#just bit...low energy mood lets say

[thecourtjester12]

Hmmmm, I seeeeee....... You couldn't wait for me to arrive on my own, could youuuu... Hehehehe..... You saw your friend getting attention and wanted to join in, did you? Wellllll..... Who am I to refuse? Besidesssss...... We BOTH get the attention this way.........

~ Moondrop 🌕

Hello!!! I didn't expect that to actually work, I am tired (mentally tired I mean) and was being silly

It's very nice to see you again, you seem like pleasant company, if a bit....ominous at times :3

(And your wording implies...Jealousy or Envy perhaps...? What a strange thing humans feel...I do not understand it)

But it's very nice to see you again, I hope your time with Qwill goes well, it seemed really eager to share plushies with you ^-^

...I wonder if my silly shenanigans have lost me the title of friend XD

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[rafecameronssl4t]

How about Pope/JJ having a crush on Topper’s younger sister which is also Rafe’s girl and him making sure he knows his place and the fact that she’s his girl. Maybe she’s the island sweetheart and she’s nice to everyone, and sometimes she hangs out with the pogues (despite her brother and boyfriend hating that) and Rafe noticed how the boy looks at her and decides to put on a little show to prove she’s his girl 🫣🥹

Get in losers, we’re going shopping || Rafe Cameron x Thornton!reader

A/n: This was so fun to write thank u for the request 🫶

Warnings: swearing, suggestive, possesive/jealous!rafe, if there’s anything else lmk

Word count: 1,837

MASTERLIST (rafe x thornton!reader au masterlist)

Divider by @yoonitos

mood board

As you drive along, a smile creeps across your face when you notice JJ and Pope walking on the side of the road. You slow your car, matching their pace, which causes them to exchange puzzled glances before coming to a halt.

Rolling down your window, you lift your sunglasses, locking eyes with the two boys. Their confusion quickly shifts to recognition, and a mix of surprise and curiosity spreads across their faces.

“Hey boys,” you greet them with a smile. “Oh—hey, y/n,” Pope stammers, making you giggle. “This your new car?” JJ asks, patting the sleek Porsche. You hum in response, “want a ride?” you offer sweetly.

The boys exchange a quick glance before sprinting to the passenger side, shoving each other. In the end, Pope manages to snag the seat, and you laugh at their antics.

“I’ll sugar momma you guys today,” you wink at them, moving the stick into gear. They grin widely, and you drive off, the engine purring smoothly. “So, where are we—” Pope starts, but he’s cut off by the sound of your phone ringing. Rafe’s name flashes on the display, and the boys visibly tense up, their smiles fading as discomfort sets in.

“Hi, Rafe,” you say, your voice carrying a mix of warmth and caution. “Hi baby, whatcha doin’? Thought I might come over to yours in a few minutes, gotta see Top for something too” Rafe’s voice fills the car, a smooth and confident drawl.

“I’m out right now, and I won’t be home for a bit,” you reply, tapping your finger against the steering wheel. The boys sit in tense silence, trying to act nonchalant but clearly uncomfortable with the conversation. The cheerful energy from earlier is all but gone, replaced by a palpable tension that hangs in the air.

It’s silent on the other end before Rafe speaks up again. “Right, where—where are you right now? You with anyone?” he stutters, his tone shifting to one of suspicion. Pope’s eyes widen, and he freaks out. “I don’t think we should be here right now,” he mutters under his breath. Eyes wide, you slap a hand over his mouth. “Shut up, dude!” JJ whisper-yells, trying to keep his voice low. You throw JJ a look that clearly says he isn’t helping.

Hearing the voices, Rafe stands up from his seat, his eyebrows furrowed. “Who was that?” he questions sharply. You glance at the boys, feeling the weight of the situation.“Uh, I’m just with Pope and JJ,” you quietly admit, bracing yourself for Rafe’s reaction.

There’s a brief, tense silence on the other end of the line, and you can almost hear Rafe’s jaw clench. You know how your boyfriend feels about you hanging out with them, and the tension in the car thickens as you wait for his response.

“Are you serious right now? How many times have I told you I don’t want you hangin’ around with them?” He angrily says. You roll your eyes, already feeling the annoyance building. “Rafe, I’m not having this conversation with you right now, okay?” you reply, trying to keep your voice steady.

“No. We’re having this conversation right now. Does Topper even know you’re hanging out with those Pogues?” Rafe snaps back, his tone leaving no room for argument. You let out a frustrated sigh, glancing at Pope and JJ, who look increasingly uncomfortable.

“Rafe, not right now. I’m hanging up, okay? Hanging up right now—” you begin, but Rafe interjects, “Don’t you dare—”Before he can finish his sentence, you press end call. The car falls into an uneasy silence as Pope and JJ sit there quietly, processing what just happened.

“Uhm, so that just happened,” Pope says, staring out at the road in front of him as you chuckle. “I’m so sorry you guys had to hear that,” You apologetically say, biting your bottom lip anxiously, “Nah, don’t even worry about it,” JJ reassures you as you smile at him through the rearview mirror. “Do you guys wanna get some gelato? I’m craving some right now,” You offer as you turn into the main road of Kildare.

~

Opening the door to your house, you pause for a moment as your eyes fall on Topper and Rafe lounging on the sofa. Topper is scrolling through his phone, barely glancing up at your entrance, while Rafe reclines with a smug look on his face.

“Where have you been?” Topper asks, his gaze still fixed on his phone. You hesitate, glancing at Rafe, whose smirk only deepens. “Uh, did Rafe not tell you?” you ask, your voice tinged with confusion since you for sure thought that he would tell your brother who shared the same disdain towards JJ and Pope.

Rafe raises an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the discomfort he’s causing. “Tell him what?” he says innocently, leaning back further into the cushions. “Oh, nothing. I was just hanging out with my friends,” You say as you slip off your sandals, Topper giving you and Rafe a suspicious look.

“Yeah, okay. How’s your new car, by the way? Have you scratched it yet? Cause if you did, you know Mom and Dad will throw a fit,” Topper says casually, his tone laced with a hint of sarcasm. You roll your eyes, feeling the familiar sting of his passive-aggressiveness. Without responding, you turn to leave the room.

Rafe gets up from the sofa and follows behind you, his expression unreadable. “How does my little sister end up with a Porsche for her first car anyway? It’s fuckin’ unfair,” Topper’s voice jeered from the adjacent room, his tone laced with mockery. “Shut up, Topper!” you retorted, frustration seeping into your voice as Rafe let out a soft, amused snort.

“What are you doing here, by the way?” you ask Rafe who shuts your door behind him as you set your shopping bags down on the ground. “Can I not see my girlfriend?” he says with a playful smirk, his eyes dancing with mischief as he lounges comfortably on your bed.

You pause, studying his expression for any hint of underlying motive. “I just thought you wouldn’t wait for me after I told you who I was hanging out with,” you say cautiously, carefully avoiding mentioning JJ or Pope by name.

Rafe’s response is nonchalant, almost dismissive. He simply shrugs, as if your concerns are of little importance to him. “Don’t care,” he replies coolly, his tone betraying no trace of emotion. You lean against your window, raising an eyebrow at his nonchalance. “Really?” you say, not quite believing him.

He hums, his expression unchanged. “Yeah, really.” You slowly nod, still feeling a bit skeptical. “You coming to the party tonight, right?” Rafe speaks up, breaking the tension as you throw your new clothes into your hamper. “I didn’t even know there was a party tonight, but sure,” you shrug, before collapsing on top of Rafe, who exaggerates a loud groan in response, playfully protesting your weight.

~

Getting out of the car, you could already feel the curious stares people were giving your way as Topper and Rafe walked up behind you. The beach was buzzing with activity, and you took in the scene, noting the mix of familiar and unfamiliar faces.

Scanning the crowd, you quickly spot JJ and Pope hanging out with a few others near the bonfire. They notice you and wave enthusiastically. A smile spreads across your face as you lift your hand, ready to wave back, but before you can, Rafe grabs your hand firmly.

“C’mon, let’s get some drinks,” he mutters against your ear, his breath warm on your skin. His tone is casual, but the grip on your hand leaves little room for argument. You glance back at JJ and Pope, who are now watching the interaction closely, their expressions shifting to concern.

Reluctantly, you let Rafe guide you towards the makeshift bar set up on the sand. Topper falls into step beside you, his presence adding to the tension. “Here,” Rafe passes you a drink as you gratefully take it.

“What are you looking at?” you ask, staring at Rafe’s side profile. He turns to you, his eyes narrowing slightly as he pulls you closer. “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it,” he mutters, his tone trying to sound reassuring but tinged with irritation.

Following his earlier line of sight, you glance over and spot JJ and Pope. They’re laughing with a group of friends, seemingly unaware of Rafe’s intense gaze moments ago. Your stomach tightens as you realize he’s been watching them.

Rafe’s grip on you tightens ever so slightly, a subtle reminder of his possessive nature. You look back at him, trying to gauge his mood, but his expression is a mask of casual indifference. The contrast between his actions and his words leaves you feeling uneasy,

“Let’s go,” Rafe suddenly stands up, grabbing your hand abruptly, “What?” As soon as Rafe is standing up with you following along, you hear the whistles and low muttering of people. “Everyone shut the hell up!” Topper groans, watching his little sister and bestfriend walk off.

“Rafe, where are we going?” you ask, glancing back at the crowd, feeling the weight of their stares and the palpable tension in the air. “Shh, it’s fine, we’re just going back to your car,” Rafe says, pulling you closer. He leans in to kiss you, and you feel his smirk against your lips. His hands begin to wander, moving further down your back, his touch both familiar and possessive.

“Rafe,” you pull back slightly, your voice tinged with concern. “It’s fine, yeah? Please?” He looks at you with a familiar intensity, his eyes pleading yet commanding. It’s a look you know all too well, one that mixes affection with an undercurrent of control.

Playfully rolling your eyes, you unlock the car and gently push him before settling down on his lap. His arms wrap around you tightly, holding you close with an almost possessive firmness. You can feel the strength in his grip, the way he presses you against him, as if asserting his claim over you.

“You’re mine, y’know that, right?” he mutters against your neck, his breath warm and slightly ragged. “Mhm, I know that,” you mumble, your hands running through his hair. His fingers dig into your waist, drawing you even closer. His scent, a mix of cologne and the salty sea air, envelops you, creating an intoxicating mix of comfort and confinement.

You tilt your head slightly, allowing him better access to your neck as he continues to murmur possessive reassurances.

~

“Y/n?” You lift your head just as you finish zipping up your shorts. “Hey—” The greeting dies on your lips when you find yourself face to face with JJ. “What are you doing here?” you ask, awkwardly chuckling and smoothing down your hair. The sound of Rafe exiting the car behind you adds to the tension.

JJ’s eyes trace your appearance before flicking behind you to Rafe. “We were just about to, uh, leave,” he says, scratching his head. You nod awkwardly. “Hey, Y/n,” Pope greets as he joins the scene, sensing the uncomfortable vibe. You manage a smile at him. “Hi—” you start, but your words falter as Rafe steps up beside you, still buttoning his shirt. JJ and Pope stand there awkwardly, waiting, while Rafe ignores their presence.

“Did you guys have fun?” you ask, attempting to lighten the mood. Rafe finally looks up, a smirk playing on his lips as he glances at the boys. “Yeah, yeah, it was fun, I guess,” Pope replies hesitantly. JJ’s pained smile shifts between you and Rafe. “You guys sure did, huh?”

Rafe snorts at JJ’s comment, prompting you to slap his chest lightly. There was awkward silence before you speak up, “Did you guys want a lift back?” you offer.

Before they can respond, Rafe interjects, “Baby, you’ve had a few drinks already. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”JJ rolls his eyes at Rafe. “It’s fine, we’ll find our own way home,” Pope says, his smile tinged with sadness. You nod slowly.

“Yeah, you do that,” Rafe says dismissively, pulling you back towards the group. “Come on, babe.” You glance back at JJ and Pope one last time, mouthing a silent apology as they briefly wave goodbye. The expressions on their faces stay with you—a mix of disappointment and hurt that you can’t shake off.

[robo-writing]

Kinktober Day Nine: Origins! Logan - Face Sitting | Kinktober Masterlist |

The moment Logan walked through the door, smelling like a forest and just as dirty, you could tell you were in for it. Work boots heavy against the wood flooring, his footsteps your only warning before he grabs you from behind, pulling you close as he mumbles into your hair.

“Had a hard day at work?” You ask, and your answer is given by the groan he lets out, your fingers tangling into his.

“You’ve got no fuckin’ clue,” he sighs, turning you around. It’s now you can truly see the exhaustion on his face, soon overtaken by the lovesick look in his eyes. 

“Okay, how about I cook you dinner?”

“Nah, not what I’m really hungry for right now.”

Your giggle is infectious, a smile spreading across his face while he sheds himself of his vest. “Yeah? You liked that one?”

You nod, pulling him to your shared bedroom. “I did. So what exactly are you hungry for?”

A rhetorical question of course, because in the time it takes you to ask he’s already lifting you off the ground, carrying you to the bedroom with a renewed energy.

“Oh, you weren’t joking,” you gasp, falling to the bed unceremoniously. Logan stands before you, torso bare for your viewing pleasure, humming when your hand reaches to stroke his exposed abs, enjoying the scratch of your nails against his skin—until he pulls your hand away.

You’re confused, until he crawls over you and takes up residence between your legs. Inch by inch, his lips kiss a trail from your navel, lower and lower until he’s nosing at your cloth-covered pussy.

“Sorry baby, not in the mood to play with my food right now,” he says, pulling your underwear from your body. “Been thinking about you the entire car ride home.”

He looks like it too—from the lost expression in his face to how he shudders when his eyes lock onto your bare cunt, he’s practically drooling for a taste. And yet, he hasn’t moved yet.

Your anticipation is slowly turning to impatience, ready to ask him what’s wrong before his voice cuts into the silence, low and defined.

“Baby, do you think we could try something?”

You lean forward a bit, a bit curious. “Something new?”

“New position,” he mutters. “Something I’ve been thinking about for a while.”

Curiosity piqued, you nod your head and suddenly you’re being manhandled, lifted to sit on his torso while he makes himself comfortable below you.

He’s excited, you’re still confused. “Logan, what’s going on?”

His smile is all teeth, hands pulling you to his face with a yelp. “I want you to sit on my face.”

You and your husband are no strangers to an adventurous sex life, you’d be a fool not to take him up on any of his ideas involving sex, but this is certainly a new one.

You’re hovering over his face—hovering, because reality is setting in and your nerves are building. Logan looks up at you like he always does, just dying to taste you, tongue peeking through his lips, but you’re getting further and further into your head and he knows it.

His hands rub up and down your legs, palms engulfing the meat of your thighs. “Relax baby, I’ve got you.”

“Are you sure about this?” You ask, looking down at him nervously. “I don’t wanna hurt you—“

“You won’t, promise,” he answers, kissing at the bare skin of your thighs. 

“But this should be fine, right?” You nod towards your still-hovering form. “What if I crush you?”

“That’s not happening.”

“Yeah, but what if?”

He shakes his head, looking up into your eyes.“Oh no, don’t get shy on me now, sit on my face doll. I can handle the weight.”

The words are said with a smile, but you know that mischievous look anywhere, instinctively rising your hips at the same time he anchors his hands into them.

“Baby, hold on—“ You’re ready to argue but before you can get a word in his grip on your thighs tighten. 

“How many times I gotta tell you doll, when I say sit on my face—“ 

You’re dragged down suddenly, a yelp escaping you as he plants you where he wants you to be.

“—I mean sit on my fucking face.”

His super strength forces you still as he speaks into your cunt. His lips move as he speaks, tongue flat against your labia as he revels in the taste, groaning obscenely with each lick. Your shaky hands lock onto his for purchase and he fucking laughs into your pussy, the vibrations only serving to make you even more aroused.

“That’s more like it,” he says, voice muffled between your thighs. His tongue laps frantically, far too engrossed in you to pay attention to his cock standing at attention—you can tell he’s still talking, but none of it is legible between your moans and the sound of your pussy being eaten like Sunday dinner. 

You beg him for a break but he’s not listening—not when you taste like heaven and you’re moaning like a bitch in heat. The advantage is in his favor, unable to squirm away from him while he gorges himself on your cunt. At some point you give up trying to reason with him, bury your fingers in his dark hair and grind against him until his beard leaves your thighs raw.

A shake of his head, his fingers tightening on your thighs—his lips latching onto your sensitive clit and holding you still as you thrash in his hold. Your orgasm takes you by surprise, a scream ripping from your throat before lethargy takes over, almost falling if not for your husband holding you up.

It’s only now he dares to lift his head from between your thighs, face red and soaked from his chin down. He kisses at your legs, your pussy, anywhere he can reach—whether it’s in apology or worship, you can’t tell, but you know that when his thumb spreads open your poor, abused cunt that he’s not finished.

[ridher]

rafe finally asking out the shy pogue he's been crushing on

weeks of plotting — rafe cameron regularly showing up to the island country club for the sole purpose of seeing you, a soft-spoken pogue who works as a waitress at said place.

his intentions were anything but friendly, even if that's genuinely what you believed at first. despite this, he never made it clear and kept you in an awkward grey area that left you wondering just what his goal was.

and of course, you wouldn't dare speak up about your feelings, so rafe's visits remained strictly casual.

he hadn't been planning on changing your relationship any time soon, not even when he came into the club today in the late afternoon.

there you were, like always, shuffling about in the little uniform he found just so adorable, hair held back in a messy updo that always came out effortlessly perfect with pieces falling out and framing your face — enhanced by a layer of natural makeup.

the only difference was a small frown shaping your pouted lips, a sight he'd only seen a handful of times when an entitled resident of figure eight treated her as something below them.

he spends the remaining hours of your shift accompanying you after taking it upon himself to fix your face — a challenge.

though every time you come back from fixing up a table for a new group to occupy, you return with the same dejected expression. it almost pains him and he's lost in his thoughts, silently taking sips of the drink before him on the bar.

you let out a deep sigh signaling the end of your work day, to which he quickly responds after sitting up in the barstool.

"let me walk you out." he offers, leaving his glass for whoever is clocking in next.

replying with just a nod, you head back to grab your work bag — not having the energy to try and brush him off how you would with anyone else in this mood.

rafe is waiting in the decorated hallway outside the employee break room with his back leaning against the wall, hands stuffed in the pockets of his shorts, and curtain bangs parted due to how many times he'd run a hand through it.

when you come out and see him, it takes all your energy to flash him just a small smile. the gesture has him sighing and stepping forward to place a strong hand on the small of your back, guiding you through the building so he can say what he wants about your mood in confidence.

he stops you shortly after the entrance of the parking lot where the two of you usually part ways, moving to stand in front of you as his thumb caresses your back through the thin polo of your uniform.

"wha's goin' on, huh?" he lowers himself to be on your level and make his presence less intimidating — something he learned works with you.

"bad day.. i dunno, i'm sorry." you let out in a soft breath, gazing up at him with big eyes and brows pinched with tension.

he shakes his head and reassuringly mimics your expression, not mocking. the hand not splayed across your waist moves to brush some flyaways from your flushed face that had him distracted.

"it's alright, baby. let me make it better, yeah? will you let me help you?" when he makes his voice all low and smooth like that, it's hard to refuse.

you let out a shaky breath that releases the lines from your forehead before nodding silently once again with a small 'okay', knowing he'll continue with the little bit of confirmation.

"okay? listen, a'ight? you go home and get all cleaned up, take one of your little naps or somethin', eat. i'll come by later and pick you up — m'taking you out, okay?"

you're taking it all in with clueless doe eyes, nodding along until the last little bit. he sees the way your cheeks flush and you struggle to respond, reading the look too easily.

"yeah, yeah — like that. 'kay? we have a deal?" the large hand rafe has on your hip flexes when he tenses while awaiting your reaction.

"okay, rafe." you're nodding with an honest smile now and the sweet tone of your voice says more than you could explain.

he's grinning all smugly, proving no matter how soft he tries to come off, he is still the popular teen boy from the other side of town. none of that mattered in this moment when your crush just made the first step in pursuing you.

"okay. text me an' i'll see you tonight." rafe sends you off with a pat on your back, walking past you much too casually for having just asked you out. what were you getting yourself into?

as per request — @sublimepenguinpeach-blog & @lalaloopsie

[xoluvx]

lunch; b.eilish .˚₊✩ part one ✩₊˚.

i'm interested in more than just bein' your friend

"Are you sure you're not gay?" you joked shoving the brunette sitting next to you. She'd just reached over to double tap your screen on what was very clearly a thirst trap. In your defense, you were gay as fuck so beautiful women on your feed was not a rarity.

"I just appreciate beautiful women," your best friend shrugged with a 'don't blame me' look.

You locked your phone and let it fall somewhere on the couch turning to face her with a serious look on your face.

"No, but seriously..." your voice trailed off as your arm rested on the couch's back rest. Billie looked at you with those eyes anyone could easily get lost in. "Are you gay?" you asked again and she chuckled licking her teeth. The action caused her already plump lips to protrude a smidge more so who could blame you for letting your eyes linger on them a second too long.

"I don't think so," she stated. "I've rode more dick than I've seen vaginas," she added. You couldn't help but chuckle at that one. She was always a smart mouth.

"I'm your best friend, you know you can tell me anything right?" You took her hands forcing her to look at you. You stared into her eyes again and she stirred, furrowing her brows.

"Is this an intervention or what?" she joked opening her eyes wide, making a face that lightened the mood. She squeezed your hands before letting go.

"I'm just saying...it's okay to like boys and girls," you emphasized the girls part just for her.

You weren't trying to be pushy. Far from it. You were actually just trying to be supportive. You'd noticed the way her eyes lingered on certain girls before. You also noticed how intrigued she was whenever you told her about a hook-up. So your brain was naturally trying to fill in the gaps. And your gaydar was rarely wrong.

After a moment of silence, she cleared her throat.

"How would I know if I like girls?" she wasn't looking at you. She was twirling her practically empty cup. The smoothie you'd made her was mostly gone.

Your mouth fell open slightly and you swallowed. That was a good question. You'd never really questioned if you liked girls. You just saw them and your heart did that weird fluttering thing that you assumed was suppose to happen when you looked at a boy.

"Shit," you mumbled and shrugged. "I guessss," your voice trailed off and she finally turned to look at you as if you were going to let her in on a piece of information she'd been missing her whole life.

"I guess-," you started again scooting closer to her.

"You know you like girls-," you swallowed now touching her knee with your own. The slightest touch now made your heart beat faster. "-if they make your heart flutter," you stated watching her look at you with those beautiful blue eyes.

"If you feel like you're going to burst into butterflies-" your voice was low as you inched closer. Her own body leaned into yours curiously. "-when they touch you like this." Your finger traced the side of her face pushing a tendril of hair behind her ear.

"What else?" Billie's voice was shaky. Her hands were clammy from hearing your voice. There was a shift in the energy. Suddenly, your voice was the only thing she wanted to hear.

"You melt when they hold your hand," you added running your fingers down her arm until they were locked with hers. Billie watched your fingers entwined on her lap and the gravitational pull grew stronger.

Your faces were centimeters apart, eyes searching for answers. Answers to questions you weren't sure you should've been asking right now. Not with your best friend at least.

When your foreheads touched, you swallowed hard and Billie bit her lip.

"What are we doing?" you whispered closing your eyes feeling her nose brush your own. You didn't want to open your eyes. You didn't want this to be a dream. But you also weren't ready to ruin your friendship. You didn't want this to make things awkward.

"Teach me," Billie murmured.

Were you hearing correctly? Teach her? Your best friend. Teach her what? How to be gay?

"I want to know what it feels like," her voice was soft as she answered your unspoken questions.

"What what feels like?" your chest was rising and falling rapidly. You felt like the oxygen in the room was dwindling and the muffled murmuring of the tv playing in the background was now making your ears ring.

"To be with a girl," she replied. This time she swallowed hard and your lips brushed for a brief second. You pulled away abruptly getting up from the couch. You ran a hand over your face, inhaling deeply.

"I'm sorry," Billie stood up as well. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to-" she was frantic. Did she just fuck up your friendship? She didn't mean to. She didn't want to lose you.

"Okay," you bit your lip nervously. "Okay, I'll teach you."

Billie's eyes lit up.

"Just don't go falling in love with me," you teased. Billie’s shoulders relaxed. She rolled her eyes, but pulled you in for a hug.

"I'm already in love with you," she joked. Her arms still wrapped tightly around you as your bodies tumbled onto the couch.

"Kiss me," Billie's voice was still laced with goofiness as she grabbed the back of your head playfully trying to kiss you. You laughed harder pushing her away teasingly. She peppered your face with kisses and you giggled. But that silly little flutter in your chest was still present.

It wouldn't be so bad. There was nothing wrong in helping someone figure out their sexuality, right? Especially your best friend. Who you loved and adored more than anything...

At least that's what you were telling yourself to justify how much you actually wanted this.

part two

.˚₊✩ masterlist ✩₊˚.

[melosliving]

I have a request. First real hook up session with Aaron. Just sexy sexy making out, grabbing and etc. Both breathless. Nothing much

so sorry for the delay !!!! I felt free to begin the ask with an argument, I hope you’ll like it bb !

Aaron pierre x reader

warnings : argument, heavy make out session, sexy sexy

The argument had been brewing all day, and you’d finally had enough. Aaron leaned against the counter, his broad shoulders tense, arms crossed, jaw clenched so tight it looked like it might crack. He hadn’t said much during dinner, just short responses and sharp glances, and you could only take so much of the passive-aggressive energy.

“Do you have a problem, Aaron?” you snapped, slamming the cabinet door shut after grabbing a glass. You filled it with water, taking a moment to steady yourself before you turned to face him. “You’ve been in a mood all damn day. If something’s wrong, just say it.”

He scoffed, a short, humorless sound that immediately set your teeth on edge. “It’s Aaron now ? It’s not like you’d actually listen, though, is it?” His British accent made the words sound calm on the surface, but the sharp edge in his tone cut deep.

You froze, your glass pausing halfway to your lips. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means exactly what I said,” he bit out, his eyes narrowing as they met yours. “You’re always so quick to jump in with your opinions. Can’t ever just let me talk without getting defensive.”

A bitter laugh escaped your throat before you could stop it. “Defensive? Aaron, you barely talk at all. You shut down, brood, and act like I’m supposed to read your damn mind. And I’m the problem?”

“Because every time I try to tell you something, you act like it’s my fault for even bringing it up!” His voice rose slightly as he pushed off the counter, his tall frame towering over you now. “It’s exhausting. I’m trying to have a real conversation with someone who won’t even meet me halfway.”

Wow. Your eyebrows shot up, your anger rising with every word. “Meet you halfway?” You slammed the glass down on the counter. “You never say what’s on your mind, Aaron! You hold everything in, and then when you finally let it out, you act like you’re doing me a favor.”

“And you don’t make it easy!” he shot back, stepping closer. The heat in his voice was matched by the intensity in his eyes. “Every time we argue, it’s like you’re trying to win. You don’t even stop to think about what I’m saying. It’s always about proving a point with you.”

“Because you make me feel like I have*to,” you fired back, the words coming faster now, fueled by the frustration bubbling over. “You walk around with this whole ‘I’m too cool to care’ act, and then the second I call you out on it, you flip the script and make it about me!”

His nostrils flared, his chest rising and falling as he stared you down. The air between you was thick, electric, like a storm about to break. “You think I don’t care?” he said quietly, his voice low and dangerous. “You think I’m just walking around here not giving a shit about you, about us?”

“You sure as hell don’t act like it!” you shot back, your voice trembling now. “Half the time, I don’t even know what you’re thinking. You just shut me out, Aaron. And then you stand there and blame me for not knowing what’s going on with you.” There was a long pause, the two of you locked in a silent standoff. His jaw ticked as he stared at you, and you could feel your pulse pounding in your ears.

“You drive me mad,” he said finally, his voice rough. He took a slow step forward, his eyes locked on yours. “You push every single one of my buttons, and then you wonder why I can’t just sit here and smile like everything’s fine.”

“Maybe if you didn’t bottle everything up until you exploded, we wouldn’t have to argue like this,” you shot back, but your voice lacked the venom it had before. His presence was overwhelming, his warmth radiating off him as he closed the space between you.

“And maybe,” he said, his voice dropping to a murmur as he stepped closer, “if you stopped trying to control every damn thing, you’d see how much I’m trying.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could get a single word out, his hands were on your waist, pulling you into him as his lips crashed against yours. The kiss was hard, almost bruising, and it stole the breath right out of your lungs.

You froze for a moment, caught off guard, but then your body melted into his. Your hands gripped the front of his shirt, tugging him closer as the kiss deepened. His tongue slid against yours, hot and demanding, and a low groan rumbled in his chest when you tugged on his curls.

His hands slid down your waist to your hips, gripping tightly as he backed you against the counter. His body pressed firmly against yours, and you could feel the heat of him, the hard lines of his chest and the way his muscles tensed under your touch.

“Baby,” you whispered when his lips left yours to trail down your jaw and to your neck. The soft scrape of his beard sent a shiver down your spine, and your head tilted back, giving him more access.

“I’m baby again now ? What do you want ?” he murmured against your skin, his hands slipping beneath your shirt to grip the bare skin of your waist. His thumbs stroked slow, teasing circles, and your breath hitched as you arched into him. “We’re still arguing,” you managed, though your voice came out shaky.

He chuckled softly, the sound low and rough in your ear. “Doesn’t feel like it,” he muttered, his lips brushing against the sensitive spot just below your ear before biting down gently.

Your fingers dug into his shoulders as he lifted you onto the counter, his body slotting between your legs. His hands gripped your thighs, pushing your legs apart as his lips found yours again, this time slower, deeper, like he had all the time in the world.

When he finally pulled back, both of you were breathing hard, his forehead resting against yours. His hands stayed on your thighs, warm and steady, grounding you.

“You make me crazy,” he admitted, his voice soft but raw. “You’re the one making me crazy,” you shot back, though your voice had no heat left.

His lips twitched into a small smile, his teeth still appearing as he leaned in, his breath brushing against your lips. “Guess we’re both mad, then.”

And as his lips met yours again, softer this time but no less consuming, the tension between you melted away, leaving only the heat of the moment and the undeniable pull between you.

@ melosliving 2025

[jsfix]

Sweet Treat

Kinktober Halloween - Blood Kink

Pairing: Tim Drake x GN!Vampire!Reader

Summary: Tim lets you feed on him.  

Warnings: MDNI, no pronouns and no description of reader, reader is unhinged and obsessed with Tim (relatable), blood (mention of drinking from people/animals, the taste of it, vampire stuff yknow), Tim & reader have safe words, unprotected sex, coming inside, oral (Tim receiving), praise (Tim receiving), blood kink (Tim is a freak), marking, little bit of cockwarming

WC: 1,912

AN: happy halloween!!

Though you had no problem draining the life of the scum that inhabited Gotham City, your boyfriend sorely did. And, because you loved him, you tried feeding only from animals, though this left you weak. After a few months of low-energy, constant sleeping, and mood swings, Tim suggested you try feeding from him instead.

You told him he was crazy. How could you even think about feeding from him? Drinking his blood, splitting his skin with your sharp teeth, leaving painful marks even if they were quickly healed from your tongue. He insisted you at least try. He hated seeing you weak, especially if you were only feeding from animals to please him. He eventually wore you down. You matched him in stubbornness but, honestly, now you were too tired to fight for too long.

The first time you drank from him was… interesting. You two sat on the couch, each of you trying to calm the other’s nerves. He was good at masking it, of course, but you were good at reading him. You watched admired him a lot. Not in a creepy way, you swear, he was just hard to look away from. You knew his tics; the way his eyes would brighten when he uncovered a missing piece from a case, how he’d rhythmically tap each finger against his thumb when he was lost in thought, how his nose would twitch just the slightest bit when he was nervous. It was a blink-and-you’d-miss-it type of thing. You never missed it.

You comforted him by running your fingers through his hair - a gesture that always calmed him - and tried to appear relaxed. Of course, he knew your tics as well. The hand gently squeezing your thigh told you as much. You made him come up with a safe word. You didn’t want to drink too much from him, worried about hurting him, he said he would tell you when to stop. Still, your hand had a slight shake to it as it cupped his head, tilting it away from you to expose his neck. You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his skin before sinking your teeth into it.

He let out a gasp, almost flinching away but being held in place by your hands. He grunted as you fed from him, his hand on your thigh tightening in what you would have assumed was pain if not for his other hand coming up to push your head closer into his neck. He started moaning now, soft breathy ones escaping his mouth in between whispers of your name. You were in a similar state and found yourself unable to pull away from him, only stopping when he stuttered his safe word. You stopped instantly, pressing kisses against his wound and licking it closed before pulling away fully to look at him.

He was flushed, cheeks a bright red, chest heaving, the cobalt blue of his eyes barely visible from the way his pupils had dilated. You were in a similar state; your chest heaving, your iris’, now tinged red, barely visible, and the blood you’d drunk from him allowing a faint warmth to pool beneath your cheeks. Needless to say, you didn't get much rest that night.

His blood - he, all of him - was addicting. You didn’t think you could be more obsessed in love with him. Before, feedings were just routine. You enjoyed the occasional chase when your victims tried to run from you, sure, but drinking blood from criminals and animals was just to satiate your hunger; it left you feeling full and that was that.

Drinking from Tim, however, left you feeling warm. Not only from his actual warm blood coursing through your body, a warmth you only experienced back when you were alive, a sensation you’d never felt from your past victims - but also from his trust in you and the love you shared. And also because he just tasted so damn good. His blood was almost sweet and felt so smooth going down your throat and left you with a sense of euphoria you’d never felt before. You were used to craving him - his kisses, his laugh, his presence - but this level of intensity was new. It was almost painful, the time between your biweekly feedings, waiting to taste his sweet blood again.

You know Tim felt a similar pleasure from your bite and he claimed the fanfare surrounding feedings nights was unnecessary (a lie, you knew he loved it) but you still wanted to make him feel special. It was a big thing, him letting you feed from him, and it took a lot out of him, which is why feeding nights were always planned for the night before his required two days off from patrolling (the guilt of feeding from him never really left but if anything at least it got him to actually rest).

Sometimes you’d wine and dine him (literally); sometimes, you’d have a simple movie night, spooning him on the couch, sinking your teeth into his gentle skin while jerking his cock, a combination that made him come almost instantly; other times, you liked to take it a bit slower.

On these nights, you liked to have him on his back, writhing as you kissed up and down his thighs.

“Fuck!” He let out, followed by a whimper of your name as his hips jerk up off the mattress. You hum at the taste of blood from the bite on his thigh.

“You taste so good, baby.” You murmur against his skin, moving to bite the soft skin of his inner thigh. You suck gently as he moans again, careful not to let your thirst take over. You want to draw this out.

“So sweet,” You lick the wound, pressing a kiss to the now healed skin. “So good for me.”

You continue kissing his thighs, nipping and licking his skin as he shakes with the effort to stay still, desperate but not wanting the pleasure to end. You reward his patience, finally taking his cock into your hand, hard and leaking, moving your thumb over his slit, gathering his pre-cum and stroking slowly. He sighs shakily, feeling relief from the friction. You rise from your lying position, knees pressed into the mattress as you lean over him to let a glob of spit mixed with blood trail past your lips onto his tip. He moans at the redness you massage over his length.

“Please,” he moans your name as your hand moves up and down his shaft, “please, please.”

“What do you need, baby?” You coo at his begging, moving your other hand to cup his balls. His hips jerk and he lets out another moan.

“I, I need-“ you cut him off, taking his tip into your mouth. You suck at his ruddy head, wishing you could take him fully.

“Oh, god!” He moans loudly, thrusting into your mouth before you manage to press your forearms against his thighs, pinning him. “Oh, fuck!”

You release him from your mouth, pressing light kisses along his shaft and down to where your hand was gently massaging his balls, taking one in your mouth to lap at while he caught his breath.

“What was that?” You smirked as he glared at you. “What do you need?” You licked his slit, the saltiness of his pre-cum mixing with the lingering sweetness of his blood. He hissed.

“You. Need you.” He released his grip of the sheets, sitting up to pull you up towards him. You let him move you, straddling his hips as he pressed kisses over your chest and neck, anywhere he could reach while you settled over him. You gently cupped his face moving him away from your neck to look at him. Your thumbs caressed his red cheeks as you smiled softly at him, taking him in.

“You okay?” The words were whispered, a quiet pause in the middle of an intense session. You felt as if you were in a bubble, oblivious to the outside world and its people and its crimes and ugliness and hate. You wanted to stay in this bubble forever, with Tim, with his beauty and love.

He smiles back at you, equally soft. He was thinking the same thing as you; he thought he could stay in this moment forever, you gently holding his face, looking at him with so much love, he thought he could burst from the feeling of it. The light from the rising sun shining through the window, hitting your figure, leaving you with a glow that somehow made you look even more beautiful, gentle for him, even with your red eyes and fangs covered in his blood.

“Yeah,” Tim said breathlessly. Your smile widened and you leaned down to kiss him. He sighed into the kiss, wrapping his hands around your waist to pull you even closer. Your kisses are gentle, both for the sake of the bubble you’ve created and for his lips. They grow rougher as he starts grinding up against you and you find yourself thinking he really doesn’t care about your fangs making his lips bleed.

He runs his tongue across your fangs, purposefully rubbing against the sharp point and you both moan as it cuts and bleeds into your mouths, just for a second, before it heals. Swapping spit and blood, Tim whines as his hips grind against yours harder and harder. He begs once more, needing to feel your walls around him, your warmth enveloping his dick. You reach down to grab his length, positioning it against your hole before sinking down on his cock, causing you to moan simultaneously. You let yourself adjust to his size while he goes back to kissing your neck, sucking hard at the skin to leave his own marks on you. After a quick ready? you finally move. He plants his feet and thrusts up into you and you set a quick pace, too desperate for each other to go slow.

The room fills with grunts and whimpers, moans of each other’s names only interrupted by pleas of harder, faster and expletives. You felt yourself getting close to your peak, Tim following right behind you. He grabs your hip with one hand and with the other grips the back of your neck, pulling you in for a kiss before guiding you towards his neck, tilting his head for access. You dig in, euphoria hitting immediately, causing you to cum. Tim manages a few more thrusts before coming himself, cum spurting into you as he digs his fingers into your skin.

You stay in this position for a bit, warming his softening cock while you drink from him and rest against him. His arms rub up and down your sides, occasionally squeezing you when he feels a spike of pleasure. He thinks he could stay in this moment forever too, if it weren’t for the potential loss of life. You pull back from him sooner than you normally would, that warmth filling your body already from the nips you’d given his thighs and lips. You gently press a kiss around the bite mark, about to run your tongue across it before-

“Leave it!”

You pull back, startled. He’d never asked you to leave marks before.

“Leave them. Please,” he says, surprisingly bashful with his red cheeks and even redder lips covered in blood, “I like your marks.”

You smile, feeling your cheeks warm, before kissing him.

AN: don’t forget to reblog if you enjoyed this fic!! Thanks for reading :))

[coolgrl111]

late night rambles

art donaldson x reader

The alarm blinked, casting a soft red glow across the room: 3:00 AM. You and Art were wide awake, tangled in the kind of conversation that only comes at impossible hours of the night, when the world feels like it’s theirs alone. The air was thick with summer warmth, the windows cracked open just enough to let in the distant hum of crickets. They were sprawled out on the floor of Art’s bedroom, tennis rackets leaning haphazardly against the wall—relics of a day spent practicing under the sun.

“I’m not even tired,” Art mused, his voice low but clear, breaking the comfortable silence. “Hard to be in your company. You make me feel... I don’t know, energised.” He chuckled, nervously running his fingers through his messy curls. “Is that cringey? That’s cringey, right?”

You laughed softly, rolling onto their side to face him. “A little. But it’s okay. I’ll allow it.”

They’d been friends for seven years—since that first summer at tennis camp when they were just kids, bonded over their shared love for the game and a mutual disdain for the camp’s cafeteria food. Now, at 17, everything was the same, yet different. The conversations were still effortless, but beneath the surface was something heavier, unspoken. A shift they both felt but neither would dare mention.

Art glanced sideways, watching the way you absentmindedly fiddled with a thread on the hem of your shirt, your eyes focused somewhere between the floor and the stars you couldn’t see. “Remember when we’d stay up this late, just talking about which player we’d want to be? I always picked Federer. You were obsessed with Sharapova.” He grinned.

“I still am. She’s a queen,” You replied, your smile stretching wide, though your voice carried a teasing edge.

There was a pause, one that wasn’t uncomfortable, but loaded with memories. Art shifted his weight, propping himself up on one elbow. “You know,” he began, suddenly serious, “I don’t think I’ve ever said this, but... you’re my favorite person.”

You felt a warmth rise in your chest, like a balloon inflating slowly, filling the space between them. You wanted to say something back, something witty, or maybe something just as sentimental. But instead, you swallowed it down and rolled your eyes. “Okay, now that’s definitely cringey.”

Art laughed, but it was softer this time, a bit more vulnerable. “Maybe,” he admitted, “but it’s true.”

You could feel the weight of the moment settling around them, the unspoken confessions tucked away in the spaces between their words. For all the ease they had with each other, there was a new kind of tension, a nervous energy that felt both thrilling and terrifying. Like standing on the edge of something they weren’t quite ready to name.

“So... what happens when we grow up?” You asked, breaking the silence.

Art blinked, caught off guard by the question. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, what happens when tennis isn’t the thing holding us together anymore? When life gets in the way? I don’t know, I guess I’m just wondering if this—” You gestured between each other, “—stays the same.”

Art hesitated, the question sinking in. He sat up fully now, legs crossed in front of him. “I think we’ll always have this,” he said quietly. “Maybe it’ll change, but I think it’ll be... better. Like, deeper or something. You know?”

You nodded slowly, your heart beating just a little faster. You weren’t sure if they believed him, but you wanted to. So, so badly.

“Besides,” Art added with a grin, trying to lighten the mood, “if nothing else, I’ll just stalk you at every tennis match. You’ll be winning Wimbledon and I’ll be in the crowd, holding a You Go Sharapova 2.0 sign.”

You laughed, the tension breaking for a moment. “Yeah, and I’ll pretend I don’t know you.”

“Rude,” Art teased, but there was a glint in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. Something raw and real, a quiet hope that maybe things didn’t have to change as much as they feared.

The alarm blinked again: 3:15 AM. Time kept moving forward, but for them, it felt like they were suspended in something timeless. Neither was ready to say goodnight, not yet. Instead, they basked in their contentment.

[narcissisticsmoker]

The house hums with warmth and festivity—golden lights twinkle from the Christmas tree, laughter and the low murmur of conversation spill from the living room, and the faint scent of mulled wine and cinnamon lingers in the air. It’s perfect, picturesque, exactly how your family would want it to be.

But then there’s me—the uninvited guest, stepping through the doorway like a storm, dressed in a black, tailored suit that fits perfectly against my frame. My tie is loose, my shirt open just enough to suggest that I’m here to take, not ask. The moment I enter, the energy shifts. The light, airy mood darkens imperceptibly, and even though no one notices, you do.

You’re wearing a red dress that clings to you like a secret, every curve outlined, every movement deliberate, though you pretend it isn’t. The neckline is high enough to appease the room but low enough to catch my eye—an invitation you won’t admit you’ve sent. Your hair is swept up, not a strand out of place, but I already know how it will look tangled, messy, with my fingers buried in it.

Our eyes meet across the room. You freeze for just a second, your lips parting as if to say something, but you catch yourself. Instead, you turn back to the polite conversation with your cousin, though your hand trembles as you lift your glass.

I smirk, cutting through the crowd with calculated ease, exchanging pleasantries with people whose names I don’t care to remember. My focus is singular. You. Every glance, every fidget, every subtle shift of your body betrays you. You want me here as much as you want me gone, and we both know it.

When I’m close enough, I let my hand brush lightly against the small of your back. It’s a touch so subtle no one else notices, but you do. I hear the sharp intake of your breath, see the way your shoulders stiffen as I lean in, my voice low, private, just for you.

“You’ve been a good little angel tonight,” I murmur, my lips brushing against your ear. “Playing the perfect daughter, the perfect sister. But I know exactly what you’re thinking. And it isn’t very innocent, is it?”

Your head turns slightly, your eyes meeting mine, wide and defiant. “You shouldn’t be here,” you whisper, though your voice trembles, betraying you.

I chuckle softly, my hand pressing just a bit firmer against your back. “Oh, but you knew I’d come. That’s why you wore this dress, isn’t it? Pretending to ignore me while your body begs for my attention. Don’t lie, baby. You’re mine tonight, whether you admit it or not.”

Before you can respond, I take your hand, guiding you through the house with calm confidence, as if this was always the plan. The quiet hallway feels like another world, the soft glow of lights dimming into shadow as I pull you into the guest room and close the door behind us.

The second the lock clicks, I’m on you. My hands grip your hips, spinning you around and pinning you against the door. My mouth crashes against yours, hard, demanding, leaving no room for argument as my hands roam over the silk of your dress, bunching the fabric in my fists.

“You’ve been teasing me all night,” I growl, my voice rough as my lips trail down your neck, leaving marks no one else will see. “Smiling, laughing, acting so innocent while I’m standing there, watching you fall apart under my gaze.”

Your breath is ragged, your body arching into mine, but I grip your wrists, pinning them above your head. “No,” I whisper against your skin, my teeth grazing your collarbone. “You don’t get to touch me. Not yet. Tonight, I’m in control.”

I drag my hand down your body, slow, deliberate, feeling every inch of you tremble beneath me. The hem of your dress is pushed higher and higher until it’s no longer between us, and the soft gasp you let out when my hand slips beneath it only fuels me further.

“You’ve been such a good little angel out there,” I murmur, my voice dripping with dark amusement. “But here? You’re mine to ruin.”

I take my time, teasing you, pulling you closer to the edge and then stopping, making you gasp, making you beg. “Do you hear them?” I whisper, my lips brushing against your ear as I keep my rhythm slow and relentless. “Your family, just a few rooms away. Do you think they’d still call you their sweet little girl if they saw you like this? Writhing under me, gasping my name, begging me to take you harder?”

Your response is a broken moan, and I smirk, gripping your thigh and pulling you closer, deeper, until the sound of your breathing drowns out everything else. I push you further and further, building the tension until it breaks, leaving you trembling and undone against the door.

But I don’t stop. Not yet. My hands grip your hair, pulling your head back as I murmur against your lips, “We’re not finished, baby. Not until I’ve taken everything from you. And then, you’ll go back out there with your hair a mess, your dress crumpled, and my marks all over your skin, pretending to be their perfect angel again.”

[trustmypoison]

SVT with a bipolar partner

Requested? No!

Genre: comfort, some unavoidable angst, suggestive (MDNI)

Sensitive Topics Ahead!

TW/CW: discussions of struggling with and managing bipolar symptoms, up to and including things like self-harm (though this is not explicitly discussed). One suggestive section. 

A/N: This one is also entirely self-indulgent because I’m feeling some type of way right now.

If this topic might be triggering for you, please proceed with caution or skip. If you’re struggling (not just with bipolar, but with anything), I encourage you to reach out for help. Could be a friend, a family member, a coworker or classmate, or a professional. Things like this should not be shameful!! Be kind to yourself, love you. 

Seungcheol

You desperately want to buy an item and Seungcheol knows it. So he casually hands you his credit card (he’ll never be able to stop the sugar daddy allegations, I fear). He’s kind of surprised by how vehemently you deny it. ‘No way, I don’t want to waste your money,’ you’ll say and he’ll roll his eyes. “Baby, I have more than enough, I’ll buy you whatever you want.” The relationship is still somewhat new, so he’s confused when you deny it again, saying you absolutely can’t take his card because you’ll be reckless with it. Does not understand what the problem is with that, honestly, but when you eventually tell him about your diagnosis and particularly how mania works, he’ll pause, if only because of how upset you seem by the topic. It’s fine. If you spending the money is the problem, he’ll spend it for you and he won’t let you feel guilty about it for a single second. 

Jeonghan

Now, I believe Hannie can be a bit of a fashionista. He likes your style. In fact, it was something that attracted him to you in the beginning because it was unique and unapologetic. So when you’re getting ready for a date, he’s confused when you don’t put on the things that you usually do, opting for a baggy sweater and leggings. “Feeling okay?” He’ll ask. “You’re cute as always, but this isn’t your normal look.” You’ll openly tell him that you feel less confident during a depressive episode because the two of you simply do not have secrets, so this is what you want to go with today. You get out of the way, letting him get ready, and you’re kind of surprised when he comes out in equally baggy clothes. He’ll absolutely match your energy, no matter what that means. 

Joshua

He raises an eyebrow when he comes home to find you scrubbing the walls down. “A little spring cleaning?” He’ll ask, but it becomes apparent that it’s not anything ‘little’. The house is absolutely sparkling like you just moved in. This isn’t a problem by any means, but it’s kind of suspicious because you low key hate cleaning and he happily carries the burden of these types of things on a normal day. Still, he knows what’s happening and there’s nothing he can do to stop the manic episode. He’ll just have to let you ride it out. But it won’t stop him from changing clothes and asking what’s next on your list so he can help. 

Jun

Knows he can’t do a whole lot about the typical mood swings that you have periodically, but when you tell him that some of these mood swings are not totally random and can actually be triggered, he becomes the most observant person you’ve ever met. Keeps a little list in his notes app of things that you’ve mentioned before and the things that he’s simply observed that switch your mood. He tries to help you manage your stress at work to prevent a depressive episode and encourages you to limit your caffeine intake to prevent mania. He intentionally stops buying alcohol and keeping it in the house because it’s not a good combination with your medications. He buys you a light for light therapy during the winter when the seasonal depression kicks in. He helps you find a nighttime routine that works for you so sleep disturbances aren’t so prominent. Really is the sweetest and most thoughtful.

Hoshi

Man, thinking about this one makes me emotional. Say the relationship is new, but it’s been so, so good. You match his energy so well and he really feels like you get him, you know? So he’s kind of surprised when his calls and texts go unanswered for a while. After a few days, he finally goes to your apartment, flowers, coffee, and a bag of pastries in hand just in case he did something wrong. Your roommate answers the door and points to your bedroom with an ominous warning. You look like you haven’t moved from the bed in a few days. Your clothes and sheets are wrinkled, laundry is overflowing from the hamper, and dishes are piled up on your bedside table. You come right out and tell him about your diagnosis and that you’ve been in a depressive episode, and that you’d understand if he wants to break up. He simply crawls into bed with you because it’s his turn to get you. 

Wonwoo

Listen, I genuinely believe that you can tell him anything. Quite literally anything, including when you’re having some bad thoughts. He gives you an intentionally blank look when you ask him to remove the razors from the bathroom, but immediately does it. He doesn’t ask questions when he comes back, just hugging you tight and thanking you for telling him. Trust that he’ll watch you like a hawk over the next few days, doing soft, yet somehow non-invasive check-ins. A week later when that particular feeling passes and you ask for the razors again to shave, he does ask a few questions, just to make sure you’re in a good headspace. It makes you feel secure that you have someone right there that will help you if you have to cry for help.

Woozi

He’s pretty independent and so are you, but after you tell him about your diagnosis and the medications you’re on, he becomes a bit clingy. Let me explain. Before, you could go hours, maybe even days without really hearing from him when he got busy. No big deal, you knew that was just part of it. Now, no matter what he’s doing at work or whatever timezone he might be in, he’s calling you before you go to bed to make sure you’ve taken your medication. He’ll, of course, be there to talk if you want, but you usually don’t and that’s thanks to how much the medication is doing for you. He will never, ever let you miss a day. 

DK

You know you’re in a manic episode, which is why you jumped at the chance to go out with Seokmin and a few of his members for dinner. You’re feeling good, talking rapidly and animatedly about something and Seungkwan laughs, saying something along the lines of, “Okay, motor mouth.” It kind of makes you deflate. Not that he meant anything by it, not that he knew about your diagnosis or that you were in a manic episode. Still, Seokmin is next to you, encouraging you to continue talking because he was following, no problem. He’ll always be a motor mouth with you. Even if your mood doesn’t come back as high as it was before, it’s still comforting that he’ll listen to you ramble about whatever comes to mind, even if it’s sometimes a stream of consciousness more than anything specific. 

Mingyu

It’s not like sex is uncommon in your relationship, but after you initiate multiple rounds in one night, Mingyu will sort of laugh and ask what’s gotten into you. When you stop and kind of tear up, he realizes he might have said something wrong and he’s holding onto you immediately. You tell him you’re kind of upset because you didn’t realize that you were manic until he said that. Increased libido is a common symptom for you and now you’re feeling bad for maybe pressuring him into it. He’ll squish your face and insist that you absolutely did not and he has no complaints. You can always come to him for this, or for anything for that matter. 

Minghao

Now, I think he might be a bit of a believer in home remedies for a lot of things, but not for this. Does not let you miss a counseling or psychiatrist appointment. Does not let you forget your medication. Knows by heart everything you’re taking, including the dosage. He even gets a little organizer and sorts it out for you every week. Insists that you stick to a routine and practice self-care when you’re in a manic episode and makes sure you eat, sleep, and find things to enjoy during a depressive episode. Really, genuinely might understand your disorder and what you need for it better than you do. 

Seungkwan

He knows you’ve been down and that’s just the nature of the disorder sometimes. He does little things to help you manage it - chores are taken care of, dinner is already started, medication is already picked up from the pharmacy, etc. But when you admit late at night that you don’t know why he’s with you and you feel worthless, he doesn’t have a little reaction. It makes you cry despite how numb you were feeling earlier when he squishes your face with a bit more aggression than he probably intended and in great detail tells you how much he loves you and what he loves about you and why no one else will ever compare. It’s what you needed to hear, and he makes a mental note to be more vocal about these things, particularly when you’re down. 

Vernon

You two are relaxing at home when you ask him if he can hear that sound. He’ll say no, feeling kind of clueless. You’ll frown and ask, “Are you sure? It’s so loud.” Your insistence makes him pause. “Tell me about it,” he’ll say. You’ll describe it in great detail, convincing him that you do in fact believe you’re hearing something. Will not let you feel bad about the fact that he doesn’t hear it and that it must be an auditory hallucination. He’s offering you his noise cancelling headphones to blast some music and drown out the sound until it goes away. 

Chan

You’re usually pretty easy going and agreeable. But Chan knows something is up because you’ve been picking fights left and right all day. First it was that he left a mug on the side of the sink instead of in the sink or inside the dishwasher. Okay, easy to fix next time, he thinks. Then it’s that he’s going out for lunch with a couple of his members, even though he told you yesterday, which leaves him confused. Then it’s that he didn’t appear to be listening to you when you talked at dinner. He was absolutely listening, but the way you huff angrily at him makes him approach, holding your face and asking what’s going on with you today. He won’t let you escalate this into a fight, and eventually you deflate, tearing up. You admit you’ve just been feeling restless, both physically and emotionally, and that you don’t think this new medication is doing much. He cuddles with you the rest of the night, shushing you when you say you don’t deserve it after picking fights all day, and encourages you to make an appointment to talk about your medication.

[chosoisamalewife]

Loved the Sukuna post. Now... Hear me out...

Bottom Sukuna..

male reader..

some nsfw and sfw hcs

Bottom!Sukuna x Male reader

A/N : ANON I LOVE YOUR BRAIN (the sfw is just more domestic headcanons, I love making big scary mean men domesticated 😁😁😏😏)

A/N : I might have been listening to flesh by Simon Curtis while cooking up the nsfw part

WARNINGS : OOC!Sukuna / Power bottom!Sukuna / Top!reader / a lot of kinky shit / mentions slapping / choking / knife knife / blood play

This man will not show an ounce of submission in public

However remember when I said he loves for you to trace the marks on him. When he is super relaxed a slight pur can be heard. (I HEAD CANON THAT HE PURRS JUST HEAR ME OUT PLEASE. I BEGGING YOU)

However it's not loud and can only be heard when he speaks but you can feel it. Low rumbles in his chest

If you have any hobbies he would act so uninterested but he is full of shit

He would slyly ask about them and take note of them

Only trusts uraume alone with you

Finds everything you watch fucking stupid and boring. He would literally groan anytime you put something on. Would he sit down and watch with you…….yes but will he complain for a bit…..of course he would

Like I said previously he is a pretty good cook but if you are even better than him he would just watch you cook. There is something captivating about you being focused and concentrated. (He will probably get in the mood for some fun 😏)

NSFW

For him to even consider you topping him would take alot of convincing. "You topping me? Do you view me as some type of weakling" He would laugh loudly in your face

Before you get to chance to top him you have to prove to him that you can take him. That you can handle him.

So that means an all night session with him. He will ruin you all night and if you pass then you will get the glorious victory.

Let's just say he was shocked when you succeeded. He tried everything to make you tap out but nothing seem to work.

POWER!BOTTOM

He wants you to FUCK him.

He wants you to treat him like he does you, well at least try to

"Don't go gently with me now. I'm not weak , I can fucking take it"

When you finally gripped his hips and started to pound into him he would let out a manic laugh. It startled you a little bit but you carried on

"There you go fuck me like a strong man"

When he tops you he mostly groans but when you fuck him for the first time he literally growls and grits his teeth

He can not let your hear how good you are making him feel

But you will feel it

Ooooooh lord God help you because he will leave SCRATCHES on your back, anywhere

He will dig his nails into any part of your skin so please have antibiotic ointment on hand. Love watching the blood trickle from were his nails have been. Will lick your blood

DO NOT TEASE HIM OR TIE HIM UP because if you do that just means hell when he tops you again

When I say treat him like he does you, slap him, fuck his throat, overestimate him, choke him, bite him. Everything be ROUGH

AND I MEAN CHOKE HIM, this psychotic mother fucker would smile while his lungs aren’t getting air

Slap his face, thighs, ass everything. He lives for the stings

The only time he would beg you while bottoming is for you to sit on his face or to cum in his throat

Put a knife to his throat as you pound into him, he would think you are the sexiest thing to ever walk the earth

Maybe even cut him a little bit , collect his blood on your fingers and shove them in his mouth 😏😏

CAN LAST ALL NIGHT, you will probably run out of energy before does so could luck

I want to give him the most coma inducing diabolical earth shaking galaxy destroying supernova creating backshots. 🤸‍♂️🤸‍♂️

[anjee0]

Week 2 - Cookies and Hot cocoa

Female!reader x Eminem (Feel free to put in your own oc insert)

Description - Y/n and Marshall decide to bake cookies and make hot cocoa together.

Warnings - no warnings

The warm rays of the sunlight peeked through the curtains and basked in the room where Marshall and Y/n laid in bed, wrapped in each other’s embrace. The light gently shone upon Y/n’s face, making her flutter her eyelashes as she batted her eyes open. She moved her arms away from Marshall and stretched before relaxing and laying down still. Marshall stirred next to her as he placed his arm around her waist and pulled her closer with a muffled goran. 

“Marshall, baby. Let’s get up.” Y/n asked softly.

“Now?” he groaned into Y/n’s neck.

“I wanna do something fun today.”

“Sleepy sex?”

“No. Maybe another time. I was thinking we would bake cookies and make some hot cocoa. What do you think?”

“That sounds great, babe. But can I sleep for a little bit more?”

“Sure babe, but I’m gonna get up now.”

Y/n stretched herself out of bed as she walked over the bathroom groggily, her eyes still drooping down low. A good splash of cold water was enough to wake her up and fill her with the energy she would need for the day. After finishing her daily skincare routine, she headed on downstairs to the kitchen and started rummaging through the cupboards, finding all the ingredients for cookies.

She took out all the necessary ingredients and measured them out carefully, making sure it was absolutely perfect and precise. She also connected her phone to her mini speaker as she played some festive music to set the mood. As Y/n started to measure out the flour, she heard footsteps residing behind her as a pair of arms wrapped around her waist. She immediately knew it was Marshall and she couldn't help but smile as she leaned into his embrace. He rested his chin on Y/n's shoulder and kissed her cheek.

“Hey babe.” He said. “What cookies are we making?”

“Chocolate chip, but we're decorating them too.” Y/n responded.

“Sounds good.”

They both started to mix the ingredients together, making sure nothing spilled out of the containers. The flour cascaded down in a quick swoop, creating a fine white mist in the air. She browned the butter and poured it in, creating a nutty and warm scent in the kitchen. Sugar sparkled like tiny sprinkles as it was added to the mix. The eggs cracked against the bowl and escaped its shell smoothly as drops of the rich vanilla extract landed in. Finally, Y/n sprinkled in some small chocolate chips and large chunks of chocolate.

Marshall used a wooden spoon to mix the ingredients. It scraped against the sides of the bowl, blending the ingredients into a sweet, soft dough. The kitchen soon started to take on a delicate, sugar aroma that lingered in the air. 

“I personally think an electric whisk would work 10 times better.” Marshall said.

Y/n scoffed and shook her head. “No way. We’ll make a mess.”

“You’ll make a mess. Not me.”

“Turning into Mr. I’m-too-cocky-and-confident-for-my-own-good, huh?”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that.” Marshall located the electric whisk in one of the bottom cabinets and plugged it in. “I’m gonna prove you wrong.”

He put a steady grip on the handle of the whisk and he lowered it into ingredients.

“I just remembered, it’s actually better to mix ingredients manually when it comes to cookies-” Y/n started to say but she was immediately cut off by the loud mixer.

“What did you say?” Marshall asked smugly. “Sorry my whisking skills are too good.”

Suddenly, his thumb slipped, making him change the power of the whisk all the way to the highest. All of a sudden, some of the ingredients went flying everywhere in Marshall’s face. He yelped loudly as he turned it off as set the whisker aside.

An indescribable silence hung in the air as Marshall turned his head to turn to Y/n. As soon as she saw his face, she couldn’t help but burst into a loud cackle. Some of his face was white with misty flour and some butter was caught in his beard.

“It’s not funny.” He said monotonously.

“It kind of is though.” Y/n chuckled. “I’m sorry. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” 

Afterwards, Marshall cleaned his face off the batter and helped Y/n clean the kitchen. Luckily, most of the ingredients were still in the bowl.

“I’m so sorry. I just made this harder for us.” Marshall apologised.

“Don’t apologise babe. If anything, it made my day.” Y/n teased.

“Of course it did.”

Afterwards, the couple took balls of dough and formed them into cookies as they sang along to the Christmas music playing. Y/n placed the cookies in the oven and left them to bake. 

“Those smell really good.” Marshall said. “Can't wait to have them.”

“Me too! We should make some hot cocoa too and then we can snuggle up on the couch. How does that sound?” Y/n asked.

“I love that.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her forehead lovingly.

The upbeat Christmas song came to an end as it faded away to a final finish. The next song came to play soon after, it was a slow one with a somber tune and gentle beats.

“Care to dance with me?” Marshall asked.

“I would love to.” Y/n giggled.

She placed her arms around his neck as she adjusted herself closer to him. They both gently swayed to the music as they held each other close, not leaving even a millimeter of space between them. Their hearts felt warm with love and their smiles were filled to brim with pure joy. He spun her around quickly, nearly knocking a bowl down.

“Ooh! Be careful! This is a kitchen not a dancefloor.” Y/n said teasingly with a small chuckle.

After dancing, they held each other close and breathed each other’s scent, they both felt safe and at heart. They continued to stay in each other’s embrace until the small chicken timer on the counter went off and rang a high pitched bell. 

Marshall opened the oven and immediately, the buttery and syrupy scent of the freshly baked cookies travelled to his nostrils. He set the tray down on the counter, as its buttery scent laced the air around, creating a warm and sweet atmosphere. The cookies looked soft and had a golden crust on the outside. The chocolate chips and chunks make the cookies look more mouth-watering.

“Gosh these look great.” He reached his hand over to pick one up but Y/n slapped his hand just right in time. 

“What are you doing?” She asked.

“What are you doing? I want my cookie.”

“Well, that cookie is gonna be hot. And plus, we need to decorate them.”

“Oh right. You got icing?”

“Yup. And sprinkles!” Y/n exclaimed with a bright smile.

They spent ages setting up all the piping bags with icing of different arrangements of colours and laying out different sprinkle shakers. On the bright side, the cookies had cooled down and were ready to decorate. They both took a cookie and a piping bag of the choice and started to decorate their cookies. Y/n was very careful with hers and made sure her pictures looked accurate. Meanwhile, Marshall took it as an opportunity to mess around.

“Did you seriously draw a penis on your cookie?” Y/n asked.

“Yeah. It looks great, does it not?” Marshall chuckled.

“Are you gonna eat that?”

“I don’t know. Why? Do you want it? Although, you’d probably prefer the real thing, right?”

Y/n scoffed and pushed Marshall playfully. “Marshall Bruce Mathers the third! Are you crazy?”

“Uh oh. She pulled out the Government name. Well Y/n Y/m/n Y/l/n, I am crazy. For you.”

Y/n chuckled and kissed his nose. “I’m crazy for you too.”

“Well, what did you draw? Is that Santa?” Marshall asked as his eyes darted over to Y/n’s cookie.

“Yup. He looks so cute! I used these chocolate sprinkles for the eyes.”

“It looks nice babe but I could do way better.”

“Really? Come on, you can’t even draw a penis properly. It looks deformed.”

“Oh it’s on! I’m gonna prove you wrong.”

“And what happened last time you did that?” Y/n asked with a cunning smirk on her face, referencing the whisk incident earlier.

“That was just a small mishap. Watch me. I’m gonna do this so well.”

Marshall then spent his next few minutes decorating his cookie, attempting to draw Santa Claus. He used the same chocolate sprinkles for the eyes and additional details.

“Ta da!” He said, holding up his cookie proudly.

“That looks like a Picasso portrait of Santa.” Y/n replied.

Marshall scoffed and took a look at his cookie, only to realise his girlfriend was probably right. The frosting was a bit lopsided and looked messy. The sprinkles were starting to fall off and one of Santa’s eyes somehow landed on his white, frosty beard.

“I guess you’re not wrong.” he muttered. “But that’s besides the point. I tried my best.”

Y/n chuckled softly and shot a loving smile at her boyfriend. “I know you did. And that’s why I still love it.”

They continued to pipe the soft and sweet icing on to the cookies, forming different characters and funny pictures. Unfortunately, they ran out of icing to decorate the remaining 4 cookies left on the tray.

“Guess we didn’t have enough icing. What do we do?” Marshall asked.

“I have an idea.” Y/n replied. She walked over to the pantry and came back, her arms full of different chocolates and sweets. She set them out onto the table and spread them out.

“What are we doing?”

“I’ll give you a cookie and pair it with another chocolate. You have to close your eyes when I give it to you and guess what flavour the cookie is.”

“Alright. Let’s do this then.”

Marshall closed his eyes tight as Y/n opened a packet of Reese’s. She took it out of its paper cup and placed it on top of the cookie. She popped it into Marshall’s mouth and watched as he scrunched his face up in thought.

“Hm, so I taste peanut butter with a hint of… love?” He asked.

“You are impossible.” Y/n chuckled.

“It’s Reese’s right?”

“Correct, your turn.”

It was Y/n’s turn for her to close her eyes and wait in anticipation as Marshall picked out a chocolate. He paired his cookie with a KitKat and fed it to her.

“Easy. KitKat.” She responded immediately.

“Correct. Are you getting any hints of love?” Marshall asked.

“Tons.” She responded as she opened her eyes.

After they finished up their fun little game of combining chocolates with the cookies and making new flavours, they decided to get started on the hot chocolate. Y/n poured some milk into a pot, she watched the liquid swirl as she set it on the stove. She added a few spoonfuls of cocoa powder, watching it turn the milk into a rich chocolatey brown colour of delight. Marshall added some sugar, making the milk all the more creamy and peachy. He stirred it slowly as the sickly sweet aroma of the chocolate embraced the kitchen fully. After they finished preparing it, they poured it out into two mugs. The chocolate poured down smoothly like a grand waterfall as steam curled up from it like a white ribbon. They then topped it off with some thick whipped cream and sprinkled a few mini marshmallows on top. It looked luscious and engaging, looking ready to be drunk.

Afterwards, they settled on the couch as a soft and fuzzy blanket embraced their bodies. Their bodies were warm, compared to the cold misty wind outside. They had their plate of uniquely decorated cookies and hot chocolate with them. Y/n took a bite of her cookie, feeling the rush of all the encaptivating flavours rush to her mouth. The edges were crispy and the cookie itself was soft and buttery. The chocolate chips were gooey and melted in her mouth instantly.

She then took a sip of the hot chocolate, it was velvety and coated her mouth in an intense cover of sweetness and richness she couldn’t describe. The whipped cream added an additional creaminess to the flavour and the marshmallows enhanced it, making the experience even better.

“This is so good!” She exclaimed.

“I’m pretty proud of how this turned out.” Marshall replied, his mouth full with his cookie.

Y/n chuckled and kissed his cheek. “I really enjoyed today, Marshall.”

“I enjoyed it too, baby.”

[n0tamused]

hi!! i saw that your requests are open so i just wanted to ask if you could write fluffy relationship headcanons of mortefi and aalto with a gn!reader in mind? these two are just so lajdxhanflvksjahsbxjs i really like them a lot <3 (which is why mortefi pls come home pspspspsspsps)

also, i really love your writing!! it induces serotonin and dopamine in me bc 1) characters feel really accurate, 2) the flow and how you write each scene is so smooth and beautifully descriptive, and 3) dialogue feels realistic and natural!! anyways, have a good day!!

A/N: First Aalto request-! Your wish is my command, anon! And thank you so much for your sweet words, they really made my day and reassured me with my writing :) I do hope this can make you happy too, enjoy! <3 And you have a good day too!<3

Aalto:

-Let me say this first- this man has energy for both of you and Encore, he is extroverted so you can rest assured that if you’re not in the mood for much talking that he has you covered. Don’t want to talk to someone? He is talking for you. Don’t feel like running to the store to buy something? He is already getting his boots on. 

-Despite having the energy of being too open, discretion flows through his blood and he would never say anything you wouldn’t like him saying to anyone else. You could say you pushed someone down the stairs and he’d be sitting opposite of you like “oh! okay!” and then pretends he never heard of it

-On the topic of that, if you ever need any information, he is your man to turn to, and all information may be yours for the discounted price of 3 kisses, maybe more if he’s feeling cheeky.

-Loves teasing you and getting into playful banter, it’s the sweetest thing to him. Playful insults too, but if you pretend to be hurt, he comes up to you to “kiss the hurt away” and he just babies you until you break character. If he, by accident, really does hit a nerve he drops the play and apologizes quickly, and would probably feel bad about it for longer than he’d let on, but you’d know by the abundance of gifts and the fact he wants to do about everything for you 

-He also loves to get a little rough,  nothing serious but along with the verbal banter he likes a little bit of a tussle. Interlacing your fingers and pushing and pulling, laughing along with you until one of you loses your balance or yields. Loves to playfight with you in bed too, before you two go to sleep until he traps you in an embrace that you’ll have to fall asleep in

-He can be a pretty hard sleeper, so good luck trying to get out of his hold. He can be easy to wake, he has a sixth sense for danger too

-Despite his big and extroverted demeanor, sometimes he wishes for nothing more but an evening of silence with his head in your lap, sighing softly as you card your fingers through his hair, smiling if you decide to kiss his forehead

-Encore is your big bonding point. She comes with Aalto like a bonus package, and as chaotic as she can be she is really sweet and loves whoever uncle Aalto trusts enough to be his partner

-Sometimes she stays over, and a lot of times you can see her indulge in making little trinkets, some of them which are for you, some for others

-Even at her young age she has lots of stories to share, and her and Aalto make one hell of a story-teller duo

-Aalto does need to go out to business a lot, and sometimes it takes him days to get what he was sent out to do, and in all that time he misses his home (you) greatly

-He can’t guarantee to send you letters in this time period, as even a small mistake can mean doom of his mission, but he does promise to try, if only to lessen your own worries

Mortefi:

-A relationship Mortefi isn’t difficult, and it can be classified as quite the low maintenance. This does not mean he doesn’t love you or give you your due attention and love, it’s just that both of you are busy with your work and separate lives. You two just seem to never lose that spark no matter how much time you spend apart

-He never liked the idea of combining his love life and work life together into one big mess, he knows it carries its own risks and distractions, and in his field of science that is dangerous. And with this his time management between work and you is impeccable 

-He is there for you when you need him, and his love language is mainly acts of service.

-Words aren’t his forte and he can find it difficult to express his love, he still tries. Perhaps not with his own lips, but he looks for symphonies of his feelings in other songs and melodies before he shows you the one that encapsulates all he feels towards you

-He is the sort of person to send you random article links, be it about something aimed to improve your health, or links to poems or songs. Just drops them or hoards them in your chats..

-Mortefi is a bit sensitive to smells, he really doesn’t like strong odors unless it's those antiseptic chemicals that keep his lab sparkly clean. So he doesn't wear any strong colognes either. It’s the softer smells he wears, musky with woody accents mmmm

-He is a clean freak and can get a bit snappy if he finds his lab messy due to some subordinate’s negligence or if he doesn’t have time to tidy up his home

-He starts huffing and puffing like a mother hen as he stomps around throwing everything into place, tucking every corner back into its place meticulously

-He cleans his own things, and a lot of times goes to tidy your own things since he’s already at it, and really doesn’t like seeing any sort of mess, small or big

-Does gently remind you to pick up after yourself, whether you’re with him and even more so if you’re not with him

-He is an organized hoarder. He has a whole shelf for his little things, some he made and some he got or found while on field expeditions. He is more than happy to tell you about them if you’re curious about their origins or purpose

-He can sometimes spend a lot of time in the office in his home, working on little projects for the kids that would visit the lab soon, and other time he also spends working on gifts for you

-One of the ways he shows his love to you, besides little practical devices, utility belts and multi purpose watches and compasses, is to make you deserts.

-Sweet treats are his specialty but if you he hears you are craving something savory he does know a few recipes that might be to your liking

-Knows how to whip up a bomb medicinal soup btw, that thing can regrow your limbs I’m sure

-Loves to kiss your nape a lot. Especially in those quiet moments when you’re doing something at home and he just comes up behind you, kissing your nape gently and inhaling your scent

-Loves to kiss your head too. It’s just so practical but also shows how tender he can be, how careful and tender his love is. If you’re hugging him he just turns his head and plants his lips to your temple or the top of your head, sometimes he’d lean in and whisper something sweet to you too

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[wordsarelife]

—the prophecy

pairing: isaac lahey x fem!stilinski!reader

summary: isaac tries to fight for your life while something he isn’t able to stop sets a terrible prophecy into motion

warnings: canon typical violence, mentions of death, blood, angst

notes: completely made up villain and storyline, reader is a witch

you had laughed at isaac's suggestion at first, sure it was a dumb joke with which he was trying to light the mood. stiles had started laughing with you and it was only then that you realized that isaac hadn't been joking.

"wait, you really mean it, don't you?" you asked, brows furrowed and an irritated look on your face.

"of course i mean it" isaac nodded, looking between you and stiles, who looked less happy and more annoyed now.

"well, you have no power to decide this for us" you crossed your arms, exchanging a look with your brother, who nodded.

"you have been a werewolf for all of five minutes, okay?" stiles muttered "but we, we've been doing this for years. your hear what i'm saying? years, isaac, plural"

"i just want to help"

"just like we do" you said, tone a bit softer than before as you noticed the worry on the blondes face. "we're risking lives if we stay home"

"i know, i just—"

"you heard her" stiles interrupted, before he walked around isaac, opening the front door. "either you come with us or you stay here"

isaac sighed, taking one last look at you, before he walked through the door first.

the mission was unevenful and much different for what you had expected. you didn't need any outstanding powers, just a bit of light magic, resulting in you having more energy than usual when you came back home.

isaac hadn't left yours and stiles' side for the enterity you were there, making sure that both of you were save at all times. you appreciated his protectiveness, but it made you wonder why he was suddenly acting like this. he had never had any distrust in your abilities. not even in stiles, although he was a human and had no powers.

the next day you all sat together at lunch. lydia and stiles were discussing a plothole in the star wars prequels, scott was studying an ancient looking book and isaac was staring at you, while you read your emails.

"is there something i can help you with?" you asked in a low voice to not to disturb your friends conversation.

"no" isaac shook his head and quickly averted his eyes, acting like he hadn't been focused on you for almost an hour.

"here" scott said louder than necessary to catch the attention around him. "it mentions something about a lost relic, derek told me about it before. maybe it's that what he's searching for"

gallaghan had been plaguing the town for the past few months, keeping the pack on edge about where he would show up next. it wasn't unsual for him to cause chaos and destruction wherever he went and until now you hadn't been able to find out what he was after.

"we might put an end to it if we find it first" lydia noted.

stiles nodded, always agreeable with whatever she said. "maybe we can even use it against him"

"where could it be hidden?" you asked, leaning over the table and trying to gather a look at the pages in scott's book.

"i think malia saw it before" scott muttered, unsurely. "she saw where it was hidden"

"great!" stiles stood up, his tray in hand. "let's go!"

before either of you could agree and stand up as well, isaac interjected. "i don't think we all need to go, right?" he asked, voice only above a whisper. "scott and lydia could go alone"

"why us?" lydia asked exchanging a glance with scott.

isaac shrugged.

"i say you go ask malia, while stiles, isaac and i go and get everything we could possibly need to fetch the relic" you suggested to keep the peace.

"sounds good" scott smiled, before he nodded behind him, in the direction of the hallway in which malia was studying in a classroom right now. lydia followed the alpha without another word, but you could see the look of confusion she send you.

"what's going on?" stiles asked isaac, as soon as your friends were out of ear shot.

"nothing" isaac insisted.

"you can tell us" your voice was soft and you laid your hand on top of his, despite stiles narrowing his eyes at your movement. isaac was ready to break, before he remembered what telling you could lead to.

"i swear it's nothing" he said again. "i just want to keep the both of you save"

"really romantic, thank you" stiles pushed a hand against his chest, a sarcastic smile on his face as he fluttered his eyelashes at the blonde boy across from him.

"let's get ready then, huh?" you suggested, squeezing isaac's hand to assure him. "you can stand next to us the entire time if that helps, yeah?"

isaac nodded reluctantely, before he took his own tray and followed you out of the cafeteria and to stiles jeep.

"we have to keep this on the down low" stiles announced to both of you, as he reversed the car and drove off the school parking lot. "dad's gonna kill us if he finds out"

"well, i'm not gonna tell him, you can bet your ass on that" you laughed from next to your brother. "you won't either, right isaac?" you asked jokingly, looking into the mirror.

isaac nodded, of course, but there was a dark thought in his head. a thought that would make both stiles and you extremely angry at him, but would keep you safe.

you prepared the whole afternoon for what you planned to do that evening. scott and lydia called throughout, telling you that malia still knew where the relic was hidden and that all of you would meet at scott's house at midnight.

isaac had gone home after a while, which you found weird, considering he had not let you out of his sight since the beginning of the week.

isaac hadn't been able to stay any longer as the same thought kept on repeating in his head. anytime he looked at you, he felt like a piece of his heart was breaking off.

a terrible headache only added to the pain his body was experiencing. he sat down on the couch in derek's loft, eyes fluttering close, as sleep took over.

in his dream he was back in the cave. the cave below the church, which the pack had discovered a few weeks ago. they had been searching for something isaac was now not even able to remember, but it had been important enough for all of you to come along.

he had walked into the cave on his own, the small space not allowing company, as he searched through a desk that was cramped into the corner.

that's when he found it. the prophecy.

in the time of shadows and light, when the balance teeters on the edge of ruin, the one who stands closest to the alpha—akin to his sister in heart though not in blood—shall meet her final fate. as the heavens weep, and three lightning strikes herald her doom, her end shall not be in vain, for her soul will be the price for another, a life dearer than her own. in the moment of her greatest sacrifice, she will choose love over life, and in doing so, her death shall render her eternal, for her legacy will live long after her mortal body has perished.

isaac woke up startled, the familiar words repeating in his head over and over again. he had known almost immediately that it was you the ancient text was talking about. and it was obvious you would give your life to save stiles.

it had been eating away at him since he had found out. he could not imagine his life without you. even a day without your laughter was too much for him to bare. he had loved you for way too long to never get a chance to tell you.

isaac knew that there was a way to change what was promised, to not make you decide and trade your life to spare stiles'. he just had to make sure both of you were safe.

but how could he do that?

"isaac, what are you doing here?" sheriff stilinski smiled, when officer parrish walked isaac into the formers office.

"good evening, sheriff" isaac greeted. "i think there is something you should know"

stiles and you had been ready for half an hour and were now standing in stiles' room, studying his wall of a million red strings, that almost made your eyes burn.

"that's a lot of red" you noted.

"i know"

"red means unssolved, right?" you stepped forward, moving along one of the strings with your finger. "there's a lot of unsolved things then"

"i'm aware, y/n" stiles slapped your hand away. "you're gonna ruin it"

"gonna ruin what exactly?" you tested "the unanswered questions you know nothing about?"

"haha, very funny" stiles smiled sarcastically. "you have no sense for real detective work"

"calm down, columbo" you rolled your eyes "i think you need to solve a case before you earn the right to call yourself a detective."

"oh sorry, i didn't know i was talking to nancy drew" he crossed his arms. "i'm sure she would appreciate this work of a genius"

you raised an eyebrow. "genius? looks more like a kindergarten art project gone wrong."

stiles scoffed, leaning in. "well, if by 'gone wrong' you mean 'brilliantly unraveling mysteries,' then yeah, sure, kindergarten. but guess what—this 'art project' is probably going to save our butts, again."

you smirked, crossing your arms. "right, because nothing says 'life-saving genius' like a wall of yarn."

"whatever" stiles shrugged, taking a quick look at his phone. "ten minutes until midnight, we better get going"

you nodded, grabbing your bag from his bed, before you both walked out of his room and down the stairs. you took the keys out of the little bowl near the door, just as stiles opened it.

"scott said—whoa, dad!" his voice called out in surprise.

you narrowed your eyes at the figure standing in the door. your father was still wearing his uniform and looked at both of you disapprovingly.

"didn't you have the night shift?" stiles wondered and you wanted to elbow him deep into the ribs, as your father's face darkened even more.

"where do you think you're going?" he asked, stepping into the house and shutting the door behind him. "and you skipped school? again? we talked about this"

"how do you—"

you interrupted stiles. "—it was an emergency"

"didn't sound like that" sheriff stilinski shook his head, disappointment crossing his face, before he sighed. "go to bed, both of you. it's a school night"

"but dad—" stiles and you tried to protest at the same time.

"you heard me"

you walked up the stairs defeated and followed stiles back into his room.

"i bet isaac snitched" stiles accused almost immediately after you had closed the door. "he's been acting strange. stranger than usual"

"i don't think isaac would do that"

stiles crossed his arms and send you a pointed look.

"okay, maybe" you admitted, "it doesn't matter anyway. we have to find a way to get out and meet up with the others"

"we can't leave until he's gone to sleep" stiles sighed. "shit!"

"did you hear anything from stiles and y/n?" lydia asked over at scotts house. the rest of the pack, isaac, malia, derek and scott were sitting around her.

"yeah" scott nodded. "stiles just texted that they won't be able to make it on time, but they'll try to come"

"what do we do?" malia asked, looking between her friends.

"i say we go anyway" isaac muttered. "we can't wait for gallaghan to find the relic first"

"isaac's right" derek said.

"alright" scott nodded. "i tell them to meet us there as soon as they're able to come"

isaac desperately hoped that they would never make it.

due to him not being used to the quiet of the night, it took your dad an unnaturally short time to fall asleep. stiles and you had checked on him at one thirty, being out the house at one fourty.

the drive was shorter than expected. and it seemed that you were arriving just on time, as all hell had broken lose. you understood quickly that you hadn't been the only ones to come and search for the relic.

gallaghan was there too and he had brought company in the form of hunters.

"shit" you muttered to stiles, while both of you tried to make out where you could help best. you decided to split up, you walking right and him left, bat in hand.

isaac was busy fighting against two hunters, who looked anything but friendly. it didn't look good for him if you were honest. you quickly raised your hands, throwing both men back and knocking them out through the action.

isaac turned around in susprise. "y/n!" he breathed, shock evident on his face. "what the hell are you doing here?"

the expression on your face changed, spotting a look of betrayal. "so it was you who talked to dad"

"that's beside the point" isaac shook his head looking between you and the fight a few feet away. "you can't be here!" he gripped your arm.

"the hell i can" you tried to break free from his grip but it was to no use.

"just wait" he pleaded, fiddeling with his phone, before he held it in your direction. "i didn't want to tell you, because i didn't want to scare you"

your eyes flew over the words on the photo. the writing was old, almost ancient and not easy to read, but perfectly clear to understand once you got it. "meet her final fate?" you muttered, looking up at him with wide eyes.

"yes" he paused. "that's why i told your dad, i was sure he wouldn't let you come and i was right. so please, go back home y/n"

"okay" you nodded and isaac sighed.

"but we have to find stiles first" he muttered, as he thought back to the words in the prophecy. "you're going to sacrifice yourself for love and stiles is the most plausible option"

before either of you could say anything else, a flash of lightning momentarily sounded in the air, bathing the sky in a bright light. you both jumped at the same time.

"that was the first" isaac exclaimed with a look of horror.

"the first?" you repeated carefully.

"as the heavens weep, and three lightning strikes herald her doom" he quoted. "three strikes. that was the first. we have to hurry"

"yeah-yeah" you nodded, the fear growing inside you as you realized that whatever isaac had found was actually slowly becoming true.

"it's better you wait here" isaac announced finally. "i'll go and find stiles"

"are you sure?"

"i don’t want you going in there as long as it's dangerous" he pointed at the building behind him. "it's even more dangerous for you if stiles is in there"

"okay" you nodded, tears spilling from your eyes. "please be safe, isaac" you said a he looked at you with pain in his eyes. "and thank you" he nodded, before he turned around and began to run. you pushed your back against the wall, hiding yourself from anyone coming close.

it felt like an eternity to wait for him. you debated if you should follow him to make sure he was safe. you were scared, so deeply scared that him saving your life meant ultimately sacrificing his own in the process.

another lightning broke through the sky and made you unvoluntarily duck, as your heart began to beat faster.

"y/n!" stiles' voice called. the relief that flushed you almost made you stumble to the ground.

"stiles" you breathed, turning the corner and sinking into your brother's arms. "where is isaac?"

stiles turned around as if there was something to find. "he was right behind me, he was—"

you gripped his shoulders, as loud footsteps interrupted his rambling, isaac running out of the building. "go! go!" he screamed loudly. they were following him, three hunters, ready to kill.

you raised your hand, pushing the first back. he flew against the nearest tree, losing his conciousness immediately. the second wasn't as easy. he managed to swerve around your magic a few times, before it eventually gripped him, pulling him back and leaving him laying in the middle of the street.

you pushed stiles behind you as you tried to take on the last of them. isaac was now running directly in your direction, the hunter right behind him, which made it harder for you to hex the right person.

your tries kept relentlessly failing, as you realized too late what kept the man safe. it was something so simple, but you had never encountered it. like vampires could be contained with garlic, or werewolves with wolfsbane, witches could be repelled with ivy and his whole jacket was decorated in the green plant. somehow he had known about you and your powers.

the man threw a rope, catching isaac's foot and quickly snatching him back, making the boy tumble to the ground.

"isaac!" you called loudly, voice in an unsteady rhythm as your tears broke through. you quickly managed to the let the rope vanish.

isaac scrambled to his feet, but the hunter was relentless, closing the distance once more. panic surged through you as you saw the desperation in isaac’s eyes. you couldn’t let him die. not now. not after everything.

"y/n!" stiles shouted, but you barely heard him over the pounding in your ears, over the roaring of your heart.

isaac stumbled, still trying to stand, but the hunter was already upon him, pulling out a silver blade meant to kill.

you closed your eyes, time stopping to flow around you. isaac and the hunter stayed unmoving, you felt stiles' fingers cling to the hem of your shirt. but you couldn't think about that.

the concentration you had to muster felt unbearable. but you could not let him die. you would rather get hurt yourself than watch him get killed.

with a surge of adrenaline, you stepped forward, raising your hands as you prepared to use your magic again. but this time, something felt different. the power inside you was building faster than you’d ever felt before—wild, uncontrollable, a force you could barely contain.

"get away from him!" you screamed, your voice hoarse from the terror that gripped your heart. the hunter raised the blade, preparing to strike down on isaac.

the magic swelled inside you, overwhelming, tearing through your body with searing heat. you had one chance. one spell. but it would cost you everything.

you made the choice.

with a cry of pain, you unleashed the full force of your magic, every ounce of power you had. it erupted from you in a blinding wave of light, surging toward the hunter. but this wasn’t just a simple spell. It was something more, something ancient and powerful—something that demanded a sacrifice.

you could feel the magic ripple through the barrier of the ivy, breaking apart like a twig in it's way.

the hunter sank to the ground, falling down like a sack of potatoes, the dagger clastering to the side.

you didn't have long to be happy about your win. just as your power dried out, you felt a flash of pain errupt inside your chest and then, like it was bound to happen, the third strike of lightning broke through the sky, painting your face in horror as you fell to the ground.

stiles was barely fast enough to catch you, breath hitching as he stared down at you in worry.

you looked past him and into the bright sky, like it was a mirror of your sould that was burning.

"y/n" isaac stumbled onto his feet and sank to the ground next to you. "what did you do?"

"i saved you" you whispered. you could feel your teeth being drenched in liquid. blood, you thought.

"but—" isaac paused, looking up in the sky. "the third" he muttered then.

"what?" stiles asked from behind you. isaac looked at your brother, who was looking so worried and scared. it took him a second to realize what had happened.

"the prophecy wasn't about stiles" he concluded.

you managed to nod your head. you hadn't known immediately, but at the moment that danger threatened to end isaac's life. he had been so sure, so set on it being about stiles that you hadn't questioned his theory.

but everything he had done to prevent your fate, had actually set it in motion.

"prophecy? what prophecy? could someone please talk to me?" stiles pleaded, teary-eyed.

as if they knew that something had happened, the rest of your friends came running.

"we have the relic, gallaghan is—" scott said, before he saw what was going on.

"what prophecy?" stiles tried again.

isaac took out his phone with trembling hands, holding it in your brothers direction.

"in the time of shadows and light, when the balance teeters on the edge of ruin, the one who stands closest to the alpha—akin to his sister in heart though not in blood—" stiles read, voice unsteady, as he pressed his other hand against your body, making sure you were still there. "shall meet her final fate. as the heavens weep, and three lightning strikes herald her doom, her end shall not be in vain, for her soul will be the price for another, a life dearer than her own." he looked between you and isaac.

"it didn't mean platonic love" you concluded, blood seeping from your mouth as you spoke. you could hear a cry come from lydia, as she buried her head in scott's side, who looked down at you in pain.

derek had clasped a hand around isaac's shoulder as if to give his beta strength. even malia, who normally was not fazed by anthing, watched you in horror.

isaac touched your cheek. "i was wrong" he cried. "i was so determined to save you i did not even properly think"

"she doesn't have to die" stiles shook his head. "i mean we can do something, right? we always do something. if she would die you would know, right lydia?" he looked up at the strawberry blonde with pleading eyes and and unfair amount of hope.

lydia shook her head softly and stiles slumped down.

"stiles" you muttered. "it has been prophesied"

"i don't care about the stupid prophecy, okay?" he pushed a few tears away from his cheeks. "you won't die tonight. dad's gonna kill me if he finds out"

you smiled at his blind optimism and his disbelief of the situation.

"i'm sorry" isaac cried. "this is all my fault"

"yes it is" stiles pushed a finger into the blondes chest. "you knew about it and you didn't even try to tell us"

"i thought it was safer" isaac tried to defend.

"i'm her brother, i deserved to know" stiles shook his head. "i could've found a way"

"not with all those red strings" you muttered, trying to lighten the mood.

"what about decan?" scott asked. "can't we bring her to him?"

"it's a difference if someone's life is threatened by an outer force like a dagger or poison or by an inner force" derek explained and if you weren't mistaken, he was crying too.

"inner force?" malia repeated.

"her powers are slowly turning against her" he concluded. "they're killing her from the inside. she's bleeding out internally"

"so what?" stiles asked, "we just let her die? we won't even try to do something?"

"we can't do anything, stiles"

stiles turned his head back to look at isaac, deep anger spilling from his features. "she's dying, because of you! because you were so selfish that you didn't want to tell us what you knew!" he spat. "she should've let you die!"

isaac sank down, stiles' words hitting him like a dagger. he knew that he was at fault, that he had not done enough, that he should've acted differently. he shouldn't have been so scared to share his knowledge, not so fast to make assumptions.

"enough!" you called loudly, interrupting your brother's screaming, as you tried your best to sit up against him. "i don't want to go like this. you don't get to make this out to be isaac’s fault, stiles!" you turned back around to the blonde. "and you don't get to think it is, isaac! i make my own decisions and i will not die in vain because of you idiots"

"y/n" isaac muttered.

"no, isaac" you swept the blood from your mouth in a desperate try to free your lungs and breathe in the clean air. you could feel your time run out, it was only the parts of you that weren't human that had given you more time, before your final fate would come. "i chose to save you, because i love you"

"i tried to save you because of the same reason" isaac muttered, voice just above a whisper. "now look where love has gotten us"

a small, sad smile tugged at the corner of your lips. "i don’t feel like i’m at the wrong place," you said softly, shaking your head. "i feel like i was at the right place, at the right time. and i did what i had to do."

"love shouldn't take your life" he disagreed, clearly not accepting of what you had done.

"there's no better thing to die for, isaac" you took his hand in yours. "i just regret that i didn't tell you sooner"

it was just devastating to see the pain on his face and know that you were the reason for it.

stiles, who had been silent, his face streaked with tears, sobbed quietly beside you. his hand rested on your shoulder, his body shaking as the reality of your fading life hit him.

your friends stood nearby, faces pale and stricken with sadness, as if they were watching the world unravel before their eyes. they were crying like the night had stolen the very light from the world, as if everything had been lost.

"i'm sorry" isaac said once again, clinging to your hand like it was a lifeline.

"don't be sorry" you shook your head, a peaceful smile unraveling on your features. "i always thought i would be alone, you know?"

you searched his eyes for some sign of recognition of the conversation you had once had about your final moments. "i remember" he said, his mind wandering back to the night on your roof.

"i'm not alone" you whispered, before you looked at everyone individually, taking them in to remember.

eyes are most beautiful when they’re filled with tears, you thought to yourself. it wasn’t something you had ever said out loud, but it was how you felt now—seeing the raw emotion, the love, the pain all mixed together. It was devastating, but it was real.

you touched isaac's cheeck, catching one of his tears. they fell from his ocean-blue eyes, like the water had risen too high for the shore to contain. "it might sound selfish" you whispered softly, as you watched the tear run down your fingers, "but isn't it somewhat soothing to know, that i was loved to the point of tears?"

isaac smiled at you and you could read the undeniable love from his face. you looked around you once more, into the faces of your friends and brother.

"loved enough to be grieved" you muttered, like a sudden realisation. "not everyone can say that. so… thank you." your breath hitched, as if to finalize your fate.

"y/n?" stiles muttered as he noticed the glossy look in your eyes. almost like you were fading away.

"y/n" isaac repeated when no answer rang out. he shook you softly.

you smiled. "i wish i could've seen the sun" your eyes fell close as death set into your features, but still leaving the smile on your face, like it wanted to grant you with something, a final piece of happiness in a moment of despair.

"no!" stiles voice rung out first. in a desperate attempt to bring you back to life he began to shake you, hoping for some kind of movement. "no!"

"stiles" scott muttered, taking his friend into his arms and letting him sob against his shoulder as they cried simultaneously.

isaac sat across from them, slumped down and heartbroken. derek gripped the shoulder of his beta even harder. lydia sank next to isaac reluctantly, first stretching out her hand slowly, but finally taking him into her arms and letting him sob against her warm embrace.

none of them said anything, but they all stayed where they were, ultimately knowing what to do without speaking about it.

they sat down around you, as if to spend you company.

as the clock struck 5:17 a.m., the first rays of sunlight bathed your still form in a soft, golden light, marking the quiet end of a day and the beginning of a new one without you.

it was almost as if you could feel the warmth of the light on your face. your smile being a constant reminder that you had thought about something good in your final moment, like the first sign of sunrise at the beginning of a day, or the feeling of blowing out candles on your birthday. running through grass barefoot and feeling the earths touch beneath your feet.

smelling snow for the first time at the beginning of december, growing taller than your older brother at the age of seven, falling in love for the first time and getting your heart broken. falling in love again, despite remembering how much it hurt when it ended.

dancing with your friends after a few too many shots, swimming in the lake during the hottest day of summer. rainy days in the library, ice cream in the summer, cookies at the beginning of autumn, peace at the end of your life.

you had missed the sun by a few hours, but had met it in your life more times than anyone could’ve been able to remember.

[fionarara]

+ cherry bomb .

+ GOJŌ SATORU x READER .

+ T W ⇾ 18+ only . smut . sugar daddy!gojo . dilf!gojo . f!reader . implied ddlg dynamics . adult age gap (the amount is your interpretation) . aquaphilia aka underwater sex . praise . a bit of a baby bimbo reader so um dacryphilia, no rly, like i’m talking actual tears, yeah . gojou has a dumb joke (or two) . mention of divorce (not yours) and of gojo’s child (also not yours) . slight size kink if you squint . i feel like both flaunted capitalism and vapid self-indulgence needs a tag here ?? we be explorin dark kink of all kinds on this here blog, right? (｡>ω<｡) . reader has a few nicknames . no beta . and lastly, probably goes without saying but daddy kink, i repeat, daddy kink . oyasumi ✌︎ .

+ A N ⇾ um, istg i totally did not mean to post this dilf!gojo on actual father’s day, h-whoa? but the universe just always has my back i swear, an amazing coincidence as i only realized right before posting, and somehow it feels *symbolic* ?? - this is for the sugar daddy collab by @sleepysnk, ty for letting me join last minute summer ♡ 

+ W C ⇾ circa 5,500

Zz Zz Zz.

Within your skirt a vibration kicks off. 

The ringing of a phone tucked into the waistband against your tummy chimes out its soft little tune where you withdraw it to peek at the screen. Flashing vibrantly across its surface reads ‘DD Gojo’, and the smile unveiling on your face shines as brightly as the reflected device in your palm.

From where you stand on the sidewalk in elegant heels, all dolled up for the occasion, the twilight of dusk is visible on the horizon. The vision of picturesque dark multi-colored hues harmonize nicely with the wafting scent of warm pastries and tea in the air nearby, out from the cafe of the luxury shopping center you’ve been waiting in front of: Gojo’s favorite meeting spot. Whereby inevitably, has become yours as well. 

A place you have both frequented together before, where he has showered you with many gifts, many times over, treasured in both of your memories. Cherished adventures built here upon wining and dining at the finest restaurants, playing dress up at the shops amongst extravagance, the cavalcade of glittering jewels and lavish garments–all the things you deserve as far as he’s concerned. He is of the belief that whatever you receive should be nothing but the best the world could ever offer, or at least his wallet, he figures. 

And since life has been really tough on him lately–divorce is a bitch, the entire ongoing legal process has been one drawn out migraine–you and your overall companionship are so highly prized, not only in his day-to-day, but because of the new glow you’ve supplied his life. Especially during the last several months of regularly seeing one another after the separation from his marriage. 

Unabashed in his absolute fondness for you, he has deemed you his little crème de la crème angel.

You pick up the jingling phone in your hand.

Gojo Satoru seems to be in an especially exuberant and silly mood when his voice forces a notable husky tone, answering your greeting with a fun-loving tease, a low murmur on the other end of the call.

“Ring-ding-dong—is baby ready for my dong, sweets?” He finds himself hilarious, goofy, a laugh ripping out of his throat with audacity, clearly and thoroughly enjoying his own terrible joke.

Wow. There’s that classic on-a-whim, lively, larger-than-life bluntness that comes along with Gojo’s Sagittarius energy you have come to know well: he’s innately playful and comedic, fun, loud, has got a charmingly sharp tongue with no filter—it can sometimes come back to bite him in the ass if he’s not careful—and all of that is blanketed by a sort of fiery sense of passion for the things he loves.

The fact remains that his way of being has always been able to find a kind of carefree humor within you, something so inexplicable. He brings out in you a sense of total ease or lightness you weren’t even sure you were capable of. A kind of untapped, unfettered joy no one has ever been able to touch in you before…

So you’re halfway snickering at him now, amused, but with full-blown sarcasm you reply, “Ha–ha, Satoru, you’re so classy…” then you’re truly giggling, “...just shuddup and get over here already.” You try to restrain the crack of a too-wide smile from spreading across your cheeks, but fail, gloriously.

So you give in to it. Deciding to oblige him, you press the mic of the phone closer to your lips with a hand cupped over your mouth, shielding your next spoken words while you avert your head downward in a play of secrecy. It’s almost a whisper when you respond. 

“But…yes, I think that…just maybe, I am ready for it. Got it?”

He’s unable to actually see the minxy raise of your brow shown on your face, but the gesture is not lost on him from the tone in your voice. He hears it loud and clear.

“Jeesus, baby, I’m comin’, I’m comin’...”, the subtle rise of anticipation within him giddy and excitable. "Listen, I’m almost there. My GPS says I’m two minutes away.”

Late afternoon air has you rubbing away chilly goosebumps alive on your skin, particularly your upper arms, to bring you warmth. “Ok, good. Please hurry, it’s getting nippy out.” 

“Oh?” Here it comes… “Mm, ya better have nipples out…see you soon.” The sound of a bold chuckle is distorted by the phone speaker before it’s cut off by a prompt click. He disconnected the call in that way.

Already, it is your second humored eye-roll of the evening from his cheeky Gojo-behavior and you haven’t even seen him yet.

Your chest is lighter because of it.

The shopping bags in your grasp shift from two hands into one, your free hand thumbing to find the golden credit card Gojo lent you in the pocket of your jacket. Assuring yourself that it’s still there is important. 

Over a month ago, he had broken the news of how meetups between the two of you would soon become more of a challenge, due to court and custody hearings surrounding the finalization of his divorce. You’d be spending a considerable amount of time apart, he’d said. It would be longer than usual, by a whole month, and offered to grant you some form of consolation in return. So the very next day, an express-shipped credit card appeared at your doorstep in the fine afternoon with a letter enclosed. In it, he expressed that you were to use it and shop to your little heart’s content. The only deal was that you would hand it back upon the arrival of this date.

The car that pulls up to double park along the curbside beside you is, without a doubt, the most expensive car you will have ever ridden. It’s new. Gojo had mentioned it last week, making the purchase to lift his spirits and also as celebration for the court case he’d won against his ex. They’d granted him equal joint custody of their child. Actually, his final stop prior to fetching you this evening had been dropping off his baby daughter.

The door swings open on its own, remotely controlled by electronics. In view and resting on the front seat is a tatty teddy bear belonging to his child that was forgotten.

“Oops, lemme move that for you.” Somehow the sight of this tiny plush toy in his large hand brings about the sweetest rush in you for him. The stuffed animal is laid to rest onto the back seat where you also note a hollow purple baby bottle leaking a dribble of spilt milk from its nipple and onto the cushion. 

Nineties grunge-rock plays soft on the radio when you climb in. The air is filled with a sweet and peppery, woodsy scent, one you recognize immediately–it’s him, his comforting cologne so greatly missed, only making you that much more aware of just how profound the ache has truly been for this moment to be by his side. 

Crawling towards him, you pelt your eager arms around his neck, a way that communicates it has felt like an eternity apart. Both of you have a greater sense of it now, from being in the other’s presence. You can hardly keep your exhilaration in check, not with the soft squeals you let loose on his shoulder. For a moment, together you melt, breathing into each other.

It hangs in the air of the moment as you embrace. 

The weight of the wait. 

He then cradles you deeper, pulling you into an assertive kiss so welcoming, so sloppy with intention, it’s as if he’s blissfully unconcerned with how messy it is because, finally, you’re here. Letting you know it’s been far too long for him when he’s matting your cheeks with numerous pecks and taking in the scent of your hair.

Withdrawing to observe you, his eyes alight with radiance at the full sight of you, your energy. “God, I almost forgot just how stunning you are. Look at you! Just…incredible.”

The praise washes over you and after exchanging a few more greeting words, of how you’ve longed to see each other, he shifts the car gear into drive. 

Buildings whip across the dark sunset and late dusk settles in. The spectacle of nightfall on this ride, of the city through the windshield, excites him enough to ignite a sudden curious stir in his pants. Maybe it’s the prospect of what night can bring with you along after so much distance that has his dick twitch at the thought alone.  

And with that, his hand is creeping over to your lap. It should be almost comical when you believe for the quickest moment that his approaching hand would be innocent. One only of affection, to caress you, a gentle expression only in missing you…

But consequently, their energy becomes different—turn into those fingers, the kind you know well that are wanting, possessive. And being able to even think another thought is lost on you before he is squeezing at the thickest part of your inner thigh then slipping under your skirt.

“Satoruuu…wait…” you swat his arm with a light tap, dissuading him from getting too distracted. It’s happened once or twice before he’s lost control of the wheel when attempting something as naughty as this, but it is half-hearted when you breathily urge, “…pay…pay attention to the road…” 

Not a moment later, out from the speakers the bass booms more loudly, the volume amplifying higher by the second where the music thumps heavy throughout your body. You locate the outlandish crystal-eyed culprit and his thumb pressing the ‘+ volume up’ button on the steering wheel.

Not only does he have the music blasted, but has the gall to flash a cutesy grin of mischief at you, a most sinful and impish face. That expression is followed up with a playful mocking yell, where the holler of his voice competes and cuts through the music. 

“HUH, baby?-! WHAT? I can't hear you!” he teases, then carries on anyway with the slide of his fingers between your pressed thighs. It’s difficult for you not to part them a smidge while the electric feel of his three fingers reaches for your clothed cunt. They press flat against your mound at the first touch, then begin to fondle lightly at the grooves of your pussy, tracing the outer shape of it with his fingertips. 

Having some restraint here had been your aim, but tonight you seem to be failing plenty at not completely succumbing to his whimsical charm–it's just been so long since you’ve been near him–you’d almost forgotten how magnetic his presence truly is. 

Attempting to keep your desire hidden, you try stifling the puff of air that escapes your throat, turning your head away towards the window, but it is futile. On full display to him now is how unable you are to withstand his spellbinding touch, and he’d spotted it. That little starved expression tells Gojo how badly you’re fiending, it has him lowering the radio, the amplitude of the loud song descending and funneling out of the small space, volume all the way down so he can very clearly hear what his defiance has wrought on you. 

Listening to your tiny constrained moans sends heat straight through his abdomen. You do not want to be condoning any of this while he’s driving, but unfortunately for your willpower, you act on instinct when you begin pawing desperately at the muscular forearm connected to strong fingers massaging over the wet spot of your panties.

“Yeahh…you like this, huh? Knew it.” 

But, in a moment too soon, he is cut off by an abrupt swerve of the car and you gasp.

“Shit–” he grips steadfast onto the wheel, gaining composure of the vehicle.

“...Alright, alright, you were right. Let’s save this.” Punctuating the final word with one reassuring pat down onto your pussy, it's honestly more like a gentle spank.

You’re pouting, but of course you nod, agree, and settle into the electrically warmed seat produced by the suave leather chair, feeling loosened up.

Safety first.

. + .

The door to Gojo’s opulent estate, only a fraction of what sits on a 22-acre property, welcomes you by the greeting of a polished and suited butler. Warm lighting casts down from the expansive ceiling and it’s the first time this evening you’re able to catch a true glimpse of Gojo’s eyes. They look a bit tired, a tad worn from his recent circumstances, but it is truly a wonder how he can make even a light touch of under-eye bags look sexy.

Walking past the foyer toward the candle-lit living room, you extend him your comfort. Wrapping your arm around the bulk of his bicep, the other palm reaches for the hard pec on his chest to rub soothing circles of understanding. 

Here you are at long last, approaching the grand sofa, both of you plopping yourselves atop the plush expanse and seamlessly locking on to one another. He relishes in the beautiful body flush against his. 

Encircling his waist with your arms, you find it rather cute in taking note that he is marginally plumper around his middle than before, having developed a more modest weight around his butt and love handles. Though abs of steel still ripple his shirt, the overworked dad you hold in your arms seems to have relaxed a little from the recent stress and you are filled with a sudden pride for him. 

A light-hearted joke flickers in your mind of his natural ability to take up space from his energy alone anyway–how you admire it, a part of you secretly wishing you could embody more of that in yourself–but mostly in how you appreciate this bigger physical development in him, because it now means there's a little more of him in the world.

“Shall we toast?” he suggests, so he whips you up a nice pink drink while he sips hard gin on the rocks, leaning back, thighs spread open like an empowered slut. 

Curiosity then strikes him when the haul of shopping bags sitting on the floor from your spree earlier this evening catches his eye. “Ooo, lemme me take a peek at what you got.” he sits up and nods, face gleaming. 

One by one each item is showcased and he is enthralled by every piece, because of course he is—it’s part of why he adores you, chose you, your keen eye and clear level of taste has always been impeccable, distinct and unique, highly attractive. 

Then his heart is increasing in size as you confirm, right here, right now, that those aren’t amongst your only positive qualities when you’re showing him you’d also picked up something for him and had been thoughtful enough to do so. An ornate watch is pulled out of a fresh bag by your delicate hands, that then with a snap is on his wrist, handsome as it glints and refracts in the candlelight of the room.

Your body reaches over the littered items on the elaborate rug, clasping the final shopping bag which houses the bikini you had bought for this reunion by his request. 

He whistles at it. “Superb. Model it for me, will you, babe?”

You do. Twirl, shimmy, joke with an exaggerated runway catwalk, giggle, then there’s something visible written on his face and you’re able to anticipate what his next move might be.

Gojo had developed a pension for bestowing you with a few cutesy nicknames in the time spent getting to know you. Amongst his favorites and most frequently used is that of ‘cherrybomb’. Must be a fan of The Runaways, you figured, but it truly came about when, almost exclusively, you began wearing rouge-shade lipsticks in his presence. Perhaps you could make yourself seem a little older, you’d hoped, give yourself a closer touch of sophistication in his world by presenting yourself in such a way. 

But mostly he’d donned you with the specific moniker because a smattering of the red tends to end up around the lower half of his dick after he's had his way with you, a faint painted crimson over his pelvis near where it meets the shaft. 

You’re halfway through striking a faked model pose when he lifts himself off the couch and approaches. With an index finger so sensual, he presses up into the cushion of your ruby lips, holding tight to your gaze, coaxing you with a query, “So, gonna help daddy feel better now, cherrybomb?"

Then, far into the depths of crystalline aqua you swim, deep into the mesmerizing eyes that lock onto yours and you say nothing; nothing except for an exhale of hot moist vapor releasing onto the firm finger that baits you. The slow lick you give it afterward, dragging your tongue up along the column of his digit, landing at the tip, answers any and all of his questions. He can already feel the swell of blood trickling in to fill up his cock.

The time has come for his hand to guide you through another hallway toward the recently completed construction of a large-scale naturesque onsen the size of a massive pool, installed in the outdoor area beyond the sliding doors. Intending to experience it tonight for the first time was on his agenda, professing his desire to christen the new space with you, right before he glides a magnificent lustered glass door to one side, letting you through.

You step into the open atmosphere: water bedazzled by moonlight, submerged light fixtures softly illuminating a mint-aqua azure-blue glow, steam rising thick as fog. A plethora of tall bamboo trees enclose the surrounding space, a waterfall cascades off a giant boulder just around the bend and beneath your feet and everywhere is an assortment of gorgeous stones varying in shapes, sizes and sorts.

Gojo leans into you from behind when you approach the onsen’s outer edge, planting kisses along your neck. A clean tug at the string of your bikini top by his hand has it flopping off your breasts, exposing them to the crisp night air, amongst the sprinkle of stars hanging in the heavens. Bikini bottoms hit your ankles next and he strips completely, down to his boxers, then to nothing at all. Already he’s rock hard, a cock so upright, it seems it could nearly touch his abs.

A large hand links to yours, leading you down into the inviting water.

"God, you’re tiny next to me." He tells you, loving how much his big build towers your frame, admiring your body from behind as you descend into the blue, bare feet hitting each lowered pebbled step.

Submerging into warmth, it cradles you as you dip in. Vapor floats off the lapping surface where your joined bodies bob together in water, all of your limbs wrapped around him. He wastes not another second longer, gripping you impossibly closer, making out with you, ardently; proving himself to be ever the great multitasker with one hand gripped on your asscheek and another kneading at your breast.

Now the sizzling of your skin isn’t from the heated water alone, for beneath the very surface you simmer for him, a robust flame of aching arousal so unbearable it has you trembling. Shaky and flustered by lust, from how strong hands grope every inch of your body, how his tongue intoxicates you as it rolls fluidly against yours, he senses it all—how overcome you are by need—making him groan with a fire in his belly, as do you, too. 

Desire has your spine arching. Legs still grasped to his waist, your ass pops backward as far as it will reach, creating easy access for him where he can trace fingertips along the crack of your ass as a guide, down to the ‘X’ which marks the spot of your slick hole.

Two thick fingers dip up, curl inside you, and plumes of oxygen off your light moans release between whimpers. Like your third eye opening, the instant clarity you receive in understanding how these fingers are able to create such powerful sorcery is made evident now, by his digits making literal magic in you as they fuck you filthy beneath the water. 

“Missed you like hell.” He murmurs, then you grip tighter, moaning, sucking a quick bruise on his neck. 

Yet all too soon, he notes the angle of his wrist is not ideal, nor the slight pushback from the water. All of it provides much resistance for him to thrust into you at the necessary speed that he knows would truly have you unraveling for him.

A light bulb flicks on in his head.

“Turn for me.” He commands, gentle and true.

In favor of getting you back to the onsen steps without letting you lose arousal, he whips your body around, directing your arms to wind behind his neck, your ankles to wrap around his. With your back meeting his chest, exposed nipples sting wet in the cold bite of the air, wading you through the water. His goal to keep that hot coil of desire burning within you also means his own cravings run high right now, to have you squirming on his fingers from this position, knowing where that button can be pressed upon. 

“Thaaat’s it, baby, keep it up for me…” He entices, approvingly, an eager hand reaching from around your hip to the front, massaging over your clit in winding motions of expertise. His game is won when your hips begin to stutter, rocking and chasing for more of his touch and he can sense the steady rhythm of your thighs tensing against his.

Soon, your feet hit the stony steps. Placed on a higher level than him, it gives him reason to bend you over as planned, to hike your ass up above the waterline where it collects just around your thighs. It’s there you are instructed to hold steadfast on the edge of the onsen.

“Good, baby. Just like that.”

He reckons it’s his turn to make you pliant and easy access for himself. From where he stands below, waist deep in water, his face is lined with the entirety of your raw nether-region, anxiously awaiting to eat you out from behind.

But first, the sight of you like this is truly something to behold.

Here is a quick moment of pause for Gojo, caught in admiring the beauty of pearlescent vapors casting heat off of every bit of your skin, dancing upward through the shine of moonbeams contrasted against the darkness.

“Mmm.” There’s a tone of carnal wonder—and just a touch of light playfulness—in his humbled voice. “Your pussy is steaming hot, baby. Literally.”

You whine from the unfavorable lack of contact as he purrs his sweet words. Air is blown over your bare steamy cunt by his lips, cooling it down, watching it clench, eyeing heat vapors disperse around it. Then he gingerly pries the petals of your pussy open, lingers in admiration for another moment longer before finally tugging your thighs backward to strike his face onto the wet folds. He impresses a deep open-mouthed kiss onto it, sucking your pussy slow and deep into his mouth, and you snap—out comes your ungodly cry in ecstasy. He makes it sloppy, purposefully a bit disheveled, all wicked slurps and licks of passion, and a huff from his nose hits your asshole in a stimulating sensation. 

The taste of the mineral water mixed with the sweet drip of your cunt thoroughly quenches his thirst for this christening.

Light daddy scruff from his lower face can be felt against you as another slow upward lick nearly grazes your anus. He wants to create a plateau of his tongue stretching across the whole of your pussy, so he’s scooping under to search for your clit and press there, toying with the nub for several long languid beats. 

That is until he makes a quicker decision to swap it in favor of shoving his fingers inside you and pump them with force from behind. When you thrust back to help his fingers reach deeper, he already misses his face being trapped and pressed to your cunt, so he moves back to slurping your clit too. 

Your head falls forward as you crescendo from tiny whimpers into staccato groans, then sensing him pause for the smallest of moments only to catch a breath where you can feel his rapid draw of air.

He is attuned to when your hips begin gyrating harder onto his sucks, it’s a signal you’re close to your finish. So he doubles down, grabbing hold of your sides in a bruising grip, fingertips digging deep into the flesh of your hips where he forces you tighter onto his face. All that’s left to give is a tiny sting of pain to send you reeling and crying out his name, so his large hand cracks down on an asscheek, several filthy slaps, with the swirl of his tongue still on you.

He alternates, working and circling open your tender hole to motioning down onto pulsating clit-sucks in such perfect rhythm, it’s like the epic beat of a hit song—and in an instant, it must be your favorite tune, because now you’re singing out along with it, belting out with a searing vibrant orgasm that courses through you.

Your elbows and knees wobble, near to collapse, but he’s caught you just in time with a slide of his arm underneath your tummy, holding you up with another hand by your outer thigh. 

And you feel entirely supported by him, in many more ways than one.

You’re weakened and topple sweetly into the water, flopping backward into his broad chest. He draws in your back from behind, whispering warmth in your ear. “Daddy’s turn.”

The way your cheeks beam in post-glow daze has him tender-hearted. “Aw, my little cherrybomb…” he brushes away clumped strands of hair plastered to your face, “...like how only I can make you feel?”

Being older than you means he’s more experienced. No one other than Gojo has even remotely had you cumming as hard, so you can't deny his accuracy. You’d never dream of denying it anyway.

“Without question, daddy,” a little raspy voice so sincere, your body twirling in the clear blue liquid to face him outright, telling him point blank, “you’re the only one that has the power to make me feel this good.” Nearly sung like a lullaby off your tongue, you stare up at him with the most earnest eyes.

The sweet innocence of your praise is so astounding it raises his eyelids to widen so greatly until the appearance of the moon’s reflection fully shines in his eyes ; a genuine response to your unwavering devotion. Then it’s gone in a flash, because his eyelids shut when he’s peppering a line of kisses over your forehead and his dick is forcibly throbbing against you.

“Mhm yeah, you feel that?” He sucks on your earlobe, it’s still between lips as his whisper vibrates on the sensitive skin. “Want you bad. Help your daddy out now."

It’s nearly impossible to contain yourself when the all consuming thought and need in this moment is his grown cock in your hand, to supply him with anything and everything that would satisfy him, service him with the utmost amount of pleasure possible it’s as though he would never again know of pain.

Plunging forward and splashing further into the water, you hurl yourself onto him, a hand wrapped around his cock, an arm thrown around his nape. You pull him into another session of sucking one another’s faces, feverish mouths echoing moans into each other while you fist him below the water.

Gradually, the motion pushes him further and further backward until his spine hits an eventual rocky wall, arms-length away from the flow of the waterfall.

Gojo hauls you up by your thighs to wrap over his hips, simply wanting you to feel how hard he is from the outside, skin against skin, tenderly outlining the full protruding length of himself over your folds. Teasing between velvety lips, he’s grinning at how much of your slick can be felt through the water as he rhythmically runs his hard cock to bump up against your clit. Pleasure erupts through you with uncontrollable shuddering, from the remembrance of how unbelievable it could be just to have Gojo rubbing over you, the rush of the hazy memory all comes flooding back to you now.

Your head cannot withstand its own weight any longer, dropping dead into his fragrant shoulder, the scent of his neck driving you to delirium, inducing an almost intolerable desire for him.

 “Enjoying yourself?” He chimes, but you are barely able to muffle out an agreement with your mouth muted against his skin. The best you can give is a tiny nod and it feels you’ve mildly blacked-out behind closed lids. “Tell me how much you need it.” He commands.

“I-I…” you start, but it dies in your throat, “...I...I–”

“Come on, baby,” he coos, a little smug, a bit more pride in his request, “I wanna hear it.”

You're at a loss, struggling to form coherent sentences, already helplessly weak from his cock and it's not even inside of you yet.

“...so...s-so bad, please…I–”

A wordless understanding soon emanates between you both, suspended in the air surrounding you. It’s a palpable exchange of etheric empathy. He understands–identifies, since you have never spent this much time apart before and seeping into the gravity of that is also beginning to make him feel dizzied. “That's it…that’s it…you can do it, sweets, you can tell me...” He rocks his taunting hips, hypnotizing your needy hole from the outside with the prodding head of his cock as you try once more to formulate a sensical sentence.

“D-don't think…I've ever…wanted anything–so badly–I-I–” 

The more you babble, the harder he throbs.

“Daddy, I just–!” You feel actual tears starting to well up in your eyes, “–missed you so much-!”

An unexpected pang in your chest induces a flood of tears from your lower lash line. It’s only obvious to you now that you’ve been harboring this specific avoided emotion for a while, possibly even weeks. Trying to keep “strong”, convincing yourself you’ve been fine, or shoving down anything that would surface from within you about making the distance a bigger deal than you thought it ought to be.

Feeling so foolish, naive, to be crying with a mix of anguished pleasure for him, you lightly choke on your resistance to all of it, but without any ability to stop it.

He slows, then halts to observe your face, detecting the moisture below your eyes. It catches him by surprise. Concerned for you, he speaks with care. 

“Aww, angelll…” 

A tear streams down your cheek where he stops it with his lips, kissing it away, and Gojo feels his cock swell harder.

Undeniably horny by your undeniable ache for him.

A hand swipes over your face, shushing you to calm. “Shh…that's alright, okay baby, shh, you did good–so good speaking up for me–letting me know how much you want me…” soothing tingles by gentle scratches of his hands along your back quell you, “...re-laaa-x…shh…that was good enough for me now.”

Your cheeks are burning, born out of the pit of stupidity you feel as it pools in your stomach. Yet still, you continue to tear up, subtle quivering comes in waves over your body and has him offering you more words of comfort.

“...Nnnm…I missed you too, hey, hey–” he cups your face, making sure you’re truly hearing him. “–I did too, I really did…I know, baby, I know…” since you’re already crying, he might as well give you a better reason to, in the only way he knows to make it better, “...missed you somethin fierce…here–lemme show you how much. Come’ere–”

Lining up with your drenched hole, he guides you down onto the smooth stretch of his thick cock and your breath constricts. It has your face contorting from the dizzying nature of it all, denting your nails into his broad back. Gojo’s glimmering eyes connect with yours, reflecting back a shared intensity. Your gazes mirror one another as two pairs of eyelids are drooping together in unison, carefully examining each other’s faces as you adjust to him and he finally bottoms out inside you. But he grants you mere moments before the overwhelming thirst for you is far too irresistible to bear any longer. 

He surrenders to the will of his body as if possessed, chasing more of the sweet suck of your cunt in every thrust and now you’re crying from something else entirely. Strong, effortless, determined pumps of his length drive into your core, the way he knows you’ll always end up begging for, although now, no longer does he want to ask that of you. 

In this instance, his sole purpose becomes your unspoken bliss, to anticipate your desires without you needing to word them, yearning to spare you any further trace of strain or exertion. He intends to allow you the full sensation of simply craving his strong presence, pistoning into you, to let you relinquish control, entrusting him to tend to every remaining detail of your pleasure.

“Does this make you happier, baby? Hm?” Still carrying you, he turns a 180, switching spots to push your back against the flat rocky surface and ram you up against the wall. “Does it? H-huh? Ngh. Does it make you ha-happy?” 

The splishing of the waterfall and his fierce rhythmic grunts are the only sounds filling your ears. You nearly match the waterfall as more tears spill and that’s when you’re sure he doesn’t require a verbal reply. The confirmation of your entire body responding to him renders sufficient, like how your fingers instinctively entwine with his hair, gentle tugs at snowy locks for extra support, you then give a few wobbled nods.

But now he needs a little more support and leverage, gearing up for that one ideal angle in you. 

Hanging low and tilted just overhead, rests a bamboo tree. Reaching that one sweet gummy spot inside of you will mean reaching one of his arms up to grab hold of it. Gojo steadily raises both of your connected bodies so both waists together are just a hair above the waterline. He is up on his toes, tight grip on the bamboo culm, when he pounds you to perfection, deep and generous, positively wrecking you ‘till you’re wailing from your finish in blinding satisfaction. 

And daddy fucks you raw into the night, again and again, through to the edge of dawn; then later on, when the birds begin to chirp and you are fully spent in his bed – so fucking cute when you’re fast asleep – Gojo realizes he won’t ever grow tired of the faint traces of cherry smeared across his pillows.

. + .

+ link2masterlist .