#look at those CRISP edges

[incinerated-vestiges]

he’s like a wet cat

Bonus ghoap

[tteokdoroki]

✎ᝰ. OCT 1ST ★ BONDAGE - satoru gojo .ᐟ

[CHAPTER ONE RAPUNZEL] satoru gojo as flynn rider + bondage. once upon a time, a girl trapped in a tower with nothing but her extremely lavish, long hair as company decides…fuck it and sleeps with a handsome stranger to get what she wants ( 9.1K ).

✧ chapter contents - minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, heavy smut, rapunzel!au, strangers to lovers, role reversal & switching, orgasm control, sensory deprivation, edging, thigh riding, spit kink, outer-course, begging, handjobs (m!recieving), reader's hair has blonde streaks but colour remains ambigous, rapunzel + fem!reader, flynn rider!satoru gojo.

✧ fairy godmother's note - yippieee!! kickstarting spooky season with this hefty boy. we have our glorious blue eyed king welcoming you all to our fourth annual tteokdoroki kinktober - i hope you all like what's planned this year and enjoy this piece to start with !! kissies hehe <3 - m.list ⋆ kinktober m.list ⋆ taglist ☆

“you’re going to take me to see the floating lights. or else.” 

“or else, what, honey?” 

ever since satoru gojo climbed the wooden lattice sewn to your tower by blooming, overgrown weeds and winding vines effectively invading the safest space in the world ( according to mother ), he’s been a pain in your fucking ass. when he’d first arrived, a towering and unfamiliar figure creeping about the main floor — your heart had dropped to the base of your stomach, pulsing rapidly with fear while he scoped the scene. you’d never come across a man before, mother had made sure of that, warning you of their cruelty and ugliness both inside and out. except satoru looked nothing like the descriptions your mother had left you with, you’d say that the man was stunning. not that you had much to compare him to.

his hair was a crisp white, appearing soft to the touch much like the snowfall that came in the winter months (something about playing in it. contrastingly, his eyes were a beautiful shade of baby blue — eerily similar to that of a summer sky free of cloudiness. he was too good looking to be human, for it to be natural, almost as if satoru had strolled straight out of one of the many fairytale books mother purchased for you from the markets. although, over the years you’ve probably read each book cover to cover a million times and not one fictional prince could even match this stranger’s sheer beauty.

though for now, this handsome stranger’s looks would get him nowhere with you. strangers always came with dangers, and since all you’d known throughout your years of living were these four walls, you weren’t going to take any chances with satoru and whatever problems he’d have brought with him.  initially and out of an unfamiliar fear, you’d  taken the nearest weapon to you (a frying pan) and cracked it right over his skull — watching the hunk of a human collapse to his knees and eventually black right out. if mother were around, she would have been proud. you’d tried not to feel any guilt trying to stuff his limp, lengthy limbs in your closet or under your bed because… well, what business does this stranger have with you? what the fuck is a man doing here? how did he get here? why is he here? 

your whole life you’ve been convinced that the outside word was treacherous and that you had to stay inside, where it was safe, because people were horrible and selfish — intent on hunting you down for the powers that lay intertwined in the coils of your hair. those specific streaks that glow a valuable gold between the usual  colour of your locks whenever you sang. mother would style them the way you liked every night — so long as you sung for her. you weren’t about to let mother down, nor risk the little life you built here together.

but, as it turns out, satoru wasn’t looking for the magic sprouting from your crown and entangled in your hair. it almost seemed like he had no idea about them either. rather, the moonlit haired man was looking for a place to lay low and hide after being chased through the forest for his satchel that seemingly carries something valuable. a crown… jewels that have a weight familiar to your head and sparkle like something you’ve seen before in a distant memory. 

“come to think of it, honey, where is my satchel?” cocking his head to the side, sky blue eyes peer up at you with a charm that sends a foreign swarm of butterflies ripping through your stomach.

you frown, accusingly pointing your weapon of choice at gojo’s head and puffing out your chest to appear as intimidating as possible while giving him your name. “i’ve hidden it in a secure location—“ 

“it’s in that pot…isn’t it?” 

as best as he can in the handcuffs he can call locks of your hair, the tower’s newfound infiltrator gestures towards a colourful pot in the corner of tne room. what? all you could think of in the moment is restraining him against the chair and why waste perfectly good rope when you’ve got such length to your own hair? the pot was the closest spot too.you knock him out swiftly after his guess, not giving gojo the satisfaction of finding his precious purse.

now, with the satchel hidden once more, satoru gojo semi-concussed and conscious once again — you realise that for the first time in your life, you have some kind of leverage to bargain with. you need someone to take you to see the floating lights that illuminate the sky on your birthday, every year. satoru needs his… crown? that so obviously doesn’t belong to him. of course, he would have stolen it, mother always said men were no good and always take what isn’t theirs (oh the irony). nonetheless, it  was the perfect match of desires.

this way, you could prove to mother that you weren’t weak like she said you were. that you could cope by yourself and go explore the outside world. it wouldn’t be how it usually is with mother — where you ask for something and instantly get denied because she believes you to be too naive to function in a world outside of her. not this time. this time you have a bargaining chip. a satchel containing a valuable so rare that satoru was willing to risk his life for.

your captive wriggles against the restraints of your hair, woven around the chair like tough knots of a rope to keep him at bay. while the silver haired fox may not have canines like your mother suggested, you have no idea how powerful he could be. contrastingly, gojo finds your hair to be soft against his skin, ticklish along the veins of his arms despite how secure it has him strapped down. he’s forced to listen and to follow your every move across the floor plan, guided by the strength of your hair tugging him about.

“i have a proposition for you. come, look.” drawing back a curtain to reveal a painting from earlier — you recite your plan to your intruder. tomorrow evening, he will take you to see the floating lights … ahem…lanterns that drift across the sky on your birthday every year and then, return you safely to the tower before mother returns. it’s an easy deal.  “i won’t give your satchel back until then,” you stutter out fiercely, adjusting your height and the grip you have on the cool metal frying pan. “you won’t get it back until you’ve taken me to see the lights.” 

“oh whatever, i can just take it back, honey,” satoru goads, cockily ripping his head back in patronising laughter. even though the melodious sound makes irritation bubble hot underneath your skin, you can’t help the way your eyes are immediately drawn to the man’s Adam’s apple as it bobs delectably along with his chuckles. “as soon as i get out of this…hair? hair.” pale blue eyes flicker up to your face when gojo fixes himself in the seat he’s fixed to. they bore deeply into your soul, reading you with as much ease as you have flicking through the same three books that you own. you feel the weight of your hair shift around satoru’s shoulders as he gestures down to it nearly wrapped around his bulging forearms (not that you’d been paying attention). “this is kinda freaky, hon. don’cha think?” a slow sexy smirk tugs at the corners of gojo’s plush, glossy lips, or rather, he smoulders attempting to woo you into giving him what he wants. “you don’t seem like the freaky type, sweetheart.”

once more, a frustrated flame flares up in the middle of your chest — you’d feel offended for sure if you know what gojo meant. “freaky?” 

“as in like… dubious?” he grins in response, running the pink tip of his tongue over his straight, perfectly white teeth. “this is basically bondage, yanno?”

you blink once. confused.

“improper?” 

nothing, not one of these synonyms or explanations from the smiling idiot makes any more sense to you — bringing you to tilt your head to the side, innocently like a puppy that makes satoru laugh once more. this time it actually does something to you. sends weird butterflies fluttering in your tummy.

with a shake of snow white locks and an inhale that sounds amused as it goes, your hostage clicks his tongue — letting those cooling blue eyes slink up and down your virtuous frame . the swell of his lower lip trapped between pretty perfect teeth. “as in sexy, sweet thing.” satoru’s sickly sweet and powdered sugar coo slips through one ear and out of the other like hot, viscous molasses, you immediately shudder — flustered down to the meat on your bones, curling in on yourself as your faux intimidation tactics melt from your body and slip between the floorboards beneath your bare feet. “gosh! you’re so innocent,” his gaze rips away from you, and you fight back an unexpected whimper, missing the intruder’s gaze on you. “guess that’s what being trapped in a place like this does to a darlin’ thing like you. you wouldn’t last a day out there.” 

he’s patronising you. speaking to you as though you’re no more than a child. however, being talked over and down on is all you’ve ever known, especially from your mother… but the way he acts reminds you of all of the advice she’s bestowed upon you over the years. mother tells you all the time, how naive and silly you are. how people will try and take advantage of your looks and your kindness. and so you decide to use your mother’s advice — if all humans, act like dogs, you’ll throw one a bone and wait for them to come back for more. 

steeling yourself, you use a loop of your hair to drag gojo’s chair toward you — positioning him like a puppet beneath your cold, hard stare. he man spreads on the chair as best as he can in his restraints, leaning back while his seat tilts backwards on a forty-five degree angle — drawing your eyes from his face to his thick thighs momentarily. “you are going to take me to see the lights. it’s a promise, not a threat,” you whisper into the air that buzzes with tension between you both, leaning down and pinning gojo in place. you’re so close, so little proximity between your faces, that you can practically feel his warm breath lingering on the damp skin of your lips. “and i promise, i’ll make this worth your while.” 

your voice lowers an octave, smooth and buttery and just right. like a snare for a wild white rabbit or bait on a hook — it peaks satoru’s interest, illicit thoughts and desires flashing behind his pupils like lightbulb ideas. “oh, honey. i can make you see stars alright,” he looks up at you then, with an expression of heat and thirst, dragging you into a pool of shining blue eyes that you barely manage to free yourself from. drowning in his attention once more. you stand over him proudly, between his legs smugly and all he wants to do is wipe the winning smile from your face and show you a real good time. 

if he could, gojo would reach up and grab at your hips possessively, if he could he’d cup your neck and let his fingers toy with your baby hairs to pull you into a sloppy kiss. he can’t help the way white hot desire spreads through his system like throwing gasoline on an open fire and pile of wood. he grins mischievously, and in response, a brand new sensation stirs within your lower tummy — blistering hot as it zips between your chest and your core.

you sense the change in the atmosphere and gojo does too. both of you dying to scratch the itch on the part of your brain that is the control centre for lust. but you remind yourself what this is truly about, tell yourself not to get lost in the haze of it all, and will yourself to throw a loop of your hair over daring blue eyes like a blindfold — acting fast to secure a seat in an unsuspecting satoru gojo’s vacant lap.

he grunts in surprise, flinches when he realises one out of five of his senses are down. “what the fuck—?” gojo spits, cocky smirk melting away. 

“shhh,” you taunt the man under your breath, leaning forward so that your voice coasts over the shell of his ear like a summery breeze. it invokes a sense of pride within your chest when your hostage tilts his head to follow your voice — his own breathing erratic and increasingly shallow with how he begins to struggle against your restraint on him. “you won’t get a chance to make me see those lights. not if i get you to see them first.” 

in truth, you've got nothing planned. you’ve never been in the same room as a man, let alone pleasure them the way that you’ve read in books you’d borrowed from your mother. 

the reality of the scene before you is daunting, giving up part of your virtue just to prove a point and get to see the floating lights like you’ve always wanted…but at the same time — it’s your one chance at freedom that’s at stake here. “you don’t sound so sure about that, sweetheart,” satoru taunts you with the peaks in his voice coltishly high. he continues to wrestle against the restraints of your hair — he’s strong and with a little more force he could escape but it’s like he senses your hesitancy. 

like he knows for certain you won’t make good on your promise. just like mother. 

that much is evident in the way his smooth, glossy lips tick upwards into an arrogant smirk. 

your determination to prove him wrong grows more and more by the second, so before you succumb to your nerves again, you let your free hand claw with way over gojo’s right shoulder — steadying him, forcing him to sit still as you make a comfortable seat out of his widespread lap. he tenses at first, unable to see you move, but his grin remains, you have no idea if it’s because he’s proud of you or doubting you — but the expression only serves to piss you off even more.

“what’s next, sweetheart?” 

a strangled growl is your only reply, the most menacing sound you can muster as you lift head upwards and his pool of loose silver-moon locks fall out of place. with a shuddering breath and a hold of gojo’s restraints, you press your lips to his in a shaky kiss — still unsure of where your lips go and what to do with your teeth and how to move your tongue. the captive beneath you knows it and takes advantage of your weakness, nipping at the swell of your lower lip gently — hardly enough to draw blood. satoru is testing you, telling you to be brave and take from him. prove to him that you’re willing to do whatever you want for him to make your silly childhood dream come true.

he allows you to fight back, despite this being your idea, lets you forcefully grab his angular jaw and capture him in a proper spit-swapping kiss. if he really wanted to, he’d find a way to escape from the tight bounds of your lengthy hair. but he doesn’t. gojo lets you swallow him down; push your tongue exploratively into his mouth and lap at his foreign flavour. he wants your tongue to take dominance from his, pink appendages sloppily rolling over one another, slipping and sliding as you take and take from satoru.

the kiss, already uncoordinated from your lack of experience, becomes hurried and hungry and wet the more you steal from satoru. you take and take and take until his glass his half full and his brain slowly becomes devoid of all logical thought. he comes the prey to your predatory mouth, missing the way your hand frees his pale cheek and fingers fluidly traverse down his broad shoulders, over his marble sculpted body to find purchase in the belt loops of his bothersome pants. now curious, you feel your way down the front of the fabric and grin into the hot and heavy kiss when satoru’s lets out a breathy, staggered moan into your open mouth. 

his swelling erection twitches in response to your inquisitive hand, slender hips involuntarily jumping upwards.

“fuuuck,” satoru chuckles airily, words featherlight as they breeze along your lips. his head keens upwards too, chasing the weight of your hot sticky tongue in his mouth — desperate to be closer, craving the feeling of your nose knocking against his and your breath on his cheek from just how pressed up against each other you are. “fuck baby that’s it. kiss me more, touch me harder…” he’s addicted before he even knows what you have to offer, what he’s getting himself into. if you could see his eyes from under his binding, you’d bare witness to pleading blue pools swirling with a painful desire as he twitches beneath you, wriggling his wrists to get free. “c’mon, touch me.” he adds between sloppy pecks.

backing your face out of satoru’s reach, you break the drooly lip lock — letting your lungs fill with oxygen it had once missed, while your heaving chest syncs up with the intruder you have strapped  to a chair. you pull away, connected to the man by not just your hair, but a string of saliva glazed across your lips — cautiously, your tongue dart out to break the the between your eager mouths, two sets of uneven panting filling the quiet air. 

the two of you remain unmoving and unwilling to back down while you catch your breath; but your hand remains in the centre of gojo’s lap — rocking it back and forth, back and forth over his growing bulge. you stare at him, observing the reactions that he tries so hard to control. little twitches to his pink swollen lips and the flare of his nostrils whenever your palm makes contact with a sensitive spot. all this waiting is agony, the white haired captive might die if he doesn’t get more from you soon. 

satoru whines impatiently as a result, knowing full well what you want and you won’t ask him again — not when you’re tauntingly squeezing his cock for a second, third, fourth, fifth time. he doesn’t fucking know — overwhelmed by waves of lust-infested blood rushes to its blistering hot tip. “fuck! okay, okay fine. i’ll take you! just—“ the chair rattles from the force of gojo’s struggle against your restraints, which hardly covers the low moan that escapes from between his plush glossy lips while his length pulses against the inside of his pants. “just fuck me. touch me. anything.”

something about his tone being all desperate and high activates a part of you that you never even knew existed. a part of you that knows what to do next… even if you haven’t acted it out, you’ve enough books to remember what the erotic ones say.

only then, after he pleads, do you use your shaky hands to tug down the garment — pulling them towards his knees as best as you can against your hair until the button pops free. the zipper follows easily and the waistband falls away from starlight skin and slender hips. everything gets hotter; any fresh air between your bodies becoming tinged with the need for sex as the scorching ghost of your fingertips leaves burn marks against satoru’s pelvis, and sends heatwaves of ardour from the base of his spine to the top of his skull.

satoru’s squirming pauses while he waits with uneven breathing for your next move — tongue pressing up against the barricade of his white teeth to prevent himself from taunting you further or perhaps to stop himself from belting out another pathetic set of whimpers. he wishes he could see you, those sweet innocent eyes looking down at him as you peel back the last layer of fabric stopping you from accessing his painfully hard erection. his underwear. 

when you gasp in shock, pride weaves itself between the bones that protect his heart and lungs like an uninvited weed, he knows that he’s decent. longer than he is thick, bright red at his mushroomed tip and leaky from just how turned on he is. there’s a trail of silver moon hair that leads you down a path from his belly button to the thickest part of his dick too. but oh, how satoru gojo wishes he could see.. the way you lick your lips as drool drowns your tongue, mouth watering at the sight of his length slapping against his clothed stomach while he manspreads for you. the way your pupils dilate, the colour in your eyes swallowed by a dark veil of carnality. 

this is a hunger you’ve never experienced before, a type of starvation that makes your hand lurch forward before your brain can control it, gripping satoru at the base of his milky, slender shaft. it’s the first time you’ve ever seen a cock; let alone held one between your tiny fingers — it’s much warmer than you anticipated, tacky to the touch from dribbles of precum running down from his untouched tip, but you like it. the weight, the wet sound it makes when you slightly flick your wrist around satoru. not to mention the stuttered groan he lets out, his head falling against the support of the chair and yanking slightly on the blindfold made of hair that covers his eyes.

if you weren’t sitting in his lap, you’d want him in your drooling mouth. you’d sink down to your knees like the girls in your naughty books and take him down your virgin throat, just so you could look up at satoru and watch the sweat bead down his jawline and run a track over his bobbing adam’s apple. but you’re not and you’ve got a point to prove, so you loop your hair around your other wrist to tighten his restraints and extend a thumb upward from his base to his seedy tip, jamming the pad of it through the slit where he pre forms in thick, creamy pearls. as white as those that come from an oyster.

“that’s it gorgeous, just like that…” satoru leers up at you huskily, voice tinged with neediness that he fails to mask. he seems to like the way you touch him and you’re sure to use a delicate hand when you smooth the supple pad of your thumb over the pad of his sensitive tip, rubbing his opaque precum into it sweetly. “touch me s’more? you can do it… i know you’re shy, can hear your breathing ‘n how heavy it is. shit, you’re new at this.” saliva slows down satoru’s salacious words as he rambles to you with swollen lips and rosy cheeks, angling his head in whatever direction your breath seems to be coming from. 

he’s in tatters, destroyed by a few simple touches with his hard on smearing white across the front of his clothes. you roll your palm over his mushroomed cockhead next to test the waters and take pleasure in admiring the way he trembles, grasping at the arms of the chair you have him strapped to in order to ground himself. it’s torture for satoru to be this patient, killing him slowly from the inside out like a virus spreading across his brain and other vital organs — but it doesn’t mean you’re in any better state. practically dripping in his lap with your panties dampening more and more every time satoru so much as whimpers. past the point of being turned on by the sight of a strong, powerful man weak and blindfolded underneath you.

satoru bucks upward at your command, sucking in a breath as his sensitive, seedy slit bumps your palm once more. “s-shit… please.”

the improper ness of the entire situation sends a zap of electricity to your swelling clit. you’ve only ever imagined being with someone like this as you have seeing the floating lights — touching yourself beneath your skirts and under your painted ceilings whenever you were brave enough. now you’re here, spread over the thick thighs of a possible thief who begs you to jerk him off. “s-shut up,” you hiss as embarrassment and  inexperience begins to shine through the deal you’ve struck with gojo, the fact that he can tell as much and still wants this has you soaked all the way through and aching for friction as well. 

you’ve never been in possession of so much power in your life. mother never let you have it. but right now, you can taste it sparking between you and gojo, smell it in the air teeming mixed with a cocktail of your arousals. in the moment you realise that the silver haired man would cling onto every one of your sugar-coated words (no matter how nervous) if it meant he got the fuck he wanted in the end. and you would get to see your lights too.

“just… tell me what to do,” you say without realising how husky your own voice has gotten. “i promised you your crown, to make you feel good if you took me to see the lights. and i never go back on a promise. s-so tell me.” talking yourself into it and building up some more confidence, you circle over satoru’s bulbous cockhead again — gaze laser focused on the burning bright red colour as it oozes. you know that he likes it and it makes his head spin so much that he starts to fight against the restraint of your hair again. “i won’t let you go, not until this is over. so tell me what i can do to make you cum.” 

despite not being able to see his entire face, gojo’s smug smile says it all — his perfect teeth cheerily on display, contrasting with the flustered pink tint to his cheeks. “cup it, make a fist around my cock so you can jerk me off’a little bit,” a haughty moan scratches at the walls of your captive’s throat when you follow his guidance and finally grip him fully, soft and supple hands easily dwarfed by the size of him. satoru’s shaft may be a little thinner, but he’s thick enough to fill your own throat and cause a stretch to your quivering hole with his balls being round, plump and full of white hot seed saved up just for you. “christ, squeeze my base a lil’ before you get movin’,” at first contact, satoru’s thighs tremble deliciously against your mound, blood rushing to your clit and through the forked veins that spiral down his length. 

your senses are overwhelmed, he smells so good — of peppermint and a musky twang of sex act like dangerous smelling salts or fumes. you could get addicted if you weren’t careful. you’re super aware of each ridge and firm vein that decorates him and as you start to palm satoru steadily, you notice just how sticky your hand is — movements guided by the wet cream of his cock. slipping and sliding as your closed fist moves up and down, up and down, occasionally squeezing the base of him just like he asked. your knuckles brushing the soft bush of pubic hair at his pelvis. you can only imagine how everything feels for him, not being able to see at all.

the thought just barely crosses your mind — too focused on speeding up your soiled hand around gojo just to hear more of his angelic gripes and groans that rise and fall from his heaving chest. how good all of this must feel for the man without being able to see. every touch must make him tick and drip and throb achingly. he must feel weak too, completely vulnerable to anything you might do to him while blindfolded and unable to touch you because of bonds formed by your hair. 

once you set a steady rhythm to your closed fist to jerk him off with, gojo takes a breather to announce his next command — head shaking side to side with moonlight locks sticking to his forehead in an attempt to alleviate the inferno of desire spreading through of his limbs. “now spit on it,” he states bluntly, an obvious dip to the octave in his voice. you can’t possibly imagine why he’d need spit; your hand is already glossed with a shiny layer of precum, tainting your knuckles from the viscosity. 

you swallow thickly, but don’t dare stop pleasuring your captive stranger. “w-what?” 

“are you kidding me just—“ leaning forward as best as he can while held back by the strong locks of your hair, like rope around his wrists. dopamine crackles over your brain like fireworks in an enclosed space at the scene that unfolds next, satoru pursing his lips to spit onto his own milky dick — letting the frothy mix from mouth join the mess that lubes the both of you up where connected. “just spit on it, honey. thought you wanted me to feel it.”  

licking your lips, you rub down satoru’s girth far enough to drag the glob of spit down to his tender weighty balls, that pulse at your gentle touch. the feeling makes satoru’s entire body jolt like an electric shock — a gargled groan clambering out from the depths of his panting chest as his jaw goes slack and mouth falls open. “please. please spit on it, honey. god please.. need you to wet my cock. i need it so bad, promise i’ll be fucking good.” blind but with his remaining senses in tact, gojo remains largely vulnerable to your touch, his entire world tilting on one axis when you grip his dick a little harder at his request. causing a ring of white to gather where the circle of your wrist envelopes him.

at his begging. which you swear makes you gush like a small, erotic stream — your juices sloshing about in the gusset of your panties while your sex goes unattended.

so you nod obediently, tilting your head forward and parting your swollen lips to let a thick, syrupy string of your own spit ooze onto his plump and sore balls, stroking him rapidly to spread it over his creamy tip as well. your spit is contrastingly cool in comparison to the natural lubricant smeared all over your captive’s palpitating dick — causing it to grow impossibly harder. it slickens up your hand, evidence of the silver haired man’s arousal seeping through the fabric of his crumpled shirt and coils of your restrictive hair. neither of you can bring yourselves to care in the moment — all you can think to do is relish in gojo’s size.

he’s so big, you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t wondered how satoru fit entirely inside your tight hole, stretching you out in the new future — earning yourself a fresh wave of liquid lava hot essence to your ruined panties. you dare to dream onwards, picturing the azure eyed stranger fucking you against the walls of the tower in every way the man knew possible… you have no idea what he’s capable of when untied. but the sight of him lazily thrusting into your filthied fist like it’s instinct, following it like a moth to a candle flame, is enough dream fuel to last you a lifetime. even after the deal is complete and the lights are just a distant memory. 

eventually, you decide to pull off of satoru to give your wrist a break — walking your fingers up the broad expanse of his built chest to tweak his nipples between your tingling bodies. his entire frame is wracked with a case of shivers, mouth parting in a high-pitched, whiny whimper with strings of saliva connecting its roof to his tongue. you’re so pathetically turned on, drool pooling on your tongue like a hot flash flood. 

it’s why you tighten your grip on your hair and thus his restraints, resulting in satoru staggering forward. closer, panting like a damn dog in rut. drawing your free hand up towards your lips and away from his pecs, the proximity between you becomes so little that satoru can practically smell the musky evidence of sex that you lick from your hand. “oh… you taste so good,” you lament in a dulcet tone, failing to miss the way gojo’s dangerous azure eyes dart about beneath his makeshift blindfold, probably dying to see you get a taste of him.

“d-don’t say that, you’ll make me fuckin’ cum, honey.” he gulps, involuntarily pumping his hips into the air, chasing your hand which he needs so desperately to feel good. “please don’t stop.” while begging you — satoru is the perfect picture of a ruined man, though you’re sure he would say the same about you if you hadn’t strapped your hair over his line of vision. his milky skin glistens as though it’s the very source of light for the silvery moon — illuminated by droplets of sweat from the exertion off fucking your fist like a squelching, welcoming pussy. his cheeks glow warmly with a dusty shade of pink and there’s a red ring forming around his lips from where he’s bitten them to control his wails of ecstasy.

succumbing to the obscenity of it all,  you reach forward and lick a stripe into his hellfire hot mouth. effectively sharing the saltine flavour of gojo’s own precum with him while he languidly sucks all the tang from your pink appendage. his angel white lashes flutter shut at the heaviness of your tongue against his own. the kiss is messy and mismatched, saliva seeps from the corners of your mouth and drags a sticky train down your chin. parting briefly, you spit it into the middle of your palm — happily taking satoru’s cock back into your talented hold and providing a solace to soothe its passionate ache. 

“ngh… i can feel you. f-fuck. feel you tryin’ not to grind against me, sweetheart.” somehow, gojo finds pockets of air to taunt you in — his voice an arousing mix of a raspy whine and cocky tone. “so wet, i can smell you too. so sweet. dripping all over your panties while you jerk me off. do you need that needy pussy taken care of?”

everything he’s said is true, while the man with the sweaty silver locks fought to escape the prison of your hair — desperate to see how you pleased him, you fought the growing pit in your stomach. the urge to use satoru for release. you’d never hit your peak with another person before, only your smaller-than-his fingers whenever mother left for more than a day or two. 

you admit to nothing, continuing to stroke satoru to his own high — his panted moans accompanied by the sound of skin slapping skin from your hand fisting him to the high heavens.  “please baby, i wanna help get you off. feel that wet little cunt. let me go, i’ll be so good to you if you let me touch your sweet c—“ 

“n-no! we had a deal. my rules.” you stutter, denying yourself. denying him.

“c’mon sweetheart,” a strained and petulant whine echoes throughout the tower — satoru thrusting shallowly through your closed hand in order to match his rhythm to the flick of your wrist. “please, god, baby. if you won’t let me touch you, or at least see you, then can you put that pretty pussy on my thigh? ride it real good? wanna know how you sound when you’re being pleasured…when you give into it all. please honey, give me somethin’ to work with. anythin’…”

gojo presses, like a disciple begging their god for mercy. begging you for mercy. there’s never been this much power in your reach, the ability to control a man who could easily over power you with your sex makes your mind feel egotistically weighty. your resolve crumbles just a tad, satoru’s neediness  chipping away at its foundation until your hips instinctively position themselves perfectly over the swell of his right thigh. how bad could it be? giving him an inch when you’ve taken a mile from him. mother says you’ve never been good at lying and right now, you can no longer pretend like your hips aren’t dying to slide back and forth over your capture like a desperate whore. 

like you don’t want to use him for more than just the floating lights, but to soothe the fire lit in your lower stomach — trailblazing down to your throbbing clit.

something clicks in your mind, all of your inhibitions are dashed from the tower as you briefly release satoru’s pathetically wet cock and restraints to pull up the skirts of your silk purple dress, exposing a slither of supple fat at your thighs. hurried movements deliver the same treatment to satoru’s pants. “this… this doesn’t change anything. doesn’t mean i’m letting you go just yet. it won’t affect our deal.” you warn the intruder but all sense of venom and authority is lost, evaporating into the temperate air and ending up as a piteous, meek mewl when your exposed mound makes first contact with man’s naked thigh.

if the sound of ruffling fabric hadn’t caught your hostage’s attention; the heat of your sopping sex against his moonlit skin definitely did. “fuck…that’s it. there we go, honey. put it on me,” a tinge of amusement lays evident in his gravelly voice, sets of slender digits peeking out of their hairy restraints to map out your doughy thighs and crawl their way up to the source of your essence. “i just knew you were wet for me, can feel how turned on you are.” as best as he can, gojo shifts until his knee is able to bump your clit — cooing in satisfaction when you ooze against him in response. you almost despise the way he laughs up at you condescendingly, as if he’s the one in control irregardless or the fact that you’re on top. 

maybe it’s the dopamine rush that makes your dynamic unclear — neither of you wanting to give up or take the lead. the lust fizzing in the cracks and crevices of your brain make you cute and pliant for gojo but hair woven over his body keeps him subdued and thirsty for you. 

like a gravitational pull, you buck downwards on the silver haired stranger’s toned thigh and smear the beginnings of your arousal all over him. you’ve barely been touched, oozing in viscous waves as you lose control over your body, rutting harder and faster. “watch your mouth.” you cry out, volume barely above a whisper, bottom lip trembling because it feels so good to use someone this way. 

resuming your hold on his dripping cock again as you rock your hips — you rearrange the loop of hair keeping gojo in place, covering his eyes just as your hair begins  to glow gold in time with your symphony of moans. “right, right, sorry. this doesn’t change things,” he flexes his thigh underneath your syrupy sex, strawberry tongue slipping out to wet his lips while your words fade away into a pretty little sigh. “but you wanna smack that messy clit all over my thigh, don’cha wanna make it creamy… even messier?” satoru all but jeers, the wisps of a smirk rising on the horizon of his lips now that your hips have formed their own rhythm over his leg.

they speed up their passionate dance on him, beads of glistening essence pearling between your two fat pussy lips. the slick smack of your naked cunt against his muscular thigh caused his dick to twitch in your hand — gojo thrusting up when you thrust down. he tilts his head down, catching a whiff of your heavenly scent in the air between you both. you hate that he’s right just as much as he hates not being able to see you and touch you properly — only catching glimpses of the golden light sparkling within your hair like a halo from underneath his makeshift blindfold.

you feel like you might be going insane, trapped underneath a non existent touch. like being pulled under waves of euphoria with aching lungs that don’t get enough air. near angelic screams of delight rip through the base of your throat contrast with the way you sinfully hump satoru and jerk him off to the point of his dick forming a creaminess in your hand. he bounces his thigh faster the higher you moan, rewarding you for all the hard work you put in to make this deal worth it.

“you’re no better… you’re filthy,” 

“that’s right honey, so dirty. all cause of you. messy with you, why won’t you let me see?”  the captive rambles, torn between fighting to break out of the bondage and listening to the lewd sticky noises your mound makes when gliding smoothly over his paled skin. satoru growls at how roughly your body moves above his own, face contorting lecherously, cheeks red and lips puffy — a mess from how long he’s been holding out for you. he’s a mess. it’s true. he won’t even deny it. “now fuckin’ stroke it baby, stroke me to the rhythm of your pussy bouncing up and down for me…please…” 

simpering slightly, gojo’s fingers twitch against the arm of the chair — itching to grab at your ass and slam you down against his shaky thigh. if you palm him more, grip him tighter… he can better imagine the warmth of your cunt if he got the chance to slip inside. for now, you oblige his request, pulling tighter on the bindings of your hair while you them use as leverage — throwing yourself down on satoru as the lewd pap of your drooling pussy fills the musky tower air. “that’s it honey, up ‘n down. uppp ‘n  down. keep goin’ just like that.” 

you don’t have the energy to chide him, jostling about in satoru’s lap with wet whimpers bubbling up on the seams of your lips. pleasure begins to twist nice and tightly in your tummy, scalding you from the inside out and burning any logical thought from your brain. head beginning to roll to the side, you think about fully submitting to your capture. letting go entirely — you’d be satisfied. you’d get to cum. your deal might fall through but at least you’d get to see a different kind of light. 

easily, you could just give up. it wouldn’t be hard to, not  when gojo firmly plants his feet into the tiled floor and the power from his hips has hip rutting upwards to chase your fleshlight-like fist. a beefy cry battles its way out of his broad chest, vibrating through you as his quivering thigh juts your pretty, syrupy cunt every time you lift off of him. 

it’s the perfect cycle; the ideal push and pull. you squeal in ecstasy, the hood of your clit dragged back so that your sensitive bundle of nerves is exposed to the blistering heat of satoru’s cool toned skin — taking you closer and closer to your high. streaks of your hair glow brighter than before, more intensely the louder you moan and just like they would if you were singing to help mother or while she brushed your hair. despite the strength in the light of your hair, everything else about you weakens, your grip on your hair, the pace of your hand as you palm satoru to the high heavens. you can’t think to care about any of it when you’re this close. 

if mother could see you now, you don’t think you’d mind if she was disappointed in you. 

but then you’re ripped away from the edge of cloud nine. satoru stops just short of the dam threatening to break. his thigh completely still with your juices splattering against him once your own hips come to a hault. a petulant howl echoes through the flower, frustrated tears stinging in your waterline as you feel your orgasm slip away from you cruelly. “what the fuck satoru?” 

“sorry honey….” he laughs heartily, a slight rasp coating each syllable from each word that leaves his mouth. “don’t think i like this deal very much. just ‘cause you feel good doesn’t mean you can forget about me,” gesturing to the way you gush on and stain his thigh, the captive with the silver moon hair shrugs. “you don’t get to cum or see the lights unless i get to see you.”

gojo’s been good so far, hardly challenging you this whole time and instead, goading you into a world of pleasure you would have never experienced under mother’s watchful eye. instead, he was content to have his cock touched and his name wailed a hundred different ways — he’d shown no indication of breaking your deal aside from this. so in turn, you halfheartedly let go of the loop of hair that kept his sapphire stained eyes away from the world and held his wrists down to the arms of his chair.  the restraints loosen just enough to please him and do what he needs to do. not enough to give him complete freedom. 

“fuck the deal.” you cast it all to the side, relentlessly resuming grinding all over gojo — pushing your hips back as far as his knee to smother your swollen pleasure against it.

this time, satoru is able witness the way your bambi doe eyes roll back into your emptying skull. 

with newfound motivation, the intruder begins quickly blinking away any darkness that caused a fuzz at the edge of his vision, gojo’s gaze immediately trickles down to your clenching hole, a treasure kept safe between your nectar glossed thighs; watching you ride him. “god, if i had my hands on you i’d rub that clit until you were squirting… i bet you’d like that, if i ruined that pussy. made her mine — you'd like that.” gojo’s stare returns to your eyes, flashing you his pearly whites through a condescending smile. his rushed and rambled teasing words make your creamy cunt wetter; body betraying you to violently shake above him. 

though you find strength to keep up your end of the bargain. you’d sworn to make satoru see stars, encapsulating his rigid, sloppy dick between your nimble fingers once more. you even spit on it, earning a haughty bleat from between the man’s pretty (yet chatty) mouth. his sturdy body seizes underneath your touch as you take a firmer grip on him, palming him faster and faster — seedy, hot precum webbing over your knuckles once more. that’s when you finally get to see it. how murky and dark your captive’s vibrant eyes grow, like a pond, swimming with desire for you and only you.

the rapture that had once melted away from you like butter in a pan begins to blossom within you once again — willing you to beg for a chance at a real orgasm. “yes satoru! oh, yes please!” you squeak, short of breath and not entirely sure or what you’re even begging for. the golden light emitting from strands of your hair flare up again and your pussy throbs with an aching need to hit release. “please…”

a self congratulatory thread of cobalt lust weaves its way between the darkening midnight flecks in this eyes. “now look who’s begging,” clicking his tongue, gojo cocks his head to the side, relishing in his ability to finally look at you. drink in the way your chest bounces beneath the bodice of your lace orchid gown. it’s completely fucked, darkened by a crude mix of your arousals but it’s the most beautiful thing satoru has ever seen — only serving to rial him up even more… his own orgasm coming up over the hill. it burns at his internal organs, the lining of his stomach and the only way to alleviate this almost painful yet delectable twinge to his system is through you. “bet you’re only being nice ‘cause you’re close. well guess what? me too, be a good girl, honey, and cum for me.” he says, voice rising in both pitch and breathiness through his gritted teeth. 

he’s going to cum. 

and you’re too far gone to form a response with words just yet. you stop your own ministrations, payback for edging you earlier. his own cock dribbles pitifully as you rip his high away from him like pulling a rug from beneath his feet. gojo thrashes in his hair in response, azure eyes wild and almost wet with a sheen of tears — just as desperate to cum ad you are. “wh-what the fuck was that for?” he winges as though he’s a child on punishment, slender hips rising up to chase your soiled hand and perfect grip — shaft standing needily at attention. “honey…”

“you don’t get to cum until i get to cum. so either you work with me, satoru, or we’ll go all day.” you snap, slowly working your drenched cunt over the meat of his thigh once again, your puffy folds spread either side of it — squelching with the way you salaciously wind your hips all over him. 

satoru basks in the sight, tongue poking out tauntingly between his teeth as he decides to test the waters. “fine, but at least let me help,” he suggests, watching eagerly as you throw your head back in the purest form of pleasure and grind on him harder. it’s clear as day that you need just as much of a push to cum as he does and he plans on giving it to you in just one condition. “untie me.”

“deal.” chewing on your lower lip, you let more of your hair unwind your glowing hair from all points that keep gojo strapped to the chair. enough for more of his hands to escape. then, he’s on you within a flash, hot tongue swirling its way over your clothed bosom and biting at your peaked nipples while his hands shoot to the globes of your ass so that he can drag you in harsh circles across his lap. he’s ravenous, out of control, as if he’s been waiting for this moment the entire time. 

somewhere along the way, in one final burst of passion, your mouths find each other again — swapping streams of saliva as you lose yourselves to sex crazed minds teaming with lust hormones. with your lips smacking and bodies moving against each other in a delicious bump and grind — satoru forces a large hand between you both, fumbling against your cotton panties. the sound he lets out when he finally, finally gets his hands on your puffy clit is glutoral and animalistic, the simple touch sending a shock wave of electricity across every one of your synapses. dazing you for good. 

you bear witness to the silver haired stranger losing his mind, falling from grace like an angel with blackened wings. and for you, he does the same, commiting the sight of your glowing halo-like strands of hair to memory — the coils that shine brighter the more you sing and sin for him.

he can’t stop gabbling, gargling on the spit you pour into one another — followed by howls and screams of pleasure. “oh you like that, hm? i bet that feels so good… so sweet ‘n wet under my touch.” hot fingers belonging to satoru pick up the pace between your sticky folds, flicking your clit feverishly and writing his claim against your cunt at the same time that you jam a thumb into the tricking slit of his dirty red cockhead. the pair of you jolt in one another’s arms, taking one too many steps towards the edge of cloud nine before you’re even ready for you.  

“oh sweetheart, listen to you, sound so good. wish i could have you on my fat cock instead of my thigh. next time yeah? you’re gonna cum like this, aren’t you? gonna get my thigh nice and wet?” gojo growls, voice hoarse and layering perfectly over your whistle tone whines. his digits slow and start their greedy assault on your sex, edging you further and further as you wriggle and writhe at his words. 

the world escapes you, the knot of lust that had been warping within you finally coming undone. “gods… s-satoru! please!” you shriek as though your voice is a  gust of stormy wind — reverberating off of painted cobblestone walls. your free hand (no longer trapped by loops of your own hair) darts out to grab the intruder’s wrist, thighs locking around the hand that works you through an earth shattering high. the dam finally bursts, forcing open floodgates as your pussy releases streams of clear arousal in small spurts that soaks his entire lap and clothes.

gojo has no idea where to look, the smallest glimpse of your orgasm sending him hurtling over the edge as well — he doesn’t relent, viciously circling your precious pleasure mug and drawing out your release to match his own. his thick length spasms in your tiny hand, plump balls no longer able to contain the viscous, hot seed he has saved up all for you. just for you. he cums with a shout, abdomen contracting under your never-ending supple touch, ropes of white hot endlessly shoot from his overstimulated tip almost as though he’s a faucet that’s never been turned off.

he swears he almost blacks out, a white and sweaty mop of hair collapsing onto your shoulder as you slump in gojo’s lap — exhausted. as the air in the room cools, your hair no longer glowing and your chests syncing up to heave in an even rise and fall — you bring a lazy hand to the back of satoru’s head, toying with coils of his baby hair to help you both calm down.

a moment of quiet passes before you find the energy to whisper. “will you take me to see those floating lights now?” 

your innocent question causes satoru to snort sleepily, pressing a wet chaste kiss to your sweaty cheek as the sound breaks free from his cherry-bitten lips. “a deal’s a deal, honey. as soon as you untie me… we’ll hit the road.” 

neither of you move a muscle, however, still recovering from the sinful act you had just shared. 

you use the time to reflect, a sense of excitement dawning on you. you were going to leave the tower. you were going to see the floating lights on your birthday. and most importantly, you were directly disobeying your mother to prove your capableness. and all you had to do to get your fairytale happy ending was give a handjob to a very handsome, very willing stranger. 

the end.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[bi-writes]

I think first make out session of Simon and his mail order bride happened because she wore sundress all day ~~ i'm a bit addicted to the way you writing Simon

mail-order bride

reader described as curvier/plus-sized 18+

simon has gotten away with a lot of things ever since he married you. he's kept a respectful distance; gentle touches, affectionate ones, sure, but it's been easy to brush off the itch in the back of his head ever since he scratched it just enough when he kissed you for the first time.

when the itch becomes too severe, he's been able to hide away for a little while; running it out of his system working out, shaking it off in the field, drinking so it quiets when he makes his way to the pub.

but it's gotten a lot harder lately to pretend he doesn't see you for what you are.

a pretty girl.

he tells you that you're pretty all the time. in the mornings when you're still waking up. sitting at the counter as you watch him make sandwiches for lunch. pushing the cart in the aisle at the market, picking out the right cuts of meat or seeing which crisps you both can enjoy for movie night. and you are pretty all those times, all the time, in fact, and you were pretty when he kissed you, too.

but fuck. you're also...you're also so fucking pretty.

simon kicks off his boots at the front door, holding a few paper bags in his hands from his trip to the store. the weather has been getting warmer, summer creeping by (his most dreaded season since it forces him to take off layers he'd rather keep), and you had been begging simon for some sweet icy treats and a water fountain for the cat (it'll keep her from drinking out of your water glasses, simon).

when he steps into the kitchen, you're coming in from the backyard, flowers in your hands that the neighbor must have given you.

and you're wearing the cutest little white and red sundress (and suddenly he doesn't hate summer so much anymore).

it's got a cherry pattern on it and puffy sleeves. the bodice hugs you until the middle, where it fans out in a pillowy skirt, stopping just above your knees. there's a soft bow tied around the back, but simon really can't help himself from his eyes that narrow in on your figure and how incredible you look with the sunlight behind you.

"hi, simon," you coo, and simon glares, fucking tease. he has an inkling you don't even know what you're doing to him, you can't, not with that sweet little smile and the way you rock onto your toes. you even tied your hair up with a bow, and simon can't help but feel like you're his little gift, all wrapped up just for him.

one he wants to pluck, unravel until you reveal whatever you've been hiding underneath it all--

"oh! look it! oh, simon!" you giggle, grabbing the bag from him when you see the box that pokes out of it. you pull out a sweet, red ice lolly, cherry-flavored, and you lean up on your toes to give simon a big, wet kiss on his cheek before sucking it into your mouth. "mmm...thank you...just what i needed, it's so warm today."

bloody fuckin' christ.

your tongue is so pink. it's sliding up the edge of it until you suck it back into your mouth, and simon lets out the shakiest breath. it's unlike him, and you turn to face him fully when you notice the way he's staring at you. he looks good today, dark denim jeans and a wrinkled white t-shirt that stretches around his big arms, and your eyes dart to his tattoo sleeve for just a moment before you smile back up at him.

"what?" you ask him gently. "you want some?"

instead of offering him his own lolly, you simply tilt yours in his direction. he huffs, letting out an irritated laugh before he leans forward a licks a fat stripe up the side of the cherry ice.

you smile a little as he does, and you don't even realize your gaze has dropped. you're eyeing the way his mouth moves, taking in the hinge of his jaw and the light stubble along it and the scar that stretches across his whole face that you kiss sometimes when he falls asleep before you.

he groans a little as he takes a bite of the lolly, and you seize at the sound, dropping the lolly into the sink on accident as you scramble to look up at him. you stare at each other, lidded brown eyes just piercing into your own. you're quiet for only a few more moments before you're throwing yourself at him.

he nearly slams you against the closest wall. your back hits it firmly, rattling the pictures that hang there, and you throw your arms around his neck as he kisses you feverishly. his hands slide down your waist to your lower back, and you stand on your toes, his palms cupping your ass before he picks you up with ease, guiding your plush thighs to wrap around his waist as he holds you there.

you don't know how long you kiss against the wall, but you're breathless when he pulls away. you chase him, kissing along his nose, his cheek, any of the skin that you can get, and simon grunts lowly, cradling the back of your neck.

"we shouldn't," he mutters.

"why not?" you whine, and he hisses, looking into your eyes, hungry, big man, struggling to keep himself away from you. but it isn't what you want, you want him to kiss you, you want more, more, more--

you stand back on your toes, pushing him backwards. simon follows you, his hands bunched around the skirt of your dress as you walk him further into the living room until the couch hits the back of his knees, and he sits with a heavy breath. you bend to go sit in his lap, and simon curses under his breath, leaning his head back against the couch as your cleavage crowds his line of sight.

"fuckin' christ, baby," simon says lowly, running a rough hand over his face. he grunts when you take a seat in his lap, stretching your knees to straddle him, and you cage him in with your arms as you guide his chin back down so you can kiss him. you slot your mouth over his, kissing him lazily, and when you press your chest against his, he breathes out heavily when he feels your pebbled nipples through your dress. "fuck--fuck, fuck--"

"not yet," you giggle between kisses, and simon groans audibly as he slips two big hands under your dress and grabs both sides of your ass, his fingertips slipping under the lace of your panties so he can get a warm feel of you. you sit yourself down deeper in his lap, and you pull away slowly when you feel him underneath you.

he blinks his eyes open slowly, and you tentatively sit a little more in his lap, your eyes widening a little when you feel him between your thighs.

holy fucking shit--

"jesus," you stutter, and he looks away from you, ears reddening, and you're quick to cup his cheeks to bring his eyes back to you. you smile a little, leaning in again, and you press your forehead to his before giving him the gentlest grind of your hips. "oh--simon--" you kiss him again, soft, whispering against his lips, "s-so...you're so--"

"mhm," he nods, and you move so your lips are against his ear, giving him a light kiss where his jaw and neck meet.

"i'd say you're too big for me," you sigh, closing your eyes, "but i'm a riley now." you giggle. "'n we can handle anything..can't we, simon?"

"shit--"

you squeak a little when he wraps a hand in your hair and tugs, pressing your pelvis to his as he ruts his hips up against yours. you kiss him hard, slipping your tongue into his mouth, and he chokes on his moans, big arms keeping you pressed to him as he pants into your mouth.

he stills, face a little scrunched up as he sits there with you. you keep kissing him lazily, exploring the way he tastes, licking over his teeth and bottom lip, up until he pushes you just that much away and groans in frustration.

your eyes open, and you giggle, and simon smooths his hands up the bodice of your dress, his eyes blown wide as he takes in how pretty you look in it. pretty little angel in his lap, a nice weight to ground him as he tries not to think about the mess he's made of himself.

"i assume you like the dress?" you ask, and when you laugh, simon can see the red on your tongue from the lolly. he knows if he kisses you again and sucks on your pretty tongue, you'll taste like that awful cherry, taste as sugar-sweet as you really are. simon leans back a little, propping you up on his thighs, shaking his head as he runs a big hand down his solid middle.

"well," simon mutters. "'aven't cum in my fuckin' pants since i was a bloody kid, so i'd say so."

"w-wha--! simon!"

you cover your eyes, overcome with shyness, with warmth, not believing really that anyone could you want that much. that anyone could really want you at all.

but when you laugh, he does, too.

[st4rbwrry]

𝒜𝑀 𝐼 𝐵𝒜𝐵𝒴?

✧｡˚ a shy nympho camgirl seeks a partner to help her film content on a dating app. soon, meeting up with a handsome man who's willing to do anything for the pretty girl he chats with.

𝒲𝒜𝑅𝒩𝐼𝒩𝒢𝒮 𓇼 14k. pwp, lowercase intended, age gap ꒰ toji is 36, reader is 24 ꒱ submissive reader, pleasure!dom toji, bondage ꒰ belt ꒱, check ins, heavy praise, overstimulation, aftercare, unprotected, videography, oral ꒰ f + m ꒱ , squirting + kreaming, spanking, choking, hair pulling, mild degradation, intimacy on high, toji is intimidating, manhandling, masturbation, daddy kink srry not srry, pet names ꒰ baby, girl, pretty, sweetheart, angel ꒱ minors aren't welcomed! reblogs & comments are appreciated!

౨ৎ — ꒰ 𝑚𝑜𝑐ℎ𝑎’𝑠 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑠 ꒱: this took me so long to finish y'all but im super proud of it. one of my favorite works so far so i hope y’all enjoy. ♡

you hold your notebook in your hands, a bright pink color with numerous doodles sketched onto its cover, your pen on the back of your ear as you slowly cross off a list of things you needed to buy while browsing on your laptop. your room is quiet aside from the soft sound of music playing from your stereo, beyoncé’s cowboy carter album playing from start to finish while you slumped into your soft pink duvet hiding beneath a white canopy slip. the air is crisp how you like, a fresh, chunky strawberry is chewed between teeth, and your skin is freshly scrubbed and moisturized, only covered in a matcha green two piece short and tank set. a laptop sits on your thighs as you cross your legs, twirling your left calf as you bury your back into your mountain of plushies.

this was frustrating. you never realized how hard this would be to find someone to fuck, let alone film content with. you’d made a profile on hinge a week prior to now, and most of the matches weren’t close to peaking your interest. most of the men seemed like creeps, some too old . . . giving very much grim reaper. and others, too young, freshly adults at that. you think you’ve made yourself appealing enough. cute profile with full faced pictures, personality traits, daily interests even . . . but it somehow didn’t attract those you truly wanted.

as your sticker covered macbook’s motherboard screamed for air, warm on your thighs and now sliding on your tummy the further you leaned back. . . you were growing tired. huffing and puffing from literal exhaustion. am i wasting my time? should i just go out and find people like in the movies? but this generation made it so hard to even physically connect anymore. what happened to people running into each other at a coffee shop, a book store, a park? sharing interests and going on dates. granted, what you were looking for was strictly work related. you wouldn’t dare stare a stranger in the eye you bumped into at the farmers market and ask, “hey, wanna fuck me for content?” it’d be tasteless. you have self respect. others may think differently considering your side quests to fund the unfathomable reality of adulthood on top of just being a girl.

“this fucking sucks,” you groan to yourself, thumb aching from how quickly you hit the big ‘x’ on the bottom left corner of your phone screen.

maybe it was time to call it a night. you had an early shift at the salon, about five clients to be exact, booking either re-twists, goddess braids, or a wig install. so you had to save your hand strength. sighing, you shut off your laptop and set it aside on your nightstand, disconnecting the music from your phone before getting up to cut off the light. your fluffy cat that laid on the edge of your bed shooting her head up in alarm, ready to follow at any adventure you pursued.

“relax, mommy’s not going anywhere,” you smile assuredly, knee dipping into the bed as you lean over to smooch her on her tiny head, pointy ears tickling your cheek as you watch her tail sway. “good night, sweet — oh, fuck! i forgot to feed you. i’m so sorry baby.”

the alert in your tone has the black cat stand in attention, cursing to yourself as you slip on your heart printed slippers and make your way towards the kitchen, your studio apartment being on one level making this task easier. you listen to her tiny paws thud on the floor after she jumps off the bed in a hurry, dashing in front of you, damn near tripping you.

“oh my god, you’re so extra,” you shake your head, but couldn’t help but laugh. she meows at you violently, as if you hadn’t fed her in two weeks. rolling your eyes, you reach for her bowl off the floor to clean before opening a fresh can of fancy feast, using one of her plastic spoons to arrange her dinner.

whilst she awaits, you can’t help but glare at the screen of your phone as it suddenly dings, forgetting to turn off your ringer. hovering over it to activate your face i.d, it immediately opens the hinge app, reloading the page to see a new match. the air you inhaled suddenly catches in your throat as you stare wide eyed at your screen, the man in your view is just what you’ve been waiting for.

“oh, holy fuck,” comprehension wasn’t on your radar seeming as you lost the ability of the cat food in your hand, dropping it to the floor and flinching from the mess your fur baby began chowing on. sucking your teeth, you mutter, “goddamit. no, no. stop it.”

flailing your hand gently to get her to stop, you snatch the can and dump the remainder in the deep oval ceramic bowl. you try to ignore the rapid pounding of your heartbeat, unsure why it went so astray. maybe it’s because you’ve never seen a man so fucking fine. deadly fine, foul almost. as if it was such a disrespect to all beings. she’d cleaned up her own mess, so you take the time to grab your phone and lean against the sink to observe this man further. he had matched with you, of course, otherwise you wouldn’t have been so depressed a few minutes ago . . . unless you were waiting for him to like you back.

toji. it’s his name. simple, nice. he only has about three pictures, one of them a huge black cane corso with a gorgeous silky coat. it made sense given the vibe he was giving. dark, intimidating, sexy. jet black hair, slender smoke gray eyes, sharp jaw and a fascinating scar on the side of his mouth. another thing you noticed was how big he was. most of the clothing he wears sticks to his skin like glue. molding the outline of his muscles, the thickness in his arms, the heaviness in his thighs, the brick trail of his abdomen.

a certain feeling burns in your chest, and between your legs as you scroll to see the last image. he’s sitting on a beach chair, thighs spread in black cargo pants, matching tee, a yuengling beer in his hand and a cross dangling around his neck as he takes a sip of his beverage with a hungry look into the camera. it’s cocky, possessive, dominant. the dark brows above his eyes lowered with attentiveness. his shirt is half risen above his abdomen, and you can easily see the dark trail of hair leading into his crotch. it’s full there, clear as day. so it’s easy to tell he carries something serious.

fuck. “fuck,” you feel yourself growing hot, blowing out a breath of air before making your way back to your comfy bed to stare at him more. what a fucking man. honestly, you’d never seen someone so of your standard. exactly your type. before messaging him, you check his profile a bit deeper to make sure you’re not mistaken of anything. find some flaws, though profiles only express so much.

thirty-six, that makes you moan. that’s a twelve year age difference. though that only makes him hotter. not too old, nor young. he’s a . . . gynecologist.

“so he’s good with pussy,” you giggle to yourself. he makes a decent amount of money. he’s into fitness, clearly. cars, politics, sports. seemed like a pretty laid back man to you.

without even realizing, he had already messaged you, your heart dropping to your toes at his first response.

toji

i’ve seen you before.

you blink, fingers typing quickly.

you

mhm, where?

he takes a moment to reply, so you fiddle with your necklace out of anxiousness, laying on your stomach and swaying your feet.

toji

sounds a little embarrassing, but an adult website.

you

sounds about right. does that bother you?

toji

i wouldn’t have matched with you if it had.

you

so you’re saying if i wasn’t a porn streamer you wouldn’t even look my way?

those three dots prolong longer than you wanted, only making you aware he didn’t know what to say.

toji

i matched with you because i find you attractive. whether you want me in that way or not is up to you. i want you.

he’s straightforward. you can’t help but bite the tip of your acrylic, smiling like a stupid teenager, kicking your feet in the air. the attraction being mutual boosting your ego.

“i want you, daddy,” you joke to yourself.

you

i’m assuming you’ve read my bio. i’m looking for someone to film content with! if you’re down for it, we can meet in person and talk about it! i’m not really looking for a relationship. . . right now at least. ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡)

toji

of course, sweetheart. i’m free saturday’s and sunday’s. you don’t seem that far from me. let’s grab italian. my treat.

there’s something blunt and grown about him, you can practically feel his intimidation radiating through your fingertips. he seems just like the kind of man you knew would fuck you stupid. scream his name until the walls bled. until you’re trembling, and the sheets are off the bed, and his sweat is on your back so arched to the point where it’s painfully delicious. biting your lip, you had nothing else to lose. you needed his help, he’s offering lunch, you only live once.

you

you had me at italian. saturday at 2?

toji

saturday at 2. see you then, darling.

              𓇼

the nostalgic scent of blue magic hair grease fills the air of the salon, your fingers working tirelessly to intricate detail into the woman’s scalp you worked on. your last client of the day in fact. you couldn’t wait to clock out and grab a bowl from chipotle, thinking about it your entire shift. fingers entwining artfully as braiding hair flicks from angle to angle, you finish up the final knotless braid with a hard working sigh. you tried to remain optimistic after she’d taken her seat, unfortunately arriving an hour late to her appointment. said she had ‘issues’ with her boyfriend, smelling like weed and partially slurring her words when she came in. but you could care less when you were on a time crunch.

you hated when people wouldn’t respect the clearly listed rules on your account. so, for that, she’d be paying a late fee. after you applied moose and rosemary oil to her scalp, she’d pay you through apple pay and be on her way. you thank her, and when she’s out the door, you instantly turn to your friend and roll your eyes.

“you’re too damn nice for doing her hair. i would’ve told her ass to kick rocks after showing up that damn late,” amethyst speaks, crosslegged and shaking her head as she digs her fork into her chinease platter, filled to the brim with shrimp fried rice and popcorn chicken. the smell alone makes your tummy growl. “did she even tip you?”

“not at all,” you brush off, not even wanting to think about it anymore. “still got my money at the end of the day.“

“hey, you’ve been off the whole day, everything alright?” amethyst proceeds to question, and your shoulders slump as you halt from sweeping up hair off the floor.

aside from tireless appointments, you couldn’t get toji out of your mind, super impatient, even anxious for saturday to come. it’s two days away until you finally meet him. you’ve texted here and there, shared a few updates on life or spoke of relating passions and wanting desires. you had told him your occupation outside of being a camgirl, and how dissatisfied with it you’ve become. this field wasn’t for you anymore. the passion for it is dying, the clients grow irritable, and you just wanted to breathe. you feel like you’ve been working your whole life. in conclusion, since fifteen. started from an early age dealing with responsibilities due to financial constraints within your family. your mother raised you on her own, along with four other children. and being cursed with the older daughter syndrome, you developed faster than you wanted to. barely having time to live your life until you moved out. even then, it’s been all about work. you needed an island getaway.

“this week just burnt me out. i’m just glad it’s almost over,” you reply, not having the energy for a full conversation. she was a sweet girl, albeit very nosey. you try to keep events in your life private, gossip to a minimum.

“awe, bookie,” she pouts. “what’s your plan for tomorrow? me and the girls were gonna check out that new club ‘sin.’”

shaking your head, you disagree. “now you know i’m not big on clubs. have an art piece to work on anyways before the weekend comes. so i’ll be busy.”

amethyst nods. “well, alright then. i guess i’ll just see you whenever you get booked again.”

you don’t know why that felt like a backhanded response. you’re only here three times out of the week, and most of those days you see about five to six clients. everyone else had a bigger following on social media, meaning more attention, more money. you believe because you aren’t so passionate for this major, your ability to promote and put effort only shows in your adult entertainment career. since it’s where most of your income comes from as of four months ago.

“guess i’ll see you.”

after packing your ballerina pink telfar bag with all of your tools, you wave goodbye to everyone before making your way to your white honda civic, interior a vast splash of pink matching the two-piece skims set you wore. shorts since the weather is about seventy-five degrees today. buckling yourself in, your only agenda is to head to chipotle and then home. ordering your delectable signature bowl of barbacoa, fajita veggies, guacamole, pico de gallo, corn, sour cream, cheese, lettuce, and refusing to eat the bowl without their vinaigrette and a side of chips.

it’s around 9pm when you’re finally cleaned off from a hot shower, curly hair pushed back from your face with a hello kitty headband as you finish your skincare, sitting at your vanity while scandal plays in the background. you’d already eaten your food about an hour ago, even taking a thirty minute nap to regenerate for this art piece you needed to finish. in total, you had about three jobs; hair stylist, camgirl, ceramicist. you had an etsy profile where people bought cute little things of yours you liked to sculpt. tea pots, coquette flower pots, plates, heart cake jewelry boxes . . you name it. you had a few orders for mini miffy trinkets you had to ship out by saturday.

saturday. the warmth in your gut swarms at the thought of seeing that man. quite frankly, you’ve been unable to relieve your mind of him. he’s like a poison, hard to get rid of, but desperate to stay bonded with you. and you wanted nothing more than to be buried in his embrace; small and fucked out. since he’s been busy with work, and so have you, there hasn’t been much time to even call and chat. then again, you wanted to wait to see him in person. to feel that magnetism stronger than it already was. two days away and you’re anxious to even hear a hello.

while patting your toner into your face, you gaze through your mirror to see a scene playing from your show where fitz and olivia fight before they fuck for the hundredth time. the way he grabs her, speaks to her, caresses her and worships her. it has you thinking of toji instantly. the burn for him aching more than normal. practically feeling his eyes on you the way he stared into the camera in that one photo, long fingers clasped around the glass bottle, craving for that lock around your throat. wondering how tight he’d make it. would you be able to breathe? would he kiss air into your mouth to help you? tell you it’s okay, to feel it all, to take it all, to cum on his dick till you're milking him dry?

your thighs squeeze together from your imagination, staring at your reflection . . . and it’s all in your eyes. deep arousal, and the harsh clench you currently held your moisturizer in, close to grinding in your seat to ease the buzz of your clit. there’s only one solution for this, and you might as well make money off it. standing to your feet, you think not a second more before retrieving your laptop from your closet, setting it on your vanity desk and logging into the domain of prettyfuckbunnies.com. it seemed to be the main site for growth, given your eight thousand dedicated subscribers. you check yourself in the mirror once more before going live, rolling your chair back a few inches so they could see your entire frame. dressed in nothing but a small red slip dress.

angelbwrry is live!

your subscribers were notified well before others, hundreds of them swarming the chat within seconds. you were a new favorite, a prized star of the platform. admiration from both women and men. people who tipped you just for being pretty. others here for the obvious. applying gloss to your lips, you stare intensely into the camera, the character you play going into affect.

“hi,” you mutter quietly, slowly titling your head to the side as you bite your lip and sink lower into your seat, back arching. “i’m so fucking horny, and i just need someone to watch me fuck myself.”

the black kuromi chair you sat in begins to sway as you gently swing yourself side to side, eyes trained on the chat to witness them praise you, some comments degrading off the rip that you chose to ignore, others demanding you get on with it. for the most part, you tend to be discreet with sharing much about yourself. technically, you weren’t hiding much, your face easily accessible and probably even less hard to track. you’d always pray that there wasn’t a psycho willing to go that far just to find you. role playing was your forte. writing ideas for new personas to please them. and you had fun doing it. you’d never do something you weren’t in to for the satisfaction of others. never took private calls, or meets ups for obvious reasons.

but, you had to talk about him.

“i met this guy i can’t get outta my head,” the softness in your tone making dicks go erect and clits beat, the chat asking questions and growing fond of your way of interaction. “well, maybe not met. we’ve texted, and i meet him in a few days. possibly someone you’ll see on the channel. and . . .”

the tenseness in toji’s neck bothers him as he groans and leans back into his office’s chair, fork in one hand as he chews on his salad from sweetgreen a coworker grabbed for him, reading through emails his secretary confirmed appointments of, needing to add it into his schedule to be aware of what he can fit between. needing to run a few errands this weekend. the white doctors coat clings to his body, one foot raised to rest on the front of his desk, manspreading and jaw shifting as he finishes his food tiredly, knowing he wouldn’t eat a thing once he got home.

“goodnight doctor fushiguro! get some rest tonight, yeah?” a body comes to view of his secretary; a woman with glasses slipping down the bridge of her nose, a chunky face and beautiful red hair. she waves enthusiastically.

toji smiles, the older woman trying her best not to swoon. he’s young enough to be her son. “good night, miss thorn. thank you for today. you get home safe and enjoy your trip. i wanna hear all about it when you’re back.”

“you know you’re the first person i’m running to tell!” she chirps, toji chuckling. “i left my keys on the main desk. don’t forget or else you’ll have to break open the drawer for your patients files.”

“i’ll be sure to remember.”

twenty minutes pass and toji’s cutting off lights to his small facility and locking up. twirling the keys on his long finger, starting up the sleek black maserati ghibli gt sitting in the parking lot from his key. a black patent leather messenger bag hanging from his shoulder, doctors coat discarded and now attired in his usual black tee with matching slacks. setting it beside him in the passengers seat, he gets a ding! from his cellphone, resting his shoulders in his seat before checking what it was, perhaps it was miss thorn, she tends to leave things behind.

angelbwrry is going live!

toji raises a brow from the notification, checking the sapphire bulova watch on his wrist for the time. 9:54pm. why were you up so late? forgetting people have other schedules, he’s so used to being asleep around this time, much more having to be done today the only reason he was still in the office way past the hour it closed. part of him grows inquisitive, wondering if he should invade your privacy or what not. though, he’s not new to your escapades. he’s seen every inch of your body, memorizing it quite literally. he’s not ashamed to say you’ve gotten him off a few times these past months. he feels like he knows you on a deeper level now, so itching for that perverted behavior would be indecent to both of you. especially if he’s seeing you in two days . . . for a conversation about what you do and his potential participation.

nothing wrong with just watching, right?

as the engine to his car hums, toji finds himself in a devious act, clicking onto your feed and finding you displayed in your feminine bedroom. the videos on mute momentarily before he’s going full screen and turning his phone sideways. there you were, small and standing tall as the slip that barely clung to your body arose the more you moved. hips wide, thighs full, nipples taut and tits defying gravity. the strap on your right shoulder falls elegantly, your hair hoisted up by a claw clip and your brown skin radiating glow. the man openly groans from the sight, knowing you smelt so good.

“wait, i have an idea!” the cute tone of your voice blares through his phone, a smirk painting his stern features as he watches you scramble for something in your room, your slip riding up your ass. the hourglass shape of your body, to the pudge of your tummy . . he’s enamored.

he, and a thousand other people watch curiously as you lift the seven foot mirror that previously leaned against your closet door and position it on the floor at the edge of your bed. then, you’re digging into your bottom drawer for something else, toji catching a brief glance at the chat raving and thirsting from the view of your perky ass peaking out, a tiny birth mark under the left one. the cellulite in your legs that squish together from size, the stretch marks leading from beneath your ass cheeks down to the backs of your knees. so fucking soft.

“ta-da!” you wave the object in your hand courageously, an evil grin on your face as you show the crowd your confetti designed dildo, the brow on toji’s face raising. he almost wants to chuckle. you’re so silly, he thinks. watching you dance your way back towards the mirror where you hum a tune to yourself, swaying your ass in the air for dramatics before plunging your toy onto the center of the mirror so it sticks, watching it spring for attention.

“gonna pretend this is him, ‘till then. can’t wait any longer,” your hands slowly drift up your thighs to show your audience your bare pussy, hiding between those luscious thighs of yours. he wanted to suffocate his face there badly. what you say almost goes over his head. pretend who’s what?

toji ignores the flow of comments filling the chat, degrading you to some degree which he briefly clenches his jaw from, feeling somewhat protective. others praising you, acting like your cash pigs. pathetic, he thinks. he sees one comment in particular that makes the hairs on the back of his neck rise.

prinxxxspeach

aren’t you seeing him saturday? call him now to come help you girl!!

don’t fucking call me, angel. i’ll nut in my pants right now if i hear you say my name. he’s slightly amused that you spoke of him. is that why you went live so late? thinking about him? so pent up, and impatient, you had to just fuck it out your system? he’d fuck you a lot better than that lousy toy you had, that’s for sure.

you giggle from the comment, contacts still in your sockets so you can read what people are saying from afar.

“he can wait for me. he’s making me wait,” it’s like an old film camera flipping to the next scene, or maybe his mind had gone blank from your response because now, now you’re sinking your tiny pussy onto your toy after coating it with lube, the reflection of your cunt for all to see in the mirror. watching as this toy splits you apart, pretty folds swallowing it deep as you balance yourself on the tips of your toes. fully sitting and rolling your hips to adjust, your mouth falls wide and a whimper escapes.

“nng, s’so deep,” that voice of yours is going to get you in trouble. the broken moans you release as you lift your hips to grind and bounce, face falling forward to look at yourself, seeing someone other than yourself. your imagination begins to run wild, and you forget a cameras watching you, dainty fingers caressing the mirror before laying your palm flat, as if you’re choking him. biting your lip, you occupy your other hand by molding at your chest.

you uphold your balance well, clapping your ass down against the mirror now coated with your slick, pussy squelching ridiculously loud aside from your weak moans and desperate whimpers.

“fuuck,” your breath hikes, sounds broken and almost pleading, eyes rolling back as you collapse to your knees and lazily rock back on your idea of a dick. by this point, toji’s eyes are malicious, and his dick is hard in his slacks. shifting in his seat uncomfortably from what you’ve done.

“lemme see your face,” toji whispers in the air, the heat rushing to his cheeks. the things you do to him truly fascinating.

“g’na cuum, mmph daddy!” a high pitched squeal you let out stuns him, your hips shifting back and forth hurriedly. the flesh of your ass moving like water, and he’s in a trance. daddy? what the fuck are you doing to him? he wonders if you knew he was going to purposely join your live. already talking about him gave it away.

“c’mon, angel. show me,” the blood swells in his cock rapidly, tip damn near dripping with precum, unable to help but palm his heavy hand with it, humming and widening his legs.

“too-jii,” it’s faint the words you falter, a pathetic whimper followed by drool covered lips and a cute squeak. your body trembles from the depth of your orgasm, riding out your high and giggling cutely to yourself. to others, the words were inaudible. but to him, he knew exactly what the fuck you said.

the way you smile at yourself in the mirror, as if you’re looking at his fucked out face, you slowly upturn your head to bring it back to the livestream, a drunken, and dangerous grin on your face. never in his years of life had a woman made him gulp. to fear for what you’d do to him. how bad you’d break him, make him go fucking crazy. yearn for your pussy on his mouth.

you were fucking ethereal.

              𓇼

of-fucking-course you’d be running late. you were supposed to meet toji at two and it’s two thirty. the location of c’est moi exactly twenty five minutes away from where you lived. you were close to the downtown area, not fond of parking down there but you’d drive faster than an uber can. you made sure to make toji aware of your lateness so he’s not getting the idea that you stood him up. never. not after the other day. you don’t know what happened, but your mind took over your body and you couldn’t help yourself. you only pray he didn’t see it, not expecting him to. it’s embarrassing now that you think back on it.

you manage to make it out of the house twenty minutes after, throwing on a simple white pleated cami dress with a ruffled hem, ruched bust, and pairing of olive green sandals that had tea rose shaded orchids clipped onto the forefront. a teri cherry printed coach bag tight on your shoulder after you sped sixty miles per hour towards the restaurant, finding parking and hurriedly making your way inside.

“hi, reservations for fushiguro. i’m extremely late,” as you approach the host, you make out the sight of the man you were here to see outside instantly. sitting alone sipping a cup of coffee. his side profile all you can see, that deep scar carved into the side of his mouth, his veiny hands big as he clutches the mug . . and your throat clogs up.

he’s fucking . . . big. fuck being nervous before, this made you want to run and hide and never show your face. he’s practically hunching over the table, making it appear smaller than it actually is. his hair is midnight black, his broad shoulders and muscles suffocating the sleek gucci button up he wore, a few undone, eyes studying his cellphone, awaiting your call. one thing about being a doctor, he’s learned to be patient. understanding your alarm forgot to go off, or rather you slept through it . . seemingly growing to become impatient. he needed to see your face now.

“right this way.”

your feet follow blindly behind the hostess, trying your best not to trip over your own feet, heart beating drastically against your ribcage. your palms are sweaty, feeling the warm breeze of spring air hit your skin as the hostess leads you outside to the table where toji resides. he sees you before you see him, the sun beaming on your skin not nearly as hot as your cheeks suddenly became when finally making eye contact. your right hand picks at the ends of your dress anxiously, toji taking a stand to welcome you like a gentleman. it’s like slow fucking motion the closer you approach him, and when you’re inches apart, you can see the stillness on his face. he doesn’t smile, his face is almost unreadable. not sure if he’s upset with you for being late, or he’s just not one for emotions.

“hi,” the hairs on your skin stand from the deep baritone of his voice, visibly swallowing as you stare up at him, height difference making you dizzy.

“hi,” you blink like an innocent doe. he’s hovering over you and the waiter whom sets the menu down on the table, his chest almost touching you as he comes around to pull your chair out for you to sit, finally getting so close to the point where he could breathe in your sweet perfume, the peony and white musk scent has him forcing down a groan. he’s staring intently at your backside, dark hair going to the middle of your back in wild curls, a bit frizzy due to the humidity outside.

“can i get you anything to drink, miss?” the waiter addresses you, politely waiting for toji to move out the way.

why is your entire body on fire? no man has ever had this affect on you. his aura exudes something sinister, overtly masculine even. “u-um, yes please. can i just have a frozen sangria?”

“of course, i’ll be back with that while you decide on your meal.”

“thanks,” you smile sweetly, trying your very best to avoid complete eye contact. once the two of you are alone, you build up the courage to look at him again. he’s seated once more, leaning back into his chair with a left arm resting over the back of the chair with his legs comfortably spread. he liked to do that a lot. his eyes are low, head adjusted somewhat to the left as he observes you.

“good to finally see you,” he’s the first to speak, again. that fucking voice of his; raspy and dominant. how are you supposed to carry out a conversation without folding?

“y-yeah,” you clear your throat, sitting up straight after shyly clamping your hands between your legs and trying to hide like a porcupine. “i want to apologize again for running late. out of all days my phone decides to not ring my alarm. i rushed here as soon as possible. i hope you weren’t waiting too long.”

his lips began to rise into a soft smile, and that eases your nerves. no one would notice you’d rush to get ready. so naturally pretty with your face glowing from rose water and petroleum jelly, hair brushed out, lashes only curled with mascara, lips lined with black liner and smothered with gloss while your prescription glasses sit on the bridge of your nose. too cute.

“sweetheart, no need for the sorry’s. i understand.”

he’s not mad, thank fuck. “kay,” you smile back, tucking pieces of flown hair behind your ear. “did you order yet?”

“was waiting on you,” he replied. “though i kind of lost my appetite. i’m craving something . . . else. so, order anything you’d like.”

that was surely a double meaning. now, you’re not so sure if you had an appetite anymore. you couldn’t bare to eat in front of this man right now. when the waiter came back with your drink, you downed half of it, toji chuckling from your anxiousness. you needed the liquid courage before uttering another word towards the man who watched you with motive, intention. the intimidation brewing from his body is corrupting you. you order a simple caesar salad, nothing too fancy.

“oh! i printed out the document we have to go over.”

toji’s eyes trail to your hands that reach for your purse, acrylic nails painted a peony pink pulling out your notebook stuffed with an arrangement of papers as well as a pen. “guess we can call it like an nda, affidavit . . whatever. i’m sure you’re aware of the obvious on why. um, we can discuss boundaries within the bedroom . . . things we will or will not condone. a safe word is a must. if you don’t feel comfortable showing your face i’d blur it out, but given i do livestreams most of the time that’ll be impossible. so i’d suggest a mask, which i’m actually in to so if that’s something you’re willing to do . . “

toji nods as you continue to ramble, carefully analyzing everything you say, though, his mind begins to drift elsewhere. he still couldn’t get that damn livestream out of his mind. killing himself these past two days just thinking about how fucked out he needed you to be, buried deep and crying underneath him. the cute expressions on your face when you moaned his name so publicly, as if you dared him to see. how desperately you fucked yourself on that pathetic toy of yours from the very thought of him. your whines, the illicit way you stared at your reflection in the mirror beneath your sculpture of a body you rolled seductively. he shifts in his seat, attempting to conceal the stirring of hunger within him as you continue to talk. he doesn’t need a fucking contract. he’d fuck you good and wouldn’t tell a soul.

his expression is firm yet tinged with a hint of something different this time . . anticipation. “why do you film content?”

the unwavering intensity in his gaze causes you to cut your sentence short, mouth forming an ‘o’ as you ponder on his question. was he even listening? “wha—what do you mean?”

toji chuckles. “i mean, why do you film? is it your main source of income? do you enjoy submitting to hundreds of people? does it make you feel confident, make you feel good? why?”

that should’ve been something you prepared yourself to answer. most of the guys you filmed content with didn’t have personal answers to ask, nor did they care. they were simply there to have a good time and go about their lives. you came into this situation thinking that’s what toji wanted as well. now you’re getting a gut feeling it’s more than that. or maybe you’re just an over-thinker. the whole point of making an account on hinge was to find better people to connect with for work, but most of them never got the job done, and you were tired of faking an orgasm and boosting a man’s ego. something about this one though, you can feel that he’s willing to worship you.

“well, i actually have three jobs. hairstylist during the day, which i’m growing to lose passion for. i’m good with pottery so i make little things and sell them. and then as for filming content . . . it’s fast money. the economy is shit right now. minimum wage jobs aren’t cutting it. rent prices are horrifying. i want to fund a new life for myself. to travel more, and just be a girl.”

toji smiles, admiring you.

“bali has been on my mind as a place to reside. it’s always been a dream of mine to be somewhere tropical. less breathing in polluted air and eating foods they pump full of hormones. mexico and puerto rico are also on the list. i really need to dip my feet in some sand or something. i don’t know. it’s also kind of sexually liberating to be in my own bubble and enjoy myself in that way. i do it for no one but myself.”

toji sits up in his seat, taking a piece of ciabatta and smearing softened butter onto the breadpicked up a slice of bread and smeared some butter onto it. “i think that moving to a place like that is a good idea. there’s a lot of bullshit in the world that’s hard to run away from. if you feel like it’s what’s best for your mental and emotional being, then go for it. you seem like you’ve worked real hard your entire life. you deserve a break.”

the heat in your cheeks rise as he leans himself closer, guiding the bread to your lips, waiting for you to take a bite. you smile softly, sitting up a bit in your chair before taking a bite. toji watches intensely as you moan from the taste.

“isn’t it much better when it’s given by someone else?”

“yeah, it’s good. real good,” you swallow, licking your lips to rid the breadcrumbs, reaching for your glass of wine to take another sip. “i have most of my savings in tact, so my plan is to be out of here by next year.”

the unadulterated pull between the two of you threatens to consume him as he stares at you, his body almost painfully yearning for your touch, your taste, your everything. toji can no longer resist. he reaches out and gently cups your chin, his fingers gently yet firmly tilting your face up to meet his smoldering gaze when you dared to look away. “how ‘bout you take me with you.“

the entire scene switches, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, filled with a raw mixture of lust and vulnerability makes you fall shamelessly into his trance. you feel your heart patter against your chest, scanning his entire face with small indications of panic, and excitement. you’ve been dying for his touch all week. you pray he’s as good as he looks.

“what’s the catch?” you breathe inordinately.

toji smirks. “we get fake married or something and change our identities.”

you shake your head at his joke. “i need to see a ring first, mister.”

“mhm, you look like a marquise kinda girl,” he tongues his cheek, in deep thought. “go to bali. i pay, you enjoy life.”

pairs of lips are mere inches away, toji ghosting his softly amongst your own, yours parting to follow. you feel like you’re in space, the feeling extraterrestrial. surrounded by depths of nothingness with only the two of you existing.

“i. . no, i can’t let you do that,” you shake your head dismissively.

“you deserve it.”

“you don’t know me.”

“good. that’ll be the perfect occasion for us to spend more time together,” he concludes, softly pecking your lips to coax you into giving him what he needed. you’re stunned, unsure what to say, or to think. so, he doesn’t make you think.

“fuckin’ kiss me,” his voice drops to a husky whisper, filled with a raw mixture of desire and vulnerability, eyes flickering from the plumpness of your lips to your eyes. “can’t wait any fucking longer.”

the heat of his breath mingles with yours as his lips brush against your own in a hungry, fiery kiss. his mouth devours yours with an intensity that borders on primal, each movement filled with a desperate need to taste and consume everything you have to offer. his tongue slips past your parted lips, eagerly exploring the depths of your mouth as if seeking to memorize every inch of you.

you were drawn in fully now and you didn’t think you’d be able to pull away even if you wanted.

within the moment of your passionate kiss, as toji’s rough hand trailed to grasp your throat, your waiter begins to approach with your salad, eyes widening as he noticed how deeply, and somewhat aggressively your make out session was. practically swallowing each others faces. deciding to mind his business and turn the other way. he’d come back in a few minutes. toji breaks the kiss abruptly, his eyes gleaming with a hint of reluctance.

“damn this table,” he mutters, his gaze shifting towards the barrier separating the two of you. his breathing is ragged, body practically trembling with pent-up need. even so, he manages to pull himself together enough to maintain some semblance of composure.

he’s left you breathless, feeling something in your chest you’d never felt before, this attraction for him otherworldly. your lips are pouted, hands bawled into little fists levitating in front of your chest, as if you were begging for him to come back. when he begins to rise to his feet, you wonder where he’s going, eyes coming into immediate contact at the bulge growing tight in his jeans. you swallow, shifting your gaze up to the tall man that hovers over you possessively.

“go home, send me the address. i gotta handle a few business calls then i’ll be there at eleven.”

you hadn’t noticed the way your teeth sunk into your lower lip as you give him those damn puppy eyes, as if you’re so fascinated by him, almost scared of him to leave right now. toji grabs the pen resting between your little pink book, signing his signature on the indicated line on the bottom of the page for your gratification. after, he’s fishing for the brown leather wallet in his pocket to place down a hundred dollar bill on the table to cover the tab and the waiters tip. then, he leans down, lips gently brushing against your forehead in a tender kiss that sends a shiver down your spine. he lingers just a moment longer, as if reluctant to let go.

“see you later, angel.”

finally, and with that, he steps back, his eyes lingering on your form for a moment before he turns and walks away, the sound of his heavy footsteps echoes in your ears, leaving you alone with your thoughts and a lingering sense of anticipation for the evening to come. starstruck entirely.

𓇼

a rush of arousal burned within you like wildfire as you lay in your empty bed, yearning for the man who's been gone for only a few hours now. caressing your collarbone while chewing on your lip, your phone rests in your palm, excitement brewing for twenty minutes now ever since he texted you to let you know he was on the way. a black baby doll is adorned on your soft skin. ruffle lace details at the neckline and hem with a satin waistband tie at the back into a cute bow. matching mesh g-string panty, and floral patterns along the bust and hip area.

you took the time to curl your hair, reminding yourself to actually put your contacts in this time. also keeping makeup to a minimum with just mascara, a bit of blush, and some strawberry chapstick. skin moisturized in baby oil and spritzed with miss dior. . . waiting. the camera’s set up across from your bed, trying to distract yourself by engaging in conversation with your viewers. the comments were raging about how impatient they were to see something, but how did they think you felt? you could barely walk out of that restaurant without feeling your legs shake.

he intimidated you beyond measure, and god knows what he’s going to do to you when he gets here. it’s a fear and form of greed you’d never felt before.

“my fucking hands are shaking,” you giggle anxiously, smiling to yourself and shaking your hands before dramatically breathing out.

as you waited, you did little things to keep your buyers entertained, showing your ass every now and then as you cleaned your room like a cute maid. call it foreplay. sitting on your knees now become uncomfortable, so you aim for lowering to your tummy and stretching your arms ahead of you, ass raised up. as soon as you get comfortable, your head pops up from the sound of heavy footsteps surrounding the small area of your home. it’s him. you’d hope, leaving the door unlocked so it’d be easier for him to enter.

“oh, fuck—y’all,” the anxiety is even worse now, mentally preparing yourself with steady breaths and shoving your face into the bed to scream happily. the emotions are bipolar. “he’s coming up.”

toji steps closer to your slightly cracked open door, pushing it open wide to see you. his demeanor nothing short of serious when he gets a good look at you, hearing you yap at your camcorder with his hands stuffed into his jean pockets. he rests his right shoulder against the frame of the door, staring at you, admiring. his boots hit along the floor the closer he gets to you, and that cute ass you had perched up. the lights in your room are dimly lit, citrus candles spread around and led lights from your vanity illuminating the area. the vibe is nice, he likes it. like he likes you.

you continue to speak to your livestream and pretend he wasn’t there, trying to ignore your heartbeat picking up. the tension is in the air. you tried to steady your breathing as you continue to ramble about nonsense; animal crossing, sims you wanted to recreate and purposely wicked whim them. anything to distract yourself from the sparks shivering through your body. you prod the inside of your cheek trying to bite back a grin when you finally feel his hands on your hips, eyes watching the chat go wild from the brooding man behind you. what makes it all the more hot is that he hasn’t spoken a word, feeling like an intruder. stalking, waiting.

“so yeah, i’m thinking about dying my hair red. i feel like my face is kinda full to have a silk press so i’ll look . . off? maybe p-pin ‘urls,” a wave of pleasure shocks through you when you feel him press the outline of his dick against your cunt, dragging you back to air-fuck you once or twice. a few times. for the tease of it. his fingertips lightly flowing along the curves and contours of your body, your hips being the most sensitive. gasping and twitching from the feel, the thong you wore barely shielding how wet you were.

your breath became heavier, and you found it harder to continue speaking. you felt like moans would slip out of if you continued to react to his touch, the heat between you two rising. you were drawn fully into him. the reaction from him gave you a confidence boost, a slick smile showing on your face. while his body speaks of his own growing need, he remains a silent observer, his intense gaze watching as you maintain, or try, your playful conversation with the camera.

“i gotta admit something,” you smile into your hair that falls angelically around the frame of your face. his form, silhouetted behind you, takes on an ominous yet seductive presence. even though he remains hidden from view, his yearn is palpable, eyes locked on you as if he could consume you with a single glance.

“i fucked myself thinking of him,” a jolt of electricity runs down toji’s spine as he recollects the image. a low, involuntary groan escapes his throat as his grip on you tightens. “those of you who don’t remember. it was really, really good.”

that’s the final trigger. in seconds, a rough palm strikes the flesh of your ass, causing the cutest squeak to emit from you. toji’s wrapping his other fist around the softness of your hair and pulling you back to his hard chest. his cologne is strong, enrapturing even. your hand reaches beside you to catch his wrist in your grip, feeling the coldness of his expensive watch while he’s busy locking your jaw still and pressing his lips beneath your ear.

“really?” the tone is condescending, and as you nod frantically, pushing your ass back to feel him more, all you can hear is the unraveling of his belt. slowly removing it, the sound of the leather rubbing against the buckle and his pants. the anticipation fills you at an alarming pace. “i knew that, angel.”

how? wait, did he fucking watch the live you made that night? your legs nearly go weak at the possibility, sheer embarrassment consuming you. he wasn’t meant to see that. yeah, you told him about it. but him seeing that, then having lunch with you like nothing happened is crazy work. he noticed you’re frozen, chuckling darkly behind you.

“relax, doll. i can pretend i didn’t, ‘n you can show me all over again.”

he grabs your wrists, pining them behind your back with a rush of power fueling him, crossed hands sitting on your ass.

“this okay, baby?” he scans the side of your face for approval, using the smooth leather to bond them together. you hum, lips bitten and nodding obediently.

the look on your face in the camera is so worth the thousands of views from people who were just as desperate as he was to see you submit. your hands wriggle to touch him, laying your head on his shoulder and biting your lip as his teeth graze from your shoulder, to your collarbone, and your neck. your body’s completely on fire, and he makes it worse when he gently shoves you forward to fall on your face, back arched and ass high for his view, and theirs.

toji stared down at you as you remained there, fully surrendering yourself for the taking. his larger body leans over yours, fingers grabbing your chin to force your mouth to open. toji brushes his lips along yours, your desperate mouth sinking into him, feeling that same spark you felt earlier during lunch in your chest. he deepened the kiss to give you what you wanted, easily reading you, his tongue ravaging your mouth with his waist grinding into the shape of your ass. the kiss is so wet it has you mewling like a cat in heat, losing your breath.

“give me a safe word, hm?” toji sucks on his lower lip, the arousal in his eyes ruining you. a heavy hand rubs circles on your ass before hitting it again, another cute sound leaving that pretty mouth you had.

brushing your cheek along your bed set, dark curls dancing around your face and a pout on your lips, you whimper, “strawberry.”

“mhm,” your stomach flips when you felt his hand drift between your inner thigh, toji’s tongue skidding over your lips the same time his fingers apply pressure to your clit, rubbing in circles after he pulls your panties to the side, your babydoll resting pretty on top of the rolls on your back. your fists are balled tightly in your restraints, widening your mouth to suck on his tongue before giving him a deep kiss. the image on your face is pure dizziness. acting like your fucked dumb while barely being fucked. he couldn’t wait to see you crumble.

you squirm under his touch, breath growing short and shaky, toji maintaining eye contact with you dangerously. he’s big on it, and it makes you shy, yet brave enough to endure it.

“you hear yourself, girl?” toji hisses, pecking your lips hard, his fingers coated with your slick the more he rubbed. you whine, arching your ass even closer to his hand. “you’re so needy for me, it’s cute.”

it’s ridiculous that you can’t even speak, him turning you into nothing but a whiny, whimpering sub. “you’re desperate for my touch, for my tongue.” he whispered, his voice growing even rougher as his own need grew.

“mmm, yes. need it so bad,” you pout, mouth gaping after he spanks your clit lightly. “fuck, please eat it, baby.”

“i will good girl.”

he didn’t hesitate for another second, sliding behind you with one knee pressed into the bed and his big hands holding you still, spreading your cheeks further apart and cussing under his breath from how fucking cute your pussy was. fat, and glistening in your juices, clit hiding between your folds giving him something to search for. “g’na fuckin’ kill me, angel. pretty fuckin’ pussy you got.”

you scoot up as much as you can, hands still bound behind your back, wanting to cry from the inability to move, but loving that he had you at his mercy. his hair covers his eyes and he’s submerged into you, pressing his mouth to your pussy in a sweet kiss, like he’s knocking politely, before running his thick, long tongue over you slowly. a groan resounded devilishly, toji lapping at your dripping clit, tongue hot and your toes can do nothing but curl.

he’s slow and deliberate, enjoying the sounds and reactions he was getting out of you as you writhed and quivered under his ministrations. your pussy and his mouth makes up the loudest voice in the room, so fucking sweet and wet he’s salivating over you. spanking you, taking his time to devour you as he swallows your cunt whole, tongue gliding from your clit all the way to your hole. occasionally dipping his tongue into you to fuck you like that. your eyes cross, a broken cry making him lose it.

“keep bouncing that ass back, baby. fuck, fuck my face, angel,” he’s hitting you again, and you can’t take it, shifting your thighs to roll your ass back onto his gorgeous face. you’re panting like an animal, jaw dropping as he keeps his mouth on your clit, sucking it hard and groaning into your cunt, the vibrations traveling up your spine.

“oh . . god, oooh god,” the gasp in your throat became high pitched, toji licking you faster when he sees you giving your utmost effort. continuing his onslaught on your sensitive clit, swollen and satiating his taste buds. his fingers dug into your thighs, lowering himself completely to sit on his knees before you, rocking you back on his face as he eats it, unrelenting. sucking, licking, slurping, drowning his tongue inside of you . . . damn, it’s fucking good.

“c-cumming,” he can barely hear you as you stuff your face into the bed, toji’s head bouncing as you settle your feet on his shoulders and rock back on his face even quicker, groaning. “don’t stop, don’t s-stop, babyyy.”

“mhm hmm,” he’s moaning into your pussy, kissing and tonguing you down until you finally burst, your hands in their constraint balling into fists, getting the chance to latch onto his black hair once he pushes you flat on your stomach to bury his face completely between your ass and thighs. “let it out, baby.”

his chin glistened from your juices, toji groaning the rougher you tugged at his scalp, dick jumping in his jeans he needed to unravel soon. when you cum, you do this thing where you squeal and gasp at once, and he swears it’s the cutest thing he’s ever fucking heard. lifting his face, he licks his lips proudly, wiping his chin and patting your ass to watch it shake in his palm. you were a lovely display beneath him, and he couldn’t help but feel a sense of ownership over you.

he reached down and traced a finger along the length of your trembling leg, his dominant presence still overwhelming. he brings his hand to the back of your neck which you arched into his touch, his eyes darkening at your silent plea. “you want more?”

“nn, yea,” a breathless giggle falls from you, toji dragging you to sit at your knees by the grip on your neck and around your chest with his forearm, back hitting his chest again, and your eyes come into contact with the camera, almost forgetting it was there.

“show them what i did to your pussy, angel. let them see how perfect you are,” toji whispers, tapping at your knees to help you sit on your behind.

“okay,” the words are small again, because that’s how he makes you feel. once you sit, you raise your knees to your chest, toji lifting your babydoll to show your soft tummy and the pink lights from your vanity mirror glowing on the angles and curves of your body. you look like the finest art.

it’s liberating seeing yourself like this, a sense of relief washing over you when he begins to unloose the belt, humming elatedly and arching into him, your periwinkle painted toes twinkling in the air playfully. toji laughs at you, your hand coming to your cunt to cover it out of fake shyness, rolling to lay on your side and giggling to yourself. you really did know how to play a role, or maybe you’re just naturally silly.

toji unfastened his button before drifting his zipper down, thick thighs spread and arms bulky as he kept them in fists into the bed, tilting his head in your direction as he sat beside you, body taking up half the bed. you sit on your knees next to him, your hands running across his stomach and lifting up his shirt, toji licking his lips when your nails delicately scratch at his hips. you moan when his hand comes into contact with your hair, your nails digging into the broadness of his thigh.

as he guided your head down, you could feel the heat coming off of his body. you could smell the unique scent of masculinity wafting off of him. the feeling of his fingers running through your hair sent tingles down your spine, his touch tender and affectionate despite his dominating demeanor. your chest fluttered when his thumb touched your lower lip, your breath stuttering and your body quivering, a heat rising in your core all over. you felt the need for him grow stronger, pulling your lip downward. he shifted his fingers and tilted your chin up further, exposing your throat and neck to him. then he leans over, his free hand coming up to cup the back of your head as his mouth latches onto your neck. pressing light kisses along the sensitive skin, his tongue grazing out and your skin pricks with fire.

“can’t stop tasting you,” he grunts, his lips and tongue on your throat licking hard, driving you insane with need. his hand holding the back of your neck in a possessive manner, keeping you in place as his mouth explored your sensitive skin.

“toji. .” your voice is weak, feeling your inner thighs drown in a puddle of your arousal. “wanna suck it.”

“i’m sorry, what was that?” he hums.

“don’t tease,” you roll your eyes and pout.

“mhm,” he lets out a little grunt as his eyes rake over you, his breath catching slightly as he stares at you. he runs his hand down to your waist, gripping fervently. “so pretty,” he murmurs.

“thank you,” you whisper, feeling a strong rush of affection for him. “you’re so handsome,” you say, your voice low and tender.

“g’na give it a good kiss, baby? real good?” he hisses, your hand pulling at his jeans to sit lower on his sharp hips, letting his dick free and watching it with a watered mouth as it sat against his tummy. heavy, thick, two veins protruding on either side. you fucking knew he was big. bless your intuition.

“yes, want it,” you plead.

a low growl escaped his throat. “show me you want it then,” he purrs, his eyes growing darker with desire and his grip on your hip tightening.

the salivation in your mouth gave you just what you needed to do the job, widening your mouth to accommodate his size, drooling over his dick as you pull him in as deep as you could to start. half of him enclosed by the warmth of your mouth and instantly toji moans from the feel, your cheek sucking in while you guide your head up and down, keeping your hands to yourself, one on his thigh for balance. your eyes are closed to focus, humming and dragging your mouth slow to make him feel it all. toji catches himself knocking his head back, pulling the sheets between his fingertips and scrunching his brows together, stomach caving in.

he can hear you slurp and suck at him needily, moaning around him and riding the air with your ass, spit gliding down to the base of his dick as your tongue sticks out to drag along the under of his shaft, bobbing your head and licking at him. something about giving him head in specific felt intoxicating. maybe it’s the sounds he makes; guttural yet whiny. the desperation begs to tug at his throat, shifting his hips blindly and cussing under his breath. eventually, his fingers find their way back to your scalp, toji sitting up and entangling both hands into your hair, face curated in pleasure with eyes wired shut and a gaped jaw.

“shit, ꒰♡꒱. that’s fuckin’ good, doll,” toji grunts, your moans around him encompassing him to briefly detangle a hand to spank against your ass in clear indulgence. “damn.”

your hand couldn’t help but travel to touch him, wrapping your hand around the base of his dick to stroke your hand according to the pace your mouth drags. that gravitational wave in his abdomen hit, a deep ‘your suckin’ it so good’ fleeing from his mouth followed by another harsh spank and a steady tug at your scalp to push you down only enough to follow your rhythm. when he hits the back of your throat, you force yourself to hold him there for a few seconds, purposely constricting your throat to hear him moan for you again, and again. his sounds addicting.

toji chuckles from how good you’re doing, raising your head to breathe before swallowing only the tip while stroking the remainder, your salvia being enough lubricant to quickly move your wrist. twisting and tugging while keeping it mostly on the head of his cock, the sensitive spot your toy to play with as you give teasing kitty licks, two hands covering him now.

picking your head up momentarily, you stare into his eyes with your siren ones, low and dangerous. pulling at his dick while you bite your lips before kissing him, mewling when he shoves his tongue into your mouth, pulling your body closer by your ass, the other grabbing the side of your face he practically swallowed into his own. the kiss is feverish, something straight out of a movie. he’s highly infatuated with you, tasting himself off of you with the mixture of yourself. toji sucks on your lower lip, and you find yourself positioning your thigh over his to sit and grind on his leg. you had enough of the foreplay, you needed him to fuck you.

“fuck me,” a whimper escapes, pressing your body down harder onto him, hand still stroking at him, that fucking voice of yours driving him mad. he doesn’t think he’ll last if you keep it up. “toji. . . toji.”

“stop begging,” he shuts it down quickly, the sound of his boots hitting the floor as he kicks them off exciting you. of course you couldn’t hide the smile, feening innocence as you pet at his jeans to help him remove them.

he's only in his black shirt now, your eyes following how his muscles swallowed the material, showcasing every sharp cut of his upper body. he made you dizzy, truly. that slit on the side of his mouth curving with his mouth as he smirks at you for getting lost in your cute little dream land.

“focus, love,” toji reels you back in, his hand on your lower back to arch your chest into his, dragging you to straddle him. if he could see the blush on your face he’d see that you were red as a tomato, his dick sitting right beneath you and you can’t help but shudder. “need you to lift your hips, help daddy out.”

“kay,” you nod like a damn bobble head, laying your hands on his shoulders and balancing yourself on your tippy toes, wrapping your arms around his neck for extra security. toji’s large arm his thrown around your waist to keep you locked to him, both of your body heat scorching.

he catches a hold of his dick, pumping it twice before he’s rubbing the fat tip against your drenched opening, collecting your flow before a soft gasp emits past your lips when you feel him gently enter, sinking you down carefully, little by little. the sensation from the stretch is . . like a fantasy. your foreheads are touching, breaths mingling as he removes his hand to balance the two of you on the bed, leaning back somewhat for your comfortability.

when you think he’s fully apart of you, that thought is knocked down the minute he utters, “c‘mon, girl. you gotta lot more to take.”

“oh my god,” the shock is out of, well, shock. he feels really good already, it’s gonna be hell if you handle any more. embedding your nails into his clothing, chin resting between the crook of his neck while you ground your ass back to make it easier for him to slip completely in. the two of you groan in sync, toji’s arm tightening around your waist from how tight you felt.

the more you rock, slow, steady, it fucks the both of you up. holding tightly onto one another while toji lets you take your time, the heavy breathing and hearts beating rapidly is fucking poetic. one might call this act making love. once you drop your ass entirely, that pressure in your sweet spot causes you to scream out softly, losing balance and sitting on your knees, holding onto him with an unexpected whine.

“shit, baby, you alright?” he’s immediately checking in on you, bringing you up and make eye contact, hands holding either side of your face and scanning for signs. pushing away the fact that you’re convulsing around his dick and trying his best not to fuck you hard. yet, at least.

again, you can’t even speak. your mouth is wide open, nodding and breathing heavily, shifting your hips and grind onto him, flexing your ass when you arch your back deeper before lifting halfway and slamming yourself down. toji chokes, face copying yours as he grips onto the sheets and places his arm back around you, helping you lift yourself.

“you feel . . really good, baby. stuffing me full,” you moan, toji grunting and yanking you up and down faster, losing his patience now. it blew out the fucking window the minute he slipped inside you. he fixates on the sound of your pussy sliding and swallowing his dick, the slick making his tongue water for the taste all over. you’re so fucking sweet it’s insane.

“yeah?” he lets out a low, guttural groan and grips your hips even harder, his breaths coming out in deep gasps. “fuck me like you fucked that toy, thinking of me.”

that makes you smile, that insecurity of him seeing that video earlier disappearing as you take both of your small hands and wrap them around his throat, using your weight to push his body so he falls onto his back, his hands cupping the curves under your ass cheeks. toji usually isn’t one for submission, but he’s been thinking for a while about trying new shit, and a pretty girl like you choking and fucking him was only the start. you see the look in his eyes, and you feel heat sweltering inside of you even more, relishing the fact that you are the one in control, applying more pressure to his neck, loving the way his breath hitches.

“you want me to fuck you just like that?” you lick your lips and grind teasingly, the dangerous swirl of your hips making his head sink further into the bed.

“want you to fuck me like that, angel. gimme a show.”

and you won’t deny his wish. positioning yourself back on the tips of your toes, his hands are smoothing underneath your thighs, clutching on either sides as you with his eyes going dark, his hips bucking. he can barely string a thought together, his mind completely consumed by the sensations you’re sending through him. your pussy takes it all while you pounce your body above him, rolling your waist each time you dip your ass down and meet his thighs.

“fuck, you feel so good,” he grunts, his voice thick with pleasure, eyes never leaving yours before his voice rasps out, “keep going. fuck me for real. like you want it. it’s yours.”

you let out a strangled gasp, body jerking and mind almost slipping away, the pleasure he’s giving you overwhelming and consuming you completely. his hands on your body clench harder, the warmth from his body on yours killing you.

“just like that,” his hands move at their own possession now, slamming down on your ass repeatedly to bruise your skin, the hits vibrating straight to your clit and it’s making you drunk. your eyes scroll back into your skull, his appraisal driving you to work for it faster.

“t-toji, i’m so wet for you,” you gasp in shock from the slickness between you two. “look what you did to me. you slide in and out so easily.”

“f-fuck, doll. you’re killing me talkin’ like that,” he lets out a strangled gasp at your words, voice ragged and eyes filled with need. “you like it that much, baby?”

“y-yes!” a squeal sounds from you, bouncing heavier than before, your voice getting caught in your throat from the impact. you clutch any part of his skin you can grab, losing yourself in the way he fills you. “i love your dick, baby. makes me feel prettier.”

hazy eyes filled with pleasure admire your features, fucked out already when he still has so much he wanted to do to you. give you what you deserve. a smirk tugs at his lips, sitting up and leaning in close, missing the skin contact. his voice low and rough as he says, “you look prettier when you’re sitting on my dick.”

“yeah,” you drunkenly nod. “s’mine.”

toji raises a brow with amusement. “it can be yours. when you cum on it real hard.”

wanting him even closer to you, you keep only one hand around his neck, placing the other on his forearm and pressing your chest to his entirely as you gyrate your hips and tease his neck, hovering over his skin with your mouth and teeth before you leave little love-bites on his skin. toji guides your hips in a circular motion, the simple switch up making you gasp and whine into his ear, hitting that spot repeatedly.

“god, baby,” you feel his guidance, his grip on your hips firm as he moves you. you ride against him, the friction on your clit making you whimper weakly, his deep voice in your ear making your body shake, feeling another orgasm develop. “i love it. s’fucking me so good.”

“see you movin’ just like you did for me on that mirror,” he wraps his hand around your neck, squeezing firmly. your eyes lock, yours clouded by arousal, his with an agenda. “fuckin’ yourself like that . . ima fuck you real bad for that,” toji hissed, swiping his tongue across his lower lip before aggressively smacking your ass. “i feel that fuckin’ pussy squeezing me tighter. if you’re g’na cum then do it on me. gush all on it.”

the more your body reacts to his praise, and sprinkles of degradation, the faster your orgasm approaches you, washing over you hard as your body spasmes from the intensity of it. your teeth sink into his shoulder as you scream, riding out your high, squeezing hard on his arms. toji kisses your temple, keeping you close as he falls back and lays on his side while turning you to face your camera you’d both forgotten about, still did.

“you did so well,” the kisses continue around your face while your brains on autopilot, his hand clasping around your neck as he presses his hot chest against your back. his kisses are so aggressive it makes you feel small and wanting to obey. you jump when he spanks you, moaning weakly into your shoulder with your arms halfway hanging off the bed.

toji goes lift your right leg to adjust himself behind you, dick achingly hard and covered in your juices, slipping back inside of you fully before angling your knee towards your tummy, keeping a hand locked under the bend of your knee, your skin smooth to the touch. you smell good too. everything about you besotted him. your hand touches his face, tugging it closer to the point where his nose smushed against your cheek, dark hair clouding your eyesight as his big frame overtakes yours.

“you’re gonna kill me,” you whisper, eyes focused on each other, a giggle creeping up.

“not you,” he whispered back, rolling his waist back and forth, grinding deeper into you. the plush of your ass molding against his sharp hips. his lips brush on your neck as he kisses and nibbles at your sensitive skin. your hands roam over your body, touching and exploring every inch of yourself as his lips trail down your collarbone, darkly watching as your hand presses on your clit. “her.”

as he possessively holds you in place, he’s prepared you enough before he’s fucking you hard, knocking the wind from your throat completely. a hard gasp falls past your lips as toji slams his hips against your ass, knitting his brows together, squeezing his eyes shut while his mouth falls open. the utter silence both of your voices held at the moment was more powerful than the rough interaction of your skin. your eyes a ghost white as he pounds his dick into you hard. when a noise is made, it’s from equal parts, syncing your eager moans.

“ooh, fuck baby. you’re taking it,” he huskily whispers into your ear, his words punctuated by the way he continues to move into you. “sucking me so deep. m’not going nowhere.”

“to-ji,” his name is broken down by the harsh pounds he fucks you with, whining and moaning in his entrapment. your vision gone. “i love the way you fuck me. you fuck me so good.”

he fucks like he’s not letting up, his body pushing you deeper into the mattress, the grip around your neck remains tight, the feeling of his ownership only growing more intense. his body is hovering over yours now, digging deep as he can to fuck you real good, to make himself feel it all. your body remains to the side, only half twisted as he drops your leg and pushes his weight into you so your stomach is close to grazing the bed.

“s’too much, fuck . . i, i—” the words are caught in your throat from the overstimulation. breathing heavy, tears begin to fill your sockets, whining his name loudly in his face like you’d lost your mind for good this time. this pleasure was something you hadn’t felt in a long time. it’s everything you needed and more.

toji shushes you, kissing your nose as he grips your face, big hand almost covering it whole. “you like when daddy takes control? you like when he tells you what to do?”

toji will admit, you’ve got him fucking spent. it’s been a long time since he’s had a woman submit and cry under him, and you do all those things well. the gorgeous image on your face, to the salacious movement of your body. the softness of your skin and the equal relation of your voice. capturing and captivating him. you’d think he was on drugs the way he was talking. high off his ass from your pussy. his lips gently brush over your ear. your eyes flutter, his voice attacking your clit, and you swear it makes it gush even more, soaking the sheets underneath your ass. “when he makes you his? you like being my good girl, pretty?”

he knows you can’t speak anymore, but you’re still interactive with your body language. the slur of your nonexistent words to the way you try to roll your ass back to fuck him back . . but he’s got you trapped. even the tears falling down your face from overwhelming pleasure. he knows you’re okay, asking for a safe word prior for your protection. you’re a big girl, he knows you can handle it.

“nnng,” you can’t stop trembling, gasping for air and sobbing in his face. toji places his forehead on yours, looking into your eyes and nodding, cooing. you are fucked dumbed. toji hisses, hitting your ass and pausing momentarily to look between where you two collide, an ‘oh my god’ faltering out. he’s as gone as you are.

“you so fuckin’ creamy, girl,” toji drags out a frustrated hum, getting annoyed by how good your pussy is. you’re going to become a problem.

“please,” you don’t even know what you’re saying it for. do you need him to stop, do you want more, or are you just completely fucked out you’re saying anything that’s coming to your head? that butterfly feeling is back in your stomach, as well as a foreign one near your clit, knowing exactly what’s going to happen. “toji, m’ g’na c-cummm. oh my god, babyy.”

your hiccups and sobs only urge him to fuck you even harder, loving how the breath literally jumps out of your throat in shock.

“cryin’ on this dick. fuck, you got me going crazy,” he really doesn’t want to cum yet, he needed to fuck you in every way imaginable. but he knows you need a break, to breathe for sure. he wanted to edge himself so that when he finally came, it’d be the best fucking orgasm of his life. your moans are clawing at his soul, so filthy and dulcet. you’re making it really fucking difficult to obtain that.

toji finds himself slamming his palm over your mouth to bury them in a way, but you’re so damn loud it’s getting to him. ‘fuck fuck fuck’ he’s cussing repeatedly in a whispered hush as he fucks you as hard he possibly can. his hand doesn’t even work, because you’re consuming him wholly and the minute he feels that build up, he pulls out to cum and you’ve drenched the sheets as you squirt. an almost blood curdling scream surrounds the room, your body rapidly trembling as your mouth falls open in utter shock, gasping, whining, whimpering, moaning his fucking name while he moaned yours. toji nutting up the entire side of your body, wrist twisting as he holds you body still, mouth drawn open.

his hand reaches over to unclamp your legs, heavy hand rubbing your pussy to stimulate you further, your back arching and head sinking into your pillow, crying out. he watches your hand flail to grip his wrist as your wetness continues to spurt out of you like water.

“strawberry!” toji listens to you weep, choking on your cries and pleads. finally having enough.

“holy s-shit,” you’re laughing while also trying to catch your breath, not believing that just happened. he can tell by the shock in your face that you’ve never had it happen before, or that much.

“damn,” he laughs along with you, smacking your outer thigh before smashing his lips to yours in a deep kiss, gliding your tongues together while his hands massaged every part of your body after allowing you to lay on your back. caressing and soothing you to calm you down. “gonna grab a rag.”

you pout when he goes to stand, already missing the disconnect as you lay empty on your . . messy bed. absolutely disgusting you two, hawk puth! one things for sure, you can’t keep that wide ass smile off your face. he comes back into the room, one of your pink towels wrapped around his midsection covering up that demon of a dick he carried. toji smirks down at you, grabbing your ankle and tugging you down to the edge of the bed before he’s taking a warm rag that smelt of your dove beauty bar to wipe what he painted on you. you swallow your lower lip into your mouth, watching with hooded eyes as he drags the rag sensually along ever part of your skin. you flinch when it comes to contact with your cunt, toji kissing your inner thigh with a ‘sorry’. he admires the curves of your body even more, kissing your ankle adorned with a silver anklet after he finishes.

“how you feeling?” he asks.

“i’m more than perfect.”

he hums. “you’re something else.”

“i was good?” you ask seriously, batting your lashes shyly.

toji stares at you as if you’re deadass. “don’t do that. you know you were. you didn’t hear me? i fuck you deaf?”

that makes you roll your eyes, but not before giggling. “hate you.”

“you won’t after i tell you i got chinese in the kitchen,” he winks, the light in your eyes making his heart swell. “c’mon, sexy.”

you sit up, gasping. “i knew i fucking smelt that shit when you came in. i thought it was outside!”

“nah, i realized i didn’t eat shit at the restaurant earlier so i decided to get us both something. did you even eat your salad?”

“i did, had to after you dropped a whole hundred,” you shake your head. “how’d you know i liked chinese?”

toji blinks. “baby, we literally talked half of this week. for hours. i have good memory.”

that slip of a nickname outside of sex warmed your chest, burying your face in your hair to hide your shyness. “you’re right.”

“don’t hide now, i’ve seen it all,” he chuckles, tickling the bottom of your foot.

“oh, whatever!” you chuck one of your plushies at him, half of them had fallen to the floor. toji gets up to grab your robe he saw hanging on the bathroom door, draping it around you as you stood.

he kisses your forehead and you walk ahead of him into the kitchen, screeching when he hit and gripped your ass, the two of you forgetting about the livestream altogether as you warmed up the food, poured a glass of wine and reminisced about what just happened.

angelbwrry live : 1M viewers.

© 𝒮𝒯𝟦𝑅𝐵𝒲𝑅𝑅𝒴! all rights reserved. please do not repost, steal, or modify my work simply because it is mine. stealing isn't cute. i'll ruin your life ♡ 

[suguann]

tags. fem!reader, boss/employee relationship, stupidly domestic, little wife kink in there somewhere, nanny reader, single dad gojo, breeding kink [18+ only]

You sometimes find yourself wistfully imagining having a family of your own—a soft and sweet little bundle to cuddle and someone strong and capable (competent) at your side. But you can’t think of the last time you’ve been on a date where that person had the same interest in something more serious than casually sleeping around. 

Nannying seemed like the natural conclusion, especially when you’re still settling in a new city and barely scraping by for rent and student loans for a degree you don’t use. 

You pick up a few jobs just to get a feel for it: parents going away for a honeymoon, a last-minute call-in, a weekend business trip. Then a friend of a friend says she makes enough to afford one of those picturesque apartments that overlook tall high-rises and iridescent lights, the very ones you’ve dog-eared in real-estate magazines.

All it takes are a few phone calls and an interview until you’re packing up your apartment and taking the freeway outside of the city to somewhere remote and expensive, your car looking almost out of place parked beside the shiny new one in the long driveway.

You rap on the front door before you lose your nerve, and a few moments later, it opens, and you’re unsure who looks more out of place: this man with a smile too big, dressed for work, immaculate suit dampened by the baby rag slung over his shoulder and what looks like drool on his crisp collar, or you in your scuffed shoes and second-hand store clothes, standing in front of the nicest house you’ve ever seen.

“The nanny?”

“Yes,” you mutter, licking your lips. “That’s me.”

“Good, Ren just woke up from his nap,” he says, opening the door a little wider with a creak. The darkness behind him is almost comforting.

You take a deep breath and pass over the threshold into his home.

The entire time, his hand stays on the small of your back to steer you toward the nursery, and a shiver threatens up the length of your spine.

Three months. That’s how long it takes before your employer poses a problem.

It’s not that he’s a terrible boss; in fact, he’s quite the opposite. He lets you take over one of the many spare rooms in his massive house, pays you double the regular rate, and gives you time off when you ask for it.

It also helps that Ren is cute, only a year old, and still so sweet and tiny. 

Perfect.

The problem lies in that you know what he sounds like first thing in the morning, that he knows how you like your coffee, that he helps you fold laundry in the living room while the baby naps, how you catch him staring anytime you hold his son—his expression shuttered, a foreign thing that you can’t read. It’s all so terribly domestic. 

Terrible in that you think it’s a horrible idea to develop a crush on your boss, that you can’t help but get flustered anytime he so much as looks your way, even if it’s fleeting. How a sleepy smile before he retires to his room for the night can turn your thoughts into a scattered, ill-defined mess of what they used to be until all that’s left are words like spun sugar melting on your tongue.

But also, it’s not normal, at least not from your experience. 

You were lucky in the past if your employer even wanted to know about their kid’s day. Barely saying hello once they walk through the front door before sending money to your bank account.

Satoru—because that’s what he asked you to call him one afternoon while you were in the middle of feeding Ren mashed banana, a lazy smile curling the edges of his lips after you say it for the first time—wants to know everything: what Ren ate, if he laughed, how your day was, if you finally got your hands on that book you’ve been meaning to buy. 

“You don’t have to ask about my day,” you tell him shyly, accepting the glass of wine he proffers you after spending the past hour trying to put a teething baby to bed. “To make me feel better, that is.”

“Would it be so bad if I said I want to? You live here, too.”

You try to separate the two: that he cares as your employer and not for any other reason, and how you sometimes catch the soft look in his eye whenever he looks at you could make you believe otherwise.

Cool fingers cup your chin gently, thumb caressing the top of your cheek, now close enough that you catch a few of the warm notes of his cologne, a move that’s probably very inappropriate between a boss and an employee.

“I never say anything I don’t mean.”

You swallow, nodding, slightly shaky, breath caught in your chest. “Okay.”

“Good girl.” He retreats to his office before witnessing how those two words knock the wind out of you.

He starts saying things like our shopping list, our car—because he gave you the keys to the SUV parked beside his car and hasn’t touched it since; for you and the baby, he said, plus it’s terrible on gas when I drive it to work—our house, our baby. You don’t think he means to do it; it's more of an easy slip in conversation.

But then, one morning, he’s rushing around the kitchen, hair still damp and smelling like his shampoo, as he grabs his coffee and briefcase from the counter, kissing Ren’s forehead first…and then yours.

You’re half convinced that you imagined it—that his lips hadn’t stayed there for a second longer than necessary—until he straightens his tie and heads out for the day with a ‘be good’ tossed over his shoulder, and you’re left wondering if he meant to say that to you or Ren.

It sets off a chain reaction of thoughts whirling away in your head, leaves you wanting and wondering—only ever allowing yourself to fantasize a little when the house is quiet and dark, the baby monitor humming on your nightstand, and images of your boss flit behind closed eyelids as you fit your hand underneath your soft sleep shorts.

In the morning, you worry he can tell what you did, his smile almost too sharp, too something—more teasing than what you’re used to—his hand resting on your lower back as he leans down to kiss Ren’s chubby cheek while you make breakfast.

“I have a meeting this afternoon, so I’ll be late. Want me to pick up some food on the way home?”

No, you think, there’s no way he knows.

You spend most of the morning cleaning and folding the array of graphic onesies Satoru has a penchant for dressing Ren in, and the later half walking around the pool because it’s warm and Ren enjoys splashing around in the water. It’s enough to tucker him out for bed early, unable to keep his eyes open while eating a plate of mashed potatoes.

It’s also the first time in weeks that you have the night to yourself, no baby keeping you busy, no Satoru to—well.

After a long shower, you step out of the bathroom, moving into the hallway. And there are many reasons why you felt confident walking the few steps it took to reach your bedroom. Most revolve around what Satoru told you that morning, so you don’t expect him to be standing there, shirtsleeves rolled up, piercing gaze sliding down the length of you wrapped in a towel and little else.

“I brought home those drunken noodles you like,” he says when his eyes focus back on your face, his whole expression softening into a smile.

A beat. “Thank you,” you whisper, unable to look away.

He tucks the wet strands of hair clinging to your cheek behind your ear. “Why don’t you get dressed, and I’ll join you downstairs?”

The noise in your brain goes static.

You’re unsure what causes it, but everything changes when he comes home early one afternoon and finds you and the baby napping in the nursery. He has this soft look on his face and something else you can’t decipher with his piercing blue eyes settled firmly on you.

Ren coos softly into your shoulder. 

When Satoru picks him up and settles him in the crib, then walks you to your room—here, let me help you—and when he hovers in your doorway, you let him in without question.

He doesn’t waste any time peeling off your clothes, eager to have you naked and splayed out underneath him. You cum on his tongue more times than you can count until you’re silently begging him to fuck you.

He laughs, large hands spread over your tummy. 

“Use your words, baby. I’m not a mind reader.”

You feel like you’re someone else watching you from somewhere else, another body rocking against the length of your boss’s cock, back arching every time you manage to find the friction you need. He’s hard against your back, thick in a way that makes you wonder if he did enough to stretch you out. 

“I-I want—”

All other thoughts are obliterated by the stretch and press of him against your cunt. 

“Think I’m going to keep you,” he rasps, lips dragging over your throat. “Keep this drippy little cunt spread open on my desk whenever I want while the baby naps. Would you like that? For me to fuck you full until you give me a baby.”

You clench, nerves shot.

“Gonna get all round with my baby, stay here forever,” he mumbles when he draws away, and you can’t tell if the words are meant for you to hear or slip out without him realizing. “Fuck—breed my little wife until it takes—”

Your eyes roll up, lost in the little promises he paints across your skin, body shivering over and over until you’re sobbing from it until he has to clamp a hand down over your mouth—shh, you’re going to wake the baby—going limp when he finally cums, pressing as deep as your body will allow, as if he can somehow imprint himself there. 

Wonders if maybe he’s been building up to this moment all along. 

It’s so easy to lay there after, blissed out while he litters kisses across your face and collarbones, letting him lift your hips up to slide a pillow underneath, even though the position is awkward when he tries to cuddle you afterward.

His fingers draw shapes on your stomach, giving you a wistful look, like he can’t believe he’s laying here with his cum still dripping between your thighs—no matter how many times he scoops it up and pushes it back inside you. “Do you think it’ll take?”

And you don’t have the heart to tell him about the little foil packet of pills tucked away in your nightstand.

[tokkiwrites]

𝚄𝚗𝚋𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚄𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝙼𝚢 𝚂𝚔𝚒𝚗.

mom's fiancé/bf! joel miller x f! reader • part two • part three

Summary: Your mom's new fiancé, Joel Miller, is the kind of man you could never shake out of your mind—rugged, rough, and embodiment of your long-buried fantasies. He's been your next-door neighbor for years, and the crush you harbored through your teenage years never really faded. Now, he's with your mom, and they're planning to get married. You should want her to be happy, but you can't ignore the tension growing between you and Joel. It's something that was never meant to happen. But as you uncover Joel's true motives for being with your mom, you realize maybe your feelings weren't one-sided after all. And maybe, despite everything, you’re the one he really wants.

tags: stepcest kind of, age gap (reader is in her mid 20s and joel in his mid 40s), forbidden romance, emotional conflict, slow burn, sexual tension, complicated family dynamics, heartbreak, Joel being an emotionally complicated bastard, ANGST, cheating, infidelity, nsfw, p in v unprotected, breeding kink.

/ᐠ - ˕ -マ⁩ authors note 𑁯 ✿ me writing angst?? wow could never imagine it. i hope you guys like this i dunno what came over me. almost 7k (oops) words of hurt confusion and a filthy finish to dry your tears. not proofread!!

The house smelled like home, like it always had. Fresh cut grass from the lawn, the faint scent of laundry detergent, and the crisp autumn air breezing in through the windows. But the warmth that had once filled it felt absent now, replaced by the coolness of change. A change you hadn’t been able to brace for. Your mother had finally met someone after years of being alone, and that someone was Joel Miller.

You sat at the kitchen table, your fingers trailing the edge of your mug, staring at the steam rising from your coffee. The engagement ring on her finger glinted as she poured a second cup of coffee, smiling to herself. You couldn’t take your eyes off it—the gold band, the small, delicate stone. Joel had chosen it.

"Can you believe it?" she said, laughing lightly. "I didn’t think I’d find someone after your father. But Joel... he’s good to me."

You swallowed hard. "Yeah, Mom. I can tell."

You knew he was good to her. You saw it every time they were together. The way he would brush his hand over her back when he passed her, the way he’d laugh at her jokes. The way she looked at him, like he was everything she had wanted but had never thought to ask for.

But that wasn’t what twisted the knife in your chest.

Joel had always been more than just a neighbor. You’d been only nineteen when you started noticing him, the way a girl starts to notice a man—how his shoulders would flex when he lifted something heavy, the rasp in his voice when he spoke to you, low and careful. He was rough around the edges, with that Southern drawl and hands scarred from years of work. A part of you had always wondered what those hands would feel like on you, against your skin, but you never let the thoughts go far. He was older, after all, and back then, it had been nothing more than an innocent crush. But now he was here, in your life in a way you hadn’t imagined, not as some distant neighbor or a fleeting thought, but your mother’s fiancé. The reality of it made your stomach churn, and you hated yourself for the way your heart still skipped a beat whenever he came around.

"I’m glad you like him," your mom continued, her voice pulling you out of your thoughts. She took a seat across from you, her eyes soft with affection. "I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about this, but... it means a lot to me that you’re okay with it." You forced a smile, the tightness in your chest growing. "Of course. I just want you to be happy." She reached out and touched your hand. "I am."

You wished you could say the same.

The days stretched into weeks, each one bringing you closer to the wedding. The house buzzed with preparations, your mother caught up in a whirlwind of joy and excitement. You tried to blend into the background, to stay out of the way, but it was impossible. Every time you turned around, Joel was there, a steady, looming presence.

One afternoon, you found yourself out in the yard, helping your mom plant some new flowers along the fence. The sun was high in the sky, the heat beating down on your skin. You wiped the sweat from your forehead, focusing on digging the next hole. "Need some help?" Joel’s voice came from behind you, making you jump. You turned, finding him standing there with a shovel in hand, that familiar smirk tugging at his lips. He was wearing a faded flannel, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing the sinewy muscles of his forearms. His hair was streaked with gray at the temples, his face lined with years of hard work and sun exposure, but he was still undeniably handsome. Too handsome.

"No, we’re good here," you replied, keeping your voice steady as you turned back to the soil. Your mom looked up from her spot, grinning. "Actually, Joel, I think we could use a little extra muscle." He chuckled and came over, kneeling beside you, close enough that you could smell the scent of earth and sweat on him. His presence was overpowering, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep your mind from drifting.

"So," he said casually, his voice low as he worked beside you, "you’ve been quiet lately. Everything alright?" You felt his gaze on you, but you didn’t look up. "Yeah, 'm just busy."

"Busy, huh?" He tossed a clump of dirt aside, his tone teasing but not unkind. "You don’t strike me as the busy type." You shrugged. "Things change." Joel paused, his fingers still in the dirt. "That they do." There was a weight to his words, the way he said it, something that settled deep in your bones, like he knew what was deep beneath your facade. You risked a glance at him, and when your eyes met, the air around you seemed to thicken. His gaze was too intense, too knowing, and it made your heart pound in your chest. "Joel, could you help me with these pots in the back?" your mother called, oblivious to the tension that had been steadily growing between you and him.

Joel blinked, breaking the moment. He stood up, brushing the dirt off his hands. "Yeah, sure thing." As he walked away, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. You couldn’t keep going like this.

Temptation lurks.

The engagement party was held at your house, the backyard filled with neighbors, friends, and family. You had helped set everything up, stringing lights across the trees, setting up tables with white linen. Your mother had been glowing all day, her happiness contagious to everyone but you.

You were standing near the bar, sipping on a drink when you saw him. Joel was talking to your uncle by the grill, his hand resting casually on the back of your mother’s chair. You watched as he laughed at something your uncle said, the sound of it rumbling low in his chest. He looked so at ease, so comfortable in this life he had built with your mom. But there was a crack in the facade, something that only you could see. The way his eyes flickered to you, even when he was mid-conversation. The way his smile faltered just for a moment when your gaze met his.

he feels it.

"You look lost in thought." You nearly jumped out of your skin at the sound of his voice. Joel was beside you now, his presence like a shadow that followed you everywhere. You forced a smile. "Just thinking." He leaned in a little closer, his voice low enough that only you could hear. "Care to share?" You shook your head, setting your glass down on the bar. "It’s nothing."

Joel’s hand brushed yours as he reached for his own drink, the touch so brief and fleeting, but it sent a jolt of electricity up your arm. He must have felt it too because he hesitated for a moment, his fingers lingering a second too long before he pulled away. "You seem different, sweetheart." he said, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he was trying to figure you out. sweetheart. it sounded so natural, meant just for you. "Not like yourself." He continues. You swallowed hard, avoiding his gaze. "Maybe I’ve changed. Or maybe you don't know me that well."

"Maybe," he said, his voice quieter now, more serious. "But I think I know you better than that." Before you could respond, your mother appeared, smiling brightly as she slipped her arm around Joel’s waist. "There you are!" she said, looking between the two of you. "I was wondering where you disappeared to."

Joel’s eyes never left yours. "Just catching up."

You excused yourself quickly, retreating inside the house, your chest tight with frustration and confusion. You needed air, space, anything to clear your head. But no matter how far you ran, you couldn’t escape the way Joel made you feel. The way you wanted to feel, despite everything.

everything beneath the surface.

The weeks leading up to the wedding were a blur. You kept your distance from Joel as much as you could, but it was impossible to avoid him completely. Every time you saw him, the tension between you grew stronger, pulling you in even when you wanted to push it all away. One evening, after a particularly long day of wedding planning, you found yourself alone on the back porch. The sky was dark, the stars hidden behind thick clouds. You sipped your drink slowly, trying to let the cool night air calm your nerves.

"You okay?"

You turned to find Joel standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable. You hadn’t even heard him come out. You straightened up, trying to keep your voice steady. "I’m fine. Just needed some air." Joel stepped onto the porch, the floorboards creaking under his weight. He didn’t say anything at first, just stood there, his hands in his pockets as he looked out into the yard. The silence stretched between you, thick and heavy. "You’ve been avoidin’ me," he said quietly, his voice low and rough in the quiet night. Your stomach twisted, but you didn’t deny it. "It’s not like that."

"Then what’s it like?" You sighed, setting your drink down and standing up, needing to put some space between you. "Joel, this... it’s complicated. I can’t—"

"Complicated," he repeated, his tone tinged with frustration. He stepped closer, his dark eyes locking onto yours. "It wasn’t complicated before, was it?"

You froze, your breath catching in your throat. His words hit you like a punch to the gut because they were true. It hadn’t always been complicated. Before your mother, before the engagement, there had been something between you and Joel that had lingered, unspoken, for years. Maybe it had been innocent at first, just a crush you’d had on the older man next door. But it had evolved into something else—something dangerous.

"Joel," you whispered, shaking your head, trying to regain control of the conversation, but he was already too close. His presence overwhelmed you, drowning out the rational part of your brain that screamed for you to walk away.

"You feel it too, don’t you?" His voice was almost a whisper now, and the way his eyes bore into yours made it impossible to look away. "I’ve seen the way you look at me, baby." You swallowed hard, your pulse pounding in your ears. "This isn’t fair," you managed, your voice breaking. "You’re marrying my mom, Joel." He winced, as if the words had physically hurt him, but he didn’t back away. "I know," he said, his voice tight. "I know I shouldn’t feel this way. Goddamn it, I tried not to. But I can’t help it, baby, Iㅡ" You took a step back, trying to create some distance, but Joel followed, his gaze never leaving yours. His hand reached out, brushing your arm, and it sent a shiver down your spine. "Don’t—"

"I’m sorry," he murmured, his hand dropping, but his eyes were still fixed on you. "I didn’t mean for this to happen. Should've been ya."

"Then why did it happen?" you asked, your voice breaking with the weight of the question. "Why are you doing this, Joel? Why are you marrying her?" He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "It’s not what you think."

"Then tell me," you pleaded, your voice barely a whisper. "Tell me why you’re with her when—"

"When I want you," Joel finished for you, the rawness in his voice making your heart ache. The admission hung between you, heavy and undeniable. You wanted to pretend you hadn’t heard it, that it didn’t mean anything, but it did. It meant everything.

Your breath hitched as you stared up at him, the world tilting on its axis. You felt the pull between you, that magnetic force that had always been there, but now it was more dangerous than ever. It wasn’t just some unspoken tension anymore. It was real, out in the open, threatening to tear everything apart. "Joel, this isn’t right," you said, your voice trembling, even though your heart screamed at you to move closer to him. "It can’t happen. Not like this."

"I know," he said, stepping closer, his voice barely a rasp. His hand reached for yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. "But that doesn’t change how I feel." You pulled your hand away, the loss of contact almost painful. "You have to stop," you whispered, your throat tight. "You have to marry her. You can’t do this to her." The agony in his eyes was unbearable. "You think I don’t know that?"

You swallowed the lump in your throat, your pulse racing. "Then why are you doing this?"

Joel’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, he looked away, like he couldn’t bear to face the truth. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost broken. "I thought I could love her the way she deserves. I thought... if I just tried hard enough, I could make it work." Your heart ached for him, for your mother, for yourself. "But you don’t, do you?"

His silence was answer enough.

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to stay strong. "You need to go through with the wedding, Joel. My mom... she loves you. She’s happy."

"I know," he murmured, the weight of his guilt evident in his voice. "But what about you? What do you want?" The question hung in the air, suffocating you. What did you want? You wanted him, but not like this. Not in a way that would destroy everything around you. Not in a way that would hurt your mother, who had already been through enough pain. "I want my mom to be happy," you said finally, even though the words felt like they were tearing you apart. "That’s all." even if it was a lie.

Joel stared at you, his expression unreadable, before he finally nodded. "Yeah," he said softly. "Me too." He stepped back then, creating the distance you desperately needed. "I’ll do the right thing," he said, his voice low and resolute. "For her." he wouldn't believe himself either.

You nodded, unable to trust your voice to say anything else. The weight of the moment settled over you both, heavy and oppressive. Without another word, Joel turned and walked back into the house, leaving you standing alone on the porch, your heart shattered into a thousand pieces.

It was all ready to collapse.

The wedding day approached faster than you had anticipated, each moment feeling like a countdown to an inevitable disaster. You tried to bury your feelings, to focus on helping your mom with the final touches, but the weight of what had been left unspoken between you and Joel hung over everything. You hadn’t spoken to him since that night on the porch, and the tension gnawed at you.

The morning of the wedding was bright and warm, the sun filtering through the lace curtains in your bedroom. You stood in front of the mirror, smoothing the soft fabric of your bridesmaid’s dress, trying to shake the growing sense of dread that settled in your chest.

You wanted to be happy for your mom—she looked radiant, glowing in her wedding dress, and she deserved this moment. She deserved love, peace, after the years of struggle she’d endured. But underneath your forced smiles and quiet congratulations, you couldn’t stop thinking about Joel. About his eyes when he looked at you, about the unspoken words still hanging between you.

Downstairs, the house sung with excitement, guests gathering for the ceremony. You could hear the faint sounds of laughter and music, the clinking of glasses as the day unfolded. But it all felt so distant, like you were watching it from the outside, detached from the joy that filled the air.

Just as you were about to head downstairs, there was a soft knock at your door.

You froze, your heart leaping into your throat. You already knew who it was before you even opened the door. Joel stood there, looking as conflicted as you felt. He was dressed in a suit, but the usually rugged man looked uncomfortable in the formal attire. His hair was neatly combed, but there was still that familiar edge to him—rough, worn, and undeniably Joel.

He didn’t say anything at first, just stared at you, his dark eyes clouded with something you couldn’t quite name. "You look beautiful."

"You shouldn’t be here," you whispered, your voice shaky. "I know," he said, his voice low. "But I had to see you. Before—"

"Before what?" you interrupted, your hands trembling. "Before you marry my mom?" Joel’s jaw tightened, and he took a step closer. "I’m sorry," he said, his voice barely audible. "For all of this. For... for everything I’ve put you through." Tears pricked at your eyes, but you blinked them away, refusing to let them fall. "You have to go through with it, Joel. You promised her."

"I know," he murmured, his gaze dropping to the floor. "But I can’t stop thinking about you." The rawness in his voice sent a shiver down your spine, but you forced yourself to stay strong. "You don’t get to do this now," you said, your voice trembling with emotion. "Not today." Joel’s hand reached for yours, but you pulled away, stepping back. "Don’t," you warned. "Please don’t make this harder than it already is." He stared at you for a long moment, his eyes filled with regret, before he finally nodded. "I’m sorry," he said again, his voice breaking. "I’ll... I’ll go."

You watched as he turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing down the hall, each one like a nail in the coffin of what could have been.

Unbeneath.

The wedding was beautiful. The flowers were perfect, the music soft and sweet, and your mother’s face glowed with happiness as she walked down the aisle. Joel stood at the altar, looking handsome and calm, the picture of a man ready to commit to a life with her.

But you saw the cracks beneath the surface. You saw the tension in Joel’s shoulders, the way his jaw clenched as your mother approached him with a radiant smile. You knew he was trying to hold it together, trying to play the part of the perfect groom. But deep down, you could see it—he wasn’t entirely there.

Standing as a bridesmaid near the altar, you forced yourself to smile, to focus on your mother’s joy. But it was like watching a car crash in slow motion. The weight of what Joel had said to you that morning still clung to you, heavy and suffocating. As the officiant began to speak, your heart pounded in your chest. The words felt hollow, echoing in your mind. The vows of eternal love, of commitment, of being faithful—it all felt like a lie. You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to stay focused, trying to hold on for your mother’s sake.

But then Joel glanced at you.

It was brief—just a flicker of his eyes in your direction, but it was enough to make your breath catch. His gaze was filled with conflict, guilt, and something else you couldn’t name. And in that moment, you knew—he was thinking about you. Even here, even now, when he was supposed to be pledging his life to your mother.

Time seemed to slow as the officiant asked Joel to recite his vows. He hesitated for just a second too long, the pause so subtle that no one else seemed to notice. But you did. You could see the struggle in his eyes, the battle between doing what was right and doing what he wanted.

"I, Joel, take you—" His voice caught, barely noticeable, but you saw it. He cleared his throat, trying again. "I take you, to be my wife."

Each word felt like a stone dropping into a bottomless well.

Your mother smiled at him, tears of joy in her eyes. She was completely unaware of the storm brewing beneath the surface. She believed in this moment, believed in the future they were about to share. And you hated that you couldn’t give her that same belief, that you couldn’t share in her happiness.

When the ceremony ended and the guests erupted in applause, you clapped along with them, your hands numb and mechanical. The celebration carried on around you—people laughing, clinking glasses, congratulating the happy couple—but you felt like you were standing on the edge of a cliff, the ground crumbling beneath you.

At the reception, you stayed at the far end of the garden, away from the crowd. The string lights twinkled above, casting a soft glow on the scene, but the beauty of it all felt distant, unreachable. You sipped your champagne, staring blankly at the dance floor where Joel and your mother swayed together. They looked perfect, like a picture from a magazine. But you knew better.

Your thoughts were interrupted when Joel came up beside you, his presence like a storm cloud looming on the horizon. His tie was loosened, the top button of his shirt undone, and there was a weariness in his eyes that hadn’t been there before.

"You disappeared on me," he said quietly, his voice barely audible over the music and chatter. You didn’t look at him, keeping your eyes on the dance floor. "Just needed a moment." He let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair. "I didn’t mean for things to get this way. Please believe me, I didn’t knowㅡ didn't know she'd fall." You finally turned to face him, the rawness of his words cutting into you. "Well, they are and she did so.."

Joel looked at you with an intensity that made your heart ache, the same look he’d had earlier that morning. "I can’t stop thinking about you, baby." he repeated softly, his voice rough with emotion. "Even now. Especially now."

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making it difficult to speak. "You need to stop," you whispered, your voice trembling. "You made your choice. You married her. I don't even know what your plan was."

"I know," he said, his voice tight with frustration. "I know what I did, but that doesn’t change what I feel. It doesn’t change this." He gestured between the two of you, his eyes pleading. "I never wanted to hurt you, or your mom. But... I can’t pretend anymore. Not with you." Your chest tightened, the pain almost unbearable. "You have to pretend, Joel. You have to. For her." He stared at you, his expression torn between guilt and desire. "And what about you? What about us?"

"There is no us, Joel. Never was." You said the words like poison in your mouth. "There can’t be." Joel’s hand reached out, his fingers brushing your arm, and the familiar spark shot through you, the one you’d tried so hard to ignore. His touch lingered for a moment before he pulled away, his eyes dark and unreadable.

"You’re right," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "There can’t be." But the words felt like a lie the moment they left his lips because despite everything, despite the weight of his new vows, you saw him lean in closer. His breath mingled with yours, and his eyes-filled with guilt, longing, and desperation bore into you. His lips inched toward yours, the world around you fading into a blur of muted colors and distant laughter. People were far enough to not see you, but that didn't make it any easier. Your heart pounded, your breath shaky as you felt the warmth of his body close to yours. You knew this was wrong, that you should push him away, but your body betrayed you. The yearning, the suppressed need that had lingered between you for years, finally pushed through the cracks.

With one last glance into your glassy eyes, as if seeking permission-or maybe forgivenessㅡ Joel closed the distance.

His lips intertwined with yours, soft and rough at the same time, filled with everything that had been left unsaid. You froze for a moment, the shock of it crashing through you like a tidal wave. But then something snapped inside you, and you kissed him back. All of the restraint, the pain, the buried feelings surged to the surface, spilling into that one kiss.

His hands cupped your face gently, his touch tender despite the intensity of the moment. The world around you ceased to exist. It was just you and Joel, a stolen moment in a sea of impossibilities. His lips moved against yours with a desperation that mirrored your own, as if both of you knew this would be the only time you'd have. As if the kiss had to say everything words couldn't

But then, just as quickly as it had begun, reality crashed back in. You broke away, gasping for air, your chest heaving. The warmth of his touch still lingered on your skin. Neither of you moved, neither of you spoke, and for a moment, it felt like the world had stopped spinning. Finally, Joel stepped back, his face hardening as he shoved his hands into his pockets. "I’m sorry," he muttered, though you knew the apology wouldn’t fix anything.

You watched as he walked away, back to the party, back to your mother—the woman he had chosen. The woman he was supposed to love. Your heart broke all over again as you realized that no matter what you felt for him, no matter what he felt for you, it would never be enough to change the reality of the situation.

And so, you stood there, the cold night air brushing against your skin, watching as Joel rejoined the celebration. The sounds of laughter and music filled the garden, but all you could hear was the silence between you and the man you could never have.

Was one night really that important?

You stood there, alone in the shadows, the air growing colder around you. The question gnawed at you, refusing to let go. What harm could it do? One night. One moment where none of thisㅡ none of the guilt, the secrecy, or the heartbreak mattered. No one would know. No one had to.

Would it really hurt?

The thought was reckless, dangerous even, but it lingered, growing more persistent with each passing second. Your mind kept replaying the way Joel had kissed you, the heat and desperation in his touch, the wayyou had kissed him back without hesitation, as if your bodies knew what your hearts refused to admit. You hadn't wanted to stop. And he hadn't either.

Your breath quickened as you thought of him, standing there, so close you could still feel the faint echo of his warmth, his scent, the way he had made you feel as though the world had disappeared, as if nothing else mattered but the f you, in that moment.

No. You couldn't. You couldn't do this to your mother. You couldn't betray her like that, not even for one night, no matter how desperately you wanted him. But the longing was still there, a dark ache deep in your chest, making it harder and harder to ignore. You let out a quiet, shuddering breath and looked back toward the reception toward Joel, who was now standing by the bar, talking with a few guests. The smile he gave them was easy, practiced, but you could still see the shadows under his eyes. You could still see the guilt that gnawed at him from the inside.

What if nobody knew? What if this one mistake, this one selfish moment, stayed just between the two of you? What if you could find a way to make it work-just for one night, just to feel what it was like to truly have him without the weight of the world pressing down on your shoulders?

You swallowed hard. you could still taste his kiss on your lips. You could still feel the burn of his fingertips against your skin.

But then, you remembered your mother's face. Her warmth. Her trust. She was so happy, so completely in love. The thought of betraying her, even just for a moment, tore you apart. Could you really live with that kind of guilt?

No.

Butㅡ

You closed your eyes and exhaled, trying to quiet the storm inside you, trying to remind yourself of what was right. This wasn't a fleeting desireㅡ it was a devastating disaster waiting to happen

And yet, your body ached with the need to be close to Joel again. The yearning, the intensity of that single kiss and one pathetic touch, it was too much to ignore. You had given in once, but you couldn't go down that path again.

You took a step away from the garden, retreating into the shadows. Maybe it was better this way. Maybe one night wasn't worth it. But then you heard his voice, low and familiar, cutting through the noise. He was closer than you expected.

"Hey."

You froze, your heart stuttering in your chest. You didn't need to turn around to know it was Joel. His voice was all too familiar now. He stepped into the shadows with you, the dim light casting sharp lines across his face, making him appear even more worn, more conflicted. "Iㅡ" He hesitated, his voice thick with emotion. "I shouldn't have kissed you earlier. I know I shouldn't have."

You didn't say anything. You couldn't. You didn’t regret it. You wish it never ended.

Joel's gaze softened, and he stepped closer, but you kept your distance. He seemed to notice the space between you, the invisible barrier that neither of you wanted to cross but couldn't help but feel. "I don't know what to do anymore," he said. "I just know I don't want to lose you." His words shattered what little resolve you had left.

And in that moment, everything that had been building between you, the unspoken, the impossibleㅡ became undeniable. It was wrong. It was selfish. But here he was, standing before you, asking you for something you both knew you could never truly have. And for a moment, it didn't matter that it was wrong

You let out a shaky breath, your voice barely a whisper. "One night," you murmured. "Just... one night."

Joel froze. His eyes searched yours, and for a second, it seemed as if he might say no. But then his hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you toward him, his lips catching yours in a kiss that was deeper this time, hungry, urgent. There were no more words between you, just the frantic need to close the distance between your hearts, to feel something real, even if it was only for one night.

As his hands wrapped around you, pulling you closer, there was a fleeting moment of clarity,a brief flash of the consequences. But it was swallowed up by the heat of the kiss, the intoxicating feeling of finally giving in to the desire that had been burning between you for years,

It was wrong. It was a mistake

But as Joel's lips moved against yours again, you forgot about everything else. Joel’s hand slid to your wrist before you could pull away, a firm, steady grip that tugged you gently toward him, toward the quiet behind the chaos. The party’s laughter and chatter were left in the distance, fading as you followed him, the night air thick with tension.

"We should go to a room," he whispered, his voice hoarse and urgent, almost pleading. "The party still has a few more hours before it ends. Don't worry, baby. It'll all be okay. She won’t even notice we're gone." You looked at him, heart racing, mind reeling, torn between the gravity of his words and the electric heat still burning in your chest from the kiss. He was leading you, his hand wrapped around your wrist, guiding you through the garden, toward the back of the house where the guest rooms lay hidden behind thick foliage and shadows.

You followed, not because you were sure, but because the pull between you was undeniable. You didn’t trust yourself to speak, and maybe you didn’t want to. His pace quickened as he sensed your hesitation, his breath hitching, more desperate now, as though he needed you to understand. "We can’t keep doing this," he said, his tone a mix of anger and longing. "We can’t keep pretending like we don’t feel it. This—" he glanced back at you, "this is what we've been needing for so long."

You could barely catch your breath as you stepped into the hallway of the house, away from the party. The muffled noise of music and chatter was barely a memory now. The quiet was heavier, more intimate. And when you finally stopped, your back pressed against the closed door of a guest room, you both stood there in the dim room, hearts pounding like they were about to burst.

His hands were still on you, strong but gentle, but this time, they didn’t move to pull you in. Instead, he lingered, his fingers barely grazing the skin of your arms as though he was afraid of breaking something fragile—something that might never be repaired.

"Joel..." Your voice was soft, porcelain, and it trembled in the stillness of the room. "Please.." you can hear him mumble a soft 'fuck' before his lips crash onto the exposed skin on your neck, his hands roaming your body like he's been waiting to do this for a thousand years. he quickly manages to discard the jacket of his tuxedo and unzip the back of your dress, your hair that was neatly pulled up now down on your shoulders. "You're so beautiful, baby. Always have beenㅡ god, I was so stupid not doin' this earlier." Your mind reeled, cunt pulsimg. You closed your eyes, trying to steady your breath, trying to steady your pulse. the fire between you crackled and burned hotter, and for tonight, you gave into it.

"Joel, please, justㅡ touch me, please.." he nods his head. "fuck, yeah, okay. You sound so pretty when you're desperate." you shudder at his words, a soft moan slipping from your lips. " 'm gonna fuck you tonight 'n make up for all of the nights i didn't." that was a promise.

you were now almost fully naked, the only thing covering your body was a soft, laced, white set you had on. "Pretty girl." he begins to discard those items from you too, but removes only the bra, leaving the white panties on. you look up at him, his presence swallowing you whole. without words you reach our hands out, promptly placing them on the hem of his pants and starting to unbuckle the belt he had on. you fingers fumble from the tension, but you finally do it. you trail you fingers onto his abdomen, drawing small hearts before you hear him growl. he picks you up swiftly and throws you on the bed settled in the middle of the room. his pants come undone so he pulls them off fully. "Spread your legs, baby." you do, your pussy spilling over the lace that barely covered anything. his rough fingertips trace your clothed folds, making you look away. "Look at me. Look at me, tell me what you want."

"Want you, Joel.." he hums. he pulls the panties to the side, eyes fixed on the way your cunt glistened under the dim light. its not long before he gets on his knees between your legs. "sweet girl. been dyin' to know what's inside that pretty head of yours when you look at me like that." His fingers brushed a loose strand of hair from your face. "you know how much i had to hold back? wanted to ravage you, toㅡ" he trails "to destroy you. make you beg for me to stop..." joel leans down, his rough beard tickling your neck, drawing a soft moan from between your lips.

"Sure you want this, darlin?" Nipping at your bottom lip, he waits for your signal. "So sure." This is it, the moment you had only dreamed of. that's when his lips crashed against yours again, his mustache pricking your skin. you kissed back, hungry, so hungry like you've never felt before.

"want that pretty pussy wrapped around my cock." you whimper pathetically at his dirty words. dirty. dirty like his touch that left your skin tainted, dirty like how you know you'll feel after all of this is over.

but you like dirty. you love dirty.

joel pressed himself against you, his briefs now fully off. fuck, he was huge. his leaking tip was pressing against your folds. "so wet, baby. all this for me? c'mon, let me hear you say it."

" 's all for y-ou, Joel ㅡ" you choked back a moan, pushing yourself back onto his bulge. he laughs, tilting his head to the side slightly. be drags the pulsing tip up and down, up and down again and again, as if he didn't make you wait long enough for it. after he thinks its sufficient, he starts to push inside, causing you to bite onto your forearm and shut your eyes as tears welled up in them. "atta girlㅡ you can take it. you're a big girl, ain't ya?" he teased. "My little girl, takin' my cock so well."

by the time he was fully inside, you were a mess, tears stained your cheeks, drool at the corners of your mouth covered in smudged lipstick ㅡ you were in a dream for sure. joel moves, at first, slowly as to let you adjust. he's patient. praises trail onto you as he kisses little pecks on the small of your back. "That's it, darlin'. take it all." your body trembles from every breath and touch of his.

his pace picks up, skin hitting yours roughly, fingers tangled in your hair and his other palm flush against your belly. "feel me there, sweet girl?"

"I- yes, yes, please, p-please ㅡ " You were hanging on the mattress for dear life, your brain foggy. nothing made sense but this. Joel buried deep inside of you. he fucked you hard, and deep, your stomach churning at every hit. his calloused hands gripped tightly at you hips, his moves now more ragged.

"shitㅡ whish I married you, baby.." he says through grunts, palms still gripping your hips. "Wish it were you there in that dress. 'm sorryㅡ" you cry a little louder as you feel his dick twitch inside of you. "let me put a baby in you, sweet girl, we can run away andㅡ fuck, run away and be happy. have our own little family." your eyes roll to the back of your head. "Joel, Iㅡ"

"You'd want that? imma make you a mommaㅡ my pretty wife, god."

" 'm s-so close, Joel, please "

"I know, baby, I know. Y-You go ahead." With a few more snaps of his hips, you're both coming, bodies writhing, as his head falls upon your chest. For a long, heavy moment, the world outside the room seemed to vanish. All that was left was the two of you, in that silent little room.

Joel pulls out, making you moan. He watches intently as his seed drips out of you, licking his lips as a palm rubs your lower belly. He hopes it'll stick.

[bueckers]

SAVE A HORSE, RIDE A COWGIRL ━━━ paige bueckers

synopsis: you and paige sneak away during her family’s barbecue for the fourth. ✶

pairing: paige bueckers x fem reader

notes: literally have been slacking on every other fic and this is the one thing i jumped to write and finish… talk about matching each other’s freak is all i’ll say. i’m just here to feed families.

The smell of grilled hot dogs and the sizzle of sparklers in the distance should be enough to keep you in the moment, but your nerves are working overtime. Paige insisted that it wouldn’t be a big deal, that meeting her dad’s side of the family was just another stepping stone in your relationship. But as the two of you step out of the car and make your way up the driveway to the family home, you can’t help but feel like you’re walking into something monumental.

It’s not the first time you’ve questioned what you’re doing with Paige. Not because you doubt her feelings—those have been clear since the night she first kissed you, all intensity and softness in equal measure. But because it still feels surreal, like the basketball star who seems untouchable to so many chose you. And just maybe she sees you as untouchable too.

The door opens before you can knock, revealing her father with an easy smile that mirrors Paige’s, and you relax—just a little. He greets you warmly, and you can’t help but notice the pride in his eyes when he introduces you to the rest of the family. Paige lingered, and it was a good feeling in one way.

There’s a moment where you’re being passed around like a prized artifact, a flurry of names and faces that blur together as you turn every corner with Paige. Maybe it was the way her dad’s side of the family welcomed you with open arms, or the way Paige kept you close, her hand on the small of your back or intertwined with yours, always making sure you were comfortable. Or maybe it was the seltzers—crisp, cold, and just the right amount of boozy—that had helped you loosen up.

“This is my girlfriend.”

It’s the first time she’s introduced you that way today, and the words hang in the air between you… a good feeling. The Bueckers family seems to take it in stride, with warm smiles and a few teasing remarks, but all you can focus on is the way it ignites something in you—a mix of something good and a sudden, overwhelming desire to make sure everyone knows just how mutual this feeling is.

Paige had introduced you to what felt like every relative under the sun, but now, a few drinks in, you were both in that sweet spot where the drink had taken the edge off, and everything felt a little lighter, a little more fun.

She pulls you away from the crowd, leading you hurriedly around a few corners and to her room. The sounds of the celebration are muted, and you begin to let out a fit of giggles. You weren’t even entirely sure what was funny, but Paige made you feel giddy.

“Why are we in here?” you asked, turning around to face the door she had previously shut. Despite this, the blonde pulled you into her, the both of you now chest to chest as she peppered kisses down your neck.

“There’s a meetin—meeting in my bedroom. You ain’t hear?”

You sighed out, reeling it all in before you realized that you had her entire family to accompany, and she wanted to meet with you. “P!” you whined, attempting to wiggle out of her grasp and failing miserably.

Paige’s smirk widened, and she leaned in close, her lips brushing against yours. “What do they say? Save a horse, ride a cowgirl?”

You felt a rush of heat flood through you at her words, your body responding to the suggestive tone in her voice. Before you could fully process what she’d said, Paige was leading you both to the bed, herself falling before you as she held onto the tips of your fingers. “C’mon,” she mumbled, and it somehow sounded so sinful.

You took a moment to just look at her, her bright eyes darkened with desire, her lips parted slightly as she watched you with a hungry intensity that made your knees weak. “Only ‘cause you make one hell of a cowgirl,” you retorted, only half-serious.

Paige smiled, prepared to drag you down next to her before you stopped her. You smirked a little, your fingers trailing to the elastic of the cowboy hat she was still hearing. You pulled it until it snapped against her chin, the movement dirty and teasing and all a tipsy Paige could ever want.

She let out a low chuckle. “Careful,” was all she said.

You raised an eyebrow, your smirk widening as you reached up to take the hat off of her, placing it on your own head. The light weight of it settled over your hair, and you tilted it down over one eye, giving Paige your best attempt at a sultry look. “Or what?” you shot back, your voice a little breathless with anticipation.

Paige’s gaze swept over you, her series of different smiles turning into something curious and willing. She leaned back, all the pressure in the palms of her hands as her tongue swarmed her mouth in amusement. She nodded her head, as if she were challenging you so you could see what would happen.

Sure, it was a relatively bad idea in the moment with Paige’s family roaming in the same exact house, and you had really planned on saying no, but— well…

You took a step back, feeling a rush of everything nice as you put some distance between you and the bed. Paige’s eyes followed your every movement, her hands curling into the comforter as she watched you. You reached for the hem of your shirt, slowly lifting it over your head and letting it drop to the floor, the air cool against your heated skin.

You could hear Paige’s breath hitch, her eyes glued to you as you turned around, giving her a teasing view of your back as you unhooked your bra, sliding the straps down your arms and letting the garment fall away. You glanced over your shoulder, catching the way her jaw tightened and her lips parted just enough.

With a giggle, you wiggled your hips, sliding your shorts and panties down your legs in one smooth motion before stepping out of them. You gave your ass a little shake, sliding your pointer finger into your mouth as if it were a lollipop. If there was one thing you’d caught onto while being with Paige, it was that she loved when you were completely naked. You didn’t miss the way her hands tightened against the bed, her knuckles white as she held herself back from reaching out for you.

Her eyes raked over your body, a hunger evident in her gaze that made your pulse quicken. You couldn’t help but smile, a wicked glint in your eyes as you took in the sight of her, lying there with her abs tensing beneath her shirt, her breaths coming a little faster as she watched you.

“Paige, baby…” you purred, your voice low and teasing as you crawled onto the bed, making sure to brush your body against hers as you moved. Her breath got caught in her throat, and you could see the way she fought to maintain control. Just give in.

Without another word, you settled between her legs, your hands trailing up her thighs as you pressed a soft kiss to her inner knee. Paige’s muscles twitched under your touch, her lips parting as she let out a breathy moan, her eyes fluttering shut as she tried to keep herself together.

You weren’t about to let that happen.

Leaning in, you pressed a kiss to her core, teasing her through the thin fabric of her shorts. Paige’s hips jerked at the sensation, her hands fisting in the sheets as she let out a low, desperate sound that sent a thrill through you.

“Fuck, stop teasing,” Paige mumbled, her voice rough as she lifted her hips, urging you to take things further.

You smiled against her, enjoying the way she was starting to unravel beneath you. Slowly, you tugged her shorts down, your fingers brushing against her heated skin as you bared her to your gaze. You could feel the tension in her body, and it wasn’t the type of tension you’d get from a basketball practice.

Paige let out a shaky breath, her hands clutching the sheets as she waited for you to make your move. And when you finally did, pressing your tongue against her clit in one slow, deliberate stroke, her response was immediate and intense.

“Oh, fuck,” Paige gasped, her hips bucking up into your mouth as you lavished attention on her, your tongue moving in slow, teasing circles that had her panting for breath. You could feel the way her thighs quivered on either side of your head, her body reacting to every little movement, every flick of your tongue.

You didn’t let up, your hands gripping her thighs to keep her steady as you increased the pace, your mouth working her over with a skill that had her moaning your name, her voice raw and desperate. The taste of her on your tongue was intoxicating, the sounds she made even more so, and you couldn’t help but lose yourself in the sensation, your own arousal building as you felt her getting closer and closer to the edge.

Paige’s hands flew to your hair, it being a bit messy from the hat that had now hung around your neck, her fingers tangling in the strands as she held you to her, her breaths coming in ragged gasps as she teetered on the brink of release. “Right there,” she panted, her voice strained as she fought to keep herself together, her body trembling with the effort. “Don’t stop, fuck, don’t stop.”

It didn’t take long. With a final, desperate cry, Paige shattered, her body convulsing as the orgasm ripped through her, her hips bucking as she rode out the overwhelming sense of pleasure. You stayed with her through it all, your mouth never leaving her as you drew out every last bit of her release, savoring the way she fell apart beneath you.

As Paige’s body slowly relaxed, she took a moment to catch her breath, her chest rising and falling in a rhythm that was still uneven. You watched her with a satisfied smile, your own breathing a little ragged as you leaned on one arm, taking in the sight of her in her post-orgasmic bliss.

But Paige wasn’t done with you yet. She never was, and she would never let you win.

With a determined look, she slowly lifted herself up, and you watched, your breath catching in your throat as her fingers moved to the hem of her shirt. She paused for a moment, her eyes locking with yours over her shoulder before she slowly, deliberately peeled the fabric off her body, revealing the toned expanse of her back, and you knew you’d be a puddle if you would’ve saw her torso first.

Her muscles flexed and rippled beneath her skin as she discarded the shirt, and your mouth went absolutely dry. Paige’s back muscles were a sight to behold, the definition in her shoulders and the way her arms looked so strong and capable left you more wet than you’d like to admit. You couldn’t resist reaching out, your fingers brushing over the hard lines of her biceps, head slightly tilted as you admired in fake innocence. This was everything but.

Paige chuckled, and you felt the vibration underneath your fingertips as they dropped back to your side in one swift motion, the blonde now laid back in front of you. She took in your slightly dazed expression, and it only made her want you closer to her. On her.

“Get your ass up here,” Paige growled, her voice low and commanding, and you didn’t need to be told twice.

Scrambling to straddle her, you positioned yourself over her abs, your body tingling as you felt the firmness of her muscles beneath you. The friction was almost too much, and you couldn’t help the moan that escaped your lips as you slowly began to grind against her, your movements fueled by the heat of the moment.

Paige’s hands roamed over your body, her eyes never leaving your face as you lost yourself in the pleasure. The hat on your head had been trying to escape, and Paige reached up, adjusting it with a grin before letting one of her hands return to your waist, speeding up your movements, and the other to your clit—doing as much damage as possible.

The blonde was practically drooling as she watched her two fingers slide between your folds, not missing the quaint squelching noise it made. “Pussy so good, baby. I swear.”

You were a whining mess, the sound being your only verbal response to Paige’s words. Your hand reached for the gold chain round her neck, the jewelry being previously tucked as your fingers tugged onto it in true cowgirl style.

Her words sent a fresh wave of arousal crashing through you, and you could feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter inside you as you rode her abs, the sensation something you’ve never felt before. You had started to feel immense heat underneath Paige’s touch, and it was driving you closer and closer to the edge. You knew it wouldn’t be long before you completely lost control.

Paige could sense it too. She leaned up slightly, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispered, “Go ahead. Let me see how fucking good you look when you lose it.”

You screwed your eyes shut, letting out a long and hoarse cry that Paige was quick to shut down, her guiding hand now used as a cover for your mouth. Your hips continued to buck as she pulled her fingers away. You looked down at the way they glistened, eyebrows furrowed as she brought them to her mouth.

And of course, the most Paige thing to do was to turn you on even more as her tongue went to town on her own fingers, licking every bit of you off of them. You were close to demanding her to eat you out next, but the two of you didn’t have any time for that.

You leaned down, capturing her lips in a kiss that was sloppy and filthy, your tongues dancing in a heated rhythm. The kiss was a passionate mess, filled with the raw need that you both felt. But then, the distant sound of fireworks caught your attention, breaking through the personal sex bubble you’d built.

You gasped, your eyes widening as you pulled away from her. “Paige, we’re missing the fireworks!”

Paige’s face mirrored your shock as she looked toward the window. “Oh shit!” she exclaimed, her expression one of sudden realization. Both of you scrambled to get dressed, tossing garments back and forth in a frantic attempt to look presentable. Paige’s bun was a far cry from its original neatness, and your cowboy hat had slipped off for the third time that night.

Finally, you managed to make your way out of the bedroom and finally outside where Paige’s dad, Bob, and a few other family members, including Drew, Paige’s little brother, were gathered. They were all watching the fireworks display their attention momentarily diverted by the spectacle.

One of them, with a sly smile, glanced at you and Paige as you entered. “Where’d you two run off to?”

Paige’s retort was quick, a playful smirk on her lips as she answered, “Promise land.” It was clearly a joke, but the way they scrutinized the two of you, taking in your disheveled appearance—messy hair, wrinkled clothing, and the cowboy hat that still refused to stay on your head—left little to the imagination. There wasn’t much point in hiding it anymore.

As you both took your places in some lawn chairs to watch the fireworks, Paige stepped in front of you for a brief moment. She reached down, tucking a stray strand of your hair behind your ear with a tender touch. Her voice was soft, almost serious, as she mumbled, “You know, I think I like roleplay.”

You gasped, your eyes wide with disbelief. “P, that is so not what that was!”

[clockwayswrites]

Danny is a minx and I am not responsible for him.

Okay, so, you all voted and I, um, failed? We didn't get to cuddling. There should be cuddling coming? Idk, darlings, this was my third start on this and Danny took over. I've got no say in this anymore. Canon-typical violence, crude language, cross dressing, discussions of prostitution

---

“You think you can fucking play us like that?!”

The shout carried easily through the crisp fall air. Red Hood sighed and changed direction away from his safe house and towards the noise.

“—fuck you up for that! Give us our fucking money back!”

“Fuck you,” snapped back a voice that Jason had come to recognize over the last several months. Right then the words dripped in fake, but damn convincing, heavy Crime Alley drawl, but Jason knew it all the same. “If yous don’t got it, don’t bet it. If yous don’t got game, don’t play it.”

“Yeah, no, I don’t think a little girl like you gets to say how this goes,” a third voice growled.

Hood clung to the edge of the roof just long enough to drop silently into the alleyway next to the dive bar. From the quick glance sent his way he was only noticed by the damn minx, so he leaned casually back against the grimy brick wall and unholstered his gun.

“Right? Yeah! Yeah, bitch! You don’t get to say how this goes!” the first voice shouted again. The guy’s shoulders were squared up as if he was some sort of threat in his overpriced, knock off bomber jacket and ill fitting jeans.

It almost made Jason want to sigh.

Actually, fuck it, Jason gave in and sighed loudly, knowing how it sounded through the modulation of his helmet. Bomber Jacket and his buddy, I Swear This is Real Italian Leather, spun around and then cowered so quick Jason swore they gave themselves whiplash.

“So,” Jason said with every ounce of disinterest he could put in his tone, “how does this go? Because right now, I’m thinking that it’s you two who are gonna be going before I put bullets between your eyes.”

“Right, um, yes Red Hood,” Bomber Jacket cowered and grabbed desperately at his friend’s pleather jacket to pull them out of there.

“And gentleman,” Jason said, making them freeze in their steps, “next time you lose your money to a pretty lady, you leave her the fuck alone about it.”

They nodded frantically as they backed the rest of the way out of alley and then took of running.

“I think you made one of ‘em piss himself,” the minx said, looking from the alley way to Jason with those striking aqua eyes.

Jason just shrugged and holstered his gun. “Probably.”

The short, tight skirt clung to the minx’s legs, pulling up enough with the sashaying steps that Jason had to wonder how everything stayed hidden. He kept still as fingers tipped in bright pink nails walked their way up his chest to the red bat. Aqua peered up from below thick, dark lashes. “And did I hear right? You think I’m a pretty lady?”

“Hair is nice like this,” Jason said brushing a gloved finger through the black strands that just brushed the edges of the chin. “But surprised your cock isn’t hanging out of that skirt with how short it is.”

Danny let out a started laugh, resting his forehead against Jason’s chest for a moment before he patted it and backed up to a more respectable distance.

“Duct tape and body shapers works miracles.” The fake Gotham accent was gone and replaced with the faint Midwestern drawl that Danny only seemed to let out around Red Hood. “And don’t make that face, the duct tape is outside of the panties.”

“You can’t see my face,” Jason pointed out, a bit grumpily because he had been grimacing at the thought.

“I was still right though,” Danny said with a smug little smiling pulling on his cherry red lips. It was a good color on him. He leaned back against the wall and spread his legs in a way that Jason couldn’t help but follow with this gaze. “Everything is fine down there, Boss, just a little squished. Offer’s still on the table if you want to check out the good. No charge for my darlin’ knight.”

Jason snorted at the continued offer from Danny; it was practically as good as ‘bye’ between them at this point since Danny seemed to offer it every time. “I’m not going to be one of your Johns, Danny.”

“Told you no charge. Could just be two people who like sex,” he offered with a little shrug, but pushed himself off the wall to leave. No, Danny pushed himself up off the wall with a wince.

Jason was at his side in an instant. “One of those fuckers get you?”

“No, so no hunting them down,” Danny said. His voice was confident, but the way he actually leaned on Jason’s offered arm was worrying. “Just a bad John— ex John. That’s why I’m sharking pool instead of working the corner.”

As if Danny had to work an actual corner anymore. He appealed to a very specific type of client that could pay to have something pretty and convincing on their arm and still get what they wanted between the legs and in the sheets.

“You taking anything for it?” Jason asked.

Danny just shrugged. “Nah, Boss, nothing over the counter works on me really.”

“Clinic?”

Danny snorted. “As if. They can test for STDs and that’s about as much as I want a clinic near me.”

Jason resisted the urge to cuss at Danny. He got it. After all, he only trusted Leslie or Alfred really— or a family member in a pinch.

Maybe he could just bluster Danny into getting some help. “Right, come on.”

“What?” Danny asked, digging his heels (and fuck those were some heels) into the ground.

Not willing to put with that right then, Jason just swung his arm under Danny’s legs and scooped him up like he was nothing. Fuck the Johns really had to be able to throw Danny around if they wanted that sort of thing.

“Boss, Hood, what the fuck?!” Danny hissed.

“Safe fucking house is what the fuck so I can check you over.”

“Boss, if you wanted in the skirt—”

“Danny, shut the fuck up and let me make sure you’re alright, alright?” Jason asked, looking down at him.

Danny stared back with a frown. Then his sighed, like it was the biggest concession in the world to make. Finally he rested his head against Jason’s chest. “Fine, Boss, whatever you say.”

“Thank you,” Jason said, more gently than he meant to.

-

Jason had to suck in several careful breaths as he took in the wound splashed across Danny’s ribs. “No fucking John did that to you and if they did—” if they took some sort of hot poker to Danny’s side— “I’ll kill them if they did.”

[rafescvntyclubgf]

𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮𝔂𝓼𝓬𝓾𝓻𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓫𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓼

𝙽𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚢 𝙻𝚒𝚜𝚝 | 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬

𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝔽𝕠𝕦𝕣: 𝔹𝕖𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕕 𝔹𝕒𝕣𝕤

𝙳𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚎𝚛𝙼𝚘𝚋𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 × 𝙳𝚎𝚙𝚞𝚝𝚢!���𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

warnings: dark!rafe, swearing, cheating, pet names, degredation, name calling, mentions of murder, guns mentioned, drugs mentioned, biting, jacob’s ladder piercing, public p in v, edging, denial, threats, blackmailing, boot riding, oral sex, fingering, rough oral, hair pulling, ownership kink, icky!rafe

📖 this was a mix of two asks & I did put my own twist on it: #1 anon ask: omg for the holiday slutacular could you do dealer!rafe, forbidden love, biting, hair pulling and maybe a cute little piercing on rafe iykwim, and line 8 xxx #2 request by @nocoolusernamesavailable-blog - Mobster Friends to lovers love triangle / Obedience training with edging, denial and ruined orgasms. Maybe end the session with a ruin or just denial. Or maybe count the edges / Try to stay quiet understand

Masterlist

Reader’s POV:

The door clangs shut behind Shoupe, and with it, a part of you feels lighter.

You watch him through the glass partition as he adjusts his duty belt, his expression stoic. The downtown holiday parade’s underway—Shoupe heading out to oversee his deputies, managing crowd control. His movements are crisp, efficient… Everything about him screams order and discipline. He’s a good man, a good deputy, and a good boyfriend. He’s just good…

“You sure you’ll be okay here?” He asks, his blue eyes softening on yours.

“I’ve got this,” you reply, forcing a smile. “Go save Christmas.”

His lips quirk into a smile before he leans in, pressing a light kiss on your lips, quick, professional, almost impersonal. But that was Shoupe—steady, dependable, never reckless. He was the kind of man you built a life with.

He turns and walks out, and you watch him disappear into the chilly North Carolina night. The sound of the heavy door slams shut behind him. Then, like clockwork, you hear it. A slow, lazy chuckle that raises every hair on your body.

“Still settlin’ for vanilla. Huh, pretty?”

Your heart drops at the sound of his voice. Deep, smooth, and laced with mockery. You didn’t have to look to know who it was. Rafe Cameron. You swallow hard, willing yourself to stay calm.

“You’re not gonna say hi, baby?” His voice was louder now, drawing the attention of the other inmates. “We go way back. Don’t be rude, sweetheart.”

You turn slowly, boots echoing against the concrete floor as you walk toward his cell. You keep your expression neutral, but inside, everything’s unraveling.

Rafe stands at the bars, his big hands casually wrapped around the cold steel. He looks good. Too good. Prison’s sharpened him, but it hasn’t broken him. His caramel-colored hair is cut short; jawline more defined than you’d remembered, his five o'clock shadow gives him a dangerous edge. Rafe’s eyes—those goddamn eyes—they’re the same: fierce, calculating, and maddeningly irresistible.

“You’re not supposed to be talking to me,” you scold, folding your arms across your chest.

“And yet here you are.” Rafe’s lips bend into that lazy, confident smirk that once made you weak.

“I’m just doing my job,” you crack. “You wouldn’t know anything about that.”

“Ouch.” He presses a hand to his heart, feigning hurt. “Still got that fire. I fuckin’ love it.” You roll your eyes, turning to leave. “Wait.” His voice softens, taking on that familiar, enticing tone. “Come on, we can catch up. No harm in talkin’. Yeah? Just two old friends.”

“We were never friends,” you clip back, though the words feel hollow.

He chuckles again, low and rich, the kind of laugh that makes your stomach flip, and it does just that. “That’s not what I remember. We were more than friends, princess. You gotta remember that, no?”

Don’t let him get to you.

“You’ve got nothing to say?” He pushes, eyes narrowing. “Maybe Shoupe knows all about your past. Or maybe he doesn’t.”

And in a moment, everything comes to a screeching halt.

“I wonder what he’d think,” Rafe muses, tongue-in-cheek. “Deputy L/n, the straight-laced officer used to run guns… for me-”

“Stop, Rafe.”

“… Used to party a little too hard. Used to beg me for a taste.”

“That’s enough,” you hiss, stepping closer to the bars.

He leans in, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You think you can outrun who you are? You and me, we’re the same. We always have been.”

You shake your head, but the words cling to you like smoke. No. I’m not that person anymore. “I’ve got a good life now,” you stammer; voice shaky and hoarse. “A good man. A real job. I’m not your girl anymore, Rafe.”

His smile falters for a moment, but it’s back, more dangerous than ever. “Sure, you’ve got the uniform, the badge. But deep down? You miss it. The rush. The freedom-”

“You’re wrong-”

“… me. I know you do,” he smiles, as he finishes his words.

You hate how right he sounds. The weight of the badge on your chest feeling heavier with every second you stand by him.

“I should walk away,” you say, more to yourself than anyone else.

“But you won’t,” he smirks as his eyes lock onto yours, challenging you. “You never could say no to me.”

Your mind tells you to move, turn, and leave, but you don’t. Your feet stayed planted, pulse spiking.

“Come closer,” Rafe whispers.

You step in, hating yourself for it. The space between you is nothing now, just the cold steel bars. Rafe reaches out, his fingers brushing your wrist. The contact’s electric, sending a shiver down your spine. “Stop actin’ so tough, baby-”

“You’re delusional,” you whisper, but the conviction in your voice wavers.

Rafe’s thumb strokes the inside of your wrist, and you feel your resolve crumble to pieces. Rafe always knew how to break me down, piece by piece, until nothing was left but the truth.

“You can lie to yourself all you want,” he says softly. “But you can’t lie to me.”

Before you can stop yourself, you lean in. Rafe’s lips meet yours through the bars, a kiss that’s anything but gentle. It’s raw, consuming, filled with years of anger, longing, and darkness.

Rafe reaches out, cupping your sex in his large hand, before rubbing two long fingers on your clothed clit. “Remember how good I made you feel?” He mumbles, and you do.

“I remember you planting drugs and a gun in my purse, Rafe,” you hiss. “You would have ruined my life.”

“You were keepin’ ‘em safe,” he whispers as he undoes your belt with a single hand, plunging it into your panties the next, making you bite back a gasp. He clicks his tongue, chuckling smugly at the messy lace. “How are you always so wet?”

Your hand draws to him, too, cupping his bulge through his thin cotton uniform, feeling his rock-hard length underneath. “Fuck, Rafe,” you moan, remembering how he filled you just right.

“Try to stay quiet, understand?” He smiles cruelly. “Wouldn’t wanna stop,” he pulls away his fingers, stealing your pleasure with it, denying you only to start again, working harder and faster.

“Come in here. Yeah? I won't bite.”

“No… I can't. I-”

He laughs wickedly, rolling his lust-blown eyes. “Fine… Have it your way.” Resting his big hand on your head Rafe shoves you down to your knees. You grab the iron bars, peeking both ways fast before looking up at him nervously, the angle of the cell concealing you for the moment.

He runs his hands through his messy fringe, pushing bangs out of the way, giving you a better look at his beautiful blue eyes.

You wrap your fingers around his loose cotton pants, pulling them down, then his boxers. Your eyes widen as you take him in your hand, feeling the chill of six metal balls against your palm. You glide your thumb along the underside of his cock, touching the metal bars; one, two, three… You look up at Rafe, and he smirks.

“Don’t get too excited now,” Rafe mocks as his hand moves around, cupping the back of your head. You look at his fat tip, a tear of precum weeping onto the floor below. “Fuck, you look so pretty on your knees, baby.”

He pulls you forward, lips parting as you wrap your mouth around his swollen head, tasting him, tongue toying with the metal with every flick. Sucking him deep into your throat, you hear him moan; the man quickly catches himself, tilting forward, biting down on his muscular forearm to dampen his pleasured sounds.

Rafe thrusts forward, sending his cock deeper into your mouth, making you gag. “Jesus fuck, you got a throat on you, huh?” He lauds as he wraps a hand under your chin, feeling his dick pump in and out as he fucks your face.

You moan around his thickness, feeling pressure between your thighs as Rafe teases you with the toe of his shoe on your clit, urging you to rock against him, making your thighs quake. “You like that don't you?”

“Mpfhh…” You moan with a mouth full of dick.

“Like ridin’ daddy’s boot like a whore? Got this whole department under my thumb… Got their prettiest deputy ruttin’ her shit on my boot, chokin’ on my dick. Fuckkk… M’just show in off now. Ain’t I?” He drawls as tears tumble down your cheeks.

Your hand strokes and rolls his balls—his body tightening in your hand as you deep-throat his cock. “You better swallow it all,” Rafe rasps, with a challenging bite to his voice.

He throws his head back to the ceiling, hips stuttering as he paints your throat with his climax. You stay frozen in place, feeling him throb on your tongue, careful not to get any on your uniform.

“Mmm… Damn, that’s my girl,” Rafe sighs as he rolls his neck, taking and pushing out a deep, satisfied breath. “The fact that Shoupe’s gettin’ this shit’s gonna kill me,” Rafe mumbles darkly as he tugs you to your feet. “Ya know… M’not gonna be in here forever. Let me take care of him for you, angel. Hmm?”

“Rafe…”

He sucks his teeth and smiles. “Then again, what’s the fun in takin’ you away from him if he’s dead? Huh? I’ll think about it, n’get back to you.” He mutters through a breathy laugh.

“Don’t even joke about that shit-”

“Who said I am, princess?” Rafe wraps a hand around his cock, squeezing the base. “Turn around. Let me show you how much I missed you.” You turn around, and Rafe reaches for you, pulling your back into the bars, his big arms reaching around your waist, fighting with your zipper, tugging your uniform off your hips.

He wraps his big fingers around your panties, ripping one side then the next, making your eyes widen in horror at the volume of the tear. “Rafe, please,” you beg for him to stop being so loud, begging at the same time for his cock, a whirlwind of emotions swirling through your mind.

He tosses the panties back to his bed, turning back his attention to you with a toothy smile. “You can't imagine the shit I’m gonna do to those…” He whispers as he presses the tip of his cock against your glossy hole. You reach behind you, grabbing for his hips to coax him forward, but he doesn't budge, running himself through your arousal—teasing you shamelessly.

You can feel your wetness on your thighs, and so can Rafe. He lifts his uniform, taking it between his teeth to get a better look. Your head falls forward in pleasure as he thrusts in suddenly. His hands snake forward, grabbing your hips, pulling you as deep as he possibly can go with the bars in the way, making you let out an airy, soundless cry.

Rafe pulls out nice and slow, letting his piercings drag across your wet walls, making you gasp as you feel the little pops.

He starts to slowly pick up the pace—your pleasure growing with each movement of his toned hips. Your body claps against his, and you should stop, but you just can’t, the plop plop plop of his wet skin against yours, filling the space around you.

Rafe starts pistoning his hips into you, fucking you at a rapid pace, making you cover your mouth with both hands—tears rolling over the tops. “How bad do you wanna come in my cell right now? Got what, an inch or two more cock for that greedy little cunt of yours.” Rafe reaches forward, taking a fistful of your hair, yanking you back to his chest.

Your panting lips find him, Rafe smiling nastily against your mouth before sucking on your tongue. “That’s my girl,” he mumbles as he fucks into you sharp and hard, making your ass ripple with each thrust.

Rafe turns towards your neck, his warm breath fanning against your hot skin. He kisses you messily, gliding his tongue along the column of your neck before biting down.

“Don’t be so rough… There can’t be any marks. Please,” you plead with Rafe, his teeth already driving into your skin; your words just making the man even more determined to do so, nipping down harder, making you grip the steel bars to keep from screaming, a muffled whine coming out nonetheless.

“Baby, you have to be quiet, or they’ll figure out what Kildare’s finest is doin’ on the clock… Fuck, I always knew you were a slut f’me,” Rafe grunts, his hips never faltering, slamming harder into your warm, wet pussy.

“M’gonna cum,” you whimper.

“I know you are,” Rafe smiles, his hand already halfway up your body to cover your mouth before the first utterance even leaves your lips.

You cry out against his big palm, just praying he won’t pull his hand away, but you know Rafe wants to get out of here… He wouldn’t take that risk himself. Vile squelching fills the space around you. You reach down, grabbing the iron bars for support, hands twisting around the metal as your thighs clap against Rafe’s.

Your vision blurs as your body is taken by pleasure; Rafe continues to rail you from behind, pounding you through your orgasm as you cum around his big cock. Rafe groans in pleasure at the feeling—his toned hips snapping back, pushing into you as he cums hard, pressing his lips against you to swallow your moans and mewls. He pulls away, leaving you gasping for air. “You’re gonna help me, princess,” he says, his voice jagged and rushed. “You’re gonna get these charges dropped. And when I’m out?” He smirks. “You’re mine again.”

“Rafe, I can’t,” you sniffle.

“Can’t?” Rafe asks smugly. “But you’ll do it. Because if you don’t…” He trails off, letting the threat hang in the air.

Rafe pulls out nice and slow, making you shudder at the loss of him. You reach down, grabbing your pants fast, tucking your uniform in before anyone can see. You feel the warm sensation of Rafe’s cum rolling wet down your inner thigh, making even more of a mess.

You stumble back, breathing hard; your mind still spinning from your orgasm. You look at Rafe’s body as he pulls up his prison uniform: wet teeth marks at the neckline of his shirt, your arousal pooled around the bottom, his stiff, throbbing dick’s trapped in his pants, sticking out of the top of the elastic band, his swollen head glistening with your shared release. Rafe’s blue eyes glint wildly, staring right through your soul.

Your mind is screaming to run—to get as far away from him as possible. But you know the truth. Rafe Cameron wasn’t someone you run from. He was someone you face or surrendered to.

And right now, looking at the beautiful, wicked man before you, surrender felt inevitable.

[delirious-donna]

His Shirt [Nanami Kento]

an: this was a previous drabble I had for our beloved Kento but it needed a good tidy up and polish. For all those that love to wear their lover’s shirts…

pairing: Nanami Kento x female reader

warnings: smutty smut, desk antics, pussy drunk Kento, fun manhandling (teehee)

Masterlist

The hour was late. The sky was midnight black, a dark canvas painted only by the stars peppered across the skyline. It wasn’t unusual for Kento to work late into the evening, but you couldn’t recall the last time it had been quite this late. How were you expected to fall asleep without his arm draped over your waist, his breath warming your neck, and his legs bent and flush behind yours?

After another fifteen minutes, you gave up your attempts of sleeping alone, and decided that if he wasn’t ready to come to bed on his own terms, you’d had to provide an incentive. Pulling a worn shirt from the laundry basket in the corner of the bedroom, your nose pressed into the starchy collar to inhale the remnants of his cologne, the faint aroma of coffee and his unique underlying scent—warmingly spicy and comforting. This would do nicely…

You tiptoed to the door of his office, giving a light knock. Not waiting for an invitation, you slipped inside and searched for the man hidden away in here—your man.

Kento sat behind his polished oak desk, a stack of papers to the side of his glowing laptop and a half-empty mug of coffee, that you would bet was stone cold, just out of reach. You admired the continued neat state of his parted hair, not a single strand out of place even after a long day. His shirt sleeves were folded back to his elbows and the tie was gone, but he still looked the picture of professionalism.

“Everything alright, sweetheart?” He drawled tiredly, not looking up from his work as you padded ever closer.

“No,” you whimpered theatrically, barely stopping yourself from adding a hand against your forehead.

His head snapped up immediately, rich hazel eyes widening as he took in the sight of you at last. A broad palm pressed the screen he’d been glaring at closed with a quiet snap, and you smirked behind your hand.

“Missed you… couldn’t sleep. Not without you, Ken.”

At last, an errant strand of blond hair fell into his eyes. Eyes that focused fixedly on how your fingers traced the bevelled edge of his desk. His throat felt suddenly dry, aroused immediately at you wrapped in one of his worn shirts. Kento noted that the buttons were only half done up, the crisp fabric bagging on your torso in places and exposing just enough of your skin to have him reaching for you.

Satisfied by his reaction, you happily stepped into his embrace, and let Kento settle you on the desk in front of him. Two large palms slid against your naked thighs, rough callouses pressing into your soft, smooth skin.

“Sweetheart, I had work to do,” he groaned out, leaning into your touch when your fingers carded into his lush hair.

“But…” he started, pulling your thighs wider apart and resting your feet on either side of his chair. “I could use a break and you happen to look especially inviting in my shirt.”

In this new position, your bare pussy was exposed to his hungry gaze. He untangled your fingers from his hair and guided both hands behind you to brace against the surface of his desk, pushing aside his stacks of work with his elbow in the process.

Kento fisted the tails of his shirt and dragged the material through your slippery folds. The friction was delicious, enough that you were already panting and flushed in the face. It was always arousing to watch him at work, especially when that work was making you shudder from his touch.

He noted the twist of your hips from the pressure of the material against your throbbing clit, irises glowing in the dim light of his office like a hearth stoked lovingly by a tender hand. Kento licked his lips in anticipation and lowered his face until he was gazing at you through hooded lids, making a show of inhaling your scent.

His tongue was hot and deliciously wet, the wide muscle danced boldly over your folds, pushing deeper to circle your entrance and teasing you over and over with the strong tip dipping past your ring of muscles. You keened for him, leaning onto one hand so the other could brush back his hair, determined not to rut against his face and failing miserably.

Your husband smiled into your dewy skin, delighting in the taste of you, the scent permeating his nose and fogging his mind until his only thought was of you and the pleasure he could elicit. His lips wrapped around your swollen clit, suckling it gently until you whimpered and whined, begging for mercy. He only conceded by releasing your pearl and using his teeth with reverential care to tug your puffy, blood-filled lips, letting go with an audible pop.

“Kento… oh shit—more!”

It was bliss when his nose nudged your clitoral hood, the bridge rubbing friction into your pubic mound until you were certain you wouldn’t be able to stand from the desk without help. Still, he took his time ravishing your sweet cunt between groaned words of praise. Every reverberation from his mouth resonated deep in the pit of your belly, tightening the coils of desire until you couldn’t draw breath.

With a sloppy slurp, Kento glanced up at your face twisted into pure pleasure. “You look like a feast in my shirt, sweetheart, taste delicious too.”

You couldn’t form a response, the words broken into pieces inside your brain and not even the syllables would come to you, only raw guttural noises. Your husband feasted on you atop his desk like never before, indenting your squishy thighs with the beginnings of marks from his fingertips.

The dam burst quite suddenly, catapulting you into an orgasm that saw you jolt upright, holding Kento by the back of his head to keep him buried in you. He groaned into the heart of you, eyes rolling over as the sweetest nectar he’d ever indulged in adorned his tongue in sticky trickles.

Once you started to return to your senses, you let him up only to whimper at the mess of his face. His chin and cheeks were slick with saliva and arousal, lips petal pink and swollen from his ministrations and he looked ready to blow a fuse.

“B-bed. Take me to bed, your work can wait until the morning…” you beseeched, fingering his jawline and desperately grateful when he bridged the gap to kiss you.

Without argument or debate, he stood from his chair and lifted you over his broad shoulder, an arm hooked around your thighs to secure you in place. You giggled at your upside-down view of his backside, still sensitive to his touch from the aftereffects of your orgasm, but at least you had managed to get him to bed.

You’d have to remember this tactic…

[fastandcarlos]

Obsessed With You : ̗̀➛ Oscar Piastri

summary: how does it feel to be so in love with someone that you can't be away from them? allow oscar piastri to tell you

As yet another chuckle came from you, Oscar couldn’t help but watch on as you continued to read through your book, engrossed in the blossoming fairytale that was currently gripping you between two of your favourite characters. 

You were in your own little world as your eyes focused on the pages before you, unaware of the eyes that were glued to you from across the room. Oscar’s smile was wide as he noticed your expression change each time you encountered a new emotion. Happiness. Upset. Betrayal. He felt it all with you. 

Despite the many things surrounding him that could have kept him entertained, none of those things compared to you. Watching you enjoy the simplicity of sitting, cuddled up in your seat reading your book was an indescribable feeling for him. 

As you reached the end of your chapter you finally looked up from your book, reaching across the table to pick up your mug of tea. It was almost cold, your own fault for refusing to leave your book, but still you drunk it with a smile. 

It was as you came back into the room though that you felt the eyes that had been staring at you for the best part of twenty minutes. “Why are you looking at me like that?” You asked, finally meeting Oscar’s eyes, taking note of the shy smile on his face. 

His head shook as he realised that you’d caught him, feeling his cheeks begin to heat up. “I’m just watching you and wondering how I ever got so lucky to be yours.” 

A faint chuckle came from you as Oscar spoke, suddenly finding yourself unsure of where to look. At times you hated the effect that Oscar could have on you and his ability to always know the right thing to say.  

You didn’t quite know what to say to Oscar, opting to place your mug down and return to your book. You shuffled slightly in your seat to make yourself comfortable again, turning the crisp page of your book. It didn’t stop Oscar from watching you though, even if he didn’t quite realise that he was doing it. 

The next chapter soon had you gripped again, but that didn’t last long for long. After a couple of minutes, you felt a pair of hands wrap around your frame, lifting you up and swapping your place in your seat for a place in Oscar’s lap instead. “What are you doing?” You laughed up at Oscar. 

His grip was secure around your frame as he watched your thumb panic to mark your page and make sure you didn’t lose it whilst Oscar moved you around.  

“You’re impossible.” 

Oscar’s head shook as you settled against his chest, feeling him press a kiss to the top of your head. “I don’t want to be that far away from you any longer, I want to be right here by your side instead,” he whispered, thankful that you couldn’t see the wide smile that was on his face. 

A chuckle came from you as you placed your book down, sliding your bookmark in to make sure that you didn’t lose your page. “I wish sometimes that other people got to see just how needy you actually are.” 

Oscar couldn’t help it, to say he was obsessed with you was an understatement. He loved being in your company, hearing your voice, seeing you smile, feeling your arms wrap around his frame, he couldn’t get enough of it all. 

He knew he should’ve felt bad for disturbing your read, but selfishly he just couldn’t, he wanted to have you all to himself again and feel you right by his side. Oscar couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was that drew him to you so often, if he was honest, there were just too many things. 

As the two of you settled, his fingertips brushed delicately along your waist, his other hand on your legs that hung over the edge of Oscar’s lap. “I’ve been thinking, maybe we should read a book together? Like our own little book club just for the two of us,” Oscar whispered into your ear. 

Your eyebrows raised in surprise at his suggestion, you couldn’t remember the last time you saw Oscar pick up a book, but he always loved the expression on your face whenever you read one of your own. 

Your face made it seem like it was magic, a magic that he didn’t want to miss out on. With reading being something that you loved to do, Oscar wanted for it to be something that he enjoyed with you too. 

After a few moments your head tilted back to meet Oscar’s smile, seeing just how sincere he was from the look in his eyes. “You really want to read? I mean I’m sure that I could find some books that might interest the two of us,” you told him, watching as his head nodded in reply to your question. 

“You always support me and my hobbies, so I want to do the same for you,” he grinned, feeling your hand cup against the side of his face, stretching up as high as you could so that you were able to press a kiss against Oscar’s lips. 

A chuckle came from you as Oscar pulled you back for one more kiss. “Lando used to tell me that you were obsessed with me, and now I’m beginning to think that maybe he is.” 

“He is,” Oscar proudly told you, watching as your eyes rolled. “I’m so obsessed with you love that it actually hurts my heart, do you know how hard of a job it is being so madly in love with you?” 

You didn’t quite know what to say, shaking your head almost in disbelief back at Oscar, surprised by his sudden boldness and confession. 

“I’m being serious, even after all these years I can’t get enough of you,” Oscar added, keeping his eyes on you so that you could see just how open and honest he was being with you, “you’re just my favourite person in the world.” 

“I don’t know what to say,” you whispered, taken aback. Your heart raced as Oscar spoke, finding yourself feeling flushed and a little bit lost for words.  

“You don’t have to say anything, I just want to make sure that you always know how I feel about you,” Oscar assured you, kissing the top of your head once again. 

“You know that I feel the same, don’t you?” You asked Oscar, smiling in relief as his head nodded, knowing exactly how loved you made him feel. 

Oscar never imagined that one person could make him feel so many strong emotions. It overwhelmed him at times just how close the two of you were, he always dreamt about the sort of relationship that he saw in the movies, like the ones you read about in so many of your books, but he never imagined how true it would become for him.  

It was a feeling that he never took for granted, everyone told him what he had with you was special, but no one knew just how special it was aside from him.  

All the little things were the things he treasured the most, how you could lay together in the most comfortable silence and still feel yourselves smiling and your hearts racing with how close the two of you were together. 

They were all the feelings that Oscar knew he would never lose, quite simply because...he was obsessed with you. 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[capuccinodoll]

Honey love, dark eyes

♡ Chapter five ♡

Summary: At the Halloween party, you have fun and finally get Joel out of your head. Sure, at least for a few hours, as the night plays a trick on you. WC: 6.1k A/N: Hi! As the tag list has gotten so big (THANK U OMG!!!) and apparently doesn't work too well, I'm not going to use it anymore. From now on, I'll be posting updates through my updates blog! So make sure to follow and turn on notifications <3 love youuu

Saturday, 7 p.m. The evening air carried a quiet sharpness that pricked at the edges of your skin, cool enough to remind you that autumn was in full swing but not so bitter as to warrant more than your tights and boots. You stepped out, the white dress flowing lightly against your thighs, its flared sleeves brushing your arms as you moved. The dark brown corset at your waist felt like a reassuring hand, grounding you, while its lift brought a confidence that hummed softly under your skin. Your boots, stretched to your knees, a quiet defense against the chill creeping in with the fading sunlight.

The door clicked shut behind you, a sound that was at once final and fleeting. You barely had time to register the weight of the evening when the low rumble of Joel’s truck snuck into the quiet, its approach measured, deliberate. You turned, instinctively, just as he stepped out. His movements were unhurried, his gaze low, as though he hadn’t seen you—or as though he was choosing not to. 

The passenger door opened next, and Sarah emerged like a burst of energy, her grin wide and unguarded. She spotted you immediately, her excitement spilling over as she called your name and hurried toward you, her arms flung wide. You caught her easily, her warmth a stark contrast to the crisp air. 

“Where are you going?” she asked, her voice full of a curiosity that felt almost reverent. “You look beautiful.”

You smiled at her, taking in the mismatched charm of her outfit—fluffy bunny slippers peeking out beneath purple pajama pants patterned with white clouds, her coat barely concealing the dark blue long-sleeve shirt underneath. 

“Thank you,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I’m going to a Halloween party.”

Sarah pulled back slightly, her brow furrowing in confusion. “But Halloween was last night. It’s November.”

You laughed softly, the sound slipping past your lips like something you hadn’t meant to reveal. “It’s never too late for a party, is it?”

Before Sarah could reply, Joel’s voice cut through the moment like a taut string snapping.

“Sarah. Home.” His tone was firm, unmistakable, though his face only lingered in the doorway for a second before disappearing inside.

Sarah ignored him with the practiced ease of someone who knew how far she could stretch the tether.

“I hope you saved me something good yesterday,” she said, turning back to you, her eyes alight with the thought of treats.

You smiled, brushing a loose strand of her hair aside. “I’m sure Brenda sent some sweets with your dad.”

“Did she make those cara—”

“Sarah.” Joel’s voice rose again, sharper this time, slicing through her sentence. His figure reappeared in the doorway, framed by the warm light spilling out behind him. His gaze landed on her first, then shifted briefly to you, his frown deepening as if your presence was an unwelcome interruption.

“Home,” he said again, the word heavier this time, a command that carried no room for negotiation.

Sarah turned toward him, her annoyance barely concealed.

“In a second!” she called back, her voice tinged with exasperation. Then, with a glance at you, she rolled her eyes dramatically. You couldn’t help but grin, mirroring her expression in a conspiratorial gesture that only seemed to deepen Joel’s scowl.

“NOW,” he barked, his patience finally unraveling. His presence filled the doorway like a storm cloud, and Sarah, sighing, gave in. 

“Go,” you told her gently, resting a hand on her shoulder. Your voice was quiet, steady, though something in your chest tightened as you spoke. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

She nodded, the mischief in her smile dimmed slightly by the weight of her father’s insistence. As she retreated, her steps slow and deliberate, you stayed where you were, watching until the door closed behind her. The ache was subtle but sharp.

You shook the thought from your mind, forcing yourself to let go of the tension Joel's mood had wrapped around you. He wasn’t going to ruin this night—not this one. You tightened your grip on your small purse and started walking toward Travis’s house. Your boots clicked against the pavement with a rhythm that felt too steady for the fluttering nerves you carried.

There was a faint nervousness bubbling under your excitement, a ridiculous thing, really, given that you’d seen Travis just that morning. He’d picked you up to go shopping, laughing at your indecision as you flitted from one idea to the next, caught between wanting something outrageous and something simple. You hadn’t known what to wear for tonight. All you knew was that you wanted to feel good. Pretty, yes. Sexy, definitely. Attractive, for sure. Something about the promise of the evening—the energy it held—made you crave a night where you didn’t have to think too hard, didn’t have to manage the weight of anything heavy. Just a night of effortless fun in good company. 

Travis was exactly the kind of company you needed. Relaxed, thoughtful in that easy way, funny without trying too hard. He knew how to take care of you without making it feel like a burden. When you’d asked for his opinion on a costume, exasperated after hours of fruitless searching, he’d picked up the white dress with an almost boyish confidence. “Victorian pirate,” he’d said with a grin, as if the idea had struck him in the moment. “Or something like that.”

You’d agreed without much thought. The dress was beautiful, and you already had the perfect corset at home to pair it with. It hugged you in all the right places, cinching your waist while lifting your chest just enough to make you feel like the women in those romantic paintings you loved—the ones with soft, curved bodies draped in gauzy fabrics, their skin glowing and inviting. And tonight, you did. The tights and knee-high boots you’d added were practical for the cool night, but they didn’t detract from the overall effect. If anything, they completed it. On the other hand, the corset hugged you the way you imagined the painter’s brush might.

By the time you reached Travis’s door, you felt confident, maybe even a little giddy. You rang the doorbell, the sound breaking the quiet night, and it wasn’t long before the door swung open. Travis stood there, framed by the soft light spilling from his hallway. He looked... well, like something you wouldn’t hesitate to sink your teeth into.

The suit, perfectly tailored, a sharp black with a red tie that caught the light against the pale blue of his shirt. The clear raincoat gave him an edge, its plastic sheen catching and refracting the soft glow from the house behind him. His hair was combed back, deliberate and smooth, and the clench of his jaw softened when he smiled at you.

“What do you think?” he asked, lifting a hand to reveal a plastic axe held loosely in his grip. “I’m Patrick Bateman.”

You laughed, the sound bubbling up from somewhere easy and warm.

“Of course you’re Patrick Bateman,” you said, your smile widening as you stepped inside. Your hand brushed his abdomen lightly as you passed, a touch that felt both casual and charged.

The compliment landed, making Travis pause just long enough to tuck the axe into the pocket of his raincoat. He moved toward you, closing the space between you with an ease that always felt natural. His hand settled at your waist, the leather of your corset soft beneath his fingers.

“Stop it,” he said, his voice low and teasing as he leaned in close. “Telling me that and looking this good? Stop it, or I’ll cancel the party and keep you here all night.”

His breath skimmed the edge of your ear, his lips brushing your jawline just enough to leave your skin prickling with anticipation.

“One compliment and you’re ready to throw the whole night away?” you teased, though the slight rasp in your voice betrayed how his closeness was affecting you. You felt his breath near your ear, the briefest graze of his nose against your skin, his lips brushing your jaw. Your pulse quickened. “You’re an easy target, Dunn.”

He chuckled, the sound soft and warm. “Only for you,” he said, his gaze meeting yours. There was something unguarded in his eyes, something that made the moment feel fragile in a way that was achingly sweet. “But don’t tell anyone. I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”

You laughed, leaning into the playful intimacy of it all. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

His lips found yours then, the kiss gentle at first, like he was testing the waters. You leaned in instinctively, wanting more, but before you could deepen it, he pulled away. You bit back a groan of frustration as he grinned, oblivious.

“We’d better go, beautiful,” he said, brushing a hand down your arm as if to soothe you. “People are waiting.”

You sighed, shaking your head with a smile. With Travis, things were always easy—except, maybe, when you wanted just a little more.

*

2 a.m. The cab door slammed shut with more force than you intended, the sound reverberating in the quiet street. The driver turned sharply, scowling.  

“I-I’m sorry,” you muttered, your words tumbling over each other.  

Travis, a few steps ahead, laughed without looking back, his shoulders shaking slightly. His keys jingled as he fumbled to unlock the door to his townhouse. The sound dragged on endlessly, the alcohol in your veins making the small delay feel monumental. You stood beside him, shifting your weight from one aching foot to the other, the dull throb only partially numbed by the buzz in your head.  

“Almost got it,” Travis mumbled, his focus unwavering despite your impatient sighs. Finally, the lock clicked, and he pushed the door open with a triumphant grin.  

You followed him inside, the warmth of his home enveloping you like a soft blanket. Without ceremony, you dropped onto his couch, sinking into its cushions with a relieved groan. Your head lolled back, your body both exhausted and energized, the kind of tension only a night like this could create.  

The evening had been perfect—better than perfect, really. For the first time in months, you’d felt free, truly free, as though the weight of everything that had been haunting you had dissolved into the dark, wine-colored sky.  

The party had been at Renzo’s house, one of Travis’s oldest friends. The place was stunning, a sprawling Mediterranean-style villa that practically glowed against the night. Its white stone façade, crowned with red tiles, looked like it had been plucked from a postcard, while spooky Halloween details added just the right touch of whimsy. Lanterns swayed gently on the porch, casting flickering shadows across life-sized skeletons perched on wicker chairs.  

Inside, the atmosphere was even more enchanting. The main room featured a long wooden table draped in black lace, adorned with candelabras dripping wax, decorative skulls, and bouquets of dried flowers that looked both macabre and elegant. Ceramic plates with dark patterns and gold accents glinted in the candlelight, completing the eerie tableau. Guests milled about in costumes that ranged from impressive to ridiculous, every outfit telling a story.  

You’d met a handful of Travis’s friends, all nice and welcoming. And by the end of the night, Renzo handed out an award for the best costume, which went to his brother Eric for his incredible The Mask ensemble. The details were so perfect, from the prosthetic teeth to the vivid green makeup, that no one could deny it was well-deserved—except Travis, who jokingly accused him of rigging the vote.  

The drinks flowed freely, and you’d had more than enough. By past midnight, your feet ached from dancing, but you didn’t care. The music pulsed, and so did you, your body pressed close to Travis’s. His hands rested on your waist, his touch grounding and electric all at once. For the first time in weeks, your thoughts didn’t drift to the things that usually kept you awake at night. Those dark eyes that haunted you in quiet moments, the ache that twisted your chest when you remembered what you’d tried to forget—they were nowhere to be found.  

Now, on Travis’s couch, you laughed uncontrollably as he struggled to string together a coherent sentence. His head rested lightly against your shoulder, and the sound of his voice, slurred and boyish, made your stomach ache with affection.  

“Whatever, you get what i mean” he said finally, throwing his hands up in mock defeat. “God, I shouldn't have had that last drink.”

“Oh, you’re terrible,” you teased, reaching for his tie and pulling him toward you until his eyes met yours. “But I had a beautiful night. Please, let’s make it last.”  

Something shifted in his expression—softened, deepened. He straightened, cupping your face as his lips crashed into yours. The kiss was different from anything you’d shared before. It wasn’t cautious or measured, the way Travis usually was. This was eager, unrestrained, his mouth moving against yours like he’d been holding himself back for far too long.  

His hands found your legs, lifting them over his lap as he leaned into you. You fell back against the cushions, his weight pressing into you just enough to make your breath hitch. His lips left yours to trail along your neck, leaving a path of heat that made your chest rise and fall unevenly.  

Your fingers tangled in his hair, undoing the careful style he’d worn all evening. He groaned softly at the contact, his face lifting to meet yours again as he kissed you harder, his desire palpable and infectious.  

Your hands moved down to his belt, fumbling with the buckle in a blur of anticipation and urgency. The sound of the clasp coming undone was like a victory bell ringing in your ears.  

But then, suddenly, he froze.  

“Shit,” he muttered, his voice strained as he pulled away, turning his face to the side. “Shit, I’m gonna be sick.”  

You blinked, startled, as he scrambled off the couch and hurried toward the stairs.  

For a moment, you just sat there, propped up on your elbows, your breath coming in uneven bursts. The absurdity of the situation hit you like a wave, and despite yourself, you let out a laugh.

The moment you stood up, your feet wobbled beneath you, betraying the steadiness you were trying to project. The stairs seemed endless, each step doubling before your eyes as if the staircase were playing tricks on you. You gripped the banister tightly, willing yourself not to topple over. The vodka shots coursing through your veins made everything feel both distant and intensely vivid, the sensation disorienting but oddly comforting.  

When you finally reached the bathroom, the door was slightly ajar, the light spilling out in soft, pale streaks. Inside, Travis was hunched over the toilet, his body curled into itself, his face ghostly pale.  

“Oh,” you said softly, unsure what else to offer in the way of comfort. You moved closer, your hand instinctively finding the back of his neck, your fingers brushing the damp hair sticking to his skin. His vulnerability struck something tender in you.  

The sour smell hit you immediately, sharp and invasive, making your stomach churn in protest. But you swallowed hard, forcing yourself to focus on Travis, on the fragility of the moment.  

He groaned softly as his body shuddered, expelling the last traces of that ill-fated drink—the electric blue cocktail he’d downed with so much confidence earlier. You grimaced at the sight but stayed, stroking his back in slow, soothing circles until the worst had passed.  

When he leaned back against the tiled wall, his face glistening with sweat, you reached out to flush the toilet, closing the lid with a gentle finality.  

“God,” he croaked, his voice thin and hoarse. “I’ve ruined it, haven’t I?”  

You laughed lightly, kneeling in front of him, your head tilting as you studied his expression. There was a defeated sort of charm in the way he looked at you, his eyes half-lidded, his usual confidence dimmed by the night’s chaos.  

“Not at all,” you replied, your words softened by the alcohol still fogging your mind. Your hand came to rest on his knee, a quiet reassurance. “Tonight’s been perfect.”  

Travis groaned, letting his head loll back against the wall. “My reputation’s in shambles. Now my pretty neighbor thinks I’m a mess.”  

You laughed again, louder this time, your inhibitions dulled enough to find his self-pity endearing. “You think I’m pretty?”  

His eyes stayed closed, but his lips curved into a smile, lazy and unguarded. “Are you kidding? No wonder Joel Miller hates me.”  

Your laugh faltered, the name cutting through the haze of the night like a blade. You blinked slowly, leaning your head against his knee, letting out a sigh that felt too heavy for the moment.  

“Oh, man,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “Why did you have to bring him up?”  

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Travis said quickly, his hand falling clumsily to your back. “Now I’ve really screwed up, haven’t I? I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but I pre—”  

“Stop,” you cut him off, your voice quiet but firm. You lifted your head to meet his gaze, his curious eyes watching you closely now. “Are you feeling better?”  

“Much better,” he said, offering a small, sheepish smile.  

You pushed yourself to your feet, leaning against the sink for balance. He followed your movements, standing slowly and steadying himself with a hand against the wall. Without a word, you leaned your head against his arm, closing your eyes as you listened to the soft rhythm of his breathing.  

You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that, suspended in the quiet warmth of the moment, but eventually, Travis stirred. He touched your shoulder gently, his other hand extended to help you up.  

Downstairs, you collapsed onto the couch again, the effort of descending the stairs leaving you slightly breathless. Travis returned with a glass of water, holding it out with a knowing look.  

“Drink,” he said simply.  

You obeyed reluctantly, grimacing as you took a few sips. “I’m going to have a huge hangover tomorrow,” you muttered, setting the glass on the coffee table.  

“Me too,” Travis admitted, lying down beside you with a heavy sigh.  

You glanced at the clock on the wall. “It’s only three in the morning?” you said, your voice tinged with disbelief. “God, I’m old.”  

Travis laughed, his grin lopsided and a little drunk. “I swear I thought it was, like, like five in the morning.”  

You chuckled, but the weight of the night was catching up with you. Your eyes drifted shut, and the world faded into a soft blur.  

When you forced them open again, sometime later, Travis was fast asleep beside you, his breathing slow and even. You sat up, careful not to disturb him, and gently shook his forearm.  

“Hey,” you whispered. “I’m going home.”  

He mumbled something incoherent, his eyes fluttering but refusing to open.

“L-let me walk you home,” he slurred, his head tilting to the side as sleep reclaimed him.  

You smiled at the sight of him, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his cheek.

“See ya,” you whispered, the words hanging in the air as you let yourself out.

The cool night air greeted you with a sharpness that cut through the haze of alcohol still coursing through your system. It startled you, a shiver running up your spine as you wrapped your arms tighter around yourself. You were still drunk, but the world felt steadier now, your feet moving carefully across the pavement as you crossed the quiet street.

In your mind, you conjured the image of your warm bed waiting for you, the soft embrace of your pajamas, and maybe, if you could muster the energy, the luxury of a hot shower. The thought made your body ache for rest, but then you noticed the soreness in your face—a dull reminder of the unrelenting smile you’d worn since you’d said goodbye to Travis.

You were happy. Light. Effervescent, even. The kind of happiness that made you feel untouchable, like nothing could weigh you down.

That feeling lingered as you approached your house, though it faltered slightly when you passed by the Millers’ place. Your eyes were drawn, almost involuntarily, to the living room window. A soft, warm light glowed behind the half-transparent curtains, the kind that could only come from a solitary lamp left on too late. You slowed your steps, your gaze lingering as the sharp memory of Joel’s voice from earlier that evening surfaced.

Authoritative. Abrupt. Unbearable.

The way he’d called Sarah home felt unnecessary, almost punitive. Why had he insisted so forcefully? He didn’t usually mind her spending time with you, so why now? And what if things between you and Joel had soured to the point where he forbade Sarah from seeing you altogether? The thought stung, a sharp contrast to the Joel you used to know—the one who would never have done something like that. You hated that you couldn’t anticipate him anymore. And lately, it seemed like everything about him had shifted, like you were seeing a stranger instead of the man you’d once—

“Are you okay?”

The voice, low and steady, cut through your thoughts, making you jump. You looked up sharply, your heart skipping as your eyes adjusted to the dark porch. Joel was sitting there, barely visible except for the faint gleam of the streetlights reflecting in his eyes like stars as he watched you, his expression unreadable, the faintest hint of concern etched into his features.

You didn’t respond right away. Your brain was scrambling, trying to piece together an answer while simultaneously processing the sight of him. He stood then, stepping into the light just enough for you to see him more clearly—the broad set of his shoulders, the slight furrow in his brow, 

“What... what are you doing here?” you managed finally, your voice wavering slightly.

“Here?” he repeated, the corners of his mouth twitching in what could have been a smile. “I live here. What are you doing here?”

“I live next door,” you shot back, your tone almost defensive. You tilted your head, studying him more closely. “I meant out here. What are you doing outside? It’s late.”

Joel hesitated, his hand brushing the back of his neck in a way that told you he wasn’t going to give you a straight answer. And of course he wouldn't tell you that he'd spent the evening on his couch watching TV, alone, or that he’d been restless all evening.

After having dinner with Sarah, she'd retreated to her room—furious with him for cutting her time with you short—he’d spent the better part of the night sitting on his couch, half-watching some mindless TV show, his attention divided between the screen and the window. Waiting. Then, just as he was beginning to close his eyes, a sharp knock woke him up; the cab door. But of course, he didn't get to see the yellow car because when he got to the window, he only got to make out your body coming through Travis' door, cab long gone. 

When you disappeared inside Travis house, something inside him twisted. Restlessness turned into something heavier, something he couldn’t name, and the next thing he knew, he was on the porch with a beer in his hand, staring out into the night like the answer might appear if he stayed long enough.

“It’s Saturday,” he said finally, his voice calm, almost teasing. “Well, Sunday now.”

You nodded absently, but your eyes betrayed you, roaming over him without restraint. It had been a while since you’d let yourself really look at him. Lately, every glance had been fleeting, clouded with irritation or anger. But now, in the quiet glow of the streetlights, there was no denying it.

He was beautiful. Infuriatingly, achingly beautiful.

Your stomach twisted with the realization, the way it always did when you thought about him for too long. You could try to distract yourself with Travis, with his boyish charm and kind eyes, but it wasn't enough. 

Travis didn’t have those dark, fathomless eyes that seemed to hold every one of your secrets. He didn’t have that nose you loved so much or the lips you’d tasted once and could never forget. His voice wasn’t rough and silken all at once, nor did it carry the weight of every word like Joel’s did.

You hated how much you liked him, how much you wanted him. It was uncomfortable, unbearable, because there was nothing you could do about it. Joel was untouchable now, a door that had been closed and locked a month ago.

“I hate you, Joel,” you said suddenly, the words spilling out before you could stop them. They weren’t loud, but they were steady, deliberate.

His smile faded, replaced by a quiet, thoughtful expression. He nodded slightly, as if weighing your words.

“Do you?” he asked, his voice level, his eyes searching yours.

You smiled faintly, almost amused by the softness in his tone. You shifted your weight, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Do you care about it?”

“Of course I do,” he said, his voice dipping lower with honesty. “But I know it’s not true.”

"Why do you always say that?" you demanded, voice thick with frustration, your arms crossed so tightly against your chest it felt like you might bruise your own ribs. The alcohol in your bloodstream turned every word into a dare, every thought into an accusation. "'I know it's not true. I know you're lying. I know you don't mean it'. What, are you like this omniscient, all-knowing shit—blah, blah, blah?. Didn't it ever occur to you that maybe you don't know anything at all?"

Joel’s eyes softened, his expression unreadable but intent. His hands stayed buried in his pockets, steady while you felt like you were spinning out of control.

"Lately? Yeah," he said finally, his voice low. "I don’t know anything."

The simplicity of his confession, the quiet honesty of it, made you snort in disbelief. You turned your head to the side, looking anywhere but at him, biting the inside of your cheek to keep your thoughts from spilling out unchecked. When you looked back, his eyes weren’t on your face anymore. They’d dropped lower, lingering somewhere around your waist. Probably on your corset, you realized. Suddenly, the fabric felt suffocating. Not painfully tight, but enough to make you aware of every breath you took.

“What are you looking at?” you asked, tone sharp, defensive. And when he didn’t answer, you pressed harder. “What do you want, Joel?”

“Me?” he asked, his voice calm, almost indifferent.

You nodded, daring him to answer.

“I don’t know.” His lips tilted in a faint smirk. “You’re the one standing here in my doorway. Weren’t you just peeking in my window?”

Your mouth fell open. “I wasn’t peeping, dumbass,” you said, fumbling over the words, heat rushing to your face. “I was—”

"Yes, you were," he interrupted smoothly, a trace of a smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. It wasn’t smug, not really, but it wasn’t innocent either.

God, it was infuriating.

"Ugh," you groaned, the sound dragged out like it could physically push him away. Your arms dropped to your sides, and you turned your face skyward, exasperated. "Were you always this much of an asshole?"

Joel held back a laugh, his head shaking slightly as he raised his eyebrows at you, his silence infuriatingly steady.

"Okay," he said finally. "You’re drunk."

"Yeah, Einstein," you shot back, your voice sharp and your eyes wide as you threw your hands in the air in mock applause. "You’re finally right about something! Everyone, let’s hear it for Joel!"

You clapped for him, slow and exaggerated, addressing an invisible audience. Joel glanced down, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets, the ghost of a smile flickering across his face before he hid it.

That didn’t stop the memory from rising, unbidden: Clara, her hand slipping into his at the barbecue, her laugh bright and flirtatious, her eyes shining with self-satisfaction. It had turned your stomach then, and now the bitterness came rushing back in full force.

"Do you think what you’re doing is right, Joel?" you asked, your tone sharper than before, slicing through the fragile quiet between you.

His brows knit together, confused, and he tilted his head slightly as if to ask what you meant.

"Do you think you’re accomplishing anything by sleeping with the women in this neighborhood?" you continued, your words rushing out faster now. "I mean, first you sleep with me—oh, the worst mistake of your life—then you sleep with Clara. And what about Sienna? What does she think of all this? You’re a selfish, irresponsible man, Joel Miller, so irresponsible." The words kept spilling, your voice trembling now, laced with both anger and something softer, something that felt like pain. "And as if that wasn’t enough, you’ve ruined us. Completely. And I hate you for that, Joel. I hate you because you’re not the man I thought you were. And i love you so much I—"

Your gaze dropped to the ground, unable to meet his eyes. The tears welled up before you could stop them, blurring the edges of your vision and leaving your cheeks hot.

You hated how raw it all felt. How exposed. And worse, how the alcohol that had loosened your tongue was no longer numbing enough to shield you from the reality of what you’d just said.

Before you could stop him, Joel’s hands came to rest gently on your arms. The warmth of his touch made your stomach flip, and it took everything in you to pull away.

“No,” you said firmly, shaking him off and turning on your heel. But you barely managed two steps before your foot caught awkwardly in front of the other, sending you stumbling.

You yelped as your palm scraped against the ground, but Joel caught your other arm before you could fully collapse. The heat of embarrassment rushed to your face as you stood quickly, brushing off your dress and refusing to look at him.

You marched toward your door with renewed determination, ignoring the sting in your palm and the sound of his voice calling after you.

“Wait,” he said, his tone softer now, almost pleading. 

But you didn’t stop. Your trembling fingers fumbled with the key, eyes fixed on the lock as if opening the door quickly enough could make him—and everything you’d just said—disappear.

The key slid into the lock on your first try, a stroke of luck you hadn’t expected. You stumbled inside, not bothering to close the door behind you. Maybe it was unconscious, or maybe some buried, foolish part of you wanted him to follow. Whatever the reason, Joel did, shutting the door softly as he stepped in, his footsteps trailing after your clumsy, rushed ascent up the stairs. His hand found your lower back more than once, steadying you whenever your feet betrayed you and your balance faltered.

When you reached your room, his presence pressed down on you, heavy and inescapable. Your chest felt tight, emotions boiling over with an intensity you couldn’t contain. The exhaustion—of everything—clawed at your insides, raw and relentless.

“Fuck you, Joel,” you spat, spinning to face him, your palms colliding with his chest in a sharp slap. The sound echoed between you, loud and angry. You hit him again, this time harder, though he barely moved, only stepping back an inch. “Fuck you. Fuck you. You’re a complete asshole, and I hate you. I hate you so much.” Your fists clenched, pounding against him now, the blows strong but harmless.

Joel didn’t resist. He let your fists land where they would, but then his hands rose, gentle and deliberate, catching your wrists mid-punch. The pressure of his fingers around your forearms was firm but not threatening, as if he was trying to guide the violence out of you without a word.

His stillness broke you more than anything could, and the weight of his quiet left you reeling, unsure of what to say next. Why wasn’t he saying anything? Why was he standing there, letting you fall apart?

“Say something!” you cried, your voice cracking, desperate and raw.

But he didn’t. His silence stretched between you, maddening and unbearable.

Your vision blurred as tears spilled over, hot and heavy, the release leaving you shaking. Your sobs filled the room, a sound so guttural it startled even you.

“Why did you have to do this to me?” you demanded, your fists still pressed against his chest, though they no longer moved. Your voice broke entirely now, trembling as you added, “Why do you keep hurting me, Joel, why are you acting like this? What did I do to deserve this from you?”

Joel’s breath hitched, his shoulders sinking as if under the weight of your words. His eyes, glassy and red, shone in the dim light. “I-I’m sorry, I'm sorry” he whispered, his voice rough and uneven. “I’m so sorry. Please… please forgive me. I love you, baby, I love you, I've al—”

“No, you don’t.” You shook your head, your voice trembling as his hands left your wrists and wrapped around you instead, pulling you closer. “You don’t.”

But you didn’t push him away. His arms were warm, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself fall into them. The pain dulled, just slightly, under his touch. You hated him for it. You hated yourself more for letting it happen.

“Yes, I do,” Joel said, his voice thick with emotion.

You wanted to look up, to see his face, to know if the tears in his voice matched the ones burning in your eyes. But you couldn’t bring yourself to. Instead, you buried your face in his chest, inhaling the scent of him, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat against your cheek.

Gently, he scooped you up and carried you to the bed. He set you down softly, his hands brushing against your arms as he pulled away. You sank back into the pillows, your gaze distant, your sobs quieting into sniffles.

Joel knelt at the edge of the bed, his hands moving to unlace your boots. He didn’t look at you, his focus entirely on the task, but his face betrayed him. His eyes were rimmed red, his cheeks damp, his expression taut with pain.

Once the boots were gone, you lay back fully, staring blankly at the ceiling as the room swayed gently around you. Your head throbbed, and your chest ached, but the tears had slowed, leaving behind only exhaustion.

The mattress shifted behind you as Joel settled in beside you. He kept his distance, but you could feel the heat of him near you, the tension in the air, a palpable thing you didn’t know how to navigate. You could still hear his breathing, steady but strained.

When his fingers brushed your waist, you stiffened.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice breaking softly. “Let me take that off. It can’t be comfortable, right?”

"No," you answered, and as the corset loosened, you felt a wave of relief rush through you, a softness you hadn’t even realized you needed.

Joel moved the corset off your body in one smooth motion, dropping it carelessly to the floor. Then, he returned to his position, inches away, and for a few minutes, there was nothing but silence between you again.

You closed your eyes, the weight of the night pressing against you, the exhaustion dragging you into a dreamless sleep. But just before you drifted off, you heard your own voice, quiet and pleading.

“Please go home, Joel,” you whispered. “I want to be alone."

He didn’t argue, although you could hear him doubting. Then, you felt him shift behind you, his hand brushing your arm briefly in a gesture that felt almost like goodbye.

“Goodnight,” he murmured, his voice so low it was nearly inaudible.

The door clicked shut behind him, and you exhaled deeply, letting the tears come again, though they felt emptier now, less urgent.

Next door, Joel stepped into his house, the quiet suffocating him as he sank into the couch. The air felt too thick, the walls too close. He pressed his hands to his face, trying to keep himself from falling apart, but it was no use. The despair was overwhelming, a mix of regret, shame, and a self-loathing so profound it left him hollow. And he couldn't help thinking that maybe, it was too late after all. No action or word from him could undo the pain he had seen in your eyes that night.

In the quiet of his own mind, he hated himself more than you ever could. 

-

@nobodyssfool @gigistorm @maryfanson @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @cosmic006533-blog @doblasftcisco @maiyart @concrete-jungleeee @playboygirlsnextdoor00 @powellssaturn @kyloispunk @paleidiot @aceaubrianna @liciafonseca @kaolusha @beeboopski @rosebuds-and-moonlight @the-universe-is-complicated @formulafun @chewie-bars @glizzymcguirex @pedroswife69 @ivoryandflame @dixonswingz @sarahhxx03 @mellymbee @dailyobsession @msmorningstaarr @mystickittytaco @xxreginaxx @marellabyr @spacegirl-3 @alrihhty @heheheilovepedro @svrgs-blog @94namkooksworld @puddles221b @cowboymcflurry @medusaandposeidonshead @stylesispunk @sweatpeakarolinaa @puddles221b @deansimpalagirl @jasminedragoon @lover-of-books-and-tea @whimsiwitchy @cuteanimalmama @theherothesavior @ivoryandflame

[seiwas]

₊˚⊹｡ don't let go, okay? | gojo satoru

wc: 2.1k

summary: it has to be some sort of fate that you happen to be stuck with gojo on valentine's day.

contains: f!reader, slowburn, fluff, reader and gojo are 21, reader and gojo are ‘guardians’ to megumi and tsumiki but they are not romantically together, japanese valentine’s chocolate tradition, reader’s cursed technique (vaguely), kind of pining

a/n: in the 'conversations on love' universe but takes place before the main series (would be nice to read but not necessary to understand this). theme song for this is what love is by zimmer90.

part of 'do you know what love is like?', a mini-series of almost's within 'conversations on love'. also included in how to be your lover boy (a valentine's collab by augustinewrites & seiwas)

The night is crisp when you step into it, the clean cut of a cool breeze tickling your cheek; it sweeps past you in the edge of winter and spring. 

You walk along the street. 

A sort of faded, vintage hue paints Shimokitazawa, wooden boards with worn down signages holding names of antique shops in every corner. The night feels older here, retro lights tinging bars and pubs more maturely than those nearby in Shibuya. At the street across, the sign of a cafe is flipped the other way to formally open the speakeasy it transforms into. 

You’ve only been here twice before: once with Nanami and Utahime years ago, while searching for old vinyl records the three of you had gotten into, and another with Tsumiki, some time last month because she’d mentioned wanting to check the thrift shops. 

Who would have thought you’d be back so soon? With—

“Satoru,” you call out, half-giggling, “why are you sniffing?” 

Gojo trails just a few inches behind you, body bent over closely to catch a whiff but not near enough to touch. Each inhale he takes is punctuated with the sound of whizzing air, condensing to fit through his nostrils. 

“You smell like chocolate.”

Out of all the plans you’d anticipated on Valentine’s Day, being roped into a mission with Gojo at the last minute was definitely not one of them. 

You shake your head knowingly, the corners of your lips curling; Gojo can smell sweets miles away, you could honestly mistake it for his cursed technique. 

He pulls back, falling into step with you. 

“Tsumiki asked me to help make some earlier.” 

Heavy jazz floats through the air as you pass by a bar entrance, the music muffling as the doors fall shut a few seconds later. Your boots clack against the pavement. 

“Oh?” Gojo perks up, voice turning an all-too-familiar hint of nosy as he teases, “What kind?” 

You snort as you dig your hands further into your pockets. For someone who claims to be all-seeing and all-knowing, Gojo is a lot more inquisitive than he seems; his nonchalance is but an added security much like his infinity is, dissipating only in company he’s comfortable sharing that side of him with. 

It’s been a while since Gojo’s been ‘home’ in the past week, so you don’t blame him for wondering. 

“Tomo mostly,” your gaze shifts to the side, waiting for his reaction, “though I did notice her sneaking a few honmei ones when I wasn’t looking.” 

There’s a slight stagger to his step as his shoulders tense up, his sunglasses shifting higher as his ears push back. You bite down your laugh. 

For as clueless as both you and Gojo are when it comes to being guardians to Megumi and Tsumiki, you think Gojo’s grown an odd mix of semi-brotherly-kind of-fatherly-mostly-guardianly protectiveness over the both of them—to Tsumiki especially. You can tell because his reminders to Megumi are always sealed with some form of ensuring Tsumiki makes it home safely. 

‘Home’, which is where the kids stay, but it’s neither yours nor his—just a place nearby that keeps them protected and comfortable. You’re with them most days, Gojo staying when he can, but with the higher-ups assigning him on missions left and right, there’s hardly any time for him to drop by. Hell, you haven’t seen much of him either, besides the rare instances of bumping into him along the halls of Jujutsu Tech, a whine almost always drawn from his throat. 

You see his curiosity as an effort to check in.

He only hums, hollower than his usual responses. The sound of his footsteps fill the gaps of what would typically be a seamless back-and-forth with you; you try not to comment on it. 

Indinstinct chatter brings the street to life, smooth beats cascading warmth against the chilly breeze. Despite the noise, Gojo’s silence feels unsettling—as if there are words forming at the tip of his tongue, withheld for reasons you can’t quite get a read on just yet. 

So, you wait, learning more and more that he usually comes around when—

“Did you?” 

The question is half-murmured, part of it lost to the night. 

Did you what? Notice Tsumiki?

“Hm?” you tilt your head towards him, tucking strands of hair behind your ear in an attempt to hear him better. 

He doesn’t answer. 

You stop walking. 

“Did I what?” you adjust your coat before turning towards him, catching the slightest of his gaze before he looks away quickly.

(“Did you make honmei chocolate?” he means.) 

Still, no answer. 

The tips of Gojo’s ears dust pink, and you try not to comment on that too.

His bottom lip is pulled between his teeth, slipping free before his Adam’s apple bobs, swallowing. 

“Wanna see something cool?” he changes the subject, removing his sunglasses and turning back to you as if none of it happened. As if he didn’t ask you anything, as if you didn’t ask what he meant—as if you didn’t just catch him at the tail end of a wistful stare. 

The shift in his tone happens so suddenly, it feels disjointed. Unnatural. But you’ve gotten used to moments like this from knowing him for so long; Gojo always says less of what he truly means. 

You focus on his face, yellow and red retro lights dancing on clear blue. He looks almost freakish this way, otherworldly—a crazed look you’ve gotten familiar with. His hands are stuffed inside his pockets when he stops, gangly long legs outstretched by the shadow beneath him. 

There’s really no time to be doing this right now, the both of you just 10 minutes away from the mission’s location—an abandoned building housing a special grade curse that lures people in with fabricated memories. Around you, the neighborhood’s nightlife has dwindled, your walk thus far having brought you farther from the heart of the place and closer to somewhere quieter, more secluded. 

Gojo looks too excited, eyes beaming wonder and mischief along with something else you can’t quite figure out yet. You purse your lips in thought. 

“C’mon, it’ll be quick.” he smirks, the dimple on his cheek deepening as he shrugs, “I’ve finally perfected it.”

A beat—skipped before your heart races. 

You wonder if he knows, if he’s using this to his advantage, because—

—when have you ever denied him when he looks at you this way? 

The higher-ups should have known better than to pair you together for a mission. Your instructions were merely ‘to assist’, but you hardly believe it considering Gojo almost always handles these things on his own. It’s more babysitting, you know, to keep the damages of his technique to a minimum. 

They shouldn’t have called on you, of all people—you’re on Gojo’s side. Always. 

A smile threatens to escape your lips, warmth spreading within your cheeks; you roll your eyes jokingly, stifling a giggle before relenting.

“Fine.” 

He guides you forward, chest bumping against your shoulder blade as he picks up pace. It’s a clear road ahead of you, the streets emptying out to more greenery; your senses are filled with the smell of the earth mixed in with the faint cotton of Gojo’s cologne. 

This is bad for your feelings. 

(Being this close to you feels like the ticklish drag of fingernails just right before it creates indents in his chest.) 

There’s something brewing between you and Gojo, neither of you have just addressed it yet. He pulls away when the moment is too close but still looks for you first after missions, an almost automatic question to either Shoko or Ijichi about your whereabouts.

You’ve been catching his stares too, almost always at the split-second before he turns away—a reaction on impulse. The silence between you feels fuller lately, as if there are words he wants to say but is choosing to withhold. 

When the space is vacant enough, he steps a few inches to your right, left hand stuffed inside his pocket as he shakes his arm hesitantly, almost awkwardly. 

“You have to hold on to me,” he instructs you. 

Your eyes widen, equally surprised and shy as you slowly take your hand out of your coat and slip it into the empty space, resting it on the crook of his elbow. Gojo freezes very slightly. 

He shakes it off just as quickly, “You might be sensitive to my domain because of your technique, so stay close just to be safe.” 

Then, his head tilts towards you, a little closer than you’re both used to. This near, his eyes hold a perfect morning sky, eyelashes hanging like wispy clouds on a clear day. 

Your gazes meet and you blink twice, goosebumps littering your skin. 

“Don’t let go, okay?”

Another beat—followed by another, and another, the sound of it growing louder. 

You almost miss the way he says it gentler than normal, how sincere it feels with his breath tickling your cheek. 

“Okay,” your fingers curl around his arm tighter. 

He lifts his other hand up, crossing his fingers as he recites the mantra to his domain. In an instant, the greenery around you disappears, stark white taking its place. 

“What do you think?” Gojo asks almost immediately, crossing his arms over his chest. Your fingers stay curled onto the crook of his elbow, sandwiched between his forearm and bicep; his other hand rests a few centimeters away from yours, nearly touching. 

You scan the space, examining its vastness. Minimalist. A blank sheet—

“It’s…” you try to find the right words, “... empty?” 

He gasps exaggeratedly, “Hey!” then pouts in fake offense, “I made it porcelain white at least. This isn’t pure white you know.” 

You eye him from the side.

He chuckles, breaking his act, “You should be honored.”

A pause—his tone shifting to something softer, more vulnerable. 

“You’re the first person I’m bringing in here.” 

His admission is unexpected, but it feels relevant, makes you feel like it, too. 

You’re touched, knowing how secretive he’s been on perfecting his domain since Toji and Geto; he only ever tells you and Ijichi about it. No one ever pressured him into achieving his perfect domain, but he feels like his existence necessitates it. 

“It’s clean,” you finally say, playing along, “I like it.” 

He eyes you this time, dimples deepening the more he attempts to poorly push down his smile. 

“Shame I can’t really do much with it, would have wanted to spice up the interiors a bit.” 

You snort, knowing full well that Gojo’s very much the type to pick one piece of furniture and anchor the entire place’s aesthetic off of that. 

“Someday,” you catch his eyes again. 

(It echoes in his ears, the quickening thump of his heartbeat—pink noise that can’t possibly be a product of your technique. 

In the silence of his domain, all he hears is that sound and you.) 

He hums before looking back to the empty space, “Acoustics would be good by then, we can try your technique in here.” 

You nod, the corners of your lips curling; his pinky presses against yours so faintly you wonder if you just imagined it—if he had meant it or not. 

. 

The special grade is dealt with within a quarter of the time it took you to travel to here, but Gojo seems to bear the consequences with another one of his migraines—a mixture of fatigue from activating his domain earlier along with sensitivity from the increased bustle in Shimokitazawa’s night life as you exit the neighborhood. 

You make a mental note to get him something that covers his eyes a little bit more than those circle frames he uses—an imbued blindfold maybe? You’ll have to think about it some more. 

(When you both get ‘home’, you set up the couch, offering him the spare bedroom so he can sleep off the headache. It’s a quick trip to the kitchen for a glass of water when he catches a glimpse of it—a fully decorated box of honmei chocolate partially hidden at the corner of the counter. 

The card has half of his name written in your handwriting.

You don’t end up giving it, but he does receive some chocolates from you, still. It’s a belated gift the next day, along with the ones you gift to Shoko, Yaga, and Ijichi—a tradition you’ve kept up since you were 16. 

But, his box has an extra piece, and you even tailored each one to all his favorite flavors: sakura, strawberry, zunda, and anko; his card is the same one you left half-written, just now fully spelling ‘Satoru’. 

So, he thinks his might be a bit more special, and he’s realizing that he likes it that way—he might prefer it much more, actually.)

a/n: haven't written col in a while but this is the official launch of 'do you know what love is like?', a mini-series of almost's within the 'conversations of love' universe! there are lots of details that connect to some of the col works but this happens before all of the ones released so far (so you don't need to read the main series to understand this, but it would add to the full experience if you do!).

thank you notes: @augustinewrites love u my valentine, this fic wouldn't exist without you 🥹 + @stellamancer col couple is here!! with chocolates!! thank you for going over this for the first read 🥹 ily niku + @mididoodles @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat my cheerleaders!! thank you for the support always 🥹

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[killerlookz]

heyyy💋 so could i request a fic where reader is an eurovision contestant and basically her & joost are attached to the hip. they are seen being all cuddly with each other, flirting, sitting as close to each other as possible, the cameras catching your non so secret glances.. generally acting like a couple. but when the press asks you about this whole situation, you both deny that you have something going on between you two, but deep down you know that those gestures are not so “innocent” at all🤭🤭

a/n: ooooh i love a cheeky little secret romance!! thank you for the request anon <3

Just Friends | Joost Klein

content: gn! reader, very brief allusion to sex, joost and reader are so down bad for each other its a little pathetic, mostly fluff, some angst if you look at it under a microscope. this fic contains rpf and has been tagged as such, do not continue if that makes you uncomfortable, and please block the rpf tag

word count: 2128

You sit on the edge of your hotel bed, you smile, your cheeks grow hot, letting out a small breath from your nose, replacing a genuine laugh.

Your phone sits in your lap, opened to a message

Joost Klein: When were you planning to tell me that I'm your secret lover 😓

What followed was a screenshot from some European tabloid sight, headed by: Eurovision Contestants Spotted Getting Cozy: Secret Lovers Revealed?!

Below were two grainy photos of you and Joost, taken just moments apart from each other. Taken from behind, they showed the two of you walking side by side, just outside the hotel you were staying in. It would have looked more like a friendly exchange if your hands hadn't been locked together.

You knew you'd have to explain everything eventually, that was the third headline this week that had come out about you and Joost. Another showed the two of you sharing a hug that looked a little too close for it to be friendly, in another you had a hand planted on his chest, and your head tilted back mid-laugh.

It all seemed a little ridiculous. You knew Eurovision was one of the largest events in all of Europe- but still, you couldn't have imagined how interested people would be in your personal life off the stage.

It was nothing too scandalous anyway, you and Joost had known each other prior to Eurovision. And sure, you were more casual friends, despite being from different countries, the two of you had run in similar circles with music and all. You had spent the last few years admiring each other's music, usually from afar, the times the two of you had genuinely hung out before all this were few and far between. Your conversations were usually reserved for more chaotic moments, either backstage at the end of a show or in the crowd for a musician friend the two of you had in common.

You couldn't exactly explain away all of the touchy-touchy stuff, but you never expected that you would have to, it had just always been like that, ever since you first met. Truthfully, the two of you were closer than the tabloid photos led on. But they didn't have to know that.

Hasty fingers tap at your phone screen

apparently it's so secret that i didn't know it either!

You send your response to Joost before closing your phone and tossing it somewhere on the bed. You lay back, landing on the firm mattress with a small bounce.

Your eyelids are lowered, trying your best to keep focus on the woman in front of you through heavy lids- though it seems impossible with the crisp white LEDs shining in your face.

"So, have you made any connections with any other contestants since you've been here in Malmö?" The woman asks, a curious eyebrow-raising as she guides the microphone in her hands in front of your face.

You know exactly what she wants to hear from you, the hunger is evident in her eyes, she licks her lips in desperation for a scoop, before her mouth pulls into a sly smile, it all feels so predatory. You swallow thickly, shifting a quick gaze toward the cameraman before flicking your eyes back to the reporter, who has an equally as hungry look on his face, and you realize, you are their prey.

"Yeah, absolutely," You nod, your face lights up, "I've honestly really connected with Bambi Thug, they're really bringing such a new and innovative sound to Eurovision, I really admire them for that, and don't let the makeup and costumes fool you they are an absolute sweetheart!" It wasn't a lie, Joost was not the only person you had talked to since the competition started. You did make friends while you'd been here.

The journalist loses her grin, her face now twisted with dissatisfaction.

"Anyone else?" She asks, nearly cutting you off, her microphone still stuck in your face.

"Marina has been an absolute joy too," Your smile lingers on your lips, "And Nemo- they're great too!"

"Well," The journalist starts, facing the microphone back to her, "I think we've all been hearing the rumors about some sparks flying between you and the Dutch representative, Joost Klein, is there any truth to them?"

You're a little taken back by her forwardness to just outright ask the question,

"I wasn't aware of any rumors," You furrow your eyebrows, shaking your head in vehement denial, "But Joost is great too, we've known each other for a few years now, and I've been a big fan of his music, and he's a great friend." You breathe out, silently hoping the answer is satisfactory for the journalist to cease probing any further.

"No potential for anything more than a friendship?"

"Oh no," You shake your head, nearly scoffing as the words choke out of your mouth, and you hope you're as good of an actress as you are a singer, "Again, Joost is great, but he's just my friend."

"Alright," She nods her head slowly, unsatisfied. The way the journalist's eyes linger on you makes it clear she doesn't quite believe you- but it would be inappropriate of her to ask you any more questions on the matter.

"Would you like to talk about my music now?"

"I just don't know why they're acting like we had a sex tape leak- do these people not hug their friends?" You throw your hands up, frustrated. The last two days had been nothing but interviews, but it seemed none of the interviewers were as interested in your actual Eurovision performance as they were in potentially getting the first scoop on what was "going on" between you and Joost.

"I mean that would give them something to talk about," Joost chuckles, standing at the foot of your hotel bed, he's clad in nothing but a white tank top and his underwear. The tight fabric of what little he's wearing clings to his body, leaving just about nothing to the imagination. He ruffles a hand through his already messy hair. You'd wondered what the tabloids would say if they got a whiff of this, "All press is good press"

"Are you suggesting something, Mr. Klein?" You flash a look at him, your eyes piercing his. Your words come out much harsher than you had intended them to, you couldn't help it, your frustration was evident.

Joost placed a hand behind his neck, rubbing anxiously, throwing a sheepish look in your direction as to insinuate he had been suggesting something. You knew he was only joking, but the thought of actually doing such a thing made your face hot. A light pink blush burned on your face as you stared up at him.

"You're filthy," You giggle, and your hands latch on to a pillow that sits next to you, and you fling it in Joost's direction.

He takes a step back as the pillow hits him square in the stomach, a loud thump can be heard in the room as contact between his body and the stuffed object is made. He choked out a breath of surprise, and his face winced as he grabbed his stomach in feigned agony,

"How could you," He shakes his head, "I think you broke every single one of my ribs."

"Shush," You scoff, "C'mon, get over here." You pat the bed next to you, shifting yourself over to one side.

In typical Joost fashion, he practically jumps onto the bed. He adjusts himself in such a way that his shoulder is brushing up against yours. He's warm, and you want nothing more than to crawl into his arms. It was almost pitiful the way you wanted him, completely desperate. And yet, you don't dare to act- not right now.

The room falls silent as the both of you hesitate to say anything. The room is thick with a humid tension, and words left unsaid. Your reccolection of the last few days seemed non-existent yet ever-present at the same time. Everything had left you wondering the same exact questions as every journalist who had talked to you today, what was going on between you and Joost?

"I can feel the stress radiating off of you," Joost finally speaks, "Are you okay?"

You furrow your eyebrows, looking down into your lap where your fingers are not fidgeting and intertwined. Your face twitches.

"Are you really so upset about those interviews? Do you want to stop this, I can lea-"

"No," you cut him off all too quickly, "No stay. Please." Your voice had shriveled down to nothing but a pathetic whisper. As confusing as your feelings had been, the confusion seemed to be better than not having them at all. It was hard being away from home and feeling like you were bracing the weight of the world or at least of Europe against your shoulders. Joost, at least, was a source of comfort, something to come back to.

"Okay," He nods, his head moving up and down slowly.

You'd be lying if you said you hadn't felt some sort of way about Joost before all of this. His affectionate nature with you seemed to cross all of the wires in your brain. He had always been affectionate with his close friends, not afraid to spare a hug or an arm around the shoulder when he felt like it, but with you it seemed different, especially taking into account neither of you would exactly consider the other as a "best friend."

Besides, even if you were, best friends don't usually stay up all night, lying on top of each other in some state of undress, lips hungrily pressed against one another. This whole situation had left you feeling like you were a teen again, the prickling feeling in your chest of excitement and anxiety of sneaking around to see a boy you liked. It was addicting, the adrenaline that flooded each and every inch of your body, as the two of you snuck off from the afterparties where your appearances were all but mandatory. You'd be lying if you said it didn't at least help a little to take the edge off of all the stress of the competition.

An arm snakes around your shoulder, and immediately Joost is clicking his tongue disapprovingly

"So tense," He mumbles, "Lay down, will you?" His voice is quiet, nearly pleading, and much more timid than you're used to. You feel compelled to oblige, spellbound, his soft words are like hypnosis.

Joost's arm slips from where it sits around your shoulder as you sink into the pillows below. You allow your body to relax into the support of the mattress.

A hand grazes your thigh, trailing down to your knee, Joost gives you a couple gentle taps, "Put your legs up, I'll pull down the blanket for you."

You oblige, bending your knees to pull them inward, and Joost hops off the bed for a moment, grabbing the thick white comforter in his hands from its neatly made position. You shift as he pulls it from under your body, allowing the blanket to slip down to your feet.

The bed dips as Joost crawls back to his position next to you. He reaches out to the foot of the bed, pulling the comforter up to cover the two of you.

"So," You start, rolling on your side, facing away from Joost, "Did they ask you about me?"

The blanket above you shifts as Joost adjusts himself to lie down next to you. He places a gentle hand against your hip, rubbing careful circles against the fabric that separates your skin from his. His chin rests upon your shoulder, and almost instinctively you nuzzle your cheek against his.

"Mhmm," His gentle hum vibrates against your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

"What did you say?" You ask and your teeth clench, your eyes shut tight, waiting with anticipation for his response, hoping for it to line up with yours. You could only imagine the suspicion that would arise if the two of you were to have given entirely different answers to the same question.

"I told them we're friends, just friends."

Your jaw slacks at the relief, and you let out a sigh, eyes fluttering open. But something about those words coming from his mouth, just friends, as his words graze your ears your relief is coupled with a stinging feeling in your chest, a sharp reminder of the peculiar position you had found yourself in.

"And are we," You pause, "Just friends?"

Joost picks his head up from where it rests on your shoulder, ghosting the exposed flesh of your arm with a kiss.

"Not if you don't want us to be."

a/n: i added a pt. II to this, read it here!

[cumironi]

⠀⠀𝜗𝜚 ⠀⠀⠀HAIL TO THE ‘ GHOST ’

♱ summary. bent over, bent down and said cheese to the camera, click! one, two, three... another, cheese! it was fun, haunting down by a ghost, gojo satoru.

warning. college! au, séx tape, hāte sex, háir-pulling, name-calling, pet names, praise, cunnilingūs, fingering, anāl, spanking.

wc. (♱) MASTERLIST

“all hail to the ghost.”

your voice carried through the cavernous, darkened library, bouncing off the towering shelves and echoing in the dimly lit room. a few weak lamps flickered in the corners, casting long, distorted shadows on the walls. the heavy wooden door groaned as it swung shut behind you, sealing you in the silence.

you stood still for a moment, heart pounding, eyes scanning the vast emptiness. your friends had insisted this was the place, that if you wanted to buy a joint on halloween night, all you had to do was come here, say the words, and wait. the atmosphere was oppressive, thick with the musty scent of old books and something else—something unexplainable.

your breath hitched slightly as you strained to hear even the slightest sound. a quiet shuffle of footsteps or the rustle of pages would have been comforting. instead, only the oppressive silence of the library enveloped you, making you wonder if this was just some elaborate joke to freak you out.

suddenly, from the corner of the room, a faint, almost imperceptible noise—like the swish of fabric or a breath being drawn. you turned quickly, nerves on edge, hoping that the “ghost” your friends mentioned wasn’t just some urban legend to mess with the new students.

“well, well, well, look who we have here,” the voice was unmistakable—smooth and smug, dripping with the kind of confidence that had always grated on your nerves.

you froze, instantly recognizing the person behind the bookshelf even before seeing him. slowly turning, you saw him step out from the shadows, standing not too far away in black dress pants and a crisp white button-up shirt, a black tie knotted perfectly at his neck. his face was covered by a cheap ghost mask, but that damn smirk was impossible to hide. and, of course, there were those striking, infuriatingly bright blue eyes peeking through the mask, brimming with amusement.

gojo satoru.

of course it was him. it had to be him.

your jaw clenched involuntarily, a familiar surge of irritation rising in your chest. gojo had been a thorn in your side since middle school—always there, always teasing, always making your life just that little bit more difficult, always. it didn’t matter that the years had passed and you’d both matured; the rivalry had stuck, and seeing him now, in the dim light of the library, with that arrogant smirk plastered on his face, brought back every frustrating memory.

“what the hell are you doing here?” you spat, crossing your arms over your chest, already regretting stepping foot into this ridiculous halloween prank your friends had set up. if you had known gojo would be here, you would’ve stayed far, far away.

gojo tilted his head, pushing the ghost mask up to rest on top of his head, revealing his full face—his cocky grin only deepening. “what, you didn’t miss me?” he teased, his tone light and playful, as if your years of mutual antagonism were just a game to him. “i figured you’d come crawling in eventually after hearing about the ghost. guess curiosity really does kill the cat.”

you rolled your eyes, biting back the urge to snap at him. you weren’t going to let him get under your skin tonight, no matter how hard he tried. “you’re the ghost?” you asked incredulously, voice laced with disdain. “seriously, gojo, this is pathetic—even for you.”

he chuckled, stepping closer, hands casually sliding into his pockets as if he owned the place. “don’t be so mean. i’m just here doing my civic duty, giving the people what they want—some mystery, some excitement. it’s halloween, after all,” he said, his grin never faltering. “besides, who else would play the part better than me?”

“literally anyone,” you shot back, your eyes narrowing as he approached. “and i didn’t come here for you, so don’t flatter yourself.”

“really?” he drawled, stopping just a few feet in front of you, his blue eyes gleaming mischievously. “you sure about that? you came looking for a little halloween fun, right? maybe a little thrill?” he leaned in slightly, his voice lowering just enough to be annoying. “and here i am, ready to entertain.”

your fists clenched at your sides. gojo had always been like this—always pushing, always trying to get a reaction. in middle school, it was pranks, teasing, and outsmarting you in class just to prove he was better. in high school, it was constant competition over grades and sports. even now, in college, the rivalry hadn’t dulled, and neither had your mutual disdain.

his eyes flicked over your tensed body—the tight grip of your fists, the stiffness in your shoulders. he always loved riling you up like this, feeding off the tension between you. as he moved ever so slightly closer, he couldn’t help the smug grin spreading across his face. there was something about the way you reacted to him, the fiery anger you barely contained, that thrilled him. the closer he got, the thicker the air between you became.

“looks like i hit a nerve,” he crooned, his smirk widening as he took another step, now standing just inches away. his tall frame towered over you, those damn blue eyes twinkling with amusement. “you still can’t stand me, can you?”

you glared up at him, your body stiffening even more at his words. the audacity of this man—always thinking he could get away with anything, always acting like he had some upper hand. it makes your blood boil.

you met his gaze head-on, refusing to back down, and shot back with a venomous edge in your voice. “congratulations, gojo. you finally noticed. i can’t stand you,” you spat, sarcasm dripping from your words as you took a step closer, poking his chest with your finger. “in fact, you’re like a bad rash i’ve had since middle school—just as irritating, and just as impossible to get rid of.”

a small, amused scoff escaped him as you jabbed his chest. any other person might have been offended—or at least, feigning offense—but not gojo. in fact, your anger seemed to only add fuel to his fire. he relished in your irritation like a cat playing with a mouse.

he didn’t back off. in fact, he stepped even closer, closing the gap between your bodies until you were almost chest-to-chest. “aww, you’re hurtin’ my feelings,” he drawled, feigning disappointment. his eyes, however, were full of mirth.

his eyes… they were full of mischief, sparkling with amusement. he was enjoying this. too much.

before you could pull back, before you could fire off another insult or push him away, he reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. the gesture was soft, almost gentle, and it took you completely off guard.

“what the hell are you doing?” you hissed, trying to yank your hand free. but his grip tightened, his long fingers wrapping securely around yours, holding firm despite your resistance.

gojo’s smirk grew wider, his eyes dancing with amusement as he tilted his head slightly, watching you struggle. “what’s wrong?” he teased, his voice smooth and low. “you look nervous.”

his gaze flicked down to your hand, still trapped in his. “here,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a softer tone as if he were being sincere—though you knew better than to believe it. “let me hold your hand. it might calm you down.”

your heart pounded in your chest, both from the anger and the sudden gesture. gojo was a lot of things—annoying, arrogant, frustrating, but never soft. this unexpected gentleness was throwing you off.

but you refused to show any sign of weakness. you tried to pull your hand back again, only to have it held even tighter in his grip.

“i don’t need to be calmed down,” you muttered, bristling, trying to ignore the feeling of his long fingers wrapped around yours. the heat from his hand was starting to spread through your body like a spark.

gojo just grinned, clearly amused by your resistance, and before you knew it, he was pulling you along. his grip remained unyielding as he led you toward the nearby wooden table. with a fluid motion, he sat on the edge of it, pulling you to stand between his legs. his tall frame loomed over you again, but this time, it felt different—less playful and more… something else.

he finally released your hand, and for a brief moment, you thought you could breathe again. but then he pulled out a joint, waving it lazily in front of your face with that ever-present smirk. “so… is this why you came here?” he asked, his tone dripping with amusement as his bright eyes flicked over your face.

you found yourself standing way too close to him, suddenly hyper-aware of his presence. his legs bracketed yours, the heat from his body a stark contrast against the cool air of the library. your heart was lodged in your throat, the familiar mix of anger and something unidentifiable swirling together in your chest.

the sight of the joint in his hand felt like another jab. it was a reminder of your stupid decision, a reminder of why you were here. and all your efforts to stand your ground before were vanishing, replaced by a growing sense of unease.

you swallowed, forcing your tongue to work.

you narrowed your eyes at him, your irritation flaring up again. “you really think i’d come all the way here not just for that?” you crossed your arms over your chest, refusing to back down.

gojo chuckled, the sound light and teasing. “well, your friends said that’s the magic phrase, right? ‘all hail to the ghost.’” he grinned, twirling the joint between his fingers. “but maybe you came for something else. something… more interesting?” his voice dropped slightly, the suggestiveness in his tone unmistakable.

gojo's sudden shift in tone, in demeanor, was throwing you off. you were used to the arrogant, cocky side, but this new, slightly dangerous vibe was uncharted territory.

he leaned in closer, the joint spinning between his nimble fingers. a hint of a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, his eyes locked onto yours. “come on,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth, “let’s be honest. a pretty girl like you, all alone in the library on halloween night, looking for a joint. there’s more going on here than just that, isn’t there?”

you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms in front of your chest. the motion made your boobs puff slightly under your corset, though you didn’t think much of it at the time. you were more focused on maintaining your composure. “i came here for the joint, gojo. nothing more, nothing less,” you said with an air of finality, refusing to give him the satisfaction of riling you up further.

his eyes flickered over your body, the corner of his mouth curling in amusement as he lit up the joint and took a slow puff. the scent of smoke drifted between you, and his gaze wandered down, settling on your halloween costume. his smirk deepened as his free hand reached out, fingers lightly brushing the hem of your skirt—a skirt that, to his eyes, was far too short for his liking.

he exhaled slowly, the smoke trailing from his lips as he let his hand linger there for a moment longer than necessary. “what’s this supposed to be, huh? what are you dressed as?” his tone was mocking, eyes gleaming with mischief as he leaned back slightly, his smirk turning wicked. “a slut?”

you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms tighter against your chest, feeling a spark of irritation. of course, he wouldn’t get it. “it’s a police bunny,” you muttered, pouting slightly as your annoyance flared. “you know, like the one from zootopia?”

gojo’s smirk widened as if he found your frustration amusing. he took another slow puff of the joint, blowing the smoke out lazily. “oh, right, that bunny cop,” he drawled, eyes flicking over your outfit again with an air of mock understanding. “well, looks like she’s had a bit of a wardrobe update, huh?”

without breaking eye contact, you reached up and snatched the joint from his hand, bringing it to your lips with a deliberate slowness. gojo raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his bright blue eyes as you took a puff, inhaling deeply before exhaling the smoke in a slow, controlled stream.

you shifted, feeling a bit more self-conscious than you’d care to admit. it wasn’t your fault that nobody seemed to get your costume, probably because you’d… well, modified it to be more eye-catching. sure, the skirt was shorter, the corset a bit tighter when the original doesn't wear one, but can you really blame a girl for wanting to look hot and beautiful?

you huffed, still pouting as you shot him a glare. “it’s halloween, gojo. i wanted to look good. sue me for not wearing a full-blown mascot suit.” you muttered, resisting the urge to roll your eyes again. deep down, though, you were slightly upset. nobody seemed to get your costume, but all you wanted was to have fun and feel good in it.

gojo chuckled, his gaze roaming over your body once again. he watched intently as you took a drag from the joint, the smoke drifting from your lips in a controlled stream. “looks good on you,” he admitted, surprising you with the compliment. his smirk was still there, but there was a hint of something else in his eyes—something you couldn’t quite place.

he leaned back, resting an arm lazily over his lap as he continued to eye you up and down. “a little revealing, though,” he added, his tone casual, yet laced with a teasing edge.

his eyes slowly raking over your costume—taking it in a little more thoroughly this time. the smirk widened into a wicked grin, his gaze lingering on the curves emphasized by the corset.

you hummed, caught his gaze as it lingered on your breasts, his eyes tracing the curve emphasized by the tight corset. the way he looked at you made your skin heat up, but you weren’t going to let him get the upper hand.

“you’re such a perv, gojo,” you muttered, rolling your eyes, though the slight smirk on your lips betrayed the frustration you tried to hold on to. you placed your hand on his shoulder, feeling the tension between you two spike again, the air heavy with something unspoken yet undeniable. “i didn’t come here for a show. sell me the joint already. i’m not leaving empty-handed.”

his grin never faltered, his fingers brushing lightly across your skin as they played with the hem of your skirt, teasingly close to your thigh. it was always like this. no matter how much you insulted each other, no matter the hatred you’d built up since middle school, whenever you were alone together, things always took this turn. a touch here, a lingering glance there— like the insults only serve to fuel the tension crackling between you.

gojo's eyes darkened with amusement as he responded to your insult. he leaned in closer, the scent of smoke and his intoxicating cologne washing over you. “and you’re a princess,” he retorted, his smirk widening. “always wanting something, never satisfied.”

he tilted his head slightly, his fingers still tracing languidly on the hem of your skirt, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. “you think it’s that easy?” he murmured, the words a sultry edge to them. “i don’t give handouts, princess.”

you narrowed your eyes at him, his words only stoking the fire of irritation burning inside you. “i’m not asking for a freebie, gojo,” you shot back, voice dripping with sarcasm. “i’m going to pay you. it’s not like i came here expecting charity.”

you took another puff from the joint, inhaling deeply, the taste of smoke filling your lungs as you tried to push down the growing heat between you two. you exhaled slowly, letting the smoke drift between you before you passed the joint back to him with a cool, challenging look in your eyes.

“i don’t need handouts from someone like you,” you added, voice firm as you stood your ground, refusing to let him see how much his teasing was getting under your skin. but there was no denying the way his fingers still toyed with the hem of your skirt, his touch sending sparks across your skin. no matter how much you hated him, there was always this pull—a line neither of you seemed willing to stop crossing.

gojo chuckled, accepting the joint from you and taking a slow drag, his gaze on you the entire time, studying you. he blew out the smoke in a thin stream, the smirk still etched across his face. he was clearly enjoying this back-and-forth.

he leaned in again, his voice low, his words filled with thinly veiled provocation. “oh, princess,” he drawled, his eyes glimmering with a dangerous edge. “you’re not paying. not with money anyway.”

he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your skin. you could feel the heat of his body radiating off him, igniting a fire within you. his hand moved, slowly and deliberately caressing your thigh, his fingers tracing a path up your bare skin. he was testing the waters, seeing how far you’d let him go.

“you’ve come to me a lot, princess,” he said, his voice lower now, filled with a hint of danger. “every time you need something.” he leaned back, his hand dropping from your thigh as he took another drag from the joint. “you’ve never come here just to see me,” he continued, the joint hanging from the corner of his mouth, his gaze boring into you. “and i think we both know there’s something you want more than that joint, princess.”

he held your gaze for a moment, letting the suggestion hang in the air, then he smirked and leaned in again. his fingers brushed against your skin, leaving a trail of sparks in their wake. he was drawing closer, the gap between you shrinking with each passing moment.

with a playful hum, you reached up and pulled the ghost mask from his head, inspecting it closely as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. the cheap plastic crinkled slightly in your hands, and you couldn’t help but smirk at how ridiculous it looked without his signature cocky grin behind it.

“so, what’s it gonna take for you to sell me that joint, huh?” you asked, feigning innocence as you leaned in closer, eyes sparkling with mischief. “should i let you hunt me down? if you win, you can do whatever you want. but if i win… well, you’ll have to give me all the joints for free.”

it was supposed to be a joke.

gojo's eyes darkened with mischief as he watched you hold the mask. the corner of his mouth twitched into a smirk. “clever, princess. trying to bargain with me now,” he chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down your spine.

he considered your proposal for a moment, his hand resuming its lazy tracing on the hem of your skirt. “a hunt, huh?” he asked, his voice a low growl. “so if i win, i get to do whatever i want with you. and if you win, you get all my weed for free.”

you leaned in, a teasing smirk playing on your lips as you let your fingers trail softly over his undercut. “are you scared you’re going to lose all your weed, gojo?” you asked, your tone light and playful, but there was an edge of challenge in your voice.

your touch sent a jolt through his body, his eyes flashing with challenge. “scared?” he echoed, a cocky grin spreading across his face. “you’re the one who’s going to lose. and when i win, i’m going to make sure you pay up, princess.”

he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your skin. “you really think you can hide from me?” he asked, his voice dropping to a low murmur, “or are you just hoping i’ll catch you?”

you felt a surge of exhilaration as you pulled him to his feet, your fingers brushing against his in a way that sent a thrill through both of you. a teasing smirk danced on your lips, your heart racing with the thrill of the chase. “all talk, gojo, always all talk,” you murmured, your voice sultry as you let your hands linger in his for just a moment longer.

then, with a quick, playful tug, you turned and walked deeper into the shadows of the library, glancing back over your shoulder. the sight of his wide, amused grin ignited a rush of adrenaline. “catch me if you can,” you called out, your voice echoing in the quiet space as you disappeared around a row of shelves.

you could hear his footsteps behind you, the sound of him following eagerly, and it only spurred you on. you weaved between the towering shelves, the thrill of the hunt igniting your senses. the darkness felt alive, and every corner turned was filled with the promise of what would happen when he finally caught you.

as you ventured further into the maze of books, you couldn’t help but feel a mix of excitement and defiance. gojo might be your enemy, but the electric tension between you was undeniable, and you were ready to play this game to its fullest. each step you took was a dare, a challenge, and you were determined to give him a run for his money.

gojo’s heart raced as he watched you slip away into the shadows. your challenge echoed in his ears, fueling his competitive spirit. and as he followed after you, the thrill of the hunt coursing through his veins, he found himself smiling.

he was excited, eager even, to catch you. to finally have you at his mercy. you were always a challenge, fiery and defiant, and he couldn’t help but admire that about you. every corner he turned, every glimpse he caught of you, only served to make his blood run hotter.

he moved quickly but quietly, prowling closer with each step, watching as you darted between the towering shelves like a nimble cat. “oh, princess,” he called out, his voice low and taunting, “don’t get lost now. i’m coming for you.”

gojo followed close behind you, his footsteps echoing through the library as he stalked after you. a wicked smile played on his lips, his eyes locked onto your shape in the shadows. every bend in the shelf, every turn, he followed, his keen eyes never leaving you.

he chuckled softly to himself, enjoying the thrill of the chase. the game had been set, and he was determined to win. he could sense your excitement too, the way your heart was racing, the way you kept glancing back over your shoulder to see if he was catching up.

gojo couldn’t help but tease you as he pursued. “you’re only making it easier for me, princess,” he called out, his voice dripping with arrogance. “the longer you run, the more i get to watch your pretty little body move.”

you chuckled from somewhere in the shadows, your voice muffled but laced with sass. “you better take your time, gojo,” you called out, playfully taunting him, “because you’re never going to touch it.”

the thrill of the chase was intoxicating, and you could hear the confidence in your voice despite the flutter of nerves in your stomach. you glanced around the dimly lit library, searching for a good hiding spot while keeping an eye on his movements. the thrill of his pursuit only made you more daring.

gojo grinned, his eyes lighting up at your playful words. “oh, princess,” he replied, his voice lowering into a growl, “don’t tempt me. when i catch you, i’m going to touch a lot more than just that pretty little body of yours.”

he continued his pursuit, his senses on high alert as he searched for you in the shadows. his steps were measured, calculated, as he scanned the library for any sign of you. he could hear your heartbeat, racing as fast as his own.

gojo's laughter echoed through the aisles, a sound both frustrating and enticing. “just wait until i catch you,” he added, shot back, the determination in his tone unmistakable. “you’re only delaying the inevitable.”

you smirked to yourself, feeling a surge of confidence as you ducked behind a particularly tall shelf, your heart racing. the game had just begun, and you were determined to keep him on his toes.

gojo’s eyes darted towards the tall shelf where you had just disappeared, his smirk growing wider. “can’t hide from me forever, princess,” he called out, his voice dripping with confidence. “the longer you hide, the more eager i am to find you.”

he crept closer, each step deliberate and calculated. he could tell you were close; he could almost hear your breathing, feel your presence. the thrill of the chase only heightened his senses, making him more focused and determined.

“come out, come out, princess,” he called out, his voice filled with mock sweetness. “there’s no use in hiding. you can’t escape me.”

you couldn’t help but chuckle as you walked silently past him, brushing your fingers against his arm just enough to send a jolt through him. the thrill of the moment sent a rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins. “there’s a sweetness for those who wait, gojo,” you called out, your voice teasing and playful, before slipping back into the shadows.

you could feel his gaze looking for you, the intensity of his focus making your heart race even faster. hiding felt exhilarating, the dark corners of the library offering a temporary sanctuary. you knew he wouldn’t give up easily, and the chase only made the game more enticing. you watched him from the darkness, smirking to yourself, relishing in the thrill of the hunt. he was determined, but you had no intention of making it easy for him.

as your fingers grazed his arm, gojo’s eyes darkened, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. “clever little thing, aren’t you?” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly. “but you won’t escape me for long.”

he continued to stalk through the aisles, his gaze scanning the shadows intently. he could almost feel you nearby, but every time he turned a corner, you were gone. your quick movements and quick banter had his blood pumping, and that only made his determination to find you all the stronger.

gojo walked deeper into the library, his steps measured and careful, his senses on high alert. the silence was deafening, broken only by the sound of his footsteps. he knew you were nearby; he could almost taste your presence.

he couldn’t help but chuckle at your taunts. you were feisty, a challenge he had yet to fully defeat. “you keep hiding from me, princess,” he said, his voice carrying through the darkness, “but we both know you want me to find you.”

as you were about to turn around the shelf, a hand suddenly grabbed your wrist, and before you could react, you found yourself bent over the wooden table, your cheek pressed against the cool surface. a gasp escaped your lips, quickly followed by a frustrated groan. the unexpected movement caught you off guard, and you could feel your skirt ride up slightly, exposing your ass and your thong.

gojo’s presence loomed behind you, his breath hot against your ear as he leaned down closer. “gotcha,” he said, a triumphant smirk evident in his voice. the thrill of victory was palpable, and you could sense his excitement radiating from him.

“you thought you could outsmart me, huh?” he continued, his tone teasing yet laced with a hint of something more dangerous. “now, what should i do with you?” his fingers grazed your waist, lingering for just a moment too long, sending shivers down your spine.

you squirmed beneath him, feeling trapped and exposed. your face flushed red as you realized how vulnerable you were in this position. “let me go, asshole,” you demanded, though there was no real bite to your words. deep down, you reveled in being caught, in the thrill of the moment.

your heart pounded wildly as you felt his fingers trace along your curves. a small whimper escaped your lips, betraying your true feelings. you wanted him, craved his touch, even as you tried to resist. “you cheated,” you retorted weakly, hoping he couldn't hear the desire in your voice.

you arched your back slightly, pressing your rear against him. the friction sent electric sparks through your body, igniting a fire within you. you bit your lip, trying to stifle another moan.

“cheated?” gojo repeated, his voice low and mocking. “princess, this is war. and in war, anything goes.” he stood behind you, his presence overwhelming.

gojo chuckled darkly, his hand drifting further up your body, his touch exploring every inch of exposed skin. he could feel the heat radiating off you, the subtle arch of your back hinting at your desire. he knew he had you right where he wanted you, at his mercy and completely at his command.

he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. “i don’t know about cheating, princess,” he murmured, his voice almost a growl. “after all, you were the one who decided to hide from me.”

gojo smirked, his hand still firmly holding your wrist as he loomed over you. the position was vulnerable and submissive, leaving you exposed and at his mercy. he savored the sight of your bent over the table, his eyes grazing over your body, taking in every curve and contour that was now on display.

“but you put up a good fight, princess,” he said, his voice a low, dangerous rumble, chuckled as he felt your frustration, loving the thrill of having overpowered you. “but you can’t outsmart me. not when you’re like this— at my mercy.”

he placed his hands on your shoulders, holding you firmly in place. “you thought you're a sly fox, huh?” he asked, his tone teasing yet laced with a hint of something more dangerous. “you are just a dumb bunny, now, what should i do with you?”

he squeezed your shoulders gently, massaging the tense muscles. “you're mine now,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear, “and i’m not letting you go.”

you trembled beneath his touch, your body responding to his dominance despite your best efforts to resist. “i'm not yours,” you insisted, even as your traitorous body betrayed your words. your nipples hardened, straining against the fabric of your shirt as gojo's hands roamed your curves possessively.

“please...” the word slipped out before you could stop it, a desperate plea for more even as your mind screamed at you to push him away. but you couldn't move, frozen in place by the intensity of his presence and the heat building between your thighs.

“i...I hate you,” you gasped, even as you arched into his touch, craving more of his intoxicating caress. your resolve was crumbling, your willpower eroding with each passing second. you could feel he flushed his bulge further into your ass.

“go ahead, say it louder,” gojo teased, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “i want everyone here to know how much you hate me.” he took a step closer to you, invading your personal space and forcing you to look up at him. “but we both know that isn't true, don't we, princess?” he challenged, his voice low and intense.

gojo smirked as he heard your words, sensing the weakness in your voice as you began to lose your resolve. he could tell how much you wanted him, how much your body was aching for his touch, despite your protests.

he moved his body closer, pressing his bulge against you firmly, making sure you could feel his arousal against your backside. he knew he had you now, completely at his mercy. “princess,” he murmured, his voice a low growl, “you may say you hate me, but this body of yours?” he squeezed one of your hips firmly, his touch possessive and dominating.

you let out a soft sigh, unable to deny the truth in his words. your body was betraying you, aching for his touch, craving his dominance. you hated him for making you feel this way, for turning you into a helpless mess beneath him.

you bit your lip, trying to suppress a moan as he squeezed your hip. your body was throbbing with need, your pussy clenching emptily as you fought to keep your composure. “stop... touching me,” you pleaded, your voice shaky and filled with desire.

you shifted uncomfortably, your thong riding up higher and revealing more of your ass to him. your cheeks clenched involuntarily, your body reacting to his touch without your permission.

gojo’s chest pressed firmly against your back, keeping you pinned against the table. your body trembled under him, but your words of protest fell on deaf ears. instead of loosening his grip, he only tightened it, his fingers curling into your hair. with one swift motion, he tugged it back, forcing your head up to face the phone he’d pulled out.

your reflection appeared on the screen—flushed cheeks, eyes wide, a mixture of defiance and vulnerability playing across your features. above you, gojo’s smirk was prominent, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of victory and mischief as he held the phone closer, framing the shot perfectly.

“cheese,” he murmured in a low voice, his grip on your hair firm, but not painful. he angled the phone just right, capturing the moment with himself looming over you like a predator who had finally caught his prey.

the flash went off, and he chuckled, pleased with himself as he glanced down at the photo. “you look perfect under me,” he teased, his voice dripping with satisfaction, before lowering the phone and leaning closer to your ear.

gojo's laughter echoed through the room, a low, throaty sound that sent shivers down your spine. he released your hair, his hand moving to stroke your cheek tenderly. “so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice husky with affection.

his other hand slid down your body, tracing the curve of your waist before resting on your hip. he squeezed your flesh, his touch firm and protective. “such a shame to cover this beauty up,” he murmured, admiring your elegance. he pulled your skirt upward, fully exposing your ass to his hungry eyes.

you squirmed uncomfortably as he lifted your skirt, your bare ass now fully on display for him. you could feel the cool air conditioning hitting your sensitive skin, making you shudder. your face burned with embarrassment and humiliation, knowing that he had complete control over you.

you tried to pull your skirt back down, but gojo grabbed your wrists, pinning them to your back with one large hand. his other hand drifted lower, cupping your mound possessively before flying a spank across your skin. you gasped at the intimate contact, your body tensing as you felt his fingers brush against your covered slit.

“fuck, gojo...” you whimpered, but there was no conviction in your voice. deep down, you craved his touch, needed him to claim you completely. your panties were soaked through, the evidence of your arousal clear for him to see.

gojo smirks at your feeble attempt to cover yourself, his grip tightening on your wrists. “there's no use hiding from me,” he purrs, his fingers tracing the outline of your folds through the damp fabric. “i can smell how much you want this.”

with a swift yank, he tears your panties away, leaving you fully exposed to his hungry gaze. his thumb finds your clit, circling the sensitive nub with maddening precision. “so wet already,” he taunts, two fingers dipping inside your slick heat without warning.

he pumps them slowly, his palm grinding against your clit with each thrust. his other hand releases your wrists, only to tangle in your hair, tugging your head back to expose your throat. he licks a stripe up your pulse point before biting down, marking you as his.

a sharp cry escaped your lips as gojo’s teeth sank into your neck, pain mixing with pleasure as he claimed you. your body bucked against his hand, your inner walls clenching around his fingers as they pumped in and out of you.

moans spilled from your mouth, lost in the heat of the moment. you were completely at his mercy, your senses overwhelmed by the sensations he was evoking within you. every touch, every bite, every filthy word sent sparks of electricity coursing through your veins.

“ahh... fuck, gojo!” you panted, your hips rocking against his hand desperately. you could feel your orgasm building, coiling tighter and tighter in your core until it threatened to snap at any moment. your nails dug into his arm, the only anchor holding you grounded as gojo worked you over, “w-we were in the library, anyone could walk in here,” you stammered hardly between your moan.

gojo chuckles darkly, the vibrations sending tingles through your neck where he still lingers. “let them come,” he breathes against your skin, his fingers never ceasing their relentless pace inside you. “i’ll make sure they get an eyeful of my precious princess standing up to her arch-nemesis.”

he leans in close, his hot breath fanning over your ear as he whispers, “and when i’m done with you, they’ll all know why you're so desperate to defeat me.“ his free hand snakes around to rest on your waist, gripping tightly.

with a deft twist of his wrist, he curls his fingers to hit that sweet spot deep within you, sending shockwaves of pleasure rippling through your body. your cries echo through the empty library, a symphony of determination that only serves to spur you on. “i won't let you win,” you gasp, pushing back against him with renewed vigor.

you grit your teeth, determined not to give him the satisfaction of seeing you break. even as your body trembles and your moans grow louder, you refuse to submit to him entirely. you lean forward, bracing yourself against the table as you grind back against his hand, taking his fingers deeper inside you.

“i will beat you,” you pant, your voice strained with exertion and pleasure. “one day, i'll prove that i'm stronger than yo— oh my god.” but even as the words leave your lips, you know it’s a lie. in this moment, with his hands on you and your body singing with ecstasy, you've never felt weaker. gojo owns you, mind, body and soul, and you know it.

gojo laughs, a rich, full-bodied sound that seems to reverberate through your very being. “oh, my dear, you already have,” he murmurs, his fingers never ceasing their maddening rhythm inside you. “you're mine now, whether you admit it or not.”

to punctuate his point, he adds a third finger, stretching you deliciously as he pistons them in and out. his thumb finds your clit again, rubbing tight circles around the sensitive bud. “come for me,” he demands, his voice low and rough with barely restrained lust. “show everyone who you belong to.”

his other hand slides up your spine, tangling in your hair once more. he pulls your head back, forcing you to arch into him as he continues his assault on your senses. “that’s it, princess,”

you can feel your resolve crumbling, piece by piece, as gojo works you over. your body betrays you, arching into his touch, seeking more of that delicious friction. you try to hold back, to maintain some semblance of control, but it's a losing battle.

“no...” you whimper, even as your hips buck frantically against his hand. “i won't... i won't...”

but your protests ring hollow, even to your own ears. gojo knows it too, his chuckle rumbling through you as he feels you start to shake and quiver. “mhm!” you cry out, your voice breaking as your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave. your vision whites out, stars exploding behind your eyelids as your inner muscles clamp down around his fingers, milking them for all they're worth. your beautiful, freshly done nails scratch into the wooden table.

gojo groans as he feels your pussy flutter and clench around his fingers, your release drenching his hand. “that's it, princess,” he croons, continuing to pump his fingers slowly as you ride out the waves of your climax. ”so fucking gorgeous when you come undone for me.”

when your shudders finally subside, he withdraws his fingers, bringing them to his mouth to suck them clean. his eyes roll back slightly as he savors your taste. “mmm, exquisite,” he purrs.

he spins you around to face him, capturing your lips in a searing kiss before you can protest. you can taste yourself on his tongue as he plunders your mouth, claiming you utterly. when he finally breaks away, you're left panting and dazed, clinging to him for support.

you stare up at gojo, your chest heaving as you struggle to catch your breath. your legs feel like jelly, barely able to keep you upright. you know you should push him away, should tell him to go to hell... but the heat in his eyes makes your core throb with need.

“you... you bastard,” you manage to gasp out, even as your hands slide up his chest, fingers curling into his shirt. “you think you've won just because you made me come?”

you hate him, you always hate gojo satoru. you have how his cheeks shape shifting to slight crushed cherry when winter's come, how well it blends with the snow and how his blue eyes become brighter and suddenly feels warm.

you hate how your hands are running to his chest to his nape, feeling the soft stubble of his undercut beneath the pad of your fingers. you hate how he makes you sit in the quiet library, just the two of you, and trying so hard as simply as breathing.

you always hate gojo satoru.

gojo smirks down at you, his eyes glinting with mischief and victory. “oh, i haven't even started winning yet, princess, i told you i'm going to touch more than just your pretty body,” he whispers, leaning closer until his breath fans across your flushed skin.

his hands roam over your curves, tracing every inch of your exposed flesh. he unclasps to your corsets, pushes it aside to the table after he takes it off of you, leaving you only with your blue crop button up shirt to expose your hardened nipples, pinching them gently between his fingers. a low growl escapes him as he watches your breasts bounce with each movement.

“go ahead, fight me,” he taunts, his free hand sliding down your stomach to dip into your dripping slit once again. “show me how much you hate me.”

your breath hitches as gojo's touch sends sparks through your body. despite your anger, despite everything, your hips cant help but grind against his hand, seeking more friction.

“fuck you,” you hiss, but there's no real venom behind your words. instead, you find yourself arching into his touch, chasing the pleasure he so easily draws from you. “this isn't fair,” you whine, but it comes out more like a moan. your hands claw at his shoulders, nails digging in just enough to leave marks.

gojo chuckles darkly, amused by your feeble protests. “life's not fair, princess. get used to it,” he says, pumping his fingers faster, harder, determined to make you fall apart completely.

with his free hand, he rips open your shirt, sending buttons flying everywhere. he leans down to capture one of your nipples between his teeth, biting just hard enough to make you cry out before soothing the sting with his tongue before he pulls away.

you whimper softly as gojo's teeth graze your sensitive nipple, the mix of pain and pleasure making your head spin. your back arches involuntarily, pressing more of your breast into his mouth.

when he pulls away, you're left panting, your chest heaving. you try to meet his gaze, but can't bring yourself to look him in the eye, not when you know what you see there— triumph, lust, and a hint of cruel amusement.

he looks at you for a moment, tracing his thumb to your flustered cheek. “do you know how long i've been waiting to have in my arms, y/n? you are always being a bitch and grumble and hate me every time, and now..” he trails off, “when i finally have you where i want you to, you think i would just let you go?” he added.

as he speaks, you feel a shiver run down your spine. his words are a threat, a promise, a declaration of intent. you know you should be scared, outraged, horrified... but all you can focus on is the ache between your thighs, the desperate need for more of his touch.

he scoffs at you, how your eyes look at him beautifully, as if you are silently begging him to ruin you without you even realizing. so gojo grabs his phone on the table and opens the camera. he places the phone on the shelf where it shows you clearly on the table and it will catch a glimpse of everything gojo plans to do to you.

you notice the phone, the camera trained on you like a predator stalking its prey. you grab his hands when he walks back to you and in a second, your lips meet with his. “you... you sick fuck,” you breathe on his lips, but the words lack conviction.

gojo smirks at your half-hearted insult, enjoying the taste of your bitter resentment mixed with something sweeter, something he recognizes as desire. he captures your lips again, kissing you deeply, thoroughly, drinking in every gasp and whimper that escapes you.

his hands roam over your body, mapping out every curve and dip, committing them to memory. he breaks the kiss only to trail his lips down your neck, nipping and sucking at the tender skin until you're squirming beneath him.

“go ahead, call me names,” he murmurs against your throat, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. “it only makes me harder for you.” with those words, he pushes your legs apart and settles between them, the thick bulge in his pants pressing insistently against your core.

you moan shamelessly as gojo's lips and teeth work over your neck, leaving marks of possession. you can already imagine the bruises blooming on your skin tomorrow, a visible reminder of his claim on you.

“gojo...” you hiss through clenched teeth when he presses against you, the heat of him searing even through the fabric separating you. your hips buck up instinctively, seeking more friction, more contact.

gojo lowers himself until his knees are rooted to the wooden floor of the library. he hugs your thighs before spreading it apart, parading your glisten cunt to his hunger self. one of your hands fists in his hair, intentionally making his ghost mask fall to the floor while the other claws at his shoulder, nails digging into skin. you want to hurt him, to mark him as he's marking you. you want him to feel the same desperate need consuming you.

“i hate you,” you pant, looking down to the man, even as your body betrays you, arching into his touch like a cat in heat. “i hate you so much...”

gojo chuckles darkly, the sound vibrating through you where his face is buried between your thighs. he inhales deeply, relishing the scent of your arousal.

“i don't think you do,” he says, his voice muffled slightly by your flesh. “not really.“ his tongue flicks out, teasing along your slit, gathering the evidence of your desire. “your body tells a different story.”

he parts your folds with his fingers, exposing your swollen clit to the cool air before sealing his mouth over it. he suckles greedily, lapping at the bundle of nerves like a starving man.

you cry out sharply at the sudden assault of his mouth, your head hangs low to meet his gaze, overwhelmed by the intensity of the sensations. each pull of his lips sends shockwaves of pleasure radiating through your core.

one hand slides up your stomach to cup your breast, kneading roughly as he pinches and rolls the hardened peak between his fingers. the other grips your hip tightly, holding you in place as he devours you. “but tell me, darling... does it make you crazy? does hating me make you wetter?” he asks, a wicked gleam in his eyes as he watches your reaction.

“mhm— no, i hate it,” you lie, fingers tightening painfully in his hair. tears prick at the corners of your eyes from the sheer force of your reactions. gojo groans appreciatively against your sex, the vibrations only adding to your torment. he doubles his efforts, alternating between long licks and quick flicks of his tongue, determined to wring every drop of pleasure from you.

“you love it,” he growls, releasing your nipple, “you love being at my mercy, being used for my pleasure. you want me just as much as i want you.“

gojo looks up at you, eyes dark with lust as he continues to lavish attention on your sensitive flesh. “admit it,” he commands, punctuating his words with a particularly sharp nip to your inner thigh. “tell me how badly you need me.”

his free hand drifts lower, fingers circling your entrance teasingly but never quite penetrating. “i can feel how empty you are, craving to be filled. your pretty little pussy is aching for my cock, isn't it?”

he dips the tip of his finger inside you, just enough to gather some of your slick before bringing it to his lips. gojo makes a show of tasting you, humming in approval. “delicious. almost better than sake.” he returns to devouring your cunt, driving two fingers deep inside you as he slurps and laps. the wet sounds fill the room, mingling with your moans and whimpers.

you gasp, hips jerking involuntarily as he sinks his fingers deeper within you. your walls clench around him reflexively, desperate for something more substantial.

“yes...” you admit breathlessly, “i need you.” your hands find their way into his hair again, nails digging into his scalp as you grind down onto his face. “please, satoru... i can't stand it anymore.”

the sensation of his tongue sliding inside you, curling and twisting, pushes you closer to the edge. your orgasm builds rapidly, coiling tight in your belly before erupting with a loud cry. your thigh pressing together, unconsciously crushing gojo's head in between while you shaking uncontrollably.

gojo moans into your cunt as he feels your release wash over him, your juices flooding his mouth. he laps them up greedily, prolonging your climax with skillful strokes of his tongue and fingers.

when the aftershocks finally subside, he pulls back slowly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. he smirks up at you triumphantly, eyes glinting with satisfaction. “there we go. wasn't so bad admitting the truth, was it?”

he rises fluidly to his feet, towering over your trembling form. gojo palms his straining erection through his pants, the thick outline clearly visible. “now then... what shall we do about this problem?” he asks huskily, thumb brushing over the damp spot on the fabric.

your body still quivers from the intensity of your orgasm, leaving you feeling weak and vulnerable beneath gojo's imposing figure. his words and actions make it abundantly clear that he intends to claim you fully, and the thought both terrifies and excites you.

“we're in the library for fuck sake, gojo,” you manage to spit, despite the heat pooling in your core at the sight of his arousal. “what if suddenly someone said ‘all hail to the ghost’? you're just suddenly gonna sell your drug, then? besides, we hate each other, remember? shouldn't we don’t do this?” your thumb touching his chin, wipe your juice clean that covers his chin.

but even as you protest, your legs instinctively part wider, silently inviting him to continue. the ache between your thighs grows more insistent, begging for relief only his cock could provide. gojo chuckles low in his throat, seeming to read your conflicting emotions easily. “nonsense,” he dismisses, beginning to unfasten his belt, “we’re already past ‘should’ and ‘shouldn’t’.”

gojo's smile widens as he shrugs off his tie and tosses it aside, revealing his neck clad in a crisp white shirt. the buttons strain against his growing arousal, hinting at the impressive length concealed beneath.

“besides,” he adds, voice dropping an octave as he steps closer, “i’d much rather ravage you here than anywhere else. the thrill of doing it where we shouldn't... it only heightens the pleasure, don’t you think?”

he reaches out to trace a finger along your jawline, tilting your face up to meet his piercing gaze. “and as for our rivalry, let’s just say it won’t change a thing. enemies or not, i intend to claim every inch of you.” with a swift motion, gojo rips open his shirt, buttons flying everywhere.

you watch, transfixed, as gojo's shirt falls open, exposing his toned chest and abdomen. the air seems to vibrate with tension as he looms over you, his intense gaze boring into your very soul.

a shiver runs down your spine at his words, a mix of fear and anticipation coursing through your veins. the idea of being thoroughly claimed by your sworn enemy sends a thrill straight to your core.

“you really are insane,” you breathe, even as your body betrays you, arching into his touch. your hands come up to rest on his bare chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. the heat emanating from his skin is almost palpable, drawing you in like a moth to flame. you lean closer, taking his nipple in your mouth without breaking the eye contact.

a guttural groan escapes gojo's lips as your mouth closes around his sensitive nipple, his fingers threading through your hair to hold you in place. “fuck, that’s it,” he growls, hips jerking forward involuntarily.

his free hand slides down to cup your cheek, angling your head for better access as he guides your movements. “suck harder, i can feel my cock throbbing for you already...”

gojo's words are punctuated by sharp intakes of breath, each one a testament to the pleasure you're eliciting from him. his grip on your hair tightens slightly, a subtle warning not to stop, not now when he's so close to losing control. the musky scent of his arousal fills your nostrils, mingling with the earthy smell of old books and dust that permeates the library.

the encouragement in gojo's voice emboldens you, and you redouble your efforts, sucking harder on his nipple while grazing the tip with your teeth. his reaction is immediate and visceral— a low moan, a twitch in his hips, a surge of heat that radiates from his chest to yours.

emboldened, you release his nipple with a soft pop and trail your lips down his stomach, pausing to nuzzle the waistband of his pants. the fabric is warm and damp, clinging to the unmistakable bulge straining against it.

“gojo...” you murmur against his skin, looking up at him through hooded eyes, “let me see you. all of you.” your hands fumble with the button and zipper of his pants, eager to free the hard length you've been craving.

a shudder runs through gojo's body at the sound of his name on your lips, combined with the sensation of your breath ghosting over his clothed erection. “shit, you have no idea what you do to me,” he groans, head falling back as he fights the urge to thrust into your face.

when your fingers finally free him from the confines of his pants, gojo lets out a hiss of relief. his cock springs forth, thick and heavy, the swollen head already glistening with pre-cum. he's long and girthy, easily the biggest you've ever seen, and the sight makes your mouth water with anticipation.

“is this what you wanted?” gojo taunts, fisting his shaft and giving it a slow stroke. “to see how hard you make me? how badly i need to be inside you?”

your eyes widen at the impressive sight before you, gojo's cock standing proud and erect, begging for attention. you lick your lips unconsciously, already imagining how he would taste, how he would feel stretching you open. “yes,” you breathe, nodding eagerly, “i want it. i want you.”

without hesitation, you go down on your knees and lean forward and run your tongue along the underside of his shaft, starting at the base and working your way up to the weeping tip. you swirl your tongue around the head, lapping up the salty-sweet essence of his arousal.

“mmm, you taste so good,” you purr, looking up at him with lust-darkened eyes. “i could suck you off forever.” your eyes gaze towards his phone that is still recording just for a moment before focusing back on his cock.

gojo's eyes roll back in bliss as your hot little mouth works over his aching cock, his hand coming down to tangle in your hair once again. “just like that, just like that, my perfect little cocksucker,” he moans, hips rocking subtly to meet your movements.

he watches through heavy-lidded eyes as you worship his dick with your tongue, committing every second of your ministrations to memory—and to video. the knowledge that he's capturing this intimate moment only serves to heighten his arousal, his balls drawing up tight with the promise of an impending orgasm.

“keep going, don't stop,” gojo demands, his grip on your hair tightening as he starts to thrust shallowly into your mouth. “want to feel that pretty throat squeeze my cock as i come down it.”

you relax your jaw and take him deeper, inch by inch, until your nose is buried at the base of his shaft. you hold him there, swallowing convulsively around his thickness, reveling in the feeling of being completely filled and stretched.

you groan around his cock, the vibrations adding another layer of sensation. you start to bob your head, setting a steady rhythm as you suck and slurp obscenely, determined to bring him to the edge. one hand comes up to fondle his heavy balls, rolling them gently in their sack as the other grips the base of his shaft, stroking what you can't fit in your mouth.

gojo grunts loudly, his thighs quivering as you deepthroat him expertly. “fuck... you're amazing with that mouth of yours,” he praises between ragged breaths, the pleasure coursing through him like wildfire.

the sensation of your hands on his balls and the base of his cock is too much—too damn perfect—and he can barely resist the urge to just slam into your face and fill your mouth. but he holds back, savoring every moment, knowing full well that this is going to be one hell of a climax.

“go on, keep doing that,” he urges, pushing his hips forward slightly to encourage you. “make me cum, let's get this fucking video started right.”

you double your efforts, sucking harder and faster, hollowing your cheeks to create the most delicious suction. your tongue lashes against the sensitive underside of his cockhead each time you pull back, flicking rapidly over the slit to lap up the copious precum leaking out.

your fingers massage his balls firmly now, rolling and squeezing the taut skin, coaxing out his load. you can feel him getting closer, his shaft throbbing and pulsing against your tongue as his breathing grows more labored.

with a muffled moan, you take him impossibly deep one last time, swallowing repeatedly around him as you look up into his eyes with pure need and hunger. you want it, want him, want to drink down every last drop of his cum.

gojo lets out a guttural groan, his body tensing as he reaches the brink. “’m gonna—!” he gasps, his voice cracking as he fights to hold onto control.

but it's no use—the pleasure is too intense, too overwhelming. with a final, sharp thrust of his hips, gojo spills his seed deep inside your eager mouth, filling you up to the brim with thick ropes of cum.

“ahh... fuck, yeah!” he groan triumphantly, his entire body shaking from the force of his orgasm. “swallow it all down—you're my good girl.”

you swallow rapidly, gulping down every drop of his hot essence as it floods your mouth. some dribbles out the corners of your stretched lips, running down your chin obscenely, but you do your best to catch it all.

when he finally finishes emptying his balls, you release his softening cock from your lips with a wet pop. you sit back on your heels and look up at him with lust-glazed eyes, licking your lips clean of his cum.

“delicious,” you purr sultry. “i could get used to having you feed me like this.”

you reach for the camera, making sure it caught everything. then you stand up and press yourself against his sweat-slicked body, nuzzling into his chest affectionately. everything feels new, addicting, so sudden and your head feels like spinning from the pleasure and sudden change. “oh god, what the fuck am i doing with you, gojo?”

gojo chuckles breathlessly, pulling you close and draping an arm around your waist. “what are you doing with me? baby, we both know it’s the other way around,” he replies playfully, giving your ass a light smack.

he glances over at the camera, satisfied that it captured the moment perfectly. “look at us, already blowing each other’s minds before we’ve even gotten started,” he remarks with a smirk. “and you say that like it's a bad thing. i’d be happy to feed you like this anytime, anywhere.”

his hand slides lower, cupping your mound possessively. “you are gorgeous, did you know that? have i ever told you that?” he asked huskily, rubbing slow circles over your ass before giving a spank. “let me worship this gorgeous body of yours properly...”

you shiver as his hand cups your sex, pressing back into his touch eagerly. “mmm, yes please,” you breathe, arching into his palm. “worship me gojo, make me forget my own name...”

you wrap your arms around his neck, standing on tiptoe to capture his lips in a searing kiss. you pour all your pent-up desire into it, kissing him deeply and filthy, tongues tangling together. when you finally break away, you're both panting softly. you spin him around just a little until your ass touching the wooden material of the table behind you and he stand in front of you.

“oh, i will make you forget everything except my name, trust me,” gojo growls against your lips, hands gripping your hips tightly. he easily lifts you up and sets you on the edge of the table, pushing between your thighs to claim another hungry kiss.

his hands roam your curves greedily, caressing every dip and swell. “fuck, you feel amazing,” he groans, squeezing your breasts roughly. “i wonder how you feel when my dick deep inside you.”

gojo lean down, burying his face in your cleavage and motorboating you playfully. he nips and suckles at the sensitive skin there before trailing kisses down your stomach before standing tall. “want me to worship this sweet pussy of yours?” he asks wickedly, looking at you through his white lashes. he nudges your legs, opening them wider while his hand slapping your dripping cunt roughly.

you gasp sharply at the slap, feeling your clit throb with pleasure. “gojoooo,” you cry out, writhing beneath his touch and whining. your free hand grip his waist closer as you look up to him and pouting.

your fingers tangle in his messy hair, urging him closer to where you ache most. “don't tease me,” you plead, bucking your hips towards his waiting hand, “just fuck me already.”

gojo smirks down at you, clearly enjoying your desperation. “patience, baby,” he purrs, running his thumb over your swollen clit. “we’re going to savor this moment.”

he leans in to capture your mouth again, tongue delving deep to taste you thoroughly. as he kisses you, his fingers slide through your slick folds, teasing your entrance before circling your clit once more.

“gojo, please,” you whimper against his lips, trying to grind yourself onto his hand. he chuckles lowly, breaking the kiss to trail open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down your throat. “you want it so badly, don't you?” he murmurs hotly against your skin, nipping at your pulse point. “fine, but you better be ready for me to destroy this tight little cunt of yours.”

you moan loudly as he nips at your sensitive skin, your body trembling with anticipation. “sooo bad!” you whining, voice hoarse with need as you tug his hand.

you fumble with his chest, skating your hand down to his still rock-hard cock while your other hand is pushing his hips closer to your already itching cunt, begging for him to fuck you. “pleaseee,” you breathe another whining.

gojo grins at your eagerness, his body shaking with barely contained laughter. “you're so desperate,” he teases, his hand moving to guide his thick length to your needy entrance. “i'm gonna make you scream my name,“ he promises darkly, thrusting home in one smooth motion. “and nothing else.”

you let out a loud gasp as he fills you completely, stretching your walls deliciously. “o-oh shit—” you stammer, your back arching off the air towards gojo with the sudden fullness. your eyes goes widened just for a moment before it goes back to normal. gojo satoru's dick is fucking huge.

your nails dig into his flesh, scratching down his back as you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper inside you. “harder,” you demand, bucking your hips to meet each of his powerful thrusts. never once in your life have you ever thought about having sex with gojo satoru, but here you are in the quiet library with nobody around.

gojo lets out a growl of satisfaction at your demanding tone, picking up the pace of his thrusts. each movement sends waves of pleasure through both bodies. “you like that?” he asks huskily, leaning down to capture a nipple between his teeth. he bites gently before soothing it with his tongue, all while maintaining an unrelenting rhythm inside you.

“fuck... i can feel how wet you are,” he groans, pulling almost entirely out before slamming back into you. “mhm, uh, just like that,” you cry out, head thrashing against the gojo's chest as he pounds into you mercilessly. your body trembles with every powerful thrust, your inner walls clenching tightly around his thick shaft.

you can't help but moan louder, not caring who might hear you. all that matters right now is the intense pleasure coursing through your veins, building higher and higher with each passing second. “more,” you pant, fingernails digging into his shoulders, “don't stop, please don't stop!”

your hips move frantically, meeting each of his thrusts with equal fervor as you chase your release. the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the room, mixing with your moans and his grunts of pleasure.

gojo's breathing grows ragged as he continues his relentless assault on your senses, sweat dripping down his brow. he grips your thighs tightly, holding them spread wide as he drives into you with abandon.

gojo snarls, feeling your inner muscles flutter around him. “you're gonna make me cum if you keep squeezing me like that,” he warns, his hips snapping forward with renewed vigor. his free hand moves to your breast, kneading roughly as he pinches and rolls your nipple between his fingers. he can feel the tension coiling tighter within you, urging him on.

“i want to,” you gasp, biting down hard on your lip to suppress the sounds threatening to spill from your lips. your pussy clenches tighter around gojo's throbbing member, milking him for all he's worth.

each deep thrust sends jolts of pleasure straight to your core, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. “’m gonna...” you whimper, unable to finish your sentence due to the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body. the sensation of being filled so completely by gojo makes you dizzy; there's no way you could hold back much longer.

gojo grits his teeth, fighting the urge to let go as he feels your impending orgasm approaching. he wants to prolong this moment, savor the exquisite tightness surrounding him. but your quivering walls are too tempting, begging him to succumb to bliss.

gojo's movements become erratic as he feels his own release approaching. he buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent deeply as he pants harshly against your skin.

“cum for me,” he demands, his voice strained with effort and pleasure. “let me feel you come undone on my cock.” he changes the angle of his thrusts slightly, hitting that special spot inside you with every stroke. combined with the relentless stimulation of your sensitive bundle of nerves, it proves to be too much.

with a final cry of ecstasy, you shatter beneath him, your inner walls clamping down around gojo's cock like a vice as wave after wave of intense pleasure crashes over you. you scream in pure ecstasy as your climax hits you like a cold shower, your vision going white as your body convulses uncontrollably. every nerve ending feels electrified, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your trembling form.

gojo follows soon after, with a guttural groan he spills himself deep inside you, his hot seed filling you to the brim. he tries not to collapse into you, putting his weight into the table as his gripping tightly on the edge, both of you panting heavily as you try to catch your breath.

for several moments neither of you speak, simply basking in the afterglow of your shared passion. finally, gojo lifts his head to look at you, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips.

“beautiful,” he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair away from your sweaty forehead. “so fucking beautiful.” you smile hearing his words, swimming your delicate fingers in the air for a second before it lands to wipe gojo's sweat of his eyebrows. “who knows, fucking my enemy can feel this good,” you utter jokingly, lean your hands on the table.

gojo chuckles, a low rumble emanating from his chest as he leans back slightly, still buried deep within you. “well, i guess that just means i've got to fuck you again sometime soon,” he teases, his eyes glinting with mischief behind his sunglasses.

he pulls out slowly, watching with satisfaction as his thick essence dribbles out of your stretched opening. gojo gives your ass a playful slap, enjoying the reddening of your skin beneath his touch.

his gaze drops to your swollen lips, eyes sparkling with mischief and lingering desire. without breaking eye contact, he captures your lips in another searing kiss, tongue delving deep to claim your mouth once again.

as he explores the warmth and sweetness of your kiss, gojo's hands begin to wander, tracing the curves of your body with a reverent touch. he cups your breasts, thumbs circling your nipples until they stiffen against his palms. breaking the kiss, gojo nuzzles his nose against yours, exhalting softly.

you gasp feeling his hot breath on your flushed skin, your heart pounding wildly in your chest. you reach up, your fingers threading through his messy white hair, pulling him closer if possible. your hips buck involuntarily, seeking more friction, more of him. you moan softly, biting your lip to stifle the sound as his thumb brushes over your nipple, causing sparks of pleasure to shoot straight to your core.

you’re completely lost in the sensations, your mind foggy with lust and desire. you arch your back, pressing yourself harder against his touch, silently begging for more. gojo nuzzles his nose against yours, exhaling softly. you let out another breath, soft and warm against gojo's cheeks. you lean closer, hesitantly erasing the gap between his lips and yours before you draw back just a little, also nuzzles your nose against his.

“what are you doing, you silly girl?” gojo asks playfully, nipping at your bottom lip before soothing the sting with a lick.

“i want more...” you whimper needily. at your response, gojo grins, a devilish gleam lighting up his ice-blue eyes. he presses a tender kiss to the tip of your nose while you grinding shamelessly against him resulting with gojo groans, his hardness stirring to life again at the sensation of your slick heat rubbing against him.

a contented hum vibrates through gojo's chest as he savors the intimacy of the moment, relishing in the closeness and connection he shares with you. your fingers tangled in his hair only serve to heighten his arousal, and he can't help but grind his hips against yours, letting you feel the evidence of his renewed interest.

“i want you, y/n, again,” you murmur, breaking the gentle nose-to-nose contact, gojo trails kisses along your jawline, pausing to nibble and suck at the sensitive skin there. he continues his exploration downwards, licking a path across your collarbone before dipping lower to tease the swell of your breasts with his tongue.

his hand slides down to grip your hip, fingers digging in possessively as he guides you to stand. once on your feet, gojo spins you around, pressing your front against the cool surface of the table. before he walks to grab his phone and back to you, still recording.

you gasp as gojo spins you around, the sudden change in position leaving you momentarily disoriented. you press yourself back against the cold surface of the table, a shiver running down your spine, you feel vulnerable yet electrified, your senses heightened by the intimate act.

the air between you is charged with an electric tension, every breath you take seems heavier than the last. you bite your lip to suppress a moan when gojo's fingers dig into your hip, claiming you as his own.

when he steps away, you glance over your shoulder, watch him with wide eyes, the sight of his muscular back flexing as he moves filling you with a new wave of desire. you shift restlessly, your legs trembling with the effort of keeping yourself upright. you catching gojo's piercing gaze as he continues to record you with his phone. a shiver runs down your spine at the realization that he's still capturing this moment, preserving the raw, unfiltered desire between you two.

“gojo...” you whining.

by the time he returns, you're panting lightly, your body already responding to his mere presence. you look up at him through half-lidded eyes, a silent plea for more in your gaze.

gojo's presence looms large behind you, his towering frame casting a shadow over your smaller form. you can feel the heat radiating off his body, mingling with the chill of the table. it's a stark contrast that sends a thrill through you.

“don't worry, i won't let you fall,” gojo whispers, his voice low and husky, filled with promise. he leans down, pressing a searing kiss to the exposed curve of your neck, his hands roaming freely now that he had returned.

one hand finds its way to your breast, palming the soft flesh, thumb circling over your nipple, coaxing it into a hardened peak. the other travels lower, slipping beneath the hem of your skirt, fingertips brushing against the damp fabric.

you arch into his touch instinctively, a soft moan escaping your lips as pleasure shoots straight to your core. you squirm against him, desperate for more friction, more of his talented hands exploring your sensitive skin.

“hold me,” you whimper, your voice barely above a whisper. you tilt your head back, giving gojo better access to your neck, a soft gasp escaping your lips as he kisses and nibbles at your tender skin.

your breasts ache for his touch, nipples hardening further under his skilled ministrations. you reach back, threading your fingers through his messy white hair, pulling him closer to you.

his hand on your breast squeezes gently, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. the sensation of his fingers tracing the edge of your skirt, teasingly close to where you need him most, drives you wild. you grind back against his hand, seeking relief from the building pressure.

“i’ve got you,” gojo murmurs against your skin, his hot breath ghosting over your ear. he slides his hand higher, pushing your skirt up around your waist. his fingers skim over your inner thighs, tauntingly close to your aching center.

he nips at your earlobe before soothing the sting with his tongue. “you're so responsive, so eager for my touch.”

gently, he eases you onto your stomach, the cool surface of the table a shock against your heated skin. he leans over you, his chest pressed to your back, one hand sliding up your side to cup your breast, while the other dips between your thighs, finally touching you where you needed him most.

“i'm going to make you feel so good, baby,“ he promises, his fingers stroking along your slick folds. “have you ever getting fuck in your ass before, baby?” you send a soft spank on your ass before spreading them apart.

“no..” you admit breathlessly, your hips bucking slightly as gojo's fingers find your entrance. you bite your lip, trying to stifle a moan as he begins to explore your most intimate area. his touch is electric, sending sparks of pleasure racing through your veins.

“please...” you whimper, unsure what you're begging for but craving more of his skilled caresses. “more...”

gojo's fingers press deeper, curling inside you as he strokes your inner walls. you clench around him, your body responding eagerly to his invasion. the thought of taking him in your ass sends a thrill through you, a mix of apprehension and excitement. “do you want to..?” you trail off, leaving the decision in his capable hands.

“we'll start slow, alright?” gojo reassures you, his voice dripping with seduction. his fingers slide out of you only to tease your swollen clit, coaxing another moan from your lips. then, just when you think you can't stand the teasing anymore, he presses two fingers back into your tight hole, stretching you slowly, methodically.

“relax, i'll take good care of you.” gojo presses another open-mouthed kiss to your shoulder blade as he slowly works two fingers into your tight heat. he scissors them, stretching you gently, preparing you for his cock.

“let me take care of everything,” he whispers, kissing along your spine. his thumb continues to work your clit, adding to the mind-numbing pleasure. you can hear the slick sound of your arousal coating his fingers, mixing with the wet slap of his palm against your sensitive bud.

once you've adjusted to the initial intrusion, he adds a third finger, pumping them steadily as his other hand continues to knead and massage your breast. he rolls your nipple between his fingers, pinching lightly until you arch your back, pushing yourself more firmly into his touch.

the tension builds within you, coiling tighter and tighter until you're on the brink of release. suddenly, he withdraws completely, leaving you panting and needy. “are you ready for more?”

you nod frantically, unable to form words as waves of pleasure continue to crash over you. “yes... please...” you beg, your voice trembling with need. you spread your legs wider, inviting him to continue his ministrations. “i need you,” you confess, turning your head to look back at him. the sight of his confident smile, combined with the lustful glint in his eyes, sends another wave of desire coursing through you.

“good girl,” gojo praises, his voice low and husky. he trails kisses down your spine, pausing to nibble on your lower back before positioning himself at your entrance. “get ready, because i'm going to fill you up nice and slow.”

his thick cockhead nudges at your tight hole, applying gentle pressure as he starts to push in. you gasp, feeling the stretch as he buries himself inch by delicious inch. “breathe,” he commands, holding still until you relax again.

gradually, he sinks deeper, filling you until there's no space left between you. “ohh, fuck... squeezing me too fucking tight,” gojo groans softly, his hands gripping your hips tightly. once he's fully sheathed inside you, he pauses, giving you a moment to adjust to the sensation before beginning to move.

“shit, shit, shit,” you cry out as he finally pushes past the ring of muscle, sinking deep into your tight passage. the fullness is unlike anything you've ever experienced before— intense and overwhelming in the best possible way. you feel so deliciously stuffed, every nerve ending alight with sensation.

your walls flutter and clench around him instinctively, drawing him in even deeper. “slowly— god, slowly, gojo,” you whimper, having your forehead pressed against the cold tabletop and your eyes tightly shut.

“fuck, your ass is so tight, like it wants to swallow my whole cock,” gojo groans, starting to thrust slowly. he pulls out almost all the way before sliding back in, burying himself to the hilt. “i love how you feel around me, so hot and wet...”

he sets a steady rhythm, each stroke sending jolts of pleasure through your body. his hands roam your curves, caressing your sides, your breasts, your thighs. he leans over you, pressing his chest against your back as he rocks into you. “you're doing so well, taking me so deep,” he murmurs in your ear, nipping at your earlobe. “such a good little slut for me, aren't you?” his dirty talk combined with the intense sensations quickly drives you towards the edge.

“fucking hell, gojo! slowly!” you moan and groan wantonly. your gaze meets his over your shoulder as you glare at him, pushing your hips back to meet his thrusts. the filthy words falling from his lips only heighten your arousal, making you feel deliciously dirty and used.

your body trembles and shakes, overwhelmed by the intensity of the sensations. your fingers scrabble for purchase on the smooth surface of the table, nails digging into the wood as you try to ground yourself. “it hurts a bit, okay?” you grumble between your moan.

“i know, baby. just breathe through it,” gojo coos, slowing his thrusts even more. “i'll make it feel so much better, i promise.” he reaches around to rub circles on your clit, trying to distract you from the slight pain. “focus on the pleasure, let it wash over you...”

he kisses and licks at your neck, alternating between soft sucks and sharp nips. his free hand slides up your body to pinch and tug at your nipples, rolling them between his fingers.

“that's it, just like that,” he encourages as you start to relax into the sensations. “let me make you feel good, sweetheart. i want to hear you scream my name when you come undone.”

his thrusts gradually pick up speed again, each one hitting that sweet spot inside you that makes stars explode behind your eyelids. your forehead pressed harder against the table top sending a wave of disapproval from gojo. his hand took a fist of your hair and pulled your head back, “no, no, no, don't hide from the camera, let the camera see your beautiful face when i fuck you,” he said, grinning happily towards the camera.

you whine softly as he pulls your head back, but then you force yourself to look at the camera, even as tears prick at the corners of your eyes from the intense stretching and pleasure. your cheeks flush a deep crimson as you bite your lip, trying to stifle a scream.

“fuck, fuck, fuck, gojo,”you manage to gasp out, your voice trembling with need. the dual sensations of his thick cock pounding into you and his fingers teasing your sensitive clit are too much to bear. gojo growls approvingly, watching you struggle to hold back your cries. “you’re so fucking beautiful when you're in pain,” he says, his tone filled with lustful admiration.

he quickens his pace once more, driving into you with relentless force. each thrust sends ripples of pleasure coursing through your body, making your legs quiver beneath you. his grip on your hair tightens as he yanks your head back further, forcing you to arch your spine and present yourself fully to him. the change in angle allows him to hit even deeper, his cockhead brushing against your wall with each merciless plunge.

“look at how hard your nipples are getting,” he taunts, pinching them sharply between his thumb and forefinger. “you're such an exhibitionist, loving every second being filmed while we fuck...”

you can't help but cry out loudly now, your moans echoing off the walls as gojo pounds into you relentlessly. “gojo, shit, shit— ahh,” you chant breathlessly, your hips bucking back to meet his brutal thrusts. the mix of pain and pleasure is dizzying, overwhelming your senses until all you can focus on is the feeling of his huge cock splitting you open.

tears stream down your face as you stare wide-eyed at the camera, your expression a perfect mix of agony and ecstasy. your tits bounce lewdly with each slam of his hips against yours, the buds of your nipples stiff peaks begging to be sucked.

“harder,” you plead desperately, lost in a haze of lust. “ah! want you— harder, mhm..”

“oh? you want it harder?” gojo smirks wickedly, his eyes gleaming with sadistic delight. “as you wish, my little slut.” with a dark chuckle, he suddenly grabs your hips in a bruising grip and starts to absolutely rail into you. the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room as he pistons in and out of your tight hole at a breakneck pace. your whole body jolts with each violent thrust, your breasts swaying wildly beneath you.

“fuck, your ass feels incredible,” he groans, angling his hips to drill into your g-spot dead-on. “so hot and wet and tight... made to milk my cock dry.”

he leans over you, pressing his muscular chest against your back as he continues his ruthless assault. his teeth find your shoulder, biting down hard enough to leave marks. he leaves his tongue over the abused flesh, soothing the sting before moving higher to nip at your earlobe.

you wail in agonized bliss as gojo fucks into you like a man possessed, each savage thrust shaking you to your core. your pussy clenches greedily around his pistoning shaft, desperate to hold onto him as he ravages you.

“oh my god!” you keen shrilly, your screams growing louder and more frantic by the second. the wet squelch of your juices filling the air only adds to the filthy symphony of your coupling.

your nails scrabble uselessly at the table as gojo's teeth sink into your tender flesh, marking you as his. the sharp pain mixes deliciously with the mind-numbing pleasure, sending you hurtling towards the edge. “gonna cum, gojo, ’m cumming!”

at your words, gojo redoubles his efforts, slamming into you with abandon. “that's right, cum for me,” he commands, his voice thick with lust. “let me see just how much of a good girl you can be...”

his fingers curl around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp and arch your back further. the added stimulation pushes you over the brink, your climax crashing over you like a tidal wave. your inner walls clench tightly around gojo's throbbing member, milking him for all he's worth.

your orgasm triggers his own release, his cock twitching inside you as he spills his hot seed deep within your womb. he grunts loudly, the sound mingling with your high-pitched whimpers and the steady rhythm of your heartbeat.

your entire being shudders violently as your orgasm rips through you, every nerve ending alight with electric pleasure. your vision blurs, colors bleeding together as you lose yourself completely to the sensations coursing through your body.

gojo's hand around your throat sends an extra jolt of excitement zinging straight to your clit, pushing you over the edge into a mind-bending peak. your pussy spasms uncontrollably, gripping his cock in a vice-like squeeze as you ride out the waves of your climax.

when gojo finally releases inside you, coating your insides with his scorching hot cum, it's almost too much to bear. your already sensitive nerves are overwhelmed by the sensation, leaving you a quivering, boneless mess.

the feeling of your tight walls pulsating around his cock, milking him for every drop, draws a guttural moan from gojo. he holds you firmly in place, refusing to let either of you move until every last bit of pleasure has been wrung out. his fingers tighten slightly on your throat but not enough to cut off your air supply. instead, it's another form of control, keeping you right where he wants you— helpless and utterly at his mercy.

as the aftershocks continue to rock through both bodies, gojo gently withdraws from your slickened ass, gently flipping you on your back and stepping away just enough so he can admire the sight of your flushed face and heaving chest.

you lay sprawled across the table, legs splayed wide and gojo's cum leaking out of your thoroughly used holes. your skin glistens with a sheen of sweat, hair sticking to your forehead in damp tendrils. you look absolutely debauched, and you know it.

gojo drinks in the sight of you, his gaze roaming hungrily over every inch of exposed flesh. “you're such a good girl,” he praises, voice low and rough. “i don't think i can get enough of you now i get a taste of you, y/n, looks like i just have to spend the rest of my life with you.”

the threat sends a thrill down your spine, even as a small part of you knows you should protest. but the thought of belonging to gojo fully, of being at his complete mercy... it's too exciting to resist.

gojo's words hang heavy in the air between you, the promise of a lifetime spent as his personal plaything sending a fresh rush of arousal through your veins. you know you should put up some kind of resistance, insist on maintaining some semblance of independence, but the idea of being owned so completely by someone as powerful and dominant as gojo is simply too tempting to pass up.

“great, now i'm stuck with you,” you manage to say breathlessly, trying to inject a note of teasing bravado into your tone despite the way your body trembles with need. your body was still trembling as you slowly pushed yourself up from the table, the heat of the moment still lingering in the air.

a dangerous smile spreads across gojo's face as he watches you struggle to sit up. he leans down, bracing one hand on the tabletop next to you, his gaze roaming over your flushed features, taking in every nuance of your expression.

“you say that like it's a bad thing,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. “and we both know you don’t really mind being mine, princess. you love it, admit it.” he leans down to kiss your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin. “mine,” he whispers, his voice low and possessive.

as he pulls back, his eyes lock onto your face, seeking any hint of reluctance. but he finds none. your breathing is shaky, and your cheeks are flushed, and despite your feeble protest, your body betrays your true feelings. you know you're his, and he knows it too.

he straightens up, taking a step back to give you room to sit up fully. “don't worry,” he says, his tone almost reassuring. “i'll take care of you, princess. i always take care of what's mine.”

you glanced at gojo, who was now standing tall, watching you with that same smug, satisfied look. despite everything, there was a hint of softness in his eyes as he watched you regain your composure.

“at least help me clean up,” you muttered, still slightly breathless. your cheeks flushed as you stretched your hand towards him, fingers brushing the hem of your skirt to adjust it. “you made the mess, after all.”

gojo's lips curled up in a playful smirk at your request. “oh, princess,” he drawled, taking a step closer and closing the distance between you. “always demanding, aren't you?”

he leaned down, his face inches from yours as he gently pushed your hand away from your skirt. “don't worry, i’ll clean up,” he murmured, his voice low and sultry. “but i think i’ll take my time and enjoy the view first.”

“shut up, gojo,” you snapped, your voice sharp as you glared at him. “i’m mad at you for making a mess out of me when i was supposed to be having fun with my friends.”

gojo just chuckled, clearly unfazed by your frustration. he knelt down, picking up your discarded corset from the floor, his eyes still twinkling with amusement. “you always blame me for the fun stuff,” he teased, but his hands were already working, buttoning up your shirt first with a surprising tenderness.

as he helped you back into your corset, his fingers brushing your skin as he tightened the laces, you couldn’t help but huff in frustration. “because you always annoy me and i always blame you for everything, you better make this up to me,” you muttered under your breath.

gojo chuckled at your irritation, his hands still working to button up your shirt. “can’t help being a bit mischievous, princess,” he replied lightly. “it’s part of my charm.”

he finished buttoning up your shirt, leaving a few buttons undone, his gaze lingering on the exposed skin at your throat before moving on to your corset. his hands skimmed the lace and silk with a hint of reverence as he slowly laced you up.

“make it up to you?” he repeated, his voice low and playful. “i thought i just did, princess.”

you smacked his chest lightly, your frustration evident. “shut up, gojo,” you grumbled, rolling your eyes as you started scanning the floor for your missing thong. “where’s my thong?” you muttered under your breath, feeling the irritation bubble up again.

gojo, now pulling his button up shirt over his arm, glanced down with a smirk. “it’s probably somewhere around here,” he teased, watching you with amusement as you searched. “i think it flew off when you were, you know, too busy being ‘mad’ at me.”

as you shot him a glare, he chuckled softly, picking up his own clothes and tossing them on, clearly enjoying the aftermath of your little encounter. “here, princess,” he said, suddenly bending down and tossing the thong toward you, his smirk still lingering.

you caught the thong instinctively, feeling a fresh wave of irritation. gojo's casual demeanor only fueled your annoyance, but the way he was watching you, his gaze lingering on your body, was both infuriating and exciting.

you slipped the thong back on, fixing your skirt as you straightened up. your cheeks were flushed, and your breath was still coming in slightly labored gasps. you did your best to compose yourself, feeling the weight of his gaze on you like a physical touch. gojo had finished dressing himself and was now standing casually, leaning against the table as he observed you.

“all fixed up, princess,” he teased, his eyes roaming over your form. “although i have to say, i do enjoy the disheveled look on you.”

he pushed himself away from the table and sauntered towards you, his steps leisure yet deliberate. he stopped just in front of you, his body close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him. “you know, it's quite adorable when you try to be mad at me,” he murmured, his voice low and sultry.

you glared at him, still flushed with a mix of annoyance and lingering desire. “shut up, gojo,” you snapped, your voice laced with frustration. “and stop looking at me like that, you perv.”

gojo chuckled, not the least bit deterred by your glare. “can't help it, princess,” he replied, his voice dripping with mock innocence. “you're just too damn hot to ignore.”

he took a step closer, closing the gap between you so that his chest was almost pressed against yours. “and i see that you still haven‘t fully composed yourself,” he murmured, his eyes trailing over your flushed cheeks. “still a little flustered, are we?”

you narrowed your eyes at him, huffing in frustration. “shut up, gojo,” you muttered again, your voice firmer this time, but the hint of a pout on your lips betrayed you. “shut up and let’s just go already.”

gojo smirked, clearly enjoying your reaction, but he grabbed his mask and your bunny band without another word. he handed you the bunny band, but before you could take it, you looked at him with a softer, slightly sheepish expression. “hold me?” you asked, your voice a little quieter now.

gojo's smirk softened into a small smile as he heard your softer tone. he knew your irritation was fading, and what was left was your playful, more vulnerable side. he reached out and gently took hold of your waist, pulling you closer against him.

“of course, princess,” he murmured, his voice low and gentle. “i'll hold you. i'll always hold you.” he wrapped his strong arms around you, pulling you flush against his chest. he nuzzled his face against the top of your head, inhaling the sweet scent of your hair.

you leaned into gojo's embrace, your irritation completely gone now, replaced by a shy warmth. as you felt his arms tighten around you, a thought crossed your mind—one that made your cheeks flush slightly.

you looked up at him, remembering how he had recorded everything earlier. your voice came out quieter, almost hesitant. “gojo,” you murmured, biting your lip slightly, “about that video... can you send it to me?” a wave of shyness washed over you as you avoided his eyes, feeling a bit embarrassed for even asking.

gojo raised an eyebrow, surprised by your sudden request. he tried to keep his voice even as a small smile played on his lips. “you want that, princess?” he asked, a hint of incredulousness in his tone. “you want me to send you a video of us?”

he gently gripped your chin, tilting your face up so that you had to meet his gaze. his eyes searched your face, trying to read the expression in your eyes.

“uh-uh,” you murmur, slightly embarrassed for asking for a video— more likely a sex-tape— of you and him. gojo grinned, his eyes sparkling with amusement and a hint of genuine affection. “princess, are you feeling a little kinky?” he teased. “asking for a video of us?”

he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. “i don't mind sending it to you. i’m quite proud of my performance in it.”

you rolled your eyes at gojo’s teasing, a smirk tugging at your lips despite yourself. "don’t flatter yourself, gojo," you replied, your tone laced with playful sarcasm. "it’s not that impressive."

as the two of you walked out of the library, his arm still comfortably wrapped around your waist, you gave him a side glance. “i just want it for... research purposes,” you added with a mock-serious expression, unable to hide the mischievous glint in your eyes.

gojo's smirk widened at your response, his eyes glimmering with playful mischief. he chuckled and pulled you closer to his side, clearly enjoying the banter.

“research purposes, eh?” he echoed, raising an eyebrow in mock skepticism. “and what kind of research, pray tell, does a princess like you need that video for?” he leaned down, his voice dropping to a low, seductive tone. “or is it for... private viewing pleasure?”

you smirked up at him, clearly amused by his teasing. “oh, i’m going to sell it,” you said, your voice dripping with mock seriousness. “think of all the girls out there willing to pay for a glimpse of the great gojo in action. i could make a fortune.”

gojo let out a low chuckle, a mix of surprise and amusement. he tightened his arm around your waist, pulling you even closer against him.

“selling a video of me? princess, i'm both flattered and offended,” he teased, feigning hurt in his tone. his eyes sparkled as he continued, “but don't forget… there's two of us in that video. they’ll be paying to see you too.”

gojo’s grin widened as he guided you toward the parking spot, his arm still firmly around your waist. “let’s go to my place, princess,” he murmured, his tone carrying that familiar mix of teasing and suggestion. “we can discuss this little business venture of yours in private.”

he glanced down at you, his eyes glinting with mischief. “besides, i have a feeling you'd want to make sure the video’s... edited to your liking before you sell it.” he winked, clearly enjoying pushing your buttons as he led you toward his car.

gojo gives your ass a firm squeeze before stepping back, to open the door of his car for you, “we can see how our little video turned out. maybe we can even edit in some close-ups of that pretty face of yours while you're sucking me off...”

you feigned annoyance at his shamelessness, but you couldn't help the flush that spread across your cheeks at his words. you ducked into the passenger seat, trying to hide your flustered reaction.

“you're impossible, gojo,” you huffed, trying to maintain a tone of feigned indifference. “always so confident and shameless.” but even as you spoke, you knew that you were just as eager as him to get back to his place and see that video. you were just unwilling to admit it out loud.

TAGLIST :

@fairiesthrum @22marie16 @pe4rl-diver @meowingtatum @prettymoonlightsworld @sonotpattismith @leidypop @anthastudios @luminiso @blueemochii @rumi-rants @wakashudou @ameeeeeliie @reverrieee @iheartsuya @starlightglimmersworld

[p0orbaby]

Request😍: y/n and alessia or leah (you decide! find your tumblr side and aaalll the stories of them. It leads to jealous alessia/leah bc of y/n being with other girls (like getting jealous when your partner cheats in your dream). Reader has to handle the situation and in the end manages to make less/leah focus on all the fluffy/spicy stuff there is about them. If you want to make it smutty (what we all love hehe): they eventually get inspired by tumblr and choose another story (you can decide which of all the good alessia/leah x reader smut on here) to reenact. Thank you!!! (If you dont want to write this feel free to repost for another writer, also you can switch the roles who is jealous, i dont care:)

i amended this a little, pls don’t hate me

it would be harsh to call this a crack fic but i honestly giggled the whole time writing it 🤭

-

You find Alessia on the sofa, her face illuminated by the blue glow of her phone screen. At first, you think she’s watching one of those oddly specific TikToks she loves—something about cats playing table tennis or an American teenager ranking their favourite crisps. But then you notice the furrow in her brow, the way her teeth tug at her bottom lip. Her expression is equal parts confusion, disbelief, and mild offence.

“Everything alright?” you ask, setting your keys on the counter.

She doesn’t answer immediately, which is a bad sign. Alessia always greets you the moment you walk through the door, even if it’s just to ask what you’ve brought for dinner. Instead, she tilts the phone slightly so you can see the screen.

“Do you know about this?” she asks, voice clipped.

You lean over, squinting at the screen. The webpage is clunky, its layout straight out of 2012, and the title reads something absurd like ‘Sunlit Smiles and Shadowed Hearts’. Your name is prominently featured in the summary, alongside a few other recognisable ones.

“It’s fanfiction,” she says, answering the question you haven’t asked yet. “About you”

You blink. “About me?”

“And other people,” she adds, her tone sharp now, like the edge of a too-clean knife.

The penny drops. “Wait—what?”

She sits up straighter, turning the phone to face you fully. “Look. This one has you with… God, Tooney. And this one—oh, this is just brilliant—you’re married to Ona. Married! Like we’re just some passing fling”

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing, which, given her expression, would be a tactical error. Alessia doesn’t do jealousy often, but when she does, it’s like an overdramatic romcom villain plotting their revenge.

“Well,” you say carefully, “at least they’ve got good taste?”

“Good taste?” she repeats, incredulous. “One of these has you sneaking off with Mary behind my back during a post-match interview!”

“Creative, though,” you offer.

She glares at you, tossing the phone onto the cushion beside her. “This isn’t funny”

“It’s a little funny,” you say, sitting down next to her.

“It’s not,” she insists, crossing her arms. “Do you know how many of these there are? And how many don’t have me in them at all? Like I’m just some side character in your life?”

You try to suppress the grin tugging at your lips, but it’s no use. “Less, you do realise this is all made up, right? None of it’s real”

She huffs, her cheeks pink now. “I know that. But still. It’s insulting”

You reach for her hand, gently uncrossing her arms. “Alright, let’s look at it this way. I’m obviously very popular. Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Not when you’re popular with everyone except me”

“Oh, come on,” you tease, squeezing her hand. “I’m pretty sure there’s stuff about us too. The fluffy, romantic, borderline inappropriate kind”

Alessia hesitates, her gaze flicking to the phone. “You think so?”

“I know so,” you say confidently. “Because we’re the superior couple. Clearly”

That earns a small smile, though she tries to hide it. “You’re an idiot”

“And yet, here I am, fully committed to proving my devotion,” you say, reaching for her phone. You type in a search, scrolling through pages until you find what you’re looking for. “See? Right here. This one’s about us”

She leans over, peering at the screen. Her eyes scan the words, and slowly, her frown starts to fade.

“This is… cute,” she admits reluctantly.

“Exactly,” you say, draping an arm around her shoulders. “So, no more being jealous of fictional versions of me, okay? They don’t get to go home with you. I do”

She turns to look at you, her expression softening further. “Fine. But I’m still not over the Mary thing”

You laugh, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Noted. I’ll make it up to you”

“You better,” she mumbles, but there’s no real bite to her words anymore.

It’s only later, as you’re cooking dinner together, that you catch her sneaking glances at her phone again, her lips twitching with the beginnings of a smile. If she’s reading more of those stories, you don’t mention it. Some battles are better left unpicked.