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gojoest · 23 days ago

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curiosity (part 2) — gojo satoru

MDNI, f! reader, she/her pronouns, childhood best friends to lovers, college, no curse au, once again mention of ex gfs (one of them makes a brief appearance), pining, reader wears boy shorts, reader is a virgin (no virginity loss), so is satoru lol, mutual masturbation (handjobs + fingering), he cums on your belly (accidentally), pussyjob, first kiss, kind of proofread (sry if tenses are messed up), wc: 5.3k, dividers by @/cafekitsune

this takes place the morning after the handjob you gave satoru and is basically a long ramble about two childhood best friends exploring each other’s bodies (nowhere near in moderation) but finding it difficult to redefine their bond.

part 1

a/n: i didn’t think i would get around to writing a continuation but here we are... i fear there will be a part 3 as well in the future :’) i hope you enjoy! <3

Last night Satoru and you slept together, in one bed, for the first time in years.

Sure, it wasn’t just sleeping like you initially (and very confidently) suggested. Curiosity got the better of you after he, although not intentionally, showed you a side to him you had never seen before. And so, you got a bit handsy.

Satoru stopped sharing a bed with you during sleepovers sometime early into high school. ‘You always hog the blanket’, ‘You toss and turn a lot’, ‘You breathe too loud’, ‘It’s too hot’... — is what he would say, and you didn’t think much of it. Shrugging it off as him being a rude idiot, trying to make you look bad.

There was no way he’d actually tell you that he had started popping frequent boners around you, courtesy of puberty along with these unrequited feelings he started harboring for you the day you moved into his neighborhood at the age of four.

It was embarrassing. He couldn’t possibly come clean to you — you were best friends. What if you came to hate him? What if you started avoiding him?

He spent his high school years trying to get over you. He started dating around. But he never felt the same way with any of the other girls, a clear sign of which was his actions and the lack of dedication toward them. He’d often forget about promised dates or picking them up after school to walk home together because he was too busy following you around. Helplessly. Hopelessly. He couldn’t just leave you on your own even for a second, the thought of seeing another dude hanging around you would scare the shit out of him. Trying to let go yet strongly clinging to you. You didn’t need to like him back as long as you didn’t like anyone else either. Just stay by his side.

And now, college isn’t any different.

Well, it wasn’t. Until last night.

Satoru couldn’t sleep after what happened while you dozed off quickly, as if the events that took place were nothing out of the ordinary. You seemed oddly comfortable which, truth be told, rose concern in him.

He had a lot of questions.

Do you like him? Weren’t you supposed to be at least a bit nervous if you did? Or were you simply so curious about these stuff that anyone would’ve been fine, it just happened to be him? He’s glad it was him. But what will happen with you two now? Will things be awkward? Can you go back to how you used to be? What is he supposed to say to you once you open your eyes? Will you start avoiding him? Should he pretend like nothing happened?

“Shit, I fucked up”, he whispers, thumbing his forehead like he’s trying to get rid of a headache that isn’t even there.

Please don’t avoid me, he thinks as his gaze shifts to you, still sleeping soundly.

You were drooling on the pillow in your sleep. Your hair was a mess and your eyes were crusty, the dried residue sitting in the inner corners of them. The entire blanket was on your side too, covering only you while he was out in the open, his feet cold.

What’s so good about you anyway?, he thought for a good minute. A soft smile creeping in on his lips. He couldn’t come up with a single thing that wasn't.

“Mff...”, you let out a drowsy yawn and your eyes flutter open. Rolling on your back, you stretch your arms up and turn your head to look at Satoru. “Mowniiin’ ”, you drag out through another yawn.

Satoru’s heartrate picks up. Here comes the moment he’s been dreading — facing the consequences. “Hey”, he greets back, a little bit dull in order to mask his nervousness as he acts out in his head all the different possibilities and the plausible end of your friendship.

“You don’t have a boner again, do you?”, you ask bluntly, unaware of the sweat and blood he’d been shedding in an internal battle up until now, filled with fear that today might be the day he loses it all.

“Really now?”, he gives you a look. Your crudeness is astounding him but in a way it also lessens the worry in his chest. “You’re really going to ask me that?”

“...do you?”, you turn on your side again, a glint of amusement in your expression.

“You know I am. Don’t you see it yourself?”, he clicks his tongue.

You snicker to yourself. Of course you do. After all, the blanket was wrapped around you only while he laid exposed next to you with no layer to cover the bulge in his shorts.

“Morning wood?”, you look at it. “Or is it because of me again?”

“Stop assuming things, it’s morning wood”, he states point-blank. “It’s always like this when I wake up”, which was a lie. It didn’t always happen, or at least it wasn’t this insistent.

“Hmm”, you nod. “Maybe you’re not cumming enough?”

“That’s not how it works”, he sighs. “And this is definitely not something I’ve ever expected to hear from you”

“Hmm”, you nod again. Peeking at him mischievously. “Can I—”

“No.”

“But—”

“Cut it out, will you? What’s gotten into you ever since last night? Asking to touch me and what not?”, he snaps, frustrated.

“But you let me”

“Men can’t say no to that when they’re about to bust”, he lies, kind of. “But what the hell is wrong with you?” He thinks it’s so unfair to test him like this when he’s the only one with feelings. It is quite cruel of you.

“I don’t know”, you shrug, a guilty pout on your mouth. Satoru never raises his voice at you unless something is really bugging him. “I’m not sure myself, but I liked it, what happened last night... I enjoyed it”, you quietly admit.

“You did?”, his voice goes back to normal, but this time it’s his eyes that snap wide. A slight sense of hope creeps in inside his heart now. Maybe this little slip-up could kick start something, he starts to think.

You nod. “Didn’t you like it too?”

“...I did”, his face heats up and he covers it with a hand. The essence of the conversation and the fact you liked touching him made his cock even harder. It wasn’t just a simple morning wood at this point.

“I want to do it again”, you tell him. “But do you?”

“You ask me stuff like this when I am horny and expect me to turn you down?” He slowly slides his hand down his face, stopping it right over his mouth and cupping it into his palm. “Are you sure?”, his voice muffled.

You shake your head affirmatively, with zero hesitation. “Can you touch me too? I got really wet last night while jerking you off... Your struggling face and the sounds you made were really...sexy. I wanted to cum too”, a tint of embarrassment in your tone now that you were saying this out loud.

Your abrupt and not at all anticipated confession had Satoru almost chocking on his own saliva. Due to shock, it went down the wrong pipe when swallowing, leading him to cough profusely. “I am starting to think that you’re plotting to kill me one of these days”

“It’s because you told me to come to you if I ever get curious about other things”

“I clearly did not mean murder”

You chuckle, and slowly peel the covers off you, throwing them out of the way and kicking them behind you. The shirt you’re wearing rolled up, exposing the boy shorts on your lower half and a damp spot visibly staining them on the front.

“You're wet", Satoru points out, surprise and smugness mixed in his expression.

“I thought you didn’t like to state the obvious”, you huff, rushing to fix yourself, but he reaches for your hand and stops you in your tracks.

“Is it because of me?”, he looks at you with a glint of hope, giving you a taste of your own medicine, while guiding your touch toward his crotch. His other hand pulling his shorts and boxers down, just enough to take his cock out and press your hand on it — feeling less awkward and a little bit more confident about this now that he sees clear indications of your arousal.

Sure, you touched him last night, but you didn’t see him... It all happened under the covers, so this was a first. He was big, both lengthy and girthy. Veiny too. Precum slicked the tip of his cock. The head was pink while the rest — a lighter shade but still a bit darker than his complexion. You didn’t think of it as pretty, yet it was stirring weird, unknown emotions and desires in you.

“...yeah, ‘cause of you... I think”, you bury your face in the pillow, shying away, but at the same time you shamelessly wrap your hand around his length, giving it a slow first stroke, causing his breath to rasp in his chest. The needy little pant he let out the second you made contact with him urged you to rub your thighs together, the tension in your lower half growing heavier.

Now with your roles somehow reversed, you realize how embarrassed he must’ve been last night...

“Can I?”, he swallows nervously. His hand, slightly shaking, held out in front of your clothed pussy, waiting for your verbal permission before he goes any further.

“Go ahead, I was the one who asked in the first place”, you reassure.

Just like he did for you, you help your shorts down for him and place his hand between your folds. “But—”, you pause, timidly flinching at the foreign touch. “Don’t push your fingers very deep, I— well, you know...”

He smiles. “I know, don’t worry”

He was aware that you never had your first time. Neither did he, which you would probably never guess.

Despite his rich and lengthy dating history, Satoru never went that far with any of his girlfriends. Not that the opportunity was never present — he had the looks and he had the charm so naturally they would throw themselves at him quite often. But he simply never desired them enough to even pop a boner. Well, sure it happened a few times here and there and only because some of them resembled you way too much.

At the end of the day, his dick and his mind were oddly connected. And his mind, it was still stuck on you. Perhaps, deep down, he always hoped that one day you’d be his first.

Just like last night, you were laid on your sides again, but this time both of you had your hands in each other’s pants. Your faces so close you were touching foreheads and breathing into your mouths. Not kissing, just breathing and exchanging pants and lewd moans as you worked your hands through the pleasure of the other, reveling in the sounds you each made.

"Is this, um, okay... like this?”, he breathily asks, but what he truly means is ‘Am I doing this right?’, while he’s got his thumb on your clit, rubbing it in circles, and two of his fingers — index and middle — carefully gliding over your inner lips.

You hum, biting your lip in an attempt to swallow the obscenity threatening to roll out of your tongue. Your mind was slowly going blank. “I-it f-feels real-ly g-good”, you manage through multiple pants. “Too g-good", you add, your grip letting loose around him, slowing down the strokes, the more he teased your folds. But, his free hand grabs yours, squeezing you back around him while he starts to buck his hips into your fist — a subtle reminder to maintain your ministrations, to not forget about him.

You huff at his actions, but it’s only fair — you acknowledge.

He must have quite the experience, you think. This thought a bit bothering you on itself, that he’s had his hand down other girls’ pants before, maybe his cock too, so he’s able to multitask like this... While this is a first for you. Unsure why, you feel like slapping him the more you think about it, picturing him with other girls makes you oddly jealous, but his fingers ease you back into pleasure. You’ll get mad at him later, you think.

“Tell me if it hurts. Okay?”, he nuzzles his nose against yours — since both of his hands were busy now, this was the only way of asking you to look at him.

He wanted to see your eyes and confirm for himself that you were indeed alright, that he was really doing this right because he’s never done it before, only seen it in porn. He was afraid that he’d get too distracted and hurt you unintentionally. You felt so good against his fingers that it was enough to make him lose control. All the wet dreams he’s had in the past can’t compare. He already had a lewd depiction of you in his mind that he used to jerk off to — about the way you’d look and feel down there, about the noises you’d make, about the ways your face would contort with fervor... But he realizes now that he was too frivolous and lacking in imagination. The real you beats it all.

You look at him, your brows slightly lifted, lips closed but twitching in betrayal, threatening to let out the loud moan building in your throat. His fingers scarcely prodding in only weakening your resolve.

“Let it out”, he speaks to you softly. “Don’t hold it back”, again with that sweet, sweet voice.

"Shit, you’re so foul when you use that kind of voice”, you audibly gasp, and then let it all out.

He chuckles.

His pace quicker now, greedily trying to drag more moans out of you. His entire palm, squished between your legs, now covering your pussy, rubbing harder against your folds with his middle finger slightly curled so the tip of it darts inside you with every movement. Not too deep, just enough to not break your hymen. It was driving you insane and you couldn’t keep your mouth shut. You’re certain you have never been this loud in your entire life. And you really wanted to slap him again because you were the only mess right now, your urge going stronger after witnessing that cheeky expression on his face, his tongue poking out the corner of his mouth, too focused to make you cum — maybe he was paying you back for last night.

But alas, you couldn’t do anything about it. You lost control, completely as he hit just the right places and brought you overwhelming, toe-curling pleasure.

“Did it feel good?”, Satoru curiously peeks at you as you try to catch your breath.

“Yes”, you heave. His hand was still there, fingers fumbling with your folds, hence why the tremors washing through your body took longer to quiet down. “Very”, you add.

“Will you help me finish too?”

You nod, fixing your loose grip around his cock but moving it in a quite relaxed manner, slowly.

“Are you doing this on purpose?”, he huffs.

“No. What’s the rush?”

“We have classes”

“We’re already late”

You squeeze, your strokes now steadier — not faster, but heavier — as you drag your hand up and down, earning a gratifying groan out of him. “We can skip altogether”

“And?”, he pants, with eyes half-lidded he looks at you. Are you going to suggest what he’s thinking about too?

“We can stay like this for a bit” — you gather your pace. “Wash up” — accelerating it more after the pause. “Have breakfast” — and some more. “And do this all over again” — and...

Satoru opens his mouth but doesn’t say anything. Instead, he moans low and throatily as his orgasm starts to build up.

Was it the way you moved your hand or what you said that made him crumble so fast, he was not so sure. But it was quite the intense thing. He bucked his hips a little until every bit of drop was out, and he did so in a way that made you clench. The way he squeezed his eyes shut, nose scrunched up while he bit his lower lip, his hand gripping your waist to steady himself as he thrusted into your fist... It was way too of an arousing sight.

He made a huge mess too. His cum sprayed all over your belly, uncontrollably. Your hand and fingers coated in it too.

“Shit— I didn’t mean to”, he panics, jolting and rushing to grab some tissues from the nightstand, but you stop him.

“It's okay”, you reassure him. “I think I like it”, you confess. “Next time you can cum on me intentionally”

“There is really something wrong with your head, we should go get you checked out”, he mocks, but he hides his face in the pillow to conceal the smile stretching on his lips along with the already existing blush on his cheeks. Next time, huh?

You stayed in for the day. Just as you suggested, you lingered in bed for a little longer, bickering back and forth, which put Satoru at ease. He was sick worried, but things were still the same between you two. Not quite as they used to be, considering last night and this morning, but you were still you. There was no tension, nor any awkwardness in the air.

You washed up together over the bathroom sink, bumping hips as you brushed your teeth.

He always kept a spare toothbrush for you for when you’d stay the night. He diligently changed it with a new one every now and then. Although you didn’t have any clothes over at his dorm room, he gave you his while complaining how thoughtless you were for not bringing spare clothing with you, only causing him more trouble with piling up more laundry. But he liked it, secretly. His t-shirts looked good on you, like you were his girlfriend. He didn’t have any clothes back at your room either, at first. There was no way yours would ever fit him, so he brought some and left them there. You always washed them with your clothes and they smelled like the detergent you’d always use. It made him feel like he was your boyfriend.

Later, you had breakfast, and after that — another session of exploring your bodies. Again, you only used your hands. He sat you on the table and fingered you while you stroked his cock.

You played some games, read manga, took a nap, ate lunch, and then you did it again.

And again, after dinner.

Then some more before you went to bed.

You never kissed though, not yet. As if the kiss itself meant something entirely different in the light of what you were doing, something more intimate than masturbating each other.

Day two and three were no different, you stayed locked in and repeated. You ate, you fucked each other with your hands, and you slept.

Nothing changed on the fourth either, only that you ran out of food but ordered takeout.

“Can you make it a bit spicy?”, Satoru spoke on the phone to a nearby restaurant he’d frequently order from. So frequently in fact that they knew his order by heart, and asking for the dish to be spicy was unusual of him.

“Huh? You always make we don’t put any spice in your food? Are you sure?”, the takeout clerk gasped from the other side of the line.

Scratching the back of his head, Satoru looked around to see if you were still in the bathroom before he spoke. “Yeah, I know. But, um— my girlfriend likes it”, he said, his face heating up with a red hue.

You weren’t his girlfriend. Neither of you made an attempt to redefine your relationship, and he was too afraid to make the first step. What if you were simply acting out this way because you were indeed just curious?

Either way, he wanted to say it. To say that you were his girlfriend. And it wasn’t the first time he’d done it. People would often time confuse you for a couple, and he’d never flat out deny it. You never knew about this though, it always happened behind your back. Either his friends being too nosy, or an old lady on the street telling him how good you looked together after you ran off to pet a stray cat.

On the fifth day, some friends got a bit worried. You were gone for almost an entire week, skipping classes, so that was a given.

suguru: wtf bro suguru: u alive?

satoru: yeah satoru: more than ever

suguru: huh

satoru: i might have a shot with her satoru: i'll tell u later

suguru: with who?

satoru: ur mom i've been pining over since i was four satoru: be fr now

suguru: wait suguru: HER her???????????

satoru: yeah HER her

suguru: wow it's happening?

satoru: idk satoru: ...kinda

suguru: good luck bro suguru: if you fuck it up i'll try my chance with her suguru: so make sure u do ur best LOL

satoru: i will beat u up and block u

Naturally, it started to feel less awkward the more you did it. ‘Are you hard?’ or ‘Are you wet?’ being the initiating lines you were both dying to hear now, knowing well what they’d lead to. The answer was always ‘yes’, there was no denying that you were both hard and wet around each other for the most part.

At some point you began skipping the questions, just letting your hands roam and find out. Consent was always silently present.

Even when you weren’t being naughty with each other, it was different. You had definitely started seeing Satoru in a new light, which scared you a little bit. The way you looked at him, and the way you caught him looking at you — it wasn’t the same as it had been. There was more to it.

On the sixth day, you tried something different.

“My hands are tired”, you complain.

“Let’s try something different”, Satoru proposes.

He lies on his back, holding his cock flat against his stomach. “Hop on it”

“What—”, your eyes pop out in shock. “I’m not ready for that, yet”, you squirm, holding your face in your palms. You were curious about intercourse, of course, but you were also scared. All the forums you scrolled through had a different take on it — some netizens said the first time was painful while others claimed they only felt a slight discomfort but nothing more. Many mentioned bleeding too. You didn’t know which category you’d fall into. And as much as you wanted it, the idea of putting Satoru’s cock inside you was quite intimidating. He was big. Will it even fit?

Satoru chuckles. “I don’t mean that — just straddle me, sit yourself right on top of it and rock your hips back and forth” He points at his cock, “See, I am holding it down for you so it won’t enter you. You’ll just hump against the length of it and nothing more. It’ll feel good, I promise”

You peek at him from between your fingers. “Okay”, you timidly agree.

It was good, but short-lived. Unfortunately, you didn’t get to finish in this position because Satoru came too soon and too hard, his entire body shivering continuously. He had no idea what he was getting himself into when he proposed it but having your warmth and your slick on his cock directly from the source messed him up. It took him every ounce of restraint not to just slide it in and have his way with you.

On the seventh day, after all the things you’d done, you finally shared your first kiss.

It was nothing nearly romantic like it was in the books and in the movies. In fact, it kind of happened out of spite.

It was around lunchtime. You both felt like eating pizza today, and so you ordered. In the meantime, while waiting for your food to be delivered, you hopped in the bathroom to take a quick shower.

Satoru wanted to join you too, but you kicked him out, telling him to wait for the delivery guy. With a tail between his legs and a hangdog face he crawled back on the bed, huffing and puffing loudly so you could hear him and maybe pity him enough to invite him back...

His brilliant performance of a sad puppy was interrupted by a knock on the door. This was quick, he thought, and jumped out of the bed, thrilled — he could pay for the food and sneak in to play with you...

He quickly tossed on a shirt and put on some shorts on the way to get the door.

It was not the food.

It was his ex, standing on his doorstep with her arms crossed over her waist, eyeing him demandingly.

“Don’t tell me you’re so heartbroken over our breakup that you would lock yourself in your room and skip classes for an entire week?”, she scoffs.

“Did you forget who broke up with who?”, Satoru snorts.

For sure, she did not. Satoru did it quite cruelly, over text after ghosting her for three days. It was not his proudest moment but he didn’t care enough to feel guilty over it.

And she was fully aware of it too. But still, she liked him a lot, in fact she liked him ever since orientation and it took her an entire year to work her way to him. She was desperate.

She sighs deeply, dropping the attitude now. “You never replied to my messages”

“Didn’t see”

“You did, but you left me on seen”

“Must’ve forgotten to answer”

His answers were short and dry. The timing was simply bad, and he wanted her out of here before you came out of the shower, concerned that her being here would create a misunderstanding in your head.

“Look, I am sorry I said all those stuff about your friend. But it bothered me, okay? You treated her more like a girlfriend than you did me, your actual girlfriend... I was constantly under the impression that—”, before she could finish a third voice cut her off.

“’Toru”, you yell from behind him. “Is it the food?”

Your hair damp, a towel wrapped around your body, you saunter over to the door from behind him to peek, but your feet freeze in place.

Oh? That girl... his ex.

You woke up happy this morning, in fact you woke up happy every morning for the past seven days but now your mood was foul all of a sudden. That same odd feeling you’d get whenever you thought of Satoru with another girl creeped in in your chest. While you brushed it off easily in the past, you couldn’t quite do so now. The irritation grew more insistent. Your demons were threatening to act up.

“...there was something going on between you”, the girl finishes her sentence, then pauses to let out a short laugh and shake her head in disbelief before she continues. “I guess my hunch was right, huh?”

You step a little closer, standing right next to Satoru.

Something you couldn’t quite put your finger on came over you. Of course, you could read the room — she obviously came here to mend things up. And you were not happy about it. Not in the slightest. Was this annoying feeling tugging at your chest called jealousy? You didn’t have a reason to hate this girl, she did nothing to you. Yet...

“Well, well. Aren’t you a smart one?” — you couldn’t believe the words coming out of your mouth right now but you didn’t have it in you to stop.

Utterly amused, Satoru stared at you. He was shocked, in a pleasingly new way. A semblance of an idiotic smile plastered on his lips while he did nothing to stop you.

“Should I perhaps solidify your hunch with a proof so you stop running after someone else’s boyfriend?”, you glare at her.

Standing on your toes, you clutch a handful of Satoru’s shirt with both hands, pulling him down to the level of your face for your lips to reach his, and kiss him.

Helpless in the face of your lips laid against his, he lets out an audible gasp. The sound of it vibrating against your mouth. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, he thinks, but his eyes close anyway, melting into the softness of your lips. There was no tongue, just a long peck, and he couldn’t help but smile into it.

Without breaking the kiss, you look at the girl from the corner of your eye, and you slam the door in her face.

“Good riddance”, you murmur after pulling away from Satoru, and walk back inside.

He never knew that a simple kiss like this could make him so dizzy that he would lose his balance and stumble. As if his feet got caught in something he involuntarily took a few sharp steps forward, putting his arms out to steady himself and avoid falling face down.

“Hey”, he called out, slowly following behind you.

“What’s her deal anyway?”, you keep going at it, still beyond irritated. “Didn’t you guys break up?”

“Hey”, he speaks again, stepping closer.

“And she's pestering you like this? The audacity...”

“Hey—”

“What!”, you yell, turning around to give him a scolding too because, knowing him, he probably didn’t end things with her in a manner that was polite and proper.

...but he was right behind you, smiling at you affectionately with his eyes. It made your breath hitch, and your chest — feel a bit peculiar.

“Hey”, he repeats again, softly. His hands squish your cheeks inside his palms and he slowly cranes his neck down. “Did you mean it?”, he asks through a whisper.

You shift your gaze to the side, avoiding to look at him directly. “Did I mean what?”, you puff.

“Calling me your boyfriend”, he tilts his head to the side, blocking your view and forcing you to look at him.

“No... I was just saving your ass” — you try to break free to prevent the heat on your cheeks from warming the skin of his palms, from giving you away. But he’s holding you still.

He leans in closer and whispers, “Would it be so bad if I was your boyfriend?”

It was not a question as much it was a plea. Let me.

“You’re a bit of a jerk sometimes, so maybe? I know for sure people will judge me for my poor taste”

“Your mom won’t, she likes me”, he points out, proudly.

“She likes you more than she likes me, her own daughter, so her opinion is invalid. In fact, she would tell you to go pick someone better”, you snort, and he laughs. She really did love him like her own son. After all, he grew up in her hands along with you. You spent day and night together, in and out of each other’s houses.

“I am serious”, he gives a gentle squeeze around your face, an attempt to snap you out of the ongoing banter because he was desperate to know. You didn’t give him a proper answer, but you didn’t reject him either — there was still hope, he thought. “Would you hate it?”

“...I don’t know”, you let out quietly, conflicted.

“Should we try? Or are you only curious about my body?”

“See? You’re kind of a jerk after all”, you pout. “Will things change... between us?”

“Aren’t they already changing?”, he smiles.

You hum, softly tugging at the hem of his shirt with both of your hands. "I don't want to lose my best friend if we screw this up”

“Same”, he nuzzles his face closer. “That’s why, we won’t screw this up”, he quietly chants into you like a promise, drawing his lips to yours tenderly before either of you have the chance to panic any further about the implications of this change.

#ઈઉ — ai writes #[ ♡ ] — satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo x you #gojo satoru smut #gojo smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen smut

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strawberrystepmom · 7 months ago

Text

ready to eat

pairing: Yami Sukehiro x F!Noble Reader

word count: 4.9k

contents: NSFW - minors and ageless blogs dni, I will hard block you. Takes place in canon universe, there is a slight age/experience difference insinuated between the pairing but reader is at least 25, reader has named magical ability (movement magic), so much banter, oral sex (f receiving and finishing and it's sexy)

cw: mentions of marriage and misogyny, virginity (reader is a virgin)

notes: brain rot has proven to be fatal so here you are. this is open ended and i would not consider it a oneshot bc i'd love to write more about these two. hope you enjoy! thank you for reading ♡ | crossposted to ao3, divider by @cafekitsune

you can find more about these two here, here, here and here 🖤

Nighttime is your time, a lesson you taught yourself independent of your instructors many years ago.

Movement magic allows you the luxury of blending in with your scenery, rushing unseen toward a capital district that is on the opposite end of where your family has made their name. Nobody here would recognize you even if you were less discreet, cloak gathered around your face and obscuring any unidentifiable features, and the freedom is indescribable; better than every sunny day or freshly made tea dessert.

You are free to be yourself. Unmarried, unattached, unimportant, it doesn’t matter. You stumble into the usual inn you make your domain until the sun rises, ready to watch the way people you have little in common with live. If anyone knew you’d get reprimanded, probably rightfully, though you have never quite understood the scandal that lies in being a well informed woman. Your mother was a gossip and isn’t that another way to become informed?

It’s society's acceptable way, anyway.

You slink into the corner table, away from the crowd gathered nearer the bar, and slip your hood off of your face. No glances of recognition from anyone else, too engrossed in their own drinks and their own conversations, and you sink down against the back of the chair you’re sitting in. It’s nice to be anonymous, you decided months ago when you began doing this. You aren’t certain you want to continue being so inconspicuous when you remind yourself why you’ve been doing this to begin with - to gain even the slightest bit of the life experience that continues to elude you. To love and laugh and feel joy that you’ve been told only comes with marriage, something you are too apprehensive about committing to.

It’s why you come namelessly into a district that does not belong to you or your kind. You hope that someone will find you interesting, a beaten path off their life’s track. Someone to laugh with or tell stories to. It’s all you’ve ever really wanted, a romantic to your core despite the decidedly unromantic life you lead. Caretaking, getting earfuls from your father about being a responsibility that the family no longer wants to have when taking your age and failed proposals into consideration. So lost in your own thoughts, you barely notice when a man slides into the chair next to you, glancing down at your hands and then at your face.

“You need to stop wearing whatever is making you smell like that.”

The interruption to your quiet evening makes you jump, no longer dissociating and now in the present. You recognize the man sitting next to you, a captain of a Magic Knights squad. Their faces are plastered all over the capital and you’re shocked that he stumbled into such a low brow establishment though getting a look at him up close convinces you that he may not be in the entirely wrong spot.

“Captain Sukehiro,” you offer politely, formal as ever. “I regret having to request clarification from a man as esteemed as yourself but what do you mean?”

The captain snorts, shaking his head in response to you as though your manners are piteous instead of a courtesy that should be extended to all.

“Don’t call me that, Yami is fine.” He sniffs, stuffing a cigarette between his lips. “I’m talking about the shit you’re wearing that is filling every corner of this place. People don’t wear things that make them smell like bakeries around here.”

Scrunching your nose, you lift your wrist to your nose for a sniff. He’s referencing the perfume you spritzed on after bathing and the way it sticks to you, the smell wafting around the table with every move you make. It hasn’t caught any eyes yet, thankfully, but he can see how this will end if you don’t correct your mistake now.

“What are you doing around here anyway? I figured women of your, uh, breed or whatever stuck to their own districts.”

Bristling slightly at his insinuation that you find yourself too good to hang out here, you square your shoulders and clear your throat. A low chuckle rumbles in Yami while he lights his cigarette, raising his brows and eagerly awaiting whatever argument you are clearly cooking up in that little head of yours.

“I’ll have you know that I enjoy exploring parts of the city that I rarely see. I am out here thanks to my own curiosity.” Your eyes shift from Yami toward the rest of the tavern, a small smile on your face watching the patrons laugh amongst themselves. “I think it’s really wonderful that people are happy no matter how they were born into this world and I’m thankful to be able to experience this side of life too.”

The captain could spend all night laughing at your naivety if you’d let him but he doesn’t wanna let you dig any deeper of a hole than you’re already finding yourself in. You’re clearly a fully grown woman, even the doll-like roundness of your eyes and cheeks can’t convince him you’re under 25 judging from the way you carry yourself. You aren’t the first noble girl he has ever seen sneak off in an attempt to find herself yet it strikes him as hilarious you clearly believe it.

“So you aren’t like the other nobles? You see people as people?” The brusque individual takes a long drink from the mug in his hand, Adam’s apple bobbing while he swallows, your eyes fixed on the sheer size of his neck and throat. “What do you want? A prize?”

Even the enticing muscles of his body (how can one person have so many muscles bulging off of them anyway?) cannot distract enough to forget that he’s insulting you. You place your hands in your lap and fiddle with the edge of the cloak that covers the simple nightgown you are wearing, covering it enough that no one is suspicious about why you’re wearing nightclothes in the first place.

“No, I’m simply telling you what I’m doing here because you asked.”

Sipping from his mug, the man glances you up and down. He swallows and squares his shoulders.

“Okay? That still doesn’t tell me what you’re actually doing here, you’re only talking about feelings and shit.” Another sip and he places his ale down. “So what are you doing here? Isn’t it a little late for your type to be out with the rest of us?”

He considers you for a moment. Not bad looking. Pretty, even. Not plain in the way some overly manicured noble women can come across and you clearly aren’t using magic to enhance anything about you or else he’d notice. He’s a pro at sniffing out transformation magic in women having seen so many who have taught themselves to dabble in the arts to subtly tweak their appearances. You sigh and he finds it impressively naive to do so, your shoulders pinching in while you exhale sharply out of your nose.

“I’m looking for someone to help me.” Now this is interesting. He raises a brow, glancing you up and down. You lean toward him, creating a veil of intimacy in a crowded tavern, elbows resting on the table rudely. “I, um, I fear I’ll be woefully unprepared for my marriage bed once the time arrives and I want to avoid embarrassment. I’m already too old to be considered marriageable to most and my heart could not take physical rejection from my husband as well.”

“You’re a virgin and feel weird about it and now you’re makin’ it my problem.”

Gasping, your eyes widen and you shake your head rapidly. Yami smirks when he senses how quickly your heart is pounding beneath those layers of fabrics most in this place could only ever dream of seeing much less feel against their skin, curious enough that he won’t just tell you to get lost at this point.

“Please do not repeat my predicament so loudly, Captain Sukehiro.” You whisper hiss, fighting the urge to kick him beneath the table as you do the rest of your fathers’ unruly issue you are the eldest of. “It’s not something I’m terribly proud of.”

The captain scoffs, humming to himself and adjusting his posture so that he’s leaning toward you instead of on the back of his chair, cigarette dangling from his fingers. You’ve captured his attention, at least for now, and he’ll give you all of it that you can handle. Pursing his lips, he glances around the bar for a split second before focusing on you, gray eyes locked on your pouting mouth.

“Then why is it your situation in the first place? Thought you nobles were too proud for your own good.” He flicks the lighter in his pocket. “And don’t call me that. Yami is fine.”

You should find it very rude that you are being asked so many questions and being made to suit so many demands made by a lesser born to begin with but the curiosity feels like deeply personalized attention, causing you to bloom in response. Hunched shoulders stretch out, the graceful posture you’ve spent what would amount to months of your life if you stretched the hours out perfecting appearing. No one at home is this curious about you outside of when you will no longer be around to tend the younger children your father continues to spawn and it feels different to be the center of a man’s attention.

Not a weak, defanged little noble whose only function is to act as an additional limb for his father. A man with rough hands and battle scars and overgrown hair down his neck.

“I haven’t felt a spark with any of the men I’ve been introduced to. They’re lovely individuals with proud lineage but it has always felt so…” you search around the room, lifting your hand to your mouth to idly nip at the cuticle around your thumbnail. “Forced. I don’t want to be with them and they do not want to be with me. Four men and none of them made me feel like I could spend the rest of my life with them.”

Once again, Yami chuckles at your predicament. Your cheeks heat in response, ears tingling and burning as that familiar feeling of being mocked encourages you to retreat inward. The awareness that you do not have to put up with this kind of treatment from a man beneath your station

“Sounds like you’re hard to impress, kid.” A plume of smoke is blown over your head, the cigarette he was holding now dangling from his lips while he examines you with narrowed eyes. “Little darling won’t settle for less than a fairytale.”

Retreating further into yourself, you move your hands from your lap to fold your arms over your chest.

“I’m no child, obviously.”

Your retort is as petulant as your posture and the man smirks, the corner of his mouth jumping, tenting his fingers in front of him and leaning toward you. Despite himself, he likes you. Your willingness to shit here and just shoot the shit with him has impressed him but not enough to let you off easy.

“You’re here beggin’ for attention like one so I dunno about all that.”

Scoffing, you shift in your chair but make no effort to get up. You won’t be picked off by him that easily.

“You know nothing about me, sir.” You raise your brows and shift your head to emphasize your point, arms still folded. A grown woman behaving like a little brat shouldn’t draw a man like this in yet he considers himself intrigued, stamping out the nearly depleted butt of his cigarette on the edge table in front of him.

“Can’t argue with that. Keep talking.”

He leans back in his chair and sizes you up, boots stacked on top of each other where his ankles are crossed and his long legs are extended out in front of him. It’s one thing to be keeping him here against his will because you won’t stop talking, it’s another when he is a willing audience. Your mouth runs dry and you gradually unfold your arms, placing them above your knee so you can subtly rid your clammy palms of the prickling sweat across them.

“I want to experience the things that a husband and wife are to experience together though I do not have anyone to enjoy them with.” Even the way nobles describe sex is stuffy and uncomfortable, Yami realizes, brows raising slightly. He lets you continue speaking before butting in, letting his arms dangle from the sides of the chair. “Perhaps it’s wrong of me to believe it will change my luck but I won’t change my mind. I have to know how to…perform.”

Perform is such an interesting choice of word. All of the sex the captain has ever had has been far less of a performance and more of a two person dance, locked in repetitive motions and tangled up as one form. He isn’t much for the sappy, intimate shit you’re clearly insinuating you’d like though he feels like he could help you.

“I’ll tell you what,” he starts, leaning back toward you and closing the distance to once again grant you some semblance of privacy. “I can show you how a man should treat a woman but I can’t promise you it’s how a husband will treat his wife, you understand?”

Your eyes widen and you nod once, picking up on his meaning immediately. Impressed by your sharp wit he smiles although it’s nearly as unfriendly as the ones exchanged at court and only slightly less smug. Leaning in toward him, your brows knit together, and you bunch your skirt up in your fists.

“I don’t know if I’m ready for, you know…” you trail off, frowning slightly. He pretends like he doesn’t understand what you mean, shaking his head and staring vacantly at your mouth. “I don’t know if I’m ready for you to take me.”

Another snort from him and your face heats like a wildfire. The two of you remained locked in this strange posture, whispering but not quite, discussing the terms of whatever is occurring here. Blood rushes from your face to your chest to your stomach, a familiar tense feeling between your legs making you shift uncomfortably in your chair.

“The only one who would be doing any taking in that scenario is me and you don’t have to worry about that tonight.” He tips his mug and finishes off the last droplets of his ale, sliding the empty vessel across the table top where it stops just short of you.

“What if we never see each other again after tonight?” That sappy shit he was right to assume you wanted has surfaced earlier than he expected. He shrugs flippantly, arching a brow. “Then we never see each other tonight but at least you can say you know how it feels when a man takes care of you.”

Inhaling loudly, you weigh your options.

You can always get up and go home, turn tail and run to where you will always be viewed as something akin to a decorative sconce on the wall instead of a human being. Your opinion matters not, you’re a glorified caretaker for your younger siblings, some of who are your fathers rightful heirs thanks to the boyhood the Gods so mercifully granted them. You can retreat and continue wasting away waiting for a man who thrills you enough that you can ever see him as someone deserving of being your equal.

Or, you can consider Yami’s offer. He’s rough around the edges and speaks with no formality or regard and you like it. At least you think you do. He doesn’t care who you are any more than the others around you do yet he makes you feel the most seen anyone ever has. He’s interested in your words, your ideas, and even your pleasure - a realization that makes the knot in your stomach tighten further.

“Okay.” You concede. “I think that I’d like that.”

The man rises from his seat, smirking, tossing some coins down on the table in front of him for the drink.

“I know you will,” he finishes, words dripping with honesty but not arrogance.

He begins to head toward the stairs that will lead the two of you upstairs and your breath catches when he looks over his shoulder and raises his brows, signaling with a wave that you should follow him. You toss a few more coins on the table in front of you, uncertain of how much a room in an establishment like this would cost to begin with, and rush to follow him with your cloak pulled tightly against your body.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

This room is nothing like your quarters at home where everything around you gleams in gold and marble and silk. It may be decidedly less impressive though it’s twice as cozy if you’re honest.

The bed is barely large enough for two and there’s a well loved desk pushed against the wall, magical light flickering from the wall. Shutting the door unceremoniously, you swallow and feel the captain at your back, a large palm covering the entirety of the space between your shoulder blades. You don’t recall him seeming so imposing downstairs, glancing upward to meet his eyes. He can tell you are inexperienced solely by how skittish you’ve become beneath his fingertips, an intriguing shift from who you were sitting opposite him.

Boldly asking a man to pleasure you has told him everything about the person you are beneath the skirts and the trappings of society. If he waits long enough he knows that hungry girl will once again show her face to him and while he isn’t particularly patient, he believes it would be worth his while to wait.

“Go sit on the edge of the bed.” He instructs right above your ear and gently shoves you toward where he’s commanded you be.

You follow directions and sit, legs dangling off of the edge, unfastening your cloak and letting it rest on the bed. The knot in your belly remains tight, keeping you on edge with all of your movements while your walls throb weakly, arousal and curiosity bearing down on you with similar weight. Sukehiro towers over you, slowly unfastening his belt and cloak, leaving the leather goods and his katana on the desk.

“I’m going to lick your pussy. Do you know what that means?”

Cheeks warming, once again surprised by his lack of decency, you nod once. You have read about this particular act more than once and have also heard about it secondhand from some of the married women you call friends although their reviews have been mixed. Books have always made it seem far more interesting, an exchange in the same way a kiss is between a man and the paradise between a woman’s legs.

“Good, at least I won’t have to explain all the technicalities.” He approaches you slowly and squats down, now face level with your middle. You glance down at him and wonder if you should touch him, if he’d like it, if he’d want you to. “Lift your hips.” The next command gives you reprieve from overthinking and you do as asked, raising them enough that he can pull your nightgown from beneath your thighs, spreading them to fit between.

“If you don’t like something, speak up.” He glances up at you, holding your nightgown halfway over his face. “If you do like something, speak up and I’ll keep goin’.”

The linen of your nightgown stretches and tents in the shape of Yami’s head and shoulders when he pulls it over himself, too big to be fully covered by the fabric. His back is curled into a C shape and the muscles ripple while he positions you, hands that you can feel but cannot see gripping the outside of your soft thighs to keep you from deciding at the last minute you are feeling shy.

It’s too late for you to fall back on the shy act now, your panties dangling off of one of your ankles. Even if you attempted, you know the man currently fixated on spreading you open with his fingers would surface from beneath your skirt and laugh at you. Your heart simply could not take the open derision and ridicule, already feeling overextended thanks to this evening’s excitement.

“Alright, you’re about to feel something different,” he warns kindly, puffs of his breath fanning out against the slickened skin of your labia. The low rumble of his voice sends another rush of wetness seeping out of your cunt, excitement mixing with terror while you await the pleasure you were promised.

Your hips shift impatiently on the edge of the dingy inn bed, legs on either side of his still dressed torso. His tank top is untucked from his pants and he no longer wears his belt, discarding the unnecessary while remaining firmly in control of the situation. There isn’t much that makes his mouth water but the sight of warm and just for him pussy is doing just that, his tongue darting out to wet his lower lip.

His thumbs massage the outside of your thighs, keeping you as relaxed as possible, and he leans in to kiss the temptation he can no longer deny himself. A simple smack, loud enough that you can both hear it, yet the moan that escapes you is positively sinful. High pitched and breathy and immediately obscured, clapping your palm over your mouth to keep yourself quiet.

“Nope,” he simply responds from beneath your nightgown, hand reaching up to remove yours from over your mouth. “What’d I tell you? Half’a the fun is hearing how much you like it.”

One of the thumbs that was rubbing circles into your thigh now does the same on the back of your hand, calloused digit occasionally catching over the surface of your smooth skin. It’s no shock that your hands are soft like your body and your hair and your eyes, it’s what your life was meant to be like the minute you assumed the role of it. Soft and easy, no roughness to throw you off track.

Yami chuckles and lets his tongue feel you this time, dragging the wet muscle through your folds, rewarded with another of those breathy moans. You do not rush to cover this one, tilting your head backward and letting your eyes flutter shut to focus on the sensation of another lick. He takes his time to get to know you slowly, brushing the flat of it over your hole and dragging the arousal he receives as a reward upward toward your clit.

He doesn’t release his skills on your sensitive bud so quickly but a simple brush of the side of his tongue against it is enough to make you squeal, shoulders rounding in momentarily. Repeating the motion, you squeal again and arch your back, thrusting your hips forward into his face and dragging every bit of you he can see across his mouth.

“W-what are you doing to me, Yami?” You ask breathlessly, elbows propping you up on the bed and keeping you grounded. “I’ve never felt anything like this before.”

Your head swims with unfamiliar pressure, sparking a line from your brain to between your legs, all connected and you fight the urge to slump back onto the bed, too curious about the way that the light linen covering the man between your legs shrouds him.

“Eating, obviously,” he mumbles against your body, tongue lapping against your clit. Your body reacts to each touch, thighs tensing on either side of his face, hips slowly bucking in pursuit of the feeling again and again. Your back arches and your moans are staccato babbles, elbows finally failing to hold you up when he gives your clit full attention.. “Oh my, wh–,” your back arches off of the bed before you can finish your thought, another rough lick to your throbbing clit followed by the warmth of his mouth while he sucks it between his lips, flicking the bundle of nerves with the tip of his tongue.

There is no denying that you may be prissy and perfectly pampered but he was clearly correct in his assumption about you being more than meets the eye. The way your body responds naturally to his ministrations, hips grinding and toes curling and lips keening, tells him every little secret you’re too demure to spill. You want to have sex for enjoyment, to chase your own pleasure and have your own fun.

He’ll never fault someone for that although he believes he can get you to admit it’s the truth. Maybe not tonight but eventually he’ll convince you to drop the “good wife” act. If he weren’t enjoying himself so much he’d grumble about considering a future where the two of you will meet up for this again, too lost in his own enjoyment of your pretty noises to realize how unreasonable this was to begin with.

“Please keep going,” you beg, a tearless sob thickening your voice.

Yami doesn’t look up, well aware of what he is capable of, but he keeps his hand over yours and continues rubbing gentle circles into it. You flip your hand and face your palm upward, loosely tangling your fingers with his, your hips now dragging across his lips wildly. It’s messy and you are dripping like a peak season fruit, drenching his chin and sending little droplets down onto his tank top and chest. Moans increase in pitch when his tongue dips inside of you, lapping at your sweetness and drinking it down with satisfied grunts, though he can tell you’re close solely by how you ride his face alone.

You lack the words to describe how you feel, not that you are a stranger to self pleasure, but it’s different when someone else is showing you the maximum of how you can feel. Every inch of you buzzes with a pleasant awareness, nerve endings sparking like celebratory fireworks, and you lift yourself up with your elbows to glance down at the man making you feel more than you ever thought possible, your nightgown no longer around his head. You were so lost you didn’t even realize he shifted to holding your nightgown up above your belly button with the hand you aren’t keeping occupied, those astute eyes appreciatively watching your chest heave and face twist.

“Yami, I think,” you start and he chuckles, sucking your clit between his lips again, sending you over the edge and effectively making sure you know how exactly it feels when someone else makes you cum.

Dots of light spark in the corners of your vision and you slump down onto the bed, too spent from the strength of your orgasm to remain upright. The perpetrator of your current state untangles your fingers from his wordlessly and he rises to standing, leaning over your exhausted body and propping himself up with his forearm.

“Good as you thought it would be?”

Giggling, you nod. It’s all you can think to do, truly left wordless and thoughtless, grateful that what you read on the pages of the books you hide amongst your more chaste picks were somewhat accurate to how the experience feels. There has been no insinuation that he expects reciprocation so you don’t bring it up, quietly glancing up at him and noticing that the distance between your face and his decreases every few seconds.

“Now taste.”

He closes the little distance left, tongue pressing against the seam of your lips. You grant him entrance and whimper when your mouth fills with the taste of his tongue, a mixture of acrid tobacco and ale and something you could only recognize as yourself.

“Pretty good, right?” All you can do is nod dumbly, still splayed awkwardly across the bed. Should you leave? Should you stay? Is that pesky reciprocation going to come into the conversation now? Yami glances down at you with something you’d almost mistake for warmth in his cool irises, rolling onto his back beside you and folding his arms over his chest. “Are you going to head home now or what?”

You shake your head, letting your flipped up skirt rest against your belly, the air of the room cooling your heated skin. “No but I’m not going to expect you to stay if you have other business to attend to. I will stay the night and leave before sunrise.”

It’s what’s polite. You did pay for an entire night, after all, and your raising will not allow you to be rude. Pushy and precocious at times but never outright disrespectful. The man next to you sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, turning his face to look at you.

Maybe you are as pretty as he originally thought. It could be all the blood rushing from his head to his dick, a problem he is attempting to solve mentally by envisioning anything but the satisfying contractions of your cunt while it cums for him, but you glow even in this low light.

“Only thing I have to do is go downstairs and drink and then I’ll just end up running my mouth and losing money.”

You giggle at his honesty, turning your face to look at him. The gruffness only adds to his aura, as unrefined as a man can be, yet you really do like it. Even if the two of you sit here in silence for the rest of the night, there’s much you feel you can learn by simply gazing at him, a quiet battle of wills unfolding between the two of you like the mist that fills the city on a summer morning.

Permeating, inescapable, potentially trouble.

#yami x reader #captain yami x reader #yami sukehiro x reader #sukehiro yami x reader #black clover x reader #black clover imagines #black clover smut #kendall writes #the bird and the bull

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magicdustsworld · 5 months ago

Text

𝐀 𝐁𝐄𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 (3)

Ryomen Sukuna x Fem!Reader

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: A guide on how to properly date your tattooed, big, bad boyfriend.

𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐒: Established relationship, slice of life

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: fluff, some profanity, reckless drunk driving(I do not condone), grave scratches(non sexual), mentions of smoking, usage of nicknames, no mentions of y/n.

𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐃𝐄 𝟑: 𝐁𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒

A/N: I feel like I can make an updating schedule for this, Wednesday every week (at least, its Wednesday for me)? How does that sound? wc around 2.3k (got longer than intended)

Divider credits: @cafekitsune

𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐃𝐄 𝟐

“What’s the time?”

“Hmm?” Tossing his half burnt cigarette into the trashcan, Sukuna answers, “Quarter past eleven?”

“Right.”

Said so, you have hung up the call.

Sukuna knows he is reckless.

Often times has he found himself in situations due to this attribute of his. Although he manages to spare a laugh or two while recounting these situations, sometimes having you join in as well. That impulsivity is brought out by his need of chaos and to prove time and time again to everyone else that he isn’t someone they should mess with. Whereas this impulsivity—where he is driving down the expressway with his foot pressed on the accelerator, barely staying below the speed limit—is brought upon by you.

He zooms past all the cars on the road, the wind from the open window serves to tousle the fringes of his hair from one side to another. A mild headache ripples through him a second later, the effects of alcohol finally showing its fangs. The fog of inebriation doesn’t necessarily cloud his eyes as he navigates the car past the pedestrians and vehicles; courtesy to his high alcohol tolerance.

His lips are twisted into a constant frown while adrenaline surges through his veins. And he will blame the entirety on you. What’s with you in the first place? Sure, he might have been out a little later than usual. Maybe he missed a few calls from you but that doesn’t mean you will return the same treatment. He has his reasons—good reasons. Unlike you who is just holding a grudge on him.

He clicks his tongue, rotating the steering wheel as he changes gears and just as he is about to pick up speed, the car comes to a screeching halt.

“What the fuck?!”

He curses out loud, eyes trained on the stray object lounging right in the middle of the street. Quite literally, right in the middle of the street as its eyes glow with the impertinent illumination of the headlights. The object in question is commonly called a cat.

“Not this shit,” He rolls his eyes, smacking his palm on the horn – disrupting the rather quietude of the neighbourhood and trying to get the feline to run off; It doesn’t. Instead, it lets out a yawn, nestling its head between its forelimbs and completely ignoring the driver.

Sukuna’s eye twitches. He smacks the horn again.

It doesn’t move.

Again.

It can only flutter its eyelids shut and pretend to be asleep.

At last, Sukuna has to take matters into his own hands. He steps out of the car, groggily walking up to the disturbance and looks down on it. His stare only passes the single message – Get the fuck out of here.

The cat has a bemused glare plastered on his features, probably to show that it doesn’t care.

Sukuna crouches down, extending his hand to grab hold of its collar when- “Agh- Fucking shit!”

He swears out loud as soon as the feline scratches him. He grasps his injured hand, staring at the pierced area with widening eyes and a twist of insanity causes his lip to curl up. The claws have made its marks over the scraped skin as a tad amount of blood oozes from the cuts.

“Oh, you did not just do that,” He mutters and in a second he has the cat in his grasp. Holding it via its nape, he dangles it before his eyes while the latter lets itself be held on air, without any protest; save for the unwavering glare it is shooting at him. “What? Got something to say?”

The cat merely lets out a high-pitched meow from its end.

Sukuna huffs, rotating on his heels and ready to toss the cat aside. “Fall back in your beauty sleep somewhere else.”

Slightly does he loosen his grip on the cat did it let out strangled sound; shaking its head vigorously.

Huh? He blinks, swaying the cat from one side to another which only incites displeased purrs from it. At last, he pivots his wrist and brings it closer to his face. The previous glare is still etched on its mien but the intensity has significantly lowered.

He scoffs, returning a scowl with a same fervour. “Listen here you piece of shit, my girl is already raging like a volcano and if I am anymore late then I will intrude your den and-” He pauses, “That’s a promise.”

The cat blinks like it understands anything, answering him in its language which comes out as a choked affirmation. Sukuna is about to drop it again and the same pattern as previous follows.

“Alright, what the hell is up with you?’

Irritation is flaring in his bones as the cat refuses to be let off. He takes a moment for himself, noting the physical attributes of the feline. Thick black far rustles under his palm, sharp yellow eyes and it’s staring at him with an expression which only evokes mischief.

Just a regular black cat and from his least bit of knowledge about the societal norms, he knows they are considered to be the bearer of bad omens.

For the next five seconds, he contemplates on all of his choices.

He finds himself making the worst one.

You are seething when he returns home.

No, you aren’t blowing up or throwing any temper tantrum as Sukuna expected. Rather you aren’t regarding him with anything at all.

When he steps inside through the doorway, purposely slamming the door with a bit more pressure than necessary to make you aware of his arrival; you don’t come to greet him let alone grace him with an answer.

As Sukuna strolls through the corridor and finally into the living room, he finds you perched on the couch and clicking through some channels on the TV before halting in one.

He clears his throat and you crane your neck to glance at him before shifting your attention back on the program.

For obvious reasons that causes an irk mark to form on his brows. He saunters to the couch and sits beside you, calling your name; you don’t answer.

Alright, you’re mad. He squares his shoulder, “How long will you keep up that attitude?”

You pass him a look which extends a second too long and for some reason, Sukuna finds something drop to the pit of his stomach. “What’s the time?”

There’s that question again.

“I know, it’s pretty late–"

“I am asking you the time not records of your unpunctuality.”

“Christ,” He rolls his eyes. “It’s only a one-time thing.”

You raise an eyebrow, “One-time thing, really?”

“Fine,” An exhausting sigh leaves his lips. “Maybe not a one-time thing but I am back now.”

You merely roll your eyes, turning away from him. Sukuna is about to speak again but something just has to intervene.

“Meow!”

Instantly, you perk up, twisting your body from the direction of a feline’s voice. “What was that?” Before your boyfriend can answer any of your queries, said feline is striding inside the living room with a graceful yet suspicious poise which causes disbelief to cloud your visage. “Where did that come from?”

The black cat tethers a corner before halting just near your feet. It looks up at you and Sukuna has to suppress the flurry of retorts filling his mouth as the cat gazes at you with sheer innocence.

What the hell was up with that attitude earlier?

It nuzzles its head over your ankles, letting out a tender purr while doing so. Just like that, you find yourself falling under its charming spell.

“Aww come here, cutie,” Cooing, you pick up the feline, cradling it into your arms as if it were an infant.

As for the cat, when it finds refuge in your arms, it doesn’t hold back from nestling into a better position.

“Where did you find it?”

“On the middle of the road,” He replies, leaning back as his eyelids narrow. “Quite literally.”

You take your moment to run your hand on its fur, sighing out of content. “So you brought it home? That’s so sweet.”

“I tried to toss it away more times than I can count but this fucker won’t budge.”

“Hey,” You protest, shooting his a playful glare. “It’s so cute and wait-” Shifting, you reach the conclusion. “It’s a boy.”

“Wow…”

Ignoring the sarcastic remark, you pat his head, “Aren’t you such a good boy?”

Physically, Sukuna has to stop himself from cringing at the attention you’re pouring over the filthy feline. However, before he can descend into that spiral, a wave of nausea overrides him. Sooner than he can comprehend, he is rushing to the bathroom and throwing up in the toilet. The expunged contents is flushed down as he takes a moment of rest.

He hears footsteps and a second later, you’re kneeling beside him. Greeted by your mien which evokes concern, your hand is placed over his shoulder.

“Hey,” You call softly. “You okay?” He nods, refraining himself from giving you a verbal answer as the sense of nausea still lingers. You rub circles over his back, trying to soothe his momentary queasiness. It does work as the tension starts to wear off. “I will bring you some water. Stay here, ‘k?”

Before he can affirm, you’re out of the bathroom. The next seconds are a blur and Sukuna refuses to let the silence mess with his head. You return soon after as you push the glass to his lips. He gulps it down in one go.

“Better?”

He nods.

“Should I get you some medicine or will you be fine?” He shakes his head negatively but he should’ve known you are stubborn. “I will get you one just in case.”

You are about to leave again but Sukuna is quick. He grips your wrist, tugging on it as he beckons you to sit with him.

Tilting your head, you ask, “Hmm what?”

As for Sukuna, he has his eyes lowered to his lap while he chews on his bottom lip. Surely, he’s got something to say to you but to get the words out is a task on his own. “I- I’m uh… fuck, this isn’t supposed to be this hard.”

In response, you can only stare at him with confusion flickering in your irises. “What happened?”

“I’m… uh, I’m sorry.”

You blink, “Sorry?”

“Sorry,” He repeats, raising his eyes to meet yours. “Sorry for… uhm not caring about the- the time and making you… you worry.”

It’s almost like he is mumbling the words to you and he doesn’t even know if you’re able to register half of it. A silence stretches and he finds himself in a position where he might’ve to repeat himself. Until he doesn’t.

A soft chuckle escapes your lips and you shake your head. “Aww, ‘kuna,” An amused smile curves up your mien and for reasons unknown a heat swells in his chest. “You’re so adorable.”

That heat now permeates to his face and he arrives to the conclusion that he is only burning with a fever. “No.”

“Aww, but you are.”

“Stop right there.”

“But baby…” You jut out lower lip, leaning forward as you hold his face in your hands. Sukuna is on the verge where he feels he might pass out any second. “I am just telling the truth, you’re so adorable. My adorable baby.”

He arches his knee, ready to leave after prying you off but you don’t relent.

“Alright, alright sorry,” You laugh, wiping a stray tear from your eye. “I accept your apology, ‘k?”

He hums, again refusing to meet your eyes before he adds, “Don’t get used to it.”

“Ay, ay captain,” You raise your hand, holding it on your forehead as a salute.

This time, Sukuna doesn’t refrain from letting that taunting grin slip into his lips. However, just when he thought both of you were having a moment until you aren’t. The new addition of life in your abode comes loitering inside the bathroom and you are swift to nestle up the cat in your arms.

“Were you lonely? I didn’t mean to leave you alone though,” You speak to the feline again, apologetically. One which is returned with an affirmative tone from the latter’s whimper.

You continue the tender conversation with the cat and Sukuna takes the moment to just watch the two. “He likes you.” He comments after a second, garnering your attention.

“I like him too,” A wide smile has curled in your lips as you scratch behind his ear earning a soft sigh from him. “A lot. Kinda reminds me of you, don’t you think?”

“Please,” He scoffs, a frown forming on his face as if the comparison hurts. “I am far better than this annoying pest.”

“Don’t call him that,” You rebuke tersely which he returns with a roll of eyes. “Give him a name.”

“I am not going to do anything like that.”

“Sukuna…”

The warning in your voice doesn’t elude him but he isn’t giving in either. “This thing doesn’t even like me.”

“This thing is ours so you better give him a name now.” Sukuna looks like he’d rather watch paint dry, inciting a low sigh from you. You bring the feline near his face. “C’mon, you brought him home. You should name it.”

If he acquiesces to your command, you might let this charade drop. Well… The cat is black so… “Kuro.”

“Kuro?”

He nods, “Kuro.”

“Kuro, it is then.” Your eyes gleam with excitement as you rock the cat in your arms. “Do you like your name, Kuro?”

“Meow!” He replies and you take the high pitch squeal as his likeness to the new name.

Sukuna lets out a sigh, leaning back as his head rests against the basin cabinet. Maybe he can get used to a cat.

The said cat passes him such a mischievous smirk from your arms that he has to rethink his choice.

He grumbles under his breath, “Fucker Kuro…”

“Meow!”

𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐃𝐄 𝟒

A/N: ik the title is misleading but y'all as someone who doesn't want kids ever this is self indulgent wish + I can never see Sukuna as a genuine father so you have that lol.

Taglist: @comeonatmebruh @o-ikawaii

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steddie-island · 7 months ago

Text

Tender Headed

I saw this post by @mothofmyth and couldn't stop myself. I hope this does your idea justice. ❤️ ao3 | Divider by @cafekitsune

Someone else was standing at Steve’s usual station, instead of his usual girl.

It wasn’t a girl at all.

“Hey! Do you have an appointment?” not-regular-stylist asked.

“No– yes? I, uh– I have a standing appointment. With Kayla?” Steve brushed his fingers through his hair and looked around at the otherwise empty salon.

He’d been looking forward to this for weeks, practically since the end of his last appointment. The thought of having to cancel, of having to reschedule because she was out sick or something– it made Steve’s skin feel too tight, itchy.

It made tears prick at his eyes like this was a bigger deal than just a stupid haircut.

Which. Okay, maybe it was for him, but it’s not like any of the stylists, like this stranger , needed to know that.

“Are you okay, man?”

Steve blinked, bringing the man back into focus again. He was pretty, with long curls piled up on top of his head and a delicate black hoop hanging from his septum. His cut off sleeves showed the ink decorating his arms and disappearing under the fabric.

He had to shake himself to bring the man’s voice back, to stop ogling him.

“--won’t be back for a few months,” he was explaining.

“What?” Steve knew this guy probably thought he was an idiot, but his mind was thick and sticky and nothing this guy was saying was sticking.

“Early maternity leave,” he said again, patiently. “I’m Eddie, I’m taking her station over while she’s gone.” He gestured to the empty salon again. “I don’t have any appointments right now, if you’re cool with a substitute…”

Steve almost turned around, but there was something about the wide brown eyes that fixed on him that made him stay.

“I… sure. Yeah.” It wasn’t like he was that attached to his hair anyway. Yeah, he wanted it to look good, but not to the point that everyone else thought he did.

It wasn’t about the haircut.

He followed Eddie back to the washing station. Even though this was a stranger who was going to be taking care of him, Steve still felt a shiver go through him as he got situated.

There were a few clinks, metal against ceramic. Steve tipped his head back enough to see Eddie removing several chunky rings and placing them in a little dish. A towel was rolled up carefully and placed beneath his neck.

“Tell me if this is too much.”

The water was cool, which Steve was prepared for. What he wasn’t prepared for was the way those long delicate fingers touched him. Kayla was gentle, but it was nothing like this.

The way Eddie scrubbed so carefully at his scalp made Steve melt. Each fingertip was so deliberate in its movements, in the way his hair was gathered back and brushed out of his face. Eddie’s fingers trailed over his ear and Steve had to bite his lip.

Maybe this was too much, but he couldn’t stop it.

He’d never been handled like this. No one had ever touched him like he was a delicate, breakable thing. Sure, he cuddled with Robin. He got to hug the kids, and Joyce, and Claudia.

But this was… something else.

Eddie wasn’t getting anything out of this– not the same way everyone else got something, like, paying him for his service was different, right?

Steve was going to see it as that, anyway. He imagined Eddie wasn’t touching him like this because he was getting a big tip from it.

He imagined that Eddie was brushing water off of his forehead with a knuckle because he just wanted to know what the skin felt like there. Those calloused fingers were tucking the hair behind his ears because he wanted to study the curve of his tragus– maybe wondering what Steve would look like with a hoop there, like the one in his own ear.

Eddie’s thumb was wiping away water from his cheeks because he wanted to know if Steve’s cheeks were rough with stubble or not, and not because this was just a professional courtesy.

Only maybe this wasn’t a professional courtesy.

Because it wasn’t just water that Eddie had sprayed on him. Steve was fucking crying .

He wanted to run, but before he could even get up Eddie was putting a damp hand on his shoulder.

“Stay. You’re okay.” Eddie’s voice was a low rumble that Steve wanted to hide in. “I’ve got you, big boy.”

How was Steve supposed to not listen to that? He settled back into the chair and let Eddie rinse away the shampoo. Then those nimble hands were working the conditioner into his hair just as gently. The touches were a little more solid now, though. Eddie’s fingers grazed his neck, touched his cheek, wiped more tears from his cheeks.

“You’re not the only person who comes in here for this.” Steve couldn’t even find the words to ask if he was that transparent. It wasn’t like the crying couldn’t have been from him being tender headed, or from the water being too hot. He was too focused on Eddie speaking to him to try to make excuses for himself.

Eddie’s voice was soft and low. It was comforting, and it wasn’t hard for Steve to imagine how he would sound if he were singing, the way the words would wrap around him. Would it make him feel the same way he felt with his hair wrapped around Eddie’s hands?

He was in the shampoo chair for three times as long as he normally would be. Eddie took his time with the conditioner and gave it extra time to sit. He was just as thorough about rinsing it, then about working a smoothing serum through his strands.

By the time Eddie was wrapping Steve’s hair loosely in a towel and sitting him up, Steve was feeling lighter than he’d felt in months. He figured he should have felt raw and vulnerable, and there was a little bit of that, but Eddie’s presence was calming. Maybe it was the way he chattered as he started working on Steve’s hair. He talked about other customers, about his uncle, about how he’d been doing his own hair for years. He even brought up the time he’d burnt his hair with bleach so bad he’d had to give himself a buzzcut, because that was better than the spongy mess he’d left himself with.

Steve started opening up, too, by the time Eddie was drying and styling his hair. He talked about his own worst haircut, about the time Robin had let him bleach her hair and she had ended up with a streak of green in her hair instead of blue. At least it had been cute, though.

Eddie spritzed Steve’s hair once… twice… a third and then a fourth time before smiling at their reflections in the mirror. This close, and without tears in his eyes, Steve could see the dimples in his cheeks.

“What do you think?” Eddie brushed his fingers over the ends of Steve’s hair, then dropped a hand to let the weight of it rest against his shoulder.

“I think it’s great.” Steve smiled back at him. It looked the same as it did when Kayla had worked on it, but he’d never looked this good before. Maybe it was the cut, or maybe it was just the way Eddie had put something bright back into his eyes.

Steve pulled his card out to pay but Eddie refused.

“I think we both needed today,” he’d said before smiling and sliding his card across the counter. “I hope you come back and see me sometime, Stevie. I’m happy to take care of you anytime.”

Normally Steve might take that as flirting– and maybe it was, the way Eddie’s dimples popped even more and his eyes really sparkled under the light. It wasn’t just flirting, though, and that made warmth blossom in Steve’s chest.

“Yeah, man. Definitely.” Steve tucked the card away and turned for the door. “Actually…” He looked back at Eddie, who had picked up the broom. “Do you maybe want to get a drink after work?”

Eddie’s grin was bright. “Hell yeah. Why do you think I didn’t charge you?” he teased. “I get off in an hour.”

Steve laughed with him. “Cool. I’ll see you in an hour, then.”

---

As it turned out, Steve didn’t need to come back in an hour because he hadn’t left yet. He was still there, helping Eddie clean things up. They talked about the kids Steve babysat, and Eddie pointed out that maybe it was okay for him to just say they were hanging out, because fifteen and sixteen year olds didn’t tend to need babysitters anymore.

They picked up food in Eddie’s van, and they drove to the quarry to eat sitting in the back of it, with the doors open and two milkshakes between them.

When they shared their first kiss that night it tasted like salt and fake strawberries. They parted ways with plans to see each other again the next day.

Maybe it was okay that Steve didn’t have a standing appointment with his usual stylist anymore.

#Steddie #Steddie fic #Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson #Stranger Things fic #kintsugi_kid ao3

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daisynik7 · 1 year ago

Text

I blinked and suddenly I had a Valentine

Author's Note: modern setting, no curses, high school setting. ~1.3k words. Divider credit to @/cafekitsune. Title from the song “Valentine” by Laufey. Rice bear bathing in Japanese curry looks something like this (reddit link). Part of the past lives vignettes series. Thank you for reading!

It’s almost the end of January and you’ve spent the past three weeks at your new school eating alone, either in the classroom or in the cafeteria. You’re too shy to socialize with your peers, who are already well-established in their own social circles. This is what happens when you transfer in with less than three months left of the schoolyear. No one wants to be friends with the new girl, right?

Well, two people prove this theory wrong.

Yu Haibara is the first to approach you in the cafeteria during lunchtime. “Hi there!” he greets, taking a seat across from you, a cheerful smile on his face. You can tell from his aura alone that this is someone easy to get along with. Jovial, optimistic, kind-hearted. You’d normally feel nervous interacting with someone you’ve never met before, but his welcoming presence immediately puts you at ease.

He’s followed by a blonde boy, slightly taller, a bit lanky, and sulking behind him. His name is Kento Nanami. You recognize him from your homeroom, though you’ve never spoken before. Occasionally, he eats his meals there, usually in the back with his headphones in, listening to music, while you’re in the front, indulging in whatever homemade bento box you decide to make for yourself that day. It’s crossed your mind more than once to join him so that neither of you are alone, though you’ve chickened out each time, convinced that he’d rather remain that way than be bothered by a nobody. Unlike Haibara, his lips are pressed together in a natural frown. You don’t sense unhappiness or animosity from him; rather, it’s indifference, apathy. When he sits down next to his pal, he gives you a nod, acknowledging you.

Haibara does the courtesy of introductions. You hold your hand out to him, doing the same. He takes it enthusiastically, beaming at you. “I know who you are. I’m a first-year too!”

It doesn’t strike you as odd that he’s already somewhat familiar with you. Instead, you’re relieved to finally be making friends in this cutthroat environment called high school. After this first meeting, the three of you are inseparable. You get on well with Haibara, who’s an expert at keeping the conversation flowing. Nanami doesn’t say much, though you notice his subtle mannerisms that speak volumes more than what his actual words do. You can tell he admires your homemade lunches each time you uncover them at the table. His eyes light up, marveling at whatever creation you’ve concocted the night before: yakisoba, onigiri, chicken stir-fry. He doesn’t say anything, relying on Haibara to do the complimenting. You appreciate how intently he listens to you, even if he doesn’t have much to contribute. In homeroom, you sneak glances at him when your teacher says something particularly ridiculous, to which you spot the faintest hint of a smile flitting on his lips. And you realize that every time you’re walking beside each other, he makes sure to switch his bag to his arm away from you. Part of you hopes the real reason behind this is to be closer to you, but you try to keep those lovelorn thoughts buried in the back of your mind, being certain that’s not the case.

You eventually find out that Haibara has severe allergies, especially during the seasons of Winter and Spring. He explains how he has to take at least a few days off once a month, sometimes an entire week. Today, he dons a face mask, already anticipating it. “Don’t miss me too much,” he jokes, his bright smile noticeable even behind the mask. It’s February now; the three of you sit together at your regular spot in the cafeteria. Nanami eats his rice bowl in silence while you say to Haibara, “You’re going to miss Valentine’s Day.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, smirking. “I guess the two of you will have to be each other’s Valentines.”

At this, Nanami almost chokes on his food, face turning scarlet. He reaches for his water bottle, which is empty, still clearing his throat as he excuses himself to refill it. When you’re alone, you glare at Haibara, scolding him. “Why would you say that?!”

He shrugs innocently. “What’s the big deal? He likes you.”

Your jaw drops at his surprising statement. You’ve always thought that Nanami tolerates you, but you never truly believed he could ever like you. “What do you mean?”

Haibara blinks at you, as if the answer is so obvious. “He told me about you. Said how you always had the most amazing bento boxes for lunch. How cute your smile was whenever you’d take a bite. He was too shy to talk to you first, so he had me do it. You…didn’t know that?”

You stare at him, shaking your head slowly, stunned by this revelation.

He laughs nervously, scratching his head. “Oops.”

Nanami returns, back to his normal self now, remaining quiet. There’s still the faint blush on his cheeks; you pretend not to notice it. Nothing else is mentioned about Valentine’s the rest of the day, though it lingers on your mind the remainder of the week.

Haibara is out sick February 13th, leaving you and Nanami alone together for the first time since you befriended them. You’re curious to see if the dynamic would change, if Nanami would actually speak up now that his buddy isn’t around to fill the void with his amicable chatter. But lunch ends up being a quiet affair. You do your best to ask questions, start conversation, but he’s even more tense than he usually is. When you mention Valentine’s Day tomorrow, the familiar rosy tint spreads across his face. You drop it, not wanting to make him uncomfortable, though you can’t help thinking how sweet he is for reacting that way.

He likes you. The words have been replaying in your head since you heard them. And the truth is: you like Nanami too. Based on what Haibara said, he might be too shy to tell you.

So, you take matters into your own hands.

The next day, February 14th, you come to school carrying a box wrapped in red ribbon. Inside homeroom. You greet Nanami politely, catching the way his gaze drifts to your hands. You smile wider to yourself, excited to present it to him later. At your seat, you can smell the decadent scent of homemade chocolates and heart-shaped candies from the other girls in your class. You get increasingly nervous about the gift, wondering if he’ll receive it well. Still, it’s worth a shot.

When class is over and it’s time for lunch, Nanami waits for you near the door to walk to the cafeteria together. Ready to leave, you stop him, clearing your throat before you announce, “I have something for you.”

His eyes widen, his jaw clenches. It’s obvious he wasn’t expecting this.

You don’t hand it to him, afraid he wouldn’t know what to do with it. Instead, you untie the ribbon yourself, uncovering it. Inside is the bento box you prepared special for him. “I made this for you. Happy Valentine’s Day, Nanami.”

He reaches inside, holding the bento in his hands like found treasure. He snaps the cover off slowly, revealing rice balls formed into a cute bear, bathing in Japanese curry. A sheet of seaweed cut into a heart is placed directly in the center.

You watch him for his response, heart racing against your chest. He inspects it carefully, his expression softening to one of adoration. When he looks at you, he smiles, and you swear you’ve never seen anything more beautiful than Nanami Kento smiling.

“Do you like it?” you ask, needing to hear it in his own words.

He nods, still smiling. “I love it.”

You spend your lunch in the classroom, eating your matching bento boxes together while listening to his music on shared headphones.

For the first time in his life, Nanami has a special Valentine.

#nanami kento fluff #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #Nanami Kento #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami x you #kento nanami fluff #nanami fluff #nanami x reader #nanami x you #jjk fluff #past lives vignette series

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pumpkin-cake · 4 months ago

Text

Family Man Farmer Logan (2)

dad!logan x fem!reader

YIPPIE part two!!!! thank you and credit to @mega-kittyglitter-1 for the idea of bringing wade in :)

i've also just decided to name the kid because i don't like referring to her as 'your daughter' so yeah

divider credit to @cafekitsune

part one

warnings: wade breaks the fourth wall

Logan held your daughter, Jean, as the two walked towards the stables. She messed with his beard hairs while they did so, to which Logan ignored.

"You remember the rules when we feed the horses?" He asked, his gruff voice holding softness to it as he brought her to the small stable he'd built along with several other buildings on the farm.

"Listen to what Daddy says." Jean repeated a bit vaguely, and he chuckled.

"Yes, listen to what I say. You gotta be easy with 'em. I know you're so excited to see 'em but loud noises can scare 'em." He explained, grabbing a bag of apples he kept around. The horses had grass and hay and the such inside the stable, but Jean liked feeding them applies, so he'd indulge her.

"But they're so much bigger than me!!!" She exclaimed incredulously.

"I know, but you're much louder than 'em sometimes." He chuckled, heading to one of the pens where a chestnut colored horse with flowers in her mane (courtesy of you and Jean), who was named Indy. She was the nicer one compared to her brother, Bishop. He was a bit challenging, more likely to fight with Logan. He was usually a good boy, though. Logan was a fierce man, able to establish boundaries and get some mutual respect going on between the two.

One time, Bishop had tried to nip at Jean when she was a baby. You'd never seen Logan so angry with an animal. He of course understood that the horse had been offended and maybe a bit frightened by Jean patting his nose with no warning, but the thought of anything or anyone hurting his girl was enough to make him fume.

Logan held Jean up, as she was nowhere near tall enough to reach the horses on her own. "You know what to do." He said softly, not too worried about Indy hurting Jean, but he was always careful when it came to his babygirl.

Jean carefully and slowly reached out with a big smile on her face, holding the apple in the palm of her hand. Indy made a happy snort and ate the apple whole, cronching on it loudly. Jean giggled infectiously, looking at Logan as she reached out to pet the horse.

"You're good, babygirl." He assured her, glad that Jean was so obedient when it came to this stuff. She was stubborn like her parents but neither of you played around when it came to her safety.

Jean gently began to stroke Indy's snout, a big grin on her face while she did so. Logan held her there for a while, until Jean pulled on his flannel to lead her over to Bishop. Luckily, she didn't have any bad memories of the horse trying to bite her, so she wasn't too afraid.

"Same thing, babygirl. Nice and easy." Logan hummed, giving her an apple to offer to the bigger horse. With no fear, she held out the apple to the horse, smiling innocently. Bishop hesitated, but did lean forward and take the apple from her hand. Logan nodded, pleased. "There we are, was that fun?" He asked Jean, who nodded happily as she carefully pet Bishop as well.

"Daddy, can we go pick flowers for Mommy?" She asked.

"That sounds like a great idea, baby." He chuckled, letting her say goodbye to Indy and Bishop before taking her out to the field of flowers that you mainly took care of. Logan was the handy man, dealing with the animals and any heavy lifting. He set her down, and she immediately went running to get the perfect amount of flowers.

God was he glad his daughter got to grow up in a space like this. If she was a mutant, it hadn't developed yet. If she was, he'd be even more grateful. She wouldn't have to worry about anybody trying to hurt her. You and him had the tools to homeschool her if necessary, and she had a big wide open space for growing and developing and learning.

His little daydream was interrupted by the crackling sound of a vehicle on the dirt road coming to the farm. His eyebrows furrowed, and groaned when he spotted the man inside the car. He forgot that Wade Wilson was dropping off a couple things per your request. You and Wade got along way better than Logan did with him. Wade always offered to babysit but Logan didn't trust him alone with Jean for even a minute.

Jean looked up and her brows furrowed just like his when she saw the car park and a strange man get out of the car. She dropped the flowers and booked it to Logan's legs, hugging them and watching.

Wade chuckled. "There's the wolfie! Look at you, a farm boy!" He cheered, a box underneath his arm. "The wifey wanted some rare flower seeds that little ol' me got for her! Oh! I'm getting your wife flowers!!!! You need to step it up, peanut!" He rambled, heading over.

Logan felt Jean's grip on his denim jeans tighten, and oh god her face. It was an exact copy of his scowl. He huffed, gently putting his hand on the back of Jean's head to comfort her. "I built this whole place for her. Now shut the f- shut up." He corrected himself. You didn't like it when he swore in front of Jean.

"Speaking of peanuts! It's your spawn!" He did crouch down, hoping that Jean wouldn't be too scared of his face. "I'm Wade Wilson, has your mommy told you about me? Daddy probably hasn't, he isn't as nice as your mommy."

Actual crickets around the grass punctuated Jean's silence.

"Oof, tough crowd. Daddy's girl, huh?" He said with a chuckle, a bit unnerved at how goddamn similar she was to him. He'd seen that scowl on a much older face plenty of times.

"Go on inside, she's in there." Logan said, not appreciating the fact that Jean was just as snarky towards this guy. Little kids did have good instincts, not to mention she was his daughter.

Wade held up his hands in surrender. "Alright alright, I'll let you have some more daddy-daughter time. The author needs it for his daddy issues." He said, heading inside to greet you.

"Who was that man?" Jean asked, the scowl still on her face.

"A friend of mommy's, like he said." Logan sighed as she let go of him.

"He's annoying." She huffed, going and collecting the flowers she had put down. Logan couldn't help but laugh out loud. She sure was his daughter.

"He sure is. Let's go bring these to Mommy."

#x reader #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #wolverine #wolverine x reader #deadpool and wolverine #wade wilson #fem!reader #girl dad logan #dad logan #x men

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jinwoosbabyboo · 4 months ago

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Nika’s Chaotic Household

Hiii I'm Annika you can call me Nika, Anni, Or Nini welcome to my blog ♡

Requests are open beloved 📬

I have a full time job so please be patient with me 🥹

LAD reactions ♡ LAD smau ♡ LAD shorts ♡ LAD headcanons ♡ LAD AUs ♡ Just Me Yappin' ♡ My Nonnies ♡

‎‧₊˚✧ 𝐎𝐧𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐎𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐛 → 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬‎ ✧˚₊‧

Household Rules

ꩇׁׅ݊ I will not write infidelity that is way too out of character for the LADS Men ꩇׁׅ݊ Do not be rude to me I will delete your request I don't respond to negativity ꩇׁׅ݊ I will not write necrophilia, emetophilia, urolagnia, or coprophilia ꩇׁׅ݊ There are multiple requests in my inbox so I appreciate your patience :) I'm just a girl and im only one person ꩇׁׅ݊ You can translate and share my work as long as you credit me ꩇׁׅ݊ Personal & side blog → @annibabyboo

Brittanyfrostdesigns → My profile pic All dividers, banners, etc used are courtesy of → @cafekitsune

#nikaaaaimagine #nikaaaajusttalkin #love and deepspace #lads #lnds

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floralcyanide · 5 months ago

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— ᴅᴇᴀʀ ᴊᴀᴠɪ ɪɪ (nsfw)

After being with Javi romantically for 6 months, you finally meet again when he is discharged from the military.

part one

↝ pairing: Javier "Javi" Rivera/ Fem!Reader

↝ warnings: smut (mdni!), unprotected sex, unsafe sex, penetrative sex, oral (f receiving), nipple play, fingering, long distance, read has anxiety (again)

↝ word count: 3k

↝ author’s note: here is part two! I hope you all enjoy (: I may continue this in the future but idk yet. let me know what you think.

masterlist ⋇ divider credit: @cafekitsune

this fic has been cross posted to ao3.

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

Javi asks you to be his girlfriend the following February through one last letter. The two of you have opted to talk over the phone now. It’s the best possible scenario- one you never could have imagined- to have ended up in a relationship with someone you genuinely cared about and liked. It’s also a plus that you have a lot in common and are comfortable with each other. The more time passes, the more something seems to be missing. After four months of really talking romantically and two months of dating, you realize it’s the physical factor. It doesn’t bother you too much, but it is something you wish you could do with Javi. Whether it’s kissing or holding hands, or other things- you want that. But not with anyone else but him.

Javi always talks about how he wishes he could hold and touch you. He even gets a little explicit in letters he sends about how exactly he’d touch you. Every time you think about it, you shiver and have to clamp your legs together. It wasn’t until you had a wet dream about Javi that you started thinking about what sex would be like with him. It wasn’t really something that had crossed your mind when you first started talking or even became an item. But that random dream had you frazzled and made you start thinking about it more often. That’s around the time you and Javi started flirting heavily over the phone and through your writing.

The two of you had decided to meet up again sometime in the fall, possibly around September or October. Those plans are scrapped when you get a phone call one night in August as you settle for bed.

“Javi? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything is all good. I just wanted to call you with good news.”

“Oh really? What’s up?” you immediately sit up in bed.

“I’m being discharged for a project in Oklahoma the government wants me to do. I can’t go into detail yet, but I’ll be coming around your area again to stay with my aunt and uncle until I find somewhere out west to live, courtesy of the U.S. Government,” Javi says, and you grow excited.

“That’s great to hear! Did you want to meet up when you get back?”

“Of course, baby. Would you mind picking me up from the airport? I can snag a hotel for a few days before heading to my family’s place. Sound okay with you?”

“Sounds perfect!”

Javi calls again the next day with more details on when he’d be returning. He’s flying into the same airport where the two of you met, so you don’t have to drive far. He says it’ll be a week from now when he arrives, and you’re beyond ecstatic. Deciding to be bold, you shop around for something cute to wear underneath your clothes for when you meet up with Javi. Perhaps something in his favorite color? You’re giddy just thinking about spending time with your boyfriend. Your best friend nearly keeled over when you told them about Javi finally asking you to be his girl.

“Ah, yes, at last, the curse is broken!” they had joked, and you immediately smacked their arm in response.

But they were right. Your dry spell had finally come to an end.

The week flies by, much to your surprise, and before you know it, you’re trying to decide what to pack. You decide on mostly comfy clothes and some decent stuff in case Javi wants to take you out. After including some toiletries, you climb into bed and get some rest for your drive tomorrow.

You nearly oversleep by accident, your warning alarm going off and letting you know you had just 15 minutes before you needed to leave. You scramble out of bed and hurry to the bathroom to wash up and wake up before getting hurriedly dressed. Deciding on doing your makeup while waiting at the airport, you pack that up and ensure you have everything before dashing out of your front door. Taking some deep breaths once in the car, you blast your music and start traveling. After grabbing some coffee, of course. Traffic is thankfully not too shabby on your way to the airport, and since it’s not the holidays, you find parking quite easily. Immediately upon finishing your journey through TSA, you go to a secluded family restroom to make yourself presentable. Some mascara here and blush there with a dash of concealer, and you’re looking a little more lively than before. You find the gate where Javi will leave his plane and take a seat, deciding to doom scroll on the social media of your choice.

It’s finally around the time for Javi to arrive, and sure enough, a text pops up saying he’s landed. You sit up in your seat and try to remain calm. Last time, meeting Javi was pretty scary, but this time, you’re more excited than anything. Not only because you know him and are comfortable around him but because you get to experience him as your lover. When people begin filing out of the gate, you anxiously await Javi. You spot his head of curls right away, a giant grin spreading across your face. Javi sees you, and his expression mirrors yours. He beckons you to come to him. You all but run and immediately jump into his open arms, wrapping yourself around him. Burying your face into his neck, you realize that you’ll be coming out of the gates from now on when you visit Javi in Oklahoma.

You pull away from each other and move out of the crowd and back to where you were sitting. Javi cradles your face in his hands, staring deeply into your eyes. Back on New Year’s Eve, you had wanted Javi to kiss you so badly, but not as badly as you’ve been wanting it here lately. Not as badly as you want it right now. Javi leans in and closes the space between the two of you, bringing his lips to yours in a soft, brief kiss. You smile as you pull away, Javi’s hands still on your face.

“There’s more where that came from, I promise,” Javi winks, “Let’s get to baggage claim and get the hell out of here.”

“Say less.”

Javi had a lot of luggage with him this time- as much as he could bring with him, anyway. The rest of his belongings would be shipped to where his aunt and uncle reside. After loading up the luggage cart, the two of you exit the airport and head to the parking garage, an airport employee following close behind. Once your car has everything in it, the employee wishes you a good day and heads off with the cart. You and Javi climb into your car and head in the direction of the hotel, Javi telling you where to turn every now and then. You let him pick the music despite the short duration, but he appreciates it anyway. Once you arrive at the hotel, you grab your bag and Javi grabs his that had everything he needed right away. Everything else is packed away. You’re suddenly super nervous as Javi works on checking in. You try to brush it off quickly as the two of you head to the elevator. Javi reaches over and grabs your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. Your nervousness seems to melt away at the gesture.

Javi lets you know he’s taking a shower the second you step inside the room.

“I will be searching for something to watch while you do that,” you say, “I’ll probably hop in after you.”

“Why not save some water and shower with me?” Javi wiggles his eyebrows at you.

You roll your eyes, finding the closest pillow and throwing it squarely into his face, “Easy there, tiger.”

“I’m just playing,” Javi chuckles, tossing the pillow back at you, “We can have fun later.”

The nervousness creeps back in, but you push it aside and go through the action movie category as you hear the shower turn on. Settling on a movie you’ve seen several times, you get comfy on the bed. You update your best friend, telling them that if you don’t respond for a while, you’re busy with your boyfriend.

“Have fun in Pound Town, bestie! (;” they text, and you snort.

“I will savor every minute of it!” you respond.

“Use protection!!!!! I don’t want any nieces or nephews yet.”

You toss your phone to the side and decide to go ahead and get your comfy clothes ready, along with your toiletries and the cute underwear you picked out. An idea pops into your head as you pick out one of your shirts. You decide to sneak one of Javi’s out of his bag to wear instead, choosing a rather large one. Moments later, the shower turns off, and the bathroom door opens, revealing Javi with nothing but a towel on.

“It’s all yours, baby,” he smiles at you, and you go to walk past him into the bathroom, but he stops you by grabbing your hips.

Javi leans down to give you a more passionate kiss than the one at the airport. The smell of his soap entices you, almost dizzying you to the point that you can’t pull away. Eventually, you have to in order to catch your breath and take your turn to rinse off. You close the door behind you and collect yourself for a moment before turning the shower on. You avoid washing your hair or getting your face wet, as you showered last night and also didn’t want to ruin your makeup. So, you just quickly wash your body, hop out of the shower stall, and moisturize before getting dressed. You stare at yourself in the slightly foggy mirror, trying to see how you look in the lingerie you got. You try not to psych yourself out and decide you’ve spent enough time in the bathroom, pulling on your shorts and Javi’s t-shirt.

Exiting the ensuite, you spot Javi on the bed where you were earlier, watching the movie you had turned on. Javi does a double take when you walk toward the bed, a face-splitting grin on his face when he realizes you’re wearing one of his shirts.

“Nice shirt,” he smirks.

“Thanks. It’s my boyfriend’s,” you climb onto the bed and kiss Javi’s cheek before settling next to him.

“Well, he’s a very lucky guy,” Javi jokes, repositioning himself to lay his head in your lap.

“Indeed he is,” you say, your hand wandering into Javi’s hair.

Javi moves his face slightly, pressing a kiss to your thigh, “Can he show you how lucky he is?”

“That depends,” you say, tapping your chin with your finger, “How would he show me?”

“By doing this,” Javi kisses your skin again before spreading both of your legs apart, laying in between them and kissing along your inner thighs.

“And this,” he pushes himself up by his arms on either side of you, angling his head toward yours and leaning in for a kiss.

The kiss isn’t short or teasing this time- it’s hot and passionate. You allow Javi to dominate your mouth with his tongue, letting him explore as he lays you back against the pillows behind you. His hands slide under the shirt you’re wearing, running themselves against your warm skin before moving upward. Much to Javi’s delight, there’s a thin lace covering your breasts so that he can provoke the peaks on them with just a light rubbing of his thumbs. You groan into the kiss as Javi teases your nipples through the bralette repeatedly, his body pressed to yours. Javi pulls away from the kiss to move his head underneath the shirt and unclasp the bra from behind, allowing it to move off your breasts. He pushes it to your collarbone so he has full access to you. Javi tests the waters by kitten licking one of your nipples, to which you arch your back. He places a hand on the curve of your back to hold you steady as he toys with the other peak lightly between the fingers of his free hand. Simultaneously, he stimulates your nipples with a feather-light touch and a nip here and there, causing you to throb helplessly between your legs.

Javi gradually gets rougher the louder you become and the squirmier you get. He’ll sometimes twist your nipple before soothing it with his tongue or roll it between his teeth to make you jerk your hips into his ribs. Just when you think you’re going to lose your mind from the pleasure of Javi playing with you, he pulls out of the shirt.

“And don’t forget that he’d show you how lucky is by doing this, too,” Javi slips his fingers underneath the waistband of your shorts, “Only if you want him to, though.”

“Please,” you whimper, “I want you to touch me, Javi. I’ve been wanting it for so long.”

“I’ll take care of you, baby girl. Don’t worry about it,” Javi pecks you on the lips as he slides down your shorts, revealing the dampened underwear in his favorite color.

“Like it?” you smirk.

“I love it,” Javi moves his thumb over the wet patch, making you hiss.

He slowly pulls the garment down your legs and off completely before spreading your legs apart, relishing in how wet you’ve become from his touch. Javi pushes the side of your knee into the bed as he moves the other one to your chest, opening you up fully to him. He wastes no time gathering your slick with his tongue and circling your clit with it, causing you to gasp. Javi has to bare down on your knees to keep you still as he suckles the bundle of nerves. He lets go of one to spread you open further with his fingers, exposing your clit fully to him. Javi flattens his tongue and shakes his head from side to side before flicking the bud around with the tip of his tongue again. He delves it inside of your weeping cunt, testing to see how wet you are before pushing a finger inside. Feeling how drenched you are and how easily you’re taking just one, he adds another, curling them against your walls. You’re probably being a little too loud with how good you feel, but you don’t care and neither does Javi. The combination of his mouth and fingers is doing wonders for you right now.

“Do you want me inside you?” Javi pauses momentarily, making sure to ask before going all in.

“Yes,” you say, “Don’t make me beg, please. Not this time, anyway.”

Javi chuckles, removing his fingers from you and sitting up on his knees, keeping you in the same position, “Noted.”

After removing his clothing, Javi wastes no time pumping himself a few times before lining up with your entrance. You hope all of him will fit, judging by his size. As he slowly presses inside, you bite your lip and take it. It’s definitely been a while for you, but you take it in stride. Before you know it, Javi is fully sheathed inside you, your cunt sucking him in already. He pulls out before guiding himself back in, the feeling causing your eyes to roll back into your head and your lips to form an ‘o’ shape. Javi curses as he repeats the action, this time a little quicker and harder. He forms a rhythm in no time, pounding you into the bed steadily. He reaches down and rubs your clit in soft, teasing circles as he fucks you. You cry out his name, grasping onto his biceps desperately.

“You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted this,” you manage to say despite your gasps for air, “I’ve thought about it a little too much.”

“Don’t think I haven’t imagined this every time I had a moment alone on base,” Javi says.

“Is it everything you hoped for?” you ask.

“Much better than I had hoped, actually,” he smiles.

Your leg is hitched atop Javi’s shoulder now, allowing him a better angle. You’re nearly in tears from how good it all feels, the flames of pleasure licking at your belly dangerously. You can feel the knot in your stomach getting close to coming undone.

“I’m gonna cum,” you warn, and Javi pinches your clit slightly before he snaps his hips forward harshly, urging you closer to your orgasm.

“Me too, baby,” he says, not letting up on his pace one bit.

As Javi rubs your clit again, your cunt clenched around him as you cum, your body on fire. He follows close behind, collapsing into you as you both ride out your climaxes. Javi carefully pulls out of you before rolling over next to you and pulling you into his chest. He plays with your hair as the two of you catch your breath. You’re a little disheveled- your bra is still hiked up your chest, and you’re still sporting Javi’s shirt. You decide to sit up and take off both, but Javi stops you.

“Keep the shirt on. It looks good on you,” he looks at you fondly.

You spend the rest of the day watching movies and ordering takeout, enjoying each other’s company. The next few days are like a dream, spending time with Javi and going out and doing things. The two of you decide to remain long distance and see where things go. If the relationship grows stronger, you’re going to think about possibly moving to Oklahoma once you’re done with university. It depends on what happens between you and Javi for the next few months.

Either way, you’re beyond happy right now. All thanks to writing a random pen pal in the military, you’ve possibly found who you’re spending your life with. It can’t get much better than that.

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soapcloth · 10 days ago

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Ode - Vignette one (Prologue)

Grief Counselling au -> Ghost x reader

CW: Mentions of grief and loss | mini series - unedited - 800 words dividers -> @/cafekitsune

something small and cathartic to chip away at :)

When you peek your head through the door of the community room, you already decide you shouldn’t be here.

Everyone looks at you; notably, the woman standing in front of everyone with bleary eyes clutching a piece of cloth. You really shouldn’t be here.

“Sorry.” you whisper. “Is this the…” your eyes dart around, voice getting quieter. “-grief counseling room?”

A man with a sympathetic look and a combover nods, wiping at a stray tear. “Sit anywhere.” he urges, prompting you to scurry over to a free seat. You get a quaint greeting nod from a girl beside you who can’t be any older than seventeen. You nod back, averting eye contact.

“Jenette- As you were saying?” the man speaks up, prompting the woman standing to tremble a bit, take a deep breath, and continue- fingers flexing around the small blanket in her hands.

Your eyes start to glaze over, perhaps a protective measure courtesy of your psyche as you zone out. You focus on anything but the shake in the woman’s voice; the way your pants have ridden up on your waist in the uncomfortable chair, the feeling of your socks, the sound of a woman crying. You swallow the lump in your throat and exhale, only pulled out of your fog when a loud, thundering noise cuts through it. Blinking, you realize everyone in the room is clapping softly.

“That was absolutely beautiful Jenette, thank you for sharing.” The man guiding the counseling coos, standing up and patting her on the shoulder as they pass. Your skin crawls, you know the exact way a kind hand feels on your shoulder- the act of comfort now making you a little sick with how many times you've been on the receiving end of it.

Once at the lip of the circle of chairs, his eyes sweep over the attendees, landing on you. “Anyone else feel like sharing before we break off for partnered activities?”

You shake your head silently and he purses his lips. “No one?” he pauses. “That’s okay, everything with time." His hands clasp together. “Okay. You all know each other, I’ll let you split into groups.”

You flounder for a moment as his words sink in, eyes darting around. You certainly don’t know anyone here. When you look to the girl beside you, she gives you a sheepish look and it’s then you realize she's already paired up with a kind looking older woman. You nod apologetically. As you begin to internally panic, you’re slowly approached by the man with the combover, and now that he's close enough, you can see his name tag reads ‘Christopher’

“You can pair with…” he hums for a moment before his eyes light up. “Simon,” he calls out. “You still haven't paired up.” Though phrased as a question, you can tell it's a statement.

Your eyes draw upwards and through the other attendees, landing on a massive, looming thing with a hollow gaze. He pushes off the wall beside the refreshments table, but doesn’t move closer.

“You pair up with Simon over there.” Christopher directs, passing you a paper.

You take the sheet and tentatively pad over to him. He’s somehow even bigger up close.

Your greeting gets caught in your throat, but you can't help wondering if he’d even acknowledge if you did manage to get one out. He sips from his paper cup, steam trailing from it as the little stringed paper flutters across his prominent knuckles in turn.

“D-drinks?” you finally spit out, earning a thumb jammed in the direction of the table directly to his right. “oh.” you sigh. “yeah- yeah, of course. Thanks.”

He grunts in response, taking another sip.

You feel his eyes on you as you fix yourself a coffee and squirm internally.

“Everyone settled?” Christopher asks, causing Simon to direct his attention away. “I’ve given each pair of you a list of common misconceptions when it comes to grief, look it over with your partner and discuss- is there anything that stands out? Surprises you?”

The room fills with a soft hum as you look at the sheet, eyes falling on one in particular.

‘Myth: Grief will always resolve after a set amount of time’

Simon glances over and you look up, eyes trembling. “H-here.” you say, passing him the sheet.

You resign yourself to small sips of burnt coffee as you wait for the activity to be over.

Then, you find yourself coming back every week. You and Simon, though you can count the conversations you've had on one hand- have formed an alliance in your head, crowding the seats nearest to the refreshments table. You know it's more likely that he’s commonly sitting alone through these group sessions, but you like the thought that he saves it for you. Maybe he does, who knows.

You pass quiet conversations through glances, and quickly catch on to the fact that he’s incredibly well-versed in picking up on small queues; the way he steps back to make room, makes himself just a bit smaller around the grieving women of the group. He often looks dismissive, but something tells you he’s always got one notched ear perked and listening. You know this is something he must have honed, but wonder if he was always so quiet in return.

#cloth writes #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #ghost

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arcielee · 1 year ago

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Only if for a night.

Summary: You find comfort in your husband's brother. Paring: Aegon Targaryen x Female!Reader Word Count: 3750 Warnings: Just some smut. Smidgen of Targcest in the beginning, voyeurism, marital cheating, oral (f receiving, m implied), fingering, p in v, breeding kink if you squint. Author's Note: This was a request from my darling anon! This idea literally had me obsessed until I completed it, so please don't think this is the bar for my response time. 😂 Also, a big thank you to my kindred spirits who answered my v. important questions about Aegon's booty! (You know who you are and Ily 💜) Banners & dividers by @cafekitsune Update: This story has a pick your own ending. And you told me I should concentrate. [Aegon x you] But you came over me like some holy rite. [Aemond x you] Tags (Tumblr kindred spirits): @aaaaaamond @annikin-im-panicin @watercolorskyy @schniiipsel @aemondx @fan-goddess @babygirlyofthevale @httpsdoll @theromanticegoist @assortedseaglass @amiraisgoingthruit @theoneeyedprince @babyblue711 @itbmojojoejo @lovelykhaleesiii @darylandbethfanforever9

You felt numb from the sight: seeing your husband on his knees and feasting between the plush thighs of the queen.

It formed a knot that choked you, but it did not stem from a lover’s jealousy–as you knew that you did not love Aemond and he, certainly, did not love you. You always knew your marriage was one of honor and duty, to solidify victory, a peace offering postwar.

You came from a house that was reputable and wealthy, bringing a sizable force to ensure that King Aegon II would remain on the Iron Throne. Your father boasted of marrying his only daughter into the Targaryen dynasty and you felt fortunate to be given a handsome husband, despite his scarred socket.

Prince Aemond already had a fierce reputation that preceded before you met; your ladies-in-waiting tittered over his disfigurement, his sense of bloodlust, and their hushed whispers of kinslayer that haunted him still despite that the kingly decree his actions were that of a true dragon. He was a renowned veteran of the war that was won, that instilled his brother as king without question, and in return he remained prominent on the council, serving still as the Protector of the Realm.

You were shy, intimidated even, when you first saw the severity that lined his features, the unabashed gaze with his sapphire stone that replaced the eye lost, but you decided he was handsome in a way that was uniquely his own. You also found Aemond was respectful and kind, that he was intelligent, he was considerate, and you sighed your relief, knowing all too often how ladies would be knitted to cruel lords.

For your bedding ceremony, the only glimpse of the dragon that thrummed beneath was how Aemond barked to dismiss the maesters, the Lord Hand, allowing you both privacy to complete the act. He seemed well aware of the discomfort a maiden could feel and treated you with the utmost courtesy, mindful of your sighs, your soft sounds to completion.

He was dutiful and he was diligent. It was not love at first sight, not like the stories told; there was no fluttering of butterfly wings throughout nor did your heart skip a beat at the sight of him, but you enjoyed his company, his consistency, and his consideration.

In all, it was a formidable match and you were certain the marriage would be a success.

Especially once you produced a silver haired royal babe.

Which is why you were freshly bathed and dressed in silk, just the quiet echoes of your slippered footfalls against the cobblestone that led towards your lord husband’s quarters. You thought yourself fortunate no white cloak was perched outside his door, and you pressed close to listen before you carefully turned the gilded handle of the door.

The room was cast in the amber glow from the hearth and tapers lit, and it was the lewd sounds that first caught your attention. You were rooted in the doorcase, your eyelashes fluttered at the view in front of you.

Aemond was bare from the waist up, the peaks of the silver scars peering through his silver hair, and he was kneeled before the velvet settee at the end of his bed. You watched the muscled definition of his backside, the golden glow of the fireplace highlighting his bareness, as well as the elegant arc of a calf that was draped casually over his shoulder.

Your eyes followed the milky curve of this limb to look over his shoulder and see the flushed features of Helaena. She was seated on the settee, her laces loosened which allowed the natural spill of her chest, with the peak of her areolas and the rose hues that stained the skin showing. Her skirts were rutted around her hips, the fabric spilling around, and her eyelashes fluttered with a silver glimmer, her head rolling back with a wave of her silver tresses. A smile curled on her kiss-swollen lips and there was a shudder of her pleasure that rippled viscerally over, her fingers curling against his scalp with the breathless whisper.

“Aemond.”

The humiliation was hot in your veins and burned your cheeks; you willed yourself to move, but your eyes were rapt to attention, watching the frantic rise and fall of Helaena’s chest, her nipples pebbled, and the spilled moans from her mouth.

"Aemond, Aemond, Aemond…"

You left as quietly as you entered; your steps were soft, quick to take you back, with one hand lifting the silk of your chemise and the other wiping the tears that began to spill.

We were not in love, you remind yourself, but it still pinched a nerve within your chest. He was still your husband and you were duty bound to bore him a child, a son if the Lord Hand could choose. The act itself was not unpleasant, but Aemond had never…

Your thoughts were interrupted with a singsong call of your name; you were quick to wipe your face before turning to see the king.

“Your grace,” you offered him a feeble curtsy and even weaker smile.

Aegon moved with a grace, a sway to his steps; his brow furrowed above his wide, lilac eyes, and there was a genuineness to his question. “Sweet sister, it is late, what has you out of bed?”

Before you had been sent to King’s Landing, your mother warned you of his behaviors; you were also told the tale of how the newly anointed Lord Commander and your lord husband had to drag Aegon from the streets of Flea Bottom and place him on the Iron Throne.

But this notoriety of his youth seemed to dissipate with the placement of the Conqueror’s crown he now wore proudly on his silver waves. It seemed to kindle the royal ichor in his veins, and he moved with an elegance as he pressed closer, peering at you with his continued concern.

“I… I was feeling unwell and thought that I would go for a walk,” you chose your words carefully, trying to mask the threat of emotion that brimmed beneath.

His brow quirked. “Alone?”

You swallowed. In this moment, you wished to slip away, to return to your rooms and drown in your sorrow, your failures as a wife in light of learning your new husband’s infidelities, your self-loathing for craving the passion Aemond displayed, wishing it to be shown towards you instead…

The silence hung thick, too long for his liking, and Aegon reached to take your hand, placing it into the crook of his arm. “It is late,” he repeated. “If you are unwell, allow me to escort you back to your quarters.”

You fell in step, peering at him. Aegon was handsome, as your supposed all Targaryen men seemed to be; your eyes admired his silver tresses that curled at his shoulders, that showed golden with the lights that lined the corridor, casting a gold ring that reflected in the lilac of his eyes that flitted over you; his lips were rosy, an upwards curl when he noticed your stare. “You seem so solemn tonight,” he tried again.

The proximity allowed you to smell the long day on him, mixing with the scents of lavender and tea tree oils, a regal musk that called to you to nestle your head against his chest and cry. “It is only that I am feeling unwell,” is what you said instead.

His eyes were wide and watchful, but he did not argue and instead allowed the silence to envelope as he walked with you. Before you could wish him goodnight, he pushed into your room, ordering your handmaidens to fetch something to eat, as well as red wine to help settle your stomach.

They jumped with his command, quick to listen, and soon enough you were sitting on the terrace that overlooked the coast of Blackwater Bay, holding a goblet that brimmed with a Dornish wine that stained your lips with each polite sip. Aegon sat across from you, a boyish grin as he dismissed your handmaidens for the night, before reaching to break the bread for you both.

The silence followed from the corridor, settling over in a way that was not at all uncomfortable; you peered again at Aegon, a choked cry in your throat as you watched him take care to slice the cheeses and the olives for the bread, before offering it to you.

It was a simple, sweet gesture and you chewed, forcing down the bite with the wine. Whereas conversation had to be dragged from your husband, you found his brother’s tongue would not idle; perhaps it loosened from the wine, but it was not a mindless filler in a way that words are used as though silence were a threat, but you found Aegon to be cheerful, witty, as he shared stories from his youth.

Aegon glowned from his narration, from the silver light that poured over; the night sky was empty with the clouds rolling over the black water, the air cool and salty. Your cheeks were rosy from your drink and your laughter, and when your cup emptied, he was quick to refill it.

He pressed for your turn and you shared about your life before coming to King’s Landing. Aegon was an attentive listener, with sighs punctuating; you looked to see that his cheeks were pink from the wine and the wind, a curl returning to his lips. “My brother is fortunate to have such a pretty and witty wife.”

Those words were the unknown catalyst broken; you did not sob your sorrow but instead there were large tears that rolled down your cheeks. You did not realize you were shaking until you felt his fingers, his touch warm, soft, wrapping gently around your wrist. You allowed him to pull you from your seat, towards him–now standing–and enveloping you into his arms for a moment before he sat back down, pulling you onto his lap.

Your mannerly upbringing roared in your ears, this was wrong, this was improper, to be pulled into an unchaperoned embrace of your husband’s brother–the fucking king of the Seven Realms. But instead you curled against his chest, that regal musk soothing, his warmth pleasant against the nip of the air. You indulged in his comfort–his palm rubbing slow circles along your spine, his other arm across your lap, his hand gripping into your thigh.

His touch grounded you, allowing you to compose yourself and share with him what you had found in Aemond’s quarters, making sure to elicit a detail that Aegon freely supplied.

“He was with Helaena, right?”

You looked at him. “You knew?” Your voice cracked, incredulous.

Aegon only hummed, continuing his soothing ministrations, his hand rubbing your backside. “I thought you did as well,” he admitted. “Our status within the Seven Realms… requires certain duties to be fulfilled. We are honorbound to these obligations, to ensure peace amongst the kingdoms. But it is just a role to be played for the public.”

You knew this in part already; you were always aware of the duty of your marriage, the child that you were expected to bring into the world. But still, the truth spoken brought a new wave of tears that he consoled. Your body burned with his touch, his finger curling and his thumb pressing into your chin to bring your watery eyes to his own. “Is it that you love him?” He asked with a curiosity that could not be helped, in light of your reaction.

You did not, and would never, certainly not after this night. The tears that spilled came from something deeper, something that licked your belly when your eyes lingered in Aemond’s room, and your voice quavered, hiccupping to explain this.

Aegon had an almost kingly glow in the moonlight, with its silver light reflecting in the stubble that spread across his square jaw, framing the mischievous grin that curled on his wine stained lips. “Is your husband,” he speaks of him like he is apart from Aemond, not knitted within the same womb, with the same dragon’s blood thrumming in his veins, “not fulfilling his marital duties?”

You stammered with your response. This was not what you meant, as Aemond was courteous to his completion, but it was never like what you spied tonight. You flushed remembering the shades of pink that plumed against Helaena’s porcelain skin, how her back arched with her cries, his name a fervent prayer spilling from kiss-swollen lips…

"Aemond, Aemond, Aemond…"

Aegon’s timbre brings you back out to the terrace, with his continued soft circles on the outside of your thigh. “You would know if he had,” he spoke so casually, almost flippant with the subject.

How would you know? And you regret your question, your naivety apparent with your words.

The same mischievous smirk returned to his lips, and as the moonglow spilled over him something glimmered, something knowing from how his brow quirked with your question. Aegon tilted his head up slightly, his lips now close to the soft divot beneath your ear, grazing your skin with his whisper, “I could show you.”

Your lips part in shock, your eyes wide to look him over and see the flush of color that stained his cheeks, the wine that stained his lips.

And you dared to kiss him.

Your lips are shy to touch, almost chaste with your action, but Aegon responds, quick, his fingers curling at the base of your neck and his other coming around your waist. His lips are full, soft, warm with the hint of the sweet wine to taste when his tongue runs your bottom lip, eliciting a moan from you. He deepened the kiss, his tongue clever, careful, as he drew the very breath from your lungs.

The spill of silk showed your shoulder and you gasped softly when he broke away, his mouth ravenous to capture the skin now exposed, with a wake of love bites from his open mouth kisses, and a warmth began to bloom within you. You touched his chest with a gentle push to stand and he lets go, his lilac eyes wide and wanting; your hands trembled slightly as you reached to pull him to stand, boldly leading him within your chambers.

Aegon stopped you in the archway, and you turned to see the smile on his lips as he pressed against you, his thigh spreading your legs and his hands trailing your curves, settling and gripping onto your hip bones. His mouth captured yours once again, and your arms wrapped around his neck to bring him closer.

You almost whined when he stopped the kiss, his eyes glassy and their color swallowed by pools of black. “My brother is an idiot,” is all he said.

Before you could breathe a response, he pulled you into the room and back against his mouth, moving with the flutter of kisses along your jawline, nipping into the curve of your neck. His palms are still on the small of your waist, with guiding steps back towards the bed.

Clothes are removed with a passion, leaving a trail behind. “Lay back,” he coaxed, his hands warm against your bareness, careful to press until you laid against the mattress. Aegon followed after, climbing on top of you to meet with another kiss, with his sweet murmur, “Let me show you.”

It is a tickling sensation, the mixture of his stubble with the softness of his lips against the curve of your neck, trailing to your chest. Gooseflesh rippled over, your nipples peaking from the warmth of his touch; his palm cups one breast while his hot mouth latches to the other, teeth and tongue teasing.

You squirmed beneath him; his chuckle was low and warm against the valley between your breasts, from shifting his focus from one to the other. “So impatient,” and his hot kiss sends shivers down your spine, with an intensity that you know will mark you.

You shivered again with that thought.

This reaction encouraged a tensity shown to your nipples, his tongue swirled and another crest of pleasure rippled over, your hand moving to cover your mouth to muffle. Again, his fingers curled around your wrist, pulling your arm down to your side and pushing up to find your lips. “None of the that,” and his lips curled into an almost wicked smile, “your king wishes to hear you.”

Satisfied with the crimson that flooded your cheeks, Aegon moved towards your core with sporadic kisses trailing, a warm tickle of his exhale as he nestled between your thighs.

Your heart fluttered with the intimate kiss he placed, something that sparked a warmth that began to spread out towards the apex of your thighs and beyond. Your hips buck slightly from the sensation and you can feel him grin against your cunt.

“So eager,” he breathed, a warm thrill against your slick slit, his tongue flitting with a precision that had you panting. “Yes, just like that,” he praised, his fingers now pressing within your velvet walls and stretching as one curled within, then another.

His mouth, his touch was practiced, pulling something to blossom within the pit of your stomach, a fluttering sensation that built with the tandem of his fingers and his tongue.

You gasped, peering to see the top of his head, the spill of his silver waves as he moved, ravenous, determined. You writhed, a pitiful mewling sound, and his one hand moved to curl underneath your thigh, holding you in place with his continued sinful motion, your arousal spilling onto the bedsheets.

It was too much, and you whimpered, “A-Aegon,” as your hands balled to grip the linen.

“Just like that,” he purred against, his rhythm building still, a pressure threatening to burst within you. “Come for me, sweet girl.”

It engulfs you as though you had been dropped into Blackwater Bay, a rush that spilled with the come hither curl of his fingers, pressing his lips against the sensitive bundle of nerves above. You see the stars when your eyes flutter closed, the spill of tears that pearled in the corners of your eyes, your chest heaving to catch your breath and your thighs trembling.

His praise was low, husky. “You are so beautiful like this.”

You slowly propped yourself onto your elbows, flushed, and reached towards him, but he stopped your hand. “Next time,” Aegon promised with a cheeky grin.

You are flushed from his actions, from his words, your heart rate picking up again as Aegon climbed on top of you, nestling into the cradle of your hips. His expression was smug, his lips and chin slick, and you kissed him, hungry for him, curious of your own taste; you enjoyed the salty sweetness from the Dornish wine that mixed. His hand dipped between, lining himself with your entrance, and you sighed into his mouth.

Aegon has girth, a thickness to him that stretches your walls. You gasp, then another whine that spilled as he pushed to sheath fully within you; Aegon swallowed your cries with his kisses, his hips still to allow you to adjust to his size, checking before he began his slow rut against your hips.

You pant against his chest, your fingers digging into the twin divots on his lower back as he filled you with each thrust, a bruising pace that began to spark in front of your eyes. You cling to him with a desperation, still sensitive from your first release and flustered from the touch of his bare skin against your own.

There is the sudden emptiness when he pulled away, positioning himself on his knees, his palms wrapping around your ankles and pulling to place your feet against his chest; your hips cant up, allowing him to be swallowed by your warmth again, a guttural groan that reverberates through when you clenched.

This new angle sparked another cry, lights dancing across your eyes with his pace; he was grinning down at you, pausing to turn his head with a quick kiss to the arc of your foot, and you giggled.

His large hands moved to press onto the mattress, caging you, and he rolled his hips against your own; the wet squelch with your soft cry as he bruised within. You mewled his name when his pace quickened, pistoning his hips against.

There was the returned flutter of pleasure and Aegon lifted one hand. “Open,” and you obey, your tongue touching the pad of his thumb, swirling to coat it with your saliva. When he pulled back, a bit of spittle broke off onto your chin, and his hand dipped to press against the bloom above, his touch soft, searching.

Yours cries are unbridled at the touch of your pearl, and his satisfaction was apparent on his flushed features, his hips finding a new pace with his new ministrations. Your muscles tightened in response, your back arching against, and it comes, a tidal wave, an intensity that shudders throughout, rattling your bones beneath.

Aegon continued through your peak, his thrusts growing sloppy to chase after his own release before melting against you, with a low groan into the junction of your neck that rumbled pleasantly through you.

You both lay there in an intimate tangle of bare limbs until your breathing evened. Aegon rolled onto his side and reached to touch your hip, his lilac eyes roaming over you, admiring you. “Beautiful,” he declared, then leaned closer for a gentle kiss.

You giggled again, pulling away to clean up. Aegon allowed it, but was adamant that you remained bare, pulling you back to bed after and curling up against, his face nuzzling into your neck; your skin rose in response.

“For duty, for honor,” he murmured, moving to pull you until your head rested on his chest; his soothing scent and musk of sex now clung to the linen. “A silver haired child all the same,” and he kissed your hairline with his confession. “The twins, Maegor, I am not even certain they are mine or not, but I love them nonetheless.”

“The blood of the dragon,” you whispered, tilting your head back and allowing him to kiss you once again.

You felt a new satisfaction, a new understanding of your role within the Targaryen dynasty. The thought warmed you, I love them nonetheless, as you nestled against his chest, allowing the rise and fall to lull you to sleep.

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#hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii x you #aegon x you #aegon x reader #this was also inspired by the tag #aemond aemond aemond #only if for a night #update 9/27

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gojoest · 4 months ago

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BURDEN and REVERENCE — gojo satoru

MDNI, pregnancy freak!satoru, f!reader, established relationship (married + reader is expecting), pregnancy, lots of pet names (love, pretty one, baby, sweetness, my beautiful wife), fingering, humping, cumming in pants (<- hinted), wc: 1.5k, not proofread, dividers by @/cafekitsune

what your fingers can’t, your husband’s will ;)

“Stupid Satoru”, with a shaky breath you mumble under your nose. “It’s all because of you—", you whine to yourself.

Grabbing onto the sink in the bathroom with one hand to support yourself, you desperately try to make the other one work its way (and magic) between your legs, albeit ineffectively.

You can’t properly reach down and take care of yourself now — courtesy of the swollen belly that your very husband brought upon you. No matter how much you bend and shift, your baby bump is still in the way. Your fingers alone prove unable to make it to the spots in you that are itching to be touched right now.

“Stupid, idiot, bastard— “

“I love you too”, a familiar voice reaches your ears — the words are spoken with a smile that’s imbued itself in the timbre of it. “You look beautiful”

A sigh breaks past your lips. “In distress? — Sure”

Your husband — and the father of your unborn child, Gojo Satoru — stands tall at the bathroom entrance, looking at you with lovesick eyes, admiring your naked body with reverence. “I’m sorry”, he breathes.

It is not an apology for being late though.

Times like this one are the raw example of the changes he had forced on your body.

There are certain things you can no longer do by yourself now that your belly’s grown quite a bit, or you can — but at the cost of great discomfort, you must admit. Tying your shoelaces, reaching certain parts of your body when you shower that require you to bend down, or when you try to get off on your own — all those innocuous activities have suddenly become quite the challenge now with his baby growing inside you.

At times like this, you need him — and he is more than happy to help and serve you.

Truth be told, he bears a little bit of guilt for burdening you like this, but it is a guilt that he likes to let plague his conscience…

…because he’s completely enamored with this state of you — pregnant, swollen with his seed that is blooming in your womb like a flower, the you that is reliant on him to wash your feet, to rub your ankles, to paint your toenails, to fuck your depths your fingers can’t reach — now those are the parts of your body only he has access to; not even you.

You need him, and he loves that.

Slowly rolling his sleeves up, he inches closer to you. “Let me take care of you, my love”

To him, you look so beautiful in your naked glory on display. Leaned against the sink with a hand between your thighs, your swollen breasts like two open hands awaiting to be grasped by him, your round belly sticking out towards him — the view alone makes his cock stiffen in a heartbeat. Fuck, he mouths the word. The pressure in his groin is festering, really fast.

You free your hand now, knowing that he’s here to take charge of things, and once before you he takes a hold of it and brings it to his lips. Starting from the knuckles he paints your fingers with tender kisses, licking the remnants of your slick on them. “You should’ve waited for me”, he hums into your hand. “You know I love joining you — don’t keep this from me”, he pouts a little.

“I know, but…”, you knit your brows. “I don’t want to be a burden to you like this, all the time”

Maybe, you’re just having another hormonal episode. Maybe it’s just that, you think, because Satoru’s never given you a reason to feel like you are weighing on him.

Eyes squinting, Satoru tilts his head in confusion. His hips push forward, causing the erection under his slacks to rub against your belly — on purpose, to prove a point. “Do I look burdened to you, pretty one?”

You chuckle. A-ha— point proven, you see. “That looks like a huge burden if you ask me” — your remark drags a short laugh out of him.

“Mind if I share some of it with you then?”, he grins smugly.

“You say some of it, but you really give all of it to me”

“It’s ‘cause you take it so well, baby”

You slap his chest — Ah, what a dickhead — and smile at him.

His lips charge towards you and peck you softly on the forehead. “You are never a burden to me”, he whispers against you before he slowly starts to drag his body down — on his knees, in front of you. Kissing every inch of you along the way — the tip of your nose, your lips, your chin, the length of your neck, your breasts, your beautiful belly... “Sometimes I fear that I am the one burdening you — with my freakish desire of you, all the time”

“So you admit to being a freak”, you ruffle his hair softly as his cheek remains pressed against your baby bump. “You flatter me too much”

“No — I revere you”, he gazes up at you, his lips longingly kissing the skin on your belly as he takes both of your hands into his and places them on his shoulders. “Here — hold on, and relax your thighs”, his hands travel down between the plush of your legs and slide them open like they’re curtains. Your nails dig into his clothed flesh, earning a low hiss from him.

“Stay like this for me, love — stay open for me to reach you” — soft pecks on the flesh that separates his lips from his unborn follow each word that seeps from his mouth, as if to ease you into his finger prodding at your slit along with his thumb rubbing tender circles on your sensitive clit. His other hand rested against the bottom of your belly.

“Satoru”, you moan softly — but demandingly — at his touch. Clenching your cunt to try and suck him in — and you do, although not entirely. You force just about the tip of his finger into you. “I am ready”

…and you’re impatient, he smiles.

His middle finger tardily inches into you, urging his cock to twitch under his pants at your warmth and at the wetness soaking into his skin. Fuck, he curses quietly under his breath — his hips involuntarily buck forward with need, his clothed bulge pressing itself on the lower of your limb; he is humping your leg like a dog.

Fuck, he must be a sorry sight for you right now — he thinks. And here you are, being groundlessly anxious about burdening him… With what exactly? Have you ever seen a dog burdened by its owner? Isn’t it the other way around? — he ponders, while his finger sinks deeper into you.

“More, ‘Toru…”, you whimper. “Want m-more..”

Grunting at the way your muscles contract around his finger, Satoru slides it in further — repeatedly reaching in as far as possible, curling and drawing back. “More what, baby?”, he coos. “More depth—“, he rams his finger in, causing you to jolt and squeeze your hands harder around his shoulders, mouth hung open, voiceless and unable to even gasp. “Or more fingers?” — he pulls away, only to push back two of them in.

You gasp, barely able to draw in a breath of air, thighs squeezing around his hand. His fingers are thick, and they are long. Two of them almost feel like a cock inside you.

“Tell me, love — which one is it?”, innocently he asks, while his fingers maneuver inside you, not so innocently. A self-satisfied look on his face that you want to wipe off with the back of your hand, but all you can muster is a whimper of pleasure washing over you.

“Oh? Is it both, baby?”, he continues coaxing you smugly. “Is this how you were trying to fuck yourself? Is that it, baby? Am I doing it right for you, sweetness?”

“Fuck, S-satoru—“, you cry. Moving your hips in sync with his fingers, your round belly hits his face with each motion, clawing low grunts from his throat and desperate humps around your leg as he slides his throbbing bulge up and down on it. He was soaking his pants by now, but you were his sole focus. He’d clean his mess later, with you in the shower — but still, by grinding on you like a dog he wanted to let you know the effect you were having on him.

“I am, baby — I am fucking you”, he croons like a sweet addition to the squelching noises of your sopping pussy. “Cum on my fingers, my love. My beautiful wife — cum on your husband’s fingers”, his glazed digits pumping harder, hammering into you fast and filling the bathroom with echoes of labored breathing and loud smacks of his hand against your soaked cunt.

“C-cuming” — you manage to utter through rapid breaths, pussy pulsing and your walls grabbing more at his fingers as the wave of pleasure washes over you.

Your hands relax their grip and hug around his neck as you look at him with weary eyes, lips panting heavily still. “What a good girl”, he speaks to you. “Now come—”, his hand retreats from your folds, causing you to slightly flinch as he pulls away from your sore, sensitive cunt, “Let me clean you up, and maybe — burden you a little”

#ઈઉ — ai writes #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo satoru x you #gojo x you #jjk x you #[ ♡ ] — satoru #pregnancy freak!satoru

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kpop-stories-21 · 3 months ago

Text

Day 1: Engineering Fate

Group: ATEEZ

Pairing: Yunho x Reader

Word Count: 3k

Rating: 18-21+

Genres, Tropes, & AUs: Non-Idol AU, Modern Fantasy AU, Magic AU, Spooky Themes, Childhood friends to lovers, Smut, Fluff

Content & Trigger Warnings: Human!Reader, Human!Yunho, spooky content, magic, halloween celebration, haunted house, one short horror scene in the haunted house but it's over pretty quick, unprotected sex(wrap that shit up kids), foreplay, fingering, teasing, size kink, dirty talk, multiple orgasms

Summary: You're not even in town yet and already strange things are happening. Luckily, you encounter a handsome mechanic who is willing to get your car (and maybe your insides) in shape.

General tags: @kpop---scenarios @jeonrose @galaxystardragoness @skittlez-area512 @mybiasisexo @biaswreckingfics @anyamaris @trashlord-007 @liliesofdreamsskz @okiedokrie-main @naturalogre @thelargefrye @yoonguurt @bxffietheblxxdy @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @kwanisms ATEEZ tags: @deltamoon666 @lovelyhange @uraharasfavoriteexperiment

If you want to be added to my taglist, click here

Network pings: @cultofdionysusnet || @sandsofire || @wonderlandnet

MDNI banner, divider, and support banner courtesy of @cafekitsune

Masterlist | Main Masterlist

«-Yesterday | Day 2-»

You'd moved to the city to attend uni, but you made sure to come home every year for the week-long Halloween Festival. By now your professors and friends were used to you disappearing around the spooky season, and there were never any objections to you attending lectures remotely so long as you continued to work on assignments and homework.

For as long as you could remember, Halloween had always been your favourite holiday. So living in a quaint town well-known for being "modernly medieval" and for the Halloween Festival held there every year was like a dream come true. If you didn't have a wish to pursue further education on your path to becoming a lawyer, you might've stayed there your whole life.

This year, however, was off to quite a different start. As you pulled your sputtering blue Mustang convertible onto the gravelly shoulder of the road, you wondered how the hell you would ever make it into town. It was the first day of the Festival and there wasn't much traffic. Most people came early so they could enjoy the entirety of the week without the energy lag from travelling.

As you were pondering your options, the sound of a car engine coming towards you grabbed your attention. Praying the driver would be kind and not an asshole, you stepped out of your car, beginning to wave as soon as the black Camaro came into sight. To your great relief, the driver pulled over when they saw your frantic gestures.

The door opened and a tall raven-haired male unfolded long limbs as he slid out. He was absolutely gorgeous, his smile wide and infectious as he loped over to you with something akin to excitement in his steps. He made you think of a giant puppy as you watched him approach.

"Car trouble?" He asked, voice husky.

You nodded. "I felt a bump like I drove over something about a quarter mile back, but there wasn't an animal or anything in the road so I just assumed I rolled over some object that flew out of another car and went on. Now I'm worried that whatever it was may have hit something underneath."

The man's smile widened. "Well you're in luck! I happen to work part-time as a mechanic and I brought my tools with me, so I'll just pop under there and see if I can figure out what's wrong."

Relief flooded through you and you were finally able to return his smile.

"Name's Jeong Yunho, by the way."

"I'm Kim Y/N. Nice to meet you Yunho. I really appreciate this."

Yunho waved a hand dismissively as he retrieved his tools and lowered himself to the asphalt. "I'm just glad I could help."

As Yunho began to work you leaned against the side of your car, watching him intently.

"So what brings you down this way?" You asked curiously. "Are you here for the Festival?"

"More or less." Yunho replied, grunting. "In addition to being a mechanic, I also work part-time as an engineer. I have a standing job at the Festival every year to make sure the rides stay in top condition all week long. But even if I didn't have this job I'd still come down every year, since this is where I grew up."

Your eyes widened with excitement, finally figuring out why his name had seemed familiar. It had been ages since you last met one of your childhood friends. "You used to live here too?"

Yunho poked his head out the side of your car, recognition flooding his handsome features. "Oh my God, Y/N! I thought your name sounded familiar, but I told myself I was just imagining things." He smiled broadly. "I'd hug you, but I don't think you want grease and oil all over your nice clothes."

You giggled. "I appreciate the consideration."

It didn't take much longer for Yunho to finish by examining your car, the two of you catching up on each other's lives. Once he was out from under your car, you put the key in the ignition and turned it, letting out a joyous cry as the engine roared to life.

Yunho offered to follow you to the Festival in case anything else happened, and you accepted. Upon arriving, the two of you were about to part ways when you invited him to have dinner with you once he was done working for the day. He agreed, and you told him where you'd be staying before waving goodbye.

After Yunho left you checked into your room at the inn and then wandered around, trying out some of the rides and grabbing lunch before approaching the large tower-like building that held the magical haunted house. This was probably your favourite attraction, hands down. It was created with wild Fae magic, offering eight different levels for all who entered. The magic also remembered what levels each person had completed, so you never had to repeat the same experience twice. Really, they were more like horror-themed escape rooms than bonafide haunted house experiences. Taking a deep breath, you pushed the door open and stepped in.

It was pitch dark save for the outside light coming through the open door. In that light you discovered a flashlight, which you happily picked up. As soon as you did so, the door slammed shut behind you. And so it begins, you thought excitedly as you turned the flashlight on and began to examine your surroundings.

You were in some kind of basement, bits of trash all over the dirty floor along with what looked like an old briefcase. Moving forward, you picked up the briefcase and looked it over carefully. You found a numerical padlock keeping it shut and set it back where you found it, making a mental note to keep your eyes peeled for a five digit code.

Further exploration revealed a desk on which were several notes spattered with a dark substance that could have been either blood or something equally unpleasant. You examined them carefully but found no important information, just stuff pertaining to the backstory of the level.

In the back of the room was a wall covered with graffiti. That was odd, since there were no marks anywhere else in the room. Closer examination revealed a blacklight on a stand, and an idea came to mind. Dragging the blacklight around so it was aimed at the wall, you turned it on. Amongst the jumble of paint was the distinct image of five numbers, most likely the code to unlock the briefcase. Repeating the numbers under your breath, you made your way back to the briefcase and put them in. An audible click echoed through the room and you let out a quiet cry of joy.

Inside the briefcase was a large metal key and an odd triangle-shaped artefact made of some smooth material you didn’t recognize. You pocketed both objects and began searching for a door, assuming the key you’d obtained would get you out of this room. As you were walking you suddenly heard a deep, rumbling growl and froze, doing your best to remain motionless in the hope that whatever was in here with you would lose interest and return to wherever it came from.

The tapping of claws against the hard floor reached your ears, coming slowly closer. You regulated your breathing, praying that you were being quiet enough. Heavy, guttural breathing sounded from directly behind you as your heart pounded a staccato beat against your ribcage. Please, just move on. There’s nothing interesting here. Something wet nudged at the back of your knee and you bit your lip to keep from squealing at the disgusting sensation. A massive tongue licked a stripe up your leg and you dug your teeth further into your lips.

A whistle echoed from somewhere above you and the creature turned, bounding toward the sound with thudding steps that shook the ground slightly. When silence reigned once more you exhaled shakily, releasing some of the tension in your body. Locating a fairly clean rag you’d seen earlier, you wiped the creature’s saliva off your leg and resumed your search for the door to the next room. Your leisurely attitude had vanished with the reminder that this was no walk in the park, you needed to get out of here fast before the creature or its master found you.

Determined, you looked around quickly and found the door within minutes. You pulled the key from your pocket and tried it. It slid in and turned without issue, taking a little more of the tension away. You cautiously pushed the door open and stepped into a much brighter room, sunlight streaming through large glass windows. From the opulence of your surroundings you guessed you were in a mansion of some sort, probably a cover for whatever horrors went on in this place. As quietly as possible, you approached the first door you could immediately see and checked if it was locked. It wasn’t, and you tiptoed into the room.

This was a bedroom, possibly the master suite but you couldn’t be sure. On the dresser was a large, golden key with intricate carvings. You quickly pocketed it and resumed looking around.

Aside from the key, the bedroom was pretty empty, so you stepped out and approached the next door. This one was locked, so you tried the gilded key you'd found. The lock clicked and you were in.

You were in what appeared to be an office. A door at the back of the room caught your eyes and you went to open it. Revealed was a set of stairs going down, probably back to the basement. You closed the door back, no way you were going into that hellhole a second time. Searching the rest of the room proved fruitless, and you moved on.

You now stepped into the lobby, the front doors calling you enticingly. Pulling the golden key from your pocket, you eyed it curiously. To hell with it, you decided. Approaching the front doors you inserted the key and turned it. The doors swung open and bright white light filled the area, blinding you.

You stepped back out onto the grounds of the festival, lower lip extended in a slight pout. You'd hoped to see more of the level before leaving, but your curiosity got the better of you as usual.

You'd clearly been in there for a while, the sun was nearing the horizon and many of the attractions were turning their lights on.

"Having fun?" Came a voice from behind you.

Startled, you jumped and whirled around. Yunho stood there, a lopsided grin on his face.

"I didn't scare you, did I?" He teased.

You stuck your tongue out at him, making him chuckle. "I did the first level of the haunted house, so I'm still slightly on edge."

“Understandable. You ready for dinner?”

As if on cue, your stomach growled loudly and both of you laughed.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Yunho said, still chuckling a little.

The two of you began to walk, making your way back to the inn you were staying at. Once in the small restaurant area, you made your orders and chose a place to sit. Once the food arrived you dug in, silence reigning for a bit as both of you enjoyed your meals.

When both plates were empty, you looked up at Yunho and grinned. “We sure enjoyed that, didn’t we?”

He nodded, returning your grin.

Before either of you could say anything more, a server approached and announced that the restaurant was closing. You apologised for keeping them and asked Yunho if he wanted to talk more in your room. He agreed and the two of you went up to the second floor where your room was located.

You and Yunho talked long into the night about various memories from your childhood and where some of your friends went after you both left. Somewhere along the way the conversation came to crushes and past relationships, and Yunho casually dropped a rather shocking bit of information.

“I’ve had a crush on you since like eighth grade, I think. Still do, as a matter of fact.”

You stared at him in surprise as your brain processed what he’d just said. You’d had a crush on him for just as long, but you never in your life imagined he might’ve returned those feelings. “So have I.” You admitted.

You gazed at each other in silence for a moment, then Yunho leaned toward you a bit and murmured “Y/N, may I kiss you?”

“Please.” You whispered, hands coming up to grasp his shoulders as your lips met and bliss exploded throughout your body.

One large hand tangled in your hair, while the other spanned at least half of your waist. You clung to his shoulders for dear life as fireworks went off behind your closed eyelids. He deepened the kiss, and it felt like he was trying to swallow you whole as he gently tugged you closer until you were sitting in his lap. You shifted, wrapping your legs around him as you tried to get impossibly closer. After what felt like years you parted for air, a string of saliva linking you together.

You yanked at the buttons on his shirt as desire rose within you, a sudden want that was almost crippling in its intensity. Shaking hands hindered your efforts and Yunho’s long fingers stopped you.

“Impatient, aren’t we?” He inquired. You whined, and he chuckled. “Patience, love. You’ll get what you want in due time.” Pulling the shirt over his head in one smooth motion, you felt a shiver go straight to your core at the sight of his toned body. You busied yourself running your hands all over his skin, mapping every line of corded muscle you could find and stopping only to lift your arms when Yunho removed your blouse.

“Like what you see, love?” He asked, a coy smirk on his face.

“Yes, very much.” You moaned out as he dragged his thumbs over your nipples, each touch resulting in a jolt of pleasure that heightened your desire to almost a fever pitch. You needed him inside you yesterday, and you made sure he knew it.

“Please, Yun-ah, need you…can’t wait!”

“Easy now, my love. Just a little longer.”

Tenderly he laid you back onto the bed and you relished in how small you felt as his large frame hovered over you. He made short work of your pants and underwear, eyes widening as he took in just how wet you were. “Look at you, soaked already and I’ve barely even done anything.”

He slid two fingers into you, the long digits brushing your sweet spot and drawing a porn-worthy moan out of you. He added a third and you jolted a little, unused to the stretch but not in pain.

Yunho’s gaze darkened with desire as he continued to work his fingers inside you, curling them just right. The sensation was overwhelming, your body arching off the bed in response to his expert touch. Each thrust of his fingers sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, igniting your nerves and leaving you gasping for more.

“Y/N, you feel incredible,” he murmured, his voice low and sultry. “I can’t wait to feel you wrapped around me.” The promise in his words sent a thrill through your core, tightening the knot of desire that was building inside you.

“Yunho, please… I can’t take it anymore.” You whined, desperately seeking his lips with yours again. The kiss was a feverish clash of tongues and teeth, a collision of passion that made your head spin.

Withdrawing his fingers, Yunho leaned back, his eyes locking onto yours, igniting an unspoken understanding between you. “I want you to tell me at once if anything hurts, okay?” You nodded and he positioned himself between your legs, his broad shoulders framing your body perfectly, and you couldn’t help but appreciate how tiny he made you feel. “Just relax, love. I’ve got you.”

“Please, I need you!” You begged, squirming beneath him, your body craving him. He nodded slowly, a teasing smile playing on his lips as he leaned forward, teasingly brushing against your entrance with the tip of his thick length.

“Such a good girl.” He praised softly, his fingertips ghosting over your clit as he leaned even closer, ready to enter you.

When he finally pressed inside you, it was blissful torture. He filled you to the brim, stretching you out in a way that sent sparks of pleasure radiating from your core. You let out a cry of sheer delight, your body clenching around him instinctively.

“Fuck, Y/N!” He growled, pushing deeper as he held your gaze, his expression a mix of lust and admiration. “You’re so fucking perfect. Such a sweet, tight little cunt and it's all mine.”

You moaned at that, body trembling with arousal as the filthy words tumbled from his lips.

He started moving, slowly at first, allowing you to adjust to his size. The stretch felt incredible, and you were all too aware of how small you felt compared to him. Each thrust was deep and deliberate, sending waves of pure ecstasy crashing over you.

“Yunho!” You gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders as the pleasure built higher. He picked up his pace, his body slamming into yours with relentless force.

“Let go for me, my love. I want to feel you cum around me,” he commanded, and that sent you over the edge. Your body responded to his words, the coil within you snapping as you arched your back and let out a scream of pleasure.

“Yunho! Oh my god!” You cried, your body convulsing around him as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you. You could feel the heat of your orgasm pulsing through your veins, every nerve ending igniting in ecstasy.

“That’s it, Y/N,” he urged, his voice dripping with lust. His pace increased, driving you deeper into the haze of pleasure. “Just like that. You feel so good wrapped around me like this.”

He continued to move inside you, your sensitive body still trembling from your first orgasm when the familiar tension began to build again. The way he held you, his large hands gripping your hips, made you feel both safe and completely consumed by desire.

“Yunho, I’m close again!” You whimpered, lost in the intensity of the moment as he chased his own release.

“Then let go, baby. Cum for me again.”

With one final thrust, he found your sweet spot again, and it sent you spiralling over the edge for the second time. You screamed his name, a high-pitched sound filled with pure ecstasy as you felt your body tighten around him, a second orgasm washing over you in waves that left you breathless and shaking.

“Y/N!” Yunho groaned, his own release following closely behind as he buried himself deep inside you, filling you completely.

You both took a moment to collect yourselves, the room filled with the sounds of your heavy breaths and soft whimpers as you rode out the waves of pleasure. As the world slowly came back into focus, Yunho collapsed beside you, pulling you close against him.

“You’re amazing,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead with a satisfied smile on his face. And as you lay there in the aftermath, feeling cherished in his embrace, you couldn’t help but agree. You snuggled up to Yunho, enjoying the warmth of his body as he curled around you and held you close. You drifted off to sleep with a content smile on your face.

«-Yesterday | Day 2-»

#cultofdionysusnet #sandsofirenet #wonderlandnet #ateez #ateez x reader #ateez yunho #yunho x reader #ateez fluff #ateez smut #yunho fluff #yunho smut #maturefanfic #18-21+#au #fanfic

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yinyuedijun · 5 months ago

Text

KITCHEN | excerpt

1.7k word snippet of a sakura/fem!reader/suo fic, which is a prequel to sincerity! I'm only posting this excerpt because it's context for the deranged suo fic I'm about to post on sunday. if u choose to read I hope u enjoy <3

tags for this scene: hurt/comfort, non-explicit references to physical abuse experienced by reader and child neglect experienced by sakura. set post-canon – everyone is 18-19 years old. thank you to @/cafekitsune for the divider!

Sakura had always found your relationship with Suo strange. It's unsettling for him to witness, and sometimes he feels like he'd rather not see it at all.

It isn't as if Sakura dislikes either of you (even though Suo routinely lies to him for no reason), and it isn't as if he finds you individually uncomfortable to be around. It's just that whenever you're together—and you're almost always together on their days off—Sakura finds the two of you embarrassing.

You're just so damn touchy around each other.

Sakura swears that every other couple he's seen is less openly intimate than the two of you, though theoretically you're only friends. Theoretically. In reality, anyone with eyes would doubt that. Every time Sakura glances at the two of you, you're holding onto Suo by the arm as you lean in to tell him to some private joke, or you're swatting Suo’s hand away from your face as he teases you relentlessly, or Suo’s got a hand on your lower back as he guides you around the latest poor fucker who was stupid enough to harass you—usually knocked out cold, on the ground, courtesy of said martial artist.

All this touching is already bad enough, but coupled with Suo’s habit of flirting with you for fun—an activity that he seems to treat as a bloodsport—Sakura’s about ready to run every time he has to suffer being in the same room with the two of you.

(He once did try to sneak out the backdoor of Pothos after seeing Suo wipe a crumb away from the corner of your mouth, his thumb gliding fully, sensually, and unnecessarily along your bottom lip. Tragically, Sakura was spotted by Tsugeura, who dragged him back to the table and proceeded to broadcast his embarrassment to the entire cafe. Ah—so it's one of Sakura's virtues to be private about displays of affection! he’d proclaimed.

Suo then turned to you and said, with a smile so sly that it made Sakura want to crawl underneath the table, I guess I'm not a very virtuous man around you, to which you breezily shot back, Are you virtuous around anyone? But from your expression, Sakura could tell you wanted to hide under the table too.)

He can’t wrap his mind around it, actually—how often the two of you touch each other. The affection that each movement holds. He can't imagine someone putting their hands on him the way that you put your hands on Suo. For Sakura, being touched usually entails getting punched in the jaw or kicked in the face, or having his back slapped in laughter by Umemiya, or carrying Granny on his back when she doesn't feel like walking. But all of that feels different from the ways in which you touch Suo, and the ways in which Suo touches you. Or at least Sakura guesses it feels different—he wouldn't actually know himself.

But he can think of one memory where he knows for sure it was.

It happened several months back, maybe even a year ago now. It was, for sure, before you turned eighteen. It was a quiet night, and he and Nirei were on patrol, and it was so fucking humid that if it weren't for his duties, he'd have left his uniform at home. But the symbol of the Furin jacket was too important to give up, so he suffered with it on.

The two of them ran into you while they were passing through his neighbourhood—what a funny coincidence! you said. Nirei greeted you with a smile, but stopped abruptly when he noticed you were limping. Sakura paused as well. You’re generally not clumsy to injure yourself so severely, and Suo instinctively protects you from all other threats of physical harm. It's hardwired into him in the way that it is for a human being to breathe air. But there you were, with a noticeable limp and nasty discolouration on your cheek.

“Whoa,” Sakura blurted out, “what happened to your face?”

Nirei winced. “Sakura,” he scolded, “try to be a little more tactful, won't you?” And this would normally be the kind of interaction between them that would make you laugh, but you only looked down at your ankle. Sakura wondered if it was broken or sprained. He couldn't easily tell because it was covered, and he noticed then that for some reason, you were wearing jeans—a crazy decision, given the heat.

“No, it's fine,” you eventually replied. “I was sparring with Suo, and I lost pretty badly.” You smiled at them, and it was surprisingly convincing. “I'm super out of practice, you know. Our master would be so disappointed in me.”

Sakura turned to Suo, mouth agape. He couldn't imagine a world in which Suo lacked enough control in a fight to seriously hurt his opponent without intending it—and he’d never intend to hurt you. “For real?”

Suo looked at him for a moment, neither smiling nor nodding, then looked away.

“Sakura,” he said, “do you have a compress and bandages at home? The convenience store is closed, and so’s the pharmacy. I've got some at home, but it's pretty far, and she's in a lot of pain.”

Sakura's place was at the time barren and lacking in most of the essentials for human life, but he did have an endless supply of ice, compresses, and bandages. So the four of you went up to his apartment—Nirei and Suo supporting you as you hobbled up the stairs—where they then dealt with your injuries. Nirei searched furiously for potential diagnoses for your ankle (probably a sprain) and looked up the symptoms of a concussion (you likely didn't have one), while Sakura pushed a bottle of water and numerous painkillers into your hands. He squinted at your injuries, trying to imagine which movements Suo must have used to hurt you like that.

Suo, himself, gave attention to nothing but you. He didn't respond to Nirei who kept on fretting that you should go to a hospital, nor to Sakura who said multiple times that you should change into shorts—because if you sprained your ankle, then you should probably check the rest of your leg for injuries too. He didn't even react when Sakura said your story sounded like bullshit, or when Nirei quietly asked if this was something that Bofurin could help with.

It was like the two of them weren't even there. Like the entire world was irrelevant to Suo other than you.

Sakura studied him closely, trying to suss out hints for whatever happened. He watched as Suo held an ice pack to the bruise on your face, as his fingers ghosted over your other cheek. You didn't swat his hand away, for once. Then he asked you quietly where else you were hurt, and you whispered something into his ear, as if you were telling him one of your inside jokes. But Suo grimaced instead of laughing, and Sakura thought to himself that he'd never seen Suo look so bleak before. Nor so angry.

And when Suo knelt down to wrap a compress around your ankle, telling you that things would be okay as you wiped tears from your eyes, the thought struck Sakura that Suo never acted like this when he patched up his injuries. Nor Nirei’s. Nor Kiryu’s, or Sugishita's, or Tsugeura’s.

Suo handled you in a way that he had never handled anyone else, and also in a way that Sakura would probably not have known how to do for you. Sakura had only sprained his ankle once in his life, back when he was a kid and lost constantly in fights. No one asked him where it hurt, and no one applied a compress to his injury, and he didn't cry at the time because he knew that no one would hold his face and tell him it was okay. So until that moment, Sakura had had no fucking clue you were supposed to do any of those things for an injured person. Even with the guys in Bofurin, all he ever did was throw them a compress and an ice pack before grousing at them: If you're gonna pick a fight you can't win, at least call us first.

Not exactly words to offer to someone who was crying like you were.

So Sakura did nothing, knowing that he couldn't help. You were so fragile, and Sakura was shit at handling fragile things. But Suo was good at it, so Sakura let him take care of you, and Nirei did too, relenting in his questions. He only offered to call a cab—not to take you to the hospital, but over to Suo’s.

Suo gratefully accepted.

Nirei hung back afterwards, and the two of them talked about useless crap for a little bit before Nirei finally bit the bullet.

“Did they say where they had come from, before Suo brought her here?” he asked.

“No,” Sakura replied. “Why?”

Sakura wasn't stupid. He knew very well the kind of injuries that Suo left in a sparring match, and he knew even better all the signs of an actual beating. He knew there weren't many things that Bofurin couldn't help with, in a town like Makochi. Still, he asked, and he let Nirei answer—because he didn’t want to be the one to voice it, and because he wanted to be wrong. But if Nirei said it, then it must be true, and they would have no choice but to face it.

“I'm just trying to figure out,” he said quietly, “if it was her boyfriend or her parents who’ve been hitting her.”

“Her parents,” Sakura stated, because he also knew very well the signs of a shit home life.

He’s never heard from you or Suo exactly what happened, but he's pretty sure he guessed right. You never went home after that. You started living with Suo and his master, which you constantly reminded Suo would be a temporary arrangement, and which Suo constantly reminded you could easily be made permanent. You ignored him and dropped out of school anyway. Found a job in the red light district. Started eyeing the empty apartment next to Sakura’s, asked him numerous times about rent and utilities. Sakura didn't like answering you—said over and over that it would be better for you to stay with Suo—but he told you everything anyway. He understood why you had to find your own place. He understood it because he had to do it too.

After you turned eighteen, you started making money as a hostess and moved in next door.

I hope this wasn't too weird to read out of context rip. anyway. yakuza au sequel coming up on sunday hopefully LOL

#yueshuo.fics #i feel like this doesnt deserve to be in the main tags bc its so weird out of context LOL

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