#midnight mission impossible | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ponderingmoonlight · 7 months ago

Note

Gojo falls ill and reader does finishes his missions and her own missions as well do Gojo doesn't have a pile of work waiting for him once he gets better. Gojo gets better. And finds out. Hehehehe Lobe u babes

omg I love this, let's do it hehe

Reader finishing Gojo's missions when he falls sick and he finds out

Pairing: Gojo x wife!reader

Word Count: 2,3k

Synopsis: When your husband falls sick, you don't think twice about completing all of his tasks in order for him to not be stressed - even if it means multiple sleepless nights for youself. Little did you know that your husband will find out about it and thank you in his own way...

Warnings: pure fluff over fluff so enjoy, Gojo basically being THE husband for y'all, not proofread because it's already darn late here and I'm way too tired

„Oh come on, don’t tell me the honoured one caught a cold”, you playfully tease your beloved husband.

He’s definitely ill, there’s no doubt in that. The way his forehead is covered in sweat, his unusual pale face paired with his heavy breathing. Let alone the sight of his red and runny nose.

You never thought this is possible. After all, Satoru is one of the few people who are able to use revered technique. Isn’t he able to heal himself, to prevent his body from falling sick?

“Looks like I overdid it those last weeks. My body is catching up on my apparently”, he replies weakly along with a nasty sounding cough.

You know all too well these last weeks were like a trip to hell and back for him. This is actually the first time you saw your husband after one whole week of him running from mission to mission and coming home into bad past after midnight. Being two special grade sorcerers, it is your responsibility to prevent the worst things from happening. Especially during summer, the number of curses triples. And that paired with the stinging fact that jujutsu sorcerers die like flies each and every day…

It’s no wonder his body took a toll on him.

“You’ll stay here for the rest of the week, babe”, you instruct him gently while pulling a blanket up his chest.

“Nah, no chance. I’ll have a pile of work when I get back and-AH.”

It’s frightening, the way he almost chokes while coughing so roughly that it vibrates through your whole body. This doesn’t sound good at all. To be exact, you’ve never seen your husband like this despite the fact that you’ve been together for multiple years by now. If he’s feeling this miserable, it’s definitely time for a break.

“Don’t worry about that. I hold the position while you’re gone.”

Little did he know you meant that.

-a week later-

“It’s far past midnight. Why are you still up, (y/n)?”

His hoarse voice rips you out of your microsleep immediately, lids so heavy they feel like closing by themselves if you don’t pay close attention.

“Oh, just work.”

No, it’s not just work. Apart from the daily drama you have to endure, you made it your mission to complete each and every task your husband would face as soon as he comes back. You know all too well he’ll throw himself fully into work again, not thinking about his own health a single second. And to prevent that, you decided to finish his missions as well, to teach his students, to do anything in your power to prevent Satoru from a pile of work.

Including swollen eyelids, constant grumpy mood, no effort to eat and your shoulders hanging down onto the ground.

You hate to admit it, but you are exhausted. You never realized how much work your husband does during the day. Must be easier for him, though. Teleportation sure sounds nice at the moment…

“I’m worried about you, babe. Are the elders bombarding you with work again? Maybe I need to have a serious talk again-“

“No, don’t think too much about it. I’m just hanging on a bit, that’s it”, you lie.

Oh, Satoru knows it is. After all, you’re talking about yourself. You, so disciplined that you’d never leave work unattended. No, it’s absolutely impossible that you’re “hanging on a bit”. But what else is it? The dark circles underneath your eyes look like valleys in the soft light of a lamp, tired eyes failing to focus on the paperwork in front of you. Usually, this is what you’re doing straight in the morning when he’s still asleep. What keeps you so busy these last days? He has to find out, he-

He almost chokes on himself again, earning a concerned side eye from you. It’s been a week and he’s still sick to the brim. Worry lines decorate your face, palm gently resting against his scorching hot forehead.

“Off to bed with you.”

“Don’t stay up too long, okay? All you seem to do is work these last days”, your husband replies worried himself.

You sigh to yourself. That’s because you do. But leaving your husband to a pile of work after he returns to Jujutsu High only to get sick again? You grab the pen in your hand tighter, force your eyes to fully open. Only a few more days and you’ll be done. After all, you’re doing this for him, right?

Satoru is definitely worth the sleepless nights.

-a few days after-

“Turns out I’m fully back at normal again, babe!”, your husband announces proudly.

You blink against the harsh light of the merciless sun, eyes dry like sand. Only a few hours ago, you returned from a village Satoru was supposed to inspect. Well, minutes turned into hours when a special grade curse appeared out of no where and made your life living hell. The sun already began to rise when you carried yourself back into bed.

But still, you can’t help but smile at him. These last days were rough for him. Him, the strongest, passed out because of a cold. He wasn’t himself all this time, weak body bound into bed with his limbs aching.

“So glad to here that”, you mumble while pressing a gentle kiss onto his lips.

“Sleep in for a while, you look exhausted (y/n). I know you just came back a few hours ago and don’t you dare to lie at me.”

Your eyes widen in an instant, cheeks blushing ever so slightly. You were so careful about leaving and returning, his even and long breaths not giving a single hint that he might be awake.

“I’m heading to Jujutsu High, bet work piled up pretty bad. Wish me good luck and have a good rest princess, I’ll kick their asses if they try to call you!”

With one last loving glance at you, he’s gone. And you can’t help but pass out immediately.

“Guess who’s back to save the day!”, Satoru announces proudly into the room filled with his students and Yaga Masamichi who looks at him with the same disinterest as usual.

“You? Didn’t even know you even exist anymore”, Nobara mumbles while filing down her nails.

“How are you? (y/n) told us you were sick”, Yuji interjects.

“I’m completely back to normal!”

“What a shame”, Megumi mumbles under his breath.

“Sooo, what side of earth do I have to save today? I’m sure a lot of work piled up while I was gone. After all, I’m the strongest.”

Satoru stretches himself playfully, waiting for the director to tell him about all different kinds of missions, curses and teachings he has to deal with these next few days. But instead, he just shrugs his shoulders.

“What? Got nothing to say? Okay, let me guess, what about that special grade curse in the village-“

“Done”, Yaga Masamichi replies dryly.

“The combat training with the first year-“

“Done.”

“Any curses that appeared in Tokyo?”

“Done.”

“Taking care of-“

“Done.”

This can’t be true, the man in front of him has to joke. Apart from you, Satoru is the only special grade sorcerer here at Jujutsu High. No one would ever be able to fulfil some of those missions, let alone teach his students just like that. Not even the director himself is capable of dealing with that special grade curse he was talking about just before Satoru got sick. But who…?

“Didn’t your wife tell you she already managed all those things?”

Oh, he was so stupid that it hurts. All these nights he caught you almost falling asleep on your desk, the multiple times you sneaked out of bed far past midnight, the dark circles under your eyes. All this time, you weren’t only busy with your own missions. No, you actually fulfilled all of his work for him as well.

“Just the amount of work I have to do when I come back. Urgh, being sick sucks.”

“Don’t worry, love. I’m sure you’ll be fine.

Yeah, he sure as hell is. But only because you decided to make your own life living hell for two weeks straight.

“Please don’t tell me (y/n) did all of my stuff while I was gone.”

“I’ll never understand how a kind-hearted woman like her ended up with you. She didn’t even stop when I told her to and somehow managed to get information about the missions I prepared for your sick ass”, the director replies dryly.

“Call her in right now.”

Words aren’t enough to thank you for this. No, you deserve way more than that, way more than his mouth could ever give you.

“And let her leave again in about an hour.”

-an hour later-

“Again, sorry for calling you in, (y/n). Now get back home, you’re free tomorrow.”

“Thank you”, is all you’re able to reply, wobbly feet carrying you back into your car and onto the road.

You sigh to yourself. Well, you definitely didn’t expect the director to call you this early when you just returned from an exhausting mission. But who are you to say no to him? After all, it’s your job to do this, it’s your job to protect the innocent.

But…Is it also your job to answer strange questions from your students in the morning?

“Come on, use your brain! You know what the director said!”, Nobara hisses through gritted teeth, the trio sticking their heads together after you were forced to drop your haircare routine to Nobara.

“Ehm...so…well…”

“If you don’t have any further questions, I’ll go-“

“Yes! I have a question!”, Yuji screams so loudly that his voice echoes through your tired brain.

“What is it, Yuji?”, you mutter with your eyes closed.

“How exactly are babies made, (y/n)-san?”

“You’re an idiot…”, Megumi grumbles.

“Really? This is all you have left in your pea-sized brain?”

“What? You just told me to ask her something and that’s what I came up with!”, Yuji defends himself.

“Yeah, but that ‘something’ definitely didn’t include THAT!”

It’s almost as if they were forced to ask you dumb questions. You’ll definitely have a talk with your husband about their strange behaviour when you caught up on sleep. But before that…

You open the door with a swift motion.

Your heart skips a beat, eyes widen.

The usual so modern and clean living-room is now covered in rose pedals and filled with the fresh scent of sakura leaves, your couch unfolded and covered in the most fluffy blankets, pillows and stuffed animals you’re ever seen. And there he sits.

He, your beloved husband, holding up your bathrobe oh so inviting.

“What’s going on here?”, you breathe out.

Suddenly, all the exhaustion you felt earlier disappeared into thin air. Did he really do all of this for you? The candles flickering, the blankets, the strawberries covered in chocolate waiting on the table, him wearing that black t-shirt you love so much.

“Guess what, I found out what you did. Did you really think you’ll get away with stealing my work in silence?”, he teases, love dripping from each and every word he says.

“It was nothing”, you try to brush him off.

But instead, he gets up and grabs your hand in order to guide you into the dim bathroom that is only lightened by a few candles. Again, the lovely smell of sakura leaves radiates from the bathtub filled with bubbles and hot steam. Just the thought of letting yourself sink into that warm water, to finally release the tension in your sore muscles-

Before you’re even able to comprehend what’s happening, Satoru took off your clothes and lifts you off the ground with ease. Your body doesn’t dare to fight back, too weak from all the missions you completed these last days. Just the tip of your toe, relaxing in the water for a few minutes before returning to Jujutsu High…

“Nothing, huh? So you mean doing the stuff I need a month for in two weeks besides your own missions is nothing? Words can’t express how thankful I am to have such a sweet, caring and steaming hot wife”, he whispers against your ear, his fingers starting to massage your back oh so skilled.

You allow yourself to sink into his touch, to rest your eyes for a few minutes. Well, there is no denying in the fact that this was a little too much for you. All the fighting, the paper work, the heart and soul you poured in each and every work.

And then there’s him. Satoru, your beloved husband, who massages your back with his skilled fingers. How lucky you are to call him your husband, that he decided to spend the rest of his life with you. Even though he scolded you ever so slightly for managing his pile of work, you know he’d do the same for you in a heartbeat. What a treasure, how glad you are to know him, how wonderful he is…

“(y/n)?”, Satoru purrs against your ear.

You don’t response, chest rising and falling slow and steady. He can’t help but smile to himself, admiring he beauty of your finally resting face. Carefully, he lifts you out of the bathtub and covers your body in the fluffy bathrobe you love so much. You definitely deserve some rest for all the work you did these last days.

He can’t help but gently caress your cheek, making sure you’re completely tucked you underneath your favourite blanket.

“What a lucky man I am”, he mutters to himself while outlining your parted lips.

“To call someone so wonderful my wife…”

Tags:

@arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @hellkaiserinphoenix

@lauv4chuuya @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete

@gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut @mynahx3

@sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly

@froufrousnowman @tomiokathedepresso @gojosrealwife @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi

@chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain @risuola @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper

@baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp

@localhehecat @alicerhr @belovedvamp @wifenanami @dlwlrmas-world

@darkstarlight82 @satoreo @tachiharazsstuff @kentocalls @cheesemachine44

@ryva @komelrebi-san @deezy12299 @okay-it-is-ivy

(this took me forever so if I tagged u be so kind and leave a like/comment/reblog lol)

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actuallyitsstar · 8 months ago

Text

NINE PEOPLE I WOULD LIKE TO KNOW BETTER

OMG TYSM FOR TAGGING ME @liass-21 !!!!! i am so sorry i drafted this tag and i thought i queue'd it and i didnt so 😭😭😭 its only like a month late. its fine everythings fine. aaaaaa 😭

LAST SONG? - "photograph" by the midnight! it is on my writing-for-top-gun playlist bc it has huge maverick vibes lol.

FAVORITE COLOR? - pink!!!! also lighter purples and blues and most pastel shades <3 and black

CURRENTLY WATCHING? - a streamer i have never watched before playing the remaster of of tomb raider i-iii bc i am excited about the remaster!! and those games are my childhood <3 not to be a million years old or anything sakfhfjfhg

LAST MOVIE? - unfortunately it was 'oz the great and powerful' 😭 if any of y'all enjoyed that movie i respect it, but i had to see it on tv at a friend's house and we were having a great time laughing at the very unexpected writing and acting choices being made lol

SWEET/SPICY/SAVORY? - aaaaaaaa i guess savory ?????? but sweet has a special place in my heart ajdhfjfhfjg

RELATIONSHIP STATUS? - committed long term relationship to ~my person~ <3<3

CURRENT OBSESSIONS? - well this is gonna be obvious but top gun primarily !!!! additionally, dan and phil !! mission impossible !!! fall out boy!! and even if the current obsession level is not as high as other things, i am always at least partially obsessed with a hundred other things and people that i am probably posting about at the same time lol

LAST THING YOU GOOGLED? - “oz the great and powerful reviews” bc i wanted to make sure that im not crazy and that other ppl also felt that movie was an insane fever dream (apparently due to the 44% on metacritic i guess they did lol)😭

tagging: aaaaaa @brambleberrycottage @daffodilstark @tellhound @torchflies @melancholydandelion @goosefilms @driftershunt @downthegenderriver @callsignstingray

#tag games #mine #!!!!! I AM SO SORRY AGAIN. I AM DUMB. I DONT KNOW WHY I DIDNT QUEUE THIS BEFORE.#pls enjoy my month late tag response it was not worth the wait akdfhfjfhfjfhgjgh #star.txt

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allgoodnamesrgoneee · 2 months ago

Note

i love your virgil smut so much, dominant and size kink 😫😫 wondering if you could write the one that is similar for jude too please ❤

I know this one took me forever to upload but I had to make sure it was perfect for you guys. After 3 rewrites, I present to you...

After Hours

Masterlist

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — the one where you are his only desire.

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — Jude Bellingham x you

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 — 10.5k.

Warnings! FLUFF! He's down badddd, NSFW! SMUT (18+), size kink, protected vaginal sex (stay safe), oral sex (f receiving), hot sex, multiple orgasms, dom!Jude, sub!reader.

The Penthouse was alive with energy. Trent's birthday had drawn out the kind of crowd that made it impossible to move without brushing shoulders with someone.

Laughter spills over the booming bass of the music, blending with the distinct smell of alcohol and food wafting throughout the house. A mix of conversations buzz in every corner of the house—loud, overlapping, and relentless.

Jude leans against the far wall of the living room, eyes half-lidded as he sips from a drink he barely cares for. He wasn’t really a fan of these gatherings; too many people, too much noise. But Trent was a friend, and bailing wasn't an option.

At least not yet.

He was giving the party until midnight before making his excuses and heading out. It's 11:57. Almost there.

His gaze flickers to the clock mounted over the TV, then around the room at the partygoers. He spots Trent across the room, laughing and hugging a group of people, and smiles. He's happy his friend is having a good time.

He checks his watch again, making a silent vow to himself to stay put for at least two more minutes. He exhales quietly, thinking of how easy it would be to slip out unnoticed. He's already halfway to deciding on an exit strategy when something—someone—catches his attention.

There you are.

Standing on your tiptoes, trying—and failing—to grab something from the top shelf in the kitchen. Your brows furrow in concentration, bottom lip caught between your teeth as you stretch as far as your short frame would allow, but it's no use.

The cup remains tantalizingly out of reach, and it looks like you'd been at it for a while, silently battling the shelf like it was some kind of cruel joke.

Amused, Jude can't help the smirk tugging at his lips. The scene is oddly endearing.

His gaze sweeps over you, lingering for a moment on your curvy figure before he sets his drink down, the thought of leaving slipping from his mind. His legs move before he can stop himself, carrying him across the room with an easy stride. It takes him a second to cross the living room, dodging a couple of people on his way before finally reaching the kitchen.

Jude pauses just behind you, his height towering over your small frame. You don't notice him at first, too focused on your mission to retrieve the elusive cup.

A grin plays at the corner of his mouth as he reaches up with ease, his long arm grabbing the cup that had been giving you such a hard time.

You finally notice him, head snapping around, eyes widening as you take in his presence. You're flushed, whether from the exertion or embarrassment, Jude isn't sure, but the sight made something warm bubble up in his chest.

“Need a hand?” His voice is low, teasing, his smirk not fading.

You blink at him, brows furrowing slightly before a small, sheepish smile pulls at your lips. "That obvious, huh?" you mutter, voice soft but laced with a hint of humor. Your cheeks are a little pink, but you don't seem angry, just mildly exasperated.

Jude raises an eyebrow, his smirk still firmly in place. “I don’t know, you were getting pretty close. Maybe another few inches and you would've nailed it.”

You roll your eyes at him, embarrassment fading into something lighter. “Oh, shut up. Are you going to give me the cup, or are you just here to gloat?”

He chuckles, lowering the cup to your level. “Maybe a bit of both.”

You snatch it from his hand with a dramatic sigh, but the small smile you wear tells him you aren’t really upset. “Thanks... I guess,” you say, tone playfully begrudging. You set the cup down and turn to him, raising your eyes to his face.

There's a pause between you both as you take him in. He can see it, the way your gaze drags down his chest, over his arms, and back up again. His body responds to the attention, a spark of attraction lighting up inside him as he watches you study him.

He likes that. The way you look at him like that. He wants to see it again.

“So...” he says, interrupting your stare. “What's the occasion?” His eyes flick to the cup on the counter. “Late night tea party for one? I didn't know those were a thing.” He's not sure why he says it, maybe just to keep the light banter going. It feels like he should say something.

He watches you raise an eyebrow at him, the corner of your lips curling into an amused smile. “I needed a drink. Thought it was better than bothering the bartender.” You shrug, picking up the cup and sauntering over to the fridge. He follows you with his eyes, taking in the sway of your hips, his heart rate picking up a little as he thinks of how much fun he could have with your curvy little body.

“I can make one for you if you want,” Jude offers, his voice still teasing, but there’s a new edge to it, something more playful, maybe even flirtatious. He leans against the kitchen counter, eyes following your movements as you reach into the fridge, a teasing smile playing on his lips.

You glance back over your shoulder at him, eyebrows raised in mild surprise. "You? Make a drink?" you ask, amusement dripping from your tone.

He chuckles softly, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’ve been known to make a decent one or two. What are you in the mood for?”

You pause at the fridge, considering his offer for a moment before shutting the door without grabbing anything. Turning to face him, you lean back against the counter, mirroring his stance. “Surprise me.”

Jude grins, pushing off the counter as he steps closer, now standing directly in front of you. The space between you narrows, not quite enough to be uncomfortable, but just enough for the tension to feel palpable. He reaches up to grab a couple of bottles from the liquor cabinet above the sink, and you watch him with a mix of curiosity and amusement.

“So, do you always rescue people from their beverage-related dilemmas?” you ask, your tone light and teasing, though you can’t help but admire the ease with which he moves. There’s something effortless about him.

Jude smirks, eyes flicking to yours as he pours the first drink. “Only when they look as helpless as you did.”

You gasp, feigning offense, and lightly swat his arm. “I wasn’t helpless! I was just… strategically challenged.”

He laughs, the sound low and warm, and for a moment, it drowns out the rest of the party’s noise. “Right. My mistake,” he says, handing you the drink with a smirk that makes it clear he’s not sorry at all.

You take the glass from his hand, your fingers brushing against his for a brief moment, and you feel the electric tingle of the contact. It’s subtle but undeniable, and you wonder if he felt it too.

“Thanks,” you say, bringing the glass to your lips. You take a sip, the cool liquid soothing as it slides down your throat. You meet his gaze over the rim of the cup, noting the way his eyes seem to darken slightly as they lock onto yours.

“No problem,” he replies, voice quieter now, almost intimate despite the noise surrounding you. His eyes don’t leave yours, and for a brief second, it feels like the rest of the party has faded into the background, leaving just the two of you standing there, locked in this moment.

The drink is strong, but surprisingly good. You raise your eyebrows, impressed despite yourself.

“Well?” he asks, crossing his arms and leaning back against the counter with a smug expression. “Do I pass?”

You roll your eyes but can’t suppress the smile that tugs at your lips. “Okay, fine. I’ll give you that one. It’s decent.”

"Decent, huh?" Jude’s grin widens, a flicker of something playful lighting up his face. "I'll take that as high praise."

You shake your head, laughing softly as the tension between you both begins to shift into something easier, more comfortable. “I didn’t mean that as praise,” you tease, taking another sip from your drink.

He chuckles at the light jab, the sound rumbling from his chest. “Of course not.” Jude glances at his watch, raising his brows slightly as he notices how late it is.

He hadn’t planned to stay for long, but he was having too much fun chatting with you to leave right now. It wasn’t like him to enjoy a conversation so much, especially at a party like this. There was something about you that drew him in, made him want to stay and learn more about you.

“Are you leaving?” you ask, seeming to notice his attention on his watch.

He raises his gaze to meet yours, blinking. He shrugs, crossing his arms loosely over his chest. “Was just about to leave, actually.”

Your smile falters slightly, just for a second. “Already? But the party’s just getting started.”

“Not really my scene,” Jude admits, glancing back toward the crowded living room.

You nod, gaze flicking back to the drink in your hand as you swirl it absentmindedly. “Well, glad you did. Otherwise, I’d probably still be standing here, struggling for that cup like a fool.”

His eyes glimmer with amusement. “It wasn’t that bad.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Oh, come on. You were laughing at me.”

“Not laughing,” he corrects, a teasing edge to his voice. “Just…observing.”

His gaze flicks to yours, lips twitching with a grin. You arch an eyebrow at the response, but the playful teasing has you smiling again.

“So,” Jude says, suddenly changing the topic. “How do you know Trent?”

“He’s my sister's boyfriend” you reply, “You?”

“Wait! You're Y/N?” He blinks at you, realization dawning as he takes in the information. “Right. I should’ve made the connection earlier.” He laughs softly at himself, shaking his head.

You look exactly like your sister, with people sometimes mistaking you for twins. Your height was the only way for people to distinguish you sometimes. With her being 5'5 and you being 5'2.

You smile at his confusion, seeming amused by his reaction. “Yeah, that’s me. How do you know her?”

“Trent brought her to my New Year's party.”

“Oh, yeah...” You frown at him, as though remembering something. “You’re Jude, right? I think my sister has mentioned you a few times.”

He smirks at the memory, feeling something warm in his chest at the mention of your sister talking to you about him. “That’s me.”

A small silence falls between you both, the tension growing less easy now, but not quite uncomfortable. He thinks of something to say, but before he can open his mouth, you beat him to it.

“Do you want to step outside with me for a minute?” you ask, already setting your drink down on the counter.

He blinks, slightly taken aback by the sudden shift in topic. He was about to ask you to grab another drink with him when you mentioned going outside.

“Sure,” he replies finally, picking his drink up from the counter. “Lead the way.” He follows you through the crowded house, almost losing you a couple of times as you seem to disappear into the crowd. Damn, you're short.

The balcony is quieter than the inside, a couple smoking in the corner, but otherwise, it's fairly empty. The sounds of the party are muted now, a muffled background noise. The cold air feels like a welcome relief after the heat of the crowded living room.

“Nice out here,” he says as you sit down at a lounge, nodding to the empty spot next to you as he lowers himself onto it.

You smile, settling into your seat as you pull your jacket a little tighter against the chill. "Yeah, it's nice to get some air. Gets a bit suffocating in there."

Jude nods, glancing back toward the house where the sounds of the party still hum faintly through the walls. He’s relieved to be out here, away from the chaos, but more than that, he's glad you're here too. Conversation feels... easy with you, even though you've only known each other for a few minutes.

"So, you do this often?" he asks, leaning back in the seat, watching the way you absentmindedly twirl a strand of hair between your fingers.

You raise an eyebrow at him. "What, escape to the balcony?"

"No, I meant..." He gestures vaguely with his drink, smirking a little. "Come to these kinds of parties."

You laugh, the sound light and genuine. "Not really. Trent's parties are... something, but my sister drags me along sometimes. I think she feels bad leaving me home alone." You roll your eyes, but there's no real annoyance in your tone, just affection.

Jude studies you for a moment, noticing the way your expression softens when you talk about your sister. There's a warmth in your eyes that he hadn't seen earlier, and it makes him curious, wishing you would look at him like that.

"Seems like she cares about you," he says, tone a little softer now.

You shrug, a small smile playing on your lips. "Yeah, she does. It's kind of nice, even if I act like it's annoying sometimes."

Jude nods, thinking about his own brother for a moment before turning the conversation back to you. "So, what do you do when you're not at parties you don't really want to be at?"

You snort softly, bringing your knees up to rest your feet on the edge of the lounge. "Oh, you know, just saving the world, one cup at a time."

He chuckles at your sarcasm, but there's a twinkle of genuine amusement in his eyes as he leans forward slightly. "Seriously though."

"Okay, okay," you relent, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "I'm a med student, so I guess you could say I'm learning how to save lives."

Jude's eyebrows lift, impressed. "Wow, that's... intense."

You shrug, though there's a flicker of pride in your expression. "It is, but I love it. Always wanted to be a doctor."

"That's cool," he replies, leaning back again. "I bet you're great at it."

You glance at him, something in his tone catching your attention. He sounded sincere, not like the typical empty flattery you sometimes got. It makes you smile.

A comfortable silence settles between you both as you sip your drinks, the night air crisp but not too cold.

Jude watches you for a moment, noting the way the moonlight casts a soft glow on your face, making your eyes seem brighter in the darkness. There’s something calming about being out here with you, something grounding. It’s not what he expected when he first spotted you struggling with that cup, but now that you’re here, he’s not in any rush to leave.

“You know,” he starts, his voice low but warm, “this isn’t a bad way to spend the night after all.”

You glance over at him, a soft smile playing on your lips. “Yeah, I guess it’s not.” You pause, meeting his gaze. “I’m glad you didn’t bail at midnight.”

Jude grins, feeling that familiar warmth bloom in his chest again. "Me too." He leans forward, resting his arm on the back of the lounge chair. "I mean, it would have been a bummer to leave right when I'm just getting to know a woman this beautiful." He smiles softly, his eyes sparkling in the faint light.

You flush, dropping your gaze to your drink as you fidget with the glass. “Um... thanks, I guess.” Your cheeks are hot, but you can't help the flutter in your chest at his words.

Jude notices your blush though, and it brings a smirk to his lips. He enjoys the way you fumble with your drink, clearly nervous at the compliment. He leans back again, sipping his drink quietly for a moment before looking over at you.

"You’re cute," he says, voice dropping down into something softer, lower, more intimate. “Especially when you're embarrassed.”

The flush deepens as you look away, your eyes skipping to the floor. "I'm not embarrassed," you say, but the fact that you're avoiding looking at him says otherwise.

"Sure you’re not," he replies with a chuckle, leaning forward again.

You fidget in your seat, eyes still down. Your cheeks burn, and you’re glad for the dim lighting out here that hopefully hides it. "Stop it," you mutter, but there's a hint of laughter in your voice.

Jude laughs softly, reaching out and sliding his hand into yours. His hand is warm, calloused, bigger than yours, and his fingers wrap easily around yours. "Can't help it," he says, squeezing your hand lightly. "You're too cute."

You swallow, mouth suddenly dry as your eyes dart to his hand in yours. He's holding it loosely, not gripping it tightly, but it's enough to feel possessive somehow, enough to make your heart race and your cheeks flush with heat. You can’t remember the last time someone touched you like this, let alone with such intention.

Your gaze snaps to Jude's, eyes wide and slightly nervous. His eyes are darker now, pupils dilated, his mouth curved in a low, satisfied smile. His thumb presses into the center of your palm, the pressure soft, light, sending goosebumps down your arm.

You swallow again, trying to form words, but coming up with nothing. The air between you feels heavy suddenly, thick with heat and tension, your heart pounding in your ears. You glance back at the house, wondering if anyone can see, if anyone notices, but the windows are empty, the party still going strong inside.

Jude chuckles, low and soft. "You good?" he asks, voice dropping into something lower, husky.

You swallow hard again. Your eyes dart back to his, finding his still locked on yours, his gaze intense.

"Yeah, I'm good," you finally manage to get out, though your voice comes out barely above a whisper.

Jude's smile widens, and he shifts closer, your thighs now touching. "Good." His hand tightens a little around yours, squeezing lightly. "Good," he repeats, his voice dipping into something even softer, more intimate before placing his now empty glass on a nearby table along with yours.

His eyes are still locked on yours, and the way he's watching you, it feels like he's looking right through the layers you’ve carefully built up. It makes you feel exposed, vulnerable, but not in a way that’s uncomfortable. In a way that feels… thrilling.

You bite your lip, the warmth of his hand grounding you even as your pulse races. There’s a tension now, something thick in the air that wasn’t there before. It crackles between you, electric, and you don’t know whether to pull away or lean into it.

"Jude…" you start, but your voice trails off. You’re not sure what you’re trying to say. You can’t even think straight.

He tilts his head, watching you carefully. "Yeah?"

You swallow, forcing yourself to hold his gaze, though your stomach twists in nervous anticipation. There’s a strange, fluttery feeling in your chest, like you’re standing at the edge of something new, something you can’t quite name. "What are we doing here?"

He smirks, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand in a slow, deliberate motion. "Just talking," he says, but the way he says it, the way his eyes darken, suggests that there’s a lot more simmering beneath the surface.

You laugh softly, a little breathless. "Is that what this is?"

His grin widens, and for a moment, he doesn’t respond. He just watches you, studying the way you shift nervously in your seat, the way your lip trembles slightly as you bite it. Finally, he leans in a little closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "What do you want it to be?"

Your breath catches in your throat, and for a long moment, you don’t say anything. You can feel the weight of the question hanging between you, his gaze heavy with something you can’t quite place. Something that makes your skin tingle, makes your heart beat faster.

"Jude..." you start again, but again, your voice dies off.

His grin softens. "Yeah?" His hand squeezes yours lightly, his fingers brushing over your wrist as his eyes dart to your mouth.

You feel your cheeks heat all over again, and there's a sudden ache between your legs that you can’t ignore. You fidget, trying not to think about it, trying to focus on the conversation instead. “This is a little... intense, isn't it?"

He chuckles softly, leaning in even closer, his lips just inches from yours now. "It doesn't have to be." His voice drops to a whisper as he looks at you. "I promise. Whatever you want."

For a moment, you don’t speak. You just look at him.

The dim light casts gentle shadows across his face—strong jawline, high cheekbones, and a slightly crooked smile that adds a touch of roguish charm to his otherwise serene expression. His lips are full, inviting. And his eyes. Oh, how beautiful they are. There’s a way he looks at you that makes you feel like the only person in the world. You want to stare into them forever.

He's beautiful.

Slowly, you reach out with your free hand, wrapping it around the back of his neck to pull him closer. Close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath on your mouth. Smell the subtle scent of his cologne—a hint of something warm and musky, with a touch of something fresh—mingling with the crisp night air.

Jude lets out a low exhale as he leans in the last few inches to meet you, pressing his lips softly against yours. They're warm and firm, gentle as they slide against yours, teasing a little with each movement. He doesn't rush it, just lets the kiss play out slowly as his hand squeezes around yours, pulling you closer.

You sigh against his mouth as he slides his tongue over your lower lip, a low noise of pleasure slipping from your throat. He groans softly at the sound, his hand shifting from yours to wrap around your side and pull you into his lap, your legs falling to either side of him on the lounge chair. You go willingly, letting him slide his arms around you, feeling him against you now.

Jude breaks the kiss after a moment, leaning back to look at you. "You taste good," he murmurs, his voice rougher now, deeper, his words sending heat flooding through you.

You flush, your cheeks warming again as your eyes drop to his mouth. "You too," you reply, barely above a whisper.

He hums softly, his fingers trailing along your side to brush against your waist. Your breath hitches at the light touch, and his hand moves again, his palm sliding down over your hips. "So fucking soft," he mutters, a smile playing on his lips. "I want to feel every inch of you."

A shiver runs through you at his words, desire burning inside of you at the promise in his voice. "Do it," you whisper, leaning in again to brush your mouth over his.

He groans, his hand pulling your crotch down to meet his. Jude's arms tighten around you, and you feel the hard length of him pressing against your core. You gasp against his mouth at the feel, your hips twitching slightly as he pushes you tighter against him. You both moan softly, your fingers tightening around the back of his head as you grind against him.

Jude pulls back with a chuckle, looking at you through his lashes. "Fuck, baby. You're going to kill me." He leans in again, pressing his mouth to yours as his hands slide underneath your skirt to cup your ass. He kneads your flesh gently, his hands rough against your skin as he squeezes. "Fuck. I knew you'd feel this good." He groans low in his throat, his tongue sliding over your lips once more.

You whimper into his mouth, heat burning in your lower belly as you rock against him. You're wet already, his touches, his words lighting you on fire. His hand shifts, one still cupping your ass as

the other slides between you to press against your clit through your panties.

A choked moan escapes you as you grind into his hand, your hips twisting against him. "Please," you breathe, breaking away from his kiss to lean against his shoulder. "Jude. Please." Your nails dig into his back at the pressure of his fingers through your underwear, his thumb sliding over your clit with each movement of your hips.

Jude lets out a harsh breath, his mouth running along your neck as his hands tighten around you. "God, baby," he groans. "I can't. There's too many people." He nips at your throat, his teeth sliding gently over your skin. "I don't want to share you. Not for one fucking second."

You cry out softly at his words, your hips bucking against his hand. "But I want you," you murmur, rolling your hips into his touch, your teeth sinking into his shoulder.

Jude's hands pull away from you, one cupping your jaw as you lean back against his arm, panting. "Look at me," he rasps, his eyes dark as they meet yours. "There's no way we're going to be able to do this right here." He trails his hand over your breasts, cupping them gently as he murmurs. "I need you too fucking bad, and there's not a chance in hell that I'm going to get you out of your pants before someone realizes what the fuck is going on."

He groans, leaning in to brush his lips over yours. "Come back to my place," he whispers against your mouth, his hand slipping over your hip once more. "Let me take care of you."

You flush at his words, his touch sending fire shooting through you. Your hand wraps around his arm, fingers digging into his skin. "Okay," you agree, your voice barely above a whisper, your eyes slipping closed.

"Jesus," Jude breathes out, pulling you against his chest as he leans his mouth against your forehead. "If I take you home like this," he says, his voice low in your ear, "I'm not going to let you leave my bed for the rest of the night."

You bite your lip, swallowing back a whimper. "That sounds good," you breathe out, heat flooding your body at his words.

Jude’s breath shudders against your forehead. The night air feels colder now, a stark contrast to the heat coursing through your veins. You can’t help but shiver slightly, but it’s not from the cold.

“Let’s go,” he murmurs, his voice low and urgent as he starts to stand, lifting you with him. His grip on you is firm but gentle, as if afraid you might disappear if he holds too tightly. You smile a little at the thought, letting him guide you back inside.

As you walk, his hand slides to your lower back, his arm still wrapped around you. Your smile deepens, and your breath hitches, catching in your throat as you notice the way he’s staring down at you. “What?” you ask, a giggle bubbling up in your throat.

He smiles, shaking his head. “Nothing,” he replies voice barely heard over the music. “I just like looking at you.”

You blush, biting your lip as you turn your gaze. A few of his friends glance at you, their gazes flicking to Jude’s hand wrapped around you before they turn back to their conversation.

He guides you through the crowd, his hand never leaving the small of your back, making sure you’re close to him. He stops by a group of friends, his mouth moving as he talks to them, but you don’t hear his words. You’re too busy looking up at him, taking in the hard planes of his face, the way his eyes flicker between you and his friends.

You don’t notice when he pulls out his phone, a smile on his lips as he types something out quickly. He slips it into his pocket, turning to wrap his arm back around you. His eyes flicker over your face, a grin playing on his lips as he leans down to whisper in your ear. “My driver is here,” he says softly. “Want to go?”

You nod quickly, heat burning inside of you. He doesn’t hesitate, pulling you through the crowd again as you make your way to the door.

Jude holds your hand as he opens the door, stepping back to let you exit first. You do, walking out of Trent's penthouse and into the cool night air. The Porsche is parked at the curb, its doors already open as you step out. A driver stands next to it, his hands clasped in front of him as he waits.

You get in first, feeling like royalty as you slide into the smooth leather seats. The door closes behind you, and Jude slides in beside you. You catch a glimpse of his smile as he slides his arm around you, pulling your legs over his lap as he leans against you.

The car glides smoothly from the curb, heading down the highway toward the city. You lean back against the seat, feeling Jude's hand slide up your leg, his fingertips ghosting under the hem of your skirt. You turn to face him, grinning as you play with the collar of his shirt.

His eyes flick to your hand, the ghost of a smirk playing on his lips as you tease the fabric. "What are you thinking?" Jude murmurs, his voice thick with that same low, gravelly tone that sends shivers down your spine.

You shrug, feigning innocence. "Just wondering if you always wear shirts this nice," you tease, brushing your fingertips against the fabric again, trailing lightly along the edge of his collar.

Jude chuckles, low and deep, leaning his head back against the seat as his fingers slide further up your thigh, sending a wave of heat crashing through you.

Your breath catches, and you can't help the way your body reacts to his touch. The closeness, the heat, the tension—all of it coils tight inside of you like a spring wound too tight, waiting to snap. You glance down, watching his hand inch further beneath the fabric of your skirt, teasing but never fully satisfying.

The city lights outside blur as the car speeds down the highway, a soft hum filling the silence between you. The world seems distant, fading away as you lose yourself in the moment, in him. Jude’s hand pauses, resting just at the top of your thigh, his thumb brushing back and forth lazily over your skin. It’s torture, slow and deliberate, making your body crave more.

"You have no idea what you’re in for, baby," he murmurs, his voice sending a shiver down your spine.

You grin, the anticipation coiling tighter in your belly as you press your mouth to his jaw, kissing along the sharp line there, tasting the faint hint of cologne on his skin. Jude’s hand shifts, sliding up to rest on your lower back, his fingers splayed wide as he presses you closer against him. His breath is ragged, his pulse quick under your lips, and you know he’s as affected by this as you are.

The car slows to a stop, and you glance out the window to see the entrance to a sleek high-rise building, all glass and steel, gleaming under the night sky. Jude doesn’t waste a second. He slides out of the car, his hand still gripping yours as he helps you out, pulling you close as he leads you toward the entrance.

The moment you step inside the building, the atmosphere shifts—quiet, intimate. The lobby is dimly lit, modern, and elegant, with polished floors and soft lighting. You barely register any of it, too focused on the way Jude’s fingers are laced with yours, the heat of his hand grounding you in the moment.

An elevator door opens, and Jude pulls you inside, pressing you up against the mirrored wall the second the doors close. His mouth is on yours in an instant, the kiss hot and urgent, all of the restraint from earlier gone in a flash. You gasp against his lips, your hands tangling in his hair as you kiss him back just as fiercely, your body arching into his.

His hands are everywhere—on your waist, sliding up your back, gripping your hips. He groans into your mouth, the sound vibrating through you, making you weak at the knees. "I’ve been waiting all night for this," he murmurs between kisses, his voice low and full of need.

You pull back just enough to look at him, your breaths coming fast, your heart pounding in your chest. "So have me," you whisper, your voice breathless, your fingers tugging at the collar of his shirt.

Jude's eyes darken, his grip on you tightening as the elevator dings softly, signaling that you've reached his floor. He doesn't say another word. Instead, he grabs your hand again, pulling you down the hall toward his apartment, his pace quick and purposeful. Your pulse quickens with every step, the anticipation thrumming through your veins.

The door to his apartment swings open, and before you can even take in your surroundings, Jude pulls you inside, his hands already sliding under your jacket, pushing it off your shoulders as he backs you up against the nearest wall.

His mouth crashes down on yours again, the kiss rough and demanding, full of the same need that's been building inside you all night.

You arch against him, your arms looping around his neck as you pull him closer, kissing him back with just as much passion. His hands slide down your sides, gripping your waist tight as he presses you harder into the wall, his hips grinding against yours.

You can feel the hard length of him through his jeans, his cock straining against the fabric, sending a jolt of arousal through you. A whimper slips from your lips, and Jude growls low in his throat, his teeth grazing your jaw, your throat, making your skin prickle with goosebumps.

"Fuck," he groans, his voice rough with desire. "You're so fucking sexy." His hands shift, sliding up under your skirt to grip your ass, his fingers kneading the flesh as he lifts you up, his hard cock pressing right where you need it most.

You cry out, your head falling back against the wall, your breath catching as he grinds his cock against your pussy through the fabric of his jeans, the friction making your body clench tight with anticipation. His mouth is relentless, licking, sucking, and biting its way down your neck, sending waves of heat through you.

"Jude," you gasp, his name slipping from your lips on a moan.

He makes a rough sound, deep in his throat, and lifts you higher against him, his hands rough on your skin, his grip bruising. "Your ass is perfect," he mutters, his mouth traveling back to yours as he presses your hips harder into the wall, the thrusts of his cock against you almost enough to send you over the edge.

You're panting, gasping, your body trembling as the tension winds tighter and tighter inside you. Jude's hands are everywhere, groping and teasing as he devours your mouth, his tongue thrusting in and out in a rhythm that matches the thrusts of his hips.

The pleasure is almost too much, the anticipation threatening to boil over at any second. But then Jude suddenly stops, pulling back just a bit to look at you. His eyes are dark, his pupils blown wide with lust as his chest heaves with heavy breaths.

"Are you sure you want this?" he asks, his voice still low and rough, but his eyes locked intently on yours.

You nod, breathless. "more than anything" you answer honestly.

He nods once, then presses your body flat against the wall again. "Good," he murmurs, leaning in to kiss you again. It's hard and fast, almost brutal. Then, before you even know what's happening, he lifts you away from the wall and carries you away.

Jude’s grip is steady, firm as he carries you effortlessly through the spacious apartment. You barely notice the surroundings, too consumed by the fire between you, by the way his touch sets your skin ablaze. His lips find yours again, devouring, urgent, as he moves with purpose down the hallway.

You don't care where he's taking you as long as he keeps going. The feel of his hard cock against you is addictive. You arch your hips, pressing closer against him as he walks.

The next thing you know, your back hits the soft surface of his bed, and you land with a bounce, your skirt riding up your thighs. Jude stops at the foot of the bed, his eyes raking you from head to toe as he begins to pull off his shirt. The fabric ripples down his torso, revealing a chiseled chest and abs, taut muscles flexing beneath his skin.

You swallow hard, your heart pounding harder in your chest, anticipation burning through you like fire.

He’s bigger than you in every way. His hands are twice the size of yours, his biceps thicker than your thighs. He’s not a huge man, not overly muscled, but there’s a raw power in his body that’s undeniable. And you’re so tiny compared to him — so small that your head only comes up to his shoulder.

It’s not something he usually thinks about, but in the moment, it becomes a living thing. The size difference between the two of you is so apparent, so obvious, it’s hard to ignore. And for some reason, it makes Jude’s cock even harder.

Your eyes are locked on him, dark and dilated, as if you want nothing more than his hands on you. He steps closer, reaching for the fly of his pants. Your gaze tracks his every movement, your breathing quickening as he unbuttons his jeans.

You wet your lips, sitting up to lean forward on the bed. Your eyes are wide, your cheeks flushed with heat as Jude’s pants fall to his feet, revealing his boxers, the shape of his cock straining thickly against the fabric.

You lick your lips again, your eyes drifting up to his as he kicks his pants away, standing at the foot of his bed in only his boxers. The room seems to grow hotter.

"I'm going to fuck you so good," he promises, his voice low, husky, making you whimper with need.

The way he says it makes you want to agree, to give him whatever he wants, whenever he wants it. You bite your lip, your pulse throbbing in your ears as he steps closer to you, his hand wrapping around the back of your neck.

He hauls you close, your thighs parting automatically as his knees hit the mattress and he comes down on top of you. His mouth finds yours, his lips coaxing yours open as he slides his tongue into your mouth. His kiss is hot and wet and everything you want in this moment.

He kisses you deep and slow, his weight pressing you down into his mattress. You moan into the kiss, your tongue moving against his as you roll your hips against him. He groans into the kiss, his cock twitching against you where you're grinding against it.

His hand slides down your body, his palm smoothing up to cup your breast. You squeak as he grabs it and squeezes. He smiles against your mouth, thrusting his hips against you as you mewl and squirm beneath him.

"Fuck," he grunts, kissing down your neck, his tongue tracing the curve of your throat. He nips at your skin, sucking a mark on the skin above your collarbone.

You whine, clutching at his shoulders and he bites harder, making you gasp. The sound turns him on, his hips jutting against you like he can't stop himself.

He pulls back to look at you, a smile twisting his lips. You're flushed pink, your pupils blown wide, lips plump from kissing him.

"Fuck, you're beautiful," he murmurs, his expression tender as he looks at you, his hands moving over you in a slow caress. He tugs your skirt down your hips, tossing it aside, leaving you in just your lingerie. His hands come back up to you, running down the sides of your thighs, his thumbs brushing the waistband of your panties.

You moan as he touches you, your back arching. You're desperate for more. He laughs, his touch teasing, light as he rubs his thumbs along the edges.

"Please," you whimper, reaching for his shoulders. His hands slide up, his thumbs hooking into the straps of your bra and tugging it down your arms. He pulls it off, his gaze falling on the curves of your naked breasts. He groans as he takes you in, his eyes hot as they look at you.

He drops his head to suck a nipple into his mouth, flicking his tongue against it, making you cry out. His hand finds your other breast, kneading it in his palm, squeezing. You gasp, your hips jolting up at the feel of his mouth on you.

He sucks harder, his teeth raking over your sensitive flesh. You moan, your nails digging into his back as he draws on your breast.

A shiver runs through your body as his hand falls to the waistband of your underwear. He tugs them down your legs and you raise your hips automatically, letting him pull them all the way off.

You're naked now, exposed and trembling with need as he looks down at you, sprawled out on his bed. Fuck.

You look so hot. So tiny and small compared to him, it’s impossible not to feel that urge to use you, to bend you to his will. It’s been there since the balcony, his desire to own you, to take care of you, but right now, it’s almost overwhelming.

"Spread your legs," he murmurs as he runs a finger up the inside of your thigh. You part your knees automatically for him and his hand moves straight up to your pussy. He presses his palm flat against your mound, his fingers slipping through your folds to feel your heat.

"Fuck," he groans, "look at you." You can't help but look. Your body is so much smaller than his, his hands spanning half the length of your thigh.

You gasp at the touch, your head falling back against the bed as he teases your clit. His fingers slide between your folds, rubbing, parting you open to find the entrance to your cunt. He circles it, his finger dipping inside, and you gasp.

You try to roll your hips and he moves his hand, using his palm to press you still.

"Let me play with you," he murmurs. You whimper, your body shivering with the touch. His mouth comes down over your breast again as he thrusts his finger into you with a squelch. "Shit, baby you're so wet." You moan at the stretch of his finger inside you, arching up against him. His teeth graze your nipple, his lips sucking it in his mouth.

You whine at the feel of him sucking on your nipple while his finger is inside you. The dual sensations make you gasp for breath as he thrusts into you, deep, making you clench around him.

His mouth moves to your other breast and he slides a second finger inside you as he sucks on your skin. You cry out, your back bowing as he uses his hand to hold you in place.

He finger fucks you, working your body with his touch as he nips at the curve of your breast, his teeth scraping your skin. He's careful not to hurt you, but you want him to go further.

He seems to realize that as he kisses his way back up your body. He holds his weight off you on one arm, his other hand still buried between your thighs as he works your cunt with his fingers.

You gasp as he curls his fingers inside you, stroking over your g-spot as he kisses your lips. You feel the build of your orgasm in the tightening of your belly, in the way your toes curl and your thighs clench. He rubs you faster, his mouth eating at yours as he drives you higher and higher.

The orgasm hits you like a wave, rolling through your body and leaving you trembling in his hold. You cry out against his mouth as he rides you through it, his fingers working your pussy until it's spent.

He kisses your lips softly as he pulls his hand from you, his cock still hard against your leg. He shifts his hips to the side, sliding between your legs as you lay there, flushed and panting.

His hands move to his boxers, tugging them down his hips as you watch. Your eyes grow wide at the sight of his cock, thick and long and hot. He's so big. Unlike anyone you've had before. You have no idea how he’s going to fit.

Your thoughts are interrupted by Jude’s mouth moving over your stomach, kissing his way down your body. His kisses are slow, sweet and you let him, relaxing against the bed with a moan.

His lips move over your hipbones, his tongue licking the skin and you can't help the giggle that escapes. He pauses to look up at you, his eyebrow arched in amusement.

"You ticklish?" he asks. You nod and he chuckles as he moves closer. His mouth drops to your mound and you gasp as his lips place a gentle kiss on it.

"Jude," you whisper, your fingers sliding into his hair.

He moans, his lips moving over your pussy. He kisses your folds as he pushes them apart with his fingers and you arch under the touch. Your thighs part, falling open to let him have his way and he takes it, kissing along your slit, his tongue flicking out to tease you. You shiver at the feel of it on your clit and he repeats it, circling your little nub in a teasing caress.

He growls against you as he licks you open. Your cunt is wet and pink and fucking perfect. His tongue is long and rough against your sensitive skin and you gasp, clutching at the bedding as he goes to town. He sucks on you, his tongue pushing inside, licking your taste on his lips as he drinks you in.

His hands come down on either side of your thighs, pressing them open as his mouth finds your clit and sucks. Your body jolts at the feel of his lips, his tongue flicking at you in a quick caress that has you gasping in shock.

You whimper, your toes curling as he eats at you. You've never felt anything like this before. It's incredible, the way his mouth feels on you, his tongue stroking you in long swipes.

"Jude, fuck," you gasp and his growl vibrates against your clit as he works you towards another orgasm.

It doesn't take long. You're so sensitive, so worked up already. His tongue flicks over your clit in quick circles and you burst in a rush, your whole body trembling with the force of it. Your thighs clamp down around his head as he holds you steady, his tongue still stroking your clit through it.

You’re sensitive to the point of pain by the time he eases off, licking slowly as he lets you come down from the orgasm. You whine, your legs still clamped around his head and he gently works you open, his hands soft on your thighs.

His face is wet with your taste as he comes up over you, kissing you deep and filthy, making you taste yourself on his lips.

He's hard as hell against your thigh, his cock pressing into you and you roll your hips up in instinctive need. He groans, grinding his cock against you, rutting you like he needs it.

"I need you," you pant, kissing him, your hands running down his back. "Please, I need it."

His groan is thick and guttural. "Yeah, baby, need that big cock in that tight little pussy? Want me to fuck it? Hm?" He thrusts his hips against you to punctuate his words and you moan. You gasp, your eyes going wide at the way he talks, but fuck, you like it. It makes you hot, his dirty words making you need more.

You nod, your fingers sliding down to his ass, holding his hips tighter to your body. "Yes," you agree, "please, I want it."

"Fuck, you are so fucking hot," he whispers as he leans to the side to reach for a drawer in the bed, pulling out a condom. He tears it open and slides it over his cock, his hands slick with lube as he fists himself, working his shaft. Never taking his eyes off you. Fuck. This is going to be so good.

He drops on top of you, his weight heavy on you as he braces his elbows beside your head. his hands running up your thighs and hooking underneath your knees. He pushes them up towards your chest, opening you wide and you feel vulnerable in his hold, tiny and exposed as he lines his cock up with your cunt.

"You ready for me, baby? Gonna fill you up," he growls, his eyes dark and serious as he watches your reaction.

You can only moan, unable to talk as you feel his cock at the entrance to your body, hot and hard against you.

He stops, his eyes locked on yours as he checks on you. "You okay?" he whispers.

Your breath hitches, and your eyes flicker to his. There’s a tenderness in his gaze, cutting through the thick haze of lust that surrounds you both. The way his voice softens when he asks—it's a moment of clarity, and it grounds you.

You nod, feeling the pressure of him right there, so close to entering. "Yeah," you murmur, your voice breathy, lost in the pleasure he's giving you. "I'm okay."

Jude's lips curve into a small smile, one that only deepens the wetness between your legs. His hands squeeze your thighs gently, reassuring you. "Good. I'll take care of you," he promises, and then his eyes drop to where he's pressed against you.

You moan, your mouth dropping open as you feel him press into you.

"Ah," you gasp, looking up at him in shock. Your fingers curl into the sheets, your body not yet adjusted to his size. He's huge inside you, thick, your walls stretching to accommodate him. The burn of his penetration is almost painful and you clench around his cock instinctively.

His breath shudders, and you can hear the restraint in his groan as he fights to keep it slow. "Fuck, you’re so tight," he mutters, forehead resting against yours as your gummy walls squeeze his cock.

You can feel him everywhere. His breath hot on your neck, his hands firm on your legs, his cock stretching you in ways you’ve never felt before.

You're fucking ruined for life. Ruined for anyone else.

You gasp, your body taut and trembling, and he moans as he settles deep inside your body. His eyes flutter closed, his head tipping back as he gasps.

For a moment, neither of you move. His hips stay locked against yours, the both of you catching your breath. Jude’s hands caress your thighs, thumbs brushing the sensitive skin there as if to ease you into this. His lips ghost over your cheek, whispering soft words you can barely make out, but you know they’re for you. Only for you.

And then he moves.

It’s a slow, gentle pull out, almost torturous in its pace, followed by a deep thrust back in. Your mouth falls open in a silent moan, your back arching as you take him.

"Fuck, you're tight, baby," he pants. "Oh shit, I knew you'd feel good." He drops his forehead to yours with a groan. "But this," he thrusts, his cock moving inside you in a slow, deep stroke, "this is better than I imagined." He looks down at you, watching you as he fucks you, your cunt clenching tight around him as he moves in you. His cock fills you full, so full, and you're hot and tight and wet as hell around him, and he fucking loves it. You can see it in his eyes.

"Jude," his name is a moan as he drives deep inside you, hitting you with a thrust that makes you gasp in shock.

"That feel good, baby?" he pants, his hands sliding down to grab at your ass, holding you still as he fucks into you. You clutch at him, your arms wrapping around him. He kisses you deep, his mouth dropping to yours as his cock thrusts into your cunt. "Love you around my cock," he grunts against your lips. "It's so fucking perfect." Your whimpers make him growl.

Your nails dig into his back, leaving crescent-shaped marks in his skin as he fucks you harder, faster, pounding into you. The bed creaks beneath you, the air heavy with the sounds of skin against skin, of gasps and moans. You’re lost in it, in him—completely undone by the way he makes you feel.

It’s like nothing else matters. Nothing. Right now, all that exists is Jude, his body moving against yours, his cock filling you over and over until you can’t think straight.

"Look at you," he pants, "taking it so well." You can feel his words vibrate in his chest, and it only drives you higher.

It’s too much. Too much sensation, too much pleasure, and you cry out, the sound high-pitched and desperate as you clench down around him. "Fuck, fuck, baby," he growls against your lips as he feels it. "That feels so fucking good. Look at me. Look at me when I make you cum." His fingers move down to rub your clit, your pussy clenching tighter around him and he groans, thrusting into you with a growl as he tips you over the edge.

"Jude, Jude," you pant his name like a prayer, your nails digging into his shoulders, holding him closer. "Oh shit!" You feel your pussy clench and ripple around him, milking his cock for everything.

Your eyes flutter, your head tipping back with a gasp as your body trembles through the orgasm. Your cunt pulses tight around his cock and he groans as he takes you through it. His thrusts become unsteady, deep and hard and fast as he pounds into your little cunt and you take it.

"Oh yeah," he murmurs against your neck. "There you go. Cum on my cock, baby. That's a good girl." His mouth moves to your shoulder, his teeth sinking into you as he grunts, his body shuddering with pleasure.

He’s close. You feel it in the way he holds himself against you, in the way his breaths become short and heavy against your skin. "Fuck, I'm going to cum, baby," he gasps.

You clench down on his cock with a moan, squeezing his length inside you, and his mouth drops to yours in a hot and filthy kiss.

He fucks into you with a grunt, his thrusts quick and hard as he seeks his release. His body moves against yours in rough jerks, his cock thick inside you, filling you. He growls as he fucks, his lips dropping to your neck.

"Baby," he gasps, "fuck," he moans again, his voice so deep it’s almost a whine. You feel him shudder against you, his whole body trembling as he thrusts into you.

"You want my cum?" he growls against your shoulder and you moan at the words, your body already clenching in response.

"Yes," you gasp. "In me, please." He thrusts deep inside you at your words, his groan loud in your ear.

"I’m gonna fill you so full of it," he pants, grinding deep inside you. "So full," he grunts, face buried in the crook of your neck "gonna fill you up and then it's going to drip out of your tight little pussy."

His lips are hot on your skin as he gasps your name, his body jerking into you. "Fuck," he breathes, his hips rolling against yours in a deep grind.

You wrap your arms around him, holding him close as he rides out the pleasure, cumming again for the fourth time that night. He groans, his hips jerking against yours, thrusting his cock deep inside you as he empties into the condom. His fingers curl into you, holding your body close as he fills you, and it’s so good.

The way he feels inside you, the way his cock throbs and pulses as he cums. You can feel it, even through the condom, and it makes you gasp. He thrusts again, groaning as he keeps going, wanting to fuck you through it as much as you do.

And then it’s over.

His body shudders through the aftershocks and he goes still on top of you. His head drops to your shoulder, his breath coming in ragged pants as he holds you close, riding out the aftershocks together.

His face moves back to yours, his lips pressing a kiss against your forehead. "Well, shit," he mutters against you. "You're amazing."

You giggle, your hands running over his back. His weight is comforting on top of you as you come down, your breaths slowing. You let him stay for a moment, enjoying the weight and heat of his body before he pulls out and rolls to the side, stripping off the condom and tossing it into a bin by his bed.

You follow him to the side, turning and pressing a kiss to his shoulder as you let the afterglow wash through you. He smiles, turning to look at you and lifting his arm.

"Come here," he murmurs.

You roll onto your side, pressing against him as he curls his arm around you, pulling you close. He nuzzles into your hair, his fingers running through it as he pulls your body into his. Your leg lifts, your thighs opening around one of his as you curl into him, the softness of the bed and pillows enveloping you.

"Mmmhmm," he mutters, running his hands down your back. "God, I don't want to move. You feel so good."

You smile against him, kissing his chest. "Me neither. I'm comfortable right here."

He laughs, his chest vibrating with it. He rolls a little closer to the edge of the bed, reaching down and pulling up the blanket. He wraps it around you both, tucking it in so that it covers you completely and you're nestled into him, warm and comfortable.

"Better?" he asks.

"Mmm, perfect."

He hums, his arms coming around you again. He snuggles into you, nuzzling your cheek.

"You are perfect," he tells you, his voice gentle as he lets the afterglow take him over. His lips move against your shoulder, his hands rubbing your back and hips. "Thank you for tonight."

You smile, turning your head so you can kiss him. He moves with you, meeting you in it as his hand cups your cheek. His lips are soft and sweet, his tongue teasing yours as he kisses you back.

When you break it, you both smile and snuggle in, holding each other close.

"Mmmm," he says. "I'm gonna want to do that a lot more." His arm curls around your body, holding you close as you snuggle deeper. "Are you alright?"

"I'm great," you tell him. "That was amazing."

He grins, his body relaxing as he holds onto you. His voice drops into a soft mumble, the last of the afterglow pulling him over. "Good. I can't wait to do it again. Best sex of my life." His hand runs up your side, his finger brushing against your breast. "Can't wait for more of that. You're perfect, baby girl." His lips press against the side of your head and he holds you close. "So perfect for me."

His words send a spark of happiness through you and you smile, dropping your head onto his chest. He holds you closer, his fingers rubbing up your back, his hands resting on your lower back and ass.

Then you feel his body pulling away from yours. You mumble a protest, reaching for him, and you can feel him chuckle.

"Shh, baby, I'll be right back," he tells you softly. His lips press a kiss to your forehead and then he's rolling away from you, moving to the side of the bed. "Just need to run to the bathroom for a minute."

You hum, stretching and letting your eyes flutter open. He's pulling on his boxer briefs, moving out of the bedroom. You watch him go with a little sigh, your body still buzzing from the afterglow. You roll over onto your back, running a hand through your hair and smiling up at the ceiling.

God, he's perfect.

He comes back a few minutes later, a warm towel in his hands. You turn your head to look at him as he moves back onto the bed, a soft smile on his face. He runs the towel up your thigh, leaning down to kiss your hip.

"Spread your legs for me," he murmurs.

Your thighs drop open, letting him clean you with the warm towel. His mouth moves against your skin, his tongue licking at your hip as he holds the towel against you. The warmth feels good against your pussy and you let out a soft sigh, tilting your hips into his touch.

"Does that feel better?" he asks. You nod, his eyes lifting to yours.

"Yeah, that feels really good." Your voice comes out breathy and soft as he cleans you again. "Mmmm."

He smiles, his lips brushing against your stomach. His tongue flicks out to lick at your skin as he moves his mouth lower. You shudder a little, wanting to push your hips up, and his mouth lifts to yours.

He crawls over you, bracing his arms on either side of you. His lips cover yours, kissing you slowly. His tongue slips between your lips, his teeth catching your lip as he moves his hips against you.

Your thighs lift up around his, holding him close between your legs. His cock is hard again, pressing against your stomach, and he groans as he feels it.

"Again?" he asks you.

You smile and nod, reaching up to kiss him again. He smiles too, his lips covering yours.

"Mmmm," you murmur against him. "Yes."

-Bianca🌻

#footballer x reader #jude bellingham x reader #jude x reader #jude bellingham #jude x you

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workingbynyx · 10 months ago

Note

Hi! I was wondering if you'd be interested in writing headcanons of Jason Todd as the reader's boyfriend? Probably like the general dynamic of the relationship, love language, etc. Whatever you think goes best! :)

of course! i can finally use my hcs of boyfie jason to good use oml i have so much in store for you loves 😚

(this has been sitting in my drafts for so long and now that its almost v-day i think its pretty fitting to post this <3 also pls remember that these are my personal hcs so some may be entirely ooc but this is how i imagine him to be okay 😭)

Very affectionate behind closed doors

Jason wasn't a very clingy person to begin with. in fact the first time you held hands you swore you saw drops of sweat drip down the side of his face, it's hilarious. it took him a while to get around giving physical affection but once he did, hugs and kisses are non-stop. he'll either give you quick or aggressive but gentle kisses or would simply ask you to climb onto him on your shared bed and lay your head on his chest as he sleeps. he'd search for your hand and give it a squeeze when the both of you are in a big crowd (ex; galas, parties) or just rest his hand on the small of your back— as intimidating he might seem, he's just a big baby in your hands.

A pretty decent cook, to say the least

Could be an unpopular opinion but i'd say Jason isn't all too bad in the kitchen, he can pretty much fix up a simple meal if he wants to. The man could either fuck up the microwave or invent a whole new recipe just to fit your cravings, there's no in between. He doesn't want to admit it but he has a secret folder in his phone of all the recipes to your favourite dishes from lunch meals to deserts; so now on every occassion, you can expect waking up to the fresh scent of your favourite food set on the table <3

Midnight joyrides are the best

Do y'all know those tiktok accs that own a motorbike and just drive around with their partners sitting behind them? That's exactly how i imagine what it would be like to be Jason's partner 👊👊 literally like; "bubs put on your helmet" "are we going out? at this time?" "what, you don't want to?" "well, yeah i do..." "good, i'll have the bike out front then" then you guys just drive around on his bigass bike zooming through the city. He'd also have his hands run down your leg that's straddling him from behind at every stoplight possible wkehwjhejwhd

Getting out of bed is almost impossible

The first time you two moved in together was really exciting, waking up finding yourself beside the love of your life sleeping peacefully to eating breakfast and dinner with them too. But as time went by, it became almost your mission everyday to get out of bed without being held back by Jason pulling you back under the sheets. You'd have to be sneaky to move his arm that's wrapped around your waist before his reflexes react soon enough; "mmh, going somewhere?" "jay, i gotta get to work" "10 more minutes love, i promise. I'll just drive you there it's much faster" "you said that 5 minutes ago— i'll be late again!" "are you saying you'd rather leave me alone?" "jace i–" "mhm exactly, so stay a'ight? you could just tell them you caught that flu" "i already did...two days ago..."

Absolutely adores your eyes, hands and waist

I'm a firm believer that Jason is a certified waist-grabber !!! you can expect the rough tips of his gloves glide over from your back all the way to your waist once he comes home from work. He also looooves looking into your eyes and see his reflection in them, the same eyes that showed nothing but pure love and kindness to him. And he also likes your hands; the size difference when you compare them, how they wrapped around his own, and how they cling onto him every chance you get. He thinks it's such a cute mannerism (if you have them too)

He asks for fashion advice, sometimes

Jason'll probably throw on a shirt, jacket, pants and boots then call it day before he met you— but he's even conscious of how colors looked on him now. You were his stylist, often picking out clothes and giving him new looks that you think looks best on him just because he once saw a photo of him and thought the shirt and pants he had didn't match at all. Jason always thought clothes only consists of hoodies, sweatpants, shirts, but now even knows what 'preppy' clothing is after you explained it to him.

His love language is words of affirmation and physical touch

This may vary to some people but i do hc Jason's love language to be words of affirmation and physical touch. Words of affirmation; only because he absolutely loves it when he tells you what he genuinely thinks of you at the moment. "You look great in red", "i'm proud of what you did there", "i love you, y'know that right?", "you look so gorgeous, i'm lucky to have you" and physical touch; because he's totally convinced he can't live without you by his side. Jason would want to be next or near you at any given chance, he'll have you scooted beside him while he reads a book or gently rub his hand against your thigh when he's focused on a movie. Your presence alone gives him the comfort he's always longing for in nights that he's away from home, and you'd glady give it to him.

Very protective over you

It's probably a known fact that Jason is a protective person but when it comes to you he can be over the top in making sure you're okay (especially when you're also a vigilante/hero working with him.) You'll always have to assure him that you're fine and not bleeding to death with a papercut or when you accidentlly stub your toe against the bed. But when you're also a crime-fighter like him, best believe he'll always have you stay and guarded behind him. You had to explain so many times that you could also take care of yourself like he can, though it's understandable why he acts that way most of the time.

Acts all tough, but melts when you're around

Around the times when Jason still had a lil crush on you, he'd never let his guard down and likes to appear cold or tough. But once you were dating he's an absolute shy babe even with the smallest gestures or compliments you give him. He'd only crack a smile at the side comments you make but is mentally falling apart. Or when he can't keep up the act he simply dips his head in the corner of your neck and stay there til he stops blushing like a teen getting his first kiss.

Is a part of the sassy man apocalypse

Sometimes, you question if this man is simply your bestfriend or your boyfriend of how many years. The amount of bickering the two of you end up having is like watching two friends fight over peanut butter vs chocolate. You'd suggest a book you've been reading that he absolutely despises and have a debate right there and then. It's almost like that one Friends scene when Joey and Rachel were giving spoilers back to back at each other LMAO. The man also has an unhealthy habit of popping a hip whenever he stands, your gallery would probably be filled with pictures of him in that stance alone.

#✎ ─ nyx fics !#jason todd x reader #jason todd x gn!reader #jason todd headcanons #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #red hood x reader #red hood x gn!reader #red hood headcanons #dcu #dc comics #red hood #jason todd #bf!jason todd x reader

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annievrse · 4 months ago

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joyride

chuuya x fem!reader —ᡣ𐭩 fic summary: you and chuuya go for a drive w/c: 1.2k c/w: suggestive [mdni], reader gets called wife & good girl heh a/n: obvi inspired by kesha's joyride

“We're going for a drive.”

Chuuya gives you no room to decline as he unlocks the car Mori provided for the mission and slides into the driver's seat. You stand staring at the red car. Of course, it's red. A red Ferrari, at that. You roll your eyes at the unsubtly and open the passenger's door.

The mission was tough, and you assume Chuuya needs to drive the anger out of his system. Usually, you wouldn't encourage such destructive behaviour, but you can't help the giddy feeling rising in your chest when your boyfriend drives.

The 812 purrs to life, and Chuuya grips the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turn white. He'd slid his coat and gloves off before you got in, sitting in his crisp white dress shirt. You inhale deeply, reaching over to slip his hat off his head. Orange locks fall free and frame his face. You place the hat in your lap and thread your fingers through his hair. Chuuya says nothing, but you know he appreciates the affection.

As industrial streets slimmed into the flat countryside, paddocks stretched like a midnight quilt stitched together with wire fences. The moon provides little light behind the clouds as the road fades into the night, and the reflective broken lines fly by in flashes. Driving on country roads at this speed is stupid and dangerous, but you feel like you are flying; it is almost freeing. Besides, when Chuuya drives, you feel at ease. You trust him more than yourself, especially with the addition of Upon the Tainted Sorrow.

The car is warm despite the cool air conditioning, and you squirm in your seat. Chuuya accelerates when he passes the final car on the stretch of the road. Natural gravity forces you back into your chair, your stomach rolling with adrenaline and fear. You can't look over at Chuuya, so you stare straight ahead with a smile etched on your cheeks.

You are hyperaware of Chuuya's movements. He changes gears fluidly and turns corners smoothly; you can't help but admire his handiwork. You glance at the odometer, reading 160 on the dial, and your stomach lurches. Silhouettes of trees pass like ghosts, and your hands sweat where they rest on his hat. You were never good with being in fast cars, but having a boyfriend and a best friend who loves being behind the wheel was something you had to digest quickly.

“You good?” Chuuya's breathless voice cuts through the thick air. Your head turns toward him. You try not to speak while he drives this fast, 125mph. Instead, you nod.

“Use your words, I can’t look at you.” His eyes remain on the dark road. You tongue the inside of your cheek, a smirk on your mouth.

“Yeah, I’m okay," You sigh. Your stomach churns as the road curves, and your hands are firm on your legs.

Chuuya shakes his head and paws at your thigh quickly before he places it back on the gear stick. Goosebumps rise on your skin, and you look over at him. He's so devilishly handsome that you feel you may sin if you dare to look at him, even after all this time. Strands of red hair fall lazily over his forehead and blow softly in the air conditioning.

As Chuuya turns a corner faster than recommended, you quickly lift his hat and fit it over your head.

"You're gonna kill me," Chuuya mumbles, sparing a glance in your direction. His cheeks are rosy, even in the midnight light. Your eyes flicker to his full and pouty lips, the shade of rich wine, and then to his lean biceps strained against his white dress shirt as he straightens his arms to stretch out. "Definitely gonna be my wife."

Your face feels like fire at his muttered words, and you whine in response. "Stop teasing."

"You stop teasing," Chuuya mutters. "Makin' me hard."

Your skin gets impossibly hotter. "You're crazy."

He scoffs and turns his head to look at you. The car is flying down the road, and you pretend to ignore the red aura of his ability around the vehicle. You meet his gaze, turning your whole body toward him.

"And whose fault's that?"

You shrug. "Dazai."

Chuuya chokes on a surprised laugh, and you smile when he turns his attention back to the road, disgust making his lip curl.

"Don't speak about him when I just told you I'm hard."

Your eyes flicker to the strained fabric of his black slacks.

"I'm not giving you head when you're going 200mph."

Chuuya rolls his eyes and uses his right hand to fix his crotch. You cover your laugh with your hand and turn to look out the window.

“Home?” Chuuya asks, his voice laced with desperation. The car should be going slower since you entered residential streets, but due to his predicament, you guess he doesn't care.

"Yep."

“Okay," He swallows, running a red light. "We're sleeping in my bed tonight."

You laugh and take his hand when it returns to your lower thigh. “I want the left side.”

The car finally lurches to a stop at a red traffic light, and Chuuya gives you an incredulous look. “No fucking way, that’s my side. You know that.”

If you hadn't shifted the tone of the conversation, you doubt you'd be sitting at this light. You shrug and place his hand on the gear stick. “Guess I'm sleeping in my bed, then."

You see him roll his eyes in your peripheral as you stare at the traffic light impatiently. Chuuya sighs dramatically, and when you glance over, you see him torn between pouting and glaring. But you remain impartial, nodding forward once when the light turns green.

“You’re so…” Chuuya trails off, shaking his head and putting his foot down. A ghost of a smile plays on his lips.

“Careful,” You warn playfully, and he shoots you a dark look as the silence thickens with tension.

“You’re so pretty it hurts, darling,” He clutches his chest. "Especially with my hat on."

You laugh, tipping the brim. "It definitely looks better on you. I don't think it suits me."

Chuuya's expression morphs into a scowl. "Shut the fuck up, or I'll make you."

"Chuuya!" You giggle, reaching to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear.

"Don't piss me off with that shit talk, alright?"

You purse your lips to suppress a smile. As he puts the car in park, his grey eyes find yours in the dark. His hat sits tilted on your head, and Chuuya doesn't believe he's ever seen anything as beautiful in his life. The feeling makes his chest hurt.

"Alright?" He repeats, but his voice is void of the previous sharp tone.

You lean forward and press your mouth against his. Chuuya's hand slides to your neck, leaving goosebumps in its wake. You pull back and watch through lidded eyes as he chases your lips. After one last peck, Chuuya kisses both of your cheeks and falls back in his seat.

"Good girl."

#chuuya nakahara #nakahara chuuya #bsd #bungo stray dogs #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara x reader #nakahara chuuya x reader #chuya nakahara x reader #chuya nakahara #nakahara chuya #nakahara chuya x reader #bungou stray dogs imagine #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x reader #chuuya x fem!reader

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pin-k-ink · 7 months ago

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veil // fushiguro megumi

tw ⇢ friends to lovers, mutual pining, sexual tension, insomnia, codependency(?), teasing, nipple play, body worship, clit play, unprotected sex, marking, making out, mentions of violence and injuries

wc ⇢ 7.4k

Megumi sighed heavily as he stared up at the ceiling of his dorm room. As a third-year jujutsu sorcerer, he had seen more traumatizing events than most people could even fathom. The visions played on an endless loop in his mind - the grotesque curses, the brutal battles, the lives lost right before his eyes.

It made true rest nearly impossible to come by. Night after night, insomnia wrapped its icy tendrils around Megumi, holding him hostage to the waking world no matter how utterly exhausted he felt. His body craved the sweet release of slumber, but his mind stubbornly refused to quiet.

The only person who seemed to provide any semblance of peace, any eye in the storm of Megumi's turmoil, was you. You were a fellow classmate and a healer, frequently patching up Megumi and the others when they returned from missions bloodied and weary. While you didn't often join them on the battlefield directly, you had been by Megumi's side through it all for the longest time.

There was something about your calming presence, your unwavering care and support, that helped soothe the jagged edges of Megumi's psyche in a way nothing else could. He felt safe when you were around, like he could fractionally loosen the iron grip of hyper-vigilance that kept him tethered to consciousness.

It happened by accident at first, the realization that your company helped calm the storm in his mind enough to actually fall asleep. The two of you had been studying late one night, poring over ancient texts and trading observations in hushed tones. Megumi couldn't even recall when he had started nodding off, utterly unaware that he was drifting until his head came to rest against your shoulder.

The gentle warmth radiating from you and the faint floral scent of your hair had proven too soothing a lullaby. Megumi jerked awake with a panicked start sometime later, disoriented by the unexpected lapse in consciousness. But as his eyes landed on your peaceful, resting form beside him, he couldn't recall the last time his mind had been so blissfully quiet.

From that point on, a new unspoken routine slowly took root between you. With the dark circles deepening beneath Megumi's eyes, you began to pick up on his struggles to find any respite. So you simply...made yourself available to him, leaving the door to your room cracked in open invitation.

At first, Megumi felt paralyzed by indecision and unspoken hesitancies. But the bone-deep weariness eventually overwhelmed his reservations. He found himself gravitating to your door sometime after midnight, footsteps soundless in the corridor as he slipped inside without preamble.

You never acknowledged his presence beyond a slight smile and shifting to make room for him on the small bed. Megumi would settle in behind you, molding his body to fit the slender curves of yours as you tugged the covers up over both of you. Inhaling the comforting amalgam of your scents, he would finally feel the vise grip of anxiety start to loosen its chokehold as you laced your fingers through his.

Within minutes, the cadence of your breathing descended into deep, even respiration - an anchor amidst the turbulence of Megumi's mind. He focused intently on matching that peaceful rhythm until the world gradually receded and slumber claimed him once more in its warm embrace.

The arrangement continued nightly, becoming as natural as breathing. You never pried or demanded anything from Megumi other than to allow you to provide this small shelter of serenity. And he took unconscionable solace in your unassuming care and discretion, even as it stoked an undercurrent of deeper longing that went unspoken.

Megumi's crush on you was a secret he guarded with the same intensity and vigilance as he did curses on the battlefield. He told himself it was merely an extension of the profound gratitude he felt for how you grounded him, kept him anchored to reality when his psyche threatened to drift into darker depths. But his heart knew better.

With each passing night Megumi spent wrapped in the cocoon of your arms, his feelings for you blossomed into something deeper and more complex than simple appreciation. He found himself studying you in quiet moments - the rhythmic fluttering of your eyelashes as you slept, the gentle swell of your breasts rising and falling, the wispy tendrils of hair escaping their bindings to frame your face.

In those hushed interludes where the rest of the world seemed to fade into insignificance, Megumi drank in every nuanced detail as if committing you to eternal memory. The way your brow would occasionally furrow while dreaming, or how your fingertips would twitch restlessly against his skin in an unconscious caress that set his pulse fluttering.

He memorized the soft little noises you made as you drifted through the cycles of slumber - the nearly inaudible hums and murmurs that rumbled like satin against his jawline when you instinctively nuzzled closer. Each one catalyzed an answering riptide through Megumi's consciousness, an electric thrum of awareness and thinly-veiled yearning that he didn't dare shed light upon.

Because to truly acknowledge the depths of his burgeoning affections would be to open a door to possibilities and vulnerabilities that terrified him in equal measure. What if you didn't feel the same? What if the tranquil sanctuary you'd created together shattered under the weight of his selfishness? The mere prospect of shattering this fragile equilibrium became increasingly more harrowing than any curse Megumi could envision.

So he remained a silent supplicant, content - or so he tried to convince himself - to bask in your radiance from a respectful distance while allowing the steady cadence of your existence to lull his demons. He told himself the secret thrill igniting low in his belly whenever your bodies instinctively intertwined was simply gratitude given corporeal form. That the occasional ghost of your breathfanning across his lips didn't catalyze endless agonizing fantasies about capturing that elusive exhalation with his own mouth in a scorching tandem.

Megumi became adept at compartmentalizing those unbidden yearnings, shunting them into airtight chambers to be unspooled and examinedin the solitary, sleepless hours before you rejoined him each evening. With clinical detachment, he would sketch out every hypothetical nuance should he actually carry through on giving physical form to his deepest cravings.

The way your eyes might widen in surprise before fluttering closed in acquiescence as his mouth claimed yours with lingering insistence. How it would feel to map every sloped and bowed plane of your soft curves, adoringly tracing the constellations of silvered scars and incandescent birthmarks that comprised the physical galaxies of your existence.

He imagined your incredulity giving way to the same yearning need which strained against his composure with each passing night spent laced together in willful obliviousness.The intimate echoes of pleasure and wonder he would eagerly consecrate upon your body with his lips, tongue, teeth—

And just as the delirious spiral of ideation attained true escape velocity from the bounds of propriety, Megumi would forcibly abort the mental exercise. He fashioned those fleeting indulgences into a singular razor's edge to test his willpower and resolve against - proof that he could still discern the boundaries of what was permissible to feel for someone who had become such an indispensible part of his life.

Because the truth was, the fear of irreparably damaging the precious dynamic you had both cultivated outweighed any ephemeral cravings borne from his hormones or sublimated psyche. Having you close, feeling the tranquil balm of your very presence, was powerful enough medicine that Megumi would happily sacrifice his own needs to maintain it indefinitely.

At least, that was what he continuously reassured himself of in those shadowed, liminal hours where one's defenses deteriorated and brutal honesty took on corporeal form.

The fear of your potential rejection, or worse - revulsion and withdrawal - haunted Megumi like a curse given sentient breath. He refused to be the one to risk upending the profound unspoken covenant you had both entered into by broaching those perilous waters of intimacy uninvited.

He would happily consign himself to being your eternal shadow self if that's what it took to keep experiencing those nightly respites where the world became reduced to the twin rhythms of your conjoined breathing. To exist in that warm, blissful refuge beyond expectation or want of anything further.

Until, eventually, the sinuous pull of temptation became too seductive to ignore any longer. Until the idea of not indulging those carnal curiosities burned hotter than any consequences they risked catalyzing. Until the all-consuming gravity between you both attained criticality and Megumi could no longer resist the possibility of you both rupturing into brilliant coalescence...

The tension built slowly, anonymously, over the countless nights you and Megumi continued your ritualistic communion. What had started as a simple quest for respite gradually deepened into something more primal, more erotically charged as the weeks and months slipped by in your endless cycle of slumber and wakefulness.

Perhaps it was the sheer physicality of your sleeping forms twining together in such unguarded vulnerability that catalyzed the undercurrent of awareness. The way Megumi's heightened senses seemed to blaze with renewed intensity whenever he inhaled the warm, intoxicating amalgam of your essences mingled on the sheets. How your fingers would occasionally trail idle, unconscious patterns over the taut contours of his abdomen, trailing dangerously close to where he needed you most.

Or maybe it stemmed from the unprecedented intimacy of witnessing one another at your most unguarded and rumpled - hair mussed and defenses lowered in that indeterminate state between dreaming and wakefulness. The thin veneers of propriety sloughed away until you existed as little more than twin points of radiant energy thrumming in sympathetic resonance.

Megumi couldn't pinpoint the precise genesis of when he started permitting his subconscious to indulge in more sensually-charged reveries while tucked against your pliant form. All he knew was the gradual awakening of a profound, smoldering need that made each successive separation from your warmth more achingly profound.

It started small at first - like catching himself studying the gentle swell of your cleavage rising incrementally with each inhale a beat too long. Or feeling a forbidden frisson of arousal whenever your backside would cant backwards into the cradle of his hips as you instinctively cuddled closer while sleeping.

Megumi found his palms growing slickened with unconscious desire at those titillating moments of contact, fingers twitching with the impulsive need to boldly map the elegant geography of your curves rather than simply appreciate them from a chaste distance. To consummate those indefinable cravings with searing, profane action before the last vestiges of his restraint withered away entirely.

He fantasized about robbing you of that peaceful, slumbering purity - envisioning scenarios where he lost control over that banked reservoir of lust and simply took you in a single, consumptive rush. His calloused palms cupping the weight of your breasts as he nuzzled open-mouthed against the graceful column of your throat, chasing each shivering inhale with lips and tongue until you succumbed to awakening in a spiral of bewildered pleasure.

Or picturing your lithe form arching bowstring-taut against his awakened bulk as he worked methodical paths down the tempting vee between your breasts, teeth grazing hardened nipples through thin cotton until you writhed feverishly against him. Megumi would stifle your incredulous whimpers and plaintive cries into the blackened hollows of his palms, swallowing each punched-out exhalation as he rutted his painfully stiffened cock against your inner thigh in mute supplication.

He knew every ridge, every striation of musculature comprising his own physique in exhaustive detail after years of rigorous training. Yet the prospect of intimately mapping those same minutiae across your untasted terrains literally stole his breath at times. To splay his palm over your lower abdomen and simply feel those powerful, feminine planes flutter beneath his touch as Megumi brought you to the brink...

But just as those delirious reveries risked spiraling out into openly obscene territory, Megumi would reign them in through sheer force of will. Harsh, panting breaths rapidly cooling the molten burn of lust simmering in his veins as he tamped it back into submission. He could no more give literal expression to those basest impulses than he could forfeit the solace your presence provided.

Anything beyond the fulcrum point of temptation represented a line which, once crossed, could never be uncrossed. You'd proven time and again the depth of loyalty and unconditional care comprising your bond. But that depth of trust and acceptance could so easily be severed should Megumi press his desires too insistently.

So he continued subsisting on hazy intimations and fevered imaginings while keeping his more prurient instincts solidly leashed. Savoring the sensuality of each whisper-light caress and breath-mingled proximity while outwardly maintaining his carefully modulated impassiveness. Permitting himself to indulge in those lascivious mental sojourns until the edge of release loomed...before sublimating everything back into restraint with a harsh indrawn breath.

The rigid alternating current between unspoken need and staunch self-denial formed the pulsing heart of the ritual you shared nightly. You remained the serene eye holding the tempests of Megumi's warring compulsions at carbonized bay. And he...he simply basked in the tempering balm of your presence while the embers of want smoldered in secret - flaring incandescently before being ruthlessly banked once more.

An intricate dance of torment and grace, spiraling indefinitely around one another while the thermonuclear potential for something cataclysmic swelled with each passing cycle. Until the day that escalating tension breached the limits of its containment and detonated in a searing, irrevocable rush.

The nightly ritual of entwining yourselves together became more intricate with each passing week. What had started as simple proximity gradually deepened into a choreographed embrace, limbs instinctively mirroring familiar handholds and points of seamless contact.

Megumi found himself unconsciously cataloging and savoring each minute variation, eagerly committing the details to memory like a lifeline anchoring him against the relentless tides of his insomnia. How you would slightly angle your body onto your side to accommodate the hard planes of his chest molding against your back. The specific cant of your hips that allowed his arm to drape possessively over your waist while still permitting unimpeded breathing.

Each successive joining attained an elevated courtship of calibration that fostered unprecedented intimacy. Like two galaxies engaged in an inexorable drift towards eventual coalescence, your sleeping existence warped and bent in perpetual accommodation of the other.

Some nights the restless thoughts careening through Megumi's psyche demanded an even more grounding proximity. Those were the occasions where he found himself cautiously resting his head atop the slender practicality of your sternum, jugular notched against the crown of his brow. Here, tucked into the cradle of your neck, he could literally feel the solidity of your pulse thrumming through his awareness - a primeval mantra of vitality wresting equilibrium from his frenzied mind.

On those nights, you always seemed to sense Megumi's deeper unrest without any prompting or vocal admission required. You would instinctively burrow your fingers into the thicket of his tousled hair, blunted nails scoring heated trails across his scalp in soothing, repetitive strokes that cauterized the hairline fractures in his self-restraint.

Megumi remembers with vivid intensity the first time you combed your touch through his dishevelment that way - the liquid shock of sensation cauterizing every other intrusive external stimulus until only the molten rapture of your caress resonated. He fought not to stiffen with startled arousal, reminded himself to regulate each breath into an even, practiced cadence as your fingertips continued kneading shivery nirvana against his sensitized cranium.

From that point on, the act became like an invocation murmured between you in a language far older than spoken tongues. You cradled him to your heart's steady timekeeping, lulled his mind's frantic metronome into matching harmony through the steadying conduits of your tenderness. And Megumi absorbed the ritual like one of the world's most profound sacraments - folding himself into the sensual harbinger of your care until the disquieting echoes whittling away at his sanity peeled back into irrelevance.

Of course, the intoxicating pleasure of those protracted instances of physical intimacy was not without its tolls as well. Megumi spent countless bouts wrestling his painfully hardened cock back into submission, terrified you would somehow notice the evidence of his lascivious response to your ministrations. He fantasized about angling his hips in pointed invitation, grinding the formidable ridge of his desire against the plush give of your ass until the tantalizing friction robbed all capacity for forethought.

But somehow - through sheer force of will and practice - he always steadied himself before breaching that line of propriety entirely. Allowed the exquisitely tortuous yearning to crest and plateau before carefully redirecting the bonfire of his lust into more neutral, innocuous channels once again. Still, the agonized throbbing of his cock during those lapses in control served yet another agonizing reminder of how precarious his restraint remained where you were involved.

Then there were other nights where the metaphysical gravity between you intensified to a nigh-insupportable degree. Occasions where the low ebb of tension shading toward outright erotic charge became too much to simply bear in polite, silent observation. Megumi would find you seeking solace in the solid bracket of his arms wound around your waist from behind instead - your smaller form bracketed into his sculpted embrace with your back sealed flush to his chest.

Here, intimacy rankled in subcutaneous tactilities and the somatic topographies of skin all but extinguishing its own illumination. The physicality of your closeness overwhelming every dulled sense until each shallow inhalation fluttered through Megumi with gut-punched intensity. On these smoldering occasions, he could literally feel the downy caress of your exhales pebbling the bare skin of his forearms, teased the rarefied definition of every flexed musculature sheath bracketing your form.

He frequently surrendered to the delirium of nuzzling into the fragrant tumult of your hair during those times, drugging himself further on the precious methedrine of your proximity. Inhaled in ragged drafts the musky underlays of your exertions that day mingling in sublimated ritual with the powdered-silk bouquets of soap and shampoo until the composite scent became more intoxicant than oxygen itself.

Unconsciously, reflexively, his touch would grow more covetous - fingertips trailing intricate emblems against the exposed expanses of your abdomen in strange forgotten glyphics. Heated brands of delirious possession emblazoned like scripture against the divine of your body's topography as silent offering. Molten lust tamped down to smolder through ingrained ritual until only the indelible physicality of shared consecration remained between your inosculating forms.

In those fevered raptures of near-dissolution, Megumi orbited nearer to capitulating before the magnetizing gravities arrayed against what little restraint remained binding the sanctities of your bond together. It became increasingly harder to weigh the cosmic indifference of his need against the fearsome recompense that awaited any expression more literal than molten dreams and carnal hallucinations left unenacted.

You never called overt attention to the escalating delirium, never gave voice or acknowledgment to the unraveling stair-step of intimacies unfolding between you with each passing union. You simply absorbed the degrees of erotic intensification catalyzing in his embrace with the same serene grace and mindful presence that had allowed the ritual to precipitate in the first place.

An ouroboric trine of Megumi giving in to the pull of temptation by slow increments, only to reign himself in before the full dissolution of your communion - with you radiating patient understanding all the while.

Until the fateful night when the fragile membranes separating fantasy from reality ruptured entirely under the relentless onslaught of those gravitational accelerations. And neither one of you could profess any clarity on who crossed the event horizon first to send your orbits careening into the devastatingly inevitable.

The harmonic symmetry of your nightly ritual began taking on newer, increasingly charged dimensions as the weeks slipped past. Megumi struggled to pinpoint when precisely the lines between chaste intimacy and burgeoning eroticism had started to blur, but he found himself gravitating towards more indulgent variations of your standard embrace.

Certain nights, when the frayed edges of his self-restraint rayoned to diaphanous threads, Megumi allowed himself to settle against you in a new configuration entirely. Rather than wedging his head into the immaculate cradle of your neck and shoulder, he would burrow deeper - descending until the fevered crown of his brow came to rest in the plush valley between the gentle swell of your breasts.

Here, cradled against the supreme sacristy of your body's undulating topography, Megumi could absorb the vital thrum of your heartbeat through the heated stratum of your skin. The rhythm became an intravenous infusion mainlined straight into his faltering sanities, syncing the frantic piston-stokes of his mindfire back towards equilibrium.

On those nights, the two of you seemed to meld into seamless isotropy, bodies twining as one through elemental planes of gravity's maddening allure. Megumi's arms would wind inescapably around your waist, fingers instinctively spanning the narrow concavities between ridges of musculature before rooting against the flared terrain of your hip bones. Anchors thrumming mute benediction upon quivering expanses of flesh so achingly welcoming he thought he might disintegrate into the static charge between you.

There, suspended in what felt like a continuous drift across the eventuality of an intergalactic collision, Megumi allowed himself to telescope further into those fraught reveries silhouetting your sublimated desires. Imagination indulging the lascivious curiosities of devoting open-mouthed penance to those beckoning curves rising and falling in incandescent offering before his gaze. To splay prodigious fingers across the sloped flanks and reverently pepper the soft, vulnerable underswell with the calibrated intensity of his attentions until you arched in supplication to an even more consumptive benediction.

The decision to stay late one evening, when a badly injured student arrived on the cusp of hemorrhaging out, nearly unraveled Megumi's already tenuous grasp on reality.

You hadn't even spared him a backwards glance as you rushed to meet the emergency, instantly sublimating into a seamless triage protocol borne from years of battle-contested experience. Though more accustomed to demons as your primaries, bodies remained bodies - frail geysers of anatomy ruptured by violence no matter the catalyst.

Megumi drifted into the treatment bay behind you sightlessly, an errant moon trailing in your brilliance's wake. His presence registering only as an afterthought, a peripheral white-noise of observation as you went about prepping tools and sterilizing surfaces with economical grace. Only when you paused in mercurial deferential to bark clipped instructions did your gazes intersect momentarily - sending fresh riptides of heated consternation slaloming through his marrow.

He felt unmoored by your crisp, no-nonsense decorum in such surroundings. This whetted, highly-attuned aspect of your persona catching him off-guard in a way that transmuted the erotic undertones scaffolding your nightly intimacies into something more visceral and inflammatory.

So when you didn't dismiss him outright after the fact, Megumi remained transfixed on the periphery of the infirmary. A silent supplicant greedily trailing every deft juncture of your ministrations as you worked to isolate, debride, then definitively seal each sucking anatomical rupture. The sight catalyzed impressions of you peeling back layers like veiny petals, exposing rich carnal terrains of divine primality to his heated, overeager gaze.

At some point, Megumi had drifted closer until he stood a looming sentry presence directly behind you. Unwittingly or not, he radiated an indelible body heat that wreathed your shoulders in its feverish exhalations while you steadily worked. Yet if his covetous proximity registered any disquiet or distraction, you betrayed no evidence of such - your practitioner's aplomb never flagging even as Megumi boldly encroached upon your sphere of regard.

When at last the worst trauma had been staunched and dressed in immaculate, woven geometry, you let out a lengthy, tremulous exhalation that unleashed its own micro-shock wave of spent tension. Megumi was close enough that the resonant echoes of your breath feathered against his parted lips, igniting fresh smouldering in the banked, affective synapses sheathing his corporeal awareness.

Before higher reasoning or conscious thought could intervene, Megumi's hands had already settled in bold supplication upon the sweeping inclines of your hips. His thumbs instinctively spanned the concave valleys radiating from your sacrum, kneading small hieroglyphs of worship against the thin muslin barriers draping your skin as you swayed minutely back against his anchoring solidity.

Under the recycled ambience of the treatment wing, you slowly craned your head until the elegant willow-column of your throat bisected the charged ley lines separating your bodies. Megumi's gaze became immediately transfixed by the graceful relief of your jugular pulsing beneath tanned satin expanses - so deliciously bare and vulnerable that the yearning to mouth heated benediction against its thrumming cadence transmuted into pure visceral static shorting through his nervous relays.

When at last the vertigo of your shared proximity located a single tremulous point of intersection, your eyes blazed forth from beneath heavy-lidded admissions of naked need. In them, Megumi witnessed perfect reflections of his own answered compulsions, blurring thermal distortions of past reservations into gauzy irrelevance, catalyzing one final abeyance before conjoined surrender -

The intimacy between you and Megumi escalated rapidly in the nights that followed. What had started as simply holding each other for comfort was quickly evolving into something more charged with unspoken desire.

One night, Megumi clung to you desperately, the weight of the day's stresses bearing down on him. He pulled your body flush against his, hands roaming over every curve as if mapping out sacred territory. You could sense the franticness thrumming through him and tried to provide soothing caresses in response.

But your gentle touches seemed to inflame Megumi's need even further. He looked at you with an intense, hungry gaze, as if seeing you for the first time. When you met his stare with calm acceptance, any restraint still holding him back collapsed entirely.

In a sudden flurry of movement, Megumi rolled until his weight was pressed against you. He wedged his hips between your parted thighs as you arched up instinctively. Without hesitation, Megumi tugged aside your top and latched his mouth over your exposed nipple.

The feeling of his lips on your skin was electric. Megumi licked and sucked feverishly, savoring your softness and taste like a man starved. You cried out at the overwhelming sensations, back bowing even as your fingers threaded desperately through his hair to hold him close.

It was as if a dam had burst within Megumi after holding back for so long. He lavished open-mouthed devotion across every inch of newly uncovered skin. Your gasps and whimpers only spurred him onwards in worshipping your body.

You matched his ardor, nails raking down his back as you pulled him impossibly closer. The two of you moved with frantic need, exchanging gasps and whispered endearments. Rational thought ceased to exist, overwhelmed by the roaring hunger to finally culminate the intimacy that had been building relentlessly.

Every boundary, every tantalizing hint of temptation leading up to this moment disintegrated under the searing reality. You and Megumi were left teetering on the brink of something profound and life-altering. To cross that line was to tumble into the abyss together, scorched by the annihilating ecstasy of at last giving in completely to your deepest desires.

In the aftermath of that pivotal encounter, the dynamic between you and Megumi was irrevocably altered. What had once been a chaste, if intimate routine of shared comfort, was now electrified by the undercurrent of bared desire.

Each night when Megumi slipped into your room, the air felt thick with heated tension and unspoken hunger. You would pull him into your arms as always, molding your bodies together in that sacred muscle-memory embrace. But now, there was always that loaded pause where you both hung suspended - breath bated, skin hyper-aware as you awaited the first catalyzing spark.

Sometimes it was the slightest accidental brush of Megumi's fingertips skimming along the sensitive undersides of your arms that ignited the conflagration. Other nights, it would be you unconsciously arching into the solid wall of his chest, beckoning hips angling in mute provocation. But inevitably, one simple point of friction would unlatch the fragile tether still constraining you both.

And then Megumi would descend upon you with desperation befitting a man dying of thirst. His mouth would latch over your nipple with a heated suction that robbed the air from your lungs in a sharp gasp. Teeth grazed the pebbled peak with exquisite delicacy even as his tongue laved broad, revering strokes across the tender areola.

You trembled helplessly under the lavish attention, back arching on instinct as waves of molten pleasure radiated outwards from that scorching nexus. Megumi seemed utterly transfixed, working your breast with an almost spiritual devotion - alternating between feather-light flicks and deep, hungry pulls that threatened to unravel you entirely.

Each desperate whimper or broken moan only spurred him on further. His free hand would knead and tug at your other breast, nimble fingers rolling and plucking at the stiff peak until you squirmed deliriously. The rough pads of his palm abraded your silk-soft skin with delicious friction in stark contrast to the velvet heat of his mouth's reverence.

Megumi chased every quivering rise and fall of your chest, lavishing open-mouthed worship across the sloped swells until your every exhale emerged as a ragged, punched-out keen. He was inexorable in his devotion - laving, sucking, even nipping at your puckered areola until that singular point of contact became the entire axis of your existence.

You quickly grew addicted to the exquisite agonies of having him worship your body so thoroughly. The harsh rasp of Megumi's breathing overwhelming your senses as he discarded any remaining barriers between you. The searing brand of his palms mapping every plane and curve as if frantically committing you to permanent memory through tactile consecration alone.

On those nights, your pussy throbbed with relentless emptiness, weeping silent pleas against Megumi's corded abdomen as he ground his weight into you. You lost entire pressures of coherency, retreating into the madness of fingernails scoring pleasured firesongs down his flexing musculature as lightning dances of sensation arced between nerve clusters.

But no matter how deliriously you offered yourself in the shuddering apotheosis of his undoing, Megumi would inevitably regain control before claiming that final, most profound capitulation. He seemed to carry you both to the very brink of annihilating rapture before caging his own explosive impulses once more.

Only once your breasts glistened with the obscene sheen of his lingering efforts would Megumi eventually show mercy. Even then, he stubbornly resisted pulling away entirely, instead lavishing languid, consoling laps of his tongue against your nipple whenever the stimulation verged into overwhelming intensity anew. Only then would he descend, pressing his length against your side while burying his face into the damp, perfumed haven at your breast.

Megumi's grip would anchor around you with crushing finality while he fought to regain his tenuous grasp on composure once more. You could feel his cock throbbing through the layers separating you, sense the molten restraint burning through him as he trembled on the very precipice of violent culmination.

But he held himself back from that plunge with grim determination. And you paradoxically admired and ached for him in equal measure - as if some essential core of Megumi's being would utterly unravel should he ever relinquish those final threads of control entirely.

So you gathered what tattered strands of sensibility remained, gentling him through the shuddering aftershocks with languid caresses until his breathing evened out once more. Until the rigid planes of muscle gradually unwound into the boneless repose of slumber as Megumi slipped into the blessed refuge of unconsciousness, face nestled against your chest and cocooned in your warmth just as before.

Only this time, the hollows carved from nightly denial scored matching valences across both your souls in the aftermath. Reminders of how perilously, combustibly close you had come to breaching that ultimate horizon together before retreating once more. Stoking that banked wildfire anew with each passing cycle of slumber and wakefulness to feed its insatiable, all-consuming hunger.

The night draped the dormitory in hushed stillness, but sleep remained an elusive specter for Megumi. He tossed and turned, sheets tangling around his restless form as thoughts whirled incessantly. No matter how he tried to calm his racing mind, an inexorable restlessness took root.

Until finally, he could no longer ignore the magnetic pull drawing him from his solitary bed. Muscles coiled taut, Megumi rose and padded down the hall like a prowling panther. Each silent stride carried him inexorably closer to the one presence that could dull his frayed edges into blissful quiescence.

He didn't pause outside your door, didn't announce his arrival. Merely slipped into your room like a wraith, instincts guiding him through the familiar motions. You were already there in the rumpled bed, turned towards the door in seeming expectation of his arrival.

Megumi's breath stalled in his throat at the sight of you bathed in the moon's caress. He drank in the tousled spill of your hair, the perfect bow of your lips slightly parted in unconscious invitation. The naked vulnerability in your expression as you waited for him to join you lanced straight through to Megumi's guarded core.

He crossed the room in a few economical strides, body angling towards yours like branches entreating the sun's warmth. You didn't startle when the mattress dipped to accept his weight, simply made space amid the rumpled bedding for him to settle against you.

Your backs melded together in the practised ritual, his arm curved possessively around your waist as if to anchor himself. To tether his unquiet spirit to the only point of equilibrium.

Yet this time, Megumi's control stretched thinner than gossamer. He could no more ignore the fevered thrum of your pulses, the tantalizing warmth of your body cradled against his own. Scalding tendrils of yearning unfurled through his entrails as your familiar scent - crisp citrus and earthen musk - surrounded him in its intoxicating haze.

Megumi's fingers mapped the dip of your waist in a scorching caress, his calloused pads tracing the silken terrain as if committing it to memory. A tremor lanced through you at the molten intensity of his touch, your back arching infinitesimally into his solid frame.

He felt the nearly imperceptible motion like a lightning strike, every nerve ending suddenly hyper-aware of your proximity. Of the whisper-soft sounds of your breathing, the gentle cadence thrumming against his own ribs. The fragrant warmth of your hair fanning across the pillowcase, beckoning him closer into its silken snare.

Reason hazed into distant white noise, subsumed by the primal riptide pulling them into deeper, uncharted waters. Megumi's arm contracted around your waist with inevitable gravity, eliminating what little space remained between your entangled forms. His caged exhale gusted hotly against the nape of your neck, stirring the fine baby hairs there.

You tensed for a charged beat, attuned to the smoldering simmer of intent that Megumi could no longer leash. Then, almost imperceptibly, you melted back into the unyielding plains of his chest in wordless capitulation. An invitation and challenge housed in that simple motion.

He groaned out a ragged exhale, the last tattered vestiges of restraint unraveling. Megumi's palm cradled the juncture of your shoulder, urging you to roll onto your back as he followed like the inexorable path of smoke towards an inferno. Until his searing gaze bored into your own, igniting answering embers that danced across your half-parted lips.

In that electrifying stillness, the world compressed to a single point of gravity enclosed between your bodies. Then Megumi's mouth claimed yours with years of banked, seething hunger finally breaking free in a firestorm of fevered intensity...

Megumi's mouth slanted hungrily over yours, initial restraint giving way to unbridled fervor. Years of simmering tension, of aborted glances and near misses, combusted in that heated collision. His calloused palm cradled the arch of your nape as your fingers fisted in the fabric of his sleep shirt, anchoring him firmly against you.

You exchanged scorching kisses with ardent enthusiasm, bodies straining ever closer until not even a whisper of space remained between them. Your curves melded seamlessly with the unyielding planes of Megumi's torso, seeking that blissful union you'd both sublimated for too long.

When the primal need for oxygen finally overwhelmed the compulsive joining of your mouths, you broke apart with a ragged inhalation. Shared breaths mingled in the scant space, gazes locked in an electrifying exchange of unguarded yearning. Then Megumi dipped his head again, trailing a molten path of kisses along the swell of your jaw and throat.

A tremulous sigh tumbled from your parted lips as you instinctively arched into his smoldering caresses. You could feel the delicious rake of his teeth grazing your pulse point before he soothed it with an openmouthed kiss that seared like a brand. Your fingers combed through the silken strands at his nape, nails scraping lightly to elicit a full-bodied shudder against you.

Rational thought frayed and disintegrated like so much smoke into this blissful oblivion of tangled limbs and questing hands. There was only the unhurried rediscovery of sacred territories and the intoxicating thrum of Megumi's ardor reverberating through your bones.

You luxuriated in the exquisite agony of his mouth worshipping your bare skin. His lips and tongue and teeth traversed the graceful curve of your throat, leaving behind a searing map of claim. Then they skimmed across the slope of your collarbones, his breath a hot gust against your fevered flesh.

He pressed a kiss to the hollow of your throat before descending. Megumi trailed a blistering path along the valley between your breasts, savoring every twitch and gasp of pleasure elicited. Finally, his lips latched onto a peaked nipple, sucking and nipping and laving until the molten tension pooling in your abdomen tightened unbearably.

You cried out softly, a broken sob of desire. Your nails raked across his broad shoulders, seeking purchase. His answering groan was nearly feral, reverberating through you as he tugged at the stiffened peak with his teeth.

Your spine arched off the bed, hips bucking against his thigh that had wedged between yours. A whimper spilled from your parted lips as Megumi continued lavishing attention upon your breast, his tongue swirling around the sensitive tip in teasing strokes. His hand palmed the other, kneading and pinching and tugging until the twin sensations became a dizzying feedback loop.

Every touch sent shocks of pure pleasure coursing through you, igniting sparks along nerve endings and setting your blood alight. You writhed against Megumi's muscular frame, seeking more, more, more. He answered your unspoken plea with a deep groan, his arousal hard and heavy against your hip.

The sound of his desire echoed in your core, the slickness between your thighs growing unbearable. Megumi was relentless in his ministrations, as if determined to worship every inch of your exposed skin. His tongue and teeth left a scorching path across the delicate swell of your breast, his hands trailing a fiery trail across the quivering plains of your abdomen.

The molten friction of his palms mapping the sloped concavities where hip met thigh, then the supple give of your ass, made you delirious with desire. Every part of you was alight with need, the coil of tension within you tightening beyond bearing. You writhed desperately beneath Megumi, the air filling with a symphony of broken moans and breathless pleas.

Then his fingers skimmed along the apex of your thighs, and the world went white. You were so wet, so ready, that the first touch sent a lightning bolt of pleasure arcing through you. Megumi's eyes blazed into yours as he stroked your aching folds, the heat of his gaze searing you more than his touch.

The slick glide of his fingertips against your swollen clit was exquisite, the pressure exactly what you needed. Megumi seemed to sense your desire, circling and rubbing the bundle of nerves until you were practically writhing beneath him. Your hips bucked up to meet his hand, thighs trembling and voice breaking.

With his free hand, he pinned you down to the mattress, fingers gripping your hip with bruising intensity. His gaze never wavered from yours, his dark irises blown wide with lust. He looked at you as if you were a goddess to be worshiped, his expression filled with awe and desire.

Your climax crashed over you in a devastating wave, the pressure within you cresting beyond containment. A sob tore from your lips as the sensations overwhelmed you, the muscles of your abdomen spasming and your thighs clamping together around his hand.

Megumi continued stroking you, prolonging the ecstasy, until you were a quivering mess. Your whole body was alight with sensation, aftershocks of pleasure radiating through you with each ragged breath. You felt utterly boneless, sated beyond imagining.

Yet beneath that languid satiety, a renewed undercurrent of hunger simmered. The sight of Megumi's fingers, slick and glistening, only fueled the need within you. You watched through heavily-lidded eyes as he brought them to his lips, licking them clean. The sight was indescribably erotic, the knowledge that it was your taste on his tongue making you ache for more.

With a low growl, Megumi descended once more, capturing your mouth in a blistering kiss. His tongue slid against yours, the tang of your arousal filling your senses. Your arms wound around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair. The press of his bare chest against yours sent a fresh surge of want coursing through you, your desire already mounting anew.

Megumi kissed you hungrily, as if he were a man starved. His hands roamed restlessly across your body, leaving a trail of searing heat in their wake. Your hips rolled up to meet his, the hard line of his arousal pressing against your slick core.

The friction was delicious, the need within you coiling tighter with each passing second. You were aching for him, desperate for more. With a muffled moan, you tugged at the waistband of his sweatpants, urging them down.

Megumi pulled back just enough to shed the rest of his clothing, baring himself completely to you. His cock jutted proudly between his muscled thighs, the tip glistening with precum. Your eyes widened at the sight, your tongue darting out to wet your lips.

Megumi's gaze was dark with desire, his expression a heady combination of longing and restraint. He loomed over you, his body thrumming with barely leashed power.

You felt a frisson of anticipation as he settled between your parted thighs, the thick heat of his arousal pressing against your entrance.

Then, with a guttural groan, he sank into you. The stretch and pressure were almost overwhelming, but the delicious friction quickly overrode any discomfort. Megumi moved with slow, steady thrusts, his hips grinding against yours in a sinuous rhythm.

You clutched at his back, fingers digging into the corded muscles. Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper, closer. The room filled with the sound of your panting breaths and the slap of skin against skin.

The molten coil within you tightened, winding tighter and tighter. Megumi's pace increased, his thrusts growing more erratic. His breath was hot against your ear, his groans echoing in your skull. You could feel the tension within him mounting, his movements becoming more frantic.

And then, with a final, desperate thrust, he drove you both over the edge. Your climax shattered through you, wave after wave of pleasure rippling through your core. Megumi followed suit, his cock pulsing inside you as he shuddered above you.

In the blissful aftermath, you and Megumi remained entwined as one - a tangle of flushed limbs and shared breaths that defied any attempt at separation. Though your bodies had been driven to sublime extremes, there was no sense of depletion, only a profound fullness expanding within your joined spirits.

You trembled in soulful rapture, gasps intermingling with Megumi's own ragged exhales as the world gradually recomposed itself around you. Every nerve ending still burned with the rapturous afterglow, an exalted benediction lapping against the most primordial hollows of your being.

In that sacrosanct cocoon you had spun together through devoted passion, the fragile shells of individuality had fallen away to reveal the scintillant essence beneath. You didn't just feel sated, but spiritually transmuted - two souls having shed their chrysalides to be reborn as something greater through sacred rites of unity.

Boneless and weightless, you could only bask in the incandescent glow of that metamorphosis. For in that endless moment spanning innumerable lifetimes and worlds, you had glimpsed the divine truth at the heart of humanity's highest calling - to love, and be loved completely in return.

#jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader smut #fushiguro megumi x reader smut #megumi x reader smut #fushiguro megumi x reader #fushiguro megumi #megumi smut #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro

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chrrychills · 4 months ago

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we both like apple cider .

main six « sleepover w/ their s/o!

ashlyn banner:

•sleepover's probably at her house, it's more convenient that way. plus you can hangout in the bus graveyard!

•will make dinner and appreciates if you sit in the kitchen and talk to her.

•reluctantly allows you to do face masks on her– the only condition is that you're not allowed to take pictures. (you did anyway.)

•is ready for bed around 10 pm. She wants the two of you to get at least a little bit of rest before the shift at midnight.

•has a hard time falling asleep after the phantom realm, so the two of you probably stay up until 2-3 am talking.

•will cuddle for max 10 minutes, then she gets too hot or uncomfortable and moves away. she'll still be holding you hand or touching you in some way, though!

•overall very tame sleepover, just appreciates your presence.

aiden clark:

•you're not sleeping. at all. he will make it his mission to keep you up all night.

•will not be making dinner, he can't cook for shit. the two of you end up just ordering pizza instead of making the effort to cook.

•the two of you will most likely leave the house for some reason or another– wether that be snacks or something else.

•he's super cuddly when he's tired, so he'll practically cling to you when he's ready to sleep. usually doesn't rest before the shift, but tries to when he's with you because he doesn't want you to be tired in the phantom realm.

•either can't sleep or knocks out after the seven hours is up. if he's exhausted enough to sleep, it'll be the best sleep of your lives.

•will gladly allow you to do face masks, makeup, etc. he thinks it's fun, and likes seeing you happy.

•absolutely painting your face if you let him. if you don't, there's a good chance he does it while you sleep.

•overall, very chaotic. there's a 90% chance you'll wake up with face paint the next morning.

ben clark:

•either conks out at like 9:30 pm or stays up until dawn.

•you two will definitely be cooking/baking. he's an amazing baker, so whatever you make will taste amazing. (aiden's gonna come downstairs and eat like half of it in the middle of the night.)

•a big cuddler. even when he's sleeping, he has an iron grip on you. it comforts him, knowing that you're there with him.

•will spoon if you want but it isn't his favorite.

•matching pj pants. probably like black and grey plaid ones or something like that.

•usually starts winding down around 9 pm. he'll sit in bed and draw for half an hour or so, preferably with you cuddled up next to him.

•probably has a loud fan or white noise to sleep, but will absolutely turn it off if you ask.

•usually can't sleep after the phantom realm, but knocks out if you cuddle with him.

•very calm sleepover, he just wants to spend time with you. 10/10, sweetheart.

tyler hernandez:

•uses the time to pamper you, in his own subtle way. he'll make you dinner and spend most of the night attached to your side.

•super cuddly when he's tired, but will vehemently deny it if you bring it up after the fact.

•will force to you sleep or at least rest before the shift.

•loves cuddling. he relaxes immediately as soon as his arms are wrapped around you and your legs are tangled with his.

•falls asleep pretty quick. as soon as he allows himself to relax, he's out like a light.

•half expects your to just wear his clothes to bed. he's shocked (and slightly offended) when you bring your own clothes. it doesn't matter, since you usually end up in one of his hoodies or shirts anyways.

•goes to bed around 10:30-11:00. he's usually the one cleaning up dinner or something like that, so he doesn't usually wind down until 10.

•sleeps in a pitch black room with no noise. any stimulation will make it practically impossible for him to sleep.

•really calm. just wants to spend time with you, 10/10.

taylor hernandez:

•is so excited. she loves being around you, so being able to end her day with you bring her joy.

•movie night! you guys spend a bit too long picking a movie, and you both end up falling asleep about halfway through.

•a huge cuddler. she usually holds a stuffed animal when she sleeps, but now that you're here she can hold you instead!

•loves spooning– especially when she's little spoon. having your arms around her calms her down almost immediately.

•she says she wants to cook, but will probably get distracted and forget. you two will either end up eating tyler's cooking or ordering takeout at like 11:30.

•tries to get a good amount of sleep before the shift, so she tries to go to bed around 9:45-10:00. depending on how the day had been, you two either fall asleep super early or don't fall asleep at all.

•so exhausted after the shift and will fall asleep immediately.

•she tends to get night terrors, but she can calm herself down pretty quickly. when you're there, they either don't happen at all or are very rare.

•will most likely go on a rant about her club or a new project she had started. she usually doesn't realize she's rambling, and you don't have the heart to tell her.

logan fields:

•is super nervous and fidgety at first, but starts to relax and just focus on you the longer you're there.

•literally can't cook. at all. should not be allowed in a kitchen alone under any circumstances. he lets you cook dinner if you want to, but assures you that it's fine if you'd rather order takeout.

•sleeps pretty early, around 9:30. he really wants you two to rest before the shift so that you aren't tired and sluggish.

•he has a hard time falling back asleep after the shift, so he keeps a bottle of melatonin gummies in his cabinet and will offer you one if you need it.

•a light sleeper. if you move or pull away while you two are cuddling, he'll feel it and wake up immediately.

•you two probably won't leave the house, except to sit on the roof and stargaze. he spends more time admiring you than the sky and really hopes you don't notice.

•kinda nervous when it comes to cuddling. he probably has a tremor or something along those lines, so his hands are pretty much always shaky.

lacey's notes: hi!! i'm so sorry i haven't updated like i said i would. i'm finally home after my vacation, so i should be able to start updating more.

i wanted to get this out since it's been in my drafts for weeks. i want to thank everyone for the requests, and i'll start working on them shortly!

#sbg #sbg x reader #x reader #aiden clark x reader #aiden sbg #sbg tyler #tyler hernandez x reader #aiden clark #aiden school bus graveyard #ashlyn banner x reader #logan fields x reader #logan fields #sbg ben #ben clark x reader #tyler hernandez #taylor hernandez x reader

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kakashixhatakesxwhore · 6 months ago

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Hi! I don’t know if your requests are open but if they are, could you please write headcanons about how Iruka, Itachi and Kakashi would react to seeing a dream about the S/O dying? Thank you!

thank you for the ask, i'm totally game!!

How they would react to a dream about their S/O dying

They being Iruka (🥹), Kakashi (😩), and Itachi (🥴) - with wildcard picks of Shikamaru (😋) and Sai (🤭) (GN!Reader)

Warnings: talk of death, swearing, lil drinky-poo mention for Kakashi n cigaroot mention for Shikamaru, tell me if this sucks💋

Masterlist💿

Iruka

Iruka dreams about you, on a mission far too dangerous, getting locked into a skirmish and then meeting a gorey demise right in front of him

Wakes up covered in sweat, chilled to the bone, to your concerned voice and gentle hand

He pulls you close in a huff, breathing heavily and quickly - Iruka just can't seem to get enough air until he's got you, on his lap, with his arms wrapped around you and his face buried in your collarbone

You laugh lightly, and scratch his back in slow circles until he's regained enough composure to tell you about the dream

Iruka would be mortified to find out he had been yelling out for you in his sleep, and that being what initially woke you, but he'd be very comforted by your presence and consciousness

He would have some issue getting back to sleep, so one of you would suggest a tea and an early start if the hour was great enough

But, if it was still around midnight, you would flip him to his stomach and perch on his butt, then scratch/rub his back while whispering sweet assurances in his ear for however long he needed to relax again

Terrified of having to live without you, hasn't got a clue how he would be able to see through that kind of fog - he's just grateful for it to have been a figment of his imagination

Kakashi

Kakashi's dream isn't only of you dying, it's of you dying by his own hand

He wakes up with a jolt, turning to find you're safely in bed next to him - still, he holds a finger under your nose to check your breathing

Feeling a burning tingle coursing through him, Kakashi has to get out of bed, he can't just forget about the dream so easily

Without disturbing you, Kakashi gets out of the bedroom entirely and goes to the living room, pours a stiff drink and sits at your bay window while watching the dark sky move

You come out to the living room soon, before he's even done his drink, and you ask if he's coming back to bed

He finishes his drink and tucks you under his arm, steering you both back to the bedroom, feeling poorly about waking you up but feeling quite cared about

Kakashi can't bring himself to tell you about the dream, even if you ask - he didn't want to deal with it the first time, let alone rehash it

Eventually falls back asleep, holding you as closely as humanly possible, drifting off while pressing a million small kisses to your face and head

Itachi

A recurring theme in all of Itachi's dreams is death - familial, friend, himself, but he hates the ones where you die the most

Sometimes, you're killed by another, bested in a fight and demolished in front of Itachi - he can hardly take those seriously, you're far too powerful in the waking world

Other times, it's Itachi, himself, who takes your life - another impossibility, he would never, not even if you had something he coveted

It's the dreams of you and he, sitting together, wasting away with decay and disease - he can't stand those, because they're all too possible and real

He'd wake up with a start, and turn to you, running his fingers through your hair, and over the rosy apples of your cheeks, scouring your body for signs of vitality

You'd wake with a laugh, his fingers tickling your ribs, and Itachi would just hum for you to go back to sleep

Just as you curl up to his chest, he starts having a coughing fit (his lungs sound like sparkling cardboard with your ear right up to his chest) and has to sit up while you rub his back and hit him between the shoulder blades with the heel of your hand

He has to get up to spit out the phlegm and blood he coughed up, but comes right back with a heavy sigh

You promise him you'll stay by his side, through sickness and in health

Though riddled with anguish, Itachi just tells you he loves you, and thanks you for putting up with him, before crawling back into the bed

You two cozy up nicely and you listen as his soft, controlled breathing turns into a light, stuttered wheeze before falling back asleep yourself

Shikamaru

This poor motherfucker can't sleep a full night without at least one sour dream and it's such a drag

He wakes up swearing and shouting when the sour dreams are about you - his dreams never go on long enough for you to die, just for Shikamaru to see you in the grasp of the enemy, scared out of your mind, knowing what's to come

If you're not woken up by his ruckus, he'll surely wake you up to get a good look at you, to get your fearful expression out of his head

You're cranky, having been woken up from a deep slumber, and Shikamaru apologises insincerely before recounting his dream in vivid detail

Of course, this causes a change of tune, but Shikamaru teases you, telling you to apologise for being such a hater after he had such a concerning dream about you

You do, begrudgingly, then ask him to cuddle you again

Shikamaru lights a cigarette and tells you he might not go back to sleep, but leans back into his pillow and puts his arm around you, allowing you to rest on his chest

Despite his claim, Shikamaru almost immediatly falls back asleep, leaving you to slip his cigarette from his fingers, steal a drag, then ash it for him in the tray on his bedside table

He's gripping you so tight, you think he might think you'll disappear if he doesn't

You just sink into his being, taking comfort in his warmth and the rhythm of his heartbeat

Sai

His dreams are quite strange - they never make sense out of the context of Sai's unconscious mind, and even then

They're all very metaphorical and symbolic, and Sai could spend his whole life trying to decipher some of them, instead he just fills a notebook with whatever he can remember

All he can particularly remember from any of his dreams about your death is just a heartwrenching feeling that took over his soul

It would suffocate him, deafen him, blind him

When he wakes up next to you, peaceful and alive, he curses his mind and wishes he could remember the context of the feeling

Sai's just glad it was only a dream, only a manufactured feeling from his subconscious to torture him

He curls up to you, letting that disgusting feeling melt away as you press into him

All Sai can think about as he drifts off to face another vivid, otherworldly dream is how lucky he is to have someone who causes such visceral emotion within him

#itachi x reader #kakashi x reader #iruka x reader #shikamaru x reader #sai x reader #sai naruto #itachi uchiha #kakashi hatake #iruka umino #headcanon list #shikamaru nara #naruto headcanons #sai

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westcoastmidnightrun · 1 year ago

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MISSION IMPOSSIBLE DEAD RECKNONING FROM WEST COAST MIDNIGHT RUN™

A lengthy and comprehensive film review of Mission Impossible (MI7) Dead Recknoning Part One starring Tom Cruise as superspy Ethan Hunt and the IMF team with Simon Pegg, Ving Rhames, Rebecca Ferguson, Hayley Atwell, Vanessa Kirby and Esai Morales.

West Coast Midnight Run will publish both an abbreviated film review and a more in-depth revue complete with downloadable complimentary exclusively original posters for fans and viewers alike to enjoy.

https://wifi.midnighttracks.org/mission-impossible-7

We'll update our current review status from pre-premiere info bubble to full review after the film's release.

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notjoelmiller · 3 months ago

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don't mind me.. just thinking about vampire!ghost at 10am

1.8k words (beware... a little bit of blood, alcohol, vampirey stuff and la tension sexuelle)

...

Captain Price warned you. The day you transferred onto the team, he pulled you aside, and in an utterance quieter than anything you’ve heard from him since, he told you that the Lieutenant would take some getting used to.

“He’s a good man,” Price said, “Just peculiar.”

Read between the lines, sergeant: he’s an asshole. It isn’t anything new, and it certainly won’t become an excuse. You worked hard to get on this team, and some weirdo won’t get in the way of that.

So you prepare for the worst, and… you end up with the best? Lieutenant Riley turns out to be the best superior you’ve had the honor of serving under. He’s not a friend, not by any means, but he’s efficient on the field and cordial off of it, a luxury you’ve rarely been afforded.

However, Price’s words ring true. The man is just as his call sign suggests– a ghost. He barely socializes with the team, always (politely) declining to eat meals with you all. He makes himself scarce during the day, only appearing for training and missions wearing a skull mask. Hell, you’ve never seen him without the damn mask.

Despite his peculiarities, you can see why he’s made the team. He’s built like nobody you’ve ever seen– nearly six and a half feet of pure muscle. And the man is efficient. He lurks in the shadows, waiting to strike, and when he does… The man has slaughtered his way out of one too many impossible odds. It’s a pleasure to fight by his side. You find yourself missing him whenever he’s disappeared. The longing is unusual, unfamiliar, especially considering the allusiveness of the lieutenant. Yet when he’s there, working with you on training or missions, things just go better. It’s as though he understands you on some incomprehensible level. He picks up on things nobody else ever has– when you’re fatigued, hurt, or just generally pissed.

Unfortunately, today was one of the many days where Ghost lived up to his namesake. And what a day it was for him to be missing. After a grueling training session, you were tasked with a mountain of paperwork. All was going well until you accidentally misplaced about half of your completed paperwork, leading to an overzealous recruit dumping them into the paper shredder during your lunch break. While you were happy to give the kid one hell of a talking to, the damage was done and you were practically back to square one.

You don’t finish up until almost midnight. The urge to sleep is strong, but your frayed nerves are stronger. If you want to get some shut-eye before the sun rises, you need a drink ASAP. So straight past your room you go into the common room kitchen. Except, you’re not alone.

A man leans over the counter, setting down an empty glass. His blond hair is so light it nearly blends in with his translucent, pale skin. You’ve never seen him before, surely you would have noticed if you have. With skin that white, he must glow like a damn disco ball in the sun. The man wipes his lips with the back of his hand. It comes back smudged with red. So it seems like he had the same bright idea as you.

“Care to share?” You ask, startling him. He straightens to full height, and your heart skips a beat. He didn’t look all that large while hunched over the counter. Now? He’s built like a damn brick wall, tall and broad in a way that’s even rare among the men and women you work with.

The man gazes at you with wide brown eyes lined with purple bags. They dart behind you before he relaxes a bit, slumping back down.

“Share?” He whispers. His voice raises your hackles, something about the timber of the sound, even in a whisper, that awakens something in your mind.

You motion to his wine glass. He holds the stem tightly. You wouldn’t be surprised if it shattered. “The wine, pal.”

The man tenses. “Pal?”

“Pal,” you repeat.

“You’ve never called me that before,” says the man as he reaches in the cabinet for another glass.

You frown. “Have we met?”

The man’s face stretches into an unamused pout, “Really, Sergeant?” The word curls around his tongue in such a familiar way, yet it’s nearly impossible to place.

Just nearly.

You know that voice well. Typically it’s barking out orders in your earpiece and—

Shit, you just disrespected your Lieutenant.

“Christ—” Ghost flinches. You compartmentalize his dislike of blaspheme for when you’re not profusely apologizing to him. “Ghost, I didn’t recognize you without—“

“It’s alright,” Ghost looks through the cabinets until he finally finds the one with the 141’s not-so-secret alcohol supply. “Wine, you said? White or red?”

“Whatever you’re having.”

Ghost frowns at you until you motion for his emptied glass still filled with the crimson liquid. His lips part into an ‘o’. “‘F course."

Ghost pours a glass and slides it your way. “Can’t sleep?”

You nod. “You?”

“Something like that.”

You raise your glass. “Cheers?”

Ghost taps his glass against yours with a satisfying ding.

“You know,” you say after a sip, “We haven’t gotten the chance to talk since I joined— one-on-one, I mean.”

“That we have not,” Ghost muses. “I suppose you have questions.”

“That I do,” your eyes follow your finger, tracing the rim of the glass. “You know, Price gave me a warning when I joined.”

“He did?”

“Yeah, said you were a weirdo.”

“‘Weirdo’?” Ghost laughs. It’s surprisingly warm. You get a flash of his smile for the first time. His teeth are blindingly bright, but your attention is drawn to his canines. They’re unusually large— long —their points extending long and dangerous. “Is that what we’re calling it these days,” he muses.

“It’s not totally crazy to say, you know?” Ghost tilts his head, another sharp smile pulling at his lips, “I mean– this is the first time I’ve seen your face.”

“I’ve got a skin condition.” You raise a skeptical eyebrow. Ghost continues, “I get burnt easily.”

You frown, “Burnt?”

“Sunburn.”

“You’re joking.”

Ghost grimaces, and you realize that he is in fact not joking. You bark out a laugh, and before you consider the possibility that Ghost may actually have a medical condition, he starts laughing too.

You’re not looking, too busy laughing about your poor brick-shithouse of a lieutenant getting burnt to see that you’re about to slam your hand down on your wine glass. And you do, the glass knocking over and spilling wine all over the counter. And, as though the universe is reminding you that luck is not on your side today, the glass shatters, a shard managing to cut through one of your fingers.

A string of expletives escapes your lips as you instinctually avert your eyes. The feeling of the glass slicing through your skin echoes in your mind. Thinking about it causes you more distress than the actual pain.

“Let me look,” Ghost grumbles. He reaches for your hand, but you pull it back, examining it. A long but shallow cut mars your pointer finger. It oozes blood which drips down your knuckle and between your fingers.

“It’s fine,” you gasp, “I’ll just grab a band-aid.”

“No,” Ghost wraps his hand around your wrist. It’s not particularly hard, but the shock of his cold touch has you gasping. He pulls your hand to his face– his lips –and before you know it, your bloodied finger is in his mouth.

“Ghost, what the hell are you–”

Your lieutenant honest-to-God moans around your finger. His tongue swirls languidly around the digit in his mouth, like he’s savoring something. You suppose he is– the taste of you. Ghosts’s eyes are pulled shut, brows furrowed as he completely ignores your protests. Though, your protests aren’t exactly passionate, rather halfhearted formalities in case any others decide to wander into the common room this late at night.

He draws your finger out slowly, his tongue keeping contact with it until it can’t any more. You don’t draw your hand away from his grasp, instead letting it stand between you two, Ghost’s grip still iron on your wrist.

The room spins around you. You blame it on blood loss, ignoring the fact that you’ve lost way more blood in way less time. A cut certainly couldn’t bring you down. Your lieutenant however–

“Better?” Ghost asks. He moves closer, nostrils flaring as he takes a deep inhale almost like he’s smelling you. The thought makes you dizzier, a recessed part of your brain running wild at the thought of such a primitive act.

“You… you just–” You cut yourself off, a cross between a sigh and a whimper bubbling from your throat.

It sounds like a moan.

Maybe it was a moan.

It definitely was a moan.

Ghost’s free hand comes to cup your cheek, tilting your gaze back up to his. You hadn’t realized, but you were staring at his bloodstained lips. “Darling,” he coos, “Answer me.”

The words tumble from your mouth before you can even think about them: “Much better.” They ring true. Your finger doesn’t hurt a bit, even though it was very much just sliced open on a glass.

Ghost brings your hand to his lips again. You think he’s going to put your finger in his mouth again. Instead, he presses it against your lips, placing a kiss on the cut. He lets go of your wrist, but before your hand can fall to your side, his tongue darts out from between his lips, giving the cut one last kitten lick.

Ghost’s lips are moving. Between them, you catch glimpses of his canines. Why are they so long? They’re lined with red blood– your blood –filling the crevices between his teeth. His tongue runs over his teeth, wiping them clean of you. Your lips part, your own tongue running over your own teeth in mimicry.

“Darling?” His mouth is closed, lips pursed.

“Huh?”

He’s staring at you, the bags under his eyes seeming to have lessened. It’s just the lighting, that’s all.

“I said,” Ghost’s thumb traces your cheekbone. You feel like you might faint. “Go bandage that.”

You blink, mouth forming an 'o'. “Okay,” you barely get the word out as Ghost lets his hands fall from you. Your feet are carrying you backwards as you stutter, “B-bandage. Got it, Ghost.”

You’re falling over your feet as you stumble away, nodding profusely and uttering bandage, bandage, bandage under your breath.

“Simon,” he calls, and you stop, turning to him. “It’s Simon. I’m not just a ghost, you know.”

A ghost. No he certainly is not. Not anymore. Your finger is stinging, and when you look down, it’s bleeding again. You’re tempted to point it out to Ghost– to Simon –just to see what he’ll do.

“Good night,” your bloody finger twitches involuntarily, “Simon.”

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #call of duty x reader #simon riley x y/n #ghost x y/n #save me vampire!simon save me

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nyxwanderland · 1 month ago

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♡ who cares when all i want is you?

character → gojo satoru story → angsty + fluffy at end, hurt/comfort, a bit of swearing, fem!reader, megumi calls reader nee-san, gojo and reader are 21 years old, mentions of hidden inventory gojo 'death' , gojo being a jerk tho :( word count → 3.5k (my longest fic so far wohoo)

your ears perk up to the jingling of keys outside your front door, a sound of which you have been waiting for since this evening. the door swings open as you stand up from your place on the couch, turning the tv off which was used as a distraction to keep yourself awake, since it is way past midnight, to reveal gojo with a somewhat distraught expression on his face.

you clear your throat before speaking up, making sure to sound as calm as possible in order to not ruin his mood even further. "you're home…" the urge to want to talk about something that has been weighing on your mind suddenly dissipates due to the scowl your boyfriend has, plastered on his handsome features.

gojo doesn't answer and proceeds to shut the door and take his shoes off, sighing as if you are the last person he wants to talk to right now. you stand there, fiddling with your fingers, unsure of how to make him talk even if it's just a word.

"um, is everything alright?" you quietly ask. "do you want to talk about it over dinner?"

"god," gojo groans and it makes you flinch a bit, surprised to see his reaction. "can i have just one moment of peace? i literally just got off this stupid meeting right after exorcising a special grade in kyoto. i'm going—"

"what?" it comes off much more exasperated than you intended to. "what do you mean a special grade? and you were in kyoto? why didn't you tell me?"

gojo looks at you as if you had grown another head. "why? why is telling you necessary? do you want to interfere in my job and be in my way of everything?"

this. this is the very topic you were eager to express about just a few seconds ago.

"it's not about that," you explain, trying to keep your voice under control as megumi is fast asleep upstairs. "you've been leaving for difficult missions without at least informing me. hell, you're sometimes gone for a week long, no-contact tasks outside the city and i'm here waiting for you to get home without getting a wink of sleep, only to find out from yaga-sensei or someone else!"

you take a deep breath and slowly approach gojo's towering figure, your hand reaching out to hold his. you look up at his eyes, but they are shielded by his pitch-black shades.

"i'm worried for you, satoru," your voice wavers as a lump forms in your throat that is impossible to swallow away. "i'm scared something might happen to you… like that day."

gojo knows what day you are referencing. the day when he almost lost his life. but it was also the day when he finally understood what was holding him back to really become the man he is now.

he wants to understand your concern, he really does. He always pays attention to the things that trouble you and takes measures to free you from them. this time, however, he's having a difficult time in realizing that he himself is the root of your distress at this moment. all because he thinks (or actually knows) that—

"i'm the strongest," gojo states blatantly. his face doesn't express any sort of emotion right now. it's simply blank. a look you are not used to as you usually aren't the one receiving such. "i'm better than whatever i was that day, practically invincible—"

"satoru," you breathe out frustratingly as a plea to listen to you. "you get careless sometimes. you never know what's going to happen the next minute—"

"you know what?" gojo interrupts you, seeming rather annoyed with this conversation. In reality, that's not the case. he just wants this discourse to end this instant and talk about it later when he is in a better state of mind. before he can even process his words in his head, they slip out, completely opposite of what he was planning to say…

"you're just jealous of me because you will never get to my level no matter how hard you try. so why don't you focus more on your weaknesses and not project your insecurities onto me, okay?"

gojo brushes past you, knowing he fucked up real bad the moment he spat those venomous words and watched your, the love of his life's, face express how your heart broke into a million pieces, your eyes brimming with tears in the process.

you don't say anything, either to stop him or lash out at him. you merely stand in place and watch your vision blur as tears trickle down your face. a choked sob escapes your lips and you cover your mouth to prevent from making any more sound so gojo can't hear them.

little do you know, gojo hears you the first time. however, he makes no attempt to run back to you and hug you for comfort, since he knows he doesn't deserve to feel your touch.

☆☆☆☆☆

gojo wakes up to an empty bed, for the fourth time this week. It has been this way since the argument four days ago. you have been sleeping at the couch, not wanting to feel his presence at all. all you do is make breakfast for megumi (who is extremely uncomfortable by the silence at home) before dropping him to school and go to jujutsu high by yourself, occasionally grabbing a cup of coffee if you feel like it.

and gojo hates it. even though he knows he deserves this silent treatment from you, he is dying to reconcile with you, apologize and listen to what you have to say. every time he tries to approach you, you dodge him while not even sparing a glance at him.

"she asked me not to tell you," yaga says when gojo asked him since he couldn't find you. you wouldn't answer his calls or messages anyway, so it was useless for him to reach for his phone, leading to him asking the teacher. "but she'll be back by 7."

gojo sighs, partially in annoyance and partially defeat. he decides to go home as he was done for the day and wait for you then. he trusts you to return home safely by then.

until a loud thunder roars late in the evening at 8pm, when he was helping megumi with his homework, which you'd normally be the one doing it. it is an hour later than you were supposed to be home. a feeling of uncertainty washes over gojo and he begins to feel jittery.

"when is nee-san coming home?" the little boy asks. "why haven't you made up yet? you definitely did something wrong."

the man sitting across him at the dining table exhales in sorrow. "i'm going to talk it out today, don't you worry."

"i'm worried for nee-san only," megumi retorts as he gathers his books and shoves them into his backpack. "she's never looked this sad. she's doing that fake smile just to make me feel better."

gojo remains silent, feeling his heart sink even deeper every minute. he's listening to megumi but at the same time getting even more anxious when the rain outside starts to pour harder.

"i want to see her genuinely smiling again. don't you dare break her heart."

i'm afraid i've done that already, he thinks and watches the raven-haired boy go to his room. but i'll fix this.

minutes pass but there is still no sign of your return. your boyfriend paces around the living room, waiting for the familiar sound of the door clicking open. when the clock strikes 8:50pm, he grabs his coat and keys and dashes out the door after informing megumi.

he runs in the pouring rain, his infinity on so he isn't drenched. he hopes you are in the location he suspects you to be, a place where you usually visit when there are a lot of things in your mind. you usually go there with gojo, but the circumstances cause you to be alone, on the ground with knees clutched to your chest and your head resting on them, as your whole body gets soaked in rainwater.

gojo is confirmed to be right as he finds you in such a position. he looks at you intently, not knowing what to say. he slowly approaches your curled up figure before stopping right in front of you and crouching to meet your level. he doesn't realize he subconsciously turns his infinity off, leaving him drenched like you.

he quietly calls out your name, as if you'd break if he's even a little bit louder.

you had immediately noticed his presence when you heard his fast paced footsteps towards you before coming to a halt. you don't want to speak to him but at the same time you do since it has been four excruciating days of entirely no words exchange. you want to hold him, kiss him, forgive him. however, right now, it suddenly feels too hard to raise your head and make eye contact with his gorgeous blue ones.

the ones you'd stare at for eternity.

gojo calls you once again. "let's go home and talk it out, love. i don't want to hear your silence anymore."

your voice comes out muffled, partly due to your head buried into your knees and partly because of the raindrops' loud pitter-patter on the ground. but it is loud enough for the man before you to hear it.

"i hate you."

"you don't," your boyfriend responds in a surprisingly calm manner. "i know you don't. you still made breakfast for me and bought my coffee and left it at my desk. you still asked yaga-sensei about my future missions and watched over me when you thought I wasn't looking. baby, i love you as much as you do—"

"then why?!" you cry out, finally raising your head and standing up —gojo following suit — to reveal your red, puffy eyes and the tears that could've been mistaken as rain. "why is it so hard for you to communicate? why would you rather hurt me by saying things you don't mean than talking about how hard work gets? why don't you want me to take care of you the way you take care of me? why don't you ever listen to me?!"

you break into sobs, unable to continue yelling at him any longer. gojo does the best thing he could think of right now — hold you in his arms as you cry out all your feelings.

"am I not good enough…?" your voice quiets down, sniffling.

"n-no! please no, don't you ever think about yourself like that!" you feel his arms grip around your body tighter. you could hear his voice shaking, and you wonder if it's because of the cold or that he's in tears.

it's the latter. gojo could care less about the rain and cold this moment.

he buries his face into the crook of your neck, kissing there. "i just… don't want to burden you with my problems all the time. i'm always pissed off when there's a meeting with the higher ups. i'm always tired after missions. it's the same thing over and over again. and i want to be the strongest for you. i just can't dump all—"

he is cut off when you break away from the hug. he begins to say something, maybe for you to come close to him again, but you spoke up before he could, infuriated. "are you fucking serious right now, satoru?"

"…what?"

"i don't care if you're the strongest sorcerer in the world! to me, you are just satoru. i don't have any wild expectations for you to fulfill. you could destroy a huge ass curse, i don't give a fuck because the satoru i fell in love with in high school was a boy who loves digimon, eats sweets as his meals and is literally the most stupid guy I have ever met!"

"hey, I'm not stupid…"

"that's not the point! i mean, it is— oh my god, shut up!"

gojo may have said that to make you giggle somehow, as he usually does (yet miserably failed), however his heart swelled the moment you said the first sentence. he has heard every sort of compliment or praise in his life, but this is something he never thought he'd hear ever. for once, he is allowed to be satoru. his eyes start welling up with tears just at the thought of being wanted.

it's not that he hasn't felt loved and wanted with you, but it's finally the feelings being put into the words that did it for him.

you take a deep breath and look at your beloved for a moment. he's soaking wet, the ends of his snow-white hair dripping. he left his glasses at home, so you see those sky blue eyes properly for the first time in a while. his eyes hold so much adoration for you that it melts your heart; he looks just like a small puppy.

the corners of your lips curl upwards after what felt like forever, finally smiling. gojo's eyes widen at the sight.

oh, you look so ethereal right now. he wishes that he could be the every drop that cascades down your face so he could kiss the rosy apples of your cheeks with gentle care. then he realizes he could do that anyway and suddenly yet delicately holds your face in his hands, brushing his thumbs over your face.

"satoru," you speak up again. "you know what love really is? It's the art of sharing your happiness and sorrow both with someone else, without the fear of being judged or thrown away. just as you want to be there for me and protect me, i want to do the same for you. you are allowed to talk about how horrible of a day you had or about things that are stressing you out. i will anything that makes you feel better, just say the word."

"mhmm," gojo nods his head, squishing your cheeks while he pouts. "i'm so sorry… for everything. for not communicating and saying really mean stuff to you I didn't mean—"

you place your hands on top of his. "i know. i forgive you. but, i was hurt. i'm not jealous of you, dumbass. how dare you say i'm weak and insecure!"

his facial expression visibly turns into regret. "I'm really sorry, baby.

"and please, tell me when you're leaving for missions. even a text if it's an emergency. i don't want to lose you again."

now he looks like he is going to cry any second. "okay... i'm such a jerk, aren't i?."

"that you are."

"hey! you were supposed to comfort me!"

"nuh-uh. you deserve this one."

"oh well, i did realize it today when you left like that." he chuckles. "where did you go anyway?"

"i was here all this time," you bite his fingers and gojo let out a loud yelp (it doesn't even hurt, he just loves to see your victorious smile). "i was waiting for you."

"what if i didn't come find you?"

"i would've have broken up with you."

gojo winces and pouts. "that's so mean…"

a loud thunder suddenly breaks you from your little banter. "we should get home. we're totally getting sick."

"i'll make it up to you, babyyyy."

oh my god hi guys!! it has been a year since i've posted lmaooo i will try to post more now i'm trying lol but it's so good to finally get out of my writer's block and got to writing (i actually was very lazy to write but i had these scenarios in my head already lmao) borders by @cafekitsune <3

#i will kill for this man #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x reader fluff #gojo satoru fluff #jjk fluff

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