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kamiversee · 28 days

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˗ˏˋ My Love Note ´ˎ˗

1 | Something about you

❧ Synopsis | In which Choso Kamo, your asshole of a best friend, starts to change after you get involved with a rather cheeky cashier, Gojo Satoru.

❧ Content | flirting, language, suggestiveness, fluff, & faint sexual tension.

❧ Word Count | 7.1k (we're starting off strong it seems...)

❧ Pairings | Choso Kamo x f!reader & Gojo Satoru x f!reader.

| Chapters mlist |

——Congratulations, you’ve nearly escaped hell— not-so-happily entering your final year of university as time stands currently. And y’know what, you think you’ve coasted through most of your college years drama-free. Well, aside from freshman year you suppose, everyone fucks up around that time…

But that’s a tale for another day, right now, you’re finding yourself waltzing into an entirely different plotline— with your head held high as you waltz toward a newfound cafe that you haven’t had the pleasure of finding for the past four years. Up until today, you’ve just barely been stomaching dining hall caffeine. Which, to say the least, isn’t nearly as savory or energizing as coffee from your local cafe.

Four years you’ve been going to this school and yet here you were walking right into an establishment you swear simply spawned out of nowhere because you pass this street all the damn time and you don’t remember this place being here a week ago. Yet, when you enter the cafe and spot a sign that says they’ve been there for the past three years, you begin to realize that maybe you should start going out a bit more…

Nonetheless, you mentally claimed that if the coffee here was bad, you’d walk right out and return to never acknowledging the place. But hey, when you do push past those double doors, fingers wrapped around a warm metal handle, a waft of smoky coffee aromas simmering into your nose, and spot a rather attractive cashier first thing, you’re quick to tell yourself that maybe shitty coffee might be worth a few things.

Especially seeing as six staggering feet of height, fluffy bright white locks of hair, and the most dazzling set of blue eyes take notice of your entering seconds after you’ve stepped inside— how could you not tell yourself that terrible coffee may be worth digesting so long as you get to drink in this tall, fine man whose name you note as Gojo as you near him and read the tag on his apron.

“Suguru, it seems the gods have finally answered my prayers,” Gojo yells back to someone you can’t quite see yet. His eyes were all over you, drinking you in just as you were him. The tall man receives a laugh from somewhere further behind him before he redirects his words to you, “To what do I have the pleasure of serving you today, sweetheart?”

Your lips parted as you approached the counter fully, your eyes lingering on his far longer than they should’ve. “Uh,” And you were making a fool out of yourself already, great, “It’s my first time here, so I’m not too sure…” Okay, that’s a decent enough save considering how your words earn a half smile from the man in front of you who tilts his head and eyes you down.

And fuck if he wasn’t every bit of intimidating looking down at you like that. He places a single hand onto the counter space in front of him, leaning forward just a bit before turning his head back to take a glance at the menu hanging up, as if he didn’t have it memorized already, “Well, for first-timers I usually recommend anything but our coffee.”

You bat your lashes at the man for a moment as he returns his attention to you, “Seriously? That’s the one thing I came in here for…”

“Ah, well,” Gojo clicks his tongue and shrugs a bit, leaning toward you just to whisper, “Y’gotta come here when I’m in the back.”

You lean forward, intrigued by his words, “…Why?”

“Cause’ Suguru doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing,” Gojo chuckles a bit and you reciprocate before pushing your brows together questioningly. “Suguru, my best fr-, my coworker.” He clarifies quickly.

“Ohh,” You nod, “So should I come back another time, or…?”

“Nono, you caught me a few minutes before rush hour,” Gojo says rather cheerfully before he leans away from you and flashes a smile, “I can run back there ‘nd make ya’ somethin’ since we’re not too busy?”

At that, you take a moment to glance around the cafe interior, spotting one, maybe two people sitting on their laptops and languidly sipping or munching away at their breakfast. You’re glad you came in when you did.

Not only did you get the chance to talk to Gojo, who you turn back to seconds later with a nod, but you also got the chance to get not-so-shitty coffee according to the man. “Yeah, actually. That’d be nice,” You hum to him.

Gojo dramatically moves to stretch his arms, clasping his hands together before extending them out with a heavy sigh, as if he were preparing to do such a difficult task. “Alrighty then, is there any specific kinda coffee you’re lookin’ for?”

“Still my first time here, Gojo. So, no…” The way you say his name so suddenly has him wondering if you knew him from somewhere. But, you quickly smile a little and nod your chin to his name tag, to which he looks down and laughs at himself. “Surprise me,” You then say moments later.

“Surprise you?” Gojo echoes.

You shrug sheepishly, “If that’s not too much work for you-“

“No, I don’t mind. I can surprise ya’,” His smile at you deepens and you catch the slightest dip in his cheeks as the most enamoring set of dimples pops out to your gaze. “Buuut, before I do… Do you have any allergies or dislikes I should be wary of?”

You hum, “Uh, no I don’t think so? I’m feeling rather open-minded today so, just bring me something good enough to have me returning for more.”

“Yeah? I mean, I’m sure you’ll come back for somethin’ else aside from jus’ coffee,” Gojo laughs to himself at his own comment and your eyes simply widen, a cute lil’ tilt of your head catching his attention.

You chuckle nervously, “What else would I come back for if not coffee?”

He shrugs before slowly turning away, “Oh, I dunno… Perhaps a certain handsome cashier that’s caught your eye?”

Oh, you see where he’s going with this. It may have been a while but, you know what flirting looks like. “Is this handsome cashier in the room with us, or…?” You tease with a smile on your face, watching the way Gojo freezes and he sends you this look that you have to try your hardest not to laugh at.

He nearly pouts, “W-Well, yeah, obviously. You’re lookin’ at him.”

Your brows lift, “Am I?”

Gojo narrows those pretty blue eyes of his at you, “Do you not find me handsome?”

“Say I didn’t,” You murmur tauntingly, “Wouldn’t you be really embarrassed?”

The corner of his lips twitch before he scoffs playfully, “What are you, some kinda masochist?”

You giggle, “No, but seein’ that pout on your face was kinda cute.”

“Pout?” Gojo gasps dramatically, “Hah, what pout?” He scoffs again before straightening his face and attempting to be serious with you, “I didn’t pout-“

“You totally did,” You cut off, peering right into those mesmerizing eyes of his— damn, it was almost like you couldn’t get yourself to look away.

“I did not,” Gojo corrects your statement, lower lip poking out once more into a pout.

You shrug and finally get yourself to glance off to the side, “It was cute.”

He instantly tilts his head at that, ears perking up, “Y’think I’m cute?”

“I do.” You hum simply with your eyes wandering right back over to his face.

There’s this little moment between the two of you, a spark if you will, where you both just meet one another’s eyes and admire each other. Is this what mutual attraction feels like?

Perhaps if you squinted, you would’ve noticed the faintest shade of pink decorating his cheeks, “I-,” Gojo swallows suddenly, “Why thank you, sweetheart,” He utters suavely, as if to save himself from embarrassment. After which, he clears his throat, “That aside, we’ve got about six minutes before people start rushin’ in here ‘nd it’ll take two for me to prepare that coffee of yours so, do you mind givin’ me a name?”

You blink, “A name…?”

“Your name,” Gojo clarifies.

“Oh! Sorry,” You’re quick to apologize for your moment of daze, giving him your name seconds later to make up for it.

He starts to smile again, “That’s your name?”

“Yes?” You utter almost confusedly. Was there something wrong-

“It’s pretty,” Gojo interrupts your thoughts completely and your eyes go all wide all over again, a small feature in which he finds absolutely adorable.

“T-Thank you,” You stammer out, turning away to now avoid the eye contact you once couldn’t tear yourself away from.

“Uhuh,” His eyes scan you up and down once more before he sighs, “I’ll be back in a sec’, sweets,” Gojo says finally.

God, you think the nickname he threw out has your heart racing because it made your face so utterly hot. Almost as if you don’t hear nicknames like that on a daily basis…

Aside from that, you gave Gojo one last nod before looking back over your shoulder to see if anyone was coming yet. He’d told you that there was only a few minutes until rush hour so you were a bit wary that people would appear out of nowhere in the next-

“So you’re the girl that’s got Satoru all giggly, huh?” A voice purrs from somewhere in front of you.

Quickly, you return your gaze forward and spot a man, equally as tall as Gojo, with long dark hair, slim eyes, and a really pretty face— holy shit, how many hot guys work here??

“Uh,” You’re stuttering again, tipping your head to the side, “…Satoru?” You repeat, confused by the person he’s referring to.

The man chuckles, “Gojo,” He tells you, “Satoru Gojo,” You nod at the clarification and he grins warmly.

“Oh, then yeah I guess so,” You shrug sheepishly before flashing a smile, “So then that means you must be Suguru-“

“Geto,” He’s so quick to correct you that you almost immediately shut up, swallowing down your words as if you’d said something wrong. “Sorry, I assume Satoru told you my first name?”

You steadily nod, avoiding eye contact with him out of embarrassment, “He did…”

“As expected,” Geto hums before letting out a long sigh, “Just call me by me last, I don’t know you too well so I’m sure you understand.”

You hum, “Right, sorry.”

It’s a tad bit awkward for the next few seconds after that mild conversation but when you hear Gojo yelling from somewhere in the back, the awkwardness quickly subsides.

You even spot Gojo popping his head out from around the corner just to speak to his coworker, “Suguru don’t scare her off jus’ cause you have a girlfriend-“

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” Geto interrupts, sharp with his correction as he glances back over his shoulder.

Gojo snorts, “Fine then, girl who’s a friend that you like-“

“I don't-,” A sigh leaves Geto’s lips before he’s moving to pinch the bridge of his nose, groaning afterward, “Just hurry up with the damn coffee before people start comin’ in.”

Your eyes somehow find Gojo’s and you watch him mouth out something to you, “He’s grouchy because his girlfriend’s ignorin’ him-“

“Satoru,” Geto says scoldingly, causing Gojo to flinch dramatically.

Then you see the white-haired man laugh before winking at you and dipping back around the corner. After which, you don’t even realize you’re smiling until you meet Geto’s gaze and feel your expression drop at the glare he’s giving you.

“What?” You murmur warrily, raising a brow at his plain look.

Geto tilts his head and studies your face for a mere moment, “You new around here or somethin’?”

“New to this cafe, yeah,” You explain, “Why?”

He shrugs, “I’ve learned most of our customer’s faces and majority of them live around the area but I’ve never seen you before.”

“I live not too far from campus but I wasn’t aware this cafe was here until today…” You explain steadily, earning somewhat of an intrigued expression from the man.

“Damn, really?”

You nod, “Mhm.”

“So, wait,” Geto scoffs a little at the thought, “Don’t tell me you’ve been stomaching dining hall caffeine all this time.”

You chuckle and glance off to the side, “Well…”

“If you live near campus, how the hell are you just now finding us??” Geto questions, he seems genuinely confused by your cluelessness.

Your shoulders lift into a shrug, “I don’t go out much.”

“Maybe you should,” He tells you.

A thin lipped smile tugs at your lips, “Starting to realize that now, thanks.”

The man opens his mouth to say something but he’s cut off by Gojo returning from the back and placing a hand on his shoulder, to which Geto glances down at.

“Alrighty Suguru, thanks for not scaring the pretty lady away!” Gojo says cheerfully as he pushes past his friend and makes eye contact with you.

Geto’s brows push together, “You’re welcome? I don’t know how I would’ve scared her, I-“

Gojo unintentionally cuts him off with a laugh, “You’ve been kinda grouchy towards women ever since you met-“

“Fuck off,” He grumbles, brushing off Gojo’s hand on his shoulder and turning to make his way to the back once more.

“See what I mean?” Gojo hums to himself.

Then Geto laughs, “You’re not a woman are you?”

“Suguruuu,” Gojo whines, turning his head back to his friend who’s already disappeared from his line of vision. Then, Gojo sighs and looks to you again, “Ah whatever, ignore him, he sucks sometimes.”

You grin, “You guys are best friends, aren’t you?”

The way Gojo tilts his head almost innocently is kinda cute, “How can you tell?”

“Mine acts similarly,” You explain, thinking of your best friend who’s not the nicest person in the world.

“Yeah?” Gojo hums, “An asshole once they get into a relationship?”

“I’m not in a relationship, Satoru!” Geto calls out from the back.

You watch as Gojo rolls his eyes at his friend's refutation of his claims. Looking somewhat off to the side, your thoughts wander more so toward your best friend, “Well, no, he’s kinda just an asshole all around.”

“Really? Why’re you his best friend then?” You’ve always found this question funny considering most people are confused about how you and your best friend are even friends when most times you two don’t get along.

Instead of really answering Gojo’s question, you look up at him and smile, “I could ask you the same thing, no?”

His brows furrow and he scoffs, “What? No, Suguru’s just grouchy today, I promise he’s usually better than that.”

You nod, “I see…”

“Anyway,” Gojo extends his hand out to you, “Here, give this a try,” He offers, handing a decently sized cold drink to you.

You receive the item and look down at it, “You’re not trying to poison me right?”

Gojo laughs, “Aaand why ever would I do that?”

The cup is steadily lifted to your lips as you lift your eyes to him once more, “I dunno, men are weird.”

“That they are,” He chuckles, “But no, that’d be illegal and I have no intentions of harming you.”

Again, you just nod at that and then take that first sip of the surprise drink he’d given you. A strong taste of vanilla and a nearly overwhelming amount of coffee creamer hits your tastebuds. You smile but you’re a bit taken back by how sweet it is. One, it’s way better than any cup of coffee you’ve ever had from the dining hall and two, it’s a lot sweeter than you were expecting.

“Holy fuck, how much sugar did you put in this thing?” You utter in surprise as you move the cup away from your mouth and glance at it as if that’ll give you the answer to your question.

Gojo lets out a laugh, “You said to surprise you.”

“Yeah but this is sweet as hell,” You tell him, your eyes raking over the cup in your hand.

“Sweet drink for a sweet girl, I don’t see a problem,” He responds with a little lean toward you.

“Right and-,” You scoff, eyes narrowing at the very lousy print of your name on the cup, “Who’s…” You almost laugh, “Christ, your handwriting is shit.”

Gojo lets out a huff, “Okay, first off, my handwriting is not that bad. And secondly-”

You’re quick to turn the cup to him and lift it, “Look at it!”

“Oh.” He squints his eyes at it, “Shit, that is kinda bad…” Gojo mumbles with an amused little smile on his face.

“Yeah, I can’t even read this…” You laugh, returning the cup to yourself, “But that’s okay, I appreciate the effort,” His smile grows at your comforting words as you then look up at him once more, “How much?”

“Since my handwriting’s so shit,” He starts, tilting his head at you and shrugging, “Consider it on the house.”

Your eyes seem to light up, “Yeah?”

“Mhm,” Gojo hums.

“Aw, thank you,” Who would you be to ever pass up something free? Especially given by this cheeky cashier before you.

“Anytime-”

Geto’s voice intrudes from the back, “Satoru I thought I told you to change these filters? And why’d you leave such a big mess, holy shit.”

Gojo yells back to his coworker, slightly looking over his shoulder, “The mess isn’t that bad is it?”

You snort, “If it’s anything like your handwriting then uh…”

“Alright,” Gojo’s quick to look at you once more, “You just got a free drink out of me so I don’t wanna hear anything from you.”

“Satoru, these filters aren’t gonna change themselves,” Geto nags further.

You watch as Gojo rolls his eyes and yells back to his friend yet again, “You’re literally back there already, change them yourself.”

“Nope, it’s your turn,” Geto argues.

Gojo frowns, “But-”

“The girl’s not goin’ anywhere anytime soon,” At that, you blink in surprise. How does he know you’re not ready to leave just yet? “Get your ass back here,” Geto orders.

Gojo turns his head and looks at you almost pleadingly.

You giggle, “What? Sounds like you’ve got some filters to change, Gojo…”

“Y’know what,” He scoffs and nods his chin to the cup in your hand, “$5.45.”

Your head cocks back a little and your brows go up, “I’m sorry?”

“The drink,” Gojo hums simply, looking back to make sure Geto wasn’t on his way out to scold him some more just yet, “Since you wanna take his side over mine…”

The way you frown misses Gojo’s eyes up until he turns to look at you one last time, his eyes going wide as you try to defend yourself, “I wasn’t-”

“S’fine, I got it,” An entirely different voice grumbles from your right, causing you to nearly jump out of your skin. So close to you, an arm slips right past your face and you watch as an all too familiar man extends a card out to Gojo.

Your lashes bat a few times as an annoyingly familiar scent of cologne rushes into your nose. You’d literally just escaped said smell a few hours ago after leaving your apartment and yet here it was all over again, directly in your nose and you met the side profile of your best friend, “Choso?” You utter.

Whatever light and fluffy banter that was in the air seconds ago seems to die at the mere presence of Choso standing so closely beside you. Ignoring you, he urges Gojo to take his card and Gojo soon does so with a scoff— he was going to keep flirting and teasing you but here comes this all-too-serious-looking man taking your vacant side as if it were second nature.

The smile Gojo once had on his face simmered down and his expression became a lot more neutral as he quietly moved to charge Choso’s card.

After which, your best friend finally looks down at you, his eyes pointed in a glare that would make anyone feel unloved despite you knowing he feels quite the opposite (to some extent at least), “Don’t you have class in an hour?” Choso asks you in a dull monotone.

Your face scrunches up slightly before you shrug, “I was thirsty…”

Choso stares at you for a long moment, glances at Gojo, then back to you with a scoff, “Yeah, clearly.”

“What’s that supposed to mean-,” You’re cut off by Choso taking his eyes off of you and receiving his card back from Gojo, the two men making eye contact once more and both looking as if the other had done something to offend them. Your best friend openly scoffs in Gojo’s face before pocketing his card and turning away, quickly walking out of the establishment.

Your eyes go wide, “Choso, wait!” You call out as your eyes followed him walking away from you. Only to be ignored again, you let out a huff and start to walk after him but turn back to Gojo one last time, “Sorry about him.”

Gojo’s expression seems to light back up a bit and he shrugs, “You’re fine.”

You nod and start turning away before remembering something and looking at Gojo yet again, slightly pointing at him, “You owe me a free drink by the way,” You remind him playfully.

His face is twisting right back up into that intrigued expression from earlier, “Do I now? And what for?”

“Your shitty handwriting of course,” You hum.

"Hm," He takes a second to think before letting out a slight huff. You then feel and watch the way his eyes glide up and down your body before he responds to you, "Alright."

And with that, both of you smile at one another one last time before you go running off to catch up with Choso. Gojo watches you almost in some kinda trance as you leave, spotting more customers approaching but ignoring them for the most part as his gaze remains glued to you until you’re completely out of his line of vision.

Then, he lets out this breathy little sigh, “Fuck…” Moving to wipe his face off as if that’ll rid himself of whatever the hell he’s feeling after talking to you.

He didn’t even get to ask you for your number like he wanted to…

With perfect timing, “Satoru, the-”

“Filters, yeah yeah, I got it,” Gojo cuts Geto off completely, turning around to see his friend emerging from the back as they both swap places due to the approaching rush hour.

· ───────── · ꨄ · ───────── ·

Outside, you were met with a slap of heat as soon as you exited the cafe, your eyes searching the area for Choso. A slight breeze of refreshing wind brushes over your skin as you finally spot the man having not gotten too far away.

Barely managing to catch up to him, you nudge Choso on his arm as soon as you meet his side, “Why’d you pay for my drink? I could’ve done that myself.”

Just as he did earlier inside the cafe, he acts as though you’re not even there, keeping his gaze forward and pretending he didn’t hear a single thing you just said.

“Choso? Hello??” You huff out, nudging him on his arm again.

His lip twitches into a scowl and he just barely side-eyes you, “What?”

You ignore all of his attitude, as you typically do, “Why’d you pay?”

“You’re a walking charity case,” Choso hums all too casually.

Your head goes back and you scoff, “I-, what? No, I’m not!” Then the back of your hand is landing on his arm as you hit him and he almost smiles.

Finding amusement in your reaction, he shrugs, “Yeah you are,” And before you can even try to get a response out, the cup of coffee in your hand is stripped from your grasp faster than you could blink. Choso removes the top and takes a sip, “Ew, you like this shit?” He scowls, placing the top right back on and handing you your drink back.

You blink, struggling to process a logical reasoning behind his action, “First off, no one told your ass to take a sip. And secondly-”

“I wanted to know what you got,” Choso cuts off, glancing at you to watch how quickly you get annoyed by him.

You groan, “You could’ve asked if that was the case.” He shrugs your words off and you roll your eyes at him, “And how the hell did you know I was in there anyway?”

“I didn’t,” Choso tells you, “I always go in there but today I happened to see your short ass at the counter when I walked in.”

You’re quick to shoot him a glare, “Stop that, I’m not short.”

He’s got this arrogant little grin on his face, “Look short t’me.”

“That’s because you’re taller than me, which doesn’t make you tall in general nor does it make me short.” You explain to the man simply with your eyes shooting daggers into the side of his face.

Choso continues to act as though you’re not even looking at him, “Being shorter than me makes you short-”

“And y’know what,” You cut off, tearing your eyes off of your overly bothersome friend, “You’re annoying.”

He cocks his head back, “Annoying? I’m annoying?” Finally, he looks at you, now searching the side of your face for answers.

“Yeah, very.” You hum.

Choso scoffs and then sizes you up and down, “Says the one who was gawkin’ over Gojo Satoru of all people.”

You nearly laugh, “Fucks’ that supposed to mean? How would that make me annoying?”

“He’s a weirdo,” Choso shrugs, pocketing his hands as he faces forward once more, “I can’t understand what you could possibly find attractive about him.”

You blink and both of you slow down in the pace of your steps, “I talked to him for less than ten minutes, how was I supposed to know he’s weird. And wait-, how does me finding him attractive even annoy you?”

Your best friend sighs and his words come out all too casually for them to be so offensive, “Cause when he breaks your heart,” Choso looks at you, “You’ll come bitchin’ to me about it.”

At that, you freeze, quickly turning to meet his gaze, “Who says he’ll break my heart? And bitching? Is that what you call me talking to you about my relationship issues?? Bitching? Seriously?” With your eyes narrowed and brows tightly knit together, Choso should’ve sensed that he struck a nerve there.

Yet, he seems to not care in the slightest, blinking as if he’d said nothing wrong, “Fuck else am I supposed to call it? I warn you about every guy you date but you don’t ever listen to me.”

Your face twists up, “That doesn’t make my complaints ‘bitching’…”

“Well, it makes it fucking annoying,” He hums before pulling his lips into a thin smile— mocking you through facial expressions.

Your brows go up, “Really? Okay then, sorry for ever confiding in you,” You set your eyes straight once more, “I’ll just go find someone else to-”

“You know no one else is gonna put up with your shit the same way I do,” He’s so quick to dismiss your little statement, almost as if the implication of you ever leaving him, in a sense, bothered him.

You scoff matter-of-factly, “That’s not true.”

“It literally is though,” Choso deadpans, “You have one friend and that’s me. Who the hell else are you gonna go rant to, hm?”

“Someone that doesn’t call my rants bitching.” You huff, crossing your arms over one another.

Choso scales his eyes down to your arms and he smiles, “Are you seriously mad about that?”

“Maybe,” You shrug.

His feet come to a stop and you follow suit, turning to avoid his eyes as much as possible. Choso stares at you for a moment before leaning toward you, tilting his head and angling his lips toward your ear.

All of which done so he could whisper to you, “M’sorry, princess,” Choso murmurs to you affectionately, “Y’know I didn’t mean that seriously, I’m jus’ fuckin’ with you.”

You remain unphased for a mere moment more before the constant brush of his breath against your skin makes you shudder, your hands moving to his chest to push him away, “Yeah, whatever… And stop calling me that.”

Choso blinks, feeling confused since you act as if he hadn’t been calling you such a thing for years, “Why?”

“Cause I don’t like it…” You so clearly lie— not that you enjoyed the nickname but more so that you’ve always felt indifferent to it. Or, almost always.

He smirks, “Your face is telling me an entirely different story.”

“Yeah?” You chuckle, moving to shoot your middle finger at him, “And what story does this tell you?’

Choso stares into your eyes for a long period of time before looking to your finger, smiling fully and tilting his head again, “…You wanna fuck me?”

Immediately putting your finger down, your brows tense, “What? No!” You exclaim, groaning as you return to your walking, “God, I cannot stand you.”

He laughs and follows right alongside you, “You’re so easy to annoy, holy shit.”

“And you’re insufferable,” You huff.

Choso shrugs simply, “You love me though.”

You glance at him, “Debatable.”

He pouts and pretends to clutch his heart, “Ouch-”

“Anyway,” Returning your attention to someone much less annoying than the man beside you, you nod your head back toward the cafe, “Do you know if he’s single?”

Choso nearly trips over his steps at the sound of that, letting out a cough, “Who-, Gojo??”

You nod, “Mhm.”

“Why?” Choso’s lips twitch, “You lookin’ to get rejected?”

Pausing, you look to him with a quirked brow, “Excuse me? What makes you think I’ll get rejected?”

“You’re uh…” He trails off a little, eyes lingering down your frame before he smiles and speaks to you in this faux gentle whisper, “Not his type, sweetie.”

Your eyes roll at that, “Okay, first of all, fuck you. Secondly, how do you know?”

“Uh, I’ve seen the kinda girls he’s into so trust me when I say…” Choso’s eyes shift to peer directly into yours, “It ain’t you.”

You stare back for a moment before shaking your head and looking off, “Whatever, you’re just saying that.”

“Yeah because I’m gonna lie to you about something like that,” He snickers to himself before rolling his eyes. Within seconds, he goes to look at you again only to see you heading in a different direction, “Hey! Where’re you goin’?”

“Away from you!” You call back.

He laughs yet again, “What, you can’t handle the truth now?”

Glancing back to him, “I’m gonna prove you wrong asshole.”

Choso flashes you a shit-eating grin as if he’s already begun praying on your downfall, “Sure you will.”

He then watches as you further away from him, his smile steadily fading as he catches himself a bit too happy at the sight of you so determined. Choso shrugs off whatever feeling the topic of Gojo Satoru had brought up within him, dismissing the entire thing as he truly believed you’d never really get yourself too involved with that guy.

Unfortunately for him, he didn’t see the way you were taking to Gojo before he walked in so, Choso had no idea of how things were about to play out within the next few hours.

· ───────── · ꨄ · ───────── ·

As such, after that morning class of yours that extended decently into the afternoon, you found yourself rushing back to the cafe as soon as you could.

You knew not of Gojo’s working hours so you had no clue whether or not he’d still be there but you sure as hell hoped so. Choso had really ticked you off with his claims.

You not being Gojo’s type? Yeah right, he didn’t see the way that cashier was looking at you, nor did he hear all the banter that took place. Given that, you were determined to prove your dear friend wrong and yourself right. You know flirting when you see it and that’s exactly what Gojo was doing.

So to say he wasn’t at least intrigued by you would be a blatant lie you had every hope on exposing to Choso.

When you finally find yourself entering that lovely little cafe, it’s a lot more busy in comparison to earlier— something you take note of for your possible future visits. The line wasn’t exactly too long but quite a few people were hanging out or studying throughout the establishment.

That aside, your eyes were quick to search for a certain white-haired barista, gaze lighting up the very second it meets the man it questions.

Gojo had a weary smile on his face as he handed some girl a coffee and you could tell based on his eyes alone that he was tired of the chick rambling to him. He nodded and nodded, trying to keep himself appearing entertained by whatever she was saying but when he glances over and spots you, all his attention is diverted.

Those pretty blue eyes of his fixate on you and you watch as he finally dismisses the girl, nodding toward you as if to say he had another customer to tend to. She shrugs and finally leaves, to which you take place in standing where she’d been seconds ago, sending a smile to Gojo.

“Long day?” You suggest with a slight tilt of your head, to which he nods.

“You have no idea,” Gojo sighs out to you, “You’re back sooner than I expected though.”

He didn’t know what it was about you, perhaps the way you gaze at him, but there was something that kept his eyes lingering on yours far longer than normal— something that genuinely lulled him in. Perhaps it was the natural flow of conversation and how even from earlier, you didn’t really feel like a mere customer but instead just a person, a woman at that-, a very pretty woman, might he add.

“You owe me a free drink, remember?” You remind him, earning a different reaction than expected.

Gojo pauses, “Ohh… About that…” He hums, moving to scratch the back of his neck, “Yeah see, that offer no longer stands…”

You blink, “I’m not sure I understand…”

He lets out a sigh, then moves to lean forward against the counter, bending down and crossing his arms as he rests on his elbows and comes much closer to your eye level, “Another cute girl came in ‘nd got it before you,” Gojo whispers.

You couldn’t tell if he was joking or not and your brows pinch together, “Seriously?”

“Mmhmm,” He hums tauntingly with this smug look on his face as if to say giving away your promised drink was to get back at you for something.

“Well,” You click your tongue, “I think you owe me a free drink now more than before, maybe two.”

Gojo smiles, feeling amused, “Yeah? I mean, my number’s free. Y’want that instead?”

Your voice gets caught in your throat at how ridiculously smooth that was, trying your hardest not to give in and return a smile. “I… What am I supposed to do with that?” You end up asking.

He snickers, “Perhaps text me? Or call? Y’know, the thing you do with phones-“

“Alright smart ass,” You scoff playfully, grinning as you move to pull out your phone, “What’s your number then?”

Gojo smiles triumphantly and extends his hand out, “Here, lemme put it in for ya’.”

You glance at him, eyes meeting and yet another moment passing before you hand him your phone, to which he takes a second to look down at the device in his hands. Then, he enters his number and a contact name for himself.

After which, your cell is quickly returned to you and you look to see what he’s put in. Studying the name closely, you tilt your head, “Satoru?”

“Mhm, tha’s me, sweetheart,” He purrs, moving to rest his cheek against his knuckles.

You look up from your phone, “You want me to call you Satoru?”

Gojo shrugs, “If you don’t mind, yeah.”

“We’re on a first-name basis already?” You tease, eyes narrowing at the man.

“It seems we are,” He utters. His voice was a bit lower with you now, much more casual and playful. “That alright with you, pretty girl?”

Unknowingly, your face flushes, “Yeah, that’s uh, that’s fine.”

Gojo lets out a hum, “Good.” Then, the two of you do that thing yet again, peering into one another's eyes, unmoving, nearly frozen and dazed for a moment longer than intended before Gojo snaps out of it by almost awkwardly clearing his throat, “So uh, you still want that free drink or…?”

You blink out of your own stupor and shake your head, “No, I’ll come back for it tomorrow.��

“Oh?” His brows shoot up in surprise, “You’re coming back tomorrow?”

“It seems I am, yes,” A smile graces your face and he can’t help but stare.

Gojo mirrors your expression, “Just for coffee?”

Your eyes wander off to the side cheekily, “Perhaps for a certain handsome cashier too…”

He thinks his heart is fluttering. Is this normal? To experience such a genuine infatuation with a woman’s words within less than twenty-four hours? It was unusual for Gojo, that’s for damn sure. Hence why his head is tipping to the side, “Really? Have my charms worked so soon?” He teases.

You return your gaze to him, “Just a little, yeah.”

Mesmerized by you, Gojo nods, “Good to know.”

“Mhm,” After a slight hum, you glance down at your phone and check the time, “Well uh, I actually have another class so I should probably go.”

“Yes… Yes, you should,” He voices out slowly, again entangled into that daze of his until you lift your head once more, “But uh, make sure you text me later, yeah?” Gojo reminds you.

To which you chuckle and start turning away toward the exit, “No promises.”

He’s left in a mere awe of you, not even knowing what to say, and left utterly speechless from such an intriguing yet simple conversation with you. As you wave bye, Gojo had to feel for his heart the very second you leave just to see if it was working correctly because he’s not sure what the hell that was just now.

Whatever it may have been, he knows it was much more genuine and raw than what he’s typically used to. And it came so naturally too, the banter, the gazes, the flirting… Gojo was longing for more already and he’d only just met you a few hours ago.

· ───────── · ꨄ · ───────── ·

All the while you’re just as cheerful at the interaction you just had, beyond ready to brag to your doubtful best friend of your most recent accomplishments.

Which is exactly why you’re facetiming said friend as soon as you leave the cafe. The call rings for less than a second before it’s answered and you’re met with a visibly displayed and… shirtless Choso.

Before you get the chance to even try and take in his naked torso, he’s already scowling at you, “The fuck are you facetiming me for?” He grumbles, taking the smile right off of your lips, “I’ve seen your face enough for one day. Why don’t you ever call like a normal person??”

You bat your eyelashes at the man, “Cho, we just got on the phone and you’re already souring the mood…”

He ignores your complaint, “What do you want?”

Steadily, your smile returns, “Guess who got a certain someone’s number,” You utter cheerfully, voice light in a little sing-song tone.

Choso gives his phone a blank stare, not saying a single word in response to that.

Which confused you, “Well? Are you gonna guess-“

“You could’ve texted me this shit,” He cuts off before you watch as your screen is soon met with the ceiling as he places his phone down.

You pout, “Well, yeah but then I wouldn’t have been able to see your reaction…”

He scoffs and pops his face into the camera for a second, eyes dull, smile nonexistent, eye bags heavy, and tattoo running across his nose the only thing giving some form of expression despite it being nothing more than a dark black line. “Does it look like I give two shits about you gettin’ some asshole’s number?”

You let out a long sigh, “Remind me why we’re friends again?”

And that’s when Choso seems to smirk, “Cause’ you won’t leave me alone.”

“I’m hanging up,” You groan.

His laughter, albeit somewhat of a rare sound, fills your ears, “Okay, okay, I’m sorry.”

You send him a look, “Are you?”

“Mhm, good job on gettin’ his number, princess,” Choso coos, making your eyes widen, “I’m proud of you.”

Your mouth opens to say something to that but your throat runs oddly dry. Instead, you gulp down his sudden praise and ignore how warm his words make you feel. “…Thank you.” You eventually say.

“Uhuh,” Choso nods before removing himself from the camera again, “Pretty sure he’s just trying to fuck though.” He says bluntly.

Instead of choking like he expected you to, you only scoff, “Fine by me.”

Your best friend is quiet for a moment, feeling almost silenced before he sighs, “Oh… But you told me no-“

“That was entirely different, Choso.” You cut off.

He shuts up again.

“You were drunk, and…” Your voice dies out.

To which he raises a brow at his phone, “And what?”

“And things were different back then,” You sigh, trying not to recall the entirety of your past with Choso at the present moment, “…You were an even bigger asshole, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Choso sighs, moving to dismiss the topic, “Anyway, let me know how things go with your new albino boyfriend.”

You scoff, smiling at the suggestion itself, “He’s not even my-“

The call disconnects. Oh how you just love your best friend and his antics. You wouldn’t trade your friendship with him for anything.

Or at least, that’s what you told yourself anyway. What exactly does a new man in your life bring if not drama? This right here was but the beginning of a very interesting journey toward such a fickle emotion we know as; love.

mlist | next chapter |

Tags 1/2; @siriusblackswankourtzeyy @eternaltpaoe @moonsgravee @sooshisweet @looking4hina

@blognicole @designerpvssy @andyfasia @shytragedybluefox @papigotwap

@senseifupa @gojoslefttoenail @juliiizh @gojos-cumslutt @lovergirl65

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pucksandpower · 3 months

Text

Best Laid Plans

Carlos Sainz x Vasseur!Reader

Summary: you were just supposed to be a means to an end — a way for Carlos to get back at your father for dropping him — but the best laid plans often go awry and you quickly become so much more than that

Warnings: 18+ content and manipulation

Note: did I spend the whole day writing this to celebrate Carlos’ win? Maybe …

So much love to @struggling-with-drivers for always giving me the best ideas

The warm Portuguese sun beats down on Carlos as he strolls through the luxurious resort grounds, trying and failing to shake the anger simmering inside him.

How could Ferrari do this to him? After all he has given to the team over the past few seasons? To be so unceremoniously dumped for Lewis fucking Hamilton is a slap in the face he can barely comprehend.

He kicks at the pebbled path, hands jammed in his pockets, catching the eye of a young woman lounging by the pool up ahead. She gives him a warm smile that does strange things to his insides for a moment before he recognizes her — Y/N Vasseur.

The reality of who she is hits Carlos like a truck. The daughter of the team principal who betrayed him.

An idea begins to form in Carlos’ mind, a cruel little seed taking root. If Ferrari wants to play hardball, he can play harder. And what better way to get back at Fred than through his precious daughter?

Putting on his most charming grin, Carlos changes course to approach you. “Y/N, fancy running into you here,” he lies easily. “I didn’t realize you were vacationing at this resort too.”

You sit up, shielding your eyes against the sun’s glare. “Carlos! What a pleasant surprise.” Your smile is bright and genuine, setting off warning bells in the back of Carlos’ mind. He quickly silences them — this is just collateral damage.

“I was just getting ready for a dip. Care to join me?” You gesture towards the welcoming blue waters.

Carlos pretends to consider it for a moment. “You know what, I would love to.”

Stripping off his shirt, he can’t help but sneak glances at your swimsuit-clad figure as you slide into the pool, telling himself it’s just for show. You really are stunning though, he has to admit. This might not be so difficult after all.

“So what’s a beautiful young woman like yourself doing all alone at a place like this?” Carlos asks once he’s waded in beside you.

You let out a tinkling laugh, sweeping wet hair away from your face. “Taking a much needed break from real life, I suppose. My job can be … demanding at times.”

That piques Carlos’ interest — to be quite honest, he had just assumed you did nothing all day. “Oh? Do tell, I’m fascinated.”

With a bashful look, you launch into an explanation of your high-powered career that genuinely impresses Carlos despite himself. You’re whip-smart, articulate, and passionate about your work in a way he can relate to.

“Wow,” he finds himself saying once you’ve finished. “I don’t know why, but I wasn’t expecting that from you. Not that I’m judging a book by its cover or anything!” He adds quickly at your arched eyebrow.

You let out another of those bright laughs. “Don’t worry, I get that a lot. People see a privileged girl and make all sorts of assumptions.”

There’s a hint of bitterness underlying the lightness of your tone that Carlos picks up on all too well. He knows what it’s like to be looked down on and underestimated.

“For what it’s worth, I think what you do is really impressive,” he finds himself saying honestly. “And anyone who thinks less of you for it is a fool.”

The words seem to catch you off guard for a moment before your expression melts into a warm smile. “Why Carlos Sainz, I do believe you’re flirting with me.”

He grins back unrepentantly. “Is it working?”

You pretend to consider it for a moment before laughing again. “Maybe a little.”

The flirtatious back-and-forth continues as you both float lazily in the pool, Carlos quickly getting caught up in the effortless fun of it. You match him quip for quip, parry for parry, in a way he’s not used to from women. It’s exhilarating and unexpected.

In fact, he’s so caught up in your company that he nearly forgets his original intention entirely. Until a stray thought brings the memory crashing back down … you’re Fred Vasseur’s daughter.

The realization is like a bucket of cold water being upended over Carlos’ head. What is he doing? This woman hasn’t done anything to wrong him. Going after you just to get petty revenge on your father is ugly and uncalled for. He should just be the bigger man, swallow the insult Ferrari dealt him, and move on.

But then he thinks about the disrespect, the callousness of dumping him like dead weight after all he bled for the team. Perhaps a little payback is in order after all.

With a wicked grin, Carlos begins swimming slowly towards you, an unmistakable glint in his eye. You seem to pick up on it, cheeks flushing ever so slightly. “What’s that look for?”

“Just thinking,” he murmurs once he’s close enough for you to feel the warmth of his breath. “About how I could make this vacation even more … memorable.”

His heavy-lidded gaze drops to your lips for just a moment, but you catch it. You bite your lower lip unconsciously as heat blazes between you. “Is that so?”

“Mhmm,” Carlos all but purrs, reaching out to gently cup your jaw, thumb stroking over your cheekbone. You shiver despite the warmth of the day, eyelids fluttering. “If you’ll allow me?”

For a long stretch, you seem to be rendered speechless, pupils blown wide as you study his face intently. Then, so softly, “Yes.”

That’s all the permission Carlos needs before he’s crashing his lips against yours in a searing kiss.

The moment your lips meet his, it’s like a jolt of electricity courses through Carlos. He kisses you deeply, urgently, all thoughts of revenge or ill-intent evaporating from his mind. This is pure want, unbridled desire singing through his veins.

You return the kiss with equal fervor, tangling your fingers in his hair and pulling him closer. Your mouth is warm, soft, pillowy — everything Carlos didn’t know he was craving until this very moment. He skims his hands over the slick curves of your body beneath the pool’s surface, marveling at the gasps and sighs he pulls from you with each exploratory touch.

When you finally break apart, you’re both panting heavily, faces flushed. Carlos drinks in the sight of you — hair tousled, lips swollen, and eyes dark with wanting. He’s never seen anything more beautiful.

“Carlos ...” You breathe his name like a prayer and something primal uncurls in his lower belly.

Instead of responding, he simply crushes his mouth to yours once more, walking you backward until your back gently hits the pool’s tiled edge. You let out a muffled moan as he settles between your parted thighs, the heated line of his body flush against yours.

One of his hands slides up over the soft skin of your ribs to cup your breast as you arch shamelessly into his touch. He drags his lips in hot, open-mouthed kisses along the line of your jaw and down the graceful column of your neck, relishing the way you keen beneath his attention.

“You feel so good, cariño,” he rumbles against the feverish skin just below your ear, punctuating the words with a deliberately slow roll of his hips that has you releasing a broken whimper. “So fucking perfect ...”

In this moment, with you writhing and mewling in his arms, Carlos has never been more grateful for his commitment to physical fitness. He knows he can keep this up all day if need be, ravishing you over and over until you’re a limp, sated puddle.

He runs his tongue in a scorching path up the side of your neck before returning to that sinful mouth, swallowing your desperate little moans hungrily. You cling to him as if he’s the only thing keeping you tethered, nails raking deliciously over his back and shoulders in a way that will surely leave marks. Carlos loves it, loves the proof of your passion painted on his skin in thin red lines.

Trailing his lips across the hinge of your jaw, he murmurs “Should we take this somewhere more private, princesa?”

You let out a shuddering breath, hips canting up instinctively to meet each roll of his. “God, yes ... please ...”

The sound of your needy whine sends a molten thrill straight to Carlos’ cock. He’s fully hard and aching for you, straining against his swim trunks with every second that passes. If possible, he wants you even more.

With a grunt of effort, he hooks his hands beneath your thighs and hikes your legs up around his waist in one swift motion. You let out a startled squeak that quickly dissolves into a moan as he shifts against you just right, creating delicious friction. Your arms wind around his neck as you bury your face in the curve where his neck meets his shoulder.

“You feel that, cariño?” Carlos rumbles darkly. “I can’t wait to be inside you. Stretching you so perfectly full of me. Will you be a good girl and take it? Every. Last. Inch?”

He emphasizes each of the final three words with a firm grind of his hips, rutting his rigid length against your clothed heat. Your back bows in response, mouth dropping open on a silent wail of pleasure. Carlos can feel your sticky wetness soaking through the thin material of your swimsuit bottoms and groans harshly.

“P-please ...” You keen, worrying his earlobe between your teeth. “I need you, Carlos. I need it so bad ...”

And just like that, the trance is broken. Carlos blinks, suddenly acutely aware that you’re grinding shamelessly against each other in the very public pool area of this high-end resort. A few pointed looks from other guests are enough to have a flush of embarrassment creeping up his neck.

Clearing his throat, he reluctantly pulls himself back and sets you on your feet. You let out a disappointed whimper that goes straight to his groin.

“P-perhaps we got a bit carried away, princesa,” Carlos huffs out a laugh, running a hand through his damp curls. “Why don’t we go somewhere a bit more … private to continue this?”

You bite your plump lower lip and Carlos has to resist the urge to lean forward and free it with his teeth. Nodding eagerly, you cast a look around before tugging his hand and heading for the exit, leaving a trail of water droplets in your wake.

Carlos follows eagerly, openly ogling the way your soaked swimsuit hugs every tantalizing curve. He’s never been so grateful for his decision to book one of the private beachfront villas at this resort — just a stone’s throw from where you’re leading him, he’ll finally be able to have you all to himself.

The thought has him semi-frantically fumbling for the keycard as you press urgent, open-mouthed kisses to any patch of bare skin you can find — his shoulder, his neck, the line of his jaw. By the time he gets the door open you’re both panting like you’ve run a marathon, desire thrumming white-hot through your veins.

The second you’re inside, Carlos has you pressed back against the door, forearms braced on either side of your head as he towers over you. For the first time, a flicker of uncertainty crosses your features and he’s abruptly reminded of who you are.

“Are you sure about this?” He murmurs lowly, searching your eyes. “Because if we do this, I can promise you there’s no going back for me, cariño.”

You visibly swallow hard but then give a small, determined nod. “I want this, Carlos. I want you.”

That’s all the confirmation he needs before he’s capturing your lips in another searing, desperate kiss that has you melting against him. He walks you backward, never breaking contact until the backs of your legs hit the edge of the plush bed. With a growl, he hooks his hands beneath your thighs and hitches your legs around his hips once more.

You let out a breathless giggle as he tumbles you both down onto the soft cotton sheets, immediately rolling until he’s blanketed by the gorgeous expanse of your body. God, you’re even more stunning like this — hair fanned out in a tousled riot, cheeks flushed and lips swollen, eyes glazed with naked wanting.

Carlos takes a moment just to appreciate the view, raking his eyes over every inch he can see. A tremor goes through you beneath his weighty gaze and he smirks, leaning down to trail open-mouthed kisses along the column of your slender throat.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this, princesa,” he rumbles against your overheated skin. “How many times I’ve thought about having you just like this, spread out beneath me and begging for it ...”

The truth is, he hasn’t thought about it at all until this very day. But something about the way your breath hitches and your hips cant up instinctively at his words makes Carlos want to keep going.

“I’ve watched you, you know,” he lies smoothly, relishing the full-body shiver that wracks your frame. He nips along the graceful line of your collarbone and you whine softly in the back of your throat. “Couldn’t tear my eyes away whenever you were around. Imagining what delicious little sounds you might make with my cock buried inside you ...”

You moan then, loud and unabashed as you tug needily at his hair to bring his mouth back up to yours. Carlos chuckles darkly into the kiss, reveling in how utterly desperate he’s managed to make you for him so quickly.

“Is this what you want, princesa? You want me to fuck you?” He keeps his tone a low, filthy rasp against the plush of your lips. “Hard and deep and ruthless until you can’t remember anything but my name on your tongue?”

“Yes!” The word rushes out in an urgent whine and Carlos lets out a feral growl, slamming his hips firmly against yours in one rough grind that has your mouth dropping open on a broken cry of ecstasy.

Moving with purposeful efficiency, he hooks his fingers in the waistband of your swimsuit bottoms and tugs them down over the swell of your hips and off completely. He shoves his own trunks down just far enough to free his throbbing length, giving it a few firm strokes to spread the pearling bead of precome over the swollen head.

With a low, heated look, Carlos hitches your legs over his shoulders and lines the blunt head of his cock up with your entrance. Just from this angle, he can see how slick and swollen you already are for him, glistening with arousal.

“Last chance, cariño,” he rumbles, rubbing himself in one deliciously torturous swipe through your folds and back again. You moan loudly, back bowing off the bed. “After this, I won’t be able to stop until you’re utterly ruined for anyone else’s touch ...”

The sound you make is practically inhuman, hand shooting out to grasp at his hip almost painfully hard. “Carlos … Carlos, please!”

Never one to deny such a desperate plea, Carlos braces one hand beside your head and slowly, inexorably begins to sink into your welcoming heat.

The tight, slick heat of your core enveloping Carlos inch by agonizing inch is utterly sublime. He has to grit his teeth and squeeze his eyes shut to keep from embarrassing himself right then and there. You’re impossibly tight, so perfectly molded to his shape — he’s never felt anything quite like it.

Beneath him, you keen softly as he stretches and fills you in one steady glide. Your fingernails bite crescent moons into the firm planes of his back as if you’ll fall apart if not anchored to him. Carlos rumbles his approval low in his chest at the sweet sting.

Once he’s fully sheathed, hips flush with yours, he pauses to simply bask in the feeling for a long moment. You feel so indescribably good wrapped around his throbbing length — hot and snug and fluttering subtly like your body can’t decide whether to grip him tighter or ease his way.

“Fuck, cariño ...” The words tear from Carlos’ throat in a ragged groan. “You feel incredible. So perfect for me.”

You whimper wordlessly in response, flexing and releasing your inner muscles in a way that has him seeing stars behind his eyelids. He captures your mouth in a filthy, demanding kiss to swallow your desperate little noises. It’s all he can do not to start pounding away with reckless abandon.

Pulling back slowly until just the thick head of his cock remains inside your clutching heat, Carlos locks eyes with you. Your pupils are blown wide, lips parted enticingly with each panting breath, the picture of wanton desire. He’s never seen anything so erotic in his life.

You must read the promise in his expression because suddenly you’re nodding frantically and chasing his retreating hips with a needy whine.

“Please, Carlos!” You keen desperately, nails scoring lines of fiery pleasure-pain down the rigid plane of his back. “I need it, I need you to-”

He doesn’t let you finish, snapping his hips forward in one hard thrust that buries him to the hilt. The broken cry that tears from your perfect lips goes straight to his dick.

Carlos repeats the harsh, punishing rhythm over and over, relishing the snug drag of your velvet walls against his aching cock. He soon has you a mewling, mindless mess beneath him, whining his name like a holy mantra with each powerful stroke.

“That’s it, princesa,” he rasps against the flushed curve of your neck, lips brushing saltily over your overheated skin. “Take it all for me. Every. Last. Fucking. Inch.”

As punctuation, he slams home with a sharp roll of his hips that has you keening shrilly and throwing your head back. You clutch at him desperately, meeting each heavy thrust in perfect counterpoint as he picks up the pace. The air is thick with the obscene sounds of skin sliding relentlessly together and your punched-out whimpers and moans.

Carlos has never felt so deliriously consumed by physicality before. It’s like his whole world has narrowed down to this moment, this connection of your joined bodies moving as one. He wants to burn the memory of how you feel, how you sound, how you taste, into his mind forever.

“Look at me,” he growls against the sweat-slick curve of your jaw when your eyes start to drift shut in ecstasy. “I wanna see those pretty eyes when you fall apart on my cock, princesa.”

You force your lids open with obvious effort, irises wild and hazy with lust. Carlos feels a molten surge of possessive desire lash through his veins at the sight. He slams into you with renewed fervor, savoring the high, desperate whine it punches from your parted lips.

“That’s it, cariño ... fuck, you’re exquisite like this.” His praise comes out in a ruined rasp but it seems to spur you on. Your nails dig bruising furrows into his lower back as you meet him thrust for bruising thrust.

Carlos can feel the telltale tightening and fluttering in your inner walls that signals your impending release like a vise grip around his cock. He wants nothing more than for you to shatter apart on his length. Slipping one hand between your sweat-slicked bodies, he finds the swollen bundle of nerves and rolls it firmly between calloused fingertips.

You release a strangled scream, back bowing off the mattress as white-hot pleasure spikes through you. “Carlos! Oh my god, Carlos, I’m … I can’t ...”

“Come for me, princesa,” Carlos encourages hoarsely against the side of your neck. He continues to work you over with nimble fingers in time with the punishing snap of his hips. “Let me feel you come apart all over my cock. Fucking soak it ...”

The guttural river of carnal filth coming from his lips seems to be the final straw, sending you crashing violently over the edge. You seize up around him with a shrill, sobbing wail, inner muscles clamping down in hot, pulsing waves. Carlos curses roughly, eyes squeezing shut against the unbelievable sensation of being massaged and milked for every drop.

If he thought the vice grip of your orgasm was intense, the aftermath is even more sublime. You lie utterly limp and boneless beneath him, still aflutter and fluttering in sweet, rhythmic clenches around his cock. He grits his jaw and fights to keep control, knowing he won’t last much longer buried in your intoxicating heat like this.

When you finally regain some coherency, eyes fluttering open with a dazed murmur of his name, Carlos pulls back slowly until just the throbbing crown remains inside. He intends to give you a brief respite before chasing his own thunderous release, but the moment he starts to withdraw your legs lock high around his hips.

“No ...” You keen, nails raking pleadingly down his back. The desperate craving in your tone very nearly undoes him. “Carlos, please. Don’t stop ...”

Growling low in his chest, Carlos immediately buries himself home once more — this time with a single, powerful thrust that has your brows shooting up as the air rushes from your lungs in a strangled cry. Clearly, you still need it as much as he does.

He fists one hand in the tousled hair at the nape of your neck, using the grip to tilt your head to one side as he lays a searing path of nips and sucking kisses along the exposed column. You shudder and whimper beneath him, utterly pliant and receptive to his claiming touches.

“Tell me what you want, cariño,” he rasps between rough drags of teeth over your thundering pulse point. He remains buried to the hilt, muscles bunched and quivering with the effort of holding himself rigid and still inside you. “Use your words and tell me.”

For a long moment, you seem too dazed and overwhelmed to reply. Then, in a small, wrecked voice, “I want … I want you to fuck me, Carlos. Please ...” Your eyes are glazed yet earnest, boring into his from beneath sooty lashes. “Don’t hold back. I need to feel you come too.”

A harsh groan is punched from Carlos’ lungs at your plea. Letting himself go and really taking you the way his body screams at him to would be heaven and hell all at once.

There’s likely no coming back from it — he’ll ruin you for anyone else’s touch, just as he warned. Once all is said and done, you’ll be irrevocably his in a way that frightens and exhilarates him to his core.

For a heart-stopping moment, he hesitates. And then you moan again — a thin, keening sound of utter desperation — and it’s like the last thread of Carlos’ control snaps completely.

“Hold on tight then, cariño ... because I won’t be able to stop.”

That’s the only warning he gives before pulling almost fully out and slamming back home in one brutal thrust that drives the air from your lungs on a high, shocked cry. He doesn’t let up from there — turning you over onto your belly and dragging your hips up onto his thighs so he can take you from behind in a series of ruthless, punishing strokes.

You quickly become an incoherent, sobbing mess beneath his onslaught, hands clawing uselessly at the sheets as he pounds into you again and again like he’s trying to split you apart. Carlos relishes the sharp smack of sweat-slick flesh on flesh, the strained crescendo of your hoarse wails, the drug-like delirium of being utterly surrounded and consumed by your scorching velvet grip.

It’s too much and not enough all at once. He clutches you flush against him, one big hand spread over your lower stomach like he could somehow force his cock impossibly deeper. The other winds around to toy and tug almost cruelly at your taut, reddened nipples — drawing out a stream of broken, overwhelmed whimpers.

Carlos has never felt more powerful. Body and mind, he owns you utterly in this moment. The thought is nearly enough to send him skating right over the edge into oblivion.

Instead, he jerks you up onto your knees fully so he can plunge into your straining, overworked sex at a different angle — this one hitting something deep inside that has you screaming hoarsely. He captures the wild thrash of your head in the curve of one sweat-slick bicep to bare the elegant line of your throat to his hungry mouth.

“Could you possibly have taken any more of me, princesa?” Carlos husks against the side of your neck, relishing the way it makes you tremble and clench even harder around his pistoning length. “You were made just to be split open on my cock ...”

You let out a garbled sound halfway between agreement and overwhelmed protest. Carlos snarls against your racing pulse, sucking a blatant mark of possession just below your jaw where everyone will be able to see before abruptly rolling you both back over.

He looms above you once more, grinding steadily into your core with deep, purposeful strokes that leave you writhing and wailing with over-stimulation. But Carlos isn’t finished yet — isn’t anywhere close to getting his fill.

“Look at me, cariño,” he commands in a guttural rasp, waiting with molten, heavy-lidded eyes until your lust-drunk stare meets his. “I need to see that pretty face when I come inside you ...”

His words seem to energize you somewhat, your eyes snapping sharper with renewed awareness.

And then, incredibly, you cunt flutters and grips down around him again in the unmistakable clutch of another orgasm ripping through you like a livewire. Carlos has to use every ounce of stamina and control not to follow you right over that blinding edge as you thrash and shriek beautifully beneath him.

By the time you come back down, cheeks flushed and chest heaving, Carlos is practically vibrating with the force of his impending release. His movements have taken on a desperate edge, hips snapping in erratic, forceful jabs as he chases that final blissful oblivion.

When your sated, velvety heat squeezes rhythmically one final time, Carlos throws his head back with his own roar of release. White-hot rapture spikes through every nerve ending as his balls tighten in excruciating bliss. His world narrows down to the exquisite pulsing of your sheathed depths rippling and drawing every last drop from him in endless, blistering waves.

It seems to stretch on forever, Carlos unable and unwilling to move from his impaled position even once the final shudders have wrung him dry. He simply remains blanketed over you, lungs heaving and muscles quaking with the aftershocks of his orgasm.

When he finally regains enough presence of mind to open his eyes and look down at you, the devotion burning in your spent, glowing expression makes his breath catch. For a long, fragile moment, it’s like you’re the only two people in the world.

Eventually, your eyes drift shut on a contented sigh and your body goes lax and pliant against the sheets once more. Carefully, Carlos eases out of your swollen, used entrance and rolls to collapse in a sweaty heap beside you. He immediately tugs you into his embrace, savoring the feeling of your damp, feverish skin pressed to his.

As you drift off to slumber coiled against his chest, Carlos presses a lingering, tender kiss to your crown and tightens his arms around you. He can feel the words pressing at his lips, straining to be released into the silence of this moment.

For now, he keeps them locked behind his teeth. But already he knows this isn’t simply lust or passion or a primal need for revenge that will fade with time. This was always meant to be more — something deeper …. everything Carlos never even realized he was missing until you stormed into his life in a whirlwind of smiles and secrets and blinding desire.

He’s in trouble now. Trouble of the very best kind.

***

Pale morning light filters in through the sheer curtains as Carlos blinks awake slowly. For a disoriented moment, he’s unsure of his surroundings — the rumpled white linens tangled around his naked body are certainly not what he’s used to waking up in.

Then the previous night’s events come rushing back in a heated wave. The pool … the frantic, desperate passion as he took you again and again until you were both hollowed out and sated … finally collapsing into a sweaty pile together. Carlos feels his chest tighten with a complicated swirl of emotions.

He turns his head on the pillow to find the source of the delicious warmth pressed along his side. And just like that, everything else falls away.

You’re tangled up with him still, one shapely leg hooked over his and an arm flung possessively across his torso. Loose riotous locks tickle Carlos’ skin where your face is half-buried in the curve of his neck.

He has to tamp down the overwhelming urge to pull you even closer, to wrap you in his arms and inhale the sweet, clean scent of your hair.

Like this — sleep-rumpled and soft in the morning’s buttery rays — you look almost unbearably lovely. An ache blossoms behind Carlos’ ribs as he studies the delicate fan of your lashes brushing flushed cheekbones and the gentle part of those full lips. Disheveled and without a stitch of make-up, you’re somehow even more breathtakingly beautiful.

Unconsciously, Carlos’ fingers find their way into your tangled tresses, lightly stroking and playing with the silken strands. You make a small, snuffling sound of contentment and burrow infinitesimally closer. He freezes, worried he’s disturbed your slumber, but your features remain smooth and serene.

He should get up. He should definitely get up and extract himself from this warm, addictive little bubble you’ve created before things go any further. This was only ever supposed to be a fling — a deliciously vindictive way to get back at your father for how he so callously cast Carlos aside.

Yet even as Carlos turns the thought over in his head, it rings hollow. What happened between you last night transcended anything so petty and cruel as revenge.

When he was sheathed so deeply inside you, your bodies moving in perfect sync like they were made for each other, Carlos felt something far more profound than just physical gratification. It was spiritual … cosmic, even, like every star in the universe had finally clicked into perfect alignment.

He should be disgusted with himself for having such saccharine notions. Carlos has always considered himself a realist — someone grounded in facts and figures, not given to romantic flights of fancy whatsoever. Yet here he is, helplessly mooning over a woman he barely knows all because of one night of incredible sex.

Except … Carlos is self-aware enough to recognize there was more to it than that, even if he can’t put words to the feeling yet. Some invisible cord has been lashed between you in a knot that feels unbreakable. Some intangible shift has occurred in his perspective that he can’t seem to walk back from.

Perhaps you sensed it too in the way you gazed at him afterwards — not just satiated, but glowing with a sort of wondering, naked adoration far too profound for a mere fuck. Carlos knows he should have been unnerved by the depth of emotion in your spent, happy features. And yet, he only felt it mirrored and compounded tenfold within himself.

With a frustrated huff, he tugs you closer and burrows his face into your hair, allowing your warm, comforting scent to soothe his wildly spiraling thoughts. You make another soft sound and your fingers twitch where they’re splayed over his ribs — reflexively trying to pull him in even tighter.

“What are you doing to me, princesa?” Carlos murmurs, low and graveled, against the crown of your head. “This isn’t how it was supposed to go at all ...”

Because the truth is, this was never meant to be anything more than a fleeting dalliance — an explosive joining of bodies and nothing more. But now that he’s had you, had this bone-deep connection to you, Carlos doesn’t think he can let it go so easily. The prospect of never again feeling you wrapped so perfectly around him in every sense of the word is abruptly gut-wrenchingly awful.

Which leaves him at an impasse. Because you … you are the daughter of the very man who unceremoniously discarded Carlos like an old rag after he gave everything to Ferrari. The offspring of the person who threw him away in a way that cut all the way to his core.

How could he possibly pursue anything real with you after that? It would be a horrific conflict of interests and constantly make things unbearably awkward, to say the very least. Not to mention Carlos has no idea if you even want more than just this one night of passion between you anyway. Perhaps to you he really was just an itch to scratch, a bout of impulsive lust to take the edge off before moving on.

The thought makes his stomach churn with jealousy so potent he has to physically swallow it back. Which … is not great, all things considered.

Tilting your head back with the lightest touch beneath your chin, Carlos studies your soft features searchingly. Perhaps if he stares hard enough, he’ll find some hint of deception or shallowness there. Some glaring evidence that this insane sense of yearning he feels is all one-sided — a misguided obsession brought on by the sort of euphoric sex one can never quite recapture once the high fades. He could use that as his cue to bow out now while you’re still tangled up together so prettily.

But even as he looks, really looks, all Carlos sees is the serene picture of a thoroughly satisfied, openly contented woman. There’s no shuttered gaze or pinched expression betraying any darker thoughts and feelings. Just blissed-out joy written in every relaxed line of those lovely features.

Something in Carlos’ chest cracks wide open at the realization that this is real for you too. You’re not just some meaningless one-off fling, but a woman who seems to have had her entire world upended in the same way his has been over the span of one incredible night.

“Carlos?” You murmur then, voice husky and slurred with the remnants of sleep as your lashes flutter open. “What’s wrong, mon beau?”

Your endearment sends a shockwave of tenderness and want pulsing through him straight to the roots. Carlos shakes his head minutely, winding one hand into your hair to hold you steady so he can simply … bask in your presence for a while.

“Nothing’s wrong, princesa,” he assures you lowly, thumb stroking gently over the arch of your cheekbone. “I just woke up early and got a little lost in my head for a bit there, that’s all.”

That small, secret smile he’s rapidly becoming addicted to tugs at your lips as your eyes rove languidly over his face. Your hand comes up to rest over his thundering heartbeat with surprising tenderness.

“Well then allow me to bring you back to the present. Right here with me.”

Your tone has taken on that rich sultriness from last night that shoots straight to his groin. Before Carlos can so much as draw breath to respond, you’re rising up to seal your mouth over his in a searingly passionate kiss.

He groans instantly, every atom of his being tuned to your frequency in a way that’s swiftly becoming terrifyingly natural. Carlos’ hands roam hungrily over your naked curves of their own volition, relearning each dip and swell through the silken glide of skin on skin.

When you break apart at last, you’re both thoroughly breathless and aroused. Carlos splays one big hand over the small of your back and simply holds you flush against him, savoring the feeling of your racing heart thundering in tandem with his own. He brushes kiss-swollen lips along the line of your jaw, prompting a delicious shiver.

“Don’t think for one second that I’ve had even a fraction of my fill of you yet, cariño,” he rasps against the feverish skin just below your ear, using his free hand to tug your head back so he can access the soft column of your throat. “You’ve addicted me beyond any chance of recovery now.”

Your breath hitches as he latches his mouth just above your thundering pulse point and sucks a blatant mark. Carlos revels in the needy whimpers spilling from your lips with each pass of his tongue over the tender patch of skin. He needs to mark you, claim you, render you unmistakable as his in every possible way.

“Carlos ...” You keen, back arching like a drawn bow as he continues trailing open-mouthed kisses down the slope of your neck and over your collarbones. “What are you saying?”

He pulls back to meet your heavy-lidded gaze, searching intently for permission to continue with what he suspects you’re asking. And there it is — desire and hope and invitation burning brightly in your soulful eyes, practically begging him to put words to this singular thing blazing between you.

Cupping your face in both hands, Carlos holds your rapt stare as he slowly, reverently presses a soft, lingering kiss to your slightly parted lips. You melt into him, one hand coming up to clutch desperately at his bicep.

“I’m saying,” he murmurs against the plush give of your pretty mouth. “That I can’t simply let this be the end, princesa. Not anymore. Not after experiencing what it feels like to be so exquisitely connected with someone in every possible way.”

The smile you give him in answer is as incandescent and warm as a living flame. You don’t attempt to contain the rush of emotion threatening to overwhelm you. Instead, you simply wind your arms around Carlos’ neck and pull him down into a molten kiss that somehow manages to convey every single infinite feeling ricocheting between your bodies.

He suddenly feels so overwhelmingly lucky in that moment. Lucky to have crossed paths with you by happenstance. Lucky that, by some miracle, he didn’t allow bitterness or pain or preconceived notions to blind him to your kindness and warmth and inherent goodness despite how this whole crazy thing started in his mind.

Because yes, you are the daughter of the man who turned his life and career upside down. But here, pressed against you, Carlos can feel the truth resonating through his bones — you are so much more than any of that.

And for the first time in his life, Carlos cannot fathom the idea of anything frightening him away.

***

The frantic Melbourne nightlife whirls and pulsates around Carlos in a dizzying kaleidoscope of neon lights and pounding basslines. Normally he would revel in the thrum of energy and excess — drinking in the atmosphere and feeding off the infectious exhilaration. But tonight, seated alone in the VIP lounge of one of the city’s most exclusive clubs, he finds his attention utterly undivided.

You stand out like a siren among the raucous crowd, every tilt of your hips and toss of your hair captivating Carlos completely.

He tracks the line of your body shamelessly as you sway and twist to the driving beat, that tantalizing little red dress riding up to reveal glimpses of toned, silky thighs that make his mouth water. A fine sheen of sweat glistens enticingly along your collarbones and in the hollow of your throat, no doubt making your overheated skin taste like salted caramel.

The urge to slide up behind you and drag his tongue along that slender, tempting slope is damn near overwhelming. He can vividly picture himself molding his larger frame against your softly undulating form, one hand spanning possessively across your lower belly to grind the rapidly stiffening ridge of his arousal against the lush swell of your rear.

He imagines precisely how you would react — arching back against him with a shuddering gasp, fingers threading into his hair to tug his mouth down upon yours in a frantic, needy kiss. How you would whimper and writhe against him, uncaring of the very public surroundings as desire rapidly whited everything else out ...

Almost as if sensing the scorching path of Carlos’ thoughts, you glance over your shoulder and catch his eye from beneath the veil of your lashes. That sly, inviting little smile immediately kicks his pulse into overdrive and lights a slow bloom of liquid heat unfurling in his lower belly.

With a crooked finger and a subtle uptilt of your chin you summon him to your side. And like the hopeless fool he is, Carlos rises instantly and crosses the small distance to enfold you in his arms from behind.

“Having fun out here without me, cariño?” He murmurs in your ear, lips brushing the sensitive shell so he feels the full-body shiver that wracks through you.

You lean back into his embrace, all soft curves and intoxicating jasmine scent. “I’m always having fun when I’m with you, Mr. Race Winner,” you sigh as your fingers trail delicately down the solid line of his biceps. “Even if we’re just sitting around doing nothing.”

The words are simple — honest and unguarded in a way that makes Carlos’ heart seize in his chest. For two people who came together in a wild collision of lust and passion, it’s moments like these that continually remind him of how much deeper your connection truly runs. Far beyond mere physicality into some soul-binding and unbreakable place.

You must sense the shift in his energy because you turn in his arms, expression questioning but so openly caring it nearly steals Carlos’ breath away. Tenderly, you cup his jaw and search his eyes.

“What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours, hmm?”

He shakes his head minutely, leaning down to brush his lips across your forehead before pulling you snug against his chest. You settle easily into the circle of his arms like that’s the most natural place in the world, cheek pillowed over his steadily thrumming heart.

“Nothing to worry about, princesa,” Carlos assures you gruffly, stroking soothing circles over the warm bare skin of your back. “Just feeling … lucky, I suppose. To have found someone like you.”

The words seem to catch you off guard and you pull back slightly to study his face, mouth curved in that secretive little smile that always makes Carlos’ stomach swoop.

“Well, I certainly feel the luckiest woman on Earth,” you tease lightly, booping his nose in a playful gesture that somehow serves to implant roots deep in Carlos’ soul rather than make him roll his eyes.

Instead, he just gazes at you for a long, weighted moment, allowing himself to simply bask in your presence. In the soft beauties that first drew him in — that delicate blush that finds its way across your nose and cheekbones, the little crinkles that bloom when your smile widens to that mega-watt, face-splitting beam, and those soulful eyes that never fail to pin Carlos helplessly in place.

Then there are the quieter, more intimate details he’s gradually uncovered the deeper he delves into your connection. The barely-there laugh lines at the corners of your eyes when you’re feeling particularly pleased about something. The trick of tugging on your lower lip with your teeth when you’re aroused and trying not to show it. The subtle furrow that appears between your brows when you’re concentrating intently on something.

Carlos knows them all now like geography he was born to navigate.

Without conscious thought, he smooths his thumbs over your jaw and guides you up into a slow, thorough kiss that has both your pulses kicking into overdrive. You whine quietly into his mouth, winding your arms around his neck and arching against him in ways that instantaneously have him hard and aching. But Carlos doesn’t give in to the heated urgency coursing through his bloodstream.

Instead, he keeps the languid glide of his lips over yours unhurried and leisurely — savoring the sensation of you pliant and receptive beneath his seduction. You seem to shake off your initial fervor as well, melting further into the molten drag of his mouth claiming yours over and over.

This too is a geography Carlos has long since mastered. The precise angle he needs to tilt his head to slot your bodies effortlessly flush together. The soft, mewling noises he can coax out of you with carefully applied suction to your plush lower lip. The tiny shudders when he swipes his tongue in long, slick caresses over the roof of your mouth.

You’re practically vibrating with restraint by the time he finally releases your mouth with an obscene, wet pop. Your lips are swollen and glistening, glistening with shared wanting. Carlos hums deep in his chest and brushes the pad of his thumb over the slick fullness reverently.

“So impatient, cariño,” he chides with a wolfish grin that has your nipples visibly peaking beneath the thin lace bodice. “You know that’s not what I had in mind for tonight.”

With an adorable little pout, you wind your arms around his neck once more. “And what, pray tell, did you have in mind?”

A dozen filthy scenarios immediately clamor for attention in Carlos’ head. Having you right here, up against the wall of this secluded VIP area. Bending you over the sleek lines of one of the low leather couches. Finding a shadowed alcove and sinking to his knees before you, nosing aside those delicate strips of lace to ...

He banishes each carnal thought before it can take root and produce visible effect. Tangling his fingers through the soft tresses at the nape of your neck, Carlos brings your foreheads together with a soft smile.

“I thought we might enjoy a moonlight stroll along the beach actually,” he murmurs, relishing the way your disappointed huff ruffles against his skin. “Just you and me under the stars, far away from the noise and crowds for a while.”

You regard him dubiously for a moment before seeming to melt at whatever expression Carlos doesn’t realize he’s allowed to show through. As always, you give in far too easily to his indulgent whims.

With a soft, fond roll of your eyes, you press up on your toes to drop a lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Of course, mon amour. Just you and me under the stars.”

Twenty minutes later finds you ambling hand in hand down a pristine stretch of beach in the Middle Park suburb. The warm, salty breeze gusts gently over your skin, carrying traces of coconut sunscreen and the briny musk of the sea. Foamy waves lap invitingly against the silvered sands as Carlos steers you towards a small, isolated cove.

He procures a large woven blanket from his bag and unfurls it in a clear spot before tugging you down into the plush nest of fabric. You immediately gravitate into his space — curling against his side and tucking yourself beneath his arm like that’s where you were always meant to fit. For Carlos’ part, he cherishes the easy affection and careless intimacy of the simple gesture more than you’ll ever know.

You spend what could be minutes or hours like that — exchanging lazy kisses and sipping from a shared bottle of wine as the moon rises ever higher overhead. After a while, Carlos sprawls onto his back and you quickly drape yourself half-atop him so he can leisurely card his fingers through your windswept tresses.

The soft, steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your ear combined with the soothing sounds of the lapping tide soon have your eyelids drooping. Carlos has never felt so at peace — this sublime bubble with you the single point around which the rest of the universe spins, perfectly in balance.

“Hey,” you mumble against the warm, sleep-rumpled fabric of his shirt. “Aren’t you the one always saying we should be living in the present?”

He huffs a quiet laugh, stroking one hand down the dip of your spine to rest possessively at the base. “What brings that up all of a sudden?”

You shift enough to look up at him through your lashes, eyes molten with a familiar heat that shivers down Carlos’ spine.

“I’m just wondering what’s got you stuck in your head so often these days,” you counter smoothly, punctuating the observation by swinging one leg over his hips so you can settle atop him fully, careful not to disturb his still-tender stitches. “We’ve barely been able to share … intimate moments at all the last month or so.”

Carlos sucks in a sharp breath as your weight settles over the rapidly stiffening ridge of his arousal. His hands find your hips of their own volition, squeezing reflexively as you begin moving atop him in a slow, undulating rhythm.

“Perhaps I’ve been overtly romantic,” he allows through gritted teeth, letting his head thunk back against the blanket as desire rapidly thrums through his veins. “Missing out on more … physical expressions of passion just because I wanted to remind both of us that this is built on so much more than lust.”

You hum thoughtfully, sitting up fully and swaying atop him in a way that has Carlos rapidly losing his tenuous grasp on reality beyond this blissful patch of the world containing just the two of you. He’s fully hard and straining against the loose linen of his slacks within moments.

“Then maybe we should do something about that right now,” you breathe huskily, arching your back in an inhumanly graceful roll that leaves Carlos’ mouth dry as the Sahara. His hands track helplessly up the delicious curves of your waist, bunching the delicate material of your dress around your hips.

He sits up to meet you so suddenly your foreheads nearly crack together. You release a breathless giggle that Carlos hungrily swallows with his lips, trapping you in a searing kiss filled with all the smoldering hunger he’s been studiously keeping banked for weeks now.

Mindlessly, he chases the taste of you over and over — salty and sweet and everything he’s been desperately starving himself for. His fingers fumble at the tie closures along your ribs until the bodice finally falls away, baring your breasts to his gaze and seeking hands.

You gasp softly into the heated seal of his mouth when Carlos’ calloused palms close over your soft, pliant flesh. He cups and kneads with reverent, possessive strokes that have you quickly arching your chest further into his touch and throwing your head back on a wanton moan.

“Carlos ...” You breathe his name like a prayer, riding his lap with increasing urgency and bringing your mouths back together in a clash of teeth and tongues. Your fingers slide up beneath the hem of his shirt to map the shifting planes of his abdomen, nails raking over the taut, quivering muscles. “Don’t hold back with me any longer. Not tonight … need to feel all of you.”

A shudder wracks Carlos’ entire frame at your breathy plea. He knows you’re right, can feel that same desperate yearning driving you magnified inside himself. Every cell of his body is vibrating with the need to take you fully — heart, mind, and body aligning in euphoric harmony after so many weeks of well meaning denial.

Seizing your hips in a bruising grip, Carlos surges to his feet and simply holds you against him with easy strength. Your legs immediately wind around his waist as you giggle deliriously against his lips.

“Is this what you want, princesa?” He murmurs lowly, swaying subtly to grind his straining need over the lush juncture of your thighs in counterpoint. “For me to finally have my way with you the way we’ve both been craving?”

“Yes,” you hiss out through clenched teeth, back arching as Carlos nips and sucks a path down the slender column of your neck. “God, yes, Carlos. Will you just fuck me already? Here on the sand and beneath the open sky like something out of one of those romance novels you pretend not to love.”

The easy teasing breaks through whatever lingering threads of Carlos’ control were still intact and he growls low in his chest. In one deft motion, he divests you both of the rest of your clothes and spreads you out on the blanket before him in all your unabashed glory. His gaze tracks over your form hungrily, drinking in every dip and swell as you watch him with dark, wanting eyes.

“Princesa ...” Carlos breathes, gratified to see his own desire and reverent longing reflected back at him tenfold in your heated stare. “No more waiting, no more teasing.”

His meaning is clear even without the punctuation of sinking down to settle fully over your smaller form, blanketing you with his weight and forcing your thighs apart to cradle his hips. You immediately writhe beneath him, winding limber arms and legs around him in a vice grip that sears every point of contact between you.

“Carlos, mon cœur ...” You keen breathily into the scant space separating your lips, every word punched from you in counterpoint to the sensual roll of his hips grinding his arousal through your slick folds. “Please. I need you. Need to feel you all around me again after so long.”

He crushes his mouth to yours in answer, tongue instantly delving deep to taste the exquisite velvet heat of you. You clutch him closer even as Carlos shifts his weight to one forearm so his other hand can roam freely over every inch of bare, pebbled skin he can reach. When his calloused palm finally finds your breast and gives a rough squeeze, you shudder and cry out into his waiting lips.

There’s no more waiting after that. Carlos sheaths himself in one powerful, purposeful thrust that buries him to the hilt and your gasp dissolves into a broken moan. He stills for the briefest of moments, just reveling in the unbearably tight clutch of your molten sheath, every nerve ending alight and thrumming. Then he slowly withdraws until just the swollen head remains inside before immediately surging forward once more.

Your nails score lines of liquid fire down his back at the first deep, dragging stroke. But Carlos barely notices the delicious sting. He’s utterly consumed by the feeling of finally being surrounded by you again — hot, snug, and so utterly perfect. Every sound and shudder and arch of your form against his own is like the sweetest plea washing over him.

He sets a demanding pace, relentlessly pounding into you from that first jarring thrust onward. The only sounds are your mingled cries and the wet, obscene smack of flesh on flesh echoing out over the lapping ocean waves. Carlos wants to make sure there’s no doubt in your mind how much he’s craved every inch of you.

“There’s my good girl,” he rasps hotly against the bullet-hard peak of your nipple before laving it soothingly with his tongue. You release a strangled cry, back bowing sharply off the blanket as you clench down on him in rippling, vice-like pulses. “Fuck … taking me just how you were made to. So damn perfect, cariño.”

Your garbled whimpers and keens of his name drive Carlos to new levels of feverish intensity with each hitching breath. He snakes an arm beneath your sweat-slick lower back to position your hips at a slightly higher angle, seating himself even more deeply inside.

Every purposeful thrust now grinds against that tender cluster of nerves in a way that quickly has your eyes rolling back. You go boneless and whimpering, allowing Carlos to manhandle and use your plaint and plush form in whatever way he craves.

Pressure rapidly mounts within Carlos like an incoming tidal wave as your inner walls begin fluttering around him in telltale pulses. He can feel his own imminent release building in tandem at the base of his spine, that familiar molten curl of pleasure threatening to crest.

“That’s it, princesa,” he grits out raggedly against the sweat-slick arch of your throat. He slides the hand not anchoring your hips down to toy with the engorged pearl at your apex — drawing out a stream of sobbing wails. “Take what’s yours. Fucking milk me with that greedy little cunt. You were made for this cock, made to be split open and ruined on it over and over until you’ve got no idea where you end and I begin.”

The filthy words seems to be your undoing. With a sobbing cry of Carlos’ name, you seize up — inner walls rippling and convulsing like they’re taking him for everything he’s worth. Carlos hardens his jaw and summons the last threads of his control to keep himself from shattering apart at the very first fluttering pulse.

As the shattering waves of your release gradually crest and ebb, Carlos chases them down with powerful thrusts designed to prolong and intensify every aftershock. You writhe and whimper beneath him in overstimulated pleasure, rapidly going boneless and sated.

That’s when he finally surrenders to the smoldering inferno in his belly, hips snapping forward in a few final, erratic strokes before Carlos throws back his head and allows his own orgasm to rip through him. White-hot euphoria explodes across every nerve ending as he empties himself in heavy, throbbing pulses deep inside your spasming core.

“Ah fuck … just like that, cariño,” he rasps out hoarsely, grinding himself as deeply inside you as physically possible and simply shuddering through each exquisite contraction. “Taking every last fucking drop of me right where you were made for it ...”

Utterly spent, Carlos collapses forward with the last dregs of his stamina — just barely managing to catch himself on shaking forearms so he doesn’t crush you beneath his weight. You immediately latch onto him, peppering his flushed face with sweet kisses.

For several long moments, you simply hold each other through the aftershocks, chests heaving and bodies trembling. Carlos has never felt more peaceful or completely at ease in his entire life. His every sense is utterly surrounded and suffused by you in the most blissful of ways.

When his lashes finally flutter open, the first thing he sees is your adoring smile glowing up at him in the moonlight. It nearly steals what little breath remains in his lungs.

“Hi,” you murmur shyly. Carlos huffs out a breathless chuckle and tugs you even closer until your overwarm bodies are aligned from navel to sternum.

“Hi yourself, princesa,” he replies, just as softly against your lips before sinking into another deep, leisurely kiss that tastes equal parts salt and sex and forever.

When you part again, your eyes are sparkling with so much uncomplicated happiness that Carlos nearly melts into a useless puddle on the spot. He’s drowning and he’s never felt more gloriously unmoored.

“I love you, y’know? Like … down to the depths of my soul,” your fingers trail over the sharp jaw and cheekbones you now know better than your own.

The words should terrify Carlos with their intensity and implication. Instead, they simply roll through him in a cresting wave of overwhelming tenderness and clarity.

Of course he loves you. How could he not, when his existence now seems to revolve around your presence as the only fixed point in a dizzying orbit?

So rather than balk or deflect or shove those emotions back down, Carlos allows every infinite but of love and adoration and soul-deep need to shine through unfettered. He cradles your face between his palms and simply stares, committing every minuscule detail of this moment to memory before leaning down to brush his lips over yours in the sweetest, most loaded caress.

“I love you too, princesa,” he murmurs the words directly into your mouth like a sacrament. “With every fiber of my being. You are my everything.”

You tug him down into a heated, clinging embrace, holding him like you never intend to let go.

And at last, Carlos knows without a shadow of doubt that he never will either

1K notes · View notes

kentopedia · 6 months

Text

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ BLAME IT ON THE BLACK STAR — hayakawa aki

summary . . . maybe aki’s in the wrong for all the mixed signals he sends you, but it’s your fault for always picking up the phone.

contents . . . f!reader, angst, complicated relationships, smoking, miscommunication, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, ambiguous ending, hurt/comfort i suppose — 5.6k

notes . . . this is my first time writing for aki so pls be nice i’m nervous hdjwjwk <33 i’m not all the way caught up w csm so it might be inaccurate idk

Aki calls you, sometimes, when he’s feeling lonely. You figure, by now, he must have your number memorized, with how frequently your phone ends up ringing.

Of course, you always pick up, knowing you shouldn’t, knowing it’ll just end up hurting. But you can’t help yourself, really. You’re incredibly weak for a man that you know will never commit his life to you. You learned that lesson a long time ago.

Still, you’re a fool who refuses to move on.

Instead, you stand, shivering in the cold in front of Aki’s door, waiting for him to answer it. The lights are off in the apartment — you have no idea where his new roommates are for the evening, but they clearly aren’t there. Aki wouldn’t have called you otherwise; you’re certain he doesn’t want anyone to know about the two of you, save for those that have known since the beginning.

Heavy footsteps pad across the floor, and then the lamp in the hallway flicks on, illuminating the threshold in a beam of yellow. The door unlatches, opening just a crack, as his blue eyes drift down to trail over you.

“You got here faster than I thought.”

“I’m freezing, Aki,” you say, pushing through the door. His palm falls away, rests at his sides. Its only eight o’clock, but he’s already in sweatpants, a loose sweatshirt hanging over his tall frame. Dark hair falls across his cheeks, still damp from his earlier shower.

“Sorry,” he says, shutting the door behind him. “I was in the bathroom.”

You don’t reply, and shrug your coat off instead, hanging it on the rack that is now full of jackets that don’t belong to him. But you’re barely able to get it onto the hook before Aki has a palm around your wrist, tugging you towards him, the smell of his body wash and shampoo lingering in a cloud around him.

A little welp of surprise leaves you as you spin around, nearly falling into his chest. Instead, you collide with his mouth, the heat already settling down on you as heavily as it always does when Aki is around.

He kisses you, long and hard, hungry for the taste of you, his head craned down to meet your height. For a moment, you let him. It’s sweet and familiar, all the things you’ve ever wanted.

In moments like these, you indulge in thoughts of a life where things are different. A life where Aki can greet you at the door, smile when you kiss him, instead of the pensive expression he always wears. A life where Aki doesn’t come home with new scars every few days, where he isn’t hell-bent on a goal you’re not sure he can ever achieve.

That dream of yours won’t ever become a reality, but it doesn’t stop you from savoring the taste of his mouth against your own — how much you’ve missed it, even when you shouldn’t.

When you’ve run out of air to breathe, you push him away, and Aki stands straight, blinking like he doesn’t know what he’s done wrong.

“Not even going to offer to make me dinner?” you ask, keeping him at a distance. Although you meant for it to sound playful, teasing, it comes off full of a bitter resentment. Your face is probably drawn up into a scowl, even if you can’t see it.

Aki blinks, rubbing his forearm. His lips part, then he shuts them, furrowing his eyebrows together. “You said you were cooking — over the phone, you said you’d already eaten.”

“Well, at least you remember that.”

Confusion spreads even further, tighter, stretching to every corner of his expression. Aki’s hands twitch listlessly at his side, just as his mouth does. “Are you upset with me?” he asks, and you know he’s smarter than that, that he might not be the most sensitive to others’ emotions, but he is certainly no fool when it comes to yours. “If you didn’t want to come over tonight, I wasn’t forcing you.”

A laugh almost escapes you — instead, you muster up a cool grimace. Like you aren’t going drop everything for Aki every time he says I don’t want to be alone tonight.

Really, it was laughable how tightly he had you in the palm of his hand, and you can’t fathom that he would think otherwise. You’ve always done whatever he needed; given him whatever he wanted.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were in the hospital?” you ask finally, swallowing back your annoyance as you gesture towards the bandage around his arm. It’s wrapped up tight, but the bandages are fresh, still a starched white.

His eyebrows tighten further. The air around him changes, even though his expression doesn’t. “Who told you about that?”

“Himeno.”

Aki purses his lips. “I didn’t realize you two were friends now.”

You did laugh then, shaking your head as you make your way into the living room, looking for any subtle changes in his apartment. There are new pairs of shoes that certainly don’t belong to him, a sweatshirt that looks about two sizes too small.

“I wouldn’t really say we’re friends,” you shrug, not bothering to look at him. The air in the room is somehow off-putting, and you take it in like it’s the first you’d ever seen of the place. “But how else am I supposed to find out if you’re still alive?”

You give him a sad little smile, and slowly, the irritation seeps out of his face, his shoulders slumping. He looks tired, then — far too old for a man that is still so young.

“It wasn’t that serious. I’m fine now, aren’t I?” Aki gestures to his arm, flails it wildly, as if to prove it’s still working properly. “Just a scratch.”

“It is serious. It’s serious to me,” you say, narrowing your eyes, and though his tone is warmer, he doesn’t smile at you, not like he used to. He maintains a vague air of surprise, while dampening any emotion that could cloud over his lack of understanding. It annoys you to no end, that he won’t let you see him.“I’m always worried about you, idiot. Don’t act like you don’t know how I feel about you.”

Aki blinks, then draws his lips together in a thin line, shaking his head. Although you were pointedly avoiding each other’s gazes, you could feel the tension drawing you together like a cord.

God, you missed him every time you were apart. You went to your regular job, thought all day about the man who would never love you like you loved him, wondering if he was okay, if he’d pick up the phone and call you again next week. Or if, one day, it would be Himeno instead, telling you that you’d never see him again — or, god forbid, Makima, with her careless tone of authority. That thought alone haunts you even with your eyes open.

But for now, it’s still Aki who calls you, and every time, you are overwhelming relieved to hear the sound of his voice again. Heavy tears always drop down your cheeks as you dig the phone into your ear, wishing that it was his mouth there instead, and wishing that those pretty blue eyes still looked at you with the same sort of softness they once had.

“I told you…” Aki begins sharply, but then he trails off, finally meeting your gaze. His features pinch once more, melodramatic, as he scans the sadness that you could never hide in your expression. “Damn it.” Car lights flash over his face through the window as someone drives past the apartment complex. The darkness of the room becomes even more evident when they disappear.

“I know,” you say, resigned, as you watch him scrub his hands over his face, and inhale heavily. It’s hard for you to keep your emotions from getting the best of you. “You’ve reminded me — many times. I know this doesn’t mean we’re back together. I know, Aki.”

His jaw parts, lips faltering at the beginning of a phrase. Despite his tall frame, he falters, looking so small, as sadness filters into the eyes that shine a deep navy in the shade of the evening. Beside him his fingers twitch, curling up into his palm, before he takes two long strides towards you.

The mere second it takes him to get there passes without your memory, and your back hits the door to his bedroom, softly, as he looms over you, fingers brushing your cheeks.

A thousand times you’ve been in this position, and it’s so familiar that your hand reaches up instinctively, splaying across his chest. Aki’s breaths leave him, deeply, expanding through his lungs before he exhales them across your cheekbones, oxygen splitting at the bridge of your nose. “What’s wrong?” you ask quietly, blinking up at him from under your lashes.

“That’s not what I meant.” His voice comes out on a hoarse whisper.

“Hm?” You dig your fingers into his sweatshirt, the material thick and warm. “What did you mean?”

Tenderly, his thumb brushes across the hollows of your cheek, the sharp bone that juts out. Aki’s fingertips are so rough and calloused, but that familiarity brings a sob out of you, your hands springing up to grab his wrists. “That I’m not fooling anyone,” Aki says, swallowing, eyes roaming all over your face. “That I can’t stay away from you, no matter how hard I try.”

Your lips part, but your breath is stolen away by another kiss, blanketing your mouth, warm and with an emotion that you’re certain you can taste. It takes you less than a moment for you to close your eyes, to relax into him as always, melt into his familiarity. The taste of the cigarettes he smokes lingers on his tongue, seeping deep into your own lungs.

As he bumps his nose with your own, you reach up, run your fingers through his hair, untangling all the knots that have accumulated since his shower. At the same time, Aki palms at the door behind you, not bothering to look up as he fumbles for the door handle, slipping it open.

Aki always kisses you like it’s the last time he’ll ever do it, struggling to unglue you from himself. He kisses you like he knows he’s going to leave again, and it might be for the very last time.

It’s a sickening emotion to live with, but you’ve accepted it all the same.

You ignore the feelings that never leave you alone when you’re with Aki, and stumble backwards into the room, feet catching under you. Although you nearly fall, Aki catches you, arms heavy around your waist, large palm spreading across your lower back.

“You’re so pretty,” he says, nearly carrying you to his bed. The two of you latch so tightly onto the other, that you will surely go tumbling down if either of you makes the wrong move. “I’ve never met anyone as pretty as you.”

“Aki,” you mumble, shaking your head. “I don’t want to hear that.”

He stumbles, and you do fall onto the bed, then, his heavy body on top of you, landing with a thud. But he’s careful to catch himself, to tuck his arms into the space beside you, as he kisses across your cheeks, down your neck, to your chest.

“Why?” he asks into your skin, voice low and rough. “You don’t think you’re pretty?” his tone is dry, sarcastic. Aki’s fingers fumble with the zipper on your jeans, slipping your pants off faster than you can inhale a fresh set of air into your lungs. “Want me to prove it to you?”

Despite your lingering resentment, you crack a smile, shift your hips so he can pull your bottoms off completely. “Aren’t you afraid you’ll fall in love with me again?” you say off-handedly, running your hands along the edge of his shirt, before slipping cold fingers under it. His skin is hot there, abdomen soft, muscle just as lean as it was last week, but stronger than when you’d first met him.

Aki’s eyes soften. “Why would I be afraid of a thing like that?”

You don’t like the double meaning in his words, and you don’t want to read into it. Instead, you pull Aki back down to your mouth, hoping he’ll take and take from you, even though he’s always one to give. The one who calls you, who needs to be inside of you, but won’t worry about himself until you’ve come apart at least once.

“Feels like it’s been a while since I’ve seen you,” he says, pushing your thighs further apart, muttering the words against your lips. His fingers graze the outside of your panties, as you slowly begin to wet them with desire that burns hot in your stomach. “I missed you.”

You feel his smile curl as he kisses across your chest, around your collarbones, and you sit up far enough to slide your shirt off. Aki does the same — there are fresh scars on his body, healing wounds. You can’t look at them for too long, before grief rises up in you, mourning a man that is not yet dead.

“Whose fault is that?” you ask bitterly, pushing the top of his head to sink him to your thighs. Instead, he takes his time pressing his mouth around your belly, swirling his tongue just past your hips.

A sigh leaves you, and you sink deeper into the mattress, eyes blinking closed. He’s so slow, so deliberate with every movement, like he’s been waiting all of this time just to lose himself in you. Ridiculous, really, considering that he could have you at anytime, and he knows it.

You’d hate him for it, for stringing you along like this, but that would be hypocritical, really. You’re the fool that continues to play the game.

Aki ignores your passing comment, squeezing your thighs as his face drifts down your body. His hair brushes against your bare skin, still a bit damp, but so soft, the scent of his soap so familiar you could pick out the shampoo with your eyes closed.

“Want my fingers or my mouth first?” Aki whispers into the inside of your thigh, kissing the delicate skin there as he looks up at you from under thick, black lashes. They flutter over his cheekbones, the hollows of his eyes, and he’s so pretty… it’s no wonder you’re so far gone for him. “Since you’re in such a mood tonight, I’ll let you choose.”

There’s a tiny smirk on his face, and even though you’re about to answer, Aki takes it upon himself to kiss your cunt through your panties, the fabric sticking to your skin.

“A-aki,” you stutter, caught off-guard, fingers lacing through his hair, nails scratching against his scalp. “You didn’t give me a chance to answer.”

He drags his tongue up your clothed cunt, wetting it even further, so you can’t tell if you’re soaked from his spit or your own arousal. “I picked instead. Like the way you moan when my mouth’s on you,” he says off-handedly, and heat rushes to your cheeks as you stare at the ceiling, still so shy when it comes to his dirty mouth. “No one’s here,” Aki continues, words vibrating against the bone, puffs of air drifting around your sensitive area. “Want you to be loud.”

A tiny laugh escapes you, but it is quickly stolen by a whimper as he sucks your clit into his mouth through the cotton of your underwear, an old pair that was anything but sexy. Although, you’ve known Aki for so long, been with him for so long, there’s never any reason to try and impress him.

“Feels good,” you say, closing your eyes as you rest on the pillow. Aki pushes his tongue against your hole, teasing. His fingers dig deeper into the flesh of your thighs, keeping them from locking around his head as you search for more friction. Your chest rises and falls with the heat of your breathing, but Aki doesn’t let you rub yourself against his tongue, doesn’t let you move much, really. “Aki,” you whine, and though there are times when he doesn’t let you get your way, this isn’t one of them.

“So impatient,” he says cheekily, but he slips your panties to the side, your cunt vulnerable to the frigid winter air. You shiver, and he sinks his tongue into you completely, the heat of it warming you as he swirls it inside, spreading you further open with his fingers.

Your body grows hot all over when Aki thrusts his tongue in and out of your aching walls, your juices seeping onto his tongue. He moves slowly, savoring every moment that you’re in his bed, even as you try to arch into him, speed him up so that you can orgasm faster. He’s right: you are impatient, because it’s been days since you’ve last felt him inside of you, and nothing feels as good as Aki’s thick fingers and cock.

His nose bumps your clit as he drags his tongue in a thick stripe up your cunt. A moan leaves you, and without thinking, you jerk your hips up, forcing them towards his face. The sound from your chest is so lewd, and you’ll feel shy about how loud you were later, but all you can think about is his mouth on you.

Aki smiles, kisses the inside of your thigh. When he lifts his head, the ache inside you burns deeper, the sight of him with saliva and fluid dripping down his chin almost too much for you to handle. “Taste so good,” he hums, massaging the skin around your knees, hoisting your calves up over his shoulder blades. “Think you can cum from just my tongue, baby? You’re so pent up, I don’t think you can last much longer.”

You whimper, pressing your heels into his back as Aki’s tongue resumes lapping up your cunt, long and hot, massaging the most sensitive spots inside of you. You can tell he’s hard, aching as he shifts his hips awkwardly, trying not to press them in the bed.

Aki picks up his speed, head bobbing slightly as the heat insides of you builds; normally, you would’ve lasted longer, but you can’t remember the last time you’ve even touched yourself, and your most recent orgasm must have been with Aki.

You don’t tell him when you’re close, but he already knows, sucking harder on your clit as you finally come, body jerking into him, walls spasming. Your eyes squeeze shut, and his name leaves your lips much quieter than he would’ve liked.

“You’re so fucking hot,” Aki says, tugging off his sweatpants, the only layer between you and his cock. His dark hair is slightly mussed from your fingers, the way you’d pulled at him, tried to guide him where you wanted him, even if he already knew. “So easy for you to get me hard, you know that?” His cock is leaking at the tip, desperate for release, and you haven’t even touched him yet. “Just the thought of you spread out like this is enough.”

A desperate whine leaves you, and you reach behind, unclasping the straps of your bra, the last remaining garment between you and Aki. He grins at that, his canines so sharp, teeth a little crooked, but the prettiest smile you’d ever seen because you see it so rarely.

“Gonna play with those pretty tits while I fuck you, baby?”

“Fuck, Aki, please,” you groan, reaching for him, pulling his mouth to your own. You kiss him hard, hoping that he knows you love him, and hoping that he feels guilty about that fact. “Want you inside me. God, I need you so bad.”

He presses his forehead to your own, lining his cock up with your entrance, the head prodding at your gaping walls. You get so sensitive, even from just one orgasm, that you wince a little bit. But the uncomfortable feeling eases as he presses into you, kisses you sweetly.

“Fuck, fuck,” Aki groans, biting down hard on your shoulder. “God, you’re so wet, so warm. You feel so good around my cock, baby. Such a pretty girl for me.”

Your nails dig into his back as he slides, slowly, out of you, before he thrusts back in, still not rough enough for your liking. Aki’s hair falls around his face, his mouth parting just a bit, focus dilating his irises. His biceps flex as he holds himself off the bed, snapping his hips into your aching cunt.

“H-harder,” you mumble, trying not to shout, to moan too loudly into the open air of the evening. Aki’s walls are far too thin, and his neighbors know who you are. The last thing you want is for them to see you as Aki’s fuck-buddy that moans like a bitch in heat. “Please, sweetheart.”

Aki groans, a deep sound that reverberates all the way from his chest down to his stomach. The affectionate name twists something up in him, and Aki thrusts his hips faster, kisses your forehead, your cheeks, any part of your skin that he can get his mouth on. His hair tickles your jaw, nose nudging against your face as he mumbles into your skin, “so needy, aren’t you? I want to take my time with you, and you just want to get off.”

“Can’t help it, Aki,” you say, squeezing your eyes shut tight as you buck your hips upward. “God, you feel so good, I lo—”

You stop the words from leaving your mouth, but Aki already knows. He’s known it for a while now, and you should be embarrassed by the fact that you can’t let him go.

Wide blue eyes stare back at you, full of something you can’t define, but still so soft as he pulls away. He draws you closer, slides your legs around his hips before pinning your own to the bed with large, heavy palms. Aki’s built with all lean muscle, and he’s so tall — so much taller than you that it’s easy to forget because he treats you so gently. Still, he blankets your body, makes you feel small in the nicest way.

Because you know that even though he can never commit his love to you, he’d never let anything — human or devil — lay a finger on you. You love him, you love him, you love him.

Aki follows your wishes, sinks faster inside of you as you exhale heavily. Your nails dig into his back so tightly that you start to worry you’ll break the skin. But Aki loses himself in the feeling of you, panting into your chest as he moves his hips.

“F-fuck,” he mutters, eyes fluttering shut. “I’m not going to last long inside you like this. Maybe I should slow down—”

“No, no, I’m close,” you stumble over your words, meeting Aki’s intense eyes, a thousand emotions relayed in them as he blinks at you. “It’s okay.”

“God,” he mutters, whispers the word between you, even though you’re certain he hasn’t believed in him for a while, and you’re not sure you do either. “I don’t deserve you.”

You wonder if Aki meant to say that at all, so you let it go, let the words exist between you as if they were never there at all.

His palm guides it’s way across your stomach, the touch featherlight, before he reaches for your breast, thumb flicking across your nipple. The nail catches, and you moan, almost there once more. Aki’s cock hitting all the right places, so much better than your own fingers.

“Aki,” you say his name over and over, your mind going numb from thinking about him.

“I know,” Aki mutters against your lips, hot air ghosting across them on his exhale. “You’re okay. Let go for me, baby. Did so good for me, want you to cum on my cock.”

His voice, so deep and rough in your ears, sends you over the edge, and a sound forces its way up your throat as you clench down on him, your cunt spasming from your orgasm. It hits you harder than you’d been anticipating, legs squeezing around Aki’s hips as you dig your toes into the mattress.

“There we go,” Aki wipes your hair away from your face, kissing your temples, so gently that you think you might cry. It’s not fair for him to be so sweet, so loving when you know he’s going to kick you out of his apartment before the night is over. “My pretty girl. Shit,” Aki mumbles, cursing lowly before pulling out of you, quick, and spilling into his palm. It takes him less than a stroke down the length of his cock, the thick cum spurting out, falling onto your hips, beside you on the mattress.

It’s not your mess to clean, though, and you can’t bring yourself to care. Breathing heavily, you watch Aki fumble for something on his nightstand, before he gives up, wiping his wet hand on the already soiled bedsheets. Then, he collapses down onto his side, staring, watching your chest rise and fall.

“Aki,” you say, turning away from his eyes to stare at the ceiling, the cracked plaster, stained from water leaks. “I can’t do this anymore.”

Silence falls across the room, and you can’t bear to look at him, refusing to see the indifference on his face. There’s nothing, he says nothing, before sitting back up, shuffling through the nightstand once more.

The beams of streetlights sway against his silhouette, encased in a beautiful swirl of purple and navy hues. His hair seems an even darker curtain, coiling around his jaw as he hides from you, hides the emotion that was less than evident on his face.

You sigh, and flip back on your side.

Aki takes a few drags of the cigarette, puffing them into the stale air. It reeks, probably, in the tiny bedroom, but all you can smell is the tangy scent of Aki’s soap, the lavender that lingers on his skin, the cleanness of the linens that have been recently washed. This apartment, sometimes, feels more like home than your lonely one does, even though being with Aki is almost like being on your own, sometimes.

“Those things are going to kill you,” you say under your breath, still fascinated by the way the smoke draws deep into his lungs, puffs out in a cloud, relaxes him easily. His veiny palms flex, long, slender fingers holding the cigarette between them.

Aki doesn’t laugh, but it’s close to one, a snort almost, as he breathes again. “Not like I’ll be alive much longer, anyway.”

“You sound like Himeno.”

“Do I?”

You sniff, and scoot up against the wall, sitting beside him. Despite your argument, you take the cigarette from him, smoke it yourself, and place your lips around the exact place where Aki’s had been. He watches with the same rapt fascination, blinking slowly, before staring at the ceiling as you had before.

It’s Himeno he should be with now, really. Another Devil Hunter. A woman he can fuck without getting his feelings all mixed up, someone who probably understands him better than you do. He’s never loved her like he loved you, and she wouldn’t take offense to it either, you think.

But it’s you he calls instead. It’s you who is too weak to leave.

“I’m sorry,” Aki whispers.

“So am I.”

You reach across him, press the cigarette into the ashtray and drop what’s left of it amongst the other ends. Aki’s fingertips dance along your spine as you do so, and you wish he wouldn’t touch you, wish he’d just kick you out of the bed, toss you out of the apartment, spit at you like you weren’t anything but a whore.

Instead, he kisses your shoulder, draws you in close, curls his tall frame around your body, and drags you back down into the bed.

It hurts more than you want to admit, because this is what you want. You’d truly go the rest of your life, never have sex with him again, if he’d always hold you like you meant something to him.

“I need to go home,” you say, remembering that you still haven’t eaten dinner, that you’d left your things in disarray, your clothes unfolded on your bed. There was never a reason to before, because with Aki, you’d always go home, just before the last train. You’d be tucked into your bed that same evening after a nice shower. “Aki…”

“Stay.” He kisses your collarbone and shoulder again, throws his thigh over your own, and traps you against his body. “Please stay. You can wear that T-shirt of mine you like so much. I’ll make you breakfast. You can meet Power and Denji, and then I’ll take you home tomorrow morning.”

You swallow, damning your weak-willed heart for succumbing so easily. Fingers curl around his wrists as you bask in his embrace, how warm he is, despite normally running so cold. “Aki,” you whisper again, tears welling along your eyelashes. “You can’t do this to me. Please don’t do this to me.”

“Do what?” His voice is just as quiet as your own, and he’s still kissing you, holding you like you’re something precious. But he is surely not that stupid about your feelings, to how he has been tearing you apart for the past year, even though you let him.

You sniff, trying not to cry, never wanting to embarrass yourself, even if you have sobbed in his arms on numerous occasions. “You must know that I love you. I’ll never stop loving you. Even if I marry someone after you die, I’m certain your name will still be etched into the chains on my heart. I’m just a stupid, dumb girl.”

He says nothing, and you do cry, then, tears streaming down your face as you twist away, stare out the curtained window, the thin fabric fluttering from the heat that kicks on.

“Please don’t call me anymore. Just let me hurt for awhile, so I can get over you. You’re so selfish, so selfish, why can’t I just move on?” You bury your face in your hands, wipe your tears, try to fight against him as he pulls you into his strong chest, kisses the top of your head. Still, even then, even when you want to hate him, you’re putty in his heads, melting and craving the place in his arms that feels like home.

“I can’t let you go,” Aki says, wiping your tears. “Fuck, I can’t — I need you. Do you understand? I need you, and I know I’m a selfish piece of shit, but I don’t want you to move on.” He frowns, clenching his jaw, twisting his expression up. “I’ll be better.”

“Aki—”

“I’ll love you like you need, honey. I thought,” Aki scrubs his palm over his face, the other still stroking across your back. “I thought it’d make it easier, all this distance between us, to let you go. I can’t put you in danger, but I can’t stop loving you either.”

You inhale sharply, leaning your head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, committing the harmony to your memory. Who knows how much longer it will be in there, how much longer Aki will allow it to exist before he destroys himself completely.

“Aki, you’ll never love me like I need, because you’ll always put your work first,” you say, squeezing your eyes shut. “I realized that a long time ago.”

He shifts, pushing you away so you could look each other in the eye, the astounding resoluteness in his irises. How serious he was about trying to be someone he was not. “I can try.”

You sob.

And you wish you could just say no; say no and walk away, forget his name, never answer the phone again, never call Himeno to check up and make sure he’s still breathing.

But you can’t — it’ll never be that easy.

Pushing him away, you rest your head back on the pillow, trying to make yourself comfortable as you turn your back to him. Perhaps, the morning will give you clarity. You’ll stay, but you’re not sure for how long.

“I’m tired.”

Aki curls against you, rests his arm around your hip, kisses your neck, cheek, temple. “Okay,” he relents, holding you close, chest pressed against your spine. “I meant what I said about breakfast. Maybe we can talk about it then?”

You want to say no, but you won’t. He’ll kiss you in the morning, and you’ll kiss him back. Settle on your knees and give him a blowjob while he’s still groggy, before slipping on his T-shirt, chattering off his ear as he makes you breakfast. You’ll probably even curl your arms around his stomach from behind, stand on you tiptoes to reach the space between his shoulder blades.

Power and Denji will come home at some point, and probably say something rude, as Aki says they do to everyone. Then you’ll go home, and you’ll still be in love with him, and Aki will forget the conversation even happened, because he’ll say anything to get you to stay.

Or, maybe, he’s being honest. Maybe he will love you like you want him to.

Less than likely.

“Okay, Aki,” you agree, too tired to argue or acknowledge the emptiness in your stomach. “We’ll talk about it in then.”

reblogs appreciated!! thank you for reading!

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jobean12-blog · 5 months

Text

Next Door to Love

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader (Neighbor AU)

Word Count: 3,188

Summary: When you made the move to the city you never expected your new neighbor to be so sweet and helpful...or hot.

Author's Note: Because why not! Moving in across the hall from Bucky would be a dream, one I'd like to live out please and ty haha! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy!🥰

Warnings: fun and flirty, teasing and tension, a curse or two or three, Bucky is impatient and cocky in the best way!

Last week

Your tired, fuzzy slipper clad feet drag along the floor as you trudge toward the door across the hall. You’re hoping someone is home. Someone who has sugar. Anyone.

You let out a quick exhale and lift your chin before rapping your knuckles against the wood. A frown starts to mar your forehead when you hear a sleepy mumble come from inside the apartment.

Shit, fuck, shit you woke him up. It’s a guy. Of course it is…because you don’t look like you just rolled off your mattress that still has no bedframe and tripped over twenty-five unopened boxes…etc, etc.

The door swings open revealing said guy…a hot-as-fuck guy. Naked, except for his unbuttoned jeans.

Oh hi neighbor.

Before you can stop it, your gaze instantly drops to the dark trail of hair below his bellybutton, framed by a set of abs that you could dry your laundry on.

You reel yourself in and lift your eyes to his which does nothing to help your declining focus. His hair is perfectly mussed from sleep, his chiseled jaw shadowed with dark stubble and his incredible blue eyes lined by dark lashes.

His hands are planted on either side of the door frame and with every passing second you’re mesmerized by flexing muscles in his chest and arms.

He drags a lazy hand through his unkept hair and smiles. Knowingly. Smugly.

“Can I help you doll?”

“Um…hi. I’m sorry if I woke you…it’s just…I moved in yesterday and haven’t gone shopping yet and I have no sugar. I need my coffee.”

“So you’re my new neighbor,” he croons. “Lucky me.”

You audibly swallow and hold up your coffee cup pleadingly.

“I’ll take care of ya doll.”

With a wink he holds up one long finger.

“Come on in and make yourself comfortable. I’ll be right back with that sugar.”

He spins on his heel and walks toward what you’re guessing is the kitchen and it should be considering your apartments are mirror images of each other.

You step inside and stand by the door to wait. You hear him rummaging around and then hear a crash followed by grumbled curses.

Before you can react the cutest white cat saunters out of the kitchen, looking quite proud with his fluffy tail held high and blue eyes unblinking.

“That’s Alpine,” he yells from the other room. “Don’t let his cuteness fool you. He’s a menace!”

You let your laughter ring out and then kneel down to give Alpine some scratches. The cat instantly warms up to you and presses himself against your leg, purring loudly.

“Ah, of course he likes you.”

You look up at the sound of your neighbors voice and reluctantly give up petting Alpine to take the offering of sugar.

“Thank you….?”

“Bucky,” he finishes for you. “Name’s Bucky.”

“Thanks Bucky,” you say with a smile and then introduce yourself.

You look back down at the cat that is now circling between Bucky’s bare feet. “And Alpine really is cute. I can’t imagine he’s a menace.”

“Just wait until you get to know him,” Bucky says. “Can I get you anything else doll?”

“No. Thank you and again I’m sorry if I woke you.”

“No problem at all. I had a late night at the office and I was just being lazy. If you need anything else just come by. Anytime.”

His lips turn up in a boyish grin and he winks again.

You can feel his eyes on you as you turn and walk out into the hall and toward your apartment. Just as you push your door open you look over your shoulder and catch him staring, his teeth dug deep into his bottom lip.

The knock at your door startles you from your unpacking trance and from your spot on the floor, surrounded by open boxes and a mess of things, you ask, “who is it?”

“It’s Bucky…and I have food.”

Your smile is impossible to hide and you shout back, “come in!”

Bucky appears in the doorway with a pizza box.

“Hiya doll face,” he chimes. “I figured you’d need some fuel.”

You drag yourself out of the mess on the floor and hop up onto the edge of the counter.

“Thanks Bucky. I really appreciate it, but you’re spoiling me. What is it now…the third time this week you’re feeding me?”

He hands you a slice and then stands there, watching while you take a bite.

“And why not? You need to eat and I love to eat, might as well do it together!”

You laugh through your bite. “Then what motivated you to help with my furniture?”

He shrugs and grabs a slice of pizza, shoving half into his mouth before he answers.

“Perfect opportunity to show off my muscles.”

He waggles his brows suggestively and flexes a bicep.

“Double win for me,” you admit, licking your lips. “How will I ever repay you.”

He remains quiet for several moments while he studies you then asks, “how about a real dinner?”

“Pizza is the realest dinner there is!” you state with a mouthful.

“Let me take you out. For something other than pizza.”

“Are you asking me on a date?”

“Would you say yes if I were?”

Your legs swing back and forth at the knee as you finish your bite and then place your slice of pizza down. You reach over the box and grab the marker you left out on the counter, placing it between your lips.

Watching him from under your lashes, you take his arm and roll up the sleeve of his Henley and when your fingertips make contact with the sensitive skin on his underside of his forearm you can feel his muscles tighten.

Your mouth curves around the marker at his reaction and you pluck it from between your lips and start writing on his skin.

“Now you’ve got my number. Text me and we’ll pick a date for our date.”

“Thank you,” he says, leaning in close and dropping his eyes to your mouth.

Your lips part with your small gasp of air and when his thumb lifts to brush along the corner of your mouth you let out a rush of air.

“Sauce,” he states before he licks his finger clean, his gaze locked on yours.

You nod as he steps back and pulls out his phone to dial your number on his arm. Your phone rings and he says, “and now you’ve got mine.”

You spend the rest of your weekend unpacking and doing errands, running into Bucky only once in a frantic rush of laundry. He offers to help but you know if you let him you’ll become distracted and never get anything done. The two of you text back and forth, deciding on Saturday for your official date. No pizza involved.

The next morning you get another text from him.

“Morning doll face. Don’t forget an umbrella. Gonna rain later today.”

“Are you the weather man now?” you message back, smiling at your phone.

“Nah. Just a friendly neighbor.”

“Did you tell everyone in the building about the rain and remind them to bring an umbrella.”

“Just you…”

“Thanks, but I’m already half way to work sans umbrella.”

“Damn it. I knew I should have texted earlier. Now if you get caught in the rain it’ll be all my fault.”

“Hardly! I should have checked the weather. Can’t rely on you for everything can I?”

He sends a wink face.

“Is it Saturday yet?”

“Still only Monday morning. What’s Saturday?”

“Don’t tease me doll. I’ve been looking forward to this date since you showed up at my door lookin’ for sugar.”

“Have a good day Bucky.”

“You too doll…stay dry.”

You’re only two blocks from your apartment building when the sky opens up and the rain comes down in buckets. By the time you reach the doors you’re soaked through and cursing at yourself for forgetting an umbrella.

The door attendant lets you in with a sympathetic smile and as you’re sloshing past him and toward the elevator you hear Bucky’s voice.

“Oh doll. Look at you.”

He tugs his mail from the box and slams it shut, rushing toward you and taking your arm.

“Soaked,” you say sadly.

“I can see that,” he muses with a twitch of his perfect lips. “Come on, let’s get you upstairs and dry.”

The elevator doors open and you step inside with a shiver. He immediately starts to pull your jacket from your shoulders.

“What are you doing?” you ask without stopping him.

“You have to get out of this jacket. I’m sure your shirt is….”

He stops speaking when his eyes catch sight of your white button down, soaked through so that you can see the lace of your bra outlined against the fabric.

“Fuck,” he mutters, dragging his eyes back to your face. “Here.”

He shrugs off his damp jacket and then takes off his suit jacket and drapes it over your shoulders.

“But it’ll get all wet,” you protest.

“Don’t care. You can’t walk out of the elevator like that.”

His jaw is set in a hard line as his fingers work over the scruff that lines it. The elevator dings at your floor and he takes your hand, leading you out and checking the hallway.

“Why are you looking around like that?” you ask.

He turns back to you and tugs you closer. “I don’t wanna anyone seeing you.”

“Why not?”

“Because then I’ll have to kill them,” he states.

“Someone is acting a little jealous,” you giggle.

“Yeah well…we haven’t even had our first date yet. Can’t have someone looking at what’s about to be mine.”

“Yours,” you breathe out, not even realizing you’re now standing in front of your apartment door.

With shaky fingers you start to remove his suit jacket but before you can he stops you with a hand on your wrist.

“Don’t doll. Just keep it for now.”

“But we’re at the door. I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, but if you take that off then I have to see you in your wet shirt again. And I’m not sure I’ll be able to control myself if I do.”

“Control yourself how?” you ask in a breathy whisper.

He responds with a pained groan before his mouth meets yours and he has you pressed against the door.

Even though your shirt is soaked through and your skin is cold you can feel the warmth of his body seep into yours. You wrap your arms around his neck to steady yourself and he lifts one hand to cup the back of your neck, tilting your head and deepening the kiss.

Your scrape your nails along his broad shoulders and he moans out your name.

“Fuck, I love having your hands on me.”

The desperation in his voice has you arching into him and you drop your head against the door, giving him access to trail his lips down your neck. Your fingers slide into his hair and tug at the soft strands. He growls into your skin and scrapes his teeth over your pulse point making you gasp his name.

“Oh I like that,” you whisper.

He does it again.

“You’re going to like everything I do to you doll face.”

His lips graze yours and he swallows your whimper, crowding you closer to the door before muttering out a curse and letting you both take a breath.

“Is it Saturday yet?” he asks, still breathless.

“Still Monday,” you answer, feeling just the same.

“Right,” he says, planting his hands on the door above your head and dropping his head forward.

A door down the hall opens and he pauses, straightening his body to hide your own. You both smile at the older lady who walks by with a questioning look.

When Bucky’s eyes return to you they drop to where he spread his jacket open to put his hands on you, your shirt sticking to your wet skin even more now.

He stares before reluctantly dragging his eyes up and taking the sides of the material and pulling them tightly around you.

You tremble.

“Still cold?” he asks, his eyes soft with worry.

“Hardly,” you answer and lean up to kiss the corner of his mouth.

“See you later Bucky.”

“I’m counting on it doll.”

You spend the rest of the week juggling your time between work, texting Bucky and sleeping. You’ve only seen him once since Monday evening and that was for five minutes when he caught you coming home again but this time he had his friend Steve with him and there was no chance for any kissing.

Saturday morning rolls around and you wake up to a text from him.

“It is finally Saturday or am I dreaming?”

“It’s really Saturday!”

“Thank fuck! Can we start our date now?”

“No…I have to do girly things and prepare.”

“What kinds of things….?”

“I’ll see you tonight Buck.”

You can almost hear his groan through the phone.

“I’ll be at your door at 7 sharp.”

Bucky knocks on your apartment door at exactly the same time your phone clock hits 7:00pm. You grin at your best friend Nat before she gets up and walks toward the door.

“Oh girl. He’s hot!” a muffled voice says from the other side.

It isn’t yours so Bucky assumes it’s your friend.

“He’s at least a nine.”

Bucky scoffs, muttering, “a nine?” quietly to himself.

“Hey, I can hear you in there. Are you gonna open the door?” he asks the unknown voice.

The door swings open to reveal a red head who looks him over with two scrutinizing green eyes.

“Hi,” he smiles, holding out his hand. “I’m Bu…”

“Bucky,” she finishes. “I know who you are…question is…do you know who I am?”

“You must be Natasha,” Bucky answers with a smug smile.

“That’s right and I’m a black belt in jiu jitsu so you do anything I don’t like and I will end you.”

Bucky’s eyes light up and he watches Nat as she moves toward the kitchen.

“You almost ready doll face,” he yells, not taking his eyes off Nat in case she goes for a knife.

“I’m right here,” you say.

Bucky turns to find you standing right in front of him. His mouth drops open as his eyes sweep you up and down.

“This is where you say she looks amazing,” Nat admonishes from the kitchen, dangerously close to the knife rack.

However, Bucky’s eyes never leave you and when he steps into your space and wraps you in his arms, pulling you into his chest, you let out a squeal of delight.

“You look fucking gorgeous,” he says, loud enough for Nat to hear, then whispers, only for your ears, “I want to rip this dress off you.”

Your lips spread into a sly smile. “We made the right choice Nat.”

“Of course we did,” she chimes. “Now go. I’ll lock up.”

“I’m so ready,” he says, ushering you toward the door, but not before turning to Nat, still in the kitchen eyeing him warily, and asking, “I’m good with a nine, but just out of curiosity, what did I lose a point for?”

“You’re really gonna make me say it in front of you?” Nat asks.

“I wanna hear it too Nat,” you say, raising an expectant and skeptical brow.

“You didn’t shave.”

He runs the free hand, the one not wrapped around your waist, over his jaw.

“I didn’t get any complaints earlier this week,” Bucky says, eyes now sparkling with mischief.

“He’s right Nat,” you add. “I like it.”

Nat rolls her eyes and shoos you away.

Once you’re safely in the elevator and away from prying eyes Bucky invades your space, plastering you against the cool metal wall and caging you there with his large body.

“It almost killed me to not be kissing you for the past five minutes,” he says against your lips.

When you press into him and slide your body along his it sucks the breath right out of his lungs and fills them with something else. Need.

The kiss pulls a throaty groan from him and his belt buckle digs into your skin, the muscles hidden beneath his clothes, pressing and flexing over the thin material of your dress.

The elevator door dings and begins to slide open, causing you to give his chest a gentle shove.

“You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” he asks as he lifts a finger and traces your swollen lips.

“That would suck,” you reply. “I kind of like having you as a neighbor.”

After a delicious dinner at a roof top restaurant down town, Bucky walks you along the street, hand in hand, as you listen and laugh to his childhood stories about growing up in Brooklyn.

“Where are we going now?” you ask.

“It’s a surprise,” he says as he twirls you into his side and presses his fingers under your chin to steal a kiss.

As you get closer to your destination the bright lights sparkle and the smell of the ocean is carried on the warm breeze.

“Which bridge is that?” you ask with awe.

“The Brooklyn Bridge,” he tells you and grabs your hand to pull you along. “Come on. I have something to show you.”

When you reach the top of the look out he slides an arm around your waist and pulls your back to his chest.

“This is so beautiful Bucky,” you whisper.

He kisses your cheek and takes your chin between his fingers, turning your face up to his. “I always thought it was the most beautiful thing in the city…but not anymore.”

You’re thankful for his strong arms holding you up and after a sweet kiss you enjoy the view in comfortable silence for a few more minutes but his hands start to wander, soft and sure, and with each passing touch your body aches for more.

His warm breath fans across your neck and his arm moves lower until his hand grasps your hip and he pulls you back to feel the hardness between his legs.

You suck in a breath and fight the urge to move against him.

With a curse he pulls away and grabs your hand, dragging you toward the park under the bridge. The only lights come from the lit-up buildings across the street and when he finds a hidden spot he backs you against the cold stone but you’re too hot to care.

“Bucky,” you whisper as your hands roam over his broad chest.

His mouth brushes yours before he gently nips at your bottom lip.

“I can’t even keep my fucking hands off you long enough to bring you home,” he murmurs.

His fingers find the hem of your dress and he slides them under, slowly teasing the fabric higher until his hand brushes over the wetness on your panties.

“Please, Bucky,” you pant.

“Fuck, I love hearing you say my name like that,” he growls. “I need to get you home so I can hear you scream it for me.”

@hiddles-rose @littleseasiren @randomfandompenguin @blackwidownat2814 @goldylions @buckysdollforlife @lizette50

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #neighbor!bucky #bucky barnes fanfictionn #bucky barnes x y/n #neighbor!bucky barnes #neighbor au #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x female reader #sebastian stan x reader #bucky x reader #neighbor!bucky x reader

1K notes · View notes

euphemiaamillais · 6 months

Text

cry, kill, die - coriolanus snow

peacekeeper!coryo finds out you’re commander hoff’s daughter

based on this ask

cw: 18+//piv sex//fingering//spitting//mentions of guns

‘and what are you doing here?’ a rich voice rings out.

you snap your head around, coming face to face with one of the many peacekeepers who serve under your father. this one is more handsome than the others—icy blue eyes, and platinum blonde cropped hair. a smile quirks upon the corners of your lips.

‘is that any of your business?’ you inquire, knowing that you can test the patience of the peacekeepers, because who would dare to cross the commander’s daughter?

‘what, are you visiting your sweetheart, bunny?’ he teases, though there’s a rather stern look in his eyes.

you laugh in response, and attempt to continue on your way—you’ve got a meeting with your father, after all. however, you are stopped by a hand coming down to circle around your wrist. his grip is tight, and disgruntled, you turn back to face him.

‘come on, you don’t have to be so shy. there’s lots of girls like you here. little bunnies who like to spread their favours far and wide.’ he raises a brow suggestively. you can hardly believe he has the audacity.

you don’t know whether you should tell him who you are, or if you should just leave it. he’s not loosened his grip on you. you’re not sure how to answer it either.

‘are you accusing me of being a whore, private?’ you feign a shocked look. he laughs, running his hand up your arm. his touch is cold, like ice, and you shiver a little.

‘perhaps…’ a smirk plays at the corner of his lips. ‘maybe it’s the fact that you’re looking at me like that, just begging to be fucked.’

‘oh, really?’ you rebut—he’s so forward, like most of them are, but you’d never think they’d dare to actually touch you. not more than a few stray kisses at least.

‘now, are you going to be a good girl, and come back to my bunk?’ he says, a tone of dominance in his voice. his fingers are striking his rifle, which catches your eye.

‘perhaps…’ you purse your lips. you don’t know what would happen if your father found you getting too friendly with one of his men, and you didn’t exactly want to find out. but this one was so handsome… you liked how daring he was.

‘perhaps? come now, bunny. that’s not a very good answer, is it?’ he steps closer to you, his gun pressing against your bare thighs.

you shake your head, glancing up at him with wide eyes. he’s so tall, dwarfing you—it makes him all the more commanding. he moves to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear.

‘you’re going to be a good girl for me, aren’t you?’ his breath is hot against your ear, and you feel a flush creeping up your cheeks.

‘well, only if you can please me, private,’ you murmur, causing a flash of anger in his eyes. nobody dared to challenge his abilities in bed.

he would prove that to you, bend you over like the little whore you are, fuck you stupid until you couldn’t even cry out your own name. he did that often enough to the other bunnies that hopped around the barracks, hoping for a good time. he was very well practised now, not like the silly little schoolboy that he was back in the capitol with his golden curls and academy rouge.

‘if?’ he laughs, snaking one hand around to grab your ass. ‘not if, sweetheart. when.’

god, he was so full of himself.

deciding that he didn’t want to waste anymore time fooling around, he pulls you by the arm and began to lead you along the dirt track to the barracks. you glance around, watching as the uniformed peacekeepers march their way to large trucks or to training. it’s an all-too familiar site, ever since your father was stationed to 12. you’d have to be careful with this one, though. he was too handsome to be transferred to another district if you were caught.

the barracks are empty when you enter, and he doesn’t take his time with you, shoving you against the wall. he shoves one leg between your thighs, pinning you so you can’t run free. you feel your heart leap with excitement.

he leans in and presses a kiss to your lips—which you return eagerly. you slip your tongue inside his mouth, and move your hands to wrap around his neck. you’re desperate; you can’t help but ache for him, core wet and slick with want.

he moves his lips from your own, and trails hot kisses down your neck, sucking and nipping the delicate skin as he does so. you gasp out, clutching at the nape of his neck, urging him to bite harder. you’ll have to wear a scarf to hide these from your father.

‘so sweet, bunny,’ he mutters into your collarbones.

your hands roam to his ass, pulling him flush against you. you can feel his hard-on pressing against your thighs. you want him so bad, to take you and fuck you like the whore you are—cock filling out your tight cunt.

‘please,’ you whine, wanton and needy. ‘need you to fill me up.’

so direct, he thinks, a grin playing upon his lips. you look so pretty, pressed between his leg, hands grasping at his ass. what a fucking whore, begging him for it. he’s hardly even touched you and you’re already whining for him.

‘soon, bunny.’ he peppers a few kisses against your jaw, hands gripping at your hips.

you let out a mewl, fed up that he’s teasing you so much—he’s not even had the decency to stick his hand between your thighs. aggrieved, you grind down against his thigh, your soaked panties leaving a mark on his perfectly ironed uniform. that would be cause for some explaining to the laundress.

‘oh no,’ he puckers his lips. ‘don’t think you can get away with that… being so impatient.’

you scowl as he moves his thigh away, letting your legs fall to the ground. you stumble a little, trying to find your balance, but he’s quick to tug you along to one of the empty bunks. you wonder what your father would do, finding you in here with him—the peacekeeper who’s name you don’t even know—the thought of being caught makes it all the more thrilling.

he shoves you against the side of the bed, and rucks up your skirt to reveal your soaking panties. he laughs, looking at your pathetic face, trembling lips and wide, dumbfound eyes.

‘so fucking desperate,’ he remarks, kneeling and placing his hands against your thighs. ‘just another one of the little bunnies who likes to get fucked senseless.’

you shake your head, feeling his cold hands creep up your thighs. they latch around the waistband of your panties and tug them down.

‘god, look how wet you are,’ he scoffs, tossing the panties aside.

he slides one finger inside your cunt, and you let out a groan, hands clenching against the woollen sheets. a little daring, he slips another finger in, arching it as far as it can go. it feels so good, and he thrusts them in and out of your wet hole at a teasingly slow pace. goddamn him.

‘need you,’ you pant. ‘in me. please…’

you pout, hoping he’ll take pity on you. he slides his fingers out, gripping your thighs hard. more bruises. you’ll have a lot of explaining to do to your father.

‘does bunny want me to fill up her tight little cunt?’ he asks, fingers pinching at your skin.

‘yes please,’ you sigh, clutching at his shirt.

you attempt to pull him up, coax him to you. you wonder when he’ll figure it out… that he’s seen you before, standing beside your father in a pale pink dress, watching as the peacekeepers eye you. commander hoff’s daughter is supposed to be off limits. he’d shoot any of them on site if he caught them so much as ogle your pretty form making its way through the barracks.

he hangs over you now, elbows propping himself up as he grinds his crotch into the bed. your hands roam down to his waistband, and you stick your hand inside, palming his hard cock. he lets out a heavy groan, and you feel the precum coating his cock.

‘gonna fuck you so good,’ he grunts, hands going to unbutton his pants.

his cock is throbbing when you take it in your hand, guiding it to your entrance. he’s not the first you’ve been with—not that your father knows that—but he’s certainly the biggest. you sigh pleasantly as he slides himself in, not taking any time to ease into your cunt.

he begins to thrust, feeling your tight walls stretch around him, taking him all in. you reach one hand down to rub at your clit, which is aching with need. he slaps your hand away, seeing you touching yourself—it’s an insult to his abilities—and uses his thumb to rub soft circles on the sensitive nub.

‘harder,’ you plead, grabbing his ass and pushing him in; feeling the tip of his cock poking against your cervix.

‘what a dirty fuckin’ slut, huh?’ he coos, upping his pace. ‘begging me to fuck you like a little whore.’

you let out a groan as you feel him begin to pound you, each thrust increasing the pace. his fingers still rub deftly at your clit, which throbs with pleasure. you do have to admit; he is so good.

‘mhm…’ you sigh, head lolling back as he fucks you. ‘my father will kill you if he finds out.’

you decide to tell him—it’s too late for him to back out now, what, buried deep inside your cunt. he’s too struck by pleasure to think straight, at first, and so his answer is to merely laugh.

‘yeah? who’s he? don’t think he can tell a peacekeeper what to do,’ he grunts, cock pulsing with pleasure. god, you feel so good.

‘oh…’ a slight giggle escapes your lips, and you run your hand over his lower back. ‘you don’t know?’

he rears his head up, perplexed, brows furrowed. he’s still rutting into you, and you can see the shiny sweat beading on his forehead, his blue eyes glistening with confusion.

‘hm, bunny?’ he inquires.

‘well…’ an impish grin scampers across your lips. you trace circles in his skin. ‘you were wondering why i was here…’

he comes to a halt, causing you to frown. the expression on his face is one of pained loss of pleasure—having to cease his thrusts to clear his mind—and also slight fear, not that he’d never admit it. no, you couldn’t be. but he can see it, the eyes, the curve of your nose. you’re hoff’s daughter. of course. the one with the overly-friendly smile, who liked to wear her skirts too short as she waltzed past the peacekeepers.

‘oh bunny,’ he clucks his tongue in a scolding manner. ‘what would your father do if he knew you were begging for my cock like a little whore?’

your cheeks burn red, and he begins to thrust again. somehow, this has made him want you all the more. to have him see you being ruined by one of his own men—that would remind him that private snow was capitol. not just some pathetic district runt like the rest of the peacekeepers.

he pulls your legs up around his shoulders, adjusting the angle of his cock, and fucks into you like a common whore. you gasp at the feeling of his cock hitting the right spot—and you feel waves of pleasure coursing through your body, cunt throbbing and clenching around his big cock.

‘such a fucking slut, huh?’ he groans, feeling himself close to his peak. ‘taking peacekeeper cock while your daddy sits in his office just out there.’

you let out a moan, clutching at his shoulders while he pounds you. you look like a such a whore, tits bouncing, cunt so fucking wet for him. how fucking pathetic. who would’ve thought commander hoff’s daughter took cock so well?

‘mhm!’ you gasp, slickness gushing from your cunt. nobody’s ever made you finish just by using their cock.

‘so good,’ he grunts, thrusts growing haggard as he nears his end.

your body is humming with adrenaline, the waves of your orgasm still coursing through your veins. he moves one hand up to your cheek, coaxing your mouth open. you oblige, and as he gives a fucked-out thrust into your cunt, spits into you mouth.

‘swallow,’ he manages to murmur out as he spills into you.

your cunt is filled with hot, sticky spurts of cum as he finishes, and you obediently swallow his spit. it makes your cunt throb with excess desire, and you have to bite your lip to stop another moan from spilling out.

‘fuck… so good,’ he groans as he slips out of you, his hot load dripping down your thighs.

he tucks himself back into his trousers, and goes to sit down beside you. you’re splayed out, cunt exposed and dripping from his load. you look so pretty, completely fucked dumb, eyes wide with the excess of your want.

‘what’s your father going to say about this?’ he laughs, rubbing his hand against your aching cunt. your body tenses up from the overstimulation.

‘he’d probably have you shot,’ you muster out, propping yourself up on your elbows.

he laughs, a rich sound escaping his mouth. you reach to grab your panties, which are bundled up on the sheets, still wet. he reaches out and stops your hand with his own, taking the panties from you. you pout, and try to reach for them back.

‘oh, i don’t think so,’ he remarks cruelly, tucking them in his back pocket. ‘something to remember you by.’

he presses a kiss against your cheek—you can’t help but blush even though your heart pounds at the thought of having to walk back to your house with no underwear.

‘please…’ you plead, bottom lip trembling. ‘i can’t walk home like this… my skirt…’

he shakes his head and chuckles, looking at you like you’re his. you shove your skirt down, ashamed to be laying like this.

‘i don’t think whores get much of a say in things,’ he cajoles, eyes glistening a little manically.

he delights in the thought of you being humiliated, having to pretend like you didn’t just get your brains fucked out by a peacekeeper. he wonders what would happen if the wind decided to blow the wrong way…

‘i’ll tell my father about this!’ you threaten, but he only laughs again and throws his hands up in defence.

‘and let him know that you were so desperate that you let a peacekeeper fuck you?’ he scoffs. ‘i don’t think so, bunny.’

you feel your heart splintering a little—but two could play at that game, you supposed. you weren’t going to let him snap you up in his net.

‘you can come get them back next time,’ he grins.

your brows quirk up. you hadn’t intended on this happening again… but he was so handsome. and his cock was… well, huge. you did have to admit he was good. very good.

‘next time?’ your mouth rounds into a look of surprise.

‘oh yes, next time.’

#coriolanus snow #tom blyth #tbosbas #coriolanus snow x reader #hunger games #smut #coryo x reader #the hunger games #coryo smut #the hunger games x reader #tbosbas x reader #female x reader #x reader #coriolanus snow smut #tbosbas fanfic #tbosbas smut #fanfic #drabble #request

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verstappen-cult · 4 months

Text

Max and Charles taking care of you during a night out, when you’ve drink a little too much.

You look around, trying to find your boys but they are nowhere to be seen, which leaves you wandering around until you find two of their friends, Daniel and Carlos, sitting on a couch talking.

“Hey, boys!” You say, happily, flopping down onto the couch right in the middle of them. You’ve interrupted their conversation but you don’t notice. They exchange looks, which you don’t notice either, and Carlos is up in a second, excusing himself.

“Hey, stranger.” Daniel says, moving closer. “‘What are you drinking?” He tries to take a look at your cup, but you take it to your lips.

"You wanna try it?" You ask him, words slurred.

"Yeah, let me just—" He goes to take the cup from your hands at the same time that you bring it closer to him, causing it to fall on Daniel's lap. "Shit!"

"I'm so sorry, Dani!" You look for something to clean the big stain on Daniel's blue jeans and, with you fuzzy brain, you decide that the only thing that could do the work is your dress. So, you take the hem of your dress, moving even closer to Dani – almost on his lap – not caring about your dress getting dirty.

“It’s okay.” He laughs. If he’s pissed he doesn’t show it, that’s how it always is with Dani. “Y/N, it’s okay!” Daniel tries to move away but you are decided to clean the spilled drink, even if it’s impossible by now.

“What’s happening?” Max’s voice cuts through the air. You lift your head up, eyes glazed over.

“I spilled my drink,” You sniff, looking between your boyfriend and the stain on the boy’s leg. “but Dani won’t let me help him.”

“I don’t think there’s anything you can do, princess.” Charles sits by your side, hands immediately pulling your dress down. “Dani will take care of it, yes?”

Daniel nods. “It’s nothing, really. I have like a dozen of these same jeans.” His big, warm smile makes you feel better. Just a little, you still feel like a fool. “I’ll borrow something from Carlos.” He winks at you before standing up and getting lost.

Max sighs, crossing his arms and staring you down.

“What did we say about mixing different drinks?”

“I was just having fun with Lando.” You pout, looking at your stained dress.

Charles grins and presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “What did you drink?”

“Just a few shots of tequila.” You shrug, snuggling closer to Charles. “Oh, did you know he makes this delicious vodka with cranberry juice?”

Max sighs, shaking his head in disapproval. “What else?”

“Your favorite drink.” You look at him beneath your eyelashes.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Max frowns and closes his mouth. “We talked about this.”

“Relax, Max.” Charles chimes in, working his arm around your waist. “She learned her lesson, right?”

You nod enthusiastically, which is a bad idea because it makes you feel dizzy. Max is immediately moving closer, kneeling in front of you.

“Easy there, baby. We don’t want you throwing up in the middle of the living room.” Max strokes your hair and you can’t help but lean into his touch, relaxed.

“Should we go home?” Charles asks him.

“But I don’t wanna go!” You know you always – well, most of the time – get what you want if you pout, so, that’s exactly what you do.

“What? You wanna go back to drink with Lando?”

“Well, no, but I don’t wanna ruin your night.”

“Oh, baby, you’re not ruining our night. We’d rather be with you at home.” Charles kisses your cheek and you giggle, feeling warm.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, let’s get you home, pretty girl.”

Max helps you stand up, his arm around your waist to help you walk. Not that you need it, you’re just a little tipsy. But you like it when they act all protective over you. Charles makes sure to let their friends know they are leaving before joining you and Max outside.

You lean against the car, pouting for what feels like the hundredth time in the night. “Can we go to McDonald’s?”

#꒰꒰ 📁 ─ verstappen cult files ꒱꒱#f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #max verstappen x reader #charles leclerc x reader #lestappen x reader #f1 imagine #charles leclerc fluff #max verstappen imagine #poly!f1 #charles leclerc blurb #poly!lestappen

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rinhaler · 8 months

Note

I will kiss you and hold you and pet you and call you a good girl if you write a toji os abt him having a one nightstand with someone and when he’s undressing them he unzips their dress WITH HIS TEETHHHHHHHHHHH AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA……….. anyways!!! :3

am i a good girl now :(((

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, soft dom!toji (maybe), alcohol consumption, squirting, fingering, face-sitting, vaginal sex, tit sucking, praise, slight degradation, reader passes out for a sec.

words: 2.4k

“Can I buy you a drink?” a handsome stranger asks you as you sit by your lonesome at the bar. You came here with your friend, who has since disappeared since locating her ex-boyfriend. And you suspect he won’t be an ex for much longer. The attention makes you giddy. His scar pulling as he smirks at you, a grin that grows wider when you nod. He pulls out his card and waits to flag down a bar tender. “I’m Toji, by the way.”

You introduce yourself and you curse yourself for how pathetic you must seem. It’s embarrassing, really, feeling so accomplished that a man deemed you worthy enough to talk to and buy a drink for. He’s like a model, possessing a wide build and tall figure. He could have any woman here if he wanted, you’re sure. And despite your inner monologue telling you to act coy, you’re sure you’re a bashful fool.

He orders you the same blue lagoon cocktail you’ve already had three of, and himself a lemonade.

“You don’t drink?” you ask him.

“Nah, it doesn’t really affect me.”

You shrug, slurping the ice cold cocktail through a metal straw you brought from home. He smirks at that, noting that you’re the type to prepare this much for what he’s sure is meant to be a casual night out. And he asks you questions about yourself that you’re so willing to answer. You ask him questions about himself that he answers too, though the responses are surface level and simple. The mystery only adds to his allure.

He's funny, effortlessly. Everything he says seems to make you giggle. You’re a cliché, too, twirling your hair as you hang on his every word. It’s a mix or attraction and intoxication. Is he really so interesting and funny or are you just wet and transfixed by his looks?

Your laughter dies out when you feel a tap on your shoulder. It’s your friend, coming to say goodbye. She points at her ex and tells you she’s leaving with him.

So much for girl code.

Though she does offer you to hop in the taxi with them so you can go home. But you don’t want to leave Toji. You want to keep making a lovesick fool of yourself for him and maybe see where the night takes you. So she waves and you focus on the older looking man beside you. He licks his lips, his scar glistening under the everchanging technicolour lights flooding the club.

“Wanna get going, gorgeous?” he asks, leaning over to speak into your ear. The rough gravel to his voice rushing straight to your pulsing cunt. You shouldn’t, really, should you? It’s not smart to go home with guys you’ve never met. You don’t know him or his intentions, he could be plying you with alcohol to get you stupid enough to kill you.

“Mhmm.” you nod, dumbly, consequences be damned. If you die, you’ll die by the hand of a man so beautiful you’d think an angel would cry at his presence. He takes your hand, leading you outside and hailing a cab. You at least have the sense to go to your place, knowing your cousin lives a few doors down and will surely here if things go wrong.

He kisses you deeply in the back of the cab, fingers digging into your skin as he squeezes your plush thigh. You moan, lewdly, when he tells you to stick out your tongue and he sucks it before licking it with his own. Tongues tangling as he continues to squeeze and knead your malleable flesh.

“Head on up, I’ll follow you.” he tells you as he pulls out his wallet. You nod, agreeing, whispering your apartment number before clambering out of the car. The chill of the 2am air bites at your skin, and you hurry to the security door. You pull the key from your purse and rush inside.

Toji takes his time paying the driver, grunting as he puts his wallet away and slides out of his side of the car. He slowly skulks to the entrance, smiling when he realises you remembered to leave the latch for him to get inside. He sees a crowd gathered by the elevator and opts to take the stairs instead.

He smirks, gleefully, when he sees you waiting by the front door.

“Watcha doin’, gorgeous?” he wonders.

“Waiting for you.” you confess, looking down at your feet awkwardly as shame surges through your body.

He approaches, slowly. But before you know it you’re looking up at him and caged between his body and your front door. His hands rest against the frame as he studies your blown eyes and nervous face.

“Somethin’ tells me you’ve never had a one night stand before,” he smiles, scar pulling deliciously once again. You can barely form a thought unable to break yourself from the hypnotising mark on his lip. “Unlock the door.”

“I already did…” you gulp, nervously, still unable to tear your eyes away from his.

He likes your answer, picking you up so that your legs wrap around his waist and he lets himself into your home. Your lips lock and tongues clash as he controls the kiss, but your eagerness gets the better of you. Your hips rutting and soft moans pour from you as you portray yourself as a desperate slut for his benefit.

You pout, a little defeated, as he sets you back down. Though the disappoint dies an instantaneous death as he spins you around so your back is to him, pushing you into the wall by your entryway.

“Have you fucked a stranger before, princess?” he asks, brushing your hair from your shoulder and whispering devilishly into your ear. You shake your head, pathetic strings of ‘no!’ spilling from your lips as his fingers explore under your dress and pinch your ass. You bite your lip as you feel his heavy fingers prod at your drippy panties. He huffs out a laugh when he realises how wet you are. “Allllll of this jus’ for me? You shouldn’t have, darlin’.”

“B-Been wet… since you asked if I wanted a drink…” you tell him, giggling a little and hiding your face against the wall.

“No no no…” he objects, tugging your hair softly to draw you out. “Wanna see you, wanna see how you look when I ruin you.” you feel your body flush with heat at his words, turning your head to the side so he can see you again. You place your palms against the wall to brace yourself, not expecting him to pull your panties down your legs from under your dress.

He relishes in how you can barely keep your eyes open as he sinks two fingers into your sopping cunt and your panties drop to the ground. You bite your inner cheek, though it does little to keep you quiet as he curls his fingers against your spongy insides.

“Oh fuck.” you gasp, ashamed that you might cum after a few pathetic pumps of his fingers. Though it doesn’t feel right. You don’t want it to stop, but you don’t feel like you usually do when you’re close to cumming. “W-Wait.” you move your head and try to close your legs.

“Sh.” he stops you, kicking your ankles to keep your legs open. He holds your head against the wall with his forearm, his breathing heavy in your ear. You shudder when he kisses against it, chuckling quietly when he feels your pussy begin to clench. “Stop clenching, push. It’ll feel good, promise… push against me.” he commands.

You don’t know what’s he’s talking about. Push your body? No, he said stop clenching. You’re trying to keep him inside, keep the feeling inside. But he repeats it. Push. And like he’s the master of your cunt, it listens.

“Good girl, baby…” he praises you as he notes the pressure switch from your tender hole. You moan, and he coos. Faux sympathy as he fucks you dumb on his thick digits.

“Toji! Ngh—!” you moan. Clear liquid jets from your pussy, dripping down your thighs and soaking your panties and the floor beneath. He doesn’t let up, either, still battering his fingers against your g-spot.

“There you go, princess. Good fuckin’ girl… so good for me darlin’.” he moans, too, getting off on your pleasure and the striking realisation that you’ve never squirted before. He’s proud of himself, and he’s proud of you. “Fuckin’ soaked your pretty panties, sweetheart. Dirty little girl…” he teases.

You don’t have the energy to respond, already spent from cumming in such an alien way. He kisses your shoulder as your legs continue to shake. Any logic from the thought of telling him to stop fingering you dissipates when you think that he can you make you cum like that again.

He feels his hardened cock over his jeans as he looks down at the puddle beneath you. Still pumping his fingers against your sweet spot until your eyes roll over white. He can’t take it anymore. The unrelenting inner voice telling him to touch himself. He thinks he might die if he doesn’t stroke his length, even for a minute.

“Don’t move.” he orders.

You stay still, unsure of what he’s doing. Though you whimper as you feel his body press against yours. His head sinks to the top of your dress, and you just about cum again when you realise he’s biting down on the metal zipper, pulling it down with his teeth as exposing your bare back.

The black mini dress falls to the ground into the puddle of your lewdness and your drenched underwear.

“Good girl, stay there.”

He pulls off his t-shirt and tosses it aside down the hallway, only to be seen by the end of this dalliance. You hear him kick off his shoes and quickly throws away his socks. Eagerly, his pants follow, as do his underwear. He’s just as naked as you, now. And you choke out a breath as you hear him drop to his knees, licking up the mess on your thighs and pussy. But he turns around, sitting on his ass with his back against the wall, without a care for the wetness beneath. He wraps his arms around your thighs, pulling your cunt towards his face.

“Sit.” he instructs.

You do, without pause, moaning boisterously as he sucks at your clit and covers his face in your sweetness. One arm remains hooked around thigh while the other releases, hand in search of his aching length. He plays with himself, alternating between lazy strokes and passionate ones. The taste of your cunt makes him dizzy, unable to believe how much slick you’re producing as he relentlessly feasts on your flesh.

“F-fuck, Toji… finger me, please.” you beg. He’s leaking like crazy, and thinks your request might have come at the perfect time. He lets himself go in favour of pleasuring you, the sound of your sticky cunt squelching with each press throughout your eerie apartment. Neither of you had even found time to turn on a light, the only thing illuminating the room is the filtering light sneaking in through the cracks of your front door. “G’na cum, a-again… holy— s-shit.” you moan.

It spurs him on, maintaining all of his ministrations as he tries to coax your second orgasm out of you. He grunts, loudly, against your sodden folds as you squirt again. His face and hair doused with your release as he doesn’t dare pull away. The sadistic desire to prolong your ecstasy is fuelling him to keep going. He feels like he might cum untouched as he feels your cum cover him.

Your legs give, his burly arms hook around your thighs again in a bid to keep you stable. But his hands wander, impatiently. Fingers grip into your waist as he pulls you away from the wall.

He helps you down, hovering you above his longing cock as he guides it to your spent hole.

“I don’t have any condoms.” he tells you.

“Don’t care—” you assure him, wriggling your hips eagerly. “’m on the pill.”

“Greedy girl,” he smirks, pushing you down onto his cock. You want to scream from the stretch but you manage to refrain. He sets a ruthless pace, forcing you to accommodate to it quickly. “Been so sweet for me, darlin’. Gonna be nice ‘n do all the work for ya, okay? Say thank you.”

“T-Thank you! Thank you.” you babble nonsensically.

His knees are bent as he fucks up into your abused hole, the velocity propelling you forward. Your fingers clutch onto his shoulders for dear life as he takes advantage of your body being in such close proximity to his mouth. He sucks your tits, eliciting a dreamy moan from you. The gorgeous sounds you make for him have his cock drooling inside of your unprotected walls.

It's so sorrowful, really, thinking about how pathetic you both are. He seemed so calm and collected and yet neither of you could even make it through the hallway of your apartment before you were both stripped bare. You thought you’d be fucking comfortably on your bed. But here you are, being fucking destroyed by his monstrously large cock on the wooden, soaking, hallway floor.

“Gonna cum, baby.” he breathes against your spit soaked tits. The admission makes you cream, clenching around his thick, veiny cock as you brace yourself. “Fuck, darlin’, you’re gonna cum again. Can feel it, little cock slut. No one’ll fuck you like this again, y’know.”

“Ah- aaaah—!” is all you can say as a lesser stream of liquid shoots from you once more. The internal bliss you feel makes you pass out momentarily. But you come around quick enough to feel your untainted insides become stained with his white, creamy warmth.

He groans, deeply, bouncing you up and down his length. He wishes there was a light on to see the creamy ring and the messy puddle you’ve created together.

“You’re fuckin’ amazing, baby.” he tells you, grasping the crown of your head with his palm to guide you into a sloppy kiss. He manages to stand up whilst keeping himself slotted comfortably inside of you. You giggle as you guide him to the nearest light switch, and both of you look down at the mess you’ve made. Shame builds once again and you hide your face in the crook of his neck. “Awe, pretty girl made a dirty little mess f’me.” he teases you.

“Stop! ‘m so embarrassed!” you tell him, the sentence muffled as you talk into his skin.

“S’okay, rest up.” he tells you, stroking your back soothingly. “Give me a tour, wanna see the next place we can make a mess of.”

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satoruhour · 5 months

Text

STILL (ALWAYS) HERE

a/n: part two to this but not really? enjoy!

wc: 2.4k

warnings: spider-man!gojo, a little ooc gojo, mentions of blood and bruises, cleaning up wounds, some angst -> comfort, play on that one scene from tasm 2

you’re thinking that you’ve hit another dead end when you groan into your sheets from the headache that wraps around your head. it’s mild and dull but there’s still that throb at the back of your consciousness that you can’t exactly take your mind off of. at least, that was what you were telling yourself — normal headaches caused by the stress of university, and definitely not because of a trivial fight with your boyfriend.

the daunting calculus question stares back at you like it was mocking you, teasing you for getting heated over such a small thing when you knew he was only looking out for you with the best intentions in mind.

with a longing look to your abandoned convo with spider-man!gojo, you sink again into your pillow, lights suddenly looking too bright and the music in your ears, jarring. you haven’t seen him in school today, thinking him to be dramatic as always. but he didn’t need lectures and seminars at this point, either, knowing him to be one of the smartest people you know.

in the midst of quelling your headache and thinking of how to apologise, you don’t notice the way your vigilante boyfriend weaves his web around the trees just outside your window, crafting a sweet message of i miss you along the branches and leaves.

a tangle of webs, stuck like honeycomb to some abandoned shed, a tangle of webbing like his hip to yours. tangles of countless webs like his lips along your forehead when you fall asleep too early during study sessions and finally, his heart beating in time with yours.

one fell swoop of a rock from above makes you head tilt in utter confusion; in no world could a rock fall against your window in an arc like that come from anyone of this world, this dimension, yet you know no other person with wall-sticking and web-shooting abilities and it’s then when the complicated entanglement of letters come into view.

your heart clenches up just a little at the sight, a clear indication that it’s satoru from the similarity of his handwriting that’s on his own pre-calc homework. before you can call out, he shifts diagonally outside your window, mask removed and chest heaving at the anticipation of your reaction — both to the tension of your fight before and possibly another thing.

the darkness of the night hardly provides clarity, though, so when you don’t walk away, gojo feels the pull of your eyes on him, drawing him in and trapping him within your own web like prey. crawling along the side of your house, he gives you one more small pleading look: roughed up hair looking a little dirty and his body just aching so much.

“baby . .” he mumbles, blue eyes softening at the sight of you after not seeing you for just one day. it does things to him, “may i?”

but you’re not truly prepared for until your ceiling light exposes the reality of gojo’s situation, what with his cut-filled face and rips all over his suit. it’s dirty, like he was dragged around and made a fool of fighting god knows who, and he’s — oh my god — is all you mouth out, he’s bleeding from a fairly large wound in his side which he has held pressure with his mask.

“’toru!” you panic and quieten down, “oh— oh my god, fuck, fuck fuck, what do i do? satoru— you’re b-bleeding—” and you regret every single word you yelled at him just the day before, now rewarded (or cursed, rather) with his pristine white suit stained a deep, traumatising red. you’re shaking, rightfully so, and gojo is more calm than you, using his free and clean hand to rub circles into your sides.

“breathe, you gotta breathe, princess.”

“n-no— you breathe! you’re l-losing blood!’’ your throat closes in, your head fills with thoughts of his coffin being lowered. you start to sob, “satoru—”

“hey, hey, hey,” it’s both gentle and strong enough to catch your attention, brushing the stray strands from your face and you already lean into the long-awaited touch. his thumb wipes away the tears that already start falling, “’m still here, ’m still here. i’ve tried my best to cover the wound with extra shirts of mine, just stuffed into my suit.”

sniffling, you speak through hiccups, “why the hell do you have extra shirts in your fighting-villains backpack? w-why do you even bring a fighting-villains backpack?”

through the absurdity of it all: fucking spider-man bleeding out on your wooden floor, your tears mixing in with blood, the branches outside starting to snap and fall from the added tension of the webs, satoru laughs softly, fully cupping your face now and trying his best not to grimace at the increasing ache in his side.

“and you always laugh at the weirdest fucking times!” you chastise, still speaking through periodic hiccups and sniffles that you keep stuttering, not even able to smack him like you like to do because you know he hurts, “now wait here, you loser.”

a soft thank you is heard, able to breathe a little harsher now that you’ve gone to find the first aid, anxiety obvious in the pattering footsteps heard. without wasting any time, you grab the kit and let him peel off the suit in the bathroom, not even that much focused on his toned body but the amount of bruises and cuts that litter it.

a new wave of panic settles in your bones, a whimper sounding out when your feather-like touches span over his body.

“satoru . .”

“i’m so—”

“no,” you mumble, getting to work fast by taking out the gauze, bandages, whatever you could use. thank the heavens you at least knew some first aid, wincing whenever he hisses at the stinging alcohol. “let’s not talk about our fight now.”

he swallows, knuckles white from how tight he was gripping the sink, “f-first time you’re not asking me to apologise, heh—”

from behind, he can see you lift your eyes from the careful care you execute on his side, meeting your eyes in the mirror that gloss over again with tears and his heart sinks again.

“p— please don’t make jokes when i’m literally stitching you up, satoru,” you whisper, forehead bumping into his bicep, soft but quick breaths fanning over the skin there, “i don’t wanna talk, not while i almost lost you.”

“but it’s hardly any—”

“gojo satoru!” the shout of his full name shocks both of you, not even sure whether you were feeling angry at the fact that he always downplays his injuries, or sad at the fact that he can’t see that he deserves to be taken care of, too. it was always a guessing game with satoru.

“it’s not just anything, g-god! can you have some regard for yourself?” you don’t care that your words echo off the bathroom walls, its acoustics probably making your wails even more heartbreaking for your boyfriend. “look at yourself and tell me that it’s hardly anything! tell me, say it to my face!”

your nose is red, tear stains already making their home on your pretty face while your fingers squeeze the gauze instinctively, and he tells himself it’s all because of him. it’s all because he didn’t want to be a couple in public in fear that his enemies would target you, because he was afraid they’d use you as leverage, as a decoy, as a trade deal. but that has only made the yearning for you more difficult — pinkies barely brushing against each other, an inside joke swallowed into his throat.

satoru is silent, not sure what he could say that wouldn’t hurt you any further and he turns to lean against the sink counter, bloodied hands staining the marble and suit. and if he looked hard enough, he’s sure he can see the ache of your palpitating heart, bleeding down your chest and pooling at the floor from all the pain he’s caused you.

you dance across the bathroom floor, tiles both cold and warm under your feet as you make your move without any sound, afraid, afraid, like he would get pulled away the moment you touch him.

but he doesn’t go anywhere — just jerking a little at the sudden contact.

“satoru . .” hoarse, tired, it’s what he made your voice sound like just yesterday from shouting, and now, today, “i . .”

you cry quietly but never stop your ever loving hands, holding his face to look up from the shame, and you see how dull his cerulean ones look now, softened but dim, gentle but lacking vivacity. you think maybe it’s the tears hindering it. bit by bit, gojo’s tears fall and he apologises.

satoru apologises over and over, i’m sorry’s muttered into your hair, into your forehead, into your lips and both your hands are shaking like on a first date.

“i just can’t bear to lose you,” you mumble shakily, trembling fingers tracing the lines of his features, “and i hope you know how much you mean to me, and— and how much it hurts to see you so nonchalant about being beaten up like this . .”

you stifle a sob when he kisses your fingers as they travel over his lips, having crossed oceans over his eyes and mountains through his nose. his lips, his lips look just like the sanctuary of everything soft and good and righteous, that sliver of perfect time like on juliet’s balcony.

“i’m sorry, i am so sorry, darling. i—” gojo sighs, pain now turning numb but still trying his best not to move an inch, “i guess i just become so used to taking care of aunt may that, i . . am not used to being taken care of.”

you nod in understanding, “i’m sorry too, for lashing out, for dismissing your efforts to make me feel safe. you were only looking out for me.”

gojo’s eyes avert from yours again, looking down at the one thing that signified his place in society — never that much seen, not much recognised, but still revered as the city’s hero. it represents anything from something as simple as getting back an old lady’s handbag to fighting off a scientist-turned-reptilian. but it also represents the why.

why he fights so hard. a star student like gojo definitely wouldn’t pass off the praises when he saves a falling civilian, but it was much deeper than that when it came to it, wanting the city he grew up in to be safe and to seeing the grateful, relieved expressions of passers-by.

it was for you, when the last face he sees before he closes his eyes for the night is your pretty one and he’d be damned if that changed any time soon.

that night where satoru is all patched up and lying like a statue because he’s afraid he’d tear your nicely done stitches (you assured him it was mediocre at best), his hand finds your hand naturally again, playing with the strands aimlessly.

all thoughts of the news articles showing his cheeky spider mask expression, to the funky poses he pulls (from a camera so high up it would really only be one person who plants it there), phases out the cool, suave spider-man persona and centres the stupid, goofy, annoying gojo satoru.

and you smile softly to yourself knowing you’d be the only one to see gojo satoru like this.

“i should’ve told you why; it wasn’t fair of me to just stop acting like we’re head over heels— hey, why are you smiling?”

“no reason.” and your smile brightens.

“that’s not no reason,” he matches your grin, pulling on your cheek playfully before his hand goes to your nape like clockwork and tugs gently. like you were just a normal couple after a long day, without any indication of a gash along his side, but gojo satoru was far from normal in the grand scheme of things, “there’s always a reason.”

“is that the motto that the great spider-man lives by?” you inch closer to him, smiling from above in the dimness of the room so much so that it makes you look like royalty and him a mere commoner.

“uh . . no, pretty sure it’s ‘with great power comes great responsibility’,” gojo jests with sarcasm laced in his voice, roping you in and you, letting yourself get caught always as you lower yourself on his chest, but not before your lips meet his in a soft, quiet dance with you both being the only ones in the ballroom.

the rush of love that fills you overflows in the way your mouth moves against his, not wanting this sweet, sweet dream to end. especially if you come out empty-handed at the end of it all with spider-man’s, gojo’s blood on your hands, so you keep your eyes shut tight with a promise to yourself to welcome him with welcome arms the second, third, fourth, nth that he climbs through your window, bloodied and tired.

“i’m still here,” satoru whispers against your lips when he feels just how tense you are, easing out the lines of your face and holds you in that moment, held frozen in time like a scene in a snow globe, “i will be here for as long as we are alive,” he takes your hand and puts it up to his heart to remind you of its status, of how it speeds up a tad bit when you stroke his chest, “and i am alive whenever you are near.”

the quiet moment is shared with another soft kiss, features now relaxed when you smile against his lips and inspire the next few moments of endless laughter and jokes, falling into the same breath when sleep catches up.

in the bathroom lies his white-turned-red suit, left abandoned for the normalcy you both chase in your bedroom for at least a few hours until spider-man has to go back to being spider-man and you have calc questions to finish up on. but until then, with the alarm you set at 6am in secrecy before his classes, you’d wake up just to soak and hand wash the red out, returning the blue and white suit back to its glory.

when satoru wakes up the next morning, he finally knows why your warmth in bed was missing for a brief moment of time when he sees the clean folded up suit with his mask on top. you don’t miss with a sandwich either, and a cheeky note — all the best for your most dreaded class!!! if u can fight and come out alive i believe u can survive prof. masamichi lol.

and he laughs softly, sparing a glance to your sound, peaceful self and he finds a renewed sense of the reason why he decided to become spider-man.

spider-man— satoru seals his love with a kiss to your forehead and a messy mumble of i love you, long overdue from the night before.

“thank you for loving me.”

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fluff #jjk gojo x you #jjk gojo satoru #jjk gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojou fluff #gojou satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk drabbles #gojo satoru fluff

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thisolrubyriderr · 1 month

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gojo nation we MUST stick together so here’s some happy satoru

One thing you loved most about Satoru Gojo, aside from his many lovable qualities, was how much he loved being loved.

He loved they way you would indulge in his silliness, the way you’d get cuteness aggression over him, the way you’d stop whatever it is you’re doing just to cuddle him because god you just can’t get enough of him. Being the strongest was nothing but a side job when he was with you.

Gojo was snuggled up to you on the couch. His face smushed against your chest as you massaged your fingers through his fluffy hair. You could practically hear him purring like a kitten out of contentment. He was being a bit more of a baby than usual today, but you’d be a fool to act like you didn’t love it.

“Y/nnnnn,” the man whined as he turned to look at you with his pretty blue eyes, resting his chin on your chest, “Entertain me!”

You didn’t respond but instead you held his face in your palms and squished his cheeks. You kissed his lips as they poked out from his little face.

“Hey! Don’t ignore me!” He said in a muffled voice. He attempted to pout but it faded the second he heard your sweet laughter.

“I’m sorry bunny but I couldn’t resist. What do you want to do?” you said to him softly.

“I- ”

Before he could even begin his sentence, you squeezed him. You pulled this 6’3 man up closer to your face and squeezed him, pressing your cheek against his. You don’t know what came over you or what super strength you suddenly possessed to move your log of a boyfriend, but you did it.

You gently shook him as you held him in a bear hug. You placed sloppy kisses all over his cheeks. You bit him. You tickled him. He was just so adorable and you loved him so much. You wanted to fling him around like a chew toy.

“Baby whahaha what’s going ohohon?” Satoru giggled as you tickled him. His laughter was so sweet it made you wanna keep going, but you stopped so you could place both your hands in his hair.

“I can’t help it Toru! You just look like a little sweet potato! I love you soooo much I just wanna eat you.” You said, reveling in the sound of his purrs once you started playing with his hair again.

“Sweets you know I’d let you eat me any day. I’m sure I taste as good as I look.” Satoru smirked. He was soaking up all the attention you were giving him and he was absolutely loving it.

He rolled over on his back and you were now on top of him. You took your time to admire him in this position. He looked so at peace with you. You could tell he was happy, and that’s all you ever wanted for him. If you couldn’t give him anything, you’d do anything to give him happiness. To the world he was nothing but a weapon that wasn’t valued for anything other than his abilities. But you saw past that. You saw his soul, everything that made him a human. He was never the strongest to you. He was your Toru. He was your stinky. He was your mochi poo. He was just Satoru. And that would always be more than enough for you.

“Hey you,” he poked your cheek, bringing you out of your thoughts, “why’d you stop? Keep loving me!”

And who were you to deny him of what he deserved?

“Of course sweet pea.” You chuckled, pushing his hair back to kiss his forehead.

You continued to kiss his features, then lightly tracing them with your fingers. Satoru was so content and relaxed that he drifted off into a light slumber with a smile on his face, replacing it with a pout whenever he felt the absence of your touch. He may have known that he was a big baby, spoiled from all your love, and clingy as hell. But there was one thing he may not have known that you wished every day and night he did. What it was you may ask?

You would let the world burn for him.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojo fluff #my baby deserved better #fuck you gege

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kyluff · 8 months

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— ↺ Jealously

✎ luffy x reader !

✦ summary ➠ you start feeling a little jealous after a certain incident

✦ warnings ➠ nsfw, flashing, swearing

— The fight with Crocodile and Baroque Works was finally over, it felt like the brawl lasted years. But now, the Straw Hat pirates could get all the rest they so desperately needed. In return for helping the kingdom, the pirates were allowed to eat as much as their heart desired. They were also invited to enjoy the palaces royal bath.

You now sat in that very bath with Nami and Vivi. It was a beautiful place, to say the least. Everything was dressed in shiny gold, glistening as the mist from the warm water filled the room. You were in the women’s side of course, but you thought if this side was this grand then the men’s area must be just as nice. This made you think of your boyfriend, Luffy. He was just on the other side of that wall, you guessed he was fooling around like he usually would.

As you admired the bath, Nami and Vivi chatted about what the world could hold for them; how the world has so many secrets that are just waiting to be found out.

“Y/n, could you get my back?” Vivi asked sweetly, her long blue hair was slightly darker due to the water. She chose to have a towel wrapped around her figure rather than being fully naked. You too chose to have a towel on.

“Of course, your highness.” You joked as you made your way towards her to take a seat on the stool behind her. You gathered the sponge that was soaked in soapy water, gently but firmly scrubbing the blue haired princess.

“Don’t call me that!” It was light hearted but it did hold some truth, she truly felt like you guys were friends now and she was grateful for all that you have done.

“Her highness is angry!” Nami added in, laughing along with you as you both ganged up on Vivi. She caved in too, she couldn’t hold in her giggles any longer. It was nice just to enjoy each others presence after all the fighting.

A comfortable silence overcame the room, all three of you smiling. Until suddenly, Nami’s smile dropped as she stood up. This made you and Vivi turn your heads in that direction, what you saw surprised you. All of the guys were now on your side of the bath, peering at you over the wall.

You clutched the towel tightly, ensuring none of your body would be exposed. “What are you doing, you freaks?!” You and Vivi screeched together, this is the girls side, you idiots, you thought.

“Peeking on us.” Nami walked closer to the group, she too had a towel on. “All right pervs, I expect each of you to pay $3000 for this!” Nami declared as she let the cloth fall to the ground, letting the men see all of her.

You were shocked, not only because she just showed them her naked body, but also because your boyfriend was part of that group that saw her. oh.

They all toppled backwards, many noses oozing out blood from the sight they just saw.

Something bubbled deep inside of you, jealousy. You don’t know why you felt this way, it’s not like Luffy asked to be flashed, it’s not like he wanted that to happen. You told yourself that, but you still felt the same as before, jealous.

Nami and Vivi left the bath and so did the men that were laid out on the floor. But you stayed, you decided to wash yourself with the sponge you were using earlier on Vivi, you need time to yourself to think and calm down from the previous event. He saw another girl naked, and it was one of your closest friends.

As you rubbed the sponge along your bare legs, you yelped when you felt a hand touch your shoulder. “Wha-”

“It’s me Y/n!” He smiled and used that tone he always did, a energetic one. He was acting the same as always, like he didn’t just see Nami in the nude. That makes you irritated slightly.

“Oh, hey Luffy.” You brushed his hand off your shoulder, resuming the wash on your legs.

“What’s wrong?” His furrowed with worry, he kneeled in front of you where you sat on the stool. He took note of the coolness in your tone, how you barely looked at him as you spoke. Usually you’d have a soft smile on your face, usually you’d be eager to talk to him. But now you were different.

“Nothing, just busy. I didn’t get a chance to properly wash myself fully. You can go.” You said nothing was wrong but that was a lie. You really just wanted to be alone in your thoughts right now. You would rather Luffy not be here because you were afraid you’d lash out at him for no real reason, you didn’t want to hurt him.

“No, I wanna spend time with you.” He was still kneeling down, now leaning closer to your body. “I’ve been sleeping for 3 days!”

“Ya well, that’s what happens when your bleeding out and have poison in your system.” You turned away from him, making more room between the both of you. Now you were just being mean.

“Y/nnn, tell me what’s wrong.” He whined, looking at you with those big eyes, they looked so desperate to know your answer. Those eyes make you weak, they make you cave every time he wants something.

“It’s just…” He still held intense eye contact, listening intently. “Earlier, you know when Nami.. did what she did. You saw her body, you saw her breasts and her hips and her.. you saw everything!”

“Oh.” Is all he says, he looks zoned out. Is he mad at you? Does he think your feelings are stupid. You look away, starting to feel embarrassed. But his hand on your chin brings you back to his eyes. “Is that what you’re mad about?”

You nodded while still in his grip. He pulled you in, placing a gentle kiss to your lips. You couldn’t help but reciprocate, even if you were still a little jealous.

“You don’t have to feel jealous, Y/n.” He whispered between kisses. “Because you’re my girlfriend, not Nami. You’re the only one I want to see naked. I want to see you naked right now, actually.”

You pulled away from the kiss, blinking a few times at his statement. You weren’t feeling much jealousy anymore, mostly just lust. You grabbed the top of your towel, where the piece of clothing wrapped around itself to keep your body concealed. You tugged on it, making it fall off your body and drop to the ground at your ankles.

“Pretty.” He reached out both hands to grope at your boobs, squishing them between his fists once or twice. “These are the only pair of boobs I think about, prettiest ones I’ve ever seen.”

He went down to lay kisses all over them, sucking when he got to your nipple. He’s always had a thing for you chest, he would spend all day kissing them, licking them, laying on them if he had a choice.

He smiled up at you, laying one last kiss to your nipple before lowering to align himself with your heat. He spread your legs apart further to allow room for his head, snuggling up close to your pussy.

“This is the best pussy out there.” He used his fingers to split your lips apart, face diving in. He started by licking on your clit, he knew you loved when he did that. And it was proved by how your hand slipped in his dark hair, pulling on the roots of it. You shoved his face in harder, wanting to feel more of him.

“Luffy!” You moaned out, curling your toes. He sucked on your clit next, making you lose your breath.

He starting sucking harder, licking more aggressively, wanting you to reach your orgasm quickly. You panted, feeling sparks starting to form in your lower half. Your legs shook and shut around Luffy’s head, trapping him in.

He slid out of your thighs, licking his lips clean from your juices.

“You have the only pair of boobs for me, you have the only pussy for me, you’re the only one for me, Y/n. K?” He kissed your cheek and grabbed your towel to drape around you again. He took your hand and pulled you along behind him, leading you away and out of the royal bath.

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pasukiyo · 3 months

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DRUNK ON YOU

journalist!anakin skywalker x f!ice skater!reader word count; 4,344 warnings; unprotected p in v sex, verbal and physical abuse from an ice skating coach?, anakin may or may not be following reader idk who knows!! summary; ice skating has been her life for as long as she can remember. she's not sure why her head hasn't been in it lately, and her coach certainly has something to say about it. thank god the cute and awkward journalist anakin was there though, right?

“Have you forgotten how to land a fuckin’ axel?”

Cold bit into her palms and pain flared up the muscles of her thigh as she pushed herself onto her knees, lips agape as she panted. She’d fallen so hard, bile was beginning to brew at the base of her throat, burning the pipe.

“Hey, are you even fuckin’ listening to me?”

Her hands were starting to numb and she should really get herself up off the ice. She was creating a scene— although this was a private lesson, she knew there still remained one man in the stands, one who she could see’s gaze fleeting back and forth between her and the ground from her periphery. Normally, she’d care enough about her dignity to get herself up as if nothing had ever happened.

But she was just so tired, so frustrated. Her legs hurt like hell, her feet feeling like they’d pop off any moment now. And her son of a bitch of a coach’s voice was really starting to irritate her.

“Hey!” Speaking of her coach, she was skating her way, deep rouge lips pursed in vexation. Her eyelids fluttered themselves closed as she sighed, rolling her head back to hang towards the ground below.

Finally, she pushed herself off the ice, wiping her palms against her leggings and the moment she opened her eyes, her coach was in her face, fingers that weren’t her own tangled in the hair on the back of her head. She pressed her lips together to stifle any sound that may come out of her mouth, a sharp exhale still sneaking its way past her nostrils as her coach tugged on the tendrils she had between her fingers, angling her face so that she had to look up at her.

“Where the fuck is your head, huh?” Her coach practically spat in her face, lips curling in disgust. “We’ve a competition in one week and you’re here actin’ like a goddamn fool,” she hissed. “You like embarrassing me?”

She said nothing, her eyelids narrowing as she stared back at the stormy irises of her coach. Her coach sniffed and leaned away, recognizing the narrowing of her eyes for what it was— a challenge.

“You wanna embarrass me here, kid?” Her coach said after a long moment of silence. “Fine. But trust me,” she stepped closer, too close to ensure she could look down at her student. “You don’t wanna fuck around and find out what happens if you try me out there.”

“You’re the one embarrassing yourself,” she spat in a low, hushed whisper in retaliation, glancing towards the stands where the man watched alone, a notepad clutched in one hand and a pen in the other. His head was bent down towards the notepad but even from here, she could make out the way he stared from between his top lashes, the bill of his navy hat casting a shadow over his face.

A journalist, she guessed.

Her coach whipped around to face whoever it was she was referring to, dropping the fistful of hair she had in her claw-like grip just moments before. Relief washed over her as the pain at her scalp finally began to subside and she rubbed her palms over her elbows as she watched her coach skate her way to the exit of the ice where the man sat, glancing away from his notes when her coach’s voice thundered through the rink.

“Who the fuck are you?” Her coach asked as she, too, began to skate her way towards the stands, her bag only a few seats away from where the man sat. As she approached, the man glanced her way, the dark blue waves in his irises crashing into her own.

For a moment, all was silent and for a moment, she couldn’t bring herself to tear her gaze away from his. There was something so… alluring about him. He wore round glasses and a navy Puma hat, locks of dark blonde hair peeking out from the sides, just above his ears. His stare was dark, like a raging sea on a gray, stormy day. The longer she stared, the more she felt like she was drowning, as if she were astray at sea, helplessly fighting against the crashing waves.

His gaze dropped from her eyes to her lips and she felt herself flush, forcing her eyes away from him so that she could make her way over to her bag and get the hell out of here.

“Hey!” Her coach yelled again. “Did you hear me? Who are you and what the fuck are you doing here? This is a private lesson.”

She huffed as she sat herself down onto the seat beside her bag, leaning down to unlace her skates, sighing in relief when she pulled the first one off her feet.

“Just taking notes,” the man replied simply and she turned until she could see them out of her periphery, watching as the man held his notepad up for her coach to see. “Notes?” Her coach questioned in a scoff as she tugged her other skate off her feet, her lips falling open in a soft gasp as she stretched out her toes and rolled her ankles. “What? You some perv or something?”

“No ma’am. I write for the New Repub–”

‘I don’t give a shit who you write for, you realize you’re trespassing on a private lesson?” Her coach raised a hand to interrupt him. “That girl over there has a competition in a week and I won’t let some lowlife reporter let it spill that my client is incompetent enough to not know how to land a fuckin’ axle!”

Her eyes rolled in their sockets at this as she slipped her socks on over her feet, tugging her boots on over them. She rummaged in her bag for her hoodie and stood as she pulled it on over her head, slinging the strap of her bag over her shoulder.

“Relax, coach,” she cut through the argument as she approached, willing herself to not make eye contact with the man as he turned to look at her. “Besides, with the shit you just pulled, I’m surprised my axel is at the top of your priority list.”

Her coach parted her lips, a remark surely on the tip of her tongue but when the man turned back to raise an eyebrow at her, she closed her mouth and huffed as she skated away towards the other side of the rink’s stands where her own bag was.

For a few prolonged moments, silence fell between her and the man still sat beside her, and it wasn’t until he rose from his seat and cleared his throat that she allowed herself to look at him again.

“Sorry for causing such a scene,” he said at last, ducking his head so that their eyes could meet once more. She rolled her bottom lip between her teeth and shook her head just as she felt color begin to warm her cheeks once again. “Sorry about… her,” she replied, gesturing towards where her coach was angrily tearing her skates off her feet across the ice.

“Yeah, she’s…”

“A bitch.”

“Well…” the man rubbed the back of his neck, slapping his notepad down against his thigh with the other. “Yeah.”

She glanced down to his notepad against his jean-clad thigh, tilting her head curiously. “You doing a story on me or something?” She asked, daring to look back up at him. Color rushed to his cheeks and he turned to stare off into space, as if it had the answers he couldn’t quite seem to form on his tongue.

“Um, well I…” he stammered before dropping his head in defeat. “Sort of?”

She raised a brow at this, suddenly wary of the man before her. She was quick to let his looks fool her into thinking this man could be harmless when in reality, he could very well be far from it. He was alone, intruding in on a private skating lesson after all, taking notes on who knows what.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She questioned, her wariness evident in her tone. He must’ve picked up on this and sighed in defeat, a nervous smile tugging at a corner of his lips.

“Listen, I’m a journalist for the New Republic magazine and I was at your competition working on a story last week and I…” he trailed off, rolling his bottom lip between his teeth as if contemplating his next words. “I was really intrigued by you.”

She nodded, understanding finally washing over her. “Ah. So you’ve been following me.”

The man’s pink lips parted and closed and repeated, and she fought the grin tugging at the corners of her lips. “Well no. Yes. Maybe? Ugh, I’m…” the man’s chest heaved as he drew in a breath, holding his free hand out for her to take. “I’m Anakin. And I haven’t been following you. You know, not in a creepy way.”

Amusement finally got the best of her and she chuckled, allowing her smile to take over her mouth as she took his hand, warmth pooling into her skin. “Nice to meet you, Anakin. I’m not sure if I’m fully convinced that you haven’t been following me but I’m finding this really amusing so I’ll let it slide. For now.”

Anakin chuckled nervously and smiled, white teeth peeking through the space between his lips. Her breath hitched in her throat at this and their eyes met once again, seemingly stealing the breath from her lungs.

He was… beautiful.

She wondered if this man really had been following her over the course of the past week. Certainly she would’ve noticed him had he been stalking her before, right?

The longer she stared at the man called Anakin before her, the more she wished to convince herself that he was harmless, that there couldn’t possibly be anything nefarious or sinister behind such a gorgeous smile. But when she found herself being sucked into the waters of that raging sea in his sockets like his voice was a siren song and his eyes were a wild, angry sea, she realized that maybe she wouldn’t care, so long as he looked at her like that.

“What if I could convince you over some dinner on me?”

It was safe to say that dinner went well.

Too well.

Ridiculously well.

His hands were all over her as their mouths ravaged one another, hardly making it inside his apartment before she was pressed against the door, the thin straps of her dress falling loose down her shoulders. Anakin’s palms were pressed against the small of her back, the other firm and gripping onto the hair at the back of her head. Unlike when her coach had snatched her hair only the day before, Anakin tugged with enough pressure to have her mewling for more.

Her hands were entangled in the dark blonde curls atop of his head as his tongue demanded control over hers, his kiss making her feel weak in the knees before his lips trailed down to her jaw, to her chin, to her neck.

She gasped when he nibbled on the space between her neck and shoulder, his name falling in a breathy whimper from her lips. His mouth kissed and sucked marks down to her chest where the tops of her breasts were spilling from over the hem of her dress. Anakin growled as he reached behind her to tug furiously at her zipper, tugging the dress down her body until it could pool in a puddle of fabric at her feet.

“Ana… Anakin!” She moaned as he unclasped her bra with one hand, tearing the glasses away from his face and tossing them into the wall beside them with the other. Neither were in the rind headspace to even care for the more than likely cracked frames as Anakin drew her back into his body, his mouth attaching to her nipple, her head falling backwards in ecstasy. She could feel the curve of his grin when she gasped as he nipped at the sensitive bud, guiding her back towards his bedroom with his hand against the small of her back, his mouth never once leaving her breast.

It wasn’t long until she was nude and exposed on the plush of his mattress, blinking up at him as he stared down at her through hooded eyelids, tugging his shirt up and over his head. She eyed the defined lines of his chest and stomach as he breathed, working at the buckle of his pants and discarding it across the room, his pants falling loose down his legs. Her heart thud against her chest in anticipation as he crept his way onto the bed above her, hovering over her like a looming predator.

She looked into the depths of his deep blue eyes now and was completely lost, blinded with libido, with the want for the man above her. “Please Anakin,” she whimpered, a hand slithering around to cup the back of his neck, desperate to bring their lips together once again. She couldn’t quite reach, unfortunately, but his breath was still warm against her face and she could still make out the outline of his smile against her mouth.

When she opened her eyes again, his own were somehow a shade darker than they were before, the sweaty blonde curls damp against his forehead making his face darker than the shadows already made him out to be. He was beautiful, yes, but he was dark, and an enigma. Through the haze of her mind, however, she couldn’t quite bring herself to figure him out. She wasn’t even sure she cared right now. All she cared about was the feel of his skin against hers, the feel of his hard length against her thigh, the way he was staring at her now as if she were his last meal. It was impossible to think rationally when such a man wanted her the way she wanted him.

“I’ve dreamed of this,” he whispered, bowing his head so that their lips were touching nut not quite, at least, not in the way she was wanting. “Anakin,” she panted his name again, a hand against the curve of his shoulder, the other tangled in the hair on the nape of his neck. She was so wet and she could feel it, could feel the evidence of her lust as it streamed down her folds, creating a pool on the duvet below. “Please,” she whispered again, her gaze surging into his, her brows furrowing in hopes to coax him inside of her.

Anakin took his time. He pulled his face away just enough to take a long look down her body, his hand not supporting himself on the mattress tracing a line up and down the curve of her waist, of her hips, the crease between her thigh and torso. She gasped when the tip of his finger came so close to where she was throbbing for him but yet again, not quite.

He was teasing her now, as if playing with his food.

She could practically feel tears stinging the outskirts of her sockets, every ache in her muscles screaming for him, every throb she felt in her core pleading with him to just touch her. Anakin cooed when his gaze found hers once again, shushing her and using the edge of his forefinger to wipe away the tears that had leaked from the edges of her eyes.

“I can’t believe you want this as much as I do,” he whispered as if in awe. “You know, the second I saw you, you had just stepped onto the ice and all I could think was wow. And then you started doing all those tricks and shit that I can’t even wrap my head around and I knew that all I wanted was you. I didn’t care how much or how long it would take, all I wanted to have was you.”

If Anakin hadn’t been dipping his hand in between her legs and brushing the tips of his fingers against her swollen clit, she might’ve had the sense to stop and really consider the meaning behind his words. With every stroke of his fingers up and down her folds and against her aching bud, he was reducing her mind to slime, turning each and every single one of her thoughts into nothing but putty. He was possessing every inch of her as if he were a parasite, as if he were doing some sort of mind trick on her, like he had her under some kind of trance.

And when he dipped a single finger past the barrier between her folds, she couldn’t quite bring herself to care.

Her back arched off of the bed and her lips fell apart in a gasp, Anakin watching in awe as she mewled and squirmed beneath him. He ducked until his nose was against the crook of her neck, breathing her in like a vapor, letting her fill in his every sense. He was drunk on her, on the way she looked, the way she breathed, the way she smelled. She was just so beautiful, and now she was his.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about what it would be like to have you,” he whispered as he added another finger inside of her, his other hand kneading at her breast. “Every time I went to bed, I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he said, leaning down until his lips were against the shell of her ear. “I couldn’t stop touching myself thinking about you.”

She whimpered again when he added a third finger, pressing his lips against her ear before leaning away, kissing her jaw before pulling away altogether. She whined at the loss of his digits inside of her and Anakin watched as her cunt pulsed and throbbed with the yearn for him. He was aching for her as well, maybe even more than she was for hin. His cock was so hard it was beginning to feel painful, having edged himself for so long.

But he could let go now. He had her. He had her right where he wanted her all along.

Anakin leaned down to press his lips against hers and she eagerly drank him in like wine, mewling against his lips. He could feel the mix of her sweat and tears against his face, and he smiled against her mouth again.

And he let a hand trail down between their bodies until his hand was wrapped around his length, giving himself one solid pump. Then, with one snap of his hips, they were one.

She cried out in bliss as he entered her, back arching off of the mattress, her chest heaving into his as he sheathed himself inside her. Anakin pressed his lips together and grunted, wrapping his arms around her body to hold her close to him as his eyes rolled into the back of his head, throwing his head back in pleasure as he savored how good she felt wrapped around him.

Perfect, everything about her was simply perfect and made for him. He couldn’t believe he hadn't found her sooner, that she was the one he was waiting for all of his life. This was what he’d always needed– this girl underneath him, wanting him, wrapped around him, burning for him. There was no way in hell he was going to let her go now that he had her.

“Ana–!” She cried. “Anakin!” She barely managed to choke out the rest of his name when he snapped his hips against her again. She was just so full, so overstimulated that she couldn’t even form a single coherent thought.

Ice skating came like second nature to her. It’d been that way for as long as she could remember. But she swore, if you asked her to do anything now, she wouldn;t even know how to begin. All she could think was Anakin, Anakin, Anakin. He’d somehow found a way to put her under his full control until she was reduced down to nothing more than a mindless zombie for him.

“Oh… fuck,” Anakin cursed beneath his breath, using his hands against the mattress as leverage to stare down between their bodies where they were connected. His cock glistened with a mixture of their juices and oh, his mouth watered for a taste. He reached down until his fingertips were against her clit, her toes curling at the pressure and she cried out when he dipped his fingers inside of her for the briefest of moments to gather their mixture.

Anakin’s mouth was practically watering, fuck, he was drooling by the time he finally brought his fingers to his lips, moaning and his eyes rolling when their mixed arousals coated his tongue. “Fuck,” he moaned again once he had finally licked his fingers clean, snapping his hips before wrapping a hand around the base of her neck. “Come here.”

He met her halfway so that their lips could crash against one another and she hummed into his mouth when she tasted both of them, following his lips when he pulled away.

“Sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted,” he murmured, grabbing a handful of her hips with one hand and reaching forward to grasp onto the headboard with the other. “I can’t wait to taste you once you’ve come.”

Her eyes were rolling into the back of her head as Anakin pistoned his cock inside of her, quick to find that spot deep inside of her that had her seeing stars. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been fucked like this– no, she’d never been fucked like this. No man had ever been able to make her feel the way Anakin made her feel now, she knew that for certain. No man had ever been able to make her dumb to the point of no return, to make her so drunk on their cock that she couldn’t form a coherent though other than their name. No, only Anakin had ever made her feel like this.

Anakin thrusted into her again and again and again, ravaging her body like his life absolutely depended on it. There was something animalistic about the way he fucked her, something territorial as if this were the beginning of something she couldn’t quite wrap her head around at this moment. Not when she was so close that even Anakin could feel it, could feel it in the way she pulsed and throbbed around him. He gripped onto the headboard harder as leverage to give her everything he had, the bedframe making noises so loud that it was a miracle it hadn’t broken yet.

She was almost there. She was so close that she could already taste it, could already see it. She closed her eyes until she was submerged into a dark, seemingly endless tunnel. But there, off in the distance but approaching at rapid speed was a white, blinding light that she knew was her orgasm. She began to race towards it, meeting it halfway until they crashed together like a supernova, her back arching off the bed, her toes curling, fingernails clasping around Anakin’s wrists and burrowing deep.

Tears fell like rivers down the sides of her face as she thrashed, feeling so full and satisfied and overstimulated that she couldn’t take it anymore.

“Oh shit, oh fuck,” Anakin panted, his thrusts sloppier but still as forceful as ever. “Almost there, almost there, almost the– fuck!” He growled as he bottomed out with a single forceful thrust, spilling himself into her. She could feel rope after rope of his seed bursting inside of her and her vision blurred until all she could see was watercolor. She barely even registered the moment Anakin’s cock slipped out from inside of her and he kissed a trail down her body until his mouth was ravaging her sore, fucked out cunt.

She cried as she gathered a fistful of the duvet below, squeezing her eyelids shut, her head rolling until her cheek was flush with the mattress. Anakin’s tongue swirled inside of her as if he were hunting for every last drop of her spend and her eyelids fluttered open, her vision murky with bliss. She blinked away the blurriness as much as she could, making out photos on the wall beside his bed that somewhere in the back of her mind, she felt like she’d seen before.

It was hard to focus when Anakin was practically digging another orgasm out of her with his tongue but she zeroed in on one of the photographs, recognizing it as one of her from a competition she had done months ago. Her eyes darted to another, all of her, her at competitions that she’d done more than just a week ago, but some of her out and about on the street, at the grocery store, at the bar just a few blocks away from her apartment.

She wasn’t sure where these photos came from– she’d never seen any of these specific ones before anywhere. It meant that Anakin had to have been the one to have taken them but surely this wasn’t true– he said he’d only found her a week prior to her being fucked on his bed, didn’t he?

“Taste so fucking good,” Anakin purred against her pussy, hooking his arms around her thighs and burying his face in even closer. Her heart was pounding against her chest at the realization that even despite her horror, she couldn’t tear herself away from Anakin. Maybe he really did have her under some sort of mind trick, some kind of trance. Maybe she really was drowning, falling into that raging sea in his eyes with no hope of ever resurfacing.

She knew how wrong it was, how disgusting it was, but it didn’t matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t help but reach down until her fingers were woven in the dark blonde curls on his head, pulling him in even closer to her throbbing heat.

a/n; so hey! i've had this sitting around unfinished in my drafts for, like, ever and i finally just now got around to finishing it lol so sorry for not having been active! as some of you may know, i've been working on a book for the past couple of months on top of being in college and having a job so i've been pretty busy lately! i hope you all don't mind and still enjoyed this one nonetheless 🤭

TAGLIST;

@your-nanas-house

@chaoticevilbakugo

@k1ttenmittonz

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