.

"How could anyone not like 'em? They're perfect, even Crowley"

You laugh at his jab, "Didn't peg you as a cat person"

Hobie rubs your cheek endearingly "haven't I told you I'm a cat guy?"

Hobie guides your face towards his again, when you suddenly gasp.

"I forgot! I need to give you something" you drop Crumpet on his shoulder, while Crowley moves towards the sofa's armrest. "Be right back" pecking his lips.

"I've got it!" You emerge from the sides holding something. Sitting back down you give the small patch to Hobie.

Hobie looks at the menacing aura emanating from the arm rest. He sees Crowley perched elegantly, his emerald eyes staring directly at Hobie. While Crumpet sways her tail across Hobie's chest, still perched on his shoulders.

Hobie stares back at Crowley, teasingly smirking at the cat.

"I think he's planning my murder" Hobie points out.

"Aww he's a sweetheart, you'll win him eventually" you say while petting the void next to you, Crowley sits unmoving still staring daggers at Hobie.

"Right, what's this?" Hobie looks at the piece of cloth in his hand.

"It's a patch! I made it for you, y'know to add to your jacket" you ramble on to hide your sudden shyness.

The patch has a stitched cartoon version of Crowley holding a knife in his mouth, the bottom of the design reads- 'piss off'

"You made this?" He feels the stitches with his thumb.

You bite your lip while nodding "you like it? I saw that you have a cat patch already, so I made you another one, she seemed lonely"

"It's fuckin' gorgeous, lovey" He grabs your face in excitement, he kisses every inch of your face with a loud smooch in-between.

Before he could finally kiss your lips, he heard a hiss from behind you.

"Crowley!" You look behind you. "Don't be mean!"

"Nope" Hobie grabs you by the back of your legs, He lifts you up with ease. You gasp while instinctively wrapping your legs around his hips.

"What are you doing?" You laugh at his shenanigans.

"You're my human shield" he says while he peeks at Crowley over your shoulder.

"He's harmless" you giggle, as if on cue, Crowley raises his hips with a hiss, readying to pounce.

"Okay, maybe not" you wrap your arms around Hobie's neck while he jumps towards your ceiling. He sticks to it by his hands and feet, while you use him as your personal hammock.

"He can't reach us up here, right?" He asks you.

You peek over his shoulder to see Crowley trying to reach you by jumping, while Teacup meows upward, Crumpet sleeps on the couch unbothered.

You hide behind Hobie, cuddling his torso, the height giving you vertigo.

"Don't worry, I've got you" he pats your behind before sticking his hand back on the ceiling. "Let me kiss you better"

You lean up to look at his face, smirking in victory. "Was this a ruse to get me alone?"

"Know me so well" he chuckles against your lips. You cup his face to stabilize yourself against his body.

Kissing him back, you hear Crowley's mewls for you to come down.

A/n: Thank you for reading! Comments, likes and reblogs are always appreciated! ❤️

*picture above is from pinterest*

#hobie brown x reader #spider punk x reader #spider punk #atsv fanfiction #hobie brown #spider man across the spider verse #x reader #hobie brown x fem!reader #spider punk x fem!reader #established relationship #the kr8tor's creations #atsv x reader #fanfic #hobie brown x you #spider punk x you #spiderman across the spiderverse

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moonsaver · 3 months ago

Text

Warning: yan!jiaoqiu x reader, hints/implications of cannibalism and drugs.

Note: its 1.3k words, which is surprising considering i dont usually write that much. Anyways i tried to incorporate a different kind of horror feeling into this work. Hope you guys like it.

Jiaoqiu lives up to his name. Medicinal chef, although one part is hidden, and he willfully lives up to the other half. But both seem to work in cognition when he meets you.

There you are – where he always hopes you'll be. A small twitch of his ear, the flurry of his tail. His eyes creak open ever so slightly to behold your silhouette in the golden frame of his irises.

There you are – where you always will be, he hopes. Or rather, he wills.

Jiaoqiu has taken a rather different approach when it comes to medicines, and food.

The chilli sizzles in the oil, loud and crackling in short bursts through the growing warm air surrounding his workspace, his tender hands working swiftly through the assortment of spices. But really, he wouldn't need much, especially considering the chillis he's going to be using. Although, he changes his mind, going back over to dutifully sprinkle in a few spices anyway. At least, he does this for you.

Quiet, ever so silent. Curt responses. Flitting eyes. You're a curious little thing. Well, it doesn't matter how brooding or moody you may be. To him, you're interesting. To any sly fox, interesting means plaything. He's learned how to really risk the delicate balance of spice and flavour. And he's also sure how to deal with bitterness.

Strangely enough - you seem to like it. The bitterness slowly but surely pierces through the food, seeping into your mouth like poison. He's sure to take inspiration, but for now, he watches with a closed eye smile. A smile you're always too familiar with, ever since he's started making things special for you.

His chin placed delicately on the palm of his hand, elbow slightly straining the smooth wood underneath, as his hand gently fans away the ghat of the chili, still wafting in the air, making a few people cough in the distance. “Do you like it?” He asks, often. “I've added just what you might like”, “you'll keep coming back”, and, “my, aren't I seeing you too often?”

...

You don't know what's gotten into you. Dazed, but also hypervigilant at the same time. You think you're losing your mind – the reality you were so grounded in, losing your footing, the dissonance of your mind pushing you far into the cacophony of distressed thoughts, until his calm voice snaps you of it.

“Hm? Perhaps my new recipe will help soothe you. If the feeling persists.. meet me after hours.”

You take another bite, another walk back home, and another episode of hyperventilation. You breathe in, eyes flitting to the mirror you can't seem to reach – or rather you can't seem to keep yourself standing despite your fearful heart lurching in your chest.

And as per Jiaoqiu's predictions, you do meet him after hours. But you can't tell with the blend of reality and your hallucinations. You're not sure if it's the moon, but you're sure Jiaoqiu stares down at you, silver and gold melding into your delicate vision.

—--

Jiaoqiu has many characters of a cat than he does of a fox

Or rather, you say that because you probably haven't interacted with a fox before.

All the times you were sick and bedridden, Jiaoqiu made it almost his personal mission to look after you. He wouldn't be around for too long, thankfully. Long hours at work or the other. But he comes back and makes the best soup you could ever have, especially with your illness.

But you find the meat makes your body slightly reactive, at least when you're sick. Jiaoqiu brushes it off and insists you eat regardless.

His cheek rubs against your shoulder when you wake up, telling you how dearly he missed you. You yawn, eyes still closed and heavy from sleep while you wake up, but you can notice the slight grazing of his pointed teeth on your skin.

You watch as he dutifully grinds up herbs and other malleable herbs into the mortar. He grew them himself, he tells you. It's simply better to alter and enhance them when you can get your hands on them, he tells you.

That's a beautiful flower, you tell him. His dutiful hands temporarily withhold in the air above the mortar, the soft stem bent and almost breaking in his fingers. He chuckles softly. You've been tasting it for a while in your food now, he informs you. You hum as he grinds it into the powdery mixture. Was that the source of bitterness?

Jiaoqiu has a taste for many peculiar things. But he also has a taste for humans. Or, more or less, just you.

Ever since you've become a regular, Jiaoqiu has been eager to offer you a sneak peek into the kitchen. He sits you down for the milder part of the cooking process, chatting away with you as he waits for one or the other thing to marinate, rise, or separate. His hand not so subtly itching to yours over the countertop, forcing your hand to slip into his glove. When you whine or complain about the constriction of the material, Jiaoqiu only responds with a quiet smile, his ears twitching the slightest bit.

Sometimes, he lets you look around the kitchen, with sanitary limitations, of course. You eye the meat that looks a bit too red, or the one with a few too many strings in it to be written off as normal. You gaze at the blood seeping into the water. Myoglobin, he tells you. But you think your eyes are keener than that.

He feeds you well, isn't hesitant to add in a few extra medicinal herbs to your food, serves you the special tea he prepares only for momentous occasions.

And the best meat he finds.

Its a beautiful red, in his opinion. You stare as the knife cuts through the meat, the strings loosening and tearing. The blood– myoglobin, he corrects you, taints his hands, ungloved. Its far easier to determine the cleanliness without gloves. They tend to give you a false sense of it. He tells you.

You watch, the smell of the raw meat making you scrunch your nose the slightest bit. He chuckles fondly when he sees that on your face.

He finds you to be one of the people he's met, that he's taken a liking to. As for the one that he considers distasteful.. well, he's sure he can find some use of them. Especially if you dislike them, too.

You're sure something is wrong.

The soups make you dizzy, your body bursts into hives, your heart rate goes up. Something in it is causing you severe distress, but you can't understand what exactly it might be. You've staved away from his shop for a while.

Until one day – Jiaoqiu senses your hesitation. His smile is no longer on his face, despite his closed eyes. He quietly allows you to inspect the kitchen after hours, his back turned to you, grinding, crushing, snapping the herbs into the mortar. You especially eye the red meat he stores away, and this time he doesn't tell you off. He continues to grind the herbs, shuffling through a few cabinets for them, before continuing. You've insisted on calling it blood and not myoglobin. Because you can taste it in your food.

He tells you, you're hallucinating. It's a side effect of your sickness he's had to help ward off lately. But you're sure he's wrong. He hums, and continues quietly. The darkness of the kitchen only illuminated by scarce yellow lighting, and the sterile, white glow of the fridge as you continue staring at it. Your eyes wander at the various meats before–

You spot something behind it.

His meats are sourced from various animals, with smaller organs, incomparable to the size of humans.

Was this animal mutated? Or simply particularly large?

You gently kneel down, hearing Jiaoqiu snapping the stem of a flower and continue grinding the herbs, your eyes settled fiercely onto the incomprehensible.. thing.

Your shaking hand reaches out, the coldness of the fridge making you shiver, although it's not exactly the cold, is it?

Your fingers touch the strange surface of the unidentifiable meat. Pericardium. Your fingers reach further and gently grasp it. It's about the size of your fist.

You breathe out, your heart thudding in the quiet of your mind as you stare at the one in your hands.

…

Has it always been this quiet?

You look back and are met with Jiaoqiu's golden eyes.

His default smile returns to his face, but this time, his golden eyes are staring directly at you.

You should have stayed out of his kitchen. Who knows what he'd been feeding you?

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chilschuck · 8 months ago

Note

Chilchuck is canonically very warm and perfect cuddle size! Izutsumi uses him as a cuddle buddy/sleep partner for this (he got annoyed and tried to send her to someone else, but after trying all the other members and Laios petting her, Chilchuck had her come back and accepted his life as a cat bed. he is a Dad through and through.)

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ EVERY TIME I THINK ABOUT HOW CANONICALLY CUDDLY HE IS I MELT. WAHHHH ANON i think about this so much. also him accepting his life as a cat bed and just being so Dad about it makes me insane. like i said earlier this man is detrimental to my health. speaking of this!!! here’s some thoughts hehe

— CHILCHUCK: cuddle hcs.

꒰ warnings: ꒱ none! sfw fluff + gn!reader.

✦ If you’re a cold-natured person, Chilchuck is a blessing to have. You already knew he was apparently very warm due to how much Izutsumi enjoys seeking him out, so you let your thoughts wonder. The first time you asked to share his bedroll with him, you couldn’t help but be amused at his reaction. (To say you caught him off-guard was an understatement.)

✦ After he recovered from his coughing spell at your request, he flustered. Great, so now he’s becoming the party’s new teddy bear? No thanks. But then you made that expression that always made him weak in the knees and chest and gods. He bites his tongue, letting out a defeated sigh. Maybe just this once. You did tend to get cold a lot…

✦ If you’re a tall-man, (or just have a height advantage over him, lol) you wonder what it would be like to hold him similar to how Izutsumi does. Sleeping with him so closely means odds are one of you is going to end up pulling the other in. Being the taller one, you find yourself curling up with him nuzzled into your chest. I can imagine he’s reluctant at first, but when he finally lets himself relax, he melts.

✦ If you’re a half-foot like he is, or without that height advantage, he’s the big spoon. Either that, or you end up burying yourself into his neck to steal his warmth. I can imagine Chilchuck likes to feel like a protector when it comes to you, as he’s used to having people’s lives on his shoulders. But one night, make him be the little spoon, telling him you just want to hold him for once. (Watch the high curve of his ears turn pink, lol.)

✦ Chilchuck comes to expect you cuddling with him every night. It comes time for the party to retire and he’s already subconsciously lifting his blanket for you to join him. Point it out one day and he’s sputtering out excuses with rosy cheeks. Gods, don’t think so hard about it. You’re cold, aren’t you? You’ll probably hear him grumble a good bit.

✦ He’s very mindful you’re there with him. Last thing he wants is to be a lackluster cuddle partner. And to accidentally make you stop coming to his bedroll.

✦ Probably the deepest sleep he’s gotten in a while. You just make him feel so relaxed, and the physical touch and affection is something he’s been craving for so long. Don’t expect him to admit that to you, though.

— dividers by @/cafekitsune! <3

#⟡ lilia writes! 🌿#୨ chilchuck my beloved ୧ #thinking soooo hard abt him #i want to hold him in my arms SO BAD #sobbing and holding this ask in my palms #anon you get me #chilchuck tims x reader #chilchuck x reader #dunmeshi x reader #delicious in dungeon x reader #dungeon meshi x reader

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thesuperiorrobin · 1 year ago

Text

𝐀𝐧𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐥 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞~

Pairing: Damian Wayne x fem!Reader (platonic)

Word count: 854

Warning: none

A/n: sorry i haven’t posted in a while

Damian trains his pets well. They know how to defend themselves and whatnot. He understands them and they understand him to a high level. But he doesn’t understand why Titus and Alfred are so attached to you from the moment you step foot into the manor. After thirty dreadful minutes of him introducing you to his obnoxious brothers, it was time for the both of you to go up to his bedroom and work on a project for your class that was worth about eighty percent of your grade.

The feeling of something rubbing against your legs makes you stop and glance down. A tuxedo cat stands below, rubbing its small head at your leg. You kneel, cooing at the small cat as it jumps into your arms. Back pressed against your arm, giving you full access to its belly as you rub it gently.

“Aww, who’s this little guy?” You say, laughing softly, watching the animal nudge closer to your palm as you gently rub behind its chin and ear. Damian’s stunned, to say the least, that goes for his brothers. The cat normally hisses and scratches anyone who tries to pick him up, which is something Damian totally didn’t train him to do, he doesn’t willingly jump into people's arms.

The young Wayne clears his throat “That’s-um—my cat, Alfred”

“Aw, you’re named after the butler of the house. That’s adorable” Alfred lets out a soft meow before jumping out of his arms out of fright when a loud bark echos off the walls. A Great Dane appears, reaching up to your waist, maybe taller if the big dog stood up straight. He sits down in front of you and lifts his paw. He wants to shake your hand. You do so without hesitation. Grasping the Great Danes paw as you move it up and down. You let go after a while and the paw is right back on the ground.

“And that’s Titus” Damian stares “My pet dog”

“Aren’t you such a cutie?” You say scratching behind the big dog's ear as he leans further into your touch. They pray for your safety. Titus wasn’t a violent animal, he was far from it, besides the fact that he barks and growls at Damian's family members, besides Alfred whom he loves because he feeds him at times, and Damian hero teammates, it’s a surprise when he doesn’t growls at you.

In fact, they were more surprised that the Great Dane came over on his own and greeted you with a paw by the front door along with the cat. Damian excuse the both of you, leading you up to the library where you two will be working on the project. You set your things down and he sends you to find useful books.

You’re so engrossed in finding books that you don’t hear the door open, but Damian does. He looks up from the book he holds in hand and sees his two pets walking in. He goes to shoo them away, but the minute you walk out of the lined shelves with books in hand, they walk to you. Damian can only stare confused. He thinks you are a witch, a little childish but he lives in a world where they, are in fact, real by any means. But that can’t be, because Damian did some digging on you. It’s a little weird and creepy but there was no way he was going to let a complete stranger in his home.

They stop in front of you and you smile down at them, An “excuse me” leaves your lips as you walk around them and make your way towards Damian. They follow you closely. A book falls from your grasp and lands on the floor right by Titus.

Titus picks up the book with his mouth, softly so he won’t leave bite marks. “You have well-mannered pets Damian” You smile dropping the books on the table in front of you as Titus does the same with the book in his mouth.

“Makes sense since they were trained by me after all” he hums. “And they were trained to obey and not to do what they want when they want” he’s scolding them, they aren’t allowed in the study. “Now go you two” he points to the door, They seem to hesitate and hide behind you. Damian looks done at them with wide eyes, and you stand there awkwardly.

“Let them stay for a bit. They won’t bother us” You get done to their level, in the middle as you wrap your arm around the Great Dane and carry the tuxedo cat in your arms.

“Please?” He would say no to you, but he can’t say no to his animals. Ever. He least put a heavy sigh

“tch, alright! But only for a few minutes, I don’t want you to get distracted and leave me to do all the work”

“That won’t happen” It did happen. You were too busy baby-talking them and rubbing their bellies. But you two did pass your class all together so it was worth it.

#damian al ghul #damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #damian al ghul x reader #damian x reader #robin x reader #Damian Wayne one shot

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eds6ngel · 10 months ago

Note

NERDY GIRL (book lover, does well in school, loves to study) DATING EDDIE MUNSON. BOTH LOSING THEIR VIRGINITIES TO EACH OTHER. THANKS, BETH, ILY :33

not so shy now, are we?

eddie munson x afab!fem!reader.

summary: after borrowing a copy of 'jaws' from hawkins library, you are shocked to find the explicit material written across the pages. however, your body reacts in a different way than you intended, which doesn't go unnoticed by eddie...

warnings: HEAVY SMUT!! fem!reader. afab!reader. queer!reader. switch!eddie & switch!reader (they are both dom and sub at different times.) unprotected p in v (r is on birth control.) fingering. A LOT OF DIRTY TALK. mentions of dildos, straps & silicone bodies. mentions of porn. pet names (sweetheart, my love, honey, baby.) swearing. established relationship. one mention of religion/god. some fluff & comfort at the end [2.9k].

a/n: thank you for requesting, my love! i kind of went off on this (i was feeling kinky today :')) so i hope you don't mind that!! we stan kinky virgins in this house and they deserve some love. so, low and behold, kinky eddie and reader ♡

You and Eddie were sat top-to-tail on his bed, lying beside each other as you read away.

Your knees were tucked up to your chest, your borrowed copy of Jaws from Hawkins Library laying in your lap.

Eddie, on the other hand, was sprawled out like a cat, his copy of Fellowship of the Ring held high above his head, the boy squinting to read the words.

You had urged him to get his eyes tested, even offered to pay for the appointment due to the Munson’s financial insecurity, but he wholeheartedly refused, claiming it would “ruin his look.”

You tried your best to convince him it would just make him look sexier, but he brushed you off with a “Thanks, sweetheart” and carried on with his far-sightedness.

You had seen Jaws when it had first come out in theatres over ten years ago, your seven-year-old mind blown away by its visuals and story.

So, when you picked up the book, you expected the story to be pretty much the same, more focused on the descriptive writing than any major plot differences.

But, as you came to a certain scene, your mind started to race.

“Hooper's teeth were clenched, and he ground them the way people do during sleep. From his voice there came a gurgling whine, whose tone rose higher and higher with each frenzied thrust.”

You and Eddie hadn’t gone any further than humping. It never ended in anything, just something to satisfy yourselves whilst you made out.

You quickly looked over at your boyfriend, his attention deeply focused in on his favourite book.

Raising the book from your lap, you hid your face behind it, softly biting your lip as your eyes scanned the following two sentences.

“Even after his obvious, violent climax, Hooper's countenance had not changed. His teeth were still clenched, his eyes still fixed on the wall, and he continued to pump madly.”

However, despite your best efforts to cover your face, Eddie had already felt the bedsheet moving against his legs. Looking away from his own novel, he takes note of the way your thighs squeezed together, the content of the pages in your respective hand obviously causing a stir in a certain region of your body.

A sudden smirk appears on his face as he thinks of an idea, beginning with a simple gesture to capture your attention. He takes his sock-covered foot and rubs it against your bare one.

The feeling of the fabric against your skin makes you jolt, almost snapping the book shut as you peer over the top of it to see your boyfriend’s face.

“How’s the book, sweetheart?”

You gulped, forcing a smile on your face and nodding furiously as you replied, “Yeah! Yeah… Um, really good! It’s, um… really good, yeah…”

You notice the way he folds the corner of his page, placing the book on his nightstand and crawling up the bed to sit beside you. Out of instinct, you hold the book close to your chest, your mind unable to close it fully due to the urge to continue reading the steamy scene.

He lets out an exaggerated yawn and casually drapes his arm behind your back. “I’m bored of my own book. Read some of yours to me. I’m interested.”

Bored of Fellowship? That couldn’t be right. He was up to something here.

“Um… I’d rather not!” you squeak out, trying to conceal the dirty words on the page in front of you, “I just… don’t feel like reading aloud today.”

He nods understandably, however, that same glint remained lurking in his orbs. “I understand, baby.”

However, so distracted by the beauty of your man, he delicately removes the book from your hands. The action was so incredibly light, Eddie placing it in his right hand whilst his left rested on top of your knee, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Okay, let’s see here… What beautiful words grace this adaptation of a truly wonderful film?”

You throat closes up as you are reminded of what you just read a mere few minutes ago. It was currently summer in Indiana, so the freeness of your skirt allowed you to feel how wet you already were beneath your panties.

“Hooper's teeth were clenched, and he ground them the way people do during sleep. From his voice there came a gurgling whine, whose tone rose higher and higher with each frenzied thrust,” Eddie spoke, his tone becoming deeper and more sultry, his hand slowly travelling up your inner thigh.

The words sounded sexy enough coming from your own inner voice, but with Eddie’s? You didn’t know how long you were able to contain yourself.

“Even after his obvious, violent climax, Hooper's countenance had not changed. His teeth were still clenched, his eyes still fixed on the wall, and he continued to pump madly,” he continued, his hand now reaching over your panties, feeling the wetness leaking through.

He chuckles seductively, “Didn’t know Jaws was this explicit sweetheart, but it seems like you were enjoying it regardless.”

God, for a virgin, he already knew how to push your buttons, somehow finding your clit through the fabric and rubbing delicate circles around it.

“Eddie… please,” you whine out, mouth slightly parted as you look at him with pleading eyes. He switches hands, placing the book upside down beside his own and using his right to continue focusing on your bud.

He cups your cheek with his left hand, turning you on your side as he kisses you softly, gentle moans releasing from your lips as he ever so slowly pleasures you.

You can feel him leave your clit, moving his hand upward before stopping at the band of your panties.

“This okay, baby?” he mutters in between kisses, to which you break away to softly reply, “Very okay.”

Your lips connect once more, your hand cupping his cheek as he delves beneath the restriction of your underwear. Inside his own mind, Eddie was floating. He couldn’t believe this was finally happening, and that oddly, he was exemplifying so much confidence.

He relished in the adoration of how wet you were. He doubted that it was merely the underwear that underestimated the amount, you had gotten wetter since he began pleasuring you. You were wet for him.

“Holy shit, baby,” he groans, looking down to see where his hand was buried beneath the fabric of your simple, black panties. His fingers were soaked, travelling lower until they reached your tiny, little hole.

Your face was buried into his neck, nodding frantically as you lifted your leg up higher, giving him access. He felt your head move against the side of his face, his cheek leant against it as he slowly sank one finger inside of you.

The stretch felt so fucking good. The coolness of his ring could be felt against the entrance of your pussy, the tip of his finger softly rubbing against the spongy spot at the back.

He could feel your hot breath against his neck, small whimpers escaping your lips as you simply whispered “More, please. Need more…”

He knew exactly what you meant, but didn’t want to break you. You were tiny, and he would punish himself forever if you even felt an ounce of pain caused by him.

“Don’t want to hurt you, sweetheart,” he whispers into your ear, his breath coming out in pants.

“You won’t, my love. Please… Just… I need you so bad.”

And how could he deny that begging? He was one step away from floating to heaven. And if he was being honest, he would happily die this way if it meant you moaning away in his ear.

So, without hesitation, he pulled his finger out, and entered again with two, pushing deep into your pussy.

The stretch was beautifully delicious, the burn being extremely pleasurable as he attacked that spongy spot once again.

He was being delicate, you could recognise that easily. But, that wasn’t something you wanted. What your boyfriend didn’t know is that you were kinky as hell. And the rougher he did it, the more satisfied you would be.

But, Eddie wasn’t all that innocent either. His trips to Family Video were strategically planned so that Robin was on shift, knowing that it was a lot easier (but not completely devoid of awkwardness) if he got his hardcore porn whilst she was working the front counter, rather than someone like Steve Harrington.

“Harder. Please, Eddie, please!” you sobbed into his shoulder. With how full you were, it was almost painful with his slow pace. All you wanted was for him to drive into you with force.

With your cries of frustration, the inner dominance of him struck out, him gritting his teeth and biting on your earlobe, “Yeah, you want it fuckin’ rough, sweetheart?”

“Want nothing more, baby. Please give it to me.”

And with that, he began pumping his fingers in and out of you at lightning speed. With each thrust, the palm of his hand smacked perfectly against your clit, increasing the amount of pleasure you felt.

You were able to give him hickeys on his shoulder purely by biting down whenever he hit particularly hard. Each pull of his skin lended itself with a harsh hiss from between his teeth.

“Is this what you imagined when you were reading that book, baby, huh? Thought about my fingers pumping into you like that?”

Oh god, he was a dirty talker too. You nodded frantically, almost screaming when he stopped pumping, pushing his fingers as deep as they would go and shaking them up and down. The sloshing sounds coming from your pussy made you both moan in unison.

“Holy shit,” he whispers, before continuing to blabber, “Course you did. You think about me often, don’t you, sweetheart? Think about me when you’re alone at night, filling yourself with those sweet toys you have underneath your bed.”

You honestly didn’t even know he knew about them. But, it was hot nonetheless. Knowing that he knew about the nine-inch dildo sent shivers down your spine. God, what if he even saw the strap? The bottom half of a silicone body that you practiced fucking into?

“Always think about you, Eddie. Wanna be fucked by you so bad.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, baby,” he moans into your ear, “Think about you too, you know. Never cum so much until I thought about you bouncing on my cock.”

You let out a harsh whine as you felt yourself teetering close to the edge, but Eddie says it before you, “I know you’re about to cum, baby. You gonna cum for me?”

“Gonna cum so hard for you, Eds.”

He can feel you getting tighter and tighter, struggling to move his fingers inside of you, “Then show me, baby. Let go for me.”

And with that cooing, you let out a silent scream, followed by a loud moan as your legs shook violently, tightening around Eddie’s arm, locking him in place as he slowly pumped his fingers, coaxing your orgasm out of you.

“So good for me, baby. So fucking good.”

As you came down from your high, you placed delicate kisses over the marks you had made on his shoulder, Eddie slowly pulling his fingers from you.

But, you gently lifted his hand to your mouth, taking both digits and sucking them clean, exaggeratedly moaning over them and rolling your eyes back on purpose. You felt the strain of his jeans against your thigh ages ago, you were deliberately trying to wind him up.

“Fuckin’ hell, honey. Why didn’t we do that sooner?”

You giggle, biting your lip as you breathe out, “Didn’t know you were as kinky as me.”

“That day I didn’t come into school because I was ‘sick’ was because I came four times after seeing your sex toys the night before. I couldn’t walk all day.”

“Oh my God,” you breathlessly laugh into his shoulder. “Well…” you begin to place soft kisses on his jaw, “I could make that fantasy of yours become a reality if you’d like.”

Eddie felt his dick kick against his jeans. Looks like his body was giving him an answer before he got his head straight.

“Please, baby” he practically whines, “But, don’t expect it to be as sexy as it was a second ago. I doubt I’m going to last longer than a couple minutes.”

“Don’t care,” you say, beginning to un-do his belt buckle, pushing him down onto the mattress softly, “Just need to feel you fill me up.”

Eddie moaned at your dirty words, but had to make sure of something before you started. “Birth control, right?”

“Yeah. On the pill,” you reply, capturing his lips in your own.

Thank God. He could not be dealing with a mini Munson just yet.

You slowly remove his jeans and boxers, tossing them across the room as his cock smacks against his stomach. He was delicious. Had to be around six inches long, girth about the same, curved slightly to the right. He was going to fit amazingly inside of you, you just knew it.

You positioned yourself on top of him, grabbing the base of his cock and rubbing him against your wetness, remembering that practicality was still needed, even if you just wanted to fuck yourself stupid.

You look up at him, checking he was okay, “Ready?”

He nodded, “Always for you, baby.”

And so you began, sinking down onto his beautiful cock, Eddie letting out a choked moan beneath you. If a God truly did exist, you would definitely be thanking him for creating this gorgeous specimen falling apart in front of you.

You leant down, whispering and panting in his ear, “Tell me when to move, baby.”

Eddie grabbed onto your waist, preparing himself for what’s to come, “Move, sweetheart. Jesus Christ.”

And so you did, beginning to slowly lift yourself up, before slamming back down onto his cock. Both of you let out deep groans in sync, you immediately picking your pace up, struggling to contain yourself.

The wet sounds of skin slapping against skin echoed throughout the room, combined with your whines and Eddie’s deep moans. You pressed down on his chest, using it as leverage to increase your deepness.

Not realising your eyes had been closed the entire time, you slowly opened them, seeing Eddie’s mouth in the perfect ‘O’ and his bangs sticking to his forehead, his eyes closed in delight.

“Open your eyes for me, baby. Need to see your pretty eyes.”

He opens his eyes, almost instantly looking down to where your bodies connected.

“Better than you imagined, huh?” you taunted, your dominance seeping out, “Your cock wasn’t ready for how good this would be, was it baby?”

He shakes his head, completely submitting to you, “Never, baby. Feels so fucking good. Feels like I’m fucking dreaming.”

You try to thrust as hard as you can, assuring him that he wasn’t dreaming at all. That this was all very much real. That his first time was this rough. That his girlfriend was kinky as shit.

Suddenly, you feel his cock begin to twitch inside of you. You mockingly laugh at him, “Your poor baby says otherwise, honey. Think he wants to cum. Am I right in thinking that? He wants to fill me up?”

God, something about you referring to his cock in the third person was about to send him spiralling over the edge. He could barely form words, too pussy-drunk to be able to speak. “Y-Yeah. Gonna cum.”

“I can tell, baby,” you say, leaning forward and whispering into his ear, “Cum in me, please. Really need you to fill me up.”

And with a supported groan, his warm cum splashed against your inner walls, sticking to you as he twitched and moaned.

“Good boy. Good fucking boy,” you whispered as he came down from his high, his dick becoming soft inside of you.

As you lifted yourself off of him, his cum began leaking out of you, the both of you marvelling at the sight.

“Holy shit,” Eddie sighs out happily, watching it drip into a pile just above his cock, gently caressing your hip.

“We just did that,” you giggle, grinning happily as you collapse onto Eddie’s chest, kissing him silly, smiling against his lips.

“That was… something else.”

“Better than you expected?” you ask, a sudden shyness washing over you, almost a hint of self-consciousness, afraid you took things too far.

“Never dreamed it could be that good in a million years,” he sighs. “Sorry I didn’t last long.”

She grabs his wrist, looking at the object encompassing his wrist, “Seven minutes isn’t bad at all for a first timer!”

Eddie began chuckling, “You looked at my watch before we started?”

You hide into his shoulder, “Wanted to see how well you would do.”

He places a soft kiss on your forehead and laughs, “You nerd. I love you so much.”

You smile softly, a soft blush spreading across your cheeks, “I love you too, baby.”

And with the both of you tired out from your day’s events, you fall asleep peacefully wrapped in each other’s arms, knowing that if there’s one place you’d both like to be for the rest of your lives, it would be here.

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munson-blurbs · 2 years ago

Text

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

Summary: Conflict arises with Harris's new teacher, filling Halloween with more tricks than treats. But it's nothing a visit with Ms. Sweetheart can't fix.

Warnings: allusion to Reader and Eddie's one-night stand, panic attack, Reader's grandma has dementia.

WC: 5.6k

Chapter 6/20

Scruffy!Eddie edit credit to @eddiemunsons-missingnipple Divider credit to @saradika

Guns N’ Roses t-shirt: check. Goodwill jeans with makeshift holes in the knees: check. Bandana tied snugly around his forehead: check. Arms littered with an assortment of temporary tattoos: check.

Eddie grins as he assesses his son’s costume, reaching into the thrift store bag as he pulls out the pièce de résistance: a denim jacket, only two sizes bigger than Harris would usually wear. It was a bit over what he’d been hoping to spend, but he’d reasoned with himself that it could also be worn after Halloween. It was an investment, he’d decided, not a splurge.

His smile falters when Harris indignantly stomps his foot, crossing his arms over his chest. While Eddie had hoped his son would go with more badass tattoo options, perhaps a skull and crossbones or even a snake, he had insisted on a Sesame Street theme. Cookie Monster munches on his signature treat as Harris pouts.

“No, Daddy!” he whines, twisting away when Eddie holds the jacket closer to him. “I can’t wear that!”

“C’mon, Har,” he tries, scouring his brain to come up with a convincing enough lie. “Axl Rose wore jackets all the time!”

Harris doesn’t just shake his head; he swivels his entire body back and forth in protest. “I don’t care! No one’s gonna be able to see my tattoos!” He holds out both arms in front of him; nearly every square inch (besides the section blocked by his cast) is covered. Eddie had spent most of last night diligently applying them precisely where Harris had asked, lest there be a tantrum. There was, unfortunately, a headless Elmo from when Harris had asked–no, demanded–that he try by himself. Still, Eddie figured that only one casualty was a win.

“Those are some sweet ol’ tatties,” Eddie muses, biting back a laugh at the two-dimensional Big Bird on his son’s forearm. “But wouldn’t it be cool if you wore the jacket into school and then–BAM!--took it off and surprised everyone with them?

Harris appears to consider this, mouth tucked into his cheeks. “Can I show Ms. Sweetheart?”

“Sure, bud. We’ll stop by her classroom when I pick you up.” Whatever gets us out of the house in weather-appropriate attire. “But first, show me your most metal pose.”

The boy opens his mouth wide and sticks out his tongue as far as it extends, scrunching his face dramatically until the corners of his eyes crinkle. His middle and ring fingers press into his palm, thumb crossing over them, with his forefinger and pinky raised in the quintessential rock ‘n roll symbol.

Eddie swoops down and smacks a wet kiss to Harris’s cheek. “That’s my boy!”

Standing among the crowd of parents at pick-up, Eddie opts out of making banal small talk and instead chooses to look at the bulletin board. The previous art project that had been hanging against the faded blue paper–”self-portraits” that the students had made on the first day of school–have been replaced by finger paintings of orange blobs that vaguely resemble pumpkins. There wasn’t one for Harris because he was in Ms. Sweetheart’s classroom then, so it’s his first art project in his new class. He eagerly scans the board for Harris’s, frowning when he can’t find his name.

Maybe it’s still drying, he tries to convince himself, imagining his son over-saturating the paper with globs of paint. It wouldn’t be entirely out of character.

Ms. Marion’s classroom is a sea of costumed children. A boy dressed as one of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles stands by his mom. A Cinderella, a black cat, and a Thomas the Tank Engine surround Ms. Paula. As soon as Eddie spots Harris, he smiles and waves him over, hurriedly scribbling his signature on the sign-out sheet.

He expects Harris to zoom past the other kids, fueled by the standard Halloween diet of sugar and chocolate, but he just kind of…mopes to the doorway. His shoulders slump dejectedly, and though he keeps his gaze low, Eddie can still see the film of mist staining his innocent eyes.

“Har, what’s wrong?” He waits for an answer, and when he doesn’t receive one–an oddity for his perpetually chatty son–he tries a new tactic. “Wanna show me where your artwork is? I must be gettin’ old, because I couldn’t find it on the board out there.”

“‘S not there,” Harris mumbles, scratching off a flaking piece of the Rosita tattoo on the back of his hand. “I didn’t get to finish.”

Eddie watches as the tears start to slip down his cheeks, and he brings him into the hallway before Ms. Marion or Ms. Paula sees what’s going on. He can’t be certain, but his paternal instincts tell him that they’ve contributed to Harris’s sad state. “Why not?”

“I-I t-tried, but M-Ms. Mar-Marion and Ms. P-Paula got m-mad at me.” The words come out between choked sobs. “‘C-Cuz I c-couldn’t sit d-down.”

“What do you mean?”

“I k-keeped st-standing up, ‘cuz m-my legs wanted to st-stand.” The explanation tumbles out of him so quickly, as though he’s trying to beat the clock. “And they s-said if I did-didn’t sit down, I c-couldn’t do art. But I k-keeped f-f-forgetting, and th-they t-taked away my pay-pay-paper and said, ‘sit in the c-corner!’”

Eddie’s breath hitches, and he has to clear his throat before speaking again. “Did…did that happen in Ms. Sweetheart’s class? The legs thing?”

“Mhm,” Harris manages, “b-but she let me stand and d-do ju-jumps to get the wig-wiggles out. She just t-t-telled me not to do ju-jumps with s-s-scissors, ‘cuz of s-safety.” His breathing increases to a rapid pace, face flushing red as his chest heaves. “B-But Ms. M-Marion ye-ye-yelled at me!”

Eddie’s brows pinch together, and he gently presses his calloused palms against Harris’s narrow shoulders, desperate to prevent him from hyperventilating. “Harris, you gotta calm down. I can’t understand you when you’re crying like this!” Despite his efforts, his frustration bleeds into his tone, and he winces when the latter sentence ends with an unwanted snap. “Shh, it’s okay. It’s just an art project.”

“Harris?”

The sound of your voice draws the attention of both Munsons. You let out a small oof as Harris flings himself against your legs, and though he practically flew the five foot distance between his father and you, now is not the time to remind him about using his walking feet.

“Hey, hey, what’s going on?” You crouch down, taking his hand in yours, and notice his quick, shallow breaths. “We’re gonna breathe together, okay? Eyes on me.” You demonstrate inhaling for three seconds, holding for three seconds, and exhaling for three seconds. “Now let’s do it together.”

He hesitates but ultimately follows your lead, and you guide him until his breathing slows enough for him to sputter, “I t-tried to sit, b-but I c-couldn’t.”

You haven’t the slightest idea what he’s referring to, but Eddie fills you in. You feel the heat of anger creeping through your body, not just for the way your co-worker treated the sweet boy, but for her insolent approach to teaching as a whole.

“We can go to my classroom,” you offer, silently sighing in relief when the boy nods in agreement. “I don’t know if I have the supplies to make the same project as Ms. Marion, but if you have a few minutes, you can draw something now. I bet Mr. Will would love to help you; he’s a super-duper artist.”

Just as you’d predicted, Will jumps at the opportunity to help Harris with his impromptu art project, encouraging him to draw something that makes him happy. While he does that, you comb through the mess left behind from the Halloween party you’d thrown. You’d sooner toss one hundred cupcake wrappers in the trash before attempting a conversation with Eddie Munson. He’s simply too unpredictable; kind and thoughtful one day, harsh and guarded the next.

One of the wrappers in your hand drops to the floor and you reach forward to pick it up, pinching the pleated material between your pointer and middle fingers. You can feel Eddie’s eyes on your form, the way the backs of your thighs are slightly exposed when you bend over, and you stand up quickly.

“Are you the Magic School Bus lady?” He takes in your lavender dress with planets and stars stamped all over it. Oh. He wasn’t checking you out; he was just trying to figure out who you’d dressed up as. Good. Anything else would be inappropriate.

So why does a twinge of disappointment radiate through you?

You glance at your costume; with all of the commotion, you’d forgotten you’d even been wearing one “I mean, would I even be a teacher if I didn’t jump at the chance to be Ms. Frizzle?” You motion over to Will, decked out in green from head to toe with two yellow horns glued to a headband atop his mop of brown hair. “Have you met my trusty sidekick, Liz the Lizard?”

Eddie laughs. “Yeah, Byers actually used to play in my D&D club back in high school. Made some pretty sick art pieces to liven up that dingy excuse for a room.”

You look between the two of them, trying to do the mental math. “Will, didn’t you say you’re twenty-four?” And if Eddie is thirty, that means…

“I, uh, had a little trouble graduating,” Eddie sheepishly admits, ruffling the back of his hair and offering a tight grimace. “But I got there eventually. Class of ‘86, baby!”

“Worked out for me,” Will shrugs with a grin, looking up from Harris’s drawing. “You were the best DM Hellfire ever had. Although, rumor has it that Erica Sinclair gave you a run for your money.”

Harris picks up a yellow marker, furiously scribbling a circle in the left-hand corner of his paper. You try peering over to see the whole drawing, but he presses his whole body against the table, successfully thwarting your plans. “No peeking!” he warns, not putting his feet back on the ground until you’ve averted your gaze. “‘S a surprise.”

You put your hands up in surrender. “All right, all right. I’ll be surprised.” You raise your eyebrows at Eddie, who shares a similar response in return.

“Dunno when he got so bossy,” he snorts before calling out to his son, “Har-Bear? Five more minutes. We gotta get home to trick-or-treat with Grampa Wayne.”

“Ooh, that sounds like fun!” you echo as Harris grabs a purple marker from the box. “What’s your favorite candy?”

“Hmm.” Harris uses his free hand–the one with the cast–to tap his chin, continuing to color with the other one. “M&Ms. But only the plain ones. Daddy doesn’t let me have the peanut ones ‘cause he says I could choke.”

You shoot a sly, knowing look at Eddie. “I’m sure that’s the only reason. Such a selfless father.” You cross your arms over your chest and cock your head innocently. “And what do you do with all of these confiscated peanut M&Ms, Mr. Munson? Donate them?”

Eddie tucks his lips into his mouth to mask his grin. “Listen, the jig is gonna be up at some point,” he mumbles out of the corner of his mouth, loud enough so you can hear but soft enough that Harris can’t. “Let me enjoy my free candy while it lasts.”

“No judgment here,” you say with a small laugh, “they’re one of my favorites, too.”

“TA-DA!” Harris shouts, startling you, Eddie, and Will. He holds up the construction paper and smiles widely. To anyone without kids–or who didn’t teach preschool for a living–it would look like a bunch of colorful scribbles. But you can tell that he’s drawn a group of people standing by a tree (or a really, really tall flower) underneath the sun.

“Wow, Harris! That’s amazing!” you clap your hands together to punctuate your enthusiasm. “Who are all those people?”

Harris’s pointer finger travels left to right across the paper as he names each person: “That’s me, Grampa Wayne, Daddy, you, and Mr. Will!” The stick figure that represents you has a purple scribble on it, which you realize must be the costume you’re wearing. “An’ we’re all smiling because we’re happy!” Sure enough, each person has a curved red line at the bottom of their face. But there’s something else that catches your eye.

All of the people have a small space between them, except for you and Eddie. The circle that Harris drew to represent your left hand overlaps with the circle that is Eddie’s right.

You glance at the real Eddie, and if he notices, he doesn’t give any indication. “I love it, buddy.” He takes the drawing and inspects it closely. “Yup, this one’s definitely going on the fridge when we get home.” He flicks the paper for good measure. “Go clean up the markers so we can head out, Axl Rose.”

Among the noise of markers clattering back in the bins, you lean in to Eddie, inadvertently inhaling the scent of his cigarettes and cologne. For a brief moment, you’re transported back to the night fate had led you to cross paths; the thought of his lips on your neck in the stairwell has you clenching your thighs and swallowing thickly as you murmur, “I can ask him to make a new one with just you, him, and his grandpa.”

Eddie shakes his head. “N-No. I like this one.” He lets one hand drop to his side and it grazes yours. His rings brush your knuckles, and you instinctively draw back at the sensation of the cool metal and the zing of heat that pulses at his light touch. “Sorry,” he mumbles, not making eye contact.

“S’okay.”

He blinks a few times and redirects his attention to his son. “What do you say to Mr. Will and Ms. Sweetheart for letting you do your art project?”

Harris’s little chest swells as he inhales deeply, storing up as much oxygen as he can fit in his lungs before bellowing, “THANK YOUUUUUUU!”

Eddie brings his palm to his ear canal, rotating his forefinger as though trying to repair a punctured eardrum. “Love the enthusiasm,” he says through gritted teeth. “Seriously, though. Thank you both so much.”

“Of course,” Will says warmly, picking up the marker bin and placing it in its space on the shelf.

“Anything for Harris.” You smile, motioning towards the little boy already by his father’s side. “Have fun trick-or-treating tonight, bud! I can’t wait to hear about all the yummy candy you got.”

Harris scrunches his nose in contemplation. “Are you going trick-or-treating, Ms. Sweetheart?”

“Nah,” you laugh, “I’m gonna stay home and give candy to all the kids who come by.” And pray that Grandma doesn’t curse them out, you silently add.

“Oh.” Harris pauses, grabbing his dad’s hand. “Okay, bye!”

Eddie chuckles as his son pulls him towards the door. “That’s my cue. Um, Happy Halloween,” he adds awkwardly, waving once before disappearing down the hallway.

There’s so much more that he wants to say: you’re the best; you saved the day; you should be my son’s teacher instead of that old, bitchy bat. But he didn’t have time. Maybe another day. At least, that’s what he tells himself.

Wayne arrives just a few minutes after Eddie and Harris get home. As soon as his gruff voice comes over the intercom, Harris excitedly buzzes him in. “Grampa Wayne’s here!” he yells, even though Eddie’s standing right next to him. He grabs the pillowcase from the couch; it was originally white, but after Eddie accidentally threw in a red sock with the white laundry, it’s tinted light pink.

No sooner does the older man cross the threshold into the apartment, Harris is trying to drag him out again. “Let’s go, before all the good candy is gone!” he whines. His eyebrows pinch together and he drops his grandfather’s hand. “Oh, wait, I gotta show you something.” He scampers off into the kitchen, and Wayne winces when he hears the rattle of magnets falling to the floor.

“I’m okay!” Harris calls out, running back with a piece of paper in his hand. “Look what I drawed at school today!” He gives Wayne the rundown of who’s who.

Wayne analyzes each person in the picture, stopping at the overlapping circles between you and Eddie. “This is great, Har-Bear,” he muses. “Are, um, are Daddy and Ms. Sweetheart holding hands?”

“Mhm,” Harris casually confirms, taking the drawing back. “‘Cause they’re married.”

Eddie chokes on air as Wayne does a double-take. “Congrats, Ed,” he jokes, clapping a hand to his nephew’s shoulder. “Gotta say, I thought I’d at least get an invite.”

“Shut up,” Eddie grumbles, rolling his eyes. “Harris, why do you think that Ms. Sweetheart and I are married?” He wracks his brain for answers, but he can’t come to a logical conclusion. Did I talk about her in my sleep? Oh, shit, what if it was when I had that dream—

“Because you gived her a present,” Harris says, eyes innocent and wide. “And when grown-ups love each other, they give each other presents.”

“Oh, he gave Ms. Sweetheart a present, huh?” On the surface, Wayne’s words are as innocuous as Harris’s, but Eddie hears the teasing buried just beneath.

Harris nods. “Mhm. He gived her a tape!”

“It was the Toni Braxton one that she came into the shop for…that day that, uh…” Eddie raises his eyebrows at his uncle, who nods in acknowledgment. He brings his focus back to his son. “It doesn’t mean that we’re married. People have to go on dates and fall in love before they get married.”

The young boy absorbs this information. “So you should go on dates and fall in love with Ms. Sweetheart!” His face lights up at the idea of it, and it breaks Eddie’s heart to let him down.

So, he doesn’t.

“Why don’t you hang that back up so we can get outta here and get you some candy, huh?” He forces a smile and watches his son scamper into the kitchen before turning back to Wayne and shaking his head.

Harris peels a magnet off of the fridge, the one Eddie bought him on their Daddy-Son day. It has a sea lion balancing a beach ball on its snout, with HAWKINS ZOO printed in bolded letters along the bottom.

Lowering his voice to a whisper, he speaks directly to his drawing. “When Daddy and Ms. Sweetheart fall in love and get married, I’ll finally have a mommy.” He presses his hand flat against the paper as though he’s sealing in the wish. He stays like that for a moment until his dad calls his name, and he clutches his pillow case as they head out the door.

Eddie assumes that the love and marriage talk is done for the evening, but the feeling of relief doesn’t last long. The trio of Munson men is halfway down the stairwell when Wayne starts instigating. “Hey, Har, is Ms. Sweetheart pretty?”

“WAYNE!” Eddie grits his teeth and shoots a sharp look at his uncle. The last thing he needs is for Harris to get his hopes up about a blossoming romance between his dad and his former teacher.

“Oh, yeah!” Harris gleefully agrees, oblivious to the mounting tension. He grips the railing and jumps from the second to last step onto the tiled landing below. “Super pretty! Like a princess.”

The eldest Munson turns to Eddie. “Didja hear that? Pretty like a princess.”

“I heard him,” Eddie replies tersely.

“Daddy?”

No. Don’t ask me. Harris Wayne Munson, do not ask me what I think you’re going to—

“Do you think Ms. Sweetheart is pretty?”

Although he anticipated the question, Eddie still freezes. If he disagrees, Harris will inevitably want to know why not. And if he’s being honest with himself, he can’t name a single ugly thing about you.

He does think you’re pretty. He thinks you’re beautiful. Gorgeous. Stunning. And even though he’s literally seen you naked, fully on display for him–a memory he revisits more often than he’s willing to admit–it’s the thought of what you did today that solidifies your beauty. The way you’d effortlessly calmed Harris down without Eddie even having to ask. The frown on his face almost instantly became a smile, the flow of his tears ceasing and turning into the giggles that brought sunlight into Eddie’s life. You did that.

Any woman can be sexy, but you? In that moment, you were perfect.

Fuck.

“Daddy? Hello?”

At the sound of Harris’s voice, Eddie realizes that he physically hasn’t moved from his spot on the stairs. His hand is gripping the banister so tightly that it leaves an imprint in his palm. “Yeah, buddy,” he manages through his Sahara Desert throat. “I think Ms. Sweetheart’s pretty.”

“Like a princess?” Wayne’s eyes twinkle mischievously. It’s been a long time since he’s been able to tease his nephew about a crush, and he’s not passing up this limited opportunity.

“Yeah. Like a princess.”

Education outsiders might think that Halloween is one of the worst days to be a teacher. The lethal combination of sugar and excitement barely contained in tiny costumed bodies seems like a recipe for disaster. But any teacher worth their salt will tell you that there is a day far, far worse than Halloween: November 1st.

On Halloween, there is the expectation for fun. There’s a costume parade, classroom trick-or-treating, and even a little party. The kids are out of control, but who cares? It’s Halloween.

But on November 1st, there is work to be done. And you’re expected to teach the months of the year to 10 four-year-olds who are suffering from candy hangovers and won’t stop asking why they can’t go trick-or-treating again today.

You and Will are preparing for battle as students trickle in, excited to show off the candy stashes they acquired the night before. Abby Carver cries because she ate her Reese’s cup and now she’s sad that it’s gone. Joshua Harrington is continuing to “sling webs” at the other kids despite your incessant reminders that he is no longer Spider-Man. A fight over a KitKat bar breaks out not even five minutes into the day, and you confiscate it before someone causes serious bodily harm.

Two fingers lightly tap on your shoulder—too high up to be a kid—and you whirl around with an irritated, “what?”

“Whoa,” Eddie says, concern etched into his otherwise soft features. He takes a small step back, nearly tripping over a rogue Lego that somehow made its way out of the toy area. He stumbles but catches his balance easily. “Everything okay?”

“‘S a warzone out here,” you try and joke, but you feel it fall flat. You’re too tired for humor. Grandma may not have yelled at the trick-or-treaters like you’d feared, but she did get increasingly angrier with each knock on the door. After the fifth time of her snarling at you to “shut the hell up” (like you could simultaneously be on both sides of the door), you’d relented and just put the candy bowl on the welcome mat, scribbling “TAKE ONE” on a yellow sticky note, adhering it to the plastic container.

Two decades earlier, Halloween at Grandma’s house had a completely different connotation. She’d have a little pizza party all set up for you, and she’d buy a big bag of your favorite candy, in case you didn’t get enough during your door-to-door quests. And she’d always let you watch whatever spooky movie your heart desired, regardless of your parents’ rules.

“That’s what grandmas are for,” she’d said with a wink, and the two of you curled up to watch Little Shop of Horrors. Her demeanor matched the hokey magnet on her fridge that read, If I knew how fun my grandkids would be, I would’ve had them first. You’d stay like that until you both fell asleep, only being roused by your parents arriving to pick you up. The good old days, before Grandma waking up involved watching the confusion in her eyes as she tried and failed to place you.

“C-Can I help you with something?” Your guard goes up immediately when you notice that Harris isn’t with him. The time you’d spent together after school yesterday had been nice, fun, even, but you couldn’t trust that today would be the same. Not after what happened a few short weeks ago.

“I, um…I just swung by to give you this.” He reaches into the inner pocket of his denim jacket; it’s the same one that he lent to Harris when he’d forgotten his at home. A flash of yellow paper catches your eye, and he unfurls his palm to reveal a small bag of peanut M&Ms. “You said they were one of your favorites, right?”

You look at the treat, not willing to reach out and grab it. What if it’s a joke? An elaborate ploy to reel you in, just to shout “gotcha” when you finally let your walls come down?

“Are they poisoned or something?” you quip, crossing your arms over your chest. “Did you spike them with Ex-Lax?”

Eddie’s lips part in surprise before he collects himself. “Guess I deserve that,” he mumbles. “But, no. They’re not. I swear on James Hetfield’s life.” He drags his fingernail over his heart in an X-formation.

You take the bag, inspecting it for any sign of tampering, but you come up short. The edges are sealed, and there are no pinpricks as far as your eyes can see. “Dipped into Harris’s stash for me?”

“Hey, these bad boys are technically mine for the taking until he figures out that he can eat them without dying.” Eddie chuckles lightly, peering at you through impossibly long lashes. “But, yeah, I was hoping you’d accept these as part of my apology. Or apologies, I guess. For, uh, for not calling when I said I would, and all of the awful shi—awful things I said to you.” His voice is barely above a whisper as he steps closer and says, “I am so fucking sorry.”

You make a small tear in the bag, tapping it against your palm until an M&M falls out. Popping the blue candy in your mouth, you allow the shell to start dissolving on your tongue before crunching on the peanut, hoping you can process what he’s said by the time you’re finished chewing.

This is what you’ve been waiting for—an actual heartfelt apology. His brown eyes reflect nothing but shame and remorse, and you can tell by the way that he’s fidgeting with his rings that he’s anxiously awaiting your reply.

His vulnerability softens you slightly, and considering you haven’t keeled over after ingesting the candy, you throw him a bone.

“This fun size bag covers the ‘not calling’ part, but I’m gonna need a lot more candy if you want me to forgive you for what you said at the music store.” You keep your tone light; teasing, even, but there’s a layer of truth to it. He can’t merely waltz into your classroom with a gift and expect you to forget his hurtful words.

Eddie nods, his frizzy curls brushing the tops of his denim-clas shoulders. “I know. I’ve said some pretty terrible things in my life, but that might’ve been the worst. And, um,” he fumbles his words, desperately searching for the right ones. Semantics has never been his forte. “You didn’t deserve that. It’s not true; your grandma didn’t want to forget you. And…neither do I.” When you raise your eyebrows, he starts to backtrack. “Because you’re so great with Harris; like, you understand him and stuff. He’s always talking about you.”

Daddy, do you think Ms. Sweetheart is pretty? The question replays like a song he can’t shake from his head, its melody familiar but the notes still keeping him on edge. Pretty like a princess, only instead of saving her, I’m the one who needs to be rescued. So much for Prince Charming, huh?

The M&M melts in your mouth while you formulate a response to his candid admission. Sweetness seeps into your taste buds as you try to straddle the line between careful consideration and overthinking. Speak too quickly and you might say something you’ll regret. Take too long and you’ll make this even more awkward.

“W-Well, I’m glad to hear that.” Short, simple, to the point. Your words are slightly slurred by the candy obstruction, but what else is there to say? You could add that you forgive him, but you’re truthfully not sure that you do. His words scarred, had taken your already mangled self-worth and snapped it into pieces, and so did his reasoning for hurting you. Despite the love and kindness you’d shown his son, Eddie had fully believed that you were responsible for spreading personal information that would wound him. It was exactly as Jeff had said: Eddie struck below the belt at the first sign of conflict, so determined to protect himself that he didn’t even realize that he was attacking the people on his side.

The sound of books clattering to the floor snatches your attention from him, and you whip your head to your little classroom library to see two kids standing over a pile of fallen books, guilty looks stamped on their faces. “I’ve gotta go,” you blurt out, dashing off to assess the damage. You’ve never been so grateful for your students causing mischief.

The hour hand crawls to the number two; at one point, you swore the clock was moving backwards. The chaos of the morning was only a preview of the rest of the day’s fiascos, but you and Will had navigated as best as you could.

“Jesus,” he murmurs once the kids have all been dismissed, gingerly rubbing his temples, “that was brutal. I can handle the day after Halloween; I can handle Fridays, but when they coincide? Nope, never again.” He slumps into a chair dramatically, letting his arms drape over the sides.

“Gonna have a glass of wine when you get home?” you joke, wiping Play-Doh residue from a tabletop.

Will nods. “Or a whole bottle.” His focus shifts to your desk, and he nods his chin in that direction. “I see you have something to look forward to tonight, too.”

You follow his gaze, widening your eyes when you see the object he’s referring to. A bag of peanut M&Ms–much bigger than the one you’d inhaled this morning–sits on top of your desk calendar; resting next to it is a cassette. You walk over, curiosity getting the better of you. The cassette is Guns N’ Roses’ Appetite for Destruction; you recognize the iconic cover as soon as it comes into view. It’s not your usual music choice, but you’ll listen to almost anything.

There’s a piece of paper taped to the giant yellow M&M bag, folded in equal triads. Messily scrawled across the front in black ink is Ms. Sweetheart. You gently pull the adhesive loose and open the letter, nervously running your forefinger across the irregular edge where it was obviously torn from a composition notebook.

Fun size mistake=fun size bag of candy

Family size mistake=family size bag of candy

I’m really good at fucking things up, but really bad at fixing them. I wish I could say that I didn’t mean to hurt you, but we both know that I did.

You don’t have to forgive me, but I need you to know how sorry I am.

-Eddie

P.S. Not sure if hard rock is your thing, but I saw this at work and it reminded me of the kindness you showed our favorite little Axl Rose yesterday.

“Who’s it from?” Will asks, breaking into your thoughts. “A secret admirer?” He brings his clasped hands to his cheek in mock dreaminess.

You manage a laugh as you fold the note back up and tuck it under the calendar. “If it is, he’s really bad at it, because he signed his name.” When did he even sneak in here to do this? Kind of scary that someone could walk in and you didn’t even notice.

“Aha! So it is a guy!” Will pumps his fist triumphantly, though you’re not quite sure what he thinks he’s won.

“Just Eddie Munson, thanking us for letting Harris draw here yesterday.”

It’s not a total lie, but Will sees right through it. “Uh-huh. Thanking us? So that note is also for me? Can I read it?” He starts towards your desk, outstretched hand reaching towards where you’d tried to hide it, but you playfully swat them away.

You glance at the clock and frown. “If you leave a little early, I won’t tell anyone.”

Will flips you off; over the last two months, you two had developed a sibling-esque relationship that came out more once the kids had left for the day. He grabs his backpack from the supply closet and slings it over his shoulders. “You’re lucky I’m exhausted, or I’d stick around and keep bothering you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You roll your eyes, knowing full well that he’s itching to leave regardless. “Gotta save up your energy for when Marshall visits.”

Will blushes at the mention of his long-distance boyfriend’s name. He still wasn’t out to many people, but when you’d casually mentioned the date Jess had with a girl named Robin, he’d felt comfortable opening up to you. “I can’t wait!” His grin is so wide you swear it’ll stretch right off of his face. “Thanks again; you’re the best.”

That leaves you alone with your gigantic bag of candy, a Guns N’ Roses cassette, and an apology that you have no idea what to do with.

Once again, Eddie Munson has given you more questions than answers.

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sunonyoreface · 2 years ago

Text

He Knows - Simon “Ghost” Riley Pt. 19

An: Thanks for your patience, I am so excited about this part!! SMUT WARNING, it gets spicy!

Hi there, this is a series about Simon Riley from COD. This series does not follow any of the established plots or timelines from the games. While I use the names of some characters, they are different from the ones in COD.

Summary: You’re held captive by 141 for reasons unknown.

Word count: 6100 (way too long!)

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader

Warnings: SMUT, 18+, minors dni, angst, military setting, explicit language, graphic depictions of violence, use of knives, mentions of death.

Photo credit to @ave661

Ghost towers over me, his dark shadow cast upon my cowering frame. Fearful eyes drag over the predator in front of me. How he analyzes my every move. How his black shirt clings to the thick muscle around his shoulders and arms as his chest eagerly heaves with excitement. How his gloved hands clench and release, ready to wrap themselves around me and tear me apart. This is what he was made for. This is the chase that sets him on fire, makes him feel alive.

“Now what’re you going to do?” his voice sounds like it could cut. After his initial attempt, I quickly cornered myself between the wall and the dresser. Now Ghost fills the entire walkway between the dresser and bed, leaving me with nowhere to go. Everything about his posture tells me he’s only seconds away from trying again. I spare a glance at the weapon in my hands and my grip tightens around it. “Your trapped, y/n, what’s your next move?” What the hell kind of training is this?

But I don’t get much time to think. The ambiguous soldier in front of me slowly stalks forward. There’s a vertical slit in his eyes like those of a wild cat who has just identified its next prey.

“If I wanted to kill you right now, how would you stop me?” he inches closer. My mind falters: the knife. The knife. But I can’t use it. I don’t know how. What if I end up hurting him? I feel my head start to shake, the word “no” at the tip of my tongue. He sees the fear finally catch up. “Use it, y/n,” Ghost urges me.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” the words are quiet on my lips. Tension fills my body.

“You won’t hurt me,” his words are immediate and almost cocky. The corners of his eyes crinkle from a cruel smile. Have I forgotten who he is? Don’t I know his reputation? He didn’t take his vest – his main source of protection off for no reason - I’m the furthest thing from a threat to him.

Ghost is done taking his time with me. He lunges forward with his arms outstretched. I make a last-ditch attempt at escaping by leaping toward the bed, but just as my foot touches the mattress a thick arm wraps around my waist and roughly pulls me flush against his chest. His other hand wrestles the knife from my grasp and as soon as the metal is gone from my hand, I feel the strangely familiar pressure of it against my throat.

“You’re not holding the knife properly,” he reprimands. Ghost’s chest pushes into me from behind and I can feel his arms flex as they constrict even tighter.

“Is this your idea of training me?” I bite back. Fear turns to frustration. How is it so easy for him to manhandle me like this?

“Come on, I know you can take it rough,” Ghost’s coarse voice brushes against my ear. “If you let the enemy touch you like this, you’re dead.”

“Then I guess I’m lucky it’s you,” thick sarcasm coats my tongue. I feel the hem of my shirt start to rise above my stomach as the electric heat from his body transfers through my skin. Then, just as fast as it happened, he lets go.

“Here,” he wraps my fingers around the handle in the proper position. “You’re not about to win a knife fight against a member of the task force. Your only goal is to create an opportunity to escape,” there’s a newfound seriousness to his voice. I turn around to meet his eyes. For a moment, I almost know what he’s thinking. If the Ultranationalist tries anything the next time he visits, Ghost won’t be there to protect me. I’ll be all on my own. This, and the wiretaps, are the best he can do.

“Okay,” I resign. “How?”

“You have to draw blood. Lots of it,” his lower lids squint as he gauges my reaction. How capable am I of violence? He hasn’t had the opportunity to witness that yet. If I’m being honest, neither have I. I’ve never been put in a position where I’ve had to hurt someone before. I don’t really know what I’m capable of. It’s a daunting possibility.

“Show me,” I force a nervous swallow as he closes the space between us. I feel my heart rate start to pick up.

“There are only two vulnerable spots that’ll slow him down when he’s wearing a vest,” Ghost starts to circle me. I don’t hear when he stops behind me. But I feel his large hand slowly snake around my hips, stopping on my stomach. His bicep flexes as he pulls me against his chest again. The back of my head is just level with his shoulders and I feel him bow down as the soft balaclava brushes against my hair. “His neck or his gut. Arms and legs won’t work, they’re not painful enough,” a shiver runs down my spine from his chilling words.

“They sound pretty painful,”

“Not enough. You need to do real damage,” the low vibrations of his voice against my skin makes the hair stand on the back of my neck. Ghost presses his fingers into the soft flesh between my hips and moves his hand back and forth in a straight line, tracing the vulnerable area. I can’t help the involuntary gasp that escapes my lips. “This is where you’ll aim. Drive the knife deep into his stomach and drag it across as far as you can. If he tries anything, I want you to spill his fucking intestines,” Ghost’s breathing deepens as he imagines the scene. His fingers press harder into my skin and some twisted part of me wants him to leave bruises, but not with his hands.

“Is that what you’d do?” the words are light on my tongue. Every part of my body he touches feels as though it’s about to combust.

“I will do so much fucking worse, y/n. When this is over and I get my hands on him, his own mother won’t recognize him. They’ll have to use his fucking teeth to identify him,” he growls. The pictures that flash through my mind are horrific. But some part of me likes it – knowing the extent that he is willing to go to for me.

There’s a palatable tension in the air. I can taste it: metallic and salty like iron. Like the desire for violence. Like the static before lightning strikes. I feel it radiating off him in waves that wash down between my shoulder blades. I believe every word from his mouth.

“Let’s try again,” I suggest, changing the topic.

Sweat rolls down my skin as we practise again and again for hours. Ghost lays out several different scenarios, from trapping me against the dresser to pinning me against the bed. He is relentless. But with every touch, every grab and push and shove and pull of hair, every time he presses himself against my hot skin, the desire to feel him in me grows even stronger. Sometimes I think he’s doing it on purpose. Because I know how much he likes to see his hands wrapped around my throat. And I know how he was filled with a jealous type of rage after that man had a knife pressed against the same spot. Every time Ghost’s hands pull me closer, it feels like I’m being reclaimed.

My heart pounds in my ears after so long without a break. When he pulls away after another round I finally collapse onto the floor, just for a moment, just to catch my breath. Ghost looks even taller from this spot as he watches me with his arms crossed.

“Get up,” he huffs, not nearly as out of breath as I am.

“In a moment,” even my voice sounds exhausted. My face is hot and I’m sure it’s flushed.

“I don’t want you lying on the floor,” Ghost grumbles. I feel the corner of my lips twitch at the thought that pops into my head.

“No?” I feign innocence. “How do you want me?”

“Watch your mouth y/n,” he snaps. Ghost steps around me to pace the room, but I don’t miss how he takes the opportunity to adjust his pants when he thinks I can’t see. A warm sense of pride blooms in my chest. He feels the same tension. The same desire as the night in the cabin. Maybe even stronger this time.

“I need to rest for a moment,” I lie my head on the floor while keeping eye contact with him. I can just see the edge of the black paint around his eyes, peeking out from under his mask.

“Sweetheart, you’ve got more in you than that,” there it is again. Sweetheart. I can’t even hide the effect it has on me. I have to bite my lip to stop myself from outright smiling. And it works. He has me up on my feet embarrassingly fast.

“Fine. Let’s go, I’ll win this time,” there’s fresh determination behind my words, but even I know they’re not true. I can tell he’s smirking by the way the corners of his eyes crinkle. Ghost is enjoying this way too much. But I can’t lie, so do I. He knows.

Ghost comes at me fast. I know he’s holding back and yet his power is terrifying. He grabs me by the shoulders and whips me around toward the dresser. One of his hands tries to snatch away the knife, but I hold it just out of his grasp. Then he goes for my neck again as my back presses into the hard edge of the wooden dresser. Ghost is careful about the force he uses. He knows how easy it would be to seriously hurt me right now. His hands lightly hold my throat, just enough to immobilize me, but I know if this were any other man, I’d be in serious trouble right now.

With both hands occupied I take my chance and swing the knife toward his stomach. His eyes flicker down to watch the move. He still has time to stop me, yet his hands remain where they are. I let the tip of the knife gently drag across his shirt.

“You let me win,”

“It’s not ‘letting you win,’ it’s training you to take an opportunity when you have it,” Ghost’s eyes are back on mine, his hands still wrapped around my throat. He could’ve let go almost a minute ago and yet I feel his thumb gently rubbing up and down the tender skin just below my ear. “Besides, I was thinking about something else…” he trails off, a smug smile evident in his voice.

“And what’s that?”

“Places better than the floor,” Ghost keeps eye contact with me as he says this. I feel my stomach drop and that familiar ball of desire starts to form again.

“Better than the floor for what?” I furrow my brows in feigned confusion, but when he glances down my bottom lip is already drawn between my teeth. He knows he has me. There’s electricity in the air between us. Something magnetic simultaneously pulling us together, yet preventing us from connecting. I feel his hands twitch against my throat.

A low hum stems from his chest. “We could do this all night, sweetheart,” Ghost’s eyes darken. We’re close enough that I can see his pupils dilating and my reflection staring back at me in his eyes. I wonder what he sees as he looks at me.

“Yeah?” I murmur. “But we don’t have all night, do we? So, tell me what you want Simon,” my voice is low and seductive. Two can play this game. He pulls me closer. Our foreheads are almost touching as my hands find their place on the sides of his ribcage. The knife is still wrapped between my fingers.

“You already know what I want,” his voice deepens as his volume drops to a whisper. His scent wraps around me and reels me in. The metallic musk is warm and inviting. The scent of gunpowder no longer so alarming, but simply rather a part of him. But there’s something new about him too, something sweet and spicy that I can almost taste, that makes me want to wrap my lips around him and savour every part.

“I want you to show me,”

“I want to,” he barely whispers. “I don’t want to hurt you,” his grip tightens enough that I can start to feel the effects of his hands. My cheeks are flushed and my head feels lighter than before.

“I trust you. Then and now,” I run my hands up his strong arms before tracing the tip of the knife against the mask and along the outline of his lips. Ghost takes the blade from my hand and places it on the dresser behind me. A warm sensation spreads throughout my body as his hands travel down the side of my abdomen, past my hips and thighs, before wrapping around the back of them and heaving me up onto the sturdy surface.

“Are you sure about that?” Ghost asks as he rolls the bottom of his mask up and tucks it out of the way at his nose. My lower stomach turns to static as my eyes latch onto his lips. His tongue darts out across his bottom lip. I think about how soft they’d be as they glide across my own.

Ghost rubs the outside of my thighs as he presses himself between my legs. There’s that unmistakable twinge of desire from the soft pressure. It’s like every time I look at him, the sensation grows and clouds my better judgment. This is dangerous. Everything about him is dangerous. And yet he’s so alluring. When I stare into those dark eyes it feels like someone is draping a velvet curtain around me, completely blacking out the rest of the world. The only thing left, is him.

“Yes, sir,” I don’t hide the teasing smile that crosses my lips. I know how crazy it drives him to hear those words drip from my tongue. My hands travel across his broad chest as Ghost loops his arms around my back. His lips brush against mine tantalizingly slowly. I dwell on the sensation of his warm, damp skin moulding against my own. A fuzzy feeling encases me everywhere until I feel the familiar sharpness of his teeth skirting my bottom lip, revealing what he really wants.

He’s like a dog with a taste for blood. Once Ghost took my flesh between his teeth for the first time, he knew there was no going back. I feel that same hunger now as his sharp canines move from my lips to my neck. The serrated sensation is startling as he attaches his lips to the tender patch of skin just under my ear.

“Simon,” his name escapes as a breathy gasp. My mind starts to slip, but I can’t let him mark up my neck. “Not there.”

He hums against my throat, sending pleasurable sensations through every nerve. I want him to keep going so damn bad. But he can’t.

“He’ll see,” I can barely make out the words.

“Good,” Ghost mumbles against my skin.

“That can’t happen,”

“I know sweetheart,” he croons, slipping his hands under my shirt. “But you’ve no idea how much I want him to,”

“What?” I lift my arms as he slides the shirt over my head and drops it to the floor.

“When I think of those dirty fucker’s hands on you all I see is red. I want to bash his fucking head in until his skull is dust,” Ghost presses a delicate kiss to my collarbone with those vile lips. His hands gently caress my shoulder blades and run down my back, stopping at my bra strap. “If they knew you were mine, no man would dare touch you,” my lungs freeze from his words.

“Yours?” I ask and his head rises. Ghost’s hand leaves my back to cup my face. His charcoal eyes meet my own with an indescribable intensity. They’re incredibly dark and thrilling and full of desire. And there’s nothing like them - nothing like Ghost. The feeling he stirs within me is so unique, so completely irreplicable, that no other person will ever compare.

“My asset,” he rasps. “Mine,” his thumb brushes against my lips.

“Just your asset?” I already know his answer, but I want to hear the hushed words fall from his mouth.

“So much fucking more than an asset,” Ghost presses his lips against mine. I’ve witnessed the violence he’s capable of, so to feel him handle me with such a level of tenderness is all the more significant.

“Show me,” I whisper against his mouth. I feel the sharp breath he draws in and the accompanying hunger.

Ghost’s hands return to the back of my bra and skillfully release the clasp. I let the fabric slide off my shoulders, before dropping it to the ground. It’s almost as if I can physically feel his eyes rake down my body and take in the sight before him.

Ghost hands press against my back, arching me towards him as he bends over to attach his lips to my sensitive skin. I slide a hand up the back of his neck and under his balaclava and wind my fingers through his thick hair. The heat of his wet tongue glides around my nipple and goosebumps rise across my chest. Then I feel that familiar sharpness that causes my breath to hitch and I know he’s about to leave bruises. If anyone ever sees below the hem of my shirt, they will immediately know I’ve been marked - no, branded as his.

He revisits the faded hickeys from the night at the cabin while also adding to the growing collection. The large bruises from all those weeks ago have faded from my torso and legs. So, he paints over them with his own.

As Ghost works his way lower and lower, I reach for the neckline of his long-sleeve shirt and tug it upward.

“Use your words,” his cool breath fans against my hips.

“Please?” without answering me, Ghost pulls his shirt off in one swift motion, baring himself all to me. Last time the only light I had to see was from the glow of the fire. Now, every inch of ink, every freckle, and scratch and scar littering his upper body are exposed. Not a single mark diminishes his magnificence. And while his beauty is altered from war, he is more stunning than any man I’ve crossed paths with before. The power he holds is almost beyond comprehension. Time and time again he leaves me in utter awe.

My eyes drag across the artwork painfully etched into his skin as his lips tease even lower on my hips. The throbbing between my legs intensifies with anticipation. The pictures tattooed on him are a brutal reflection of the horrors he’s witnessed and committed - of the people he’s lost. Like some part of him was afraid of forgetting and this was the only he could ensure he’d remember. My hand is cold against his warm skin as I run it up his arm.

At the same time, he reaches for the button of my pants, unhooking it with just one finger. Careful eyes glance up for permission before sliding them down my legs. Then, he quickly loops a thumb around my underwear and pulls them down immediately after. Ghost rests on his knees as his arms wrap around my thighs and pull me to the edge of the dresser.

The warmth of his lips lightly brushes over the faded bruises on my inner thighs and just when I think he’s about to add more, I feel the heat move up between my legs and press hard against my clit. The mask and black paint frame his eyes as he peers up through my legs with a half-drunken gaze.

“So fucking wet already,” his deep voice vibrates against the sensitive bundle of nerves. “Is that all for me, Sweetheart?”

“Yes sir,” the words escape as a whimper. He has me wrapped entirely around his finger. In this moment I would do anything for him. Anything just to feel him touch me, to feel him pulse inside me with as much need as I have for him.

“Atta girl,” Ghost hums and then presses his tongue against my clit in wavelike motions. The pleasure from his movements consumes me as my head is thrown back and I gasp for air. “Look at me, sweetheart. I’ll stop if you don’t look,” and when I do, every feeling intensifies even more.

Ghost traces a wet finger around my entrance before slipping it in as his tongue continues to work in circles. He gently teases another finger before adding it as well, slowly stretching me even more. Simon worries about all the ways he could hurt me; thinks of all the reasons he shouldn’t be trusted and yet I’ve never had someone take the care he does to make me feel so damn good.

The waves of pleasure coursing through my body intensify as he picks up pace.

“Simon,” I plead. “I-I’m close,” the words feel like prayers on my tongue and only one god can answer them.

My knuckles whiten as my hands desperately grip the edges of the dresser. He curls his fingers and hits that perfect spot. Tremors travel through my legs and I feel myself climbing closer and closer.

Simon presses his other hand onto my stomach and adds to the thrilling sensation even more. His starving eyes never leave mine. The vibrations of his soft groans against my very core are almost enough to send me over the edge.

The waves of pleasure grow stronger and the only things I can focus on are those reflective pools of desire. The rest of the world blurs and all that matters is him.

Simon’s fingers curl against me again and every muscle in my body tightens all at once before simultaneously releasing. Yet he doesn’t stop. Even when my legs latch around him and cage him in as I ride my high, he doesn’t stop.

My heart races and with every breath I take, the air feels cleaner, purer. My head feels lighter and a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. And as my body relaxes, Simon stands from his knees. His forearm brushes against my bare chest as his hand wraps around the back of my head and his lips press into mine. I can taste myself dripping from his mouth.

“You’re mine,” Simon murmurs against my skin. The addictive spice of his cologne fills the air. It lingers closer to the nape of his neck and mixes with the heat of his skin.

“Yours,” I confirm. As he pulls away, there’s something different about his eyes, something undeniably possessive.

Simon wraps his arms under my thighs and lifts me up with ease as my legs wrap around his back. My hands rest between his neck and shoulders. I let my gaze drop to the section of his tattoo that covers his shoulder and half his chest. There’s a collage of objects and events, a line of barbed wire seemingly wrapped around a man in a field. The sudden feeling of falling overtakes my senses and my entire body tenses as my back lands against the mattress.

His hands are still wrapped around my legs as he towers over the bed.

“Fucking hell,” Simon muses to himself. “You’re so goddamn beautiful.”

I feel that familiar pit in my stomach as he reaches for his belt. The quiet, clinking sound of metal fills the room and my heart rate starts to pick up. The tension in my lower stomach grows again as he moves to undo his pants and smoothly steps out of them.

I never thought I would enjoy allowing someone to have so much control over me. But as he stands over me and climbs onto the bed with a definitive goal in mind, I am willing to submit to whatever he wants.

The heat of his legs spreads to my sides as he straddles my waist. Simon has all the power in the world over me. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Soft hands rest against his thick thighs as he considers the expression on my face. Wild hair frames my flushed cheeks. My lips are chapped as I draw them between my teeth at the sight of him. As his eyes continue down my frame, they proudly skirt across the marks garnishing my chest, past my hips, until he finally lingers on my hands gently rubbing circles into his meaty flesh.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” Simon’s head tilts as he asks this. He grabs the tops of my hands and leads them up his thighs.

“I’ve a few ideas,” my voice cracks as I speak. I almost feel nervous again. As we reach the hem of his underwear, he slows but doesn’t stop.

“Every day,” his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “After every meeting with you, every time you grab my arm or whisper my name or look at me with those fucking eyes, this is what you do to me y/n,” he places my hands over the large bulge in his underwear.

I feel him throb under my hands as he strains against the fabric, aching to be freed.

“Every day I wrap my hand around my cock and imagine it’s yours,” Simon holds my hands in place as his hips subconsciously grind against the friction. “I think about what you felt like wrapped around me that night,” his voice is thick with desire. I feel myself gripping tighter as I long for his touch against my feverish skin. “No one’s ever done that to me before, y/n.”

“Simon,” my voice is unsteady. His eyes flicker up from our hands. “I need you.”

He leans down and cages me in with both arms, yet my hand never leaves his pulsing length. Simon’s breathing deepens as I stroke him above his boxers. He pauses, searching my eyes for something I’ll never understand. When our swollen lips meet and his tongue brushes against mine, I slip my fingers just past the band of his underwear. A low growl vibrates through his chest as my hand inches closer and finally grasps him.

“Fuck, y/n,” he groans as I pump his cock in my hand. The needy sounds escaping from his chest make me want him even more. As I trace my thumb around the head of his cock he starts to grind against my hand. “y/n.”

Simon grabs himself and slides his length along my entrance. I revel in the feeling of being trapped under him.

“Please Simon,” I whine as he teases me back and forth. The need to feel him is overwhelming. Fuck, he’s all I can think about.

“Look at me sweetheart,” Simon mumbles and as our eyes meet, I feel him push his throbbing tip in. “Does that feel good?” he whispers.

There’s a distinct tightness as he stretches me out perfectly around himself. Already I feel my walls clenching around him and he hasn’t even started thrusting. Simon slowly adds more length. He bites his bottom lip as he watches my expressions. He revels in knowing how feral he makes me.

“Oh, fuck,” the breathless words graze my lips. So damn good. Every small movement sends jolts of pleasure through my core.

Simon grabs my waist with his hands and starts to pick up speed. Each thrust feels like he’s reaching deeper within. And every time he hits that tiny bundle of nerves and I clench even tighter around him I feel like we grow even closer.

The muscles in his back flex as I wrap my legs around the vast space and pull him closer. My hands grasp his forearms cemented into the bed beside my head. My fingers and knuckles turn white from holding onto him so tight as his thrusts grow harder and harder. Fuck is he thrusting hard. Each stroke is so damn powerful that I can’t help the whines and whimpers that echo throughout the room.

As his intensity grows, so does the volume of my cries. Until a large hand wraps itself around my mouth and stifles the sounds. “Shh, can’t have anyone hear how good I make you feel,” Simon’s hot breath brushes against my ear.

His quiet grunts fill my ears as he picks up his pace even faster and he bows his head to the crook of my neck.

Every nerve in my body is overwhelmed with pleasure. His compelling scent fills my lungs. His desperate sounds reverberate through my ears. The pressure and friction of his body against mine are all too much.

I already feel another high coming.

Simon’s fiery lips latch onto my collarbones. As his head is bowed, I slip my hand behind the mask and feel his thick hair between my fingers. It's every small detail about him that drives me over the edge. His heavy breathing. How his hand presses hard against my mouth to stifle my moans. How hot his skin is against my own. Beneath my fingers, he feels so real.

Every thrust strokes that perfect spot so deep within me. I slip a hand between my legs and circle my clit. Behind my eyelids, stars explode with pleasure. I try and tell him how close I am, but the words don’t make it past his hand.

“Such a good fucking girl,” he moans into my ear. “I know you’re close,” Simon’s lips press against my ear. His sharp teeth gently tug at my lobe. Despite his hand, my moans grow even louder. He maintains a steady, powerful pace that rocks the bedframe and stirs my soul.

My hand circles around myself even faster to keep up with him. Every muscle in my body grows tenser and tenser. Inching closer and closer to a complete release.

I so badly want to close my eyes, but I know if I look away from him now, he’ll stop. I feel them well wet with tears from how fucking intense he makes me feel. The rest of his room, the base, and the world all disappear. All that matters is him. All I need is him. Simon. Fucking hell, Simon. My vision blurs and my walls tense harder than ever before.

Stars explode behind my vision as I stare into his eyes and I feel like I can reach out and touch his soul. White light blinds my vision and I feel my entire body freeze like I’ve been possessed by something otherworldly. Everything releases all at once and I ride the waves of pleasure that course through my bones. Simon replaces his hand with his swollen lips.

“You did so good sweetheart,” he rasps. But I know his mind is elsewhere right now. I sense how rock-hard he is in me. How his cock throbs with every thrust. I know he needs this as much as I did. How desperate he’s feeling right now.

“Don’t hold back, Simon,” I whisper into his ear. He pulls his head back to look me in the eyes. Being intimate with him has taught me just how much he values eye contact. This is how he connects. It’s not about sex, it’s about vulnerability. And this is a state he doesn’t let others see him in. Whether he’ll admit it or not, he trusts me.

I stroke his jaw and lock my legs around his waist as he quickens his pace. His breathing deepens and his hands tighten around my waist as he uses me as leverage to thrust even faster.

His lips part as quiet grunts and moans work their way through his chest. The soft sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room. My walls clench around him. After my second, high every part of my body is even more sensitive. Feeling him inside me is borderline painful, but watching the look in his eyes is all that matters.

Simon’s thrusts begin to falter. His chest brushes against my breasts as he leans down and brings himself closer. His hands move to cup my face as his eyes bore into my heart. One last desperate moan escapes his lips as he presses his forehead into mine. He pulls out and finishes on the duvet before collapsing directly on top of me.

“Fucking hell, y/n” he mumbles into my neck. My hands wrap around his broad back and rest there as we both catch our breath. “You’re something else.”

A comfortable silence settles over us in the moments afterward. Simon gives me a Henley to wear and slips on his pants before settling back on the bed. His hands gently wind themselves through my hair as I lean against his chest.

I expect him to pull the balaclava back down almost immediately like he did last time. But he doesn’t. Simon leaves the fabric rolled up and his jaw exposed. As he rests his head against the wall, looking up at the ceiling, I gently trace my fingers along the sharp feature and down his neck.

My mind drifts to all the possible reasons why he wears it all the time. Why none of his soldiers know what he looks like. Why even after being so vulnerable with me, he choses to keep it on. But I won’t ask. I know if I’m ever going to find out it’ll be because he feels the time is right. But I don’t think I’ll ever find out. Because I don’t think I’ll know him long enough.

The time on his watch reads 17:04. There’s just under an hour before I have to be back in my room.

The soothing motion of his hand brushing along my hair is almost enough for me to dose off. His breathing is slow and even. His heart thunders strong and healthy behind his ribcage. There’s something so sure about him. Something safe.

“Simon?”

“Hmm?”

“Will you read to me?” I think of his copy of The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn that I skimmed across the other day. About the story of a boy who escapes an abusive childhood. Who finds freedom. And I wonder if he sees himself in the story. If he feels like he escaped.

“Would you like me to?” his low voice almost sounds tired.

“I would.”

He sighs as he reaches for the old beat-up book. Simon flips the worn pages open to a dogeared spot just over halfway through. He clears his voice and then pulls me further up his chest so his arms can wrap around my waist and hold the novel at the same time.

Simon’s voice is quiet and thick and comforting as he starts at the top of the page. I don’t know what events led here, but the characters sound troubled. My entire body relaxes and wishes we could stay like this forever. The looming threat of returning to my own room hangs over my shoulders, yet I try my best to push it away. Instead, I focus on the feeling of his warm skin against my cheek. Of the strength of his heart. I allow it to lull me almost, but not quite asleep.

“I couldn’t bear to think about it; and yet, somehow, I couldn’t think about nothing else. It got darker and darker, and it was a beautiful time to give the crowd the slip; but that big husky had me by the wrist,” Simon slowly reads the pages, leaving himself time to picture the scene.

My head moves with his chest as he breathes deeply. He’s like an anchor, holding me here, keeping me safe as the storm wages on around us.

His words fade and the room gets darker and darker.

When I wake up, I recognize my quarters.

And I recognize the looming shadow. His husky hand wraps around my wrist and demands my attention.

But this time, I’m expecting him.

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