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curtins · 21 days ago

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GREEDY — gojo satoru minors dni

prologue. → pretty, prodigal, and teasing. how far can you push your former teacher before he snaps? gojo's about this 🤏 close from releasing a hollow purple on the world.

pairing. gojo satoru x afab!reader

warnings+. màstúrbation (m.) and rough sèx, creaḿpie. some angst/doubt. angsty love confession before gojo p��unds reader into the mattress. incorrect use of reversed curse technique. arguments and stuff. description of injuries. def mean!gojo a bit and he's got vampire tendencies.

reader is of legal age (implied to be 19-20) and gojo is 28 so age gap!romance. obsessed!gojo and popular girl!reader trope. gojo is absolutely a mess in this, and reader is described as wearing short skirts, and wearing makeup.

rather questionable ethics and dynamics (teacher/former student) but rest assured its clear that his feelings are pretty recent. reader has him twirled and whipped around her fingers. reader is also def a baddie and ambiguously bi.

word count. 8.7k words im mad actually. this was meant to be headcanons song inspiration. greedy — tate mcrae

a/n. this is was gonna be from reader's pov but i thought it would be more fun from gojo's 🙂‍↔️

mp3. i see you eyeing me down, but you'll never know much past my name. or how i'm running this room, but i'm still half your age. yeah, you're looking at me like i'm some sweet escape 😛

gojo satoru was not a weak man, no. he knew that he was an anomaly of nature, an unstoppable power that could reduce enemies to dust and make entire clans crumble with nothing more than a flick of his wrists.

so how was it, that when it came to you, his resolve was paper-thin?

every time your open gaze met his, every time you brushed past him, every time your presence filled the space around his infinity, gojo felt something inside him unravel. his breath would be caught in his chest, leaving his pulse to quicken and suddenly, all that strength and control would slip through his fingers.

gojo cursed himself for this, you see. he had never been one to lose control, but he was not quite sure when his entire body has started to betray him.

but no, fuck that, and he did his utter best to run his focus back onto the lesson at hand. unfortunately, the lesson at hand was with you. standing in front of him, arms slightly raised, palms out, and raising your brow as boredom passed over your face.

gojo cleared his throat, "your stance is good, but your cursed energy is all over the place. focus, breathe. centre yourself is what i'm saying," he instructed, but the words felt hollow as they passed through his lips.

unfairly, you're weren't the problem. he was. and now this was getting ridiculous. you had graduated not two, three years past? it would have been a disservice to still call you his student, but even as a mentee, you were still under his tutelage. and as recent as this immature infatuation was, this felt wrong.

but now you were frowning, starting to waver and the sharp, staccato tap of your heeled boot punctuated the wooden floor, click, click!

gojo looked to the sky, briefly, if to pray for patience and a calm of some sorts. he stepped forwards towards you, placing a hand on your waist to guide you into a better stance, and trying to ignore the way your skin felt warm underneath his fingers.

focus.

"don't let your body twist like that when you utilise your own cursed energy. keep it straight, balanced," he muttered, adjusting your posture slightly, hand on your spine — the heel of his palm pressing into a dent. a deity from the sky must have struck him with a cursed arrow, for his whole body was on fire.

because there you were, standing right in front of him, so close that gojo could feel the soft heat of your breath, the faint scent of a sweet perfume wafting off your skin, vanilla?

"you're not focused," gojo grimaced, though he wasn't sure if the rebuke was at himself, or at you — whose eyes widened briefly, and gojo tried not to recognise the curiosity and challenge that flashed across your face.

look at how she's staring at me. and gojo felt utterly ridiculous, and exposed, she knows. but instead of pulling away, you shifted ever so slightly towards him, your body arching as the barest brush of your breasts against his forearm had heat pulling through his body.

would you taste as sweet as you smelt? would you lean more into him if he asked?

he cleared his throat, "okay. relax, not every stance or position works for an individual. perhaps, you'll be able to focus better like this," and with his hand still on your waist, he pulled you into a swift spin. one that left your back pressed against the hard planes of the chest, and you facing the other wall.

you hummed, this time not in the way he wanted. your lips were lightly parted, and there was that soft sheen of gloss catching the light, making your lips look impossibly soft. gojo caught himself staring, wandering what it would be like to press his own mouth to yours, and whether you would squeal or moan.

still, if there was anything that gojo was good at, it was deflecting like a champ, "i think you're distracted," he laughed, low and amused, "is something making you lose focus?"

you tilted your head, and gojo didn't miss (nor did his heart or groin) that your gaze flickered to his mouth for the briefest second before meeting his eyes again, feigning innocence, "don't tell me you're underestimating me, sensei. because i'd hate to think you can't keep up?"

gojo bit back a grin at the obvious bait, "careful," brushing strands of white hair that had fallen into his face away, "if you get too cocky, you tend to miss danger. you start to ignore things that should be noticed."

your voice dropped to a droll whisper, eyes glinting, "you think i don't notice things? i'm aware of plenty."

gojo forced himself to focus, to ignore the way that your lashes flutter with unshakable composure. trying to regain control, or some semblance of mind, he started counting each individual lash painted dark with mascara, lingering on the outermost curls that framed your sharp eyes.

after a beat, he forced himself to break eye contact, "alright," he said, stepping back with a casual shrug that he hoped conveyed just how nonchalant he was, "we’ll call it a day here and continue training tomorrow."

"backing out already?" you teased, leaning in just a little, making him tense at the closeness.

gojo chuckled, feigning nonchalance. "for your sake. you may be powerful, but you have to pace yourself."

you shrugged, nodding, "i'm going out anyway this evening," you said, hopping back a step before bending down to gather your things. gojo politely averted his gaze, his heart hammering from your previous proximity, and desperately hoping to avoid a...reaction, that would be quite inconvenient, as wide and loose as his martial pants were. like a fuckin' school boy with a crush. gross.

but as you slung your pastel bag over your shoulder and straightened up, he couldn't help a quick glance, catching the small, coy glimmer in your eyes as you turned to leave.

gojo sighed, pulling up his blindfold once more, "have fun," he half-heartedly offered, but you were already out the door.

the corridors were now empty, the clang of metal and chatter now silent, replaced with a quiet hum of the air conditioning. gojo wiped his face with the towel wrapped around his neck, the damp fabric clinging to his skin and the muscles in his arms and chest still warm from the intensity of training. his arms and chest glistened, the muscles warm and taut as he stretched, rolling his shoulders back with a low groan. exhaustion settled into him like a weight, each movement of his tired, bare torso slow and deliberate.

"oh, you're still here, sensei?"

gojo's eyes snapped open, drawn to the sound of your inquisitive voice. you stood in the doorway, framed by the dim light from the hallway, and he immediately felt a rush of heat flood his chest.

well, fuck, now his mouth was dry. clearly, your previous iteration of 'going out' was a bit more glamorous than you had led on, and he was certain his wandering eyes betrayed him as it flickered over your figure. it took a titan's strength to keep his eyes from trailing down your long legs, the way your dress hugged the swell of your chest, or over your glistening neck. there was a faint shimmer, a glitter of some sort? it coated your skin, and gojo wanted to lick it off with his tongue.

what? no. who said that?

he swallowed hard, forcing himself to keep his composure.

you scowled at his reaction, clearly mistaking his silence for distaste. "what? i did say i was going somewhere," you retorted, your tone sharp but amused. "i’m more than allowed to leave the campus grounds.”

"of course,” he replied, voice outstandingly steady but his mind still trailing after every curve, every detail that made you look...well...dangerous in the best way, "don't let me stop you. who's the lucky guy?"

you arched a brow, folding your arms over your chest, and now, gojo really did have to look away and pretend that he was busy with retying a dark piece of cloth over his eyes, "who said it was a guy?"

gojo thickly swallowed, wondering if he'd just made a colossal blunder with no return, "that's not what i meant." the words 'my bad' stuck in his throat as you laughed and sighed.

"joking, sorry. it's a guy, this time." now you were fiddling with your long nails, with a satisfying clack as they ran across each other.

"i hope he shows you a great time then," he offered, half-hearted, blasé.

you took a step into the room, and gojo didn't even need six eyes to know that your eyes were raking over his chest, "i'm sure he will," all sweetness and sugar, "i've been training so hard, i deserve it, don't i?"

the words hit him harder than he expected, and he had to remind himself — she's not yours, satoru. but that didn't stop the gruff irritation bubbling up.

"a real man should be taking you out on a date like this,” he said, his voice a bit too rough for his liking. "not some guy who’s probably just looking for a good time."

you scoffed lightly, rolling your eyes. "are you saying that there's someone else out there who can do a better job?" your tone was playful, but there was a challenge in it — an edge that made his heart skip once more, "sadly, there just aren't many who've handled me well."

he ignored your immature, faux pout, and ran a hand through damp, icy hair — ignoring how his temper flared, rearing its ugly head.

was this all on purpose? to toy with him?

"you want to be handled, sweetheart?" gojo's voice dropped a little lower, indulging your teasing, "i've seen you lose focus easily, you could easily break."

your lips creased up, painted a tempting shade of dried-blood red (what the fuck was wrong with him? was he now just a horny vampire?) as you purred, "i'd need some help testing out that theory." your expression was open just enough for him to see the tiniest flicker of something in your eyes — something that told him you were enjoying this far more than you should.

an invitation of sorts, he wondered. did you want him to move? to make a move? it wasn’t a secret that you had always been a popular student practically a legend, rumours swirling around you like wildfire — whispers of broken hearts and sweetened smiles that could captivate anyone in your path. he had never paid attention of course, gossip always ran wild among students and he discouraged such whispers of who-did-what, for a grade 1 curse would never indulge such behaviour before they would get torn to shreds.

and even now, long after graduation as you worked around your old alma mater, men and women — everyone swooned at the chance to speak with you, and yet, here you were, playing this dangerous game with him.

gojo scowled, trying to push past the desire building inside him, the urge to have you underneath him, right on this mat in the training room. "well, don’t hang around too long," he said, his tone sharp as a blade. "i’m sure your date is waiting. go have a good time."

invitation declined. the morally right thing to do. right?

he didn’t need to look to see the small sneer that curled at the corner of your lips, or the way it turned into a fleeting expression of annoyance. he could hear the click of your heels echo down the hallway as you sashayed out.

what the everlasting fuck was wrong with him?

lo and behold, the great gojo satoru often found himself alone in his own private rooms. for 'the strongest' rarely had time to accommodate some other forms of company.

and frankly, he had no desire to do so now regardless. not when the echoes of your clicking heels still reverberated in his mind. the silence that echoed around him was heavy, suffocating and he was sure he looked erratic.

gojo ran a hand over his face, trying to shake the thought of you. but it was useless. his body was still on fire, the heat of jealousy smouldering in his chest, coiling in his gut like something alive, something dangerous. he had walked to the nearest chair and collapsed into it, his legs splayed wide apart as his shoulders slumped under the soft, amber glow of the setting sun that streamed through the windows. the sorcerer let his head fall back against the chair, eyes closed.

how absolutely ridiculous, he thought, running his fingers through his tousled hair. no, he just couldn't stop it. couldn't stop thinking about how badly he wanted you. wanted you to want him too. and now, with the way you’d left, with that knowing smile on your lips, all he could imagine was the man you were with now, the man who’d be holding the door open for you, who’d be pulling out your chair, whoever the hell he was.

maybe even a casual, non-sorcerer. some random guy that you had indulged because he was no threat. but he wouldn't be able to touch you, not in the way that you demanded. the man would laugh at your jokes, brush his hand against yours, but wouldn't be able to let a real smile bubble from your lips like satoru could.

and what would that man do next?

would he try to take you back to his place? some small poorly-lit apartment where he'd try to kiss you, to claim your lips without even pulling away for air. would you kiss him back, curling into his frame?

before gojo's even registered what he's doing, his own hand has found his hard cock. despite the tattle of assistance, and dreamy-eyed mongers, pleasure is rare for him. relief, even less so. his schedule just doesn't allow it, and so he oft find himself chasing some distant contentment like this, alone in his rooms.

but he squeezes at the wide hilt, at his base, pulling his hands up, upwards as his brows furrow under blindfold, and he tugs the offending fabric off, away from him, as laden balls smack against his wrist.

maybe the man would then trail his lips down your neck, maybe he'd try to slowly sink his teeth into delicate flesh, leaving blooming purple marks that wouldn't fade, not when gojo saw you tomorrow.

he's running his curled hand up towards the fat mushroom tip, almost glowing pink with heat and pre-cum that's leaving his hand slicked with faint moisture, "shit, that's it."

then what? he can imagine your teasing smile as you decide to take your pleasure as you see fit. how you'd suddenly push this faceless man off, and move so you're straddling him, letting his hands wander around the curve of your hips, digging into plush flesh.

now he's starting to pant, open-mouthed, "ah - fuck! wish i had you here, right here." gojo must be a madman, breathing out to the empty, open air.

but in his mind's eye, you're reaching behind your back to undo the zipper on your outstandingly tight dress, giving the faceless man a coy smile as you push the fabric of your dress down, letting your plentiful tits spill out and against the man's chest.

his wrist is moving faster now, and there's a cramp starting to build up as he pistons his hand over his stretched shaft, and one arm is thrown over his face — the soft hairs on his thick forearm tickling his face as he tries not to gasp or whine too loudly, but he's bucking his ups now, pretending that it's not his hand that he's spilling into, but your tight cunt. and later, he shudders and tenses up, with apologies whispered into the air, "look, look - shit, i'm sorry - i'm sorry. couldn't help it, fuck." and gojo's bitten his lips so hard that he's certain he's drawn blood, vibrant red blooming on pale, creamy skin.

and a lamp had exploded as he came. damn, he'd have to replace that.

you don't deserve someone like him, no. not when he's sitting here, absolutely filthy with thick, white seed entirely over his tense abdominal muscles and stiff hand. not when he's trying to catch his breath after imagining how snug your pussy would feel around him, and how you'd beg for him to give it to you harder.

you didn't deserve someone so messed up with guilt, with mistakes, with the kind of weight that made him too much for anyone, let alone someone like you. didn't you deserve better than a tortured man who couldn't control himself, better than an overzealous mentor who was supposed to keep his distance, to do what was right.

but that didn’t stop his thoughts from swirling, as he separated damp, thick thighs from the smooth surface of the chair, reaching for a tissue. he couldn’t help it. and it made him feel like a damn fool.

the meeting room buzzed with tension, voices rising in sharp, clipped exchanges — some angry, some demanding and others clueless and questioning. gojo had woken up in a foul mood that morning, with some ill-gotten storm brewing beneath his chest. perhaps it was the thoughts of you that lingered from the night before, a gnawing jealously that left him feeling too tight in the stiffness of the uniform dress pants.

but he had forced himself to be dragged through this meeting, plastering a snarky light-hearted grin over his face as he leaned against the wall, letting the higher-ups argue themselves into oblivion.

amidst the storm of words, gojo's focus was nowhere near the mission being discussed. no, his attention was fixated entirely on you. you stood at the far end of the table, eyes flashing with ire as you tore into some pompous old fool who’d dared question your power. the others in the room shifted uncomfortably, deferring to you, as they often did, despite your youth. you had that rare combination of presence and bite that made people recoil back when you sunk your teeth into them, and this was not a knot gojo was interested in unraveling.

kojiro, one of the bumbling administrators, had turned his babbling attention to gojo, "you're still planning to face that curse head-on, gojo-san?" the poor man is wringing his hands at gojo's flat look (made all the more unreadable through a blindfold, satoru would wager), "don't you think it would be well - unwise? instead of expending your time and energy on one cursed spirit, you could handle five lesser ones. efficiency, you see."

gojo's gaze briefly flickers back to you, standing with your arms crossed as one hand fiddles with the end of your braid as your petal-pink lips scowl at some other official with words that don't fit his stature. your other hands keeps reaching around your neck, adjusting a plaid scarf over and over, like you're desparate to hide something under the fabric . well, fuck that.

"i'm aware of the risks," gojo turns his attention back to the matter, "but no one here has time for hesitation. if the curse is special grade, don't you at least think that delaying with lead to more destruction?"

"is it really the cursed spirit you’re worried about, takumi-san?" you asked, your voice low, the kind of voice that could make someone forget their own name.

gojo's gaze snapped to you from under the blindfold, but you weren’t looking at him, not even speaking at him. instead, you were locking eyes with one of the other sorcerers — takumi, a grade two with a shaggy mop of golden hair, one who had been a student alongside you and hardly subtle in his admiration for you.

gojo tries to hide a scoff at how takumi's eyes are wandering over you, ignoring the newpapers that have been flattened on the meeting table, with bold inked letters reading doom-portents such as 'unexplained explosion, 4 dead and 12 injured."

time and place, man.

"you don't think i can handle this mission. if you're worried about me, just say so," takumi's now leaning into you, even as gojo tries to train his ear on kojiro's economic-obsessed babble instead.

gojo can see your eyes flicker to the dastardly newspapers as well, clearly curling your lips at the dour news and takami's disastrous attempt at getting his hands under your skirt. but he also knows that sharp glint in your eyes, the one when you toy with those around you, to pull them in without ever committing to anything. clearly, you've decided to indulge this game.

"takumi," and you draw out the younger man's name, "shouldn't you bring more strength to the table? of course, i'm worried about a friend getting hurt. but even if you were stronger, or the strongest, a special grade curse could do some real damage."

and your eyes have flicked right towards gojo, raking over his frame leaning against the pale cream walls. he's glad for the blindfold, so you can't see how he scowls and furrows his thin brows at you, at your blatant hopes for a reaction from him. were you so unobservant that you did not know how much you bothered him?

the pointed sharpness in your words made takumi pause, and for just a moment, gojo could see the man’s grin falter. it was clear that you weren’t impressed by his attention, you had no need for his slimy attempts.

there was no mistake about it — this wasn’t just a flirtation. this was a game you played, and gojo was not only aware of it; he was caught in it. he tries not to feel irrationally angry, fuck, so much of his life revolves around his work, his job and now he can't even do that properly without feeling like you're using your long nails to dangle something in front of him, wanting to snap his teeth out and snatch it.

so you wanted him to see this. you wanted to claim that you could unravel the strongest sorcerer from the heavens to the earth below, to make him lose his composure. gojo feels as if there is crackling ozone in the air, and wonders dimly if the weather forecast predicted a rain storm for later today.

takumi, sensing the shift, finally backed off with a huff, but not before giving all around him a lingering look, as if it was their fault that you weren't interested.

"enough distractions," kojiro's interjected, raking a finger through a beard streaked with gray, and he's shooting a pointed look at you, snapping rose-pink gum, and takumi, shuffling with his hands in his pockets. "we're here to discuss the mission, not flirt." and then, he's off mumbling something about how this was why he hated having younger sorcerers join the meeting rooms.

his ire only grew. gojo stood with his back against the wall, outside the meeting room, once everyone had left with his arms crossed tightly over his chest. you stood in front of him, your eyes flashing with anger, your chest rising and falling with each sharp breath.

"absolutely not," gojo stood his ground firmly, "no-one will let you go on this mission."

you stomped on the floor, once as your heels snapped an echo, "they will if you say so."

gojo stuffs his hands in his pockets, "who said that i would also allow you?"

you scoffed, folding your arms across your chest, mimicking his previous stance but with a clear defiance in your posture. "and why the hell not? i'm more than capable of handling it. it's my fucking choice, and how can extra help hurt?"

"enough!" gojo snapped, feeling a tense pain in between his eyes, "it's too dangerous. and you're too young -"

"too young!" you've interrupted him, "i'm not some helpless child, sensei. i'm a grade 1 sorcerer! one of the best, i don't need to be treated like i can't handle a mission."

"grade 1. not special-grade."

his eyes narrowed, his jaw tight. gojo could see the fury in your eyes, but there was something else there, something deeper, a vulnerability that he had seen before in students, some desire to prove themselves and be heaped with praise. he knew you were good, better than most — hell, better than many of the adults he’d seen. but this cursed spirit was unlike anything you’d faced before. and yet, here you were, challenging him, pushing him, daring him to stop you.

"you don’t get it," he muttered, the words slipping from his mouth before he could stop them. "you think you’re invincible, but you’re not. you're too reckless."

"reckless!" now you had taken a step towards him, narrowing the space between you both. your eyes were fierce now, but there was something else in them — a spark of hurt that made his chest tighten, and gojo began to wander where this would start spiral. "i’m not reckless. i know exactly what i’m doing. the only reckless thing here is you thinking you have the right to control my every move."

"i'm the one in charge here," he said, his voice hoarse, the words coming out sharper than he intended. "and i'm telling you now, you’re not going. you’re not ready for this. don't involve the higher-ups in this."

you were so close now, just inches apart. his eyes flicked to your lips, with the arch of a blooming flower kissed by the sun, for a brief moment, and then back up to your face, where anger and frustration mixed with something else — a challenge.

"maybe that’s the problem," you said, your voice quieter now, but still holding an edge. "you think i'm still some child who needs you to tell me what to do. maybe you just don’t want me to outshine you."

the words are ridiculous, and he can see by the mild quiver as your throat bobs that you don't mean what you say. it takes a rare type of courage to tell the first person in four hundred years to be born with limitless and six eyes, that he could be outshined. but satoru doesn't say a word to rebuke your obvious and false bait.

your body is so close now that gojo could feel the heat of your skin, your breath brushing against his. he could smell the faint sweetness of vanilla again in the air mingled with fresh, crisp apples, could see the subtle shine of your lip gloss catching the light. it was a testament to his spirit, he thinks, that he did not lean in straight away and touch his mouth to yours in this scenario that certainly did not warrant it.

"you want me to stop you that badly?" he hissed, his voice a mix of frustration and something darker, that had not yet snapped. "is that what this is? a game? a way for you to get my attention? to see how far you can push me before i do snap?"

now he's got your tongue, and your expression has flickered for a brief moment before schooling into an impassive mask, and gojo briefly wanders if he's crossed an awful line and misinterpreted everything. if they're gonna stick a white dunce hat on his head and parade him through the streets of outer tokyo for being an assuming fool.

but then you've stepped even closer, your breath coming faster, the weight of your chest almost pressed against his, and gojo doesn't move and he's briefly aware that he's let his infinity down.

"partly, you know it's not just about you though. i do want to go on this mission, but -" you tilt your head and look right up at him, and the older man's head starts to reel from the fact that he was right all along, "i do want to see how far you can go before you snap."

his heart pounded, and for a moment, everything went still. all the tension, all the heat, the anger, and the desire — everything seemed to converge in the space between you. gojo's hand twitched, aching to touch you, but he held himself back, his muscles straining with the effort.

"stop,” he rasped, barely able to get the word out. "you don’t know what you’re doing, or what you're asking for."

he's never felt quite like this before, breathless as if the air has been punched out of his lungs. all gojo could think was how much he wanted to pull you closer, to kiss you until there was nothing left between you.

but he couldn’t.

he puts his hands on your shoulders, fingers digging into the expensive fabric of your top, and gently pushes you away.

"my decision is final. don't make this harder than this, you're forbidden from the mission."

how sick and twisted, that you've fled with embarrassed tears pricking at your eyes, and he's stuck with a raging erection.

well, he had seen worse. but it didn't make this curse any less vicious. it was ancient, he could presume, and maddening. its cursed energy was warping the night air like a violent storm. but again, not the worst thing that he had encountered in his twenty-eight years, and with the right timing, he'd been able to calculate every strike and counter.

but then he saw you.

at first, he thought it was a blur — a trick of the light. but then, there you were, standing at the edge of the pavement, your figure framed by the chaotic crackle of cursed energy. fuck your stubborn nature.

this is not what is meant to happen. gojo's heart has skipped a beat, and he's not sure what he's more furious with. you, for defying his concern for your safety. or himself, for getting so distracted in. a battle.

"what the fuck is wrong with you?"

yes, he knows you're good. good enough to move with precision against a special-grade curse, your stance instantly and suspiciously better than the other day in the training rooms. it's only through his six eyes that gojo has been able to keep a track of your movements as your jujutsu is able to dodge the creature's brutal force.

impressive. but reckless.

and that never lasts.

you had moved to cast your own cursed technique, but the curse was intelligent enough to anticipate it. with a sudden lash of its tail, the creature swung its power straight at you, knocking you off balance. you stumbled, your footing lost, and before you could react, a flash of dark energy slicing across your shoulder.

a scream had torn from your lips as you fell to the ground, blood spurting from the deep cut.

and briefly, just for a flicker of time, gojo sees a dark-haired man in violet robes leaning against a brick wall, with his shoulder torn off, 'at least curse me one last time.'

blood rushing in his ears, before he even realised it, he was on top of you, his body hovering over yours, his jujutsu flaring as he shoved the cursed spirit back with a brutal force that made the earth tremble, an exorcism that will not take long. he kneeled beside you, his breath ragged, eyes locked on the wound on your shoulder. the blood was already soaking your clothes, darkening the fabric as you winced, your breath shallow and unsteady.

"you —” gojo isn't sure if his hand isn't shaking from how irate he is, "what the hell were you thinking? fuck, don't move."

your eyes were unfocused for a moment, but when they snapped to him, there was defiance there — even in this moment (get a grip!), as you gritted your teeth against the pain.

"save it, it's fine," you spat, your voice weak but vexed, "that bitch is still there."

"what did i tell you! what did i say would happen?" he cursed under his breath, focusing his reversed cursed technique as he tried to heal you, but the moment felt like an eternity as bright red blood moved too fast for him to seize it.

an assassin's blade in his throat, his arteries giving way and bubbling out and up.

now you don't answer, your eyes fluttering closed for a brief second. gojo's gaze darted to the cursed spirit, which was now advancing again, enraged by the interruption.

it won’t touch you again.

he stood, pulling you away from him, your body slumping slightly out of his arms. he could feel the heat of your blood soaking through his sleeve, but he had no time to dwell on it. the curse roared in fury, and gojo's infinity flared up around him again, a shield of pure energy blocking its path.

"stay down,” he growled, and all he received was a weak, "fuck, you think that's funny?"

it's only later when he's pulling you back up, that he realises that his reversed cursed energy has done enough to stem the bleeding, but not enough to leave you unharmed as your breath is shallow, your face taking on a more sickly pallor.

"don’t you ever — ever —do that again," he snarled, his voice raw and he wonders when something (or someone) has ever undone him so much. but the anger in his voice doesn't carry to his touch as he gently cupped your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek, tracing the lines of your jaw.

the sterile walls of your room did nothing to soften the tension in gojo's chest as he stood by your bed, his eyes tracing the curve of your sullen form beneath the sheets. your shoulder was bandaged, with red seeping slowly through the white strips.

"you really are unbelievable," he snapped, his voice sharp as he paced around the room, every step heavy with frustration. "i told you it was too dangerous. i told you not to fucking go."

you lay there, your eyes half-closed, as though you weren’t even listening, but the twitching frown on your lips is sign enough that you're not as sorry. his fingers flexed at his sides, itching to do something — anything — to release the tension building in him.

"are you even listening to me?" he know he sounds bitter, over-reactionary, angry as he moved towards the edge of your bed.

you blinked slowly, your gaze still infuriatingly calm, "i'm fine, now. save the lecture."

he doesn't want to start sputtering so he settles for crossing his arms over his chest, but your voice breaks the silence again.

"you know i want to be a special grade sorcerer, right?"

gojo only looks down, not wanting to indulge an excuse and he studies the tight grip of his knuckles on his slender fingers, "well, i don't know why. the pay isn't that good." it's a weak attempt at a joke, but you're smiling.

"i was told i could only become one if i was the one to exorcise that special grade."

"by who? the higher-ups?" and you nod, wincing as you do.

what a fucking surprise. the way that the jujutsu world works is no surprise to gojo by now, having been surrounded by it his entire life. but the harshness of their reality still shocks him, old and doddering officials who cling to their silk robes are prone to sending out younger sorcerers (those who are still green, barely out of school) to do their dirty work for them, and the cemetery outside of jujutsu tech is ever growing.

he ground his teeth together, his chest tightening as he stared down at you. the bandages, the damp skin, the stillness of your body — it made him want to tear something apart. "fine! if they were giving you a hard time, why didn't you just come to me then?" he repeated harshly.

"would you go ask someone to help you, for something like this? if you were asked to prove yourself?"

gojo runs his tongue behind his teeth, "i'm the strongest, princess. i don't need to ask for help."

you groan, turning your head away from him, but a faint smile dances upon your lips.

he inhales sharply, his fingers digging into the edge of the bed. "you think this is a joke?"

"all four limbs are attached and i'm living and breathing. okay, so fine. my bad. i won't do it again. will you stop snapping at me now, at everything -" and gojo wonders if there's really some hurt colouring your voice, "what's going on?"

the words slip out, rough and unrestrained. "what’s going on is that you’re driving me insane. you act like this doesn’t matter, like i can just stand by and let you throw yourself into danger like it’s nothing — like you don’t matter — but you do. you do matter."

his chest was heaving now, his hands shaking as he reached out and grabbed your wrist. his thumb brushed over your pulse, the tiny fluttering beneath your skin driving him wild. "i can’t — i can’t just stand there and watch you get hurt," he continued, his voice hoarse. "you don’t get to do whatever you want without consequences, damn it. you don’t get to make me feel this way, and then pretend like it doesn’t matter."

for a moment, there was silence. gojo's pulse was hammering in his ears, his body coiled with the intensity of everything he was trying to say. everything he was trying not to say. everything he wanted to act upon.

and then, with a slow, almost lazy smile, you turned towards him, "i didn't know the great gojo satoru was like this. who would have thought?"

his breath hitched in his throat. gojo wanted to say something, to snap at you again, to maintain that distance — but the truth was that the distance between the two of you had disappeared these past few weeks. his chest tightened, his hands trembling as they slid to your face, fingers tracing the line of your jaw, and he relished how your facade almost cracked and you lightly shivered.

at least, he hoped you were shivering because of his touch. and not, like, a fever building up from your injuries.

fuck it.

and then, before he could stop himself, gojo was leaning down, his lips crashing into yours with all the force he could muster, desparate and hungry and that frustration and fear that he had been holding onto. his hand cupped the back of your neck, pulling you towards him with a force that made your breath catch, as you responded with a soft gasp.

had he misstepped? no, for you kissed him back, tentatively at first, as if you were testing the waters, but then building up to a sudden urgency that mirrored his own. your hands slid to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as you pushed yourself closer to him, before crying out.

"ah! fuck, my shoulder."

small beads of blood surfaced where your collarbone met your shoulder, each one glistening like tiny rubies against your warm skin. they gathered slowly, delicate droplets that clung to you before tracing faint, uneven lines downward. the red stood out, vivid and fresh, dotting your skin in a stark, almost mesmorising gojo as they welled up and began to trick in thin, crimson trails.

"stay still," gojo rasped, his voice low and rough as he leaned in, pressing closer. his mouth met the fresh blood pooling on your skin, tongue tracing over the small rivulets that had seeped from beneath the bandage.

he lingered, almost savouring the taste, his eyes darkening as the sharp tang of iron lingered on his tongue, smacking his lips slightly as he drew back, gaze fixed intently on you, on your heavy breathing as he stole away another kiss from you.

gojo's lips left yours briefly, his breath ragged as he stared down at you, his eyes wild underneath the blindfold, gasping as your nails reached up to hook the fabric down so his hair loosened, falling around his face.

you were staring back at him, breathless and wide-eyed, and in that moment, gojo knew — he couldn’t stay away from you. no matter how much he tried.

your lips were soft, so soft, but there was fire behind the way you kissed him back, your hands landing on his chest, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt. he groaned, deep in his throat, and his fingers threaded into your hair, pulling you closer.

his mouth moved urgently over yours as he shifted to stand beside the bed, his body hovering over you, every muscle tense, straining with the desire that he had tried so hard to ignore. gojo just couldn't think about anything else.

and your lips broke apart only briefly, and you let out a soft laugh, that damn, dangerous laugh of yours. "you're greedy, you know that."

his chest heaved, and his heart pounded in his ears, and blood was now pounding to his nether regions. he wasn’t sure if it was the previous anger or the ache between his ribs, but he couldn’t stop himself as he threaded his fingers through your soft hair, "i am greedy. greedy for you. only you - mmph! shit!"

you had run your long, painted nails (with the little painted charms on the end) down his neck before pressing them, hard enough to cause a sharp sting.

"you wanted to put me through hell," he whispered harshly, and his lips brushed against your ear as he spoke, "until i realised i liked it. until i realised i wanted you, all of you."

his hands moved down to your waist, squeezing gently as his lips found the tender spot beneath your ear, trailing kisses there, letting his teeth sink in, to see small bruises appear. gojo's breath was ragged as he fought to keep control, and something deeper inside of him roared with the need to claim you completely.

"you’re mine," he growled against your skin, the words hot and possessive. "i don't care what happens. you’re mine now."

you tilted your head, still smiling, but this time there was something different in your eyes — something that burned with the same intensity. "if i'm yours, what are you going to do about it? hmm, satoru?"

and that final thread, that last remnant of honour that he had been nurturing and holding onto, snapped.

"is this what you want, princess?" he draws out the nickname, letting it roll off his tongue, as you suddenly inhale sharply. his hands are all over you now, large hands exploring and kneading at your torso, and before he can even let you blink, they're under your top.

he's pressing his hot mouth to your sternum, wet and open-mouthed, and he wonders what sort of effect you have on him. what force in the world leave him panting like this, desparate as his hands find their way behind your back, to unclip whatever's holding your tits in place — just so he can reach back and run his palms over your hard nipples, flicking them and rolling them in between his fingers.

and faintly, in the back of his mind, he's aware that his reversed cursed technique must be working overtime, because suddenly you're rolling forward into him with no care in the world for your previously injured shoulder, as your own hands trail down the front of body, right over his bulge.

but he slaps your hand away, pressing you flat against the mattress, "fuck, not yet. you think i'm just going to let you get away with all this," and as you mewl a soft yes, followed by a please, he rolls his eyes, "wait. behave and i'll give you what you want."

and then, softer, "need to make sure you're ready first."

his arms are caging both sides of your head, and he's got one hand on the headboard (although, you will marvel at the burnt imprint that he's left, later) and the other is tearing your top off, just so he can lean down and let his canines press into the soft fat of your chest, so he can slip a pointed nipple into his mouth and tug it, ever so gently.

but gojo needs to continue lower, and his hand squeezes at the waistband of your short skirt, snapping the elastic twice as you heave your bare chest, "please, please, satoru!"

it's heaven down here for him, and gojo's dizzy at how outstandingly wet you are, with just a single swipe of his fingers in the soft, damp fabric of your underwear.

your clear, sticky arousal clung to his fingers, stretching in thin, glistening threads as he spread your thighs apart, knocking your knees to either side so he could slot himself in between them. your slick shimmered slightly under the light, translucent and tacky and he just couldn't help himself, bringing them up to his mouth to slowly taste.

"shit, princess. you taste so good, can't believe this is what i've been missing out on."

he's playing an instrument, he thinks. gliding his fingers along sodden folds, twirling his index finger past a thick wad of skin and pressing right over your clit in hot, tight circles that have you bucking your hips, "hnngh, right - ah, right there 'toru!"

'toru.

as a reward, he plunges his middle finger straight into your gaping heat, your tight wall of ringed muscles that had been fluttering in light pulses for his attention. fuck, he almost reaches his own climax by feeling how you squirm and writhe, moan and mewl as he starts pushing his finger in, and then out.

in, and then out. in, once more. and out, again. and then, another finger.

his fingers sank into your soft, damp pussy — which yielded easily enough with a soft pssh! as the digits pressed in. gojo pulled his hand back out from your thighs, enjoying the tight resistance and suction as your cunt has resisted being empty once more, leaving a cool moistness on his skin.

but now your hands gently cup his face, and he isn't sure how to not crumble with how you look at him, eyes wide and glossy, "wan' more, want your cock, 'toru."

now, gojo feels as though he's truly ascended, gone onto some higher plane of existence. because how can he resist when your hands are weakly pawing at his belt, at his waistband and he's letting you pull his thick shaft out.

it's hot, and already weeping angry tears of pre-cum, and he just loves how your eyes widen at the sheer size and girth.

"yeah, princess was sooo brave earlier, wasn't she? wanted my cock, ah! shit - did she?" and he's letting the wide tip lay heavy against your clit, knocking it once, and then twice, through your heavenly folds.

you've reached a leg up, and around his waist, pulling him closer and gojo has to pierce his lip with his teeth to not let out a gutteral groan from his cock sliding through the your folds, "i don't - don't care, i really don't fucking care if it's too big. just put it in now, m' so wet, i'm wet enough."

your babble is endearing, and he marvels at how easily he has you cock-drunk without even being in you right now. he jostles further, until the tip is right at your flittering entrance, pressing forward and slipping through the heated, slick gummy texture in a way that has the strongest's head spinning.

"easy, princess. oh fuck, you're too tight. way too tight, i'm gonna -" and gojo inhales, steadying himself, as the wet heat enveloped him as he moved, each slide through the soft walls of your pussy leaving him acutely aware of every inch, the warmth coating him further until your slick was dampening the white, stray hairs of his groin.

he pulls your lips close again, one hand coming up to gently cradle your head, and his fingers weaving slowly through your hair.

"you're so deep in me, 'toru! so - hnngh," and your words are cut off by a staccato thrust of his hips, and your teeth clack around a moan that gojo gladly swallows.

"hey, i'm right here. i've got you, yeah? got you so good, just hold onto me."

and he keeps a steady pace, plunging into molten silk, with a sensation so intense and so enveloping that it left him breathless, with a rush of heat that made his head spin.

he's toying with your tits, pressing his face into the shadow that lies between your mounds, and gojo's certain that he could die a happy man like this, exactly like this.

he realises that the faint laugh is coming from him, so distant is he in his pussy-drunk reverie, that he realises he must look and sound like a madman, "pretty pussy is so tight, so fucking tight. haah, i think i'm gonna have to fill you up, gorgeous?" and he must be blathering, "want me to fill you up? shit- want me to stuff... ah! stuff you so full of cum that we just hafta stay in this bed all day then?"

he had his fingers now moving in circles over your throbbing clit, exerting a gentle pressure that had you so beautifully keening and bucking your hips up, jolting right into his pelvis. and gojo bit back as a groan as his heavy balls started to smack, and smack! over and over again, right onto your dampened skin.

"she must be close right, pretty little pussy must be almost tired now," and gojo's now slapping your clit, lifting three fingers up and bringing them down with enough force to not harm you, but make you jolt, "she. must. be. so. close." and each word is punctuated by the slippery spank of his fingers bouncing right off your mound.

"makes me want to have you - you and her," and gojo's revelling in the slick of your pussy, now throwing his head back without shame.

and when your walls start to flutter, when you start writhing in his grasp, pressed right against his chest with your legs knocked back as far as they reach on other side of his broad frame, he feels himself unravel. feels the rhythmic quake of your tight cunt literally milk him dry, letting pools of thick, white seed plug within you, and he almost shakes and tears up himself, at the idea of claiming you like this.

later, he has you resting against his chest and the knot in his chest, that nasty plague that sent him afoul has disappeared, and gojo feels as though he's about to start purring, from the feeling of your nails trailing little shapes over his skin (little hearts, perhaps?) and how soft your hair feels under his own hands. he can't resist himself from pressing his lips softly to your forehead, "happy?"

you laugh, a genuine, soft sound that erupts from your chest as you press your bare body into him, "you have no idea."

#jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #works

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kombuuuu · 1 year ago

Text

Miles 42 headcanons?

no one asked but i’ll deliver !!

Miles!42 x Fem!Reader random headcanons

also a lot of snippets :)

You/Reader: Blue

Miles Morales: Purple

Mama Rio/Rio Morales: Pink

Uncle Aaron/Aaron Morales: Orange

Random/stranger: Black

—

gift giving love language duhhh

Will have you walk with him through malls and whatever you look at for a second too long he buys

You don’t catch on until you’re both eating at a nice restaurant, absentmindedly staring at some plant when a lull in conversation happens.

He purchases the plant.

“Fuck you mean I can’t buy it?”

“Sir, the plants aren’t for sale, this is a dining establishment.”

“Establish the fact I’m gettin’ that plant.”

“Sir—“

50 bucks down and a plant 🆙

He will damn right die if you refuse him. He’ll get all grumpy and pouty when you say he should save for a house, not for you.

convinced you just get shy when bought things (you do).

is even more motivated to buy things

“Miles, baby, you need to save up. Not spend on me!”

“This would look so good on you, Ma.”

“Are you listening??”

“Fuck, and this.”

“Oh my god.”

gets so jealous it’s unbelievable

but only when someone goes too far with you

it’s like 1–100 real quick

he’s not usually the prowling type (ha)

but when someone pushes the line he loses his shit

other than that he’s a supportive bbg all the way

“Wanna go home with me, butterface?”

“Fuck you just say?”

“Nothing homie just get outta here.”

“Say that shit again ‘homie’.”

“Chill the fuck out. Let the lady speak for herself.”

“I’ll fucking speak for my girl all I want, homeboy.”

maybe got a liiiiittle bit of an anger issue

guy went home with a broken nose and a missing tooth

better hope he can afford fill ins

he would never get mad at you though

he gets frustrated you don’t listen sometimes, but it’s never to the point of anger

feel like he has the patience of a fucking SAINT

calm and collected baby u know the deal

“Mami, we gonna have a problem?”

“”

“Didn’t think so.”

a SWEETHEART at times

stand by him being raised right

mama rio taught him to be a romantic

wanted him to take after his dad

so flowers and gifts and chocolates

followed by lovin of any kind

probably a baby for affection but doesn’t show it

so when you get all emotional about being gifted roses for the first time

and hug him and smother him

give him stupid little kisses all over

he’s fainting

poor boy doesn’t know love like u show him

“Baby, are these for me?”

“Yeah, Chiquita. They okay?”

“Wh… They’re perfect.”

“Are you cryin’? I can return ‘em.”

“No! No, no, don’t do that.

I love them, C’mere.”

when you guys get rlly comfortable, like a year and some dating, he ends up getting more chatty

willingly talking w you for hours

feels like you’re the only person he can rlly do that with

rambles so rarely that you kind of just sit in awe when it happens

doesn’t catch himself until he’s trying to name your future kids

“I’ll marry you one day, we’ll have like two, three kids. Get all nice an cozy.

You want a boy or girl? I kinda want both. Definitely not girl first, never having a girl without a brother to protect ‘er.

You’d be such a good Mami.

What’d you wan’ name ‘em? I have a few ideas—“

“..”

“But you could choose the girl cause I don’t know any pretty names. And i’ll choose—“

“..”

“You gon’ let me keep goin?”

“I love your voice.”

“Tranquila, mami.”

Takes you to every family event he ever has

sits you regularly with Rio and Aaron

they insist you call them uncle and ma

you do, obviously

miles doesn’t need to meet your family if you don’t want him to, but if he ever does he’s totally suave with them

like weirdly smooth

able to get on ur carers good side quick

when you meet his extended family they’re just as loving

his whole family is this bright dash of colour

and you fit right the fuck in

“¡Oh, hija estás preciosa!”

“Dice la estrella de la fiesta!”

“You flatter me, Hija.”

“Miles, come get your girl.”

“You look nice too, Uncle Aaron.”

“..Thanks, kid.”

“Hey Mami, havin’ fun?”

“Aight, I’m out.”

when you find out he’s the prowler you’re not really shocked

he’s hella nervous to tell you and kinda puts it off for a while

as long as you’re not in harms way, nothin matters, yeah?

the guilt eats him alive

he’s already lost so much, if he doesn’t do things right with you, then loses you too

he’d probably lose himself

so he tells you

“The Prowler?”

“Yeah.”

“The.. Panther guy I keep seeing on the news-?”

“Mm.”

“Miles are you—

..—Are you killing people?”

“Mami, it’s not like that—“

“oh my god.”

“These men— I kill,”

“Oh my god, oh my god.”

“,They’re bad, you understand.”

“Miles..”

“[Name]. Do you understand?”

“Yeah.. Yeah I understand.”

“You can’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t.”

“…”

“Are you mad.”

“I’m not happy.”

“Okay.”

you’re kind of devastated he’s killing people

but you eventually get it

like it takes a while

say a month or so

but you forgive quick

i mean, who knows what those men are doing, right?

(ur delulu but it’s ok)

he lets you have your space but talking with mama rio when she realises your absence knocks some sense into him

mans is going to GROVEL

he will fucking beg on his damn knees

knocks on your door and is already kneeling

will plead with you to come back to him

like i said a whole ass romantic

you know what’s romantic? a man who can get on his knees

he will suffocate you in gifts and affection

oh you like (insert sanrio esc character) ? look over there at that lifesize plushie woahhhh wonder who that’s forrrrrr

“Hello?”

“Mami, don’t close the door.”

“Miles, go home.”

“And please stop kneeling, the floor is dirty.”

“I’m not leaving ‘til you hear me out.”

looooong sigh

“Okay, fine— whatever, come inside. You have two minutes.”

“God, I missed you. You’re so beautiful Chiquita.”

“Three minutes.”

You talk it out easy, he’s a real smooth talker when he wants to be

“Okay Miles, I’ll see you tomorrow yeah?”

“Yeah, Ma. See you soon.”

“Wh—.. What is that?”

“Ohhh…”

“Why the fuck is it so big?”

“It said “Life Size” on the site? I was thinking like two feet tall.”

“You bought that?”

“Yeah.. I was thinkin’ you wouldn’t let me in. Would have to bribe you.”

“…That’s really cute.”

Annnnnd that’s all i can come up with i’ll probably do more later :P

#miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales #miles x reader #miles morales #earth 42 miles morales x reader #rio morales #uncle aaron #aaron morales #into the spider verse

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itneverendshere · 2 months ago

Note

Can we get something along the lines of bartender reader maybe working at the country club and some guy has been hitting on her all night, he’s older, creepy, won’t leave her alone, getting drunker as the night goes on and she’s just trying to ignore him but she has to go to the supply closet later in the night or steps away for whatever reason and the guy follows her? reader is gone for too long and Rafe notices, finds her and stops the guy?? I need protective Rafe over reader 😍

ugh i hate creeps, literally felt ill writing this but for the sake of the story i did, bc it's unfortunately very common. thank you for the request lovely 🫶🏻🫂

throw away my faith just to keep you safe - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe) warnings: unwanted advances; there's a creep.

It was just another Friday night, the usual crowd of kooks indulging in their weekly rituals of wealth and excess. For you, it was just another night behind the bar.

Wiping down the counter, you glanced at the clock. Nearly midnight.

Your shift was crawling toward the finish line, thank god, but the crowd promised at least another hour of pouring drinks and faking smiles. Not that you minded by this point — the tips were decent, and the job wasn’t hard. But sometimes, the clientele was more than you could handle.

“Another round for me, sweetheart?”

You turned toward the voice and visibly shuddered at the sight. There he was again — the guy who had been hitting on you all night, like a stupid plague. He was in his mid-forties, with thinning hair and a sleazy smile. He’d been getting progressively drunker, his advances getting bolder with every drink. You didn’t get paid enough to put up with this shit, but you also didn’t feel like getting fired for slapping someone across the face.

You gave him a tight-lipped smile, trying to keep it professional. “Sure. Another whiskey?”

He leaned closer, his breath reeking of alcohol. “Y’know you’ve got the prettiest eyes. Why don’t you come sit with me for a bit? I’m sure the bar can survive without you.”

Internally, you cringed. Outwardly, you kept your smile, though it was starting to drop. “I’m working,” You replied, “I can’t.”

He grinned like he hadn’t heard you — or maybe he just didn’t care. “C’mon, you can take a break. I’ll make it worth your while.”

You’d rather shoot yourself in the face. You turned away, busying yourself with grabbing his drink. You didn’t want to make a scene. You could handle this. You’d dealt with drunk idiots your entire life.

But something about him was different — he wasn’t just annoying, he was persistent, and you didn’t like the way he was looking at you.

Rafe had checked in on you earlier, but you hadn’t seen him for a while. Normally, you could handle yourself, but tonight you really wished he was closer.

The guy’s drink slammed down in front of him harder than you intended, and you forced another smile. “Here you go.”

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he drawled, eyes dragging down your body in a way that made your skin crawl. “You’re too pretty to be stuck behind a bar. Bet you could find someone to take care of you, huh?”

You barely held back an eye roll as you turned away from him, grabbing the rag to wipe down the counter again just to have something to do with your hands.

The guy cleared his throat, leaning even closer over the bar. “How much longer do you think you’ll be working, sweetheart?” His voice was low, like he was trying to make it intimate, but it just made your stomach turn. “I’ll wait for you. We could have a little fun after you’re off. I know you’re not gonna go home alone tonight, right?”

“Yeah, I am,” you muttered under your breath, hoping he didn’t hear.

But he did.

“Aw, come on now, don’t be like that,” he said, his grin widening like you were joking with him. “I know girls like you — all tough on the outside, but once someone gives you a little attention, you melt.”

You slammed the rag down, turning toward him, patience leaving your body. “Look, I’ve told you, I’m working. And even if I wasn’t, I’m not interested. So how about you just take your drink and leave me alone?”

His smile dropped for a moment, his eyes narrowing in irritation. “You don’t gotta be a bitch about it, sweetheart,” he slurred, clearly not backing down. “I’m just trying to be nice.”

Before you could answer — or reach for the nearest object to throw at him — a familiar voice cut in from behind.

“How about you fuck off before I make you?”

You knew that tone. It was the one he used right before things escalated. Fast. You looked over to see Rafe standing just behind the bar, his jaw clenched and his eyes locked onto the guy in front of you.

His posture was tense, fists curled at his sides like he was holding himself back from jumping at the guy. “Rafe,” you called softly, reaching out to grab his arm. “It’s fine, I’ve got it.”

But he didn’t take his eyes off the man. “No, you don’t,” he muttered, stepping closer to the bar, “This guy’s been harassing you all night. He needs to leave.”

He looked Rafe up and down, taking in the expensive clothes, the look in his eyes, and the way his muscles tensed beneath his shirt.

“Hey, man,” the guy said, holding up his hands in a show of surrender. “No need to get all worked up. I was just talking to her.”

“You weren’t just talking,” Rafe snapped, “You were being a creep, and now you’re gonna get the fuck out of here.”

The guy opened his mouth to argue, but Rafe took another step forward, and whatever argument he had died in his throat. He grabbed his drink from the bar, muttering something under his breath that you couldn’t quite catch before he turned and stumbled away toward the door.

Once he was gone, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

Rafe turned to you, his expression softening immediately. “You okay, baby?”

You nodded, but your hands were shaking slightly. “Yeah. I’m fine. Thanks for stepping in.”

He stepped closer, “You shouldn’t have to deal with assholes like that.”

“I can handle it,” you replied, “But I’m glad you were here.”

Rafe’s brow furrowed slightly, his thumb tracing soft circles against the skin in your arm. “I don’t want you handling it. I don’t want you dealing with that shit at all.”

You smiled faintly, leaning into his touch. “It’s part of the job sometimes.”

“Not when I’m around, it’s not,” he said firmly, his eyes locking onto yours.

You grinned, your fingers brushing over his collarbone as you tilted your head up to kiss him. His lips were soft against yours and when you pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.

“I’ll be fine for the rest of the night,” you whispered. “Promise.”

He exhaled softly, his arms tightening around you just a little. “I know. I just hate seeing shit like that happen to you.”

“Me too, baby.” you admitted, your fingers tracing patterns on his chest. “But at least the tips are good, right?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Only you would focus on the tips after that.”

“Gotta find the silver lining somewhere,” you teased.

Rafe chuckled, leaning down to kiss you again. This time it was deeper, and for a moment, you almost forgot you were still at work. When he pulled away, he glanced back toward the bar. “You need me to stick around?”

You shook your head. “Nah, I think your little display of alpha male behavior probably scared off any other creeps for the night.”

He smirked, looking a little too pleased with himself. “Good.”

“Go hang out with the guys,” you said, patting his chest. “I’ll see you when I’m done.”

He hesitated for a second, his hand still resting on your waist like he wasn’t ready to let go, but finally, he nodded. “Alright. But if I see him again…”

“You won’t,” you assured him. “And if you do, I’ll let you know.”

He gave you one last kiss, then reluctantly let you go and headed back toward his friends. You watched him for a moment, smiling to yourself before you turned back to the bar.

Forty minutes later, Rafe stood by the side of his truck, fingers drumming against the hood as he waited for you to finish up. He hated this place most days — hated how these old, rich assholes thought they could treat you like you were some kind of prize they could buy. It had taken everything in him not to knock that guy out earlier, but he knew you didn’t want a scene. Still, he’d been fuming ever since.

You’d be out any minute now, and the two of you would go to his house. He just needed to chill. But then, five minutes passed… then six… and a knot started to form in his stomach. You were never this late getting out, and you’d told him you’d be quick tonight.

Where the were you? He checked his phone again. Nothing.

Rafe pushed off the truck and started pacing, his eyes glancing between the front entrance and the locker room doors around the back. He knew you were still inside, but something wasn’t sitting right with him. His instincts were screaming at him now. After another minute, he couldn’t take it anymore. Fuck this.

He strode back inside and headed straight for the back hall that led to the locker room where you always changed after work. As he turned the corner, his heart stopped. There, right outside the locker room door, was the same asshole from earlier — the drunk creep who’d been hitting on you. His greasy hand was on the door, shoving it open, trying to force his way inside.

Rafe saw red.

Without thinking, he surged forward, grabbing the guy by the collar and slamming him back against the wall so hard the drywall cracked. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

The guy didn’t have time to react before Rafe’s fist connected with his jaw, his head snapping back against the wall. He stumbled, eyes wide with shock as he tried to raise his hands in defense, but Rafe didn’t give him a chance.

“You thought you could get away with that shit?!” He growled as he shoved him again, pinning him hard against the wall. The guy let out a choked gasp, his face going pale as he tried to squirm out of Rafe’s grip.

“I-I wasn’t—” the guy sputtered, his words slurred from the blow.

Rafe didn’t want to hear it. He threw another punch, this one harder than the first, his knuckles splitting against the guy’s cheekbone. All he could see was you — you, behind that door, completely unaware that this piece of shit had been about to force his way in.

“Rafe!”

He stopped his fist still clenched, inches from the guy’s face. He turned his head just enough to see you standing in the doorway, dressed in your usual jeans and a hoodie, eyes wide, like you couldn’t believe what you were seeing.

“Baby,” you said stepping forward. “It’s okay. He’s not worth it.”

But Rafe couldn’t let it go — couldn’t let the image of this creep forcing his way into the room where you were out of his head. The thought made him sick. It made him want to tear this him apart piece by piece.

“I should fucking kill you,” Rafe spat, his voice trembling as he pressed the guy harder against the wall.

“Please. I’m okay. He didn’t get in.”

It took every little ounce of self-control Rafe had, but he finally let the guy go, stepping back just enough for the asshole to crumple to the floor, groaning in pain.

“You come near her again, I swear to god…” He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to. The guy knew exactly what he meant.

The creep scrambled to his feet, clutching his bleeding face as he stumbled down the hallway, mumbling something that Rafe didn’t bother to listen to. His eyes were on you now, his breathing heavy as the adrenaline started to wear off.

His hands were still shaking, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

You nodded, though your eyes were still wide, “I’m fine. He didn’t get in, baby. You stopped him.”

Rafe exhaled, running a hand through his hair as he tried to breathe properly. The thought of what could’ve happened if he hadn’t come inside when he did made him want to throw up. “I should’ve been here,” he muttered “I should’ve been right here with you.”

“Rafe, you can’t be with me every second,” you stepped closer to him. “You did the right thing. I’m okay. Really.”

But he wasn’t convinced. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest, needing to know for sure that you were safe. His grip was tight, maybe too tight, but he couldn’t help it. “I swear to god, if he’d touched you…”

“He didn’t,” you murmured, your hands rubbing soothing circles on his back, “He's not going to."

He held you like that for a long moment, his heart still beating too fast, his mind conjuring everything that could’ve gone wrong tonight.

“No more working late nights here.”

You pulled back slightly, raising an eyebrow. “Rafe—”

“I’m serious,” he interrupted, “This place is full of creeps, and I’m not letting you deal with that shit anymore.”

You sighed, “We’ll talk about it.”

He didn’t argue — not now, at least. But as far as he was concerned, you weren’t coming back here. Not without him.

“What the hell is going on back here?”

You both turned to see Greg, your manager, striding down the hallway. He looked between you and Rafe, his eyes landing on the dented wall and the bloodied handprint smeared across it.

“Seriously, what the hell happened?” He barked, crossing his arms over his chest. “Why is there a guy running out of here with blood on his face?"

Rafe stiffened beside you.

He didn’t like Greg — never had. In his mind, he was lazy, incompetent, and more interested in playing golf with the country club regulars than actually managing anything. You opened your mouth to try to explain, but he beat you to it.

“Why don’t you fix your goddamn locks, Greg?” Rafe snapped, stepping forward, “If you weren’t so busy kissing everyone’s ass, maybe you’d realize that your employees aren’t fucking safe here.”

Greg blinked, “What are you talking about?”

Rafe pointed to the locker room door, where the knob was still hanging loosely, as if the creep had almost succeeded in breaking it off.

“Your fucking locker room door doesn’t lock. That asshole was trying to force his way in while she was changing. What the hell are you running here, man?”

Greg glanced at the door, then back at you, his face paling slightly but instead of apologizing, or even showing the slightest bit of concern, he threw his hands up in a defensive gesture. “Look, I didn’t know—”

“Yeah, because you don’t pay attention to shit!” Rafe shot back, his voice rising. “You think you can just let her and the other girls fend for themselves? Is this the kind of place you’re running?”

“Rafe,” you murmured, your hand on his arm again, trying to calm him down. “It’s fine.”

But Rafe was far from calm. His hands were shaking, and his eyes locked onto Greg. “No, it’s not fucking okay. This shit keeps happening, and it’s gonna get someone hurt.”

Greg took a step back, holding up his hands in surrender. “Look, I’ll… I’ll talk to the maintenance guys, alright? We’ll fix the lock.”

“Not good enough,” Rafe snapped, “You better fix it tonight. Because if this happens again, I’m not gonna be so nice next time.”

Greg swallowed hard, clearly shaken. “Y-Yeah. Fine. We’ll take care of it.”

Rafe scoffed, shaking his head in disgust. “You better.”

He turned his back on Greg without another word, grabbing your hand again as he led you toward the exit. His grip was tight, and once you were outside, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding.

“Rafe,” you said softly, pulling him to a stop as you stood by the side of his truck. “It’s over. I’m okay.”

He exhaled sharply as he looked down at you. “I can’t stand that guy,” he muttered. “He doesn’t give a shit about you or anyone else working here.”

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in tight, his chin resting on the top of your head. For a moment, he just held you like that, the tension slowly ebbing away. “You shouldn’t have to deal with this shit,” he murmured against your hair.

“I know. Let’s just go home.”

Rafe looked down at you, his brow furrowing slightly, “I’m gonna get you a gun.”

"A gun?"

"Yeah," Rafe said seriously, his grip tightening on your waist. “You need to be able to protect yourself if I'm not around."

"Baby, that's... kind of extreme," you tried to make him understand, "I don’t need a gun." You placed your hand on his chest, your thumb rubbing slow circles "I know you're worried. I know you don’t want me dealing with stuff like this, but a gun isn’t the answer."

He sighed, “I just want you to be safe.”

“I know,” you nodded. “And I will be. I promise.”

He held you close for a few more seconds, his forehead resting against yours. Then, with a reluctant sigh, he nodded. “Okay. No gun. For now.”

You smiled faintly, relieved. “Thank you.”

“But if it appens again, I’ll shoot him myself.”

“Okay, James Bond, get in the car.”

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kkrymiii · 5 months ago

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"No need to be sober"

G!p Kim minjeong x Fem reader

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

MDNI! (Not proofread!)

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

CW: smut, pet names, drunk asf, mafia, no protection :0, perv minjeongie idk seems like it

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

At the mafia bosses party, in his mansion, her daughter named minjeong or winter, was having fun drinking and chatting with her friends, The mafia bosses daughter, just arrived at the party actually. Being late due to not wanting to attend... But then Suddenly something caught minjeongs eyes... SOMEONE to be exact.

Minjeong immediately locked her eyes at. You..

Winter walks over to you, slowly walking over to her, making eye contact the whole time not breaking once

“You are really pretty.”

Winter smiled, she got quite shy for a few seconds. "eh?" I replied shocked and awkward from the sudden move of a random girl on me. Winter keeps smiling, she looked genuinely interested in you “Your eye makeup is really good you know, along with your dark red lips.” Winter leaned towards you more.

but as I was about to respond to her.

"alright jeongie stop being a creep when your drunk leave the pretty girl alone" a sharped eyed girl, wearing a black dress that hugged her curves perfectly said. It was minjeongs younger sister. Minjeong gets yanked back, she was pretty wasted but she was trying to fight the urge to take another sip of her whiskey. She looked at her sister “But she’s so pretty, she’s very gorgeous, I could kiss her right now and she’d probably fall in love with me."

"your whiskey ass smelling breath probably would not be the best for her to taste.. anyways ma'am I apologize with my sisters actions" the younger sister said sighing STILL trying to yank minjeong but she wouldn't budge. Minjeong laughs and shakes her head slightly "don’t apologize, she’s very pretty, I actually thought she’d like me back.” She gets yanked back by her younger sis but she’s not resisting at all, she looks very dazed

"minjeong let's go father's gonna scold you again.." the younger sister sighed her patience running thin. “Ugh, you’re ruining my fun, she’s so pretty, I’m gonna kiss her, and she’s gonna love me, I’m gonna be her wife.” Minjeong keeps trying to get free from her sibling so she can go over to the beautiful girl. "What?.. your disgusting... you know father's no gonna allow you to date someone you just found at the party.... And who even is this girl... " The younger looked up at you scanning your face. You had a sheepish expression clearly awkward from the situation.

But then suddenly. Minjeong darts across the room again, to try and get to her, she has absolutely no control over how much she’s drinking so she’s pretty much wasted Minjeong finally manages to get over to her, and she immediately hugs the girl, and squeezes her in to a bear hug, the girl smells so good too, like pure honey.

"Ahh-.. I'm.. sorry are you okay?" You gulped not knowing what to do with this girl..your hands floating in the air, But for Minjeong it's the opposite. Minjeong is in heaven, she’s having the best time in her life. “Yes… yes I am… I am so drunk, but right now I feel like I’m in l-luuuv.” Minjeong says really slowly and drawn out, her words slurring together and her face is extremely hazy and red.

"Ah-.. this.. this face?" You muttured as you recognized the face. "Y...you.. are the mafia's boss daughter?" Minjeong slowly nods “Yeah… he’s the most amazing father ever, I love my sisters too.” She keeps squeezing her, she’s so comfortable, so comfortable to hold, she starts burying her head onto your neck. You couldn't help but giggle a little bit finding this girls words funny "uh-.. I'm sorry but..are you okay?..you seem really drunk." You said clearing your throat trying to be responsible now.

"I’ll be honest… I’m absolutely wasted but all I can think about is you. I love you." Minjeong keeps squeezing her tightly, and she hugs her close, pulling her into a embrace. You gulped looking at her as your eyes scramble everywhere. "Whaa- but we just met tho?"

“I don’t care… you’re mine now, I don’t care we just met, I just fell in love with you.” Minjeong keeps sniffing her and pressing her face into her neck more and more, she can’t get enough of her, she wants to be with her, kiss her and marry her. "wait.. how about let's go to the bathroom and wet your face.. you seem really drunk.. and your father wouldn't want to see you like that yeah?" You suggested. Minjeong sighs and pouts, she was absolutely infatuated with you, and she hated having to leave your side “Fineeeee!” Minjeong pouts as she finally lets go of you and walks into the bathroom, she was very grumpy and looked extremely disappointed. "uh! Wait don't walk like that you might fall" you said catching up to minjeong holding her as they make they're wait to the bathroom. Minjeong doesn’t fight, and lets herself be dragged along, she holds your arm and leans into you to keep you beside her “You’re so beautiful, I wanna kiss you.” Minjeong whispers at your ear, she’s being really clingy with her.

"What the hell does her father feed her." You thought to yourself but kept a warn awkward smile at her as you lead her to the bathroom. As you guys arrived at the bathroom, you immediately helped Minjeong, making her wet her face with water as you handed her a handkerchief. And this girl leans on the sink staring at you for a whopping 5 minutes Minjeong sighs, not letting you go as she lets you wet her face, when she’s done she looks up at you “.....ughh.... your so pretty, I want to kiss you right now, right here.” Minjeong leans in to try and kiss you with her whiskey drenched lips. " i- I don't think this is allowed.." you dodged it swiftly, backing up creating distance.

Minjeongs pouting gets even more obvious the more she gets rejected, she gets really jealous at the fact that she isn’t getting what she wants, she can’t stand the rejection "You have no choice… I want to kiss you.” Minjeong leans in again and goes for a kiss for the 100th time. Minjeong uses all the strength she has left and is completely force kissing this time, your lips just feel so good to her and she just wants to stay kissing them. Minjeong keeps going, pushing her body against hers, kissing you on the lips so aggressively. Minjeong keeps kissing her, but not a simple kiss, but a aggressive and possessive kiss, as if she’s saying mine to you, that she’s hers, and she’s not allowed to get with anyone else but her. Minjeong holds you even closer, not letting her go. She just gets more and more aggressive with the kisses and she starts to go deeper, it’s getting slightly obsessive and possessive, as if she’s trying to claim her as her own. Minjeong grabs your hips tightly and forces her closer

Minjeong goes even deeper, as if she’s trying to suck the soul out of her. “Mineee, mine I tell you, you’re mine mine mine.” Minjeongs lips are already slightly swollen and have some slight bruising from the intense kissing that she has been doing with you, but to her it doesn’t matter, she doesn’t let go.

Soon you were bent over holding onto the sink for her dear life as minjeong was ramming into her pussy with her dick.

"Fu- fuck! Better than I..ah.. imagined" Minjeong panted as she grabbed your waist drilling herself into you. You were taking it like a good girl. You could hear minjeongs babbles and heavy breathes as she's clearly drunk asf. "Baby baby!.. fuck... I'm.. I I want to fuck you until you can't remember anything" minjeong moaned as she leaned over still rocking her hips into you as she aggressively placed kisses all over your back, making you moan and shiver.

"Ah.. pleas..ee please minjeong" you moaned out as you already were seeing the stars. Why the hell was this girl so good with her thrust game!? "Hell.. yeah!.. haha.. fuck fuck.. I'm gonna Impregnate you" minjeong chuckled as she fixed your guys position. Lifting your leg up to her shoulders now hitting more of your good spots making you moan out loud losing control, as tears fell out of your face.

"Wah?! Fuck! Ah.. good! Too much!!" You cried out trying to grab onto something but ended up grabbing onto the sink again as you were getting fucked hard by the mafia's bosses daughter. You felt ashamed at the same time since you were also a daughter of a 'scary family' if you know what I mean. But seeing yourself get this submissive over another girl who was apart of another family that was apart of the mafia shattered your ego Abit... But who cares she's hot asf and good ay sex :3

"Wahh- shi shit! Slut.. I'm coming! Makei.. eu.. ah- my wife! Mineeee!" Minjeong moaned drool dripping out of her mouth as her thrusts became more harder. She was pulling out and then slamming hard as she can, clearly teasing. "Wh.. ah.. fuck hurts- pl..please" you cried out, even if you couldn't see it it was clear due to the hard slamming red marks were definitely being made.

"Coming! Ta.. take it all!" Minjeong said as she thrusted one more time, as she released in you filling you up. You could feel her cock twitching adding to the pleasure as you came too, your liquids mixing as you two rode it out.

Minjeong then leaned in to you laying her head on your collar bone inhaling your scent as she gently rocked her hips getting friction riding the release of you two out. As minjeong pulled out she looked down at you, her eyes softening as she pulled you into a hug.

"My wife... No need to be sober to fall in love." She muttured peppering your neck with kisses. You didn't know how to respond so you just carressed her hair letting her do what she wanted.....

And let's just say as you to fixed yourself and dressed yourself back up and went out of the bathroom. You and minjeong went separate ways, her with her friends and family and you with your friends and family too, you couldn't help ofcourse but stare at her direction and seeing from afar that she was definitely getting scolded by her younger sibling. Which she said was named ningning, and her older sibling named karina...

You couldn't help but giggle from afar.

#mjk☆shish #kpop #minjeong x reader #kim minjeong smut #minjeong imagines #kim minjeong #minjeong #g!p aespa #g!p minjeong #aespa scenarios #aespa imagines #aespa smut #aespa winter #aespa #kpop smut #kpop girl group #kpop girl group smut #fem reader #g!p

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q1ngqve · 8 months ago

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CW; double penetration, threesome, pet names, degradation, praise, literally brain rot & not proofread because i wrote this on a whim

wrio and gallagher tag team because i cannot stop watching & thinking about that tiktok "૮₍ ˶•⤙•˶ ₎ა !!!!! they are so so mean! the meanest :( sandwiches you between them as they run their hands all over you ahhhhh >ᴗ< be a good girl and let them play with you or else you’ll get handcuffed with your hands behind your back!

but where’s the fun in being a “good girl” right? you’d piss them off by turning your head away each time they tried to kiss you, resulting in gallagher gripping at your cheeks with an angry smile, “stay still—” ( ˶°ㅁ°) !! and you’d reply “or what?” with a cheeky grin! and that was it! usually they’d have infinite amounts of patience when it comes to you, but not today ૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎ა

you could feel them poking you from the front and back, the flimsy skirt you’re wearing bunching up everytime wrio presses closer to you, making you squirm and buck back against his bulge (///▽///) he’d grab at your wrists roughly before securing them behind your back with his handcuffs!

meanwhile, gallagher wraps his hand around your throat, tugging your head forward so that your lips are inches away from his and you can feel his breath on your puffy lips ᡣ𐭩 “or we’ll have you stuffed with a dildo while we leave for work.” teehee — says lan

they’d manhandle you towards the bed and have you kneeling between them and straddling wrio with your face buried in his neck while gallagher gets behind you 🐾 the two work so well together it’s insane! wrio pulls you in by your nape to seal your lips together, pushing his tongue inside your mouth, teasing at your tongue while his hands rubs at your waist! all the while gallagher slides his fingers between your folds, sending snide remarks about how wet you are right to your ear, nibbling at your earlobes in the process

he has you cumming on his fingers with just a few pumps and rub of your clit! and wrio would tease you, says you’re “so sensitive,” and asks “how’re you going to take both of us if you’re already whimpering from just his fingers, hmm?”

wrio eases into you first! his fingers playing and tugging at your nipples while he kisses down your neck, telling you to relax for him!!!!! grunts and bites at your shoulder when he bottoms into you (꩜ ᯅ ꩜;) distracts you by kissing you again as gallagher slides into your ass!

both lets out the sexiest sounds known to mankind when they feel you squeeze around them, your juices coating and leaking out onto their thighs! moves at the same time, and your head starts going dizzy, it just feels too good! and and they’d tease you again, “so full of dick you can’t even speak coherently anymore?” you can’t even fight back, your whole body soft and trembling against them

you’d whimper their name softly when your head lifts when gallagher pulls at your roots, giving them easy access to kiss at your shoulders and neck ౨ৎ so so many praises! tells you “you’re taking us so well, pretty girl.” let’s not forget the degratory dirty talk though! “look at you sucking us in like that, you like having us fucking deep inside you, yeah? oh, we know you do, sweetheart.”

guides you through your high! knows you’re so sensitive from them practically impaling and splitting you in half ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა makes you relax into their holds as wrio plays with your clit and gallagher massaging your tits!

“that’s it, baby, just relax and cum for us. c’mon, you’ve got this.”

cums inside you after you orgasm and clamp down on them like a vice! you’re too blanked out to even notice them pulling out and pushing their cum back into you! ໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১ cleans you up afterwards and you curl up between them, satisfied and ready to pass out <3

#🀥 lan’s writings!#hsr #honkai star rail #genshin #genshin impact #hsr smut #genshin smut #gallagher #gallagher x reader #wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #threes0me

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hearts4hughes · 23 days ago

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present wrapping - nicholas chavez x fem!reader

holly jolly november

you and nicholas are sitting on the living room floor surrounded by wrapping paper, ribbons, and half-wrapped gifts. nick, looking a bit lost, holds a lumpy, unevenly wrapped box in his hands while you can’t help but laugh.

“okay, so… what exactly is this?” you giggle, pointing at his interestingly wrapped present.

with a sheepish grin on his face, he blushes, “a masterpiece? or maybe an abstract art piece. wrapping paper’s like my worst enemy right now.”

“yeah, i can tell.” you smile as he scratches the back of his neck. “give me that, i’ll teach you.”

half-wrapped present in hand, he shuffles closer to you on the floor. you take the present from him, removing the wrapping paper, and placing it down. as you explain to him the steps of present wrapping, he can’t help but be distracted by how pretty you looked under the christmas lights.

you and nick had always been close friends. you met through a mutual friend and clicked instantly. people joked around calling you platonic soulmates and nick always smiled, internally wishing for more. and now, with your soft voice and stunning face, it was harder for him to hide his feelings.

“earth to nick?” you snap at him and raise your brows. “are you even paying attention?”

he blinks his thoughts out of his eyes and nods. “uh- yeah.”

you roll your eyes with a playful smirk. “well, you better be because i’m making you do it yourself afterwards.”

he chuckled. you were always sassy and sarcastic, two of the many things he loved about you.

“and done!” you held up your perfectly wrapped box with a box fastened on top. “why don’t you try it? just fold and tape, it’s pretty simple.” you say it like it’s the easiest thing in the world as you hand him the roll of tape and wrapping paper.

his mouth is agape at how easy you made it seem. “you mean, try to not tape my fingers to the box?”

“exactly. small goals.” you begin laughing as he manages to tape down the paper without issue. he looks at you with a smug expression, taking pride in how he did the first step.

you watch as he focuses, carefully folding the paper like you showed him, his brows furrowed in concentration. there’s something endearing about how hard he’s trying, and you can’t help but smile.

“not bad… okay, okay, you’re actually doing pretty well,” you say, grinning. “maybe i am a good teacher.”

“or maybe you just have the patience of a saint.” he chuckles, nudging you with his shoulder.

finally, he secures the last piece of tape, then looks at the gift, a bit crooked but charming in its own way.

“there,” he says, looking at you proudly. “what do you think?”

“i think you’re a natural.” you both laugh, the sound warm and easy.

there’s a quiet pause, and you realize how close you’re sitting. the christmas lights cast a soft glow, and for a second, you wonder if he’s feeling the same thing you are.

“thanks for helping me… and for putting up with my terrible wrapping skills,” he says softly.

“hey, anytime,” you reply, meeting his gaze, your voice dropping to a whisper. “it’s actually kinda fun.”

a beat of silence falls over the room like snow on christmas eve. the two of you gaze into each others eyes and for a moment, time froze and only the two of you existed. nicholas’s eyes flickered between yours and your lips.

without another word, he leans in, his lips brushing yours in a gentle, unexpected kiss that feels like it’s been waiting to happen for a long time. it’s soft, warm, and perfectly timed, just like everything else tonight.

he pulls back with a smile. “sorry, i-”

you interrupt him, “i don’t mind.” your face is flushed with maroon hues. you try to regulate your breathing.

“good, because i’ve been wanting to do that… well, for longer than i’d like to admit.”

you lean into him with a content smile. in that moment, you felt whole. like whatever had been missing inside of you had suddenly been filled. you both let out a small giggle, content with this now cherished moment.

#𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙟𝙤𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙣𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙢𝙗𝙚𝙧 #nora’s writings 💐#nicholas chavez #nicholas alexander chavez #nicholas chavez x reader #nicholas alexander chavez x reader #nicholas chavez smut #grotesquerie #father charlie mayhew #charlie mayhew #dr charlie mayhew

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hypnagogics · 8 months ago

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how soon is now? | part two

READ THIS FIRST 🇵🇸

previous chapter. series masterlist.

♡: hallway crush!ellie x uni student!reader

☆: the long-awaited second part of this godforsaken fic (lawd she’s given me trouble). appreciate y'all's patience as always, i'm a chronic procrastinator and perfectionist but what can i do. after this, i'm gonna take a break from this series. not saying i'll never write more, but wanna work on some other stuff for a while. thank you for reading! pretty please don’t hate me or show up at my house waving torches and pitchforks for this ending ok luv u gays in my phone. + a big thank you to @total-dxmure for helping me w/ some ideas for the last little bit!

♧:5.7k word count (lawd)

◇: sfw! miscommunication (sawry). fluffy moments, angst lowkey…both of yall cry at one point or another, reader has anxiety in the last chunk. modern au but joel isn’t alive in this, and they discuss it. maybe some rushed points here and there, i’m not really the proudest of this but needed to finish it anyway. potentially horrendous pacing but ok i think that’s all? idfk i may give y’all a little epilogue eventually, but don't dwell on it for the time being!

4 months later

Your friendship with Ellie was evolving wonderfully. You two were studying together frequently, and both your grades in the ghastly astrophysics class increased exponentially. Although that wasn't the only thing that was increasing at a rate too fast to fathom. Your crush on her. It was ripping you apart like wildfire, Ellie was proving herself to be such a wonderful person inside and out, and you were slowly but surely nearing your limit of how much it could build before you burst. A movie spin off of the Savage Starlight series had come to streaming, and Ellie had invited you to her place for a movie night so you two could watch it and discuss if it was a faithful entry in your beloved series or not.

Dressed in some comfortable pjs and armed with snacks of all kinds, your favorites as well as hers, the time had come and you were at her door. You straighten your posture and put your hair back in place, must look presentable, then knock, knock, knock.

You could hear some faint shuffling behind the door, then a few thudding steps until she opened it for you. She was dressed in an old, worn Nirvana tee, and red checkered pajama pants, damn she looked good, even when she was dressed with less effort than usual.

Ellie looked so pleased to see you, leaning on the doorframe. Why did she have to look so good all the time? “Hi! I’m so glad you came, ooh this is gonna be so fun.” She invited you in and took the snacks from your arms and placed them inside her room. “Oh yeah, I also put up some decor too so we can get into the Savage Starlight spirit.” Her eyes were wide and twinkling and when she stepped aside to let you see, she really had made her room so welcoming and comfortable.

The lights were all off save for LEDs around the room’s perimeter set to a dreamy violet hue, sparkly fairy lights draped around the frame of her bed which was set up so cozily. Her laptop propped up on a pillow, the sheets arranged in a nest-like formation with two spaces for each of you. She even had a few dinosaur stuffed animals placed in a row so they could watch too.

You were so flattered she'd do that and make the atmosphere so nice for the two of you, you could just tackle her in a hug and never let go.

The thing is you were scared she'd perceive that as weird and you didn't feel like dying of embarrassment, not today at the very least. Save that for another day, maybe. Oh, how you wanted to squeeze her so bad. Your imagination had to do for now.

She was standing there so proud of how she arranged her room into a mini theater, and you beamed at her, silently thanking her for making it so dim so she couldn't see your flustered expression in full.

“Ellie this is amazing!!” “You like it?!? These stupid lights kept on falling off but since this is an important occasion for us both I didn't give up. All for our love, Daniela.” She manipulated her voice and waved in the air with two fists, closed her eyes and put her hand over her heart, just being as dorky as ever.

Oh gosh, hopefully it wasn't going to be awkward. Sure, the two of you had grown to be great friends, but were you that close to be just, relaxing in her bed together? As long as your imagination didn't run too wild and you didn't overthink anything, it was going to be a fun time. Just two pals watching their favorite series, nothing more, nothing less.

She threw herself in the mess of comforters with a grunt, and saw you were hesitating. She patted the empty space next to her so you'd join her and the movie night could begin. “C’mere, don't be shy.” Well, no shit you were going to be shy. Suck it up.

You crawled in next to her, unable to look her in the eyes, while she got everything ready and rubbed her hands together excitedly. “Man, if they do our girl dirty, we’re gonna have to give someone a knuckle sandwich, you with me?” Her jokes and easy going vibes always made her so fun to be around, but unfortunately for you, you fell harder for her every time. “Yeah, Ellie. A knuckle sandwich for all of them.” You retorted with a chuckle. Once both of you were settled, she pressed play and so it began.

As the movie played, the two of you laughed and debated every plot twist, cursing the directors for not portraying your queen Daniela how she deserves, and snacked on candy until your stomachs hurt. It was going so well, the friendly hang out both of you needed after so many responsibilities in life. An escape. Occasionally sneaking peeks Ellie’s way, she was just so marvelously pretty. The shadows dancing on her features, illuminating her side profile perfectly, her long eyelashes and button nose, who wouldn't get lost in admiring her?

Of course you could never fully relax around her, or forget the crush no matter how hard you tried to push it down and just be friends. Every time she shifted next to you in the bed you felt your heart seize and the butterflies in your stomach turn into hornets. At this rate, they were going to turn into whole birds for fuck’s sake.

Nearing the end of the movie, the two of you were so invested, so captivated in the events, totally spellbound.

But then the film took a more emotional turn that wasn't in the comics. Daniela and her father had an absolutely vicious argument which left the two of you speechless watching it, which luckily got quickly resolved right after the two characters had a near-death experience together.

You weren't one to get emotional over silly, trivial things like fiction, but the way they showed this entire sequence was nothing short of heart-wrenching. You snatched up one of Ellie's patterned pillows and hugged it tightly to your chest, because cuddling her would have been much too bold for the likes of you. But what you’d give to do that instead.

Seems you were not the only one touched by the scene, as you began to hear some light sniffling from next to you. Looking over at Ellie made your heart break further into a million pieces. She looked lost in thought with thin lines of tears streaming down her plump, freckled cheeks.

You froze for a moment, not knowing the limits of your relationship with her and how you could comfort her best. So you cleared your throat and mumbled, “That was so sad…” You watched as she avoided your gaze and wiped at her face with the collar of her t-shirt, “Yeah, this kind of stuff hits me, feels a little personal y’know.” She has never opened up to you about her struggles before, in the short time you’ve known and gotten close with Ellie, it always seemed like she was there to help you out, not the other way around. This could be your chance to show her that you are there for her as well, and that she can always count on you.

Being curious but at the same time not wishing to pry too much into her private affairs, you quietly asked with the most gentle tone of voice you could muster,” You don’t have to, but I’m here if you ever wanna talk about it, Ellie.” You watched her out of the corner of your eye, anticipating however she reacts.

She stayed quiet for a beat before sighing deeply, and whispered, “We were having a fun time, I really don't wanna be a burden.” Her voice quivered, heavy with emotion, what could possibly be troubling her this much? You wanted to take all her pain and bear it yourself, she didn't deserve any sort of misfortune ever.

“You can tell me, don’t worry about anything, okay? I just want you to be all good.” You were comforting her so smoothly, putting her needs and well-being first as if it was always second nature, as if you two have known each other many lifetimes over, two souls meant to float together through the journey of life. Well okay, that was probably a bit much.

There were a few more seconds of silence as you let the question ring in the air, not wanting to press and jeopardize your cherished friendship with her.

You continue observing her, almost seeing the gears turning in her mind, the scales of reason tipping to one side then another, as she contemplates whether it’s worth spilling. Eventually, she does.

She roughly rubs her face then pauses the film playing on her laptop, sighs and huffs, before beginning to speak her story, all while looking away from you.

“Okay I don’t like to talk about this kind of stuff, but I trust you. A whole lot.” Your heart fluttered and face heated up at her comment, but you ignored it because there was something much more important on the table now. She continues, speaking quietly but quickly to get it over with.

“So, when I was a kid, I was an orphan and to be honest I don’t really remember my early childhood much at all, but when I was 14 my adoptive dad, Joel, took me in. And it’s been just us since then.” She stops to take a breath, then resumes reluctantly. “And well, we’ve had a pretty rocky relationship for a good chunk of these years, I never knew how to express my gratitude to him, y’know, for basically saving my life, numerous times at that. He was always my rock, and I appreciate him every day. He taught me so many things, and I don’t know what I would’ve done if he hadn’t come around. I was pretty hard to deal with back then.” She reminisces with an exhale of air, and you see her eyes refill with tears. “But I’m really bad at expressing that, and will kinda, lash out I guess when I’m met with kindness or tricky situations.”

You nod, listening patiently, and place your hand on her shoulder ever so gently, as a result making her raise her head to give you a small smile.

Ellie chuckled deeply, it almost sounded forced, then started to slowly wrap up her story. “And it seems that scene kinda hit me, because the wounds are still raw, or whatever.”

She sniffles again but doesn't respond, so you delicately inquire, “What do you mean?”

“He died last year.” Oof.

“Oh my, Ellie, I’m so sorry, are you-” She interrupts your condolences. “No need for that, I’m fine. Well, taking it day by day y’know. In the beginning it was really tough, I was angry at everything but most at myself for being such a jerk, and now I can't turn back time and tell him all I wanted to.” While you take a moment to think about what to say, she hums to herself and remarks, “That actually felt good to get off my chest, I haven't told anyone about it.” She lowers her voice so it’s barely a whisper. “Didn't have who to tell.”

“Sure you're okay? I'm always here for you.” You find your voice back to soothe her some more, to which she smiles at you again, only this time it actually seems genuine. There's definitely a lot of pain behind it, but the relief that she doesn't have to deal with the burden alone was evident on her face.

“Yeah, thanks. I guess I hadn’t processed anything, and that part of the movie made it all come out, damn I hate emotions sometimes. But I appreciate you being here for me. You're really easy to talk to, and I feel better now.”

And you would've never in a trillion years anticipated what her next move was going to be, you were so caught off guard, the realization lagged and it didn't immediately register.

She moved to sit on her knees in front of you, then threw her arms around your torso in a tight embrace. She hugged you. Clutched you so firmly against her own body, her strong hands landing in the middle of your back, where she rubbed in a circle. She smelled so nice, and was as warm as one of her heated stuffed animals.

Due to the surprising nature of the motion you let out a dumbfounded gasp, then returned the hug allowing yourself to rest your head on her shoulder. You wanted to stay like this forever, until the end of time, it felt nicer than you could've ever imagined.

The thought crossed your mind that she could feel the buzz pulsating through your body, you swore your heart was slamming against your ribcage so hard it was going to grow wings and simply fly right out of your chest, and join hands with hers.

While you were occupied with the way she felt against you, so close like this, chest against chest, and how your cheeks blazed with an inferno hotter than a thousand suns, you heard her grumble against your ear. “Not gonna make that same mistake again, and from now on, I'm gonna tell the people I appreciate just how much they matter to me.”

You were much too stunned to speak, but she wasn't. “So thank you again.” She finishes her little speech and pulls away first, but not before giving you one last big squeeze and letting out a noise of contentment as she does so, then shuffles over to her previous spot in the bed.

Not taking notice of the way you were at a loss for words, or about to set the room on fire with how flustered her actions made you. Her obliviousness was a common theme, it seemed. She clears her throat and claps, grabbing some more candy for herself, then says happily, “We still got the rest of the movie left, then we can do whatever after. I really wanna know how this ends.”

Naturally, your head is spinning, but you were too caught up in your thoughts to continue paying attention to the movie as much as you were before.

You felt awful for her, yet somehow, felt as if your crush on her had quadrupled in size yet again. You saw through the guard she put up, she broke down those walls and opened up to you. You were honored she trusted you so much, and only hoped that would never change. That, coupled with how remarkably good hugs she gave, has led you to the realization that you were properly in love now, things had gotten real. This was trouble. You vowed to always be there for her for whatever she could ever need, you'd drop everything to teleport by her side if you could.

Goodness, what were you possibly going to do now, instead of giving you the ick, or helping you with the task of getting rid of that stupid infatuation you were so plagued by, every experience felt like a deliberate ploy to just make you fall even further for her. You couldn't help but wonder just how much love a person can feel for someone, because it only continued to grow.

A couple days later.

Sitting in the cozy campus cafe, you were revising all your coursework. It was giving you a massive headache, but the warm and hazy lighting aided it a touch. The walls had cute plastic vines crawling up and down, and even though there was chatter all around you from the other patrons, it wasn't a distraction and in fact acted as some sort of white noise, everyone was talking in a nicely muted tone, it all blended to create the perfect ambience.

You waved down the waitress to get yet another cup of coffee, your third one of the night, that’s healthy, before trying to resume with your aggravating studies.

To your dismay, you've used up all your brain power for the evening, and could not force yourself to continue no matter how hard you tried. Maybe a few moments of peaceful people-watching would get you back on track?

You sip on the hot drink, then lean back against the comfortable booth seat to begin scanning around.

In one corner directly on the opposite side of where you were sitting, there was an elderly couple. They looked so in love, dressed in matching outfits, feeding each other as they shared a dessert, holding hands and conversing with a hushed tone, nodding and looking into each other's twinkling eyes. So cute, you hoped that was going to be you in the future.

Moving your line of sight to watch beside the couple, there was another student, their books and computer were scattered across the wooden table, piles of pens and pencil cases near falling over. They seemed to have fallen asleep, unmoving with their head laid tiredly across their crossed arms. The sight made you chuckle out of familiarity, you really felt for them, studies were hard.

But then a sound caught your attention. A bright, husky giggle fought its way over the ambience, reminiscent of a certain someone.

Your heart jumped, your ears perked up and you immediately became insistent on scouting her out among the patrons, this was a necessary mission.

Feeling highly nervous and antsy, you try to drown out the noise and focus on where she could be, and quickly enough, you find her.

Ellie in her natural habitat, she was so mesmerizing. Sitting far away from you where you could get a good view and hear snippets of conversation if you focused hard enough, but not close enough where she would notice your shameless gawking. She was sitting with a group of a handful of her friends, who all appeared to be gossiping and laughing with each other, you couldn't tear your eyes away.

Her smile was gorgeous, and you knew that, but there was something about just being a spectator which fascinated you, you could stare at her all day. Her energy lit up the entire room, and made your heart race.

Snapping out of your trance and trying to not be so obvious with your staring, you tried to look occupied, tried reorganizing your notes while still keeping an ear out to listen. Occasionally glancing over as well. Yes, it's true that eavesdropping is wrong, but you couldn't help yourself. Anyone would do the same, right?

The group's passionate discussion was making you extremely curious however, and you strained to hear what they were talking about. Among the muffled chatter, you heard a woman’s voice say the word crush, then an outburst of laughter, the loudest guffaw from Ellie herself.

You felt the budding panic start to form in your chest momentarily, but swallowed the lump forming in your throat and took a sharp intake of breath to calm yourself at once. They could be talking about anything, there's no need to jump to conclusions just yet. Fumbling around your bag for your headphones to listen to some of the song recommendations Ellie had given you, you’re led to discover that they are, in fact, dead. Of course.

Despite any and all wishes to stop eavesdropping on them and mind your own business and abide by what they say, ignorance is bliss, you simply couldn't. She was too damn captivating. Like a painting in a museum, like a statue at a town’s center, one that people stopped in their tracks to admire.

The way her eyes sparkled and gleamed under the warm lighting, her cheeks tinted a faint rosy hue from the exertion of laughing so hard, her sweet smile. She was too perfect. God, you hated crushes, being infatuated with someone to this degree couldn't be healthy. But what could you do? Just look at this angel.

Fidgeting nervously while still being entranced by the group of friends, you heard a man’s voice say the words “there’s no way”, followed by Ellie howling even harder than she had the whole time you've been watching them, and punch him forcefully on the shoulder.

The curiosity was going to swallow you whole, it was like a car crash you couldn't look away from. You felt your palms begin to tremble and sweat with worry, and anxious assumptions of all kinds running through your mind, were they talking about you? No, they couldn't be, you're just overthinking it. Relax, relax, relax.

You tried your hardest to control your breathing and soothe your spinning mind so you wouldn't spiral, until you heard something that absolutely shook you to your core.

The same woman from before, not Ellie, in a highly teasing tone of voice said your name.

You felt frozen, this couldn't be happening. All your worst fears were coming true at this very moment. You had to get out of there right away, this was too much to bear. Curiosity really did kill the cat didn't it, you wished you didn't comply with the morbid desire to know everything.

Panic-stricken like a deer in headlights, near hyperventilating at this point, the final straw was all three of them erupting into laughter simultaneously, with Ellie through gasps, going "oh come onnnn”.

Yeah that was it. Hot tears started pricking your eyes and you vigorously blinked them away before they started streaming down your face, as if you needed to be humiliated even more. You felt sadded, torn apart, betrayed. Sick to your stomach too. This time, for once, you really thought you had something going for you. From your perspective, albeit through rose-colored glasses, you were convinced she was being genuine with you all this time. How could you not be?

The late night study sessions, the air thick with tension, the conversations draped in a sleep-deprived haze, the walks to class together, the first fated interaction, the looks you two shared from across the huge lecture hall; the looks where you two just knew when to share a glance, was all of that fake? Was she leading you on purposefully because her friends thought it was funny, that you were a joke?

The tears threatened to spill and your stomach twisted painfully with the world-shattering realizations you were just served with, and you angrily shoved your belongings in your bag.

You were too caught up in your panicked frenzy to notice how disruptive you were actually being, your textbooks thumping and keychains jingling, but frankly didn't care enough to meet the numerous pairs of eyes observing your misfortune. Who could blame you, your whole world and everything you've known just crumbled before you.

You slung your bag over your shoulder noisily as a choked sob made its way up your throat, then speed-walked out of that cafe. You were never going to be able to go in there again unfortunately, shame, their pastries were so good.

Right as you tried to step through the door it got stuck, because the universe was being really nice to you today, and as you tugged on it to get it to open, you heard the friends lower their voices, but you could still make out a jumble of hushed words sounding something like, “oh no, is that…” Great, great, fucking great. The only solution to this was to change your name and ride up to Seattle for goodness’ sake, maybe throw yourself into a volcano as well just because.

Finally the door swung open after what felt like eons, and you stumbled outside into the chilly autumn air, feeling goosebumps spring up all over. Where you were going, you didn't really know. This cafe was new, so it would take some time to figure out navigation so you stood dumbly in the middle of the front lawn as you tried to orient yourself.

Once you think you've got it, you start your agonizing trek back to your little room, screaming inside of your head, until you're harshly yanked back mid-footstep by a vice grip on your arm. What the fuck was it now.

Ellie. The sight of her only made your tears increase in quantity and the emotion in your chest tighten. She looked a little disheveled, her eyes round like saucers, and she was gripping onto your arm so hard as if you were going to run away. You wanted to, but she still had a magnetic hold on you, even after all that turmoil.

Talking was painful with how much you were trying to keep a hold of yourself, but you managed out a choked, “Ellie, what?”

She looked befuddled, shaking her head ever so slightly and scrunching up her eyebrows, her gaze boring right into yours and following whenever you tried to break it and look elsewhere. Her hold on your arm softens, and moves to rest on your shoulder. “What do you mean what? You ran outta there like you were chased by a lunatic or something, what the fuck happened?”

Her tone startled you a little, why did she care so much? Noticing you jolt, she sighs and mellows her speech. “Sorry, what I mean to say is, I'm worried. Are you okay?”

You worried her? Heat rushed to your cheeks as you fought to break the increasingly uncomfortable eye contact, and all you could do was shrug. Your lip started quivering and you were losing the fight of keeping your composure, how wonderful. Despite everything she was being so sweet, way too sweet. You felt helpless at this point.

The words started pouring out of your mouth like a waterfall, you were properly sobbing now, falling apart and hiccuping as months and months of emotion spilled over.

You were blabbering about how you loved the friendship you formed with her, but how hurt you felt that she’d laugh about you, every possible insecurity just tumbled out of your lips, as you wiped at your teary face and runny nose and glanced at Ellie ever so often.

She let you talk for a bit until she saw you get even more upset, that's when she got a step closer to you, squeezed both your shoulders gently and kept a stern tone of voice to get your attention.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, slow down, I don't know what you're saying.” But you couldn't stop crying. Bottling up emotions was definitely a bad idea, because they were bound to burst sooner or later and unfortunately, you reached the breaking point. Sucking in some unsteady breaths as an attempt to regulate yourself, she was watching you patiently yet still cautiously.

Your voice was weak and shaky, but you were slowly feeling a little better. For the first time during this interaction, you meet her eyes. Why was she always so pretty? She was sculpted just to spite you, you were convinced. Tears welled up in your eyes once more, but you blinked them away. “Um…Ellie…” She nodded expectantly, wanting to know what was wrong. But you could not complete your sentence as yet another bout of ache washed over you.

To snap you out of it once and for all, Ellie grabbed your face. The sheer disbelief of her action was enough to stop your tears luckily, and she held your gaze while she used her thumb to swipe at the stray teardrops adorning your cheekbones. You wanted to die, what was going on?

Once your panic was replaced with fluster and stupefaction, she let you go, but was still standing really close to you. You felt jittery from it all, nervous, embarrassed and in love and everything under the sun all at the same time. You stared at her, then looked away, then looked at her plump pink lips which were set in a questioning pout, then back up to her sympathetic greener-than-grass eyes, fuck, fuck, fuck. The intensity of the situation had caused any sense of judgment or critical thinking to long, long gone, and so your body moved on its own and before you had a chance to form a solid thought or process what you were doing.

Smooch.

You kissed her.

Mouths colliding like magnets as you held onto the sides of her face, fireworks igniting in every single part of your body. Cradling her jaw as you closed the space between you two, the hurricane of emotion coursing through your veins as your lips caressed hers, and time felt like it had stopped. The months and months of excruciating pining had all led up to this very moment.

She instinctively kissed you back, you felt her breaths fanning your face. You were about to ascend to another dimension. Lingering against her for a little longer, you forced yourself to regretfully pull away, and laughed loudly at her state now.

Her lips were parted and she was gawking at you, you had broken her completely. Your own heart was working overtime, you were panting from the adrenaline of the situation, and could only hear the blood rushing in your ears.

She seemed to be in a coma, doing nothing but staring and breathing. You punched her arm playfully, your voice breaking.

“I’M IN LOVE WITH YOU, YOU FUCKING IDIOT.”

An frustrated confession tore itself from your throat, even the world's strongest iron bars couldn't contain it. You wiped at your face with your sleeves, a sad attempt to clear it of the residual salty tears that never once stopped their journey out of your eyes.

The sadness had left you, and you felt lighter now, truthfully. Had no idea how you would ever face her again after all this, but at least the cat was out of the bag and you had gotten that off of your chest. You both stood there in silence, now what was wrong with her? What a dork. Sucking on your teeth and kicking a pebble on the ground you admitted finally, “So, yeah. That's what's been troubling me, I guess.”

Her pupils were dilated and huge, as she scanned all over your features, her mouth opening and closing as if she was having an internal battle of what to say. She stood there almost appearing miles more shocked than you somehow, she looked as if she was going to have a heart attack and die on you, you found it funny, but concerning at the same time.

You watched her for a moment more, before accepting your disappointing fate and bidding her a goodbye. You cleared your throat. “Okay then. Cya in class. Bye.” You turned on your heel and began the walk back to your room, but this time for real, and didn't look back at her. Even if you wanted to, you couldn't, you wanted to leave this whole fiasco in the past. That chapter was closed, it seemed.

The only thing left to do now was call your bestie, Abby. She has been your cheerleader through this whole thing, through all this time, gave you advice and brought you back to Earth, and you needed her support now more than ever.

Right after you reached your dorm she was there in no time at all, after receiving your distress call she scrambled into action, with chocolates and boxed wine in hand. Maybe you should just date her instead at this point. Who else was left for you?

You talked and talked and talked to her about everything for so long, talking the night away just like old times, and she sat and listened to your every word, patted your back reassuringly as you weeped into her shoulder, then tucked you into bed at the end of it all. She left only when she was sure you'd relaxed fully.

You didn't fall asleep quite yet, and stayed awake thinking, pondering life and staring up at your ceiling. It turns out angrily confessing to the girl you've been infatuated with forever by impulsively kissing her and letting the whole campus know it was a tiring thing after all. You really did cause a bit of a scene, when you thought about it in hindsight.

But what was this all like from Ellie's perspective? You wished you could know what she thought, or at least gotten some sort of formal response. Her friend storms out of a cafe, kisses her and screams she's in love with her? It's certainly understandable she'd feel a little lost, or under great pressure to give you an answer. Her reaction did make sense though, after being met with such a shocking revelation. Wow, now that you were really thinking about it, she still did not know why you ran out of the cafe like that. You wished you could turn back time and redo this day, shame that wasn't possible. Were you two ever going to have a discussion about this, or had you just lost a friend for life. Oh no, you pushed that thought away as quickly as it appeared, you didn't have an ounce of energy left over to dwell on it.

You'd work out what you were going to face her next later, a very well-deserved visit to dreamland was way overdue. You felt your eyelids grow heavy and your breathing slow, so you turned on your side and snuggled into your bed, eventually falling into a deep, deep sleep.

Meanwhile on your bedside table:

Bzz, bzz, bzz.

lovely taggies: @lasting-lover @radioheadfan699 @sophie-thefrog8 @machetegirl109 @ellieschair @aouiaa @wavesgocrash @tangerinngi @elliesbitchvenus @amiorca @dinaissoprettyoml @rxreaqia @camicocom1a @elliesexual @smelliewilliams @boobdrug @writing-on-a-bathroom-stall @bready101 @yourelliewillms @ap3arll @bunnyrose01 @elliesactualgirlfriend @paranoiero @sakiigami @4ftergloww @ellstronaut @vqxen @desireesfics @lez-zuha @dyk3ang3l @iluvellie0089 @tphmnv @seraphicsentences @seaseasalts @biblically-accurate-ellie @deliriousrn @pxterpfx + a very special tag to @fleshunger hehe :)

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brittle-doughie · 8 months ago

Note

Playing hide with the beasts would either be the most terrifying and fun thing in the world, change.my.mind

(Also thank you for liking my stuff AAAAA-😩😭✨💖😤)

Hiding Y/N, Seeking Beasts (The Five Beasts)

Yeah, man. I thought it was some pretty neat stuff :]

Shadow Milk Cookie will try to lure you out with whatever he can come up with. He won’t sweat it too much as he looks around the area, but it’s for the best that you don’t poke fun at him for not finding you. He can and will put more effort into trying to find you by placing various dolls and such that will alert him if they spot you. Don’t always believe that he doesn’t know where you are. He might just know more then you think…

Eternal Sugar Cookie is more straightforward, gunning for whatever source of noise that’s emitted, taking any chance on the possibility of finding you there. She’ll offer you loads of cuddles and kisses if you make yourself known, she was going to do so anyway, but the sooner the better! She might even hide away for a little bit among the clouds, making you believe that she’s gone only to swoop down toward you once you’re out in the open. Keep moving, Eternal Sugar will always be hunting you.

Burning Spice Cookie isn’t about patience, he’ll try to increase the heat of the air in a certain area in a bid to draw you out. It has a particularly significant range radius, so when the air starts to get warm, that’s your cue to go to a different hiding spot, he has poor reaction time as he’s too distracted letting everything burn, so it should be fairly easy to move between spots. He’ll always be slowly moving about, so change spots often! What’s the matter, is he too hot for you?

Mystic Flour Cookie is a bit more..extreme with her methods. If she can’t locate you and if the game is out in open land, she will start to destroy aspects of the environment to limit the number of hiding spots you’ll have left. This will go on and she’ll get more aggressive with this tactic until she finds the spot you’re holding up in. Your best option is to lure her away to a different spot before rushing out of yours and relocating. She isn’t a fool, so use these distractions sparingly.

Silent Salt Cookie is another pretty straightforward seeker. It’s in their name, Silent Salt is…well silent, the only indicator that they’re in the area is the sound of their footsteps. This can work against you as you’d need to be as quiet as possible when moving, if you make a noise, they’re almost guaranteed to go and investigate it. Take a page from Mystic Flour and try to make noise elsewhere from your spot, then quietly move to another location while Silent Salt is investigating. They wise up fast, so pick a very good spot to start off with.

Winning keeps you safe from them for now…

Losing has you as their cookie for eternity! (They have a schedule, each Beast having you for a certain time in the week. They get angry if someone doesn’t hand you over on time! )

#brittle answers #cookie run x you #cookie run x reader #cr x reader #cookie run #crk x reader #cookie run kingdom x reader #cookie run kingdom #cr kingdom #shadow milk cookie x reader #eternal sugar cookie x reader #mystic flour cookie x reader #silent salt cookie x reader #burning spice cookie x reader

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maeedrg · 1 month ago

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SICK GOJO x READER

ᯓ★

Part 1 : gojo x sick reader (it can also be read without part 1, as a standalone)

Synopsis : in which after you being sick, the all mighty Gojo Satoru catches a cold too. Nursing him back to health is quite a challenge, even more for The Strongest ! Him ? Being vulnerable ? Nah.

Words count : 4.6 k

Warnings : fluff, smut, afab reader, slight angst, comfort, pet names, p in v, unprotected sex.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ Autor’s note : English is not my first language, sorry for the mistakes !

݁ ⊹ ୨୧ ˖ ࣪ . Enjoy . ⋆ 🩹 ⇅ ˖

｡⋆˚⋆✩₊⋆˚｡⋆♡⋆｡⋆ ˚｡⋆⊹⋆ ˚⋆｡⋆✧⋆˚｡⋆⋆ ｡⋆˚⋆✩₊⋆˚｡⋆♡⋆｡⋆ ˚｡⋆⊹⋆

“Nah, I’m too strong for the germs to actually get to me.”

That’s what your stupid boyfriend said when he kissed you multiple times when you were sick. This idiot insisted that because he was The Strongest, he couldn’t catch a cold. And here you are, with the All Mighty Gojo Satoru sulking like a kid to take his medicine, determined that he could use his rct to heal himself. Well, it didn’t work like that.

You were standing in front of him, while he was sitting on the couch, legs sprayed in his usual manspreading way, head turned on the other side of the water glass filled with medicine. You grunt, shaking your head and frowning at his antics.

“Satoru…” you start to say, moving the glass in front of your boyfriend, clearly losing your patience.

“Nuh-uh,” he sucks his lip in between his teeth and activates his infinity the moment the glass was about to touch his lips.

You sigh deeply. He was clearly toying with your nerves, and you were tired of playing this little game anymore. You make a noise of fluster, and now put your hand on your hip like a parent would do when scolding their child.

“Gojo Satoru !” you hiss.

“Uh-oh, the government name…” he whispers sheepishly, tilting his head to look at you through his blindfold.

“Yeah, the government name. If you don’t take your medicine, I’m going to be really mad. I’m not playing with you,” you insist, glaring at him up and down. To be honest, you felt like you were dealing with a little brother, rather than your grown ass adult boyfriend.

A smirk forms on his pretty pink lips, showing you this boyish grin that he always had when having fun. He taps his thigh with his long finger, eying you.

“You look sexy when you’ mad, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes, clearly not buying his flirting attempt. You even scoff, squeezing tighter the glass in your hand.

“Satoru, stop play-” you get cut off the moment his large hands wraps around your waist, bringing you with ease towards him. He makes you stand in between his legs, his head buried in the comfort of your chest as his arms now hug you tightly to not let you have any room to escape.

“I’m fine, I told you. I can heal myself. I’m not as sick as you were last time,” he says, lifting his blindfold up to allow you to look at his left blue eye staring right back at you.

“You took care of me for one week, and you were the first one to scold me when I lied to you about not being sick and saying I was okay. Don’t you think you should do the same as well ?” you narrow your eyes, fighting back the growing heat in your body at the way he looks at you.

“I’m not lying, I'm confident, that’s different. And I sure as hell will not faint like you did. I’m The Strongest, baby. That’s not a cold that will take me down,” he insists, grining at you wider now.

“Your confidence will kill you one day, ‘toru. And you say that you can heal yourself just right, yet I don’t see any improvement concerning your cold.”

“That’s because-”

“If you don’t take the medicine, that means that you don’t love me,” you cut him, clearly not wanting to deal more with his bullshit. Satoru looks at you chocked, in his usual dramatic way.

“What ? Come on baby, that’s manipulation !” he retorts, hands clenching harder on your clothes to bring you even closer, if that was possible.

“No, that’s called love,” you correct. Your boyfriend sulks, not pleased by this turn of events. Like a pouting kid, he grabs the glass of water and gulps it down in one go. His face distorts in a grimace at the nasty taste, and he puts down behind you the now empty glass.

“Happy now ?” he groans, forcing you to sit back on his lap as he towers back over your frame. You gently caress his head, touching his white snow locks in this tender way that he loves.

“Yeah, you did good.”

“You should praise me more often,” he smirks, before kissing your forehead and making you stand up with him as well. He spins you around and acts all strong by lifting you in his arms, as if it was the easiest thing in the world. Yet you could see the slight frown on his forehead, his headache acting up. But he quickly puts back his blindfold on, like a mask to hide to the world how he really feels.

“Now, let’s sleep, I wake up super early tomorrow,” he exclaims as he carries you back to bed, teleporting into your shared room and plopping you down on the mattress in a soft thud.

“Don’t go and do the same mistake I did, If you aren’t feeling well, take your day off,” you whisper softly to him, using this tone of voice that shows seriousness and intimacy. He climbs on top of you, sliding under the covers and bringing you closer to his warm body. You could feel it, even through your thick pajamas.

“Nah. The Strongest can’t rest too much, the world needs him,” he dismissed as if it was nothing, shutting you up by a big hug that almost knocked out your breath.

“And I need him to be healthy too. I can do your missions for you, if needed.”

“Come on, sweetheart. You know I love you, but there is no way in hell I’m letting you handle my work. That’s not your duty, that’s mine,” he scoffs as he looks at you through his blindfold, keeping it up even though it was night time.

“Satoru, you help me with my missions too sometimes. What’s the point if I can't return the favor ?” you lift yourself on your elbows, refuting what your boyfriend just said.

“Because I’m Gojo Satoru, nobody returns my help. That’s not your job, it’s mine,” he answers with a tone that makes you understand he will not change his mind.

“We already had an argument because of it last time, I’m not having it again. You know I hate how you overwork yourself. You have the right to be vulnerable too, you are not a goddamn machine !” you got pissed, not in the mood to have again a stupid discussion about something that should be normal, even more when it’s been years that you are dating your boyfriend.

He should know better than treating you as if you were another one of his fellow coworkers that saw him only as a weapon or the annoying teacher, and nothing more. Satoru stays silent, deciding it was too late to change your mind, or to continue down this path. He sighs and softly makes you lay back down on the bed.

“I know, alright… I promise I’ll be careful tomorrow, yeah ?” he ends up accepting softly.

“You better.” He chuckles at your words.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ

In the morning, you woke up alone in the cold sheets of your bed. You vaguely remember Satoru kissing goodbye the top of your head, leaving for his long day lasting mission outside of Tokyo. Even though you were half asleep at this sweet moment, you remember how he was coughing slightly, clearly trying to muff it down to not wake you up, or to gaslight himself that he was fine.

The day went on, the only information you got from your boyfriend was some texts through the hours. He was updating you about how his boring mission went on, and that he was fine. Yet, he didn’t call you. Weird, you thought. Satoru didn’t want you to hear how his voice was groggy from the cold, and his unstoppable coughing.

He grew moody, his headache making him irritable. The only thing he wanted right now was to be back in the warmth of his bed, and your arms. Satoru couldn’t accept the fact that his cold was getting to him. No way. It wasn’t a silly sickness that would knock him down. No curse or curse user ever managed to, aside from a certain short black haired man that was now dead from his hands. He couldn’t just accept defeat like that ! So he stubbornly did exactly what he didn’t want you to do last time : continue his mission even though he wasn’t feeling well.

He successfully managed to exorcize the curse, quickly even. But not as quick as he was used to. He frowns, even more pissed off. The man was not in the mood right now, and Ijichi didn’t dare say anything when he saw the cold walk Satoru had when returning to the black car. The aura emanating from him was scary, no, terrifying ! It would be a death wish to be on his nerves right now, and Ijichi knew that better than anyone else. The poor man could have fainted from stress when trying to survive the mood of The Strongest, bringing him back to the campus.

Great, Satoru still had work to do. He didn’t even bother going to Shoko, or go to annoy Nanami like he loved to do after a long mission. Even Yuji and Nobara were hiding behind a pillar of the campus, spying on their teacher no matter how Megumi told them not to. After all, they never saw their great teacher looking angry before, or even being sick ! It was comical to them, seeing the white haired sorcerer with both a blindfold and a black surgical mask on his mouth. We could barely see his face.

Satoru wasn’t dumb, he obviously noticed his three silly students following him through the campus. But for once, he didn’t have the ounce of energy to indulge in their little game like he used to.

“Do you think he is acting, or is he really sick ?” asks Nobara, frowning her brown eyebrows and looking at her pink haired best friend.

“I heard him coughing, and being moody, Ijichi looked scared as hell ! Maybe he is on his periods…” mutters Yuji, nodding to himself as if it was the most logical answer. Megumi facepalm, not even knowing what to answer to that statement.

“That’s not how it works, you idiot. Do you even know how periods work ?!” half yells and whispers the teenager girl, slapping the back of his head.

“Uh, of course ! Isn’t it every full moon ?” he confirmed, and she wasn’t sure if he was being serious in his answer or just joking around.

“Do you think I’m a damn werewolf ?!” snaps Nobara.

“Well, last time I saw how your legs were hairy and I-” starts to mutter Yuji, trying to suppress a laugh.

“Yuji, shut your mouth,” sighs Megumi, clearly losing the patience he was supposed to have for the day.

“Great, now we lost teacher Gojo ! He disappeared, all thanks to you !” groans Nobara, shaking her head as she looks at the now empty hallway of the school.

“Hey, it’s not my fault !” Yuji frowns, turning his head towards her.

“Who disappeared ?” Satoru suddenly appears behind the group of teenagers, arms crossed over his chest.

“GAHHHH !” screams the brown and pink haired friends.

“You brats should learn how to spy better.” He sighs saying that, coughing a bit behind his mask.

“That was Nobara’s idea !” quickly says Yuji, pointing at the girl to make himself be the victim of their shenanigans. In reality, it was both their idea, and the poor Megumi was forced to tag along.

“They were worried about how you were doing…” explains the spiky blue haired one as his two friends were fighting in the background.

“Awww, is my little ´gumi worried about me ?” coos Satoru, dropping his moody act for one second.

“...” Megumy stays silent, rolling his eyes and looking away.

“Nah, nothing too bad. But I would be way better if y/n was here,” continues Satoru, sliding his hand in his white hair, trying to stay nonchalant. It was a damn lie. He was sweating, and his normally pearly skin was flushed from the warmth of his body. Thankfully, his blindfold and mask were hiding that.

“L/n finished the day already,” explains Nobara, straightening her hair after punching Yuji.

Satoru was even more annoyed. He still had to do paper work in his office, meaning he would be home very late. It was already time for the sun to set, and he was yet at the beginning of this horrible long work. He sighs, and after a few more words, he leaves to do his work.

Hours pass, and it’s at 11 A.M and a half that Satoru enters back your shared apartment. Without a care in the world, he took off his mask, just wanting to breathe. Hell, even his blindfold is now on the floor ! No matter how his headache was getting stronger, his sensory issues got worse and overwhelming with his cold, so he needed to get rid of these suffocating tissues.

His face was red and his forehead wet, his eyes were hazy, and he took off his shoes in a kick. He almost falls doing that, finally letting him feel how sick he was, dropping the mask of his fake bravado once he is in the safety of his home. He breathes heavily, and spots you standing up from the couch, looking worried.

“Satoru !”

You don’t even have the time to react or to do one more step, that your boyfriend is right in front of you and pins you against the wall, head falling on your shoulder and slowly leaning towards your body.

“Missed you so much, baby…” he slurs out, closing his eyes and having a hard time articulating his words.

You support his body, even if he was twice your figure, and quickly check his forehead. Fuck. He was burning up ! His hazy eyes flutter open to look at you through his long pearly lashes.

“Oh my… let’s get you to bed, alright ? I’ll take care of you,” you whisper to him, but he doesn’t answer, and instead starts to do open mouthed kisses on your neck, sucking the skin. A shiver runs down your body up and down.

“Need you, please,” he whines. After succeeding in acting alright all day, he just wanted to crumble in your arms and get lost in your scent. God, you didn’t know how to react at first. But you snap yourself out of this growing heat in your stomach, cupping his face in your hands. He stares right back at you, and then down at your lips. They looked very, very tasty right now.

“Baby, let’s get you to bed first. I’ll bring you medici-” you get caught off by his lips smashing against yours, his starving cold hands slipping under your pajamas to feel you better. You open your eyes wide, not expecting him to do that. This idiot is giving you all his germs, and there is no way that you will get sick again !

“Don’t care,” Satoru purrs, slipping his tongue inside your mouth sensually. Your error was to moan the moment he grabbed your ass with a possessive hand, allowing him to make out with you. The first seconds you cave in, melting in his embrace and unable to resist the sweet taste of his lips. You squeeze your thighs together, but he parts them with his knee, pressing it against your crotch, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body.

The moment you feel it, you snap back from the situation and hit his head. Satoru lets out a groan, and you break the kiss, grabbing his wandering hand.

“Satoru, I said we're going to bed, now,” you exclaim, glaring at your tall boyfriend that was crushing you with his weight.

“Good, I want you in bed,” he smirks through his hazy state, ignoring his headache and body screaming from soreness.

“Not for sex,” you quickly correct. He pouts, doing his puppy eyes to you. You shake your head.

“Satoru…” you repeat. He sighs and then uses the last bit of energy he has to teleport you both in your shared bedroom.

Once inside, he falls back down on the mattress, and you swiftly roll on the other side to not get smashed by his tired body. You sit back up and help him lay on his back, wiping his sticky hair from his forehead.

“I come back, ok love ?” Knowing Satoru, you don’t let him have the time to answer before he could have the chance to grasp you back in his arms, quickly leaving.

You take the medicine he needs, a cold and wet towel for his forehead and body to wipe away the sweat. Once you are back, you force him to drink the pills. After some protest that lasted barely a few seconds, Satoru having no strength to fight back, you put the cold and wet tissue over his forehead.

“Are you hungry ? I’ll cook you something warm,” you ask softly, sitting to his side as you open his shirt to take off his dirty cloth.

“Don’t leave me, stay,” he shakes his head, grabbing your wrist surprisingly strongly. Your eyes soften, and you look at his glossy blue eyes from the sickness.

“Toru, I need to leave if you wanna eat.”

“Forget about the food, if I eat, I’ll throw up. Just keep taking care of me by staying here, yeah ?” Satoru shakes his head, adamant on keeping you by his side no matter what. You indulge him and end up nodding.

You softly finish to take off his shirt, without some of his tired help, and wipe the sweat from his flushed torso. He lets out a moan, glossy stare right back at you.

“Baby, If you continue like that, I’ll want more…” he whispers, fingers digging into your wrist.

“Satoru, I’m cleaning you up. Stop being a perv for one minute,” you answer, shaking your head.

He doesn’t answer, just feeling your touch on his burning skin that was cooling down thanks to the wet towel. Once you are finished, you help him take off his pants, and socks, and pass the towel around his limbs. They weren’t dirty, so you quickly finished. Once you are done, Satoru pulls you swiftly towards him.

“I’m cold,” he complains.

You bring back the covers over him, snuggling him inside. Yet, he still complains.

“Take off your clothes,” he instructs you. You frown, not understanding why he was asking you that.

“Satoru that’s-”

“I need warmth, and your naked skin against mine is the best solution to warm me up. Or maybe you are a bit too dumb to know this basic fact,” he explains, his voice meaner than he intended. His bad mood from being sick really made him harder to deal with, but you decide to not let it get to you. For once, he was fully vulnerable in front of you, so there was no time for a silly back and forth.

You take off your clothes without any hesitation, but keep your panties on. The moment you finish slipping off your pants, your boyfriend directly smashes you against his chest, long arms draped around your waist. His face is buried in your neck, inhaling your scent as it was the only thing he could smell. His leg brings you closer, and he sighs of pleasure at your warm skin rubbing against his.

“Maybe you should wear a mask, love,” you whisper.

“No, I can’t breathe with it,” he retorts at the second, shaking his head as his sigh caresses your skin and makes you shiver. You bite your lower lip, you were hoping that you wouldn’t be sick again because of him. That would be … repetitive.

He butterfly kisses your neck, the warmth of your body additioned to his making him even more hazy. Your scent was addictive, and he felt like he was intoxicated. Maybe his cold acted like strong alcohol. You could feel his growing erection against your stomach, his hips suddenly grinding softly. He didn’t even realize what he was doing, he simply was chasing down a desire that was growing inside of him.

“Satoru…” you whisper as you fluster, Satoru turning you around so you are laying on top of him. He brought your hips against him, so that you were now straddling your boyfriend right where he wanted you. It bucked perfectly against your heat, and you took a sharp breath when his mouth was trailing down to your breast.

“Baby, you are sick. You should rest,” you continue, but his mouth was already on your nipple, sucking and tongue twirling around it mindlessly. He didn’t even answer, hips still grinding against yours, making your panties grow wet. A wet patch of precum formed on his boxers, and his eyes looked up at you. He smirks while sucking your second nipple, taking it in his mouth like a lollipop. His blue electric eyes, wet from his sickness and desire, don’t leave yours, not even for a second.

“Told you, I don’t care. You should help me warm me up, I’m still so cold…” he mutters, his teasing grin making your walls crumble.

You bite your lower lip, and gasp the moment he frees his cock with his other hand, and slips it in between your wet folds and the tissue of your panties. The contact makes your eyes almost roll back in your skull, and at the same time he gently bites your nipple and grabs your ass tenderly like some soft meat to massage.

“It’s cold too, and if you really, shit… don’t want to share my germs, I’ll refrain from kissing your lips again, hmm ?” he stats in between groans, now grinding his dick against your cunt in this soft and passionate way that could make you beg him to smash his hips against yours at any given moment.

“It doesn't work like that-” you cut yourself in the middle of your sentence the second a moan slips through your lips when his tip tease the entry of your hole.

“Who fucking cares in the end… please, baby ?” he asks, whining, his lips parted as he catches back his breath. His hair sticks to his forehead, and he lays his flushed cheeks against your shoulders in a plea. Fuck, your logical side and rational thoughts crumble, leaving only need and desire to have more.

“Ok, b-but, let’s go slowly ? You're still feeling sick,” you end up accepting, and a flash of something appears in the eyes of your boyfriend when you pronounce your words.

He bites your shoulder, and slowly slides into your dripping cunt. Inch by inch, until he buckles his hips against yours once your hole swallowed him to the balls. He moans, you do too, yanking your head back. He takes the opportunity to let his tongue travel up your throat, kissing it as he softly and slowly chases down pleasure by moving his hips. He digs his fingers in your back, bringing you impossibly closer.

If he could, he would have been fucking you to death, but God, slow and soft sex was so freaking good as well. He didn’t have the single energy to move too much, lost in a cloud of pleasure, and sickness. He whispers your name like a mantra, and his tip kisses your cervix passionately.

“Shit, so so good. Ahhh…,’ he babbles, groping slightly harder your ass to lift you more easily so he could make you plop back down on his length. You gladly help him by doing half of the work, moving your body in sync and rolling your hips up and down.

“Right here,” you suck in between your teeth these words, riding him slowly. He continues to hit your sweet spot languorously, making your head spin. He kisses your ear and breathes heavily inside of it, soft moans escaping his mouth at how good it felt.

Sweet sex was on another level with Satoru, both of your bodies are connected on a deeper level, making it impossible to think about something else rather than the love and desire that radiates from him. It was slow, but so enjoyable. Each second was marked by soft kisses, meaningful thrusts, and wandering hands caressing each other’s skin.

Satoru wanted to kiss your lips so badly, but he restrained himself, instead latching on your tasty buds, sucking your nipples until they were sore. Or either biting you, leaving the mark of his canines on your skin, a way to distract himself when pleasure was too strong that he just wanted to cum. But no, no. He always managed to make you cum first, that was his own personal rule. He couldn’t cum until you did.

But tonight, his vulnerable sick body and groggy state, made him unable to control it properly. After some minutes, it made Satoru cum thick ropes of white inside your twitching walls that were squeezing him just right. That resulted in you following him the second after, nails scratching his back to try to ride your high. He falls back down on the bed, heavy breath and beating heart in sync with yours. Your boyfriend was beyond exhausted, and your soft flesh and warm body against him didn’t help.

“I love you,” he whispers into this quiet moment of vulnerability, before he literally passes out.

You look at him lovingly, kissing his cheek. After some minutes, you slide off of him, making him lay comfortably on the bed, and clean his body from the sweat and the rest of cum. He always did it for you, so now it was your turn to take care of him. Once you were done, even changing his wet tissue on his forehead, you cuddled him back before falling asleep. You were exhausted too, after all.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ

“Baby, that was so embarrassing ! I never pass out like that after sex !” your boyfriend whines as he swallows his medicine. It was already 11 A.M, and you managed to force Satoru to take his day off to rest and to nurse him back to health.

You chuckle softly, caressing his cheek as you take back the glass of water in your hands.

“Satoru, there is no need to be embarrassed. I’m the one that usually passes out after sex, and yet I don’t get all shy about it.” You smile at him, resulting in his sulking to falter.

“Maybe, but I usually never do. You even cleaned me up, fuck, that’s humiliating, even more for my ego…” He pouts.

You nudge him as you sit back on the bed next to him, looking at his bed hair and you suppress a laugh.

“Of course I cleaned you up ! You always do it for me, so yes, I return the favor. And it’s normal, Satoru. I do it because I love you,” you softly explained.

He huffs, before he brings you under him, suddenly caging you in between his body and the mattress.

“Then lemme show you how much I love you too, and fuck you ‘til you pass out this time.” He grins, licking his lip. You roll your eyes playfully.

“Nuh-uh. You are on a sex ban until you are completely healed, Satoru !” you firmly said, and he looks at you as if you stopped him from eating sweets for a whole year. That was a tragedy !

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOO !”

It took three more days for your boyfriend to finally be back on track, and he obediently took all his medicine this time, being extra serious in his healing. You wonder why…

THE END

For more : Y/n’s goodbye letter Gojo x reader

#gojo x reader #jjk #jjk smut #gojo smut #gojo fluff #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #gojo x you #x reader #smut #jjk x reader

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tasteleeknow · 2 years ago

Text

ZIPPER

PAIRING: minho x fem!reader GENRE: smut. fluff. established relationship. CONTENT: 18+ only. shy reader. marking. desperation. mutual obsession. unprotected intercourse. biting. body worship. overstimulation. mention of violence. oral (m. rec). WORD COUNT: 4.3k

NOTE: yeah it’s my birthday tomorrow and i wrote this as a gift to myself. @lino-nyangi and @tasteracha encouraged this. no other comment at this time.

SUMMARY: when your boyfriend asks you what you want for your birthday, only one thing comes to mind. you want to dress him in an outfit of your choosing.

PART ONE | DRABBLE: SWEAT | PART TWO

You’re backed up against the wall when the door opens, mentally preparing yourself for seeing him in the outfit you’d picked out. He’d laughed as you’d explained what you wanted for your birthday, eyes on the floor at the embarrassment of it all. You wanted to go out and pick an outfit and have him wear it for you. He only ever wore baggy pants, t-shirts and hoodies. You love him in whatever he wore but he never showed off all the work he’d put in at the gym. Despite his relentless teasing at your request, he’d agreed. Of course he agreed. He always did. He might act like everything was the biggest inconvenience he’d ever faced in his life, but he hadn’t turned you down once since you’d been together. You’d learned that’s just how he was. He never wanted anyone to know how much he cared.

He looks up at you the moment the bedroom door shuts behind him, tugging his pants up his waist a little. You press your lips together as he looks at you expectantly.

“Well?” he prompts.

You say nothing, taking in the sight of him in the tight, black, short sleeve shirt. It clings to him just like you’d imagined. He’d whined and thrown his head back as you’d measured him a few weeks earlier, slipping the measuring tape around his bare chest and then around his biceps. You wanted to get this right. He’d made you give him a back massage in return for all his saintly patience. It was worth it now you’re taking in the results. Your eyes trail down his matching black pants to his big black boots, you can't make yourself regret the money you’d spent on them: despite it being the most you’d spent on shoes in a long time. Your cheeks warm as you fail to meet his eyes again, keeping your gaze on his boots as he makes his way over to you.

“No comment?” he questions. You can hear the smirk in his voice. He was in his comfort zone, despite the clothes unlike anything he’d tried before. You had always been a little timid, overwhelmed easily. He approached the world very differently, self assured and confident. Only the people closest to him ever got to know his weak points, his soft centre and secret insecurities.

He tilts your chin up when he reaches you, forcing you to meet his eyes. “Disappointed?” he asks, well aware you weren’t. You knew he enjoyed it when you got shy, it boosted his ego.

“It’s pretty.”

He grins, tracing his finger down your neck to your clavicle. “That’s it?”

Your eyes drop to the zipper running down his chest. “You look nice. You look… better than I imagined. Thank you,” you say, offering him a small smile.

“This is all you wanted? For me to put some clothes on? I was hoping to spend the day without any at all.”

That’s how he’d asked to spend his birthday; locked in your bedroom until you’d been so exhausted you’d both passed out. “You think your dick is a gift?” you question.

His hand moves to your throat, fingers resting gently against your skin. “Only because you whine my name so sweetly when it’s inside you,” he answers, one corner of his mouth pulling up slightly as his eyes drop to your lips. He was lucky his ego only made him hotter. Still, it was fun to tease him.

“You think it’s special? A dick is a dick.”

His finger presses a little into your skin as he moves a little closer. “Oh, really?” he asks sweetly, a little condescension in his tone. “Is that why you get all shy on me? Even after living together for a year? Hm?”

“That’s just how I am.”

He shakes his head slightly, lips ghosting over yours. “I don’t think so, baby. I think it’s worse with me. I think you get all shy because you’re obsessed with me…” his lips brush yours as he speaks, breath tickling your skin. “Isn’t that right?”

You’re struggling to focus on his words, head tilting forward a little in an attempt to capture his lips. He only pulls away, keeping you pressed to the wall easily. “Answer me,” he whispers.

You blink as you attempt to regain your senses, reaching up to take his hand from your throat and intertwining your fingers instead. You find yourself staring at his lips again, watching as he huffs out a short breathy laugh. “Why’d you want me to wear this, hm? Can you answer that?” he asks.

Your eyes drop to the zip running down his chest. It feels involuntary and your eyes flick back up to his face so quick you’re hardly aware of the action yourself. He notices anyway, his lips pulling into a self-satisfied smirk. He reaches up to tug the zipper a little, moving it up and down slightly as he watches your expression. He lifts the hand intertwined with yours, pressing the back of your hand into the wall above your head. You’ve completely lost control of your breathing, uneven and much heavier than normal. You were easy to read. A stranger would be able to read your thoughts, but Minho? He knew you better than anyone else alive. You may as well have been screaming your internal commentary in his face.

“You wanna do it for me, baby? Tug it down a little?” he asks sweetly, lips hovering over yours again. When you lean forward, he doesn’t pull away this time, letting you press a little of your desperation into him. He hardly reacts, keeping your hand above your head as you moan against his lips. Your other hand moves to the back of his head, an attempt to ensure he doesn’t move away from you again until you're satisfied. It’s silly, the idea that you’d ever be satisfied, that you’ll at some point have had enough of him. You imagine pulling back, tapping him on the shoulder and announcing you’re all done. You giggle against his mouth.

“What?” he asks.

“I think you’re right,” you answer, a little breathless already.

“Mm?”

You don’t answer, attempting to pull him back towards you again instead. He takes your other hand in response, pinning you against the wall completely. “Right about what?” he asks, unsatisfied with your lack of response. He knows what you meant. You know he knows. He just wanted you to say it.

“What you said before,” you mutter, keeping your eyes off his own.

“I think you should say it,” he grins. “Say it and I’ll let you take over. I’ll let you unzip me.”

You can’t help looking into his eyes, big and brown as he waits for you to confess. If only he knew why you were so hesitant to say it. Sure, it was embarrassing. But it was more than that. You’d always felt a little like you loved him more. You were okay with it, or… you’d thought you were anyway. He loved you enough to stay, and that should have been enough. But confessing it to his face? Confessing that you felt like you were practically obsessed with him in a way he couldn’t possibly return? Your heart thumps hard against your chest at the thought of it.

His lips press to your forehead as your mind races, hands still held above your head. “I know it,” he whispers. “Whether you say it or not. That’s one of the things… one of the things I love. I fucking know it all, baby. You can’t hide from me.”

The way he’s leaning over you now causes the silver zipper to dangle directly in front of your face. You're sick of all this talk, especially when he’s dressed like this. With your hands occupied there’s only one plan of action that fills your mind. You duck a little, avoiding his head as you lean forward and catch the cold, silver zipper between your teeth. His chest moves with his laughter, then you’re tugging, pulling it down until a large portion of his chest is free. When you lean back again you don’t even look up at his face, eyes taking in the newly visible section of his smooth chest. You hadn’t been fighting him at all so far. You never did, letting him pin you to walls, to mattresses, move you around whichever way he pleased. It was your dynamic.

That’s why he isn’t expecting it, when you tug your hands free and practically lunge at him, wrapping your arms around his neck. He laughs as he stumbles back a step. Then he’s turning you around so he can use the wall as support while you climb him. Your lips are on his neck before his back has hit the wall, attempting to suck marks into his skin. He was usually the one doing it to you: marking you. He liked pulling your scarf down a little as you waited for the bus, inspecting some of the hickies he’d left on you the night before. “Okay, you like the clothes,” he laughs. “I get it.” His hands support your thighs as you cling to him.

He’s quiet as you work, even when you begin nipping at his skin. It’s satisfying, sucking and biting at him. You should do this more often, you tell yourself. When you tug the shirt aside a little to bite gently into his shoulder he drops his head back against the wall with a small thud. It spurs you on, completing the same treatment to the other side before dropping your legs back to the floor.

His chest has flushed a little since you climbed him, a pretty red colour starting at his neck and disappearing into his shirt. You press your hand to the centre of his chest as he lifts his head from the wall and looks down at you with a small slightly dazed smile. A single strand of hair falls across his forehead. You’d helped him style his hair before leaving him to get dressed. He rarely wore it up like this, off his forehead.

“I meant I’m obsessed with you,” you confess before you can overthink it, reaching up to thread your fingers into his hair. “When I said you were right. I meant about me being obsessed.”

His grin widens as he wraps his arms around you and pulls you against him. “Yeah?”

You nod, tracing your finger down his nose and then over his lips, ending at his chin. “Don’t hurt me, please,” you whisper, suddenly feeling incredibly vulnerable. He knew the power he had now.

“Why would I do that?” he asks, looking genuinely puzzled.

You shrug. “You might stop liking me.”

“No,” he answers simply.

“No?”

“No,” he repeats. “You wanna go grab a knife and stab me in the leg and then ask me if I still like you?”

You roll your eyes. “No.”

“Good, that’d hurt.”

You wrap your hands around the back of his neck, interlocking your fingers. “You’re stupid.”

“Is it embarrassing? To be obsessed with someone so stupid?”

“Yes.”

He grins. “You better stop then.”

Your eyes flick across his face. “I can’t.”

His smile softens a little before falling off his face completely. He suddenly looks serious, almost solemn. It catches you off guard. Before you can question him he’s tugging your mouth to his, distracting you with his soft lips. It works like a mind wiping spell, lulling you into a blissed out state that only breaks when he finally releases you.

Your finger brushes his zipper, reminding you of the clothes he was wearing. You take a small step back so you can take in the sight of him again. His chest is still a little red and you can just make out the marks you’ve left all over his neck. You want to make more.

He’s still as you move in again and tug the zipper down a little more. You move slowly, wanting to savour it. Your mind drifts to when you can ask him to wear it again. Anytime, you remind yourself. You could count the time’s he’d refused something you’d asked of him on one hand. You press your palms to his chest, sliding them into his shirt until you brush over his nipples. He’s warm, despite the low temperature of the apartment. You drop your head to his shoulder, hands slipping around his sides to rest on his back.

“I’m being very patient,” he says after a moment. “Are you going to keep feeling me up for another hour?”

“It’s my birthday.”

He sighs dramatically. You lift your head so you can see his face. “Is it really that bad?” you ask.

His lips press together into a straight line and two little lumps appear at the corners of his mouth. “Yes,” he answers, unconvincingly. You pull your hands from his shirt and take a small step back.

“Alright, I’ll stop then.”

He reaches for the zipper and tugs it all the way down, letting each side of the shirt fall open. “It’s your birthday,” he says. “So I'll let you continue.”

“No, no. I don’t wanna do anything you’re not enjoying.” You nod towards the kitchen. “You hungry?”

He steps towards you. “Continue,” he demands, no room in his tone for argument.

You wait a moment, letting him fret. Then you move. You nudge him back into the wall with a palm to his chest then trail your fingers from his collar bones down to the waistband of his pants, then back up again. You could lose yourself in this, touching him. Now that you’ve said it, confessed to him how you feel, it feels less heavy. It feels natural even. How could you not feel that way? When he made you laugh like he did… when he looked like this…

You find yourself pressing your lips to his pec, hand gripping his bicep to balance you as you trail messy kisses down his torso. You stop occasionally to leave marks, from sucking, biting, any mark you can leave against his skin feels like an accomplishment. This is mine, they say. Minho doesn’t seem to mind, one of his arms tanging in your hair at some point.

You eventually end up on your knees, looking up at him for permission as you play with another zipper, the one on his pants. “You haven’t marked me up enough?” he asks, his tone a little condescending again. You fucking loved when he spoke like that. His tone so sickly sweet and still so full of ego.

You shake your head and he reaches down, tugging his zipper down and dropping his pants before you can react. You can see him through his underwear, begging to be freed. He twitches a little as you brush over him when reaching for the waistband. Then you pause. His hips push off the wall when you take your hands away. You don’t look up, dropping your eyes to his thighs instead. Just a few marks, you tell yourself before attaching your lips to his skin. You start with his inner thighs, kissing and sucking your way up to the hem of his underwear where they wrap around the tops of his thighs. This wasn’t new to you. Just the other week you’d given him this treatment at the side of the salt water pool as he’d dangled his legs in the water. You’d taken in the sight of his swim shorts stuck to his skin, wet from his swim, and found yourself practically worshipping him—standing in the water between his legs as you kissed over his thighs.

By the time you finally tug his underwear down his legs, you can tell he’s close to snapping, to taking control. He wasn’t used to letting you have your way for this long. But then you’re kissing his tip, tasting the precum that leaks from his slit, and he forgets his impatience—a small gasp escaping his lips. His thighs are where you rest your hands. You can feel every tense of his muscles like this. You’re just preparing to sink down the length of him when he’s suddenly tugging you back and falling over you, pressing you into the floorboards. His mouth is on yours before you even process where you find yourself: on your back on your living room floor. He’s clearly had enough. The zipper on his shirt tickles your skin where your tank top rides up your stomach.

“Want me inside now? Tell me,” he says, barely pulling his lips from yours long enough to get the words out.

You hum in response, pushing at his chest until he detaches from you. “On your back,” you gasp. His brows pull a little together in confusion. He was rarely under you. Still, he obeys, settling himself on the floor beside you.

His pants are bunched around his calves, too difficult to remove with his boots still on. You kinda of like the idea of it, of him being inhibited a little. He’s a little vulnerable like this. Usually you loved the dynamic you had, his dominant role in bed making you feel protected and wanted. But something had burst free along with the confession of the depth of your feelings. You hadn’t realised you’d been holding anything else back. Not until now. You tug your cotton shorts down your legs and climb over him, pressing your palms to his chest as you settle yourself on his thighs. The open shirt frames his chest and biceps perfectly. You’re only running your hands over him for 30 seconds or so before he’s whining.

“Enough. Take me inside now.”

“It’s my birthday. Not yours.”

“You haven’t fondled me enough?”

You scrunch your nose, huffing out a small laugh. “Fondled?”

He gestures to where your palms rest over his pecs. “What else would you call this?”

“Admiring.”

He rolls his eyes. “You haven’t admired me enough?”

You shake your head, smiling. “No.”

“Get on with it then,” he says, a little strain in his voice.

You flick your eyes down to his cock. It’s twitching a little against his stomach. You brush your fingers up the length of him, fascinated. He grabs your wrist before you reach the head. “Don’t touch unless you want this to end.”

You stick out your bottom lip a little. “But it’s my birthday.”

He releases you. “Fine, you want me to cum on my stomach? Go ahead.” It did sound nice, seeing him lose it all over himself before you’d even fucked him. But he was right. You wanted him to fill you. You take him in your grasp and lift your hips off him so you can shuffle forward a little until your entrance rests over the tip. You take in the sight of him one last time, his flushed chest, his hair–a little messier than when you’d started—, the way the black shirt frames his biceps. Then you lower yourself, holding your breath as he stretches you out. His hips rise off the floor a little, like he can’t wait the few seconds it takes you to sink to his base.

You both still when you’re full, taking in the feeling of being as close to each other as it was possible to be. It’s the first time he’s been inside you since your confession. It feels freeing. Like you can let loose completely, let your mind slip and your body take over; hold nothing back. His lips part as you begin lifting yourself off him and sinking down again, slow at first.

You can’t help resuming where you’d left off, pressing your palms to his chest and admiring the way his pinkish skin looks between your fingers.

It isn’t long before his instincts take over, grasping your hips so he can move you to meet his hips as he thrusts up into you. You take in his expression as he uses you, rutting up into you. He was desperate much quicker than usual. He really hadn’t been lying. He must’ve been close to losing it before you’d even begun.

You watch his ears redden to match his chest and his lips. You fall forward to kiss him as he continues moving inside you. You keep your lips on his even as he loses focus, unable to match your kisses. You swallow down the noises he makes, the groans, the tiny sounds that almost sound like whimpers. It’s in moments like this that you feel maybe it’s possible he feels almost as intensely as you do. But then you remind yourself he’s just feeling good physically. That he could feel this way with anyone.

His eyes flutter closed as he stills. He hasn’t cum yet. He takes a few deep breaths before opening his eyes again. You can’t resist sitting back and lifting off him before sinking back down slowly, watching his expression as he tries to prevent himself from filling you. “Stop,” he gasps. “Fuck, stop.” You do.

You wait for him to catch his breath, chest rising and falling deeply. His ears are still pink and you resist the urge to lean forward and bite one of them.

“Why…” he starts, before pausing and taking one more deep breath. “Why are you doing this to me?”

You frown. “Doing what?”

He sits up, cock still buried inside you as he grasps the hair at the back of your head. His eyes flick over your face as his mouth opens and closes, like he’s struggling to find the words he wants to say. You’re unused to him being lost for words. It’s a little unsettling. Something must be wrong.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he snaps.

You attempt to wipe any expression from your face, waiting for whatever this was to pass. One minute you’re riding him on your living room floor, ready to feel him fill you with his cum. The next you’re attempting to dissect whatever the fuck he was attempting to say right now.

“We started living together a year ago today,” he says.

“...yes.”

“A year…” he repeats, almost like he’s talking to himself this time.

“Is something wrong?”

“I thought it’d pass,” he mutters.

“What would?” you ask, tucking a little hair behind his ear.

“Feeling like this. All fucking itchy and… desperate. Like if I let go of you or leave the apartment, you’ll just… disappear.”

You frown, attempting to process what he was saying. He almost sounded angry. Like you’d done something wrong. Or he had? His eyes flick across your face and then he sighs, releasing his grasp on your hair and falling down onto his back again.

You lay yourself down onto his chest, his cock slipping out of you in the process. “You don’t wanna live together anymore?” you ask.

His hands move to grab at your hips, attempting to lift you up again. You let him align his cock with your entrance before sinking back down. You resume your position over his chest, cradling his face in your palms. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment before looking at you again. “I wanna live here,” he breathes. “Right fucking here. Buried inside you like this.”

“You’re confusing me.”

He grunts as he pins you to his chest with his arms and fucks up into you hard. “Need it,” he mutters between thrusts. “Fucking need you.”

“You have me,” you soothe. “I told you I was fucking obsessed with you. You have me.”

He sighs, expression relaxing as he rolls his cock into you. It catches you by surprise when he suddenly lets out a drawn out moan and fills you, hips stuttering into you. Something about the way he finishes, the words it had taken to finally push him over the edge. It clicks into place, what he was trying to say. He feels the same. You sit back, watching him attempt to catch his breath as you start bouncing on him. His eyes flutter open as a high whine escapes his throat. You’d never done this before, kept using him after he’d finished. He’s clearly unprepared, throwing his arm over his eyes as his hips rise weakly off the floor. You practically shake as you cum, clenching around his sensitive cock and falling forward onto his chest.

“Fuck,” he gasps out.

His blushed ear catches your eye and you muster just enough energy to take it between your teeth briefly.

“Say it,” you murmur once you release him. “Say what you mean.”

His arms wrap around you, holding you against his chest, now sticky with sweat. “Do I need to say it?” he says, completely breathless.

“It’s my birthday,” you whisper.

His hands move to your head, lifting your face from his neck. “I love you,” he says, “It scares me how much.”

You’re pretty sure you understand him. That he meant something different to the previous time’s he’d said he loved you. There was something about his voice, a tiny wobble in the final syllable that convinced you maybe you weren’t alone in this.

“We’re keeping the shirt,” you say, offering him a small smile.

He laughs, letting you fall back into his shoulder. “I dunno if I can survive what it does to you.”

“You can pick an outfit for me?” you offer.

He’s quiet and it isn’t until you’ve both fully caught your breaths that he speaks again. “Anything?”

You lift your head and peck him on the lips. “Anything.”

He smiles.

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leahsgirl · 10 months ago

Text

valentines sucks

— in which y/n’s original valentine’s day plans fall through and leah decides to take her out herself.

pairings - leah williamson x female reader

warnings - minor swearing but that’s about it really

a/n - an early valentine’s day post because i have the patience of a three year old, here’s some fluff for the lovely day 💐💒

—

“Babe wake up.” shaking the body next to you in bed, you was answered with grumbles before you could hear faint snores again. “Baby, come on get up, it’s valentine’s day!” With a reluctant sigh, the man next to you shifted so his upper body was pressed against the headboard, rubbing his eyes for a brief second.

“here.” an excited grin covered your face as you handed him a red envelope and a neatly wrapped present. “well go on; open it.”

the brown haired boy peeled open the envelope, revealing a handmade card covered in red lipstick kisses and cut-out hearts made from card. “To Tobias, happy valentine’s day, i love you, thanks for another year together, love y/n.” He placed down the card and reached for the present, tearing the wrapping paper open to reveal a homemade scrapbook. “Look inside, theres a surprise.” At this point you was itching with anticipation, personally you thought you’d outdone yourself with the valentine’s day gifts this year and couldn’t wait to get your boyfriend’s reaction.

Tobias pulled out a folded piece of paper, opening it up you watched as he read the words on the page. “We’re going Canada?” He looked confused. “Well I know it’s always been one of the places you’ve wanted to go, plus you said you had some family down there so I thought this is the perfect opportunity to go visit them.”

“y/n I don’t know what to say.” The olive skinned boy replied as he looked over the piece of paper again. “Hm most people normally say thank you.” You laughed as you moved closer to him. “Do you like it?”

Pulling himself out of his thoughts, he gave a weak smile and nodded. Oblivious to his change in demeanour, you pressed your lips to his pulling him in for a short but sweet kiss.

“Okay my turn!” now crossing your legs and holding your hands out, you shut your eyes.

“Oh..uhm..shit yeah.” Tobias got up off the bed, walking back and forth as he tried to find something to give you. A fun fact you should know about Tobias; he’s a pretty shitty person - you just failed to acknowledge it at this point. “Listen y/n-“ He sunk back onto the mattress. Opening your eyes you notice he’s looking anywhere but you. “You forgot didn’t you?” The lack of response told you everything you needed to know, your mood instantly deflating.

Scoffing, you got up out of bed and made your way into the bathroom. “y/n wait I can make it up to you.” Tobias rang out but you were choosing to ignore him.

Whipping out your phone, you decide to text your fellow teammates/friends:

y/n - he’s only gone and forgot again, i’m at a loss for words, valentines sucks

meado - you deserve better y/n i’m sorry

geo stanway - break up with him! break up with him!

y/n - you say it like it’s easy

elton - do you want me to come and twat him?

lee lee - be ready in 15 mins, wear something warm.

Despite the curiosity, you follow the defenders instructions, throwing on some light wash jeans and a beige jumper, finishing off the look with a matching beanie. Unlocking the door, you find yourself face to face with Tobias. “Where are you going?”

“Out. Also i’d appreciate if you weren’t here when I get back, I think it’s best we both have some space.” With that you leave the room, grab your bag and leave the apartment.

You didn’t have to wait for Leah for long, you was only stood outside your apartment complex for a couple of minutes before you caught a glimpse that famous blonde hair. “My car’s around the corner, come on let’s go.”

“Hello y/n, hello Leah, it’s nice to see you, it’s nice to see you too. And they say chivalry is dead.” You said sarcastically as the older girl was already turning around to head back to her Audi. She pauses, waiting for you to catch up “Sorry, it’s just we’re on a bit of a time limit.”

You raised your eyebrows quizzically, “care to tell me where we’re going? and why I had to dress warm,”

She glances you up and down before smiling like a mischievous kid “Nope and Nope, you look beautiful though.” You could feel the blush creeping up on your cheeks at the compliment. “Leah Williamson: The charmer.”

“Always.” The blonde winked at you before opening the car door and sliding into the drivers seat. “Mind if I connect my phone to play music?” Leah shook her head and you started pressing all sorts of buttons on the touchscreen device. Eventually you got up CarPlay with it displaying Leah’s last played song “‘I see the light’, Seriously? How old are you?”

It was the blue-eyed girls turn to blush now, witnessing a sense of embarrassment come over her. “Hey it’s a good song from a great film, i’m going to ignore your judging.”

You raise your hands up in defence “No judging - I actually think it’s quite cute. In fact it gives me even more evidence for my ‘leah williamson is actually a massive softie’ list i’m compiling.” She gives you a stern look but you know she’s only playing and you continue to shuffle songs until you come across one you like.

The car journey was pleasant and entertaining, talking about pretty much anything and everything along with a quick game of would you rather. Conversation flowed easily between the two of you, it’s probably why you liked being around the taller girl so much. Leah parked up and the two of you got out the vehicle. “Hold my hand?” You accepted the extended arm and laced your fingers with hers, choosing not to acknowledge how right it felt.

Syncing up steps, Leah guided you towards an area that got noisier the closer you got, nonetheless brighter. “Welcome to London’s biggest funfair.” The blonde announced.

“How on earth did you know I always wanted to come here?!” Looking around, you could see a multitude of various rides and mini-game stalls, not to mention your ultimate favourite; the ferris wheel. “I listen y/n, that’s how.” Just that sentence alone sent your stomach flipping. “What do you propose we do first?”

Scanning around, you take notice of the bumper cars and smirk to yourself “How about a good olé head-to-head at bumper cars?”

The mention of competition was enough to get Leah to agree, trailing along behind you to get in the queue. She was so going to win.

Now as it turned out, she in fact did not win, and instead is complaining of whiplash. “Stupid pissing game.” She grumbled causing you to snicker “it’s alright Lee, i’m sure after another one..or one hundred goes you’ll be able to have a chance at beating me.”

Lots of games later, you sat yourselves on a bench, holding one of the greatest inventions known to man. “I can’t believe you’ve never had warm donuts, you’ve been missing out.” You weren’t being dramatic when you felt a piece of yourself shatter when Leah told you she’s never tried the popular carnival dessert. “They’ve just never really appealed to me.”

“And that ladies and gentlemen is what is wrong with society today.” Opening the box and letting the smell hit you, you broke a donut in half, holding it out for Leah to take a bite out of. You watched as the blonde ate the sugary treat and widened her eyes “Okay they’re gorgeous.” She revealed as she went for the other half.

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Hey do you mind waiting here for a few minutes, I’ve got to go do something real quick.” The defender got up off the table and waited for your approval before actually leaving. Once you nodded, she was off in the opposite direction, leaving you with just the now empty donut box and both of your belongings.

However, after around ten minutes she returned, holding something behind her back. “Okay close your eyes and put your hands out.” Following her orders you do exactly that, feeling a soft weight now in your possession. Taking a look, in your hands was a small brown bear with a heart attached to its claws. “Happy Valentine’s day y/n.” Leah spoke softly and your heart was beating faster than it does when playing a match. “Lee you didn’t have to do that you know.”

“I know, but I wanted to. Also, I had to win something to make up for the bumper cars.”

You shook your head smiling “Oh so it wasn’t a cute little gift, it was to restore your overinflated ego.” quirking a brow, it was Leah’s turn to smile like a little kid “Guess you could say we got the best of both worlds.”

You both decided you should probably start to head back. But not before riding the ferris wheel that is, heading over to the massive thing hand in hand.

Once secured in by a metal bar, you wait for the ride to commence. “Can I ask a question?” You turn to look at the girl next to you, she nodded. “Why did bring me here? why did you even take me out at all?” It was Valentine’s day after all, you guys weren’t dating, you was sure she had people higher up on her list she wanted to see today of all days.

“You need to leave him y/n.” The sentence was stated so effortlessly but you couldn’t help but feel a punch to the gut sensation. “you deserve better.”

“He never used to be like this.” You mumbled under your breath but the blonde still caught it, deciding just to drop the matter.

“What’s with the love of funfairs anyways?” Leah asked, gripping onto the bar harder now you were at the very top of the contraption.

“My dad used to bring me to them all the time as a little kid. My mum was always travelling the country with work so I guess it was his way of getting me to cheer up. Not to mention he would always win me a stuffed animal and then we’d end the day with the warm donuts. You smiled at the memory. “Then he got sick and we stopped coming.” It still stung a little when you reminisce over your father’s diagnosis and how you watched him deteriorate with each and every hospital visit.

“I’m sorry y/n, i didn’t mean to bring him u-“ You cut in, “No it’s okay don’t worry, you remind me of him a lot actually.”

The skipper looked at you confused “Do I?”

“Well he was very kind, funny, determined and not to forget sometimes arrogant - all characteristics you share.” Leah swatted your arm, “I’m not that arrogant.”

“Oh yes you definitely are.” Chuckling as you intertwined your arms. “But I wouldn’t change you for the world if that makes you feel better.”

“It does make me feel better actually.”

Now you were sat in the car on the way home, scrolling through socials on your phone. Leah was concentrating on the road, cursing out the odd ‘dickhead’ or ‘twat’ here and there. “Do you reckon if I post a picture of us at the funfair on my instagram we’ll get floods of dating accusations?” Ever since being in the public eye you’ve been very careful about what you chose to share on your social media; people are like vultures and you’re the bait. According to articles and fan pages, you’ve dated everyone on your squad and more, some have even suggested your relationship with Tobias is a pr stunt, but your personal favourite is that you’re apparently pregnant because you had a break from social media for a few months.

“All the fans already assume we have a thing going on. Post it if you like.” The older girl was right, back when you transferred to arsenal three years ago up until this day fans have always had their conspiracy theories around the pair, you never played into it however, just letting them think what they think, sending them into frenzies if a post was ever made with the two of you together.

Humming in agreement, you start crafting out your post, thinking of an appropriate caption before pressing share. “Done.”

Another twenty minutes or so had passed and you could tell you were getting closer to home, recognising certain buildings. It was around this time when Leah had started very quietly singing along to the song playing through the speakers. The blue-eyed girl had a very pretty voice in your opinion and you often didn’t understand why she felt embarrassed singing in front of people.

You continued to watch the girl, a genuine smile making its way to your lips.

put your lips close to mine

as long as they don’t touch

out of focus, eye to eye

‘til the gravity’s too much

i’ll do anything you say

if you say it with your hands

Now you don’t know if it was the way she was singing the lyrics, or the way the sunlight was bouncing off her face to give her a gorgeous sun-kissed look, or how every so often she’d make eye contact with you and smile. But somehow, all you wanted to do was-

“Okay pretty, we’re here.” Pulling you out of your little daydream, you looked out the window to see you was in fact outside your apartment.

“Okay well thank you for doing this for me today, it means a lot.” Leaning across the gearstick, you pulled her in for a side hug.

Your name has echoed through my mind

And I just think you should, think you should know

That nothing safe is worth the drive

And I would follow you, follow you home

I'll follow you, follow you home

You pulled back to look at the defender, examining her whole face. She watched as your eyes flicked down to her lips, and back up. It could have just been both of your imaginations, but the tension was thick. You could drop a pin and you’re convinced you would hear it.

You found yourself leaning in, faces only inches apart now. The thing that shocked you the most was that Leah made no attempt to move back, instead she kept her gaze firmly locked on yours.

“Sorry for what I’m about to do.” Were the final words you breathed out before pressing your lips on the defenders. It started out light, almost afraid if you applied anymore pressure, she’d back away. But those fears were squashed when you felt a pair of lips kiss you back, this time with more intent.

You could feel a warm hand travel to the back of your neck, pulling you closer if that was even possible. Running a hand through her blonde locks you felt a smile playing at the girls lips as she continued to kiss back.

Pulling apart your chest was heaving. Suddenly hyper aware of your surroundings you wave her goodbye and exit the car, taking one last look at Leah before practically running up the steps to your building.

Once inside, you reach for the phone in your pocket that has just buzzed. Unlocking it you see you have one new message.

from: lee lee

break up with him.

#leah williamson x reader #woso #leah williamson #arsenal women #arsenal wfc #lionesses #england lionesses #y/n #when is it my turn #i want a gf #i want a boyfriend #just cried #treacherous #taylor swift #taylor swift lyrics #leah williamson x you #leah williamson x y/n

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hellithides · 3 months ago

Text

An Invite to Temptation

Synopsis: Arlecchino invites Scaramouche to join in on the fun. Content warning: Dom!Arlecchino x Sub!Fem! reader, Scaramouche x Reader, making out, exhibitionism, threesome, cunnilingus, sesbian lex and scara watches.

4.5k words. NSFW under the cut

Scaramouche opens the door to your shared apartment, his footsteps pausing abruptly at the sight of you and Arlecchino lounging comfortably on the couch. Her arm is draped casually over your shoulder, fingers lightly tracing patterns on your arm. He glares, eyes narrowing as if he’s just walked into something profoundly offensive. With a heavy sigh, he rolls his eyes dramatically.

“Tch. You two are disgusting,” he mutters, the words sharp and biting as they cut through the quiet atmosphere.

You chuckle, completely unfazed by his attitude. Pulling Arlecchino closer, you rest your head against her shoulder. Her presence is warm and grounding, and you feel a sense of contentment despite Scaramouche’s usual sour demeanor.

“Welcome home to you too,” you reply smoothly, your voice light with amusement.

Arlecchino says nothing but shifts slightly, her hand lazily continuing its path along your shoulder, adding to the intimacy between you. Scaramouche, visibly cringing at the sight of the two of you all wrapped up in each other, scoffs loudly, crossing his arms as he leans back against the wall, a look of pure disgust etched onto his face.

“Seriously?” he huffs, eyes flicking between you two. “Can’t you save this revolting display of affection for a private room? Not all of us want to see you practically merged into one person.”

You snort softly, glancing over at him with a mischievous glint in your eye. “It’s pretty private here. I mean, last time I checked, this is my home.”

Arlecchino nods in agreement, her expression unreadable but clearly comfortable with the situation. She shifts a little closer, her fingers brushing lightly along your neck. Scaramouche groans dramatically, his patience thinning by the second.

“Yeah, real private,” he sneers, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “It’s not like I just walked in and got an eyeful of... this.”

He gestures vaguely at the two of you, as if words are insufficient to describe how offensive he finds your closeness. Suddenly, Arlecchino leans in, her breath warm against your ear as she whispers something that makes your heart skip a beat. You shudder, feeling her hand slip beneath the hem of your skirt, her touch sending a jolt of electricity through you. Scaramouche looks like he's about to keel over. His eyes dart between you and Arlecchino, his initial disdain turning into a look of bewilderment as he catches the suggestive movement of her hand. He raises an eyebrow, clearly at a loss for words.

“You two are not seriously doing this in front of me, are you?” His voice is sharp, but there's an undeniable hint of interest creeping in. "Have you no shame?"

“You can watch,” Arlecchino says, her words dripping with playful provocation. Arlecchino smirks, her sly smile deepening as she shifts you further back into the couch until you’re lying on your back, head resting on the arm with her between your knees. The world around you seem to fall away as her fingers slide against your skin, spreading your thighs ever so slightly. Her movements are deliberate, almost daring, and you feel the heat of her gaze as she remains focused on you. Scaramouche’s reaction is almost comical—his eyes widen, his usual cold composure completely shattered.

“What?” he sputters, the word coming out in a strangled breath. “You’re kidding, right? You can’t be serious... right?”

His voice falters as he averts his gaze, looking anywhere but at the two of you. A light blush creeps up his cheeks, the uncharacteristic color betraying his embarrassment. He shifts his stance awkwardly, crossing his arms tighter, as if trying to form a barrier between him and the situation unfolding in front of him.

"Relax,"

Arlecchino says with a chuckle, her voice low and teasing, her eyes never leaving yours. “We’re just having a little fun. Unless you're interested in joining—”

"As if!"

Scaramouche cuts her off immediately, his face turning even redder. He shakes his head furiously, his voice a pitch higher than usual. “Mm… My already so wet, mon amour. Does the thought of him seeing you so debauched for me turn you on this much?”

“Yes… Fuck, Arle… touch me please.” You respond, unashamed despite Scaramouche’s eyes on you.

Arlecchino only hums as she begins to slip your underwear off. You shudder, anticipating her touch as her hands slide further up your thighs. At this point Arlecchino is between your spread legs, the angle is just right that your little skirt covers you from Scaramouche’s gaze. He lets out a strangled cough, his face now turning a deep shade of red. He tries to look away, but his eyes keep darting back to you and Arlecchino. He gulps nervously, trying to form a coherent sentence. “You... You're actually going through with this?” “Why not? I mean she’s too pretty a sight not to share.”

Arlecchino chuckles, lifting one of your thighs to her shoulder. The change in position allows Scaramouche just enough of a peek to your already wet folds that his breathing quickens together with the pounding of his heart. He’s rooted to the spot as Arlecchino begins to plant soft kisses onto your inner thighs making you whine her name softly. The sound causes him to throb in his pants.

“Why don’t you take a seat?”

Arlecchino regards him, nodding in the direction of the loveseat adjacent from the couch where the two of you lay. Her lips brush against your clit, earning her a shaky exhale from you. At that, she shifts her attention back to you and presses a kiss to your clit. Your fingers tangle into her silky, black and white locks, tugging gently as she inches even closer. Her movements are deliberate and slow, heightening the tension between you both in the way that she knows all-too-well drives you insane. Your breath catches, and when your half-lidded, dazed eyes meet Scaramouche’s, the charged atmosphere only intensifies.

Scaramouche, frozen in place, seems to struggle with the whirlwind of emotions now stirring within him. His breath hitches sharply, his gaze locked onto yours despite his earlier disgust. There’s something deeper in his eyes now—an unmistakable blend of embarrassment, flickers of desire, and even a faint glint of envy. The tension in the room feels palpable, thick with unspoken feelings. He shifts uncomfortably on the edge of his seat, his fists clenched tightly in his lap as he fights to maintain his composure. Despite his earlier protests, his body betrays him. His flushed cheeks and the way his gaze keeps darting back to you say more than his words ever could. For a moment, the air is thick with possibility, a crossroads between temptation and restraint. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, a brief involuntary gesture as his mind wrestles with the conflicting emotions surging through him. The cold, biting persona he usually hides behind seems to be slipping, and he’s struggling to regain control.

Arlecchino, sensing the charged energy, lets out a soft, amused hum. She doesn't look at Scaramouche directly, but it’s clear she’s aware of the effect the two of you are having on him. Her lips brush lightly against your folds as she speaks, her words barely above a whisper, but loud enough to slice through the tension like a knife.

“Looks like we’ve got an audience.”

Arlecchino says with amusement, noting the way Scaramouche looks at you, drinking in the sight of you as if he was a man who’s been starved for centuries. You feel a ripple of amusement mix with the heat rising in your body. Scaramouche tenses visibly, his jaw clenching as he tears his eyes away, his pride warring with the raw vulnerability that has been laid bare. He looks as if he’s about to say something, but no words come out, only the faintest, shaky exhale.

“Arlecchino—” he finally begins, voice low and strained, as if he’s fighting every word. “This... this is insane. You’re both insane.”

Arlecchino's chuckle is soft but dangerous, a sound that seems to vibrate in the air between you. Her hand slides down your thigh, her gaze never wavering from you, but the weight of her words is unmistakably directed at him.

“Insane? Maybe. But aren’t you curious, Scaramouche? How good your roommate would look cumming on my tongue? How heavenly she sounds? You should be honored I’m letting her sing for you.”

His breath comes out in a shaky sigh, and for the briefest moment, you see his composure crack. He doesn’t respond, but the silence speaks volumes. The room remains heavy with the tension of the moment, the air thick with the unspoken desires and the battle raging behind Scaramouche's guarded eyes. Your head tilts back, lips parted as you let out a moan that reverberates through the room, filling the air with a palpable sense of desire. Arlecchino’s tongue moves with deliberate skill, and her own soft moan in response only deepens the intensity of the moment. The tension between your bodies is electric, almost too much to bear. Scaramouche feels a wave of heat wash over him, his stomach tightening painfully as he grips the arm of the chair beside him, his knuckles turning white from the strain. He swallows hard, trying to ground himself, but it’s no use. The sight of you, so unashamed and vulnerable, moaning with reckless abandon, stirs something deep inside him—something he’s never allowed himself to think about until now.

You moan his name, soft and breathless, “Scara…”

The sound is like a spark, igniting something within him that he didn’t realize was there. Hearing his name roll off your tongue in such a needy, pleading way sends a jolt straight to his core, and he instinctively shifts in his seat, resisting the overwhelming urge to adjust himself. He’s not supposed to feel like this. Not toward you. Not while watching this. But there’s no denying it anymore—the way his pulse quickens, the heat creeping up his neck, the tension coiling in his body. His thoughts are racing, tangled between discomfort and the undeniable pull of desire that’s gnawing at him from within.

"Archons…"

He mutters under his breath, his voice barely audible, almost as if he's trying to convince himself that he's still in control. But even as he whispers it, the tension in his body betrays him. His gaze flickers back to you, drawn against his will to the sight of your flushed skin, the way your body arches slightly in response to Arlecchino’s ministrations.

Arlecchino, ever perceptive, notices the effect you’re having on him. Her eyes flick briefly toward Scaramouche, a predatory glint in them as she continues with deliberate purpose, almost as if she’s drawing him into this intimate dance, even from across the room.

Scaramouche bites down on his lip, hard, trying to focus on anything but the growing heat pooling in his lower abdomen. His breaths come quicker, shorter, and he feels a bead of sweat form at his temple. He’s never felt so conflicted, torn between his usual aloofness and this unfamiliar, overpowering desire surging through him. He tries to look away, to close his eyes and shut out the scene unfolding before him, but the sound of your voice, that soft, yearning moan of his name, keeps echoing in his mind, pulling him deeper into this vortex of sensation.

"Scara..." you moan again, your voice more desperate this time, and the last of his resolve crumbles. He can no longer deny what’s happening inside him—he wants you, needs you, in ways he never imagined. His hands clench tighter around the edge of the desk, his mind spinning as he wrestles with his own desires. In the back of his mind, he knows he should leave, should retreat to his room and pretend this never happened. But something keeps him rooted in place, watching, feeling, wanting—despite every part of him that’s screaming to stop. “Go ahead, you can touch her. Just not here. This pussy’s mine.” Arlecchino’s words hang in the air, sharp and possessive, as she punctuates her claim on you with a harsh suck that sends a surge of pleasure through your body. Your back arches involuntarily, hands pulling at her hair, a loud whine escaping your lips. The sound draws Scaramouche’s attention, his jaw tightening as he processes her invitation. His mind is torn, screaming that this is a line he shouldn’t cross, but his body betrays him, filled with a growing, undeniable desire to touch you, to feel your skin under his hands.

He takes a shaky breath, trying to steady himself. “Are you sure? I... I don’t want to overstep any boundaries.” His voice wavers, hesitant as he looks at both you and her for permission.

“Don’t make me change my mind.” Arlecchino growls, her tone brooking no argument. Her grip on your thighs tightens possessively, her head buried deeper between them, the heat of her movements sending shockwaves of pleasure through you.

“Haah… Arle, feels so good…”

Scaramouche swallows hard at the warning, knowing full well she isn’t one to be defied. But it’s your moans, needy and raw, that ultimately seal his decision. His feet move before his mind can catch up, standing from his seat and closing the distance between you and him. His gaze flickers between you and Arlecchino, heart pounding in his chest, hands trembling as they hover just above your skin.

You whine softly at him, the sound barely above a whisper, “Wanna kiss…”

At your words, Arlecchino growls softly, her actions growing more intense as her tongue works relentlessly against you. She sucks harshly, drawing a loud, desperate moan from your throat as her name tumbles from your lips. The sound drives Scaramouche to the edge, his body reacting to your every movement, to the way you squirm under Arlecchino’s touch.

His eyes darken as he leans in, his breath ghosting over your lips, tantalizingly close. “You want me to kiss you, huh?” he asks, his voice low, taunting. A smirk plays on his lips, but beneath the facade, the heat in his gaze is undeniable. “Ask nicely, then.”

Before you can respond, Arlecchino’s head lifts just slightly, making you whine ever-so-softly from the loss of contact. She glares at Scaramouche, her tone sharp with warning. “You have no right making demands of her.” Her voice is firm, unwavering, and the possessiveness in it is impossible to miss. “Do as she says before you anger me.”

Scaramouche’s eyes flicker with brief annoyance, the idea of being ordered around clearly grating on him. But one look at Arlecchino’s fierce expression reminds him of her power in this moment, and he knows better than to push his luck. He lets out a frustrated huff, his defiance melting under the weight of her authority. His gaze softens as it meets yours again, his resistance crumbling as he sighs.

“Fine. You asked for it.”

Without another word, Scaramouche leans down, kneeling beside the couch and closing the final inch between you. His lips crash against yours in a kiss that’s anything but gentle. It’s possessive, hungry, as if he’s been holding back for far too long. His hand finds your cheek, fingers trembling slightly at the first real touch, and he deepens the kiss, his body pressing closer to yours as he loses himself in the moment.

At the exact same moment, Arlecchino reminds you of her presence by sliding a blackened hand beneath your shirt, cupping your breast harshly through the lace bra. The world seems to blur around you, the heat of his kiss mixing with the relentless pleasure from Arlecchino’s touch and tongue, sending your senses into overdrive. Scaramouche groans deeply, the sound muffled as your moan vibrates against his mouth. His lips move against yours with an almost desperate hunger, the heat between you two igniting like wildfire. His hands slide down to grip your waist, fingers digging into your skin as he pulls you closer, wanting more. The need in him is palpable, his tongue flicking along your bottom lip, seeking permission to deepen the kiss.

“Fuck!”

Your gasp breaks the tension as Arlecchino slips two fingers inside you, her touch sending a jolt through your body. The cry that escapes your lips is raw and involuntary, your body arching into her, giving in to the sensation. In that brief moment of vulnerability, you part your lips just enough for Scaramouche to slip his tongue inside, deepening the kiss with a fervor you hadn’t expected from him. He groans again, the taste of you driving him wild, his tongue exploring the depths of your mouth with a newfound boldness. His grip on your waist tightens, as if he’s afraid to let go, afraid to lose the connection. Every inch of your body is buzzing with sensation—Arlecchino’s fingers working you expertly while Scaramouche’s kiss devours you, his breath hot and heavy as his desire matches your own.

The room feels suffocating, heavy with lust and need, and the tension between the three of you crackles in the air like electricity. Arlecchino doesn’t slow her pace, her fingers curling inside you just right, making your hips buck in response, pulling her name from your lips once again.

Your breath comes in ragged gasps as you feel the pressure building within you, your body trembling on the edge. “A-Arle… m’close…” you manage to whimper, voice strained, the desperation evident in every syllable. Arlecchino hums against your clit, a low, satisfied sound that vibrates through your skin, only intensifying the pleasure she’s giving you. Her movements become more focused, determined, as if spurred on by the sound of your need.

Scaramouche pulls away for a moment to watch the two of you with a sharp, almost predatory gaze, his eyes clouded with lust and jealousy. His breathing has grown heavy and uneven, his composure unraveling as he witnesses the scene unfolding before him. His hand moves to cup your chin, tilting your head gently so that he can see the expression on your face—your flushed cheeks, parted lips, and the look of bliss etched in your features.

Hearing your voice tremble as you moan Arlecchino’s name fuels the fire burning within him. An unfamiliar flash of jealousy tightens in his chest, the possessive part of him wanting you to call his name instead. But he pushes that feeling aside, using it to fuel the intensity of his actions. His lips crash against yours again, his kiss desperate and consuming, his tongue dancing with yours as he drinks in every sound you make. He wants to taste your pleasure, to feel it resonate through him.

You moan against Scaramouche’s lips, your body wound tighter and tighter, your senses overwhelmed by both of them. Every flick of Arlecchino’s tongue, every curl of her fingers inside you, pushes you closer to the edge, and Scaramouche’s hungry kiss only adds to the intensity. His low growl reverberates through your mouth, a primal sound that vibrates against your lips, sending shivers down your spine.

Unable to control himself, Scaramouche grinds his hips against the edge of the couch he’s been leaning on, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through his body. He groans into your mouth, his tongue delving deeper, exploring you with desperation, as if he’s trying to claim every inch of you. His hand trails down from your chin, his fingers brushing the soft skin of your neck, tracing your collarbone and down to your shoulder. His touch is light but filled with intent, as though he’s memorizing every curve of your body.

Just when you think you can’t take it any longer, Arlecchino delivers a final, harsh suck, and it shatters whatever fragile hold you had left. Your body convulses, pleasure exploding through you in waves as you scream her name, your release hitting you like a tidal wave. Every muscle in your body contracts, and you feel yourself unravel under their touch, lost in the overwhelming sensation.

As you come undone, Scaramouche feels your muffled moans and cries reverberate through your shared kiss, your trembling body sending shudders through him as well. He’s completely enraptured by the way you respond, the way your moans seem to echo in his head, feeding the need within him. He watches, dazed, as Arlecchino pulls away slightly, but not before batting his hand away from you with an almost playful impatience. Without hesitation, Arlecchino swoops in, her lips capturing yours in a hungry, urgent kiss. You moan into her mouth, tasting yourself on her tongue, the intimate connection between the two of you heightening your sensitivity. It’s raw and possessive, her grip on you unrelenting, as if she’s reminding both you and Scaramouche that you belong only to her. Scaramouche, momentarily stunned by being pushed aside, watches the scene unfold with a mixture of awe and frustration. Arlecchino pulls away from your lips after a moment, her breathing heavy, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. She holds up her hand, showing off her glistening fingers to both you and Scaramouche, a wicked grin spreading across her lips. The sight of your release coating her fingers sends a jolt of heat through Scaramouche, his mouth going dry as he stares, unable to tear his eyes away.

"Look at what you’ve done," Arlecchino purrs, her voice low and teasing as she holds her fingers in the air, taunting both you and Scaramouche. The slick forms webs between her blackened digits, making Scaramouche imagine what it would taste like. What you would taste like. He gulps the thought down.

“So beautiful, aren’t you?” Her gaze flickers between the two of you, daring him to react. You simply whine in response, unable to even think with how intensely your orgasm has overtaken you. You remain boneless, watching the exchange between the two through dazed eyes. Scaramouche’s chest tightens as he swallows heavily, trying to compose himself, but the sight of you and Arlecchino, the taste of your moans still lingering on his lips, makes it impossible to regain control. His fingers twitch at his side, itching to touch you again, but for now, all he can do is watch, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts as the tension between the three of you continues to simmer. Scaramouche’s eyes fixate on Arlecchino's fingers, his breath catching as he takes in the sight of your wetness glistening on her skin. His face heats up instantly, a flush spreading across his cheeks that he can’t hide. The image sears itself into his mind, the raw intimacy of it making his stomach tighten with an emotion he can't quite place—jealousy, desire, frustration, all tangled together.

“I believe that’s enough for you now,” Arlecchino says coolly, her tone carrying a note of finality. “I’m sure you’ve got enough material to get you off for months.” She licks the wetness from her lips and fingers slowly, deliberately, her eyes flicking toward Scaramouche with a smirk as she does so. Every move feels like a taunt, like a reminder that she holds the power here.

Scaramouche swallows hard, his throat suddenly dry as he watches her, unable to tear his gaze away from the sight. His heart pounds in his chest, the frustration bubbling just beneath the surface as he bites the inside of his cheek to keep from saying something rash.

“Excuse me,” Arlecchino adds nonchalantly, as though this entire moment hasn’t left the room charged with tension. “I have to take my girlfriend up to rest.”

With that, she effortlessly scoops you into her arms, cradling you as if you weigh nothing. Scaramouche watches, his muscles tensing as he sees the possessive way she holds you, the way she claims you with every gesture. There's an ache in his chest that he can't ignore, a raw, visceral longing mixed with resentment as you disappear behind the door with her.

He remains seated, staring at the now-closed door with a frustrated huff, his body betraying him as desire and frustration course through him. His chest heaves, breath unsteady, and his pants feel far too tight as he shifts uncomfortably. The room feels far too quiet now, the absence of your presence hanging thick in the air. His mind reels, trying to make sense of everything he’s just witnessed, emotions swirling like a storm inside him.

Before long, Arlecchino returns downstairs, her movements casual yet carrying the same air of dominance that seems to surround her. Scaramouche looks up, his eyes still darkened by the unresolved tension in him. His face is flushed, and despite his efforts to maintain his composure, there’s a hardness in his expression—a mixture of frustration and envy that he can’t quite shake.

Arlecchino meets his gaze with her usual steely confidence, her smirk ever-present. Scaramouche clenches his jaw, fighting the bitter retort that rises to his lips, but his emotions get the better of him. He lets out a frustrated huff, running a hand through his messy hair, glaring at her through narrowed eyes.

“I hope you don’t think this means you can touch her whenever you please.”

“I know my place,” he mutters, the words dripping with sullen bitterness. But even as he says it, the jealousy gnaws at him, an unspoken desire simmering beneath the surface.

“Good,” Arlecchino replies, her tone casual, but there's a dangerous edge to her voice. She takes a step closer, her eyes gleaming with amusement as she adds, “Maybe next time I’ll have you between her legs, servicing her instead.”

Scaramouche’s eyes widen, his jaw dropping open in shock. The possibility of a next time suddenly on the table. For a moment, he’s completely at a loss for words, his mind struggling to process what she’s just said. The boldness of her suggestion hits him like a punch, his body going rigid with embarrassment and surprise. His face flushes an even deeper shade of red, and he lets out a strangled cough, trying to regain his composure.

“W-what?” he stammers, his voice cracking slightly. “You... you can’t be serious.” His heart races, and the thought of what she’s implying sends his mind spiraling. He can’t tell if she’s toying with him or if she genuinely means it, and that uncertainty only makes him more flustered.

Arlecchino tilts her head slightly, her smirk widening at his reaction. “Maybe,” she says, her voice low and teasing, leaving just enough ambiguity to keep him guessing. “I’ll be off now.”

With that, she turns and leaves without another word, her footsteps fading as she exits the room. Scaramouche remains frozen for a moment, his fists clenched at his sides, his mind still spinning from her parting remark. He feels the tension in his body, the way his heart races uncontrollably, the way his breath comes in shallow bursts. Everything about this moment has left him shaken, and not just with frustration—there’s something else stirring deep within him that he refuses to acknowledge.

“Bastard…” he mutters under his breath, his eyes narrowing as he watches the space where she had stood moments before. “Who does she think she is, saying something like that…”

But even as he mutters those words, Scaramouche can’t stop the thoughts racing through his mind, the conflicting emotions that refuse to settle. His heart is still pounding, his body still buzzing, and as much as he tries to calm himself, the fire Arlecchino stoked within him refuses to be extinguished.

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