#how far back are you digging anon
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Do you hate christians? I don't see a single post of you attacking any other religion
TW: Religion. Bigotry. American-Christian culture. Attacking? I think you're using the wrong word there anon-y. I've answered some bad asks from people and yeah, got a bit mean, but attacking? Persecution complex is showing there. But, how about this, I'll answer your question assuming you meant it in a good faith way and not a passive-aggressive woe-is-me type way. I don't hate Christians. I do however live in a country chock full of people who love to hide their racism, homophobia, xenophobia, transphobia, sexism, and basically just about any other form of bigotry behind the shield of "Well it's my religious belief!" as if that somehow elevates it out of the realms of scrutiny. And in America, the religion they tend to hide behind is Christianity. So several sects of Christianity I am hardline against. It's also an almost norm here for Christians, not all of the, hell I'm willing to even grant that its probably a minority of them who do this they just do it very LOUDLY, to try to force their religious views and their religion itself on other people. Not guiding people who are looking for more information or to convert, but going out and trying to push it onto others. So when someone comes into my ask box trying to preach, trying to convert me, or trying to couch their bigotry in their religion, I'm not going to be very nice to that person, because that gets fucking exhausting to deal with.
#nonhorny asks#dumbass asks#Fun fact religion is one of my special interests#also like#how far back are you digging anon#I haven't answered one in a while
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i like overthink everything now it makes me feel so dumb. i used 2 be able to just talk 2 ppl but nowadays every single thing im like Is that actually going to make them hate me. Yes probably. and then i just dont respond which makes ppl hate me. this is how it is
#ive been overthinking 1 light and casual mildly funny response to something but im worried itll come off as disrespectful and dismissive And#make me seem stupid and uncaring all at the same time. and also be seen as insulting. but like idt itd be insulting right like. im not#saying what it is so ig for all you guys know im like I mean if i say All your shit suck ball and i hateit kys. <- thats not the thing i was#going to say#like it doesnt matter now the window for response is closed now but i feel stupid bc i shouldve just said it it was light and casual. im so#bad at keeping convos gojng im convinced im not going to survive. In like a light and casual way like in a He will not make it through the#winter joke way. dw. im not going to do anything bc i had One failed interaction. if i was going to do anythjng itd be bc of the 8000000#other failed interactions. But im not. anyways. it just makes me feel so useless 😭 like i want to respond i want to talk to ppl so bad but#i feel like i mess things up Irreparably every time i speak OR i take too LONG overthinking my response and then i just cant respond bc its#been too long and then its been 3 years and the only messages ive ever sent r my intro message and 1 message 2 years ago that nobody#responded to at all. or the conversation stopped immediately after. and like i used to be better at this i was lkke. talkative in a couple#muts servers like. i talked 2 ppl daily in those servers and i had fun and like. I was an important part of the group and i felt like it#but i just feel like such an outsider for Everything and its literally my fault bc i cant just like. Talk. The explosion. bc im always like#im gonna try im gonna do it this time im gonna get it back im going to finally be Good connor and im going to fix it all and make a Good#solid friend group and ill find HEALTHY LOVE and i wont selfsabotage and ill move out and have a job and ill balance it well and ill start#all my hobbies and ill have a great routine and be so loveable and on top of it and not stressed and content and happy and roll with the#punches and then theres a single hiccup and im like Well fuckinf whatever im going to be an unemployed hermit forever and im going to die b4#im 25 anyways so Who cares and also im digging a little hole for myself. and its like. AUGHH ik i just have to persevere and overcome but#even saying that feels so stupid its not fucking hard its Talking to ppl. like. i literally if ive ever said a word to you i had to think#avt it and strategize how to respond right even for like. like. it makes it sound like its not genuine it is#like for example i want to say hey i love your art! but then i freak out and im like thats not normal thats like a rly generic comment they#hear that all the time theyll thjnk im being polite and my brains like hrmmm rewrite Your art changed my life. It shaped me. Ill never be#the same. Nad im like ok too far overcorrected go back and the sentence generator is like Your art has colors 💯 like. GOD. WHY IS IT SO#difficult. and then usually i either just dont say anythinf and feel awful abt it 4ever OR i send it on anon and then i spend like 15#minutes ibsessively slightly tweaking the apelling and capitalization and punctuation to make sure it doesnt seem like its me just in case#it Is the worst possible thing to say but then i see the response and itll be like AWWW TYSM :] THIS MEANS A LOT or whathaveyou and i feel#stupid bc i couldve just Told them this to their face and it wouldve been a good positive interaction we had. but instead i had 2 hide and#tyoe entirely differently so they couldnt sniff me from my typing style. and it soesnt even feel like the thanks is actually 4 me bc i#tweaked the message sm. and it still makes me happy that the oersons hapoy but its like. that couldve been a nice mutual interaction#like not that i need a personal ty i compliment ppl when i Want to compliment ppl and when its genuine yk. i dont do it so i get mutualpoint
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❝ 𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐃 ❞
❝ EVERYONE WANTS SATORU GOJO, SO WHY ARE YOU THE ONE STUCK GUARDING HIM ? ❞
✧ pairing: rich boy! gojo x bodyguard! reader
✧ summary: after the gojo family receives threats to their lives, you're hired to protect the heir to the company, satoru gojo - you just didn't realize how charming the rich heir would be - and just how hard it would be to resist his advances.
✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, fluff, reader is around the same age as gojo (both in their 20s but age is vague), virgin! gojo, switch! gojo, oral (f + m), handjob (m), dry humping, fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), depictions of violence, mentions of yakuza, dirty business dealings, gojo's made up dad and suguru make an appearance
✧ wc: 15,311 (i don't know what to say at this point)
✧ for my 2k celebration event: item 1 has been sold to @forest-hashira and two anons!
“So, is this your first time?”
Satoru Gojo would be the end of you — one way or another.
One way would be you sacrificing your life to protect him — fairly run of the mill when it came to guarding someone, the risk of putting your life on the line, though the chance of death usually was fairly slim. You had only come close — twice.
You didn’t care to make it a third.
The other, increasingly more likely, way was that you would lose your mind to his incessant yammering before you even had a chance to neutralize any threat to his life.
You nearly spit out your drink at the question, wiping your mouth with a napkin, before managin to choke it down, “Excuse me?”
And his lips annoyingly curl, “Your first time guarding someone,”
The heir seemed fairly nonchalant, even after his father had sat the both of you down in a room filled with more security agents than the prime minister of Japan himself had, and had lectured him about the importance of staying with you the entire time and to respect your authority — well one out of two wasn’t bad. He’s eating a piece of cake instead of a meal, his fork digging into the back of the cake again and again, toying with his food as he did with you, “I mean, you seem fairly young, but old enough to be entrusted with my safety,”
“Well, since you insisted on going to school, your father needed someone unassuming who looked around your age,” you lean against your hand, your other drumming against the table, as your eyes scanned the area — table of frat boys, group of girls sneaking glances at Gojo, various other students, no real threats — unless you counted the girls’ death daggers towards you, “someone who wouldn’t look out of place with you, raise any suspicions, but who could still protect you,”
His lips curl, as your eyes find their way back to the young heir, “So basically, you had to look like my girlfriend — shouldn’t I hold your hand? Sell the act? All in the name of my safety,”
You jerk your head towards his group of admirers, “I think what we’re doing now is plenty — unless you’d like your guard to get mauled by a bunch of hormonal college girls,”
His eyes slid to his adoring fans, as he pities them with a wave, erupting squeals from them, “I think you could take them,”
“How flattering,” you reply drily, picking at the food in front of you, “now finish your lunch so we can get to our next class on time,”
“Are you still upset that we were late this morning?”
“No, I’m upset that we missed half the class and I had to take the fall for it,” the heir had oh so kindly told the professor that you had made them run late (even though he was the one who spent far too long in the bathroom).
And even though you wouldn’t be attending this school for long, you hoped that you wouldn’t have to make yourself look like a fool the entire time you were here — but — your eyes found Gojo’s again — sticking with Satoru Gojo almost made that a guarantee that you would look like a fool — one way or another.
And you were already the fool — for thinking that a college aged boy would have any real food in his refrigerator. Although, Satoru Gojo was a different breed — instead of alcohol and questionable containers of takeout, there was...sweets.
So. Many. Sweets.
Not just cookies and candy — but literally six different kinds of mochi (for some reason?) and almost any pastry you could possibly think of was stocked in the house. And the freezer was more of the same — seven different containers of ice cream and one aged bag of edamame stuck in the back.
“Gojo?” you stare into the open refrigerator, while Gojo lays back on his couch, scrolling on his phone mindlessly.
“Yeah?”
“Do you have any food?”
“What do you mean? The refrigerator is full of food?” and his voice is thick with genuine confusion and you’re almost wondering how this man survived to this age.
Oh yeah, he’s rich.
You sigh, closing the refrigerator doors, and striding over to him, only to snatch his phone out of his hands, “Sweets are not real food — how do you eat like this and function?”
He only shrugs, lips curled into a grin, “I’m just built different,”
“You mean like a person who won’t make it to age fifty?” you toss his phone back at him, “get up,” you grab your sweatshirt hanging by the door and throw his jacket at him. He barely catches it, as he sits up, his face displeased with your sudden need to get him up.
“Where are we going?”
“So,” Gojo says, his hands in his pockets, as you both walk the aisles of the grocery store, “why did I have to come with you?”
“Because I’m going to show you how to actually shop for groceries, so you don’t have a heart attack and die before my stint with you is up,” you grab essentials and basics — oil, rice, cereal, pasta, spices, flour, sugar (although did he really need sugar with the amount he was already consuming?), “you know it would suck if my client died before we eliminated the other threats on his life,” before you add with a smile, “though I think your eating habits are more likely to kill you,”
“You know men really hate sarcastic women,” he bites back, before something catches his eye in the aisle and he places it in the cart, “major turn off,”
“Well, mission accomplished then,” you roll your eyes, as you look back at the cart to see a box of cookies, “you know when I said you were a moron, I was half kidding, but now,” you lift up the box of cookies, “you have a million cookies at home,”
He pouts — why do you feel like a mother refusing their child their candy at checkout? — “Not these ones,” you take the box and put it back on the shelf where it belonged, and he relents.
“Did you eat like this before college?”
He shook his head, “My meals were prepared for me by the chef at my home, I never really had much of a say in what I ate, or anything really,” and you shake your head, “my father wasn’t really the type to let me handle anything on my own — thus the need for a babysitter,”
You nod, “So no one really taught you how to take care of yourself?” and he shakes his head.
“Guess not, but I guess no time like the present to learn,” he examines the box of baking powder you had just placed in the cart, “like what this is,” and you snort, taking the box from him and placing it back in the cart.
“Maybe by the end of this trip, we’ll have you making it past the age of forty,”
He raises an eyebrow, “I thought you said fifty?”
“The cookies made me lose more faith in you,”
The two of you continue to shop, as you help him pick out vegetables, meat, and other necessities for the house. You separate the things for you and for him meticulously, as the two of you head over to the checkout, and he’s placing everything on the conveyor belt together, including your own things, “No wait, those are mine—”
“Consider it payment,” he stops you, as you continue to try to argue, but he’s only blocking you from the conveyor belt with a raised arm, a real smile on his lips, “just let me do this for you,” And you can’t find any words, so your mouth shuts, and you nod — as you watch him speak with the older cashier with his patented charm.
And the cashier stops you right as you’re leaving, whispering, “That’s a good one, don’t let him go, ok?” and you pause, her words sinking in as blood rushes to your cheeks.
“We’re not—”
“I know,” the older woman chuckles far too knowingly, as she hands you the receipt, “but you never know.”
“You coming?” Gojo calls, turning to look back at you, as he pushes the cart of groceries, and you look from the cashier to him, before fleeing with a quick ‘thank you.’
And as you go home, you glance at Gojo, maybe there was more to him than you initially thought.
“This is so boooooring,” Gojo’s whining for, what you assume is, the billionth time, “I hate philosophy, moral arguments? It’s such bullshit,”
“You know philosophy is literally a subject that encompasses everything right?” you tilt your head watching him lay on the floor as the two of you sit at the table, his head right next to you, as you sit cross legged, “there’s no avoiding it in life,”
“Well can’t I avoid it in school at least? Because college feels very different from real life,” and you roll your eyes, flicking him between the eyes.
“Just write your paper, I already finished mine,” and he perks up.
And he slides his laptop over to you, “Then you can write mine,”
“That’s not happening,” and he groans again, “you know if you spent all the time that you whined working on your paper then you’d be done,”
“Were you this much of a buzzkill when you were in college?” Gojo stares at you, “what do you even do for fun?”
“Why is this relevant to you writing your paper?”
“Why is writing my paper relevant to protecting my life?” and you open and close your mouth, “c’mon give me something, anything,”
“How about this — when you finish a page, I’ll answer a question, any question,” you offer, and he grins, as he sits up and begins to type away at his laptop.
You sit back, lying back and using your phone, until about fifteen minutes later when he’s holding his laptop up, showing you that he completed a page, “That fast?” you’re skeptical, and then you grab his laptop, skimming the page, wondering if he was trying to trick you — he wasn’t. It was good, more than good — it was a wonderful discussion of deontological ethics.
“How did you finish this so fast?” you raise an eyebrow, “you complain so much, but you wrote this page far too quickly,”
He shrugs, “I’m good at everything, sweetheart,” and you roll your eyes, “jealous?”
“Totally,” you scoff, before grinning, “so get back to work,” and he gapes at you, before groaning dramatically, lying back on the floor again.
“Ugh, this is too much work,” he whines again, “I don’t know why I had to take this stupid class,” he grumbles.
“Then why did you?” you scroll through your phone, checking for any new alerts or updates from his father or any other member of the security team, “you have a choice in what classes you sign up for, don’t you?”
And for one of the first times, you saw Satoru’s playfulness ebb away, replaced with almost a bitterness — as bitter as his words were usually sweet, “Maybe most college kids do, but I don’t have a choice in most of the things I do, including the classes I pick,”
You tilt your head, “Your father?” And he nods, “did you even choose your major?”
His eyes drift to the ceiling, “Is it a choice when your father tells you you’re either being groomed to run his company when you graduate or he’s not paying for you to go to school at all?”
“No, it isn’t,” you admit, “but it could be worse, he could have stuck you with a glorified babysitter on top of it,”
He cracks a smile, “I don’t know, maybe I have a thing for babysitters,” and you roll your eyes, cracking a smile.
“Get back to work.”
“Fuck,” Satoru muttered, watching the rain come down as he waited outside the university awning of the building he had just finished his class in. You had left him to go to class by himself — you trusted him enough not to get murdered while in class and on the walk back (high praise) — and said you’d likely just meet him back at the apartment. But now, he didn’t know how he’d get home without getting soaked.
He checks his phone for any rideshares nearby, but there were none. And he would rather go drown in the rain than call his father’s driver, and guarantee a lecture about being prepared for “any given situation.”
Shit. Maybe he would just risk walking.
So he did. The rain soaked through his clothes all too quick, the wet fabric clinging to his skin, and the cold leeching the warmth from his body. And he couldn’t help but think if you were with him, you would have remembered to bring an umbrella.
Weird, when did he ever really rely on anyone else?
Yes, his father had maids, cooks, and personal shoppers when he was growing up — but they weren’t people he relied on — he did, but it was expected. It was their job. And yes, he was a job for you too — but…it was different.
Satoru didn’t know when it happened but he had gotten used to your presence in his life. Whether it was at home or in class, you were always there. And it wasn’t as annoying as he thought it would be. It was…nice to have someone there to lean on. But, as he glanced up at the storm clouds, holding a hand above his eyes — rolling dark clouds with no signs of the rain letting up — this would be his reality once the threats were a distant memory.
“Gojo!” He blinks, his eyes snapping forward, and he sees someone coming over the horizon.
It was you — umbrella in hand, as your footsteps echoed with the splashes of water from the rain that collected on the ground. And you found your way to him, holding the umbrella over his head. He stared at you as you grew closer, wondering if you were real. And he wasn’t surprised you found him —
“How did you know?” He asks when you stand, catching your breath, short pants, as your eyes flicker up to his.
“You always forget your umbrella, so I figured you needed one,” you shrugged, “plus I finished my meeting early so I came to get you,” and he only stares at you, “what?”
And he only shakes his head, as he takes the umbrella from your hand, fingers brushing, as he holds it up over the both of you, your shoulders brushing as you begin to walk home. And he found himself wishing for a split second that the threats would never stop.
“Just wondering if it’s in your job description to protect me from colds too,” and you snort, lips curling into the same smile he loved to see.
“With you? It is.”
“A party?”
“Yes, known as a gathering of people where—”
“I don’t need you to define the word,” you grit your teeth, as you watch him pull out shirts from his closet, holding them up, before shrugging, “do you know the kind of danger you could put yourself in by going?”
“I know, the party might go into a frenzy at the sight of me, think of all the students who’d glare at you then,” he grins, as he finally settles on an outfit — charcoal gray shirt and a blue button down, “might have to call another bodyguard to guard you instead, princess,”
“Aren’t you the princess if you’re the one being guarded?” you bite back, and he only laughs, hands in his pockets, “Gojo, you have serious threats that have been levied—”
“Against my father—”
“And you, the heir to your father’s company,” you cut him off, crossing your arms, “are you seriously going to risk our lives because you want to get drunk and fuck around with a bunch of idiots?”
The answer was yes, of course.
And now here you were, stuck babysitting this spoiled heir at a party. You hadn’t really been to any parties — hadn’t bothered to. You had gotten through college at a young age, perks of skipping a few grades, and you ended up in the family business regardless — so you didn’t bother to party much. Not when you had things to accomplish — babysitting a drunk heir wasn’t one of them.
It has started as you expected. Gojo had flitted away from your side the first moment he got, disappearing into the throng of horny and drunk college students. You wove your way through the crowd, careful not to trip over the students making out, dancing, or drinking on nearly any available surface. The smell of beer and cheap cologne wafted through this dorm. And you had almost given up on finding him when you spotted him stuck to the sides of three girls, all of them far too eager to hang off his every word.
You sighed, this was going to be a long night.
“You one of Satoru’s girlfriends?” you glance to your side and see Suguru Geto in person. You had learned all about Satoru Gojo and the people he hung around. Like those three girls — one of them had a long distance boyfriend, the other had a cheating situationship she was trying to make jealous, and the other just wanted to fuck him for the experience. Suguru Geto was one of the only friends of Gojo you had liked from what you had read about him — humble background, on scholarship at the college, but one of the best students here — and a philosophy student of all things, the very subject his best friend hated.
You want to say no, but unfortunately, you have no idea what the idiot has been saying to other people, “Something like that,” you sip at your drink to make the bitter words slide down, “why? Are you?”
A chuckle slips past his lips, as he takes a swig of his drink, “Well I already like you better than the others. You have a sense of humor and seemingly more than two brain cells,”
“Don’t give me too much credit,” you snorted, leaning against a wall, “I did end up here after all,”
“Fair enough, how’d he convince you to come?” And you shake your head — good question. What choice did you really have? You could have let him go alone, but probably not a good look
“I don’t even know honestly, feel like I’ve been dragged here to make sure he doesn’t do something stupid,” you glance at him and the gaggle of girls, “though maybe I already fucking failed at that,”
Geto shrugs, as his gaze slips from Gojo to you, “I mean until he sticks his tongue down one of their throats, I think you’re doing pretty well,”
You laugh, “Good to know,” and you both continue to chat, and unbeknowst to you, while your focus is torn away from Gojo, his attention is fully on you.
If looks could kill, Satoru imagined his crystal eyes were nothing more than daggers ready to strike, as he watches you and Suguru talk.
It was his fucking idea to come to this party, so why were you having more fun than he was?
He swirled his drink miserably — he had barely taken a sip of the beer poured for him — why would he when it tasted like piss? He didn’t understand why people liked to drink — especially when they could eat mochi instead — but now, as he stares at you and Suguru, maybe he was starting to understand.
He can’t hear what either of you are saying over the blaring music and the chatter of students surrounding him, but he can see the smile on your lips and the laugh that left them.
Why the fuck do you look so happy to talk to Suguru?
You seemed so bored when he was with you—and did you just fucking laugh again at something Suguru said?
The crinkle of plastic and the distinct feeling of a spill made his gaze snap to his hand — he just crushed his plastic drink cup. He sighed, as he simply placed it among the other abandoned drink cups on a nearby table, before wiping off his hand with a napkin.
Why did he even care? You were nothing but a nuisance anyway. All you did was follow him around, make him go to class on time, make sure he was safe, care about his well-being—
What the fuck was he thinking?
His eyes couldn’t help but slide back to you as he tried to enjoy the girls' company, their slight touches and soft pouts and sweet words not going unnoticed by him. But that was how it always was. Once people found out he was rich, people wanted to be his friend, they wanted to date him, they wanted him — but not really him, they wanted his money.
First world problems, right?
But you — you hadn’t been like that. You were irritatingly punctual, unfazed by his money, didn’t care in the slightest about his father or who he was — you just wanted to do your job. And he was your job, for the time being.
And now he got to see you smile — your lips perfectly curled in a smile that both he wanted to see all the time and grated on his nerves — but you were smiling at someone else. And Suguru no less.
“C’mon Satoru, you gonna make eyes at your boyfriend all night?” Aiko said, nudging him teasingly, her words far too slurred.
“Help us finish these shots,” Yumiko whines, as she offers him a shot, urging it into his hands.
He’s grimacing, he hates alcohol — he hates how he feels during and after; he hates the disgusting, metallic taste; and if it couldn’t get worse, he’s a lightweight. He stares at the shot.
“It’s just one shot,” Misaki grins, holding up her own, clinking hers to his, “you’re already three shots behind everyone else,”
And he’s about to open his mouth to refuse — make up an excuse of having to wake up early or stomach being unsettled — and that’s when you catch his attention. You were laughing now, a noise far too pretty for his liking, as you shoved Suguru’s chest playfully.
Fuck it.
He downs the shot, the liquid searing down his throat, dragging down until it settles in a burning pool in his stomach. Finally he tears his gaze away as the girls offer him another shot — as you grin at Suguru — this was going to be a long night.
“Hey,” Geto jerks his head, “you might want to deal with that,”
You whip your head around.
“Oh what the—“
Gojo was hanging all over the girls he was with, barely able to stand on his two feet, as he swayed from side to side — his cheeks glowed with the telltale glow that told everyone he had been drinking (if that wasn’t obvious by literally everything else).
Fuck.
You had kept an eye on him. You swore he had only taken two shots of alcohol, how was he this drunk already? You examine and sniff the two shot glasses he used — no peculiar smell or residue — you run through the gamut of tests you could do on hand and conclude two things: 1) Gojo wasn't drugged and 2) he was a lightweight.
But that didn’t stop him from acting like he wasn’t, as girls egged him on to take more shots, and from the way they were eyeing him, their intentions were anything but pure.
You sigh, walking over, slipping past a drunk couple making out, a person passed out and sleeping on the floor, and a cluster of cheering onlookers as a student chugged what you can only assume was a disgusting concoction of alcohol.
Until you finally reached his side.
“I think you’ve had enough, isn’t that right, Satoru?” And he’s blinking at you, before he’s grinning, slurring your name.
“You’re no fun,” and he’s clinging all over you, his hands curled around your waist, “such a buzzkill, don’t even like to have any fun with me,”
“Looks like you had too much fun without me,” you murmur, your arm slinks around the middle of his back, “let’s get you back to your dorm,”
“Hey he’s fine, he’s having fun with us,” Aiko glared at you, a hiccup leaving her lips, “don’t go crashing our good time because he’s not interested in you,”
“Yeah why don’t you go hang out with Geto or whatever? We’ll take good care of him. C’mon Toru, let’s go to my place in Shibuya, I have a huge house there,” Yumiko says, barely coherent, and you raise your eyebrows at the nickname, as she leans in to whisper, alcohol wafting off her breath, as she lifts up her middle finger, “fuck off,”
Honestly the only reason you can understand the gist of what she meant was because of her middle finger. Their other friend is passed out on the couch.
“I don’t think any of you can even care for yourselves,” you scoff, and Satoru is hanging all over you already, mumbling words you can’t make out in your ear, “I’m taking him home, you should take your friend home,”
“Geto, wanna help me out?” And Geto nods, trying to take Gojo other arm, but Gojo pushes him away, instead clinging to you, you stumble a moment before catching both of you, “Gojo—“
“No, wanna go home with just you,” he’s officially whining, and you’re having flashbacks to the summer you spent babysitting, but — you look at the drunk white porcupine clinging to you — somehow this idiot is worse than the kid.
You sigh, “Geto, make sure that girl gets home safe,” you gesture to the one passed out on the couch, “I’m going to deal with this one,”
Geto stares at the two of you, the far too tall Satoru hunched over onto your body, “Can you—“
But you’re already walking away, able to drag Gojo away with relative ease (it’d be far easier if he’d pull his own weight, but at least he was quiet).
That was, until you got outside. And then the whining began again.
“How can you treat me like this?” Gojo’s hands cling to your arm, his face buried in your shoulder, “you shouldn’t ignore the one you’re supposed to protect!” and he’s shaking his head like a petulant child, his bottom lip quivering.
“You’re the one who left my side, not the other way around,” you grumble, as he’s finally beginning to walk by himself but he’s still stuck to your side like an overgrown cactus, “you’re the one who wanted to go to this goddamn party,”
“Yeah but you’re the one who's supposed to protect me,” he pouts, as he stops right in front of his building, “I can’t do your job for you,” and he’s finally standing in front of you, his cheeks and nose still flushed from the alcohol, his hand still clutching at yours, “do you even know how to do your job?”
You grit your teeth. Would punching the person you’re hired to protect be a breach of contract? You rub your temples, it may come to that.
“You’re an idiot,” you jerk your hand away, shaking your head, “my job is to protect you, not to stop you from doing stupid college boy shit,”
He’s crossing his arms, “I could have been in danger — what if that alcohol was poisoned? I feel really sick,” he grips, holding his stomach with pursed lips, and you’re thoroughly unimpressed.
“I looked at it, it wasn’t poisoned,” you raise an eyebrow, before sighing, and shrugging your shoulder bag off your shoulders, rooting around in the pouch, “but if you want, I have something in my bag that will turn your stomach inside out and we’ll be sure to get the poison out,”
“Nooooo, no! I’m fine,” he’s shaking his head, his voice grows soft, “I just need to get to bed,” he mutters, and you roll your eyes, but grab him by his wrist.
“Come on, we’re going inside,” and it’s a struggle to get to his apartment — more like a luxury penthouse — on the top floor, but somehow you get him inside and shepherd into his bedroom. And he’s shrugging off his button up before pulling off the shirt underneath.
Your gaze snaps away, cheeks burning, your eyes trying to erase the glimpse of his fucking unfairly chiseled physique — complete a surprisingly broad chest and shoulders — how the fuck was that hiding under his clothes? He looked like a stick normally with his clothes on.
“See something you like?” he’s snickering, as you hear the click of his belt and the and sounds of rustling — assuredly stepping out of his jeans.
“No, just not used to clients stripping for me,” you turn your back to him, as you hear the creak of the mattress and the crinkling of his comforter and sheets.
“Am I just a client to you?” his words were still mildly slurred, and you knew he’d be pouting if he had enough brain cells to do so, “you can turn around, I’m under the covers,” he adds with a grumble.
You turn and see him curled up under his blanket and you have to bite back your smile — now he most assuredly looked like one of the kids you used to babysit.
“Well what else am I supposed to see you as, Gojo?” you cross your arms, and he’s muttering under his breath, “what?”
“That’s just it. You don’t even call me by my first name,” he’s brooding, face twisted in a scowl, “I don’t have a lot of people I trust. Most people are just after my money or my looks,” he looks at you, “you’re different. Kinda weird,”
You quirk an eyebrow, “is that a good thing?”
“Well I trust you,” he admits, and you note the tips of his ears barely visible outside the comforter are red — is it still the flush from the alcohol? “I don’t really have many of those,”
And you’re taken aback — you thought you were nothing but a nuisance to this party obsessed prince, but maybe there was more to him than you thought. You toyed the ring on your finger, maybe you had more in common than you thought.
“Thank you, I’m glad you do, because you can, trust me that is,” you say softly, “good night, Satoru.”
And he does sleep after that, as you spend the night keeping watch, half to ensure his safety and the other to make sure he slept on his side in case he threw up
(and he did, twice).
“I need to talk to you,” Suguru Geto barely looked up from his phone when he saw Satoru in front of him, his best friend looking more irritable than usual — his usually bored affect seemed to be on holiday, “Suguru?”
“I heard you the first time, what is it?” and Satoru snatches the phone from Suguru’s hands, “what the fuck—“
“What were you doing last night?” and Suguru tilts his head, before rubbing his temple.
“Give me my fucking phone—“
“What did you talk to her about?” And Suguru stares at him, his brow furrowed, smart mouth ready with a reply about a stint in a spa or a retreat was needed before his lips curl.
“Oh. Her,” and he’s leaning back, a lazy shrug, “this and that,”
“Cut the shit, Suguru, do you like her or not? Did you get her number?” And Satoru is trying to unlock Suguru’s phone, as Suguru watches with a tilt of his head and a wry grin on his lips, “huh? what is it?”
“So you like her, that much is clear,” and he’s crossing his arms, “I assume you didn’t tell her or you wouldn’t have come in swinging and stealing?”
Satoru stares at him, slack jawed and cheeks turning a deep pink that only carnations could rival, “No! She’s just a…friend of the family, and she’s not supposed to be with—“
“She told me she liked you,” his heart catches, mouth falling open, before Suguru’s lips curl, “well, she said that she was one of the many, rather,”
Satoru’s cheeks burn, “It’s not like that, she barely even fucking looks at me. Can you believe that? Me?” and he gestures up and down his body.
“I see your ego is still intact,” Suguru scoffs, shaking his head, before leaning back on his palms, “just tell her how you feel, Satoru, what’s the problem?”
“The problem is I have no idea how she feels and it’s all your fault!” And Suguru raises an eyebrow, “you charmed her and I’m sure you’re the only one she’s thinking about now,” he covers his face, “and after what I said to her last night…” he couldn’t believe he admitted that you were the one of the only ones he trusted. And he called you weird.
He honestly didn’t know what was worse.
“What did you even say?”
“Say to who?” and Satoru turns, finding you standing behind him, arms crossed.
And Satoru cuts Suguru off before he can say a thing, “Not important. What are you doing here—“ you grab him by the wrist, a wave of heat makes his nearly burn red as you begin to drag him away, “what are you—“
“Bye Geto,” you say, waving at the raven haired student, before taking Geto’s phone and tossing it back to him, “I’m taking the idiot—“
“HUH?”
“Good luck. He might need to be fed — he’s in a mood,” and he waves back, same smile on his lips.
“What did you two do, adopt me?” Satoru grumbles as you pull him away, “where the hell are you dragging me? How did you even find me?”
“The post hangover suits you well, we have to get to class, and I placed a tracker on you,” and he’s jerking his hand away, staring at you, “I have to be able to find you, don’t I?”
“Where?”
You tilt your head, “Why would I tell you? Don’t worry about, I’ll remove it after we’re done here,”
You weren’t going to budge on this — and if he argued more, you would take it up with his father. And he would like to avoid that as much as possible. He sticks his hands in his pockets, , “I’m tired, can’t you just go and take notes for me?”
“I thought you’d be more concerned about the threats against your life, instead of sending your bodyguard off to your class for you” you hiss, and he’s pouting again, unable to meet your gaze, “what’s your problem, Satoru?”
And he pauses, the retort on lips dying as his brain looped in an infinite spiral of his name on your lips, “You called me ‘Satoru,’”
You tilt your head, “you told me to last night,” and then you add with a wicked grin, “remember? When you said I was one of the only people you trusted,” you tease, but he’s too busy hearing his name repeat in his head again and again, “Satoru—“
“Better be careful, sweetheart,” his lips curl into that annoyingly charming smile, “keep calling me by my first name and I may fall for you,”
You glare at him, before rolling your eyes, “I see you’re feeling better now,” you walk forward, glancing back at him, “you coming?”
And his wrist tingles still tingle from your touch, his lips quirk into a smile, “Yeah.”
“Why did you become a bodyguard?” Satoru asks you, the movie you had haphazardly chosen still ongoing had all become background noise while you spoke, the illumination from the television screen being the only thing that kept your faces lit in the dark living room (he had insisted on shutting the lights off for an “authentic movie watching experience”).
It had been a few weeks, with no signs of the threat posed ever being eliminated — still new threats were being made, and the Gojo family was still on edge.
But you were on edge for a whole other reason.
His fingers were still shoved in the bag of kettle corn he had been snacking on this entire time, but you could feel his gaze on you, instead of the movie.
“What do you mean?” your eyes slide to him, as your phone’s ringer goes off with a spam email, and you silence it, keeping it on vibrate for emergencies, “and what’s with the sudden question?”
The two of you had settled into your routine — days spent in class, meals shared, grocery shopping, and nights spent either in or out — but again, always together. And, it wasn’t bad — some of it was fun, to the point you almost forgot you were working.
But you were working. Even now, as your legs are thrown up on the couch, crossed underneath you, your knee brushing against his thigh.
He shrugs, “You owe me a question, remember?” and he reminds you of your promise from weeks ago — you had wondered why he had never asked you anything that night, “You never talk about yourself. You implied you have your degree, but not much else. From what I’ve seen of you, you’re intelligent — you could have done anything, why this?” and his lips curl into that mischievous, “unless you just had to guard me when you found out it was me,”
You toss a throw pillow at him, but he catches it with ease, “If only your body was as bulletproof as your body,” and he huffs out a laugh, as you sigh, “why are you interested anyway?”
“Because I am,” you scoff.
“Nice reasoning,” he only grins, a thousand watt even in the dark.
“I thought so,” and he’s holding the pillow to his chest, “c’mon, can you not tell me even one thing about yourself?”
He wasn’t going to let this go was he? And you relent, chewing on your lip, “My family has been in this business for years — my grandfather, my father, my uncles, and my cousins, and I wanted to be one too. To protect people — it’s a lot more work than it seems. It’s quick thinking, critical reasoning, and analytical skills. It’s all I ever wanted to do after watching my dad do it,” you say softly, “but he didn’t think I was capable of it. He thought I was too soft. Too weak. So I decided to prove him wrong,”
“You weak? Has your father met you?” and you huff a laugh, “I’m serious,” his cerulean pools meeting yours with not a ripple of hesitancy in them, “I’ve seen you — I don’t I’ve met anyone this determined, or stubborn,” he adds with a smirk.
“I’m stubborn?” you gape at him, “this coming from the king of stubborn,”
“Only if you’ll be my queen,” and you roll your eyes, but your cheeks burn, as your gaze turns back to the movie — why did your heart catch at his words? “but trust me, I’m very flexible in other aspects,”
“Oh my god, is every other sentence that leaves your mouth a pick-up line?” and he opens his mouth, “don’t say ‘only for you,’ or I will be the only threat you have to worry about,”
“Promise?” you grab another pillow, but he catches your wrist before you can toss it. Your breath catches, and you can’t meet his gaze — you can’t, because you know if you do— but then he whispers your name.
And you can’t help it. You look at him. His eyes are so pretty. They were really the first things that struck you when you met him — that was before he opened his mouth. They looked like they contained multitudes, a far too beautiful ocean tucked behind sunglasses and an irritated scowl. But it wasn’t a secret that Satoru Gojo was attractive — especially not when every other person glared at you for simply being in his presence. But physical attractiveness meant little if a person wasn’t good — because superficiality could only take you so far.
And you knew what it was like to be only judged superficially — and by the way Satoru’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes when these people chatted him up, he was far too used to it.
And once he did speak, you had written him off as another rich kid — you had seen them a dime a dozen throughout your schooling and from the people your family was protected to hire. But there was something about him — something you couldn’t quite shake, even though every part of you was telling to do so.
“What is it, Satoru?” And his fingers tug you a little closer, gently, his hand loose enough for you to slip away, but you don’t. Why don’t you?
“You don’t always have to have your guard up,” his voice is soft, far too soft for the far too loud heir, “it’s okay to open up,”
You shake your head, but still unable to pull away, “It’s dangerous,” and he laughs, a sound that only warms the thin icy barrier between you both, melting it to nothing.
“Isn’t danger the whole reason we met?” And now his thumb brushes up and down against your wrist, and you wonder if he can feel your pulse roaring just underneath.
You pull away again, shaking your head, as you cross your arms, trying to hold your resolve together, “I can’t do my job if I’m distracted,” and you couldn’t, even now, you weren’t evaluating any risks, you weren’t trying to find the source of the threats — no, you were too busy trying not to inch closer to your client, trying not to look at his lips, trying not to give in to what you wanted.
“And I’m a distraction?” he looks far too pleased, but a thought seems to sour his smirk, “I thought Suguru was more of one,” and his lips are caught in a slight pout.
“Geto was just keeping me company while you entertained those girls hanging on your every word,” you can’t dull the point to your words, and it replaces his pout with a grin.
“So you were jealous,”
“You’re the one who was jealous — you could have killed Suguru with your glare alone,”
“But you didn’t deny it,” and it makes you stop — why didn’t you deny it?
“I can’t do this,” and you’re pulling away, before flicking off the tv and rising from the couch your phone in hand, turning towards the hallway, “it’s late we should go to bed—“ but he’s catching your wrist again, “Gojo—“
“Satoru,” he corrects, and you hated how gentle his fingers felt around your wrist, “how are you supposed to protect me if you’re too busy running away from me?”
“I’m great at multitasking,” and he’s drawing closer to you, his soft footfalls against the carpet, even as you step away from him, “my job is to protect you, we can’t get distracted—“
“I thought you were so good at multitasking,” he chuckles, his fingers find your wrist again, slipping to intertwine with your own, fingers interlaced, and your phone falls from your fingers and onto the couch, “what I said that night when I was drunk was true — I don’t have a lot of people I trust. People don’t understand. They put me on a pedestal or they don’t want me, they want the concept of me — not the reality,”
“I’m not licensed as a therapist you know,” and he’s sighing.
“Do you always have to deflect with humor? Because if we both do that, we’ll never get through a conversation,” and he squeezes your hand, “which I guess I don’t mind if that means you’ll stay,”
“Satoru—“
“We don’t have to do anything now — we don’t have to do anything at all,” and you can feel his words warming your skin, “but don’t you feel something?”
You hesitate, and you can’t look at him, “No, I don’t,”
“You’re not a very good liar — don’t they teach you that in bodyguard academy?”
You snort, holding your head, “Is that where you imagined I got my training done?”
“Well, you don’t exactly like to share, now do you?” he’s stepping forward again, and you can’t bring yourself to run away anymore.
“I shouldn’t,” and you hear the faint sound of his breath hitching, “but I do,”
You don’t need to look at him to hear the smile on his lips, “so maybe it’s a distraction worth having,”
“But—” and he’s gently turning you to face him, his fingers brushing a stray hair from your face, heat blooming with his touch, “Satoru…”
“Why do you keep saying my name when you know I like hearing it?” he’s teasing, but you’re not shying away from his touch, as his fingers cup your chin now, upwards, so you meet his gaze, “maybe we should have had you pretend to be my girlfriend,”
You chuckle, “Oh I could see that going wrong in so many ways,” and he’s leaning even closer, as he’s left the line you’d drawn far behind, marred it with his touch, and is luring you over to stumble over the edge with him.
“Is this one of them?”
“Probably,” and his lips brush against yours — he tastes sweet, the taste of kettle corn lingers, as his fingers cup your cheek now, and find purchase on his shoulder. It’s brief, a soft press that leaves you far too breathless, as if his touch had taken the air from your lungs, only to leave heat behind, “definitely,”
“Is that a good thing or—” and your lips find his this time, a gasp you swallow with a smirk, and he melts into your touch, eager fingers grasping at the front of his shirt. And he responds in kind, his fingers tracing a path, as they tuck a strand of hair behind your ear before his hand settles on the back of your neck.
His touch set every nerve ending on fire — a desperate wildfire that burned a trail across your mind and body — leaving only the crave of his touch behind, that left you wanting more, needing more.
“Was that good?” you murmur, as you take in your handiwork, his pink lips were bitten red by your kisses, his marble skin a lovely flush, and his gaze far too needy. God, it’s far too easy to get lost in him — pull your anchor from the shore and get lost in his gaze and touch, “god I shouldn’t ask that, we shouldn’t be doing this—” but your body refuses to pull away, and you don’t think by the grasp he has on you, that you’d be able to anyway.
But he only gives you the same answer to each of your statements — he kisses you again, slower and more languid this time, as the two of you walk towards the bedroom, your hands reaching for each other and the walls, as you both stumble into his bedroom.
“We don’t—” he says, between kisses, “I didn’t—”
“I didn’t either, but—” you can’t stop touching him, you don’t want to, despite the logical part of you screaming at you to leave his room, it’s overridden by just how much you want him. He’s frustrating, he’s an idiot, he’s sweet, he’s cute, and he’s a little pathetic — but you liked that in a man. Every sense of logic is screaming at you to stop — but it all turns to white noise “but I don’t want to stop.”
He’s grinning as he pulls you into another kiss, his arms wrapping around his waist, pressing you against him, “That addicted already?” lips parting as he kisses down your neck, pulse jumping under his touch.
“You’re just lucky Geto didn’t get to me first,” and he furrows his brow, before his teeth graze against the juncture of your neck and shoulder, drawing a gasp from your lips, “Satoru, what was that for—”
“So everyone knows you’re mine? Including Suguru,” he’s sucking lightly at the mark, soothing his tongue, “and I’ll make sure he knows,”
“Oh, I trust you’ll be subtle,” and he’s guiding you towards his bed, both of you falling onto it, his knee pressing your legs apart, as he hovers over you, his ocean gaze dark as a storm ridden sea.
“Oh you know me, princess,” and his knee presses against your clothed cunt, rubbing against it teasingly, “subtlety is my specialty,”
“Subtle as a truck,” you murmur, and he’s laughing as he kisses you again, making your lips curl, as his hands slide up your sides, squeezing your hips, “Satoru, please,”
“What’s the fun if I don’t get to tease you?” he’s kissing needy kisses to your neck, as his knee doesn’t relent, grinding lightly against your increasingly wet core, slick leeching through the thin material of your shorts, “gotta make sure you want it right?”
“You treat all the people you bring home this well?” and he’s pausing, lips against your neck, “I didn’t mean anything—”
“You’re the first,” you stare up at him, and he’s hesitant for once when usually he’s always barreling forward, “I’ve never brought anyone here,” and he licks his lips, a deeper flush settling over his porcelain skin, “I’ve never actually—”
And you blink, “Really?”
He huffs, “Is it that surprising—”
“I mean a little, from the way everyone acts around you, and the way you act—”
“Well, ‘act’ is the key word, now isn’t it?” he’s licking his lips as he looks down at you, “it’s easy to act when you know what they expect from you — a role to play,”
“Well, the role’s been filled, so how about you just be yourself for me?” you murmur softly, a featherlight touch as you trace the curve of his jaw, and his lips find his smile under your delicate touch, “so I can ask, is this your first time like you asked me?”
And he’s leaning up to kiss you, your hand resting against his chest, his heartbeat galloping under your touch, “And if I said yes?”
You smile, before flipping him onto his back, his gaze wide as he stares up at you, “Then we better make it memorable.”
“Please, I want to—“ his soft pants left his perfect lips, chest heaving as your fingers curled around his erection, far too hard from just what you had done. You’d stripped yourself and him bare — your inhibitions left far behind — as your lips kissed the tip of his aching cock.
“Lemme make you feel good, Satoru,” you murmur, looking up at him with fluttering eyes, your fingers smearing his pre cum along his length, and he’s pressing his head into the pillow, “s’big, can’t wait to feel you inside me,” you murmur, and you slowly pump him, drawing moan after moan from his lips.
“Won’t last long—can’t—“ he’s biting his lip, his hips thrusting into your touch, before your lips suck at his tip again, and he’s gone, cumming hard all over your face and fingers. God, it never felt that good when he touched himself. Your fingers even brushing against him made him want to cum almost instantly, your soft touch and lips were enough to send him over the edge over and over again.
He’s panting, eyes fluttering open to see you licking your lips clean with your tongue, as you meet his gaze with a grin, slowly sucking on each one of your fingers until you’ve cleaned yourself of his cum.
“Princess, fuck,” he’s lying back on the pillow, as your lips slowly kiss back up his body, your tongue dragging between the fluttering muscles of his stomach and chest.
“Already hard again?” You murmur, a smirk on your lips, “so sensitive for me,”
He’s keening at your words, a whimper leaving his lips. His eyes are blown out in pleasure as he meets your gaze, and you kiss him again, sloppy and messy, as his tongue brushes against yours, your clothed pussy grinding against his erection.
“Please,” he can’t help the words leaving his lips, “I need you,”
“Is this the first time you’ve begged for something?” You tease him, smirk on your lips as your thumb teases one of his nipples, pulling a gasp from his lips, “such a good boy,”
He hissed at your praise, “fuck—“
And you’re grinding against him, he’s already embarrassingly hard, blood rushing back to his cock as if it never left, as it drags against the all too wet fabric of your panties. And every small moan that leaves your lips leaving him needing more, his pre cum mixing with your cum that seeps through your panties, and is the second time he comes with you gonna be just grinding against each other on this bed? But he can’t help it if you keep nibbling at his neck like that, your pretty little pants in his ear, the head of his dick catching on your clit — so fucking good.
“Toru, c-close, ngh, g’nna cum—“ and he’s nodding, forcing his eyes open to watch you cum, your chest shaking, as you hover above him, your eyes squeezed shut and lips parted as you said his name.
“S’good,” he’s grunting, “Cum f’me,” and you both do, the slick and stickiness between your bodies almost unbearable, as you both pant, as you rest your head against his shoulder.
The silence sinks in for a moment, as you kiss his cheek, “we can stop here if you want,” your voice is soft, nose brushing against his neck, “don’t want to make you—“
And he’s flipping you onto your back, his fingers finding the waistband of your shorts, your breath hitching as he drags the material down your legs, and tosses it behind him, “I want this, I want you, and I won’t stop saying it until you believe it,” he leans down, breath warming your breasts through your shirt, before his lips suck at your clothed nipples, making you shiver, “you like that, huh?”
“Shut up,” your cheeks burn, but he’s only tugging your shirt over your head and off, his gaze hot as he drags his eyes down your exposed body, and it makes you squirm, “Satoru — please—“
“Now who’s the one doing the begging?” he leans down to suck on your nipple, while his fingers toy with the other between his thumb and forefinger, “I wanna learn what makes you feel good — wanna make you cum under my touch, wanna taste you,” he switches sides, his teeth grazing the skin of your breast, sucking a mark before soothing it with his tongue, “mine,”
“Satoru, fuck, I want—“ and his fingers trace down your body, making you gasp, he’s kissing down your chest and then your stomach, tongue dipping into your bellybutton, “you fucking—“
“Gotta make you feel good don’t I?” he has a shit eating grin on his lips, as he settles between your thighs, and his fingers press against the growing wet patch on your panties, “though it looks like you’re already feeling good,”
You bite back a whimper, “Are you gonna make me feel good or are you gonna keep talking—“ you moan when his thumb bears down on your needy clit, rubbing it through the nearly translucent fabric of your underwear.
“What was that, sweetheart?” And he’s snapping the waistband of your panties against your skin, “couldn’t hear you,”
“You fucker—“ and he’s kissing your clothed cunt through the wet fabric, nose brushing against your clit, making you nearly shake, as he inhales before he moans.
“So sweet, must taste even sweeter,” he murmurs before tugging your underwear down, before you’re kicking it off, making him chuckle, “so eager,” and you scowl up at him, ineffective from the way lips are parted, “you’re so cute,”
“I’m not cute,” you pout, and he’s laughing, a noise you could drown in, just as you do his eyes.
“You’re very cute, and I’ll tell you as many times as it takes you to believe it,” and his lips press soft kisses to your thighs, “my cute bodyguard, you gonna guard my heart as well as you do my body?”
And before you can reply his breath is warming your soaked cunt, his fingers parting your folds apart, your clit was puffy, your sex slick with your mixed juices, “so pretty, this all just for me?” And you hiss as he holds your outer lips apart, “so this is what your pussy looks like, huh?” And your thighs are twitching, trying to shut, but his palms hold you apart, his heated gaze meeting your shy ones, “you’re perfect, don’t hide from me, you’ve done enough of that,” and he kisses your clit, making you moan, “and I won’t have that anymore,”
“Satoru—“ and his tongue drags over the length of your dripping pussy experimentally, tip of his tongue flicking against your clit, fuck, how can he this good at this? Your toes are already curling as he groans, his fingers sliding under your thighs, and tugging you impossibly closer to his face. Your fingers weave into his white locks, “‘ngh—
“Be a good girl and take it,” he grunts against you, slurping your juices, the sounds of his tongue buried in your cunt, fucking you open, dragging across your walls, “taste s’fucking good, how’d I hold out this long without tasting you?” And your eyes flutter open at his groans, seeing him grind down on the sheets, so fucking horny from eating you out, “g’nna just cum from your taste alone, Princess,” you’re so incredibly soft, so soft, despite your walls being so tough, and it makes only eat you eat you from the inside out.
You’re so close, and all you hear is the sounds of his greedy tongue swallowing you whole, and the sound of your heartbeat and short gasps. Your walls flutter around his tongue, your thighs twitching under his touch, hips jolting forward to meet his touch, his tongue so fucking deep that you can’t see straight, “Toru, please, I’m so close—“
And you feel him groan into your pussy, redoubling his efforts before his fingers find your clit and rub at it while he sucks at your cunt. You cum hard, fingernails digging into his scalp, as your back arches as he eagerly eats you out through your orgasm. The wet squelch of your cunt and his tongue slurping against you, drinking every drop you offer him.
And then finally he’s pulling away with a pop, his chin and mouth dripping with your release and his spit, pink tongue darting out to clean up your cum from his face, wiping off the rest as he looked up at you from white lashed half lidded eyes.
And you can’t even speak, still coming down from your high, as he kisses up your body again, your thighs still shaking from your orgasm, your fingers reaching for his cheek, tracing his jaw, before cupping his cheek.
“How the fuck do you know how to do that well?” And he flashes a pretty smile, as he drags his thumb down your lips.
“I said I was a virgin, I didn’t say I didn’t know how to do some things — and as you know, I’m an excellent student,” and you huff, raising an eyebrow, “and I’m naturally good at everything,”
“And always so humble,” he laughs, before he kisses you again, letting you taste yourself on his sweet lips, and you’re rolling him over onto his back, his erection slick with precum, pressing against your sensitive cunt, “let me make you feel good now,” you murmur, his cock twitching against you, “wanna ride you, Toru, need you in me,”
And he’s hissing, as he moves to sit against the headboard, “You keep talking like that princess, I’m g’nna cum before you even—“ and your fingers are reaching between your bodies, and you’re stroking him, smearing his precum over the length of his shaft, making his hips jerk, “fuck—”
You’re so fucking pretty — your teeth baring down on your bottom lip, as you straddle him, hovering still, his aching tip barely brushing against your dripping cunt, “are you sure?” you murmur, eyes meeting his own, and his lips quirk into a smile.
“Never been more sure of anything,” and you sink onto him, thick length parting your folds, and he groans, as you fit him in your pussy, inch by inch, until your hips are flush. And fuck, he’s never felt anything better — pleasure runs up and down his body, as his hands find their way to your hips.
You’re tense at first, your back slightly arched, and when he shifts under you, a moan is ripped from your lips, as you begin to adjust to his size, “s’big, Toru, gonna make it hard for me to last too, feels too good,” you’re mumbling, and he’s holding his hips taut, making sure not to move — or else, he’s sure he’d cum in one stroke, “g’nna move ok?” and he’s nodding desperately, your walls already fluttering around him — slick and warm, better anything he’d ever felt.
You lift up to the tip, before beginning to rock steadily up and down, as he moans, your sweet cunt swallowing him eagerly, as you began to fuck yourself on his cock. Your chest bounces as you ride him, and he can’t resist leaning forward to take a hardened bud in his mouth, your moan making his cock twitch inside you. And he knows why people become addicted to sex — hell, he knew was an addict for it now, but only with you.
“Fuck, never felt anything this good before, sweetheart, feel s’perfect for me,” he’s grunting, the coil in his stomach growing tighter, as your pace grows more and more sloppy. He wasn’t going to last long, and neither were you from the way you were groaning his name again and again. The wet squelch and smacks of your bodies meeting again and again, only making it harder to hold back, and when he looks to see a white ring of your precum pooling around the base of his dick, he’s nearly gone, “fuck, baby, need you to cum with me,”
“It’s okay, pretty boy, cum for me,” he keens at the praise, but he’s stubborn, as you established, and he won’t cum until you do too — and so he ensures it, reaching between your bodies to rub meanly at your clit before meeting your thrusts with his own.
And his tip brushes against that spot that has your vision blurring and toes curling, “Toru, ngh, I’m—” and you’re cumming hard around him, making him spill his warm and thick seed inside your cunt, and he’s groaning you name as he does, your body slowing as you both come down from your highs, your head resting on his shoulder, as your bodies grow limp, resting, his back pressed to the headboard of his bed.
His fingers trace the curve of your back gently, as he turns his head to press soft kisses to your neck, “Am I still just a distraction?” his lips curled into a smile, and you chuckle, burying your face in his shoulder.
“Definitely,” but you lean back to cup his cheek, and look at his pretty face again, “but one worth having.”
You don’t wake from your alarm the next morning.
Instead, you wake to banging on the door. You both jolt awake, and he’s pulling you into his arms, even as you move to get up, he won’t let go, strong arms around your waist. You’re easing his arms off, trying to be gentle, “Toru, let go, and wait here, your father had a panic room installed in your closet, you hear anything, go inside—”
“No, I’m coming with you,” and you shake your head.
“I’m hired to protect you, not the other way around,” you leave his embrace, and face him, his crystal eyes blurred over with worry, “I can handle this,” you reassure him, your fingers intertwining with his, as you press a kiss to his knuckles, “I promise,”
“But—” and you kiss him gently, silencing his protests, before you slip away into the hallway.
You enter the living room, shutting the bedroom door without a sound, stalking through the hall, as you grab a knife and pepper spray from the chest of drawers that was pressed to the wall of the hallway — you had several self defense tools hidden all over the apartment. Your heartbeat thunders in your ear, mouth dry, as you approach the door from the side.
“Who is it?”
“It’s Mr. Gojo, open this door,” and you sigh, relaxing, as you check and unlock the door for him.
Shinsaku Gojo was only a man you were able to meet once before your work for him began. And it was a privilege even to see him then. His schedule was always packed — multiple meetings, multiple clients, and multiple women, all vying for his attention. Even as you spoke with him the first time, his eyes were on his phone the entire time, except when he had warned you, not to let anything distract you from protecting his son.
And you had done just that — and even worse, his son had done the distracting, “Mr—”
“Where’s my son? He hasn’t answered his phone all morning, and neither have you—didn’t you hear from your agency?” his voice is raising, as he dials your number again, and your phone vibrates on the couch. He scoffs, disconnecting the call, as his hard gaze turned back to you, “what if there was a threat? You left your phone—”
“Dad,” Satoru emerges from the room, his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants, “it’s not her fault, she forgot it last night when we were watching a movie,”
“Watching a movie?” he sneers, his cerulean gaze the same as son, but without any of the warmth Satoru had — an icy tundra compared to a warm pool, “she should be watching you, that’s her job—”
“She was watching me — something you never bothered to do,” and his father’s eyes narrow, “she’s shown more concern for me than you ever had — and she only met me a few weeks ago. What’s your excuse for being a pathetic piece of—“
“Satoru,” your fingers brush his shoulder, shaking your head, “sir, I take responsibility for this lapse of judgment. Don’t blame your son,”
Satoru lowers his voice, “it’s not your fault—“
“It is. I disregarded by duty to protect you,” your cheeks burn with shame — “what if i had missed an alert you were in danger? What if I failed to protect you because I wasn’t focused? What if—“
“Nothing happened,” he says softly, and the twitch of his fingers tells you he’s gonna reach for you, but you step forward, shaking your head.
“Nothing did,” and you turn to his father, “I’ll protect Satoru until you can find a suitable replacement for me. But I compromised my mission to protect him. I would like to resign as soon as possible,”
“No! I—“
“Agreed,” his father says, “I’ll have your replacement here in an hour, make sure you’re packed up by then,” and his father leaves without another word.
You brush past him to gather your things, but he’s caught you by the wrist, “Why did you do—“
“Gojo,” and you can’t bear to see the hurt in his eyes, “I can’t let my feelings get in the way of keeping you safe—“
“I don’t care—“ you cut him off.
“I do, I couldn’t stand if something happened to you because of me. What it was an emergency last night and you got hurt because of my own carelessness—“
“It wasn’t careless what happened last night—“
“It was,” you say, walking to your room, “and it won’t happen again.”
You left. You had expected a fight, an argument, a dramatic show of tears — but nothing. Satoru hadn’t even opened his door to watch you leave. The other bodyguard arrived quickly, and you left the penthouse and didn’t look back.
It was for the best.
You had a duty, a role to play, and more than that, you couldn’t let him get hurt because of your inability to compartmentalize. Even so, Satoru’s father was kind enough not to have told your father what happened — or you supposed it was pity in exchange for your quick and easy resignation.
Fuck. Why were you still thinking about this? You rolled over in bed, burying your head under your comforter. A week out, and you still couldn’t stop worrying about Satoru, about his safety, about the hurt on his face, about that night…
You had fucked everything up, and fucked Satoru up in the aftermath.
You poke your head out, and stare at your phone on your bedside table — 7:45 PM, no new messages — you had written out six different messages to him again and again, before deleting them. You wondered how many more you’d write before you finally would rid your mind of him.
Would you ever rid your mind of him?
And that’s when your phone rings. But it’s not flashing Satoru’s number — it’s his father. You scramble for the phone — why was he calling? And you can only think of one reason. You can’t say a single word when you pick up — his father already hissing his first question.
“Where is he?” your words are lodged in your throat, stuck on your heart that had leapt from your chest.
“What?”
“Where’s Satoru? He came to you didn’t he?” he growls, and you hear a slam, assumedly his fist against his desk, “he shook off his new bodyguard, and his phone is off,”
“He hasn’t — I haven’t talked to him since I left—” your mind is running a mile a minute, racking your brain, placing the call on speakerphone, as you text Satoru, where are you? “Where did the bodyguard see him last?”
“He had him at the dorms, he said he was going to see a friend, and then gave him the slip,” his father groans, “you hear anything from him, otherwise—”
“I’ll let you know,” you cut him off at the threats — you had more important things to do. You checked your messages, but your messages hadn’t gone through, and you tried calling him — but it went straight to voicemail. Satoru was upset — he could’ve blocked you or turned off his phone to piss off his father, but you didn’t see him doing that. He was an idiot, but he knew his father would lose his shit.
And then you remembered. The tracker you placed on Satoru — you never took it off. You had sewed it into the insole of his daily shoes (the man had far too many clothes and shoes, but he rarely found the energy to not wear anything besides the shoes he always wore).
You turned it on, biting your lip as you watched the tracker loaded, and his location popped up — and it wasn’t at his apartment.
It was in Shibuya — you typed in the address and he was at a house.
You furrow your brow, who did he know who lived in Shibuya? And then it clicked.
Fuck.
Those girls.
Satoru groaned, fuck, why is his head hurting so badly?
It wasn’t exactly unusual the last few days. He hadn’t been sleeping much since you left, he spent most of his nights watching TV and rotting in his bed. But everything reminded him of you — his bed, his couch, and even the shows he watched (he had continued one of the shows you both had started one late night).
His apartment was a disaster — a mess of empty soda cans, empty wrappers of candy and old takeout containers. But he couldn’t be bothered with it — to clean it up or call someone to clean it up. His bodyguard had taken up residence in your room — or rather the guest room — and hardly emerged, keeping an eye on him through cameras his father had installed around the doors and hallway.
Not that he really needed to, Satoru rarely left his apartment, even had skipped classes for a week — sending an email that he had a very contagious illness and that he’d be happy to attend class if necessary. They sent him materials to work on classwork from home, piled untouched on his kitchen counter, with a possible smudge from the hot fudge he had last night.
He had made progress — instead of staying in bed, he moved onto the couch for his afternoon nap, and he had just fallen asleep when there was a banging on his door. He groaned into the couch pillow he had just gotten comfortable on, before pulling it onto his head, trying to block out the sounds of the knocking.
“Satoru! Open up,” he hears Suguru’s voice through the door, “open the fucking door, I know you’re not sick,”
He pulls himself up, groaning, as he wipes the small amount of drool from his lips, as he meanders to the door, throwing it open.
“You look like shit,” Suguru says, brushing past him to enter.
“No ‘hello, you look like shit?’” He mumbles, still rubbing his eyes, “what are you doing here?”
“I should be asking you that,” he stands, hands in his pockets, as he takes in the mess with a wrinkled nose, “although I see you’ve decided to redecorate,”
“Hilarious,” Satoru replies, lying back on the couch, “did you come here just to hassle me?”
“I’d be lying if I didn’t say that wasn’t part of it, but the other was to see if you’re ready to pick yourself back up after your breakup—“
“It wasn’t a breakup,” Satoru snaps.
“If it wasn’t, then why does it look like you haven’t showered in several days since she left?” Suguru raises an eyebrow, and Satoru scowls.
“I’m sick,” he turns away to face the couch, “I don’t have the energy to shower,”
“But you have the energy to eat about half a dozen mochi doughnuts?” Suguru holds up an empty doughnut box, and Satoru holds a couch pillow to his chest, “Satoru, come on, it isn’t like you to wallow like this,”
“I’m not wallowing—“
“Yeah, yeah, you’re sick, right?” Suguru says sarcastically. Satoru doesn’t need to look at his best friend to know he’s rolling his eyes, “well you don’t seem like you’re sneezing or coughing so go take a shower or something,” Satoru gives a weak fake cough, and he could feel Suguru’s glare, “fine, rot in bed, but you have to get up sometime, just text me when you’re ready to,”
And Satoru hears Suguru’s footsteps recede to the door, swinging shut with a click behind him. He buries his face in the pillow. It wasn’t a break up. How could it be when you didn’t even have a relationship to begin with? You had made that clear enough when you left without another word to him. He didn’t leave his room until he heard the door shut behind you, and he made his way out to watch you leave out the front door of the apartment. And you didn’t even look back. But you weren’t the type to.
He felt like he was always looking back — one way or another.
And even now, as he came to — he was trying to remember what he had done after Suguru left. Someone else had shown up — knocked at his door. Offered to get him out of the house — offered him free alcohol and a distraction.
And he had agreed — if only to forget about you for a moment. Drinking was the only thing that made him forget — if he only could somehow forget how terrible alcohol tasted.
His head spun, so was this a hangover? It’s certainly worse than the one he had before — the last one felt like his brain was fuzzy and nausea clawed at his stomach — this time, it felt more akin to someone taking a blender to both of those organs. And his neck, he stretched it both ways. How had he fallen asleep?
And then he tried to lift up his hand to rub his eyes, and he couldn't, wrist straining against something — his brow furrowed, what was arm caught on — and his eyes fluttered open. It was dark — the only light came from another room, peeking through the crack at the bottom of, what he assumed was, a door. And then as his eyes adjusted to the dark, he looked at his arms.
Ropes. Twisted around both his arms, binding his wrists and forearms to the arms of a chair, and his vision blurs — what? His legs jerk instinctively, but ropes dig into the flesh of his ankles, and he glanced down only to find what he expected.
“You’re awake,” the light flicks on, he lifts his head, blinking away the fog in his head and the burning tears slipping from his eyes, “didn’t realize the drug would knock you out for that long,”
He blinks again and again, light flooding his eyes, until he can see and sees a familiar face — “Misaki?” the light sends a piercing jolt through his head, “or is it Yumiko?”
“Well that’s flattering, you can’t even remember my name?” she sighs, crossing her arms, “well I unfortunately don’t have the same luxury,” and then she adds with a quirk of her lips, “it is Yumiko,” and she steps forward, as his eyes squeeze shut, his head still banging, “sorry what I gave you to knock you out can cause some light sensitivity,”
It’s slowly sinking in, “I don’t know what kind of weird kink you have, but I’m not interested,” and she scoffs, pressing her knuckles to her chin, “where am I?”
“Do you think I’m really going to tell you that?” she raises an eyebrow, “I did send you threats after all, you don’t think I’d be that stupid to tell you where I am,”
He needed to buy time, he needed to find a way to get out of here, and to do that, he needed time, “What? Are you obsessed with me or something? Do you want my body?”
“I’m going to stop your overinflated ego there,” she sighs, leaning against a table that was behind her, “I have a debt to pay and you’re the price,”
“Debt?” he repeats, “is this where you explain your whole plan? And villain speech? Because I usually I could care less, but I’m feeling a little generous with my time, as I’m a little tied up at the moment, so—”
“Do you ever shut up?”
“It’s known to happen on occasion,” she rubs her temples, and then something occurs to him, “how did you get my address? You showed up and invited me,”
She shakes his head, “You think I couldn’t find out your address after sending you threats?” and she sighs, “You know this is why I tried to do this at the first party — get it over with so I wouldn’t have to deal with this. But then you crushed your beer cup, your little girlfriend got in the way, and that idiot Misaki accidentally switched her shot glass with yours, so I couldn’t get you dosed,” she grits her teeth, “and then the rest of the semester, your girlfriend was up your ass the entire time — but she wasn’t your girlfriend was she? She was your bodyguard,” he says nothing, “you don’t need to confirm it for me, I already found her information, her name, her address—”
“What do you want? Money? My father will pay anything to get me back. Tell me who you need to repay and he’ll do it,” and her lips curl.
“So serious now — and so cooperative, maybe I should have kidnapped her too while I was at it,” she shrugs, while she grabs her phone from the table — a burner — “my father will be here to escort you to where you need to go. The yakuza will take it from there,” his blood runs cold, “Don’t cause a fuss and i can promise your girlfriend will stay safe,”
He grits his teeth — he was so stupid. This was exactly the kind of shit you were trying to protect him from. And it was the thing he landed himself in the moment you left. But he didn’t care — because it was better this way, because you were safe this way.
“Wow, you’re pretty cute when you’re all quiet,” and she’s walking over, and he’s flinching as she drags a manicured nail down his cheek, before tilting it up, “it’s just that mouth that’s a problem,” and her thumb brushes down his lips, “don’t bite, or we might have a problem,”
And he doesn’t, but then he smiles back, “you might like it when I bite,” he smirks, “why don’t you come here and find out?” And she raises her eyebrows, leaning closer, and he smashes his forehead into hers, “fuck off,”
She stumbles back, losing her balance, and leaning against the table as she clutches at her forehead. Satoru watches her, trying to wriggle out of his constraints, rope chafing against his skin, red welts rising on his skin, but he only manages to get one hand free before she’s starting to get her bearings, and then he’s trying to free himself, his chair tipping over. And now he’s lying helplessly as she stumbles forward over to him, clutching a knife she grabbed off the table.
“I have to hand you over to the yakuza, but they didn’t say you had to be completely unharmed,” she presses the tip of the knife to his cheek, “maybe we’ll do something to that pretty face of yours,” he grits his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut.
CRACK.
He hears a body slump over, and the clatter of the knife against the cement floor, and his eyes open to find you kneeling beside him. He’s blinking, murmuring your name, “What are you—”
“Well I never did remove that tracker did I?” You’re cutting the ropes on his wrists and ankles with the knife, “and I’m lucky you wear the same damn shoes everyday,”
“Why did you come for me?” he says, as you finally free him his restraints, your fingers gentle as they examine the welts and bruises left on his skin, “you could have just told my father where I was or the police,”
“I could’ve. I saw where you were and I figured it out—“ and your voice wavers, “but all I could think was that I wanted to find you. And I didn’t wanna wait for anyone else. I didn’t want something to happen just because someone else was too slow,” the lump in your throat grows only larger, as you sit, “I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you,”
“Why?” he asks softly, his fingers brush against your cheek, and he knows why — he does, but he needs to hear it.
“Because I just want…to be the one to protect you,” you admit, tears burning at your eyes, as your thumb traces over his rope burns and bruises, “I wish that I could have,”
“You did a pretty good job, considering I almost was about to get my face cut up,” and he gently wipes your tears away, “imagine what a tragedy that would be,”
You give a watery chuckle, cupping his cheeks, “I’m sorry,” and he opens his mouth, “no i really am. I shouldn’t have slept with you, only to cut and run after. I thought…I thought I was doing you a favor,”
“How?” And you sigh, blinking away your tears.
“I put your life in danger by doing that. I couldn’t do that. I knew the only way you’d let me go is…if I lied to you and said I didn’t care about you,” you bite your bottom lip, “and I’m sorry because I only hurt you more in the end,”
He kisses your lips gently, chastely, his breath warming your lips as he parts from them, “you did,” and you scoff, pushing him playfully, “but as long as you promise not to do it again, I think I can find it in my incredibly generous heart to forgive you,”
You kiss him again, softly, your fingers sliding to the back his neck, into his undercut, “I promise,” and he grins, before leaning back to kiss you again, when a cough behind you catches your attention.
“My father will be getting here shortly you idiots, while you gaze fucking stupidly into each other’s eyes,” she sneers, and you raise an eyebrow.
“You think I’d come here without calling the police? They already have picked up your father — and they should be almost here—“ and the sounds of an ambulance and police sirens come into earshot.
“Good timing,” Satoru mutters, as Yumiko tries and fails to stumble to her feet, and you get up and pin her to the ground. Satoru raises an eyebrow, and watches, as you glance back at him, tilting your head in question, “nothing, it’s just…hot to see you in action,”
You laugh, “Did she hit your head too?” And he shrugs, as he gets onto this feet with shaky legs, “Satoru—“
And he sits next to you, leaning on your shoulder, “just let me rest here for a minute,” he mumbles.
For the first time since you left, Satoru felt like he could finally rest.
And Satoru did rest, he realized as he blinked awake to the ambient sounds of the hospital room, the distinct beep of the heartbeat monitor, the dim light of the moon filtering through the shades, and the distant sounds of people walking through the hall. He hears the sounds of sheets rustling, and his gaze snaps over to his left.
His gaze softens. You were fast asleep beside him, your arms tucked under your head, your breaths were soft, as they were the night you two had spent together. He sat himself up — fingers running through your hair gently. You had fallen asleep before him that night, face buried in the crook of his neck, and your legs entangled with his. And now you slept beside him on a chair, leaning on his bedside.
His fingers carded through your hair again, and you stirred, as he swore under his breath, your eyes fluttered open, “Toru?” you mumbled, still half asleep, and he hummed.
“Sorry, sweetheart, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he sighed softly, “why are you sleeping here? You should have gone home,” you sit up, stretching, as you furrow your brow, eyes scanning him for any sign of an injury or distress.
“I wanted to make sure you were okay — you were unconscious, but no concussion thankfully. I tried to wake you up but you wouldn’t wake,” you sigh, words tumbling out almost faster than you can think of them, “they mostly kept you for observation, but are you feeling okay? Should I get the nurse—“
And he’s pulling you into a hug, arms wrapping around you, as he sighs, burying his face in your neck, “I just want to stay like this for a while,” he murmurs, “I got everything I need right here, got it?” He feels you nod, and he feels the hint of your tears on his skin, but says nothing, only his lips quirk, “you did mean your promise?”
“I did, I won’t leave like that again,” and he’s leaning back, head tilted, and you chuckle, “I mean I won’t leave you at all, how’s that?”
“Good girl,” he murmurs, leaning closer, and his heart squeezes when he hears your breath hitch as he does. His eyes flicker to your lips and back, “can I kiss—“
But you kiss him first, softly, your fingers brushing his cheek, and god, why was it that a single touch from you melted him away to nothing? Whittled his world view to a pin where all he could feel, all he could see, was you.
And then you kiss his cheeks, his chin, his jaw, and then your teeth graze the soft part of his neck, drawing a pretty gasp from his lips, as you suck lightly on his skin.
He’s whispering your name, breath sucked from his lungs as if your teeth had pierced through his throat instead of just his skin, “what was that for?”
And you smile, “so everyone knows you’re mine.”
“You’re changing your major?” Suguru raises his eyebrow, as he lounges on Satoru’s couch, holding his head up with his elbow propped against the top of the couch, “your father must’ve been thrilled about that,”
“He lost his shit, but that geezer can fuck off,” Satoru shrugs, “he threatened to not pay my tuition, but once I threatened to go public with his dealings with the yakuza, he saw it my way,”
Suguru tilts his head, “His what?”
You bring over tea from the kitchen, placing it on the table, “After what Satoru found out from Yumiko and her father, their debt to the yakuza would have been paid off by kidnapping one of Satoru’s father’s close relatives, but I was wondering why was the yakuza so eager to do so?”
“Apparently my old man had the brilliant idea of entertaining the yakuza on some deal he was making,” Satoru explains, leaning back on the couch, as you sit against his legs, “and when he backed out, the yakuza wanted to push it through anyway — and well, thus their blackmail of Yumiko’s father, once they found out his daughter went to school with me.”
“Yeah, turns out her father had gambling debts owed to the yakuza,” you sighed, “she got caught in the crossfire — I almost feel bad,”
“Speak for yourself, she drugged me, tied me to a chair, and held a knife to my face,” Satoru scoffs, sipping his tea that he had you drown in sugar.
“Well you didn’t complain when I did that last night,” you reply, making both Satoru and Suguru choke, and you laughed, squealing when Satoru lifts you into his lap to bury his face into your back.
“You two are officially sickening to be around,” Suguru grimaces, still coughing from choking down his tea, “I think I liked it better when he was wasting away in his apartment,”
“You wasted away after I left?” You turn to look at Satoru, who shoots a glare at Suguru, “sorry Geto, that’s not happening again,” and Satoru softens his gaze, pressing a kiss to your head.
“Alright, that’s it, I’m leaving,” Suguru gets to his feet, as he glances back at you two, “don’t rush to get up, I’ll see myself out,” he rolls his eyes.
“Don’t worry we weren’t going to,” Satoru pulls you closer, and Suguru narrows his eyes, before his lips curl into a grin.
“Just for that, I’m sending your girlfriend a picture of the mess you looked like when she left,” Satoru gapes at him, while you bite back a laugh.
“Suguru!” Satoru calls, but the door’s shut, and you’re starting to giggle. He’s pouting now, “so my girlfriend thinks it's funny to see me in the pathetic state she left me in?”
“Oh your girlfriend finds it very funny, and she might even make it her boyfriend’s contact picture,” you smirk, and he’s biting back a smile, “What?”
“This is just the first time we called each other that,” he mumbles, a slight dusting of pink on his cheeks, “it’s nice,” he admits.
“Well, I am yours, aren’t I?” you smile, and he presses a kiss to your lips, as he would again and again.
“My one and only.”
✧ a/n: so this fic was so freaking long. i'm sorry it took so long to post this - i got a little sidetracked by prof geto haha. but i'm hoping to start on the next one soon :). i think i'll put a poll up on which one i should write next! edit: forgot to tag the people who requested this, its now added in T_T
✧ taglist: @teatreeoilll, @intrxspectiv, @marvel-fanaticz, @ilovemybabes, @lwustyz, @jayathelostdragon, @vampzys, @sleazymac-n-cheesy, @soilmayo, @iwassentfromhell, @lobotomy-kaisen, @gojoallmine, @forest-hashira, @h3artpiecexx, @lailarratx, @gummibat, @hanlay, @ilovewoo9, @nvmlolo, @h6avenly, @eriyvesa, @alexandraioann4, @eclipsephase, @sokkasmoon, @aizzon, @makotome9, @daddytojji, @fluffy-pancakes01, @imjustmememe, @spookyy-gracee, @forest-fruits-jam, @that-goth-bisexual, @hatsunemitskislobotomy, @lookinreality,
#sab [mlist]#satoru gojo x reader#satoru gojo smut#gojo x reader#gojo smut#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru smut#satoru gojo x you#gojo x reader smut#satoru gojo fanfiction#jjk x reader#jjk fanfiction#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen fanfiction#jujutsu kaisen x reader
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holup— ima need a moment with my thoughts 🥵🥵 miguel sending reader’s ex a photo mid-sex is so petty and so him!! he would follow up with a video of himself giving you back shots (he’ll hide your face because he’s a gentlemen (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)), flip the camera around to show his face with a smirk and say “lose her number” because he’s a cocky ass mf
MAAAN you’re onto something anon, cuz a waterfall just breaks down in between my legs🤤🤤
-
“hmm, you like that huh, baby?”
his lips pulls into a lazy smirk, heavy panting as he pounds you from behind. both of his hands gripping onto your hips, talons digging slightly into the skin giving you the perfect pain of pleasure,
“yes papi—fuck yes” you mewl, mouth slightly wide open as you release another moan that makes his cock twitch. “i love how deep you get inside me”
he exhales a dark chuckle as he pounds faster, “sé que te gusta. dirty, dirty fucking girl.” then he leans slightly to whisper on your ear. “only for me, hm?”
you nod, biting down onto your lower lip as you’re running out of things to say. your brain tends to fogged when you have his cock deep inside your cunt, but you wouldn’t have it any other way,
as he about to fist your hair up, he hears a ‘ding’ coming from your phone. his brows furrowed curiously, because who the fuck is hitting up your phone at this hour? couldn’t be someone from work,
“who’s that?” he asks breathlessly as he watches you pull your head back before grabbing your phone and check,
“aw fuck”
“what?” he asks again, hearing you groan. “who is it?”
“remember Jonathan?” you ask as you look over your shoulder at him
oh man, he does not need to be told twice.
his expression then slowly formed into anger and annoyance, grunting in disgust as he snatches your phone,
“i’ll teach him a fucking lesson” he says through gritted teeth, hips snapping back into yours as he continues to thrust even faster,
miguel unlocks your phone, pressing the camera before he starts to take a video of your backside. the sound of your dirty moans are filling the room as he plunges deeper, his other hand coming to give your ass a smack.
the word ‘papi’ and ‘miguel’ keeps falling off your lips like a prayer, and it just feeds his ego even more. because he knows that Jonathan will watch this video and learns that you don’t belong to that sorry excuse of a man anymore.
no. you belong to him.
“tell me, baby” he adjusts the camera to the back of your head, making sure that your face isn’t in it. “who’s pussy is this?”
“yours” you say without any hesitation, knuckles turning white from gripping the sheets far too hard. “and no one else’s”
“good girl” he then flips the camera to show his face. his expression is dead serious, eyes locked into the screen as if he’s staring Jonathan in person. and for the icing on a cake, his fangs make a tiny bit appearance just to creep him off.
“lose her number, tú hijo de puta. or i’ll kill you” with that he sends it to your ex, throwing your phone to the side. “now he fucking knows to not text you anymore ”
hearing that makes you flush as you giggle. miguel’s hand slowly glide down against you back and pressing you onto the mattress so he can lay his body down completely on top. “my woman” he whispers lowly into your ear,
“hm, maybe next time if he does it again, you should take a picture of me sucking your cock, right papi?” you suggest with a sly smirk,
he groans at that, his hand coming up to choke you as the other supporting his weight beside your torso.
“ay, that’s why you’re my everything, mami”
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One for the Road (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)
A/N: Oh my god. This is so dirty, so nasty. Here is the *giving Logan head while he's driving* request. Thank you anon. Thank you so so much. Inspired by "One for the Road" by Arctic Monkeys. ENJOY!
Summary: Forty-five minutes is simply too long of a car ride for you to wait to take care of Logan...Or: you give Logan head while he's driving and he absolutely loses it.
Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI! Sexually explicit content, Oral (f! and m!receiving), fingering, unprotected PIV (wrap it up!), multiple orgasms, porn without plot (literally), car sex, rough sex, Logan is reckless, cocky!Logan, softdom!Logan, aftercare, established relationship, f!reader/afab!reader, reader has hair (but length/texture/color are not described), cursing, def some grammatical errors, that's it.
Word Count: 2,269 it's all smut im sorry yr honor but I need him
Logan wants nothing more than to be home. He wants to grab you by the hand, take you up to bed, and hold you until you and he fall fast asleep. This, unfortunately, is not something Logan can do. Instead, Logan’s eyes are trained ahead of him—occasionally flickering to look at you—as he drives carefully through dark, winding roads.
The only silver lining is that you’re in the seat next to him, leaning towards him. You rest your arm on the center console, silently asking Logan to inch closer, too. He obliges, lifting his right hand from the steering wheel and bringing it down to grip your thigh. He squeezes gently, his thumb dipping between your legs, drawing long, slow circles to the sensitive skin there.
Heat rises to your chest as his thumb climbs higher, nudging against the hem of your shorts. You can feel that familiar tension building at the base of your spine, the bottom of your belly. You try to ignore it, but you look over to Logan’s lap, and you see that he’s half hard and growing, the beginnings of his erection straining through his jeans.
“How much longer until we get back?” You ask, weighing your options.
Logan’s eyes drift from the road to you, his hand giving your thigh another light squeeze. “Forty-five minutes, probably,” he answers, smiling softly.
You hum in affirmation and nod, watching as his erection hardens. You grin to yourself as you reach your hand over the center console and into his lap. Logan’s eyes stay on the road, his throat bobbing as he swallows. You bring your fingers to his belt, watching him closely as you unbuckle the clasp.
“What do you think you’re doing, princess?” Logan asks as you slip the belt from the loops on his jeans.
You drop the belt onto your side of the car, working at his button next. “Taking care of you,” you say as you pull his zipper down. You lean over the center console completely, tugging his jeans down his legs as far as you can get them to go.
Logan’s hand slips from your thigh and grabs your wrist, stopping you before you can tug his boxers down. “I’m trying to drive, pretty girl,” he chides, looking down at you.
You smile up at him, freeing yourself from his grasp and tugging down his boxers. “I know,” you answer, wrapping your hand around the base of his cock, stroking up and down the length of him. “Doesn’t mean I can’t make you feel good.” You lower your head into his lap and bring his cock to your lips, pressing a chaste kiss to his tip.
“F-fuck,” Logan stutters, white-knuckling the steering wheel. You lick a long stripe from the base of his cock up to his head. “Fucking tease,” Logan mutters, his hand coming down to the crown of your head. His fingers thread through your hair, nails digging into your scalp.
You wrap your lips around his tip, and Logan bucks his hips into your mouth, forcing you to take all of him at once. You’ll never get used to the sheer size of him—the way he spills out of your mouth even when he hits the back of your throat. You suck hard, hollowing your cheeks as you slide up and down his shaft.
You can feel Logan holding back, struggling to keep his hips still as you take him in and out of your mouth. “Such a good fucking girl,” Logan moans, your hand at the base of his cock stroking up and down now. “Feels so good, princess.”
He twitches inside you, throbbing with need. You swirl your tongue around his tip and take him deeper, as far as he can possibly go. Logan grips the back of your head, guiding you up and down his length. You look up at him, his chest heaving, his eyes still on the road. He curses under his breath, gripping the steering wheel tighter than before.
His eyes flit down to you and catch your gaze. “So fucking beautiful,” he praises, his foot through the floor on the gas. “So pretty when your mouth is full of my cock.” His words go straight to your core, the aching fire between your legs burning with need. You press your thighs together, searching for friction as Logan’s hips buck into your mouth again.
He gently fucks your face, his hand still guiding the back of your head, pushing himself further inside. “Taking me so well,” Logan growls. You gag around him as he slides you up and down his cock. “Perfect little mouth, doing so good for me.” You know he’s getting close; it’s the way he whispers your name, the way he pushes you back down after you reach his tip.
Logan flicks the blinker on, and the car jerks to the side of the road, coasting to a stop. His cock twitches as he puts the car in park. He shifts, sitting up, his hips rocking, forcing himself deeper, hitting the back of your throat. You moan around him, taking him up and down faster, chasing his orgasm.
“Gonna come down that pretty throat,” Logan groans, both of his hands gripping the back of your head tightly, pumping in and out of your mouth. “That’s it, pretty girl,” he soothes. “So fucking good.” His hips stutter, his pace faltering as he spills himself inside you. You swallow everything he has to give you, his hips still rocking as he rides out his orgasm.
He guides your head up, your lips sliding up his cock as he pulls himself from your mouth. He smirks at you, his hand coming to your chin, wiping away his release and your saliva from the corner of your lips.
“I think it’s your turn, darlin’,” Logan husks, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead. He suddenly grabs your hips and wraps an arm around your back, hoisting you up and setting you down on the center console. He keeps his arm around your back to hold you up as his free hand works at your shorts, unbuttoning the denim, pulling your zipper, and yanking your jeans and panties down your legs.
“Fucking soaked for me, pretty girl,” Logan says, tugging you closer to him as he settles between your thighs. “Could smell how much you needed me when you were getting me off.” His tongue licks a long stripe through your folds and up to your clit. “Couldn’t wait to taste you,” he growls as he laps at you starvingly.
He pulls you closer, your ass hanging off the center console as Logan buries his face into your cunt. “F-fuck, Lo,” you stutter, his tongue swirling around your clit. He brings his free hand to your thigh, spreading your legs wider. His fingers teasingly trail higher, closer to where you need him most.
He finally finds your folds, toying with you, spreading your slick as his tongue draws circles into your core. “Tastes so fucking perfect, sweetheart,” Logan mumbles against you, two fingers prodding at your entrance. “Always tastes so perfect.” His fingers thrust inside you—down to the knuckles—pulling out only to pump back in again.
Everything is hurried and frantic, needy and desperate. He takes your clit between his lips, sucking roughly as his fingers fuck into you. It’s already too much, and you can feel the liquid heat pooling at the bottom of your stomach. “Logan,” you whine, throwing your head back.
“That feel good, beautiful?” Logan asks, his teeth grazing your clit, sending a jolt of electricity up your spine. His tongue flits in and out, drawing long, solid strokes as his fingers fill you up, stretching you out and working you open.
“Y-yes,” you pant, watching as he devours you, sinks into you. His dark eyes meet yours and he smiles against you, taking your clit back into his mouth and sucking harder than before. “S-so good.”
“I know, pretty girl,” Logan soothes, a third finger prodding your entrance. “Gonna take care of you.” He slips it in, scissoring inside you, massaging your walls. “Gonna make you come.”
You curse under your breath, your chest heaving as he buries his fingers deep inside. His pace is unrelenting and reckless, pumping in and out, lapping at you mercilessly. Your walls flutter around him, sucking him in deeper. “S-so close,” you mumble, shaking underneath his touch.
“That’s it, darlin’,” Logan coos, licking hard, flat circles around your clit. “Wanna feel you come on my fingers.” His words goad you along, your muscles contracting and releasing around him. He rocks his fingers in and out of you, sucking your clit roughly between sentences. “Let go for me, sweetheart. Let me taste it.”
And then you’re clenching down around him, arching your back as you come undone. You melt into him, his face still buried in your cunt as he works you through your orgasm—his fingers thrusting as he strokes your clit with his tongue. He slows down, his fingers stalling inside you before he slips out completely. He licks one more long stripe through your folds and pulls away. His chin glistens with your juices, sweat coating his brow, his hair disheveled. He’s a mess, and it’s all because of you.
Logan pulls you into his lap, and you immediately feel his still-hard cock press against your stomach. “I’m not finished with you yet,” he murmurs at the shell of your ear. “You started this, pretty girl.” Logan lifts you up, his erection suddenly nudging at your entrance. “And now I’m gonna finish it.” He pulls you down onto him, his cock sinking deep inside you—down to the hilt.
You’re full again—full of him. You lift your hips and sink back down onto him. “That’s it, sweetheart, ride my cock just like that,” he growls, his hand slipping between your bodies, his fingers finding your still-sensitive clit. “Such a good fucking girl.”
“L-Lo,” you whimper, his hips rocking against yours. He thrusts up into you, pushing himself deeper, stroking your clit gently with his thumb.
“So fucking tight,” Logan groans, gripping your hip with his free hand, guiding you up and down his length. “Such a good fucking pussy, taking me so well.” He throbs inside you, his cock dragging deliciously against your walls. He flicks your clit, bringing you closer to the edge.
You can feel your orgasm building with every twitch of his cock, with every circle he draws into your core. “’M’so close,” you whine as Logan’s hips snap against yours. He’s fucking into you relentlessly—the slow, languid roll of your hips not enough to satiate his hunger. Your walls flutter around him, pulling him in deeper.
“Fuck, darlin’,” Logan grunts, thrusting up into you. “Can feel you squeezing me. Feels so good, so fucking perfect.” He pinches your clit lightly before circling rapidly, adding more pressure. Your muscles contract around him, and Logan groans at the feeling. “Come on my cock, pretty girl. Let me get you there.”
Logan swallows your moans with a kiss as you let go. You’re all liquid heat, shattering, unraveling as your orgasm crashes into you. Logan is close behind, his fingers still dragging against your clit, his pace faltering as his hips snap into yours. “Where do you want me to—”
You cut him off, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Inside,” you whisper.
Logan moans your name, his cock throbbing as he fills you up, painting your walls with his release. “So fucking beautiful,” he mumbles, his fingers sliding away from your clit and trailing up your body. He wraps his arms around your back, pulling you to his chest as his hips stall, his cock unmoving inside you. “Wanna keep you right here,” he mutters against the shell of your ear, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Don’t wanna let you go.”
You bury your head into the crook of his neck. “Don’t wanna let go, either,” you say, your voice quiet and shaky. “But we need to get home.”
“I know, darlin’,” Logan says, disappointment heavy in his voice. He lifts you gently, pulling himself out from your cunt. He helps you back over the center console, your bare ass hitting the cold leather of your seat. Logan finds your jean shorts and panties, and motions for you to give him your legs so that he can help you dress. It’s soft, intimate, domestic. He lets his fingers linger on your legs long after he’s done, worshipping your skin, taking care of you.
He pulls his boxers and jeans back up, zipping and buttoning the denim, and starts the car. He rolls back out onto the highway, his palm finding its place on your thigh—exactly where he was before.
“Forty-five minutes, pretty girl,” Logan chuckles, his thumb brushing gentle circles into your skin. “Couldn’t wait forty-five minutes for me, hm?”
“Can’t ever wait for you,” you say, letting your eyes flutter closed.
You’re asleep less than five minutes later, and you’re still asleep when you finally arrive back at the mansion. Logan carries you out of the car, into the mansion, and up the steps to his bedroom. You’re still sleeping as he undresses you. He settles you under the covers and climbs in after you, pulling you tight into his chest.
“Love you, pretty girl,” he whispers, pressing a chaste kiss to the crown of your head.
“Love you, too,” you mumble, half asleep.
And it’s all he wanted. It’s all he ever thinks about. You.
tags: @ilysmdovie12 @prettyseaveins @spiderset @figsnpassionfruits @silversprings-mp3 @movhoney @wittyjasontodd @theasiaabattoir @fanfic-writing-barbie @manipulatour @pedrohoe04 @derbygracie @honeyfewr @cosmiccandydreamer
#Logan Howlett x reader#Wolverine x reader#James Logan Howlett x reader#Logan Howlett x reader smut#Wolverine x reader smut#James Logan Howlett x reader smut#Logan Howlett smut#Wolverine smut#James Logan Howlett smut#Logan Howlett x you#Wolverine x you#James Logan Howlett x you#Logan Howlett x you smut#Wolverine x you smut#James Logan Howlett x you smut#Logan Howlett imagine#Wolverine imagine#James Logan Howlett imagine#Logan Howlett
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breaking no nut November with percy but doing it in secret because he can't lose the bet he made with his buddies but he also can't leave his girlfriend alone for a month so he sneaks around to love her 😙
anon… I’m tenderly kissing your lips for this
——— ౨ৎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖
you can’t fucking function properly like this. surely not with the way your legs are practically on fire, begging you to let them give out and collapse onto the sheets. and your eyes, your poor eyes, with your mascara all smudged from tears, you’re basically going blind at this point— stars clouding your entire vision. you attempt to form a coherent sentence, or at least just a few words that could be put like a puzzle into a new sentence but it’s only disorganized words that have no significant meaning to the current situation before you. percy holds a firm grim on your thighs to keep them parted as he ruthlessly takes in your sweet nectar
between guttural moans you manage, “perce, I thought- ah- what about- mhm- your bet?”
you feel him laugh from inside you, sending a shiver down (or more so up) your spine. you knew he didn’t care about the bet he made with his friends, he claimed “a month is far too long without fucking you” and you’re not apart of the bet so who were you to say no to him? but again— you couldn’t help but feel worried your november trysts would be magically discovered by one of his idiot friends and he would lose the bet and be all disappointed. this doesn’t mean you’d stop him
his soft tongue thrusts in and out of you smoothly, swirling over your folds as his fingers dig deeper into your skin. he’s like a madman, truly, acting like he hasn’t seen you in weeks— which is the biggest lie ever, currently before this, he had seen you only two hours ago. your back arches off the bed as you determinedly continues to hungrily suck your clit. you’re not even sure how you’ve survived this long, you can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t move at this point, everything feels utterly numb. and it’s all because a fucking bet. with one last swirl of his tongue over you, he pulls his head out from between your thighs to look at your disoriented self: messy hair sprawled along the pillows, sweat beads streaming down your skin, teary eyes, flushed cheeks, and the rapid rise and fall of your bare chest as you try to regain composure
“a month,” he scoffs “who do they think I am?”
#xoxochb#this is lowkey short as fuck I’m so sorry anon 😭😭#percy jackon and the olympians#pjo series#pjo fandom#percy jackson#pjo#percy series#percy jackson smut#percy jackson x you#percy jackson x reader#percy jackson x y/n#riordanverse x reader#riordan universe#riordanverse
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hihii ! i love the way you write hybrid skz, it’s just so fun to read & i eat it up everytime 😚🫶 !!
lowkey might be cliche LMAO but i’m obsessed w the thought of fox!innie & bunny!reader, either reader is in her heat & innie is being a little horny shit or .. reader is sick of his bullshit & ends up bouncing on his dick until they’re both whimpering messes ><
if i cant have this, whats the point in being alive. (im kidding) (im not) thank you for this anon i love you so bad
also this is gender neutral! i talk about breeding but fox!jeongin thinks if he tries hard enough, he can and will get you pregnant. no matter what. :)
alpha fox!jeongin who smells your heat days away. that in itself is enough to get him going but when he sees you start to nest, in his bed, he absolutely loses his mind
he gives you no time to say anything before he's dragging you to said nest, tossing you onto it and settling himself on top of you
he starts off just hovering above you as he plants each kiss, hickey, and bite to your neck. he's insanely impatient and will have you bent over and impaled on his cock no longer than a few minutes after having pinned you to the bed.
depending on what you're wearing he might start fucking you within a few seconds- he'll yank your top off and will simply push your underwear to the bottom of your ass and sink into you fully, no prep because he wants you to really feel all of him <3
and he's so mean when he fucks you!!! switches between either tangling a hand in your hair and shoving your face into your nest OR grabbing a tight hold at the base of your bunny ears and pulling, forcing you to arch your back for him
his cock is nestled so deep that you can feel him in your guts, your stomach eventually hurting from how hard he pounds into you and from how much he cums inside of you
and speaking of cum, don't you dare even think about wasting any of it. deep down he knows its inevitable that it will spill out, especially because he cums actual buckets every time, but also because he cums into you over and over and over again
however! that wont stop him from getting easily pissed off when he sees a drop of his cum venturing too far from your puffy hole >.<
youll be lucky if thats enough for him to pull out for a second, but more often than not it leads to him pulling you upright and flat against his chest so he can land a few slaps to your thighs while he's still deep inside of you, his hips no longer moving
says shit like; "what do you think you're doing??? ungrateful bunny. i put all this effort into fucking you silly and all i ask is that you keep my pups safe." with a tight grip on your hair holding you perfectly still so he can whisper it into your ear.... ugh..
if youre too out of it and dont answer hes gonna growl and start fucking you hard. his free hand is gonna drop to your thighs and scoop up any loose cum so he can shove those pretty fingers down your throat- "since this little hole wont accept my cum, that slutty mouth'll have to do."
when he does eventually get tired, literal hours later..., you're finally allowed a break! he lets you do your thing in the bathroom, growling to himself at the thought/knowledge that you're gonna be ridding yourself of- wasting- a lot of the cum he just allowed you
but oh! whats that? jeongin is starting to feel a little hot and under the weather by the time you come back in the room? wait... he thinks you triggered his heat? oh. well, in that case, you can go a "few" more rounds, right? :)
it doesn't take long for him to rest his back against the headboard after dragging you back to the bed. and he'll kiss your complaints away when the action causes your nest to get messed up. he doesn't let you get too upset about it, cause he loves you to death! and if forcing you to ride his cock and take it to the very hilt is enough to stop your heart from breaking, then he will happily do so
long fingers digging into your thighs and shit eating grin spread across his face, his canines poking out slightly as he stares up at you as you ride him. and when you inevitably get too tired to continue, he's gonna use those pretty muscles to lift you and drop you onto him!
and dont worry! your pretty little whimpers and cries dont discourage him :) and thats because "you need to take it, bunny. 'm not stopping until your cute little tummy is full of me." so if you've never met a stubborn person before, you are in for a real treat with this greedy ass hybrid.
he's soooo happy... this position lets him go so deep, scratching that little itch in the back of his head about how he needs to breed you- and he's sure he's doing it thoroughly enough when your nails dig into his shoulders in overstimulation.
dont mistake his own whimpers for him running out of fuel! he's not even close to being done yet, so don't expect to get away anytime soon~ you're gonna sit right there, on your rightful throne, and you're gonna accept every. last. drop. of his offerings.
he needs to mark his somehow <3
Taglist (red=can’t be tagged):
@valkyriexo @lunearta @jabmastersupriseee @rylea08
@yaorzu-blog @amararosesblog @jiminssluttyminx @clemissleepy
@miss-daisy04 @kittyxnoa @dwaekkiiracha @bubblerizz
@mariteez @fun-fanfics @honeyybbuubblleess @kittycatkrissa
@nicora04 @chuuyaobsessed @moonlightndaydreams
#sian’s writing#stray kids smut#skz smut#jeongin x reader#jeongin smut#jeongin imagines#yang jeongin x reader#yang jeongin smut#yang jeongin imagines#i.n x reader#i.n smut#i.n imagines#stray kids x reader#stray kids imagines#skz x reader#skz x reader smut
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how do the jjk men treat you when ur on ur period? suguru specifically hehe <3
✰ JJK MEN: WHEN YOU'RE ON YOUR PERIOD ✰
pairing(s): gojo, geto, nanami, choso x afab!reader content: (MDNI 18+ only), nsfw-ish/suggestive, periods, period blood, period products, pet names, lots of fluff! a/n: i hope you like anon!! you have great timing cause i’m getting my period and i also have a uti pray for me besties i need help and antibiotics. left out toji and sukuna cause…. nah LMAO. enjoy, and remember ALL AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED!
✰ GOJO:
Lowkey loves when you’re on your period, but is just barely smart enough to never tell you that.
His favorite part is that you always want more cuddles, which means more cuddles for him.
Thinks period products are really amusing– loves playing with your hot water bottle cause it’s squishy. Finds those ones that look like stuffed animals at the store and brings home like five of them for you.
Will definitely buy you pads/tampons but not without the obligatory “what size is your pussy” text. Won’t buy them until you respond with “extra super pretty” and then sends back this emoji -> 😋.
Highkey likes period sex. Knows it can relieve your cramps and will use that as an excuse at every opportunity if you’ll let him.
Is always on some cheesy ass shit murmuring in your ear about how doing it on your period “bonds your souls”, too.
Constantly offers to get you pregnant so you can avoid your period for the next nine months… he’s only half joking.
Will actually skip work to stay home and cuddle with you if you give him even the slightest inclination that you don’t want him to go.
Watches movies with you and has gotten surprisingly good at rubbing little circles on your tummy that help with cramps.
Keeps the house stocked with candy, but, then again… it’s always stocked with candy.
“Babe. Look what I just found at the store.” You watch with furrowed brows as he sets the bags on your floor. You’re curled on the couch, a blanket tucked up around your neck. He’d made sure to roll you like a burrito before he’d left. He pulls out… a cow? It looks like a stuffed animal, but when he shakes it you hear something sloshing around inside. You raise a brow. “Ummmm–” “It’s one of those hot water bottle thingies! For your cramps!” He tosses the poor cow on the floor and digs around in the bag again. “Oh my god, they had so many. I got the cow, the dolphin–” He tosses a dolphin out of the bag, followed by a puppy, a raccoon, and a cat. “Do you want me to put one in the microwave for you?” He looks far too excited to turn down, even though you just heated up your old hot water bottle minutes ago. You smile and nod. “Yeah, baby. Thanks.”
✰ GETO:
Mans TAKES CARE of you. Like… fully.
Is really sympathetic and gentle when your cramps are killing you– brushing your hair back, rubbing circles on your tummy, letting you put his warm hands wherever it hurts.
Runs you a warm bath and climbs right in with you. Makes you lean back against him while he gives you a massage and works out all the knots in your neck and shoulders.
Buys you period products before your period starts if he remembers. If he doesn’t he’s happy to run down to the store. Doesn’t need to ask which ones you like– he already knows.
Wraps you up in the comfiest blankets and cuddles with you wherever you ask. Gives the best cuddles, too. Rubs your back in a way that has you falling asleep in seconds.
Makes sure you take your meds on time and brings you a glass of water.
Secretly loves period sex. Will never push you for it, but gets super horny at just the thought. Loves the sight of your blood on his dick. Makes him feel possessive of you in a way that’s kind of scary.
“Sugu…” you whine. Your cramps are bad. You’ve been curled in a ball all morning, even with all the meds Suguru has been giving you. “It hurts so bad.” You feel him shifting behind you and then his hands gently prying you to lie on your back. You whimper, the pain spiking again as soon you roll out of the fetal position. His face appears above you, a couple stray strands of black hair tickling your cheeks. His smile is soft, but full of sympathy as he settles over you. “I’m sorry, baby. I wish I could make it go away…” He moves down your body, settling between your thighs and resting his cheek on the plush of your thigh. You sigh when you feel his fingers skate over your tummy, rubbing little circles into the skin that somehow work wonders for the pain. You sigh with relief, a bit of the tension ebbing away. “That feels nice…” Your body relaxes a bit, finally getting a break from the incessant pain. Suguru only smiles, looking up at you through hooded eyes when he presses a kiss just below your belly button. You don’t fail to notice the way his thumb is sliding under the fabric of your panties. “I can think of something that would feel even nicer…”
✰ NANAMI:
Prepares for your period.
Has your cycle marked down on his calendar so he always knows when you’re starting.
Stops by the store a couple of days ahead of time to buy pads/tampons/meds and your favorite snacks.
Runs a bath for you every night and fills it with all of your favorite soaps and scents.
Cooks. Mans knows how to cook and does extra of it when you’re on your period. Will make you nutritious meals and urge you to drink water, but always brings you something sweet if you’re craving it.
Heats up your hot water bottle every thirty minutes without you ever having to ask.
Lays out a fresh change of clothes for you whenever you’re in the shower.
Cuddles you whenever you want, but only after he’s tended to all of your other needs (meds, food, water, etc.).
Will have sex if you want, but will never push you for it. If you just want the relief from your cramps, he’ll just use his fingers to get you off and then pull you back into his arms.
“Time for your bath, sweetheart.” You nearly grumble in protest, but how can you do such a thing when he takes such good care of you? Still, you don’t want to move. Just existing hurts, much less walking to the bathroom. Despite your resistance to saying it aloud, Nanami still seems to understand what you’re thinking. No more than a second later he’s scooping you into his arms and carrying you to the bathroom. “You know you’ll feel better after, love.” You nod weakly against his chest. “Will you get in with me?” He pauses. He’s got dinner to make and he wanted to change the sheets for you… One nuzzle of your face into his neck has him throwing all those plans out the window. “Of course, princess. I’ll get in with you.”
✰ CHOSO:
Is new to this stuff so he lowkey freaks out.
Worries that you’re actually in danger cause… there’s blood???
Chills out eventually, but is still irrationally convinced that you’re injured.
When i tell you this man is at your BECK AND CALL, I mean it. He will do every little thing you ask. Fetches water, food, snacks– whatever you need.
Mans is panicked when he can’t find the candy bar you want at the grocery store.
Happily buys period products for you but has to facetime you cause the poor baby is overwhelmed and confused by all the options.
Is kind of attached to you like glue. Thinks you’re somehow more breakable in this state will hold you in his arms permanently apart from when you need to bathe, eat, or use the bathroom.
Actually freaks when you have a bout of cramps that makes you hiss in pain. Cannot believe you have to do this every month and hates feeling so useless in taking the pain away. Eagerly learns that he can put his warm hands on your tummy and it helps.
Is actually amazed when you tell him that sex helps with the cramps. Worries about hurting you, but is completely down. Mans is definitely not afraid of a little blood lmao.
“Baby… there are so many…” You can’t help but stifle a laugh looking at your boyfriend’s stressed expression through your phone screen. He’d run down to the store to get you some more pads– you just hadn’t anticipated how overwhelming the experience would be for him. “I know, Cho. I’m sorry. Here– back up so I can see the whole aisle.” He does as you ask, flipping the camera around so you can see what he’s looking at. You have to bite your lip this time to keep the laugh in. You’ve never realized just how many options there really are. “The ones toward the bottom right, baby. With the pink box.” The camera shakes a little as he follows your directions, arm sticking out like he’s playing pin the tail on the donkey. “These?” His hand hovers over a box that is pink but not the pink you need. “Down a couple racks.” Finally, his hands close around the right box. “Thank you, baby. I didn’t think about how confusing this would be for you…” The camera flips again and you grin at the soft soft smile on his lips. “Don’t apologize. Want me to grab some candy, too?”
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#bree's fics!#💌↬ breebox!#jjk#jjk fluff#jjk x reader smut#jjk x you#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jjk gojo#gojou x reader#gojou satoru x reader#satoru gojou#gojo satoru#gojo x reader#jujutsu gojo#gojo smut#gojo saturo#gojo#jjk gojou#gojou satoru x y/n#gojou satoru#gojo jjk#jjk getou#getou x reader#jjk geto#geto suguru#geto x reader#choso x reader#nanami x reader
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Hi! My inbox is being evil again (it's trying to keep us apart!) and temporarily deleting the exact requests I want to find, so here's a copy+paste of the request I got and thank you so much anon :)
could you do a james x fem!reader where he helps her through a particularly bad panic attack and then just cuddles her and grounds her again? i get them all the time and the thought of the comfort just makes me feel better :,)
cw: modern au, panic attack
James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 730 words
James knows it’d be no help to tell you how scared these attacks make him, but they do make him very scared. He imagines it’s not too different from your reasoning right now; he knows, ultimately, that you’ll be alright, but the thought doesn’t provide as much comfort as it should when he’s watching you with your breaths coming quick and short and your nails digging into your own palm like you can hurt yourself worse on the surface that whatever’s doing this to you.
He starts there. Takes your hand and uncurls your fingers, threading them through his.
“You’re okay,” he tells you, sitting on the coffee table with his knees touching yours. He shuts the computer on your lap, easing it out of your grip to move it away. “Take a breath, sweetheart.”
If you can still hear him you show no sign of it. A tear forms in the corner of your eye, falling when you blink. He can feel your heartbeat jumping where the base of his palm rests over your wrist.
“Can I give you a hug?”
There, a slight nod. James curls towards you eagerly, if a bit awkwardly, his knees on either side of your thighs and sitting a bit taller than you while he rubs your back. He makes big, sweeping circles, hoping to lull you with the slow pattern. Tears slug down your cheeks in curved lines, his shirt collecting their damp masses.
“It’ll pass, angel. It always does, yeah? I know it feels like it’s not going to get better, but it will. You’re doing so good. So, so good, my love.”
Your breath wheezes slightly on the way in, evidence of your diligent efforts, and when it comes out a low, pained sound comes with it. James feels it deep in his throat. He increases his pressure on your back.
“Is this okay?” he worries, then feels shitty. You’re hardly up for questioning right now. He tries to sound certain. “Focus on my hand, angel. You’re okay, I’ve got you. Take a big breath for me.”
He feels you try, your little sob when it doesn’t go as deep as either of you want.
“I can’t—”
“You can, it’s alright. You’re already doing so much better, see? It’s going away.”
This one is worse than some of the others James has sat through with you. It seems to take ages for your breathing to slow down, and a while after that until he feels your heart find a somewhat normal rhythm under his palm.
He knows you’re with him, more present, when you move your legs to give him easier access to you. James adjusts eagerly, giving you a proper hug. Your crying is less stilted now. He never thought he’d be so relieved to hear you sniffle and weep on his shoulder.
“There you are,” he sighs, holding you tight. “You did it, sweetheart.”
“James,” you whimper.
“I know, but you’re okay. Keep breathing nice and deep,” he reminds you, worried another one will start up. “You made it. Now all you have to do is take it easy for a while.”
“Thank you.” Your voice is a soft, small thing. It encourages James back from you, though only far enough to see your face. One tear hangs from your bottom lashes like a dewdrop from a petal. When he kisses beneath your eye it transfers to his skin.
“No thanks necessary.” He kisses you on your other cheek, just to make it even. “You did all the hard work yourself.”
“Still,” you say, a bit wobbly, “thanks.”
James frowns. He allows himself to stop rubbing that same endless circle on your back, brushes a piece of hair away from your face. “Anytime,” he tells you sincerely.
The worst of your crying seems over, but the look you give him suggests you might start again. James likes to think of himself as a man unafraid of tears and strong emotions; he’ll let you cry all night if that’s what you need. Still, he’d prefer to avoid it.
“How do you feel?” he asks quickly. “Do you want some water? We could go for a walk, it might help to be outside.”
You don’t want to do either of those, but you do consent to another hug. Which, really, is a better outcome than he’d dared to hope for.
#james potter#james potter x reader#james potter x fem!reader#james potter x y/n#james potter x you#james potter x self insert#james potter fanfiction#james potter fanfic#james potter fic#james potter hurt/comfort#james potter imagine#james potter scenario#james potter drabble#james potter blurb#james potter oneshot#james potter one shot#marauders#marauders fanfiction#marauders fandom#the marauders#hp marauders#marauders x reader
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my constant thought about max is him and virgin reader where r is saving herself for marriage and for her husband but max convinces her that doing anal means she’ll stay a virgin <33
Anon YOU EVEN MADE ME BLUSHH 🤭🤭🤭 do u know how hard that is. got me kickin and gigglin an shit, here u go u filthy animal keep the requests coming 🫶
Low Life ♥️
Max Verstappen x Horner! Reader
I been on the molly and ‘em xans with your daughter, if she catch me cheatin’ I won’t ever tell her sorry
Mad Max is back in full force with the poor Redbull strategy this season - and his boss, Christian Horner, doesn’t seem to be doing anything about it. Guess Max will just have to find some other way to get his revenge and relieve his stress…starting with his boss’s precious, spoiled daughter.
Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, innocent virgin!reader, who’s also a spoiled brat lol, dark! Max, blackmail, coercion, filming, VERY dubcon, anal, size kink, dom/sub, bimbofication, religious themes, EVERYTIME I WRITE A DARK MAX FIC IT KEEPS GETTING MORE NASTY GODDAMN, 5.2k WC
To say Max was pent up with rage would be an understatement. After dedicating himself tirelessly and dominating the track since his debut, the Redbull team had disappointed him this season with their pisspoor car and even poorer strategy. And to top it off, his boss was now making comments to the media about how he needed to spend less time on the sim rig the night before a race, making Max scoff. As if Horner knew more about winning a race than a 3 time world champion, Max thought angrily, yanking off his helmet as he stormed straight to his boss's office to give him a piece of his mind after another disappointing P3 finish.
Horner was having none of it, though, telling Max some bullshit about how the team needed to have a united front blah blah blah. Max has already tuned him out, cause what the fuck does he mean the team - he was the one bringing home the results every weekend, and anyone who tried to say otherwise just needed to look at the track record of Max completely dominating his teammates in equal machinery. God, he hadn’t gotten this mad in a long time, so he excuses himself rudely as he can tell he’s about to wreck something if he has to hear another one of Horner’s excuses. He wrenches open the office door just to have you stumble straight into his firm chest as you try to enter it.
You, Christian’s Horner’s daughter from his first wedding, freshly graduated from some private all girls college. He’d met you 3 months ago while you were trotting about like the spoiled little brat you undoubtedly were. No job, just using your degree as decor while you used your daddy’s fame to find yourself a rich man to spread your legs for, he had speculated, knowing just your type.
And it irritated him to no end that you looked the picture of innocence, an angelic figure in your white minidress and kitten heels and wide doe eyes, with a matching purity ring and all - even though your pretty tits and fat ass were openly ogled by many a male staff member. Max himself had to readjust his pants a few times when he’d seen you bend over.
He’d assumed you’d try to sink your gold digging claws into him soon enough, wanting some of his multimillionaire status for yourself, but you’d surprised him by skittishly avoiding him, almost looking a little scared, which he found amusing. He supposed he did dwarf your 5 foot frame though, and you had all the aura of a sweet little lamb compared to the Dutch lion. You’d surprised him again last month, when you’d introduced your dad to your pick of a first boyfriend - Tim, a docile looking, short guy who was a lowly new hire in the F4 reserve category. Too far down in the rankings to do any real benefit to your status. Conveniently, though, Tim’s father happened to own a software development app that was currently in the process of a $3 million acquisition deal. Chump change to someone like Max, but like he said, he knew your type, didn’t he?
But he’d been most surprised when he’d overheard moaning one night when he’d stayed late in the garage - and had pervily gone to investigate down the abandoned hallway and into one of the empty rooms - only to get an instant hard on at the sight of you on your knees, dress pulled down to your waist and those delicious tits out on display. So entranced by the angelic vision, Max hadn’t even noticed your loser boyfriend - till a scowl appeared on your pretty face as Tim furiously jerked his tiny dick off in front of you. He was panting and whining, sweat running down his face as he pathetically begged please, please can i touch your boobs-
You were no scared little lamb now as you snapped at him viciously. No! I told you, only looking and no touching! I promised daddy I would stay pure for my husband- Eww! Oh my god, what is that?
You’d been cut off as your boyfriend came, his small, clear load weakly spurting past his fist so that only a couple of drops landed on your caramel skin. Max had thought you’d been lying about the purity bullshit, just wanting an excuse to avoid Tim’s touch - but his eyes narrowed at your look of disgust at your boyfriend’s dick, and the genuinely puzzled expression on your face as you tried to figure out what the clear fluid that landed on you was - making the impressive semi he still rocked twitch, despite your pathetic boyfriend ruining his show. Interesting, you were still a virgin, huh?
Sure, you’d piqued his interest then, but he ignored you now as you stumble back from his hard chest, wide brown doe eyes blinking up at him. He’s still furious with Horner and starts to move past you but your aggravating father perks up, asking if you could show Max where his new drivers' room was in the refurbished wing, so that he could cool down and destress in peace after today’s race. Of course, daddy, you responded sweetly, making Max’s cock stir. He eyed you doubtfully as you lead the way. You had to know what you were doing, a grown woman using that word, right? But then again, he’d seen you call Horner by that title in a team wide press conference, making GP choke on his water next to him - so maybe not.
His anger hadn’t dissipated one bit as you approached his room, in a much more secluded area of the new wing for him to “cool down” as Horner had passively aggressively suggested. Still clearly nervous in his presence, you accidentally dropped the key you’d fished out. As you bent over to collect them, your miniskirt rose up, revealing your juicy ass peeking past your white cotton panties. Oh, he’d found the perfect way to get back at his boss, Max thought devilishly.
As you unlocked the door, he stepped in behind you, giving you no choice but to stumble inside - and then he’d casually stopped in front of the door to block your exit. You nervously twirled your keycard in your fingers, shuffling side to side.
Why don’t you sit down, he offered, we should get to know each other, yeah? You still looked like you wanted to bolt any second, but at Max’s authoritative tone you gingerly sat down on the plush couch.
He started with some generic bullshit about how he’d seen you around, you were his boss’s daughter after all, and as Horner’s best driver he should be on good terms with you too, no?
You relaxed, now looking up to meet his eyes and smiling brightly, pleased that the great Max Verstappen had come to seek your favour. You start saying that it was nice to meet him too, you’d heard lots about him, he was such an incredible driver-
You hadn’t noticed Max discreetly locking the door behind him. Stepping forward, he responded neutrally to your excited questions as he casually strips off his top layer, leaving him shirtless.
You abruptly stop talking, going pink in the face, and he asks what’s wrong, I’m just getting changed, are you a virgin or something? His mocking tone makes it clear that he still didn’t quite believe you were one. When you don’t reply, he gently lifts your face up with his large hand. And as your eyes shyly rise up to meet his, desperately avoiding looking at his broad, toned abs, there’s no faking the genuine innocence in them. I am, you stutter out. A virgin, I mean. I made a promise to daddy to wait till marriage.
You twirl your promise ring around anxiously as you say it. Max didn’t know what kind of sick brainwashing Horner had been subjecting his daughter too, but he fully intended to use it to his advantage. Really? He says slyly. Does your daddy know you let your little boyfriend jerk off on your tits?
You gasp, then glare as you demanded to know how he knew that, had he been watching, that was soo creepy and gross -
There’s the bratty angel he knew had been hiding. He cuts you off, confirming that yes, he’d been watching - but you’d been the dirty girl who seduced her innocent boyfriend in the garage for just anyone to see, hadn’t you?
You’d look outraged at his statements, but he reminded you of the power he had when he nonchalantly mentioned that he hadn’t planned on telling your father, but now that he knew about the promise you had made - well, it was his duty to let Horner know what kind of naughty things you’d been doing behind his back, right?
That had wiped the bratty glare right off your face, instead making you wide eyed and tremble with fear at the thought of your daddy finding out. You begged Max to keep your secret. Please don’t tell him, he would die, you'd do anything to stop him knowing!
Jackpot. Smirking darkly, Max pretended to consider your option before saying that he supposed he could keep it to himself if you helped him destress and relax like your father had sent you here to do, okay?
You nodded eagerly, looking up at him with those innocent doe eyes as he stepped right in front of you, watching you predatorily. His thick fingers brush along your pink lips, and his eyes darken as you instinctively take them into your mouth, sucking sweetly. Oh, you were going to be such a sweet little angel for him, he just knew it.
Within seconds he had you dropping your dress down to your waist, exposing those lush, pretty tits of yours. You blushed when he stared hungrily and ordered you to play with them, and at first you obliged and gently squeezed them, but then stopped to brattily ask just how this was supposed to help destress him, was he just being pervy again?
Great point, he said, and sat down next to you to easily lift you into his lap, taking over and roughly palming your tits. N-no touching! You had squealed, desperately trying to escape his strong arms. Rolling his eyes, he forced you back against him, explaining that it was okay, you knew that it didn’t count if it was to help him destress, right? And besides, nothing would affect your promise to your daddy except a man’s cock actually entering your precious virgin hole-
Okay! You had said frantically to put a stop to his explicit words, face flushed. Okay, if you promise it doesn’t count, I’ll still be a virgin, right?
God, it was so cute how naive you were. You hadn’t even realised that if what Max was saying was true then there was nothing illicit with what you and Tim had done - and Max had nothing to hold over you. Right, Angel, Max promised, enjoying the dazed look you gave him at the nickname as he squeezed your tits, bending down to take a pretty nipple into his mouth. It doesn’t count.
And that was how Max had his boss’s innocent little daughter wrapped around his fingers, ready to do whatever he asked of her, as long as he kept your secret. It was such a rush, having his way with you right under your father’s nose, being able to punish you for his crimes and ruining you more and more each time Horner pissed him off - and oh, did he piss Max off constantly.
So the next race, he’d had you fully strip for him, and yes, even those cute panties, Angel, when you’d whined, embarrassed from his intense gaze. You’d bit your lip and slid them off, obediently spreading your legs and gently playing with yourself like he’d asked, using unfamiliar movements. Soon enough you’d become accustomed to Max’s hungry stares at your innocent parts and began thrusting your tiny fingers inside your virgin cunny, because it had started to feel sooo good and soo tingly down there, and you’d never felt like that before.
You’d become distracted, closing your eyes from the sensation and when you opened them you shrieked, because Max was now standing right above you, greedily looking down at your petite form as he stroked his own private parts - called a cock, he’d made you repeat. He’d also warned you never to scream again in his room, or he’d gag you next time and tell your dad about Tim. You pouted, nodding obediently, but whining that you got scared Maxie, why was it so big, so angry, was it going to hurt you?
Of course not, Angel he’d reassured at the next race again, this time making you sit next to him, naked except for your kitten heels and a lacy blue thong he’d had delivered to your house - your father as clueless as ever when he handed the package over to you. It won’t hurt you, he promised, but it's very hard from stress and needs you to help drain it, okay?
He’d guided you to his large cock, smirking evilly as you struggled to grip him even with two hands. He moved one large hand over both of yours, showing you how to jerk him off the way he liked. You’d picked it up very quickly, innocently asking him why Tim's cock was so much tinier that his. Cause, Angel, I'm just a better man than he is, he had said with a chuckle. Oh, you had said, then - I hope my husband is a good man then, and has a big cock like you.
Oh, Jesus. Max was definitely going to hell after this. Feeling his peak approaching, he ordered you onto your knees, making you hold your tits up - and then proceeded to cover them with his thick, creamy release, so much of it that it dripped down onto your stomach - and much more than the time you had seen Tim’s cock explode. You’d almost screamed again but bit your tongue at the last minute, remembering Max’s threat last time. But it didn’t stop you from glaring up at him, brattily asking what this gross stuff was, eww, you didn’t want it on you-
That’s fine, Max had said cooly. That’s fine, because next time he'd make you drink it all instead. Your eyes went wide at that, tears forming and you adamantly denied Max, saying you’d never do something like that, it sounded pervy and dirty.
But your reluctance meant nothing to Max, as he smirked at you from your fathers side the next day, whispering something in his ear that had your daddy looking over at you and an icy chill running down your back. You were petrified as you got a text from your father to come see him in his office now, walking in on the verge of tears only to have him smile delightedly at you because Max mentioned you’d been very supportive of his races lately, it’s been a big reason why he’s so much more of a team player these days, so proud of you for helping the team, sweetie!
You’d accepted his praise, blushing from the attention, and later had dutifully wandered back to Max’s room to greet him after the race. He smirked at finding you there, already naked except for a pink lacey thong and heels, on your knees for him, shyly thanking him for keeping your secret and saying such nice things to your daddy. Of course, Angel, he murmured, unzipping himself. You know just how to say thank you then, hmm? And you obediently nodded, jerking him off like he’d taught you, then licking and sucking on his cock when he asked, and then taking all of his length inside your eager throat at his command, gagging the whole way as he tutted disapprovingly at you, taking over and controlling the pace with his large hands. It had really hurt your tiny mouth, and you couldn’t speak properly afterwards, but seeing Maxie swear and tell you how good you were doing, how he never wanted to let you go, made that tingly feeling come back in between your legs again. Instead of ignoring it like you normally did, this time you couldn't resist fingering yourself, thong pushed the side as you shoved your fingers inside your wet cunny.
Maxie had gone breathless seeing that, and then he tensed before you felt his warm, sticky thick cum fill your mouth. You swallowed every drop, opening your mouth afterwords for him to inspect. Good girl, he said, patting your head. My sweet angel, you drained my stress so well. Oh, so that’s what it was, you say innocently. I’m glad I made you feel better, Maxie.
After that, there were no races for a whole month as the paddock went into summer break. You had thought you’d be glad for the relief from Maxie and his mean demands, but you found yourself texting him often, missing his loving kisses and touches after you helped relieve his stress, missing the tingly feeling you got when he looked predatorily at you spread open for him.
You’d been shocked when you opened your eyes as a shadow had blocked out the sun while you were sunbathing at your family’s St Tropez holiday home, only to find Max grinning down at you, saying your dad had invited him to come for the week. Had you been doing your homework? You nodded diligently, looking at the banana you’d been practising swallowing whole without gagging to copy the dirty video Max had texted you of a petite woman eagerly sucking a very big cock - he must be a good man, you’d thought, just like your Maxie.
Secretly, you were so glad he was here, shooting him looks over the dinner table as he sung praises about what a good friend you’d been to him, helping him get back to P1, making your daddy proudly pat your head. And after dinner when everyone had gone to bed, he joined you in the hot tub to unwind. You’d excitedly begun to tell him about what you had been upto on the break when you felt his thick fingers creeping up the inside of your thighs. You’d frozen instantly, because Maxie had never touched you there himself, but before you could say anything your father stepped out onto the veranda, asking you something about your plans for the next day.
Answer him, Max mouthed, smirking as you had no choice but to let him keep gliding up your legs and undoing your tiny bikini. And when your daddy had gone back inside, oblivious that the flush on your face wasn’t from the heat of the pool, you’d tried to shove Max’s hand away, brattily saying you didn’t want his hand near your private parts, that was just for your husband-
Doesn’t count, Angel, Max had cooed, easily overpowering you and sliding a finger in, much thicker and longer than yours and making you squeal as he started pumping it in and out of you. And he hadn’t stopped despite your half hearted protests, because you’d started to feel really good, really tingly, and Maxie, I feel funny, I think I’m going to pee-
After you had your first orgasm, he carried your tired figure back into the house, setting you down and licking your cum off his fingers. And then, through your half asleep state, you felt his tongue swirling around your nipples, leaving hickeys and then trailing down, and down before his warm breath gently blew over your puffy cunny. And then you felt his wide tongue licking your folds, making you gasp awake and squeal cause why was he kissing you down there, that’s so pervy-
But he’d easily bullied you back into quiet muffled moans again, your skimpy bikini bottoms shoved inside your mouth as he warned you that your father was going to wake up right next door and come investigate if you didn’t shut up. So you reluctantly let him continue his filthy kissing, spitting and licking on your most innocent parts until you felt you had to pee again. He grinned wickedly as you squirted a second time, completely ruining the sheets, before redressing your passed out figure in a comfy hoodie. You felt the ghost of a sweet kiss on your forehead before he walked away.
You avoided him the next few days, glaring when he would approach you, angry he’d kissed you somewhere only your husband should. He’d promised you were still a virgin, sure, but still! It was just too much, wasn’t it?
But you’d been unable to resist his advances any longer when he’d cornered you in the family study one day when everyone else had gone out to the markets. He’d sweetly apologised, presenting you with a new Dior bag he’d had speed delivered that morning, and you happily snatched it up, gasping with delight as you look inside to find a Cartier bracelet. You’ll forgive me, right, Angel? Max had said, slowly wrapping his arms around you from behind and rubbing his practically blue balls against your plush ass as you distractedly admire your new gifts. I just wanted to make you feel good, hmm?
You nodded breathlessly, agreeing that you supposed it had felt really good, you liked that tingly feeling in between your legs. Yeah? Max had grinned, kissing you and slipping his tongue inside and saying that he knew a way to make you feel even better, Angel, and you’d still be a virgin after it, he pinky promises, okay?
With the new Dior bag and diamond bracelet you’d become a lot more agreeable, and didn’t protest as he laid you back on your father’s study table, lifting your miniskirt over your hips and grinning wickedly when he found no panties - just your glistening pussy. Y-you always just rip them anyways, Maxie you pouted.
Oh, you secretly wanted this, didn’t you? Acting all bratty just cause you wanted to make him work for it, he was certain. Your sweet body was such a good plaything for him that he didn’t really mind, deciding not to punish you for avoiding him.
You curiously watch as he unzips himself, taking his thick cock out, then you squeal adamantly in protest when he brings it close to your innocent hole. Shh, Angel, it’s just on the outside, he’d promised, I won’t put it in, it’ll feel so good, trust me.
And it had felt sooo good, making you bite your lip and toss your head back as he dragged his warm length along your folds, slapping your clit a few times with his cockhead, making you spread your soft legs invitingly as you felt the addictive tingly feeling come back again.
He’d been unable to resist the temptation, sliding just the tip into your virgin cunny- but you’d immediately screamed in protest, twisting away and he had generously released you from his hold, tongue in cheek as you sashayed away with a backwards glare, Dior bag in hand. He’d had to leave the next day, and you didn’t see him the rest of the break.
After the break, you had seemed different to Max. You carried the brattiness openly in your eyes, confident now in your ability to seduce him as he has brought such expensive apology gifts just for a little taste of your virginity.
You had infuriatingly said no when he tried to rub himself against your cunny at the next race, and at the one after that, so here he was, stuck fingering you and sliding his tongue in and out of your folds for the 3rd time this week while his cock ached to be buried inside you - when the wicked idea came to him.
He’d made sure to have all the preparations ready for the next race, knowing you would be a brat and try to weasel your way out of it. Like he’d predicted, you make your way to his plush sofa, spreading your legs to show off your naked pussy and demanding he come kiss it how you liked.
Oh, his Angel had become quite the spoilt little bitch, hasn’t she? He’d have to make sure you learned your lesson about who was in charge around here. You smirk as he drags his tongue up and down your puffy folds, thinking you had the millionaire driver all wrapped around your fingers. His thick third and ring fingers join his tongue, making you moan and close your eyes as he pumps them into your pussy. And then, his thumb drops down, lower, to circle your other winking hole before sliding inside.
You’d jumped in shock, naively asking why he was touching your dirty hole, that’s so embarrassing, you don’t want him to touch that place!
Max cooes that he couldn’t care less, besides, he can clean it out for you, yeah? If he just slides his cock in, just a little bit, he can make sure it’s all clean for you.
Your eyes go impossibly wide at the thought of his big cock anywhere near your ass. You furiously close your legs, brattily telling him that you’d had enough, wasn’t he just being a pervert now, and you’d already broken up with Tim ages ago and since Max seemed to be very relaxed now given his P1s has resumed you didn’t think you needed to help him out anymore!
Time to pull out the big guns. Sitting back on the sofa now, Max palms his growing erection as he calls out to you, making you pause from where your hand rested on the doorknob.
You know, Angel, I’ve had a lot of creepy fans sneak onto the garage lately. Some even got into my room. I guess they just really wanted to see me shirtless, huh?
You turn around to look at him, confused, until your eyes slowly widen in horror as he points to the camera tucked in the corner. There’s no trace of sympathy on his handsome face as he starts lazily jerking himself off, telling you that it had been your fathers idea to set it up, for his safety, and he’d even kindly offered to go through all the footage later - he took any threats against his prized driver very seriously.
You panicked, already teary eyed at the thought of your father seeing you spreading your legs sluttily and demanding Max pleasure you. You immediately dropped to your knees, begging Max to keep the tape himself-
Now why would I do that, Angel? Max cooes, getting harder at the sight of you kneeling in front of him and crying for his help. After all, you’re the one who’s forcing him to kiss her pussy on that video, hmm?
He knows he has you right where he wants you as you beg him, offering up your precious pussy to slide against again if he wanted, just don’t go inside, okay?
That’s not the hole he wants, Angel, he told you darkly. No - he wanted your other hole, the dirty embarrassing one, and he wants to sink his entire cock inside it.
He watches you stutter and gasp, before you take a deep breath and naively ask My husband won’t be able to tell, right Maxie? I’ll still be a virgin?
Max smirks. Of course, Angel. You know he’d never break your precious promise. And with that, you’re ready to become his obedient pet again, blankly turning around and sticking your ass up in the air like he asks, spreading your cheeks for him to look at.
And oh, Max takes his sweet time looking, enjoying the twisted satisfaction of having completely broken you down like this. He generously douses you in lube, making you squeal at the chill, before he’s furiously pumping his thumb inside your impossibly tight back hole. You tremble as he lines his cock up, ordered you to relax or it’ll hurt, Angel. Slowly sinking inside, he moans as he finally finds his way into your heat, feeling like he’s reached heaven. Tears stream down your face as you wail once he begins meanly thrusting, wickedly taking your anal virginity all for himself and giving you his fingers to suckle on and keep quiet.
He doesn’t stop until he’s finished inside you, panting heavily and pushing his matted hair out of his eyes, pressing kisses down your spine to let you know you did so well for him.
He pulls out with a wet squelch, enjoying the sight of his cum dripping out of your poor, abused little hole. Sitting back comfortably on the sofa, legs spread, he gives you a cocky smirk as you turn around, still seated on the ground in front of him.
Now clean it up, he demands meanly. He can’t have your hole make his cock dirty now, can he? And you obediently responded, crawling forward with glazed eyes, licking him clean from balls to tip like he’s trained you to do.
After that night, Max had held you completely in the palm of his hand. You’d be the perfect angel for him, doing whatever he wanted wherever he wanted - except for entering your innocent pussy, of course. He’d let you keep it yours for now, finding the fantasy hot. He’d buy you a diamond ring one of these days, he mused, so that you’d beg him to finally claim your virginity.
But for now, he had a couple other tricks to try out. And if you’d try to refuse, he’ll pull up the video he has on his phone of your eyes rolling back as Max ate you out on your father’s work desk from summer break.
He’d taken you back to his hotel room to teach you those tricks, making you wail and scream his name without restriction, headboard banging against the wall. It was hilarious when Horner had come upto him at breakfast the next morning, patting his back and saying it sounded like he’d been celebrating his win very well last night, congratulations, he deserves it and sounded like the girl couldn’t get enough!
Max had to hold back his laughter, as your clueless father had no idea he was carrying an extra croissant up for the very same girl who couldn’t get enough - his precious little daughter, who still lay sleeping in his hotel bed, exhausted from his dirty activities all night.
You’d ended up missing your flight back, making some weak excuse to your daddy and had followed Max into his private jet, obediently spreading yourself open for him as he pulled you behind the privacy screen. The flight attendants had blushed as they heard your eager moans and the lewd sounds of Max greedily fucking your ass again.
And when you landed, greeting your waiting family, Max had to discreetly wipe the line of cum that trickled down your skirt. You didn’t have to worry, though, he’d already thoughtfully ordered another delivery of sexy underwear straight to your home 🖤
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A/N: I actually gave myself post nut clarity writing this (post writing smut clarity?? Post smut conscience??) time to go outside and reconnect with nature. As always,,,lmk what u think 🤔
#max verstappen fanfic#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen smut#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen x you#f1 smut#max verstappen#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#formula 1#f1 x reader#christian horner#horner’s daughter#smut#18+ mdni
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HAUNTING ~ JASON P. TODD. 18+
Summary: Maybe blocking Jason isn't such a great idea.
Contents: dry humping, oral sex (female receiving), fingering in the alleyway, fucking in the alleyway hence risky sex slash teeny tiny bit of exhibitionism, rough sex, size difference, unhealthy relationship.
Pairing: Jason P. Todd X Female! Reader.
Word count: 2.6k
Author note: an anon implied that they want a part two of the drabble i made abt ex! jason. it is here... and it's valentine's day special. sorry for dropping bangers and leaving for another 2 months. will do it again. enjoy!
🖥️ MAIN MENU. PART ONE.
I know if I’m haunting you,
you must be haunting me.
You told yourself this was going to be the last time. The morning after Jason had left, you were already blocking his number and changing the lock to your front door the next day. Maybe it’s the post-nut clarity that helps you realized that maybe… maybe this things going on between you and him wasn’t exactly healthy. Maybe it’s a good idea to ignore the calls you’ve been getting from ‘unknown’ caller knowing full well it was him.
You think it’s a little cute when he went as far as to text you from Dick’s number.
He thinks you’re a brat.
Besides, who cares if what him and you had going on wasn’t healthy? You didn’t have to blocked him.
Whatever, what’s done is done. “He’s going to stop reaching out eventually.” you told yourself only to see him leaning against his bike, waiting for you in one of the alleyway you always passes after your night shift a week after blocking him. The red helmet slightly glints in the dark when the streetlight hits, “come here,” he murmurs, head tilts slightly to the side. There’s a battered bouquet of red roses in his hand, the veins on his forearm pokes out from how tight he gripped the bouquet to the point that the stems are crushed. “Happy Valentine’s Day, princess. Come get your flowers.” Jason adds, his other hand reached up to removed his helmet as he placed it on the seat of his bike.
”I don’t want to.” A small huff left your lips.
”Just do it, goddamnit [Y/N].”
Old habits die hard.
Your shoulders drops in defeat as you dragged your feet to him, you can’t help it. As much as you want to keep up the ‘I’ve-totally-moved-on’ acts, you just can’t. So here you are, not even five minutes in and Jason already had his arms wrapped around your waist, his lips naturally finding their way to yours the second you had your head slightly tilts up. “Blocked my number, huh? What, you think you’re so mature, huh?” He snorts, letting the bouquet falls from his hand to hold you tighter in his arms. “I didn’t block you…” You whined, standing on your tip toes to keep him quiet by smothering his lips with small pecks.
”Yeah right, that’s totally believable.” He scoffed in between the pecks you're giving him, his head tilts down to make it easier for you to reached in for more kisses. “Because my texts and calls totally got thru.” You can practically taste the sarcasm dripping from the way he talks to you. “I might have accidentally blocked you.” You pulled back slightly to watch as his face gradually sours. He stared back at you with an annoyed look, his brows furrowed before a low groan leaves his lips. “Face the wall.” He groaned, his fingers running thru his black locks before you reluctantly turn to face the wall, “We’re doing it right here?” You stuttered as you spared him a glance over your shoulder, your eyes quickly widened when he pressed himself against you. His bulge slightly rubs against your ass, his hands digs into your hips to keep you still. “Damn right we are.” He says, his breathing slightly staggered as he moves his hips slightly to get more friction against his clothed cock.
You leaned the back of your head, fingers latching onto his forearms as a support. “You’re so annoying, you know that, right?” He speak with a gruff, there’s creases on his forehead as Jason looked back at him. “How many times are you going to do this, huh? Acting like I don’t exist and blocking my number the second we had sex. I’m gettin’ real sick of it, [Y/N].” His hand reached up to grabbed your chin, forcing you to look up at him as he grinds himself against the curves of your ass. “Fucking brat.” He adds, his thumb gently brushing over your lips. “My fucking brat.”
“I don’t know,” you breathes, your lips instinctively parting as Jason slips his thumb into your mouth. “…until you’re bored of me?.” You muffled out your words, eyes slowly turning cloudy from the having his cock brushing up against you. He scoffed at your reasoning, rolling his eyes before he pressed his thumb down your tongue.
”As if.” He mumbled, leaning down slightly to rest his chin on your shoulder. “You’re gonna block me again after this?” His eyes flickered to looked back at you. You stared at him for a solid minute with only the sound of his jeans and your skirt rubbing together can be heard before he removed his thumb off your tongue to let you speak. “No?” You stammers, mentally cursing yourself when he smirked at your answer. “Good girl.” He replied, his hand falls to the hem of your skirt.
”I missed you,” A soft whine left his lips as his fingers desperately reached down to rub your clit. Jason leaned against you to leave kisses on your neck and up to your jaw as his fingers pushes your panties aside. “You’re so wet already, baby.” He mutters, massaging the bundle of nerves in a circular motion. He slowly swipes his fingers between your folds as you leave trails of your wetness on his fingers. “Looks like this pretty little thing misses me too.” He chuckled when you whimpers at the feeling of his fingers being pushed inside of you. “I missed you too…” You whined, eyes shut tight as he pumps his digits deeper into your sopping cunt. The wetness between your legs sticks to your thighs and clings to his fingers, his teeth hungrily leaving marks on your neck. “Sorry for blocking you.” Your body shuddered in sheer bliss when his fingers curls with his calloused palm constantly brushing against your clit.
”Yeah? You’re sorry?” He asked, his voice growing breathy while his other hand clumsily undo his belt and zipper. A small frustrated groan leaves his throat before he pulls his fingers out of you causing you to pout and whine. “Oh, come on. Give me a second.” He laughed, turning you around but this time facing his bike. He moves your leg up on the seat before he kneel down behind you. “Fuck… Look at that.” He whispers, his warm breath fanned against your pussy before he desperately buried his face in between your thighs. “Jason!” You squeaked, toes curling upon feeling his tongue lapping on your clit with his fingers tightly gripping your thighs. His thick fingers leaving marks on your skin as you squirmed on his bike, causing him to land a spank on your cheek.
You whined. “What’s that for?” You looked back at him only to be met with his dazed eyes and his mouth still latching onto your pussy, drinking every liquid that drips out of you. For once in the span of an hour filled with nothing but his sarcasm, he was quiet. Except for the occasional groans and moans every time you pushes deeper against his nose. Your nails digs into the cushion of his seat as you whimpers when he slide his tongue into your entrance, prodding in and out of your entrance before he finally pulled back for some air.
”Jeez, Jay…” He looked up at you when you pouted, his cheeks and chin were coated with your juices before his eyes cast down to the way you wiggled your hips at him. “…keep going.” You bat your lashes at him, the excitement in your stomach stirs as he tugs his pants and boxer just low enough for his cock to springs out of the tight confinement before gently slapping against his stomach. His thumb keeping your panties aside and your entrance exposed to him, "Calm down, princess." He sighs before his teeth digs into his lower lip, it's been a hard week since he felt anything close to this. Sure, he settled on his fist for the first two days before he completely stopped when he realised that fucking his fist to the thought of you wasn't as good as fucking you.
He slowly moves his hips, managing to bury the tip of his cock inside of you as he lets out a choked moan. "Still feels good as ever." He moaned, head tilted back with his eyes closed. His cock twitches in you when small whines falls past your lips, sending vibrations down to him as the muscles tightening around his length. "Christ, you're still not used to me?" His breath were shaky before he looked down to you, admiring at the clear size difference between the two of you as you tried your best to take every inch of him.
"S'not my fault," You huffed, your legs slightly trembles underneath him. Jason shifts your position slightly, holding you by the waist with one hand while his other hand makes their way under your shirt to fondled with your tits. "Never said it was." He replied, pushing his cock deeper inside of you until he’s halfway in when he stopped, noticing the way you tensed up. “It’s okay, baby. Just a few more inches and the hard part’s over.” Your body shuddered from his whispers, his breath tickling the back of your neck before you quickly nods at his words. His hand reached to wiped the sweats off your forehead before his hips slowly moves, “Mhm, just like that… Just relax.” Jason coos, planting small kisses on your temples.
A whine break out of your sealed lips when he completely buried himself inside of you, filling every crevices off your pussy with his twitching cock. The curve of his length itches just the sweet spot to make you see stars, “Jason…” The sound of you calling his name temporarily distracts him from the way your pussy clamped him down. His fingers had its deadly grips on your hips as you stand on your tip toes just to slightly fuck yourself on his cock, “Yeah?” He croaked, replying back to you with a deeper tone as he glanced down to the way your ass softly slaps against his pelvis, “You’re adjusting?” He asked before you let a small ‘mhm’ left your lips.
“You’re just fucking yourself on me.”
“No, I’m not.” You lied with a crooked grin. Jason rolled his eyes.
“Just look at the damn wall. You’re gonna break that dainty little neck if you keep looking back at me like that.” He mumbled, moving his hips into you in a more quicker pace. “Hold onto my helmet. Drop it and I’m stopping.” He grabbed a fistful off your ass while you quickly grabbed the red helmet, hugging it to your chest. The sound of skin slapping can be heard throughout the dark alleyway, your shared moans and groans reverberates and bounces off the brick walls. He moves his hand down between your legs, his fingers pressing down on your clit as he moves it in sloppy, circular motion. His other hand holding on the handle of his bike, “Lift your ass up, baby.” He grunted, brow furrowing as his hips moves back and forth, every thrust felt like he’s sending you over the edge.
”I’m trying!” You said in a hushed tone, too breathless. You weren’t sure if your knees can take anymore before they buckled to the dirty ground. In an act of desperation, Jason lifts you up with his forearm under your stomach causing your legs to dangled off the ground before he continue shoving his fat cock into your dripping pussy. You let out a small gasp, he’s really doing it-- he’s quite literally carrying you like a doll. “Can’t even do the simplest thing.” He huffed, eyes closed with his the tip of his nose tickling the crook of your neck as your fingers clings to his helmet, not wanting to dropped it lest he stopped just for the sake of making you miserable.
Your eyes lazily gazes at the other end of the alleyway where anyone that decides to passed the alleyway can noticed the both of you. Your cheeks warmed up at the thought, minimizing your moans into small squeaks and whines. You glanced at Jason, hoping he doesn’t notice only for him to sharply thrust into you to elicit a loud moan out of you, green eyes narrowing down at you. “Don’t be quiet,” He whispered, his other hand reached to traced the curve of your spine with his thumb lightly. “Let me hear you.” He dragged his voice to sound slightly whiny just to tease you even further.
You hated how much you expected this from the get go.
Blocking him was never an option, Jason has a knack when it comes to keeping you tied to him. One command from him and you’d rushed back into his arms like a puppy, hopelessly lingering around him. “Feels so good…” You whispered back, lashes thick with salty tears as wanton moans spills out of your swollen lips. You hated the fact that the both of you knows this. You’re not even sure if the both of you were even exes at some point. The feeling of the head of his cock brushing against your sweet spot sends you shivering despite being half dressed, it doesn’t help how godly his cock is. The delicious curve that sends you whining for more, the noticeable vein on the side of his length, the way his balls slaps against your clit, the thickness of it-- all of it drives you insane, fills your body with nothing but carnal desires.
“Outside? Inside?” He asked in between his groans, strands of his black locks sticks to his forehead as his jaw clenches. You know it’s near when his movement grow sloppy and inconsistent, his eyes darkened with sheer lust and the muscles on his bicep flexes. “Fuck, don’t just gimme puppy eyes, princess. Answer me.” He said with gritted teeth, purposely moving his hips rougher into you as you cried out of pleasure. “Out, out, out…” Your babbles almost went incoherent when you choked on your own moans while you blinks away the tears that welled at the corned of your eyes. He nods his head, burying his face into your shoulder as his arm around your waist tightens.
”Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…” He curses, his head spinning and leaving him dizzy. Jason wanted to stay inside of you badly, the warmth of your cunt wrapping snugly around him screams nothing but heaven. And the fact that you’re already cumming on his cock before he even gets to pulled out? God, you’re just torturing him at this point. He pulled out of you right before he finishes, wet and sticky seeds shooting on your back and staining your skirt as he winces when the cold air hits his cock. “Oh my god.” His chuckle were airy, skin were slightly flushed from the lovemaking. Jason cradled you in his arms, turning you around to face him before placing you on top of his bike.
”You okay?” He asked, softly massaging your inner thighs. His forehead presses against yours, his gaze softened at the sight of you looking back at him with tired eyes. “Yep.” Your answer were short as you steadied your breathing, your arms wrapped around his neck to pulled him closer while Jason fixes your clothes.
”Wanna go rest at my place?”
The both of you stared at each other for a solid minute. You give him a small nod.
“That’s my girl.”
DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE OR MODIFY ANY OF MY WORKS. ©️ KENNEDYBABY.
#i heard a small snippet of it then got working#ovulating so harddd rnn thank god jason todd were created#dc smut#jason todd smut#jason todd x reader#jason todd x reader smut#jason todd x you#jason todd imagines#jason todd x female reader#tw. exhibitionism
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idk if this is your thing but i've been thinking about reader and breastmilk. specifically, ak!jason finding out bat!reader has breastmilk after he rips off their chest uniform and then sucks the milk like a starving man and you could hear him gulping it down
Haha, BatBrat? Hero? Parent? Nah, now Jason’s got his hands on you he’s gonna turn you into his personal hucow, or maybe it’s a mommy thing? Who knows, you pick. Tbh, lactation isn’t a kink I’ve explored before but AK!Jason could do anything to me. ANYTHING! An’ I had fun writing something a lil different, so much fun in fact that it turned out way longer than I'd intended, so thanks for the ask, anon <3 Warnings: Dub/coerced-con, lactation, captivity/restraints, mild angst
At first, he’s just trying to antagonise you, at least that’s what he tells himself when he notices the discomfort in your stance; the way you keep awkwardly shifting, causing the chain around your neck to echo and clang as you gently pet your breasts, trying to hide the moisture seeping through your shirt with the backs of your hands until you finally plead; “You have to let me go… I… I need to pump.”
“I don’t have to do anything.” He spits, mouth-watering as he approaches your spot on the floor. There’s no chance he’s letting you go, but he’s certain he can solve your problem if you ask nicely enough.
“Please J-“ You hesitate for a moment, your doleful eyes searching his blue ones, unsure how to address your predecessor gone ‘bad’ before you fall on the same term his men have been using out of respect, or more likely fear. You’ve spent so many hours yelling and screaming at him that your voice cracks even as you attempt to sound softer. “Sir.”
You’re making an effort to appeal to him, looking up at him as non-threateningly as you can muster.
He pins it on your demeanour, not the fact that he’s lecherously enthralled by the way your tits are slowly leaking right before his very eyes. Whatever he wants to blame it on, it’s working. Nevertheless, his stance doesn’t change, he stands above you forebodingly, that same stern, unfriendly expression on his scarred face as he attempts to suck back his salivation.
“Please, I can’t stop it.” You continue. “It’s painful, I need relief.”
The irony isn’t lost on either of you, that you’re complaining about the pain of your overfull breasts, as you sit before him broken and bruised.
“Can’t let you go.” He reaffirms as he crouches down onto his haunches, almost eye to eye with you, but he’s not looking at your face as he reaches forward, hooking his fingers into the neckline of your shirt and pulling. “But since you asked so sweetly.”
“N-no! Wait. Not like this!” Your hands wrap around his forearm but with little purchase. Your cries are ignored, your feeble grip does nothing to slow Jason's strong hand and in seconds he’s running his gloved thumbs over your aching nipples, rubbing the damp cotton of your bra against the sensitive skin with a dreamy, far-off look on his face.
You swat at him until he retracts. For a moment a weight is lifted from your chest until you realise he’s simply removing his gloves. Unease quickly returns as he snaps open the centre of your bra, and despite yourself, a groan of relief escapes your lips. You fight the urge to relax into his strong hands as he begins to massage the underside of your heavy breasts.
“You don’t have to do this.” You try once more, but he looks up at you with a quirked brow, and a smile on his lips. He doesn’t have to, he wants to.
“I thought you were hurting.” He challenges, as his hands roam higher, finally, his bare, calloused fingers dig into the fat of your tits, he barely even has to squeeze before your milk begins to drip onto the backs of his hands. You squirm and grunt, staring at the ground, unable to make eye contact with him, too ashamed to accept the respite his hands are offering. “Thought you needed it.”
His voice is scathing, a taunt, despite the fact that you can see the outline of his throbbing dick, and the hunger in his eyes. The sight of you, all tired and timid, engorged tits exposed, is doing it for him. He wants this, bad, but what he wants even more is for it to feel like he’s doing something for you, a favour he can lord over you. Whatever keeps him in control.
“I can help you out.” Speaking slow and concise, his proposal could never be construed as kind. All the while he keeps palming at your chest in tender, measured motions, getting far too much of a kick out of the way you try to fight how his actions soothe you. “Or you can keep on suffering.”
He watches you expectantly, titling his head as a third suggestion comes to him. “Or, hey, I could invite some of my militia in here, I’m sure they’d get a kick out of watching B’s favourite brat spilling her milk everywhere. One of them might take pity and help you out. If that’s what you’d prefer.”
“No.” Obviously. He deliberately isn’t giving you a real choice in the matter. “Please help me.”
If he was thinking straighter, he might have spared you a snarky comment, or gone through the effort of making you beg explicitly for him. Something to really get under your skin, but he doesn’t want to wait any longer. With your permission he locks his lips around one of your nipples, cradling your breast in both hands as he begins to suck with a force far stronger than you’re used to. His teeth sink into your skin painfully and he closes his eyes, savouring the moment, the taste of your sweet milk. It’s like a switch is flipped, how his harsh features soften, his body slowly relaxing against yours as he greedily gulps down every drop he can squeeze out of your teat.
“Feeling better yet?” He asks at one point, speech slurred by his refusal to detach himself from you.
He watches you through half-lidded eyes as he awaits your answer, whispy black lashes only fluttering closed once more when you nod, only somewhat reluctantly. “Yes. Thank you.”
Though you’re sure his teeth might draw blood if he bites down any harder, your body does start to unwind, mitigated as Jason alleviates the internal pain. Neither of you really realise the change in yourselves until Jason is draped across your body, your arms around him in a cradle-like fashion as you stroke his hair; some kind of maternal instinct seemingly kicking in as you idly observe how The Big Bad Arkham Knight is pacified by your milk.
As soon as the well dries, however, his nails puncture your sore skin, and he glares up at you until you remind him; “The other one.”
He has the decency to look sheepish for his near-outburst, only for a second before he kneels back to change position, stopping briefly to remove the upper half of his armour, revealing how the scars don’t stop at his face. His torso is expansive, built with muscles and littered with taut, pale, overlapping lines. There are holes in his nipples, punctured at mismatched angles that have you suspecting they’re not from being pierced, at least not professionally.
What happened to you? You want to pry.
I’m so sorry. I wish I’d been there. I would have done something. Any consolations die in your throat, killed by the fear of how he’ll react. You’d learned quickly that the past was a touchy subject for him, a thread that when picked at can trigger a volatile reaction.
Before you can spend too long following that string, Jason distracts you. His jaw is locked tight, eyes judgemental as he watches you watching him until he starts to trail the tips of his fingers down the centre of his chest. The nervous edge of having your eyes on his marred body easing once you allow your gaze to be drawn to his crotch where he deftly unbuckles his belt and slips a hand into his boxers, squeezing at his needy cock.
“How about you milk me when I get done with you, huh?”
#no iteration of Jason was breastfed as a babe and it always shows#Is BatBrat like a running thing on here now? Do I need to go back and tag them all?#anon#thanks for the request#jason todd#ak jason todd#jason todd/reader#jason todd x reader#arkham knight#arkham knight x reader#arkham knight/reader#red hood/reader#red hood x reader#red hood#reader insert#f reader#nsft#tw lactation kink#tw dubcon#tw restraints#gilverrwrites#slade walks in and does a doubletake#reminisces about addy breastfeeding the boys#but his dicks hard#starts stressing#gets scolded by jay for being a perv#makes his dick even harder#bat!brat reader
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Hello Yoru!!<3 I wanted to ask you about your opinion about which Genshin men could eat the reader out the best 👀
~ dresvi.🚀 (Too shy to ask this off anon kdbdskkana)
including. neuvillette, alhaitham
cw. oral (fem! receiving), fem! reader
— ꒰ NEUVILLETTE ꒱
neuvillette was far too close to make this easy for you, reaching right in between your folds so he could nudge and play with the sensitive bolts of your pussy, leaning in to lick roughly at a searing spot that made you wince out in ecstasy, trembling underneath him.
your breathes and moans are much heavier than before, signalizing to neuvillette that he's doing everything right, however, the man believes that he had to do more, add something, before leaving a glimmering tumble of spit on your pussy as he spits on your cunt, a shimmering thread connecting you both from his lips to your folds.
you were moving together like water, your bodies complimenting each other as he gasps and grunts when trapping a bundle of flesh in between his lips before hollowing his cheeks, driving his whole body into making you cum as hard as possible and somehow managing to get better each time, his fingers clutching around your thighs at once so you'd never close them for him.
the friction of his wet muscle was near unbearable but then neuvillette flicks his tongue and digs it past your folds, your hands instantly taking a hold of his hair and messily grinding your cunt all over his lower face.
fuck, oh fuck, you moan and lose control of your body, twitch underneath his bigger one— too far gone to worry about any pathetic sounds keening from the back of your throat.
like a rasping, bottomless gasp, he answers your anticipation to do it again, neuvillette wants to feel you become so addictive to him until you simply cannot go a day without him closed off in between your legs, like neuvillette was damn near dying as he lays into you harder— tongue stroking faster, attacking your gaping hole again and again and again with his mouth, hoping that your smooth skin burned because it feels so good as you spasm against his face with a rough cry of his name, your hand clutching at his hair hard enough to damage the strands.
— ꒰ ALHAITHAM ꒱
by alhaitham's sixth movement, you notice how cold and ruthless it feels whenever he gets down on you, how rough and almost detached he shoves his head in between your thighs and how unmerciful— cruel, in order to have you experience something no one else was able to inflict on you.
it's like he knew your body better than you did, and was aware what spots he had to target to make you cum on his face.
and oh, quite certainly did he know that you're a total mess by now, his hands sweeping across your chest as they're preoccupied by your tits being sensitive underneath his palms.
you moan his name when he flicks his tongue over the hidden pearl and suckles on the flesh as his precise licks shoot a vibration buzzing on your cunt, the faintest trace of his wet muscle touching the edge of your body until you're like putty because of him.
now, you shove yourself up with one arm in order to get a better view on the mess happening in between your legs— tugging on his disheveled hair to roughly press him in your cunt, your ministration strong enough to make the scribe shamelessly groan into your pussy, the underlying burn of your fingers scratching at his scalp making him moan once more.
alhaitham's way of pleasuring you was so indifferent that you're wondering if he's the same boyfriend who'd read to you if you're having trouble sleeping or engages in deep talks in order to understand you better. alas currently, alhaitham has no need for this, because with his fat and heavy cock leaking through the fabric of his pants, he aches to be inside of you.
his hips stuttering into the mattress as he craves for more, more of your scent and more of your arousal slicking up his cheeks and chin— he looks beyond ruined and dirty, capturing your taunting pussy in a filthy-wet kiss as you arch your body off the bed and ride his face, bucking hard beneath two hands keeping you still, inviting anything and everything he did to you with an excited smirk on your mouth.
©2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify
#genshin x reader#genshin smut#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact smut#neuvillette x reader#neuvillette smut#alhaitham x reader#alhaitham smut#neuvillette x you#alhaitham x you#genshin x you#genshin impact x you#al haitham x reader#al haitham smut
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I FELL INLOVE WITH THE KYLE FIC OMG??? OK OK WHAT ABOUT THIS.
the main gang with an S/O that is like, VERY VERY SNUG/TIGHT, like unnaturally tight (but not negatively ;)). Also a virgin, like the biggest virgin out there, completely oblivious to stuff like that and super sensitive to touch in general, talking just a graze of fingertips might gain a small whine. I'm thinking maybe a correct adjective for this would be just the classic virgin reader + the things listed. AAAAA FEEL FREE TO DO THIS DEPENDING ON HOW YOU HAVE ENERGY I KNOW UR SICK😭🙏
-🃏
..sigh you just love to do things to my brain don’t you anon.. WHY MUST YOU DO THIS TO ME- NEOCIE IM GONNA GO FERAL RAWR RAWR RAWR jk I’m such a sweet girl, I’m an angel I would never. Tehehe. And I’m sick so I’m an even more touchy just brain melty mood.
˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
Kyle’s gang + butters with virgin reader!
Established relationship ₊ ⊹
All characters are aged up! Highschool AU! ‧₊˚✩彡
Kyle, Stan, Kenny, Cartman and butters 𐙚
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: smut/ NSFW, some degrading
Kyle 🐇𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒🪐
“Just like that holy fuck.. you’re so good for me.” Kyle let out a low moan, his head leaned far into his pillow whilst you slowly rode him. “That’s it baby, slowly, don’t look away, keep looking at me, that’s it. Keep watching me baby” his hands held either side of your face in an attempt to keep you with him, to keep you from looking away from him. Your legs shook on either side of his waist, your hands covering your face as you helplessly rutted against Kyle. You practically sucked him in earning groans and whimpers from the lanky gingers lips. “Fuck you’re tight.” He couldn’t hold back anymore, not with the way you gripped so tightly around him, not when he was trying to pull out to slam back in. No you gripped so tight he couldn’t even pull out. It was enough for him to grip onto the sides of your face harder, pulling you down so your forehead rested on his and he snapped his hips up into a ruthless pace.
- He’s a sweet boyfriend. He’s just a sweet guy in general. So when you tell him you’re a virgin he of course would never ever judge you for it.
-what he didn’t know was everything he did could basically make you drip on the spot, and majority of the time it’s shit he doesn’t even think of. He’s sitting with you in a restaurant with Stan and the rest, he softly touches your thigh, opening it to drag you closer to him. He doesn’t think a thing of it until you let out a squeak. Everyone raises their brows, Kyle looking at you when he feels your thighs squeezing his hand. Ahh.. you were sensitive too.
-“have you.. ever touched yourself..?” He asks curiously before feeling you shove his shoulder “Kyle broflovski!” “What? Sorry, I’m sorry. I just. Wanted to know” there was silence before you slowly nodded. He thought for a moment “has anyone else ever touched you?” He questioned again, watching as you shook your head side to side looking at him with big doe eyes. Your hands placed between your thighs. He softly bit his bottom lip, watching your body gently rock back and forth at the thought “do you.. want to be touched?” He slowly scoots closer to you, watching as you slowly lay back on his parents couch, his hands coming to tease the hem of your pants.
-he goes so god damn dumb when you grip him. He doesn’t know how to act. It’s like his brain shuts off and he goes into auto pilot. He’s usually gentle but fuck when he feels you grip so tightly, tight enough that you can feel almost every curve and vein littering his cock, he’s biting your shoulders and slamming into you. He’s swearing, panting. He’s so fuck drunk he doesn’t know what to do.
Stan .° ༘🎧⋆🖇₊˚ෆ
Panting. He’s a panting mess. He tries to form words but he’s so focused on trying to find a deeper angle, trying so desperately to feel you tighten even more then you already were. Your finger nails dig into his raven locks watching as your feet bounce due to your legs being locked around his waist. He was slightly hunched over, his hands on your ass to lift the bottom half of your body off your bed by a couple centimetres, his face buried in your hair while he lets out pleasurable grunts. “Stan!” Your lips spewing his name made him open his watery eyes, lips immediately coming to your ear. “I know, I know. I’m right here.” His hips snap as he slowly sits up, his member pulling out but with a struggle, his tip being the only thing remaining in your gushing warmth. “Can you take some more for me? Hm? Think you could do that?” When he watches you nod he gently takes your legs from his waist and pushes them against your chest, finding himself thrusting deeper at the new angle, your walls clenching so god damn good.
-“virgin? Really.. you? Are a virgin?” He almost doesn’t believe you because to him he can’t see how someone like you could be one. He’d thought everybody would be all over you. But he would admit he was proud to be the one to take it from you. He’s kinda dumb. So he doesn’t catch on. He just thinks you innocence is just, well how you are. But no.. no it’s for many reasons.
-he guides you 100%, you might actually make him a bit nervous because he doesn’t want to ruin this for you. He doesn’t want to take your purity away in such a vile way, he actually wants to make sure it goes exactly how you want. Tell him and he’ll do it. “You’ve got it babe”
-like I said Stan is a little dumb from time to time so he just doesn’t understand why you can’t sit still on his lap. He doesn’t get why your legs are practically shaking and stuttering against him when his large calloused hands come to hold at your hips. Maybe he’s not dumb he’s just, oblivious. He’s noticed that when he sweeps the hair from your neck to the other side you shudder, gripping onto his arm. “Are you? Are you good?”
-when he finds out the reason for it being you were a virgin he kinda.. likes it. He likes that he can be the one to make you act like that, how a single touch from him could have your legs open for him. Of course he takes is time with you. But he does enjoy teasing you from time to time.
-.. the first time you give him a handjob he’s definitely staring at you. He’s on the couch because his parents aren’t home. So what a perfect spot to do so. Your hands pump his cock so well while you partially hide your face, turning it the other way. His arms are resting on the head of the couch, one hand coming to turn your head so close to his you can feel his breath. “Don’t shy away from me..” his eyes are on you, nose pressed to your cheek as you pump him faster, you bottom lip tugged harshly under your teeth.
Kenny ₊˚🕯️🖤❀༉
“Mm I think you can take more sweet thing.. shhh I don’t wanna hear another word. You lay and look pretty for me yeah?” Kenny’s pace was torturous as it was; but having him grip onto his headboard, and pushing you further into his sheets was enough to make you clench harder around him. He shivered, his smile growing wide enough to expose the missing tooth on the right side further back. “Kenny please! I can’t do it.. I-i can’t take much more” you pushed at his lower stomach, still your grip around him was hard for him to pull out, pulling out would mean feeling every inch of his cock and that alone was pleasurable enough to send you to your edge. “Awh the poor baby, that’s a shame isn’t it, cuz you are” he was quick to take your jaw in his hands, pounding into you, his other hand pushing down on your shoulder to keep you from squirming. “Fuck I love the way you clench around me, like you don’t want me to leave” he cooed at you. Feeling yours fingers scratch and grip at his sides and lower stomach once more.
-he’s a horndog. So finding out you’re a virgin? “SCORE” he’s jumping over the moon for joy! Really it’s nothing to be so happy about, so giddy, but he’s just more or so happy it gets to be him that shows you everything.
-he’s probably one to tease tremendously until you finally lose your virginity to him. He likes watching you twitch and squirm at every touch he gives, but he makes sure his touches are extra touchy. He’ll walk behind you to grab your chest, when your making out his tongue is tracing your collarbones all the way down to the hem of your underwear. He wants you to feel like it’s about to happen but he’ll keep you waiting just a little longer.
-he’s probably gotten you to hump his leg. I’m not kidding. He was sitting on his bed, watching you walk around a little too tempting for him. He wasn’t exactly ready to do things to you quite yet, and he didn’t want to force you but when you ended up on his floor, sitting on his foot to try and get off. That shit eating grin never left his face. “Where did that pretty little innocence go hm?” “Kenny.. s-stop it’s not funny”
Cartman 🎧✮🧺✧˖°
“You’re so pathetic.” cartman pulled out, before pushing himself back in further “squeezing and gripping my cock like you don’t want me to stop.” He repeated slowly pulling out before pushing back in. “You go so dumb for my cock you can’t help but clench onto me huh? You silly little thing” who knew Eric cartman was also a teasing little shit even in bed. You. You did. Your hands held onto his shoulders, your feet planted on his bed, knees up and shaking as he worked his way to a somewhat quicker pace. He kept his thrusts short but he was deep. Both due to him and you pulling in him each time he tried to pull back a bit. “Eric, m-mm~” he cocked a brow stopping for a moment before looking at you fully. “Go on, say it, I won’t move until you do” your eyes shot open “mmm- more I want more please” he chuckled gently “you greedy bitch, I’m giving you so much and you want more” he listened though, he gave you what you wanted. He always did in the end.
- “pfft. Fucking virgin” he was too. So don’t let him get to you. Is he going to tell you that? Fuck no. Do you know? Yeah most likely I mean it’s cartman he’s lucky he even landed you. “Cartman shut up. That’s fucking rude and it’s not funny” you crossed your arms. “I’m sorry I’m sorry.. hmm” you shot him a glare. “Cartman.” He placed his fingertips to his lips “it’s just.. a little funny” he pinched his fingers together to make a small gap between his thumb and pointer finger. “I hate you.”
- a fucking tease, like Kenny he uses it to his full fucking advantage. He’ll tease the fuck out of you but just won’t give you want you want. You want him to take your virginity and baby he will. He just wants to get you all pent up, hot and bothered.
-from time to time, when things feel like they’re getting closer, and both of you are practically undressed his tip is teasing at your entrance, slowly circling before he stops for a moment, “hm, I don’t know, I’m feeling a little *yawn* sleepy yknow?” He smirks before laying down on his back watching as you look wet and dumbfounded, legs slowly closing as you sit up. “What the hell Eric..” he looks at you. “You could, suck me off? How does that sound?” You roll your eyes lowering your head at his commend. Don’t worry.. he’ll do it. He just likes to tease you to the very edge, to where you think you’ll get it.
Butters ˚☆🐈*๑
“P-please I won’t last much longer if y-you keep doing that..” butters stutters his words. He has you in a mating press, his legs surprisingly keeping him up, as he slams back down repeatedly. “I’m sorry baby.. I-i can’t he-help it oh my god~” your hands run through his hair, his head lowered towards yours as his lips try to reach your own. You clenched around him each time he pushed in. And god did he love watching himself pull out to watch you grip, your juices coating his member. And when you were left empty he watched as you pulsate trying desperately to find him. The look of it.. fuck he couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t help but to give your tight fit exactly what it wanted “ahh~ lord.. I’m so close~” he whispered against your lips. He knew if his parents seen him now he’d be grounded for god knows how long but Jesus you drove him crazy the way you sucked him back in.
-“virgin? Well that’s alright darlin! Me too! We can learn together!” What he doesn’t know is you’ll have him sucked in, he can’t escape. Not that’s it’s bad. But he becomes addicted. Ever since the you told him, all he’s had on his mind is you gripping him so tightly, your warmth and softness. He’s like a rabid little bunny. But he does keep it to himself, he wants to be gentle with you, sweet and attentive the very first time. You both wanna make sure the other is comfortable.
-he finds it cute when he touches you and you practically moan. Because.. he does the same thing. You touch the back of his neck? He’s shuddering and moaning at the way your fingertips softly lingered. He loves when you you lay him down on his bed, lifting his shirt to kiss around his belly button, your lips lingering against his slight bright blonde happy trail. And he does the same to you, his lips tracing every inch of your body until he reaches between your thighs “mmm.. can I?” He asks gently “well I’ve never done this before so if it’s bad.. I’m sorry” he looks up at your with puppy dog eyes, making sure you know he’s just never done this. When you give the okay, he gentle.. but he can’t help himself when he tastes you, he’s immediately got your legs over his shoulders, and he’s making you squirm and scream. He’s very proud of himself. He’s not much of a tease but he tries to when he gets in the mood
“Well don’t you look awfully pretty” he mutters in your ear, watching the blush creep onto your cheek and you squirm in the place you sat. He’s not the greatest at teasing but hey he tries. And he makes sure you both learn one step at a time.
-but once he’s had it once…. There ain’t no going back. He’s like a wild dog off its leash.
Im sick.. and I’m feeling.. in the mood. I love them. I want them.
#south park x reader#south park x y/n#south park x you#eric cartman x reader#eric cartman x y/n#eric cartman x you#kenny mcormick x reader#kyle broflovski x reader#kyle broflovski x y/n#stan marsh x reader#butters stotch x reader#butters x reader#butters leopold stotch#sp butters#south park hcs#south park headcanons#south park fanfiction#south park#eric cartman#kenny mcormick headcanons#kenny mccormick#sp kyle#stan marsh x you#dolly’s fics#🃏 anon
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Ok so uh- I’ve been having brain rot about having Muzan sitting on readers lap cockwarming y/n and struggling to do his work as reader is enjoying seeing him struggle
(male reader if possible please <3)
-🪳 roach anon
yes. YES. YEEEEEEESSSSSSSS.
🥀Cw: smut, amab!reader, edging, brat!muzan, dirty talk, just filth
🥀minors dni
muzan twitched, shuttering as you shifted your hips. he had lost count of how long he'd been sitting in your lap, your cock filling him so nicely as he struggled to focus on his work.
"something wrong?" you coo, grabbing his face and forcing him to turn and look at you, smirking as muzan's cheeks flush. "it can't be that hard to focus, can it, doll?" muzan shoots you a glare, ripping his face from your grasp and turning back around.
his behavior makes your blood boil sometimes, and you harshly grab his hips. a needy squeak is pulled from his throat as you buck your hips up, pushing your cock deeper against his prostate. muzan mewls, eyes glazing over in pleasure as he fights to stay coherent. his nails are digging into the desk, his painfully hard cock dribbling precum all over his thighs.
"awww, are you really that needy already? i havent even done anything!" you snicker, slapping his inner thigh so, so close to his cock. muzan lets out a hiss in pain, and even as the flesh heals almost instantly, the stinging pain serves as a reminder of who is truly in control.
muzan tries to focus on his work as time drags ever so slowly onwards, sweat dripping down his face as his hands tremble. you find a sick sense of pleasure in the occasional whine that slips past his lips whenever you shift below him, and while you adore torturing him, you're beginning to grow impatient. slowly, you drag your hands from his hips to his nipples, pinching both roughly.
"ff-fuck- uhhngh-" a pitiful noise is ripped from deep inside him, catching him off guard. muzan's whole body shivers, hips bucking backwards instinctively as you continue to grope at his chest. one hand continues to abuse his tits, palming the flesh there and rolling the hardened nub between your fingers. the other hand slowly begins to trace down over his abs and stomach to the base of his cock. precum is dripping from his tip, and his poor dick is almost purple with neglect. you move to massage his balls, then moving up towards his tip, catching some of the pre on your fingers and smearing the creamy liquid on his head. muzan whimpers, throwing his head back and clawing at the desk as you begin to pump him ever so slowly. his hole is squeezing your cock so tight, and even the slight stimulation your giving him is enough to make his release build.
"awww, does that feel good?" you sneer, biting down roughly on his shoulder. you begin to pump him faster, still groping at his chest as you palm his cock. muzan begins to rut up against your hand, hips stuttering as you begin to grind against him as well. your cock is hitting all the right places inside him, and the stimulation is making his whole head fuzzy.
"ngh- ye-y-yes, plea- oh ffuck, please, mhngh-" hes practically sobbing now, the coil in his abdomen so close to snapping yet so, so far. muzans thighs are trembling so much that the entire desk is shaking, and you stand up abruptly, bending him over and shoving whatever he had been working on aside. your hand moved from his chest to the back of his neck, pushing him down while the other continued stroking him. you could tell he was close, his whole body seemed to be quivering in anticipation.
"please, fuck- fughnngh pleeass- im so close please mmnhh-" he gasped out, hole clenching around you so tightly as his cock twitched in your palm. you removed your hand from his dick, and muzan let out a pathetic whimper. his orgasm fades, and tears begin to form on his lashline as he grinds back against you, trying to get you to move inside of him.
"fuck, be patient," you grumble, grabbing his hips with the hand not wrapped around his neck and snapping your hips against his, setting a rough pace almost instantly. muzan lets out a choked moan as you manhandle him so that he is arching his back, still facedown against the desk as you continue railing into him. you know you aren't going to last much longer, and from the looks of it, neither is muzan. his eyes are glazed over, and you squeeze his neck tighter making him let out a choked moan. you only fuck him harder, his knees giving out as he collapses beneath you.
"ple-please, master, fuuck, mhm, please..." muzan was begging with tears in his eyes, chasing his high so desperately as he grinded his ass back, desperate for release.
"please- shit- please what?" you managed, cursing as his hole squeezed around you so tightly. yoh were almost at your wits end, and you knew both of your orgasms were close but you wanted to hear him say it. "be a good boy and use your words like ive taught you," you spit out, thrusting into him so deeply he swears hes seeing stars.
"i- i wanna come, please, i need to come! i need it- i need it so bad-" muzan was practically blubbering, looking back at you with teary eyes, and your cock twitched inside him at the sight of his flushed face.
"fuck- go on doll, you can come" you murmur in his ear, and muzan whimpers, shaking as his orgasm finally washes over him. it pulls him under like a tidal wave, snatching the breath from his lungs and making his whole body quake. your own euphoric high comes at the same time, the both of you gasping and whimpering as you come down from the rush of lust. muzan is quivering, his desk and abdomen is coated in his own release. you chuckle, pulling out and whispering praises to your lover as he winced in overstimulation. a ring of white coats the base of your cock, and the both of you look like fucked out messes. muzan reaches out, sitting on his desk and pulling you into a hug.
"are you okay?" you ask, gently running your hands through his hair as his shaky breathing evens out.
"shut the fuck up," he replied, burying his head in the crook of your neck. ah, some things never change.
THIS GOT SO LONG AND FOR WHAT LMAOOOO PLSSSS HES SOOOOO URGHRRHRH sorry this kinda sucks i havent wrote smut in a while and its also like 12:00 😭 ANYWAYS I HOPE U ENJOYED SEND IN MORE SUB MUZAN THIRRSSSSTSTSSSSS HES SOOO
#sub muzan#muzan smut#muzan x reader#muzan x y/n#muzan x you#muzan kibutsuji#kny muzan#demon slayer muzan#muzan headcanons#demon slayer smut#demon slayer x reader#demon slayer#kny x reader#kny x y/n#kny x you#kny x male reader#kny smut#demon slayer x male reader#demon slayer x y/n#demon slayer x you#sub kny#sub!muzan#sub muzan smut#dom!reader#sub!kny
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Savior Complex (Logan Howlett x fem!Reader)
A/N: Hey guys! Here is the request I said I'd write. I hope it's what the anon wanted. It's quite long...and maybe a little different than my other Logan works...so I hope you guys enjoy. Inspired (obviously), by "Savior Complex" by Phoebe Bridgers.
Summary: You are willing to give up everything, including your own life, to save your found family. Logan, however, is not willing to let you do that. And he finally shows you why.
Warnings: SMUT 18+ MINORS DNI!!! Unprotected PIV (wrap it up), Oral (f!receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, friends to lovers, hurt to comfort, mutant!reader, omega!mutant!reader, fem!reader/afab!reader, allusions to death, canon typical violence, cursing, likely some grammatical errors, and I think that's it.
Word Count: 4,549 eeeeeesssshhhh
“Stay down!” Logan yells, his body hunched over yours, shielding you against the trunk of a thick tree.
You try to push him away. “We need to move!” You protest, shoving at him to no avail. He’s more solid than the tree at your back, firm, unwavering. Bullets fly overhead, swishing through the air. You listen to the sounds of triggers clicking and guns cracking. “I need to get out there!”
Logan presses himself further into you, his chest flush with yours. “You are not going anywhere,” he spits, his eyes trained on you. He’s studying every shift in your expression, every twitch in your shoulders and every flinch you make at the firing of a gun in the distance.
“Logan,” you say, trying to stand up straight, to force yourself from his hold. You raise your voice. “I’m going out there, and you are not stopping me.” You brace your hands at your sides, ready to use your powers if necessary. “Now is not the time to be the overbearing, protective friend, okay?”
Logan refuses to let up, unleashing his claws and digging them into the tree on either side of your body, caging you in, trapping you in place. “Well, isn’t that just too bad?” He mutters cockily, that shit-eating grin spread across his face. “Because I’m not going anywhere, princess.”
You swallow, flexing your palms, stretching your fingers down to the ground. “I’ll give you one second to reconsider that decision.”
He laughs, too self-assured for his own good. “And what are you gonna do—”
“Sorry, bub,” you chide, sarcasm heavy in your voice as you interrupt him. “But your second is up.” You shut your eyes, reaching towards the ground. Thin, black shadows—spirits—slip up through the blades of grass, nipping at Logan’s legs, wrapping around his ankles tightly.
He looks down as the shadows pull him away from the tree, his claws slipping from the bark with little to no resistance. More shadows emerge, twirling around his wrists and yanking them down to his sides.
“No!” He protests, thrashing as you step away from him. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He cries out, trying his best to break free from the tight hold of the shadows.
“Using my powers,” you say nonchalantly, putting some distance between you and Logan as you step backward. You smile. “Spirit weaving. Started calling it that the other day, actually!” You’re gloating off now, showing off, manipulating the spirits to tighten around him.
You can see the irritation on his face—the fury written across his furrowed brow. “Oh! How cool!” He is far beyond sardonic—his voice a mocking jeer. “Now let me fucking go!”
You purse your lips, pretending to consider the thought as you backpedal through the surrounding trees. “Yeah…” you trail off. “I don’t think so. Think I gotta get a head start first.”
And then you make a break for it, sprinting through the trees, cracking the branches scattered along the forest floor. You can see the mansion in the distance, the government agents rounding up the children. The sight sets off something deep inside you. You can feel the anger in your heart, squeezing tightly, dread filling your stomach. You’ve let go of your hold on Logan, your focus now on something far more important.
You have to save the school. Your friends. Your family. You’re not an Omega-level mutant for nothing, after all.
You take a step closer to the school, grass dying underneath your feet as your boots tread along the ground—the bright green blades turn brown as you give in to your anger. Somewhere in the distance, a familiar voice calls your name, but it’s too late for that—too late to stop you now. Your eyes flicker closed and open again, changing colors as your powers take control: your left eye white and your right black—representing life and death.
My dear, Charles is suddenly your head. You must restrain yourself. You must back down.
“No,” you call out, your voice multi-dimensional, bassy and high, light and heavy. “It is time they learn we are not to be taken advantage of.”
It is too dangerous, my child, his voice bounces around your mind. Charles works hard to convince you, showing you visions of your death, of the potential consequences of your actions. This is not you. This is your anger.
“I know what I’m doing,” you protest, your voice echoing across the field.
The agents watch as you stalk across the lawn, spirits following closely at your ankles like a thick, massive cloud of black smoke.
Your name rings out from behind you. You can feel the tug of the familiar voice, the desire to turn around and see that face, to hear him call your name again. But you stifle the feelings down, struggling to ignore the way your heart begs to see him—Logan. You can feel yourself caught in the middle, split in two.
A tear slips down your cheek as you walk forward, closer to the agents. Their guns point at you—hundreds of fingers on triggers, aiming carefully with squinting eyes. You can see they’re no longer paying attention to the children. You’ve given the students their chance—their way out. You can see it in their faces; they know. They’re just waiting for your signal.
Spirits cloud your fists, climbing into your palms, eager for a fight. You bend your knees, digging your heels into the ground. The grass between you and the government agents has long since died. You can feel the tension, feel the spirits rumbling in the air and in your hands.
“You wanted a fight…” You pause, your voice a crack of thunder. “I’ll give you a fucking fight.” The spirits whisper in your ears, their hums filling the air. They aren’t dead; they’re drumming, living things. It’s time. Oh yes, it’s time. Go!
“Now run!” You scream to the children, unleashing the spirits across the lawn. You sprint across the field, black shadows knocking the agents over and throwing them away. You guide the spirits with your mind, directing them with the flick of your wrist and the point of your finger.
You’re bloodthirsty, searching for the mission’s organizer, hunting tirelessly for their leader. The spirits know what you want—what you need—and swarm around a man at the back of the lawn—the man following the children.
The spirits pick you up by your knees and your shoulders, lifting you into the air and towards the man. You fall to the ground right behind him.
You smirk hatefully, extending your fingers toward his ankles. Shadows surge him, threading around his legs, twisting up his stomach, and wrapping tightly around his throat.
“W-who the fuck are you?” The agent chokes out.
You cock your head to the side, grinning widely. The spirits goad you along. Tap his little head. You know you want to. Take his life. Go on. Take it. One tap to his temple—that’s all it would take—and his life would be yours. It’s something you’ve never done before, something you’ve been able to resist in the past. But this time, you can’t help it.
“Who am I?” You repeat condescendingly, laughing manically. You lift your hand, inching closer to his forehead. “I,” you pause, your fingertips brushing against his skin. “Am death.” Your white eye flickers out, turning pitch black.
This is what the Professor had always been afraid of.
“Don’t!” There’s that voice again, tugging at your heart. “Please, don’t.”
You keep your hold on the agent as you turn around. Logan. He’s in front of you now, approaching you slowly. Behind him, spirits wreck the other government agents, sweeping them up, throwing them away, holding them down. The other X-Men fight off the few remaining agents easily.
“I am going to finish this,” you say, struggling to hold on to your powers. Your hatred and anger fade at the sight of Logan—wearing the uniform he said he never would, his hair a disheveled mess, his hand slowly extending out to you.
He shakes his head, his throat bobbing as he swallows. “It’s already over,” he says firmly, taking your hand. You turn around and see that the government agent is passed out on the ground, likely from the pressure of the spirits choking his throat.
“If you hold on any longer, you’re gonna hurt yourself, princess.” Your eyes flicker at the nickname, your grip loosening on your powers. You can feel yourself slipping, fading away.
“H-have to f-finish the job,” you stutter, fighting against that tear in your heart.
Logan pulls you towards him, his thumb brushing soft circles to the top of your hand. “Think you already did, sweetheart.”
“N-no, she didn’t,” you hear a voice mutter from behind you. BANG! A gun cracks, and there’s suddenly a stinging sensation in your side. You turn, and the government agent is freed from your hold, his gun aimed at your head now.
“NO!” Logan shouts, but you ignore him, your powers flooding back to you. The spirits swarm the agent again, winding up his body and holding him in place. The shadows trail up your body too, coming to where the bullet hit your side and pulling the metal shell out.
You fight through the pain, pressing your pointer and middle fingers to the temple of the agent’s head. “This might hurt a bit,” you mumble, taking a deep breath and stealing his life force. “Just taking retribution.” His veins darken as your wound closes, taking only enough of the man’s life to heal yourself.
You sigh with relief as the wound becomes nothing. You lift your fingers from the agent’s head, and he slumps down to the ground. He’s truly incapacitated now, passed out cold.
You turn around, and Logan is still standing there. He approaches you again. You suddenly feel overwhelmed and woozy. It was too much, you realize.
Your eyes flicker again—black, white, normal, shifting quickly, shakily, like power going out in a thunderstorm. “L-Logan,” you stammer, hunching over, your hands on your thighs. He crouches down, letting you lean into him.
“Hey,” he whispers reassuringly—but you can hear the secret panic in his voice. “I’ve got you.”
The others call your name in the distance.
“I did it,” you whisper.
The spirits disappear from the field, slipping back under the ground.
Logan’s eyes are glossed over. “Yeah, you did sweetheart.” You fall fully into Logan, his arms wrapping around you, a single tear slipping down his cheek.
And then everything goes black.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Still in here, Logan?” It’s Charles.
“Yeah,” Logan’s voice is raspy, tired. And it’s close, like you could reach out and strum the sound waves. “Are the kids okay?”
“They’re all safe and accounted for,” Charles says. “And Hank is handling the government side of things. It was an unsanctioned attack.” Silence settles over the room, the pause strained and tense. “She’s going to be okay. You should get some rest.”
“I’m staying.”
“Logan—”
“I said I’m staying.” And then the door shuts.
Your eyes slowly open, and you realize you’re back in the mansion—in your room, your bed. Logan notices immediately, standing from the chair next to your bed and rushing to your side.
“Hey,” he soothes, his hand reaching out, gently cupping your cheek. You lean into his touch involuntarily. It’s an instinct—something you simply have to do. “You’re awake.”
“No visit to the lab for me, huh?” You joke, sitting up a bit as your memories flood back to you. You’re surprised that you don’t feel any injuries or soreness.
Logan swallows nervously. “You were…” he trails off, his eyes searching yours. “Earlier. All day, actually.” His thumb brushes against your cheek. “Everyone was worried about you.”
You shake your head, smiling softly. “I’m alright. I don’t feel a thing.”
But Logan isn’t swayed. You can see the fear in his eyes, the stress in his shoulders. “You should’ve let me hold you back.” He’s serious, his voice firm and steady. “You could’ve gotten hurt…” He struggles to get the words out, his eyes grazing up and down your body. “You could’ve died.”
“Logan,” you mumble, sitting up. “I did what I did because I had to,” you pause, your heart squeezing at the look on his face. “I’d give my life for this family. I would—”
“You’re not giving your life for anything; do you hear me?” He cuts you off, furrowing his brows, his other hand cupping your cheek now, too.
You close your eyes at the feeling of his touch, the warmth of his palms. “I would give my life to save you.” The words slip freely from your lips. You’re so sure of that fact, so impossibly certain.
He pulls you closer to him, his hands sliding from your face to the nape of your neck. “I won’t let that happen.”
“Logan I will always—”
But he cuts off your protests. “Enough of your fucking savior complex.” His voice is shaky now. He pulls you into his chest, and you let him. His arms slip down your back, pressing you tightly to him. His lips are at the shell of your ear. “I am not losing you.”
The vulnerability of his words shocks you, your breath catching in your throat. “You won’t,” you promise, burying your face into the center of his chest.
“I almost did,” he chokes out, pressing a chaste kiss to the crown of your head. His words kill you, your heart aching at the sadness in his voice.
You lift your head from his chest, looking up at him as he looks down at you. He’s massive, towering over you. You can smell him on your clothes, on your skin—tobacco and pine and musk. There’s a shift in his expression, in the tension in the room. His chest heaves under his beater.
“I’m not going anywhere,” you promise, your hands sliding up his stomach, trailing over his abs. He relaxes into your touch, the stress leaving his shoulders. He leans over you, his forehead pressing to yours. The contact and the closeness are dizzying, your mind hazy as Logan’s fingertips ghost the sides of your waist.
He swallows harshly as his lips brush against yours—a whisper of a kiss. “Wouldn’t even give you the chance,” he mumbles. You can feel the charge in the air, the anticipation. There’s a look on his face, and you recognize it immediately. You feel it too.
Longing. Need.
His lips capture yours, engulfing you like a fire. His hands slip under your shirt, exploring your skin. He’s breathing you in, and you’re breathing him out. You’re suddenly one extraordinary machine, working together, moving against each other in time.
Logan pushes you down to the mattress, his lips still on yours, the kiss becoming rushed and frantic. He climbs on top of you, his bare arms caging you in on either side of your head. You spread your legs for him, giving him room to settle in between. You can feel his erection strain against his jeans as he rocks into you. The friction feels good, but it’s not enough. You grind against him, needy for more.
“Fuck,” he pants between kisses, lowering himself down onto his forearm to close the gap between you. His free hand finds the hem of your shirt and slips underneath, his fingertips trailing up and down your body. He’s still rutting into you, his cock nudging against your needy core.
You grab at his back, pulling on his beater. “L-Logan,” you stutter, his fingers bumping into the bottom of your bra. You arch up into him, giving him the space he needs to bring his hand to your back and unclasp it. He sits up, quickly pulling your shirt up and over your head, slipping your bra off, too.
He lays you back down, hovering over you, balancing on his forearm as his free hand drifts up to your breasts. He squeezes softly, his thumb tracing over your nipples. “Beautiful,” he murmurs into the crook of your neck, biting your pulse point. “So fucking beautiful.”
His soft bites turn into kisses, trailing down your neck to your collarbone. He kisses in between the valley of your breasts, down your stomach, stopping just above the hem of your shorts. You swallow, nodding frantically as he hooks his fingers into the waistbands of your shorts and panties, yanking them down your legs in one fluid motion.
You’re exposed to him—bare. He settles back in between your legs, his mouth just inches away from where you need him most. His breath fans across your clit, a jolt of electricity sparking a fire at the base of your spine. You can feel the ache between your legs growing.
“Please,” you beg, Logan’s name hanging on the tip of your tongue as you look down at him. He presses a teasing kiss to your clit, his eyes focused on you, on every move you make. “Logan, I need—”
You’re cut off by his tongue—a long, flat stripe licking through your folds, up to your clit. His tongue flits out, flicking lightly before starting all over again. “Gonna take my time with you, pretty girl,” he murmurs against you, the vibrations of his bassy voice coursing through you. Your walls squeeze down around nothing, begging for more, begging for release. “Gonna make you feel good.”
He spreads his palm against your inner thigh, nudging you open for him. His nails dig into your skin, fingers trailing up closer to your core. “Please,” you whine. “Want you.”
Logan’s fingers finally meet your folds, his tongue flicking your clit and pulling it between his lips, sucking softly. “Tastes so good,” he mumbles against you. “So fucking sweet.” Two fingers nudge your entrance, testing the waters, spreading you open slowly.
You open your mouth to beg for him again, but then he’s thrusting inside you—knuckle deep—his fingers stretching you out. Your walls flutter around him as he pulls out and pushes all the way back in. His swirls circles into your clit, his tongue lapping at you, savoring the taste of you.
He slides his free hand under your back and to your hip, hoisting you closer to him as he buries his face into your cunt. There’s a hunger in his eyes. No, it’s so far beyond hunger. He’s starving—starving for you and only you. If he could live inside you, he would.
He’s relentless as he sucks your clit, his fingers pumping in and out of you. He can feel you shaking underneath him, trembling. His thumb draws gentle, comforting circles along your hip. “I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he whispers in between thrusts. “Doing so good for me, taking it so well.” Your muscles contract around him at the words, his praises overwhelming you.
He's getting you there—the fire spreading, creeping in, ready to consume everything in its path. “’M’so close,” you moan, overstimulated and fucked out. Logan doesn’t slow down, his fingers hitting that sweet spot inside you with every thrust. You can feel yourself coming undone, unraveling before him.
“That’s it, pretty girl,” he soothes between laps. “Come on my tongue, just like that.” And then you’re letting go, coming around his fingers. Fire washes over you, beat after beat, pump after pump. It hits you in waves, the sensation crashing into you as Logan works you through your orgasm.
He’s whispering praises as he savors your taste on his tongue. So good, sweetheart. Letting me take care of you. I’ve got you. So fucking pretty.
His thrusts slow down, gently rubbing at your walls before sliding out. But his tongue is still working at your clit, lapping softly. “Could eat you out for hours, princess,” he says, licking another long stripe through your folds. “Maybe I will.” You can feel him smile against you.
But you need him, need him closer—as close as he can possibly be. “Logan,” you call out, already close to coming again. “Want you now,” you plead.
He licks one more long stripe before lifting his head. He sits up, staring down at you as he lifts his beater up and over his head. You stare at his chest, the way his muscles flex as he breathes. Your arousal glistens on his lips, his chin.
He unbuckles his belt and slips it from the loops, casting it to the ground with a loud clank. He unbuttons and unzips his jeans, tugging them down his legs along with his boxers. His cock springs free, and he is so much bigger than you ever imagined he’d be. You swallow at the sight, and Logan smiles.
He is so cocksure, but maybe he deserves to be.
He lowers himself down over you, once again balancing on his forearm. His free hand trails up your sides teasingly before resting on your hip. “Gonna go slow, princess,” he whispers, biting your bottom lip and then stealing a kiss. “Nice and easy.” His hand on your hip disappears, leaving you suddenly cold and empty without his touch. But you know where he’s going—know that he’s wrapping his fist around the base of his cock. You spread your legs for him, inviting him inside.
He nudges against you, sliding up and down your folds, feeling you. His tip bumps against your clit, sending a shiver down your spine as you squirm underneath him. He finds your entrance again, his head slipping in, and then pulling back out.
His teasing is too much. You need him, more than anything, ever. “Please, Lo. Need you inside—”
Your words get stuck in your throat as Logan thrusts deep inside you, his cock rubbing against your walls, stretching you out. You moan his name, arching your back, your breasts pressing against his chest. He stays there for a moment, his cock throbbing inside you, giving you a second to adjust to the size of him. But it’s not enough—you need him to move. You lift your hips, searching for more friction.
Logan pins you down, his free hand stilling you at your waist. “Wanna take my time with you,” he growls, sliding out and thrusting back in. “Wanna feel every inch of you.” He’s setting the pace: slow, but building. Once he’s sure you’re not going anywhere, he lifts his grip from your hip and brings his hand down between where your bodies connect.
He finds your clit again, still swollen and overstimulated, and starts to work slow, gentle circles into it. You’re already close, already almost at that edge.
Logan’s thrusts become rougher, deeper. He rocks into you, plunging himself down to the hilt as he flicks your clit. He swallows your moans with a kiss, his tongue swiping across your bottom lip. You open your mouth, letting him inside. You’d give him anything—absolutely anything he wanted. He never even has to ask.
“Yours,” you breathe into the kiss. “All yours.”
“F-fuck,” he curses, rutting into you, your words goading him along. “Mine,” He growls, his hips snapping faster, his pace quickening with every thrust. “All mine, pretty girl.”
And then the confession spills from your lips. You can’t control it. “I love you.”
Logan pounds into you harder. “I love you, too.” He can’t control himself either. You squeeze around him, the words practically pushing you over the edge. “Needed you this whole time, sweetheart. The whole fucking time.”
You throw your head back, exposing your throat to him. He buries himself into the crook of your neck as he pumps in and out of you, biting down on your pulse point again and then licking away the pain.
“Can feel you getting close, darlin’,” he coos, his fingers still stroking your clit. Your walls flutter and contract around him. “Wanna feel you come on my cock.”
Your chests heave together, one single breath flowing between the two of you as he thrusts deeper. You’re slipping, letting go, crashing beneath him. You wrap your arms around his back, pulling him closer. “Lo…” you trail off, unable to form a sentence.
“Love it when you say my name, sweetheart,” he grunts. “Say it again for me.”
“Logan,” you whine, your legs wrapping around his waist as he fucks into you. You can’t hold back anymore. It’s too much. And he knows.
“That’s it, pretty girl,” he says, rubbing at your clit. “Let go for me.”
You do, clenching down onto him, pulling him deeper. He groans at the feeling, his pace faltering as you come around him. You’re melting into the sheets, your muscles tensing and relaxing, white-hot heat spreading across your vision.
“Fuck,” Logan groans, working you through your orgasm. After a few more slow, languid strokes around your clit, his hand slips from your core and up your body. He squeezes your breasts before sliding his palm behind your back, lifting you up for better leverage. He fucks up into you, pressing you closer to his chest.
You tighten your legs around his waist, keeping him in place. He knows what you’re asking him for. “Inside?”
“Yes,” you murmur. He brings his lips to yours as he comes inside you, filling you up. He’s so warm, so solid. You cling to him as he finishes, not wanting to let go. His pumps slow until he’s still inside you. He holds you there for a moment, your foreheads pressed together.
Logan carefully pulls out. He rolls off you and pulls you with him so that you’re lying on your side next to him. He wraps his arms around you, keeping you pressed against his chest. Your legs tangle together.
The intimacy of the moment suddenly sobers you, and memories of today come flooding back. You can feel the tears brimming in your eyes. Logan notices immediately.
“Hey,” he whispers, panic clear in his voice. “It’s okay,” he soothes, running his hands along your back. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m so sorry…” you trail off, burying your face into his neck. “I’m so sorry for scaring you, for hurting you, for putting myself in danger. I just—”
“I know,” he interrupts you. “It’s okay, don’t cry. I’m here.”
“I won’t leave you,” you vow. “I promise.”
“Don’t promise,” he says softly. You look up at him, a sad smile spread across his face.
You furrow your brows. “Why?”
He swallows. “Because I would’ve done the same for you.” He presses a kiss to your forehead. “I’d tear the world apart for you.” He pauses. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” You smile, your tears subsiding. You take a deep breath and recall something he had said before. “So, who has the savior complex now?” You joke.
“Me,” he says back, half joking, but half serious, too. You can hear it—the honesty, the intention. “I’d do anything to save you.”
“It’s not gonna come to that.”
“But when—” he stops himself. “If it does, I’ll be there.” He pauses. “I will always choose you. Always. Every time.”
Always. Always. Always.
It’s all you can think about as you fall asleep in Logan’s arms.
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