#i dropped a lot of f bombs in this one | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lis-likes-fics · 22 days

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Casual

Pairing: bff!Eddie Munson x Reader Word Count: 12.3k words Warnings: NSFW, smut, protected sex (birth control), virginity loss, friends with benefits, Eddie talks you through it, constant consent, humor during sex, Eddie calls you "mama" but no mommy kink, fondling, slight hair pulling, oral (f!receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, a million different positions, slight edging?, L-bombs but not romantically, swearing... A/N: So I wrote this as a best friends with benefits thing and not a best friends to lovers, but the line gets blurry sometimes with besties. I really fucking loved this one because they're like...they literally never stop being besties, they're so fucking dumb, I love them. So yeah, this is platonic in the least platonic way possible, and I love that for them. Thank you so much and enjoy! A/N #2: While I was writing the first author's note, my typing kept popping my ears. *cries in adhd like a little bitch*

Eddie finds you in his bedroom doorway moments after hearing the front door close. He half expected Wayne to be coming back home early from work, but that didn’t make sense because he only left an hour ago and he probably would have called ahead.

But, no. You stand there with damp hair from a fresh shower and dressed down in some shirt you stole from his drawer and pajama pants. He raises a brow. He hadn’t been expecting you, but he isn’t surprised in the slightest. He doesn’t even bother to move from his spot, leaning back on his bed with an arm behind his head and a book in his hand.

“Hey, there,” he mumbles.

You stare at him for a while, saying absolutely nothing. You don’t seem particularly pleased. He stares back. Neither of you move.

“I’m upset,” you finally say, still staring, still standing.

If Eddie’s remembering correctly, you’re supposed to be out on a date. So hearing that you’re upset isn’t necessarily pleasing to him. Judging by the time, you should have had a very entertaining night. But apparently not.

He’s the first to move as he lets his book fall down to his lap. “Why?”

You think for a moment and then drop your stuff at his door, walking inside as you use your foot to close the door. There’s a long pause between speaking, as you use it to walk around his room and look at all of his stuff. “It’s sort of embarrassing.” You pick up a random pepper shaker on his desk, swirling it around and then turning on your heel to look at him.

He’s got his head tilted to his shoulder with a look on his face that reads “seriously?”. He sits up, lifting a brow. “I’ve seen and learned a lot about you since we became friends, so I doubt there’s anything you could do or say to embarrass yourself in front of me.”

You roll your eyes, licking your lips as you set the pepper shaker down again. “Okay, well…” you trail out, trying to decide how you want to tell him. “You know how I had that date?”

He puts his book away, crossing his legs and leaning back on his elbows. “The drive in?”

“The drive in.”

“What about it?”

“Well…” you sigh. “Okay, so…” You lick your bottom lip, trying to form the words. You’re never shy in front of him, so there must be something wrong. You chew on your lip, thinking to yourself with a heavy sigh. You plop down onto the bed next to him. “God, so, we got there and the movie was fine and whatever–” you roll your eyes, “–and we watched most of it but at some point, we started, like, kissing, and whatever, right?”

Eddie shrugs, laying back to stare at the ceiling as you continue to recount your night. “Yeah.”

“And it got a little…”

He raises a hand to prompt you, “Hot and heavy?”

“Yeah.” You look down at your lap where you fiddle with your fingers. “So we drove away somewhere more…more private?”

He looks at you, sitting back up enough to fully see your face as he smirks lightly. He gives you this devilish look that makes you want to hit him. “Did you...?”

You nod a little. “Yeah.”

Swallowing thickly, you watch his face shift as he takes in your demeanor. His head slumps to one side, his smirk falling off his face. “Oh…” he mumbles. “How do you feel?”

You stare at him. He can see you mulling over your response as you struggle to find the right words. Despite yourself, you feel a knot tying itself in your throat. You force it down and away, pretending it’s not there and hoping it’ll help. And it does…for now, at least.

“I’m upset.”

He cringes a little, lifting an arm to give you a place to lean into him. “That bad?”

You bury your face in his shoulder and pout. “Yeah.” You pull away suddenly. “I mean, I know everyone’s first time sucks ass and whatever, but, like…” You drop your head in your hands, wiping at your face as you find yourself glad for washing your makeup off earlier. “Eddie, I didn’t even…”

He almost seems offended. He doesn’t care about announcing it because you’re alone and also it’s outrageous. “You didn’t cum?”

“No!” you exclaim. “I…faked it.” You’re almost disgusted with yourself for it. It sort of just happened in the moment. He was clumsy in trying to get you there, but it wasn’t working. You just wanted to end it off and move on, so you just…made the sounds and the faces. He seemed pleased enough. “I feel kinda bad. I mean, he was sweet and all, and he, like… He tried, but…”

His question is crude with as little hesitation as humanly possible. Again, he doesn’t care about being awkward or guarded because you’re his best friend, and you’ve talked about worse, and there’s no filter with you. “How big was he?”

“Eddie, what?” Usually you wouldn’t mind his brashness, but you’re still trying to get over the events of a couple hours ago.

“Honest question,” he shrugs. “I just wanna know. Was he like…” he lifts his hand, squinting his eyes and hunching over and pinching his fingers together, “little?”

You shrug. His bluntness is rubbing off on you. You feel a little less awkward and you hunch a little less. “He was fine…just a little too…short? To reach?”

He makes a face, like he’s shocked and disgusted. He looks you up and down almost like it’s your dick. “That’s rough,” he says. “How many times did he cum?”

“Why do you assume he came?” you raise a brow.

He rolls his eyes with a scoff. “Please, guys always cum.”

You roll your own eyes and push yourself off the bed. You’re roaming his room again as you mess with all of his stuff. You open his drawer and ruffle through his unfolded clothes, you pick up empty beer cans and turn up your nose at the smell, you strum the strings of his acoustic. You do all of this instead of looking at him when you answer. “Twice.”

“Oh.” You fake disgust when he looks at you, smirking and bobbing his brows at you. “You must’ve been really fuckin’ nice.” He makes this weird growling sound, and the “ew” that comes out of you is guttural. He snorts happily, and then his humor is gone as he deadpans, “Or he’s a lightweight. Did he cum inside?”

You’re sick of him.

You shake your head. “I made him wrap it.”

“Aren’t you on the pill?”

“Yeah.” He hums.

He watches you lean back against his desk, looking at this weird mask he had just sitting among the chaos. You move it around in your hands and force down the heat in your throat at the recounting going on in your head. Swallowing it down is a hard task that ultimately fails as he watches you begin to choke on the unshed tears.

He sighs, his chest warm with a bitter emotion as he watches your waterline threaten to spill over. “Oh, c’mere.” He stands from the bed, opening his arms wide to pull you into a bone crushing hug. It’s warm and it hurts and it feels so nice. He smells like he always does, green apple shampoo stolen from your house and cheap cologne and cigarettes. It’s a nice smell.

“I guess I like…I don’t know, I expected a little more. It was…really disappointing.” A couple of tears manage to get past you, and it pisses you off but you’re already over it. “I wanted…to get rid of it, and now it’s gone but it doesn’t feel like anything’s changed, but it also feels like everything’s changed, but not in a good way.”

He rubs your back, listening to you as you need him to listen. “I’m sorry,” he mutters when you stop. He sets his chin atop your head after a kiss to your forehead. Part of him wants to square up with the dude you went out with, but he sets that urge to the side in order to comfort you. “That fuckin’ sucks, and you deserve so much more.”

After a moment, you pull away from him, wiping at your face with a huff. “It’s stupid.”

“S’not stupid.”

You don’t argue, you just throw yourself onto his bed, laying flat on your back with your arms and legs spread so wide that you take up nearly all the space left. Eddie watches you lay there with your eyes closed and your breath slowed. He thinks you’re really pretty, especially right now with you wearing his shirt. He almost hates himself for thinking to ask–

“Look, it might be…creepy and weird to ask and—Jesus, if I’m being creepy, I want you to fuckin’ punch me s hard as you can—but, shit, maybe I should shut up.”

His rambling is cut off by you, still lounging on his bed. You haven’t moved, your eyes are still closed. You don’t seem fazed at all by his awkwardness. “What are you about to ask me, Ed?”

He sighs, sitting next to you with his foot shoved underneath him. He sets his hand on your thigh. You still don’t move, used to his touchy-communication. “What happened tonight fuckin’ sucks–”

“You say ‘sucks’ a lot.”

“It’s a nice word.”

You peek at him through one opened eyes. “You’re weird.”

“Nevertheless–” You laugh. He watches your belly tense as you do it, rolling over to sit up and witness his fumbling with opened eyes. “As I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted…”

You laugh again, and he’s happy he could do that for you, especially after your rough night. You’re happy you could ease his worries, because he was being awkward, and Eddie isn’t usually awkward with you, and you know he likes your stupid jokes.

He takes a breath and starts again. “What happened sucks, and—only if you want to—I would be willing—if you’re comfortable—to…fix it for you.”

You raise a confused brow, less confused and more vaguely unbelieving. “Fix it…for me?” you echo.

He shrugs. “I don’t like when you cry, and I want to make you feel better. I’m not a total expert on sex, but I think I know my way around it pretty well.” He puts his hands together like he’s going to pray and points them toward you. “If you want…I can help.”

You raise a brow and stifle the smirk threatening to grace your lips, ready to tease him in order to push down the flush of heat rushing through you. “You wanna fuck me.”

He raises his hands. “I want to fuck you if you want me to fuck you. To help. But I’d love to fuck you… if you want…me to fuck you.” There’s a pause. “Maybe.”

You look away, scratching your head in thought. “Since when have you wanted to fuck me?”

He smacks a hand down onto your thigh just to do it. “Babe, it’s always been on the table. All you had to do was ask.” Whore.

You roll your eyes for the millionth time. “You’re such a guy.”

He shrugs like he doesn’t care at all. “Like I said, guys always cum.”

You raise a brow at him, shoving his hand off your knee to stand again. You jab an accusatory finger into his chest. “Is that to insinuate that you’ve cum thinking about me?”

“I– Okay, I did not– Listen here, you little shit.”

You laugh out loud, still pointing at him to make fun. “I’m kidding!” He fake laughs, and you return the favor by tilting your head and questioning him further. “But have you?”

To avoid it being awkward, he just shrugs nonchalantly and answers the question. “A couple times.” It works, even though you flush at the answer.

“What? That is so weird!”

“That is not weird.” He hopes you ignore the way his cheeks turn pink, powering through it with more brashness and more jokes. “It is completely normal to think of your best friend when you’re cranking one out.”

You shake your head definitely. “No, it’s not.”

He challenges you. “Have you ever cum thinking about me?”

Without turning your head, you glance away from him. “I don’t think that makes it normal.”

“So you have, is what I’m hearing.” You turn to him quickly, raising a finger as you try to speak over his ad libbing. He thinks he’s really funny, and it’s gonna make you scream.

“Listen–”

“Listening.”

You huff, glancing away and then looking back at him. Well, not really him, but the ends of his hair over his shoulders. “Maybe once or twice…” you shrug, “Maybe even thrice, but that’s not–”

“You little freak!” He points his finger at you, his whole face wide with amusement.

“Hey– Be nice to me. Or I’ll cry. You don’t like it when I cry.” You pout to give him a preview. You’re sure you could summon more tears if you really need to…

“You’re evil,” he shakes his head, looking up at you with a huge grin.

You bob your brows. “Yes, I am.”

He surprises you. In the next moment, his arms are wrapped around your midsection, and your feet lift off the ground. He takes you in his hold and turns you until you’re being slammed into the bed. You laugh as you bounce, squirming around to push him off of you as he pins you under his weight. Both of you are giddy with the amusement, laughing at each other and playing along with the other’s fun.

When you open your eyes and the laughter dies down, you realize that he’s actually pinning you to the bed. It sobers you up almost immediately, and you realize that he’s really close. He could kiss you right now if he really wanted to. You notice the exact moment he realizes it, too.

You gulp and take a breath for courage. Your voice is small—awkward—but it’s okay because he’s your best friend. “You can…” you mumble. “You can help, if you want to help.”

His eyes glance at your lips, and then he raises both his brows as he looks back at you. “You want me to?”

You nod, trying not to hold your breath to avoid dulling the charged air between you. “Yes, I want you to.”

He tilts his head and the tips of his hair tickles your cheek. “Is it because I have you pinned?”

“It helps.”

Eddie backs off of you, sitting back on his bed to allow you to sit back up. You do, crossing your legs underneath you. He thinks for a moment, watching you as he does. There’s a long pause where the both of you contemplate something, unsure if the other has the same thing in mind.

“Before we do anything,” he breaks the silence carefully and articulately, and you can see the moment that all his seriosity has set in, “I need explicit permission. And you gotta let me know how you’re feeling. I don’t wanna do anything to make you uncomfortable.”

You listen intently, nodding along as he lays down the rules. “Okay,” you say.

He tilts his head toward you, looking up at you through his bangs. His brown eyes are so pretty. You’ve always thought so. They’re so warm and loving, just like him. It’s the reason you became his friend in the first place: because he’s warm and loving. “S0?” he prompts, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You take in a deep breath and smile, lifting a hand and slowly setting it on his own. “I want you to have sex with me, Eddie.”

He visibly shudders, and you think he’s a sucker. Technically, he is, but whatever. “Jesus,” he mutters, running his free hand through his hair. Then he smacks yours away, and your chuckle turns into a snort. He always knows how to make you comfortable. “Okay.”

You turn your body to face him, clearing your throat. “So… How do we…?”

“Okay, so…” He makes a “shoo” motion with his hands, so you get confused and raise a brow. You slowly and hesitantly lean back onto your elbows, staring at him with all the silent questions you can muster. He rolls his eyes. “No, get up. Sit over there, whore.”

You roll your eyes at him in return, moving to sit at the head of his bed with your legs crossed in front of you. Playfully, he rolls his eyes yet again and shakes his head at you like he’s disappointed. Eddie turns to lounge across the foot of the bed, propping himself up on his elbow. “First, I want you to walk me through everything he did.”

“Okay,” you mumble, thinking back to what happened in that car. “Well, he kissed me. We made out for a bit, and then he pulled me into his lap.” You only glance at him as you speak, but he’s so nice about it that you don’t feel so weird talking to him about being poorly fucked. “And he took off my shirt. He was, like, moving my hips and stuff.”

“Okay.” He listens so closely. His full attention is on you and only you, and it feels nice.

“Then he, uh, he played with my nipples. You motion vaguely to your chest.

“Did he use his mouth?” he questions gently.

“Mhm.”

He shakes his head then. He’s still gentle but his tone leaves no room for argument. “You gotta say yes or no, sweetheart, or I’m not touchin’ you.”

That’s fair enough. “Yes.”

“And it felt good?”

“Yes.” It almost sounds like a question, but he understands what you mean.

“Okay,” he gestures toward you. “What else did he do?”

You think for a moment. It’s already becoming a little fuzzy as your mind becomes distracted by the thought of Eddie, your sweet, idiot Eddie, doing these things to you and making it feel good.

This is the same boy you’ve seen fall out of his van because he tripped on the step and totally ate shit hitting the ground. This is the same boy you’ve seen stuffing his face with marshmallows because he was dared to by Mike and Dustin, and he was trying to prove that he could do more than they originally dared for him.

This is also the same boy you’ve seen absolutely shred his guitar with some fingering skills you’ve been envious of. And the same boy who’s seen you cry a million times and wiped away all the tears with plenty of jokes and compliments and threats of violence as were humanly possible. If there’s anyone who can make you feel good, it’s him.

You shake the thoughts away in order to get them straight. “He laid me down on the seat,” you remember, “and took off his pants and stuff.” You don’t really need the “and stuff” but it does make it a little easier…for some reason.

He furrows his brow in question, tilting his head like he’s grossed out all of a sudden. “Okay?”

“And then he…” you stare at his Dio poster across the room, “put it inside.”

He lifts his lip in disgust. He’s done that a lot tonight in response to this guy. “That’s it?” he asks with more distaste than you thought possible.

“What do you mean?” you furrow your own brow this time.

“Baby,” he says effortlessly, like he’s said it a million times before (because he has), “there wasn’t even foreplay.” He sits up, “No wonder you didn’t get off, girls need foreplay. Guys don’t need shit. We just think about tits, and we’re hard.” He shrugs, “I’m thinking about tits right now. Hard as a rock.”

The face you make transcends the rolling of the eyes or the upturn of a lip as you scoff. “Eddie–”

“You gotta be built up,” he continues, brushing past his comment like he never said it to begin with. You consider his words, taking them as the truth because he knows way more about sex than you would. He’s no prodigy, maybe, but you’re barely out of your virginity, so he’s got more advantage than you. “Did you blow him?”

You glance up, a bitter tone in your words as you mutter the first part, “Between positions… yeah.”

You don’t think “disgust” fits anymore. He’s just annoyed and entirely displeased. “You blew him, and he didn’t blow you?”

“I thought the term was ‘eat me out’.”

He shrugs a shoulder absently. “Symmetry.”

You airquote your response. “Okay, ‘symmetry’.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Yes,” you reply finally, still tasting traces of your toothpaste in your mouth. “I blew him, but he didn’t blow me.”

Eddie makes a guttural sound to try to properly express the amount of offense he takes to this. “You know what, fuck this guy.” He leans forward, placing both his hands on your knees and holding them there as he stares at you with those big, brown eyes of his. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I got you now.”

It’s easy to take humor from that to avoid dealing with the arousal it sends through you. “You’re real confident.”

He’s not pulling back on anything, he has no reason to. He somehow becomes more intense as he effortlessly response, “Because I’m gonna fuckin’ eat you out like my life depends on it.”

“I–” There’s no way you can respond to that. “Oh. Uhm.” Your mind is immediately a jumbled mess of fantasies and incoherent words and more fantasies. There’s a heat between your thighs and an anticipation in your belly that makes it difficult to think.

“Relax,” he catches your sudden daze. He pats your thigh like it’s just something that he does and not a preface to him pulling them apart and having a feast. “You’ll be fine.”

“Okay.”

He gets up, stretching his arms high over his head to pop his back. You can’t help the way your eyes fall to the slip of his belly, spying a tattoo hidden away there underneath his shirt. “I’m gonna go take a shower.” He eyes you. “You don’t need any infections.”

You turn your lip up because you think he’s disgusting. “That’s gross, Eddie.”

He points at you. “But considerate.”

You get up specifically to push him away from you. “Go shower, you dirty whore.”

He winks at you. “Yes, mama.” You don’t know how to respond to that. “Get comfy, I’ll be out in a bit.”

You swallow thickly, trying not to dissolve into some pathetic puddle because he called you “Mama”. You’ve never been into that before, and all of a sudden, you can’t get the sound of it out of your head. He’s already long gone, leaving you alone in his room as you sit on his bed to wait for him.

You’re a total goner, you’re sure.

You’re going through more of his stuff by the time he comes out of the shower. You glance over your shoulder at him after the door closes, and you’re almost surprised by what you find.

It’s not like you haven’t seen Eddie shirtless before. The sight isn’t unusual to you, but given the context and the way his sweatpants hang low on his waist, giving the perfect view of his gentle V-line, his soft tummy. It’s a mouthwatering sight, and it’s taking everything to look away.

His hair is still dripping. The dampness is giving his curls a gentle shine in the lamp light in the room. He rubs his towel haphazardly through his hair as he speaks. “I know I’m gonna take them off anyway, but��”

He stops short when he finally looks up to see you. You’re rummaging through his drawers like the little thief that you are, your hand stopped somewhere in the second drawer in favor of watching him. But that’s not what makes him pause. It’s the fact that you’re in one of his shirts, one that goes down past the curve of your ass and stops short before even reaching your mid-thigh. Your legs are bare—you’ve discarded all your other clothes somewhere in the room and left yourself in some underwear and his shirt.

He always knew you were sexy. As your closest friend, it’s his duty to know how sexy you are, but this is another level and he doesn’t understand why.

Instead of pointing out the fact that his sweatpants are growing a sudden bulge, he gestures to the shirt. “Are you gonna steal that?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” He scratches the back of his neck, tossing his towel onto a chair stuffed in the corner of his room. It’s stacked high with clean laundry that he never got around to. He pays no mind to it when the towel and a couple of clothes fall to the floor immediately after.

Eddie takes a breath before he looks back at you. “C’mere,” he mumbles, raising a finger to make a come hither motion. You listen to him, walking over to stand in his space. Your hands rest at his sides because you always rest your hands at his sides, and, naturally, he holds you back.

“Remember,” he begins in a quiet voice (or as quiet as Eddie can be), “you gotta use your words. I gotta know if I’m hurting you, or I’m doing too much or too little.” His thumbs stroke your elbows. “You know your body better than anyone, but I’m gonna do my best to know it even more than that.”

You chuckle playfully. “Okay.”

“And you definitely, definitely have to let me know when I’m doing something right.”

“So you’ll keep doing it?” you guess.

He shakes his head and says in a flat voice, “No, to stroke my ego.”

You roll your eyes, and your humor is interrupted by his hand lifting to touch your cheek. You lean into it because his hands are warm. “You still wanna do this?” He’s completely serious, and a little nervous now as he looks at you.

You nod, raising one hand to wrap around the back of his neck. “I trust you, Eddie.”

He nods, mostly to himself. “Good. That’s good.” His tongue darts out to lick his lips. “That’s great,” he raises his brows. Then he sighs, glancing away from your intense gaze. “Let’s hope I don’t fall in love with you or something, or you’ll be getting your back blown out every night and twice on Sundays. Jesus H. Christ.”

You roll your eyes and shake your head at his ridiculousness, almost forgetting that he’s probably completely serious and you are about to fuck as you play into your banter. “You’re so–”

You don’t get to finish your sentence. You’re cut off by Eddie’s lips engulfing your own, warm and soft and really nice against your own. You let out a long breath, pulling him closer by the back of his neck as he takes a step forward into your space.

To be completely honest, you’ve kissed Eddie before. You’ve kissed him on a dare, you kissed him to trick people into thinking you’re dating. Hell—he was your first kiss because you and some friends were screwing around and then you happened to be picked to be locked in a closet for seven minutes because you were at a stupid party playing stupid games.

So the sensation isn’t completely new, but the making out part is. Eddie is a really good kisser.

When he pulls away, you aren’t really expecting it. He seems pleased by your daze as he bobs his brows. “So what?”

Instead of answering him, as you’ve forgotten what you were going to say, you kissed him again. It’s really nice, kissing someone. It’s nice to be this close, to breathe each other’s air, to taste each other’s lips. His tongue grazes your top lip, and you lean into it, because you trust him and it’s nice.

Eddie keeps you pulled close against his body as he starts stepping forward, keeping you from tripping as he does. The back of your knees hits the bed, and you hold on too tightly as you feel yourself falling backwards. You laugh when you fall back onto the bed with his weight on top of you. He laughs with you, “You’re okay, mama.”

He silences you with his mouth again, enjoying the feeling of your lips on his. He likes it just as much as you. Between that and his little pet name, your mind is swimming and your heart is racing. When he pulls away, it’s only to press his lips to the skin of your neck, suckling and nipping gently at the flesh as he does. You close your eyes, your fingers happily tangled in his hair as you keep him close.

“Mama,” you mutter under your breath, seeing just how much you like it as he nips at your neck. “I like that.”

You can feel him smiling against your skin. “Yeah? Want me to keep using it?”

You nod, “Yeah.” A hum echoes in your chest as he wraps his hands around your sides, lifting you a bit just to put you farther up the bed. He crawls on top of you, one of his knees settled between your legs as his hand caresses your side.

Your breath becomes thin when his hand smooths underneath his shirt, feeling the softness of your skin with a quiet breath. His palm stops at your belly as he slips the very tips of his fingers to rest underneath your breasts, feeling just how warm you are.

“Good?” he mutters, taking your earlobe so gently between his teeth and letting it go.

You nod, your eyes heavy like they’re glued down with sap. “Mhmm,” you breathe.

“Yes or no, mama?” he reminds you, gently kissing your lips.

“Yes.”

He smiles, rewarding you with another kiss as he whispers against your lips. “Good girl.”

You don’t have time to think about that right now. It’s too nice, too fuzzy. It sends a warm flush straight to the pit of your stomach and makes your breath hitch. Eddie knows and adds it to the list of things you like for tonight.

The slightest whimper slips from your lips when you feel his warm fingers reach up to brush your breast, gently groping you as he plays with your peaking nipples. He hikes your shirt all the way up until your bare chest is revealed to him, and he takes them in with an appreciative breath before leaning down to take one between his lips.

It’s much different than the guy before him. Eddie’s deliberate, licking and sucking and so, so gently nipping the bud. It sends a strange sensation through you, lighting every nerve ending and making it impossible to think straight as you keep your fingers tangled in his hair. You keep him close. It feels too good to do anything else.

You speak between breaths, your heavy eyelids and sticky lips working against your attempts to speak. “You’ve seriously cum to the thought of me?” you wonder, whimpering when his other hand comes up to pinch your other nipple between the pads of his fingers.

“Yeah,” he mutters, sucking harshly and making you gasp.

“Why?” you ask, making an attempt at playfulness between the haze of his ministrations. “Am I that irresistible?”

With only seriousness, Eddie looks up at you, letting his fingers take over in teasing you. “Yeah.”

Your grin falters, almost not expecting his answer—or at least the amount of honesty in it. “Wait, really? You’re not just buttering me up?”

He makes a face, a confused one that flatters you more than anything else. “No? You’re fucking sexy as shit.” He tilts his head, “You think I’m lying when I tell you that?” Eddie’s hand smooths down your side, gripping your hip as he goes.

You shake your head, bringing your knee up and sighing gently when his hand slides over the round of your ass. “You don’t have any weird feelings for me, do you?”

He pinches you, and you squirm away from him giddily. “Mama, I’m in love with you, but not like that.” He gently makes your side. “Now stop talking to me. It’s hard to kiss you if I’m talking.”

You chuckle. “Yes, si-”

Your words are interrupted by a tiny moan when his fingers graze the mound of your pussy through the thin fabric of your panties. Your back arches just slightly, the ticklish feeling making quick work of scouring your body.

“Does that feel good?” he wonders quietly.

You nod and bite down hard on your lip. The anticipation of it is eating you up. “Yes.”

“Good,” he lilts, continuing to brush his middle finger up and down the length of your panties until he’s pulling them to the side just enough to see you. Eddie licks his lips, leaning in to kiss your belly. You’re weak against him, trying not to cant your hips up into him and deter his work.

His finger caresses your folds through the bit of slick that had begun to gather there. “You feel the difference?” he asks between kisses.

“Yes.” Your voice is a squeak, and he seems quite proud of himself for making it that way.

“I’m gonna take these off, okay?” he says. “Then I’m going to put my mouth on you. You’ll let me know if I’m doing too much, right?”

You nod. “Yes, Eddie.”

He smiles, “Thanks, mama.” He feels the way you react to that, the slightest flutter of your folds. He sits up just to allow him the access to slip your underwear down your legs. The little, flimsy material comes right off. He drops it to the ground and comes to kneel in front of the bed. You hold your breath when his hands close around your waist, pulling you down to the edge to bring you that much closer to his face.

Instinctively, you close your thighs. It’s hard to will them to open and stay that way with the way his warm breath fans over your skin, his hands touch your body, his eyes stay glued to your own, constantly asking for consent.

You think he’s going to say something smart, smirk at you and chuckle at your shyness. But he does. Instead, he just gives you a calming look and asks, “You still okay, mama? You wanna stop?”

You let out a gentle breath, shaking your head. “No, I’m okay.” You chew on your bottom lip. “Just not used to this.”

“That’s okay,” he reassures. His kindness is honestly making your arousal worse. You feel like you’re going to start shaking if he pulls away from you. “Can I open your legs?”

You nod. “Please.”

He nods back, kissing your knee and smoothing his hands down your thighs, one on each side. The hand on the inside of your thigh dips so slowly between yours, seating deep between them until he’s slowly pulling them apart. The sound your thighs make when he opens them is lewd, it’s the quiet schlick sound that comes from the arousal that seeped out of you. You start to feel embarrassed, but then he sighs like he’s so relieved to see it.

“Tell me why you’re so fucking pretty,” he shakes his head. Your thighs are itching to close as you watch him lean in, pressing his lips to the inside of your thigh, just to kiss you. You bite your lip, nervous and so ready.

But then he stands. “Give me a second,” he says, walking away from you as his hands slide off your thighs. You sit up higher on your elbows, watching in confusion and slight annoyance as he leaves you on the bed.

“Eddie,” you call while he walks to his dresser.

“Hang on,” he smiles. “Jesus.” He does that thing where his tongue sticks out over his bottom lip as he sorts through the junk on his desk. “Not leavin’. Just lookin’ for something,” he mutters.

You fall back on the bed, willing your heart to calm. He makes a sound of success, turning back on his heel to get back to you. You look at him and watch as he cards his fingers through his hair. He pulls it back into a ponytail, wrapping a hair tie around it to make a messy bun.

You flush at the sight because not even a moment later, he’s on his knees again right between yours. “You can’t be serious,” you say.

“Oh, I’m dead serious,” he replies, looking at you excitedly. His hands land on your thighs again, keeping them spread apart as he pulls you again to the very edge of the bed. “I’d say hold on tight, but there’s nothing to hold onto so… Enjoy!”

He dives between your thighs, and the heat of his mouth latches onto your pussy. Your mouth slips open and a deep moan rumbles out of you. Your thighs close around his head as you feel his tongue licking at you, lapping at your folds as he delves between them.

“Eddie,” you call, one of your hands reaching down to touch the top of his head, trying to find some purchase at his hair. His tongue swirls around your clit, and you’re a total goner when his lips close around it and suck. You mewl at the unfamiliar feeling, enjoying every bit of it with an immense amount of pleasure.

You’d expected him to go slow, hesitant little licks against your folds as he worries about overwhelming you. But this is not that. It’s hot and heavy with deep strokes of his tongue and the tiniest nips of his teeth. There’s no way to keep yourself calm. Your hips are tilting up into his mouth, meaning he has to hold you down with his arms wrapped around your thighs.

Eddie seems to be thoroughly enjoying himself. He moans into you, heavy breaths fanning over your skin as he eats you out “like his life depends on it”. Your open-mouthed moans encourage him, especially when you say his name in this high-pitched gasp and slam your eyes shut. Your ankles hook behind him, pulling him in closer.

Eddie’s making the most obscene sounds—sounds worse than what you’re making. He slurps and laps at you like a dog drinking water. You’d call him a whore again if you could think of humor at the moment, but the only thing you want to tell him is to keep going and never stop.

When he pulls his mouth off of you, you whine. He smiles, knowing he’s doing a good job as he shushes you gently. “It’s okay, I’m not stopping,” he says. In the next moment, you feel his hand cup your pussy. “I’m gonna put my fingers inside of you. Is that okay?”

You nod. “Please, Eddie.”

His fingers tease your entrance, though you don’t think he means to. He looks at you as he prods a finger at the seam of your cunt, slowly pushing it in until they part around him. A short “ah” sound is what he hears as he presses his finger inside of you, moving slowly until he’s got it all the way in. “Good?” he checks, the slightest thrusts moving in and out of you as he does.

Your nods are becoming insistent. “Yes, Eddie.”

“You want more, mama?”

“Yes, please.” He loves how polite you are. You’re usually so mean—though, he loves that about you, too. It just means you love him.

He sets a steady rhythm, one that’s still slow as he focuses in on your face, the way it shifts and squints at every little push of his thick finger. It feels really nice, the way he takes his time with you, making sure you feel everything he gives you.

“M’gonna add another. You ready?”

“Yeah.” He rewards you with a second finger, pushing it inside along the first and stretching you out for him some more. He thrusts them in and out, a slow and steady motion slowly building as he massages those inner parts of you. He curls them, and they press against a spongy point inside of you that has you rolling your eyes. “That feels good, Eddie. Don’t stop.”

He smiles at your initiative, giving you what you want with as much enthusiasm as you give in wanting it. He leans in, his tongue darting out to lick at your pussy. You’re wetting his fingers so nicely, making it so easy to slip them in and out of you.

His lips wrap around your clit, and he sucks on it while you whine, while his fingers curl inside of you with every intent of coaxing an orgasm out of you. Little ramblings fall from your tongue as you grind against his. He's greedy in the way he licks around his fingers, over your clit, tasting your arousal as it seeps out of you.

A knot is tightening in your belly. Your hips reach for him with each little nuance of his skilled fingers as you seek out the release he's promising you.

His name comes out as a moan on your tongue. If either of you hadn't been so preoccupied, he would have made fun of you for it. Instead, you're spread out on his bed with his fingers inside of you, a moment away from cumming on his mouth.

Your hips try to lift up into him as you get closer and closer. He holds you down with one arm, his lips and tongue and prodding fingers working in tandem to taste you.

Your ankles hook behind his head as your back arches off the bed. “Eddie,” you whisper. He feels the way your pussy clenches around his fingers, his tongue becoming more insistent in the way it flicks and laps at your clit.

He makes these sounds of encouragement, humming and mhm-ing into you as he goes. Your release is like a burst in your belly, it starts there and swarms into your legs, your chest, the base of your being. Eddie’s tongue keeps licking and lapping at you as your back arches off the bed and your legs tighten around his head. You moan his name as white noise erupts in your ears, the distant murmuring of his words muffled as you try to cope with the pleasure that has begun to set every nerve ending on a wild fritz.

Eddie seems more enthused than anything else by your orgasm. Both his arms wrap around your thighs and hold you down. He actually stands, bending at the way to get closer as he longs to taste all the slick and arousal that leaks out of you. As he sucks on your clit and hums at the way that you taste, you grip his hair and pull him in closer.

But there’s a point where you think you might die if he touches you any more. There’s a gasp in your chest that rips its way out as you push him away from your fluttering pussy as kindly as possible. He leans in again, just for a moment, before he registers your body pulling away from him, notices the way your thighs unclench and your fingers loosen from his hair and your moans and gasps of his name turn into weak whimpers and grunts.

“Fuck,” you huff as you lay back on his bed. You turn onto your belly, crawling up his bed and collapsing into his pillows that spell like him. He watches, licking his lips and wiping his face with a smile.

“I was right,” you mumble, feeling your body coming down like you're floating back to the ground.

“About what?” You feel the bed dip next to you where Eddie sits down. Then you feel him lay back, his head laid out on your thighs.

“You're a whore.”

He rolls his eyes, smacking your leg with the back of his hand. “You liked it.”

“Doesn't mean you're not a whore,” you say. “Just means you're a good one.”

He sits up, moving over you so he's caging you in. His hair has come mostly undone by now, and it's more of a mess due to your insistence on how wonderful he is. His guitar pick hangs down in your face. Your eyes cross and uncross trying to watch it dangle.

“Well, if I'm a whore,” he bends down, his soft lips pressing into your neck as your lashes flutter, “then I'm gonna charge you. It's three dollars a minute.”

You chuckle. “Well, guess what?” He hums. “I'm poor, so no.”

He breathes in through his teeth, shaking his head. “Then I guess you'll have to work it off.”

You try not to be too timid as you press your fingertips to his chest, guiding him back so he's sitting up. You move onto your knees, pulling your arms around his shoulders and relishing his hands on your waist.

“That shouldn't be too hard,” you mutter. You are timid when you lean into him, testing the air between you to make sure it's okay that you kiss him.

When you still haven't made any contact, he nudges your nose with his. “C’mon,” he goads, his lips sticky when he speaks with all the familiar affection between you.

Your lip quirks a bit at his humor. You kiss him, biting his top lip just to confuse him. He laughs and you consider your goal achieved. You run a hand down the center of his bare chest, pausing at the base of his belly to tease the light happy trail disappearing into his sweatpants.

You slip your hand just underneath the waistband of his pants, tickling his skin as your fingers brush the base of his length hiding poorly behind the fabric. He flinches slightly from your touch, chuckling lightly as his hand comes to cup your elbow.

“Did I hurt you?” you ask suddenly, slightly startled by his reaction.

He shakes his head. “No, mama. You just surprised me.”

“Okay,” you murmur, your timid fingers slowly attempting to try again. But he just shakes his head.

“This isn’t for me. This is for you,” he says, pulling back enough to see you.

“Yeah, but,” you lick your bottom lip, “I wanna make sure you’re enjoying yourself, too.”

He licks his own lips as if to remind you that they were just wrapped around your sensitive cunt. “Trust me, I am thoroughly enjoying myself, mama.”

Your finger hooks around the waistband of his sweatpants, a slight pout arising from your face. “Can you take ‘em off, at least?”

His hands are already pulling them down his legs as he teases you. “So needy.”

You roll your eyes. “Shut the fuck up.” Your response falls short. As soon as the last word leaves your mouth, his cock springs from its loose confines and reveals itself.

You flush at the sight of him. You’re not a cock-hungry whore or anything—but if you were one, you think his dick would be a perfect subject for it. It’s not like he has this perfect cock that was hand-crafted by the gods or anything. But you think it’s safe to say that calling Eddie a freak is a valid name.

He’s long, freakishly so. He’s got a nice girth to him, you think, but you don’t know if he’s going all the way in—but, of course, you could be exaggerating. You’ve seen two cocks in your entire life, and Eddie’s is one of them and, admittedly, the better of the two. He will definitely reach.

“What the fuck, Eddie?” you look up at him.

“What?” His face falls slightly, his eyes widening just a bit as he wonders if your comment was good or bad. “What’s wrong?”

“How the hell do you fit that thing in your pants?” You shake your head. “Like, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

He just shrugs, but he’s a little relieved that you’re just being his asshole and not just some asshole. “I think you’re being a little dramatic.”

“How is it supposed to fit inside of me? What is that, like a foot long?”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m flattered—really, I am—but it, most definitely, is not a foot.” He looks down at the erection between his legs. The tip is flushed, and it kind of looks like it hurts. “Seven and a half.”

“What the fuck?” you whisper under your breath. You reach down, brushing your fingers over the tip. He gasps through his teeth, and you watch the way it kicks up in response. “Sorry,” you tell him, ignoring the amusement in your chest. It reminds you of a spring, the comedic kind that goes “boing!”.

“S’okay,” he murmurs. He lifts a hand to your cheek, brushing his thumb over the rise of it as he asks gently and genuinely, “You still wanna go?”

You nod, “Yeah. That monster isn’t gonna scare me away.”

He rolls his eyes. “It’s not that big.”

You shrug. “You know, I heard Harrington’s like that big, nine inches.” You make a circle with your hand, moving it up and down like you’re jerking it off. “You think it’s true?” You bob your brows up and down.

He shakes his head, running a hand down his face as he snickers at you. “I doubt it. He could be one or the other, but both seem a little excessive. Have you seen how tight his pants are?”

“Yeah… you might be right.”

“We gonna talk about dicks, or are we gonna fuck?”

You sigh, shrugging like it’s nothing as you look back at him. “I guess, we’ll fuck.”

He smiles, pulling you closer to him. “Well, then, c’mon, mama.”

You actually giggle, surprising him as you bring a leg to wrap around his waist, pulling the other up to follow suit. He kisses you, his hands supporting your thighs as his dick nuzzles between the both of you, kept warm and wet by the way your folds sit against him as it pushes into his lower belly.

Eddie reaches between your bodies, taking his weeping cock in his hand and stroking himself a couple times with little wavers of breath. You watch some precum spill from his tip, sliding down the bottom.

“You want me to use a condom?” he asks.

You swallow thickly, thinking quickly before shaking your head. “Pill.”

He shrugs. “Doesn’t mean I shouldn’t.”

You’re touched by his consideration but you don’t really want to put into words how much you actually want to feel him inside of you. You shake your head again, kissing him quickly to soften the slight awkwardness in your chest. “I don’t want you to use a condom, Eddie.” You almost whisper it, but he understands.

“Okay, mama,” he whispers back. He kisses you, lifting you up from his lap just enough to tuck the head of his cock at your soaked folds. “You ready?” You nod. “Don’t hold your breath. Breathing makes it feel better.” You nod again.

“Ready.”

You try not to hold his breath as he slowly lowers you down onto his lap, splitting you on his cock as you take him inch by inch. At one point, you’re sure he can’t go any further as you feel him seated somewhere deep inside you. And he’s right, it feels really nice.

Your breath is so light and airy when you sigh against his lips, holding him tight as you bury your face in his shoulder. “Fuck,” you huff, hearing his own breaths pass heavily in your ear.

“Fuck,” he echoes. “Jesus, you’re squeezin’ me, mama.”

You don’t know how you feel about the way this makes you feel, the way it makes you act. Your voice gets sort of whiny, breathy, this little thing in his ear that makes his cock twitch slightly inside of you. “Can’t help it,” you sigh. “So fuckin’ deep.”

He nods, his hands steady and firm at your backside and your arms tight around his neck. “I won’t move until you tell me to.”

You just nod, knowing he’s not going to move until you give him an explicit “yes”. It’s a lot to adjust to. He sits really deep inside of you, and he’s pressing against a spot that makes you delirious with just the pressure the head of his cock puts on it. But when you can’t take the suspense anymore and you’re too excited to see how it would feel, you nod again.

“I’m ready.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” he says. “I’ll go slow.”

You nod.

Holding your waist, Eddie begins to thrust his hips up into you. He does as he says and moves slowly, guiding your body in his lap so you grind down on him. A whine falls from your lips at the feeling, and you almost immediately seek out that pleasure with the eager roll of your hips into him.

“Not too fast, not too fast,” he hisses, lightly patting your hip.

You nod into his shoulder, feeling his hands roaming. His arm wraps around your waist, his other arm comes up to hook over your shoulder. He keeps thrusting, moving so slowly and filling you so deep. Following his commands, you roll your hips slowly into him, meeting each of his own movements in a building rhythm.

There's an ebb and flow in the way that you move together. Tiny whimpers fall from your lips, and his heavy breaths join them.

Somewhere along the way, it's not enough. Your insistent hips grind into him in search of more. He feels it in the way you breathe, the way you move, the way you hold him just a little tighter.

“Eddie,” you huff. “C’mon, I need more. Please.”

The way you say it is a little more whiny, a little needier than you intended. It feeds his ego, and he can't help but to lose some of his reassuring kindness. He starts making fun of you because he likes making fun of you, and he thinks that you'll probably eat that shit up.

“More?” His grip on you tightens just a bit. His thrusts become a little jerky, searching the same intensity you are. “You need more, mama?”

“Eddie,” you groan.

He pulls your face from his shoulder in order to look at you better. “You sound so whiny, baby. Like a little bitch.”

You roll your eyes because he's Eddie, and he calls you a little bitch anyway. Grinding in his lap, you tangle your fingers in his hair and tug. A strangled grunt comes out, and you smirk devilishly. “So do you.”

“Har, har,” he says.

“If this is all you can do, just tell me. It's okay if you're a one-pump-chump.”

You like vexing him. He likes when you vex him. But he also likes proving you wrong because he may be doing you a favor, but he can't let you go about thinking he can't fuck.

“Fuck you,” he scoffs. Then he's pushing you onto your back and wrapping your legs back around his waist, slipping out in the process. He towers over you like some wolf, bushy hair accommodating as his necklace swoops down to brush your skin.

“If you want me to stop, tell me to stop,” he says. “Yes?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

He guides himself back into you, embedding himself within you until you're full. One of his hands grips your hip while the other takes a hold of the headboard. It's this metal thing that squeaks whenever you move. So when he's thrusting into you with a vigor that has grown in the past couple of moments, it's accompanied by the constant whine of the metal. It's sort of funny.

His hips roll into you, waves of pleasure coming with each one. His hand cradles your neck, and you lean into him as he latches onto the sensitive skin of your throat, teeth scraping and tongue licking up the taste of your skin.

One of your legs comes up to wrap around his waist, and you moan as you pull him in deeper. His pace builds into this steady, needy kind of rhythm. The harder he thrusts, the more you clench, and the harder it is for him to stifle his grunts.

But you like the sounds he makes. Sometimes they're these deep groans that rumble in his chest like thunder. Sometimes they're these weak moans that you're pretty sure is him trying not to whimper. And you like the moans so much that you card your fingers through his hair and tug on a chunk of it as his head pulls back. His muscles flex, and his lips part. You watch his eyes flutter, this shocked whimper comes out of him.

“You did that on purpose,” his word and your moan mix together with the thrust of his hips.

“Ah…haha,” you gasp, nodding a little. “Yes, I—Oh, yes, I did.”

“What, are you a top or something?” he wonders, raising a brow.

You shrug, your mind a little blurry with the feeling of his cock shoved inside of you. “Dunno.”

He's interested enough to find out.

Once again, you're being moved around. You whimper when he pulls out of you just to sit you up again. Eddie moves to the head of the bed and pulls you back into his lap. “Let's find out.”

You take him in your hand, lining him up with your waiting lips. As you slowly sink back down onto him, your eyes flutter shut as you feel the way he fills you. And it only gets better from there as you slowly take him farther inside until he’s buried so deep that you can feel him pressing somewhere inside of you that you can’t quite pinpoint.

You’re fully seated on him now, eyes squeezed shut as you adjust to the feeling. Your hands come to rest on his chest, the fingers of your right hand brushing over the demon head on his pec. When you roll your hips and feel the way it presses inside of you, you’re immediately done for.

Your rhythm isn’t steady for a while. You move purely out of an urge to quell this need in the pit of your stomach. As you fuck yourself on his cock, Eddie’s hands hold your waist tightly just to have something to hold onto. You move quickly and without remorse, your head thrown back in pleasure as your hips lift up just to smack down on his lap once again.

For a while, you just grind on him, focusing on that deep spot that shoots electricity through your thighs. This pitiful sound flutters out of you, like a shudder running down your spine as your hands move to cup the back of his neck in your palms. His name falls from your lips with a plea, it’s a weak sound that would bring him to his knees if he wasn’t already on his back.

“Fuck, mama,” he huffs. “Keep going, just like that.”

His hands caress your skin, roaming your body underneath his shirt still draped over you. He hikes it up farther and farther until he feels your warm breasts. “Can I take this off?” he asks. You just nod, muttering an “mhm” as you keep bouncing with closed eyes. He pulls the shirt over your head, revealing your bouncing breasts to him as he takes a hold of them with greedy hands. He palms them, kneading them like he would dough. You just keep moaning as he builds you up.

You don’t mean to, but in an attempt to respond, the only thing that comes out of your mouth is a repetitive “yes, yes, yes” that echoes in the room alongside his own loud, open-mouthed breaths. “Shit, baby. Doin’ so good f’me.”

That makes you whimper, moving almost ruthlessly just to satisfy the rising need in your belly. “Fuck, I need cum, baby,” you whisper, repeating that again and again with each little roll. Eddie wastes no time in bringing his large hand to rest at the juncture of your thigh and your hip, his thumb swirling insistent circles into your clit. You gasp at the feeling, which is way more electric than you thought it’d be.

It becomes a little difficult to think. Visions of Eddie and his hands and your bodies, and the sounds of your slick and skin, and the smell of sex and body wash and cigarettes cloud your mind. You’re on the verge of tipping over the edge, you can feel your fingertips tingling with the wild sensations of your pleasure, so, so close to you now–

Eddie pulls you up from his lap, unsheathing your cunt from him. Your moans and your breaths are interrupted, and this weak cry tumbles from your tongue. He grunts, laying his head back and making this “hmph” sound.

You blindly reach for his cock, trying to guide him back inside of you before he’s lightly smacking your hand away. “Wait, mama, wait.”

“Eddie,” you whine, thoroughly unhappy with the way the growing waves in your belly had begun to retreat. “Please.” You could honestly cry. It had felt so good—you had felt so good, and he’d taken it all away in a matter of a second.

“What the fuck, dumbass?” you huff, looking at him with eyes unfocused with frustration and face flushed with lust.

“You’re so mean,” he says, almost as put off by the failed release as you.

“I was so close.”

“I know.” He sits up a little more, moving you off his lap. Your arousal is coating both of you, your thighs are sticky with it, his lap and his cock is glistening in the dim golden light. “That’s called edging.”

“I know what the fuck edging is. Why are we doing it?”

He laughs at your frustration, and you want to hit him. “Relax, we’re not done yet.”

“Well, hurry up,” you whine, already trying to throw your leg back over his legs. He just swats you away again.

“Turn around.” You would argue, but you’re too horny. So, instead, you turn around so your back is facing him. His hand spreads out along your back, and you nearly squeal when he pushes you down so your face is pushing into his covers. He pulls you up so your ass is in the air, grabbing one of your cheeks and squeezing.

“You still good?” He’s checking up, trying to be nice even though he was just the cruelest he could’ve been.

“Yes, please.” He likes you like this, honestly. It’s fun to see you so needy. It’s just something he can hold over your head.

He lightly smacks your ass, not enough to hurt but enough for your hips to jerk at the unexpected sensation. Immediately, he smoothes the skin with the palm of his hand and hums. He nudges your legs apart, spreading you open for him just enough as he pumps his cock in his hand.

“Just testing out some positions,” he says simply before he’s guiding himself back inside of you. It’s a welcome feeling, one you’re beginning to become accustomed to. Once he’s fully inside, he bottoms out with a heavy sigh. “It’s good to see which ones you like.”

“I like when I’m being fu–”

You’re cut off when his hips thrust into you, an almost cruel snap that makes this filthy smacking sound. You moan, literally feeling yourself melting into the bed as one of his hands comes to fist the sheets by your head. The other holds your waist tight, keeping you steady as he begins to fuck into you.

You really like this position. Being on top of him was so, so nice, but being underneath him is a feeling that makes your brain numb. You wrap your hand around his wrist as your other curls in the bedsheets, mewling feebly with every snap of his hips.

It’s dizzying, having him take you like this. There’s a light sheen of sweat coating your skin, encouraged by the warm air straying in through the slightly opened window. His breath is heavy, and you can hear him grunting every time his hips meet your ass. “Do you like this one?” he huffs, moving his hand to wrap lightly around your neck. He pulls you up from the covers so you can speak, your bodies bumping back and forth in the dance you’ve created.

You’re being kept steady only by your hand on the bed, gripping the sheets tightly. “Yes, Eddie,�� you moan. You like saying his name, especially when you feel so good. It’s like a wave through your skin. It falls off your tongue with ease. “That feels good.”

He’s happy you’re happy. He keeps it up, losing his breath the longer he goes as your loud ones mix together in the heavy air of his bedroom.

You’re so glad Wayne isn’t home because there’s no way you would’ve been able to keep quiet. You respect that man too much to put him through this. The loud squealing of the bed certainly doesn’t help.

You turn your head to his arm, pressing your nose to his wrist to smell him. He smells like he always does, cigarettes and cheap cologne, like leather and maybe a bit of metal. But under that, you can still smell it. Green apple.

You kiss his wrist, and something snaps in him. For the hundredth time, Eddie pulls out of you and moves you back onto your back. Once again, you’re looking up at him as he locks you in. There’s a wild look in his eyes that makes you breathless, and when he’s pushing into you again, you moan.

“Right there,” you mutter incoherently when he fucks into you. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him in closer as you keep your legs spread wide. “Yes, fuck, right there.”

Eddie focuses on that spot, punching the head of his cock into it over and over again and watching the way your eyes roll, your head falling back into the sheets and your hands tightening around his arms. He loves the way your lips part, your soft lips split open by the feeling of him. He bends down and kisses the exposed expanse of your throat, sucking on the skin and nibbling hickeys into your skin.

When he pulls away from your neck with a light smack, you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down so your bodies are pressed flat together, skin to skin. He ruts into you, pressing his forehead against yours as you both breathe the other’s air. It’s all heat and lust and something else, something hot and heavy.

“I needa cum, Eddie,” you mumble, “For real this time.” You manage to get it out with a minimal amount of stuttering. You’re surprised you were even able to put the sass in it that you managed. He’s made such a mess of you.

His thumb finds your clit once more, and he’s circling the bud with a fervent kind of eagerness. “Keep breathing for me, mama. Breathe in deep.” You do as he says, so much so that you get a little dizzy as the air comes and goes. You buck your hips up into his thumb, your whimper getting higher and higher with each swirl.

You feel a knot curling in your belly, followed by a startling heat. “Eddie,” it comes out almost as a question. You’re addicted to the way his name feels in your mouth. You repeat it over and over, squirming and breathing and tightening your hold on him. He keeps fucking into you, focusing on that spot that makes you see stars as he just thrusts faster until his hips are moving in short, hard spurts.

When the dam breaks, it's with a slack-jawed gasp and a tight embrace. Your whole body tenses, like a coil tightening. It gets hot and hotter and hottest until a band snaps and you're trembling. You moan his name like a cry for help, holding his face between your hands and marveling at the softness of his skin. A brilliant shudder makes its way through your body, the quivering of your limbs making it impossible not to whimper and whine at each little shake.

Eddie helps you through all of it, keeping his in and out pace until it becomes unsteady with the fluttering of your pussy around his cock. Your mouth latch onto one another, more heat and lust and longing to fill the space between you as you recover with a dizzying head and buzzing veins. Loud and sloppy smacks accompany the ones coming from your hips, still meeting with the last sparks of your orgasm and the drive for his own.

His steady thrusts are unsteady now, just tiny little pumps of his cock inside of you as his breaths build into gasps just as small. You’re already coming down from your high, and your whines are sounding a little different now as you tilt your head to the side and hold onto his arm, the punch of his cock bordering on an overstimulated feeling after trying to recover from the large crash of your orgasm.

“Eddie,” you whimper, one hand still splayed across his cheek.

He pulls out of you suddenly, peeling his hand off of you to grab his cock. He tugs harshly at it, bucking his hips into his hand until he’s spilling out over your belly in warm spurts, these shuddered moans coming with it. “Oh, fuck, mama,” he whimpers in that sticky tone, burying his face in the crook of your neck as the last ropes of cum coat your skin.

There are a few moments where there’s complete silence—save for the sound of a car here and there, or a dog barking in the distance, or some people laughing even farther away, or your heavy breaths huffing between you two. Your fingertips caress the skin of his cheeks, drawing patterns into his face as he simply enjoys it with closed eyes and settling breaths.

When Eddie sits up, he takes your hand to pull you up with him. You both sit on his bed, looking down at your bodies now sticky with his cum, though his isn’t the only fluid sticking to your skin. Your thighs make a wet sound whenever you move.

You run a hand down your face, sighing heavily. “Jesus Christ,” you mutter, popping your toes. Eddie watches you stretch your arms over your head, enjoying the way your tits look when you do.

“So I did good?”

You look back at him to see the way he watches you, his brows bouncing with a sly grin on his face. You roll your eyes, not looking at him as you chuckle. “Yes, Eddie, you did good.”

He smiles wide.

Eddie stands from the bed, and you watch the way he sort of limps from his room. You can’t help your grin at the sight. At least that means you did good, too.

Eddie returns with a wet cloth in his hands, which he uses to clean you up first, wiping away all of your slick and his cum and even some of the saliva from your neck left behind by his sloppy kisses. He takes care in the way he does it, paying such close attention to you to ensure you’re just as clean and comfortable as he wants you to be.

When he’s done with you, he wraps his hand gently around your throat and pulls you in for another kiss. You lean into it. His kiss is like air in your lungs, and you sigh gently. Then he disappears again and comes back clean (and still deliciously naked—you enjoy the sight of his chain link tattoo curling around his upper thigh). He rustles through his drawers, pulling out another shirt, this one clean and not somewhere on the floor.

“You’re staying over, right?” he asks, as casual as ever as if he hadn’t just cum all over your stomach.

And, just as casually, you nod and turn onto your stomach to stretch again. “Mhm.” He tosses the shirt at you. It lands on your head, and you don’t move to put it on just yet. He picks up his sweatpants from the floor and puts them back on.

Eddie nudges you to the side so he can pull the covers back, and that’s when you sit up to put on his shirt. You stand, padding across his tiny room to turn off the lamp on his dresser, shrouding the room in relative darkness. When you climb back into the bed, you latch yourself onto his back and hold him to your chest. He’s really warm, and it feels nice to be this close.

Sometimes you wonder if you and Eddie are supposed to date. There’s nothing casual about your friendship, and there never really has been (especially not now). But you think that having Eddie as your best friend, perhaps just under unconventional circumstances, is the best thing there is. If you ever decide to get together, that’ll be a moment for a time in the (relative) distance.

For now, you just rest your ear against his back and listen to his heartbeat. “Eddie,” you mumble, bringing your leg up to rest over his body like he isn’t bigger than you.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

There’s a huff that you think is him chuckling. He pulls a hand up and pats yours a couple light times. “Anytime, mama.” There’s some silence. “I love you.”

You smile. You love your best friend Eddie.

“I love you, too. G’night.” He hums back at you.

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gojoest · 3 months

Text

ENTANGLED ━━━ chapter one

pairing: gojo satoru x zenin f! reader

series masterlist┊next chapter

synopsis: you — the daughter of zenin naobito (the head of the zenin clan), born with no cursed energy and therefore deemed to be the disgrace of the clan — have only one dream. to escape from your own blood that’s rejected you ever since birth, even if it means you have to dirty your hands in the process. when simply running away is not an option, for they would indubitably find you and drag you back for worse, you find your getaway in the arms of an enemy clan

warnings: MDNI, canon divergent, non-linear narrative (a lot of jumping back and forth between past & present, it’s indicated accordingly), female reader, she/her pronouns, reader is a zenin born without cursed energy, discrimination, abuse and bullying during childhood (she gets the toji treatment :/), brief mention of direct maternal death (regarding reader’s mother), childhood friends that fall out but come together, marriage of convenience (but with a twist), eloping, pining, kind of slow burn ngl, ijichi, shoko, geto, naoya + naobito cameo, mentions of food and alcohol, terms of endearment (calls you miss zenin, bride-o-mine, then mrs gojo later on + sweetheart <- so do you but with a lot of sarcasm behind it), sexual tension, male masturbation, although it’s left vague there’s some elements of incestuous behaviors on naoya’s end, wc: 9.3k

chapter one guideline & timeline:

I. The News — takes place in the present time.

II. The Proposal — two weeks prior to The News.

III. Sealing The Deal — two days after The News.

IV. The Past — flashback to the past, mainly from reader’s pov. this part is to be continued in chapter two, from satoru’s pov.

V. The First Night — after Sealing The Deal.

VI. Bad Faith — the day after The First Night.

The News

Nobody could ever predict what Gojo Satoru was up to, except for one specific behavioral aspect of his — those who’ve spent a fair amount of time around him could easily figure that whatever it was on that man’s mind, it was, without any doubt, unorthodox and crazy.

Yet every now and then, Gojo Satoru managed to outdo himself and exceed even their wildest expectations. This time — by dropping a bomb nobody saw coming, especially not from him.

“Gojo-san, there’s an upcoming mission assigned to your students, and you are to supervise them throughout it”, Ijichi hands a document regarding the occasion, but his arms hang in the air as the blindfolded man is absorbed in a rather peculiar activity, patently unwilling to receive the papers.

“Eeeh”, Satoru drags out a displeased whine, without even bothering to look at Ijichi. Currently seated and mindlessly spinning around in a swivel chair that he rummaged out earlier that day from one of the storage units in Jujutsu High and dragged into the classroom for god knows why. His entire attention focused on keeping his long legs up in the air as he spins as fast as he can without possibly breaking the chair, but still, he shows some semblance of interest. “When? Where? What’s it about?”, the words spoken in slow monotone.

If you look at the papers, you might know the answer to all these, Gojo-san. Ijichi thinks to himself but, of course, doesn’t dare say it out loud. “It’s in two days from now, the location is—”

“Stop right there”, Satoru cuts him off, ceasing his childish ministrations with his feet landing a heavy stomp on the floor. He slowly gets up. “In two days?”, he rubs his chin, thinking, “I am afraid, I can’t. I am getting married then”

Of course, you are. Ijichi thinks in an internal monologue.

“With all due respect, Gojo-san”, he clears his throat to push back the laughter that’s about to climb up and out his throat. “You could’ve come up with a better excuse than this to, umm—”, after fixing his glasses, he continues, “—ditch your duties”

“That was not an excuse, Ijichi, nor was it a joke. I can’t believe you think so lowly of me as a teacher”

For a second there, the evident seriousness in his voice sends a shiver down Ijichi’s spine, which, to be honest, is not entirely caused by the way Gojo spoke to him, but also what he spoke of just now. “I really am getting married”, he repeats.

“Oh?”, Ijichi’s eyes widen, unable to utter another word other than an exclamation while processing the credibility of his words. This man is not joking? This man, of all men, is getting married? For real?

“To be more precise — in two days from now, I will be busy kidnapping this bride-o-mine”

“Oh?!”, still speechless, another gasp leaves Ijishi’s mouth. “You’re eloping?”

“That is correct, ten points for you Ijichi!”, Satoru claps his hands. “Keep this a secret for the time being. I know it's a matter of time for everyone to know, but I'd rather they found out after it’s official since prying eyes might get in our way and spoil our plans. Got it?”

Ijichi only nods in return.

“Good. As for the mission — let Nanami handle it in my stead, the students will be fine as long as he’s with them”

After Satoru left, excusing himself with a “oh, so many things to do before the big day, you know?” spoken with his trademark silly chuckle, Ijichi stood there in the empty classroom for a while, frozen. Shocked to his core still, but now also curious. Who was that woman to make Gojo Satoru want to marry her?

The Proposal

(two weeks ago)

“To say I was surprised to get a call from you would be an understatement, Miss Zenin”, Satoru grinned at you, taking off his sunglasses immediately upon your arrival and placing them on the table.

It’s not that you were late — he was simply early, something quite bizarre for him honestly. Already ordered drinks for the both of you and waiting for you to show up with his legs crossed and fingers nervously tapping on the table — again, being nervous was something quite unusual for him as well.

“And to ask me to meet you here of all places—”, he sprawled out on the chair, leaning his back against the wooden splat, his long legs reaching the other side of the table from beneath and pushing the chair there with his feet to invite you to sit. He was being a gentleman in his own way, to which you rolled your eyes but made no remark. “Are you going to ask me to kill someone for you?”, a mocking chuckle escaped his lips after he finished his sentence.

“Not necessarily”, you replied, unamused.

The day before, you called him. Asking to meet you here, in this secluded spot disguised as a cafe which regular people avoided, since it was a place swarmed by dangerous individuals and illegal activities. Drugs, kidnapping, assassination — whatever shady dealing you could think of. It had to be this place, after all there was no way for a Zenin to meet a Gojo out in the open, considering the bad blood between the two clans since generations ago. Especially not the daughter of Zenin Naobito, the clan head, and Gojo Satoru, the pride and leader of the Gojo clan. It would’ve caused consequences, for you at least.

“You’ve got some balls to come here alone though, I must admit. As intriguing as always”, Satoru scoffed. “I don’t remember the last time I sat this close to you. Not since we were kids”, his lips slightly curved into a nostalgic smile as he reminisced about old times. “Now you avoid me anywhere you see me, like I’m some sort of disease”, and the smile shifted back to a regular one, although you could tell it was forced, just to keep his usual nonchalant appearance. “Not that we meet outside of clans’ gatherings, but still—”

“Can we skip the yapping and cut to the chase? I don’t have much time”, you interrupted. “Sure, Miss Zenin”, he shot back.

Miss Zenin. The way he called you that annoyed you abysmally, and that probably was his intention all along. But you had to ignore it for now, you really didn’t have much time on your hands — you had to go back home before anyone would notice you weren’t around.

“I have a favor to ask, actually — it’s more of a proposal”

“Listening”, his head tilting to the side, eyes locked on your lips, awaiting the words.

“Will you marry me?”

Silence.

It took him a few seconds before he could speak, pondering in his head whether he heard you right. Eventually the only word he could utter was “What?”, to which you said nothing. You figured it was best to give him some time to process the information.

“What’s the catch?”, he spoke again, eyes now squinting.

“Glad you asked”, you gave him a knowing smile.

“Of course. I would say it’s a joke but no way you’d call me out of the blue just to pull my leg”

“True, it isn’t a joke”

“I believe it’s not out of love either? Unless... I am wrong? Have you been harboring such strong feelings towards me all these years?”, his tone slowly transitioning back into mocking after the initial shock had faded.

Rolling your eyes, you scoffed. “You wish. See, that would only happen in your dreams”

Laughing, he slowly shifted in his seat. Leaning his body forward to rest an elbow on the table and press a cheek against his palm, his other hand playing with the straw of his drink. “So, you want out of the clan, huh? And finally have the courage to do it”

“You figured?”

“Well, I grasp things quickly. Considering how the Zenins treat women and especially those born without cursed energy, like yourself, this wasn’t hard to predict. But I am surprised by the choice of your method”

“And I am surprised you didn’t cut me out by now since this was a shot in the dark”, you eyed him, baffled but pleasantly.

“Let’s say I am intrigued by your proposal, which turned out to be quite unromantic, but I'll look past it”, a mystifying grin splattered on his lips. "Also, as you already know, there’s a Zenin or two I am willing to help”, he laughed. “So, tell me — what’s in that beautiful head of yours?”

"Well, as you already guessed — I want to leave the clan. Being a Zenin is not for me, never has been. I’ve been treated like an abomination all my life, looked down upon like I barely fit the criteria to be human in their eyes just because I was not gifted with abilities, and I am done with it”, you paused, trying to hold back the cracking of your voice. All the years of mistreatment washing over you as you spoke. You took a deep breath, “Simply running away is not an option, they will find me and drag me back for worse. You know it. But if you help me—”

“—their hands will be tied”, he finished your sentence.

You nodded. “They can’t go against you. Well, there might be a slight commotion, namely coming from my brother, Naoya. But he won’t do anything brash without father’s approval”

“That lousy brat? I didn’t know the two of you were so close”, Satoru lifted an eyebrow, a bit bothered by this.

“We’re not, but it’s complicated”

He got the message — you did not wish to talk about it. And he’d let it slide. For now. “And you think you’ll be free once you become a Gojo?”

“Not immediately, but eventually — yes. I don’t plan on staying by your side until death do us part, you know”

“What an eventful meeting this turned out to be — first I get a marriage proposal, and now a divorce, all at once”, he laughed, covering his eyes with a hand. Perhaps to hide something in them that didn’t quite align with his laughter. “What if I get attached and refuse to let you go?”, he spoke, with a tone more serious that it took you aback a bit. “Have you considered this?”

“Are you a comedian now?”, you brushed it off. “We both know such thing won’t happen”

“How come you’re so sure?”

“It’s happened before, you know it”

“We were kids back then”, he smiled softly, with a sprinkle of regret on his lips. “We used to sneak out to spend time together, but things are different now”

“But you stopped coming”

“My training got more intense, didn’t have time for games anymore”

“You bet. I know you did it to keep me out of trouble. You were aware I was getting scolded and punished for meeting you”

“Oh?”, he gasped. “You knew?”, a powerless laughter followed the realization that all these years you didn’t just avoid him out of spite. Part of him felt at ease about it, that you always understood him, even without words. Just like back then. Maybe because you were both a mutation of a different breed — a special boy put on a pedestal by many, a monster if you will; and a nonspecial girl looked down upon by her own blood as a disappointment, barely a human — yet the loneliness you carried weighed the same on your hearts.

“Yea”, you sighed. “Back then you did it to keep me out of trouble, now you’ll do it to get me out of one. When the time comes, we’ll separate but keep it a secret. If my clan finds out, they won’t let it slide. I’ll show up for gatherings every now and then, to dodge any possible suspicions, but that’s all. Treat this like a deal”

“That’s all good, but deals require an equivalent exchange so both parties benefit from it. You get your freedom. But what about me — what do I get in return?”

Your lips curved into a scarce smile, delighted that he was willing to negotiate. This could actually work, you thought. “Well, it’s not like your family will be very pleased to have me but still. The most important thing is, you won’t ever have to deal with the blind dates your clan sets you up on, with an arranged marriage in mind. I bet they’re nagging you about it constantly since you’re pretty much of age now”

“What my clan is concerned about is an heir, marriage is just a stepping stone. How will this temporary thing between us do that? Temporary and fake on top of that?”, he questioned through a scorn.

“I’ll give you a child”, you shot at him in a heartbeat, voice unwavering. This was part of the plan after all.

“What?”, he laughed, tilting his head in pure astonishment at your offer.

“We will lead a normal married life, like a proper wife and husband. I’ll have your child, this secures me even better. That way I’ll be tied to the Gojo clan forever, not the Zenin”

“You’re aware what we need to do in order for you to have my child, right?”

You were, but when he put it like that your face got hot against your will, heat burning your cheeks and sizzling on your ears. “I am”, you mumbled, unable to look him in the face. Petrified to meet his gaze.

“You really are insane”, he covered his face with both hands. Perhaps he was petrified, too.

“Coming from you that’s rather concerning. Now back to the point — you up for it?”

“Alright. Let’s do it”

Sealing The Deal

(back to present)

For the past two days Satoru pulled all the strings possible in order to speed up the marriage procedure. He diligently prepared all the needed documents to officially register your matrimony. All that was left was to go to the ward office and submit the marriage application after signing it along with two witnesses.

With that, today would mark your last day as a Zenin.

“Do you know who the girl is?”, Shoko asks, leaning against the wall in the ward office hallways, waiting for Satoru and the mystery bride to arrive.

Geto shrugs from next to her, “Nope, no clue. Still trying to wrap my head around the fact that this is happening — he is actually getting married”

“You of all people didn’t know he was involved with someone?”, she scoffs, turning her head in his direction. “Strange, maybe he was hiding the love of his life from you so you wouldn’t snatch her away”

“He wasn’t involved with anyone, if he was — we both would’ve known. Besides, what do you mean by that? I would never break the bro code, come on”

A semblance of a lazy laugh slips through Shoko’s lips. One can tell she didn’t get much sleep (again) by how lethargic and unenthusiastic her reactions were. “Girls end up falling for you always, so maybe he chickened out to introduce her”

“That’s because he sucks with girls”, Geto snorts.

Satoru wasn’t exactly the sweep-you-off-your-feet type of guy. His looks were bewitching, that was a given, and women would latch on him, only to give up shortly after. And all the reviews were unanimous — I want someone that will put me first, but with him — I don’t see it ever happening, his mind is elsewhere.

“Maybe he finally caved in after years of his family pestering him to get married”, Shoko throws another guess.

“Satoru caving in to an arranged marriage? Seriously, Shoko... Does he look like the type to listen to what elders tell him to do?”

“He never looked like the marrying type either, yet here we are”

“I don’t know”, Geto sighs heavily. “This is way too odd”

“Hey, hey~”, Satoru’s voice echoes through the hallways. “Sorry to keep you waiting, my bride was barely able to sneak out from the Zenins. You know how the old farts there are”

Hearing the name Zenin, Shoko and Geto glance at each other with the same perplexed look in their eyes. A Zenin? Sneaking out?

Forcing a somewhat adequate smile, you shake their hands. You could tell they were taken aback after hearing your name, it was written all over their faces that they didn’t quite endorse this insane whim of Satoru’s.

“Satoru, can I have a quick word with you”, Geto pulls him to the side after giving you a polite smile as a form of apology.

“Are you eloping?”, he whispers, although quite audibly, “With a Zenin? Have you actually lost your mind, Satoru?”

“Suguru”, Satoru lazily drapes an arm over Geto’s shoulder, “Yes to your first question, as for the second — have you ever seen me be normal about anything?”, he laughs.

“Not the right time to humor your misery, Satoru”, Geto says through gritted teeth all while forcing a smile looking your way, to avoid any awkward impression on your end that the two of them were talking about you (even though that’s exactly what was going on). “There’s existent animosity between your clans already, are you trying to start an actual war all over again?”, he snaps, giving a sharp nudge to his side.

“Ouch~”, Satoru yelps. “Come on, Suguru. What can they do to me?”, his words brimming with confidence compel Geto to rub the bridge of his nose in annoyance. “Do you remember, that one time on the rooftop back when we were still students in Jujutsu High, I told you about a girl from my childhood?”, Satoru continues.

Geto nods. He does remember it vividly, after all it was the first and last time Satoru has ever talked about a girl of his own accord and with so much passion behind his voice.

“That’s her.”

“It’s our turn”, Shoko interrupts. “Let’s go get you married”

As you all entered the hall, Suguru gave Satoru a soft pat on the back and glanced over his shoulder at Shoko with a validating nod.

Satoru got a pass from his moral compass.

Signatures were inked, rings were exchanged, and vows were made to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part.

It is said that vows are crucial in a marriage, they set the tone for your relationship going forward and serve as a ground to build your values on. Whatever values could be built on a soil soaked with lies, you thought to yourself as you all walked out. As soon as the ceremony was over Shoko rushed out to get the dose of nicotine her body was yearning for the entire time inside the ward office, leaving you three behind.

There was nothing holy about your union, it was a lie to begin with. And, naturally, so were your vows. It shouldn’t bother you this much that you were to break the fake promises you just made to the man that handed you a one-way ticket to your freedom.

“What’s with the face, Mrs. Gojo?”, Satoru softly pokes you in the arm, the unease in your expression doesn’t go unnoticed by him. “We just tied the knot, yet you look like you just walked out of a funeral”

A funeral. Right. That’s how it felt to you.

You buried yourself, your past, in there. You got what you wanted, but part of you was terrified of the new person you were to become. Mrs. Gojo, huh? You were not in the right headspace to be snarky about it now.

“I’m fine. All these formalities are draining, that’s all”

“Then we’ve got to recharge”, he grins, then turns around and shouts at Geto who’s walking a few steps behind and scrolling on his phone, “Suguruuu, let’s celebrate, shall we?”

“Geez, you’re loud, Satoruuu”, he cracks an irked grimace, sticking a pinky finger into his ear.

“There’s no need for that”, you whisper, tugging at the hem of his shirt.

Satoru’s fingers trace over your knuckles, hesitant to get a proper hold of your hand, but he gives in anyway, “We have to pretend there is”, he speaks in a low voice, and wraps his hand around yours. “Besides, it’s lunchtime. We need to eat”

You don’t resist, neither his touch nor his words.

On your way to the restaurant that your (now) husband made a quick call to reserve a table for four, Satoru sat on the driver’s seat — a rare occasion, usually Ijichi drives him everywhere — glancing at you beside him on the passenger seat at every opportunity, studying your features and how much they’ve changed compared to his childhood memories of you. It’s not like he never saw you after that. But you’d never let him take a good long look at you, always running away the moment you noticed him around. Before he could know it, he was smiling, mouth agape — a soundless “ha” passing through the crack of his lips, the sunlight hitting his eyes, yet he couldn’t blink — he had to take you in. He was back to being a child at that moment, wearing his genuine feelings on his face without knowing how to mask them. And you... you were even prettier now.

The two sitting on the backseat exchanged an astounded look after observing the scene unfolding before their eyes. Who would’ve guessed that their friend had such a hidden, soft spot for someone and could make such genuine faces?

The Past

You were born with bad luck.

That’s what you told yourself. And that’s what others, who felt sorry for you, thought so too. Mostly those unfortunate enough to be servants in the Zenin clan that have witnessed way too many things happen to you.

First, you were born into the Zenin Clan as the daughter of Zenin Naobito, the leader — that alone was the biggest mishap the heavens bestowed you with. A problematic clan with questionable values, where owning powerful cursed techniques was held in highest regard and considered the measure of your worth as an individual and whether you were fit to be a Zenin. Rejecting, without an ounce of remorse, their own flesh and blood and looking down at them like inferior beings did they deem their ability weak and unworthy.

With that being said, here comes the second — you were born into that clan, with no cursed energy. You didn’t make the cut ever since the beginning. The clan didn’t even mourn the fact you were lacking, they simply treated you indifferently, and sometimes with disgust, like you were one of the servants — easily replaceable. “It’s not enough that you were born a girl, but you are also lacking the gift. You were never meant to be part of this family to begin with, the name of Zenin will abandon you once you get married”, your grandmother would often tell you, right before throwing you into the disciplinary pit with curses. Till then, maybe through some miracle you could manifest some cursed energy if she locked you up there for long enough, so you could be at least a little bit useful.

Wait. There’s a third, too — your mother lost her life giving birth to you. It’s not like you felt any guilt for that, you never knew what parental love was anyway, therefore didn't see it as a burden that weighed on your conscience. In fact, you were partly relieved that there was one person less to mistreat you there.

Your older brother, Zenin Naoya, would often use this to harass you. Telling you “Maybe you’re not that hopeless after all, since you killed mother. Or maybe that’s even worse — she’s going to be your only kill” with that revolting laugh of his.

Other kids looked down on you too, avoiding you like you carried some disease. There were rumors even, how childish, now what you think back — that if you came closer to them, you’d rid them of their powers and of their mothers too. Oddly enough, those rumors were started by none other than your brother. Perhaps he wanted to be the only one to pick on you. While he made every woman walk three paces behind him, he’d keep you close, telling you in a condescending manner “How am I to look down on you if you keep walking behind me, little lamb?”

And you truly were a little lamb. Living and growing only to get the life in you eaten away by the Zenins. A sacrifice for no good.

But the summer of your sixth year was different.

You met a boy.

He looked like winter in the middle of summer. Snow-white hair falling over his face and likewise lashes, sitting like tender snowflakes on his eyelids. The bluest blue in his eyes you had ever seen in your life, and if you stared long enough it’d throw you into a trance.

There was a sense of loneliness to him akin to winter too.

How when the cold months came around, people would spend less time outside and instead run to their homes to warm up in front of the fireplace. He was the winter people were hiding from.

And you figured, you had heard of him. He was the special boy of the Gojo Clan, the first in centuries to inherit both The Limitless and The Six Eyes, whose birth alone shifted the power balance in the world, who had a bounty over his head at such a young age for being a force too great to be kept alive.

He was the complete opposite of you, yet somehow the same as you. One rejected for being too much, and the other — for not being enough. Both were similarly exhausting, arduous, and lonely.

You first met during a clans’ gathering. The big three brought together under one roof to discuss some matters you can’t quite recall now, just like you don’t remember the reason you were brought along. Perhaps to carry stuff around, like you always did.

An exchange of shy glances as you waited outside, sitting on the wooden engawa (veranda) led you both slowly scooching over closer to one another, until the gap between you was small enough that you could see how his heartbeat made the collar of his kimono flutter ever so slightly.

“Is it sweet?”, the boy pointed at the popsicle in your hand. “It is”, you answered along with a nod. Bringing it up to his mouth — “Want some?” — you invited him to take a bite as he looked at you with uncertain eyes. A blush painting a beautiful cherry hue on the pale complexion of his cheeks. He nibbled on the side of it — “It is!” — his eyes grew wide, a glow in them.

“You’ve never had one? — surprise in you voice. “Of course, I have”, he lied, scratching the back of his head, a bit embarrassed of possibly seeming uncool in your eyes.

He had a strict regime when it came to the food he consumed. Whatever he put into his mouth had to be of great value and nutrition, diligently prepared by the best chefs, so his body, or as others saw it — the shell where a god resided in — would grow healthy and strong to be on par with his powers.

It was the first time you shared food with someone else. You usually ate alone, disgusted by the Zenins surrounding you around the table that your throat felt too tight to swallow anything that you put in your mouth, be it water even.

And it was the first friend you ever made. While everyone up until now turned a blind eye and avoided you, he didn’t run. He even stayed.

Introducing himself as “Satoru" only, he deliberately refrained from saying his full name at first. When you never pushed him to reveal it, he turned a bit fidgety.

“You never asked about my last name” — lips slightly pursed, the muscles on his face fighting off a pout but failing eventually. “Maybe I’m not that interested in you” — tilting your head, you teased, yet — “Just kidding, I know who you are” — you quickly added upon seeing his brows knitting in dejection. “But you can be just Satoru with me”

From that day onward you’d meet in secret every now and then, whenever both of you could manage to sneak out. For just a little bit. To eat popsicles and other sweet things together.

That was, until your brother found out.

Naoya always kept tabs on you after all. You were a prey to him, and chasing you was like a game. It was only a matter of time before he knew. Or perhaps he did already but let you sneak out on purpose so he could use it to his avail and torment you further.

Naturally, the time you spent with Satoru fell shorter compared to that spent in the disciplinary pit. “That’s to teach you a lesson, little lamb”, Naoya would say with a twisted look in his eyes as he locked you up in there.

At times like this, you’d remember your grandmother’s words — “the name of Zenin will abandon you once you get married”.

...and an idea brewed in your mind.

If you could run away right now, you would. But where would you go? What would you do? You were only six. If your own flesh and blood was this cruel to you, how could you expect the outside world to treat you any better?

You were not that naive. You knew you had to wait.

You endured the endless hours that felt like days and weeks in that pit, surviving by pure miracle every time. Or was it hope that kept you fighting? Because you knew, by the end of it, as long as you were alive, you’d find a way to meet your friend, the only one you had. And maybe he could save you one day. Maybe, tomorrow you could make a promise to each other — that when the time came and you were both of age, you would take his last name and be freed of the curse you were born with.

...but Satoru never showed up.

(to be continued)

The First Night

(back to present)

It was getting late. You spent more time than originally planned at lunch with Shoko and Geto as everyone had already cleared out their schedules for the day to join you on your escapade.

You thought at first, that the entire time you would have to dodge questions such as How did this happen? When did you start seeing each other? When did you decide it was time? Who proposed? How? Doesn’t the animosity between your clans worry you? Have you considered the consequences even? Are you perhaps pregnant? Is this why all the rush is for?, etc...

But that never happened. Neither of them pried, nor made you uncomfortable invading your personal space. In fact, they made you loosen up a bit by being warm and friendly, already treating you like one of them, mocking Gojo’s constant mischiefs in front of you. The setting resembled that of a parent-teacher meeting where you were in the role of the parent, and they were the teachers complaining to you about Gojo. It was a rather humbling experience for the whitehaired man who sat there pouting and subtly gesturing for them to cut it.

But when he heard you laughing at their stories, he ceased. Sucking it up, he let them continue playfully bashing him. He had really missed your laugh.

“So~ we’re here — welcome to your new home”, Satoru points at the huge mansion after helping you hop out of the car. One of the bodyguards in the yard immediately took the keys from his hand and drove the car away to park it in the garage area.

To say this thing before your eyes was huge would be an understatement actually. After you quickly scanned the place you noticed there were a few more houses built around the mansion, and perhaps even behind it.

The Gojo household was located in a huge, fenced area with a single front entrance, for security purposes (so it would always be known who walked in and out under meticulous surveillance), leading to a big yard with a well-kept garden befitting the Gojo Clan. The first house in front, and the biggest, was the main mansion — inhabited by Satoru’s parents and grandparents (from his father’s side), while extended family (like aunts, uncles, cousins — basically the most important members of the clan) resided in the ones around it.

Satoru, despite being the clan head, did not live in the main mansion. His place was relatively isolated from the rest (ironically resembling the life he led and the powers he had), situated far behind all the houses, right before a path that led to a forest-like area as part of the Gojo property.

“No way”, you gasp — “Don’t tell me you live with your entire clan?” — as you quickly pad forward, leaving him a few steps behind, to further inspect the place.

“Not technically but yea, we stick together — clan traditions deem it this way”, he sighs.

“Never took you as the tradition following guy, to be honest”

He chuckles, “What can I say — I am full of surprises~ But truthfully, as the clan head I can’t just up and leave, you know? Besides...” — a pause, observing you as your eyes roam around studying the place, head turning from one side to the other in astonishment. Then his gaze shifts to his left hand. Lifting it slightly and spreading his fingers to look at his ring, and then back at you. “...sometimes deeply rooted habits are hard to break. Especially if one holds onto them for too long. It’s hard to let go no matter what kind of person you are”

“There’s something even beyond you, Gojo Satoru?”, your voice almost mocking but somehow lacking the right tone to it, too distracted by your surroundings.

He laughs, “Maybe. Just one little thing only” — words mumbled under his breath, too soundless for your ears to catch on.

After you made it in, he gave you a full tour around the house. Walking you through each and every room, thoroughly explaining where things were and how you could touch up anything you desired and change it to your liking — this was now your home, too.

The last stop was the bedroom.

“Should I carry you in bridal style? That’s how newlyweds do it~”, Satoru smirks at you, arms crossed around his waist, his side leaning against the doorframe.

You were about to make a face there for a second and give him an eyeroll, maybe even pick on him for watching way too many romcoms, but you held back.

“Sure, why not”, you mumble instead, looking down.

After all, before you was the room where certain things were to happen in, according to your deal, and you thought it’s best to let him indulge in this play pretend and carry you in as your feet were frozen in their tracks anyway. Nervous of what was ahead, you couldn’t bring yourself to move.

“Oh?” — caught off guard, not expecting you to actually go along with it, he gasps, but then — “Right?” — quickly plays it cool. “Alright, bride-o-mine, here we go”

Charging towards you with a slow step, he leans down so your eyes are on equal level, face an inch away from yours. So close that, as he cracks his lips open to swipe a tongue across them his hot breath feels like steam against your skin. Licking his lips, a habit you were painfully familiar with, it was something he did when he got nervous that seemingly didn’t change from when he was little.

He scoops you up effortlessly, holding you tight but tenderly at the same time. His fingers clutching firmly around you yet at the same time careful enough to not bruise you. “Almost there”, he pushes the creaked door open with his foot and carries you in through the doorway.

Flustered, you turn your head the other way in an attempt to hide the heat eliciting from your face. You were way too close. His scent invading your nostrils, you could almost distinguish his natural body odor from his perfume.

“Oh, my... If you shy away this easily”, he carefully sits you on the bed — “how are we to make that baby~ Hm?” — and smugly smirks as he plops down next to you right after, his knee scarcely brushing against your leg.

“Tch...”, you click your tongue, heat still spreading like fire on your cheeks, and even far up to your ears. “Didn’t know you wanted to bed me right away?” — is he really going to jump on you now? Why bring up the baby talk otherwise...

He gasps in an overexaggerated manner, gluing fingertips to his mouth, “Thought I could give you some time to adjust, but if you insist...”

“Ugh, Gojo”, you aim a reflex eyeroll his way.

“What now, are you talking to yourself?”

“Excuse me?”, you lift a brow.

“You’re a Gojo too now, you know?”, a grin on his lips, the kind he makes when he’s about to win something. “When you refer to me, you have to say my first name — Sa-to-ru — to avoid any confusion~”

See, that was his goal all along — to make you call him by name, just like in the past.

...but two can play this game. You had no intention of losing this battle to him.

“Sweetheart”, your tone overly delicate on purpose, as you tilt your head, cheek pressing against your shoulder. “Isn’t this better?”, you flutter your lashes at him.

His reaction comes slow. The full grin from a second ago is now a half, the other half — a surprise, with a sprinkle of a new, unknown to you glint in his eyes. “You’re playing a dangerous game there, sweetheart”, he breathes, scooching closer to you. An arm finding its way around your waist, wrapping itself from the small of your back all the way front, hand stopping at your navel.

A flinch shudders through your body, but he’s got you still, you can’t pull away. “What happened to giving me time to adjust?”, you mutter, not as feisty anymore. This was a side you haven’t seen to him, which you figured was natural. You knew him as a kid, now — he was a man. And like all men do, he was acting on his urges.

“You push my buttons”, he’s leaning closer, and closer, and closer, until your noses are brushing and breaths are exchanging. His free hand rolling up and tucking the few strands of hair falling on your face behind your ear, then slowly sliding to the back of your neck. “Trying to get me excited?”

“If a mere endearment excites you this much, what will become of you when I say your name?”

He laughs, his breath infesting your mouth. Lips accidentally grazing yours from the action itself, which draws a low, helpless hum out of him. “Care to find out?”

You jolt — something about the way he was looking at you told you this wasn’t just some simple teasing — and finally bring your hands to use and push him away and get up. “I need a shower”

“Ah, got all hot and bothered? It’s okay, I am used to it — I have this type of effect on women all the time~”, he chuckles, earning yet another eyeroll from you. Reaching behind to grab a pillow and sit it on his lap, subtly hiding the fact that he got all hot and bothered, too. “You know where the bathroom is, sweetheart”

He won this round.

Satoru is still sitting in the bed, back relaxed against the headboard with one foot thrown over the other on the mattress, as you make your way out of the bathroom. You smell like him now, he thinks — only natural after having to use his shower gel and shampoo — as your freshly showered self approaches the side of the bed your pajamas were carefully folded and placed at. He took it upon himself to buy them for you, along with some clothes, and shoes, and bags, since you couldn’t pack and take anything with you.

“Can you, umm”, you fidget, “turn around or something? I want to get dressed”

“There you go again, shying away from your own husband”, he smugly teases.

“Oh, you want to watch so bad? How perverse of you, sweetheart”, you mock, loosening the belt of your bathrobe so the fabric covering your shoulders slides down a bit, revealing more of your flesh.

There’s a good chance for this reverse psychology to backfire now, you think, but you just couldn’t make peace with him picking on you like that.

He shifts in his place, now sitting up on the opposite side, legs touching the ground and his back turned against you. The transition was so quick and instinctive as if he, by sheer luck, dodged a bullet aimed to take his life. “I’d love to stay for the show but, you see...”, he rubs the back of his neck, “I need to check the report regarding my students’ mission from today”

“I see”, a victorious smirk on your lips as you watch him walk away.

This round was yours. Now you were even.

You were going to be trouble.

The report was, of course, an excuse. He had to make it out of the room, or he would’ve done something terrible to you.

His face burning hot as he quickly stripped himself of his clothes in one of the guest rooms downstairs and went straight into the bathroom to cool off. An aching pulse on his groin dragging inaudible curses from his mouth. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

A stream of ice-cold water hitting his face, hugging his shoulders, cascading down the rest of his well-built body before washing down into the drain. He stands there still and completely unaffected by the temperature. He was burning inside.

Eyes shut, he thinks about you — about the way that bathrobe loosely enveloped your frame, about the gap temptingly revealing bits of your cleavage, leaving little to the imagination... about sliding his hands down into that very gap and pushing it open, taking the fabric covering your shoulders in his hands and pulling it down your arms to expose your breasts... about clasping both of your wrists behind the small of your back while his other hand moves to the side of your face and holds your chin before kissing you hungrily... then moving to your jawbone, and then lower, and lower... and lower, kissing and nibbling until he reaches your nipples, and then further below...

His hand relentlessly stroking his cock to the visual of you in his imagination. Part of him absolutely disgusted by what he was doing right now, thinking how he was tainting the innocent girl from his memories. But then another, the one he couldn’t suppress — shamelessly trying to picture even beyond, making up in his mind what he thought your sweet expressions and obscene sounds would be like under his touch.

His balls tighten up to him as he pumps himself from base to head with firm strokes, low growls rising from his throat echo through the walls the faster his hand works up and down his shaft.

The tension soon leaves his body, his cum oozing out from between his fingers and spraying all over the bathroom tiles.

Oh, you were going to be trouble for sure...

“What puzzles me though, is that nobody has called you all day”, he walks into the bedroom, a towel wrapped around his hips. “In all honesty, it’s been bugging me for a while now”, a hand brushes back his damp hair.

“They think I’m staying over at a friend’s place”, trying to ignore the view before you, you avert your gaze from him and his ridiculously lean body and well sculpted six pack that looked way too perfect to be real. He probably came here half naked, on purpose, to get back at you for earlier... Say nothing, say nothing, say nothing — you kept internally repeating to yourself. Play it cool.

“And they let you?”, he casually saunters over to you, his hand reaching behind you to grab a hold of his nightwear sitting on his pillow. Seriously? He had to walk all the way to your side only to reach for the pajamas placed on his? What a sore loser...

“Mhm”, you hum, lips tight and eyes looking down at your lap, “I managed to convince father. The odds were in our favor, I guess? — But I have to pay them a visit tomorrow, to deliver the news”

“We will pay them a visit”, he corrects you. “I’m coming with you”

“You don’t have to”

“But I want to”, he insists, his resolve is solid.

“Okay”, you don’t resist any further. “What about your family? When are we telling them?”

He makes his way to the bathroom inside the room, while still speaking to you from over there. At least he’s not as shameless to get dressed in front of you.

“They’re easy, I’ll talk to them some time tomorrow. Might organize a little thing to introduce my wife properly, heheh”

“How do you think they’ll take the news? I mean, I know they won’t endorse it but — on a scale from one to ten, how bad do you think it will be?”

“What does it matter when it’s fait accompli? Besides, they can’t go against my decisions, so”, he shrugs after making it back, fully dressed now. Thanks god. But wait...

“Did you seriously get us matching pajamas?”, you look him up. He was wearing the exact same pair in blue, while yours was a light shade of pink.

“Yea?”, he emits a dorky snicker. “Don’t you think it’s cute?”

“Ew, cringe”, you fight back a snort.

What a truly bothersome man...

Bad Faith

— (n.) dishonest behavior with the intention of deceiving someone. “bad faith” refers to dishonesty or fraud in a transaction. depending on the exact setting, bad faith may mean a dishonest belief or purpose, untrustworthy performance of duties, neglect of fair dealing standards, or a fraudulent intent

You slept well for once in your life, despite being in a new place, a new bed — you knew you owed it to the fact you were away from the Zenins.

The same can’t be said about Gojo though.

He stayed wide awake all night, restless, turning and tossing, making occasional visits to the shower even, to calm it down. Annoyed to some extent by how he was the only one in turmoil while you innocently slept next to him, unaware of his condition. He felt like an insatiable teenager all over again. How embarrassing, he thought...

During the whole car ride to the Zenins, he kept yawning and rubbing his eyes from beneath his pitch-black sunglasses that were adeptly hiding his dark sleepless circles caused by none other than you.

“You can wait in the car”, you try your chance one last time after arriving.

“I said I’m coming with you, so don’t waste your breath”

“Fine”

After you both make it past the gates of the Zenin household, the few of the servants standing in the veranda quickly pad inside — most likely to bring it to your father’s attention, you think.

All the rest you got the night before instantly leaves your body now that you’re in Zenin territory, your chest filled with unease as you cross the threshold of the place that, despite being so big, could never quite fit you in and be a home to you.

Your mouth feels too dry, you try to swallow the lump in your throat, but it keeps sitting there like an immovable object, growing bigger even the further you step in.

Unknowingly, you’re grabbing Satoru’s hand, squeezing it tight. “Relax. I am right here”, he leans in to soothingly whisper in your ear, which makes you realize your actions. You pull your hand away, picking up your pace.

...only to slow down and take a step back the moment your eyes fixate on none other than your brother, Naoya, leaning against the wall in the hallway. Waiting for you. His hair falling on his face, covering the look in his eyes but by the way his teeth bite into his lower lip, you can tell — he’s not thrilled by the view of you together.

“Well, well”, a loud, hysterical laughter erupts from Naoya’s mouth as he strolls over to you, thumbing the bridge of his nose. “If this doesn’t remind me of good old times when my little sister would sneak out to play with you — are you perhaps falling back into that bad habit of yours, little lamb?”

You flinch as Naoya’s claw-like hand reaches for your shoulder, ready to hook his grip on you, but with a swift move Gojo stands in front of you and stops your brother, leaving him unable to go any further due to his infinity. “Hello to you too”

Naoya clicks his tongue, not pleased with the impenetrable intrusion. “Tch... Move, don’t butt in in family matters”

Satoru chuckles condescendingly, “I am family too now, you know? — Dear brother-in-law"

A jarring burst of inconsistent, unsettling laughter follows this declaration, each sound leaving Naoya’s lips grows more hectic and twisted, the tone wavering between low and high, and it sends a chill down your spine.

“Huh... sis... that true?”, the deranged madness in his voice dying down now, but he speaks with a timbre of sinisterness. His eyes wide, unblinking and staring right at you with piercing lunacy in them.

He had the same exact maniacal aura to him right now, just like years ago when he first confronted you about the secret escapades with Satoru.

Terrified, you hug your shoulders. Head turned the other way, trying to hide from the sharp daggers in his gaze.

You only manage a nod, and the sick sound from seconds ago echoes through the hallway once again.

“You—”, Naoya grits his teeth, trying to draw near you but the whitehaired man before him won’t budge. “How long have you been plotting this for, huh?”

Irritated at Gojo’s technique that leaves him unable to come any closer and wipe that mighty grin off his face, Naoya takes his frustration out on the wall by punching a hole right through it. “You fucking as—”

“Naoya”, your father’s voice approaching from behind him interrupts the commotion. “Go cool your head off”

“Tch...”, it’s not that he feels like complying, no. His arrogant self would never bow down to anyone, not even his own father, the clan head.

But walking away right now gave him a chance to pass by you — and he’d gladly take it, as there was something he wanted to confirm.

“Did you let him touch you, little lamb? Answer me — did you?”, he stops right behind you and whispers from over your shoulder.

You wince, his breath on your neck sending shivers down your spine. Noticing that Satoru’s hand is moving slightly up and getting ready to possibly attack your brother, you gesture at him to stop. Mouthing a silent it’s fine.

“Don't but in in husband-wife matters, our sex life is off-limits for you, brother”, you mutter over your shoulder.

“Pfft”, his eyes squint knowingly at you. “Good — I don’t smell foreign residuals on you. Good, little lamb. Good.”

“So, you two, huh?”, Naobito, sitting cross-legged on the floor in the tatami room, takes a sip of his sake and wipes the droplets drizzling from the corners of his mouth.

It was barely noon, yet your father, as per usual, had already started his drinking for the day, most likely during the early hours of the morning at that.

You hum, but the man beside you, your husband, had something more to say.

“What can I do, old man — your daughter’s a beauty, I had to go and take her. Pardon my rudeness, I forgot to ask for your approval first” — to which you basically facepalm yourself.

“If you had done that first, you wouldn’t be sitting here now, you arrogant brat”, Naobito drags out, the alcohol must be getting to him. “But the damage is done already, what can I say”, he adds through a hiccup.

“—or do, against me — Right, old man?”, Satoru shoots a proud grin, then on a more serious tone, he continues — “She’s mine now. And I don’t quite fancy it when people pry on what belongs to me. So, I ask of you to act accordingly from now on, or there will be consequences”

“You ask? Yet this sounds more like a threat to me”

“It could be, depends on you”

Silence.

The air in the room is intense and heavy after these exchanges. There’s a calm smile on both of your father’s and husband’s faces, yet the glare in their eyes is as cold as absolute zero.

“With that being said, glad we’re on the same page and thank you for the half-assed belated blessing~ I will take care of her from now on, don’t you worry”, your husband nonchalantly breaks the silence, then looks at you with a quick shake of his head towards the door. Meaning, our job here is done. Let’s go.

“You might go, I wish to speak to my daughter, alone”

Satoru glances at you, looking for consent in your eyes. You nod affirmatively, “Wait for me in the car”

Before walking out, Satoru gives one last warning. “Old man, if you try anything funny, I’ll make this place one with the ground beneath you”

“Make this place one with the ground?”, Naobito laughs uproariously. “You’ve gotten under his skin. Good.”

He gulps down another cup before proceeding, “He’s always got a soft spot for you. I’ve seen his eyes wander in search of you during clans’ gatherings, but this — this is beyond my expectations even”, he wheezes. “Good job. You’re finally doing something right and being useful to the clan”

“I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing this for my own sake”, you grit your teeth.

“I don’t care for your purpose so long we sow the benefits of what you reap, just like I don’t care how you do it so long you take him down — poison him or slit his throat in his sleep, I couldn’t care less. Just make sure he’s dead by the end of it — it’s the only way to get that lousy freedom you’ve been babbling about all these years”

The terms were clear from the beginning, yet your stomach fills to the brim with guilt, threatening to spill out from your mouth the more your father speaks of it.

And he continues, “If you give him a child too in the meantime — even better. That way the Zenins can take over the Gojo Clan”, a greedy curve on his mouth wet with sake. “But in all honesty, what surprises me the most is you, actually — you’re more of a Zenin now than ever”, an unhinged laughter cracks his lips.

Your father’s words stab through your heart like a sharp knife. Snapping a few necks for the greater good for yourself, your freedom, shouldn’t be a problem after all you’ve been through.

But then, why does it feel like he is right? You are more of a Zenin now than ever. Why does it feel like the more you try to run away from the Zenins, the more you become one?

And why does your heart ache so much for the man you are to kill soon?

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

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tongue-like-a-razor · 10 months

Text

Brother's Best Friend - Part 10

Jake Seresin x F!Reader

A/N: I'm baaaack! Oh how I've missed these two idiots XD Thanks to everyone who sent in ideas for what should happen AFTER THE KISS!

Summary: The trials and tribulations of falling for your brother's best friend.

CW: swearing, shirtless Jake, SHIRTLESS JAKE, fluff, Jake's arms, did I mention shirtless Jake?

WC: ~2800

Part 1 | Masterlist

There are a lot of things you regret in life, but bombing your psych midterm because you were too busy making out with Jake Seresin to study is not one of them. Sure, you might not have remembered the ins and outs of Jungian archetypes, but you sure as hell can recite from memory every single word that had fallen out of Jake’s mouth following the inaugural kiss. You might have been a bit hazy on the details surrounding the birth of behaviorism, but you could certainly attest to the effectiveness of positive reinforcement in the form of Jake’s lips rewarding every correctly answered flash card. Thus, despite leaving the exam room with the sinking feeling that your GPA just took a nosedive, you couldn’t be happier.

Your excitement is short-lived, however, because you walk into the house to the unsettling sounds of grunting. You end up dropping your book bag loudly on the floor in an effort to alert any unsuspecting individuals of your arrival before you happen upon a scene you have no interest in witnessing.

But the groaning doesn’t subside, and you find yourself inching cautiously toward the living room, gripped by a nauseating curiosity. Slowly, you creep through the kitchen and peek around the wall into the living room. But what you see, albeit somewhat strange, is not exactly out of the ordinary. What you see is two grown men doing push-ups on your living room floor.

“Uhh,” you utter, stepping into the room to get a better look at the two of them positioned between the armchair and the coffee table.

Neither one looks up at you. They continue grunting into the carpeted floor against every thrust and then breathing heavily into the silence on their way back down. In unison. Shirtless.

“Okay, I’ll just…” you pause, waiting to see if your presence might be acknowledged before you continue speaking. Several seconds go by without any sort of greeting, as if they haven’t even noticed you enter, so you resume, “I’ll just go wait in the kitchen.”

No response.

“I’ll make myself a sandwich,” you add, your eyes inadvertently landing on the rippling muscles of Jake’s back as his shoulder blades contract.

Before you’re completely entranced by the hypnotic movement of Jake Seresin’s body, you shake your head and head back to the kitchen. But, just as you make your way out, you hear Jake’s strained voice, “We’re counting.”

You glance over your shoulder, but he isn’t looking at you; his mouth is taut and his nostrils are flaring and he winces slightly as he straightens his arms again. You decide not to interrupt them further and retreat into the kitchen to fix yourself some lunch.

You wander back in several minutes later, a jam sandwich in hand, and raise your eyebrows as your brother and your, well, Jake, finally finish with a host of groans and obscenities, and laboriously get to their feet.

You glance between the two of them as they pant and take a bite of your sandwich. Until this very moment, you had no idea how you would navigate your situation with Jake in Bradley’s presence. It wasn’t something that you and Jake had a chance to discuss over the course of the previous evening and you had been hoping to postpone the encounter for at least another day.

However, now that you’re all in the same room, you realize that nothing much has changed; Bradley and Jake are still up to their usual antics, and you are still critically observing them from the sidelines.

“Three sets,” Jake breathes heavily as he rolls his shoulders and meets your gaze. “Of a hundred.”

You stare at him mutely, wondering what kind of reaction he’s expecting you to have whilst your brother stands three feet away. You pull your lips into a tight smile and nod approvingly. “If only you put this much effort into keeping track of your socks,” you respond wryly, noticing the pair that’s tucked into the corner of the armchair; the third that you’ve located in the living room this week.

Jake bows his head and Bradley lets out a snort. “I have hot feet,” Jake mutters to the floor.

You eye the veins along his forearms – more pronounced than usual after his workout – and decide conclusively that his feet are not the exception.

Bradley, who’s just finished guzzling half a bottle of water, hums at you to get your attention. Immediately, you tear your gaze from Jake’s veiny hands and blink up at your brother in alarm, certain that he’s already caught on to you since you can’t seem to stop gawking at his best friend. Bradley grins, his eyes bright with excitement. “So,” he says, “how was your study date?” His smile widens slyly.

You stare at him awkwardly, not daring to look at Jake, even when the latter chokes on his water. Clearly, he has not said a word to Bradley about the events of the previous evening.

Bradley watches you expectantly, ignoring Jake’s coughing fit. “Uh,” you start, your voice sounding unusually fuzzy. “It was, um,” you clear your throat, still not looking at Jake as he finally straightens his back and takes another enormous gulp of water.

Bradley lifts his eyebrows. “That good, huh?” he asks with a chuckle.

You feel your palms start to sweat and it takes a great deal of willpower to keep them steady at your sides rather than rubbing them together and wiping them on your thighs. “Pretty good,” you say weakly, avoiding direct eye contact with your brother.

“Get much studying done?” Bradley asks, picking his shirt up off the couch and pulling it over his head.

You briefly lock eyes with Jake. “Some,” you croak, in response to which Bradley shakes his head knowingly.

“How’d you do on your midterm?” Jake asks, finally setting his water bottle down.

You hold his gaze timidly, not sure how long you can get away with looking right at him. “I probably could have done better,” you confess.

Jake winces slightly. “Shit, really?” he asks, sounding genuinely concerned.

“We warned you,” Bradley calls in a singsong voice as he heads out of the living room. “That dude wasn’t looking to study, and you fell for it.”

Jake tilts his head to the side and rubs the back of his neck guiltily. “Maybe he tried,” he says, still grimacing.

Bradley stops short of the entrance to the kitchen and looks back at him. “Yeah, right,” he says. “Is that what you would do?” he asks him.

Jake’s face visibly pales and he stammers out, “M-me? What kind of question is that?” He clears his throat and adds, “Even.”

“You definitely would not have tried,” Bradley says. Then, he looks at you pointedly. “Next time, just study at home. Trust me.”

You nod, trying not to think too hard about how ineffective studying at home has proved, in fact, to be.

“Want a protein shake, bro?” Bradley asks before disappearing into the kitchen.

“Yeah, man,” Jake calls back. “Thanks.”

The two of you stand very still for a moment, not looking at one another. Then, Jake bends down to grab his muscle shirt off the floor.

“Sucks about your test,” he says, his head hanging so low that his chin nearly rests on his clavicle.

“Yeah,” you agree quietly, suddenly uneasy now that it’s just the two of you in the room.

Jake draws the shirt over his head and then wearily drags a hand over his face. “I’m sorry,” he says, looking at you guiltily.

You shrug nonchalantly and give him a small smile. “It wasn’t your fault.”

He pulls his shirt down over his torso casually, but it’s probably the single most sexy thing you’ve ever witnessed. He sighs and says, “I feel responsible,” but all you could really pay any attention to is the sliver of stomach that he’s so carelessly left exposed. If anything, it’s entirely irresponsible.

You purse your lips and eye him humorously. “Well, that’s very self-centered of you.”

Jake laughs at your comment and you breathe a sigh of relief as the tension between you slowly dissipates.

“Dude, you coming?” Bradley calls, popping his head back in to check on Jake. “First fifteen minutes are crucial!”

“Be right there,” Jake responds and, grabbing his two stray socks off the armchair, starts for the kitchen.

You wander in after him to put your plate in the sink and Jake all but leaps out of your way when you get too close.

Bradley leans into the counter and speaks again, “So, apparently Jake had a wild night.”

The plate starts to slip out of your hand before you make it all the way to the sink, and you sort of toss it the rest of the way. It clatters against the basin but thankfully remains intact. “Oh yeah?” you ask in a high-pitched voice while Bradley watches you curiously.

“I didn’t say wild,” Jake clarifies, shifting his weight uncomfortably as he tries to find a less awkward way to rest his entire frame against the slightly protruding door of the refrigerator.

Bradley makes a face at him. “I paraphrased.”

You try not to smile as you ask, “What happened?” You glance at Jake mischievously as he digs himself further into the corner. The fact that he’s disclosed any details to Bradley is shocking, to say the least.

“Oh, just that he finally made a move on a chick he’s been obsessing over for weeks,” Bradley says with a proud grin.

While you try to process the words ‘for weeks’, Jake counters moodily, “I was not obsessing, dude. Come on.”

You lift your eyes slowly to meet his gaze and he glances at you reluctantly.

“Please, you never shut up about her!” Bradley cries.

Jake exhales sharply and glares over at Bradley, but he doesn’t deny his assertion.

“Who is she?” you ask hesitantly, ignoring the pointed stare you get from Jake as you direct your question at Bradley.

Bradley shrugs. “I don’t know her.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Are you sure?”

Jake scoffs in the background while Bradley grimaces. “No, but he won’t tell me, so I’ve stopped asking.”

You withhold a smile and say quietly, “Wonder what she’s like.”

Jake rolls his eyes. “For the love of god –”

But his complaint is interrupted by Bradley when he says, “Apparently, she’s insanely hot –”

“Rooster,” Jake cuts him off sternly, pushing himself off the refrigerator to square his shoulders intimidatingly.

“What?” Bradley chuckles as you bite into your cheek to suppress a grin. “Those were your exact words!”

“Enough,” Jake says, glaring at him threateningly.

“Relax, it’s just my sister,” Bradley says, attempting to diffuse the situation gracefully. “She won’t tell a soul.”

You bat your eyelashes at Jake innocently. “Promise,” you assure him.

Jake narrows his eyes at you subtly. “Tell us more about your date,” he says, cleverly taking the heat off himself.

You lower your gaze and respond with, “It wasn’t a date.”

“But will there be one in the future?” Bradley asks.

You glance back at Jake instinctively before addressing your brother, “Not that I know of.”

Jake chugs the remainder of his shake and walks over to the sink to rinse the glass. He rests his hip on the counter right next to you and asks, “Would you go?”

You look up at him hesitantly, apprehensive about his proximity, even though he still stands a good two feet away. “Where?”

“On a date,” Jake clarifies. “If he asks.”

You gulp nervously, looking back at your equally curious-looking brother. The truth is, you’re afraid of showing all your cards so early in the game. Jake Seresin isn’t a dater, he doesn’t go out with the same girl multiple times. And if he’s only with you because you’re ‘insanely hot’ – his words – he might be spooked by an overzealous response. “I don’t know.” You shrug. “Haven’t thought about it.”

“Bullshit,” Bradley interjects obnoxiously.

“I agree,” Jake adds.

You clamp your jaw tightly, mildly annoyed at Jake for making you the target of conversation yet again. “Are you planning on asking insanely hot girl out?” you enquire aggressively, fixing Jake with an accusing glower.

“How do you know I haven’t already?” Jake asks in a patronizing tone.

You glare at him through squinted eyes. “Wild guess.”

“Of course, he’s gonna ask her out,” Bradley chimes in. “As soon as he stops wigging out about it.”

Jake gives him a peeved look before glancing back at you. “I’m considering it,” he says vaguely.

“Please,” Bradley scoffs and Jake shoots him another ominous glare. “There’s nothing he would want more.”

“That’s not true,” Jake mutters monotonously while you scrutinize the evasive movements of his eyes.

“You literally told me that –”

“Bradley!” Jake shouts. “Shut up!”

Bradley grimaces. “Since when do we keep secrets around here?”

“Since I fucking said so,” Jake retorts.

You glance between the two of them awkwardly and then look down at your feet, stretching out the already uncomfortable silence. You try not to dwell on what your brother has said but Jake wanting nothing more than to take you on a date has you feeling all kinds of giddy. Hesitantly, you say, “I’d probably say yes.” You bite your lip and add, “To study group guy – if he asks.”

Bradley nods, unsurprised. And you don’t dare check on Jake’s reaction. But before you could second guess your confession, Jake says, “He’ll ask.” You steal a glance at him and he catches your gaze. “He’d be an idiot not to.”

You give him a small, half-smile – the half that’s not visible from your brother’s vantage point. But Bradley seems to have lost interest in the topic now that he’s been censored because he starts to shuffle out of the kitchen.

“Hey Bradley!” you call after him. “How was your date?”

Bradley stops and spins to face you. “Finally!” he exclaims.

You smirk at him. “Did she like your shirt?”

Bradley grins. “She loved my shirt.”

“She loved it so much, she kept it,” Jake adds.

Your jaw drops in shock when Bradley yells, “Hey! So, it’s alright to air my dirty laundry?”

“Technically, now she’s got your dirty laundry,” you point out and Jake high fives you.

Bradley shakes his head, but he’s still smiling. “Real mature,” he says. “At least I had the balls to ask her out.” With that, he finally exits the kitchen.

You start after him when your feel Jake’s hand brush gently across the small of your back. You turn to face him and he rests it confidently on your hip. You wonder what he’s going to say but, just when you’re about to articulate your curiosity, he leans down and kisses you square on the mouth. His fingers slide into the hair at the nape of your neck as he takes a hold of your face and, as his thumb sweeps languidly back and forth across your cheekbone, you absently speculate on just how big his hand must be to support your head in such a way. You’re so engrossed in this calculation, in fact, that you nearly miss the moment his tongue enters the equation.

Of course, all of this happens so quickly that, before you can really even kiss him in return, he’s already taking a step back and glancing at the doorway to make sure that Bradley isn’t there.

You graze your teeth over your bottom lip, trying to contain your widening smile as you meet his gaze. It’s nice to know that Jake still wants to kiss you today just as badly as he did yesterday. So much so that he’s willing to risk Bradley walking in on you. You let yourself ogle him overtly for a moment, admiring his tanned arms and the little bit of chest that you could see above the low neckline of his muscle shirt. Then, you say, “I want to hear more about this insanely hot girl you won’t shut up about.”

Jake cringes, busying himself with the dishes sitting in the dishrack. “I’m not sure you’d get along. She’s very confrontational.” He puts away a couple of bowls into a cupboard.

You let out a shocked gasp as if you're offended. “Seriously?”

“Oh yeah,” Jake turns back to face you, grinning as he throws a dishtowel over his shoulder. “Super intense. A little scary.”

“I don’t know, she sounds like a catch,” you say, taking a small step toward him. “I mean, according to Bradley, you’ve been obsessing over her for weeks!”

Jake shakes his head with a chuckle and, pulling you in to give you a quick peck on the side of your head, he mutters into your hair, “I’m gonna kill your brother.”

Read Part 11

Hangman Tag List:

A/N: The rest of the list will be in the comments. As always, let me know if you don't want to be tagged anymore.

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ineffablyruined · 1 year

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I want to talk about THAT smile. The one from the elevator. The one that scares us (or maybe just me).

This one:

It's stayed with me since the first time I saw it. Michael Sheen is an absolute master of his face, so this sinister smile means something. I don't believe that it's a forced smile that he's pasting on before he enters Heaven. It looks absolutely malevolent.

And I just couldn't figure out WHY.

Aziraphale just left everything he loves behind: humans, food, bookshop, and Crowley. Crowley most of all. He was devastated after that kiss, devastated that Crowley wouldn't just come with him so they could be together. He was hurt, shattered, unsure of himself and his decision. So why the practically evil face?

I don't subscribe to the Coffee Theory. I think it takes too much away from the emotional and character development and everything the fandom went through in those last 10 minutes for Neil to pull the rug out from under us like that.

So if he's not drugged, then what's the face?

The Metatron just dropped a bomb on him. The Second Coming. Heaven's going to restart the apocalypse. End the Earth. The place where he'd just left the love of his life and everything he holds dear. Make everything they'd fought for absolutely meaningless.

And then I remembered this face:

See how similar they are?

I've seen a lot of people put this down to a repeat body swap theory, but I don't buy that either. I think that would be less inspired than what we've come to expect from the brilliance of Neil's and Terry's minds.

I'm going on a bit of a tangent here for a second, but I promise it will make sense in a minute. When the demons were coming for them, Nina told Aziraphale that he shouldn't wait to be saved by Crowley, that he should come up with his own plans and save himself. And he did, but it wasn't a total plan. It was the beginnings of one. He held them off, but when his plan ran out of time, it put him and the two humans (except maybe not -> looking at you, Maggie) he's come to care about at risk. Then he had to do something reckless and probably stupid, and it worked, but it was too close.

Back to the matter at hand:

These two perfectly wonderful, complete f*cking morons have spent the last 4 years together. Probably daily. And do you know what happens when you spend so much time together?

You start picking up the other person's mannerisms, mirroring speech patterns and body language.

My theory:

Aziraphale spent that elevator ride coming up with a plan. He's come up with something that he thinks will be so clever, so unexpected of him (an angel), so Crowley-esque, that the Metatron will never see it coming. And he's not about to cock it up like he did in the bookshop, show up with only a half-baked plan.

No. He's got something positively diabolical. Something inspired by Crowley. So he makes the face that he's learned from spending four years in the daily company of the original owner of that expression. The only face he could possibly make when figuring out how to save the world and get back to his demon. And thinking about how much he can't wait to tell a Crowley how clever he's been.

That face is 6000 years of togetherness in the making.

#good omens meta #good omens spoilers #good omens s2 spoilers #gos2 spoilers #gos2 meta #elevator smile #aziraphale elevator #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #good omens season 2 spoilers #go2 #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #ineffable idiots #good omens

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asahiwasabi · 2 months

Text

there’s a lot of good arguments you could make but i think at the end if the day we all agree that if anyone in haikyuu should have gotten to drop an f bomb no one deserved it more than suga

#sugawara koushi #haikyuu #hq #hq!!#haikyuu!!#side of wasabi #sorry jules i know i just texted you this but i need to tell the world

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okiedokrie · 4 months

Text

pov

Summary: Your loving boyfriend wants you to see what he sees.

Characters/Pairing: Xu Minghao (The8) X F!Reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff

AU/Trope info: Non-idol!AU, Established Relationship

Word Count: 1,169

Warnings: mentions of insecurity, the way reader looks isn't described very vividly, very explicit smut, body worship, Minghao nicknames: hao/babe/honey, yn nicknames: love/hun/honey, mirror sex, lots of praise!!, L-bombs EVERYWHERE, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), creampie

Rating: 18+

A/N: heavy inspiration from pov by Ariana Grande (yes another reskin of a fic i wrote before pls dont yell at me)

"I just can't see myself the way you see me, Hao." You say, barely above a whisper. Your boyfriend was the perfect boyfriend- no, the perfect person that everyone wanted to be, or wanted to be with. He was everything that you weren't. And on days when it gets really bad, you think that maybe you didn't deserve him.

Most of these thoughts, however, are quelled with just a kiss on your shoulder. His lips linger on your skin for a beat longer, savoring the warmth and pressure of your skin on his pillow lips. "Alright then, I'll show you."

He ushers your head to turn to the mirror at the foot of his bed. The dim purple lights make the room hazy, but you still manage to meet his eyes in the mirror.

He kisses your shoulder again, "Do you see yourself? I love the warmth of your skin, the way it feels against mine. But that isn't the only thing I love about you" he pauses, his voice almost lost to the quiet of the room as he whispers in your ear, his hair tickling your cheek. "I love your mind, beautiful with all the colors only you can show me, you are my miracle. Perfection in my arms."

You feel the warmth of his palms radiating off of him, his smooth skin ghosting the span of your thighs, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Minghao moves to your other shoulder, kissing every mark in your skin with reverence, your name sounded like a prayer as it left his lips.

You lean back, your back pressed against his toned chest as you relax, letting him guide you, and handle your pleasure.

"I'm right here, honey, I love you." He whispers into your skin, slowly unbuttoning your shirt, one button at a time. He kisses your skin every time new skin is revealed to both of you, he kisses your skin so delicately as if you'd break at the slightest touch.

His fingertips danced on your skin, warmth rippled from the contact like a drop that fell into the water, it was gentle, almost non-existent, but the love that swelled in your heart, you could feel that.

His fingers reached the band of your underwear, fingers carefully tracing it, "May I?" he asks, meeting your eyes in the mirror, looking at you, almost pleading.

"Please." You say in desperation, you wanted him to touch you more, you wanted him to hold you closer.

He pulls your underwear down your thighs, and you step out of them as he discards it somewhere off the bed. Carefully, his fingers brush against your clit, the brief contact making you gasp, reaching behind you to hold onto him.

"Keep looking hun, look at us, look at you." He says in a breath, fingers putting more pressure onto your clit as he moves them down to your entrance, collecting your wetness, before slowly moving it up back to your clit to rub slow circles into it.

Such a simple touch, yet with his breath on your neck, his warmth behind you, and your eyes meeting in the mirror, everything was so overwhelming in the best way possible.

"Minghao, I love you." You way between gasps, this caused his stroking to go faster, rubbing at your clit with more purpose.

"I love you too, so much. You are beautiful to me, more than anyone can comprehend." He says, kissing and sucking marks into your neck, the hand that wasn't stroking your clit came up to cup your breast, pinching and pulling at the pebbled nipple.

Gasps and quiet moans leave you, affirmations and words of his love for you only added to your pleasure, he finally leaves your clit to press his fingertips at your entrance, collecting your essence on his fingers before entering, two fingers pumping into your heat in a steady rhythm.

You moan out his name, the drag of his fingers making your eyes roll back before you meet his gaze in the mirror again. In the dim light, you can see yourself, bare with your skin flushed, his fingers fucking into your pussy with fervor. You throw your head back onto his shoulder as the knot in your stomach starts to coil, tighter and tighter until it finally snaps.

You repeat his name like a mantra as he fucks you through your high, bliss, brought to you by the hands of your lover, as he kisses your skin and praises you for your beauty.

"That was beautiful, if only you saw yourself come undone for me, you'd understand why I worship you." He continues to kiss 'I love you's into your skin as you come down from your high.

He presses his palm on your back, slowly pushing you forward, "Hold your arms out hun, keep looking at the mirror." He said as you support your weight on your forearms, on all fours, still looking at the mirror.

You see him undressing, peeling off his covers one garment at a time. He leaned forward, supporting his weight on his hands, as he pressed his chest into your back, he reached for yours, fingers intertwining as he kissed your shoulders for the nth time this night. "I love you, so much, please let me take you." He meets your eyes in the mirror.

"I love you, please, make me yours." You give his hand a gentle yet firm squeeze.

You feel the tip of his cock pressing against your folds, collecting the wetness. Slowly, he pushed his cock into your pussy, the hardness and the subtle throbbing with the stretch of his girth took your breath away.

Slowly, Minghao started to thrust his length into you, slow, fulfilling strokes into your heat, each met with gasps and moans from you. Minghao moans and whines, you feel the vibrations of his chest on your back, his hot breath, and his moans in your ear.

Minghao started to thrust faster, one hand moving to rub at your clit, "I can't believe you're all mine, you're perfect, I love you." He said in between pants.

"I love you too, Minghao! Take me, I love you." You try your best to say in between moans. Another familiar coil twists in your core, and your pussy squeezes Minghao's cock for all his worth.

"Are you close? I'm right behind you baby, please, cum with me." He says, squeezing your hand in his hold, fingers still intertwined just as they should be.

"Fuck, Minghao, I love you- I'm cumming!-" You gasp, hot white pleasure blinds you temporarily as you gush around his cock, still, in the throws of pleasure, unable to break your gaze from his.

"Oh- I love you, I'm cumming-!" Minghao was right behind you, going over the edge and spilling his seed into you. The gush of heat from his cum couldn't compare to the warmth in his embrace.

He tenderly rubs your skin, kissing you and telling you he loves you until the sunrise.

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yanderenightmare · 10 months

Note

nerd-kun tomura crushin on the pretty clerk at the comic shop🥺 she's always so sweet BUT THEN HE FINDS OUT ABOUT THE BOYFRIEND

Shigaraki Tomura x darling

TW: f!reader, creepy behavior, stalking-ish, obsession, incel-vibes

fem reader

It spurs from something so small. Something you forget by the next customer in line, whom you treat just the same, bagging their comics and figurines with a trained smile. But for Tomura, it’s special. How you dub his fifteen percent membership discount as a “pretty-boy discount,” or when you give him an extra stamp on his loyalty card and flash him a cheeky wink as though to say “just between us,” or when you smile so brightly, looking him right in his eyes when you tell him to “please come again soon, Tomu-kun~”

He can’t believe you even remember his name. A pretty girl like you.

It’s all a delusion. Deep down, he knows you just read it off the registry after scanning his membership card. But it feels too good to imagine you know who he is, to imagine you actually hope to see him come back soon.

His favorite thing to do is ask you to recommend him something new. To see you nod all eagerly, gushing while skipping about the aisles, helping him search.

“You must have a lot of time on your hands to be done with those volumes you bought last week, Tomu-kun.” You joke, scanning the shelves with him trailing after – hood pulled over the mess of his hair with hands shoved down the front pocket – now looking up from the shadow it cast – eyes wide.

You know my name…

You snort, giggling. “Of course I know your name, silly.”

His stupor shrivels into a blush, realizing he’d spoken out loud. But you don’t seem concerned by it – nor do you even notice as you stretch up on your tippy-toes to reach for a book.

“I’d be a real airhead to forget it – you’re in here practically every day.” You flash him that trained smile – all pearly white with a breath of laughter – offering the book you’d just picked out for him to reach. “You’re becoming my best friend – I see you more than I see my boyfriend!”

Tomura doesn’t reply. Nor does he accept your hand-out.

He’s too caught up in your words. A wrinkle scrunching up between his brows – eyes slim while staring at you – feeling his temple pulse.

That’s not very service-inclined of you to say. Customers don’t want to know you have a boyfriend. That ruins the fantasy. You’re supposed to be the friendly flirt – the girl that’s really too pretty to be a weeb but doesn’t know it herself – the one he can go home and fist his cock to while imagining he has a chance even though you’re way out of his league.

His crush on you was harmless.

But you just had to go and ruin it, didn’t you? Had to shatter the dream – dropping the boyfriend bomb, calling him your friend. Jeez, could you be any more obvious? That’s how you nice sweet polite girls like to say you’re not interested, right?

You love the attention, but you snuff it out the moment it becomes too tedious, don’t you?

Fucking bitch.

You regret it, right? When you get off work and wind up in the boot of his car with your pretty face taped shut.

He’s going to teach you a thing or two about true customer service.

#yandere shigaraki #yandere my hero academia #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere shigaraki tomura #yandere shiggy #yandere shigaraki x reader #yandere mha #yandere bnha #shigaraki smut #shigaraki thirst #yandere tomura shigaraki #yandere tomura #tomura smut #tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki fanfiction #shigaraki x y/n #shigaraki imagine #shigaraki x you #tomura x you

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darkness-follows · 4 months

Text

F!Reader/ Boyd Crowder (Oneshot)

Smut!

Summary:

You deliver a package to Mr. Crowder not knowing the content of it could put you into a rather unfortunate situation...

Luckily for you, a man pointing a gun at you isn't a huge turn off.

Word count: 5,169 (I think)

TW warnings: Gun threat. Mention of a cut off hand (not yours or Boyd's!) Sexual choking. P in V sex. Unprotected sex (reader is on the pill). Creampie. Reader has a thing for assholes.

Enjoy my lovelies:

Working for a package delivery Service in Harlan you don't think about nothing much. Living a rather worry free kind of life, sure the crime rate has gone up a bit, rumors about what's really going on get shared. For some reason especially in your line of work, having to go from house to house and everything..- yet that still doesn't bother you nor stop you from delivering packages. A job is a job and you are quick and well paid for your time. One rather early morning a man comes into the warehouse, face barely visible, a cap pulled deep onto his face. Sunglasses and a beard. But that's a pretty ordinary look for Harlan men, you don't think twice about it.

The man pays in cash for a same day delivery, handing you a perfectly squared box and telling you the Address. Some Bar downtown Harlan.

You make the same day delivery, around 5 pm right at the end of your shift you push the door open to the bar, looking around for a moment. “Hello? Harlan delivery services. I am looking for a Mr…-” You have to check that again. “Crowder!” You announce.

Head turning to the sound of a door opening in the back, watching a rather attractive man step towards you. “I did not order anything.” Crowder says, and just the tone in his voice makes you frown a bit, no need to be rude here. “Makes sense, cause this was dropped off for you today” You hand him the Box and your clipboard to sign. He raises his eyebrows at you before he signs the paper, taking a rather big knife from his belt and cutting the Box open.

You did notice how he inspected it for something at first. Like a bomb or something. Ridiculous.

But once it's open a harsh smell hits the both of you, causing you to gag and turn away.

“What the fuck!” You hear the man yell, after you manage your gagging you take another look at the box.

“That's a hand.” You gasp, a fucking cut off hand showing a middle Finger. Rotting and everything. Jesus christ.

What you didn't expect was a gun shoved in your face. “What the fuck is this and who the hell are you?!” Crowder yells at you, causing you to flinch and raise your hands, dropping the clipboard.

“Just..- Just calm down please! I swear, I'm just a delivery person.” You say with a shaky voice.

"Bullshit.. Who sent you?!” He aggressively pushes the gun against your temple. God this is the scariest moment of your life, it's not helping in any way that the man pointing a gun at you looks so good doing it.

“Mr. Crowder, sir, I swear. There's an ID in my back pocket. Normally I wear that clipped to my shirt but this was my last delivery for the day.” You sigh. If only you would have left it where it was, maybe he wouldn't threaten you then.

Your breath catches in your throat uncomfortably when he grabs your arm and turns you around. Pushing you face first into the wall. His hand pats you down until he finds the ID Clip in your pocket. Checking it once…twice..hell even three times.

“Who gave this to you?” You hear the click of his gun and then slowly dare to turn and look at him again, watching him put the gun back into his belt and covering it with his shirt.

But you are still shaking, trying to catch your breath. Normally you are a rather relaxed woman but today? Moment like that? You fear this is a panic attack.

“It uh..- it was….- I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, please don't kill me when I tell you, god please.” You try to calm yourself down but he shoved a gun in your face moments ago.

“God ain't got a whole lot to do with that sugar, sit down” Boyd Crowder points at the barstool.

“Mr. Crowder I really am trying to remember, I'm sorry.” You take a seat even though every fiber in your body tells you not to trust him or do anything he says.

“That's on me, I scared ya, I'm sorry.” Boyd steps behind the bar, grabbing two glasses and pouring two big shots of whisky into them. Pushing the glass over to you. “Have a drink sweetheart, calm down, try to remember.” He nods towards you.

With a shaky hand you grab the drink, downing the whole thing.

“Atta girl” Boyd smirks wide. “And call me Boyd please, I won't point that gun at you again, scouts god damn honor” He chuckles.

You nod, twirling the glas around in your hand.

“This morning a man stepped into the warehouse. Gave me a Personal delivery. He was uh, he was white, mid or maybe…late forties.” You watch him pour you another.

“He had a really big beard, like in volume. Big black sunglasses and a green fishing hat pulled all the way down on his forehead. That's all I saw of him, I swear, he didn't give me a Name he paid in Cash.”

“Fuck” Boyd sighs, he's got an idea who it was. And that's bad. Worse is not knowing whos fucking hand that is. And what's he gonna do with her? Can't risk Raylan having a little chat with her..

“Sounded local?” Boyd asks, taking a good sip of his own drink.

You nod. That man sounded very local, the born and raised here kind actually.

But you still feel on edge, what if Boyd decides to get rid of you? Now that you told him what you know. “Mr…-” You huff, correcting yourself “Boyd? Please just let me go, I know people always say that but I swear I won't say a word. Nothing. To nobody! Not about the hand or the guy who gave me the package.. as far as my log goes.. I went home early and didn't deliver anything else to anyone.” His eyes are Intimidating.

He's got something really fucking crazy about him, the teeth, the hair, the eyes.. it's got you on your toes and as much as you hate to admit it..- he's also really handsome. Threatening. Might really kill you. But hot.

Boyd thinks on it for a moment, eyeing the ID card he pulled from you.

“Can't afford any risks right now..” He mumbles to himself.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuuuuck.

You don't leave him out of your sight when he walks around the bar, hand on his back where you know his gun is.

FUCK!

He pulls the gun out and points it at your chin, pushing himself closer to you.

“I swear..please..I can keep my mouth shut I promise” You whisper, searching his eyes.

His face moves strangely closer to yours, almost as if he's trying to lean in for a kiss..and then you hear the click of the trigger.

Empty.

“Holy shit..” You gasp, staring at him.

“Wasn't loaded sweetheart, couldn't find the full magazine in time when you walked in here” He smirks. “Forgot to reload last time” He shrugs, putting the gun onto the bar counter.

‘Last time’

That alone right there should make you storm out of that fucking Bar. But instead your shaky hands just grab your drink, downing the whole thing before you lean in and push your lips roughly onto his. A kiss pumped with adrenaline and tasting of whisky.

You truly don't know what drove you to do this, just the relief? Of knowing you won't die today. Of knowing you were never in any real danger when he pointed it at you?

The Booze? A way of saying ‘Hey thank you for not actually blowing my brains out?’

It was probably all of the above.

You turn to break the kiss, jumping off the bar stool to leave.

Boyd couldn't be more confused and surprised but that kiss? That kind of kiss is from his exact type of woman, he felt that..

So when he sees you leaving his hand grabs your wrist, it's a harsh tug, it makes you stumble back a little. You use the slight force of the pull to push yourself against him, kissing him harder and deeper this time.

You kiss each other breathless, moaning deeply when your tongues press together.

His hands grab a hold of your hips and slowly the realization after that adrenaline kick sets in. You are hardcore making out with a guy who not only had a cut off, flipped off Hand delivered to him but also pointed a gun at you ‘loaded or not’ the fear was real to you.

It takes some force to pull away from him, holding him at a distance by pressing your hand into his chest. God his heart is pounding just as badly as yours.

“What the fuck am I doing” You huff.

“Shit.” “Been wonderin’ that myself Darlin’! But I like em a bit crazy” His hands run over your brown Uniform.

“STOP that..- this is fucked up” You take a few steps back, shaking your head to yourself you can't possibly hook up with this fucking guy! He's dangerous.

“Ain't nobody forcing you love, there's the door” He nods towards the big exit sign. He's right..- you can just leave.

“Or we take this bottle of fine amber colored liquor and sit on the very comfortable couch in the back, have a few drinks..- amongst other things” He smiles, and fuck it's a really nice smile!

“Up to you, but I know where i'm goin’ “ and with that Boyd grabs the bottle, disappearing towards the back room of the bar. What is still stopping you from walking out of the exit door? He's obviously fucking crazy, and totally in trouble with some people who would send him a cut off hand!

But god it's one of those moments where you look back to later in life, one of the things you'd either be happy you did or didn't do. But the way he talks? Walks…the way he kisses even..-

You walk towards the back with a heavy pounding heart, slowly pushing the door open to see him on the couch. Bottle in hand, prideful evil little smirk on his face.

“Well then, looks like you made up your mind cupcake’ gonna come over here and take a seat?” His hand pats his thigh. Suggesting you should sit on his lap. That's asking a lot….

But you still go and do it, sitting down on his lap. Legs next to his thighs on the couch.

“There you go girl, look at that, not so scared of me anymore are you?” He puts the bottle between himself and the side of the couch, needing both hands to open the buttons on your brown Uniform.

Your hand gently strokes through his hair, tugging a little on it at the back of his head. The way he looks up at you has you melting, christ, how can he look so attractive and scary at the same time. Once he opens the shirt his hands slide it off your shoulders, taking in the bra that you are wearing. A simple Black bra with soft cups, watching him lean in closer to place a few kisses onto your neck and collarbone.

“Just promise me I won't regret this.” You ask, hand still combing through his hair.

His hand on your back opens your bra, slowly sliding it off before he looks up at you again. “I promise” then his head leans down to kiss one of your breasts, the texture of tongue against your sensitive nipple makes you moan deeply. So far no regrets.

When he leaves off of you again to lean all the way back you catch yourself squirming on his lap a little. He's staring at you, at your neck and your stomach and your breasts..

Watching him take another sip from the whisky bottle.

“I'm just enjoying the view, savoring the moment.” Boyd sighs.

“If the gun would have been loaded…” You look into his eyes, you just need to make sure.

“No. I wouldn't have shot you” he huffs, his left hand strokes over your side and then up your arm, to your shoulder and then he cups your face in his palm. “Cause i believe that you knew nothin’ about this, I just gotta be real damn careful with whom I trust these days”

It's good to hear that, so you lean into the palm on your cheek, for pointing a gun at you and being all Intimidating he sure is weirdly gentle with you. You almost feel a bit worshiped under his touch and gaze.

Your hand starts to explore his chest, fingers stroking over the thin fabric that's covering his skin, toying with the first few already opened buttons. That's when you feel a scar, peeling back the layer of his shirt wasn't your best idea. You see something a whole lot worse than a bullet hole scar.

“No. No way..- I don't fuck with that.” You huff getting off him, looking for your shirt. “Should have drawn the line the second you pointed a damn gun at me. But I am REALLY gonna draw the line at bullshit like white fucking Power” You curse, reffereing to the hateful symbol Tattoo on his upper arm. Being disgusted that you even kissed him.

“Now now, hold on. That was a long time ago, when I was a different man, who had different beliefs. I don't share these kinds of beliefs anymore, just haven't gotten rid of it yet because believe it or not, very little people wanna Cover this up and laser is expensive and I don't have the gut yet to just Stick a damn branding Iron to my own flesh” Boyd doesn't get up from the couch however, he won't try and persuade you. He never talked a woman into having sex and he's not gonna start with that now.

“Oh? Lemme do that for you, i gladly burn that fucking thing off your arm” You smile wide.

“I believe that in a second darlin’ “ Boyd shakes his head to himself, finally standing up. The tension is still there, the both of you with your Shirts all the way open. Revealing chest and stomach. “I don't believe in a superior race anymore, I promise” He offers the bottle of whisky to you.

It's still a bit hard to digest.

“If I screw you and it turns out that you do believe this crap it's really going to be a motherfucker on that regret scale, Boyd.” You take the whisky however, taking a good chug before handing it back. Feeling it warm your stomach, flush your cheeks a little.

“I've been a man of god..” He steps closer “I've been a brainwashed racist” He takes another step closer “But I sure as shit have never lied to get my dick wet, but you..you love this type of adrenaline darlin’ don't even try to deny it. Sure I had a gun but you still could have ran at any point. Could have just left instead of kissing me. But you..- Miss..- are a real adrenaline junkie. I'd bet if I pointed a loaded gun at ya you'd soak your god damn panties” He stops just an inch away from you. How does he do that?! This charm and speaking so much truth, how on earth does he know that it really does turn you on.

“It was a phase when I was younger.” You point out, letting him come closer to you. Undress you more. “I bet it was” that evil little grin returns to his face until you have the edge of the table against your butt.

“Booze…tattoos…little bit of weed and a whole bunch of bad boys ain't that right? Lemme guess, you noticed then and there that ordinary flip flop wearin’ legally money makin’ nice guys weren't your type. Always had one with a bit of an edge huh?”

Speaking of edge Boyd lifts your hips up to make you sit on that table, stepping between your legs.

You just nod at everything he's saying with a burning Red face.

“And even though these guys were total pricks, lyin’ cheatin’ assholes…They all had something in common didn't they?” He moves to completely undress you. He takes off everything. And you just let him. Sitting on the table with your legs around his waist fully nude while he still has all of his clothes on and only his shirt unbuttoned.

“God don't say it Boyd.” You squirm on the table.

His hands opening his belt is one of the hottest things you've ever seen. Those big strong fingers working the Button and his zipper…

“They made you scream didn't they? They made you hotter and wetter and moanin’ louder than you ever had in your life…” He sighs.

Your hands grip the edge of the table next to your thighs hard when you nod all shy and caught. He really does have a hang on reading people…Drilling into their darkest deepest secrets.

You should have known that someone like Boyd doesn't do a whole lot of prep, or gives out any warnings, that he takes what he wants when he wants it…- but feeling him push his entire length inside of you just like fucking that makes your eyes roll back in your head. Huffing and puffing because FUCK he's huge, at least it sort of fits.. fucking god.

Your arms wrap tightly around him, breathing out a broken moan against his shoulder.

It was only a tiny bit uncomfortable at first, that feeling is gone now and all you can feel is the fucking weight of his cock deep inside of you. “Fuck..Boyd!” You exhale.

His hand slowly wraps around your throat, squeezing the sides and suddenly that feeling of him pointing a gun at you starts to come flooding back. You want to trust him but..- He pointed a fucking gun at your head.

“Boyd..-” You ask with a desperate sigh.

His grip eases up and when he starts moving his hips he locks eyes with you.

“You're okay, you're alright.” He whispers, placing a deep kiss onto your lips.

After kissing you breathless his other hand strokes over your cheek. Thumb rubbing over your chin “You're safe with me darlin’ I promise.” He lets out a deep moan as well, putting his lips onto your throat and then he sucks gently on your neck.

“I'll hold you…- to that!” You moan mid sentence when his lips leave a hickey behind on your skin. His hands start wandering over your entire body, you can feel his rough Fingertips dance over your inner thighs, hips, running up your sides and then you feel his hands gently kneading your breasts. He really seems insanely into you, not just an object to get off with. You feel genuinely desired and wanted.

“Sweetness, If I'd known how godly you felt I would have never pointed that stupid Gun at you, christ, you take me so good” He groans, kissing your cheek and placing his hands back to your hips to move you into his thrusts.

“FUCK…-” You moan.

The way his hips keep moving and how his hands keep pulling you to meet each and every single thrust is unholy. It's a kind of pleasure you haven't felt in a while. Fucking assholes usually doesn't turn out so well, but whatever Boyd Crowder is involved in makes him the best cock you ever had.

“How long..can you…keep this up?” You ask. It's been minutes already, which is maybe normal but knowing how desperate you both were..he's holding out isn't he?

“Until I feel that drippin’ cunt of yours choke my cock baby” He huffs. Putting his forehead against yours. “God Boyd…” You didn't expect that.

Your hands move over his shoulders, your right hand strokes through his hair. Starts gently tugging on it with each thrust.

If it were up to you, you two could keep this up for fucking ever. His dirty mouth is certainly a little surprise but a nice break from all the cute nicknames he seems to come with. He's only going to finish when you do… that almost seems too good to be true so you try your best to hold out. You let him keep this rhythm up, the hard thrusts and the lips all over your skin when after a minute or two he starts to sound way more desperate when he moans then he did before.

His hand moves down on you, gently starting to rub two fingers over your clit.

And Boyd Crowder was right, assholes do make you scream. “OH GOD…-” Your legs tremble when his fingers speed up, that feeling mixed with the harsh thrusts got you beat. You give up. You don't hold it in a second longer, your core clenches brutally around his cock, legs squeezing his hips tightly when you cum.

And from all that sudden tightness Boyd cums too, letting go of your hip and wrapping both arms around you tightly as his now rather uncoordinated thrusts pump his release deeper inside of you, the sound coming out of this man almost makes you wish you could finish again just to see who gets louder. It's a moan you don't ever want to miss again, the kind of sound that's going to Ring in your ears everytime you touch yourself in the future. His hips slowly but surely come to a halt. Boyd's head resting on your shoulder.

You can't help but to stroke a gentle hand through his hair, the other over his back. He's still holding onto you so tightly.

“Assholes and their damn A+ fuckin’ “ You joke a little and when he chuckles something warms in your chest. His arms slowly let go and his head moves, trailing even more kisses over your shoulder, neck, cheek, all the way to your lips. You are sincerely surprised by that deep kiss, he claims to be one of the bad guys, an asshole like the other's but these sudden gentle and sweet things really do confuse you.

“I’m only a part time prick actually” He leans back just enough to take a good look at you but not pulling himself out of you yet.

"Hm. But lemme guess, you won't call” You meant it as a joke. Of course he wouldn't. This was a one time only thing right? A little fling. Just sex nothing else.

“I was..about to ask if you'd like to grab some dinner” Boyd smiles a bit, carefully pulling out of you and the way his hands keep you from closing your legs so he can take a good look at his work makes you speechless. You can feel it slowly running out of you…the sudden cold air.. squirming on the table again.

“Now that right there Sweetheart is a fuckin’ piece of art” He comments on it too, when finally his hands close your legs for you. God you want him to keep treating you like that, like that's all his, he may do with your legs and your hips and your entire body whatever he pleases.

When he simply pulls his underwear and jeans back up from his ankles he winks at you “So, dinner?” He asks, closing his zipper and belt and then the buttons on his shirt while you still sit on the table breathing through the feeling of that soaked leaking mess between your legs. Thank god you are on the pill…

“I thought you were joking about that” You huff. Making a grabby hand gesture towards the box of tissues on the other desk. Which he noticed and picked up in a flash for you.

“I ain't that cruel” His smirk however while he takes in how you clean up makes you want to doubt that statement.

But just as you were about to agree to Dinner you hear the heavy metal door open in the front of the bar, the look on Boyd's face is..really scary. How he takes his gun and checks if it's loaded this time, tugging it into his belt.

“Stay here darlin’ don't come out” He whispers, leaving you with a kiss on your cheek.

While Boyd goes to investigate you hurry with that cleanup, putting a pad into your underwear before putting your work Uniform pants back on. Fixing your hair and clothes to make it look like nothing happened here. Just in case it turns out to be a fucking girlfriend or wife or something.

“Raylan…” Boyd huffs, of course it would be him. “What can I do for ya” He walks behind the bar.

“Well, Boyd. We found a body this mornin’ missing a hand ! Can you believe that?” Raylan and his acts. “Oh..maybe you can, what's that?” He points at the box.

“A halloween prop” Boyd sighs loudly, of course he's Raylans first fucking stop and of course Boyd forgot to put that away when he got distracted with the most perfect and Intense sex he's had in long while.

“Right. Don't smell like one though, now what do you bet Boyd.. that this hand right here belongs to our guy who's missin’ one?” Givens teases some more. “Wouldn't that be somethin’ Raylan.” Boyd nods. “I didn't kill him if that's what you're asking. I got this as a message, a warning…and I do not know from who” He points out.

“Why should I believe that? Wouldn't be your first dead guy” Raylan inspects some more.

“I got this delivered. Officially. That means someone put some real work into that message, that's what you should focus on.” Boyd is getting tired of this, he has dinner plans. Hopefully.

“Can anyone vouch for that or are you just making up some tales” Raylan pokes at the box with a pen. “Nope, guess you gotta take my word for it friend” Crowder grins.

“I can.” You say with your clipboard back in your hands, and for a second there Raylan moved his hand to his gun holster.

“Who are you?” Raylan wonders but Boyd? Oh Boyd looks mad.. “I told you not to come out” He whispers when he makes a few steps to stand next to you, you feel a bit better about the nervous Marshal in front of you two right now.

“I made the delivery Sir.” You smile, carefully placing the clipboard with your Info and ID card onto the bar and taking a step back again.

“Your neck…are you alright? Did he hurt you? Force you to say that?” Raylan worries when he takes a closer look at you.

“Raylan! I am deeply offended that you'd think I'd ever lay my hands on a woman. That might have been how my Daddy did things but I ain't that kind of man” He protests. You forgot about the redish and purple spots on your neck and throat. It does look like someone violently choked you or something. “Then why does she..-” He squints his eyes, putting two and two together. “Was it consensual?” Givens asks and you can feel some color on your cheeks now, slowly nodding.

“Very.” You smirk up at Boyd for a moment and he returns it, placing a kiss against your head.

“Happy for you two, so, if I check this they can confirm you made this delivery today?” Raylan asks, looking somewhat disgusted at the thought of you two having sex. You nod again “Yes sir! It's all there..I didn't get a good look at the guy who put the contract in. I see so many faces on a daily Basis it's hard to remember specifics”

Now that's not what you told Boyd….

And he noticed that.

The look on his face is intensely hot, it makes you want to drop to your damn knees for him.

“I'll check that real quick then, don't go anywhere.” Raylan warns when he takes the box, the clipboard and your ID. He needs to make a few calls in his car so he leaves the bar, shaking his head to himself. When the door closes you grab Boyd's face with both hands to kiss him deeply.

He lets you but only for a moment, breathing roughly when he pulls away. “You didn't have to do that! But oh am I fuckin’ happy you did. Gives me some time to deal with that guy myself before the Marshal can get his hands on him” He kisses you back. You kiss intensely and passionately before you both run out of air. “I don't do good with cops and if I make any official Statements he needs to drag me to the station and..-” You smile wide “I have dinner plans” You wink at him, having him all over you again with deep kisses, hands on your hips when Raylan walks back inside.

“Jesus christ” Givens complains.

You two separate when the Marshal returns.. but damn it, why couldn't he take just a little longer.

“You two really are meant for each other..with your hefty criminal records and everything. But your Boss confirmed the delivery and your job there, so good for you young Lady.” He eyes Boyd a bit worried. “Look at that..a little more to the whole datin’ asshoels Story hm?” Boyd however doesn't look worried by it, he looks if anything turned on by it. “Break ins. Underage drinking.. theft, even an assault on a registered sex offender with a uh…Baseball bat” Raylan huffs impressed.

“God damn woman, where you been all my life..Smackin’ weirdos around? Atta girl” He smiles at Raylan like he's insanely proud of you.

“You got lucky today Boyd, but remember, I'll be back” Raylan reminds him before giving you your things back. “If that guy really does it for you…fine, but if you want a life away from all this crap reconsider. Boyd Crowder is always bad news” Givens mumbles to you before he leaves.

Once that door closes you and Boyd start laughing, giggling like idiots.

“Boyd Crowder is always bad news!!!” You mock Raylan Givens' voice. “He's a pain but he sure knows how to be funny” Boyd points out.

“So, where would you like to go for dinner sweetheart?” He asks and all you can do is stare up at him with a happy smile. What a strange day and what a strange man, from putting a gun to your head to making you scream from good sex to asking where ‘you’ would like to go eat.

“How about…my place? I can fix you up somethin’ nice.” You offer and his face lights up even more.

“Well then I'm already pretty set on what my dessert is gonna be…cupcake” He teases.

What a great use of this nickname, you can't wait to be eaten like one. “It's a date” You kiss him again, gently.

Hey you!

Thank you for reading!!! I hope you liked it.

Tag list:

@pixelatedprofilepic @golden-omega @ivyinthesun @catclaw12

(I hope i got that right!)

#walton goggins #boyd crowder #justified #boyd crowder x reader #boyd crowder x female reader #boyd crowder spice #cooper howard #the ghoul

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jjongslutz · 11 months

Text

박제이 JAY 💋 TAKE FIVE! [ MDNI. ]

IN WHICH you've always trusted jay. he's a good director. but you've gotta admit, this gig is... weird

WARNINGS ⨯ fem!reader, pw(out)p, soft dom!jay x sub!reader, director!jay x voice actor!reader, use of pet names (baby, good girl, darling) guided masturbation (f. receiving), recording (audio), fingering (f. receiving), finger sucking, p in v sex, cumming in mouth

WORD COUNT ⨯ 2.4k

AUTHOR’S NOTE . . . i don't even know what prompted this so…. enjoy!

You moan into the mic, marking what feels like the fiftieth time of the day.

This is it, this is the one.

"Hm," you hear the disapproving hum from your headphones, instantly dropping your head in frustration. "I'm sorry Y/N, but I need more emotion."

"Can I have some water?" You ask, instead of returning to the task you just can't quite get.

As long as you've been a voice actor, a good three years, you've never played such a challenging role, which is surprising, considering you once voiced seven different characters in the same show.

Jay, the director, nods at you from behind the glass.

You make your way to his side of the studio in a rush. You truly can't stand another second in that recording booth making such embarrassing sounds into the microphone for a whole group of people to watch and listen.

"What's gotten into you, Y/N?"

This isn't the first time you're working with Jay. He's young, but a very well-known director in the voice acting community under the name Park Jongseong. Though, you know him best as just Jay, one of your old friends from college. Is it nepotism if it's your friend getting you these gigs? But, then again, you're also pretty popular in the community, so... tomato tomato.

You shrug at him, taking a sip out of your water bottle. "I don't know, I guess, it's just—" You raise your shoulders again and take an awkward look around the room. Gesturing with your eyes, you tell him, "There's a lot of people here, it's kinda weird."

The gig in itself is weird, you know this, and you knew this ever since Jay presented it to you.

"You want me to what?"

"It's really simple," he had said. So casually, as if he didn't just drop the bomb that you'll basically be voicing straight up porn. "You make a few... exaggerated sounds, and the jobs done. It pays really well, trust me."

And, since you did need the money, you accepted, expecting it to be the shortest recording session you've ever had.

You were proven wrong already.

Jay lets his forehead fall into his hand, rubbing at his temples as if trying to heal a headache, which he probably actually is. He sighs before letting his arm drop. "Guys, you can go home. I'll take it from here."

They do not have to be told twice because as soon as the words come out of their boss's mouth, they're packing up their bags, putting on their coats and saying their goodbyes. You watch them all file behind each other to exit the studio, and then it's just you and Jay.

"So..." he says, filling the silence. "You ready for another try?"

You're glad he's taken off his director persona. Using it as a pass to strip off some of your own professionalism, you heave a long sigh. "Yeah, sure."

And, so you do.

You moan into the mic, this time making your own face in disgust because even you can hear that it sounded off. But when you turn to Jay, you don't see him mirroring your expression.

Instead, he's watching you intently. His fingers rest on his bottom lip, which is tutting underneath them. He's thinking, thinking, thinking, and you know he's come up with a new idea by the way his lips curl up slowly.

You hear the click of his microphone, and soon his voice fills your headphones. "I have a suggestion." His voice is low, but not hesitant. Jay is anything but hesitant.

"I'll take anything at this point."

"I want you to touch yourself."

His eyes never leave yours despite the window barrier between the two of you. Had you not been wearing your headphones, you would've missed the suggestion entirely, but you cock your head to the side slowly and decide you're fine that you didn't.

He takes your silence as approval. "Pull out the chair and take off your shorts for me," he says quickly. And you do as you're told.

You slowly slide the shorts down your legs, turning your gaze away for a second to recollect yourself.

When you sit down, your eyes meet again. You're sure you've grown a red flush, but he doesn't seem to mind. “Bring the mic down closer to you.” He pulls his bottom lip through his teeth before giving you the next instruction. "Start rubbing your pussy over your panties. Slowly."

Your hand traces its way up your leg, to your thigh, and cunt, both staling and putting on a show. What the fuck am I doing? Using two fingers, you being to draw little circles, then big circles over your clit, starting up a nice rhythm. You hum, pushing your head back against the chair and closing your eyes.

"Good girl," he breathes, and you don't think he even notices he said it.

But you certainly did. It pulls a moan out of you.

Jay hums approvingly from his side. “Slide your fingers underneath your waistband. Touch around your clit, but don't touch it just yet. Can you do that for me?”

You give him a broken hum instead of words, listening to his directions and obeying them simply. Your pussy pulses beneath your touch, begging for your fingers to reach where you want it most. But you listen to Jay obediently, letting your hands draw circles around your cunt, eliciting whimpers from your core.

“You’re doing so good for me,” Jay whispers into your ears. You wish he was in the room with you. You’re not sure what you want him to do, but you want more than just his entrancing voice in the headphones. “Keep reading the script,” he adds.

Right. You almost forgot about it.

Your character is meant to be reading while getting fucked from behind, their words slurred together and interrupted by moans. It’s hot, but the text is less than turning you on.

Starting from the top, you read it out loud, your fingers collecting the juices spilling out from your pleasure.

Without permission, you stick one finger inside of you. You push it in, and out, before retracting it completely and bringing it up to your mouth to suck on it. Once your finger is coated in your saliva, it goes back into your cunt, forgetting all about Jay’s piercing gaze from the other side of the glass.

His voice rings in your ears. “What are you doing, baby? That’s not part of the script,” he teases.

Your finger still in your sopping cunt, you lean forward to start back with the script. At about halfway, Jay’s voice sounds again.

“Play with your clit.” His voice drips with a sense of hunger that turns you on.

Your thumb rolls over your clit, finally, a broken moan escaping your lips. You curl your other fingers inside of you, searching for your G-spot which you just can't quite reach. A whine drawls out of you.

When he’s satisfied with your noises, you hear the click of his mic turning on. “Pinch your nipple.”

Bringing your other arm up, you notice your hardened nipples aching to be played with. You twist and pinch and tug to Jay’s pleasure.

“Good girl,” he groans again. His hand drifts further down his body to where you can't see from where you're sitting, but you watch his arm jerk and match his pace with the fingers in your pussy. “Fuck,” he mutters, taking off his headphones and slamming them on the table before moving for the door into the recording booth.

The sudden slam of the door startles you, making you jump in your seat. You close your legs quickly with your hands still embarrassingly stuck down your panties.

Jay fakes concern. “Aw baby, are you shy?” He kneels down in front of you, holding teasingly sweet eye contact as he gets down. His hands come up to your hips and dig into the waistband. You twitch as he snaps the band against your skin. “How about we take these off so I can see how wet you are?”

They come off within seconds. You’re scrambling to get back into your seat as Jay keeps watching you patiently.

“Perfect.” He runs his thumb against your dripping core, sending shivers down your spine. Your pre-cum leaves his finger shining. He raises his hand up to your mouth and swipes his thumb against your lips. You open them to welcome the taste of your wetness. “Good girl.”

As your tongue laps his thumb, you squeal when you feel an invasion in your cunt. Jay’s stuck two fingers into you, and thrusts them rhythmically to your tongue on his other hand.

You moan at the arousing sensations. Your eyes flutter shut naturally, but they catch on the flickering red light from atop the booth’s door.

It’s still recording. Fuck, you think, unable to form coherent words, bucking your hips as you feel your high coming closer. Your breaths are short and your cries are higher pitched, completely letting yourself get lost in the feeling.

And then it all slips away.

“Why,” you whine, prolonging the syllable in distress.

Jay wears a teasing smile, but his eyes show gentle affection. His hands go down to his waistband, but he interrupts himself in his movement. “Oh, baby, were you gonna cum? I’m sorry, I thought you’d want to do it on my cock instead, but I can finger you some more—”

“No!” You sit up hurriedly, grabbing his waistband weakly to take it off for him.

“Such a good girl,” he says proudly, watching you scramble to take his pants off.

You bite your lip at the wet patch on his boxers, but more at the outline of his hardened arousal underneath them. Jay looks at you intensely, his eyes telling you, “Go on.”

His erection slaps against his clothed torso. His tip shines of precum and it takes everything in you not to lap it all in your tongue.

Jay’s hand harshly grabs your hair, pulling your head to make eye contact with him towering above you. “Darling, don’t forget what we’re here for.”

You’re reminded of the recording mic and the script, crumpled paper, now, sitting on the script-stand. Pathetically, you get up from your knees, placing your hands on the stand and arching your back, giving him clear access to your entrance, which glistens in invitation.

Looking at the microphone sitting atop its stand, bent to where it sits right under your lips, your mind wanders at the thought of the shape and how much you wish it was Jay’s cock. You imagine putting him in your mouth and taking him all the way down your throat, letting him thrust upward, causing you to choke on him and clenching your throat tighter to make sure he spills his seed deep inside you.

The intrusion of him aligning himself to your hole shuts your thoughts up. “Fuck, you’re tight,” he groans as he slides in slowly.

His first thrust pulls out a pornagraphic moan from you. The way he hits right where you need him, balls-deep into your cunt. Your hand drags down to your stomach where you feel the tip of his dick pushing forward with each thrust.

You clench around him, trying to focus on the script through blurry vision. Taking breaks between every few words to moan or suck in a deep breath—more often, both—you manage measly to get through your lines.

“Good girl,” Jay calls you again. His hand reaches down to stroke your hair gently, before he harshly grips the base of it, bundling it in his hands and using it as leverage to slam his hips against yours. “Such a good fucking girl.”

Combining his fast thrusts and his hypnotizing words, you know you’re not going to last long. You feel his cock hit your g-spot and it’s all over. You’re clenching and whining into the microphone, letting out the most pleasurable angelic noises you’ve ever made. Your legs tremble underneath his unstilling movements.

When you’re done shaking in pleasure beneath him, your hips buck forward to avoid overstimulation, his cock slipping out. Jay doesn’t mind, his hand going directly to his aching groin, moving at a fast pace.

“Fuck, I’m close.”

You love the sounds he makes. His low hums, the way he speaks quickly to not interrupt himself by a loud moan.

Steadying yourself on the chair, you kneel in front of him, his cock jerking against your mouth. He groans above you, thrusting his hips into it as he gets close. You open your mouth and welcome his spilling white ropes as he closes his eyes tightly and lets out the most brain-fuzzing sound of the day.

Jay takes his hand and cups your jaw. His thumb swipes over the leftover cum leaking over your lips, pushing it through as to not waste any bit of it. “Perfect,” he whispers at the beautiful sight in front of him.

He pulls out a handkerchief from his pocket, dampens it with water from your bottle and cleans you, then the microphone and script stands.

You thank him as he helps you pull your clothes on over your body, muscles still shaking.

When you’re both on the outside of the booth, nothing is different in the air from when you were out here with him before. You’re not sure if you wish it had changed or if you’re thankful there’s nothing weird that came from what you just did.

“How was that,” you ask, sipping on your bottle. You’re not really serious, you know it was good, but you need the confirmation.

A light dust of pink shades his cheeks as he names the audio file “Y/N as Mina, Ep. 4.” “Yes, you did, uh, very good. Really good.”

A smile creeps upon your lips, but you suppress it by biting your lip. “Thank you.”

With your words, his blush deepens.

But despite his bashful expression, your eyes train on the movement of his mouse on the screen, noting how he duplicates the file and saves it into another folder, labeled: X.

“I’d be happy to work with you again, Jay.”

 JJONGSLUTZ 2023

#💋 𐬹⠀꩜ written by sol #enhypen #enhypen au #enhypen fic #enhypen smut #enhypen x reader #jay #enhypen jay #jay smut #enhypen jay x reader #enhypen jay smut #jay x y/n #jay x you #jay x reader #jay au #jay fic #jay fanfic #p.js

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covid-safer-hotties · 10 days

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Also preserved on our archive

By Jessica Wildfire

Our friends and family think they understand their immune system because George Carlin explained it to them in the 90s:

"Where did this sudden fear of germs come from? What do you think you have an immune system for? It's for killing germs. But it needs practice. It needs germs to practice on. If you kill all the germs around you, and lead a completely sterile life, then when germs do come along you're not going to be prepared. What are you gonna do? I'll tell you what, you're gonna get sick and you're gonna die and you're gonna deserve it because you're f-ing weak and you've got a f-ing weak immune system."

George Carlin was right about a lot of things, but he was wrong on this one.

(He got plastic wrong, too.)

Unfortunately, this part of his 11th HBO standup special became permanently lodged into the American cultural memory. I only saw it once as a kid, but it stayed with me for the rest of my life.

Not even AP Biology could dislodge it.

I, too, used to think you built your immune system up by exposing yourself to harmful germs. How could the great prophet George Carlin be mistaken on something that made so much intuitive sense, especially when you dropped a few f-bombs in there? I also thought it was a good thing to exercise your way through a cold. Then I opened myself up to the possibility that I was wrong.

In the words of Carl Sagan, I'd been bamboozled.

In early 2020, this Carlin bit inspired countless reaction videos that still litter the internet. Anti-science zealots have used George Carlin's monologue on disease thousands of times over the last four years to ridicule masks, vaccines, and clean air. Everywhere you look, that piece of standup looms in the background, and it's getting revived again for bird flu. But even George Carlin got the idea from somewhere else.

You can trace this misguided notion back to hygiene theory, proposed by David Strachan in 1989. Strachan argued that a whole range of health problems in the late 20th century had roots in "a lower incidence of infection in early childhood." Basically, our immune systems weren't getting enough exposure to bacteria and viruses. He was mainly talking about the rise in childhood allergies as the result, but the media began printing loose interpretations of his studies and jumping to conclusions that less exposure to disease was a bad thing in general. So the public developed the idea that somehow getting sick was good for you. So began the myth of the "bored immune system" that needed practice in order to stay healthy. Gurus and quacks latched onto this idea. So did talkshows.

And then comedians...

It wasn't until 2003 that Graham Rook offered a more accurate description of the situation. As he explained, "microbes have evolved into an essential role in regulating our immune system... the microbes involved are not infections, but friendly microbes which make up our human microbiome. These are acquired by exposure to other humans or animals and microbiota from our natural environment."

This became known as the "old friends hypothesis."

The old friends hypothesis now serves as the dominant model for how microbes work with our immune system. According to immunologists, kids need to be playing outside more and eating fresher, healthier foods. That's what helps their immune systems.

Getting sick all the time just hurts them.

Like many debunked ideas, hygiene theory and the myth of the bored immune system have become entrenched. A couple of years ago, hygiene theory got repackaged as "immunity debt." Now Americans, Canadians, and many Europeans think they need to get sick to stay healthy. The elites have absolutely no problem with that. It saves them countless billions to let everyone continue thinking they're better off letting diseases run around in their cells.

So:

Your immune system doesn't work like a muscle. It doesn't get stronger the more it's exposed to different harmful germs.

It doesn't need practice.

Phillipp Dettmer gives a vivid, accessible breakdown of the immune system in his 2021 book, Immune. You can show it to any internet troll who brags about their knowledge of the immune system. Dettmer destroys misinformation, explaining how your adaptive immune system actually works, as well as your gut microbiome.

As many articles and books explain, your body has an innate immune system that already knows how to fight off pathogens. You can help your immune system by feeding it the nutrients it needs. (That's an entirely different article.) You can protect your immune system from pollution, cigarette smoke, and other toxins. But genetics determines a lot of your immunological makeup. You can be born with an immune system that doesn't work the way it should, and it's not your fault.

You also have an adaptive immune system that stores chemical blueprints of pathogens in memory T and B cells. According to a 2024 article in Nature, these cells respond better to specific pathogens your body has seen before. Those blueprints last only as long as your memory cells. Sometimes those cells mature and stay around for years, even decades. If they don't, then your body won't remember the pathogen.

Your body doesn't need exposure to viruses.

Your immune system responds to harmful microbes and it can develop memories from previous infections. Most of the time, those memories apply specifically to that specific strain, variant, or clade of the virus. For example, immune memory to one type of adenovirus or rhinovirus doesn't confer automatic, guaranteed protection against all of them, and there are hundreds.

Sometimes, cross-protection can happen, but it's limited and hard to predict. When it does, like with the original smallpox vaccine, it's a big deal. If that were easy, we would already have a universal coronavirus vaccine and wouldn't have to update flu shots every year. Most of the time, getting sick with one virus doesn't train your body to respond any better to other viruses, especially when those viruses aren't related.

Victoria's state department of health puts it very plainly:

"The immune keeps a record of every microbe it has ever defeated, in types of white blood cells (B-lymphocytes and T-lymphocytes) known as memory cells. This means it can recognise and destroy the microbe quickly if it enters the body again, before it can multiply and make you feel sick. Some infections, like the flu and the common cold, have to be fought many times because so many different viruses or strains of the same type of virus can cause these illnesses. Catching a cold or flu from one virus does not give you immunity against the others."

You can add Covid to that list.

Some research has suggested that because catching one virus activates your innate immune system, your body's broad layers of defense offer brief protection against other pathogens. Viruses also compete with each other, meaning that infection from one virus can ward off others. That's called viral interference. Neither option means your immune system benefits from exposure to viruses.

We can't explain all of the human immune system in a single post, but here's the point. It's way more complicated than George Carlin explained. There's a lot more going on. It's not as simple as training your immune system by giving it practice.

That's not how it works.

It just sounds good.

No credible doctor or immunologist recommends building your immune system by welcoming viral and bacterial infections into your life. The costs far outweigh the benefits. Many viruses exact a price on your body and your immune system. Getting infected over and over again makes you weaker, not stronger. Vaccines don't work because they give your immune system practice. They work because they allow your body to develop a memory of a pathogen without all the risk.

Many viruses, like the flu, often leave lasting damage even when your immune system fights them off. Your immune system actually does some of that damage itself by attacking infected cells. In the wake of flu, your entire body including your immune system needs time to recover. During that stage, you're vulnerable to opportunistic infections. Other viruses, like measles and ebola, disable your immune system and even wipe out memory cells.

That's also what Covid does, among many other things.

You can't develop full immunity to viruses that evade, attack, and disable large parts of your immune system. Sometimes you can develop partial immunity, but the virus still invades and still does damage every time. Just because you can recover from these infections, that doesn't mean you're better off afterward.

Think of it like this:

Your body already knows how to heal its skin and bones. You don't have to teach it how to do that by cutting yourself or breaking your arm.

As it happens, many westerners also think bones grow back stronger after they're broken and scar tissue is tougher than normal skin.

That's also false.

Scar tissue remains functionally deficient in many ways compared to uninjured skin. Broken bones form a temporary calcium callus that's stronger than ordinary bone, but it's eventually replaced.

These misguided ideas fit in a culture obsessed with tough love, the idea that abusing someone somehow builds their character. And while it might make you interesting, it's certainly not "good" for you.

Sometimes I wonder what George Carlin would think about having one part of a standup special used to endorse bad science and eugenics. I'd like to think he would have a problem with it.

There's a lot you can do to boost your immune system.

Getting sick isn't one of them.

#mask up #covid #pandemic #covid 19 #wear a mask #public health #coronavirus #sars cov 2 #still coviding #wear a respirator

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darthannie · 1 year

Text

day four: creampie with Jim

pairing: Jim (the delinquent season) x f!reader word count: 912 warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, L-bombs teehee, smut(duh), Jim is possessive a/n: Finally, something kinda soft. I need Jim so bad it’s not even funny. He and I are endgame.

kinktober masterlist

“God, it’s absolutely freezing out there.” You walked into Jim’s apartment and shrugged off your wet raincoat. You hung it up to dry at the entryway and took off your shoes, leaving them to dry as well.

Jim stood to the side and waited for you to acknowledge him. When you finally looked at him he opened his arms and you gladly accepted his embrace. He gave you a quick kiss and then you both made your way to the couch. You threw yourself down and he sat next to you. You cuddled into his side and he put his arm around you.

This was the usual routine. You had both recently made your relationship official, but not much had changed. Your relationship was that of an old married couple, though there was less bickering. You could see your relationship going for the long haul, and the prospect was as exciting as it was petrifying.

You and Jim had your typical end-of-week debrief. He told you about a new book he was reading, and you told him about a new dish you were planning on making. He mentioned how you should both make it together at his apartment.

You looked up at him and grinned “That’s a great idea. I’ll finally be able to cook you dinner.”

He looked at you with a soft gaze. There was something on his mind. You looked at him confused and then he said it.

“I love you,” he blurted out. “I am so in love with you.”

Your mouth opened slightly; you were in a state of shock. He hadn’t said it before, so you hadn’t bothered, but hearing it from him now was like a bomb had dropped. You took a moment before you replied.

“I love you, too,” you took a breath, “I love you so much.”

He gave a little wag of his head, “Come here.”

He pulled you in for a kiss and he was glad he did. That one kiss turned into a make out session on the couch. Things got heated fast and soon your shirt was off. Then his was too. Somewhere along the way the button of his pants was getting undone and he stopped you.

“Not here. Bedroom”

He practically dragged you over to his bed. Once you were settled on the bed he took his shirt off, followed by his pants and underwear. He grabbed your pants and underwear by the waistband and pulled them down. You giggled at his sudden forwardness. He flipped you on your hands and knees, making you face away from him.

He grabbed your hips and entered you. Your moans came with every thrust. You didn’t mean to, but you were completely in sync with him.

He used to fingers to touch your clit while he fucked you. It was so much at once that your arms faltered, causing you to collapse in the bed, back arched. This let Jim reach a whole new spot, causing a chill to run through your body.

He pulled out and you whined.

“Jim, fuck, keep going.”

“On your back. Need to look at you.”

He helped you onto your back. He wanted to look at your face while he fucked you. He interlaced his fingers with yours and pinned your arms down. This time it felt different. Romantic.

“You are so beautiful,” he said with all the sincerity in the world.

His ragged breath turned into shaky moans and sweet nothings as he set a fast pace. He kept repeating mine, all mine, you’re all mine.

You bit your lip to stop yourself from being too loud. You liked hearing the sounds your bodies made together. You could tell when he was close, he started getting sloppy. His usual breathy moans became fully voiced. He said your name like it was a prayer falling from his lips.

To both of your surprise, he came inside you. And it was a lot. Neither of you had agreed to it, nor had you thought of the consequences. It just happened. You came soon after him and you bucked your hips towards him as you did. It felt warmer than usual. No one had ever cum inside you before.

He untangled his fingers from yours and sat up, still inside you. He ran his hands down the sides of your body. Your breathing settled and so did his. This was brand new territory. Unsure how to proceed, he tried to snap the tension with a joke, “Well, I guess now it’s time to enjoy the show.”

You laughed lightheartedly and he pulled out. His cum pooled out of you. You saw his cock twitch as he watched what he had done. You tightened your muscles and more dripped out. You reached down to try and push some of it back in. You started fingering yourself, mixing your wetness with his cum. That did him in. He watched and stroked himself. When he was fully hard again he leaned down and kissed you. He moved to your neck and nipped at the skin, careful not to leave any marks. He shooed your hand away from your pussy and positioned his tip at your wet hole. He watched as he slipped in with no resistance.

He was getting drunk on the pleasure. At that moment he decided he was going to see how many times he could watch his seed drip from your cunt in a single night.

Taglist:

@devotedlyshadowytheorist, @dxnger-dxys, @tommyshelbywhore, @quinnlilias,@madnessandobsession, @mvpr-moon, @nela-cutie, @faebirdie, @charmed-asylum, @anasanthologyy, @ilikefictionalmen, @akanne-aka, @no-fooking-fighting, @flwrs4aust

(If something is up with your tag or you would like to be added, let me know!)

#kinktober ‘23 #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy #cillian murphy fic #jim delinquent season #jim the delinquent season #jim the delinquent season x reader #jim delinquent season x f!reader #jim delinquent season x reader #cillian x reader #cillian murphy smut #cillian x fem!reader

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mozzeralla-stix · 2 months

Note

Heyyyyy! So can I request a Carl x fem reader where she’s insecure and Carl sees her body for the first time after her trying to hide it for ages. It can be smut or fluff or both🫶🏻

Every Piece of You

Carl Grimes x Insecure fem! reader

WARNINGS: unprotected sex, negative self talk, crying, body issues, L bombs, f! receiving oral

Carl finally sees reader for the first time and can’t help but show his adoration…

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃ ᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃ ᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃ ᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚

I stare at my reflection in the mirror. Somehow, despite the beauty of having a clean and safe house to live in with running water and electricity, I still find my brain focusing so deeply on all the wrongs in my life. More specifically, the wrongs that are a part of me. There are a lot of terrible things I’ve had to do to survive on the road. My hands aren’t clean of blood, but time and improvement can change that. What can’t change- however- is my body. I pull the sweat filled shirt off of my body reluctantly, knowing I have to shower eventually.

As the garment drops to the floor I can’t help but stare at myself in disgust once again. Each curve and dip in my body only reminds me of how unattractive my frame is. It’s a wonder how I managed to get Carl to love me. Probably because he has never seen my body, I’m sure the day he finally sees me without clothes will be the day I’m single once again. I wrap my arms around myself while tears well up on my eyes. I can barely see my reflection with the liquid overwhelming my waterline, finally beginning to trail down my cheeks as I let out weak sobs. I can’t help but grieve the end of Carl and I’s relationship- as its inevitable end will one day come with the reveal of my body.

I hear a soft knock on the door followed by, “Y/n? Hun? Are you okay in there? I’m coming in.”

Before I can scramble to cover myself up or run to the door, I see Carl standing in the doorway. I feel fear rush through me- not ready whatsoever for this moment. Carl’s eyes light up, and his mouth suddenly falls slightly agape. I feel tears threaten to fall again once the shock leaves my body. “Carl! I’m so sorry. You weren’t supposed to see this. I know it’s awful. Please just don’t-“

“Oh my god Y/n, you’re beautiful.”

I am stopped in my tracks, my brows furrowing in utter confusion and disagreement. I shake my head side to side, refusing to accept such an impossible notion. “You don’t have to pretend, Carl. I know I’m not. Please just don’t leave over this. You don’t even have to see me like this ever again.”

Before I can continue, Carl walks over and gently pulls me into his warm embrace, placing my head gently in the crook of his neck. Sobs that I was holding back barreled their way through my barricades, forcing salty tears out of my eyes and onto Carl’s flannel. The comfort of his very presence: his smell, the tickle of his long brown locks on my cheek and neck, his steady heartbeat and slow breathing- it all became so overwhelming.

“Sweetheart, I think you’re so beautiful. Best thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. As upset as I am that it happened this way- I’m so happy I’ve finally gotten to see the love of my life in such an intimate way. Nothing could change my love for you.” Carl follows with a soft kiss to my lips before pulling away to look into my eyes- his soft blue ones giving me a loving look.

“Carl, I love you too. So much. I’m sorry.” I barely let out before pulling him back into a hug, gripping his flannel harder than ever as the tears slowly stop.

“It’s okay, don’t apologize. You’re so amazing. So pretty.”

Carl starts to kiss me gently, moving his hands down to grab at my hips. I feel myself tense up, only to be comforted by Carl placing one hand on the top of my head, lightly stroking my hair. Our kiss deep new as both Carl and I slightly tilt our heads to the side, hoping to feel even more of a connection between our two selves. I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer to me. In response, Carl tugs lightly at my hip and pulls my body flush against is as I whimper from the contact.

Carl slowly begins to guide me back towards the counter, pinning my hips to the surface once my back hits the edge. I let out a gasp and Carl takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into my mouth- forcing an unexpected moan out of me. I feel his tongue lap against mine, creating amazing friction between our two mouths. I tug at his hair, causing him to groan and lightly roll his hips up towards mine. The sudden contact makes me whimper, loving the satisfying rhythm developing between us. Carl trails his lips down to my face, stopping at the junction of my jaw and neck.

He latches onto the small patch of skin and begins to gently suck, leaving a dark mark on my neck. I moan and can’t help but buck my hips forward at the sudden rush of pleasure. He lets out a low groan and is only fueled further by my little reactions. I continue to tug on his hair and roll my hips with his, reveling in the feeling of our bodies being so close and intertwined. Carl trails down my neck even further- leaving dark, bruising love bites that are sure to show in the morning. He reaches my collarbone and bites down on the sensitive mound lining my neck.

“Ahh~ Ca- Carl! Please.”

Carl gives the bone one final nibble before raising his head and moving close to my ear, carefully whispering “Don’t worry, pretty girl. You’ll get what you want soon. patience..”

I nod my head feverishly and feel his hands begin to tighten around my hips, lifting me up so that I am sitting on top of the bathroom counter. A deep blush creeps up my neck and spreads itself across my cheeks, displaying my embarrassment and needy nature all to Carl. He leans down and starts to make out with me- this time with much more heat and desperation. I match his movements, the newly present wetness at my core pooling into my panties.

With his hands gripping my hips even tighter than before, he begins to roll his hard on up into me while guiding my hips towards his, creating strong friction between us two. I throw my head back in a daze of submission and pleasure, desperately following his lead. Each time his dick rubs against me through the layers of clothing I feel an electric shock run up my spine, causing loud moans to slip from my mouth uncontrollably. Carl let’s out a few of his own while he places his hand over my mouth gently, attempting to muffle my loud displays of enjoyment.

“Gotta be quiet for me, ‘kay my love? Can you do- mmph~ do that for me?”

I quickly nod and continue to do my best to suppress my noises, still following his hips with my own bucking movements. I whine as he slows his grinding, eyeing me up and down.

Carl slowly moves one hand to my back, looking into my eyes for approval for a moment before undoing my bra. I allow it to slip down my arms, revealing my bare chest to Carl. His eyes dilate with amazement, just before he looks up at me with a hungry expression. I have no choice but to stare back, frozen with arousal and embarrassment. I move my hands to the hem of his shirt, begging him to take it off as well. Carl quickly gets the message with a small chuckle and pulls the shirt over his head, tossing it into the pile of clothes forming on the bathroom floor. I stare in awe, never having seen his bare torso much. My eyes trail from his distinct collarbones to his chest, continuing my gaze all the way down to his toned abdomen and the patch of hair that leads beneath his jeans. I flush a dark red and dart my eyes to his forearms, the view of his muscles ever so slightly popping out due to his leaning position certainly not helping the color on my face. Carl’s hand then comes up to my chin- gently lifting it so that I’m looking him in the eyes.

“It’s okay to look sweetheart, it’s all yours.”

I practically melt at the comment before Carl places a chaste kiss on my lips. He then gently lowers himself down to his knees, placing his strong hands onto the top of my covered thighs.

He slides his hand up to the button of my jeans while his other remains on my thigh, slowly rubbing up and down. He makes quick work of the button, removing my jeans to reveal my panties. He spots the wet spot soaking through the thin fabric, and looks me in the eyes while he licks a strip from the area to the top of my cloth covered pussy. I let out a moan and tangle my hands in his hair, rolling my lips delicately against his mouth. He removes his mouth from my core to place soft kisses all around the inside of my thighs, biting down on the last placement to leave a dark hickey. The pleasure overwhelms me, until he lets go of the plush area and presses his thumb against the love bite, bringing a shiver up my spine at the small mix of pleasure and pain.

“Please! I cant wait any longer Carl..” I say as I tug at his hair again, barely able to contain myself. Carl sighs and gives in, gripping the hem of my panties and pulling them down to reveal my soaking wet core. He looks up at me and gives me a loving smile.

“God, you’re just so unbelievably beautiful. Every part of you.” He let’s out breathlessly.

I try to stutter out a thank you, but am interrupted by Carls tongue feverishly lapping at my clit, fueled by desire and the need to prove just how majestic he found my body to be. I begin to feel as though I am weightless, squeezing my eyes shut in pure bliss and Carl descends to my throbbing entrance. He licks up all of the juices seeping out of me, moaning as he does so. This sends waves of extra pleasure through me as the vibrations travel from my pussy to my abdomen. He then latches himself on my clit, sucking harshly on the enlarged bud. My back arches aggressively, letting out an incredibly lewd moan as I tug on his hair.

Carl moves away from my sensitive pussy, pulling himself up with a smirk. He moves his lips towards mine and kisses me, forcing me to taste myself on my tongue. He disconnects the intimate kiss and quickly removes his pants and boxers, revealing his hard and aching cock. Glistening pre-cum drips from the slightly red tip as my eyes widen, realizing that that is supposed to fit inside of me. I turn red and Carl catches on, pulling me into his tight embrace. His skin feels warm, sending comfort into my once tense muscles. He gently rubs my back before pulling away, placing a gentle kiss on my cheek.

“I promise it’ll fit darlin’, I would never hurt you. You’ll take it all so well for me, I know you will.”

I nod while he pumps himself a few times, lining his cock up to my dripping entrance.

“I love you, Carl.”

“I love you too, Y/n. So much.”

With that Carl gently pushed into my wet folds, causing me to gasp and throw my arms around his shoulders- pulling his torso flush to mine. I stuff my head into his neck and whimper, feeling a light sting. Carl wraps one arm around my back to grip the other side of my hips, while his other hand sneaks down to my clit and rubs the sensitive mound in a circular motion. The wavering pleasure helps me relax- allowing me to let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding in, while Carl continues to push himself into me so gently.

“F-fuck. Doing so well f’me darlin’. God~”

I can tell he is struggling to keep it together while his cock dips further into me, eventually bottoming out with a groan. I feel my chest fill with warmth and love, the energy between us filling the small room with rose colored feelings. I take a deep breath and sigh, adjusting to the feeling of being apart of him. My pussy instinctively squeezes my walls around him, causing Carl to whimper and buck his hips back into me. However, he doesn’t stop once he initially fucks himself into me- making slow yet steady thrusts into me. He looks down at our connection, watching as his hard member disappears with every thrust inside of me.

I gently scratch at his back and moan into his neck, practically squirming in his touch. The pleasure overwhelms me, along with the intense feelings shared between us in this intimate moment. Unexpectedly, I don’t feel any insecurity about being bare in front of Carl. The way he cares so deeply and ensured I’m not hurt, the way he longingly looks at my body while fucking into me, the way he rolls his hips ever so delicately to ensure this feels amazing for the both of us. Carl’s actions are filled with love and adoration. He loves me for me, every single piece.

My brain starts to go foggy with pleasure, as I let out soft moans and whimpers in an attempt to keep myself quiet. I allow Carl’s name to occasionally roll of my tongue, longing the way he groans in response to my desperate calls for him. I feel myself nearing the edge, tears starting to well up in the corner of my eyes- both due to the love I feel and the way that Carl perfectly hits my g-spot with every thrust.

My moans get louder and I can barely mumble a “Carl- Ahh mph~ I’m close!” against Carl’s shoulder. He gently lifts my head up with his hand and makes me look him in the eyes- the tears only getting more intense and rapid with our irises creating an unbreakable link between Carl and I. He smashes his lips against mine, moaning into my mouth while he passionately slips his tongue into my mouth.

The coil in my stomach gets impossibly tighter, a tense yet comfortable sensation growing in my abdomen. I begin to claw at his bare back- leaving dark red marks trailing all down him. Carl moans and rolls his hips once more, teetering me over the edge.

Everything falls apart within me and Carl pulls away from the kiss, whispering “Let it go, love. It’s okay.”

I yelp out a lewd moan at his word choice and ride out my orgasm, the rhythmic clenching and unclenching pushing Carl over the edge as well. I feel his cock tense up inside of me right before spilling his warm cum deep inside of me, enhancing the last bits of my orgasm.

Carl rests his forehead against mine while breathing very heavily, closing his eyes before pressing a soft kiss to my lips.

“I love you Y/n, every single piece of you.”

“I love you too, Carl. Always and forever.”

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃ ᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃ ᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃ ᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚

oh my god i’m sorry this took so long. lots going on rn. hope you enjoy!! <3

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