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scoutofmymind · 20 days ago

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can u please write something about how like reader felt while luigi was missing for 6 months. like would he reach out, would she go with him etc. also i love ur stories 🤍🤍🤍🤍

Run — { Luigi x Reader }

Content: sfw, angst, friends to lovers, slight situationship vibe, reader is an artist, kissing, heartbreak, explores ideas of guilty Luigi.

Wc: 2,345

Notes; Luigi vanishes - no warning, no footprints, just the sudden hollow where your life used to fit against his, opening to six months of silence before his letter appears under your door, bearing coordinates to a payphone five blocks away.

You didn't know where you'd be six months later when Luigi drove you down to the lake in his old Bronco, your spot shotgun worn from all those midnight trips for ice cream, the two of you off-roading through patches of corn fields out in the boonies — afterward he'd drop you off at home in the city, then drive himself back to the suburbs, unless he fell asleep in your room despite insisting he couldn't stay because of morning classes.

He always found it hard to leave you.

June warmed the brown leather beneath you, the window cracked to let in the summer air sweetened with hay as Luigi sped down the winding back roads of the countryside, rambling about his sister's new donkey they'd keep at the farm — the Mangione's second, more humble mansion with its livestock and respectable Christmas tree operation.

"You know you're my best friend, don't you?" He'd turned to look at you, the old truck thrown into park at the Dairy Queen after you'd convinced him the donkey could wait.

"Yeah." You nodded, cheeks full of ice cream, brows furrowed. You didn't notice then how his face had flushed red, embarrassed at blurting something so obvious it had never needed questioning. "Who else would you have time for?"

School, tech clubs, part-time job, and you.

Those were the pillars Luigi had built his life around, and for years, it had worked.

You and Luigi could fill a room with laughter —obnoxious howls and high-pitched giggle fits that echoed off walls — or sink into comfortable silence, Luigi drifting toward sleep while you lost yourself in whatever new book he'd brought for you to borrow from the university library.

Your own schedule mirrored his in its fullness, though school took a backseat to your collection of side hustles, your primary source of income selling art pieces at local markets where you'd drag Luigi along to showcase your most treasured works.

"That's a good point." He shot you a grin, spoon dangling upside down from his mouth as he finally broke his gaze from yours to stare out at the tall grass swaying beyond the windshield. "I just hope you know that."

You shift to pull your knees up in the passenger seat, turning to face him with your back against the door. "Feeling sappy again, are you?" Your foot stretches to nudge his knee, the leather creaking beneath you. "S'alright. I like when you get all soft."

Just the week before, Luigi's heart had been sitting too close to the surface, everything managing to touch a nerve — the way his mother spoke about his future over Sunday dinner, how his professor had dismissed his latest project idea, and even the changing spring weather that threatened the saplings he planted last fall.

Eventually, he recalibrated, but that raw tenderness still surfaced in waves.

"Yeah, maybe." Luigi shrugged, leaning over to dig his spoon into your ice cream, stealing a taste. "I just think it's worth saying. A reminder never hurts."

You'd never wanted to invalidate Luigi's feelings — and while you loved to tease him, you'd never dismiss what he shared. He was a natural at expressing himself when he chose to, and you knew if he voiced something, it meant those feelings ran deep.

"You're right, Lu." You say softly, letting your knees drop as you lean toward him, patting his thigh. "Thank you for telling me." He turns to you, his lips curling into that familiar grin. "You're my best friend too. Obviously."

"I know it's obvious," he groans, stealing yet another spoonful of your ice cream, your reflexes failing you when you jerk the cup away. "Let me just fuckin' say it." The late afternoon sun catches in his dark curls, the sun setting over the field.

You wave your hands in surrender, "Alright, alright." A laugh spills from your lips as you lean forward, spoon stretching toward his cup, missing entirely when he pulls it just out of reach. The melting ice cream drips onto the weathered console between you. "C'mon, lemme try."

He shoves a heaping spoonful into his mouth, eyebrows lifting in that familiar challenge, dimples deepening as a muffled "Come get it" drifts across the console, and the invitation draws you across the seat into his lap, the old leather protesting beneath your shifting weight while his free hand automatically found its place at your waist to steady you.

It wasn't the first time you'd tasted ice cream from his mouth, sweet and cold and mingled with laughter — but it would be the last.

And by some cruel twist of fate, that sun-drenched afternoon in his car, with melting ice cream and shared breaths, would be the final time you'd see Luigi's face in person.

After that day, he'd only exist in grainy security footage and missing person flyers.

It's a specific kind of agony, one that lives beneath your ribs.

You searched every corner of his life — the obvious hiding spots and the secret ones only you knew about. The Bronco yielded nothing but old receipts and a forgotten hoodie that still smelled like him.

You harassed mutual friends until they stopped answering, reached out to people who barely knew him, desperate for any trace.

"If Luigi doesn't want to be found, he won't be," Andrew told you, defeated after failing to track any of his devices that had sat abandoned in his room, right there on his desk to be found. Wiped clean. Stranger-cold.

Even your face was gone from his lock screen, erased like everything else.

Sometimes you wondered if you imagined him entirely.

It would be easier than accepting how methodically he vanished, how carefully he erased himself from your world. But then you'll find evidence — a movie ticket stub, a photo booth strip tucked into an old book. The careful progression from strangers to friends to best friends to that unnamed thing you became.

The way you'd end up tangled in his sheets, his hand gentle at your throat, or how you'd hang up on him three seconds into a call because he knew exactly how to push your buttons.

It couldn't have been real — how could someone who claimed to love every scattered piece of you leave without taking any of them with him?

Therapy wasn't optional anymore.

Your friends watched you spiral into something darker than even middle school heartbreak, something that wrapped around your organs and threaded itself through your bones.

This wasn't the kind of pain that faded; it evolved, grew thorns, made itself at home in your marrow.

But talking helped.

Six months without Luigi became possible, then probable, then real — not because you wanted it, but because the alternative was letting yourself disappear, too.

The letter arrives alone on a Tuesday, no bills or wedding invitations to keep it company, just your name in that familiar scrawl that makes your stomach drop. "What do you think?" you whisper to Mario, who's wagging his tail like he knows something you don't, nudging the envelope across the hardwood with his nose.

Luigi named Mario when you got him as a puppy six years ago; Mario, because he thought they’d become more of a duo than the two of you had been.

And that, they did.

"Mar, quit it," you mutter, wrestling the envelope from under his paw where he's planted himself like a furry anchor. The paper is damp from his nose, and it takes four tries to open it without destroying whatever's inside. Your hands won't stop shaking. "The fuck is this."

Eight words stare back at you.

December 3rd, 8:15PM. Pay phone outside of Murphy's on 12th.

Mario presses his cold nose against the back of the paper as you stare down at it, inhaling deeply like he's trying to memorize something. His tail wags so hard his whole body sways, but then a whine escapes him — low and confused.

You know that sound; It's the same one he makes when he finds one of Luigi's old shirts in the back of your closet, when he can smell what he's looking for but can't find it.

The paper crumples in your fist as Mario leans against your legs, still whining softly. Six months of therapy, of learning to breathe around the hollow space Luigi left behind, of convincing yourself that moving forward meant letting go — and here he is, eight words dropping into your life like a lit match.

Still, you march yourself there.

Mario decided somewhere in these six months that he needed to be more than just a wagging tail and sloppy kisses. He took Luigi's place as protector, navigator, watchful eyes scanning every shadow as you cut through familiar alleyways to Murphy's corner.

Your phone reads

8:20

"Shit." You glance down at Mario, who's pressed against your leg, his head tilted back to study your face with those knowing brown eyes. "Fuck this." The words taste like surrender as you pocket your phone, but Mario plants himself like a furry statue, refusing to let you move.

"Mar, c'mon." Your voice cracks, but he stays rooted until that first metallic ring cuts through the night air. The payphone looks ancient, probably witness to a thousand desperate conversations, a thousand promises made and broken against its scratched plastic shell, and whatever the fuck this is going to be.

Mario's ears prick forward at the second ring.

His tail, which hasn't stopped moving since you left the apartment, goes suddenly still.

The third ring echoes off brick walls, and you realize your hand is already reaching for the receiver, and before you can even press the phone to your ear, his name escapes like a prayer: "Lu — Luigi?" Your voice wavers between accusation and hope, sharp but fragile at the edges.

Through the static, you hear breathing — that familiar rhythm you could still map in your sleep.

"You know you're my best friend, don't you?"

The words hit like a physical force.

You squeeze your eyes shut, tilting your head back against tears that threaten to spill. "Where are you, Lu?" The receiver trembles in your white-knuckled grip like it might hold some piece of him. "I'm sorry I showed up late."

"I knew you would." His voice is soft, almost lost beneath a symphony of distant horns and city life —sounds too big, too foreign for the quiet streets you both grew up in. "8:15 is an odd time, hm? Figured more like 8:30 would be when you actually showed. Surprised you answered this one."

"How are you?" You keep your question careful, safe — one that won't send him running back into silence, into six more months of nothing; and now this strange urban backdrop paints him somewhere far beyond your reach.

“I miss you.” Luigi says softly, words he’d said plenty before, but they had never carried this sort of weight. “That’s how I am, I guess.”

Why did you leave me, then?

Please tell me where you are.

Whatever it is, Lu, we can fix it.

“I miss you too.” Is what you say instead, the line keeping him here with you feeling much like a fading spirit, destined to disappear any moment if you didn’t watch your step. “Mario is lost without you.”

“Ah, he’s a big boy.” Luigi sniffles softly, and you can tell he’s trying to hide it. “Been taking care of you, hasn’t he?”

Your head bobs in a nod he'll never see, and suddenly grief hits like a physical blow, doubling you over in the cracked vinyl booth. A sob tears through you, raw and feral, ripping up those poisoned vines of betrayal that have wound themselves through every hollow space he left behind.

"Please come back, Lu. I can't—" The words strangle in your throat as you curl deeper into the booth's shadow, pressing your forehead against the phone hook.

You're trying to fold yourself smaller, to disappear from the fluorescent exposure of Murphy's front windows, from the pitying glances of late-night sidewalk wanderers who pretend not to notice the spectacle of your breakdown.

"I can't, baby." Luigi's whisper barely exists, a breath caught between static and silence, but you strain toward it like a dying plant toward light. "It can't work that way — there's nothing either of us can do about it."

Questions bloom like bruises under your skin.

Is he sleeping in a real bed?

Has he shaved?

Who's making sure he remembers to eat?

You bite down on your lip until you taste copper, trying to dam the flood of 'why's' threatening to spill out. Each suppressed question burns like bile in your throat. He's already thrust the blade in deep — watching him twist it with such gentle hands makes it somehow worse.

"I just needed you to know I was safe." His voice shifts, crystallizing into something harder, something that sounds less like your Luigi and more like whoever he's becoming. "And that I love you. I needed you to know that."

"I love you." The words fall into a sudden void as the city sounds cut out on the other line, replaced by a sharp fizz of static, and then nothing.

You press the receiver harder against your ear, as if you could force his voice back through sheer desperation, and the tone eventually starts its monotonous song, but you can't make yourself hang up.

You wait in that phone booth for an hour, then two.

The neon signs paint wet streaks of color across the glass, and your legs go numb from standing, but you wait for a call back.

It never comes.

Monday morning's headlines make everything brutally clear.

His name in bold print.

The investigation.

The evidence trail leading nowhere and everywhere at once.

And suddenly you understand why he couldn't stay, why he had to hear your voice one last time, and you wish to God you didn't.

Because now you know he wasn't running from something.

He was running toward it.

#req #luigi mangione x reader #luigi mangione fanfic

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violenteconomics · 1 month ago

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I am in dire need of more of that AU that The First years get The upperclassmen toxic traits,i realy want more of It,like;

A way to include octavinelle and scarabia,maybe like,3 First years(Ace,deuce,Jack) get some of azul's toxic traits,other Three(epel,ortho and sebek) get Jamil toxic traits and yuu get both

Second thing

More reactings please,i NEED The staff,ALL The dorms and even the relatives seeing The First years developing those toxic traits,the overblots+Trey and cater for deuce getting their toxic traits right back at their face i beg you🙏🙏

anything 4 u, baby.

(but for real, though, this is an AMAZING idea, love you so much for tilling the ground for my brainwormies, mwah mwah 😘)

(also, this might get REALLY long, so hang tight!)

it was just a seed at first — a tiny idea that stuck around despite the first-years not even realizing it was there. but as the poison from their actual housewardens starts to develop into something truly deadly, so does that seed. it shows up later... but it makes itself known nevertheless.

ace, deuce, and jack have all worked for azul at the mostro lounge at one point, and though it was a very brief moment in time, it was just long enough to worm its way into their heads.

it starts with ace trappola, who's already pretty slippery with his words. but working at the mostro lounge, taking subconscious note of all the underhanded deals azul is making, he starts to pick up new... skills, let's say.

it starts small, with ace starting to give out certain favors to his fellow freshmen to earn some money. if you give him ten thaumarks, he'll do one of your everyday chores for you — dusting your room, cleaning your bathroom, making dinner, what have you. if you give him fifteen thaumarks, he'll do your homework if you don't feel like doing it, or take class notes for you if you don't feel like showing up. if you give him forty, he'll help you with something less-than-moral and definitely against the rules (he did it once back at the atlantica memorial museum — he can do it again).

there's an obvious power imbalance in all of these scenarios, but ace effortlessly words in a way that makes it seem like it's a win-win situation, when in reality, it's more like a zero-sum game.

it gets to the point where ace builds a black-market sort of reputation, and all of the freshmen know that if you need something done, ace is the person to go to.

...but then, something shifts.

at some point, ace starts a black-mailing campaign for the people who paid for the forty-thaumark favor. if you don't want your secret — one that might get you expelled, suspended, or worse — getting out, then you can pay for ace's silence with a favor or more money.

the worst part is: there's no way out. if you try attacking ace, it'll seem like you assaulted him for no reason, since if you try to explain he was blackmailing you, you'll have to tell them what he was blackmailing you with, which you obviously can't do — or else what was even the point? the same rule applies if you try tattling on him to one of the teachers or the housewardens or anybody else. and ace is a better liar than most people will ever be in their lifetime, so it's a losing battle even if you do manage to get someone to take your side.

so if you want to cross the bridge, my sweet, you've got to pay the toll.

(it's not even about the money anymore, really. riddle's thirst for control and azul's desire for recognition have clashed inside of ace in the most violent way, and now, it's all about the power it gives him over other people. and after how powerless he's felt this entire school year, being thrown left and right by overblot after overblot with no say at all, this is a power trip he never wants to come back down from.)

but ace realizes he's making quite a few enemies with his little money-making strategy, and he needs someone to help him just in case someone does come up with a plan to wipe him out. i mean, just look at azul — even with all of the loopholes and leverages in the world, even he was taken down eventually without outside help. if he wants this to last as long as possible, he needs... incentive for people to listen to him.

his own jade and floyd.

his own red-and-black collar.

using his riddle rosehearts-born dominance, and taking advantage of deuce's trey-and-cater-born passiveness, ace convinces deuce spade — one of the strongest people he knows — to help him in his economic ventures.

and deuce, seeing this as a way for ace to vent some frustration and unwilling to be on the other end of ace's ire, hesitantly agrees.

he doesn't piece together that ace is acting suspiciously like azul, but he still recognizes his own role in this whole scheme. ace is running a business, right? and deuce has only ever worked in one business before. he remembers what jade and floyd were like back when he worked under them, and so he uses that experience to inform his new position.

deuce becomes known as ace's right-hand man. he'll hunt you down if you don't pay, and he's not afraid to use force to "compel" you to. there have been stories about cat beastmen getting thrown up into trees and being left there for hours. about students getting forks "accidentally" thrown at them in the cafeteria with such precision, it doesn't really feel like an accident. about a student with a spade on his face who can throw back any attack sent his way with just as much force.

and there's nothing you can do about it, because he's in service to someone who has made himself pretty powerful. ace's silver-tongue gets deuce out of any and all trouble he inevitably finds himself in — and is ace is so brutally honest, why wouldn't people believe him? so even if you try to do something to deuce, ace has his back no matter what — and he'll win almost every time.

you mess with deuce, you mess with ace, which is already bad enough. but if you fuck around with ace, you better be prepared to find out with deuce.

they're a pair — that's always been true. but never before has that fact been so threatening.

jack howl comes next. we all know how much jack despises octavinelle's business model. but, begrudgingly, he will admit there are a lot of things he can learn from octavinelle. and more knowledge is never bad. as long as he doesn't actually use it, it should be fine.

(jack is more dangerous than ace and deuce, in a way — his toxicity is insidious in a way it just couldn't ever be with them.)

with excellent hearing, eyesight, and memory, he silently keeps note of every bribe he hears being taken. every lie he knows is being told. every mistake that gets swept under the rug. it's not long before he starts actively looking for it. it's not long before jack's uncovered dirt on almost every freshmen in school. it reminds him a bit of his time working at the mostro lounge. but instead of memorizing orders from customers, he's memorizing all their dirty secrets.

it's to protect himself, jack reasons. after all, it was only his input that put a stop to leona and ruggie's plans back during the spelldrive exhibition. he's just... preparing for another disastrous event, that's all. it's just precaution. insurance.

if it's not, then he'll have to accept that leona's overblot bothered him more than he thought. that he was weak enough to let it.

(and jack can't face that yet.)

and if, once in a while, ace comes to him looking for a little bit of information, then well, that's just lending a friend some advice. nothing wrong with that.

epel, ortho, and sebek don't have any direct ties to jamil, but they are certainly... impressionable, aren't they?

sebek zigvolt is a bit dense, certainly, but even he can see how well jamil takes care of his master. and with a master that's as ditzy and forgetful and all-over-the-place as kalim, that can't be easy. even if they are merely humans, and their experiences can't even begin to compare when it comes to serving a fae prince, sebek reckons that he can learn a thing or two by observing them. so that's exactly what he does.

one day, when kalim spills food on the floor in a hilariously ridiculous move, sebek notices something few others ever would. jamil gives the tiniest twitch of annoyance — the same way silver, in all his stoicism, often does when sebek gets too loud — but then he's back to being perfectly dutiful and polite and says "i'll go get a napkin."

it's... admirable, honestly. sebek doesn't put it into practice right away, but it stays in his mind long after he first sees it.

and then, after malleus's overblot, sebek's emotions feel like they're on fire. after being stuck in a world where it took just the tiniest crack to shatter a perfect illusion, he's wary of nearly everything that disrupts his day. now every single slight against him, no matter how unintentional it may be, feels like a personal attack on his very life. but sebek can't show these ugly emotions so outwardly — that would be dishonorable behavior that could damage malleus's reputation. instead, he resorts to subtle methods that can't be easily traced back to him like putting in frogs in schoolbags and setting brooms on fire or replacing shampoo bottles with tar.

but his repressed feelings of anger start to build to the point where he's now feeling unprecedented resentment towards... well, almost everybody.

when sebek has very first negative thought about malleus in history class — "reckless bastard" — he instantly hates himself for it and throws up then and there because how dare he.

he tries to shut them out, but the more he does, the more these intrusive thoughts start to bombard him with their uncharacteristic cynicism.

he looks at lilia from across the breakfast table, and his first thought is: heartless liar.

he spots leona lying in the botanical garden and he thinks: brainless cretin.

he even sees jamil, walking through the halls, and his mind screams: manipulative bitch.

but sebek shoves it all down because he's in no position to say that. it gets to the point where he's walking around as a silent, unfeeling husk, because to be anything else would be like inviting his inner demons to visit him on the outside. he pushes his emotions down as far as they'll go, and that's just going to have to be enough to get him through the day.

ortho shroud begins to follow a similar principle. his idia-inspired pessimism has led ortho to see others as less like people and more like characters. it's easier to think of every school day as a dungeon in an rpg. it's easier to convince himself that the other students are taunting him because they're programmed to be that way than face the reality that they just don't like him.

but the problem with seeing life as a video game is that you start seeing others as just ways to complete your objectives. like npcs or maps.

and when it comes to using people, jamil viper is king. or, for ortho's purposes, the ultimate survival guide.

ortho shapes himself into a model night raven college student — kind, charming, and sweet for the teachers, but just mischievous and rude enough to still fit in with the students.

he goes to housewarden meetings with idia to "gain leadership experience", taking notes and hearing out of every single little idea he can get his hands on (these are the people who have not just survived, but thrived. they must be doing something right). one time, riddle even pats his head and praises him for his proactiveness.

his classmates adore him for always been willing to help and being so calm about even the worst outcomes.

ortho makes himself as available as possible to the rest of ignihyde, brushing off homework or studying to help them with whatever they need — fixing game consoles, wiring in controllers, checking the internet connection, et cetera.

eventually, everyone believes in him almost as fiercely as scarabia believed in jamil, once upon a time.

ortho doesn't like telling all of these lies, but it's necessary to protect himself. it's like grinding to earn coins until you have enough money to buy that special armor in the shopkeeper's store.

...or maybe it's more like those cheesy dress-up flash games ortho used to play all the time — fleshing out the perfect outfit and hairstyle and makeup that'll earn you the most points.

if people feel like they need him, he'll be able to breeze through school without any more problems. he's put the whole system on easy mode! it feels a bit like cheating, almost.

it is like a game, isn't it? it's fun.

(at some point, ortho forgets how to stop.)

as for epel... well, he knows that his sudden snappish behavior towards the other pomefiore students won't go unnoticed for too long. but this is one of his only ways of venting, so he needs it to go under the radar long enough for him to... to squeeze out all of this sudden venom that's built up in him.

epel's not oblivious. he knows how sebek and ortho have changed over the weeks, and he knows why. but epel can't pull off "repressed" like sebek, and neither can he suddenly turn into the best person ever like ortho. but they do have the right idea about taking inspiration from jamil, so epel can fall back on what there is left: gaslighting.

every time kalim blacked out, jamil blamed it on him being sick. every time someone thought kalim was being awfully uncharacteristic, jamil called it a "mood swing". every time someone asked jamil about why kalim was acting so weird, jamil claimed ignorance.

at least, that's what yuu tells epel.

and it's perfect.

so now, every time someone confronts epel about his overly critical behavior, he lies and says he's doing it for their own good. you need pressure to make a diamond, after all. and besides — vil won't settle for anything less than absolutely perfect.

("i'm just trying to catch your mistakes before he does. and i think you and i can both agree that i'm a lot nicer than he is about it.")

every time vil confronts epel about all of the complaints he's been hearing from the other students about how epel's been tearing down their ideas for outfits and hairstyles with no mercy, and disregarding all of their achievements as "not good enough" to be proud over, epel dons a confused face.

("vil, between studying for tests and the crazy physical regiment you have me do, i barely have time for myself. you honestly think i have the energy to criticize other people?")

epel even starts turning people against each other so they won't focus on him. epel subtly threatens to take away the upperclassmen's position in the hierarchy, which sets up the other underclassmen as a threat, and epel grouses to the underclassmen that the upperclassmen look down on them for not living up to pomefiore standards, under the guise of regular teenage bitching.

but all of this, combined with their self-entitlement, leads to a mini-war in pomefiore. but since this is, well, pomefiore, where being perfect and poised is the standard, the others make sure never make it obvious in front of vil or rook.

epel plays everybody like a fiddle, and ensures that none of it can be traced back to him. it's a good way to get out his frustration. and hey — it seems like everybody's upped their game along the way. vil seems pretty happy that everybody's improving in their efforts so greatly, practically overnight!

epel wakes up with a feeling of accomplishment everyday. for once, it seems he did something right.

now if only rook could stop looking so somber...

then we come to yuu, whose inner darkness has been left to fester all year. if people think they can treat them like a ragdoll, it's only fair they do the same.

there's a lot yuu doesn't have, but one thing they're really lacking is a bit of respect. that's what it means to be magicless in an arcane academy. you're at the bottom of the food chain.

and look at what a bit of self-interest can do for you! yuu studies in the library until late into the night, burning the metaphorical candle at both ends, learning everything they can about magic until they're more well-versed in it than most students in the school. yuu starts making potions that aren't nearly as good as azul's, but they're cheap and work well enough. they start making study guides for others with their new-found knowledge, even if they do bristle with the fact that a damned study guide is what caught them in azul's tentacles in the first place. they start learning anything and everything, clinging to whatever scraps of knowledge they can write down.

with this, they successfully make their case for why they should join ace and deuce's business. eventually, they're just as feared as they are among the other first-years.

but that's not enough for yuu. the power of fear is nice, but the power of controlling other people would be much more cathartic.

so that's what they do. while ace is more focused on monetary gain, yuu uses their mountains of blackmail to convince others to do whatever they want.

if crowley throws another ridiculous task at them, yuu simply hoists it off to somebody else to do. if ramshackle dorm needs a few repairs, it's only a matter of contacting a few people before a whole construction crew paid off by somebody else comes knocking at their door. and they'll do it, if they don't want to get kicked out of the school or have their reputation ruined.

but somehow, even with all of this, yuu sets themself up as the nicest out of their little trio. they're willing to let payments slide from time to time. they listen to their clients' problems. they take constructive criticism and always seem to improve in their potions and study guides based on feedback. and if you do do yuu a favor, they'll give you certain favors right back.

so even when yuu is a covetous, greedy, all-consuming shark, the students still think they're so very, very nice. because compared to ace and deuce, what else is there to think?

but this can only go on for so long. and yuu knows that.

one day, they get called to the headmage's office. yuu is already going through their contact list — a list that's quadrupled ever since they joined forces with ace and deuce — to see who'd be willing to do them a teensy little favor for them, but when they step through the door, they pause.

inside the office are all the housewardens, their vices, the teachers, and everybody else yuu has grown to know over the past year.

yuu narrows their eyes as riddle steps forward.

"yuu," riddle starts sternly, "from one housewarden to another, i believe we need to talk."

(i will address everyone's reactions in a reblog, because this is honestly getting really, really long, lol. but don't worry, the reactions are coming! 🥺)

(but i should mention that there is already a good reblog of the original post by @thenumberhuntress which addresses the upperclassmen's reactions that you can find here. go read it. it's peak.)

(once again, thank you for the great ask! this was fun to make!)

#anything 4 u baby #twisted wonderland #twst #twst first years #sebek zigvolt #jack howl #ace trappola #deuce spade #ortho shroud #epel felmier #twst yuu #the following are all just #(mentioned)#azul ashengrotto #jamil viper #a few others that appear so briefly it's not worth it to give them tags #generational trauma #i went a little off the rails with this one but i hope you enjoy it nevertheless lol #trying a new format

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seeingivy · 7 months ago

Text

my kink is karma

satoru gojo x f!reader

**loosely based on my kink is karma by chappell roan

an: based on a request from gojo as taylor anon <3 this one is for u

“hi honey bee.”

you peer over the top of your monitor screen to find satoru gojo, the executive account manager whose murder you’ve been planning for the past few weeks, looming over your desk. his inhumanely long limbs are fixed behind his back, bright ocean blue eyes filled with glee. and you’ve been through this enough times to know exactly what’s going on.

he’s caught yet another mistake that you’ve made. and he’s here to sick it to you, his favorite worker bee that he likes to irritate.

satoru gojo is a nicely packaged sewer demon that arrived two months ago, replacing the little old lady who used to occupy the glass office at the center of the workflow. she was kind, a little bit confused here and there, but she got her job done without making a fuss and that was all that mattered to you. she made you blondies for your birthday.

you didn’t realize how nice you had it until she was replaced with him. because satoru gojo was irritating, prancing in the way he always did – insanely tall and taking up too much space in your peaceful office – with a boisterous laugh, a strange sense of humor, and a tendency to be irritatingly perfect.

a stitched and tailored suit, designer perfume, and a sparkling rolex watch on his wrist. a pretty girlfriend that he bragged about at mandatory lunches, a shiny black mercedes, and a penthouse apartment in the center of the city.

you hate him. you hate how you can feel him scorning at the worn down ballet flats that you wear to work, the vintage watch you snagged from the thrift store, and the narrowed look that he gives to your public transportation card as you tuck it back into your wallet when you walk into the office.

“are you doing a sales report?” he asks.

“i’m at my job. where i work in sales marketing. what do you think i’m working on?”

you watch his eye twitch. the small movements – eye twitches, nose wrinkles, and the turning of his lip – you had been watching them, memorizing what exactly it was that pushed his buttons since he was so keen on doing it first. though, he would never show it upfront, at least not as openly as you do anyways.

that was one of the nice things about satoru gojo. that he was intelligent and perceptive – enough for him to know that you were maybe the only person in this office who didn’t like him. that you could understand his niceness was masked in arrogance. that you had no intention of kissing his ass like almost everyone else in this office did.

you loathed his very existence, the stupid jokes he made, and would rather hear nails on a chalkboard than the stories that he recounts from his weekends at his parent’s suburban villa.

“i love a great sense of humor!” he responds, scooting his long legs over to the side of your desk and hunching over to get a view of your computer.

he says it with a bright and sparkling smile, but you get the message clear and straight – i’d watch the attitude if i were you.

the smell of his fancy cologne tickles your nose as he leans over, his face nearly cheek to cheek with yours as he places a little manila folder in front of you. you heave a sigh, opening it up to your sales reports from the last week, each one laminated and with a dark red mark in the center.

“been looking over your reports. you’re getting a little sloppy with your math.”

you scoff.

“is that right?” you ask.

“uh huh. just make sure you count your decimal points and your zeroes when you turn in this one. i know it can be a little hard sometimes, big numbers and all.”

you bite down on your cheek, feeling the metallic taste of blood in your mouth. did he always have to be so patronizing?

“now why would i do that? i’d put you out of a job if i did.”

satoru clicks his tongue in cheek – one of the clear cut signs that you’ve hit one of his exposed nerves. that he’s a glorified calculator sitting in a fancy glass office with an arbitrary executive title slapped next to his name.

satoru gojo hates that you always seem to make that point every time he corrects you. and you’ll take any chance to remind him. that he doesn’t do anything worthwhile. that he’s a pretty face and just that – nothing substantial underneath.

“luckily for me, you’ve proven that you’ll be incompetent until the end. as long as you’re here, it seems that i will be too. i’d get back to it if i were you, honey bee.” he responds, the tone in his voice scathing as he walks back to his office, a glimmering plastic smile pressed to his face.

you have mandatory team building lunches on fridays at twelve thirty. it’s one of the things that you appreciate – that you don’t have to wake up early to put together a lunch from the leftovers in your fridge.

you cycle through every person in the office, rotating on picking up lunch that accommodates the budget and everyone’s dietary requests, and break bread to get closer to one another. satoru, naturally, goes over budget every time it’s his turn, and insists that it’s no problem – though he always seems to slightly mess up your order, while everyone else’s comes out perfectly.

and on the days where he isn’t choosing the lunch, he’s so irritating – complaining of a sensitive stomach – and instead brings a nicely packaged lunch that his private chef makes for him every morning.. three courses, always packed with a dessert.

one time you asked him if the chef wrote him little supportive notes in his lunchbox. you would be lying if you said it didn’t fill you with pride, that the small comment you made was enough to fill him with irritation for the rest of the work day.

“what are your christmas plans, satoru?”

you look over at your fellow sales associate, yuuji, and share a smirk with him. the two of you lean back, nursing your little sandwiches from the deli two miles down in your hands as you start the mental counter in your head.

every day before lunch, you and yuuji make a shot counter of things that you expect gojo to say during team building. common phrases that fall out of his mouth like back at the villa, my custom tailor shop, and louis vuitton – the normal trust fund baby vocabulary, naturally – somehow always make their way into the conversation.

you drink shots accordingly at happy hour after work. whoever’s word has the higher count has to pay for the entire night.

your poison for today was private jet. yuuji’s was timeshare.

“anne marie and i are heading over to her family’s timeshare in bali. they have a property over there – full pool, private beach and all.”

yuuji snorts. you roll your eyes.

“a private beach?” nanami asks, eyes raised as he neatly picks the tomatoes out of his sandwich and hands them over to shoko at his side.

“a private beach, indeed. it’s right on the coast, equipped with boats for excursions and stuff like that. the timeshare comes set with all of those.” he states.

“excursions.” you repeat, giving yuuji a wide eyed look as he fights the urge to laugh.

satoru looks over at you, a clear distaste in his eyes, as he leans back in his chair, legs spread wide.

“what are you doing for your vacation, y/n?” satoru asks.

“i’m going home with yuuji for a few days.” you state.

“right. that sounds exciting!” he states.

you can hear the message laced in that one too – a clear and pointed diss that he’s going to be spending his time at a resort with his skinny legged model girlfriend and you’re going to be going home with the one gay guy that works at your office and get drunk in the bar in your hometown.

“which airline are you taking?” satoru asks.

you grin.

“delta.”

“never been. i use my private jet to get around.”

you give him an exaggerated gasp.

“a private jet? tell me all about it.”

you’ve goaded him right into your trap – as satoru then says the word private jet a total of seventeen times, defeating the measly eight times he said timeshare – and delight in the fact that you’ll at least get to have a nice night out.

on the first tuesday back from break, freshly minted into five days of the new year, your co-worker katie shakes your shoulder aggressively ten minutes into your shift. you note that four days into the week, satoru has yet to return to the office and you hope that it’s not just good luck – that maybe he fell off of his duffy boat in bali and lost all his memory, rendered incapable of ever returning to the office again.

you pray that your new boss isn’t as much of an asshole as him.

you look up to find katie’s eyes wide, an excited smile on her face, as she leans down into your space. katie is one of the few friends that you have in the office, the third person who finds satoru and his antics irritating.

“did you hear about gojo?” she asks.

“every thing i know about that man is against my will.” you deadpan.

she giggles, leaning down to whisper.

“oh my fucking god. come here. you’re going to love this.”

she stands up, scanning the room, as she gestures for you to stand up, the two of you making your way over to the break room. you can’t talk so freely about him when his little lackey’s are still lingering around, who will most definitely tell him that the two of you were gossipipng.

and god knows that would only make his head bigger – knowing that everyone talked about him even when he wasn’t there. katie strides into the room, taking residence over the coffee machine and shooting nanami a polite smile, as she starts absentmindedly brewing a cup of coffee.

“he’s losing it.”

“who?”

“satoru. he’s going fucking crazy apparently.”

you snort. as if. satoru’s definition of going crazy would be mixing and matching different designer brands – like wearing a gucci watch with a louis vuitton tie.

“turns out that his glamorous vacation to bali with that raggedy anne doll never happened. she had a whole meltdown and broke up with him after his credit card got declined at a restaurant they went to a few days before the trip.”

you nearly choke on your spit.

“what?”

“apparently it was just a fluke, his card got momentarily blocked since he bought some new car. but she literally freaked out on him and left him stranded.”

you snort.

“there’s no way.”

“she told him that it was unacceptable. that she had enough.”

“well, i’ll say. she milked an entire designer wardrobe out of him.” you whisper, earning you a giggle from katie.

“i know! anyways, sharon from hr told me that he’s taken the past four days off because he doesn’t have transportation – he fucking crashed the mercedes when he was driving home from the breakup.”

“you’re fucking kidding. the g-wagon?”

“i swear to god.”

it feels a little mean, but you can’t help but delight in all of it.

that despite it all, karma’s real. and it’s finally satoru fucking gojo’s turn. six months of patronizing comments and arrogance has finally caught up with him. his pretty girlfriend is just that – a pretty girl who wanted to do nothing with him. the car he brags about has been demolished and at the very least his larger than life ego has taken some type of hti.

“oh, look, look.”

katie shakes your arm, the two of you peering through the glass window to see satoru climb out of the bus – the same bus that you take to work everyday to save money – with what you can tell from here is an unironed suit and messy hair. his tie isn’t even done properly.

and when he walks in, all you smell is the fancy cologne, with the faintest hints of tequila lingering behind. a smell that you only catch, because it’s one that you’ve drowned out on a bad day.

you and yuuji pick horrendous words for lunch – yours being luxury brand and yuuji’s being private chef – and much to your dismay, he says neither. he actually doesn’t say anything. just sulks in the corner and disappears as soon as he finishes the tacos.

you leave a mistake in your sales report. he doesn’t even catch it.

“can you close out my tab, toji?”

toji, the bartender who’s well aware of your antics – and perhaps even more upset than you are that your hoity toity boss didn’t play along well with your game today – gives him a nod, wiping his hands with the towel as he looks over at you.

“you too, doll?”

“no, i’ll have another before i head out.” you state.

he gives you a nod, shuffling off to the side to get yuuji’s bill, as you slump down on the bar, yuuji mimicking your motions as you both lean your heads against one anothers. and he leaves just as fast, pressing a loving kiss to the top of your head as you swirl the little ice cubes in your drink as you watch the bubbles fizz out.

“rough day, y/n?”

you shrug.

“same old – can’t really complain. you?”

toji smiles.

“you see that guy over there, at the end of the bar? this is the third day that he’s drank up my entire supply of tequila.”

you follow the line of his vision to see satoru – the satoru gojo slumming it in this rather disgusting bar, at least for his standards – his tie messy and the buttons of his shirt loosely undone sitting at the bar.

“him?”

“uh huh. broke up with like the only girl he’s ever dated, apparently. whoever she is, thank her fucking ass. he tips well over.” toji murmurs, giving you a smile as he rearranges the glasses.

you give toji a weary smile, pressing the cash down on the bar, as you make your way over – noting that tequila smell is not masked at all this time – as you slide into the seat next to him, tapping on your shoulder. and he looks over, the rims of his eyes red and eyes squinting as he leans forward.

“honey bee?” he slurs.

the smell is overwhelming.

“the one and only.” you respond.

you reach forward, sliding the little shot glass out of his hand and placing it behind the bar. you turn back to find that his hair is messy, whatever mousse that he’s used to style it has clearly run fraught, and his cheeks flushed pink.

“that’s enough for one night, gojo. let’s get you home, yeah?”

“huh?”

“home. the place where one lives permanently, especially as a member of a family or a household?”

he glares.

“i know what a home is.” he deadpans.

“perfect! let’s get you to yours.” you respond.

satoru turns over to you, blue eyes weary, before he shrugs and slumps down onto the bar. you roll your eyes, scooting your chair closer as you pull up your phone.

“i’ll do you a liberty. i know you’re probably morally opposed to taxis, so i’ll call you an uber. what’s your address?”

satoru reaches up, his fingertips brushing your wrist, as he snatches your phone and places it flat on the bar.

“no thank you.”

“toji will kick you out, you know. and he doesn’t even know you like that, he’ll probably be really mean since he has a wife to get back home to and all.”

satoru snorts.

“then i’ll just go to another bar. i’m not going home.”

you groan, noting that of course he was going to be stubborn about this too, and that whatever it was in your chest – pity, you suppose – was making you so insistent on making sure he didn’t die from alcohol poisoning tonight.

“what’s so bad about your pretty penthouse?” you ask.

he huffs a sigh.

“there’s pictures of anne marie everywhere. and i fucking hate that bitch.”

you snort, hearing such choice words about the barbie doll that you never had the pleasure of meeting, as you hop off the stool. you figured he was going to be more of the emotional drunk – crying and whining – rather than cursing her very existence.

“okay, c’mon. i know somewhere you can go.”

you feel bad for him as the night goes on. because he’s so drunk that he’s sobbing the entire drive back to your apartment, a horrendous mix of drunk ramblings about how honda civics are actually nicer than he expected and how he didn’t even know that this part of the city existed. your previous thoughts about emotional drunks were completely revoked.

he leans his entire weight on you as you drag him into the elevator, plopping him down on the couch, as you task yourself with making him a green smoothie before letting him pass out into the abyss. it’ll help with the raging hangover you’re positive that he’s going to have tomorrow – and you hope that it means he’ll spare you some kindness the following morning, for saving him from his imminent death and all.

you change into your comfy pajamas as the smoothie blends – a loose old dartmouth t-shirt and shorts – and pour it into a glass. you take a deep breath, bracing yourself, as you make your way back to the couch where satoru’s peeled his sport jacket off and unbuttoned his shirt nearly halfway down. you make it a point to not ogle his perfectly chiseled body.

“alright, satoru. this will help with your hangover tomorrow, just drink it really fast because it tastes horrible.” you state.

satoru looks over at you, completely unfazed by the green drink you hand him, and decides that he’s very shamelessly going to check you out. you can see it in his eyes – the way they follow your bare legs and your mismatched socks, before he looks back up at you and frowns.

“am i that fucking pathetic that you’re helping me?” he asks.

you grin.

“yes.” you respond.

satoru appreciates the honesty, gulping down the thick and tart smoothie that you made him, and slams the glass down on the coffee table after the fact. he wipes the residue on the back of his hand and shrinks into the couch – and you can’t help but shiver at how normal he looks.

it’s the first time that you’ve understood it, why everyone thinks he’s so attractive. he has soft and full cheeks, striking blue eyes that go perfectly with his snow white hair. a few freckles dot his nose.

“well, let’s hear it. make all the fun you fucking want.” satoru murmurs.

you roll your eyes.

“do you think i’m a bitch? i don’t kick people when they’re down. something you’re wholly unfamiliar with, i’m well aware.”

“you have no problem doing it in the office.” he states.

you scoff.

“you always start it. you can’t really get mad when i start dishing it back. and i’m a little bit better than you. i won’t make comments about you now that pretty malibu barbie’s broken your heart now because i have a shred of decency.”

satoru scoffs.

“you’ll just do it tomorrow, when i’m keen enough to fight back .” he states.

you sigh, leaning back on the couch, as you look up at the wallpaper pressed to the ceiling. it’s slightly peeling and you make a mental note to replace it when you get the time – which knowing you, you probably never will.

he was impossible.

when you look over at him, his eyes fixed to the peeling wallpaper too, but with glimmering tears sprinkling out of his eyes, though they’re slower and quieter than the sobs that he was heaving in the car. you wonder how much he really had to drink.

“you need to replace your wallpaper. it’s coming off.” satoru seethes.

“okay.” you respond.

you look back at the ceiling. you could give him some advice too.

“you should stop dating gold diggers.” you state.

he rolls his eyes.

“how was i supposed to know she was a gold digger?” he asks.

you laugh.

“it’s not normal to buy your girlfriend’s entire wardrobe. and her car. and her..”

“okay, okay, okay. it was a gift!” he defends.

“you know, normal people get a giftcard and call it a day. or a candle from target.” you respond.

there’s a whisper of a smile on satoru’s face as he sighs, before pinching the bridge of his nose.

“okay, well. i was trying to be sweet. her love language was giving gifts.”

you snort.

“shocker.” you deadpan.

he reaches for the closest cushion, before smacking it straight across your chest. you’re quick to snatch it from his hands, holding it close to your chest, as the two of you stick back to the silence.

“so what do i do?” he asks.

“what do you mean?”

“i dunno. never done a break up before. she was like my first girlfriend.”

you would understand it. you would, you suppose, if that was something you could relate to. being so in love that you can’t be with anyone else. but then again, that lingering question would always come back to you – how could you know that this person was the one if you hadn’t tried anything else?

in your very limited experience in your very short life, one thing always rang true – that the more time you took to learn, to experience, the better things seemed to get. you had a bunch of shit friends in high school and now you’re friends with yuuji. you had four different majors before you picked marketing because it let you be creative. you’ve dated four different guys but you’re still looking for the one.

that’s why you didn’t understand it – how people could be so one and done, on something so serious. granted, that’s probably how they end up with gold diggers.

“do you have anything of hers?” you ask.

satoru gives you a strange look, before digging his hand in his pocket, and fishing out his wallet. he opens up the little zipper, yanking a little silver necklace out of the leather, and placing it into the palm of your hand.

you feel your eyes widen a little bit, sparkling diamonds set in a little circular mother of pearl design, as you run your fingers over it. you shake yourself out of it, looking over at him resting his forearms against his knees, expectantly waiting for an answer.

“real cute. go throw it out of my window.” you state, handing it back to him.

“i beg your pardon?”

“so a window is an opening in the wall or roof that…” you start.

he lightly shoves you, before clutching the necklace in his fist.

“i can’t throw it out. it’s fucking expensive.”

you roll your eyes.

“that means nothing to you. you’re not throwing it away because you still like raggedy anne.”

“raggedy anne?” he asks.

“yuuji, katie, and i call her that. red hair kind of set that one up for us but…”

his eyes widen, as he leans forward.

“do you guys not like her?” he asks.

you shrug, as you stand up, wrapping your fingers around his wrist as you pull him closer to the window. the question catches you off guard – that he would care what the three of you would think.

you peek your head out the window – a few cars still milling on the street, the lights lazily changing, as he joins you and sticks his head out the window.

“i can’t, honey bee.” he states.

“yes, you can. it’s just a necklace.”

“but what if she wants it back?” he asks.

you fight the urge to slap him, as you stick your head back into the warmth of the apartment. he follows suit.

“you would go back to her?” you ask.

“i dunno. i –”

“she would probably only want to get back together so she can get this fucking necklace back. because she’s a gold digger! screw her, surely you could do better than that!”

satoru frowns, as he peaks out of the window again. and he makes the motion like he’s going to throw it before he looks back at you, nervously scratching at the back of his neck.

“it’s limited edition. maybe i should sell it and –”

“no. you’re going to throw it out of the window right now, on the count of three.”

“i really don’t want to. we should do something easier first.” he whines.

“one.” you state.

he panics. surely he couldn’t be serious.

“this can’t be how normal people cope. i could hit someone and give them a black eye..”

“two.” you scold.

“maybe i don’t want to be a normal person. i think that this is all –”

“three.”

you snatch the necklace out of his open palm and throw it straight out of the window. it makes a little clinking sound when it finally hits the bottom, the two of you poking your heads out of the window to now see it tangled in the sewage gutter that’s been dirtied by the recent rain.

“you threw her necklace.” satoru states, in exasperation.

“when normal people can’t do it on their own, a trusted friend does it to keep them in line.” you state, pushing back into the apartment and wiping your hands.

satoru follows behind you, his steps featherlike, as you reach for his phone and start scrolling through the contacts. he’s leaning his head over your shoulder, eyes wide as you pull up anne marie’s contact and hold it out to him.

“you’re going to make me block her too?” he asks.

“no. you should call her once and say some mean stuff and then block her.”

satoru’s eyes widen.

“mean stuff?”

“call her. tell her she’s a gold digger. that you think her voice is annoying or something.” you add.

satoru crosses his hands over his chest.

“that’s not very mature.”

“okay, but you’re back in dog years since you’ve been dating this girl forever. plus, i’d say it’s immature to be in a god knows how long relationship with someone just for their money. does she have any consideration for you?”

satoru pauses, like he’s mulling the thought over.

“if you don’t do it, you’re going to become even more weird and repressed than you are now.” you state

“i’m not repressed!” he whines.

“be immature! say a bunch of bullshit and then hang up! you’ll feel great – you…you’re supposed to do these types of things at least once. this is like a rite of passage.”

satoru gives you a weary look as you lean forward, pressing the dial button. his eyes go wide as you start whispering, gesturing for him to do it.

“hello? satoru?” anne marie says, voice confused.

there’s a considerable amount of sound behind the speaker, loud booming music making it very clear that raggedy anne is at the club while satoru’s moping it out in your apartment.

“do it.” you whisper.

“hi annie.” satoru murmurs.

you roll your eyes at the nickname.

“did you want something satoru?” she asks.

“yeah. yeah, i just wanted to say…” satoru starts.

“hold on one second.” she says.

there’s a murmuring over the speaker, which she’s clearly covered, as you start whispering. tell her she’s annoying! she won’t even give you the time of day on a phone call!!

“sorry, i’m back. i’m on a date right now so i was just trying to slip away.”

satoru looks up at you.

“you’re a bitch.” he murmurs.

you fight the urge to laugh.

“what did you say?” anne marie responds.

“you’re a bitch.” he says louder.

“good! say it again!” you whisper.

satoru has the whisper of a smile on his face, the silent support goading him on, as he keeps talking.

“you…you’re annoying. you have a really high pitched voice and every time you wake up in the morning, it gives me an ear splitting headache. and you…you look horrible in blue.”

the choice of words is a little middle school, but you’ll give it to him. there was a first time for everything.

“say something else.” you whisper.

“is that a girl?” anne marie asks.

you both widen your eyes, before satoru quickly hangs up and start laughing. you note that for your standards that was horrendously tame, but the glint in his eyes seems to signify that it’s at least done something for him, because it’s the first time he properly smiles after entering your apartment.

“how was that?”

“fucking great! she sounded like an idiot!” he responds.

“she sure did.”

“now she’s probably wondering which girl i’m with and working herself over it.” he responds.

you shake your head, pulling out the sheets to make the fold out bed for him properly, before you make your way back over to your own room. screaming middle school insults seems to sober him up enough, because he joins you in folding the sheets, a smile on his face.

“have you done that before?” he asks.

“done what?” you ask.

“throw stuff out like that? call an ex-boyfriend?”

you smile.

“mhm. my first boyfriend irritated me so bad that i took everything he ever gave me – a dried up bouquet of flowers, a necklace, birthday cards and all that type of stuff – and threw it in a trash can outside of the bank i go to. and the calling, i did that once when my ex-boyfriend decided to go to san diego for a trip instead of meeting up with me. he made it pretty clear for a week that we were going to break up on that day and i had hyped myself up for it, just for him to not show up. so i got pissed and called him then and there.” you state.

satoru’s floored.

“really? that’s such a dick move.”

“i mean, s’pretty standard.”

you’ve been on the carousel of assholes your entire life. but satoru shakes his head.

“i can’t believe someone would even do that. that’s unusually cruel.”

you forgot about that part. that with having experienced next to nothing, there’s a sense of naivety that comes with it too.

or hope. whichever word speaks to you more – and at the current moment, it’s the latter, only because he seems so genuinely downtrodden by it – so genuinely believing that people are meant to be good and kind that he can’t fathom someone being mean and selfish just for the sake of it.

you feel bad for him.

“that it is. almost as cruel as dating someone just for their money.” you respond.

satoru sighs.

“yeah.”

“that’s kind of the cool part now.” you respond.

“what is?”

you sit down flat on the bed, the sheets nicely tucked in and folded, as you pat the little spot next to you on the bed. he obliges, his legs stretching out a considerable distance past yours, as you cross your arms over your chest.

“this is going to sound really weird, but some day you’re going to agree with me.” you state.

“okay.”

“you’re going to feel a lot of things in the next few months. and then after the fact, when you’re really truly over it, you’re going to realize how real all of that was.”

“meaning?”

you shrug.

“you’re going to mope and listen to sad songs for a while. and those songs are going to hit like they’ve never hit before, you’re going to realize people have been writing about this exact feeling that you’re experiencing for years. you’ve just gone through a shared experience that almost everyone has, no matter who they are, of getting your heart shattered.”

satoru’s never thought of it that way. granted, he’s only been thinking about it for three days, but still.

“then you’re going to be pissed. you’re going to do a bunch of stupid stuff and you might even regret it a little bit, but that’s part of learning more about yourself. maybe you really do like to have the last word. maybe you can’t fathom it at all, seeing that person ever again. either way, you’re going to figure out something about yourself and it’s going to make it all the more worth it. that’s part of this entire thing – experiencing something new, doing things three, four, five times and fucking up each time, just to…get something out of it. figure out whatever you’ve got going on in this thing.” you respond, flicking at his forehead.

satoru rubs the spot, glaring at you, as you shoot him a smile.

“there’s no point in doing anything once. you’re going to live a really long life, were you really only going to date and love one girl the entire time? i know you must have more to give than that.” you state.

“do you not believe in marriage?” he asks.

you frown.

“who said i don’t believe in marriage?”

“i mean, you seem like so…hippie dippie. i get what you’re saying and…and i’m even inclined to believe you’re right…but where does that stop? you can’t go on experiencing things and people and loving forever?”

you smile.

“why do you think so little of marriage? do you really think all of that stops once you enter a relationship with someone?”

satoru freezes.

“you keep doing that stuff, but with the person you know is meant for you. clearly your relationship with raggedy anne must have been really, very boring, because getting to do new things together is the fun part. i’d argue that it’s even the point of even being together – growing into something new.”

satoru thinks you're wise. he thinks that he’s still leftover drunk and whatever it is you’re saying is coming out like poetry to him, that it’s singing to the tune that’s been going on in the background of his head for the past year, because really – his relationship was very boring.

it had gotten monotonous. maybe he stayed because he didn’t know anything different. maybe that’s why he was so obsessed with stalking your every move – making sly comments, finding mistakes in your reports - just because you were always so keen to give him a different answer, one he couldn’t predict, the only constant thing about you being that you were always different.

“your brain looks like it’s working overtime. you should go to bed.” you state.

“okay, yeah.”

satoru is still drunk. somewhat drunk. maybe a little.

it’s why he leans forward, to press a warm kiss to the side of your cheek. he notes that your eyes go wide, as you immediately lift your hand to press your fingers to the skin, your cheeks flushing pink.

“i was hoping you were going to give me like a thousand dollars or something as a gift for being nice to you.”

satoru grins. because again, it wasn’t the answer he was expecting at all.

“i could do that too.” he states.

you roll your eyes, before reaching forward to pinch his cheek.

“shut up.”

“you’re pretty.”

you’re taken aback by the comment, leaning back to cross your hands over your chest, as you eye him again. messy hair, swollen eyes, and pink lips from the drinks.

“you’re not that bad either. you look way better like this.”

“like this?”

“you know…no fancy mousse. creepy perfectly tailored suit. having a proper meltdown and all. not to be rude, but your distress might be the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”

satoru scoffs.

“you’re just jealous that i look so great all the time.”

you shake your head.

“not at all. i’m not into that at all – the whole perfect, rich boy thing.”

satoru leans forward, eyes wide.

“what are you into?” he asks.

you smile.

“did you really crash your car?” you ask.

he groans.

“you know about that?”

you laugh.

“i’m into that. you being a real person. i think you’re very funny when you’re drunk and you have the insults of a middle schooler. your hair looks very good when it’s all messed up like this and your very genuine enthusiasm and curiosity is very refreshing.”

“yeah?” satoru whispers, a glint in his eyes.

“mhm. don’t lose sleep over it, okay?” you respond, pinching his cheek as you shuffle your way over to your room.

satoru watches as you retreat, your mismatched socks riding up to your ankles, and he can’t help but wonder if you’re right. if he had missed out.

he hadn’t done anything. anything at all. you were three feet away – with an entire life he knew nothing about. the little scars on your arms were all a story, maybe from pulling something out of the stove too fast or falling on the pavement, and he can’t help but wonder what it all was.

if he could still gain it all, after years of falling behind.

satoru was always an overachiever. he was going to do this, he was going to do this now.

satoru stands up, legs carrying him to the door of your bedroom, as he firmly knocks on the wood. he hears something that sounds like a thud, before you swing the door open, your eyes adjusting to the brightness outside to find him standing there.

“it’s been one minute.” you deadpan.

“can i sleep with you?”

“i beg your pardon?”

satoru sighs.

“i’ve never slept in the same bed as someone.”

“huh? you and raggedy anne never…”

he shakes his head.

“i mean, like once, but it was by accident. my penthouse has two beds and i don’t know what it feels like to…sleep next to someone.”

you pause. and let your curiosity get the better of you.

“are you a virgin?”

“i am not a virgin.”

you laugh at the irritation in his voice, before holding the door open wider and gesturing for him to walk into the room.

“my bed isn’t that big.” you state.

“that’s okay. just…please? let me?”

you assume that saying no would be equivalent to kicking a dog while it’s down. it’s what you reason to yourself as you let him in, watching as he giggles at your stuffed animals and your glasses in the nightstand before he wraps his arms around you, his embrace warm around you.

you swear he kisses your hairline.

“did you just kiss me again?”

“hey. i’m experiencing new things. i’ve got tons of places i have to kiss you on my list.”

you snort.

“you’re bold.” you state.

“and you’re really very sweet. i really like you, you know that?”

you roll your eyes, before leaning back into his touch. it’s so innocent, so unlike any other guy you’ve talked too – so excited about kissing you on the top of your head.

maybe it’s a little bit less pity than you anticipated.

“do you ever think i could do that?” he asks.

“do what?”

“what you’re talking about? doing things four, five, six times…growing with someone and all that?” he asks.

you sigh, before placing one of your hands over his.

“yes, satoru. of course you can.”

the following monday, you’re greeted by a little box on your desk. you open it up to a giftcard and four target candles, accompanied with a little note and his horrible chicken scratch handwriting.

honey bee, heard normal people give gift cards and candles as gifts. but i’m indecisive so there’s four candles. also, they’re custom made and really expensive so don’t throw them out to sass me or make a point or something :O satoru

and you see him an hour later, a cup of the cheap office coffee in his hand, as he walks around talking to everyone in the office. his tie is a little bit loose and his hair is unstyled – and you think that it’s interesting, that he had taken what you had said to heart. and your previous thought stands.

that he really does look better this way.

he makes his way over after twenty minutes, leaning down and basically pressing his cheek to yours as he looks at your monitor.

“did you check your math?” he asks.

“do you want me to shove a pencil down your throat?” you ask.

satoru laughs and you can’t help but smile.

“did you like my gift?”

“yes. but i have a few notes.”

satoru stands up properly, leaning against your desk with his hands crossed over his chest, as he gestures for you to talk.

“do tell.”

“when i say candle, i really do mean one candle. and you know, i meant like an eight dollar candle. like the shit ones that give you allergies.”

“candles can give you allergies?”

“i get watery eyes when they aren’t soy or natural.” you state.

“noted. what else?”

“when i say gift card, i mean twenty bucks. not two thousand dollars.”

satoru whines.

“so many rules. you’re so high maintenance, honey bee.” he whines, cupping your chin in his hand and squeezing once, before shuffling back to his office.

taglist: @porridgesblog @k0z3me @sugu-love @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetnertea @skzismyhome @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @luna0713hunter @shotenvinsoot @itzmeme @gojoswifeyyys-world @cutiejg @chilichopsticks @timmytimmytuckyy @dreamxiing @mamamamamarga @skunabby @meisque @hoseokslefteyebrow @yoontaedotin

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tired-biscuit · 2 years ago

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farmer boy!kiri driving me insane as per usua

he’s everyone in town’s favorite guy!! big and dependable and so funny!! local housewives make it a point to wear their prettiest dresses to go and visit his stand at the local market.. but he doesn’t fall for it..

doesn’t fall for anyone until you move into town.. you work at the local bakery and sometimes visit him when the bakery needs an expedited egg delivery..

he’s so smitten with you, you’re pretty, smart and he can’t take his eyes off of you.. makes it a point to lift the heaviest things when you’re around in an effort to impress you..

little does he know how smitten you are with him.. how you purposely promote custards and egg tarts just so that your bakery needs more eggs and milk.. and you have an excuse to go see him again <3

all these meet-cutes until he finally works up the courage to ask you on a picnic.. where he lets you feel his muscles like you’ve been dying to from the start.. where he lets you take off his overalls and lifts up your skirt..

where the sun warms his and yours’ skin and where only the flowers know what happened next :3

(he ate you out and bred u <3)

18+ / fem!reader

you’ve been dying to touch and feel his biceps for the longest time now because you’ve seen the way they tighten and turn exceptionally prominent whenever he picks up and tosses those big sacks of flour that you keep ordering for your bakery from him and him only.

he always greets you in the friendliest way possible whenever he swings by to deliver you the goods; a polite nod of his head and a warm “hey there, darlin’” never fail to make you weak in the knees. the combination of it, that’s sometimes even accompanied by a rather playful wink, turns your brain to goddamn mush. goodness, you’re so into him that it’s getting kind of absurd!

but to be fair, how couldn’t you be? he’s pure eye candy, with his sharp facial features, fiery eyes and messy hair of the exact same shade that he keeps tied back with the help of a single elastic, and that exposes the sides of his neck, as well as the nape, in the most delicious of ways.

his skin is tan and sun-kissed from many days spent working outside under the blazing sun, and his back is broad; he carries any kind of weight with seemingly no trouble at all. the faded, well worn jeans that he usually throws on whenever he drives to town make his ass and thighs look absolutely divine as they hang off his hips.

the sight of them makes you feel like a sleaze from the way they coax you to ogle at him so openly again and again. stealing glances as he moves around your little storage room where you keep all your ingredients, all you can see is his tight physique, his big hands, how appealingly thick his fingers are; coated with a thin layer of white powder coming from the flour.

he’s a working man, oftentimes dirty with sweat and grime whenever you just happen to be passing by his land and spot him coming back from the fields, but surprisingly enough, he keeps his nails clean whenever he comes to see you.

and it doesn’t stop just at the nails. even his face lacks the sheen of sweat his line of work usually tends to induce, because unbeknownst to you, he doesn’t leave the house before he scrubs it clean. his signature white t-shirts — each one usually adorned with a logo of his favourite sports team — are crisp and constantly smell of pleasant laundry detergent; like they’ve been freshly washed every single time. and if his hair just happens to be a mess that day — stubborn strands, bedhead and whatnot — he makes sure to hide it underneath his trusty baseball cap just so you don’t have to see it.

altogether, it shows that he’s trying to impress you. that he’s putting in the effort.

and that effort is almost enough to make an already smitten girl like yourself admit defeat and fold right then and there; in the storage room of your little bakery. to make you rest the flat of your palms against one of the shelves, and bend right over at the middle.

until the fat of your ass is peeking from underneath your pretty sundress, no panties in sight, and he’s got drool nearly dripping from his mouth at the discovery. until his fat cock is nice and snug, sheathed inside your soft cunt, and his heavy balls are tightening from the way you’re invitingly wiggling your hips against him and hurrying to make him all sticky and wet with your arousal so that he can slide in even further, even deeper.

just by looking at him, you know he’d fuck you nice and slow, and so deep that it’d make hearts form in your eyes right before they’d cross. quiet grunts would fill your ear, his breathing ragged as it tickles the side of your neck and cheek. his calloused hands would be warm against your hips; dusting flour over your dress and skin, and providing a steady weight that you could lean on and rest your tired body against any time you’d wish.

there’d be constant pressure in your lower belly — overhelming but the good kind nevertheless. the slapping of skin against skin, the stretch, the sweat coating both of your brows. the pounding, the pleasure, the passion that’d be so intense that you’d end up feeling it in the goddamn marrow of your bones even.

and then, the climax. the white noise and bliss as every nerve end buzzes with electricity that’s powerful but mellow at the same time. the feeling of warm cum eventually leaking from your poor little pussy, down your thighs, dripping onto the floor; causing a mess you both chuckle at whilst cleaning afterwards.

his forehead pressing against your spine as he hunches his back because of the prominent height difference and waits for his cock to slowly soften whilst it’s still inside of you, still stretching your velvety walls. your clothes sticking to your salt-riddled bodies as you attempt to catch your breaths and not say anything too brash or embarrassing to each other.

you want him to rail you and fuck your brains out in this tiny storage room so bad. he’s just such a… man. bulky and strong, simple and endlessly kind. his heart is as big as his tits are, and much like the rest of him, you can’t help but leer at them, too as the mixture of the summer heat and your baked delights turns too much for him to bare in that exact moment and he swiftly loses the crisp white t-shirt just so that he can survive it.

watching him as he throws it over his shoulder and keeps it there, you start to think that you could take such good care of him. that he could take such good care of you. you can already see it; a cozy house, a couple of kids. hard work, animals and endless love. fresh lemonade and cookies. creaky wooden furniture and movie nights on the world’s comfiest couch. domestic bliss.

he’s the type to kiss you goodbye and hello again whenever he walks through the front door.

your daydreams end abruptly when he tosses the last sack of flour onto the neat little pile and turns around to look at you with a face that’s all of a sudden vividly red like a tomato; from his neck to his forehead, from one ear to the other.

you’re still blinking, sweetly batting your eyelashes up at him by the time he finally gathers enough courage to ask you a question you’d thought you’d never get the chance to hear from him.

he wants to take you out on a date, huh?

#he’s so sweet oml #i’m meltingggg!!!#kirishima eijirou smut #kirishima x reader #eijirou kirishima #kirishima eijirou x reader #kirishima smut #biscuit drabbles

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dragonslaved · 3 months ago

Text

All right, besties. I had my days of depression and (bad) ideations, I had my flare of anger. It's easy to fall into despair, but let's focus that energy to thinking further ahead. Firstly: by focusing on our health and eating.

You've probably noticed in the last few months, a lot of food recalls from the FDA. The majority of these, particularly the most recent ones around heavily processed chicken in ready-meals and beef in fast food restaurants, are a direct result of the 45th president cutting back health regulations in industrialized food production four to six years ago that we're just now seeing the results of as it's gone through the process and finally hit shelves.

Now would be a good time to start looking into your local farmer's markets and sourcing your meats and produce from locally owned farms you trust. Start developing a good relationship with your local farmers and butchers. When you go to see them, just get to know them and ask some general questions.

A lot of these places are family run, particularly if you're not close to a large metropolitan area. So when you go to see these folks and they make small talk (because they will, they want to know what brought you out, how'd you find their farm, what kinds of meats and cuts and whatever you're looking for, just genuine small talk), do not bring up politics or USDA regulations. Literally just tell them that you're interested in sourcing and supporting local agriculture and farming (which is true, you are wanting to get away from big corporate industrialized meat production).

If your area has a good farmer's market during the spring/summer/fall, absolutely hit that up. The one close by me not only has good meats and produce, but also honey, different kinds of cheeses, all sorts of things. Farmer's markets closer to a city or metropolitan area will usually only be on weekends during the warmer seasons so keep an eye out and check out any options you have.

I'll give a starting resource for you: https://www.localharvest.org/locations/

Any local farms or farmer's markets that are registered there in the mainland US will have some listings there with hours of operation, location and what they produce, as well as if they're a farm, a farmer's market, a grocery, or a local restaurant, as well as reviews. Use that and source further and find other farms that aren't registered on that site that may have more of what you're looking for. The farming community talk to each other and they know what's up with the other farms.

If you want to go out and pick your own produce (berries, fruits, etc), there's https://upickfarmlocator.com/ that will show you any "u-pick" farms and orchards in your area. It's a pretty in depth resource that I'd recommend using if you're able to go out and do that.

There are a few urban harvesting resources like fallingfruit, but I'm not as familiar with that so I can't in good faith recommend it until I've done some research into it myself.

I'm mostly familiar with chicken farms and fish ponds so I can't provide much insight to cattle or game meat, unfortunately. If anyone who sees this post is familiar, please feel free to add on. I'm also not a source for how to skin your meat or pluck your birds, so again, if anyone seeing this has any insight, please please add on to this.

Let's keep each other healthy and strong so we can fight the good fight ahead of us. The biggest advice I can give to anyone starting this journey is to research. Research anything you're interested in and don't give up.

I'll update this post with any other resources I find, or that others add on. This post is recent as of 2024-11-08.

(And yes, I know, before anyone comes rushing in, I understand this is not as easy for larger metropolitan areas or food deserts. Yes I know not everyone has the ability to go out and do this, and not everyone has easy transportation to haul goods back. This is where the "community" part comes if you can coordinate a group renting a car or someone who does drive to get everyone out there and back. And yes, before other folks come in, I understand sometimes it's better to grow your own produce and raise your own livestock, this is for the folks who don't have the ability to whether that's because of physical disabilities, lack of space [Hi, I live in a condo and have no space to grow my own in fact], or any other reason why they can't.)

#food #resources

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helluvapoison · 11 months ago

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hey! saw your blog n thought u were like super fuckin cool- so yk can I request a vox x wife!teader and vox accidentally forget their anniversary? it's fine if jot, have a good day/night!!

Vox x Reader

Sitting in Hell’s Kitchen, the finest restaurant of Pride Ring, staring at an empty chair across from you, you decide to find out for yourself just where the fuck your husband is today of all days

• Vox was zipping through cables and wires all over the house to look for you. He checked your favorite spots first but, to his chagrin, you weren’t there

• The money making, signature smile he always wore began slipping on one side when his phone buzzed to life, your icon taking over his screen

• “Darling! I just got home,” Irritation had his voice glitching, “Where are you?”

• “Hm. Late night?” You asked, pettily avoiding the question

• “I-? Yeah, yes,” He sighed, slipping back into work mode for a minute, “Back to back meetings and I had to reshoot yesterday's episode because—“ Minute over, “Wait, that doesn’t matter! What matters is I wanted to come home to my darling partner and you’re nowhere to be found! Where are you!?”

• “Oh me? I went out for a bite to eat. An hour ago. There should be a notification somewhere in your planner, why don’t you check it.”

• Vox huffs and rolls his eyes. He pulls the phone away from his face and quickly swipes through today’s agenda. Anything regarding you is always his top priority—

• x/xx/xxxx: congratulations! today is your anniversary! you have a reservation at 8pm!

• “Fuck.”

• “Mhm.”

• Your phone goes silent. Only half of a second passes before your husband materializes from the wires at the front desk. The panicked expression on his screen is almost enough to satisfy the tornado of emotions inside you. Of course he recognizes there’s people around and there’s an image to project so he gathers himself all too quickly

• His steps over are hurried and clumsy. He presses a kiss to your cheek that buzzes softly on your skin as he sits down, taking your hands into his own in case you decide to leave. Or throw your wine at him. Or both. “Happy Anniversary, darling!”

• Your brow quirks, unimpressed and irate

• “I know it seems like I did, but I didn’t forget. Look I planned this dinner—“

• “That you were late to.”

• “And I have your present right here! Look! I made it months ago just for this.”

• A part of you expects a new phone or watch that hasn’t hit the market yet. Instead Vox pulls out a thin screen from behind his back (Somehow. You’ve learned not to question how he does that) and forces it into your hands

• It scanned your fingerprints the minute you touched it and bloomed to life. For a few seconds it showed you and Vox closer to when you first met, slowly and silently moving as you both laughed. Then it faded and brought a new image of when Vox poured coffee in Val’s lap because he was staring at you. You couldn’t help but snort at that one despite trying very hard not

• “It’s an electronic picture frame,” Vox explained excitedly, “Only this one scans and recognizes your favorite memories. I, uh, already put mine in there for you.” His eyes dart away for a moment, a light blush making his screen glow slightly, “Don’t let anyone else see this.”

• You’re really torn now and he can clearly see it. As a businessman he wants to go in for the final kill, but as your husband he wants to reassure you

• “I didn’t forget, not really. I knew I was missing something all day. I’ll clear my calendar next year— or tomorrow! We can redo the whole day just you and me!”

• You purse your lips together and tilt your head at him with narrowed eyes. Something you did right before you forgave him. “No work at all? No taking calls from Val or Vel? Not even watching yourself on tv?”

• “Let me take care of everything! No one will bother us for an entire 24 hours. Just me and you, my dear. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

• You give him a final skeptical look before your gaze drops to the picture frame with significantly more fondness. You inevitably give in with a sigh, “Fine.”

• Vox is standing up and bringing you with him, his claw on your lower back to guide you out of the restaurant, “Excellent! You won’t regret it baby, I’ll make it our best anniversary yet.”

• To the host at the front his smile doesn’t waver but his voice drops to an octave that leaves no room for arguments, “We’ll be back here tomorrow, same time but we’ll take the table by the window instead. You can put that under Vox. Thanks.”

• “Vox, what are you doing!?“ You whisper loudly in disbelief

• He doesn’t stop, continuing to push you out and onto the sidewalk where a VoxTech limo already awaits. Suddenly his hands are on your shoulders. His eyes meet yours and they’re devoid of the facade he puts on for everyone else

• “When something goes wrong at VoxTech, I have to scrap the plans and start all over to get it right. And I want to do this right for you. I’m going to fix everything, my dear. One hour and I’ll meet you back home with all your favorites.” Despite the tv-ready tone, Vox’s words are coated in sincerity that has you inclined to believe him

• You allow him to help you into the limo, “I don’t need it perfect, y’know. I just need you there.”

• “And I will be! You’ll get both; myself and perfection. Don’t I always say you deserve it all?” Vox kisses the back of your hand before closing the door. He stands there with a smile and waves until you’re out of sight

• He keeps his word, he’s at home with you 45 minutes later. He brings dinner, dessert and wine, all your favorites, and a few extra presents

• The 24 workless hours begin as soon as he walks through the door. He turns off his phone and puts himself on “do not disturb”

• All he needs is you and you’re right here. Happily sitting in his lap while he feeds you cake, your favorite movie in the background. The sound of your laughter or wine glasses clinking together is a far better sound than his ringtone

• (He’ll need a new assistant when he returns to work… and someone to repair that window on the 13th floor. That’s probably why he has 237 notifications from Velvette and Valentino when he turns his phone on after your anniversary do-over)

╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ OMG YOU’RE SO SWEET!!!! please enjoy!

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel headcanons #vox hazbin x reader #vox headcanons #vox hazbin hotel x reader #vox imagine #vox x reader #poiboiwrites

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strngegirl · 30 days ago

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hii i really loved ur gojo: overtime drabble, can i req something similar with gojo but instead of us giving him a handjob he gives us one😞😞 idk if u write for male readers but if you do please do so!!

hellooo!! im happy you liked that post :DD nd i dont usually write for male readers but i would! so here it isss (⁠ ⁠≧⁠Д⁠≦⁠) i hope it's satisfying enough </3 this is kinda rushed ,,,

cw: gojo x very tired m!reader, very aggressive handjob (reader receiving), cum eating (gojo), both are ordinary office workers, unestablished relationship, reader kinda hates gojo, not proofread

It's currently 9 PM and you still haven't gone home yet. You would if you could, but that's the thing; you couldn't.

Your boss dumped a whole stack of work onto your desk last minute, said something about having no one else to do this for, then proceeded to leave without sparing you a second glance. The cruelty of this goddamn country and its corporate workplace rules has you daydreaming about blowing the whole place up. Alas, you couldn't. There'd be more consequences doing that, so you decided to simply do your job like a good, loyal mutt. If you even want to call yourself that.

What's even worse is that, you're alone within the same vicinity as Gojo Satoru.

It's not like he's the boss that dumped all his work onto you, he's just another worker in this god forsaken office whom the boss hates—but you hate him even more. Born rich and yet he chose to work here, everyone likes his magnetic personality, he always wears designer, and he's fucking hot. It's infuriating how he has it all and yet he's here in the marketing department of a shitty company that's teetering on the edge of bankruptcy. What does he even gain from this? "Experienced being a peasant" on his resume?

He's currently in the cubicle right across from you, and you're not even sure why he's here. He's been humming trending songs that kept playing in stores for the past few hours and giggling at something you don't really wanna know. Can't he see you're literally suffering working overtime?!

You narrow your eyes at the scintillating screen, the only source of light in the dark office alongside the table lamp you turned on three hours ago. Gojo laughs at something and you clench your teeth, trying to will yourself to not react to his disruptions because you just want to get these over with and go straight home and sleep. It was going so well until he started to talk to himself, then the already thinning string of restraint snapped.

"That happened? No way. Crazy-"

"Can you shut the fuck up?" You growl, a hand running down your face as the other grip your mouse so hard your knuckles are whitening.

There was a moment of silence where both of you say nothing, and honestly you're starting to relax a little at the upcoming tranquility that you thought would arrive, but as quickly as it had came, it went.

You see Gojo's white hair slowly appearing at the top of your vision, and you lift your head to look at him. He's currently looking over your cubicle with an impassive expression, those azure eyes staring right down at you beneath his shades like he's judging you for something you didn't do.

"You talking to me?" He asks.

"Is there anybody else in here that's been yapping all fucking night?" You deadpan. Something about what you've said must've been funny, because he starts smiling. God, that's straight up aggravating.

He lifts his arms up to support himself as he leans onto the partition, making it creak under the weight of his pressure. The old thing's gonna break. You hope it doesn't. If he crashes down and crushes your computer, you swear you're losing it.

"You're so mean tonight, man. Can't you go back to throwing me nasty glares instead? I like those better." He pouts mockingly at you, which grates on your nerves even further. Your work is forgotten as you currently just want to snap at him.

"Why are you even here? Seriously. You don't even need to work overtime, no one is forcing you to do their work you can just go back to your fucking penthouse and sleep like I've been wanting to for the last few hours. I'm tired, hungry and I seriously can't stand wearing this goddamn suit for another minute. All I want is some peace and quiet and yet, you're there, doing god knows what and breaking the only good thing I have right now." Your voice rises at every syllable that leaves your lips, and once you finish you take a deep inhale, feeling your body heat up from unleashing your frustration. You look back up at him and all you see is a raise of an eyebrow.

Gojo brushes a strand of hair away from his eyes then slowly starts to bob his head, unfolding his arms and clapping them onto your partition.

"Ooookay. Well, I'm here for you, actually." It's your turn to raise an eyebrow at that. "Don't. Not yet. Let me explain."

He disappears back into his own cubicle for a second, before you hear the pitter-patter of his footsteps approaching your cubicle. He stops at the entrance and leans against it, both hands simultaneously tucked into his pockets.

"I wanted to talk to you."

You blink.

"And we couldn't have talked in the morning or afternoon?"

He smiles a little. "Mmh, no. It's... Personal, and I'd rather we don't have any interruptions."

Now you're kinda curious. Pushing your one-sided hatred for him aside, you turn your chair to fully face him as you inquire him with a questioning stare.

"Anyways," he pulls his hands out and clasps them with a clap. "I know you hate me. And it's probably because of my dazzling appearance and charming antics that have half the office swooning over me"—you roll your eyes at that—"but! I don't want you to hate me."

You scoff at that. Does he just want everyone to love him? Is that it? So there'd be more people at his beck and call?

"I don't want to turn into one of your fans, Gojo." You rub your eyes.

"That's not my goal! Swear." Suddenly, he walks over and places both hands onto the handles of your chair and effectively caging you in, the abrupt proximity prompting you to lean back so fast your head spins for a second. His face is mere inches away from yours, as if silently threatening to kiss you.

The intimate way he's looking at you right now is making you feel a cacophony of things you're not sure what to name. You're sure annoyance is in there somewhere, but also mixed with other things you seriously don't want to acknowledge. No, it's mostly surprise.

"What the fuck are you-"

"I like you more than I should, you know." He murmurs, brushing the tip of his nose against yours. "No one else in the office looks at me the way you do. It's fascinating."

Surprise washes over you when he gets closer, the warmth of his breath fanning over your lips. It has to be the lethargy you're feeling right now, because why does kissing him seem so tempting?

Your lips suddenly feel dry, and the moment you dart your tongue out to wet it, you inadvertently lick his lips. He took that as a sign to crash his lips into yours. It was all bumping teeth, tongue biting and sloppy kisses, one that overwhelms your clouded mind. He puts more of his weight on you, causing the chair you're sitting on to roll back before it inevitably bumps into the partition, causing it to tremble slightly. That doesn't deter him from continuing to ravish your mouth.

You don't understand why you're not stopping him. In reality, you should be hating this. Hating him. But somehow, you're actually liking it. The realization sends shivers down your spine.

You hardly register what's happening, and next thing you know, you feel a sudden breeze brush past your tip. You yelp in surprise as your lips break off of his, causing him to promptly stop as well. Your eyes dart down to find he's already pulled your half-erect cock out of your pants, his hand wrapping a fist around your base. You snap your gaze back to his flushed face, a hint of eagerness in those eyes you used to despise but now desire to drink you in.

"Don't wanna?" He breathes, already loosening his grip on your cock. You instantly reach down to keep his grip there, manually making him re-tighten his grip. There's a newfound spark in his eyes, and the speed in which he suddenly starts stroking your cock gives you an immediate whiplash.

His lips meet yours again, the same hunger and fervor mixed with a heightened passion combined with the unrelenting pace in which he jerks you off, you swear your head is about to burst. The chair underneath you creaks so loudly you think it's about to crumble, but you hardly care when he's pleasuring you so fucking well.

Breathy moans escape from your mouth as Gojo drinks it all up, capturing them into his own mouth as he whimpers himself. He's fisting your cock like he wants to tear it off and you feel like it really is gonna fall off if you're not careful enough.

The air in the otherwise empty office has become heated, the serenity broken by both of your moans and the aggressive creak of your chair. You feel your cock twitch at the impending orgasm, and he definitely feels it as well because he starts chuckling into your heated make out session.

"Feels soooooo good, doesn't it?" He purrs, almost teasingly but there's no denying the underlying desire in his tone. You nod fervently as you start to thrash in your chair, and Gojo brings his other hand up to pin you down by the shoulder to ensure you can't get anywhere.

With a sudden cry, you jerk up repeatedly into his fist as hot cum spurt out of your tip, getting everywhere on his suit and hand. He doesn't really care though, because this might be the hottest thing he's seen all week. Gojo slows down his stroking before eventually stopping, just holding it firmly before his thumb moves to gently rub your sensitive head, smearing the cum over it. That action overstimulates you and you start whimpering, eyes rolling back at the slight pain it brings you.

"Such a mess." He murmurs, gazing almost lovingly at you. Slowly, he releases your cock as you let out a gasp, acting like you just ran a whole marathon. He brings the very same hand up to his lips as he starts to lick it clean, his tongue caressing through every crevice, trying to make sure he tastes every single last drop. You watch in a daze, watching the man you were despising toward not even three hours ago now licking your sperm off of his hand. He's the reason you even came.

God.

Gojo sucked on his index finger, making direct eye contact with you. He then releases it with a salacious 'pop!', bringing his head down again and kisses you. You taste the slight tang of your own release on his tongue and fuck, you think your dick is rising again.

"Do you still hate me?" He breathes into your mouth. You'd glare if you can, but you seriously can't bring yourself to. Your body is spent as hell.

Reluctantly, you shake your head and he smiles widely. Gojo Satoru got what he wanted, once again.

"Finally." He kisses you again. "Come home with me. Fuck your work, I'll talk to the boss for you tomorrow. I wanna fuck you."

You shouldn't. Damn, this goes against everything you believe in.

"I have a memory foam mattress. Silky blankets. And also really, really soft pillows."

...he sure knows how to tempt you. Fucking Gojo.

With a defeated sigh, you gently rub your cheek, hoping the red would go away.

"Okay."

#🫀ヘ⁠（⁠。⁠□⁠°⁠）⁠ヘ !!#jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo smut #satoru smut #satoru gojo smut #jjk imagines #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #gojo x you #gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader

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kanekisfavoritegf · 11 months ago

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BET U WANNA

ft. Kento Nanami as T.A. for Professor Geto

minors & blank blogs DNI pls🩷

warnings: smut, slight power imbalance, biting, licking, and a whole bunch of other stuff :))

So, how the hell did you end up here? In an empty lecture hall with cum seeping out of your cunt?

Professor Geto was a known stickler for the rules, and no matter how cute he was or how many girls winked and flirted his way, he never paid attention to them. And you never paid attention to him. Your eyes constantly stayed on one of your ex-classmates and now T.A., Kento Nanami. He was smart and handsome, and he never even paid you a glance, not even after sharing a short business course last year.

You were invited to this University Gala for the top students of the year. You came as Professor Geto’s student, and Nanami was there out of responsibility. His job was to chaperone and introduce you to other professors, T.A.s, and future employers who wanted the best pick of the litter.

You wore a deep Navy black gown; it hugged your every curve perfectly, there was a slit at the front that only reached a little above the knee, yet it had still managed to catch the attention of Kento.

And now that you had it, you refused to lose it.

“Oh, look.” Nanami gestured across the room. A man who looked like he should be anyway, but here, and at a university gala for business majors, with a scar on his lip, stood in the corner. “That’s Mr. Toji; he is looking for someone smart like you to help him with his next project.” Before you could even protest the idea, his arm had latched onto yours and dragged you to what felt like the 60th CEO, Professor, or someone important of the night.

“Kento, wait!”

“Nanami.” He corrected curtly before practically throwing you at the CEO.

“Toji, Y/N, Y/n, Toji. She is head of her class and shows great promise, especially if you are looking for fresh ideas on marketing!” The words rushed out of his mouth right before he rushed away, leaving you standing there awkwardly alone with Toji. You gave him a curt smile and handed him your business card. Giving him no time to ask any more icebreaker questions, you turned on your heel and went back to your higher-up.

“What is your deal?” You whisper yelled at him.

“I don’t know what you mean.” You could only roll your eyes at him.

“Nanami, you have avoided eye contact from the moment I arrived. Did I do something wrong?” You spoke with a hint of sadness, trying to play this as well as possible.

“Of course—” he huffed. Of course not, Y/N, it’s just…” His eyes drifted to your legs and then back up to your face.

“Oh.” You smirked up at him, “You wanna fuck me, don’t you?”

“Wha- No!” He said firmly.

“Oh, Kento.”

“Nanami.” He cut in again, but you only raised yourself so your mouth would be level with his ear

“You wanna fuck me so bad, don’t you.” You whispered. You were giggling as you pulled away and walked out of the gala hall and down the halls of your university.

You didn’t need to turn around to know that the quick steps that followed were behind you were his. You smiled as you led him further and further into your pull.

You turned so abruptly when you reached Geto’s classroom door. So fast that Nanami had no time to react to your stop, he crashed into you, pressing you against the door.

“You are going to fuck me here? Right where anyone can walk and see us?” You smiled, “Didn’t take you for the Voyeur, Kento.”

“Shut up.” He rubbed with the keys to the classroom door, pushing you inside before locking it again.

“What is the big deal anyways, Kento?”

“You need to stop.”

“Why?”

“Just stop, please. I can’t–”

“You can’t what, Kento?”

“It would be improper. Wrong.” His eyes met the ground in shame; it would have been cute if you hadn’t already been so desperate for him to give in.

“It’s not like there is some sort of power imbalance between us.”

“Of course, there is-”

“You aren’t my professor; you are a T.A.” You scoffed, slowly taking a step towards him and another one, another one. Until you were so close, you could feel his shallow breaths fanning your face. “You are what? Two years older than me.” You brought your finger to his chest, slowly pushing him into your professor’s desk as you continued.

“Hell, Kento-”

“Nanami”, He tries to correct you, to take control of the situation. Unfortunately, he lost this silent battle with you the moment he stayed behind to help you.

“Kento,” you whisper in his ear. “We used to be students together before you graduated, and you even took a class with me.”

His hand reached to grab yours, holding you firmly in place before you could do anything more. His voice was firmer now as he spoke. “Y/N.” He spoke a little firmer now, “Stop.”

“Why? You want me, so take me.” And for a moment, something flicked in his eyes, as if you had pushed almost all his buttons as if he was almost about to give in. Almost.

His hand still grasped yours, holding it far enough away from his abdomen that he wouldn’t feel your eclectic touch. But you didn’t need to touch him to make him give in.

Looking up at him, you held his gaze, and for ten tortuous seconds, you stared at each other, no words spoken, and his expression still frustrated and guarded.

“Kiss me.” And he did. He kissed you like drowning, and you were the air he needed. He kissed you and kissed you and kissed you even more. Turning you both around, you were now pressed against your professor’s desk and leaning back as Kento pushed you into the wood even more. You couldn’t even complain about the straining angle he had you stuck in because you were so distracted by his dick rubbing into you. Swiftly, he picked you up and set you down atop the desk; as the kiss got more wet and more primal, Kento’s moans became clearer and more transparent. His strong arms held your legs around his waist as he continued to hump into you like a man-crazed. You moaned at the neverending friction Kento was giving you, humping back into his clothed thrusts over and over and over again. The feel of his dress pants rubbing into you. It was addictive.

So lost in it; you hadn’t noticed the mess you were making on his pants or the table. You were dripping all over the wood.

Suddenly, he pulled away from you; a pencil, or book or whatever the fuck it was that had pulled Kento’s lips from yours fell onto the floor and made a dramatically loud noise. His lips were pink and puffy from your bite-filled kisses. You went to pull him back from more, to grab onto his wrinkled beyond-belief shirt and make him fuck you. But he stepped away further. He stood a few feet from you and stared at the mess he had created on your professor’s desk.

“Lick it.”

“What?”

“You will lick up your mess and not miss a single drop.” Kento’s eyebrows raised at your hesitation, “What, I thought you wanted to be a good slut? What’s with the change of heart?”

You felt a heat rush to your cheeks as you turned to lick it up. Your pussy throbbed as you to a stripe at the wooden desk. Kento’s eyes burned into your back; you could feel the heat of his gaze coming off of you in waves. You were bent over at a 90-degree angle as you licked and licked and licked some more.

You had gotten lost trying to clean up your mess perfectly, and you had taken no notice of the looming figure, Nanami Kento, right behind you. His dick in hand. You were practically jumping for the opportunity to meet with your entrance.

He stroked it lazily, paying more attention to you and your licks, keeping in time with your every movement. You moaned at the sound of his rubbing getting wetter and wetter, probably from precum. You heard a chuckle leave his lips before he raised your gown over your hips and slotted his dick in between your thighs, You let out a moan at the feeling of his cock rubbing against you, but you were not alone with this; long and deep moan came out of him too, almost louder than yours. Yet he still dared to shush you.

Kento bit into your shoulder lightly before reading himself from you and begging to thrust.

“Keep licking; I still see your mess on the table, Y/N.”

His voice sent a small shiver up your spine and only made you seem to rub your thighs.

“Fuck! Don’t do that.” He warned roughly, more moaning and gasping than firm and authoritative. You only giggle, squeezing them tighter, opening them a little and then squeezing more. And that’s when he took his hand from your waist and wrapped his arm around your body, and reached out of your neck, pressing in the same way you were around his cock.

“Fuck, baby, you are gonna make me cum.”

“Then cum, Keno.” wiggling your hips at him.

And that’s all it took for him to explode over your thighs and now clenching pussy. Nanami pulled away so he could watch as it closed around nothing.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” Nanami groaned over and over. It was at that moment, as he made eye contact with your clenching hole, that he decided to flip you over and sit you on his boss's desk and fuck you.

His dick was already softening, but he didn’t care. Moaning loudly at how good he felt in you as you throbbed around him, you could have sworn you heard Kento whisper out a small,

“Thank you, god.” Before pulling out of you, to push back in.

He took it slow with you; each thrust had you whimpering for more. You felt like you could cry.

“More Kento.”

“I’m sensitive, love.”

“I don’t care,” you dug your heel into him. “Please,” you purred in his ear.

And like the gentlemen he was, he obliged you. Giving in and plunging into you. Hard. Each time he reentered you, a gasp, or moan, or groan, or some heavenly mix of all three left him, And all you good do was pant into his neck. Sinking your teeth into him, occasionally when you felt like you were going to scream.

The drag of his hips filled you with electricity. It was perfect; it was everything and more, and you hoped to god that your voices and the depraved sounds you were making didn’t carry down the hall and were loud enough for the party to hear.

“Nanami.”

“So now it’s Nanami?” Despite your tearful face still latched into his neck, you could feel his smirk and condescending tone dripping off his tongue. So you squeezed down on him, biting simultaneously, too.

“Fuck me, God.” He whimpered into your skin.

“God? Am I your God, Kento?”

“Shut up.”

At some point, your fucking turned into some weird way to torture each other, revelling in the pain and pleasure you both received from it. You clamped down on him, and he stroked your clit in circles. You bit into his neck, and he whispered the most nasty shit into you.

At some point, this became a battle of ego, an unspoken game for who would make the other cum first. Position after position, against the table, over the table, riding him on the desk, him holding against the blackboard as he fucked deeper into you.

None of you would let go. Not until the overstimulation plus the edging started to catch up with Kento did he let go, but his pride was in the way. But it wasn’t as if you were doing any better; you looked like an absolute wreck, mumbling incoherent words as he had you in a matting press on the floor.

Everything about this was depraved from both ends. And you didn’t even realise you were cumming until you felt Kento shoot his thick warm cum deep into you.

Even after he was finished and you were both slowly coming down from your highs, he slowly rocked into you, and you only continued moaning like a mindless slut.

“Look at the absolute mess I have made now, Y/N. You are just going to have to clean it up,” he said, shaking his head. He stroked the top of yours softly, still inside you, of course.

“I’ll let you leave without licking it up if you manage to keep all of my cum inside as you suck me off.” But you couldn’t even keep your eyes open. He lay atop you now. Your legs shook even after he pulled out of you, a deep blush kissing his face.

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blue-jisungs · 1 year ago

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purrfect escape

author's note. hello!!! this is my first work for opla and zoro so i hope you like it and you won’t eat me alive if you don’t teehee !! i feel like this is low-key shitty but who cares, it’s just for funsies ?! also i am very open minded to the idea of zoro reqs if there’s anyone crazy abt him too but remember to check the guidelines if you’re new on my profile!!! <3

also tagging @writingmeraki (hope u dont mind dear) bc u were the one who inspired me to start writing for opla hehe

summary. zoro doesn’t necessarily like you. but to his surprise, an improvised and unplanned escape plan makes him realise that… it may not be entirely true…?

the sun is warming your face pleasantly as you stroll around the market, the sweet smell of fresh fruits filling your nostrils. you hum and when your eyesight falls upon the stall with strawberries, you let out a gasp.

“let’s get them too!” you yelp in excitement and walk to the seller. zoro moves his feet lazily, hand still secured atop of his sword.

he didn’t understand why luffy sent you and him to get some food that sanji wanted. the damn waiter could’ve done so himself, he’d know what to choose.

but no. he’s here with your pretty self, sun prying his skin. he’d love a nap right now and not–

“here, try it! it’s so sweet, oh my…” you hum in delight and before he can protest, you’re shoving a fresh strawberry into his mouth.

zoro groans. it’s good, he’ll admit.

“do we need them?” his brows moved up, scanning you. you bit your lower lip in thought, causing his stomach to make a flip.

this strange feeling accompanied him for a while now. he always felt so… dizzy but in a pleasant way when he was with you. at first he thought he’s sick but he didn’t even have a high temperature.

the thing is, you’re cutely annoying. you talk a lot, you smile all the time, you like sweet things – literally. it pisses zoro off but then again, he feels all warm inside when he gets to hear your laugh.

“please?” you ask, pouting.

he shifts his hands, the groceries you made him carry making a rustling noise.

his brows furrow, there’s a long silence.

“fine” he groans, not entirely sure why he caved in.

so while you pay, he glares at the elderly sellsman who’s looking at you two strangely.

he recognised you.

“thank you so much! have a great–“ you start, the small basket of strawberries in your hands. zoro placed a hand on your shoulder and moved you further, urging you to walk “hey! i didn’t get to finish!”

“we need to go” he huffs and starts to look around to find a way back to going merry. which, at a crowded market and considering his skills, may be difficult.

“why?” you whine yet follow him obediently “there’s so much stuff i wanna see…”

you get your answer when the sound of coordinated and synchronised steps reaches your ears. marines.

“exactly” zoro scans your expression and his hand slips from your arm to your wrist. the hold is gentle though, almost as if afraid he’ll hurt you.

“the way out is the other way, i think” you announce and he stops suddenly, causing you to bump into his back. the sword’s handle meets with your forehead, causing you to groan “let me lead, you get lost way too easily”

he sighs but yet again today, gives in. you turn on your heel and start to lead him the way back, walking quickly through the various stands.

“they went that way!”

zoro is ready to grab his swords, noticing how the old man who sold you the strawberries is pointing at the place where you stood mere moments ago. the roofs of the stalls don’t do justice, you’re way too exposed.

“oh my god, a kitty!” you yelp and suddenly squat down, forgetting that zoro is holding onto you. if not his quick reflexes, he’d be facing the ground (literally)

“y/n, what are you–“ he hisses. another con of yours – getting distracted way too easily. especially by cute things.

“zoro, look! it’s so cute!” you whine and pet the small brown-furred feline. the cat is purring happily, naturally being pulled into your embrace “can we keep it?”

“no” zoro huffs, peeking from the stall you were squatting behind. the marines were still looking around

“why though? it’s so adorable! we would have another crewmate” a plea leaves your mouth, puppy eyes looking at him. zoro’s heart skips a beat and makes a somersault yet his face remains stone-cold, unbothered.

“no. we need to go and there’s no time for such…” his voice dies in his throat as the kitty brushed its head against your leg. the small tail cutely presses against your skin, the feline letting out the quietest meow possible.

“i love him so much, he’s adorable” you mumble, scratching its soft fur behind its ear “we’re gonna name him alfred–“

“we’re not naming this thing alfred. besides, we–“ he starts, interrupted by a sneeze out of the blue.

“is there a cat?”

you look at zoro with wide eyes, pure of shock and fear. the cat is still snuggling onto you, plopping into its back and showing its stomach – clearly requiring more scratches. while you continue eavesdroping, your hand gently grabs his and moves it to the cat’s belly.

zoro shots you an ‘annoyed’ stare but moves his fingers hesitantly nevertheless. the warmth of your touch spreads through his body.

“i’m allergic! we should go, i’ll be all swollen in no time! they’re not here, the old man maybe has some sight problems”

the green haired male shifts his gaze to you.

“are they gone?” you whisper, smiling softly at the cat.

“mhm” he hums, somewhat in disbelief.

“see? this was a purrfect escape plan!” you grin and you two begin to stand up. when getting no response, you chuckle nervously “get it? purr because the kitty–“

“i got it” zoro whispers, grabbing the groceries you made “let’s go”

“what about alfred?” you pout, looking at the kitty.

“there’s no living conditions on going merry for a cat, y/n” zoro says, sounding a bit apologetic.

you sigh and give the cat a last behind-ear scratch.

and zoro grunts, the weird warm feeling overflowing his body again. he can feel his stomach feeling a bit dizzy but in a pleasant way.

god, if he could he would give you every cat in the world if that meant seeing you so happy like moments ago.

masterlist <3

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cryingatwindermerepeaks · 3 months ago

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Please please u need to write clingy rio fic !!! :(

your headcanons AHHH

clingy baby rio is consuming my every waking thought !!! naturally had to throw in some soft mama agatha too <3

Word count: 1003

Rio missed her Mama. She hadn’t been feeling little in the morning when Agatha had left for the markets, if she had she wouldn’t have let her go. Now she was little and alone. How long had Agatha been gone? Rio wasn’t sure. She’d left in the early hours of the morning and Rio had fallen back to sleep after. It looked to be about noon now which worried Rio. Mama said she’d just be a few hours. What if something had happened to her? Rio’s stomach felt like it was full of rocks. She climbed up the bed and pressed her face against the window which looked out over the front of their cottage. Agatha wasn’t there. Rio reached over and grabbed Mr Scratchy from where he’d been knocked to the side of the bed during the night. “Mama will be back soon,” she explained quietly to her stuffie. Holding Mr Scratchy made her feel a little bit better, though it wasn’t as good as having her Mama. Mama would be back soon, she reminded herself. But it didn’t feel like that. Mama wasn’t here, she couldn’t see her, something bad could happen. Rio’s chest thundered with anxiety and she rubbed her stuffie’s face roughly against the tears which had begun to spring in her eyes. She pressed her forehead to the window. Mama would be home soon. She had to be.

When Rio saw Agatha walking up the path to their front door she jumped up from the bed and dashed downstairs, swinging open the door before Agatha could even reach it.

“Hello my love,” Agatha greeted with a smile. She only just managed to put her basket down on the front steps before Rio threw herself at her.

Rio burrowed her face in Agatha’s shoulder. “Mama,” she mumbled, clutching tightly onto the fabric of Agatha’s dress. “Don’t leave baby ‘gain.”

“Oh my poor sweet girl,” Agatha cooed, holding Rio with one arm and using the other to guide the basket inside with her magic. “Mama wasn’t gone long.”

“Too long,” Rio whined, her voice muffled in Agatha’s shoulder. Agatha gently carried Rio inside, leaving the basket on the bench and sitting down on the couch with Rio in her arms. Rio immediately curled as closely to Agatha as she could. Rio needed to be able to feel the beat of Agatha’s heart, the warmth of her skin, otherwise she began to forget if she was even there. But Mama was here right now, and she wasn’t leaving anytime soon. Agatha gently traced her nails along Rio’s back in a soothing motion.

“Were you scared I wouldn’t come back?” She asked Rio gently, guiding the little’s face out from her shoulder. Rio nodded sadly, even the thought of how scared she’d been just moments ago was enough to bring tears back to her face. “Oh, my darling,” Agatha cooed. She hated to think of her baby alone and distressed. Agatha began to rock Rio back and forth gently, holding on tightly in an attempt to regulate Rio’s nervous system. “Mama will always, always come back,” She promised. Rio sniffled and nodded. In theory she knew this was true, in practice it was harder to remember. Rio dropped her head back to Agatha’s shoulder. Agatha rubbed soothing circles to Rio’s back and reached over to the coffee table to grab the small girl’s pacifier. “Here you go bunny,” She cooed, knowing the paci would instantly calm Rio. Rio took the pacifier eagerly, humming with content. “I bought some apples and peanut butter. How about I go cut you some yummy apple slices for you to dip in peanut butter?” Agatha suggested, Rio shook her head firmly and whined. Mama wasn’t going anywhere. “You can come too,” Agatha suggested, knowing Rio would want to be near her. Rio agreed to this and they made their way to the kitchen hand in hand.

Agatha grabbed two fresh, red apples from the basket and placed them on the counter. “Baby, I’m going to need both hands to cut the apples.” Rio huffed and pouted around her paci. Agatha sighed gently, placing a kiss to the top of Rio’s head and squeezing her hand gently. “Come on my love, you need to eat and Mama needs both hands.” Rio plucked her pacifier from her mouth with a pout.

“Just use your purple,” She suggested quietly before returning her pacifier to her mouth. Agatha chuckled lightly, placing her hands under Rio’s arms and hoisting her up onto the counter next to the chopping board.

“Flying knives and babies are not a good mix,” She chided gently, poking Rio’s nose playfully. Rio giggled, Agatha’s playful tone made letting go of her hand a little bit easier. Agatha began to sing gently as she cut up the apples, encouraging Rio to join her but it came out rather muffled around her pacifier.

They ate the apples on the couch, Rio insisting on sitting on Agatha’s lap as they did so. “Mama?” She asked around a mouthful of apples.

“Yes my love?” Agatha smiled, wiping a bit of peanut butter from Rio’s chin.

“Is scary when you’re not wif me.” Agatha’s heart dropped at the sad tone in her baby’s voice.

“I’m sure it is, but you’re never really alone, yeah?” Rio frowned, scrunching up her nose in confusion. She’d been pretty alone when she’d woken up. Agatha poked her chest gently, “Mama’s always right here.” Rio blushed, a warm smile spreading across her face. She poked Agatha back,

“An’ baby right here!”

“That’s right my love,” Agatha praised gently with a kiss to Rio’s cheek. “Alright, mama’s gonna go to the bathroom,” Agatha explained gently, shifting Rio from her lap.

“Baby come too!” She squealed happily, climbing off the couch - eager to spend every waking moment with her Mama. Agatha tutted gently, shaking her head with a smile. It was going to be a long day. Still, she held out her hand for Rio.

“Yeah, baby can come too.”

#sfw agere #agatha all along agere #agatha harkness agere #mama!agatha #little!rio #Rio Vidal age regression #fandom agere

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jujutsubaby · 1 year ago

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🩷 sex drive 🩷

☆ pairing: toji fushiguro x afab!reader ☆ summary: you go to a valentine's day blood drive at work. maybe it's just that you've been single for too long, but isn't the volunteer drawing your blood kinda...? well, let's just say you wouldn't mind exchanging a few other bodily fluids with him, too. ☆ tags: modern au, workplace au ☆ warnings: 18+!! MINORS DNI!! dirty talk, oral sex (f!recieving), slight exhibitionism, daddy kink ☆ a/n: happy valentine's day (again)!! another quick little treat for u all hehe...inspired by my real life experience of going to a valentine's day blood drive (except for the fun parts ofc lmao).

you knew you should have made up an excuse and stayed home today. you hate to be a cliche bitter ass single woman who's not getting any younger on valentine's day, but it's hard not to play to type when the whole office is decorated in cutesy pinks and reds. it definitely doesn't help that your boss, suguru, keeps getting visits every 15 minutes from his boyfriend satoru.

"ugh, what's with the pda?" you grumble at what feels like satoru's 30th visit to suguru's open cubicle. "haven't you two been together for, like, a thousand years already?" your coworker utahime helpfully makes gagging noises to emphasize your point.

"hey now, y/n, you KNOW that i'm the head of marketing and suguru's the head of sales! i can't help it if he and i have lots of important things to discuss," satoru protests with puppy dog eyes.

"i didn't realize important marketing meetings involve sitting on coworkers' laps now," utahime mumbles, and the pair of you giggle conspiratorially.

however, as the day goes on and utahime keeps receiving increasingly elaborate flower arrangements delivered to her from her doctor girlfriend shoko, you find yourself feeling more glum than ever. you decide to go out for a stroll, hoping the cold february air will slap some sense into you.

unfortunately, not even five minutes after you set out, droplets of threatening rain turn into a torrential downpour. you curse; in your mopey mood this morning, you totally forgot to check the forecast!

you really don't want to go back into the lovefest of your office right now, so you start looking desperately around for a rescue — an underhang to stand under, anything.

that's when you see a bright red sign advertising a blood drive for valentine's day being held at your neighboring building. that could be an interesting idea. at least this way, you can tell yourself you did a good deed on valentine's day instead of just complaining the whole time. even more appealingly, you see that it'll take about an hour, which is one less hour you'll have to spend around satoru's soppy nicknames for suguru. after shooting a quick text to your team's group chat informing them of your last minute appointment, you decide to brave the rain and head over, hoping there's an opening for a walk-in.

you enter the room where the blood drive is taking place, praying you don't look too much like a drowned rat. your self-consciousness melts away and you smile brightly when you see a familiar face.

"shoko! you're volunteering here today?"

"oh, hey y/n," your quiet friend replies, giving you a small smile back. "yeah, utahime and i have a date nearby this evening, so i thought i might as well sign up. what time was your appointment for?"

"well, uh, i didn't exactly make an appointment..." you say awkwardly. "are walk-ins ok?"

"no problem, we got a lot of no-shows today anyway," shoko replies with a subtle roll of her eyes. she then hands you a clipboard and a pen. "just fill this out, and i'll get you screened and set up and everything."

you gratefully take the clipboard and head into the tiny compartment curtained off at the side of the room, presumably to give donors some privacy as they get screened. you fill out the form (trying not to think of your stupid ex boyfriend when you encounter the questions about your sex life), and once you're done, you poke your head back outside of the compartment.

"i'm ready now, shoko," you call. when your friend doesn't answer, you crane your neck around to the desk where she had been sitting. "shoko?"

"she just went on break," a husky, masculine voice replies from behind you. "i'll be taking over." you look back and are immediately floored by what just has to be the finest specimen of the male form you've ever seen, clad in obscenely tight scrubs that emphasize every bulging muscle. focus!!

"oh thanks doctor...um...fushiguro," you read from his nametag. he's so tall that it happens to be at your eye level, giving you quite a nice eyeful of his firm, muscular chest. what business did men have being this tall, anyway?!

"just call me toji," he says casually, grinning down at you. he takes the clipboard from your outstretched hands and jerks his head back towards the compartment you had been waiting in. "let's head back there so we have more...privacy." maybe it's just your imagination, but you could have sworn he smirked when he said that. you take deep breaths to suppress the unholy thoughts you're having, and you follow him back into the side room.

when you push the curtain aside and go in after him, you see he's already settled into one of the two chairs crammed into the tight space that he's clearly a little too large for. as you daintily resume your position in your own chair, he shifts and splays his long legs out, brushing your thigh with his knee. you inhale sharply.

he clears his throat and pulls out a pair of reading glasses from his breast pocket before reading your questionnaire. he nods at your answers (although you can't help but turn beet red as his eyes scan over the section about when you last had a new sex partner).

"looks fine to me. let's take your blood pressure now...y/n" he says, positively purring when he sounds out your name. "beautiful name for a beautiful girl," he says with a roguish wink, making you turn even redder than you ever knew was possible. was he making you uncomfortable on purpose?!

"mind taking your top off?" he asks, rummaging around in the drawer in front of him.

"i'm sorry?!" you choke out. that was a freebie! happy fucking valentine's day to you!

"oh, sorry, i meant so i can put the bp monitor around your arm. i don't know if you can roll your sleeves up in that blouse," he says, looking up from the drawer. you notice his eyes on your breasts, and you realize that you of course had worn your white button down over your lacy black camisole on the day mother nature decided to get you soaking wet. you must look like such a hussy!

you quickly unbutton your blouse and show him your arm to wrap the thick velcro band around, trying hard to avoid eye contact. it doesn't matter, though; you can feel his eyes boring into you like lasers. why does he have to be so hot?! you hope being in his presence won't throw off your blood pressure reading...you can feel your pulse going a little haywire.

As he tightens the band and starts the measurement, toji starts making small talk.

"so, you doing anything for valentine's day?"

ugh. anything but this topic.

"no," you reply simply, hoping not to broker further discussion.

he presses on, not taking your cue (or if he did, he ignored it.)

"no? what, your partner doesn't celebrate?"

toji reads out your bp measurement to you, but you don't even pay attention to it as you notice his hand brushing the side of your breast as he unwraps the bp monitor's band from your exposed arm. you gulp as you realize only the thin satiny layer of your cami is keeping his hands from touching your tits.

"uh..ah.." you say, hoping he doesn't notice the effect his one brief physical touch had on you, "n-no...my ex-boyfriend and i broke up a few months ago already." you don't mention how you saw him in your bed on your birthday in the arms of another person.

toji looks up at you from darkly hooded eyes.

"his loss...i know i'd treasure valentine's day with a pretty little thing like you."

just like that, toji snaps back into professional mode again, leaving you reeling once more from his flirtatious behavior. he was way too handsome to be acting like this on a dime! a girl like you could get ideas...

"i'm going to do a thumbprick now to get a quick reading on your blood. is that ok with you?"

you nod, and he grins at you.

"that's my girl," he hums in a low voice.

then, before you're even able to process what's happening, he takes your hand and engulfs it in his own. he then begins rubbing your hand back and forth, and you feel a small frisson of pleasure at the sensation of his callouses against your small, soft fingers.

"noticed your skin was a little cold, so i thought i'd warm your hand up before taking the sample," he explained, but you're hardly able to even listen to him as you enjoy the blissful sensation of his hands rubbing yours. his fingers were so long and thick, and so dextrous... how would those fingers feel somewhere else...no! stop! what are you thinking?! you've definitely been single for too long.

"all right, y/n," toji murmurs gently. "you're just going to feel a small prick...sorry about that..." he takes the sample and puts it into a machine for processing. he then reaches back into the drawer and withdraws a digital thermometer.

"while we're waiting for that to finish, let's take your temperature." you nod and extend your hands to take the thermometer from him, but he ignores you and instead roughly takes your chin in one of his huge, warm hands, tilting your head up towards his chest.

"open up for me now, y/n" he purrs, your name sounding like the sweetest and most beautiful sound you've ever heard when it's coming from his mouth; you can't help but comply. he gently inserts the thermometer under your tongue, and you note his eyes lingering on your lips for much longer than they have to. embarrassingly, you notice heat pooling between your legs, and tension twisting by your belly button. you could get used to this...all too soon, though, the thermometer beeps, and he takes it out. toji clicks his tongue as he reads the small display.

"99 degrees even," he reads out. "now that's a surprise."

"what? why's that?" you ask, confused. how could a body temperature be surprising?

"well, our cutoff is 99.5, and i was sure you'd be way too hot," he says with a laugh and another wink. you giggle back demurely; you can't help but act all girlish and coquettish with someone like him. you've never seen a man in real life wink so much, but you find you don't mind. it suits him.

"all right, y/n, let's go get some blood drawn!" he says enthusiastically, rising from his chair. you follow suit. he reaches around you (did his arm just brush your breasts again?) and opens the curtain for you. "after you, princess."

you used to hate when your ex called you "princess"...but when toji called you that, it sounded like the doors to the heavens opened and angels were singing. you'll definitely be thinking about that for awhile. probably before bedtime, and probably while touching yourself. you sigh and exit the small room before hopping up onto one of the cots that were brought to the building for the blood drive.

toji pops a small stress ball into your hand. "now, make a fist for me," he says, using his fingers to close yours, "and start squeezing that." he squeezes his fist around yours. it wasn't so confusing of an instruction that you needed a demonstration, and you're beginning to suspect that toji's making excuses to keep touching you. not that you mind, exactly.

you keep squeezing, and he examines the tender inside of your elbow. "that's a gorgeous vein you've got there, princess. this'll be easy for me," he murmurs seductively, and you blush. you've never been complimented on a vein, of all things, before.

soon, toji pierces your arm (pursing his lips sympathetically as you emit a sharp gasp, which of course makes you stare at his lips), and your blood is pumping merrily into a bag. you decide to make conversation with him, this time.

"how about you, toji? i'm sure someone like you has big plans for valentine's day, right?" you ask, raising your eyebrows suggestively.

"oh, yeah," he chuckles. "if you count getting high and watching magnolia for the millionth time big plans. i don't really go for that stuff," he says.

"i love paul thomas anderson," you say huskily, trying to flutter your eyelashes at him. it's been a long time since you've flirted, and you're probably embarrassing yourself. "you know what the perfect film of his for today would be, though?"

"what's that, princess?"

you smirk. "there will be blood."

toji lets out a huge laugh in spite of himself, and you smile proudly. flirtation successful!

soon, your blood has filled the small bag, and toji removes the needle, pressing gauze to the wound. the feel of his hands pressing into your arm is one of the most blissful things you've felt all week. he asks you to continue maintaining the pressure, and you feel like whining that it won't feel as nice as when he does it before remembering where you are and complying. you watch as he picks up your sample and sorts it in with the others; you feel a bit shy, seeing him manhandle your little blood bag like that. it feels so intimate.... you gulp as you imagine him manhandling you like that.

"all right, y/n, now you just need to rest for twenty minutes, and you'll be good to go." you start climbing out from the cot, feeling a little disappointed that your short, exciting interaction with toji is coming to an end. oh well. some excitement is better than none.

"we have some cookies for the donors in the seating area," he continues. "lucky you...i'd love a little taste of something sweet right about now..."

ok, it definitely wasn't your imagination — he positively growled that last sentence, and he was eyeing you. as you get up, you notice you're a little shaky on your feet; you realize that you actually hadn't eaten lunch before coming, since you'd been in such a rush to get away. you list and sway dangerously to one side, but a pair of strong arms braces you. you let your head fall back onto a perfectly firm, taut chest.

"careful, there, sweetheart" toji whispers in your ear, his breath tickling your sensitive skin as he lifts you up. you try not to think too much about how your back is pressed into him right now. "i think i'd better keep an eye on you." he walks you over to the front of the room, bracing your back against himself the whole way over. he leads you to the front of the room, where there are folding chairs and a card table with a small platter of supermarket cookies as promised. as shoko had alluded earlier, the blood drive was not busy at all. in fact, it was completely empty currently; just you and toji, alone in this room... you feel yourself getting faint again, but not for the same reason.

"y'know, princess..." toji says, sitting again with his legs splayed out over the chair across from you as you nibble a chocolate chip cookie. "my shift's ending right about...when your observation period ends."

you tilt your head inquisitively at him, hoping you knew why he was saying this. he leans forward, the flimsy plastic chair creaking under the weight of his solid muscle. what you'd let that muscle do to you...

"i don't think that i, as a medical professional, can let you go back to work today..." he continues. "i think you'd better go home after this." then, he smiles deviously. "and i think i'd better take you back, just to give you a...full examination."

it takes all of your restraint not to fling the rest of the cookie down and jump his bones right then and there. instead, you reply,

"i think i'd appreciate the house call." you do your best to make your voice ooze with suggestion so he knows you're picking up what he's putting down.

after what feels like the slowest fifteen minutes of your life, it's finally time to leave. just as toji's shift is about to end, shoko returns from her break, and you take the opportunity to ask her to have utahime bring your things back home from the office for you. since they're your neighbors, you can pick them up later tonight. or perhaps, tomorrow morning...just in case tonight gets a little too busy.

"something came up," you explain to her breathlessly, but you know shoko notices toji's hand creeping up the small of your back.

"have fun," shoko says to the both of you, only slightly judgmental but mostly encouraging.

since you took the bus to work that morning and toji refuses to wait a moment longer than he has to to commence your "examination," he insists on driving you back in his car. you both practically sprint through the parking lot, and he breaks at least three traffic laws zooming back to your apartment in the rain as you yell directions. for a doctor, he sure is awfully reckless.

finally, finally, after an agonizingly long wait, you're at your building. you're about to climb out of the car, but toji is way ahead of you, opening the door for you. you are about to climb out and jokingly thank him for his chivalry when he unceremoniously scoops you out of your seat and swings you over his shoulder. you shriek with laughter.

"toji! put me down!"

you're also all too aware that you're wearing a pretty short skirt that day.

"sorry, princess," he says smoothly. "it's protocol. i can't have you walking back in just in case you pass out, or something."

you're about to ask if he's even been to medical school when he shoves your key into your apartment door, slams it open, and, equally roughly, slams your back against the wall. the breath is shoved out of your lungs as he immediately captures your mouth with his, swallowing any potential protest you might have had (which you didn't, you absolutely didn't. not even close.). he carries your entire weight easily as he shuts the door behind him with his foot; you're hardly paying attention, though, as you're too busy widening your mouth and entangling your tongue with his. you greedily bite down on his lip, and he growls in response.

"let's get you to the examination table," he groans. you wrap your legs around his narrow waist, and he carries you haphazardly to your dining table, crashing into and knocking over furniture along the way. carrying you with one arm, he carelessly clears the table with his other before plopping you onto the tabletop. he kneels before your legs and tears off your tights in one swift motion.

"i hope you're planning to help clean up—" you start, but your breath hitches in your throat as he begins kissing up your ankle, then your calf...then your thigh...he gets slower and slower as he gets closer to where you most want him to go. you try to shift forward on the table to bring your throbbing center closer to him, but he holds you firmly in place with two powerful hands clamped on your hips.

"patience, princess..."

you close your eyes and start taking deep breaths, but the moment is disrupted by an annoying loud vibration against the wooden tabletop.

"who the fuck is 'ryomen sukuna?'" toji scoffs, "and why do you have a heart next to his name? you been lyin' to me, princess? have you been naughty?"

"no," you breathe, and it comes out as a whine. "no, daddy, i've been a good girl, promise. please..."

"'please' what, princess? help daddy out here," he purrs with a wicked grin. just then, your stupid phone vibrates again, and you're about to pick it up and throw it out the window when toji wrests it from your grip.

"your idiot ex, i'm guessing?" he asks. all you can do is nod, the words robbed from you.

"well, my professional recommendation is...for you to tell him to fuck off."

"i will, toji, i promise," you pant. "please, just ignore him, i promise, he's nothing to me."

"you're not listening to me, princess..." toji says in a low, dangerous voice. "i want you to tell him to fuck off. right. now." he slides the answer button on your phone and hands it to you before you can protest.

"h-hello?" you say, trying to keep your voice steady. "sukuna?"

"heyyyy, y/n....missed hearing your voice, boo," sukuna coos, clearly inebriated. you scoff in disgust; it's only four in the afternoon. sukuna was such a mess.

"what do you want, sukuna? i thought i w-was..." you start out assertively, but your resolve is breaking as a practiced tongue once again starts swirling its way up your legs, alternating between your left and right thighs. you clench your toes and grit your teeth before continuing.

"i was ... clear...that ... that we're o-over," you say, the last word coming out as a moan as you feel a set of teeth pulling off your panties ever so gently.

"baby, i told you!" sukuna whines. "uraume's nothin' to me, babe! they're just a friend! you're my one and only, baby!"

even in the midst of the sensory overload occurring in your bottom half, you still roll your eyes. yeah, "just friends" made out in bed naked all the time, right?

"i want you to...to...s-stop.." you pant, as sukuna finally picks up on your strange manner of speech.

"hold on, y/n, is someone there with you?" he snarls, his famous temper rising to the forefront. "you whoring it up with another guy already?"

at that, toji grabs the phone from you and growls into it, "seems like she finally decided she needs a real man, not some cheatin' asshole who can't appreciate her properly!"

the moment he finishes talking, toji leans back into your thighs and finally plunders you with his tongue, raising the phone to your mouth in time for you to moan sinfully into it as sukuna is arguing back. toji doesn't even bother hanging up as he throws the phone across the room.

toji grips your thighs tightly enough to leave bruises as he feasts on you, and you wrap your legs around him, tangle your hands in his short hair, and squirm in delight. it doesn't take you very long to come undone under his practiced mouth.

he rises back to his feet, licking his lips.

"finally got to satisfy my sweet tooth today," he says mischievously. you grab the v-neck of his shirt and tug him closer to you aggressively.

"take me to bed. it's your turn next," you declare authoritatively. then, you kiss him fiercely, tasting yourself on his lips and tongue.

"your wish is my command, princess," he replies with a dark chuckle, before lifting you, bridal style, to your bedroom.

this was shaping up to be a great valentine's day after all.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji fushiguro #toji zenin #toji x reader #fushiguro toji #jjk fanfiction #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #toji fushiguro x y/n #toji fushiguro x you #jjk modern au #toji fushiguro x reader

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mostlyghostlyy · 6 months ago

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just watched longlegs. could u write a lil something abt longlegs being creepy and weird towards someone hes got a lil crush on. unwanted touches and incorrect social cues. just talking to him makes u feel violated.

Oh, he would be the WORST!

I would imagine his crush would be fast acting. Like idk, you work at the hardware store, or local market where he does his shopping. He would interact with you once, then immediately develop an obsession with you overnight, if not that very moment. You’d start seeing him more. What turned into a once a week visit has become often an everyday occurrence.

I think he would immediately seek you out whenever possible. At first it wasn't uncomfortable, you could make small talk with him, even if he was a little unsettling. Although he seemed to be getting worse with every interaction. I'm not even sure if it's the inability to read social cues, or the complete apathy he holds towards them, but they would be scattered to the winds whenever he is talking with you.

Communicating with him would be hell. Tell him “Well, I really should get back to work.” or “have a good rest of your day” or subtle hints that you want him gone don't work. Turn away or start walking and he is following right beside you. Cross your arms and look disinterested and he will keep talking. He is also a very touchy person, he will just grab you where he wants when he wants. Then pout if you slap his hand and yell at him. Multiple times he has reached to pet your hair. Sifting his fingers through and cooing about how soft and nice it was. He tries touching you whenever he can, grazing your arms, or occasionally touching your hips and sides.

He has started to stand close to you, way too close. Close enough to smell your shampoo. Which you can audibly hear him do. Long awkward pauses carry many of your conversations, this is unfortunate because you can hear everything he does. His heavy breathing, mainly through his mouth when he is not inhaling your scent. Huffs coming out in raspy blows, you notice that he starts breathing more and more heavily around you.

The way he looks at you, you can tell he is fucking you with his eyes. His cold blue eyes roaming over your body, not caring if you knew. He is constantly staring at your tits, licking his lips before going back to smiling at you. If you were wearing anything other than a crew neck shirt, anything that even hinted at possible cleavage, or godforbid a plunging v-neck and he wouldn't be able to peel his eyes away.

He would make weird ass comments too. “You’re so pretty, you should come work for me instead.” or “You have such a nice voice, Angel. You should show me what else that mouth does.” Or just something that he blurts out and you don't know if he meant to say it aloud like “What color are your nipples” or something of that nature. It is becoming harder for him to control his arousal with you, getting a boner multiple times throughout your conversations. I don't even think he would try to hide it because he's just that degenerate.

Kobble stalks around the store. Practically looming over you until you’re alone. And once you are, he's pretty much on top of you. Shuffling up to you and asking about your day, you keep moving away from him, walking backwards until your ass hits the corner wall. He's putting his hands on your waist now, pushing you further into the wall. “Please, dont. There are other people in this building, I-” He swiftly mocks your cries “We’re all alone in this corner, Angel. And besides-” You try pushing past him. He grunts, grinding his teeth. Shoving you back into the wall, he gives you a cautionary glare. “I’ll make you feel good.”

He slides his hands up to grope at your breasts. Pawing at them and playing with them through the fabric. You turn your face away from his sour breath as he chuckles. Soon he trails his hands under your shirt, under your bra. No barrier protecting your tits from his adventurous touch. You’re still squirming. “Do you like that? What's the matter? Don't want to talk to your old friend Dale? Oh but we are friends right?” He hums, mouth right against your ear.

You feel something wet and warm pressed against the side of your face. It doesn't take you long to think “Oh god that's his tongue” You let out a little sob, which seems to encourage him. He's dragging his tongue from the corner of your mouth up to your ear. Then you feel the wet muscle probe your ear. He's lapping at your ear for minutes. Moaning into it, pushing his tongue as far down your ear canal as he possibly can. Swirling around the lobe and biting. He’s biting so hard, trying to make your earlobe bleed. All the while still groping at your tits, squeezing them and running his thumb over your nipples.

He pulls away, a string of spit connects him to your ear. your ear is damp with saliva and probably blood too. Kobble wipes his chin, and lewd smile on his face. He promises to come back tomorrow for round two.

#so awkward if he just started singing #its giving restaurant “happy birthday” vibes #anon my beloved 💕#longlegs #dale kobble #dale kobble x reader #longlegs x reader #ask

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mashiraostail · 1 year ago

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Found you through your BG3 stuff and it’s so good I’m foaming at the mouth

Could I request soft dom Karlach with a fem reader, maybe with a bit of praise thrown in if that’s alright?

Thank you I owe u my life

omg ask and u shall receive and it wont be self serving to me at all even a little!

I love Karlach and I love women this was sooo epic

NSFW under the cut :3

"Oh stop it-" Karlach is cringing as Shadowheart quite literally wrings blood from her hair, "you'll make me sick!'

"I can hardly help it, I'm always in the splash zone when I go into a fight with you." Shadowheart doesn't look happy about the situation either, but what must be done must be done.

"You certainly wouldn't hear me complaining, though I do like a more...direct method of delivery." Astarion some how came out the other side fairly clean.

"Oh come on, enough with the blood and guts stuff." Karlach groans, "so gross."

"What, are you trying to save your appetite?" Shadowheart laughs and flicks her hair over her shoulder, sending a small splatter of blood onto Astarion's arm. The two of them made a terribly snarky, gossipy duo. Karlach was just glad they had made friends.

"So what if I am?" Karlach crosses her arms, "I've already been denied ten years why should I be any longer? Especially at the expense of your grimy hair."

Astarion laughs at that, "no, you're right. All the power to you my friend." He looks around a moment, "say where is your favorite midnight snack?"

Karlach whirls around too, "oh shit, have we lost her?"

"She is a slippery one." Shadowheart nods.

"Kalrach would know." Astarion agrees. Karlach guffaws, shoves him. There were plenty of good things about getting her tune up, the kissing, the sex, the cuddling, and the knocking the wind out of Astarion every time he said something gross, odd, or rude.

"Cut it out." She tries to wipe the warmth off her face, being on fire was hot enough, why be embarrassed too.

"Hey! You left without me?!" You're appearing over a small hill, a new, heavy looking bag on your shoulder, "did I take that long?"

"We thought you ran away." Astarion shakes his head, "you took forever."

"Gale asked me to pick up some things." You hike the bag up your shoulder, "camp isn't far though, I guess we picked a good spot with this little market so close and all. What'd you all get into?" You stop once you've joined the group, "oh Shadowheart you smell awful-"

"Imps. Imps and goblins." Shadowheart mutters, "it's always imps and goblins."

"Together?"

"No."

"Sorry I missed it then." You laugh a little. Karlach takes the bag off your shoulder. "Oh you've probably been fighting all afternoon I can-"

"Don't worry about it, make up for leaving you behind. I always carry the stuff."

"I told you to go on without me, I guess I didn't think you actually would though." You laugh a bit.

"Well in your absence Karlach has told us all about how, when she does get you to herself you always-"

"Stop!" She shoves Astarion hard enough to make him stumble, "oh I should light you up." Shadowheart is just snickering to herself.

"I didn't-" She addresses your horrified look, "I didn't tell them anything I swear." She holds her hands up, "and even if I had, which I didn't! It's nothing to be embarrassed about, you're killer in bed. Probably just make them jealous, that's why I don't say anything."

You will the color out of your face at her comment and make the short walk back to camp with silly but comfortable conversation flowing between your little group. The sun's set in the sky by now so you're glad to be so close to camp, otherwise it may have been difficult to find your way back.

When you do make it back Gale looks excited to see you all, "did they have everything?"

"Uh...dunno, I'm just the mule." Karlach shrugs, and holds the bag out, "you'll wanna talk to the manager." She jabs a thumb to you, his gaze follows.

"They did I just- Karlach!" You brush the bag over the Gale and hold her wrist, "look! You're all cut up!"

"Oh am I?" She looks down at her arm, sure enough there were a myriad of claw marks on her forearm, "aw shit, look at that. Didn't even notice, little buggers. Enjoy your stuff Gale I've gotta patch up." You follow her away without finishing your afterthought for Gale.

"Halsin's left for the day, he said he had some friends in the area who may have information for us." You frown, "how's Shadowheart?"

"She needs to rest up before she can use anymore healing magic." Karlach shakes her head, "they're barely some scrapes, I'll be fine for now, I'll go clean up, then well...I dunno I'm yours."

"Let me help, it will be easier with two." You look hopefully up at her, "there's a river close by, we can clean you off and patch you up." She's grinning.

"Come on, you're not worried about a few little scrapes are you? Do you know who I am?" She looks delighted despite her words.

"I'm very familiar, that's why I want to help."

"You're worried? About little old me?" She's squeezing your shoulders as you walk together, "or do you just want to play nurse?"

"Maybe both." You glance up at her, she's practically buzzing.

"Don't tease me." She warns, "you'll ruin my night."

Of course you'd never do a thing like that. Though cleaning her up does take precedent, despite her groaning and whining.

"We need to make sure it's clean, then we can wrap it up." You hand her a shirt to tear up into some makeshift bandages. She uses her free hand and her teeth to do so, she certainly notices you shift and avert your gaze.

"What are you all shy about?" She laughs at the color on your face.

"You know." You tut and frown at her, though it's not very believable.

"What? Is it me?" She watches you use one piece of the shirt to wipe the blood, "Am I making you act all shy?"

"You're always so mean to me-"

"Its me isn't it? You like me, don't you?"

"Oh stop." You press a damp hand to you cheek, trying to cool off.

"What? Tell me all about it! Do you fantasize about me? Have dreams about me?" She's leaning towards you, her voice teasing. You use another piece of cloth the wipe her arm off with some water.

You scoff and look away from her, it just makes her laugh.

"Your silence speaks volumes! Tell me!"

"No!" You use three strips of thicker fabric to wrap her arm up, "I won't!"

"So you don't deny it!" She catches you by your waist, "tell me, or you are not getting a single thing from me tonight-"

"You're evil! You should know how it feels to be denied! Have a heart!"

"Oh I've got one, wanna see?" She's laughing, nosing at your jaw, of course you tilt your head for her, you could never deny her, despite yourself. "Come on, just give me a little taste."

"I don't have anything to tell you!" The crimson engulfing your face said otherwise.

"Uh-huh." Karlach wraps her arms around your back, "can I have a kiss?"

You indulge her without saying anything else about the subject, she seems contended with it for now. You have a feeling you aren't quite out of the woods though.

"You look so pretty when you're embarrassed." She holds you by your chin, "I can't help myself." Her hands are tugging at your shirt, you help her slide it off. She takes in the sight of you with as much enthusiasm as always you can practically hear her brain knocking around in her skull, every thud screaming with excitement, 'TITS!!!!'

"I'm so fucking lucky-" She's giddy with it, kissing down your neck and shoulders, probably planning her attack on your chest. "You're such a sweet thing, gods, I don't know how I have it in me to behave all day knowing this is the sight hiding under all that armor you wear."

You gladly clamber into her lap, she's ducking down into your chest, her hands exploring the newly exposed flesh unabashedly. "You're really very pretty, you know?" She says it into your sternum, you're trying desperately to undress her, eventually she takes pity on you and helps it along. When she stands to shake the last of her clothes off all you can do is drop to your knees, she laughs.

"Well I wasn't gonna boss you around or anything." She's grinning at you and gods you love her, it's all you can think about, you're kissing at her stomach rubbing your face into her warm skin, she just laughs some more.

"Aw look't you, so sweet. What is it? You wanna take care of me?" You make a choked off noise at that, nodding and pulling her closer, it's a frantic nod though, rushed and almost desperate.

"Alright, alright, don't start crying now." She pulls you away to look at you for a moment, "you aren't off the hook, but I'll take a detour." She slings a leg over your shoulder and her hand tangled in your hair on impulse and you close your eyes, if only to hide how far back your eyes roll into your skull. Occasionally you feel her nails scrape the nape of your neck. You were pressing your lips to her, running long strokes over her with your tongue and thumbing at the the wetness whenever you needed to catch your breath. Karlach hadn't taken her eyes off you, she was practically singing you praises and it made your stomach knot up desperately.

She uses her grip on your hair to guide you along but she doesn't need to do much, you already know what to do. She pays extra care to pull all your hair off your face to get the best look at you she can.

"Gods, look't you, pretty girl, just like that, 's perfect." Even her moans are perfect, it's obscene. If anyone asked you she should be locked up, wearing a big flashing warning sign. All you can do is moan, hold onto her thighs, beg to be impossibly closer.

"What're you moaning at?" She's grinning devilishly, "you just like the sound of my voice don't you?"

"Yes, yes I do-" The way she tugs on your hair pulls a perfectly lovely moan out of you, and it makes her laugh in a warm, fond sort of way that makes you want to lay down and spread your legs open for her.

"Alright then, lucky for you I love talking to pretty girls." By the grace of some god you find it in you to play a bit coy with her.

"You think I'm pretty?" You're looking up at her with perfect blown out pupils, and swollen red lips wearing her cum like lipgloss, matter of fact it's spread out pretty evenly over your cheeks and chin too.

"Oh fuck-" She drops her head against the tree she's been leaning on, "I'll blow my fucking lid, cut that out. You wouldn't be able to survive the things you're making me want to do to you."

"I'd try, for you." If she had something to say to that you don't let her get it out. You realized your mouth had been too far away for far too long. You missed the feeling of her tugging at your hair, pushing and pulling you to her own accord.

"Oh gods- dammnit-" She's bucking her hips into your face, her hold on your head especially tight, she groans, it's from her chest, low and thankful. You feel her stutter with the orgasm rolling over her and she pushes you away. Her chest heaving.

"You're a dream, you know?" She's pulling you to your feet, she laughs when she has to steady you a bit, then she kisses you. "Taking such good care of me all night. Looking so pretty while you do."

You feel her hands on between your shoulder blades, she's kissing down your jaw and neck, you're putty in her hands, waiting to be put where she wanted you.

"Come on," She's picking you up, wrapping your legs around her middle, "tell me, before I could touch you like this, and you had to take care of yourself. Tell me what you thought of. I'll tell you mine."

"It's so embarrassing-" You honest to god whine at her, if she were a stronger woman she'd be able to suppress the shudder it sent up her spine.

"Tell me, I'll give you whatever you want, all night if you do."

"It was just you-" You groan as she sets you down on your back and crawls on top of you, "your voice, I could hear it in my head so clearly." She's grinning from ear to ear, impish and coy.

"What was I saying? Was I bossing you around?" She laughed a little because gods you were an idiot, all she had to do was lay you down and you were spreading your legs for her.

"Sometimes-" Your chest was stuttering.

"Oh?" She pushes the syllable through pursed, curious lips, "what about the other times?"

"You're moaning," you're bucking your hips, searching for pay off, something anything the heat was unbearable. "Saying I'm good, calling me pretty-" You couldn't help the hand you brought down to rub over yourself, it was just something else for Karlach to look at.

"You like when I call you pretty?" She's attacking your chest with kisses that leave a burning trail in their wake, "you touch yourself and imagine me watching, calling you pretty?" She laughs that laugh again, the one that makes you wanna lay face down for her. "Maybe you're just as far gone as I am."

"I definitely am." You're practically begging her to touch, after 10 years of holding back she finds it almost impossible to deny you.

"Wanna see if it's as good as when you dreamed about it?" She's pulling you up, turning you over, you go because you're so stupid for her when you get like this, she could walk you off a cliff if she wanted.

" Are you gonna make yourself cum for me?"

This was overwhelming, you felt drunk, your emotions were running so high, you were so horny you could sob, "I'd do whatever you want-" She was kissing at the backs of your thighs, you could feel her breath on your desperate fingers.

"Oh, careful pretty girl you're giving me too much power." She's laughing, her voice was low against your skin and it made you shudder. "I might not be so nice next time."

"No, no, you can do whatever you want to me Karlach- fuck-" You gasp, feeling her thumb brush against you.

"Whatever I want?" You can hear the grin in her voice, impishly charming.

"Yeah, anything-"

"I could tie you up?" She nipped at your skin and that paired with the thought of it alone could get you to cum, "yes please-" Your eyes were glossed over, you were pushing your hips back into her, begging for a firmer touch.

"Oh gods, you've gotten yourself into trouble now. And here I thought you were a nice girl." One of her hands pulls your upper thigh, right were it meets your ass, to get a better look at you.

"You know," Her other hand joins, taking the other thigh, you can feel her nails pressing your skin, "really I can't think of anything else to say but pretty. You are so pretty for me. I can't blame myself for thinking you were a good girl, how could anyone so pretty be bad?"

All you can do is moan, practically cry at it.

"You know it's everything too, not just this." Her thumb brushes you again and you actually think you feel your soul leave your body. "The noises you make, and that pretty red blush you get every time you look up at me. Like I'm deflowering you every time I touch you. Ravishing you, scandalizing you."

"Karlach, please-" She hadn't asked you to beg, that was all on your own accord.

She makes a pouting noise, faux sympathy, "alright, I'll give in. Tell me where you want me, pretty girl. I can't say no to face like your's."

You don't know where to start, you want it all honestly. Lucky for you she's started, replacing your hand with her own then slipping her fingers into you. You were melting into the ground below letting out a desperate warbling moan mixed with a handful of profanities.

"Good or bad-" She cautions and you shake your head, the momentary loss of friction makes your eyes water desperately.

"Good! Good, Karlach, please, fuck-"

You were whining and moaning into your arm, which had been previously holding your chest off the ground. Your eyebrows turn up at it, "oh fuck-"

You were acutely aware of how well she knew your body at this point. Every stroke into you had you moaning, rumbling from your chest, the momentum she'd picked up carrying with a bounce in your cries.

For a split second she was gone, stopping to wrap her arm around your front, as quickly as the touch was gone it was back. Then her free hand was in your hair dragging you up to press your back against her chest and fuck it hurt a little but in a way that made your spine tingle and ripped the most beautiful fucking moan Karlach had ever heard out of you.

"Oh sweetheart-" She moans it into your neck, "you'll kill me at this rate." Her arm wraps around your middle and you grip her forearm with your hand, the other coming around your back to hold onto her there.

She picked back up to pace quickly with you against her chest, bounding forward with unrelenting force that hit you so hard she could hear it in your voice.

"That's it, you pretty thing, just like that, huh? That's perfect." She's cooing into the crook of your neck, "good, good job."

"Fuck-" Your nails dig into her arm, "fuck me, Karlach-"

"The mouth on you lovely girl," She groans into your neck, pulling you into a sloppy but stupidly hot kiss.

"When it was me, waiting to finally touch you, this is what I thought about." You can feel her breath behind your ear when she speaks, "all the different ways I could completely undo you, how good you'd be for me while I did, how you would beg for me to do it. I'd never make you worry about anything, no." She tsks, "I thought about how much fun it would be, taking care of you. I got off thinking about your pretty, empty head, getting railed by me. How'd I do?"

"I'm gonna cum-" You somehow manage to choke it out, "'m gonna- fuck!" Your eyebrows knit together and of course she grins.

"Go 'head, I wanna see it." She was kissing your shoulders a hand coming down to thumb at your clit, you keen loud and still bouncing, "wanna hear it-" She murmured into your skin, "I definitely wanna feel it too."

"Oh fuck-" You gasp, your eyes roll back from the shock of it. Thank god she can't see your face because you must have been drooling. The jerking tenseness of your hips and the way you called out her name like she was an angel would drive her insane for months to come all she can do is sink her teeth into your shoulder.

If it wasn't for her arm around you you'd have slumped to the ground.

"That good?" She laughs and you nod.

"Come on, let's clean you up." She lays you down and takes the extra pieces of cloth you had on hand to wipe you clean, "are you alright?" You only nod again and she chuckles,

"and she was too stunned to speak. Another knock out performance by Karlach."

That gets a snort out of you and you shove her arm, "come off it, K."

"Uh oh, someone sounds tired." Her hand rubs your stomach, you're purring like a cat.

"No I'm not." You drag your hand down her stomach, obviously downwards and she laughs.

"Easy there solider, I think the others are expecting to do a least a little adventuring tomorrow. You look ready to pass out anyway." She gathers your clothes up, then you where you'd crumpled into the floor.

"Come on solider." She hoists you over her shoulder, "let's go to bed, I'll get you all tucked in nice and warm in my tent."

"Yeah, okay....good idea K." You were content to dangle over her shoulder, "K, I love you."

"OH I know you do, pretty." She pats your backside, "but I love you more."

You gasp as she drops you onto her bedroll, "no way!"

"Yes way." She's kissing and nuzzling your neck while you laugh, "admit it before I have to ravish you right here in this tent to prove it!"

For as delightful as your touch was your laugh was just as intoxicating, you nodded desperately trying to squirm away from the ticklish kisses and bites.

"Lay down." Karlach pulls away, smiling, "I don't think there's anyone on the planet who's ever loved anyone as much as I love you." She thumbs at your bottom lip, "and I don't think there's anyone in the world half as a pretty as you are. Sleep tight knowing that." You preen at her words as she settles down into bed with you.

"Let's go to sleep, we haven't go much nighttime left, no thanks to you."

#karlach x reader #karlach x tav #bauldrs gate 3 #karlach #bg3 #karlach bg3

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