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lovelivision · 4 months ago

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BAD ROMANCE.ᐟ

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: gojo satoru/reader

𝐖𝐂: 9.4k

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: your love life is in a tragic state, all your dates go poorly and just when you think you found a nice guy you could like, that ends poorly too. good thing you have your best friend gojo to look out for you !

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ only, smut, f!reader, she/her pronouns used, cheating (not done by reader or gojo), dirty talk, cunnilingus, fingering, spitting, praise, p in v sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, big dick!gojo, tease/mean!gojo (he likes embarrassing reader), jealous!gojo, gojo is down BAD, use of pet names, that's all !! (i think :3)

Checking the time again, you sigh, it’s bordering on an hour since you first sat down to wait for your date. The thought that you had been stood up entered your mind maybe half an hour ago but now it’s practically been cemented.

Maybe you should just cut your losses and leave but this is a nice place, it’d be a shame to waste the reservation. Hope that your date is going to miraculously show up has left you though. Opening your texts, you think of who to message, the idea to message Gojo briefly crossing your mind before you decide he is the worst possible person to tell about this.

Instead, you message Shoko, asking if she’s free and telling her of your failed date. It takes her a few minutes to reply and when she does, instead of a straightforward response, you receive a cryptic and ambiguous saluting emoji. Deciding to take that as confirmation of her presence, you begin waiting… again.

You think you’ve reached your waiting quota of the year, no more waiting on people. Why do people never seem to value your time? While lamenting to yourself silently, you don’t notice the arrival of someone incredibly familiar, someone incredibly exasperating.

“I’m hurt you know.”

The words startle you and as you look up to find the source of them, you’re confronted with Gojo standing beside you. Pouting like he’s feeling extremely slighted by you for some indiscernible reason.

You almost sputter at him, his presence completely unexpected, “What are you doing here?”

He ignores your question, continuing with his faux pain, “My best friend gets stood up and instead of messaging me… she messages Shoko? That stings.”

Sighing off his dramatics, you ask again, “What are you doing here, Gojo?”

“What else would I be here for?” He smiles big at you, moving to sit in the chair opposite you, flopping down and making himself comfortable, “I’m here to be your date!”

Propping your head up on your hand, you grumble at him, “How did you even know I was stood up?”

“I was with Shoko when you messaged her,” he shrugs easily.

You squint at him, “Why are you here and not her?”

“Because it is my duty as your best friend to be there for you.”

So stubborn about the weirdest things, you’ve known each other forever and sure, maybe he is your best friend, but this is something that has bruised your ego a bit. It’s silly, but for some reason… you don’t really want for Gojo to see you like this.

Sulking, you huff, “It’s not a big deal, I just didn’t wanna waste the reservation.”

“Don’t lie, you dressed up all cute and the dude couldn’t even be bothered to show up?” He frowns like he’ll get angry if he thinks about it for too long, “It’s a big deal.”

“You’re more upset about it then I am,” you play at indifference and while you don’t really care about your failed date, you are thinking really hard about how he said you dressed cute.

“That’s just ‘cause you’re always settling for less than what you deserve,” he grows a little more irritated, like his observation annoys him more than it annoys you.

Defending yourself with a grumble, “That’s not true.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” he smiles in a manner that exudes disbelief. Because it does, Gojo has witnessed you settle for less nearly every single day of your lives and every time he has to grit his teeth and cope.

Crossing your arms, you snark at him, “Don’t patronise me, Gojo.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he still has that smile plastered on his face.

You glare at him from across the table but sit in silence, not really having anything else to say to him right now. Annoyed at yourself for losing the back and forth between the two of you for not the first time and definitely not the last.

Gojo, however, is not capable of sitting in silence for too long and so, he whines at you, “Anyways, I thought I was always your first call when things went wrong.”

Looking away from him, you scratch at the back of your neck awkwardly, “You are… for other things.”

Catching onto your meaning, he asks, “So, you never call me when things go wrong on dates?”

“…Correct.”

“Why not?”

“It’s not really something I thought would matter to you this much.” The truth is, you’ve been on much worse dates, dates where they actually show up but prove themselves to be some of the worst people. You always call Shoko though… that or you just brush it off.

Telling Gojo about your dating life feels weird, it’s not like he tells you about his.

His mouth downturns at your remark, “Anything that involves you matters to me.”

“It’s not like you tell me about your dating life,” you counter, starting to feel somewhat badly.

“I would, if I had one,” he leans back into his chair more, “I’m not currently dating though.”

Sheepishly, you say, “Oh…well…I am.”

“I know that now,” his eyes focus on you, “Just how many dates have you gone on recently?”

“Recently?” he nods at you, “Uhm… a few every couple of weeks, not heaps but… frequently enough that getting stood up isn’t the worst thing to happen to me lately.” You laugh slightly at a memory, “You know, on one of them, the guy actually got back with his ex during our date, like he–”

You cut yourself off when you realise Gojo isn’t experiencing the same amount of enjoyment at the recounting of your date a few weeks ago. “Why is this bugging you?”

“It’s not,” his tone is certain but the expression he’s wearing is anything but. Clearly annoyed by something.

Challenging his logic, you ask, “Do you want me to tell you about my dating life?”

He thinks on it for a second, “No.”

Tilting your head at him, “See? That’s what I thought–”

“–But I want you to call me when things go badly,” his gaze even on you, unwavering.

“You’re annoying,” you huff out a breath.

His face brightens up again, “And yet I’m still your best friend.”

You can only roll your eyes at him because he’s right, he’s completely annoying and also completely your best friend.

★

After that failed date that turned into you having dinner with Gojo, you decided you would listen to him and call him whenever a date goes south. He seemed actually bothered by the fact you weren’t relying on him more, so you decided that if something does go wrong, you’d tell him about it.

However, your dating life has been going pretty swimmingly the past couple weeks. You’ve actually found someone you wouldn’t mind being with, having gone on a few dates with him now. You’ve pretty much been exclusively seeing him, he’s taken you out for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Previous dates barely made it through one meal, but this guy managed to appeal to you enough to take you out multiple times.

It’s your fault that you got your hopes up, thinking that maybe he was different but as you sit on the couch in his apartment, his assumed girlfriend yelling at him, you can see he’s just like everyone else in the dating scene these days. It’s that or you just have really bad luck when it comes to your romantic life.

For the third time, you try to leave but he holds you back, “Wait no, please don’t go, this is just a misunderstanding!”

You shrug him off you, his touch making you feel disgusting.

Going to say something in reply, but his girlfriend speaks first, “So now you’re cheating on me and trying to keep her here?”

He sputters, like he forgot she was here for a moment, “No! Babe, I’m not cheating on you!”

Awkwardly, you scratch at the back of your neck, “Listen, I’m going to be so honest, I think you’re a bad person and any interest I had in you is gone. I’d just really like to leave now.”

He’s wearing an annoyed look on his face, “How do you even expect to get home? I drove you here.”

She scoffs at him from by the door, foot tapping impatiently, “Now you’re offering her a ride home? Are you fucking serious right now?”

Walking to the front door, you shuffle around his girlfriend, “I’m just gonna… slide right past you.” Pausing after opening the door and turning back to address her, “Uhm… Just in case he tries lying to you… we went on multiple dates over the past couple weeks.” Standing awkwardly for an extra moment as her face twists in realisation, “Bye!” You rush out the door, speed walking to the elevator.

The screaming and yelling gets louder from their apartment, able to hear them until you finally get in the elevator and start heading down to the ground floor. In the lobby, you pull out your phone and sigh dejectedly, scrolling for Gojo’s contact, you need a ride home.

He picks up pretty quickly, “Hello?”

You get straight to the point, not feeling particularly great right about now, “…I need a ride home.”

“Well, good evening to you too,” he replies, voice full of mirth, “You know. people normally exchange pleasantries over the phone before immediately asking for things, I’ve been told – by you actually – that just asking for things straight up can be read as rude, so–”

“–Satoru.”

The use of his name has him going quiet, stopping his tangent instead to ask, “Where are you?”

You’re tired, your mood travelling through the phone as you answer, “Some apartment, I’ll text you the address…”

“You okay?” He checks.

You can’t help the pause before your reply, “…Yeah.”

His concern for you growing at your seeming uncertainty, “You gonna tell me what happened?”

It’s a little embarrassing, you think, but yeah, you’ll tell him about it, “Later… I just wanna go home now.”

“Alright, I’ll be there soon.” He hangs up before you get to thank him.

You text him the address and then head out the front of the building, waiting for him to get you. While you’re waiting, you find yourself wondering if that girl will stay with him, you hope she doesn’t, she deserves better than him.

When Gojo pulls up, you silently slip into the passenger seat, you’re expecting him to immediately drive away but he turns and looks at you. His eyes examining you carefully, scrutinising you.

Turning your head to the side, “What?”

“Just making sure you’re okay.” His hands reach out and for a second you think he’s going to touch you, but he pulls on the seatbelt and clicks it into place for you.

You mumble out at him, dismissive, “I’m fine.”

He hums at you, in that way that tells you he doesn’t believe you even a little bit but he’s letting it go for now. Instead focusing on getting you home.

Back at your apartment, Gojo follows you all the way inside, you thought maybe he would just drop you home and leave you alone, but he’s followed you into your living room. You don’t know if you have the energy for him right now, feeling so drained. Probably feeling this way because you’re incapable of finding a decent guy to date.

Couch looking so inviting, you flop down onto it face first, mumbling out, “Gojo, will you just be my boyfriend?”

He seems taken aback by your sudden ask, choking on his own spit, coughing out a confused, “What?”

Sighing, you cryptically answer, “I don’t think I’m built for the dating scene.”

When he finishes hacking up a lung, he taps your legs, to which you hold them up so he can sit down. His hand tugging them back down once he’s sat, “What happened, sweetheart?”

Your voice is still muffled by the couch cushions, “Been seeing a guy for a couple weeks now–”

“–The same one?” Gojo cuts you off.

Humming out a, “Yes and–”

Again, he cuts you off, “–That’s pretty serious…”

I know but–”

“–Why didn’t you tell me about him?” His tone growing slightly alarmed by the apparent seriousness of your dating life.

Becoming somewhat annoyed, you push yourself out of the cushions and sit up to face him, your legs still resting in his lap, “You said you didn’t wanna hear about my dating life.” You point an accusatory finger at him.

“Yeah, but casually dating and actively seeing someone is different–” He’s not really sure if he’s making a fair point or not but sticking to it like he is.

“–Does it matter?” You’re looking at him incredulously, not sure if there is a difference.

He’s steadfast in his opinion, “Of course it matters.”

“I don’t think it should, especially since–”

“–If you’re seeing the same guy multiple times that means you were actually interested in him–” He’s annoyed at himself for not realising you were seeing the same guy, for not asking questions, not realising how serious you were getting about one guy. So caught up in this one fact that he’s lost sight of his original purpose of being here.

“–Can you stop cutting me off!” You raise your voice at him, getting sick of how much he’s been interrupting you, “I’ve been trying to tell you that he had a girlfriend the whole time,” you purse your lips and look away from him, feeling embarrassed, “That’s why I asked you to come get me.”

“Oh…” He feels bad now.

“…Yeah, she showed up while I was there, and it was really uncomfortable, and I didn’t exactly feel safe.” You sigh, slumping, “And now I just feel really bad about dating.”

Completely serious when he suggests, “Maybe you should stop.”

“Stop dating?”

Consistent in his confirmation, “Yes.”

Meeting his gaze again, “How else am I going to meet someone?”

He rolls his eyes at your question, irritated for reasons unknown to you, “Why do you need to date someone now anyways?”

You don’t really see his point, what does he mean ‘why?’… why else do people date? “Maybe I’m lonely, maybe I seek companionship, maybe I’m like every other normal person?”

“You have me though,” you’d think he was joking if he weren’t so straight faced.

Unsure how to go about answering when it seems pretty straight forward to you, “Gojo… that’s not the same thing, we’re friends, we don’t look at each other that way.”

“Says you.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I’d date you in a heartbeat,” he folds his arms over his chest, “In fact, you’re the only person I want to date.”

You can’t tell if he’s teasing or not, “Get real, that’s not what I meant.”

His head tilts at you, “What did you mean then?”

“I’m talking about romantic and sexual attraction,” you’re avoiding his gaze again.

So casual in how he bluntly asks, “You think I’m not sexually attracted to you?”

His question catches you off guard slightly, “It’s not just about sexual attraction, Gojo,” you shake your head, “if that were the case, I’d just be having one night stands all the time, I want a relationship with someone…”

He nods his head like he suddenly understands, “Ah, so you think I’m not romantically interested in you?”

“You shouldn’t be.”

“Why not?”

Disbelieving when you look at him, “Are you serious right now? We’re friends.”

“Yeah, we are friends, but I also happen to be romantically and sexually attracted to you.”

How do you even respond to a confession like that? He’s not even flustered, completely nonchalant in how he’s just told you that he’s interested in you. “I don’t think–”

“–Are you going to tell me you’re not interested in me? Even a little bit?”

“We’re friends.”

“Is that the only thing stopping you?” He doesn’t wait for your answer, “Because if it is, then it’s a little arbitrary, no?”

The beginning of a frown settles on your features, “What are you trying to get me to say? That I’d date you if we weren’t friends, that I’d fuck you?”

He smiles at you, “Sure, but if you would if we weren’t friends, I’m saying you should even though we are.”

Frown deepening, “You’re being serious?”

“I’m being so serious,” he leans in slightly, hand moving to your face, thumb smoothing over the crease between your brows.

Looking at his lips before catching yourself and turning your head to the side, away from his touch, away from his enticing lips.

He sighs at your reaction, “You know, I’ve been interested in you from the beginning, and maybe I’m an idiot for not saying anything but watching you seriously try dating someone else might just kill me.”

You had no idea he liked you, you’ve liked him at different points in your life too, but he always seemed so out of reach from you, and you never wanted to ruin the friendship, so you forced yourself to move on. It feels a little unfair that you’re finding out now he’s liked you the whole time, “What are you asking of me?”

“I’m asking you to give me a chance,” his hand gently guides your face to look at him again, “I’m asking you to seriously try dating me.”

You’re trying to make a decision, trying to figure out how to answer him, if you should even give him a chance but the way he’s looking at you, how his gaze flicks between your eyes and your lips is distracting you.

Brows pulling up, voice quieter than before, “Gojo, you need to stop looking at me like that if you want an answer.”

“Like what?” He plays dumb.

“Like you really wanna kiss me,” you murmur back.

“Can’t help it…” he leans in a little bit more, “Maybe if you let me kiss you, I’ll stop.”

“Satoru,” you warn.

“Hmm?” His eyes meet yours for a moment, trying to see what you want.

He’s making you dizzy, “I can’t make a choice when you’re this close.”

Humming at you, “Why not?”

“Can’t think,” you blurt it out before really thinking about how it will come across.

He’s smiling smugly, “Then don’t.”

You don’t know who leans in first, all you know is his lips are on yours and they’re soft. Kissing you gently, trying to learn how you like to be kissed. Growing more insistent the longer you let him kiss you, the years of his need bleeding into it.

One of his hands traveling down your body, resting on your hip, the other cradling your face. He’s leaning into you more, pushing your body down into the couch, him following behind it, never parting from your lips very long.

Hand now holding himself above you, kiss growing urgent, tongue licking into your mouth, meeting yours in a way that makes your body tingle. If you thought his proximity was making you dizzy before than his kiss might have you actually passing out. Skin growing hot at how his hand on your face angles you, how he deepens the kiss effortlessly.

If Gojo were more aware of himself, of the precarious position he’s put himself in, he might be a little bit more careful with how feverish his kisses are and how needy he’s getting but when he’s finally getting to kiss you after years of not being able to, he can’t really control himself. The little control he does have, slipping when you moan into his mouth, his own moan shared in the kiss.

It's you who parts the kiss, it had to be because he certainly wasn’t going to be able to do it. If he had his way, he’d have his mouth on you until he died. In the back of his mind, he knew that kissing you would be good, but he didn’t think he’d get so lost in it. Somewhat embarrassed at himself for how aroused he’s gotten over your lips on his.

Your huffed breaths are intermingled with how close you both are to each other, Gojo hovering over you, speaking into your mouth, “Have you made a decision yet?”

You’re having trouble thinking still, especially with how his lips brush ever so slightly against yours, “I…uhmm…”

When he realises how dazed you are, two things happen. One; his ego grows about ten times bigger and two; he pulls back from you, still close enough that if you tugged on him, you could kiss him again but enough to hopefully give you room to think.

“Come on, don’t keep a guy waiting,” he’s taunting you lightly, taking joy in how hazy your eyes are as you look up at him.

“Okay,” you nod.

“Hmm? Okay what?”

Taking another moment to clear your brain fog, you answer again, “Okay, I will seriously try dating you.”

“Can’t date anyone else while you do,” he conditions.

“Okay,” agreeing easily.

He adds, “Have to seriously think about me being your boyfriend.”

Again, agreeing, “Okay.”

“Have to keep kissing me right now,” smile growing on his features.

“Ok–” frowning at him when you realise, “–Hey.”

“You don’t want to?” His hand tilts your head up by your chin, looking down into your eyes, “Because you look like you want to.”

Pouting at him, “Don’t be cruel.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart,” his smile evil as he continues to look down at you.

Leveling him with an even stare, you state, “I don’t sleep with guys on the first date.”

“Got a dirty mind, huh? All I asked for was a kiss.”

You glare at him and then try to avoid his gaze, voice smaller than before, “You don’t kiss like that’s all you want.”

His smile is crooked as he asks, “And how do I kiss?”

Feeling your skin flare at his taunting question, at how he leans in again, his mouth right over yours, “Dizzyingly.”

He breathes out an amused laugh before he’s slotting his mouth back over yours, how you described his kiss is accurate. He kisses you in such a way that you can’t think straight even if you really want to, which is why it’s probably a bad idea to keep letting him kiss you if you don’t want to sleep with him before you even get a first date.

Abruptly parting your mouth from his, gasping out, “Wait,” taking a second to catch your breath. Gojo groans softly at the loss of your lips, his forehead resting on yours waiting for you to speak.

“What’s wrong?” He asks when you don’t continue.

“You need to stop kissing me.”

“Oh?” He hums at you in thought, his lips now trailing down the side of your face, only to rest right by your ear, “And why’s that?”

His voice has goose bumps raising on your skin, “If you keep kissing me like that…” your volume gets quieter as you mumble out, “…I’ll wanna have sex with you.”

He has the fucking audacity to laugh at you, “That worked up by a few kisses, huh?” Taunting you like he isn’t the hardest he’s ever been, cock twitching at your confession.

“Shuddup.”

His words are dripping with delight, “At least we know you’re sexually attracted to me.”

He licks lightly at your ear, and you feel like you almost jump out of your skin, gasping at it. Hands reaching out to push back on his chest, “You’re a mean man, Gojo.”

“At this point…” He looks you over, unmoved by your hands, “…I think it would be meaner to deprive yourself.”

“We are not sleeping together for the first time on my couch before we even go on a date,” you’re trying to stay steadfast but he’s making it hard when he keeps looking at you like that.

“So… you’re saying I should take you to the bedroom?” When you look at him in exasperation, he smiles softly, “I’m just kidding, we won’t do anything you don’t want to, but I will point out – for the last time – that you look an awful lot like you want to.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t want to… I just feel like if you’re gonna make me seriously consider you then I should date you properly too,” you avoid his gaze, feeling unusually sincere.

Abruptly, he states, “It wouldn’t be our first date though.”

“What?”

He’s a little distant when he answers, having trouble concentrating on the conversation when you’re pouting your lips at him like you are, “I count a couple weeks ago as our first date.”

“When I was stood up?” You scoff, “That does not count.”

“Why not?”

“Because it wasn’t even planned.”

“No but we ate dinner together and you were dressed awful cute, I count it as a date,” smirk present on his face as he continues to hover over you.

Ignoring his compliment, you continue to try and reason, “We were still just friends then though.”

“So, we aren’t ‘just friends’ now?” He’s being a smart ass, he knows what you mean but he’s not going to let up on this, taking it as a small victory in making you think of him as more than just a friend.

You return earnestly, “I don’t wanna count it.”

“Why not?”

“Because it wasn’t meant to be you on that date…” before he can get hurt over those words, you clarify, “…don’t get me wrong, I had fun and I’m glad you showed up, but it wasn’t planned to be you… when we go on our first date… I want it to be meant for you.” You’re unsure if you verbalised yourself in a way that makes sense, feeling much more nervous all of a sudden.

He’s looking at you so intently and you’re worried you’ve upset him somehow, “I know you said I need to stop kissing you, but that’s what I want more than anything right now.” He leans in closer, pausing just shy of your lips.

His words make your heart stutter, throwing caution to the wind as you close the distance between the two of you again, kissing him fully. Letting his mouth consume your ability to think critically, all too happy to fall into him.

Your control of the situation is slipping more and more away from you and so is the ability to care, not minding at all how you’re becoming more and more okay with how hot your body is starting to feel.

Hands reaching up and fisting the material of his shirt, pulling him down into you, his hips colliding with yours. Almost entirely instinctually – and somewhat purposefully – your legs wrap around his lower half. One of his hands reaches for your thigh, gripping the fattest part of it harshly.

You both moan into the kiss and he parts his mouth from yours, voice straining when he speaks, “Sweetheart, if you really don’t want to do anything more than this then you need to tell me to get off you right now.”

Looking at him through your lashes, you play coy, “But I like having you on top of me.”

A shiver runs down his spine, “You’re evil,” he grunts, fighting the urge to grind down into you.

He’s been pining after you for years and it feels like torture to be this close to you, pelvis pressed up against yours, having you so pliant and needy under him. He can feel his sanity slipping from him the longer you stay like this, and your words make it harder for him to pull away.

“Satoru–” when you say his name his hips jut into yours, making you gasp against him.

He hisses an apology through his teeth, “Sorry – fuck – sorry, what’s up?”

Deciding to be forward, “Take me to my room?”

Trying to hide the excitement from his face, he checks with you, “You’re sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you give a small nod, feeling shy.

You really do want to though, more than anything. Only initially so hesitant because this doesn’t feel like the right way to do things but then again, your whole relationship with Gojo is a little less than conventional at times.

When he determines that you’re sure of yourself, he’s off you in the blink of an eye. Quick in his movements as he pulls you up along with him. Before you can even really register that you’re off the couch, you’re thrown over his shoulder as he walks hurriedly to your room.

“Someone’s eager,” you laugh at how ridiculous he’s being.

The chuckle he returns is humourless, “You have no fucking idea.”

You’re dropped down onto your bed unceremoniously, bouncing slightly at the force of it. Your arms reach out behind you to support yourself, palms splayed against your bedspread. Gojo is already tugging his shirt off and over his head, thrown and lost to some corner of your room.

“Gojo, breathe.”

“Don’t need to breathe,” he smiles large at you, “Do need your pants off though.”

Listening to him, you shimmy your pants down your legs, mumbling to him about how bossy he is.

“You know… I’m hearing a lot of complaining but I am also seeing a whole lot of direction following,” he teases.

You grumble at him, “If you’re going to be like this the whole time then I’m changing my mind.

“Don’t lie to yourself, sweetheart. You’re not fooling anyone, especially not with how you’re rubbing your thighs together.” His large hands grip your thighs, “Feeling horny?”

You don’t really want to answer him honestly but denying it feels like a trap, like he’d do something to prove you wrong and the last thing you want is for him to torture you. You’re already so pitifully slick from kissing him.

Fighting with your embarrassment, you give him your best pleading face, “Mhm, really horny.”

The smugness drops from his face, hands suddenly tugging you down the bed as he drops to his knees. Mouth leaving kisses from your knees to your inner thighs, your breath catching in your lungs. Not expecting him to be so forward, though you don’t know what you were expecting if not that.

“Gojo, you don’t have to–”

“I want to,” his eyes flick to yours, “Plus, if you wanna take me, you’re gonna need the prep,” smile growing at how your eyes grow wider.

Disbelief clear in your expression, accusing, “You’re full of it.”

He’s not worried about your scepticism, “You’ll find out for yourself in a bit.” He shrugs easily, “Now, can I put my tongue on your pretty pussy, or do you have more to say?”

He asks but his attention is already completely on your covered cunt, a single finger moving under the elastic of the waist band just to snap it back against you. A small noise of shock leaving you, “Ah! Do what you want…”

Oh, he looks so excited by your words, “You mean it?”

You’ll be honest and admit you weren’t really paying attention to what you were saying, brain hazy with how close he is to your core, skin pricking at how you can feel his hot breath against you. Feeling so unusually exposed and sensitive and you can’t tell if you’re that worked up or if he just has that effect on you.

“Mhm,” you’re nodding your head at him, giving him a green light, for what, you’re not entirely sure, all you know is that you want him to do something – anything.

“These are some really cute panties…kinda bothers me,” he’s still playing with the edges of them, annoyed when remembering you were with another guy tonight. Were you going to sleep with him tonight?

Pulling yourself up onto your elbows, you question, “What?”

Eyes flicking towards yours, “I’m a bit of a jealous guy.”

“I know this,” he always has been quick to get worked up over things regarding you, though it makes a little more sense after learning he’s liked you for so long.

He smiles at you, but his eyes are humourless, “Of course you do,” he fists at the material of your panties, “But the idea of another guy getting so close to seeing you in these… has me feeling really annoyed.”

The sound of fabric tearing fills your ears, he’s just ripped your panties off you completely. There is no salvaging them, completely useless as he throws them over his shoulder.

“Hey! those were my good pair!” They were one of the nicer pairs you own.

“Who cares about that?” His tone is dismissive, hands spreading your legs obscenely, eyes greedily looking at your uncovered pussy, “Your cunt is much cuter.”

God, you feel like you might pass out, face suddenly extremely hot, “Don’t be crude.”

“Hmm? …but I think you like it though…” his thumb swipes through your folds and you gasp at him, “Got so much wetter when I said it.”

He’s quick to begin rubbing circles into your clit, thumb giving even pressure. The stimulation has your arms shaking, threatening to give out from under you. Biting your lip to stop yourself from moaning, feeling embarrassed at how intently he’s shamelessly staring at your cunt.

Continuing to speculate, he says, “That or you like being praised…” he smirks evilly, “You like being praised, sweetheart? Being told how good you’re being for me?”

Your heart leaps in your chest, brows upturning, trying to hide your outward reaction to his words, “Hah– No…”

“Such a bad liar,” eyeing your face, “Wearing a really great expression right now though.”

Fighting the urge to grind down, you deny, “Not lying.”

He ignores you, “Could be both though,” he’s continuing to ponder on what you react most to, “Which is it, sweetheart? You like how crude I am, or do you like the praise?”

You don’t plan on answering him, eyes closing harshly against his intense gaze, feeling way too exposed. His touch leaves you and you open your eyes in alarm, trying to see what he’s doing. You see his smile before he’s leaning in and licking up the length of your pussy, eyes locked on yours the whole time.

Surprised moans slip from you, arms almost giving out completely, head rolling back. His arms wrap around your legs to hold you steady, face pushing closer into you, tongue flicking at your clit before pressing into your pussy hole.

He’s relishing in your sounds, in how wet you are, how you taste and smell, almost forgetting why he did this in the first place. Pulling away from you with a lewd smack of his lips, smiling big at the whine you let out from the loss of him.

Huffing slightly as he says, “Asked a question, not licking your pussy again until you answer it.”

“I don’t know,” your head lolls forward, eyes wet.

Head moving to the side to nip lightly at your thigh, “Shall we find out then?”

You jolt at the sensation, face twisting in confusion at him.

“You don’t gotta do anything, sweetie, just stay like this,” his hands push back on your thighs though, opening you up to him even more. “Been doing so good for me, sound so pretty,” he coos at you.

Brows furrowing at his words, heart skipping beats at his sudden praise, feeling fuzzy all over.

He hums in thought, “So fucking wet for me, dripping everywhere, creamy fucking pussy.”

You twitch at the switch, wanting to crawl away from him.

“I think I’ve just realised something,” he glances up at you, “Got such nice reactions to both things I said, do you know how much wetter you got, cunt twitching and drooling for me.”

You try pulling from him, but his hold is firm, “Gojo!” You warn.

He might be enjoying this too much but learning about what gets you going is way too enticing, especially when he doesn’t have to do much to have you looking so pathetic. “Trying to run away from me,” he tsks, “But you’re fucking dripping, so reactive, so sweet.” His eyes are glazing over, working himself up.

“‘Toru!” You call for him again, you feel like you’re on fire, beyond embarrassed.

He groans at the nickname, not hearing it from you in so long, you used to always call him that. He liked it a little too much, cock leaking for you. He feels as wrecked as he looks when he looks up at you, “I think you like both,” is his conclusion.

Reaching up, he grabs at your hand and pulls it down to your cunt, his fingers guiding your own through your slick. You gasp at it, not expecting for yourself to be so soaked. Biting at your lower lip when he moves your fingers over your clit, teasing you.

Dazed when he asks, “Ever been this wet, pretty?”

You shake your head, “No… I didn’t know I…”

Fingers moving yours to your entrance, “Poor thing, didn’t know how slutty her pussy was.” Feeling the way your cunt clenches at his words, his face bright with it, “Fucking great though, in love with it,” and again, your brows raising in realisation, “Yeah… you know now, don’t you?”

“You’re making me feel embarrassed,” you pout, head dizzy.

“No, I’m making you feel so fucking horny, not my fault that you like being embarrassed and praised at the same time,” he pulls your fingers away from your core, moving them to his mouth, sucking them clean.

You remove your fingers from him, coming to rest back in the bed, feeling breathless as you look down at him. “What do you want from me?”

“Want you to admit it, want you tell me how much you like when I talk to you,” his hand tickles up the skin of your inner thigh.

“…Like it,” you mumble out.

Humming in thought, “Hmm, not good enough, don’t think I believe you.”

Repeating, louder, “I like it.”

Tilting his head at you, “You like what?”

“I like when you talk to me,” you say with more force, brows furrowed.

He pretends to be unsure of your answer, “Are you sure?”

“Yes!” You try again, but as his expression remains unchanging, you add, “I like when you talk to me, I like how hot and fuzzy your words make me feel, I like just the sound of your voice, makes me want to squirm. Love it even! Is that what you wanted to hear?” You huff.

“Holy fuck, yes,” if he weren’t already on his knees, he would’ve fallen to them again.

You let out a squeal at the way his mouth is already back on you, tongue pushing into your hole insistently. Fervent in his actions, clearly worked up by your words. If he were on the bed, he’d be shamelessly grinding his hips down into it, cock so fucking hard it’s aching. Pulsing so pitifully for you and if he weren’t so completely distracted by how you taste he’d throw caution to the wind and fuck into you right now.

“Gojo! Oh–” His name comes out all broken, ruined and shaky from how he laps at your cunt, drinking down all your slick.

Your elbows officially give out and you’re flopping back onto the mattress, fingers digging into the bed. Struggling to hold in all the little noises he’s pulling from you, hips trying to desperately rut into his pretty face with no luck, locked in place by his strong hold.

Gasping out at him, “M–more. Gojo – hah – more, please.”

Grunting against you, vibrations running up your spine, wanting desperately to kick your legs against the stimulation but unable to. He’s worked you up so much, so fucking desperate for release that his touch is making you crazy.

A finger presses at your hole, slipping inside easily, both his finger and tongue fucking into you. Another finger added, opening you up, scissoring them, tongue sneaking deeper inside your cunt.

He feels drunk, head heavy and brain foggy, tongue fucking you deeply. Delighting in the sounds of your sloppy pussy trying to suck him in deeper, he’s losing his mind. Tongue leaving you only for him to spit onto your cunt, thumb rubbing it into your clit, third finger added to the first two. Determined to have you ready for his cock.

“Need you to cum,” he sounds wrecked even to himself, “Before I do in my own pants – ffffuck –” Can’t help the way he curses at how you tighten around him at his words, “Must’ve been telling the truth about liking my voice, huh?” He teases, laughing breathlessly at how you react to him again.

Pressing out a simple, “S–so mean,” in response.

“You fucking like it,” eyes watching how your back arches off the mattress, “Love it even,” he reminds.

A series of moans leave you unabashedly at how he crooks his fingers just right, consistently hitting the one spot, thighs twitching at it. Stomach pulling tight and toes curling, head moving from side to side, so fucking close now.

“That’s it, sweetie,” he encourages, “Doing so good, just let go for me.”

You’re cumming suddenly, the abruptness of it shocking, like your body skipped the rest of the build up at Gojo’s words. If it didn’t feel good how he was fucking you through it, how his thumb kept rubbing at your clit, you’d feel beyond embarrassed at how you came just because he asked you to.

It’s not lost on him how quick you were to finish after he spoke, his ego big before and now fucking massive. Absolutely thrilled by how you continue to prove your responsiveness to him, if he were ever worried about you not being attracted to him, he can’t possibly remember why. Not when you’re squirming under him, tears threatening to slip from your waterline.

“Such a good direction follower,” he mocks, repeating his earlier sentiments.

His fingers keep stroking at you until your body goes limp, only jerking every now and again with your come down. Pulling them from you and parting them, looking at the way your cum connects his fingers together with white strings.

“Look at that,” his voice dripping with glee, “I was right… got such a creamy pussy,” he hums, shoving his fingers into his mouth.

He wipes his spit covered fingers on your thighs before standing, tugging off his pants and boxers before crawling up the mattress, leaning over you. Fingers skimming at your sides, pulling your shirt along with it, “Can I take this off, pretty?”

Eyes bleary when they meet his, giving a small nod, “Mhm.”

“You okay to keep going?” He checks, leaning in closer to you.

His concern makes you unreasonably happy, feeling genuinely cared for, “Yeah.”

“You sure–”

Cutting him off, “–Yes.”

Shock present on his face before smiling endearingly at you, completely smitten with you and has been for a long time now. It all feels a little surreal to him, being able to hold you, be intimate with you. Leaning in more, pressing soft kisses all over your face.

Showering you in affection as his hands continue to pull your shirt up. Only parting to pull it from you fully, thrown to some corner of your room, joining the rest of your clothes. Shuffling back so he can look at all of you, hands delicately tracing over you, like he’s memorising how you feel under his palms.

“You’re so soft,” he mumbles, hands smoothing over you. He drops onto you, face pressing between your tits, breathing in your scent.

Confused as your voice calls for him gently, “‘Toru?”

“Fuck,” he nips at your skin first and then moves to get back on his knees, “Alright, spread those pretty legs for me, sweetheart.”

Feeling placid from the intensity of your orgasm, you immediately listen to him and open your legs, moving them to the outside of his. Gojo feels like his heart grows in size at how quick you are to listen to him, so docile you don’t even talk back to him.

Your head cocks to the side at him, confused by his stare, “What?”

“Nothing,” he shakes his head at you, “You’re just really cute.”

He grabs your face, sandwiching your cheeks between his fingers, his lips leaving behind a big and sloppy kiss on yours before focusing back on your cunt. Grasping his cock and groaning at the pressure, squeezing himself to alleviate some of the need crawling desperately up his spine.

You can’t help but stare, he wasn’t full of it, he really is that big. Long and thick and looking so painfully hard, dripping precum so messily down the length of himself, dribbling down onto the bed sheets.

“It’s rude to stare,” he hisses, hand now stroking himself, clearly not even a little bit put off by your shameless staring. If anything, completely aroused by it.

Looking up into his eyes as you apologise, “‘M sorry.”

“Hah,” he huffs in amusement, “So polite all of a sudden, orgasm that good, pretty?”

“Yeah,” you nod, staring at him straight on, aiming to work him up more.

It works, “Fuck– alright,” his hips stutter into his hand and he stops fisting his cock, “‘Bout to give you an even better one,” guiding his dick to your core.

Swiping the head of himself through your folds, letting it collect the slick leaking from you. Teasing you like this for a bit, moving himself up and down before dipping into your hole, only to pull away again.

You whine at him over it, “Please.”

Smile large as he coos, “Don’t worry, pretty. I’ll take care of you.”

Keeping his word, he slowly presses the tip of his dick into you, hissing at the stretch, worried he didn’t give you enough prep. You bite your lip as you begin to take him in, fisting the sheets below, looking up at Gojo. His brows are upturned, and his jaw clenched, focusing so hard on being slow and careful. He pauses when you clench and flinch around him.

“I can take it,” gaze determined as you try to assure him, “You can keep going.”

“Oh, sweetie,” his hand grips at your inner thigh, squishing it under his hold, “I appreciate that,” he smiles, “I do… but you’re gonna want to pace yourself.”

You pout up at him, sulking, wanting to be full and not appreciating his probably – definitely – sound advice.

“Hah, don’t pout,” his thumb moves to your clit, “You’ll take it, know you will,” rubbing circles into it, “Cause I’m gonna make sure of it, but you gotta pace yourself.”

Under his touch, you relax again, and he pushes his hips forward, starting the slow process of opening you up on his cock. His control astounding himself right now, wanting nothing more than to fuck into you completely, feeling your pussy swallow him whole.

He’s not quite half-way yet and already pressing up against the most delicious spots inside you, with that and his consistent pressure on your clit, you’re suddenly so fucking close to cumming like this.

Reaching out to him, your hand lightly slaps at him, trying to warn, “I’m gonna – hah –”

Gojo realises when you clench down on him what you’re trying to say, the small noises you make getting louder, he almost blows his load the second he realises. Ripping himself from you suddenly, you cry out at the loss, cumming around nothing, gasping into your hand.

“Why? Why?” you’re almost incoherent as you ask him.

“I’m so fucking sorry, sweetheart,” he keeps his thumb on your clit, trying to make up for the loss of his cock, “Would’ve cum if I hadn’t pulled out, wanna at least fuck you before I do.”

You glare at him, trying to convey how slighted you feel but he only seems to find it endearing, smiling at you over it. “I’ll make it up to you, don’t worry.”

Wasting no time, he fucks back into you, to where he was before he pulled out. Giving shallow thrusts as he keeps pressing forwards, breath stuttering at the small way he’s getting the friction he’s desperate for.

“Such a greedy cunt,” he murmurs, dick slipping deeper, “So quick to cum for me, sucking me in.”

“Gojo–” you whine at him, his words back to embarrassing you.

His voice cracks at how you refer to him, “–No, no, nono, what happened to ‘Toru?” Fucking deeper, so close to being balls deep.

“‘Toru, you’re–” cutting yourself off with a moan, he thrust the rest of the way in when you called to him, “–so deep.”

“Don’t I fucking know it,” he chuckles breathlessly, moving to press his body up against yours, craving the contact.

He’s pressed up against you completely, warm and strong, your legs loop around his waist and he slips in deeper. He groans at it, holding himself back, wanting you to adjust to all of him first. He nuzzles into your neck, leaving kisses and love bites against the sensitive skin there, relishing in the way your pussy jumps around him over such a small act.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you liked me or something,” he jokes, referencing how sensitive you are to him.

Without thinking, you admit, “I have – mmph – I’ve liked you mm–multiple times ah– at different points in – hah – our lives.”

His head snaps back as he twitches inside you, “Seriously?” When you nod, he grinds down into you, “Fuck– had me so stressed, liked you all this time and you’re telling me I could’ve had this pretty, little pussy so much sooner?”

You’re feeling a bit dazed, two orgasms deep and stretched so obscenely around him, cunt making wet noises just from the small way he’s grinding into you.

“When,” his words are hurried, when you look at him like he’s just said something in a different language, he asks again, “When have you liked me?”

“I don’t remember that, too many – hnn – different times,” you shake your head, you don’t even know if you could recount all the times you had feelings for him resurface even if you weren’t split open on his big dick.

He moans, starting to move his hips in shallow thrusts, “Enough that you – mmph – can’t remember specifics,” he groans, “Feels like a sick joke, been pining after you our – hah – whole lives.”

His mouth is on yours, kissing you deeply, sucking your tongue into his mouth, licking at you. The kiss so dizzying, you’re barely able to catch up to him before he’s talking again, “The most recent time– can you – hah – remember the most recent time you liked me?”

He’s desperate to know, wanting to know how small or big of a window he had missed. Failing to realise it doesn’t really matter all that much right now.

“Not – hah – not that long ago,” you’re almost panting now, wanting for him to move with more urgency but he’s still only thrusting into you shallowly.

“When, sweetie, tell me when, please,” his forehead pressed to yours, eyes imploring.

Struggling slightly as you press out, “B– before I started – hah – going on all those dates,” you’re trying really hard to think, “Beginning of the – hng – year?”

Smiling at you, big, happy, “Not that long ago, just gonna make you like me again.”

He’s a little annoyed that you went on so many dates right after having liked him, not completely lost on him that the two are probably connected and feeling frustrated that he hadn’t just told you about his feelings ages ago.

“Gonna charm the fuck outta you, take you to nice places, shower you in compliments, tell you how cute you are,” he’s rambling now, about your theoretical future dates, “Remind you every day how much I like you, how perfect you are, gonna make you like me again.”

“I’d like it if you moved, ‘Toru, please,” you beg, tears in the corners of your eyes from being teased.

“Since you asked so nicely,” he quips, kissing your cheek before complying.

Finally starting a pace that has you going crazy but in a different way, fast and deep, weighted thrusts that make you struggle to maintain focus. Pulling out almost completely before fucking back into you, hammering his hips into yours, lewd squelching filling the room at it.

Your whimpered moans have Gojo’s skin pricking, so turned on he feels insane, like you might kill him, “Got such a great pussy, fucking soaking wet, taking me so well, could die like this and not complain, fuck–”

Clawing at him now, at his forearms, his biceps, shoulders, back, anywhere you can reach, desperately scrabbling for purchase. “Gojo–”

“–No, I don’t know who that is,” he ignores your cry of his name.

Trying again, “‘Toru, want– I want–”

You’re not even entirely sure what you want or are asking for, but Gojo seems to know immediately. His hips moving faster, pelvis slapping into your clit every time he meets yours, cock hitting against your cervix in a way that hurts so fucking good.

Eyes rolling back in your skull with the pleasure, fat tears running down your face at it. Sex has never felt like this, is it meant to feel like this? Have you been doing it wrong? Or maybe he’s just insanely good at it, or maybe you just like him more than you were aware of.

“Feels– feels good, I–”

“Again? Fucking perfect, so perfect for me,” he sounds so excited, “Want it, want you to cum on me, cum all over my cock, fucking coat me in it.” It’s almost like he’s begging you for it.

Luckily for him, you really do like his voice, love how he talks to you and at his borderline begging, you’re cumming all over him. Cunt clenching down on him, sobbing out pitiful moans of his name as you cum. It’s coating him, just like how he asked for, creamy white ring at the base of his cock.

“Fuuck, that’s it, such a good girl,” your cunt jumps around his cock, and he laughs, “Oh? You liked that, should’ve called you a good girl sooner.”

Too dazed to fight him on his teasing, corners of your vision blurry and ears ringing, twitching pathetically under him. He doesn’t stop his thrusts, fucking into you harsher, more shallow, getting close to finishing himself.

Orgasm on the tip of his tongue, the thing that sends him over the edge is how you look up at him. Eyes fucked out and cheeks tear stained, whining out a small, “‘Toru, want it, please.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” his words are choked out, almost whining himself, balls heavy with how badly he wants to cum.

Thrusts faltering as he fucks into you the last few times, suddenly slamming his pelvis to yours, releasing all his cum inside you, painting your walls a pretty shade of white. Hips grinding into you as he finishes.

Fucked out whimpers of your name leaving him as he presses his head into the side of your neck. Biting down onto you, shocking you slightly, the pain unexpected, he lathes over it with his tongue.

He slumps down onto you, his weight too much, your hands push at him, “Too heavy.”

He hums out at you noncommittally but gets up, carefully slipping himself from you, not shy in how he stares at your pussy. At the way his cum gushes from it, the urge to fuck it all back inside you strong. He withholds though, seeing you’re clearly beyond fucked out. Next time, he promises himself.

Gone from you but not for too long, only leaving long enough to clean himself up and bring stuff back to clean you up. Wiping softly at your legs, cleaning you of his spend, “You look cute dripping with my cum,” he singsongs.

“Lewd,” you accuse, too tired to think of something more to say.

“Yeah…” he gets into bed by you, “But I’m certain you like that.”

You snuggle into his side, letting him cuddle you, “Not sleeping with you again until at least the third date.”

“I bet…” he looks down at you, lips hovering over yours, “…You’ll sleep with me after each of them.”

You go to scoff at him and deny it, but he kisses you, deep and imploring. Effectively shutting you up and as you let him kiss you how he likes, you realise, he might be right.

𝐀/𝐍: this got away from me, like it so often does, it was only meant to be a couple k of only smut but i am not normal so it turned into this! i hope you enjoyed <3 thank you for reading!

[⚠︎] — 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: do not reupload / repost / translate / plagiarise my works © all works are the intellectual property of unheavenlyvision

#visionwrites #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader smut #gojo x reader #gojo x reader smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo smut #satoru x reader #satoru x reader smut #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader smut #gojo satoru x you smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader smut #jjk x reader

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6ix9inewiturmom · 8 months ago

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Rated R Video

Summary: You and Matt are dating and was invited to do the newest Rated R car video where Nick, Matt, Chris, and Yourself talk about the things you all have been avoiding being in the public eyes..

Warnings: Cursing, use of Y/N, suggestive (i think)? talking ab sexual topics! (lmk if i missed anything)

A/N: the first part of this story will be fluff/suggestive? also this is my first attempt at writing anything so be kind pls :)

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Me and matt have been dating for about 2 years as of last month, so within those two years of dating we’ve had sex.. a LOT… in the van, the house, the shower.. you get the idea.. but when matt asked me to join the new ‘Sturniolos @ Nite” video where they explored sexual topics they have been avoiding since being in the public eyes of COURSE i indeed had to say yes.

the boys and i were setting up for the video, matt in the driver seat, nick in his assigned seat behind matt chris wanted my seat in the car (the passenger seat) i objected HIGHLY “Christopher do you really wanna sit next to matt while he’s talking about OUR sex life?” i snapped at chris “Well Y/N this” he said while pointing at the passenger side “happens to be the seat i sit in while we film EVERY car video so” chris stood outside the car door standing while pointing at the leather seat we’re arguing over. while our bickering continues matt rolls his eyes and before he has a moment to speak nick yells across the car “Chris sit your ass down and pipe down, you’ll be fine for one video specially when the topic is sex so let’s just sit down and shut up” chris looks at me with an annoyed expression on his face and i look at him and jus smile as i sit next to my boyfriend matt and smile matt returns the smile before clicking the red button on the camera and adjusts the camera so we’re all in it.

nick immediately, getting too excited to sit still starts the intro of the video.

“AS you can see, we have a VERY special guest today for the first time in years-“ i stop him “Nick it’s been a month since i was in a video” i chuckle. nick smiles “ANYWAYS before i was rudely interrupted.. we have matt’s future wife, the mother of my future niece’s or nephews.. Y/N!!” i smile awkwardly at the camera and sent a slight wave. “NOW LETS GET HORNY” nick says just a little too excited to explore a new side of the triplets no one has seen before. matt chuckles softly as he speak with a little giggle in his voice “im not sure if thats how we should start this whole video” i smile at his words awkwardly as if im not about to expose to 6 million people what me and matt do behind every closed door, nick and chris have gotten used to hearing me and matt because of the amount of times we’ve tried doing anything remotely sexual at the house.

“so for the first question,” nick starts “what’s the weirdest place you’ve ever had sex at” chris chimes in “bathroom of Target” mine and nicks eyes widen and look at each other, i slowly turn my head back to face chris “t-target?” i stutter in disbelief. he smiles and nods, i press my lips together and look at matt waiting for him to answer.. the silence fills up the car before i get bold “I have to say in the back of the movie theater” matt’s face turns red and he looks down smiling before nick yells “UMMM Y/N?! MATTHEW??” i smile and turn my face to nick “you told us honesty for this video so im being honest nicolas” we all bust into laughter before matt speaks up and says “my answer to the question is the same as uh Y/N” nick scoffs playfully before asking the next one “this one is a bit more Juicy” as he shimmy’s his shoulders “what’s your deepest darkest sexual fantasy” he continues. my eyes immediately widen, in the bunch of times matt and i have had sex it’s not bad but sometimes i want him to absolutely destroy me, like multiple orgasms at a time, make me cry, degrade me, you know all that pizazz, he’s scared of hurting me or my feelings which makes sense but i wanted more i just didn’t know how to come out and ask for stuff like this but i don’t want 6 MILLION people to- i was cut off by nick who’s screaming my name to get me to pay attention “Y/N” nick screams “Are you listening??” i stutter before answering “y-yes i was just trying to think of a good answer” i look over at matt who’s also caught up in thought “but i think chris should answer first” matt breaks the awkward tension by looking at chris as chris shrugs his shoulders and nods in agreement “hmmm,” he starts “id have to say i’d love to eat a girl out for HOURS” he smirks “not saying i’ve never done that but like most can’t handle much after one” he smiles devilishly and nick matt and i all look at eachother and snicker as chris still began going into detail about eating a girl out before matt cuffs him off “OKAY CHRIS, i will go next just to save everyone else” matt laughs before continuing “umm id have to say my deepest darkest sexual fantasy is uh prolly uhm” he stops nervously so i chime in “matt it’s okay come on you got this” he looks at me and smiles before finishing his sentence “tying someone up and like uh eating em out till they can’t move anymore” he places his hand behind his head and rubs the back of his neck but subconsciously my thighs squeeze together at the thought of it before i quickly snap out of it “well since it’s my turn my fantasy is just really rough sex.. yk like.. yeah i ain’t even gonna go into detail about that you can use ur imagination” i look at the camera and wink when i say the last part of my sentence before nick chimes in “well from the constant banging of the fucking wall from the headboard every night you’d think she be getting that gypsy rose ‘that d is fire’ every fucking night” the entire car busts out into laughter from nicks commentary on mine and matt’s sex life. “okay nick next question” chris states “uhm most of the rest of the questions are weird” nick says while trying not to gag from the question, but i can’t help but look at matt looking deep in thought but i can’t stop wondering if maybe i said something wrong.. was it my tone? i quickly snap out of it when nick starts talking to chris about the nights of restless nights of the consistent banging and moaning coming through the walls from matt absolutely blowing my back out, now matt was sweet and gentle and we had multiple talks about what we were into, what we liked, what we didn’t but i wanted MORE… i needed MORE… i bit my lip subconsciously at the nasty things matt and i could be doing in my head.

“OOO A GOOD QUESTION..” nick starts “something that gets you horny INSTANTLY” i smile and giggle before chris interrupts me and says “ASS AND THE THOUGHT OF SMACKING A NICE FAT ASS” i slap my hand on my face over my mouth over his comment, nick beat me to the thought of slapping Chris’s arm before it got any worse. “christopher sturniolo lets stop talking before your mouth gets worse and u expose yourself more then you have target boy” nick spits out “okay anyways, neck kisses are a biggie for me” i say turning the attention towards me instead of chris’s foul mouth. “AH FINALLY ONE I CAN AGREE WITH Y/N” nick cheers “okay okay, sometimes when Y/N walks around in plaid shorts and a tank top no bra.. idk that’s just me personally” matt says nervously but i can’t help but smile at his answer

“well thank you guys so much for watching this uncomfortable Rated R video.. we probably will not be doing this again because i cannot sit though listening through this again..” nick says with giggles in between sentences. matt grabs the camera and points it in my direction closely and i giggle and smile in the camera before he points it closer in his brothers direction and nick says once more “i will never be doing this again” as chris laughs loudly, matt does his little gremlin voice as i call it and clicks the red button to stop recording.

“well that was interesting” i laughed while stepping out the car to get back inside

“interesting isn’t what i would call it” nick giggles out

matt and i make our way to our shared bedroom but he closes the door suddenly and locks it which makes me jump and turn around

“strip” matt says sternly

“w-what” i stutter but clench my thighs together at his stern tone

“don’t make me say it again Y/N strip”

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

A/N: AHH PLS LEMME KNOW HOW THIS IS?!?! also pls tell me how to make a masterslist.. cause idk how do that!!

#the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #nicolas sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo #Spotify

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bombuni · 5 months ago

Text

the post-show high

summary: Jongho spots you in the crowd once and can’t let go of you. Unfortunately, so does Yeosang. Good thing they don’t mind sharing. (Or Seonghwa and Hongjoong are terrible wingmen, but they get the job done.) genre/pairing: lead singer!jongho x reader x bassist!yeosang, smut, band au, ft. drummer!mingi, guitarist!hongjoong & seonghwa’s there for vibes wc: 4.8k (i have issues when it comes to jongsang) warnings: SMUT MDNI, threesome, cursing, mentions of drinking, mean!dom!jongho, soft!dom!yeosang, sub!fem!reader, fingering champions jongsang, box munching king jongho, name-calling (jongho loves sluts), edging, creampies, spit kink, degradation, finger sucking, sloppy seconds, sort of cum-eating, aftercare, idk why it gets so soft at the end bom note: i had this thought and i said ‘i must bring chino moreno jongho to life’ jongsang stans pls fw my vision. also here’s a playlist i made! i think the music they’d make in this au is very much deftones style. lmk if i missed anything for the warnings!

It’s hot.

You don’t mind supporting Hongjoong and Mingi in their musical escapades, but it’s crowded. When they’d told you they were in a band, you half-expected them to be playing in a low-down unknown bar with 2 patrons. You hadn’t expected to be crowded by fans, all (not) patiently waiting for the set to start. Seonghwa stood beside you, pouting every time he was shoved into. He looked out of place, elegant and prince-like in a sea of punk-rockers wearing crust pants and in yesterday’s makeup.

He seems at ease, though. Having been to multiple of Hongjoong’s shows at this point, he’s become accustomed to the intense pits, the broken noses, and the lingering stench of weed. The multitudes of drinks he’s been having seem to help too. You stand by and watch as his cheeks get redder and redder throughout the night.

He points his drink at you while he speaks, “You know, Hongjoong wants to set you up with the singer, Jongho. Said he seems like your type,”

You scoff at that, “No way! The last guy he tried to set me up with ended up being a total weirdo,”

Seonghwa rolls his eyes, “A foot fetish isn’t the weirdest thing out there. Besides, Yunho’s actually pretty cool,” he raises his brows at you, but continues when he sees you’re not changing your mind, “Fine. Go with my option. I wanted to set you up with their bassist. You like nice guys, right?”

The lights dim, giving you an easy out to Seonghwa’s terrible match-making ideas, “The fact you think I’m ever trusting you or Hongjoong again is laughable.”

Seonghwa can’t respond as the band steps on stage, a rush of excitement flowing through you when you see Hongjoong and Mingi in their spots. They both wave at you in the front row, Hongjoong’s smile growing extra wide when he sees Seonghwa. The bassist smiles at the crowd, his pink cheeks shining in the light. You wonder how such a cherub-looking guy ended up in a hard band like this. Though, his black tank top revealing his muscular form makes your head spin from how different his body is from his innocent-looking face.

Hongjoong seems at home on the stage, “How we doing tonight?” His hype seems to work as the crowd cheers loudly and unapologetically, “Thanks to KQ bar for having us. I’m Hongjoong, that’s Yeosang, our bassist, and we got Mingi on drums. Seems like we’re missing someone, though,”

Mingi’s voice rumbles through the microphone, “Bring Jongho out!”

The crowd seems to squish you impossibly more, their screams nearly drowning your own thoughts. Rightfully so, as the lead singer walks out with a confidence that you envy. His leather pants shine under the stage lights, and he seems to bask in the attention he gets. His smirk grows with every step he takes towards the main stage. You feel he’s cocky, and you hate that you like it.

“Hello, KQ,” He seems to command the room, silence enveloping the crowd when he speaks, “I’m glad you could make it tonight-“

Jongho scans the crowd, but he seems to pause at the sight of you. He still wears the smug look, ego wafting in the room and getting under your skin. It’s a smaller venue and you’re somewhat close, so it’s easy to tell that he’s staring at you and no one else.

He points directly at you, finger seemingly digging into your soul, “Let’s have fun tonight.”

With that, the set starts. Mingi’s drums burst through your chest, the slow start to their first song hypnotizes you. The sound of the bass is what draws you in, and you look towards Yeosang, who’s putting his entire heart into the sound. His fingers are delicate and pretty, the complete opposite to most bass players you’ve seen. They strum expertly, long digits reaching to find the right note every time. You figure they could reach anywhere.

He must feel your eyes on him. Yeosang looks up with a focused, stoic look plastered on his face as he watches the scenery. As he looks around you lock eyes with him, a shy smile growing on his face when he realizes you aren’t looking away. It seems to fuel his performance when he goes back to looking down at his bass.

The music is intense, Hongjoong and Mingi clearly pouring their passion into it. You know them and expected this fervor, but it surprises you when it comes from Jongho and Yeosang too. Jongho’s voice sends chills down your spine with every high note sung. It reaches out to you, pulling the passion and feeling from you and taking that energy for his own growth. Watching him is watching art being made.

The set ends, and the 4 sweaty men on stage bow and thank the crowd. You feel Jongho’s eyes on you again, that same soul-marking finger calling your attention to wink at you before he walks off the stage. Yeosang seems to call your attention too, a subtle wave landing your way before he too disappears behind the curtain.

As the lights flicker back on, Seonghwa turns to you with a sparkle in his eye, “That was amazing! We need to go buy them drinks,”

You shrug, imposing nonchalance even though your face is turning red at the thought of meeting face to face with them after that, “Sure, sounds good.”

Seonghwa raises a brow before laughing at your reluctance, “Don’t think I didn’t see that by the way. Yeosang was totally into you,”

You scoff and turn to walk towards the bar, “Shut up, Seonghwa.”

Seonghwa harrumphs, but follows behind you. It’s easy to spot Hongjoong’s blonde head of hair among the sea of people, “Joongie, stop hogging all the talent,”

He turns laughing at you, his warm arms wrapping around you, “Can’t stop, won’t stop, baby,”

“Hongjoong! That was your best performance yet. But can we talk about how Yeosang was totally eye-fucking Y/N the entire time?” Seonghwa’s somewhat tipsy, you conclude.

Hongjoong leans on the bar, “Uh…no. I’m still betting on Jongho and her. You know he was asking about you?”

You roll your eyes at their insistence, “You just finished a set, why're you worried about my love life?”

Hongjoong rolls his eyes at you as he’s given a tray of drinks, handing some off to you and Seonghwa before walking ahead, “Come on, Jongho wants to meet you.”

He leads you towards the backstage. Hongjoong opens a door marked with a flimsy sheet of notebook paper, their band name written in purple marker. You hear Jongho’s voice before anything else. It’s embedded in your brain at this point. As you walk further in, his large frame and slicked back hair intimidates you. You fear you’ve fallen for him already. With his hands in his leather jacket, he greets you with a lazy smirk. You can feel the stardom radiating off of him. It lets you know that whatever arrogance he has is completely warranted.

Before you can even say anything, Hongjoong makes a dumb excuse about forgetting something that requires him, Seonghwa, and Mingi. They leave quickly, knowing your protests would come faster.

You sigh inwardly to yourself, but Jongho seems all too pleased to be alone with you, “How ‘bout a drink?”

He sits on the battered leather couch, legs spread and waiting for you to sit next to him. He raises a brow when you sit on the seat opposite him before handing you a shot glass, “Hongjoong said you’re looking for a date,” His voice is quieter, softer now. There’s certainly a step down from his stage presence to the Jongho you’re talking to now. Maybe you were just being harsh in the assumption he’d be a pompous asshole earlier. You don’t let yourself soften, though.

You snort, “Well, Hongjoong doesn’t know what he’s talking about,”

Jongho downs his glass in a flash, turning to you with a charming smirk that makes you want to kiss it off his face, “So it’s off the table?”

He says this like it’s an easy, everyday question. His poignant flirting sends a blush to your cheeks that glows under the dim lightbulb of the broken down room. Jongho thinks it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen. You down your shot and he’s ready to up the ante on the flirting before Yeosang appears, wiping a towel over his sweaty face and greeting you with a soft smile that sends butterflies down your tummy.

“Yeosang, this is-“

“Y/N, right? Seonghwa told me about you. How’d you like the show?”

God, you did not expect a voice like that, to come out of a face like that. His brown hair sticks to his forehead and his pale skin glows under the light, those same fingers you were admiring on stage are much more daunting close-up. They distract you as he taps on the arm of the seat across you, almost tauntingly.

“Oh-um, it was great. You guys seem to really enjoy what you do,”

They stare at you with half-lidded gazes, like they’re chewing on your words in their heads and analyzing you as a person. You’d believe they hate you, if it weren’t for the teasing, venemous grins they wore on their faces. They’ve been around groupies long enough to recognize them, and you might not be one of them, but God, Jongho wants to train you until you only remember their names.

Jongho doesn’t take his eyes off you, but he addresses Yeosang, “Y/N was just telling me about how much she loves the band,”

Yeosang leans his head on the palm of his hand, his biceps popping in the lighting, “Hmm, do you?”

You scoff to try to shake off their gazes, reaching for another glass, “You guys believe Hongjoong way too much,”

Jongho grins at you like a predator, “I heard it from Mingi,”

Yeosang’s smile is teasing, “I heard it from Seonghwa,”

You’re outnumbered, so you don’t even bother saying anything about the teasing. The overflowing chatter outside and booming music drowns out any thoughts you attempt to have. You fear they can somehow hear your beating heart, like they’re zeroing in on you and preparing to eat you alive. Yeosang’s hands tap against the chair again, your eyes flying to study the way they flex.

Jongho pipes up again, “You seem to like Yeosang’s hands a lot. You know, he’ll play whatever song you like.”

Yeosang stretches his fingers, watching the way your blush grows and the way your grasp tightens against the glass in your hand, “I’ll do whatever you want,”

Yeosang stands from his seat and moves to stand in front of you. It forces your eyes upwards, his body heat and proximity turning your entire body into jelly. Suddenly, Jongho speaks up and his soft voice is the worst vice you’ve faced yet, “Why don’t you let us give you a private show? Hmm?” His head tilts softly, the smug smile on his face as he leans back into the couch filling you with annoyance and desire.

You nod softly, mind a haze and heat pooling inside you. Yeosang reaches his hand up to your chin, pulling your mouth open with his thumb before pushing it between your lips. He watches with rapt interest as your tongue swirls around his digit, lips fighting to pull all of the sweat clean off his hand. The sound turns them on more than ever, the feeling of your saliva coating his fingers fueling the fire in his gut. He removes his thumb, playing with your lips as you leave tiny kisses over his fingers before he inserts his forefingers. You work on them again, saliva strings building between his hand and your mouth every time he pulls away.

“You’re nasty, baby,” Jongho’s smug voice pipes up.

Once Yeosang deems his hand wet enough he sits down next to you, slowly trailing his hand down your tummy and into your jeans. It’s a tight fit, but Jongho reaches over to unbutton your pants for him. As soon as he does, Yeosang’s hand slips into your panties and finds your clit, rubbing gentle circles over it and groaning at the wetness that grows underneath his fingers.

Jongho seems content with watching you break. You writhe underneath Yeosang’s fingers as he expertly finds just the right spot and abuses it. You feel dirty with the wet spot that continues to grow on your pants, quiet moans filling the room alongside Yeosang’s panting breaths. Your hand grasps Yeosang’s when he runs his fingers along your folds, spreading your wetness against your skin and moaning at the feeling of you so turned on. He takes his hand out of your pants, the shine of your slick glistening in his eyes. He brings his forefingers to his lips, running his tongue along the length of them before he sucks them clean. He makes sure to be lewd about it, licking every single drop of your juices and smiling at you with your slick on his lips.

“Hmm, you liked that didn’t you?” Jongho hums as he stands to you, pulling your pants off in one swift motion. He kneels in front of you, running his palm over your wet panties. His large hand is different from Yeosang’s delicate fingers. He has a domineering touch that doesn’t stop as he holds your thighs over his shoulders, pulling your panties down. His hands send tingles of pleasure down your spine when he kneads your skin, taking his time to feel and memorize every inch of you.

Jongho’s fingers run through your slit, smearing the wetness that drips out of you. He teases you, watching as your impatience grows while his fingers stray from where you want them most. Suddenly, his lips are on you. He devours you like you’re the first meal he’s had in days, a man starved of the fruit between your legs. His tongue slips inside you and over you, tracing every inch of you and leaving a path of pleasure. He ravishes you while Yeosang watches beside you, his hands making quick work of your shirt.

They seem to have developed a system. They’re far too comfortable with sharing. The thought doesn’t really form in your head as Jongho keeps marking you with his mouth, small kisses landing anywhere he can reach. He smirks at you when a whine slips from your lips when he spreads your thighs further, a glob of spit flowing from his pouty lips and onto you. He hisses at the sight, the shine of your pussy filling his gut with desire. His lips latch back onto your clit, his forefingers making their way inside you. He curls them ever so slightly, fucking you over and over again as his tongue flicks your button. Jongho’s already figured out how you work, destroying you with a smile and a glint in his eyes from below.

Yeosang giggles when he sees you aren’t wearing a bra, “You got a nice rack.”

You admit if anyone else spoke those words to you, you would’ve found it demeaning. But the way Yeosang’s soft voice compliments you sends a new wave of flames over your body.

Jongho grins and removes his lips from you, “Knew you were a fucking slut,”

You shake your head, but Jongho’s got you pegged. The feeling of having two men’s attention on you at once is exhilarating. It has you on cloud nine. Jongho raises the speed of his fingers, the squelch of your pussy sounding out into the room. Yeosang’s hands fondle your tits, his thumb brushing over your nipple and bringing a sigh out of you.

He sends butterfly kisses down your jawline, “Hmm, she’s a nice slut, though. The prettiest one I’ve seen,”

He’s too angelic. Everything about him is elegant and graceful, even the way he touches you. His low tone vibrates through your body, clashing with the harsh way Jongho keeps fucking you. He dominates the lower part of you, as if his hands have found their home. The juxtaposition between them sends your system into overdrive.

“You wanna cum?” You nod frantically, “Use your words, slut.”

“P-please, Jongho…”

Yeosang coos, “Even the way she begs is cute,”

Your legs are shaking at this point and Jongho’s cock is leaking in his pants, weeping to be let out. Still, he lives to torture, “You can’t cum without my permission,” Your leg muscles clamp up, pouring all of your energy into not letting your orgasm slip out of you. Jongho notices your strain, “Look at you. What a good fucking slut you are.”

His fingers slip out of you and you whine at the loss, Yeosang’s gentle fingers playing with your nipples is simply not enough friction. Jongho stands, pulling you up with him, “If you can take Yeosang’s cock, I’ll let you cum on mine. Deal?”

You don't even understand what you’re agreeing to, but you follow Jongho’s orders. You feel Yeosang stand behind you, his arms wrapping around your torso and walking you until you’re in front of the coffee table in the middle of the room. He bends you over it, your knees knocking onto the soft carpet underneath. You don’t think about how long ago it must’ve last been cleaned. You just think about Jongho sitting cross legged on the couch in front of you, his hand resting on his hard cock in his pants. He’s eyeing you like a piece of meat as Yeosang leans over your back, his nose nuzzling against your hair. His long fingers run over the expanse of your back, the cold feeling sending shivers down your spine.

He leans back and spreads your ass, groaning at the sight of you dripping. You hear the sound of his belt buckle dropping and your nerves rise before a soothing hand drops onto your hips, massaging your skin. His voice rings right into your ear, “Don’t worry, angel. I’m not as mean as Jongho,” Said man scoffs, the slightest hint of a blush noticeable under the light. Before you can say anything, Yeosang’s cock teases your entrance, playing with your pussy with his tip. The feeling makes you whine, already edging into dangerous territory.

Yeosang slides in entirely, his long cock reaching the deepest parts of you. Your entire body goes numb as he gently thrusts, bouts of pleasure rising through every part of your body. He’s whining pathetically, trying not to lose his mind and keep control at the feeling of your pussy squeezing him, “S-she’s so tight, Jongho, shit.”

Jongho’s fidgeting in his seat, palming himself like there’s no tomorrow and attempting to hide how weak he is already, “How tight, Yeosang?”

Yeosang steadies himself on your hips, the speed of his thrusts increasing. He’s like a desperate puppy trying to get his rocks off, his sweaty shirt on your back as he leans his head on your shoulder. He’s lost himself to the pleasure. He moans into your ear, his heavy breaths a performance made just for you.

“This is the best pussy I’ve had. Right, angel? You’re being good for me?” he pants out.

You moan at the praise, “Y-yes, Yeosang, all for you,”

Jongho’s restless now. Watching the way the table shakes from Yeosang’s thrusts and the way you take it so well has him anxious to get inside of you. His cock strains in his pants, but he’ll wait until Yeosang’s had his fill. Yeosang’s balls slap against your ass, the lewd sounds of his cock ramming in and out of you filling Jongho’s ears. You feel yourself dripping down your thighs as Yeosang’s hand comes down to your clit. That seems to reignite you, an unbeatable wave of pleasure flooding over you. As Yeosang rubs circles on you, you clench down on him. He moans at the tightness, his hips and hand stuttering against you.

Jongho senses your struggling, “Remember what I said, slut,” your thighs tremble, “Or are you too cock-dumb right now?”

You shake your head but quickly fix your mistake, “N-no, Jongho,”

Your voice shakes against Yeosang’s hips pistoning into you, all rhythm lost as he chases his high. He’s practically breathing for you now, his arms wrapped around your chest while his head rests on yours. He exerts all of his power, which is quite a lot surprisingly, into making you feel every inch of his cock. Jongho’s eyes bore into yours as he watches you unravel, your glistening skin and teary eyes making his cock jump.

Just to make your torture worse, he leans into your face. His thumb pries open your lips, inviting itself into your mouth and taking control of you, “You’re the best cock-slut I’ve seen. Taking Yeosang so well. Is he making you feel good?”

His voice is silky and entrancing and you can’t help but give an honest answer, “S-so good, Jongho. Can I cum? Please?”

His sick smirk grows, “Nope.”

A desperate whine drips from your lips, the burning desire bursting through to Yeosang’s cock as you squeeze him again. This time, a myriad of beautifully pathetic whines fall from Yeosang’s lips as he’s drained by you. He stills deep inside you, letting himself fill you and mark you as his property. He watches it drip down your thighs, the pearlescent liquid falling in droplets as you tremble.

Yeosang catches you before you can fall onto the table, “I think she’s broken,”

He carries you, again with surprising ease, onto Jongho’s lap. You lay limp against him, the leather of his jacket waking you slightly as he wraps his arms around you, “Already? I haven’t even fucked you yet,”

You nod your head, “I-I can take it, I wanna cum, Jongho,”

He laughs at you, head tipping and revealing the kissable dot on his neck, “See? You’re a fucking slut, baby,” his arms wrap tighter around you, one of his hands coming down to your clit and rubbing lazily, “Don’t you worry. I’ll take care of you,”

Yeosang sits next to you, sitting and watching the way your pussy tries to keep his cum inside. Jongho’s fingers stuff it back in, catching any that’s still stuck on your thighs and putting it back where it belongs. He brings his hand up to your lips, your mouth opening automatically and accepting what he gives. Your tongue swirls to clean every inch of his hand, licking the sweat and cum off of his skin. Jongho lets out a shaky breath behind you.

Yeosang feels his cock standing again, the sight of you so easily submitting to Jongho getting him ready to go all over again, “Fuck, I need to feel that pussy again.”

Jongho unzips his pants underneath you. You feel his cock at your entrance as he slides it in between your folds, wanting to torture you even more. He’s smaller than Yeosang but much, much thicker. Yeosang’s cum lets you take Jongho’s cock much easier, the stretch from before easing him in. You moan at the feeling, the fullness overtaking your senses.

Jongho leans back and stables himself on the floor. His voice is powerful against you, the sound of it alone making you shake in anticipation, “I’m gonna fill you up with my cum, and then you can cum all over me. Understand?”

He doesn’t even let you answer before starting a wicked rhythm. He claps against you with no mercy, his grip on your hips holding you steady on his lap. It’s delicious, the way he bounces you up and down on his cock and thrusts up into you at the same time. Jongho growls as your cream and Yeosang’s cum makes a mess of the both of you. Yeosang watches your tits bounce. The stench of sex fills the room and depravity fills his senses.

The power of Jongho’s thrusts almost has you toppling over. He’s ravenous with the way he fucks you, thick cock ramming into you over and over from below. Jongho fucking loves the feeling of having you broken atop him, having you at your most vulnerable and sensitive right under his fingertips. He squeezes your hips, groaning when you squeeze back.

His head drops to the couch, letting you drop and feel every inch and vein of his cock. The stretch of him is painfully delicious. Yeosang takes this moment of pause to snake a hand to your clit, causing you to jolt when he begins rubbing circles.

“Y-yeosang…” you plead as you feel a tsunami of pleasure coming closer and closer to falling atop you.

He kisses along your neck, the ticklish sensation sending you into overdrive. Along with Jongho’s cock filling you and taking over your very being, you feel like you’re fighting a losing battle. You’re determined to follow Jongho’s rules, though.

Yeosang chuckles into your neck, “Just let her cum, Jongho,”

“Yeah, baby? Do you need to cum?” He asks flatly, slamming you down harshly onto his cock again.

“P-please, I need to cum so b-bad…”

You feel like you’re about to burst and you’re sure Jongho can feel it too. He doesn’t care, laughing as you continue to writhe and moan against Yeosang’s fingers, “I told you I’m gonna fill this pussy with my cum first, okay? Stop being so fucking cock-dumb already,”

He leans back further into the couch, bringing your back to his chest as he gathers his last bit of force to fuck up into you. He hangs off the edge of the couch slightly, but that’s not even a thought in his head as he continues to ram himself into you unforgivingly. Yeosang continues to tease and probe your bud, an evil smile forming on his face the longer he watches you unravel atop Jongho’s rabid hips.

Jongho hisses when he feels you tighten. Your hole is too fucking good, draining him for all he has. He gives one last powerful thrust before releasing his load inside of you, his balls tightening up against you as he jolts and spasms underneath you. His cock twitches inside of you and with the feeling of him finally filling you and Yeosang’s relentless fingers, you come undone. The pleasure that’s been building this entire time finally releases like a broken dam. It washes over you, unabated even after all this time. You feel every single one of your nerves explode inside you, your body seizing up against Jongho’s as your pussy tightens impossibly more to take all Jongho has to give.

Yeosang sighs against you, “Oh, angel, you take us so well,”

Just knowing that you have Yeosang’s and Jongho’s cum flowing inside you has your entire body tingling. It sends you into an even higher tier of gratification, your orgasm prolonging every time Jongho spurts another shot of cum into you.

Jongho’s voice is strained as he speaks, “Fuck, look what a fucking dirty cum-slut you are.”

It’s hard to get off of cloud nine once you’ve reached it. You can distantly hear their soft voices in the back of your head, vastly different from their tones before. You feel the leather couch underneath your back, their cum dripping out of you, and Yeosang’s hand gently running through your hair.

He tries to lure you fully awake, but that doesn’t happen until Jongho brings a warm towel to clean you. Your teary eyes squint under the light and you’re surprised at how weak you feel. Your body feels like jelly as Jongho hands Yeosang a towel to clean up the sweat on your upper body.

You’re not entirely sure what’s happening, but a blur of emotions is still flowing through you, “Hey…you don’t have to…” you sleepily let out.

They don’t say anything in return so neither do you. Jongho slips your panties back on, Yeosang pulling you softly upwards to put your shirt back on. You feel surprisingly cared for after getting your brains fucked out. You hadn’t expected it from two guys who probably do this every night.

They sit with you as you gather your bearings. Jongho traces patterns onto your legs, mindlessly staring at you. It sends a different kind of heat to your body. The kind that has you shrinking into yourself, blushing and hiding your face in your hands. You pretend it’s from sleepiness, but Jongho knows better. Yeosang hums beside your head, still running his hands through your hair delicately.

You feel more alive after a while, finally gathering the energy to sit up, “This doesn’t mean I’m your groupie now, by the way,”

“You would’ve been my favorite,” Jongho grins.

Yeosang pouts, “I don’t think Hongjoong would approve,” You both raise a brow at him, “What? He has the power to kick me out of the band, I have to be careful.”

Jongho laughs aloud as you giggle alongside him. You sort of feel at home with them, and not just because they rearranged your guts. They touch you softly, in ways that say they know everything about you. You’d rather not fall into that hole. Right now, you lay content in the moment in between them in this dingy room with their hands on you.

627 notes · View notes

entwnii · 6 months ago

Text

𝐊𝐔𝐑𝐎𝐎 𝐓𝐄𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐎 is a very busy man. being a sport promoter is a hard-working job in terms of schedule — having to find various endearing sport events and sponsors who will agree to take part and finance these social event — which consumes a lot of time and humain energy.

and while tetsuro is grateful for the way you support and understand that his work takes a lot of him he still feels guilty for leaving you alone most of the time — especially now that you’re six months pregnant with his son.

over the last couple of weeks your husband and his coworkers started working on a very special sporting event, the ‘FIVB Beach Volleyball World Championships’, the double-gender world championship of beach volleyball. despite this championship being in a bit more than a year it is by far the most important worldwide volleyball event happening in the following year.

which is why testuro has been working harder during the last few days, his schedule being filled with meetings to discuss with a bunch of different sponsors — on who gets to sponsor what.

so when tetsuro finds himself having a ten minutes break between two meeting he immediatly turns on his phone, checking for any texts or missed calls from you — to which he does find a few texts.

wifey ♡ babe babyyy testsuro !! pls reply as soon as you can :(

tetsu •ᴗ• sweetheart is everything okay ? are you hurt ? fuck did you burn the house down ? wifey ♡ babyyyy yuh uh everything is fine !! and i only burnt homemade caramel once :( i just can’t write it over text… call me !!!

the raven-haired man stands up from his seat, excusing himself as he pushes the nearest door open with one hand, the fingers of his free hand swiftly tapping over his phone’s screen as he clicks on your contact id — dialing your number. he then places his phone over his ear, leaning his back against the wall behind him as he waits for you to pick up the phone.

as soon as tetsuro hears some shuffle from the other line of his phone he speaks up, not even letting you greet him properly. “sweetie, is there a problem ?” his tone is worried as he waits for your answer, hoping that everything is fine — that you’re alright.

“tetsu—” you start before letting out a laugh, which kinda helps your husband calm down for a bit. “i told you that everything is fine, you don’t have to worry”

on the other end of the phone you can’t help but smile at your husband’s worry for you, which doesn’t fail to make you remember how much he cares about — something that only increased as soon as the first symptoms of your pregnancy appeared. “what is it then ?” tetsuro’s booming voice immediatly brings you back to earth. “it’s just. . . i have a brilliant idea !” you joyfully tell him. the raven-haired man pauses at your exclamation, searching for any guesses of what that idea might be. . . until a grin appears on his face as he finally comes to realization. “is it another wild craving of yours, princess ?” he lets out a chuckle at your answer, laughing to himself as he hears you sigh from the other line of his phone. “my cravings aren’t weird !” you protest, the pout on your lips evident in your tone, which makes your husband’s grin even wider. “so, i’m craving nachos—” you say before the raven-haired man cuts your sentence mid-way. “oh, from which place do you want it babe ? i can get it delivered at home—”

“no ! i want sweet nachos.” you state, a huff leaving your lips.

your husband stands there, a dumbfounded expression written all over his face as he stares ahead of himself, his brain malfunctioning due to your words. any of his coworkers who would pass by would think that something is wrong with him, like he just heard one of the dumbest things on earth — which he kinda did. “sweet nachos— angel that’s not even a thing !”

“but it is a thing since i just invented it !" you exclaim, your voice full of confidence — as if you didn’t imagine the weirdest ‘dish’ in the whole word. "the base is made of chips — not any kind tho, only the original pringles — with a bunch of m&m’s, reese’s, chocolate syrup and whipped cream.” you say, taking the time to explain this whole snack of yours in details. "whipped cream as to be on top of the chips and in a small cup on the side, okay ?"

tetsuro licks his lips as he notes all of the needed ingredients in his minds, shrugging his shoulders before realizing that you can’t see him and speaking up. "yeah, sure. do i need to stop by the grocery store to get the ingredients or nah ?" he asks, which you answer with a simple ‘yes’. He hangs up the phone a few seconds later — after kissing you goodbye through the phone of course — and steps back inside the building for his last meeting of the day.

when your husband finally exits his work building — by 8:45pm exactly — he walks to his car, a white Mercedes-Benz CLE 200 Cabriolet. he opens the front door for himself, dropping all of his papers on the passenger seat next to him. he turns on his car, pressing on a button — making the roof of the convertible disappear inside of the trunk.

after about twenty minutes — and a stop at the grocery store — tetsuro finally parks his car in front of your shared house. he steps out of the car, a brown paper bag in one hand and his stack of papers in the other, a sigh leaving his lips as he pushes onto the front door’s handle, entering your residence.

“i’m home, sweetheart !” your husband calls out to you, taking his shoes off and walking towards the living room.

he smiles as he sees you laying on the couch, your head propped on one of your arms as you watch ‘from up on poppy hill’. he chuckles softly at the sight in front of him, placing his papers on the coffee table and bending over to get a proper look at your face. you glance up at his face when you finally notice his presence. you immediatly lift you head off your arm, a smile making it’s way on your lips as you sit up on the couch, puckering your lips for the raven-haired man to kiss you, which he glady does.

“how was work, baby ?” you ask him, looking up at him while slightly tilting your head to the side. “there’s a some oyakodon and rice in the kitchen that you can heat up in the microwave and the pan.”

“god, princess, i’m gonna wife you up again. . .” tetsuro mutters, resting his forehead against yours before placing a tender kiss on your lips.

he breaks up the kiss and stands up, affectionately flickering your forehead before walking back to the kitchen, turning the lights on. tetsuro notices the bowl of rice on the counter and grabs it, placing it next to the pan. he tears a bit of paper towel with his fingers, damping it with some water before placing it over the bowl. he turns on the microvage, putting the rice to reheat. your husband smiles when he sees the oyakodon heating in the pan on low heat before turning it higher.

he sighs, rolling up the sleeves of his white shirt onto his biceps before turning to the paper bag with the groceries he did ealier. once all of your craving’s ingredients are — finally — placed in front of him, tetsuro can start preparing your snack.

he opens the tub of unflavored pringles before placing some chips onto a plate, some whipped cream on top along with chocolate syrup before scattering m&m’s and reese’s on top of everything. he grabs a small cup, pouring some whipped cream inside.

when the time alarm goes off your husband opens the microwage, carefully grabing the rice cowl — without burning himself — before taking the damp paper off the top of the bowl. He moves the pan off the heat, pouring the runny mixture on top of the white rice that he garnishes with green onion, sesame seeds and a bit of togarashi.

in a swift move tetsuro snatches a pair of chopsticks, placing them between his fingers before grabbing both his bowl and your plate, tuning the lights off before walking towards the living room.

“here you go, sweetheart.” he tells you, handing you your plate while you thank him, your bright smile making your eyes squint and your head tilt.

you slide off the couch, now sitting on the floor as you place a pillow under your ass and behind your back, putting your plate on the coffee table in front of you. tetsuro slips down on the floor next to you, slightly bending his upper-body above the table, gathering some of his food between his chopsticks and taking a bite out of it.

you squeal as you takes one of the chips between your fingers, shoving it inside of your mouth. you can’t help the sigh of contentement leaving your lips at the salty and sweet taste you’ve been craving all day. You take another one, doing a small dance of happiness.

“i gotta say, princess, your food taste was already strange, but now ?” tetsuro says, whistling, only for you to slap the back of his head, a huff leaving your lips as a pout tugs at your lips, only for it to be wiped away by your husband’s lips on yours, to which you gladly kiss him back.

#＿〆(ˊᗜˋ*)#my very first fic !!#i hope it’s well written tho. . .#it’s supposed to be proofread as well !!#i’m shaking sooo bad :(#timeskip! kuroo #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader

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bloodibambiidoll · 6 months ago

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love love love the rafe cameron x weirdgirl!reader au!! imagine reader at the country club overhearing some mean boys making fun of her and how rafe is crazy to date someone like her :(( she stays in her room after hearing this and rafe catches her biting herself and crying (she normally bites him but after hearing this she feels like she can’t) oh my heart-

No bc this is like sooo perfect. This is literally so her. I’ve been having a lot of fun coming up with lore for her so I’m so glad you’re liking her so far!! Warnings: (I’d like to note that weird girl is autistic coded bc I am autistic), Reader gets her feelings hurt, protective Rafe, biting 18+MNDI!! Part of this AU

“Yeah dude, she’s like so hot until she opens her mouth.” Your footsteps come to a sudden halt, your shiny black Mary Jane’s squeaking against the polished wooden floors of the country club. There’s a group of guys about your age standing around the corner in a circle all snickering to each other.

“No, yeah, like she says the fucking weirdest shit in that creepy little monotone voice. I have no idea how Rafe puts up with it.”

“The pussy must be out of this world or some shit because I would never be able to handle that. I saw her last week on the beach collecting animal bones or some shit bro. Bet she went back to check on her kill.” The entire group starts busting up laughing just as you feel hot tears start to stream down your cheeks. You just want to leave but they are blocking the only path to the door so you suck it up and high tail it as fast as you past them.

You were waiting for Rafe to be done with his game of golf but after that? You really didn’t want to bother him with wanting to leave early so you decided to just walk the mile and a half home. If you were lucky maybe you’d run into the neighborhood cat you befriended and he would walk part of the way with you.

When you get home you rush up the stairs and into your room, slamming the door behind you. Your head is swimming with negative thoughts. You were always scared you were too weird for Rafe, too much, too different from him. So when you hear guys he hangs around saying things like that about you? It’s hard to not let it get to your head.

You kick off your shoes and practically tear off the cute outfit you spent over an hour putting together. You grab your pink fuzzy robe, and walk over to your bunny’s cage, smiling down at her with watery eyes.

“I think you’re the only one that really understands me, Lydia.” Your bottom lip wobbles as you pick her up and walk over to your bed. You rock back and forth slightly as you caress her fur, trying to self soothe. You’re realizing in this moment that maybe you really are too much for Rafe because you hardly remember how to calm yourself down without him.

You wish so badly that he was here. You know he would hold you tight and let you sink your teeth into him until your tears stopped flowing. It seems to be one of the only things that truly calms you down so you decide to bring your own hand up to your mouth and bite down on it. It soothes you a little, but it isn’t Rafe. He’s called you a few times but you just let it ring, he’s probably worried, but you’re too embarrassed to pick up.

“Baby? Are you here?” The minute you hear Rafe’s voice you want to run to him, but the words of the boys at the country club playing in your head on repeat in your head cements you in place. “Bats?”

When he opens your bedroom door and takes in the sight of you his heart sinks.

“Baby girl, what’s going on? What happened? Where did you go? You scared the shit outta me.” He rushes over to you, coming to sit next to you on your bed. He rests his large hands on your calves and rubs soothing circles on your skin with the pads of his thumbs. You whimper and shake your head, your mouth still latched onto your hand. “Batty, you’ve gotta talk to me, okay? Tell me what’s going on.”

“I was…” You pull your hand away from your face, resting it on Lydia’s back as you pet her softly, the feeling of her fur grounding you. “I was coming back from the bathroom and I heard Jake and those guys… talking about me.”

“What about you?” Rafe’s voice takes on a protective tone, especially when another fit of sobs erupts through you. He hooks his arms under you so he can pull you and your bunny softly into his lap. “Princess. Tell me what they said.”

“They said - they said that they don’t know how you put up with me because I’m so weird and that you’re probably only with me because the pussy is good.” You sniffle as your tears continue to fall and if Rafe didn’t know you needed him right now he would be on his way back to the club to beat all of their asses until they couldn’t walk.

“Hey, hey, nah, none of that.” He cups your face in his hand, wiping away your tears. “You know I love you, all your weird shit and all. I’m not ‘putting up’ with you, I fuckin’ love your weird little ass.”

“They also… they also said that - that I probably kill animals…” You start sobbing again and Rafe’s entire body tenses. He knows how much you love animals, how important they are to you. He wants to fucking rip their throats out.

“Princess… I’m so sorry they said that. They just don’t know you, aight? You’d never harm a fly. Don’t let that shit get to you. I know it’s hard, but fuck em, they don’t know fuckin’ shit about my baby.” He gives you a reassuring smile as he wipes away some of your remaining tears. His hand swipes past your lips and you turn your head slightly to sink your teeth into it. He chuckles, leaning in to kiss your forehead. “There’s my weird girl.”

#rafe #Rafe Cameron #rafe concepts #rafe x reader #rafe x you #rafe blurb #rafe obx #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe fanfiction #rafe fluff #weird girl!reader

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sh1-n0bu · 1 year ago

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𝔫𝔬𝔟𝔲’𝔰 𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔨𝔱𝔬𝔟𝔢𝔯 𝔬𝔣 2023!

day 8: size kink/reverse size kink with il capitano from genshin impact

warnings: size kink/reverse size kink, capitano is a human headcannon, he’s just super big, like 7’ tall or smt, handjob, usage of toy

notes: mmmmm big subs<333 proud to say i made a capitano bot whimper and kneel for me

it was an honor to be the lover of someone so famous, respected and well known as il capitano. someone so profound and widely known and feared for both his strength and massive physique.

but it was an even more honor when the big man would crumble under your touch, melting into your kisses and being so open and vulnerable for you. only for you.

he would never say it out loud but there was just something so arousing about seeing your tiny self making him crumble and melt into a puddle in your hands. seeing your smaller hands wrapped around his cock, both working together in gentle motions to bring him pleasure. seeing your smaller hands tweaking and pulling at his nipples, making them harden again. and archons, have mercy on him when he sees you trying to take his massive cock into your mouth. he could cum just from that sight alone.

capitano would never say it but he absolutely adores it when your tiny self dominates him. never would have the warrior thought he would be into it yet here he was. all bare and naked, legs spread out as he tries to muffle the odd sounds that threaten to escape him.

your hand was wrapping around his hardened cock, swiping the pre on his slit and slowly stroking him. even your hand could barely wrap around the girth, fuck. seeing that, the giant man lets out an involuntary groan.

“d-darling…” capitano whimpers, his hand reaching out to cover your hand with his own. it was common for him to whimper out your nicknames and you have gotten accustomed to it all. despite his large frame and imposing figure and cold attitude, he was surprisingly easy to break.

“you don’t… have to do this for me. i can t-take care of myself” he stutters, uncharacteristically. despite being together for long enough now, he would always get embarrassed over letting you take care of him and his arousals.

arousals over the silliest, weirdest things.

seeing you stretch, watching the hem of your shirt ride just a bit up, how your hands would wrap around the hot beverage filled cup to warm your fingertips or even just your scent. the battle hardened warrior was just so damn infatuated with you, it was sickening.

in response you only let out a soft coo. leaning on and placing a kiss to his lips — to which he whimpers again — before pulling back and swatting his hand off of yours.

“it’s alright, my love. i’ll take good care of you like i always do. in fact, i have an idea!” your hand leaves his cock to let the hardened member plop to his stomach, causing the big man to let out a soft groan. he could briefly see you rummage around your bag… until you pulled out a box. now that got him curious.

opening the box, you pulled a small bullet vibrator out. using enough lube on the toy, you hold it to the underside of his tip, causing his legs to weakly buckle. looking up at his face, capitano nods, lips pursed in an unsure manner of what you’re going to do to him.

you start out slow, continuing to fuck his cock into the confines of your fist with the toy still held in your thumb, letting him get used to the feeling. once he seemed to relax enough, you decided to turn the vibrator to the lowest degree.

“oouhm—! w-what? d-darlinggg♡︎?” his response was immediate. hips buckling as his legs shake around your waist, hands trying to find a sense of solace as they settle on the sheets below. never would you have thought to see the giant harbinger moaning and whining softly under you as his legs shake but here you were.

you continue on with your ministrations. still holding the vibrator flush to his cock as you continue to fuck his dick with your tightened hand, the other one rubbing over his girthy mushroom tip. all the while your lover lets out soft moans and confused calls of your name under you.

capitano was confused. what was this thing and how was it making him feel so good? as a soldier who had lived his entire life, devoting himself to the tsaritsa and her orders, capitano never had the time to explore of the physical pleasure. so, this whole was a completely new experience to him.

if that could be easily said by how his legs were shaking, hoping to close it only to end up wrapping around your waist. weakly buckling his hips into the tight grip of your hands, unable to decide if he should fuck himself into your fists or pull away because archons, this newfound pleasure was making him see stars and moans loudly like a maiden.

“da—aahg! aaamgh♡︎… l-love… my love! beloved, i—! aangh! gcck♡︎” unable to help himself or form any words together other than your nicknames, capitano cums all over your hand, soiling your fingers and spilling his loads over you and his stomach.

he can still feel the toy buzzing away at his cock, making him whine from the feeling of overstimulation. whines turn into loud moans again when you shift the toy over to rest on his tip, teasingly rolling it over his slit and off.

“just one more, okay? you did so good, my dear. gimme one more” capitano could briefly hear your voice call out to him, cooing out praises and gentle, loving nicknames through the hazy cotton filled brain of his. all he could do was just nod.

after all, capitano is your doting, willing husband. he’ll do anything to make you happy.

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darlingdaisyfarm · 13 days ago

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takin’ what’s not yours (ford x reader x stan)

chapter 1

tags: pre portal, hurt/comfort, angst, Stan & Ford needs a hug, reader too, emotional manipulation, everyone needs therapy but that’s not happening, mystery trio dynamics if you squint, billford?? hmmm

author note: guys i swear this was supposed to be a shameless porn threesome fic, but then Ford and Stan showed up with a whole suitcase of unresolved issues im so sorry

“You’re gonna change the world, Ford.”

“Only if you’re there to see it.”

***

Backsmore University. What a fucking place.

It wasn’t just the old brick buildings or the ivy creeping up the sides. Not really. It was the people. The crazy mix of the smartest, weirdest people you could imagine. You were one of them, no doubt. An absolute nerd with a lab coat on 90% of the time, a mess of papers and equations in your backpack and a head full of ideas and knowledge. But unlike Ford, you weren’t shy about showing it. You thrived in it, honestly. Lectures? Boring as hell, but the energy in the halls? The potential of every single person you met? Yeah, you were there for it.

One of these was Ford Filbrick Pines.

The ultimate BMU enigma, the textbook definition of nerdy. For some reason, his persona always made you think he was hiding some secret genius-level insanity behind his weirdly serious face.

You’d laugh about it with your friends, the way he avoided talking to anyone. Classic “genius who’s too good for people” type.

He was everywhere, and yet, nowhere at all. Seriously, you could walk through the student lounge, see him hunched over a pile of research papers in the corner and just know you were witnessing something profound. He didn’t get what you were about at first.

You were funny, obnoxious even, always the first to crack a joke or make a ridiculous observation in class. Meanwhile Ford would just stare at you with those big eyes like he was trying to figure out if you were some kind of social experiment.

But then you started talking, typical nerds topics. About quantum physics, mathematics, about the mysteries of the universe, about everything. He’d scoff at how crazy your ideas were but then, just a second later, he'd be scribbling down some insane theory of his own that he wouldn’t even tell anyone else about. And you’d get it. You both would sit in the library, trading theories and arguing about the tiniest details of space-time.

You were the loud one, in Ford’s opinion, the one who could hold a conversation about quantum theory and drag Ford to a campus party all in the same breath. He’d grumble the whole way, saying it was a waste of time, rolling his eyes at your insistence that he needed a little break. He’d follow you through those sticky, badly lit student lounges, watching you laugh with people he’d probably never even look at twice.

These late nights when you’d drag him out to stargaze, pointing out constellations, half-naming stars you didn’t know, laughing when he’d shake his head, muttering about inaccurate astronomy. But he always went along with it, always ended up laying beside you on the grass, looking up at a sky he could never quite make sense of but was desperate to understand.

The graduation day. You clearly remember that one.

The sun was so bright you could barely keep your eyes open and everything felt like a dream. You had your cap crooked on your head (you were probably running late, as usual), your tassel swinging as you walked across the field, your friends beside you, shouting and celebrating like you were all in the fucking “after party of the year.” But then you turned and your eyes saw Ford, who was clutching that damn diploma like it was a golden ticket. He looked different somehow, like he’d finally unlocked a new version of himself.

The Stanford Pines himself, recipient of Backsmore’s largest grant for his “eccentric” research, standing with his square academic cap, although it was comically slipping off his head. He looked out of place, like a scientist among a sea of partying students who could barely remember their names half the time.

So, you did what any good friend would do— you adjusted his cap for him, (plus you wanted an excuse to touch him), made some dumb joke about how he’d better not screw it up. He’d roll his eyes, but you knew he liked it. He needed it.

“Hey,” you grinned, “looking pretty fancy for someone who spends all their time talking to aliens or whatever.”

Ford smirked. “I’ve already got a date with a space-time continuum. But you can join if you want.”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile didn’t leave.

***

Outside, the world has turned into a kind of cold, quiet hell. Snow falls in thick slow flakes, burying everything in a suffocating blanket of white. And Stan stands there, jacket pulled tight against his chest, staring up at the looming silhouette of his brother's house.

It's freezing, but Stan hardly feels the cold. Not really.

It’s quiet here, but it’s not peaceful. Silence feels heavy, like it’s watching him.

His thoughts are pulled back to a time that feels both recent and impossibly distant.

Ten years. Ten goddamn years. It’s been a decade since he's seen Ford’s face. Well, of course he doesn't expect Ford to look like something completely different, they’re twins after all. But at least now Stan knows what Ford would look like with a mullet.

Stanford was always the smart one, the golden kid, with big brains and hands that tinkered with mysteries beyond Stan’s understanding. And now. . . after all these years of silence, Ford finally decides he needs him. It’s a postcard, a single damn postcard, that drags Stan out of the muck and dumps him back here in this town, holding secrets and god knows what kind of twisted shit his brother’s got himself mixed up in.

After everything Ford did, after leaving, after barely even thinking to check in after all these years, Stan knows he shouldn't feel this way. But here he is. Waiting. Hoping. Hoping against hope, as if somehow, that tall figure would come striding down the snowy path, arms filled with books and that same serious look on his face. That same one he had as a kid when something big was on his mind.

Stan shakes his head, letting out a breath that forms a small cloud in the icy air.

“Ten years, and you drag me here for what, Stanford?” he thinks.

Stan takes a deep breath, the cold seeps right down to his bones, but it’s not the winter’s chill that makes him shiver. His heart pounds as he stares at the weathered door in front of him, trying to shake off the surge of memories of the two of them, inseparable, back when they thought the world couldn’t touch them. But that was more than a lifetime ago.

He mutters to himself, “you haven’t seen your brother in over ten years. It’s okay. He’s family. . . He won’t bite.” or at least Stan hopes so and then he knocks, half-heartedly, already bracing himself.

The door swings open with a sudden jolt. Before Stan can even greet him, Ford’s voice booms through the biting air. "WHO IS IT?! Have you come to steal my eyes?!” his trembling hands grip a crossbow, pointed directly at Stan, and the first thing Stan notices are his brother’s eyes — wide and paranoid.

Stan looks at Ford, steps back a little, blinks, then blinks again. He tries to mask the pang of hurt as he lets out a shaky laugh, “Well, I can always count on you for a warm welcome.”

Ford lowers the weapon slightly, narrowing his eyes suspiciously and then, as if finally recognizing the person standing before him, he blurts, “Stanley, did anyone follow you? Anyone at all?”

“Eh, hello to you too, pal.” Stan grumbles, but to his surprise, Ford grabs him by the clothes, yanking him roughly inside before he can even process it. "Ah!" he exclaims, stumbling forward, before the door slams shut behind them.

Ford, still skittish, shines a flashlight in Stan’s eyes, his fingers trembling as he holds it, blinding his brother. “What is this?!” Stan shoves the flashlight away.

Deep down, though, he tries to mask the pang that Ford’s mistrust strikes in him. What happened between you two? Mom would be so upset about their relationship. They used to share everything, trust each other without question, without even a word. Now here they are, stumbling through a reunion that feels like walking on broken glass.

"Sorry,” Stanford answers quickly, studying Stan’s face as if looking for lies hidden in his eyes. “I just had to make sure you weren’t. . . It’s nothing. Come in, come in.”

Stan follows him, the warmth he thought he’d feel upon seeing his brother slowly cooling into something he doesn’t want to admit that feels like disappointment. He watches Ford flit around the room, casting paranoid glances, clutching onto a battered old journal like it’s the only thing holding him together.

The shack is cluttered, papers scattered on the floor, strange devices cluttering the tables, books piled high. Wow, Stan thinks, the whole place screams my brother has been here alone too long.

It makes Stan's chest tighten.

“Uh, you gonna explain what’s going on here? you’re acting like mom after her tenth cup of coffee.” he is trying to defuse the atmosphere somehow, to make contact, but inside, his heart aches. He missed Ford; he missed him like hell. And to finally be here, standing right next to him, only to find him. . . like this. Seriously? It’s almost too much to bear.

Ford, ignoring the gentle jab, clutches the journal tighter. “Listen, there isn’t much time. I’ve made huge mistakes and I don’t know who I can trust anymore.” he doesn’t meet Stan’s eyes as he glances at a skeleton in the corner, twisting its head away from him.

Stan’s heart drops. This is bad, worse than he thought.

He steps forward, placing a hand on Ford’s shoulder, a touch he hopes can somehow bridge the miles and years between them. “Hey, easy there. Let’s talk this through, okay?”

But Ford pulls back, a strange, paranoid look in his eyes. His fingers trace the spine of the journal as he glances at Stan. “I have something to show you. Something you won’t believe.”

Stan's brow furrows, his curiosity piqued despite himself. What could it be? Some kind of super scientific bullshit that opens doors to parallel worlds? A time machine? A wormhole? Black hole made at home?

He looks at Ford, how the man hasn’t aged a day physically, but the exhaustion, the fear, the isolation, it all is painted on his brother’s face. It’s painful to see. It’s heartbreaking to think how Ford might have been living in this place, alone with nothing but his thoughts, trapped in his own world of mistakes and fears.

Stan manages a weak grin, masking his own fear for brothers sanity in his heart. "Look, I’ve been around the world, okay? Whatever it is, I’ll understand."

That twist in your chest, that awful, prickling feeling that something’s wrong.

You’re curled up at your kitchen table, sipping your tea with that kind of numbness you get when you’ve been overthinking too much. You told yourself to back off. He needed space. He needed time.

But when Stan’s eyes scan the giant, hulking portal machine in front of him, he can’t hide the bewilderment as he adds, “There’s nothing about this I understand.”

Ford’s hand wrapped tight protective around his journal. It’s the only one left, his last remaining key to understanding, to protecting everything he’s worked for.

But now Stan stands across from him and his face clearly shows something what can be called betrayal.

Ford’s been distant. Secretive, even. The last time you two spoke, it was tense, full of anger and words you didn’t mean. It shouldn’t matter, you tell yourself, but the thought of him out there, alone, is like a weight pressing down on your chest.

Ford tries to explain as if Stan would understand. “It's a trans-universal gateway, a punched hole through a weak spot in our dimension. I created it to unlock the mysteries of the universe. But it could just as easily be harnessed for terrible destruction. That's why I shut it down and hid my journals, which explain how to operate it. There's only one journal left. . . and you are the only person I can trust to take it.” he steps forward, holding the journal out to Stan, eyes pleading. “I have something to ask of you: remember our plans to sail around the world on a boat?” Stan’s face shines with smile until he hears next shit his brother say. “Take this book, get on a boat, and sail as far away as ya can! To the edge of the Earth! Bury it where no one can find it!”

I should’ve just stayed, I shouldn’t have left.

Your fingers curl around the warm mug, but sadly the heat doing nothing to soothe the anxiety creeping up your throat.

You set it down on the counter, trying to shake off the feeling. It’s just the storm, it’s just you being overdramatic. It doesn’t mean anything.

But the knot in your stomach refuses to untangle.

Something’s wrong.

“That’s it? You finally show your face after ten fucking years and all you’ve got to say is ‘get away’?”

Ford's hand drops and disappointment flashes across his face. “Stanley, you don't understand what I'm up against! What I've been through!”

“Oh, yeah?” Stan can't contain his emotions. How dare he?! “You don’t understand what I’ve been through! Three different prisons, Stanford! I’ve chewed my way out of a goddamn car trunk! Meanwhile, where have you been? Living it up in your fancy house in the woods! Selfishly hoarding your college money, because you only care about yourself!”

With a sigh, you stand up, setting the mug down on the table as your dog, a sweet, eager little spaniel, looks up at you with wide, curious eyes.

Ford's temper snaps because he can't believe what the fuck his brother is talking about. “I’m selfish? I’m selfish, Stanley? You ruined my shot at a real life! At my dream school! And here I am, giving you a chance to do something meaningful and you still can’t get it through your head!”

You glance over at your dog, a scruffy, affectionate spaniel with big brown eyes who’s been staring at you from the corner of the room.

Stan raises his eyebrows. “Yeah? You want this fucking book gone?” he yanks a lighter from his pocket, the flame flaring up as he flicks it. “Fine. I’ll get rid of it right fucking now.” he holds the journal over the flame, daring Ford to make a move.

You can’t shake this feeling, this urge to go find Ford, even if it means dragging yourself out into the goddamn blizzard.

“I’ll be back soon, girl,” you murmur, pulling on your coat. You don’t know what you’re looking for, don’t even know what you’re hoping to find. But you have to see him. You have to know

Ford’s eyes widen, panic flashing across his face. “No!” he lunges for it, reaching out, but Stan yanks it back. “You don’t understand!” Ford shouts, desperation pouring through him.

But Stan takes a step back, holding the journal dangerously close to the flame. “You want me to take it? Well, then, I’ll decide what to do with it.”

“My research!” they jerk the book back and forth, playing a fucked up game of tug of war, their yells echoing through the lab as they struggle over it.

You can’t shake the feeling, it’s like something’s dragging you forward, pulling you toward him, toward the unknown.

It’s late and the woods are fucking silent, which is weird for Gravity Falls. You’ve been running for what feels like hours, your chest burning, your mind tangled in a mess of thoughts you can’t quite shake. Every goddamn thing with Ford lately has been a disaster, hasn’t it? One fight after another, with him shutting down, disappearing into his head like he’s always been known to do.

The last words you shared with him are still fresh in your mind, “this is it, okay?! I can’t do this anymore.” he didn’t even fight back, just. . . stared at you like you were the problem. Maybe you were the problem, you don’t know, but damn it, you cared. You couldn’t just pretend like everything was fine when it clearly wasn’t. That’s why you’re out here, because you’re not about to let him get swallowed up by whatever the hell is going on in that messed-up head of his.

And now, here you are, halfway to his place with nothing but your gut telling you that whatever was going down at Ford’s place was way worse than you thought.

When you enter, you hear the kind of noise— angry, violent, something breaking and you know Ford’s involved, you just know it. You don’t care if you two haven’t spoken in days, if things between you and him are a mess of unsaid things and frustrated silences. He’s been acting so off, and now, hearing the absolute mayhem erupting inside, you’re terrified.

The sounds are loud, shouting voices, furniture crashing, angry grunts. Your heart fucking stops as you push the door open so fast it slams against the wall. You’re not thinking, not caring that maybe you shouldn’t be here, but it’s too late to stop now.

At first, you think you've completely lost your mind, because you're seeing two Ford Pines. And then you think, either you're the one who's gone crazy, or Ford has, because he's literally fighting with himself.

But as you take a breath, both Fords turn to look at you, and that’s when it hits you: this isn’t just some bizarre mirror trick. There’s Ford and then there’s someone who looks a whole lot like him, but is definitely, absolutely not him.

“What the fuck is going on?” your voice rings out much louder than you meant, but you don’t care. Your heart is pounding way too hard and your feet are planted, legs shaking with adrenaline and worry. You’ve seen Ford in a mess of emotions, but never like this. Not this bad.

The second the door slams open, both of them freeze, but it’s the mulleted guy who speaks first. “So you got yourself a chick now, huh? Thought you were too busy playing goddamn Einstein to bother with things like that.” his angry eyes narrow at you, and you’re not sure if it’s anger or. . . jealousy? Frustration? You don’t have time to decode it.

This guy have absolutely the same features, same nose, same intense, serious brow, but his whole look is just rougher, like he’d been living a life Ford would never survive.

And your blood boils.

“No, fuck that,” you snap, glaring at mullet-man. “You don’t talk about me like that.” then you glance at Ford. “Ford, why the fuck didn’t you tell me about—”

but you get interrupted by Ford’s clone, Ford’s twin, whatever. “Name’s Stan. Stanley Pines. The brother of this genius. Bet he’s never even mentioned me, huh?”

Your stomach churns at the words. Fuck that, no way. This isn’t about you, this is about Ford.

“What the fuck is wrong with you two?” now you are shivering not only from the winter cold, but also from the absolute chaos of what is happening. You turn to Ford, eyes desperate, desperate to know, to understand, to find answers. “What’s going on? Where have you been? I couldn’t get ahold of you. You just. . . left. And I—” you stop yourself, biting your lip. This isn’t the time to scream at him for all the unanswered questions, for all the shit that’s been left hanging. Not yet.

Ford doesn’t seem to get it. His eyes flick between you and Stan like he’s trying to piece it together, but nothing adds up. "I don’t— what are you doing here? We— we said goodbye," his voice is strained, like he’s trying to convince himself.

“No, Ford. You said goodbye! You fucking disappeared! I don’t even know why, and I— fuck, just explain yourself, okay?” you can’t keep the desperation out of your voice anymore.

Stan is watching with his arms crossed over his chest, and he still doesn't look too pleased, but it's not just anger. Although you don't have time to deal with his point of view. You need answers. You need Ford to talk.

Ford opens his mouth to say something, but then the anger, the frustration, all of it just snaps. "I didn’t want you involved in this. . . anyone involved. This, this thing with the portal, you wouldn’t understand—"

You don’t even let him finish. “Stop. Just stop, yeah? You don’t get to just disappear like that, Ford. I don’t care about the journal or the goddamn portal anymore. I care about you. Why the hell are you so fucking determined to push everyone away?”

Ford tries to get himself together, though he looks like he’s been caught with every secret he’s ever buried. “This— this doesn’t concern you, alright? Just— just leave, go, this is between me and him.”

Stan scoffs. “Oh, yeah, classy, Sixer. Let’s bring her in just to shove her right back out, huh? Really hitting your all-time high here.”

“Shut up,” his brother snaps.

But Stan’s just as stubborn, glaring right back. “No, I don’t think I will. Not when you’ve dragged some poor girl into this whole shitshow. Real nice, by the way, real nice! Does she even know what you’ve been up to, huh? All the crap you’re into?”

“I said shut up, Stanley. I shouldn’t have called you— God, I regret calling you! You’re just here to make things worse, like always.”

The words land harder than you thought they would. It's not like you didn’t know Ford could be an asshole, but hearing him say that directly to his brother hits a nerve, like a punch to the gut.

You see Stan’s face change, his mouth drops open, his eyes so wide, like he’s been slapped across the face. He looks like he’s been gutted. It takes his breath away, because he didn't expect to hear this ten years later, and it's obvious that Ford's words hit him too deeply.

However, your own heart drop to your stomach too. Fuck. You didn’t know what was worse — the fact that they were tearing into each other or the fact that Ford could say something like that to his own brother. It’s too much, even for you. You want to scream at Ford, demand that he stop, that this isn’t helping anyone, but you’re paralyzed.

But Stan’s hurt turns into something else and he spits back, “You think I wanted this, Ford?! You think I wanted to be the fuck-up brother?! You’re the one who dragged me into this whole goddamn mess now. You asked me to come! You! So don’t go acting all high and mighty like I’m the one screwing your life up right now!”

And then, in that moment, everything goes to hell.

Before you know it, they’re back at each other’s throats. Ford lunges forward, grabbing the journal, but Stan’s not letting go, the damn thing passed back and forth between them like it’s a live wire, all anger and resentment boiled down to this one book as each of them trying to get a hand on it.

You rush forward, hands outstretched to push them apart, anything to stop this from going too far, but in the heat of it all, Ford jerks back, elbow flying and you feel it land in your ribs, knocking the wind right out of you and it really fucking hurts. The pain shocks you so hard you gasp.

Ford’s eyes snap to you instantly, widening in horror. “Oh my god— I’m s-so sorry! are you alri—“ he reaches toward you, himself can’t believe he just did that to you, but he barely gets a word out before Stan’s fist slams into his jaw.

This time, Stan hits so hard, putting all his resentment into the punch that Ford stumbles dangerously close to the portal, which is buzzing. You watch in absolute horror as his body goes too close, the fucking thing flickering and humming like a beast about to devour him whole and for a heart-stopping second, Ford looks like he’s going to fall right in.

You’re out of your mind in an instant as you scramble to your feet, adrenaline spiking, crazy fear in your eyes. Without thinking, you reach out, grabbing Ford’s arm, pulling him back, using every ounce of strength you have to pull him back. “Ford, no! Get back!”

Stan’s standing there, frozen for a second, scared himself by how far he had come. His chest rises and falls in heavy breaths and his face is fucking pale as he stares at his brother’s body half in portal, but the guilt is written all over Stan’s face. His bruised hand is still raised, like he wants to hit Ford again, but it’s shaking. Did he. . . did he just. . ? God, he didn’t mean—

“You!” you scream, still tugging Ford away from the edge, but the portal’s pulling like a magnet and you’re fighting with everything you have. “Help me, now!”

Snapped out of his daze, Stanley rushes over, grabbing Ford. You tug harder, your muscles screaming as Ford’s body gives a last push toward the rift, but finally, finally, together, you both heave him back, dragging him away from the portal and out of that damn pull. His feet hit solid ground and you both just collapse.

You’re gasping for breath, hands still fisted in Ford’s coat, both of you holding on like if you let go, he’ll slip right back toward that nightmare.

Ford’s breathing heavily, disoriented, his hands gripping your arms in fear.

Stan’s still looking at Ford, his face torn up because he doesn’t know whether to say sorry, to yell or to just walk the fuck out to not ruin something else. There’s realisation in his eyes and, for the first time, Stanley is seeing what his anger’s capable of. That punch could’ve been the end of everything.

“Brother. . .” Stan’s voice trembles. “I didn’t mean to—”

You don’t let him finish. “No, you didn’t mean to. None of you meant to,” you snap, but it’s not anger in your tone, it’s damn fear, panic, it’s this deep fucking worry. You turn to Ford. “But this shit needs to stop, okay? Right now. Please.”

The silence between you, Ford and Stan stretches out as if it’s some aftermath of a bomb going off. Ford’s still on the floor, breathing hard and it’s not the near-death experience that’s fucking him up, but the bitter realisation of what could have really happened if that damn portal had taken him in.

“So that’s it, huh? After ten goddamn years, this is how you treat me? Almost shove me into a portal like it’s nothing?”

Stan opens his mouth, but Ford isn’t letting him get a word in, he’s too riled up now, all that anger and pride churning in him, boiling over. “Do you even understand what could’ve happened? What you almost did? You haven’t changed one bit, Stanley. I should’ve known better. Should’ve known you’d just fuck everything up, again. Just like you did back then.” Ford’s voice sounds colder than the winter outside. “Remember the science fair, Stan? You destroyed my experiment because you were too fucking selfish to think about anyone but yourself. I could’ve had everything. You took that from me, my chance at West Coast Tech, my chance at anything and then you have the nerve to make me the villain?”

It hits Stan harder than any punch ever could. Stan doesn’t even blink, his whole body stiff, shoulders slump.

His mouth opens like he wants to fight back, but there’s no fight left in him, the words are stuck in his throat. He doesn’t say shit, trying to process everything at once. But there’s nothing to process. Ford’s right.

“Yeah, I get it,” Stan mutters, holding back tears. “I’m a fucking failure. I know that, Sixer. Always have been. I’m sorry.”

But then he does the one thing you didn’t think he would. He turns around, slow, defeated, too fucking tired to argue and fight anymore.

And just like that, he starts walking away. But deep inside Stanley is crying like a child, expecting Ford to stop him. He doesn’t look back, doesn’t say a word, but he wishes Ford would care, at least once.

You’re fucking shocked, feeling helpless rage and anger, heart pounding with confusion and disbelief. You thought. . . well, you don’t even know what you thought! That they’d hug it out? Have some big, tearful reunion? Not really! But this mess of accusations and bitterness and old scars is so fucked up. Completely and utterly fucked up.

Ford stands there, all silent, watching Stan’s back as he walks away, not moving an inch. The pride, the stubbornness, the wall he’s built around himself. Oh god, that guy is so fucking smart he doesn’t know how to feel anymore.

You look back at Ford, at his rigid stance, he won’t even move, won’t even try to call Stan back. You can’t believe it and something snaps in you, something fierce and hot because you’re done with all this bullshit.

“You’re not even gonna ask him to stay? Fuck, what is wrong with you both?”

Ford’s face tightens, but he doesn’t respond, doesn’t even flinch. And it drives you insane, watching him cling to that pride, that goddamn logic of his that’s somehow more important than his own damn family. No fucking way is this ending like this. Not after everything you’ve just seen, not with Ford standing there like a goddamn statue, too proud or too blind or too stupid to do anything but let his brother walk out.

You storm past Ford, ignoring his surprised look as you push past him, practically running after Stan. “wait!” you shout. But Stan doesn’t stop, doesn’t even glance over his shoulder.

“Stan!”

“What?” he snaps at you.

You step closer. “You’re not leaving,” you say, staring him down like it’s a challenge.

He lets out a dry, humourless laugh, shaking his head. “Trust me, sweetheart, it’s better if I do. I don’t belong here.” he jerks his thumb back in Ford’s direction. “Pretty clear I’m not welcome.”

“Bullshit,” you respond, what makes Stanley raise an eyebrow, looking a little surprised at your bluntness. “I don’t care if he’s too proud to say it, but you’re his brother— I mean, you think this is how family’s supposed to be? You think he doesn’t want you here?”

“Look, kid, you don’t know what you’re talkin’ about. Me ‘n’ Ford? We’re a lost cause. Always been. Ain’t no point in tryin' to fix it now.”

“Oh, come on! So you fuck up, he fucks up— you’re both disasters. That doesn’t mean you just give up. I don’t care if it’s been years or what the hell happened between you two. You don’t just fuckin’ quit on family. That’s not how this works.”

Stan’s mouth twitches and he looks like he’s gonna bite back with something snarky, but he doesn’t. He just lets out this tired sigh, rubbing his hand over his face. “I don’t wanna hurt him more than I already have. I always mess things up. I’ll just make it worse. So what’s the point?”

You take a deep breath, trying to rein in the frustration pounding through you. “The point is, you’re his brother! And if you don’t stay, if you don’t try to work this out, you’ll both regret it. You can’t just leave him to deal with this shit alone.”

Stanley opens his mouth, ready to throw out another excuse, but you cut him off.

“Look, Stan,” you change the intonation to softer one, “I don’t know the whole story here. I don’t know what went down between you two and I’m sure as hell not saying it doesn’t hurt like hell. But this whole thing you guys are doing? Pushing each other away? It’s not gonna make anything better.“

“Fine, fine. But don’t expect me to be the hero, alright? I ain’t got no magic words to fix this shit.” Stan sighs and looks down like he’s too damn tired for this conversation.

When you and Stan make your way back inside, you see Ford still there with his back to you.

Stanley huffs out a laugh, trying to shake off the tension. “So, Sixer, when’d ya start collectin’ all this junk? don’t tell me you got a whole damn museum in here.”

Suddenly, Ford huffs a dry laugh that sounds a little bitter coming from someone like him. “Wouldn’t expect you to get it. Takes more than a few brain cells to appreciate real science.”

Stan’s smile falters, well, it was pretty rude, but he thinks he deserved it. You and Stan share a look, but before you can say anything, Stan just shrugs it off, letting out a forced chuckle, his voice trying to stay light. “Ha, yeah, same ol’ Ford. Ya always had a way with words, didn’t ya?”

There is only silence in response, but when you come a little closer, you finally take in the sight of Ford holding a goddamn crossbow.

Wait, what?

Your eyes go wide and the first thing that hits you is the cold sweat creeping up your spine.

Stan and you freeze. Confusion mixing with a little fear as you both look at Ford, What the hell is going on with him? Since when does Ford carry a crossbow around like it’s no big deal?

Stan raises an eyebrow, trying to lighten the mood with a joke, but the smile doesn't reach his eyes. “Hey, bro, you planning on hunting something tonight or just ready to, I dunno, take out some deer in the backyard?”

#gravity falls x reader #x reader #gravity falls #gravity falls x you #gravity falls smut #ford pines x reader #stanford pines #ford pines smut #stan pines smut #stan pines x reader #stan pines x you #ford pines x you #stanford pines x you #stanford pines x reader #stanley pines x you #stanley pines #gravity falls fanfic #mullet stan x reader

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bogleech · 1 year ago

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Many parasites takeover the minds and bodies of insects, spiders or other creatures, making them like zombies. You’ve listed some in spider-ween and other places. Do you know any parasites that take over bees? I know wasps lay their eggs in their larva, but haven’t really found anything about those that pilot a bee’s body.

Strepsipterans! Also frequently just called "Stylops"

These are the weirdest most alien insect group in existence. What you're seeing are the head ends of the mature females; their bodies are just bags of tissue that absorb nutrients from the host, so they no longer have any trace of limbs or wings and their flat little heads no longer have mouths or eyes.

The only reason the female's heads stick out of the host at all is because the head evolved into the end they mate with. The short-lived mature male is a very tiny flying thing (whose anatomy is unlike any other insect alive today - a totally unique type of wing, unique eye arrangement, we have NO idea what these evolved from, except for some loose connections to beetles!) who mates by breaking through the female's featureless armored face with his bladed genitalia and then he dies. And Strepsiptera can be found infecting all sorts of arthropods, even apparently some arachnids, but none of those arthropods really tend to sit still when a little tiny flying man tries to land on them, so the females usually do something to their hosts (we aren't sure what exactly) to make them slower and more complacent. Social Hymenoptera like bees are especially common hosts though, and when a worker bee or wasp is infected by stylops, she actually abandons her colony and her duties for extended periods of time to just perch in one place while the parasite broadcasts its mating pheromones. This is especially eerie from the bee's perspective; a worker bee is a female bee that wasn't allowed to become a queen and isn't "supposed" to be going around mating, but now she's sitting around waiting for a male just like any other bug that wants to be a mom. It's just not a male of her species and she's not the one who gets to reproduce. Is the parasite tapping into buried queen behavior? Does the bee's little brain think it's calling for a drone to help it start a new hive? Or does the parasite just make the bee a lazy slob who stops caring about her hive and just feels like chilling out on a flower all day? We might never know.

Here are those unique eyes of the male for anyone wondering. Not set in a fine multifaceted grid like in other insects, but clustered, still set in their own individual "sockets" like we see in much more ancient arthropods like trilobites! This suggests that Strepsipteran eyes date back to when insects were first beginning to evolve towards true compound eyes, but there still aren't many insects in the fossil record that have anything else in common with these animals. EDIT: oh yeah I forgot to include that these are in the children's book made by @revretch and I!

I did the rough pencil sketch of this page while Rev did the beautiful inks! I felt kids should know about these animals but I tried to explain it in the most kid-friendly way possible.

#biology #parasites #insects

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whore-era · 2 years ago

Text

1-800-GIRLS

☁︎ modern!ellie x sex-hotline-operator!reader, very small mention of dealer!ellie ☁︎ summary: where ellie dials the wrong number and meets you instead. ☁︎ warnings: contains smut! 18+ only. top/dom!ellie, bottom/sub!reader, mentions spitplay/breathplay/overstimulation, mentions sexual interactions with men, dirty talking, guided masturbation (r!recieving), use of fem nicknames (babygirl, sweet girl, pretty girl, pup, puppy) let me know if i missed anything else pls. ☁︎ a/n: i feel like this kinda sucked bc towards the end i kinda rushed it, but i couldn't shake this idea n knew i had to write it. hope u like it bbs<3 also thank u to my bestie @elskittie for helping me figure some things out w this fic ☁︎ word count: 4,463 ☁︎ 1-800-GIRLS part 2

phone call style story — reader is in italics, ellie is in bold.

monday, 12:45am → incoming call from 307-222-4578 (jackson, WY)

thank you for calling 1-800-GIRLS, it's sugar speaking. how can i help you, hot stuff?

uhh.. i just wanted to order a pepperoni pizza..

oh yeah? you want something hot and ready? i have something hot and ready for you.

ummm..

you hear some shuffling in the background, "jess! i think you gave me the wrong number!" the person comes back on the line again.

this isn't papa tony's cheesy pizza place?

....do you want me to roleplay as papa tony's cheesy pizza place?

woah woah woah! roleplay?? who the fuck am i on the phone with?

this is sugar from 1-800-GIRLS.....a sex hotline...for you know? phone sex.

PHONE SEX?? you hear the girl's voice yell in the background, "jesse! you ass! you gave me the number to a phone sex hotline!"

"does she sound hot?"

"well yeah, but—"

hey, you do know it's $1 a minute right? you've been on the line for almost 5 minutes, babe.

HUHH?? hell no..ok thanks sugar bear, or whatever. bye!

the line clicks off, and you shrug. sitting back in your bed to continue watching your favorite netflix show. you feel your work phone vibrate again, the name flashing 'bobby', a regular who frequents the hotline.

sighing and picking up your phone and holding it to your ear, you take a bite from your sandwich as you answer your 15th call this evening, "thank you for calling 1-800-GIRLS, it's sugar speaking. how can i help you, big boy?"

tuesday, 2:12am → incoming call from 307-222-4578 (jackson, WY)

thank you for calling 1-800-GIRLS, it's sugar speaking. how can i help you tonight, cutie?

hey....sugar.. i just- er- wanted to apologize for yesterday. my buddy got your number confused with a pizza place we really wanted to try. didn't mean to sound rude last night.

it's no issue, babe. don't sweat about it.

.......

soooo.... is that the only reason why you called?

ellie didn't want to admit that she was attracted to 'sugar's' voice and that she'd been thinking about it all day during class. but also, ellie was high as a fucking kite, which gave her the courage to even dial the number again anyways.

i— uh— well— how does this whole thing work?

what thing? the hotline?

yeah..

well, you call me, we have phone sex or talk or whatever, and then you hang up. again, it's a dollar a minute.

okay, okay, i get it. so we can just talk? about anything?

yeah, if you want to.

sick.

ellie takes another drag from her joint, before speaking again.

so, do you like doing this? being an operator or whatever?

you let out a laugh, which ellie caught.

specify what you mean by 'like'?

i mean— this is your job. do you enjoy doing it?

ehh...i guess.

c'mon. you can be honest with me.

well, being a sex hotline operator has it's downsides. obviously helping old men jack off gets a little weird sometimes — they have some unusual fetishes.

oh yeah? what's been the weirdest one so far?

uhhh..i have this one regular who has me pretend i'm a ghost. apparently, having sex with ghosts is a real turn on for him.

what the fuck. seriously?

mhm, it's true.

shit, dude....i don't think i could ever do what you do. i dunno how you can do it.

well when you have college tuition and rent to worry about, the downsides don't seem all that bad.

holy shit, you're in college? how old are you anyways?

19.

that's crazy. we're around the same age. i figured you were a bit older.

how 'bout you? how old are you?

21.

not bad not bad. you're way different from the clients i usually get.

yeah? how?

considering my usual clients are 40 to 60 year old men who are married with kids and have secret fetishes, i'd say you're out of my ballpark.

ellie laughs.

how do you know i'm not secretly an old, 57 year old man who's married to my wife janet with three kids? and i have a balloon fetish?

you let out a giggle, adjusting your sleep shorts as you lay back down on your bed, completely invested in your conversation with this girl.

well, how can i appease your balloon fantasies?

i'm just fuckin' with ya. definitely not a man and i have the more normal kinks and fetishes.

is that so? what are the 'normal' kinks and fetishes?

uhhhh....well i'm into bondage, i love tying girls up..i dunno, just seeing them open and vulnerable does something to me. i'm into breathplay, spitplay, overstimulation, and i'm definitely a dominant so—

all you could do was gape as the girl went on her tangent, listing off every kink she could think of. you gulped, suddenly getting a bit nervous from this topic of conversation. you were experienced in the field of phone sex, but actual sex was a totally different world you had no practice in.

so, how 'bout you sugar?

...uhhh....i'm a virgin actually.

the other girl went silent on the other side of the line.

what? but you work as a sex hotline operator.

oh yeah- but— hold on, i'm getting another call. i'll speak to you some other time.

you hung up and threw your work phone across your bed, laying your head down on your pillows. talking to men was so much easier for you, so why do you get all caught up when you talk to a girl?

it was nearly 3:30am, so you decided to turn in and call it a night, mentally preparing yourself for a busy day tomorrow.

wednesday, 11:45am

sitting next to professor adams, patiently waiting for the students to turn in their quizzes, you try to focus on the text of your 'philosophy 101' book.

you were grateful that professor adams gave you the opportunity to be his teacher's assistant for a little bit of extra cash, and you weren't complaining either. the tasks he gave you were easy for a mere $16 an hour. still, it wasn't enough to support all of your bills, so you couldn't drop the hotline gig.

"and time! everyone hand your quizzes in to my TA, regardless if you finished or not," professor announced. all the students shuffled towards the front, handing you their quizzes as you neatly put them in a small pile.

"ah shit— let me put the date on that," a girl, with a very familiar voice spoke. looking up, you're greeted with the most attractive girl you've seen in your life. she had brunette hair and green eyes, with a small scar on her right brow. was this..? no, it couldn't be. that would be insane.

handing you the paper, her hand brushes against yours. you look down at her quiz, seeing in messy, scribbled black ink the name ellie williams.

slinging her backpack on one arm, she heads out the door, "jesse! wait up for me!"

leaving you in a daze, you were completely speechless by the idea that one of your new, favorite clients from your nighttime job is actually a student at your university.

saturday, 1:45am → 1:14:34 ongoing call with 401-890-6798 (cranston, RI)

thanks, sugar. will be calling you again at the same time next week.

no problem, sir. goodnight. dream of me.

sure will, babygirl.

the line clicks as the older man hangs up, and you shudder a bit, feeling uncomfortable after having to roleplay as a ghost, again.

sighing heavily, you place your work phone on your desk and pick up your real phone, opening instagram and scrolling on your feed as you mindlessly snack on some gummy bears.

you double tap to like some of your friends pictures, wishing you were out at a party, drinking some lukewarm beer and dancing with your girls to the latest tiktok hits.

but instead you were cooped up in your apartment, dirty talking old men through their fantasies and bearing witness to their guttural groans and masturbation. it was a shame that friday and saturday nights were your busiest evenings.

taking your bottom lip between your teeth, you ponder for a moment, your finger hovering over the instagram search bar.

fuck it, you thought, typing 'ellie williams' and hitting search.

the username @_elliewilliams pops up, and bingo. it was the same girl from professor adams class.

luckily her profile was public, so you take your time carefully combing through her instagram account, mindful not to accidentally like her posts or anything.

ellie's feed consisted of smoking weed, eating out, and hanging with her friends, jesse and dina. there were only two selfies she had posted — one of her and an older gentleman and one mirror picture of her in a grey hoodie and a light brown canvas jacket that made her look so good.

the ringing from your work phone caught you off guard, causing you to jump in your chair and exit out of the instagram app. you take a look at the number, and speak of the devil, it was ellie herself. she was the only jackson number that ever contacted you.

saturday, 2:10am → incoming call from 307-222-4578 (jackson, WY)

thank you for calling 1-800-GIRLS, sugar speaking. what can i do for you, handsome?

hey, sugar. just wanted to apologize for how our last conversation went. i probably pushed a boundary or something— i'm not sure if you're supposed to talk about personal things with customers— so, i'm sorry.

you let out a soft laugh.

why is it when you call me, you're always apologizing?

'cause i'm a fuck up, that's why.

nooo, that's not true. besides, don't worry about it. your question just caught me off guard, you know? never had clients ask things about me before i guess.

ahh, gotcha. so...were you busy before i called?

you shake your head, even though she was on the phone and couldn't see you.

uh, not really. my line doesn't usually get busy until...12 midnight ish.. it slows down by like 2 am though. how about you? what are you up to this friday night?

i just got back home from a party. business was slow and it was getting boring, so i dipped.

business? what business?

ah— well—

ellie silently cursed to herself, not wanting to scare you away with her current occupation.

if i tell you what i do, promise you won't get freaked out or anything?

you're talking to a phone sex hotline operator. don't worry.

you can hear her laugh from the other end.

well, fuck it, cat's out of the bag. i deal weed on campus and shit.

ahhh. i like that. is that how you can afford the minutes you spend calling me?

yup. i can stay on the phone for hours if we wanted.

maybe you'll be my only customer.

i wouldn't complain.

speaking of customers, do you want me to save your number under a specific name or nickname or anything? since i'm assuming you're gonna be a regular?

trying to confirm if it was indeed ellie you were speaking with, you sat on the edge of your chair, anxiety building in your belly.

what nicknames do your clients usually pick?

uhhh. master, sir, king, mister, alpha— umm and daddy.

something stirred inside ellie hearing that last nickname roll off your tongue.

you could just put me down as ellie.

got it.

what do i call you? do i just keep calling you sugar?

well, you're a customer. you can call me anything you like, but, for formalities and privacy, i can only tell you my hotline nickname — sugar.

okay, okay, that makes sense. you're not really allowed to have any personal or close relationships with clients, huh?

no, not really. mostly for safety purposes.

ellie was a little disappointed to know that she wouldn't be able to get to know the girl she was talking to beyond calling on the phone. she already felt herself getting attached. your voice was alluring and enticing, and she couldn't help but want to hear it more, and possibly put a name and face to who it belonged to.

but, i could bend the rules a little if i really wanted to.

yeah? let's see about that.

saturday, 4:45 am → 2:43:03 ongoing call with ellie (jackson, WY)

oh my god! did you and your ex get caught??

you were enamored with ellie. the way she could keep a conversation going and the stories she told — you didn't wanna hang up.

no, no, no, luckily we hid behind a dumpsters before the cops could catch us. it's hilarious thinking about it now, but we were dumbass 18-year-olds back then.

you both were in fits of laughter, your belly aching and tears watering in the corners of your eye.

as you calmed down, you couldn't stop your mouth from asking a question that's been racking on your mind.

so, how long were you and your ex together?

uhhhh, about 2 years.

ohhh okay........are you seeing anyone right now?

ellie lets out a laugh, and you can hear her smile, even through the phone.

why? who's asking?

well, i was just— uhh—

i'm just fuckin' with you. nah, i'm not seein' anyone right now. single af.

okay, okay. good to know.

how 'bout you?

nope. i'm single too.

seriously?? how?

i dunno. just never found the right person i guess. also, working for this hotline has made me lose hope for relationships in general, some of these dudes call me and say all this stuff — while having a whole wife and family at home.

i think you're looking in the wrong place then. try talking to people at school or going out to parties—

can't. if i'm not doing homework or studying, i'm working and doing this. i gotta make a living somehow.

ellie couldn't help but feel bad, knowing if she could, she'd support you full time and take that weight off your shoulders.

hmm, maybe you'll meet someone who could support you and take care of your bills and stuff.

oh? where would i find that? sounds too good to be true.

maybe they're closer to you than you think.

your breath hitched in your throat, unsure of what to say next.

i— uh— i have to go. it's 5am.

oh— uh— yeah. of course. goodnight, sugar.

goodnight, ellie.

sunday, 11:37pm → incoming call from ellie (jackson, WY)

hey.

hey. where's your usual greeting?

you're not a usual customer, so i think we're past that now, ellie.

ellie's heart thumped in her chest hearing you say her name.

good. anyways, what are you up to tonight?

just studying for a quiz tomorrow morning. how about you?

smoking, just finished some homework.

what class was it for?

uhhh, just this calculus class.

you clamped your mouth shut, suppressing a gasp. it was for professor adams class.

....uhhh, i could never get calculus. it's so hard.

yeah? maybe one night i can tutor you.

i'd be a terrible student.

i think you'd be the perfect student. i can teach you, i got you.

you couldn't help but think there was another meaning behind her words, but you didn't want to jump to any conclusions. it would be embarrassing if you got her message all wrong.

what's your quiz on anyways?

energy transfer between cells, it's for biology.

i know a thing or two about that. here— why don't we do this, just explain to me what you know and we'll go from there.

okay, i can do that.

you and ellie spent the next two and a half hours talking about cell function and energy transfer and everything else in between, with her correcting you and adding in important things you missed.

alright, sugar, i think you're ready for this quiz tomorrow.

you think so?

i know so. you're such a smart girl.

there she goes again, praising you.

uh, th-thanks.

don't worry, okay? i know you'll do great.

a smile curls on your lips, flustered from all her support.

you should get some sleep, so you can be focused and ready for tomorrow.

m'kay. thank you, ellie, for all your help.

of course. always. goodnight, sugar.

goodnight, ellie.

monday, 5:32pm → 45:21 ongoing call with mister j (corpus christi, TX)

yeah, babe? you want me to fuck your tight ass?

mhm, yes mister.

c'mon. beg, sugar.

please. fuck my tight hole, mister j.

ah, hell.

you can hear his belt buckle clanging, and the soft buzz of a zipper.

what's wrong with 'ya tonight, sugar? you're bein' a real buzzkill, 'ya know that? fuckin' turnin' me off and makin' me soft.

i-i'm sorry, mister j. please, jus—

yea, yea, save it. we'll jus' try 'gain tomorrow.

the line clicks on the other end. tossing your work phone on your desk, you fall back on your bed and stuff your face in your pillow. weeping into the plush material, you let yourself fall apart and break down.

but your sobbing session is cut short as you can hear the familiar ring of your work phone.

wiping your tears, you walk over to your desk and answer.

monday, 5:45pm → 00:32 ongoing call with ellie (jackson, WY)

thanks for calling 1-800-GIRLS, it's suga-

woah, woah, woah are you crying?

e-ellie?

yeah, baby, it's me. sounds like you're crying. what's going on? talk to me.

today was just a really, really bad day and then i opened my hotline a little early and one of my first clients just lashed out on me because i wasn't responding the way he wanted me to and—

you sniffle.

— and i'm just really stressed out by everything going on in my life right now.

i'm sorry. i wish there was something i could do— someway i could comfort you or take the weight off.

i-it's fine, ellie. talking to you is making it a little better.

ellie was silent for a moment, thinking carefully and planning her next moves accordingly.

do you trust me?

....y-yea, of c-course. why?

i'm gonna help you ease the tension. okay?

okay.

first of all, where are you?

i-in my room, sitting at my desk.

okay. go lay down on your bed.

with your phone pressed to your ear, you pick up your legs and stride over to your bed, laying down on the fluffy, material of your blanket.

okay, i'm on my bed.

good. what are you wearing?

foreseeing the direction this phone call was heading in, apprehension builds in your stomach.

ellie, you really don't have to-

hey, i want to help you. if that's okay with you. if not, we could talk about something instead.

biting your lip, you fold.

i-i'm okay with it, but i-i've never— played with myself with a customer before. i don't really do anything with myself even when i'm not working anyways.

that's okay. don't think of me as a customer, think of me as a...teacher. i got you, remember?

okay.

good girl. now, what are you wearing?

uh.. a tank top and shorts.

cute. take them off.

gulping, you follow her orders, shimmying out of your top and shorts.

done?

mhm.

good. so obedient.

i want you to rub your boobs for me. rub your nipples, pull on them, just feel the skin under your hand for me, baby.

rubbing the soft skin along your breast, and tugging on your hardened nipples, you bite your lip, savoring the way your body feels under your touch.

how does it feel?

feels good.

bet it does.

ellie couldn't stop her mind from imagining you, on your bed, perfectly naked. and how she'd give everything up, just to sneak a peek.

now, i want you to just rub your hands against the sensitive parts of your body. be slow and gentle, we're not rushing anything.

as your hands drift from your neck, down to the hills of your breasts, and to the edge of your panties, ellie speaks through the line again.

doesn't it feel nice, baby?

mhm.

wish i could be there, to watch you, touching your pussy.

you instinctively clamp your thighs, feeling heat rush to your core.

alright, take your panties off. slowly.

you slowly peel the piece of material off, looking at the small, wet spot that formulated on your underwear.

okay, they're off.

such a good girl, following my every command.

you gulp, her nickname for you sending shivers up your spine.

slowly feel the skin on your legs. stroke your inner thighs, tease yourself a little.

hanging off on her every word, you let out a shaky breath, the heat in your cunt growing only bigger and bigger.

god, i wish i can be there to see this right now. bet you look so good, thighs spread apart, pussy all wet— all because of me.

i- i'm aching. i need more, ellie.

i know, baby, i know. i wish i can help you more. if it were up to me, i'd have you bent over your desk, taking you from the back. fuck.

your mind drifts to that image, of her fucking you, taking you as hers. a stream of your slick begins to leak out from your pussy. god, you wanted her so bad.

slide a finger between your pussy, baby. let me hear how wet you are.

spreading your thighs apart, the tip of your fingers slips in between the folds of your pussy lips, the slick sound of your wetness echoing throughout the room. loud enough for ellie to hear.

fuuuuuck.

you tried to speak, but it comes out sounding like a pathetic whimper. ellie's brain was going insane, she couldn't believe where she had you, writhing from her mere words.

go ahead, pretty girl. rub slow circles on your clit.

the pads of your pointer and middle finger gently rub steady, figure 8's against your hardened nub. closing your eyes, you imagined ellie, and how it was her hand instead of yours. the thought had you panting, faint breaths releasing from your parted lips.

your pussy sounds so wet, holy shit. you sound so fucking good for me. so fucking perfect.

as your fingers continue massaging on your sopping, wet clit, a pool of wetness gathers right below your ass.

how does it feel, baby?

f-feels amazing, ellie.

you let out a low whimper.

i wish you were here.

me too, pup. me too.

you can hear her heavy breaths from the other end of the phone.

i wish i could be there, kissing your neck. trailing my lips down to suck on your nipples. fuuck, wanna taste every inch of your skin. i wanna feel your pussy tighten around my fingers.

you let out another pitiful moan, only to hear ellie curse under her breath again.

rub your pussy faster for me, angel. imagine it's me, pumping my fingers in and out. would daddy's pretty girl like that?

you couldn't respond. all you could let out was these weak whines, yearning for ellie and her touch. you added a third finger, building onto the pressure and picking up the speed.

your moans sound so pretty. wonder how'd they sound when you're taking my strap. gonna have you cry out my name, yeah? isn't that right?

mhm, yes, daddy.

good. that's what daddy likes to hear, such a polite girl.

with your eyes rolling back, you could feel your orgasm building.

i-i'm gonna— ellie, i—

you gonna cum for me, puppy? huh? c'mon, rub faster, baby. i know you have a little bit more left in you.

your fingers speed up, the sound of your wetness gushing out reverberated in ellie's ear.

oh my god, daddy can i? please? can i—

arching your back, you knew you were close. the feeling was getting to be too much and you were about to fall over the edge.

look at my baby, so respectful and asking permission. come on, pretty puppy. cum for daddy. let daddy hear how good she made you feel.

that was it. letting out a penetrating moan, you rode your orgasm out and finished all over your fingers, making a mess. you were heaving, chest rapidly rising and falling.

god, i made a mess.

oh, yeah? do one more thing for me. suck your fingers clean. puppies clean up their messes.

monday, 8:57pm → 3:01:32 ongoing call with ellie (jackson, WY)

after your little self-care session with ellie, she took it upon herself to get your mind off of today's events, filling your conversation with stories and interesting topics.

oh, forgot to ask, what'd you end up getting on that biology quiz?

ughhh, i got a 65 out of 100. one of the reasons why i was so upset today.

seriously? how?

i don't know! i asked professor gonzalez and she told me that i was focusing on the wrong thi-

wait, did you just say professor gonzalez? holy shit, you're taking biology 201 with professor g? do you fucking go to school at university of wyoming? in jackson?

oh shit, you didn't mean for that to slip out.

i— uh— i have to go—

wait! sugar! please. hear me out.

you stay silent, waiting for what she had to say.

if we really do go to the same campus, please, let's meet up. i really want to see you.

.....why?

i just— i love talking to you. spending hours with you on the phone is what i look forward to when i get home. besides, i really want to take you out, on a date.

you bit your lip, unsure of what to say.

listen, if you want to see me too, meet me at the library in building B, by the comic book section. okay? tomorrow at 1pm.

....

i really hope you come.

the line clicks off, and you spend the rest of the night restless, tossing and turning, debating whether or not to see her tomorrow.

tuesday, 2:50pm

ellie eagerly checked her phone again, bouncing her knee in distress. her mind was running rampant — fuck, she's not gonna come. maybe jesse was right. maybe i was wasting my time.

looking up for the 80th time, she scans the comic book section, seeing no one else but some dude with his face buried in a wonder woman comic.

as ellie gets up from her chair, she turns her head, and she freezes.

there you were, looking like an angel who entered from the garden of eden. ellie's heart sped up, seeing her girl standing before her. you were everything she could've imagined and better.

walking slowly towards the brunette, you brush a piece of hair from your face, and smile meekly.

"hi ellie, it's me."

pls let me know how this fic was, i tried out a new writing style & read pt 2 here <3

#ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie williams tlou #the last of us #the last of us ellie #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie x reader #tlou #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams angst

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