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tonycries · 11 hours ago

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Madam Kamo - C.K.

Synopsis. Bréeding kínk? Going feraI? What the hell is that? Maybe your sweet clan leader husband knows the answer…

Pairing. Choso Kamo x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, clan leader! Choso, arranged marriage, mentions of heirs, he’s a little ínsane, elders are awful, MARATHONS, he goes FÉRAL, BRÉEDING, creampíes, a lot of c��mplay, semi-public, dóm Choso, oraI (fem rec), cervíx kíssing, making it fit, bulges, cúmflations, matíng presses, dúmbification, overstím, making him CRY, p talking, spítting, HEADLOCKS, slight 5 + 1 things, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 9.3k

A/N. CLAN LEADER CHOSO CLAN LEADER CHOSO

Choso Kamo - firstborn son of the ancient Kamo clan, more of a myth than a man.

Those who attended the sprawling Kamo Estate never dared utter a word about him; and those who didn’t, well, he was all that they could talk about.

He left no evidence, he left no remorse.

Only rumors of a silent, stoic leader who could slaughter four entirely different clans before he let even a singular whisper of it spread amongst the masses. Ones of pretty mahogany eyes, and a silver bow and arrows that hit the target of your very soul - so fluid it was as if he’d forged the weapon with his own blood.

And then there were the other rumors - more gossip than anything, really. Spread throughout every nook and cranny of stuffy social functions about how the deadly Kamo clan leader had another, secretive side. A softer side.

But, of course, rumors were rumors. Choso Kamo was simply an enigma.

And…your new husband.

“Zoning out, hm?” A hot gust of breath sends shivers sprinting down your spine, and in an instant you’re snapping your eyes to latch onto deep, hazel ones. Choso’s. The edge of his plump lips curl slightly upwards, “My apologies, this wedding reception is quite droning, isn’t it?”

Hastily breathing, “N-no! Of course not, I…” You’re wincing when yet another wizened elder saunters up to the raised platform of your table. Probably the hundredth of the night. “-yeah, maybe a bit.”

Choso stifles out a rumbling bout of chuckles as he catches your gaze, so close now that his pearly white teeth almost nick your sensitive earlobe. “Let me take care of this, my wife.”

And when Choso shifts over to nod curtly at your oncoming guest, you couldn’t help but appreciate how beautiful he is. All tall, towering lines of lean muscle, his silken black yukata wafting of heady cologne, and delicate features that made him have almost as many admirers as he did foes.

Or, at least, delicate features that were currently twisted into something hardened. Something exactly like clan leader Kamo of all the stories.

He’s tilting his head up, long lashes narrowed, “Elder Tanaka, a pleasure.”

“No no! The pleasure’s all mine.” The older man slurs drunkenly, and despite the way his words were just dripping with saccharine sweet politeness, years of suffering through these exact interactions had made it easy for you to spot faux niceties. Like right now. “Or should I say- the new madam’s. You must be glad to marry into a clan as esteemed as the Kamo’s.”

The plastic smile that smears all over your face is painful, and you’re biting your tongue before it betrays you. “Yes, of c-”

“My apologies for cutting in, madam.” You’re startling - but you don’t know whether it’s because of the softened fingerpads that intertwine around yours, or the utter fire curdling in Choso’s eyes. “But I must say, I am the lucky one here.”

Oh.

Elder Tanaka is more impressive than you thought - his mask of respect barely even cracks, other than the jerky twitch of one eye. Honestly, you don’t think he’s ever heard Choso speak this much ever before. Quickly gathering his bearings, “Ah- ah, of course, master Kamo! Correct as always!”

Fuck- you can’t hold back the way you roll your eyes, only remembering yourself when Choso’s engulfing hands loosen from your own to give your thigh a warm squeeze.

“You have wedded quite the catch, of course of course.” Your unwelcome company finally, finally looks at you properly. A sneer coating his slow blinking, “I-I simply meant that considering the master’s incredible power, wealth, and options, what she brings to the table-”

“-is herself.” Choso finishes off monotonically. “And that’s all I need.”

Choso’s words were husky, his grip on you tight. And you wonder if he even realized just how hard he was clutching onto your heated skin - mountains of his palm dragging a smooth up n’ down your clothed leg.

You knew he was well-hidden underneath the lacy tablecloth, you knew that not a single elder, family member, or friend bustling about your wedding reception could see that particular touch over the dim yolky lighting.

But something about it just made you feel hot.

It takes you a few fuzzy seconds to realize that Elder Tanaka was still speaking - in fact, he’d even summoned over a few more members of the council to encircle your decadent table. All the more voices speaking at you rather than to you.

“-that’s what I was saying-” You’re catching croaked-out snatches of conversation, warily eyeing the way the men clap each other supportively on their backs.“-it’s about the right time don’t you think?”

Another one nods, “Jin has been waiting for so long, after all-”

“-yes yes, to have an heir-”

Oh.

That’s what had Choso’s high cheekbones currently dusted with a faintly blossoming rose pink. That’s what had his thickened digits dipping past your luxurious evening yukata to rover between your thighs higher, and higher- like he didn’t even realize what he was doing.

Like he was yearning for it.

“The Kamo clan shall have an heir.” You’re interrupting their ramblings, the mere sound of your voice enough to make Choso’s fingertips twitch. Smooth skin prickling with heaps of goosebumps already when you lock eyes right with his. “As soon as my husband is ready, right?”

And Choso Kamo was brought up with the most rigorous of training, raised to never show even the barest flicker of emotion - especially one where he’s caught off guard.

But right now he knows that he looks as stunned as he feels.

Coral pink maw falling into a soft oh! dark whirlpools of his eyes glinting with something so utterly raw. The trembling tips of his fingers lurch up just the barest inch to drag a lazy line down your pussymound.

He’s instantaneously shifting his free hand up in one, fluid motion to cover the feverishly flushed half of his face. Jaw clenching with a sharp click! of his teeth when he swipes the fat pad of his thumb down a fresh bead of your leaking slick, making such a flimsy mess of your drenched panties. Was this all for him?

Because now Choso’s getting…greedy.

And you’re almost letting off a slight whimper when he hastily drags his scouring hand away - that is, before every and any sound dies in your throat once your husband dips his wetted thumb past his lips and sucks.

Subtly.

And his voice cracks oh-so-pathetically, “R-right.”

Eyes staring deeply into yours when he parts his doughy fingertips mere millimeters to lather it with a fat wad of saliva. Your breath hitches in your chest, frantically glancing at the babbling group of men who were, thankfully, way too absorbed in themselves to notice your little…tryst.

And it’s only with all his years as a seasoned fighter that Choso’s nuzzling his soaked digits back between your jittery thighs. In a flash.

Planting exactly three soppy smack! smack! smacks! plapped onto the perfect arch of your drooling pussy. Choso’s raising his neat brows at just how those tremors make you squirm in your seat.

“Ch-Cho—so-” You’re gasping under your breath, hips repeatedly shuffling on your cushiony chair when he licks up repeated, sultry circles- no, wait, hearts along the slippery slit of your covered cunt. Up and down. “Th-they might see…”

“Shhh, don’t want them to hear, baby.” He’s leaning in to pant out a murked cloud against your ear, throat bobbing with a ravenous swallow of saliva as he then probes a few stuffy fingers under your panties. “You seem stressed– Let me take care of it.”

Oh, it was a promise - and the rasping growl that bled into Choso’s tone told you that he was well and fully intent on accomplishing his little task. “Spread those pretty legs now.”

With a steady, muscular calf hooked with your own, he’s cracking your thighs evermore parted. The scorching hot press of his big, beefy forearm over your shoulders making you feel as if you’re on the verge of melting. Practically on his lap now-

“Is everything alright, master–?” You’re hearing from what sounds like somewhere over in the distance, even though you already know that it’s from right in front of you.

“Everything is quite alright.” Choso’s plush pecs vibrate with his rapid answer, and you’re finding yourself leaning your weight onto his. Huffing and puffing near the crook of his neck, “It seems the madam is just feeling a little ah…tired, right now. Continue your talk, elders.”

Tired - you couldn’t feel more riled up if you even tried.

“Ngh- Choso-” You’re sinking your teeth into your wobbly lower lip, hard enough to draw blood. High, carved chair singing off a slight creak! when you’re bucking your hips up to jostle his gluttonous fingers closer to where you wanted him the most. “-need you.”

Well, whatever his wife wanted - you got.

In simple nanoseconds, Choso’s snugly prying away your gauzy lace. Letting the too-thin fabric snap back against your sappy cunt with a teasing little swat!

Before you can blink, he’s gracing your panties with microscopic tears at just how eager he was to give your plump, buttony clit a good, hard push. Cold golden wedding ring perking up against your most tender spots. Flexible wrists bending towards an even vulgarly deep angle to keep you from escaping-

And you think you could scream, you think you could open your mouth to make a scene - before Choso beats you to it. Purring out an oblivious, “Is everything alright, my wife? You seem a little feverish.”

All the while slipping n’ sliding his fingerpads to smear your gluey pussylips open. Mazing down, down, down in a lecherous little pace to plug up your geysering entrance snugly full with two of his fattened digits.

You’re clutching helplessly onto Choso’s thick yukata sleeve when the elders stare over at you curiously, “I-I’m fine, Ch- my husband. Just a few post-wedding jitters.”

“Awww, that’s alright.” He’s cooing from above you, words sugarcoated with such gentleness - but his hands were anything but. “M’here, m’here.” Setting out a vicious, ceaseless pace that has his manly fingers outlining numerous circles round n’ round your tight, flooding entrance. Motioning in slight, sleazy swirls all around your elastic hole just to fit inside properly. “Your dear Choso’s here, y’know? And I’ll take such good care of you.”

“Ah! Of course-” Ring out the replies, evidently your hurried-out shudders were not enough for your guests to lose interest. Or for Choso, either - because he’s just feeding your slobbering orifice with more fat inches upon grinding inches. “-producing an heir is a very integral part of the marriage contract. It’s understandable to be nervous.”

Shivering, “S-sure.”

“Mhm—” Choso’s trawling his pouted mouth down your perspiration-simmered temple, “-a very integral part. But, of course, we’ve got to make sure that my beloved wife is-” Quirking the very edge of his digits to clash right into the target of your g-spot. “-ready, after all.”

The clingy embrace of your warm cunt so cozy that it’s bumping Choso’s metallic ring further and further from his hilled knuckles to dredge out a chilling, languid massage along your channel.

It takes everything in you to manage up a half-heartedly narrowed glare up at your chatting husband, easily conversing his way through every battering ram being placed on your pretty pussy.

He doesn’t make a sign - he doesn’t even make a noise. Nothing except for a sharp, sudden inhale once another innocent peck at your lips makes your filthy hole fountain out a fresh lather of sickly sweet juices.

Dripping all the way down to his wrist with thickly viscous adhesive, he’s making such a fucking mess. And a loud one, too.

Slurp after slurp being wrenched out with every pound of his neatly cut nails patterning out little indents onto your most favorite spots - ones that have your legs shaking underneath the humid table. Choso’s bouncing his knee to drum out a staccato against the floor, just to cover up your cute little melody.

He has you going insane.

You’re pushing apart your legs to dig into either side of your chair with just how desperate you were for him. For more more more.

Bumping your thigh against one of his, and the mere touch is enough to send shockwaves down Choso’s sloped body.

“Trying to tease me, baby?” He’s hovering over you even closer, darting out a hefty thud! of two fingertips- no, three - when did he even bully in another one - onto the goopy roof of your cunt.

“M’not-” You’re biting out, head lolling ever-so-slightly backwards when Choso furrows his brows and pumps out copious thrusts that hit your forbidden g-spot dead on. Engulfed so deeply inside your hot core that the gentle curves of his palm smudge against your clit now. “J-just keep- talking.”

And, truly, it wasn’t just because your company was peering over the two of you expectantly - it was because Choso sounded so very hot.

Vibrato husky with an animalistic sort of need, tremoring ever-so-slightly-

“Agreed, I would like a few sons and daughters.” Choso’s nodding along smoothly, although his full attention is focused on you. His wife. And the way your sweltering hot gummy walls clench around his bludgeoning fingers even tighter at the words. Faster. “Maybe three. Maybe five. Although, it’s up to the madam.”

In the corner of your eye, you’re catching them all staring at you, and you urgently force out a nod.

“C’mon now, answer them using your words like a big girl, why don’t you–?” He’s humming, tilting your burning face up. Faster. So that you can’t hide.

Lilting shrill just as unbalanced as your head was, “Y-yes-”

But of course, that wasn’t enough - that would never be enough. “Louder. They can’t hear you over the music, baby.”

Can’t do anything but claw down drawings of red, red lines all across Choso’s milky arms when he bustles into the targets of your honeyed spots even harder. Unsteady syllables spilling out from your lip before you can even register them, “Yes- yes. As…many as possible.”

“That’s it- good girl.”

Fuck.

And those raked scratches make perfect artwork for him to admire - just as he was admiring you right now.

It was just such a shame that the others here were, too, even if they didn’t know the complete and utter sin happening just underneath the table cloth. Sloppier.

Choso’s kissing his teeth, broad deltoids of his shoulder positioning to hide you away from any sleazy gazes. Because they could be near, but they couldn’t see. You were his.

“Then, it’s settled-” He’s drawling, hooded eyes locked onto you. Memorizing your every minute twitch and reaction when he urges his free hand to hold onto yours on your lap. Or, at least, that’s what it looked like to the outside. In fact, Choso’s snugly prying apart your silken robes to roll over your throbbing clit and pinch. “-we can look forward to an heir, soon. Right, madam?”

And that’s all it takes for you to cum.

Your head tucking into his sculptured shoulder, thighs closing with a dull clap! as your high crashes into you headfirst. You don’t need to mutter a single sentence for Choso to know.

For his eyes to widen just a fraction at the way your treacly slit only got infinitely dewier, rounded gumdrops of your slick sprinkling down in a weepy sheen all over his messy hands. Mouth going parched at the realization that you’re orgasming right here, right now.

“O-oh? Seems my wife agrees.” Choso’s waving those elders away now, not taking his eyes off of you for a single second. It was just too adorable how you were shaking like a leaf at his side, “Well, m’glad. So- so…glad.”

Motioning your hips in such salacious semi-circles to bump up his upright fingers against your every extra sweet orifice.

Your sticky walls were so staggeringly tightly wrapped around him that it’s making his forehead bead with sweat, low puffs of air escaping with every peak he fucks you through. Every peak of white-hot pleasure that he draaags out until your guests are finally - finally - walking back to their own tables.

“Sh-shit-” you’re mewling when Choso barely hesitates - barely even takes a quick sweep around the room to check who might be looking - before parting from your sappy cunt with a resounding squelch!

Immediately popping those viscously-glazed fingerpads into his starved mouth, he’s letting his glassy eyes sprint to the back of his head. Musing out a moan, “Fuck- fuck!”

You can only watch with an awed gape whilst Choso stares right into your heart-shaped pupils as he cleans himself off. One by one. Before trekking his lustrous fingers back over to your cunt, and measuring out a wide few inches - perhaps nine - from the base of your teary entrance up to your tummy.

“Choso…” you’re whispering, hazy eyes blinking up at him as if through molasses. “Wha’s that for?”

And Choso only grins, stray range of knuckles thoroughly bitten underneath his gleaming canines while he measures you up.

As if he was holding back. Keeping himself sane. And the half-lided greed in Choso’s eyes told you that he’d fuck you all proper right here and right now if he could. “N-nothing- just making sure of somethin’, my wife. Making sure that you can take me.”

Oh.

This was far from over. You were fucked.

And you were completely and utterly sure of it even if the topic of an…heir didn’t come up for the next few days after that.

Not that you didn’t think about it, though - it was hard not to, when your fatally notorious husband showed such a tender side of himself with his younger brothers.

With you.

And soon enough even through all the bustling meetings and duties of a madam, you’re still figuring out a way to tell Choso that you really weren’t kidding about what you said during that wedding reception.

Sure, you were drunk on his fingers but - that wasn’t just all, was it?

But you’d sorely underestimated just how busy a clan leader could get. And before you knew it, putting off the conversation for the morning after your wedding night had turned into putting it off for the weekend.

Then putting it off for next week. Two weeks.

All the way until you’re trudging along the winding corridors of the Kamo Estate during the most unholy hours of the night. Grumbling groggily to yourself about how you’d finally told him and it had ended supremely well - in a dream, that is.

Choso had been absent for almost the entire day today, attending an important land negotiation with a far-off clan, according to Jin.

Now, you knew just how powerful your husband was - it was impossible to escape the legends and rumors, in fact - and you trusted him. Still, you couldn’t help but toss and turn the entire night away in your coldly empty bed as you wondered just how safe he would get home.

You’d been to such veiled conferences before, after all.

And it’s simply pure worry that has you dragging yourself out of your king-sized bed to shuffle into the barely-lit kitchen. Stifling half-blindly in the moonlight through cabinets and coolers to find ah! Exactly what you’ve been looking for.

Thank goodness this place was empty right now, you didn’t know if you could handle it if the chef was here to lecture you about balanced diets when you’re bites deep into your sugary, shaved icing.

And it’s exactly with this thought in mind that you hear a loud thud! emanating from the far end of the hallway. Your eyes widen, ears searching for more-

Footsteps.

At this time? Your fingers itch towards the sparkling display of knives tucked in one corner of the granite counter. Ready to aim for that tall approaching shadow, ready to fling just as Choso had taught you when-

“Baby?”

“Oh–” Your breath comes out in a heavy gust of relief, eyes unable to tear away from the shaded outline of your husband, taking up every inch of the doorway. “It’s just you, Cho.”

It was. But there was something about Choso that seemed…different. Off.

But not in a bad way - your eyes rover appreciatively over the tautly flexed muscles of his upper half, peeking out almost-blasphemously where he’d shrugged the upper half of his deep purple yukata off.

Glinting bow and arrow stained with crimson, held in one tightly-gripped hand. Your nose wrinkles at the slight, dangerous scent of something metallic. Something not his.

Yet, you can’t help but ogle the slow path of dewdropped sweat trailing down between the curvaceous bulge of his heaving pecs, bumping up and down over his washboard abs, before disappearing below-

It’s like you’re being bolted with an instant flash of lightning as soon as this happens, snapping your eyes over to find Choso’s weighty ones. And oh- the moment you do it’s like something in him melts.

THUD!

You’re jumping when his weapons hit the floor - uncaring of whether this might alert anyone else in the household, uncaring of anything other than crossing the sizzling distance between the two of you in three urgent strides.

You don’t even have the time to process it before Choso halts right before you and falls to his knees. Dark lashes fluttering up at you, he echoes, “Baby.”

Like a broken little mantra.

“Ch-Choso- baby-” It’s just about the only thing you can manage out through hollowed gasps when he’s immediately digging two hands on either side of your hips to easily and pliably seat you on the icy counter. Just where he wanted. “-what’s gotten into you?”

“Dunno.” He’s garbling out, and you’re letting your boneless legs tumble further and further open to let him bury his face right at his favorite place - into your fluttering cunt. “Was jus’ thinking about you alllll day.”

And you could tell.

Because Choso’s every movement was depraved. Jerky. His sensory fingertips trembling when they card underneath your cottony sleep garments, bringing it up to his canines to rip–!

All with his mouth.

“Fuh-fuck-” You’re squealing at the sudden hit of cold air - followed very closely by a scorching hot breeze overtaking every inch of your cunt when Choso leans in and sniffs. Long, hard. Curdling out a feral keen at the back of his throat, “-that’s so filthy, baby.”

“Nothing’s filthy for me if s’you, madam.” At the glint of something slobbering and sharp, you can tell that he’s grinning. “If s’you or…her.”

He was enamored with your ready core, curving a gentle thumb down the glossy edges to give your driveling hole a good trickle of spittle.

And Choso Kamo knew he had perfect aim - he knew he didn’t have to make a mess.

But oh, he couldn’t keep himself from tilting his head just degrees to the side to let the splatters leave dripping wet splotches down your saturated folds, your inner thighs.

Tongue so long, lolling out drunkenly to smear away that filthy excess. He’s poking heated ounces again and again back into your soppy entrance. You were practically flooding torrents of sweet, sweet juices around him, already making a mess that lacquers his dimpled chin.

You were always so sweet - so good for him. And he can feel his ears pop already with the greedy anticipation of what he was craving to do.

“Think you missed me, too.” He’s snickering, teeth sinking down onto the fleshy nub of your clit. It’s enough to make you want to sob. “Didn’t ya?”

Gyrating your hips in such hypnotizing little swivels off of the smooth counter, you’re feeling his candied breaths hit your gummy walls even deeper. Sloppier. Whimpering out, “Yes- yes. Missed you so badly, Cho–”

“Oh yeah?” He’s tensing up the dexterous edge of his tongue to swipe up unhurried skids of his roughened tastebuds around and around your quivering entrance. In and out. Syrupy slick leaking in heaps right as he does, Choso tilts his head back to let those gooey masses slide down his throat. “Mmm— you’re wetter than usual, baby. How badly do you want the ngh- clan leader on his knees for you, hm?”

It was true - and Choso can feel something coiling and coiling heatedly at the base of his stomach at the idea of giving you perhaps…a kid…or two to make sure you’re not so lonely anymore.

Ah, he was pussydrunk.

“So- too badly.” You don’t think you’d ever be babbling away like this if Choso wasn’t making out with your needy cunt like that.

You’re tangling your fingers hastily into his dark, silken locks - gripping desperately onto his sweat-dampened scalp as you use up all your strength and push. All the way until the very tip of Choso’s button nose was meeting your pulsing clit in a harsh smooch, his chin smacking the teary ends of your cunt.

Words tremoring against the very outer ring of your puffy pussy, silvery strings of saliva n’ sap break off when Choso mutters, “Was talkin’ to her, y’know?”

Fuck.

And you think you would be huffing and puffing about how he was talking with your dousingly wet cunt instead of you.

That is, if you weren’t talking back to him from between your legs.

Because the only thing louder than the slack-jawed ah! ah! ah! leaving your lips with every repeated thrust of Choso’s tongue, was the sound of your soppy squelches. “Ohhh- so that’s how your day was? Tell me more…”

So loud - so embarrassing that you can feel your heart race.

And Choso’s was, too, but for a much more lecherous reason as his tongue clashes even harder to draw out those very same pretty noises from you. He was craning his ears closer - he was addicted.

“Yeah- yeah, tha’s right.” Choso’s groaning, eyes faltering droopily until they were almost shut at the way his husking growls only make you wetter. Well, he could help with that. Hitting your hot core with wad after weighty wad of even more sugary spit. “Thaaaat’s fuckin’ right, missed how mouthy you hah- are. My talkative girl.”

“Cho- ngh!” You’re biting down on your tongue to hold back your words when Choso raises up a hand to leave a solid spank right on your bloated pussymound.

He’s nodding along, head lurching intoxicatedly ever closer and closer. Wiping away a glistening streak of slick painted over his blushing cheeks - his blushing cheeks. “That’s right- would’ve made a- haaaah- a whole lotta b-better points than that stupid council does.”

Before pecking a lingering French kiss on your throbbing clit like a lover would.

And you count one, two, three- partway through four before Choso seems to remember that he’s still in the middle of his conversation with your cute cunt. It’s rude to leave her hanging, he’s pondering.

“Well-” Stringing himself away with such a pained grunt, cerise lower lip plumping out in a pout at the mere thought of being away from you. “-better points than that stupid council d-did. They won’t be making aaaaany comments ‘bout you anymore, madam.”

Your leaden eyelids struggle to flitter open, “Wh-what do you ngh- mean, baby?”

But the only response you get is a quick staccato of swats at your leaky slit, before Choso’s curling in a thick thumb past your watering lips and in to your slicked entrance. Followed by the delicious drag of his lengthy tongue doubly slipping back inside.

Thrust after thrust.

So extensive that he was skimming across all your ridges, mapping out every sweet spot of yours on his mouth. Your adhesive walls were clinging onto him like a vice, sappy mushes making him pry apart your thighs even more through furrowed brows.

“Jus’- just means-” He can’t even bear to speak. To break off from stretching you staggeringly open. Your legs wrap mindlessly around Choso’s ravenous head, “-means I don’t let anyone- hah- say anythin’ about my wife.”

Without a second thought, your eyes find his splayed-out arrows on the floor. The way they were sullied with red…

Oh.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to do anything other than let your head jerk backwards, muffing out slight whimpers when he alternates in such sloppy measures between swirling the fattened expanse of his tongue all over every possible spot of your gummy walls and sucking on your clit like his favorite candy.

“They won’t say- do- anythin’—” In so deep now that all you could make out were numerous wet gurgles. And the pure, unadulterated love in Choso’s tone when he twists his thumb to graze right against your bruised and battered g-spot. Hard. “Not when I love her so much.”

He’s gonna raise your kids to love you just as damn much.

And when you cum, you think you might be sobbing - you’re shaking.

Flurries of stars bursting behind your eyes as you dig your fingers through your husband’s perspired strands. Keening out, “Fuck- m’cumming- m’cumming–”

“I know I know.” He smirks hotly against your puffy pussy lips, so close that you could feel the cratered dimple of his grin. “Yer cute cunt told me, baby– heh- wouldn’t mind being welcomed ah- home by my wife like this every day.”

He lets himself be manhandled, pulled and pushed to your every whim. One of the strongest clan leaders whimpering - whimpering - when you pull just a bit too hard to mash his cushiony mouth in a deeper kiss.

Hot. Sappy.

You’re still shaking with sparking bouts of heat that rush down and up your spine, legs twitching when Choso pulls away with a loudly kissed mwah! Overly exaggerated just to see that shy, fucked-out expression on your face.

He was so unfairly pretty like this - a delicate red blush burning all over his face, eyes half-lidded like he was feverish. A shimmery spray of your juiced slick drips down his chin, his bruised lips, all the way up to his regal cheekbones.

He made a mess. And he was wearing it like a badge of honor.

Rising up, up, up to shutter your ajar jaw and plant a drenching kiss. Choso always left your mind so melty and stupid no matter what he did.

“Do you…do you want some hngh- sh-shaved ice?” You’re babbling with your cottony tongue, unsure of what exactly to say after something as intense as…that.

“Nah-” One kiss. Another Two. Five. “-I jus’ had something a whooole lot sweeter, madam.”

Right now it was so quiet in your kitchen. Just you, Choso, and the gleaming moonlight illuminating his pussydrunken enchantment. Even more so than usual.

You’re glissading your arms around his sweat-matted neck, reeling him in even closer. He smells so good, piney cologne searing your senses even despite that tint of iron. Nervously musing, “Hmmm, wonder if s’always gonna be like hah- this whenever I get…cravings.”

Well- it wasn’t exactly what you wanted to say, but, better than nothing.

“Cravings, huh?” Choso’s eyes twinkle - and you’re not sure if that’s a result of the muted lighting or because of what you just said. Hopefully the latter.

“Well- well just saying I wouldn’t mind if-”

Cutting yourself off, you’re sure it’s the latter when he rests a massive palm, warm against your tummy. Just for a split-second before tucking his big, strong arms underneath your body and propping you in an easy princess carry. “If you have cravings then I’d be the one cooking for ya, my wife. 24/7, at your feet.”

Yeah, you were fucked.

But you never really realized just how much - just how badly - until just a few days later; seated on the polished hardwood floor of the famed Kamo archery dojo.

It was routine for your husband to practice his pinpoint precise shooting, and by now it was your routine to watch him.

How could you not? Because it was such a heavenly sight.

Choso’s pristine, white yukata unravelled at one muscular shoulder; showing off the rippling curves and dips of his sculptured back. Strong. His honed eyes filmed with a focus he only ever gets in bed. Adonis-like biceps bulging in a lecherous little flex when he draws the string back, back, back and lets go-

“YES!” Yuji’s resounding cheer thunders across the vast chamber with way too much volume than a six-year-old should possibly have. “Let’s goooo- big bwother hit the target again.”

A simpering smile stretches across your lips as soon as he turns to you for reassurance, gesturing out a slow nod at the way Choso keeps piercing bullseye after bullseye. “He did, your brother is very talented, Yuji.”

Humming, “When I grow up m’gonna be just like him.”

“Of course.” You’re chuckling at his enthusiasm - the youngest of your husband’s brother’s always did have a special spot in your heart. And you can’t help but wonder when - if - you had an heir with Choso, whether they would be much the same. “You are his brother, after all.”

You’re frantically hovering your hands behind him once he bustles to a haphazard stand. Stumbling only a few times as he races over to the neat line of inventory, “Then- I’ll be just like him now.”

“Be careful!”

Ah, he really was a handful - which meant, you really didn’t expect it to go over perfectly smoothly. You’d known that simply wouldn’t have been possible as soon as you met Itadori Yuji.

Yet, you didn’t expect everything to go so wrong in just a mere matter of seconds.

Before you can even blink, Yuji’d tottered his way over to one particularly large, wooden bow - one used only by Ryomen Sukuna whenever he visited. Puffing out his chest as he reeled out the massively heavy weapon - overly heavy, way too much for even the most determined child-

CRASH!

“Yuji!” You don’t know who yelps louder - you, or Choso. But with your proximity, you’re the one that reaches him first, cradling the sniffling boy in your arms.

You jostle away the weighty bow - honestly, how he even managed to lift this in the first place you have no idea.

“Awww, don’t cry don’t cry–” You’re cooing, distantly registering the worried pants of his older brother skidding to a stop beside you. He always did have him curled around his little finger. Pushing away the pinkish curls from his forehead, “-you’re alright. See? You’re alright.”

“Are you hurt? Are you dizzy? Are you feeling nauseous-”

“Choso.” You warn, catching the way Yuji’s eyes widen in panic.

Taking a few deeply necessary breaths to calm down. “You- don’t do that-” Choso’s hissing, but you could practically feel the worry seeping into his tone. Thumbing slow circles on his aching shoulders, “-ask me for a bow instead.”

You have to bite back a grin - with the watery glaze taking over his eyes, you wondered who was really hurt - Yuji or Choso himself.

“M’sorry big bwother.” Blubbering through big, pearly tears that dry salty streaks down his chubby cheeks. He’s batting those lashes in a way you’re sure gets him out of any sort of trouble. Ever. The full, merciless force of it hits your poor heart as Yuji turns to you. “Sorry, mama.”

Mama.

You freeze. Choso freezes.

Hell, even the twittering birds outside freeze mid-song.

It seems like everyone in the entire world freezes except for an oblivious Yuji who only continues inching his tiny hands closer towards that guilty bow. Clearly not having learned his lesson - but you didn’t even register that right now.

You’re staring at Choso, only to find that he’s staring right back. Droopy eyes uncharacteristically wide, blinking rapidly - it didn’t even look like he was breathing right now.

Maw parting and closing stupidly agape, and you’re almost tempted to reach out and check whether he’s doing okay - before he finally finds his voice again. Finally. Husking out a choked-out, “W-well- maybe we should- ah- should-” He’s turning towards his contrastingly okay younger brother, “Yuji?”

“Big bwother!” Comes the, unfortunately, helpless answer.

And something in his beaming expression seems to jolt Choso out of his reverie, something that makes him let out a tight nod. Scooping up the giggling boy over his shoulder, he calls out at you, “Wait here.”

As Choso walks out of the doorway, you could only watch.

Only sit there for what could be four seconds - or maybe even four hundred years - until he’d presumably dropped off Yuji at the safety of Jin. Taking steady, focused strides back to you that thud! thud! thud! right along to the beat of your racing heart.

Choso’s expression is blank - pale as if he’s seen a fucking ghost. And he doesn’t even look at you, can’t even bear to once he walks back to the thickened air of the dojo. Now pointedly alone.

Very, very alone.

Wordlessly, he picks up his famed bow. And you swear that you can see his practiced hands tremble. Something was happening.

It’s like an artwork that you can’t look away from. The fluid motion of aligning a singular arrow to aim for his final, rounded target. Doughy pads of his fingers pinching the string back, back, back until it snaps!

And misses. For the first time in years.

“Fuck.”

You barely have the time to compute - to even suck in a gasp of surprise before your husband comes and crashes into you. It’s as if he was magnetized and couldn’t get away even if he wanted to.

It’s a frenzy of white billowing sleeves and powerful arms, throwing you over Choso’s shoulder in only two seconds flat - much the same way that he’d done with Yuji moments prior.

Except more…urgent.

“Choso- Cho!” You’re squealing, as he lurches into hurried treads away. Legs kicking weakly in the air, only for your stubborn self to be granted with an unapologetic spank! right on the mound of your ass. Your nose crinkles as his long, inky locks tickle your face, “What is-”

“Be quiet.” Choso’s rasping, so small that it could not have been more than a whisper. So close that you’re drinking in heady wafts of his masculine cologne.

Something in his snarling tone makes your stomach tighten. Digits grappling precariously onto the toned curves of his shoulders, your fingertips slide down the sweltering expanse of his exposed skin.

And only too late do you recognize the familiar pathway towards your shared bed chamber- oh.

So that was what it was.

And judging by the dark, primal look swimming in the clan leader’s eyes you could only hope that you made it out alive-

SLAM!

You don’t know what’s forcing you more out of your excited little reverie - the shuddered slam! of your mahogany double doors, so hard that it makes the golden hinges shake, or the way you’re thrown haphazardly on the bed.

Like some glorified toy. One of Choso’s favorites.

You’re throwing your arms over his broad shoulders as you fall, lugging him in even closer with each springy bounce on the bedcoils.

But closer wasn’t close enough for your husband - he’s bullying into every ounce of your personal space, caging you in between two splayed-out palms on either side of your thoroughly spinning head.

“Mama, is it?” Choso starts out. Slow. Thick. Like he was approaching a cornered prey. “Baby, I want…I want it.”

You’re blinking up at him through eager eyes, “Want what, Cho?”

“I want an heir. I want to make you…” He gulps. The circles of his fingertips were so warm on your skin, trailing down lovingly all across your cheek. Your collarbones, your heaving tits - down to where you predictably flinched as he palmed your tummy. “-a pretty momma.”

Fawny strands of chestnut brown curtain his gaze, but you could tell just how serious he was. Just how greedy. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Choso like this in his entire life.

All you can breathe out is a crackling, “Yes.”

You said it. You finally said it after all these weeks.

And it’s the only thing you hear before your yukata is all but torn off of you, Choso doesn’t even realize when he’s doing so. It’s melting away like butter underneath his strength, mere obstacles to where the real prize is - your gorgeous, shivering body.

Pebbles of goosebumps rise onto the surface of your flesh when he throws away those useless pieces of fabrics onto the tatami floor - you can have more newly tailored anyway. Many, many more with just how round and full you’re about to be very soon.

He’d take care of it for you.

“Oh, madam- madam.” He’s spitting into your unfastened mouth, low growls sounding out across each four corners of your room. Held hostage by the arousal in your eyes, he can’t stop staring. “M’gonna ruin you.”

And Choso is feral like never before.

Usually one to take his time during sex, finetuning you into it like a sultry waltz. His favorite hobby was to drive you mindlessly wild before he even thought of stuffing you full. But now…

Still not breaking his dreamy eye contact with you, Choso hooks a rapidfire finger over the cute bow-tied hem of your panties. Slurring down an oozing little snail trail of slick that laminates your jittery thighs with evidence of just how badly you wanted him.

You feel the blistering pant of his mindless oh! fanning your features, leaning backwards with a loosened maw to admire just how glistening you are in this lighting.

How ready.

With a low, fucked-up whimper breaking at the back of his throat, he rubs over the bloated curvature of your needy pussy. Slipping ever-so-slightly at the saturated puddles leaking out, Choso has no hesitation or shame when he tugs his fingerpads into his mouth once.

Twice. Thrice.

Dipping back down for more and more and more-

“Can’t-” He’s guttering out, eyes crinkling and- fuck, were those tears? “I c-”

You reach your hand up to smear away his hot rivulets of salt, and Choso stops his prattling like a broken record forced to a halt. He jolts as if your touch has just sent a zillion shocks of voltage down his spine, all the trekking trailway down to his furious, aching cock.

Unsteady hands flinging apart his snowy robes - barely even bothering to remove them and wrench down his undergarments before you see it. You finally understand why Choso was so…restless.

Because he’s never been harder.

Fuck being furious, his bawling cock was seething. Equally as red as the ripest of strawberries, the split-ended crown of his cockhead was just as plumply swollen. All proud inches nestled underneath his painfully-clenching breeder balls, ballooned and lush. Only the barest of your gaze is enough to make Choso’s lustrous tip twitch, laminating himself with a freshly dripping glaze of translucent pre.

Though, it’s not like you were doing any better.

Your gluey lips pucker and pout up at him once he’s wrangling your legs into a boneless hold. The feeling of his palms underneath your thighs are so soft - even despite his battle-hardened calluses. Worshipping.

But the way he’s resting your legs on his shoulders, and folding you in half like a whining lawnchair is the complete opposite. Mercilessly into a-

“M-mating press-” Choso’s getting out through strangled breaths, as if the sole words had his poor sanity fraying at the edges. “-mating press- a- a-” Something he’s never tried out before. His head dips down, pearls of sweat simmering across his trembly upper lip as soon as your sticky folds leave a wet snog on his fattened mushroomy tip. Topping it with a generous heap of honeyed sap, “Well, hello there, baby. I have you in a mating press n’ m’gonna…gonna…”

He couldn’t even finish his sentence.

Couldn’t even finish his thought before Choso was doing - body moving miles and miles ahead of his stupidly saccharine-sweet mind.

“F-fuuuuck–” You’re letting off the keenest of whines, the edges of your nails leaving neat crescents all over his toned back. It was the perfect little present for the way he had you so split open.

And he was barely even pushing past the tip.

“Oh. Oh.” Choso’s grunts are throaty, as if they weren’t coming from the man himself but somewhere murked and dark inside him. And the same went for his feverish thrusts - tight, rigid little pushes past your slicked-up hole just to fit inside. He’s spitting into your slacked mouth, “C’mon- c’mon c’mon–”

Usually, it takes so long to prepare you to take his nine- no, ten inches. But currently, fast just wasn’t fast enough.

There’s a thundering slam! abovehead - only hours and hours later do you have enough brainpower to realize that it was Choso striking his palm down on the headboard - and it makes your clingy walls grip onto the battering mountain of his dewy head.

Squeezing in a repeatedly adhesive-like tempo, Choso’s nose crinkles at the rubbery resistance of your snug hole. Still molding to the slightest curves and ridges of his drowned slit with every desperate rut-

“Please- take it- fucking take it.” His voice was trembling on the edge of a crack, thickened exactly the way one does when he’s about to cry. “H-how can I fuck! How can I breed ya…if I don’t-”

And you’re swearing you see his ruddied cheeks glisten with a few slipped-off tears - though, that just might be from the way that your own vision mists over when his stray hand plugs up your spilling entrance to pry two thickened, scissoring digits inside and stretch. “Fucking- take that big fuckin’- cock-”

Bullying in a few more long n’ girthy inches- You’re so full that it feels like Choso’s pushing his bloated crownhead against the spongy edges of your lungs.

The bed dips and moans with frequent soft creaks! when he plants his curved knees firmly further apart. Flexibly so. And you’re getting a good, greedy eyeful of his pale, bulky thighs - angling at the perfect bend to snap his slender hips and jackhammer-

“Sh-shit-” Your head sinks into the cushiony pillows underneath you, and it already feels like you’re in heaven. “-don’t- don’t know if it’ll fit, Cho–”

With a bitten lip, Choso rovers down his sturdy hand from the surface of the bedframe to measure out ten solid inches. Bringing it down much the same way he did during your wedding reception, “Y-you can, baby–”

“But-”

“You will.” He’s gasping, gracing you with a soft brush of his curvaceous mushroomed head along one of your utmost favorite hidden sweet spots. It’s enough to make you buck. “Gonna take my cock, n’ you’re gonna haaah- take my seed ‘ntil you’re bloated. So I’ll make it fit- fuck- watch, I’ll make it fit.” Before you know it, that very same hand finds itself crowning your head, threatening to push you down- “C-can you say hngh- ‘biiiig stretch’ f’me?”

You’re hiccuping out, “B-big stretch?”

“Nuh uh-” By the time that Choso shakes his head, you’re being sprinkled with loose flecks of his sweat. He was in so deep now. “Say it with me- b-biiig stretch, baby–”

“B-biiig- stretch!” It takes you everything in your body to hold your own against the vicious pounds being planted and struggled into your goopy depths. Choso was determined. Frenzied.

And god, the way you’re dumbly parroting his words is so hot. He can’t help but dollop out muggy icings of pre that slosh and swab at every nook and cranny inside you.

“Good girl.” Rewarding you with a slow heart being patterned right on the throbbing peak of your clit, the roughened edges of his fingertips rub you just right. Not too hard. Not too soft. Your husband nuzzles his flushed head into the havened crook of your clammy neck, “S-say it again, madam.”

“Biiig-”

Honestly, it’s a wonder you manage to get exactly two syllables out at all. Because soon enough, Choso’s taking your distracted few seconds to lace his fingers onto your scalp push. To bump his hips back until your geysering cunt was struggling around his fat, bulbous tip.

Before stuffing you full all the way in-

“Fuck- no.” Choso’s spitting out venomously against your thrumming pulse, sharp fringes of his teeth digging in animalistically. Bottomed out but still pushing and pushing- Slamming a lazy stripe of luscious precum down your spongy cervix, “No- no no–”

No sooner are you full of all his massive, rummaging length, he’s making you take even more. This time in the form of dribbling, ribbony volumes of cum that leak and leak and won’t stop from his heated divot.

It’s ballooning up your tight channel even more. Swashing around and sticking to your gummy walls like a treacly lacquer. Filling you to your very brim-

“S-so much.” You’re gaping, through tear-strung lashes. The shivering edges of your fingers subconsciously dance downwards to splotch over the puddling globs of seed tricking from either side of your sloppy slit. Squeezing out even more to coat Choso’s bulky base with creamy rings upon rings.

And, usually, your husband might be just a bit embarrassed. Usually, he would have pulled out to make out with your pretty pussy until your scores were more than tied.

But that wasn’t your husband right now.

“Don’t.” Choso clicks his drunkenly heavy tongue, lips pulling back into what almost looks like an oh-so-feral snarl. And you have to admit that it looks so sexy on him. He’s rudely swatting away your curious hand, “Move that fucking hand n’ let me see.”

It takes only a split-second for both your hands to be pinned underneath one of Choso Kamo’s.

“Tha’s not enough to take.”

And only one more split-second for him to flip you over onto your tummy and stuff your head into the cushy pillows.

He’s fucking you like he’s using you. Like he’s pumping his mushy, swollen head to nudge in the weighty heft of his cum deeper and deeper and deeper-

“Y’know I hate hngh- disrespectin’ my wife, baby–” He leans over to sigh against your ear in craving hisses, pinning you with his body. His muscles. You could count each n’ every one of Choso’s bulging abs, glissading damply against your perfectly arched spine. Bubblegum pink nipples pressed roughly into your scorching skin, “Hate it- but…”

You gasp at Choso’s audacity next - at the way it makes you so traitorously soaked when he hikes up one of his feet to rest upon your head.

Gurgling out a stupid. “Ch-Cho–”

But he didn’t seem to hear you - you didn’t know if he was even managing to breathe at this point. Only letting his devious lips twitch up, up, up into such a satisfied grin. “-but ‘ntil I get my hngh- heh…heir, you’re gonna hafta be my cumdump, madam.”

And if the saturated slurps singing out at a near-deafening tone from your dripping pussy said anything - it was that you loved the idea.

Especially when the changed angle makes his scouring cockhead maze between the most treasured spots of your jelly-like walls to strike numerous, merciless hits dead-set on your g-spot.

Ah, there it was, pipes up that small voice in Choso’s overtaken brain. Jostling your hips back onto his with a sudden spank on the target of your drivelling hole, the stinging pressure makes you bump your tenderest spots again and again into his ruthless batters.

It’s bruising - the proud circumference of his plummy cock against your elastic cervix with every recoiling bounce, the rounded patterns of his balls against the hind of your pretty pussy with each thrust.

If you didn’t think you were being fucked stupid before then you were sure now.

Your velveteen pillowcase dampens with the ever-flooding saliva spilling from your mouth every time Choso rears his aching shaft back to plant rapid, precise strikes where you wanted him the most.

Whimpering at how every ramming dab of his split cockhead leaves leakages of pearly white cum all over the bottom of your pussy. That sultry swirl of his dumped heaps inside of you making your head spin just as dizzily.

You almost don’t notice it when Choso’s drifting both hands to skirt over about halfway down your tummy. Feeling for that bloated, cylindrical outline of him vulgarly messing up your insides, “Gonna be e-even fuller here soon, y’know-” He’s giggling - giggling. Erratically letting his hands slide down to your clit to give the peaked ends just a tiny pinch. “-have you all round. Full. Full-”

He can’t say anything else.

He can’t do anything else - other than watch in purely entranced awe when that makes you cum all over his fucking cock.

So big n’ thick that your claggy walls can barely even squeeze around his throbbing shaft. The thought makes you huff as he rams rigorously through your blinding high - teeth grit, your fingers fist at the pillows and make sure you can clench-

When you do- oh, when you manage to cling your gummy cunt onto his girth as if to suck out his fucking soul, it makes Choso cum, too.

Fatigued hips somehow matching his cadence, your knees shiver on top of the softened mattress stuttering through every dousing mass of cum gliding inside your cute cunt. It was so heavy having his massive torrentials inside of you, spraying the door to your womb with a slippery sheen.

It was maddening.

And maybe it’s been hours - maybe it’s been mere minutes. But all you know is that you’re put through rounds and rounds and more rounds. But he’s still not stopping. Still dredging out the tiniest of hollowing grinds.

Until much, much later Choso’s breath hitches in feverish stutters. It was so steamily hot inside you, only getting more humid by the minute as you ride out yet another crashing high.

“G’na milk e-every ngh- drop-” He titters, fleshy edges of his fingers closing in around where your pussylips were the most buxom. The most leaky. “-n’ you’re gonna ngh- keep it. Keep ‘ntil you give me an h-heir. Remember that, baby– keep it.”

You’re fighting against the weight of his muscular leg on top of you. Was he clamming your pussy shut?

“Choso, baby.” Your straining out, throat drier than the Sahara at this point. Even despite how the hypnotized way your husband looks at you makes your tongue lather with watery saliva. “Want- want more.”

You think you might just have broken Choso Kamo.

Might just have made him reach another surprising high all over again with just your simple request. He’s lifting off the powerfully pressurized foot crowned on your head in favor of lurching downwards to grab your tender throat into a headlock.

Manhandling you as he pleased. Lifting you off of the tattered pillow, the completely splintered bed frame now.

Your chin juts over his thick, bulging biceps, fighting for both air and the space-

“More- more, she says-” He’s chuckling out, words cracking a few octaves higher than normal. From the corner of your eye, you sneak glimpses at the way that Choso’s eyes were wide, crazed. Flashing all sorts of feral promises when he plants one, two, three long thuds against your soppy cervix. “Fucking- m-more.”

You’re letting off a tiny whimper - your orgasm nothing but tingles at this point. Yearning for that the piping hot streak of seed flushed into your already-overspilling cunt. Syruping in with the rest of his numerous goopy volumes, it’s thick and needy.

Only one.

“Sh-shit.” He’s wheezing against your ear, free hand flying down to tug at his reddened base for more more more- one’s not enough. Every possibly wiry wisp and speckle that could fill you up. Could give him an heir. “Can’t cum dry- won’t- oh.”

Rutting into you like Choso won’t stop - didn’t know if he even can stop anymore. You flinch at the suddenly hot splatter! of something warm…and wet at your shoulder.

“Cho- oh!” Not only was the clan leader drooling out glossy spatters of saliva, he was crying. Hugging you even closer, you’re showered in neverending streams of overstimulated tears.

And Choso can only babble away, “Hope- hope s’a daughter, madam.”

A/N. AYYY y’all have been wanting more dom Choso saurrrr- Anyways hope you have a lovely week <3

Plagiarism not authorized.

#choso x reader #choso smut #choso x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo smut #choso kamo x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #choso #tonywrites #choso kamo

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coolmaycroft · 18 hours ago

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I often think about the whole line that separates Frienship and romance and how that works from a cishet perspective.

From what I've gathered is that the line must be there because cishet relationships have this expectation of becoming something more: the whole marriage-family pipeline yadda yadda patriarchy thing.

And as a cis person there's a lot of expereinces that make you wary of threading that line: you fall in love with a friend and they don't like you back and then oops, the whole friendship fell apart. You cuddle with a friend and next thing you know they caught feelings for you. You think you're more than friends with someone and oh, suprise, this person has 5 other people that they treat the same and you suddenly feel replaceable.

And I know that attachemnt styles are a flimsy theory but they explain one of my observations very well: some people are just more detached and have it easy with ambiguity, but I do think cishet people lean to a more anxious-attachment style where they want that line well traced to avoid emotional hurt. I hang out mostly with cishet people and we've all had sucky expreinces with ambiguous relationships.

All this because again, there's the whole expectation of relationships fllowing a prescribed path of dating > marriage > family. A relationship that stays in that vague line of frienship-dating seems like a way of being stuck in life, and depending on the dynamic, even reprobable.

The cishet idea of romance and sex is fucking boring btw. The line between friendship and relationship is so artificial, it doesnt even really exist. And yet so much is supposed to change in the relationships dynamic once you make things "official". And then you cant even cuddle with your friends for some reason

#cishet nonsense #cisheteronormativity #polyamory #aromantism #asexuality #frienship #platonic relationships #romantic

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bestalbertcamuslover · 2 days ago

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Marriage After Divorce

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

✯ pairing: Toto Wolff x Previously Divorced! GF! Reader ✯

✯ content warnings: none✯

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

The sound of her soft footsteps and the clink of the water bottle she set on the counter caught Toto’s attention. He looked up from his laptop, his reading glasses sliding low on his nose, and immediately closed the screen. His gaze softened as he took her in—the way her shoulders were just slightly slumped from a long week, yet she still carried that quiet strength he admired so much.

“Long day?” he asked, his voice warm, the Austrian lilt wrapping around the words like a familiar melody.

“Not too bad,” she replied, smiling faintly as she leaned against the counter and took a sip of water. “Philip was his usual energetic self, though. He didn’t make bedtime easy.” She glanced at him, her gaze sharp enough to notice the flicker of thought behind his expression. “And you? Still glued to emails?”

Toto chuckled, pushing his glasses off and setting them aside. “A few more than usual,” he admitted, standing up and stretching his long frame. “But I’m done now.”

He approached her slowly, his movements as deliberate as ever, though tonight, there was something more measured in his demeanor.

“Did you eat?” he asked, his hands finding her waist as if they belonged there.

She nodded. “Yes, I grabbed something earlier. You don’t need to fuss,” she said, her voice light but edged with affection.

“Fussing over you is one of my favorite things,” he replied softly, brushing a thumb along her hip.

She smiled at him, shaking her head with a mix of exasperation and warmth. But he didn’t step away, and she noticed the way his jaw tightened slightly, as though he were bracing himself.

“What’s on your mind, Toto?” she asked gently, her brows knitting together.

He hesitated, just for a moment, before stepping back to lean against the counter opposite her. Crossing his arms loosely, he took a breath. “I’ve been thinking,” he began, his voice calm but carrying a weight she recognized.

She tilted her head, wary now. “That sounds ominous.”

A small smile tugged at his lips, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s not,” he assured her. “I just… I want to talk to you about something important. About us.”

Her smile faltered for a moment, her grip tightening on the water bottle in her hand. “Go on,” she said cautiously.

He stepped closer again, his hands sliding down to take hers. His thumbs brushed over her knuckles in a soothing rhythm, grounding her even as her pulse quickened.

“The last five years with you have been… more than I could’ve imagined,” he said quietly, his gaze locking onto hers. “Raising Philip together, building this life… I’ve never been happier. You’ve given me something I didn’t think I’d have again.”

Her chest clenched, his words both warming and unsettling her.

“But,” he continued, sensing her unease, “I also know that we’ve both been here before. And that makes this… complicated.” He paused, searching her expression, his eyes warm in an attempt to calm her evident nerves. “I want to marry you. I’ve wanted to for a while. But I know this isn’t something you’ll take lightly. I don’t take it lightly, either.”

Her breath stuck, and she quickly turned away, setting the water bottle on the counter and crossing her arms. “Toto…” she began, her voice steady but low.

“I know,” he said softly, stepping closer but not crowding her. “I know you’re hesitant. We’ve both been through divorces; we know how hard it can be. I don’t want to push you into anything. I just… I wanted you to know how I feel.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, exhaling slowly. “It’s not that I don’t love you,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “You know I do. I just… I don’t know if I’m ready to go down that road again. What if—”

“What if it doesn’t work out?” he finished for her, his voice gentle.

She nodded, her throat tight as she turned to face him. “I don’t think I can survive that again.”

Toto cupped her face with both hands, his thumbs caressing her cheek affectionately. “I don’t have all the answers,” he admitted. “But I know this: I love you. I love Philip. And I want to be able to call you my wife, no matter how long it takes for you to be ready. Whether it’s next year, in five years, or never… you’re it for me.”

Her eyes searched his, and the sincerity in his gaze nearly unraveled her. “You’re too good at this, you know,” she whispered, a weak smile tugging at her lips.

He chuckled softly, his forehead resting against hers. “Only for you.”

For a moment, they stood there in silence, the weight of the conversation settling between them. Then, her arms slid around his waist, holding him tightly as she buried her face against his chest. Toto watched her, his eyes soft with affection. She tilted her head, eyebrows arching with a hint of playfulness.

“Alright,” she began, her tone light but pointed, “let’s really think about this. It’s just a piece of paper.”

Toto smirked, leaning against the counter across from her. “A very nice piece of paper, I might add. You get a fancy certificate and everything.”

She rolled her eyes, though the corners of her mouth twitched upward. “We already act like a married couple, Toto. What’s the point of making it official? It doesn’t change anything.”

He stepped closer, his voice dropping slightly. “It changes everything. You’d officially be mine—legally, publicly, and in every way that matters.”

Her smile widened at his words, but she refused to back down. “We already have a life together, a kid together… isn’t that enough?”

“Not for me,” he said simply, his eyes locking onto hers. “I want to stand in front of our family and friends and tell the world how much I love you. I want Philip to know that his parents are committed to each other, officially.” He smirked, “plus, you would look wonderful in a wedding dress.

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” she teased, her expression softening for a moment before she straightened. “And what about the paperwork, hmm? Marriage licenses, name changes, tax forms… It’s a bureaucratic nightmare.”

Toto chuckled, reaching out to gently take her hands in his. “You underestimate how much I enjoy tackling complicated paperwork. It’s like running a Formula 1 team—challenging but worth it.”

She laughed despite herself, shaking her head. “That’s the most unromantic thing I’ve ever heard.”

“I’m a practical man,” he teased, brushing his thumb over her knuckles. “But I’m also a man who loves you. And I’m willing to do all the boring paperwork if it means calling you my wife.”

She sighed dramatically, though her smile lingered. “I still think it’s unnecessary. We’re happy as we are.”

“We are,” he agreed, stepping closer and slipping his arms around her waist. “But this isn’t about fixing something that isn’t broken. It’s about celebrating what we have.”

Her resolve wavered, her eyes searching his as he held her close. “You make it sound so… sentimental,” she said softly.

“That’s because it is,” he murmured, his forehead brushing against hers. “You deserve to be loved out loud, in every way possible. Let me do that for you.”

She sighed again, her hands sliding up to rest on his chest. “You’re really not going to let this go, are you?”

“Never,” he said with a grin. “I’m stubborn, remember?”

She laughed, shaking her head. “Fine,” she said, her voice tinged with mock exasperation. “I’ll think about it.”

Toto tilted his head, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Think about it, or say yes?”

He chuckled softly, gently taking her left hand in his. “Just imagine,” he began, brushing his thumb over her fourth finger, “the biggest diamond you’ve ever seen right here. Something so absurdly huge, you’ll need a personal trainer just to lift your hand.”

She burst out laughing, shaking her head at him. “Oh, please. Like I’d ever want something that impractical.” She smiled, finding his insistence more than comforting, almost reassuring. “Maybe it’s a yes,” she finally conceded.

Toto's face lit up instantly, his eyes widening in disbelief before a wide, boyish grin took over his features. "Wait, maybe it’s a yes?" he teased, though his voice was tinged with unmistakable joy.

But before she could answer, he scooped her up in a hug so exuberant, her feet left the ground. She let out a surprised laugh as he spun her around once, his strength making it effortless.

“Toto!” she exclaimed between giggles, her arms instinctively wrapping around his neck. “Put me down!”

“Not a chance,” he said, his voice muffled slightly as he pressed a kiss to her cheek, then her temple, holding her as if letting go wasn’t an option. “You just said maybe yes to marrying me! Do you know what that means?”

“That I’m crazy?” she quipped, her voice still playful as she tried to catch her breath.

He stopped spinning but kept her firmly in his arms, his forehead resting against hers, his smile as radiant as she’d ever seen it. “No,” he murmured, his voice softening. “It means you’ve made me the happiest man in the world.”

Her heart skipped a beat at his sincerity, and her fingers toyed gently with the back of his hair. “It’s just a maybe, you know,” she reminded him, though her teasing tone couldn’t hide the affection in her eyes.

“Maybe, yes. Maybe, no. I’ll take it all,” he said, finally setting her down but not stepping away. His hands rested on her waist, anchoring her to him. “But for the record, I’m very persuasive.”

She laughed, rolling her eyes playfully. “Oh, I’m well aware.”

“Good,” he replied, his grin still firmly in place. “Because this ‘maybe’ is about to become the most certain ‘yes’ of your life.”

She shook her head, biting back another laugh as she leaned into him, resting her head on his chest. “You’re impossible,” she whispered, but her voice carried more love than exasperation.

“And you’re mine,” he murmured, his arms tightening around her.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

✯ authors note: English is not my first language and I hope you liked it <3

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all-purpose-dish-soap · 1 day ago

Note

SOULMATE SOAP HAS MY HEART. I DONT THINK THERES ANYTHING I WOULDNT DO FOR HIM

67 / 2.8k / soap soulmate au, epilogue

...

"Anything, you say?" Soap's eyes sparkle. "A dangerous proposal, hen."

You roll your eyes. "You know what I mean."

"I know what you said." He grins at you as he towels himself off. "I’m wonderin' what exactly I could get away with, bein' offered anything. No limits, no boundaries..."

You can't help but let your gaze trail down his form. He's totally naked and still dripping wet. "Anything within reason."

"Where's the fun in bein’ reasonable?"

You lean back, pulling your feet up and crossing your legs atop the low hotel coffee table where you're seated.

You and Soap have been getting to know each other here—intimately, as soulmates and people—for the past two days. You don't live near Glasgow and wouldn't tell Soap where exactly you call home, so he offered to get the two of you a hotel suite near the mountains while the higher-ups figure out what to do with you.

You figured he'd offer to take you out on a date or something, but so far you haven't made it out of the hotel room yet. It's more like a honeymoon than a vacation. You can't say you're disappointed with all the things he's shown you, though.

"Oh, so it hasn't been fun for you yet?"

Soap laughs at that and throws the towel to the carpet. No point in modesty. You’ve seen and touched every scar and bruise on his powerful body, but it does nothing to deter your gaze.

"Been plenty fun. But now I know I could be gettin’ away with even more if I play my cards right."

"Such as?"

"Marriage."

You scoff. "Pervert."

"Am I?" He leans toward you and braces his hands on the edge of the coffee table. He loves the way you try to resist looking at him but can’t help yourself. Your gaze keeps trailing down to his abs. "I think you like the idea of me down on my knees. I’ve seen you enjoyin’ the view."

Your back straightens. He's so cocky. Still, your eyes don't meet his. If anything, they dip lower. "Laswell called while you were in the shower."

"Did she?" He strolls across the space between the bathroom and the bed to his duffel bag. You lean back and watch him languidly as he digs around for his phone, his handsome mouth settling into a frown. He won’t find it. He sees why once he glances over at you to see your catlike smile.

Soap crosses his arms and looks down at you. "Resigned to petty thievery now, are we?"

You shrug and hold his phone out, letting it dangle from your fingertips like a mouse by the tail. "It's not like I have any other jobs to preoccupy my time."

He pauses to admire the view down your tank top—his tank top—and then snatches the phone away. "How many times do you want me tae beg and grovel for forgiveness? Not that you deserve it, ye wee hellion,” he mutters, scrolling through his recent calls.

"At least three more times." You lean back on your hands as he walks away. "Aren't you going to ask me what she said?"

"Are you going to tell the truth?"

"I was considering it."

"Were you?”

You sigh and watch him raise his phone to his ear. You miss when he hung on your every word.

"Go for Soap."

Soap makes a show of talking on the phone with Laswell. He tries not to glance at you too much. You and your sharp pout and the black tank top you’re wearing and how it rides up on your hips and leaves nothing to the imagination. He’ll have to do something about that later.

"Aye. Understood." A slow grin stretches across his face. "Now that is good news. Pleased to be workin' with ya, Laswell."

He hangs up. You cross your arms. "Well?"

Soap tosses his phone on the bed and turns back to you. "Ought to chew you out for answering a call on a secure line."

"Kate already did."

"Did she, now? And you’re on a first-name basis?" Now he is amused. "Don't think I'm not keeping track of every little rule you’ve broken so far. You’re in enough trouble as it is."

You bounce your leg against the tabletop. "What did she say?"

Soap closes the space between you. In the time it takes him to reach you, you stand up, bare feet on the low table. It puts you barely above eye level with him.

"She didn't tell you the news, then, did she?" His lips twist into a smug smirk. "Serves you right."

You stare him down. You don't often get the chance to, so you capitalize on it for all you're worth. "She did," you lie.

"You’re lying, darlin’."

"How would you know?"

"You'd be right pissed off already, for one." He wraps his hands around the backs of your bare thighs idly. His thumbs brush the underside of your ass. "For two, I know better than to take you at your word. Might as well start assuming the opposite of what you decide to tell me."

"That's not a nice thing to say to your soulmate."

"You’ve never been nice to me in your life." He pulls you closer, making your legs part so he can hike his thigh up between them, his foot flat on the table between yours. He grins at you. "I seem to recall you threatenin' me that first night we met."

You push against his chest to steady yourself. "I was trying to protect your dumb ass. You were going to get yourself killed."

Soap’s hand slides up to the small of your back to help you balance. "Didn't get killed, though, did I?"

"Only because I told you to hide."

"My guardian angel."

"You're lucky you got away when you did. If you compromised us, I would've gutted you."

"Vicious, vicious woman."

"Stubborn mule of a man."

"Gorgeous, disobedient pain in my ass." Soap takes your chin in his fingers and lifts it, drifting closer to your lips as if drawn in. "Not tae mention ornery."

"You're ornery."

"Now, that's hurtful. You ought to give me some sympathy."

"Give me one good reason why."

His hands slide up to cup your ass. "Because I’m your soulmate, and I’m entitled to a little sympathy for the fact that your brazen attitude makes me crazy."

You rub at his collarbone. "If you're my soulmate, it follows that you deserve it."

Christ, he loves when you say shit like that. He leans in to mouth the underside of your jaw and murmur directly against your ear. "You know what I deserve? And you’re gonna give it to me?"

You tilt your head up. His lips slide further down your neck. You preen. "Someone has to."

He lets out a dark huff of laughter at the response. You’re all too eager to push back at him, and nothing gets him hard faster than a challenge.

Just as he latches onto your neck and begins marking you with a new hickey, you push him backward onto the hotel bed. Soap laughs as he lets himself fall. Then he sits up on his elbows and leers at you. His hair is already mussed and his breathing already heavier than normal.

You climb over him, plant your palms on his shoulders, and press him down into the comforter. Right as you stoop down to catch his bottom lip in your teeth, though, you look down at him from above and frown. "Wait, but what did Laswell say?"

Soap pauses. “Now?”

"Yes." You can’t stand not knowing. "Tell me."

Soap grabs two handfuls of your ass and squeezes in annoyance. Ruin the mood, then. "She said she heard back from the program." The program meant to protect the soulmates of military operators and other agents who could be compromised by the existance—or any knowledge whatsoever—of a soulbond. Like witness protection.

You suck in an annoyed breath. "Are you really gonna lock me up in some safehouse?"

“I’d love to—chain you up, put you in a cage, keep you somewhere all safe and sound so nobody else can touch you.” Soap watches you with an off-kilter gleam in his eyes. His words draw an image in your mind that isn’t remotely unpleasant. “But it won't be with the program, no. They denied the request."

You perk up. "Really?"

Soap grins at how excited you get. “Aye. Said your old job makes you a security risk. Too hot to handle.” He lets out a huff as his hand slides up your bare thigh. “But don't get too excited. Laswell found another opening. Or… made one. Something in her sector."

You sit back in surprise. "CIA?"

"Aye. Turns out your impressive track record of selling violence for money makes you a font of useful intel. " Soap watches you, gauging your reaction. "Couldn’t let that go to waste, now, could they?"

You glare down at him. "What's the catch?"

Soap can see the wheels turning in your mind. He grins. "Oh, hardly a thing."

Your hands tighten on his shoulders in warning. "Johnny."

He grins up at you, all teeth and confidence. He loves the way you say his name. “You should go into intelligence. You’d be a hell of an interrogator. You’d get me to tell you anything and never even bat those pretty eyelashes at me."

"John, I swear to God."

He laughs as he sits up on his elbows, his free hand running up your leg to wrap around your hip. "Alright, alright. Pushy." This is almost how he wanted you: straddling him on the bed, hips pressed together. "You're the perfect hire because you come attached to your own soldier, aye? Package deal. Someone to keep an eye on you."

"What, like a handler?"

"Somethin' like that," he muses, tracing his finger along your spine.

You give him a doubtful look. There's no way Laswell would stoop so low. But seeing the shit-eating grin on his face gives you a sinking feeling. "I'm an asset?"

"Course not. An asset would've defected of their own free will. And since you runnin’ away with me is still off the record as of yet…"

Still perched across his hips, you cross your arms. "And what if I say no?"

Soap narrows his eyes.

The world flips. You're on your back, pinned underneath him against the bed. He presses your wrists against the comforter. "Then you'd be a hostage."

You pull at his grip, but it does no good. "You can’t do that."

"I can."

"Says who?"

He leans close. "Says your new handler." He lets the word sink in, lets it make your mind race with indignant heat. That's how he likes you best. His lips trail along the side of your neck, mouthing at the sensitive skin there in a way that makes you arch up. "Talk or don't. Either way, I'll have a convenient excuse to keep you locked up tight."

Naturally. He lets the truth slip out so easily. Likely because he never intended to give you much of a choice. He's learned his lesson and knows very well not to trust you to stay in one place anymore. If he wants to keep you around, he needs to play dirty. Like you.

He trusts you with his life, yes, but not with your own. And certainly not with his heart.

You scoff. But instead of resisting, you relax your body and let him have his way. "Fine. If it makes no difference, do your job. You know what that is, right? Extract my intel."

He pauses with his mouth against your neck. You’re giving in already. He isn’t used to that.

He shifts his hands to thread your fingers together and pin them higher over your head. He lets his mouth brush your neck as he speaks. "I intend to."

"Go on, then. Let’s see a real interrogation. Nothing like that silly warehouse you had me in before."

Soap’s face falls into a scowl. Cheeky. "That wasn't an interrogation, hen. That was a rescue." He settles one muscular leg back between your thighs. "Bloody eager to test my patience. And for what?"

"Mm."

He lets his knee nudge up against your core and grind against it, skin to skin. "You want a fight?" His voice softens, barely. "You want control?"

You think about it. But ultimately, you let your eyes close and relax your body that much more under him. "No, I trust you."

“Oh?” You’ve never said that before. Those words sound good coming from your lips. “Do ye?”

You open your eyes a fraction to narrow them at him. "Don't look too far into it."

“I’ll look as far as I please. Trust me not to hurt you, trust me not to let you leave...” He kisses you. It steals your breath again. "Trust me to give you what you need. Am I close?"

"You're trying to rile me up."

A dangerous grin slowly spreads across his face. “That's what I do best, sweetheart. So you trust me, eh?" When he gets like this—dark and heated, predatory—Soap looks more dangerous than all the weapons he’s ever used combined. A man as trained and deadly as Soap can get downright lethal when he’s playing with you. “Are you sure you should be trusting a man like me?”

"No, definitely not. Horrible idea."

He lets a laugh rumble out of his chest and his knee grinds against you again, earning himself a soft gasp. "But you’re still doing it, aren’t you? And you know what I'd do if your sweet little ass pulled another runner."

"I'm shaking in my socks."

His eyes flash with heat as he smirks down at you. He can feel your thighs clenching around his leg as he continues to grind against you. "You ought to be," he murmurs. "You know I got you. And you owe me."

"Do I?"

"Aye. For runnin' away from me, for lyin', for makin' me hunt you down. For makin' me drag your ass out of a frozen river. For makin' me think you were gonnae freeze t'death the moment I finally got you in my arms." He gives you such a heated look, you find yourself looking off at the ceiling behind him rather than holding his gaze. "And that's not even gettin' into all the stitches I got 'cause of you. You owe me for every single one."

You swallow. "Are you planning to hold that stuff over my head forever?"

If you had any idea how it felt to see you disappearing into that river, you probably wouldn’t be asking that.

"That depends on whether you plan on bein' the sort who needs to be kept in line forever," he growls. "Or whether you're gonnae let me keep you safe, darlin', always where I want ye."

Your face warms and your chest flutters. Damn it. "Fat chance," you retort as quickly as you can to cover up the butterflies.

"Forever it is, then." He lets go of your hands and reaches up to grab your chin. Soap has big hands, strong, with too many scars along his knuckles given his young age. "You’d do well to remember that every time you think about runnin’ from me.” His knee grinds up against you again, a tease and a promise all rolled into one. “Now tell me again that you trust me.”

"Nnh." You squirm. "Johnny, c'mon..."

"No, go on. Say it for me. Say you trust me. Say it out loud." He leans in closer. He's hungry again. Starving. "Let me hear it again. Sounds as pretty as you look."

You roll your hips against his knee again, seeing stars against your eyelids when his thigh muscle clenches.

His grip tightens in warning as he fights to keep control of himself. "You’re pushin’ it, hen."

"Do something about it," you murmur. You wanted bite in your voice, but it's not quite there. "Handler."

Coming from your mouth, it does funny things to his mind. His muscles coil tight with need. But then he relaxes. He has all the time in the world to do everything he wants to you. He bites down gently on your ear, earning a breathless shudder from you. His hands snake under your hips, pulling them up higher as his body slides between your legs.

"That's right. All mine."

...

the end :) thanks everyone! soap loves you <3

...

← previous part / [epilogue]

part 1 / more Soap / masterlist

...

send me a prompt for more of him? :)

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blackynsupremacy · 1 day ago

Text

TWO IN THE MORN

pairing: nicholas a. chavez x black!fem!reader

summary: you complain to your stepbrother about your insomnia. fortunately, he has the solution for this issue.

contains: smut, 18+ content mdni, stepcest, stepbro!nicholas, sort of romantic/fluffy, slight age gap (reader is 19, nick is 22), reader is lowkey gullible, pwnp, fingering, finger riding, clit play, under the clothes, squirting, cum eating, risk kink, praise kink, aftercare.

a/n: whew this had me tingling! hope it’s the same for ya’ll 😫 sometimes foreplay can be lowkey sexier than actual intercourse. it’s the ✨tension✨ for me, that’s jmo. anyways, thank you all for the support! i’ll get on those requests.

taglist: @greengoblinswifey @hopefully-saturn @jkr820 @hoffmansgirl @austeenbootler @niteskysx @sabrinasopposite @thabiddie23 @hnch33rios @xoxoglittergossip @supaprettyg @motherismotheringggg @oscarisaackissmykitty @simply-lovley44 @elitesanjisimp @gxuxhdjdu @v3n1ce-bxtch @iamsebastiansstan @stargirl-mayaa @miguelspvssy

“shh, you don’t wanna wake up mommy and daddy do you, princess?”

your stepbrother, nicholas, lowly whispered as his hand was buried deep within your silk black pajama pants patterned with white hearts, his ring and middle fingers moving like clockwork in the depths of your clenching walls. you tried to keep yourself quiet as possible, but due to nicholas’ skill, it was damn near impossible.

“mm. mm-mhm.” you manage to whimper, feeling so bashful under his searing, ebony gaze. your chest heaved deliberately as the spaghetti straps of your top started to droop down the skin of your shoulders. your leaned back with your hands placed firmly flat on his mattress, your fingers practically clawed at his plaid sheets. instinctively, you bucked your hips in tandem to the motion of his fingers, softly hissing through your teeth when nicholas brought his thumb to swipe against your sensitive button. a strained whine escaped from you when he pinched it between his thumb and index.

“shh, easy, princess. i’ll give you what you need.” he seductively reassured, pushing his fingers further within your wet heat. what you really needed was some sleep.

ever since your mom married his dad, things have been interesting concerning your relationship with nicholas. he wasn’t a bad stepbrother. he was chill, protective, charming, funny, and an all around good “brotherly” figure to have around. if by brotherly, you mean coming to him with a request for advice on your boy issues, then hell yes. you’ve already talked it out with girls, but who understood guys better than—a guy? nicholas always knew what to say and you would easily follow his advice because it actually got you asked out by your crush! you were grateful to him and you’d never dare to say it out loud to a living soul, but you thought he was—hot. even if it weren’t for the circumstances of being bound by your parent’s marriage, you wouldn’t lie that you had a tiny crush on your stepbrother. it kind of made you jealous how your friends could easily fawn over him and rave about how handsome he is while you couldn’t even courtly agree, so that you wouldn’t come off as a perverted creep.

besides, he was just easy to talk to and hang out with.

this night in particular would completely shift your whole family dynamic. it was two in the morning and you couldn’t sleep, no matter how long you closed your eyes, you weren’t lulled into slumber like you should. that’s when you got up from the comfort of your bed, walked quietly passed your parent’s bedroom down the hall, and found yourself right in front of nicholas’ bedroom door that was slightly cracked open. you peeped through the small opening to see that he was still awake himself, scrolling and typing away on his phone while laying on his bed. respecting his privacy, you lift your knuckles to knock the “secret code” you two created to signal to each other when you wanted access to each other’s rooms. within seconds, you heard the springs of the mattress creak as your stepbrother received the signal and his footsteps quietly, yet deliberately reached the door before he opened it wider to reveal his six foot figure leaning against the doorframe. it was dark, but you could still see that he was wearing a black ribbed tank top that showed off his large biceps with grey sweatpants that hung loosely on his hips, his signature gold cross chain around his neck twinkled in the darkness. fuck, no matter what he wore, he always managed to look amazingly hot.

you try not to gawk too long before he’d start to notice. you swallowed quickly before uttering an awkward greeting in a low, breathy voice.

“hey.” you say, hiding your hands behind your back. it was something you did when you were nervous.

nicholas raised a brow, tilting his head in concern before running a hand through his already messy, brown hair.

“hey.” he reciprocated, his voice raspy, but low enough so only both of you could hear. “are you okay, y/n?”

at his inquiry, you shake your head.

“i can’t sleep. can—can i hang out in here with you? i hope i’m not intruding.” you ask, your doe eyes meeting his what was once a sleepy gaze, instantly lit up at your request.

“uh, yeah—sure. make yourself comfortable.”

nicholas nods before giving a once over to his bed and steps aside to allow you inside of his bedroom. as you take your spot at the foot of the bed, he slowly closes the door, careful not to make a sound that could wake your sleeping parents. after switching on the lamp, he steps over to the bed and comfortably takes a seat a mere foot away from you because he respects your space as you do his. nicholas leans forward, placing his elbows on his knees as his eyes meet with yours.

“so what’s keeping you awake tonight, hm? is everything okay with you?”

you shift, clasping your hands on your laps and shrugging your shoulders.

“i don’t know—maybe it’s stress. i’ve tried everything to get relaxed enough. a hot shower, chamomile tea. hell, i even put on one of those sleep hypnosis videos and it still didn’t work, nicholas.” you explain, counting on your fingers as he takes in every word and giving an attentive nod. with a hum from his chest, nicholas straightens up his posture before giving your figure a quick examination, raking his eyes up and down. now, you were starting to feel like an idiot at his silence, but you weren’t expecting what was going to come out his mouth next.

“i don’t think you’ve tried everything.” he states, casually leaning back on the bed, his hands giving him leverage. you shoot him a puzzled look and turn your body to completely face him with a furrowed gaze.

“well—what do you mean? what do you think can put me to sleep and keep me asleep this late, nicholas?” you question, unconsciously leaning forward as you were itching to find the solution. nicholas’ guidance has never really failed you, so you were eager for his opinion on the matter. he didn’t move an inch as you came closer, there was something different that twitched inside of him. at the sight of your scantily clad upper body in that black and white polka-hearted top with the lace hugging the melanated mounds of your breasts that was merely a few inches from his chest, he couldn’t resist throwing a quick glance to the display before meeting your soft, pleading gaze.

“here’s my solution— an orgasm.” he blatantly suggests, his eyes flickering to a certain suggestive light. you were bit inexperienced in that area, so it was only natural that the heat of embarrassment scorched your skin, your mouth agape as nicholas struck you speechless.

“a what?” you ask, registering what you just heard.

nicholas could only chuckle at your reaction which he found to be absolutely adorable. he loved that your unique beauty and your trusting nature painted an image of naivety that just turned him on. he couldn’t deny that when you came to him for almost everything under the sun, it made him feel a sense of purpose, power, and control. a lazy smile painted on his chiseled face paired with those half-lidded bedroom eyes of his that always put you in a tizzy.

“c’mon, we’re both adults here. i know you heard me, but i’ll say it again: an orgasm can help get you to sleep.”

“how do you know?” you question with a tilt of your head, but then all the dots start to connect, realization painted on your already heated face.

“that means you’ve done it before.”

“atta girl!”

with a snicker, he pats the top of your head in which you shake him off.

“so—sex can wear you out like that?”

he nods before giving you a further explanation.

“well, all aspects of sex can do that. from fucking to masturbation. even oral, depending on how intense it is.”

at the mention of masturbation, it was now your turn to deliberately nod.

“i guess that makes sense. god, i sound so sexually uneducated and i’m almost twenty for fuck’s sakes.” you exasperatedly sigh, nicholas chuckled and scooted closer towards you making his leg brush against yours.

“it’s no big deal, it’s all about knowing your body in your time. you’ll get there, y/n.” he reassures you with a sincere gaze.

“see, that’s the problem, nicholas.”

“what is?”

“i can’t get there. like—when i, y’know.” you pause, gesturing towards your lower region. “i’m relaxed, but i can’t finish. i want to go back to my room and take your advice, but i don’t think i can do it. i feel like there’s something wrong me—”

“stop.” nicholas immediately cuts you off, placing his index finger on your lips. who knew that a touch so small could send such a surge of electricity through your entire body? your silence was his cue for him to continue.

“listen to me, okay? there’s nothing wrong with you and anyone who’s made you feel otherwise, can fuck themselves.”

your stepbrother pauses to carefully examine your natural features. he found you, his stepsister, to be absolutely breathtaking. nicholas absolutely loathed the circumstances of this situation as his feelings for you never changed from the very moment he and his father had dinner with you and your mother. you were his everything and you didn’t know it all. you didn’t know of all his yearning for your voice, your touch, your laughter, and your body. your presence had him fucked up in a million different ways and in this clandestine moment between you, he couldn’t hide it any longer.

“i believe—you’re absolutely perfect.”

your heart skipped a beat at your stepbrother’s confession, did he just—confess his feelings? for you? had you been blind that he saw you the way you saw him? one part of you was elated while the other pondered on the possible consequences if anyone figured out the bond between you was more than platonic, especially your parents.

“nicholas, i—” you start, but he interrupts you again, his face inching closer to yours as the tip of your noses brush against each other.

“if you feel like you can’t do it, then i can help you.”

your breath hitched in your throat, your eyes searching his for clarity on his statement as his lips ghosted over yours.

“you’d do that? but, i’ve never had—”

nicholas’ large hand came up to rest on your cheek, his thumb swiping across your flaming skin in reassurance.

“we’re not going that far, babe. especially not with mom and dad in the house, but we can unpack that later—what i need to know is do you want me to help you go to sleep tonight?”

your mind was already made up, there was no way you could pass up an opportunity like this. all the cares and worries of getting caught now gave you the craving of the thrill that you’d be been waiting for and your stepbrother was the right person to do so.

“mm-hm.” you murmur, nodding your head as your heart rate increased in tempo within your chest. the familiar tingly sensation pools in between your legs.

“that won’t work for me, sweetheart, use your words.” he softly demands, his hand sliding from your face down to your waist to shorten the distance between you.

“yes, nicholas, yes! please—” at your desperate pleas, your stepbrother closes the gap between you by smashing his lips on yours, a line that both of you have been dying to cross for months. your hesitant at first, but once you get the feeling of his intoxicating touch, you fall right into his rhythm as his tongue skillfully wraps around yours, causing you to hum in satisfaction deep into his mouth. he pulls away after a few seconds, you pout as worry creeps in.

“did i do something wrong? was i bad?” you frantically questioned in a whisper, feeling self-conscience about the act you were committing. nicholas calmed the fret in your voice by placing another kiss to your lips, a deep hum of satisfaction erupts from his chest as you relax in his arms and return the affection. he pulls back again.

“no, no, sweetheart. you’re doing just fine. just wanna let you know m’bout to touch you. you okay with that, baby?”

you were about to nod, but then remembered that nicholas needed your verbal consent, so you quickly changed your tune.

“y-yes, go ahead.” your voice shaky, but affirmative enough for him to continue by snaking his hand under your tank top to cop a feel of one of your breasts. you shiver when his rough palm meets the plush skin, rewarding it with a squeeze. you want to cry out when he brings his other hand in and starts to knead your chest beneath your shirt, but you bite down on your lip to not a make sound.

“fuck, your tits feel so perfect. i’ve always thought they were—it’s like they were made just f’me.” he whispered before gazing up to see your strained, but blissful face. with a quiet chuckle, he makes things worse when he starts to spread wet, open mouth kisses along your neck and collarbone. your grip on his sheets tighten when he moves from your breasts down the trail of your stomach and navel until he made it right above the waistline of your matching pants. before he could even ask, it was now your turn to make a demand. it was getting late, you just wanted to sleep.

“i want you to touch me, nicholas.” you pause by holding onto his wrist to inch his hand deeper into your pants, “please.”

“eager, aren’t we? be a good girl and spread those legs f’me.”

you do as you’re told and your breath hitches when his fingers slide beneath your clothing. nicholas chuckles as he figures out that you’re completely bare, giving him easy access to your throbbing, wet core.

“no underwear? guess you’re not as innocent as i thought.” he slyly comments, not wasting time for his fingers to graze along your slit. when the pads of his middle and ring make light, pressured circles around your clit, you whimper before you hastily cover your mouth before you take it away once you have control of sounds—or so you thought when one finger eased its way inside, stretching your walls as they clench around him.

“you’re so tight, sweetheart. m’gonna put another finger in, ‘kay?”

with that, his ring joins in with his middle, both working in tandem as they push in and pull out so fluidly it makes your leg spread and head spin. when his fingertips hit that one spot, you gasped, holding onto his wrist to signal for him to hit it right there. nicholas wasn’t playing around as he instantly picked up on your cue, pumping his fingers faster against the erogenous area of your walls.

“s-shit, nicholas that feels s-so—” you try to stammer out, but he interrupts you by placing his free finger on your lips.

“shh. try not to make a sound. you don’t wanna get caught do you?”

you shake your head, stifling your mewls by swallowing.

“that’s my good girl. m’gonna make you feel so fucking good, beautiful.” he boasts by pressing his thumb over your clit again, rapidly jutting it up and down in which your hips instinctively buck into his fingers. the only sounds you could hear in the room is the light squelching of your sex combined with the muffled “hm, hm, hm” buried in your mouth as the familiar heat deep in the pit of you began to burn.

“c-close.” you murmur loud enough for only him to hear, you lean back as your hips were squirming against his gliding digits.

“i know, baby, i know. do something f’me okay? c’mere.” he beckoned you closer in which you did before his free arm guides one of yours to grasp onto his shoulder, you follow suit by taking your other and placing it on the respective shoulder, so that you could hold onto him with a firm grip.

“move with me, baby. ride my fingers.” he moved his fingers steadily as you begin to grind your hips in the perfect rhythm, his thumb never ceasing its affection on your sensitive, puffy button. it was all driving you so crazy, that your nails dug into the skin of his muscular shoulders before you practically bounced yourself at a rapid speed on his fingertips, your breath now labored with each thrust.

“oh, fuck. oh, fuck, nick! m’gonna cum!” you softly bellowed, the pitch of your voice getting higher.

“fuck, go ahead, gorgeous. make a mess all over of me. i got you.”

before you could utter another sound, nicholas grabbed you by the neck to pull you into a passionate kiss, where you poured every single lewd sound you had pent up melt into his mouth as your tongues reunite in a sensual dance. there were so many sensations going on at once from above to below, that the slow simmer of the heat that coiled inside of you grew hotter until it finally exploded. as it occurred, you pulled back from him, tightly grasping his wrist as intense tidal waves of pleasure surged through you, causing you to weakly double over into his chest. your mouth was wide open, but not a sound came out as your juices flowed onto his fingers and poured down your thighs. after you rode out your high, nicholas slide his fingers out to take a taste of the glistening substance that poured on his hand. a hum mixed with some soft profanity left his lips at the new taste—his next idea brewing in his filthy mind.

“you did so well, angel.” he wrapped his burly arms around your shaky, fucked out form, resting a kiss to your forehead. he noticed that you were quiet, his brown eyes descended towards you to see that you were knocked out cold in a sweet slumber after such an encounter. if he could, he’d sit here all night watching you peacefully sleep in his arms, but he had to put you back in bed before sunrise, so that your parents wouldn’t be suspicious. ever so stealthy, he picked you up bridal style and walked quietly to your open bedroom before gingerly placing you in the sheets, pulling them over to conceal you from the chest down. he was even kind enough to find your protective satin bonnet, gently lifting your head to securely place it over one of the many hairstyles that he always found to be stunning on you. nicholas’ soft, coffee gaze lingered on your peaceful, sleeping figure before he leaned forward to lay one last kiss on your head.

“sweet dreams, princess.”

after he bid you a tender goodnight, he gazed down at the stiff arousal within his sweats. nicholas concluded that he had to take his own advice of putting himself to sleep within the privacy of his bedroom only with the thoughts of you on his mind.

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ariahmichelle · 2 days ago

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I want to be that someone- Drew Starkey x actress!reader.

This is a part 2 to ‘Phoning it in’ Part 1 here

•••••••••• ••••••••• •••••••••••

You were home now, but your mind wasn’t. Sitting cross-legged on your couch, you stared at your phone resting on the coffee table, Drew’s text still lighting up the screen.

Alright, you got me good. But seriously, don’t scare me like that again. I’d miss you too much. 😅 Also, come over later? I wanna talk about something.

Your heart had been racing since the moment you’d read it. You still hadn’t replied, and it wasn’t like you to leave Drew hanging. You two had always been easy—no overthinking, no awkward pauses, just years of natural friendship. So why did your stomach flip at the thought of what he wanted to talk about?

You knew why. You’d felt something shift during that prank call. You weren’t sure if it was Drew’s fake marriage proposal, his insistence that you couldn’t leave Outer Banks, or the way his voice softened when he told you he’d miss you too much. Whatever it was, it made your chest tighten in a way that you couldn’t ignore.

Finally, with a deep breath, you grabbed your phone and typed out a reply.

Sorry, I got caught up at the studio. I’ll be over at 7?

The dots indicating Drew was typing popped up almost immediately, giving you the go ahead.

Two hours later, you stood outside Drew’s apartment, fidgeting with the strap of your bag. This was ridiculous. You’d been here a million times before. But now, everything felt different. With a steadying breath, you knocked.

The door opened, and there he was, his familiar crooked smile greeting you. But even Drew looked a little… off. His usual easy confidence seemed to falter, his hands stuffed into his pockets as he stepped aside to let you in.

“Hey,” he said, his voice a little softer than usual.

“Hey,” you replied, feeling the awkwardness settle between you like a weight.

You both walked into the living room, where the table was already set with takeout. It was a normal thing for you two—sharing meals and laughing about whatever ridiculous thing had happened on set that day. But tonight, the tension was thick, and you both seemed to feel it.

Over dinner, you tried to keep things light, cracking jokes and filling the silence with small talk. Drew played along, but his usual playful sarcasm was subdued. He seemed distracted, like he was waiting for the right moment to say something.

You couldn’t take it anymore. After dinner, as you both moved to the couch, you turned to him, clutching a throw pillow in your lap.

“Drew,” you started, your voice coming out shakier than you intended. “What’s going on? You said you wanted to talk about something.”

Drew fidgeted, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. I, uh…” He let out a nervous laugh. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to say this without making things weird.”

Your heart hammered in your chest. “If it’s about the prank, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or—”

He cut you off, shaking his head. “No, it’s not that. Well, kind of, but not in the way you think.”

You blinked, confused. “Then what is it?”

Drew exhaled, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “When you mentioned going on Love Is Blind, it… it stirred something up in me. At first, I thought I was just worried about you leaving acting, but then I realized it wasn’t just that.”

You sat frozen, watching him intently. He looked nervous—genuinely nervous—and that wasn’t like him.

He glanced at you, his blue eyes searching yours. “The idea of you being with someone else, putting yourself out there for someone like that, whether it was thought some show or meeting someone anywhere else, made me realize something. I want to be that someone.”

Your breath caught, and your cheeks heated instantly.

“I’ve been trying to ignore it for a while,” he continued, his voice softer now. “But when I thought about you actually finding someone on that show, my heart just… dropped. And I couldn’t shake it. That prank just made me realize how much I… care about you. More than I probably should as your friend.”

For a moment, you couldn’t speak. Your heart was pounding, and the words Drew had just spoken hung in the air, heavy and raw.

“Is this your payback prank?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, trying to lighten the moment and hide how flustered you were.

Drew let out a soft laugh, his tension easing slightly. “No, it’s not,” he said, reaching out to take your hand. “I promise, it’s not.”

His hand was warm, steadying your nerves as he gave it a gentle squeeze.

You took a moment to gather your thoughts, your cheeks still burning. “You were the first person I thought of for that prank,” you admitted quietly. “Not just because I thought you’d find it funny, but because… I wanted to see if there was even a sliver of a chance that my feelings weren’t one-sided.”

Drew’s eyes softened, and he leaned closer, his fingers brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “It’s definitely not one-sided,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your eyes flicked from his to his lips, and your heart felt like it was about to burst out of your chest. “Can I kiss you?” he murmured.

You nodded slowly, and Drew closed the distance, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, tentative kiss. It was gentle at first, but as you leaned into him, it deepened, years of unspoken feelings finally coming to the surface.

When you pulled back, you were both breathless. Without thinking, you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a hug. Drew laughed softly and tugged you closer, shifting you into his lap.

“This is insane,” you said, your voice muffled against his shoulder. “Our castmates are going to freak.”

Drew chuckled, resting his forehead against yours. “Let’s keep it our little secret for now,” he whispered. “We’ll figure it out. No pressure, no rush. Just… us.”

You smiled, feeling more at ease than you had in weeks. “Just us,” you echoed, leaning in to kiss him again.

————————

Let me know what u think! Anyone want a part 3 where the cast find out ?

#drew starkey x actress!reader #drew starkey x female reader #drew starkey x oc #drew starkey fic #drew starkey x you #drew starkey fluff #drew starkey fanfiction #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey #drew starkey imagine #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks imagine #rafe cameron #rafe cameron fic

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somnus-lucis-caelum · 18 hours ago

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While Aerith walked onwards and abandoned some of the gold that adorned her, Somnus stayed right where he was. He even leaned back a little, his back finding the wood of the door. They were locked in here, guarded. So no prying ye had the chance to catch them together. So they had no way to escape.

Aerith’s commentary on this all was… correct. So little words that described perfectly what had just happened.

“A lot of things wrong…”, he uttered in return, finally freeing himself from the door and walking to one of the long seats, sitting down there and driving a hand through his hair until he could pull the wreath from his head. His elbows resting on his knees as he turned the olive branches between his fingers and mustered them.

Even now he could find no better words than those that had immediately shot through his head this morning.

“Aerith… I had no idea. You have to believe me. I never… I never wanted your throne. It is not right.”

Shaking his head, he still did not dare to look at her. Of all the things, this seemed the deepest betrayal. Because the rest? As forced and stiff as it had been… this arranged marriage had not been the biggest shock today.

“You should be Queen. Not Queen consort.”

It was only that reassuring little brush of Somnus' thumb that coaxed Aerith to finally look him in the eye. He was trapped in this gilded new cage too, he hadn't asked for any of this. His known life had changed even more than hers had.

He would be expected to step into a new life. New lands. New customs. The court? Gone were his days of dodging away into the shadows of his favourite training grounds. He would be expected to learn all the lessons that were once paved for her. Heavy was the head that wore the crown... but at least she had been prepared for it all her life... and it had been thrusted upon him overnight.

There were no smiles. Her green eyes were just as bright, but they now reflected her sadness and her uncertainty. She seemed to search his eyes for something... without words between them, though, it was a difficult ceremony to navigate.

Even the expected kiss. She should have been bubbly, giddy, blushing a rosy warmth of anticipation. Instead she was as cold and as serious as Somnus. Her eyes closed when he leaned in... and there wasn't even a feeling of relief in that barely-there kiss. The strongest feeling she had was 'get me out of here', away from the pitying eyes of their families.

Turning, the only face she glanced was Roran's. Little sprout was trying to stand stiff and serious too, and he looked so confused. He had been to a wedding before and even he knew this wasn't right. She offered a half-smile, her fingers flexed in a little wave, and then she walked on with... her husband.

Again, the silence echoed with every step. In the end her head bowed so she wouldn't have to face another guard — their presence was intense, they were hiding an extremely sensitive secret of the kingdom after all. Not even a servant on the outer-edges could glimpse this shadowy union.

Aerith looked around the room awkwardly as the doors were closing in on them. Somnus heaved a breath, though she remained... stiff. She took an uncertain step, another, and decided on simply crossing the room to an open tabletop. There she delicately removed the floral tiara from her head, followed by heavy golden bracelets adorning her arms.

Then her hands reached for her braded hair. It was an intricate, complicated mess. Her fingers flexed there a moment and then lowered. Finally she sighed her own deep breath, her head lowering along with her shoulders. She had taken some moments longer than him to crumble, but how could he blame her, this wasn't a familiar room to her like it was to him.

"That was... a lot." Aerith finally commented, turning around to face Somnus now that there weren't any other eyes on them. "A lot a lot."

#holyguardian #AU | Star Crossed

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letstalkaboutfandomsbaby · 3 days ago

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Shota "I will never get married, even to someone I love" Aizawa when he brushes his teeth next to you for the first time: 💦🥵💥😵🤕💫🍆🥴 -rosie

I truly don't know why i feel this way but i have a sneaking suspicion that Shouta Aizawa has an undiscovered marriage kink.

He's a fighter, a rogue, never in the spotlight, always doing his job in the shadows for the sake of saving people, not for the fame. He has few to no valuables because he doesn't believe he'll live long enough to enjoy them.

But then he becomes a teacher, and then he becomes an adoptive parent, and then he meets you. Everything falls into place so nicely and he finds himself smiling at weird times when he's thinking about it all.

But he can't get attached. This is temporary, like all things, and he doesn't want to get so attached that the thought of losing you destroys him. He's been through that once before with a friend, and he doesn't think he can handle it again.

But you're just amazing. He likes you by yourself, but he adores how you treat Eri as your own, making her giggle when you rub your nose against hers, playing with her, cooking for her, you're almost like her mom at this point. Hell, Eri asked him in private last night if you were her new mom, and he didn't know how to answer.

And now it's Friday and you've invited the two of them over for dinner. It's late, your bellies are full, and poor Eri is so tired that she falls asleep watching old movies you used to love as a kid.

"I'm sorry about this," he mumbles, finishing the last of his wine.

"Why are you sorry?" you ask genuinely, filling his glass once more.

"Because Eri fell asleep. Again."

You giggle, but not too loud so you don't disturb her.

"It's fine. You know I adore her. It's always a treat having you two over. Besides, I'm lucky enough to have a guest bedroom, so she can sleep there for the night."

He ponders it, humming.

"I guess I could sleep on the couch."

"Don't be silly. You'll be in my bed with me."

"I don't have a toothbrush."

"I have a couple spares."

"I don't want to intrude."

"I'm offering."

His lips curl on their own accord, and he coughs, straightening out his face.

"Sure. If you're okay with it."

"I'm more than okay with it." You finish your wine, standing from your chair and moving to Eri. "C'mon my sweet love. It's time for bed."

Eri grumbles as you pick her up, arms instinctively wrapping around your neck, her head on your shoulder. The sight warms Aizawa's heart, and he gets up to follow you to the spare bedroom. He pulls back the sheets, lets you set Eri down. You raise a finger, moving to the closet and grabbing something, returning with a teddy bear that's about half Eri's size. You tuck it in next to her, covering her up, leaving the room.

"She should really brush her teeth," Aizawa whispers half heartedly.

"Her baby teeth will survive for one night," you reply, gently shutting the door.

The two of you clean up, brush your teeth, get ready for bed. He undresses with you, crawls into the sheets beside you. Why is his heart beating so fast? Why is his skin feeling clammy?

"Goodnight, Sho." You kiss him briefly, snuggling up to him. He thinks quietly for a moment before rubbing your arm.

"Can we...?" You look up at him.

"You want to?" He nods and you smile slyly. "Okay, but you gotta be quiet."

"You're the one who needs to try and be quiet. Last time at the love hotel we got a complaint."

"Yeah, well Eri wasn't right next door then. Just go lock the door."

He kisses you, locks the door, returns to bed. You make love, you cum together, you fall asleep.

In the morning, you make pancakes, coffee, cut some fruit. You try to tame Eri's hair with a brush as she eats her pancakes with chocolate chips.

Aizawa leans against the counter, drinking his coffee. He watches the two of you, warmth blooming in his chest.

Maybe this is what he wanted all along.

#ask #aizawa #aizawa shouta #☀️ asks

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greenleaf4stuff · 2 days ago

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Of Convenience – Epilogue (Part 11.1)

(all previous parts of "Of Convenience")

Adar x Celebrimbor (silverscars) political marriage AU, 11th snippet / epilogue, part 1. The fight has been won, feelings have been shared, things are well. All that is left now is for Adar and Celebrimbor to start their future together – and while shadows of the past might still haunt them for a while, they have each other to keep them at bay.

Here be intimacy (making out) that will lead to smut in the next part! This is at least T rated and will move to M rating in the next bit. Please mind the ratings!

I thought I’d give those two not just a few kisses (though they share plenty of those in chapter as well) but a lil more intimacy. As a treat. That is basically all this is. I think I made it pretty fluffy and very heartfelt, so I hope you lovely people will enjoy this as much as the rest of the fic. I originally planned for this to be a one-part final (sexy) farewell but it seems I am incapable of writing this epilogue without some more plot and character moments, and therefore had to split it up into two parts. Once again a big Thank You to @plotdesigner for helping me with some ideas for this one. I was pretty fried by the end of this fic, so thank you for your support! <3)

The immediate aftermath of the fight against Sauron was a blur of activity. Once the uruk and elven fighters had arrived, worried by Mirdania’s and Glûg’s warnings, there had been shouts for healers and then, the beginnings of loud, elated proclamations of the shared victory over the Deceiver.

Celebrimbor had witnessed all this as if through a fog; his body needed a bit of time to realize that the battle was truly over, but when it did, he felt a wave of fatigue wash over him. His friends looked much the same way, though Gil-Galad at least tried to hide it.

Adar, a steady presence by the smith's side, also seemed to finally succumb to his own exhaustion. He didn’t outwardly appear tired, but kept his arm around Celebrimbor’s waist and used the position to occassionally lean onto him. The warmth of his body, the safety of his presence, quickly turned Celebrimbor from fatigued to downright sleepy.

Which was why he used the first opportunity that presented itself to take Adar aside and drag him to the smith’s spare bedchamber in the forge tower. He’d decided to have it constructed due to his perchant for getting too immersed in his work to mind the time, and was glad when he found that it had been left completely untouched in his abscence.

The elf pulled Adar alongside him, before he simply collapsed onto the bed, uncaring whether he looked particularly graceful in the process. He beckoned the uruk to join him. "I can tell you are falling asleep on your feet, same as me. I’d like to hold you while I rest. Please?"

Adar had fought himself, albeit briefly, "The uruk-"

"Know that we have won the fight. Your lieutenants are more than capable. They’ll understand," and then Celebrimbor smirked, just a little. "If they aren’t celebrating already."

That seemed to do the trick. Adar laughed, low and warm, then trudged over to the side of the bed. When he made to take off his boots, Celebrimbor scoffed and just tugged him down on top of the covers. "We can have that cleaned tomorrow, or whenever it is we will wake up next," he decided, and then pulled the uruk close.

They ended up in an embrace, with Celebrimbor’s head tucked underneath Adar’s chin and his nose at the uruk's throat, their arms tightly woven around one another’s bodies, legs tangled. Adar soon placed a hand onto Celebrimbor's nape and carded his fingers through the elf's blond-brown locks, a touch that lulled both of them to sleep.

They awoke in much the same position the next morning, to gentle breaths and steady heartbeats, which just went to show at how much they had needed to rest after the last few weeks.

That day, too, was a blur; this time for how busy it was. Celebrimbor and Gil-Galad both had to address Eregion’s citizens and make sure to explain the situation to them, including the presence of the uruk in and around the city. Adar himself rejoined his troops to tell them in detail how the victory of their alliance had been achieved, and from what Celebrimbor had been told by Gurlak later, he’d been held up in the celebrations afterwards.

The uruk were loud in their festivities, the sound of battle songs and large drums drifting over the city walls. Celebrimbor found himself smiling as he heard it, leaning out the window of his private quarters.

He and Adar both knew that the responsibilities towards their people could not be neglected – not even for the sake of the newfound closeness between them. Despite that, the elf was already aching to see his husband again.

Which was why he was quite delighted when, come evening, Adar finally returned to Eregion. Supposedly to give Gil-Galad a report on the uruk army, but judging by the amused expressions on everyone else’s faces, they were quite aware how neither Celebrimbor nor Adar could stop staring at the other. Or how they barely followed the conversation between the rest of the elven leaders.

Eventually, Ereinion had simply rolled his eyes and shooed them off. "We will continue this tomorrow. It is clear you two need the time to discuss other matters first," he stated, but his exasperation came with a fond undertone and was accompanied by a smile.

Celebrimbor flustered, especially since Galadriel also felt emboldened to throw him a knowing smirk, but he ultimately did not object. Adar, too, might have held himself up straight and attempted to affect a scowl, but was quick to incline his head and follow Celebrimbor’s lead when the elf left the other leaders to their talks.

It was already getting late. The smith dreaded the thought of sleeping alone in his own bed after he and Adar had spent so much time together in their tent, sitting and dining and talking, their cots standing close enough to hear one another’s breaths during the night.

"Would you…" he briefly faltered, then swallowed and looked at Adar with a hopeful expression. "Would you stay?"

He hadn’t even intended it to be more than a request for company, for Adar sleep in his bed with him, but, alas-

When they had closed the doors to the elf’s quarters behind them, they had been unable to keep away from each other. It started with them holding each other close once again, and then their lips found themselves pressed together just as easily.

There was no urgency, per se. Celebrimbor felt lighter being close to the uruk, and warmth was spreading through him as they kissed. It was a slow progression from chaste pecks to something deeper when Adar’s tongue asked entrance to the elf’s mouth, which he granted with a small moan and a shiver.

Adar had his hands on Celebrimbor’s hips, while the elf had placed one hand between the uruk’s shoulderblades and moved the other to his cheek, which he cupped in his palm.

The uruk’s scars were rough under the elf’s hand. He stroked curious fingers along the raised tissue, then moved his hand into Adar’s hair. It was as soft as he remembered from their wedding kiss. The smith delighted in finally being able to card his fingers through the strands at his leisure and felt a stab of heat when his husband groaned in obvious delight.

When Adar reached for Celebrimbor’s tunic, the smith readily nodded at Adar's silent question and raised his arms to let the other shed the garment from him. It felt easy as breathing. In the candlelight of his room, the elf watched as Adar took him in, pupils already dilated as his eyes moved across Celebrimbor’s torso. His hand, when he reached out, was gentle as it moved over the elf's arms and chest.

There was a tiny frown on his face when he found the purpling bruises on Celebrimbor’s neck from the day before. The elf let the other take them in, tilted his head to the side as Adar felt around the skin of his throat.

"It’s not as bad as it looks. It’ll be gone in a day or two," the elf reassured his husband. When the other looked at him, Celebrimbor smiled and pressed Adar’s hand to his chest instead, right over his heart. "It’ll heal. I’m alright."

The uruk watched him for a moment. When the smith continued to look at him evenly, and did not flinch under his touch, he nodded and drew Celebrimbor into another deep kiss.

Their embrace felt good to the elf, but it also felt slightly cold now, without his tunic and while the chilled metal of Adar’s breastplate was digging into his chest. He slowly pulled back from the kiss and tugged at the laces that held the chest armor in place, a silent question of his own.

The uruk understood, and made quick work of his armor. Celebrimbor felt greedy as he saw his husband take off his breastplate first, then the chainmail, with practiced and easy movements. He hadn’t often seen the other without his armor before, which made him all the more eager to take in the outline of his muscles, the shape of his body underneath the heavy layers.

He put his hands on top of Adar’s tunic and let them move about, felt the hardness of his upper arms and pecs through the fabric. The elf’s breath came out in a shudder. He had no doubt his own pupils were blown wide by then as well.

Celebrimbor looked at Adar as he moved his hand down to gently tug at the hem of his top, but stopped himself when he saw the expression on his husband’s face. He’d squared his jaw and his eyebrows had furrowed.

"Adar," the smith said, quietly, and waited till the uruk would look at him. "We don’t have to. I only intended to have you sleep in the same bed as me – we can do just that. It would be more than enough."

The uruk had been very delicate when it came to ensuring Celebrimbor’s comfort, after he’d proposed the political marriage to him. And during their wedding. Perhaps this had been as much for Adar’s benefit as his own, or perhaps the uruk had made experiences in the past that made him cautious.

Celebrimbor had absolutely no objection extending the same courtesy to him – he wanted this to feel good for Adar as well. "If you only wish for us to kiss, or even just share a bed to sleep, that is alright. Truly. I do not expect anything from you."

The uruk looked at him with deep fondness, and cupped Celebrimbor’s cheek. "It is not that- at least, not precisely."

He took a deep breath. "You might already have guessed it, but my face isn’t the only part of my body that is scarred. I do not wish to frighten you."

Celebrimbor was stunned speechless for a moment, but then quickly cupped Adar’s cheeks and brought their foreheads together. He implored the other with his eyes to believe him as he said, "You could not frighten me. I take you as you are, if you will have me. I wish to learn your body just as it is, whatever it may look like."

Adar still seemed unsure, so Celebrimbor stroked his cheeks and gave him a moment. Finally, the uruk nodded, and then slightly drew back.

Without another word, he lifted up the hand with his gauntlet. Celebrimbor watched him unlace the strings that kept the gauntlet tight on his hand, and then take it off.

He knew what Adar had meant, then.

His hand had been mangled and remade multiple times, it looked like. Patches of the skin were black and hardened, the nails of his fingers short stubs. It seemed he only had limited movement to his fingers as well, which the gauntlet had either mitigated or managed to hide from Celebrimbor’s sight. Scars criss-crossed the uruk's hand, from below his sleeve, over his wrist and up to his fingertips.

Adar’s face had turned expressionless once more, a mask he wore to protect himself. Celebrimbor hated it and wanted to see it gone, so he smoothed a gentle thumb over Adar’s cheek before he reached out to take his newly uncovered hand in both of his own.

Just before touching it, he stopped, and looked at Adar. "Can I touch you here?"

The mask fell away, replaced by a look of appreciation. Adar nodded. "Yes. Of course."

"Thank you," Celebrimbor replied, and then took the hand between his own, gentle as if he were holding something fragile. In a way, he supposed he was.

He moved the pads of his own fingers over the raised, uneven skin, felt it's differences against his own. Truly, great harm had been done to this former elf, and yet compassion and kindness had survived in his heart. He’d managed to turn his pain and rage into protectiveness, even if it had been misguided at times in the past.

How could Celebrimbor revile the signs of that? Or fear them?

Carefully, slowly, he lifted the uruk’s hand to his face. He placed gentle kisses upon it, first onto Adar’s knuckles, then his fingertips. And then, he turned up the palm and pressed it to his lips. He closed Adar’s fingers over his cheek and held the other there with his own hand.

His eyes finally turned back to his husband and watched him from beneath his lashes.

Hoping, willing, the other to understand without words.

Judging by the way Adar drew a deep, sharp breath, and then tilted forward to draw Celebrimbor into an urgent kiss, he had managed.

38 notes · View notes

madamechrissy · 11 hours ago

Text

Would you come with me?

Pairings: Satoru Gojo x F! reader

Summary: You have been Satoru's best friend for such a long time, and one day he asks you a really big favor- marry him. What!?!? Well, Satoru has to take a wife as he's running the Gojo corporation, and what better way to get them off his back than 'marry'? In name only, just best friends living together for a year to calm them down, sounds so perfect and uncomplicated, right!!! Well, living with Satoru Gojo makes you both question everything, is this fake marriage feeling... real? and can you just be friends after this?

CW: NSFT-MDNI- So much mutual pining and longing, not sharing feelings. This chap- making out, masturbation (toru hehe), teasing and some very kinky ass thoughts, but mostly TENSION. Eventually - Explicit sex, oral sex, it's me so a breed kink. Gonna be a miniseries, Satoru is a lil sweetie and a lil freaky ass- falls hard, ya'll both down bad. WC this Part- 7.5k

Songs for this part - Lose Contol // My Boo // Friends

This was supposed to be a oneshot but it's going WAY too long, so I'm separating it into three parts! (Also ty for 5k hehe) Comments and reblogs appreciated <3

Part one

“You love me, right?”

You blink a bit, as you stare at Satoru Gojo, he’s been your best friend all throughout high school and even before you’ve known him. You’re sitting across from him, while he’s sipping boba with you, his Gucci shades perched on the bridge of that straight nose, a smirk on his glossy lips. You tilt your head curiously at him, of course you love Satoru, but he only pulls this when he needs a favor.

“What’d you get into this time, Toru?” You demand, he gasps then, affronted, a hand to his chest.

“Excuse me, missy? I’m just asking if you love me.”

You roll your eyes, leaning back in your seat in the little cafe. “Of course, you know I love your goofy ass.”

Satoru takes off his glasses, those swirling blue eyes wrecking you as they have all these years, usually you can put up enough of a barrier not to let them consume you, but apparently you haven’t today. You watch those snowy lashes lower when his eyes bore into you, swirling storms of bright blue, you have to snap yourself out of it.

Being Satoru Gojo’s best friend wasn’t for the weak.

“How much you love me, hmm?”

“What is it you need, an alibi?” He snorts then, shaking his head and wrapping his lips around the straw.

“M’not Suguru, shit… no, I need a really big favor. Like… the biggest favor, but if you agree, I can really make it worth your while.”

“Okay this isn’t a mobster movie, Toru, what is it?” Satoru looks down then, long fingers swirling around the top of his cup, before his eyes snap back to yours.

“What if I said I’d help you with all that student loan debt, and buy you a shiny brand new car?”

“Satoru, I don’t want your money, I do fine okay?”

“Your car is old enough to drink.”

“Fuck off!” Your glare makes him snort in laughter. “It is not, it’s like… not even old enough to vote… I don’t think.”

“It’s old, sweets. Say you also had a place to stay, for free?”

“Satoru this isn’t Pretty Woman-”

“I love that movie!”

“Satoru! What are you getting at!?” You’re crossing your arms then, raising a brow at the lanky man across from you, whose legs are spread wide in his dark blue dress pants, he’s pulling just a bit at his silky black tie.

Satoru has taken a huge role recently in his family business, the conglomerate that owned a million different things, you know how much he detests it, but once Satoru graduated college his family pushed it more and more. At this point he was thriving, doing most of the work with his father taking much more of a back seat, his health starting to deteriorate.

You and Gojo spend more time together than ever, you know he needs his friend, especially with Suguru having left for some time, the two of them not together was always hard on him. You’d been friends with both of them, but Suguru seems to have left and found his own calling, swinging through to see you both from time to time, but much is different since those days at Tokyo high.

Not you and Satoru though.

For the longest time you pined away for him, but you never made that move, aside from one stolen kiss in a closet during seven minutes in heaven, and Satoru had it bad for you all of Junior and Senior year, but the two of you never risked it, your friendship. And now you’re glad to have him in your life, but it’s hard to even think of someone serious when he’s so brightly and firmly in your life.

“This is a huge favor I need, it’s… a lot to ask.” Satoru murmurs softly, you tense a bit, brows drawing together.

“What’s wrong, is everything okay?” Your voice is a low hum as you murmur, he nods just a bit.

“Yeah it’s fine just… I’m being forced to choose a bride, and they have many candidates.” He laughs humorlessly, and your heart breaks for him.

“Shit, I’m so sorry, Satoru. I thought you’d have longer?”

“Yeah, I wish.” He runs a hand through his silky white locks, looking down for a moment, lips that always smirk or maybe pout actually frowning. “I need to just get it done, get em off my ass.”

“That doesn’t sound like you, why not tell em to fuck themselves, hmm? Where’s my Toru!?”

“He’s exhausted.” He swipes a hand across his face, and you lean closer, hand on his leg, his eyes sliding back to yours.

“Do you want me to help find someone? I have a lot of good friends in high families… find you someone not money hungry, not a psycho? How much time do you even have?”

“That’s not what I'm asking.” He puts his big hand over yours now, sighing, leaning closer to you. “I’m asking if you want to.”

“If I want to, what exactly?”

“Marry me?”

“What!?” He chuckles then, but even that sound is exhausted.

“You forget you’re from a top family, nah it’s not the Gojo clan but…”

“Satoru…”

“Just for like a bit? To get em to leave me alone, let me gain some more power. All for show, and I’ll help you with anything, I promise.” He’s clutching your hand, and suddenly the room feels like it’s spinning.

“Wh-why me? We… you… I…”

“You’re my best friend, it would be like being roommates damn near. You could… do your thing as long as you’re discrete.” He murmurs, you want to laugh then, as if you’ve done anything in a couple of years now. “And I would be discrete, respectful, we’d just be in name, appearance. We’re best friends, it will be a piece of cake, and most of all… I trust you.”

You try to digest all the information, blinking and trying not to think the insane thoughts that come with it, but you fail. “But won’t they want… an heir?”

Satoru’s cheeks flush bright pink now. “We don’t need to… I’d never ask you to do that, ever I swear. I’d never be an ass like that.”

You feel your heart racing as you shove back all of the images you should not have for your friend. “I know, I know. But… they’d-”

“That’s the thing, a year or so and they’ll back off. Give me time to fix some mistakes, with dad being sick… I’m not saying I won’t miss him, but how he is running shit? No, I know I can make things better, take down these shitty higher ups who are so greedy. You just could give me more time, and I promise I’ll do anything I can to help you too.”

“It’s insane, this is marriage!” You blink a bit, shifting, his hand now brushing back a lock of hair from your forehead, a familiar gesture that now takes on something more intimate.

“It can just be for show, we’ll be the same best friends as always. I have no one I can imagine even living with but you, maybe Suguru but… he’s not a girl.”

“He has that long silky hair?” You both laugh a little, softly then.

“He sure does, but… you’re prettier to look at.”

“Flattery? Stop that. It’s insane, and… how would we even explain it in such a rush?”

“We’ve been friends forever. Who wouldn’t believe that we got together? It’s even easier. I mean, maybe a couple kisses and things for show, but… you’ve kissed me before, remember?” He’s grinning wide then, you shove at him playfully. “That closet was cramped, hmm?”

“Oh shut it, that was so long ago. I mean, if you really need me, you know I’ll do this for you. I don’t expect you to go all out on anything for me in return.” Satoru pauses now, watching how the light streaming in through the large cafe windows hits your pretty face, as you explain to him that you’d want nothing in return for this!? For this huge imposition on your life.

You have always been the sweetest, best friend he has had, so important to him he’s never dared to cross that line, and he knows it will tempt him to no end to do this, but he also knows he can trust you. “Let me just take care of a few things for you, you can almost see it as a job. There will be events, meetings with the other leaders, trust me. Like anything I can do, you’ll be helping me so much.”

“Alright.”

“What!?”

He’s hugging you tightly to him, you giggle a bit, breathless. “Yeah, I’ll do it… I need a nice car though, Toru. A BMW?”

“I’ll get you ten BMWs.”

“Jesus, no. Silly boy.” You giggle as you look up at him, your best friend, but then your heart falters when he’s just a bit too close.

“Should we practice kissing now?” He teases, voice husky.

“Satoru, you're insufferable.”

He pouts now, and you swallow down the fact that you don’t know if you can even handle kissing his lips. “Aww you’re still such a brat, since middle school.”

“You’re the brat here.”

“Meanie.” You both stick your tongues out, and when he’s walking you over to your shitty car, he wraps you in a big hug in his strong arms, making you melt against him. “Mwah, mwah, mwah you’re the best friend ever.”

“Oh, stop.” He’s smacking kisses on your head as you inhale his cologne, sighing as you contemplate just what the fuck you’re doing. “When do we do this?” You ask, pulling back a bit and looking up at him.

“I can have things going in a couple weeks, something super simple, like I said we’ll just live our lives, just be friends, it’ll be fine. Like a really long sleepover, hmm?” He teases, grinning now, putting back on his shades.

You figure, what’s it hurt? Your apartment is shitty, your car is old, Gojo is your best friend, and you’re down to help him avoid a miserable marriage for as long as he can. You nod then, smiling. “A long sleepover.”

One week of being ‘fake married’ to Satoru Gojo, your best friend

Satoru Gojo thought he would control himself decently living with you, considering how many times you’ve slept over, how many movies you both have crashed out on the couch together. He’s seen you in bathing suits over the years, he’s caught glimpses of your pretty body of course, he knows how beautiful you are and he’s always maintained himself.

Satoru treasures you far too much to fuck it up in any way, despite the amount of times he’s almost lost it. Aside from Suguru, you have been the most important person in his life, and perhaps you’re closer now. But he can’t help but compare other girls to you over the years, and he usually makes quick work of the small relationships that he has with them.

However, what he hadn’t anticipated? Living with you walking around in your fucking panties and a crop top.

You nearly took him out the first morning you were here, when he went to brush his teeth, he has a huge house but of course you went to the main bathroom that divides his room and the room he set for you, it’s the bathroom you used when you stayed over. So he should have maybe anticipated it, but nothing prepared him for you bent over the sink, washing your face.

Your ass looked far too tempting in those damn boyshorts, half of each cheek tempting him to smack it, grab it, fucking lift you by it and slide into you. He was shocked when he was hard from the sight of it, he’s not inexperienced or not used to women, and he’s used to you, but something about the sight made him fucking feral, and he had to literally run to one of his guest bathrooms.

He now was almost used to you walking around in almost nothing, but this morning you’re in some little white tank top and he sees the outlines of the curve of your pretty tits, sees your nipples perked up, begging for his mouth. You’re wiping your eyes, yawning, using his Keurig to make coffee, smiling at him as if this is in any way normal or okay.

He gulps as you turn your attention to him, hair in a messy bun, his eyes struggle not to just stare at your body, he has to shut his mouth because it’s just slightly ajar. Satoru, a man who sees women naked frequently, fuck he has business meetings at strip clubs, nudity is nothing. But he can’t take it, take how your breasts are calling for him, how your thighs shift.

“Good morning, Toru! We have that event tonight, right?” You say sweetly, as his heart hammers in his chest, and then you feel his gaze on you, making your nipples tighten, more apparent as you look where he is now, biting your lip. “Shit, white isn’t the best color huh? How embarrassing… it’s kinda cold…”

“Yeah, cold.” He clears his throat, stepping closer, and your eyes drink him in, shirtless and built so perfect. You’ve seen him this way of course over the years, Satoru had no issue pulling his top off to work out, play a game of ball, but something about him in his soft sweats that show too much makes your brain run awry.

You should be immune to it, the god-like body Satoru Gojo has, how fucking perfect he is built, how pretty he is, but something makes your tummy heat up lately, especially when he comes closer, blue eyes lidded. “Um, I’ll make coffee?”

“Yes please.” He smiles sleepily, far too pretty, and you have to remind yourself, as you have all week, that you’re not with him, not truly.

It feels too easy, too comfy.

That was the point though.

“Got it.” You turn now, setting to put the pod in, tiptoeing to get his sugar, he chuckles deeply, reaching above you now, far too close to you, his bare chest pressing against your upper back. Your fingers grip the counters, feeling the cool granite of them, your breath catching.

“I’ll put them a little lower.” He teases, smirking as he sets them down, leaning a hip on the counter, and you smile, pretending to be calm, like your heart didn’t just beat out of your chest.

You’ve literally hugged this man every time you’ve seen him, you’ve even crashed next to him, why is he fucking with you so badly!? You suppose his presence in pieces was just easier to cope with than anything, but now your brain keeps having ridiculous images. Him having you up on that counter, your thighs spread, so intense you drop the spoon, it clatters to his tile floor.

“Shit, sorry.” You bend down, and your breath is right against him, over his thin sweats, and you look up at him, creating the worst images of his best friends he can ever imagine.

“It’s… fine.” He clears his throat, turning so you don’t see the clear evidence of what you’ve done.

“You okay, Toru? Tons of sugar, like usual?”

“Yeah.” His voice is gruff, as he glares at his cock, willing it to go down, you blink curiously at his back, wondering what’s wrong. You clear your throat again and hand him the cup, stepping next to him, he takes it, having put his cock up in the waistband of his boxers now, smiling nonchalantly. “Thanks sweets.”

“Of course! Can we go over a few things later today, before we go? I don’t wanna fuck anything up.”

“Of course we can. I also ordered you a dress and some jewelry, that cool?”

“Oh what? I have dresses, pretty ones!”

“I know, it’s really uppity bitches there though, you need something top notch.”

“Oh…” You trail off, a blush decorating your cheeks now, making you look even more tempting. “But you don’t know my size?’

Satoru brushes a tendril of hair that’s come out of your bun then, smirking just a bit. “Think I don’t know your size, sweetheart?”

“I… um…” Satoru has you flustered, dammit. “Oh?”

“Mhmm.” As if he hasn’t eyed your body a million times over. “It’ll be here later, I have to go to work for just a couple hours.” You nod then, for some odd reason wanting to kiss him, but you bite your lip instead.

“Sounds perfect, I have the day off!”

“Even better, go take a nice bath and relax before we deal with the snobby old fucks.” You giggle at him, you have always loved how he speaks of rich people, when he’s filthy rich, but Satoru? He’s very different.

He’s just…

Satoru.

Satoru’s heart doesn’t hammer in his chest, it almost falls out after he’s got his three piece pinstripe suit on, adjusting a skinny silk tie and peering at his silver Rolex, seeing what time it was, as you appear in front of him. The dress he picked out was a lacy black one, perfect for evening, but the way it hugs your every curve, the way your breasts are pressed up in that top?

You do a nervous spin, revealing your pretty back, the curve of your spine, the v neck so deep he sees hints of the dimples on your back. You turn back around, eyes glittering, enhanced with a little mascara and eyeliner, your lips the prettiest shade of red he can imagine. You look…

Beautiful.

Is that even the word?

How does he even explain it, when he’s speechless, when he feels his ears heat up at just how nervous he is to be in your presence then, eyeing a delicate gold necklace that hits just so in the hollow between your collar bones. You’re tilting your head to the side, hair falling softly in curls you’ve put it in, clutching your pretty little evening bag.

“How do I look, Toru? You look so handsome, but when don’t you.” You tease, and he tries not to look at the slit showing far too much of your pretty thigh, so tempting to slip a hand up it, find your surely pretty little pussy.

“You look…” He takes a breath, trying to act somewhat normal, smiling then. “You look… hot as fuck.”

You giggle then, rolling your eyes. “Oh whatever!”

“You look… amazing. Really.” He steps to you, giving into the temptation to brush the backs of his finger across the apple of your cheek, then across your jaw line, watching your breath catch, your red lips part, showing a hint of your little bottom row of teeth.

How would that pretty face look so fucked out?

God, it’s been a week, he needs to stop.

His hand falls, and you barely hold yourself together, breaths coming quicker and quicker. “You look beautiful, sweets. Gonna make quite the impression.” His husky admission makes you blush further, looking down and eyeing that little knot on his tie, as it’s like the entire room is holding its breath, everything so overwhelming, his nearness, his scent.

“Thank you, really for this dress. It’s so beautiful, and this.” You touch the pretty gold necklace, just making his eyes watch your pretty breasts rise and fall.

“Of course, it’s part of this, you know.” His little admission breaks you just a bit, for some insane reason, you felt like this was some date? You rein yourself in just a bit, smiling.

“Yes, but thank you. Shall we go, hubby?’

“We sure can, wifey.” You both laugh, the friendship of years prevailing finally, when you slip into the back of his limo with him, trying to ignore the feeling of his strong thigh pressing against yours, burning through the silky layer of the dress. “So remember the story?”

“Yeah, it’s easy to think of it happening, friends falling.” You then panic, as his blue eyes catch yours in the dark of the limo. “I mean-”

“No, of course it is. I’ll say that… I started falling in high school.” Because he did, god he did. After you all are about to be at the event, he notices it, your nerves, this just wasn’t your scene. “You look perfect, really.”

“Oh no…” He leans close, cupping your face, but it feels too good, your lips are too close.

“You do, gonna knock 'em dead, yeah?”

“We both will.” You smile tremulously, inhaling the night air greedily as you both walk up to the event, being ushered in. You’re clinging around his elbow as he casually goes about it, going into Mr. Gojo mode, you’ve seen him do it plenty over the years, still keeping his charm and sarcasm, but he’s just a force, the way he plays them all.

Knowing Gojo wants to take most of these people down is thrilling in its own way, you’ve always been enamored with how he fights for his principles, how real and raw he truly is with you about it. How humble when he’s come from everything, but still he knows that role he must play, and play it he does, his hand pressing on the small of your back as you two make small talk.

“I always thought of you two falling for each other.” Says your mom now, yes even your parents had to think it was true.

“I did too… so sudden though? Young love.” Gojo’s mom says, tossing back her silky long locks with a smile.

“What can I say? Your son is hard to resist, he’s so persistent. Like a cute little puppy.”

“A what!? Brat.” He’s glaring, but your parents and his mom are laughing, and you know it works, being real.

“Aren’t you two so in love?” Another person says later, as they observe Satoru placing a little peck on your temple, and he smiles with ease, not realizing the entire mess he’s making you.

“A beautiful couple. Gojo, you chose well.” One of his work friends says with a grin.

“We’re very lucky, both of us.” You say softly, stopping Gojo’s heart, when you peck a little kiss on his neck, tiptoeing in your heels, he turns then, your lips far too close, so close you taste the sweetness of his breath, and your eyes lock. “Aren’t we, Satoru?”

He blinks, realizing… you’re just helping him, and you’re nailing it. He tries to shove back the odd fluttering in his tummy, tilting your chin up. “We are lucky.”

The night ends up with plenty of dancing, plenty of schmoozing back and forth, and plenty of both of you being the perfect team. It was so easy, you both knew each other like no one else, the answers flow, the dancing flows, you’ve both danced in school before, you’ve partied together. You’ve been a plus one even as a friend.

Too natural, too perfect.

You soon need a breath, as you feel far too much as Satoru dances with a lovely girl, you recognize her, Gojo dated her and she’s a family friend. You assume she was a candidate for marriage as you recall her family ties, but seeing someone in his arms suddenly makes your heart break.

It’s only been a fucking week!? Can’t you keep it together!?

Later as you both get home, you’re taking off your shoes, wincing as the heels are off your feet, and Satoru looks at you curiously. “You okay, sweets? Kinda a long night of assholes, huh?”

“Oh it’s fine, Toru. Truly. Um… I recognized a couple girls there.”

“Yeah, they run in the same circles.” He takes off his jacket, rolling up his sleeves of that crisp white dress shirt, revealing the veins of his strong forearms, addling your mind further, how fucking attractive he is when he loosens that tie.

“Um, I know you said discrete, will you be… bringing them here?”

Satoru blinks at you, head tilting, soft white hair falling just so. “What? Bring who here?”

“Um, her, or any of the girls there really. If so I think I’ll probably… wanna know if you don’t mind? So I can make sure I’m in the room or whatever. A little notice?”

Satoru walks to you now, your head is tilted back when he hooks two fingers under your chin. “You think I am interested in them?”

“They’re beautiful. And we’re not together, so it’s fine! Just… a little notice would be cool?”

“And you, what if you bring someone over.” His jaw tenses, his words surprisingly sharp. “Will you tell me?”

You laugh softly. “That won’t even be a thing.”

“In a year?”

“It’s… never been a thing really.” You realize then, that you are almost spilling it, the fact that the entirety of your experience is one fuck in college, a two pump event that involved nothing really.

His brows draw together in disbelief. “Never? You don’t…”

“Listen, we’re best friends, but that’s private. Okay?” He nods, stepping back and rubbing the back of his neck, looking down.

“Shit I mean you date a bit though?”

“Yeah, I do. But… it’s… I need to get out of this dress.” You say then, suddenly rushing to your room, leaving Satoru’s mind whirling.

How do you think he wants anyone when you’re here killing him.

“Toru?” You lean your head out from the bathroom a few moments later.

“Yeah?”

“This is embarrassing, but the zipper is stuck, and it’s so expensive… I don’t wanna fuck the dress up.” You murmur, he smiles, feigning ease as he steps into the bathroom, peering at you in the golden gilded mirror.

“No worries, got ya. Huh it is a little stuck…” He gently tugs at the zipper, humming a big. “Um… hang on I need to pull it up a bit.”

“Sure. Be careful!”

“You’re worried about this when I could buy you ten more tomorrow.”

“Still!”

He smiles at your reflection, hand palming your bare back then, making you bite back a gasp, body shifting in desire at just the touch, your eyes shut so he can’t see them rolling back, but he sees those goosebumps everywhere. He unzips it then, revealing lacy panties that make him pause, letting the dress fall, you’re catching it at the front, gasping.

“I think I got it.” He says huskily, unable to stop his fingers from trailing up your delicate spine, blue eyes so bright in the mirror they wreck you, while you barely hold the material on. “Need any more help?”

“No! I mean… n-no.” Shit shit shit.

You’re soaked from a brush against your back!?

“Got ya.” He smiles just a bit, leaving you now, resting his back on the door, hand running across his face, curious how he’s throbbing with precum from seeing your fucking back.

Two weeks of being ‘fake married’ to Satoru Gojo, your best friend

You arrive at his work, the coworkers all greeting you so friendly, as his assistant Miwa escorts you, giving you both soft smiles. “Your wife is here Mr. Gojo.”

Satoru looks up in surprise, you’re in your pretty work dress, looking all cute and professional, holding a bento box in one hand, a boba in the other. You’re smiling brightly, as his lips part in surprise. “I had an early day and I thought I should bring some lunch?”

“Oh… oh thank you… Miwa if you could?”

“Of course, I’ll give you some privacy.” You hear her giggle and you smile at Satoru, looking as he’s leaned back in his big leather seat, smiling softly back at you, eyeing your hands.

“I get lunch made for me, shit I am lucky with my fake bride.” You snort, rolling your eyes and walking up to him, setting them on the desk.

“It seemed wifey to do? But also I really do have a short day, figured you might be hungry?”

Fuck you’re sweet.

Fuck you’re pretty.

God, you’re looking at him like that, leaned over just a bit, his eyes darting over your body that tempts him every day more and more, but your sweetness ruins him, the thoughtful nature you’ve always had, but now so geared to him. Is it all for show, he can’t believe it is when you open the bento and show him sushi, onigiri and greens placed so prettily his mouth waters.

“You ordered this, yeah?”

“No silly, I’ve been practicing. You helping me have some time off work has literally given me so much time… I hope they’re yummy? Oh, I didn’t make the boba though.”

“Why didn’t you get anything?” He asks, frowning.

“Oh I’m good, I just was dropping it off. You’re probably busy, taking down the villains huh?” Satoru’s words catch in his throat, looking you up and down again, before looking back down at the food in front of him.

“Stay a bit, it’ll… look good you know, us having lunch together.” He murmurs, lying out of his fucking teeth, as if he didn’t want to eat you then and there.

Your thighs spread, panties to the side, lapping you up?

Yummier than this. Killing him to imagine.

“Oh, um… where do I sit, over here?” You go to scooch a chair over, and he stops you.

“Nah those are heavy, come on.” He pats his thigh, earning your eyes widening, pulse fluttering as he smirks. “You’ve sat on my lap at parties plenty.”

“Y-yeah… but it’s… I…”

“C’mon, have a couple bites please, I’ll feel bad if you did all this for me and didn’t eat.”

“Satoru, you have bought me a new wardrobe and a car, can’t I make some sushi?”

“Sit.”

You sigh, it’s true you’ve sat on his lap, but the past two weeks of constantly being wet around him are taking their toll. You smile brightly, sitting on one of his thighs, praying he can’t feel it, the heat from your pussy as you’re pressed on a muscled thigh, and he’s picking up sushi with chopsticks, popping one in his mouth and moaning, rolling his eyes.

“Fuck that’s yummy. You made it for real!?” You giggle, nodding and trying to be more comfortable, it’s your Toru, right?

“It’s pretty easy once you get the hang of it. That’s got eel sauce on it, this one is the spicy crab.”

“You like spicy crab, here.” He pops one to your lips, and something feels too intimate, on his lap like this. “Open.”

Open.

Open!?

The pictures of you hearing him that while on your knees makes your cunt dribble, you shift nervously, clearing your throat.

“Open, silly.”

You do as he says, as he pops the roll in your mouth, and you chew, feeling the flavor hit your tongue, he grins now, popping another into his mouth, and you wonder if it’s easy for him to be this way. He’s so natural at it, sipping his boba and humming happily, all while his thigh presses where you’ve been aching for him, forcing yourself not to touch your pussy to the thought of him.

You can’t do that, it’s fucked.

You try to get up, and he presses you down, big hand on your waist, far too close when he leans the thick straw to your lips. “Take a sip, it’s so good.”

“Oh… um sure. Thank you.” You take a sip, lips pressing where his had, and he can’t stop focusing on how good your lips look, wrapping as you suck, cheeks hollowing and making his cock twitch.

You both sit there then, staring at each other, breaths coming just a little too quick from you, as he sets the drink down, but you stay on his lap. “Y’know… the event tonight, we should probably actually kiss? There will be cameras all over.”

“Kiss!?” He laughs then, shaking his head.

“Yeah, I mean it’s kind of part of it. You’re comfy with it right, not gonna fall head over heels.”

“Psh.” You already have, long ago, it’s all fucking hitting. “You’re so cocky, Toru I swear.”

“I can’t help it, my lips are so talented, you know. Makes girls fall.” He brushes his silky hair back, winking at you then, and you swear you can hear your heart in your goddamn ears.

“I remember you were pretty good.”

“Yeah, you remember?”

“Yeah it… was my first kiss.” You mumble then, looking away, sipping his boba nervously, he blinks rapidly, blue eyes wide in shock.

“What now!?”

“No biggie, we were like seventeen…”

“But you… never told me?”

“It was embarrassing.” Satoru’s mind races to that night, as does yours, as you sit in his office, just the hum of the fan and soft music playing from his little device, staring at each other, both in a haze.

You and Satoru Gojo were thrown in a closet together, you’re sighing as you’re pressed against him, peeking at your phone in the dark to see the time. Being too close to Satoru wreaked havoc on your brains at times, though you have known him so long, you couldn’t lie and act like you didn’t think of things… kissing him, maybe dating him? But you know they’re silly thoughts.

“Don’t freak out, we’ll just let 'em think we made out.” He says now, and you turn your eyes up to him, adjusting in the dark, but even here you can see the glint of those bright baby blues.

“Y-yeah. You’ve kissed plenty, though.”

“You haven’t really?”

“Um, no.”

Satoru’s gently turning you to him now, tilting your chin up while his eyes adjust to see your pretty face, you’re thankful it’s so dark that he couldn’t see your blush. “We could practice, you know.”

“Satoru!”

“What? A little practice between friends? You know you wanna kiss me.” He taunts, teasing tone as he grins.

“No way!”

“Not at all? I’m hurt, sweets.”

“Oh whatever, it'd be weird, we’re too close. Do you kiss Suguru?”

“Oh yeah, have you seen him?”

You both laugh then, when he leans down just a bit. “Well, if you kissed Suguru, I feel left out now.”

“We can’t have that. Show me what you do know, I’ll advise.”

“Kissing expert, hmm?”

“Mhmm.” You lean up then, as he bends down, your arms wrapping around his neck, you pause as his hands press against your waist, making your heart race. “Ya scared?”

“No! Goofy ass.” He’s chuckling until you lean up, pulling him down for a kiss, and your lips meet for the first time.

Your first kiss.

He pauses, your lips connecting just do something. Satoru at seventeen had done plenty of make out sessions, but they were fun, something to do, exciting at times, but nothing prepared him for it. For your sweet lips on him, tingling them, his heart beating in his chest.

Satoru falters, and he never falters.

He doesn’t slip his tongue in, he doesn’t pull you close, he freezes, so in shock at how good it feels, how right it feels. You ease back, nervous then, clearing your throat, as he hasn’t moved his lips. “I’m sorry I’m not…”

Satoru yanks you against him then, pressing your body on his, kissing you over and over, so deeply, taking your breath away, you’ve never felt something like this, you’re trembling as you feel his tongue slip against the seam of your lips. “Open them up for me.”

This isn’t silly Satoru, goofy ass friend, his husky declaration destroys you, and he uses the gasp to slip his tongue inside, swirling with yours, igniting something between you that night that you will both avoid talking about for years. When he presses you against the closet door, sighing into your lips, and you’re being picked up in his arms, as your mouths move over each other.

You both pull back, gasping as the timer goes off.

What was that!?

“If I’d known it was your first kiss, maybe I wouldn’t have… gotten so excited.” He says with a little pink on his cheeks.

“No, you didn’t cross any lines, Toru. Don’t worry.”

He wants to laugh, because oh, he wanted to.

If he’d had more time he’s sure he’d have lost it, whatever control he has now he did not have as a seventeen year old. “Was it a good one at least?”

“The best a girl could have.” You say softly, smiling at him then, making his heart race when you both sit there, far too close, and he swears he can feel your heat against the hand that’s on your thigh.

“I know I’m pretty amazing hmm?” He teases, trying to hide the raging storm inside of him, you giggle, shaking your head and standing finally.

“You’re a conceited little shit.”

“Hey!?”

You’re both back at ease, as he stands now too, looming so tall over you, his presence making it hard to remember why you’re here. “I should go.”

“We should practice, though, yeah?”

“I mean… you think we’re that rusty?” You try to feign ease, he smiles then.

“Yeah, we gotta be. We’ll bump our heads together or some shit.”

“Okay… um…” You take a sip of his boba then, clearing your throat and smiling up at him. “Let’s practice.”

Satoru brushes his thumb across your chin, your ass pressed against his desk and you’re pinned between it and him, your hands sliding up his starch white dress shirt slowly, eyes lowering to his glossy lips. He presses a kiss against your lips, and you then know it, more than ever.

Nothing is like kissing Satoru.

Nothing is like his lips making contact with yours, as your eyes close, the feeling of him working his lips over you so gently, making you tremble, making you ache in ways you have tried to hide, to avoid. He pulls back, cupping your face and exhaling, his snowy lashes low over cerulean eyes, his lips parted just so, as you both stare at each other, speechless.

You don’t know if he’s as affected, and neither does he.

“How’s that?” He asks softly, and you lean up, your fingers enwrapping in his hair, as two of his hands bar you on either side.

“Maybe one or two more? To look natural.” You whisper, and you expect a smirk, or something cocky, conceited, but he slams his lips on yours now.

His tongue is swirling against yours in moments, as you both devour each other, hungry and needy, kissing each other desperate, messy now. A kiss like you’ve never had, as his hands press against your hips, then he lifts you on the desk, your thighs around his hips, making you cry out. The sound causes him to lose any semblance of control, he’s biting your lower lip, moaning into your mouth.

“Mmm!” Your hands pull his hair now, as his slip up your bare thighs, and then you feel it, the hardness under his slacks against your heat, your panties already sticky and damp, and you pull back with a gasp.

Your eyes shoot up to his when you break apart for just a moment, and Satoru’s breath is coming in little pants, his fingers scrunching your skirt up your hips, yanking you closer. You whimper now, head falling to the side, and he’s kissing down the side of your neck, your breasts pressing against his chest, dying for him inside you, as he’s ready to fuck you right on his desk.

“Satoru… what are-” You’re trying to whisper when his lips find the shell of your ear.

“I need-”

Knock knock knock.

You both pull back, his eyes dilated to the point they’re dark, his hands still on your bare skin, as his eyes dart down your body. “Yes?” He manages gruffly.

“Twenty minutes until your meeting Mr. Gojo.” You hear, and he curses softly, turning away, trying to calm his nerves, his racing heart, all while you’re hopping down, trying to pull yourself together.

You’re almost darting out of the door when he sees you. “Shit, please…”

“No, no. We um… were practicing?” You manage to whisper, as his hand is over yours on the knob. “I got carried away.”

He laughs, without humor. “You did?”

“I did. I’m sorry I don’t even do this.”

“Just how… inexperienced are you?” He asks softly.

“A lot.”

Because she can’t help but compare every man to Satoru Gojo.

“Well, you can’t tell, you’re an amazing kisser.” You blush furiously, looking down, biting your lower lip.

“You don’t have to say it.”

“You are, shit. My god.” He brushes your hair off the side of your neck, exhaling, breath tickling you, setting your body on fire.

“Thank you, so are you. We will be good to go tonight, you think?” You whisper, so nervous to say what you want to, and he pauses, clearing his throat, his hand falling off your shoulder now.

“We’ll kill it. Thank you again for lunch.”

“Of course.” You brightly smile, trying to remember.

It’s fake, it’s fake, it’s fake.

As you’re repeating it in your head, Satoru is struggling to not lift your skirt up and fuck into you right on this door, he wouldn’t care if the entire office heard you scream his goddamn name. When you slip out the door he rests his head on it, the cool wood doing nothing to his overheated skin, hands clenching into his fists as he tries to calm himself.

What was that, what is that with you both?

He promised he would be respectful, he has to try to rein it all in, he has to make sure your friendship isn’t ruined because he can’t stop himself. Satoru tells himself that as he wills his cock to go down, but he can’t stop himself, soon he’s stroking it right in that seat, remembering feeling your pussy pressing against his length.

God he needs you, he shuts his eyes, imagining sinking inside you while he twists his hand up and down his length, desperate for any relief. He had some regulars he would call back in the day, but not only does it feel so wrong to do so, he doesn’t want anyone but you, he can’t even put a vision in his mind but you.

‘It’s fine, baby girl you can take me’ he murmurs softly, snowy lashes shut as he imagines fucking into you, stretching you god he bets you’re so tight, and he could feel that warmth, imagining you as he spits down on his pretty cock.

His pink tip is oozing precum while his head rests back in his office chair, he can still smell your scent, that shampoo you use, the body spray you have worn since high school, it’s you. He’d kiss every inch of your body, have you so ready you beg for him, fuck you so good tears pool in your pretty eyes, he can damn near feel is as his hand strokes faster and faster.

He lets out a soft groan, muttering a ‘that’s it, you’re so wet f’me, huh?’ to the very image of you on that desk, tasting your sweetness on his lips, while he pinches his tip, the precum and spit wetting his cock enough that the sound of him stroking fills his office. His breath quickens as he thinks of shoving your thighs up high, slamming into your cervix, ruining you.

As he cums white hot spurts all over his palm he cries out softly, the release feeling so good, he’s fought it, touching himself to you, but he can’t anymore. He quickly cleans up, panicking as he sees what he’s done, jerked off to one of his best friend’s in the world, someone who trusts him, and he’s not even holding himself together for shit now.

He exhaustedly leans his head against the desk as his alarm for the next meeting starts, struggling to remember this isn’t real, but his cock sure didn’t fucking realize that, and by the time he’s home and he sees you all dressed up for the next event? He almost has to go jerk off again.

You’re smiling all nervous in this beautiful glittering gown, and he’s once again speechless, trying to pull together his usual charm, but it falls flat. You look at him, concern clear on your features. “Everything okay Satoru?”

“Of course it is. Look at you.” He smiles, putting on the best show he can, as you wonder if you’ve over thought that kiss, he just seems so normal really.

Maybe he just got carried away, should you act normal too?But how can you, when just the brush of his hand on the small of your back shoots desire straight through your body. It’s only been two weeks, how could you hold out an entire year?

Sooo to have written this in a oneshot would have been INSANE but expect the next two parts very quicklyyy ;) Gojo is DOWN BAD my god- smut in the next hehe.

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