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celestie0 · 3 months ago

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gojo satoru x reader | oneshot smut [18+]

title. around the clock

Hooking up with your little brother’s babysitter? That sounds more like a bad porno than a sensible decision.

ᰔ pairing. babysitter/boxing au - underground boxer & babysitter!gojo x college student!reader (f)

ᰔ summary. when underground boxer gojo satoru becomes a little strapped for cash, he gets a day job as a babysitter for a five-year-old kid named yuuji who most definitely has adhd (but that’s besides the point). the kid’s mom gave gojo two rules, and two rules only: don’t accidentally kill my son, and do not flirt with my daughter. he’s pretty sure he’s got a good hold on the former, but he’s got no self control over the latter.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem!reader, smut, casual sex, lil bit of fluff, lil bit of crack, slight age gap (reader’s 22 & gojo’s 27), cum play, creampie, unprotected sex, praise kink, slight degradation, gojo is a sleazebag that cares?, sort of porn-coded smut except there’s a lil bit of lore so it’s kinda porn w plot, uhh having sex with risk of getting caught, gojo beats people up at night & then plays father figure to a 5 y/o during the day, mentions of violence/alcohol/drugs/blood/cigarettes

ᰔ word count. 12.6k

a/n. hiiii friends jeez it feels like FOREVER since i've posted some good ol' smut (still has plot tho xd)...hopefully you enjoy n see ya at the bottom! lmk if i missed any warnings! if you asked to be tagged but didn’t get tagged it’s bc you have your tags off aaa :( even when some ppl tried to fix it i still couldn’t tag them i’m sorry!!

alsoooooo so very much love to @starmapz for beta reading this for me :”) really helped me w my posting nerves haha. she is also a wonderful jjk author pls go check out her works!! 💕 ART CREDITS: @/3-aem

➸ masterlist

2:34 pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): heyy um i’m sorry if this comes off kinda rude i just am kinda bad with this but i was wondering if you could text my mom for questions about yuuji’s care instead of me?

2:46pm Gojo Satoru: Oh 2:46pm Gojo Satoru: Yeah, sure

2:34 pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): sorry i know my mom doesn’t know much ab how to take care of him bc i was the one that took care of him for a while but i just really want to separate myself from that guardian role now that i’ve transferred to NYU yknow? :/ i think it’s not my place anymore. i just wanna be big sis now haha

2:46pm Gojo Satoru: I get it. Sorry if I was making you uncomfortable with my texts

2:48pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): no no not uncomfy by it, thanks for looking after him. it’s just i’m kind of busy n stuff so it can be distracting

2:49pm Gojo Satoru: Ok, got it

2:52pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): and it was kind of an issue with his last babysitter

2:53pm Gojo Satoru: Oh?

2:55pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): yeahhh like he would keep textinf me n stuff uhh kinda weird things… i told my mom about it and she was super pissed so she fired him

2:55pm Gojo Satoru: Weird things?

2:56pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): yeah he was always “accidentally sexting me” n like he sent me a dick pic once sooooo yeah

2:56pm Gojo Satoru: Who tf 2:56pm Gojo Satoru: I’ll go beat him up

2:57pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): oh no no its fine lol 2:57pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): please dont beat anyone up 2:58pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): i’m not saying you’re like him tho i just think maybe less texting unless its an emergency okay?

3:00pm Gojo Satoru: Are you sure because I will totally go beat him up for you

3:01pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): NO I DONT WANT YOU TO BEAT ANYONE UP FOR ME 3:01pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): also no offense but you dont look like you could beat someone up

3:01pm Gojo Satoru: WHAT 3:02pm Gojo Satoru: Tf you mean “no offense” that’s literally the most offensive thing you could say to a guy

3:04pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): yeaa i mean you have muscles ofc but in the ‘ohhh i wanna look good for instagram’ way and not like real man muscles yknow

3:06pm Gojo Satoru: Ok princess next time you visit home and go on one of your stupidly large grocery hauls I’ll make sure you carry all those groceries in by yourself

3:06pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): NO 3:07pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): I WAS JUST JOKING 3:07pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): YOURE SO STRONG TY FOR ALWAYS CARRYING THE GROCERIES INSIDE 3:08pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): PLEASE KEEP CARRYING MY GROCERIES INSIDE

3:09pm Gojo Satoru: Nah 3:09pm Gojo Satoru: Should we be texting right now? I’m not sensing any emergencies here

3:11pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): pls. my groceries :(

3:16pm Gojo Satoru: I’ll let the kiddo know you say hi 👋🏼

The irony of it all was that, if Gojo really wanted to, he absolutely could beat the shit out of someone. And he has, hundreds of times, pseudo professionally. Although that isn’t something he’d admit to you, out of fear that you might relay that info back to your mom who would then become mortified that she’s entrusted her five-year-old son’s life to the hands of an underground boxer.

But he needed the money. A night-time job didn’t really make daytime money, not when they could easily replace him with the next dude the second he gets knocked out of the ring more than twice, let alone if he let it happen once. And although he sometimes made large sums, it wasn’t stable income. He needed a back-up plan, and so babysitting it was.

The babysitter working nights at unsanctioned dojos and gyms located in the back of cartel blocks, knocking teeth out of men twice his size, would put any decent mother into a coma or induce some episode of syncope, hence why it wasn’t something he put on his resume before he got hired. Not that he even needed to provide a resume; your mom seemed desperate to cover the position as fast as possible, that promotion at work was moving faster than she wanted to, and Gojo’s beneficial attribute that he possessed as a candidate to look after her son, compared to all the other potential hires, was that he had a penis.

He likes the kid. Yuuji. He’s got kind of a short attention span, and makes Gojo weary of his age. Hold up, that makes him sound like he’s geriatric, he’s really only the ripe old age of twenty-seven, but the immortality and infinite stamina that a five-year-old boy has on him is enough to have him huffing and puffing at the end of every single evening shift he takes on with the rascal.

Fighting is all sprint, and no stamina. Sure, there might be some more seasoned boxers that might disagree with him, but for someone as young as him in the field, it’s the tactic he’s been forced to gain. If he draws a fight on for too long, he'll get killed by a forty-two year old man with steroids clogging up his adipose tissue and enough testosterone to grow a full-body beard by the time the sun starts to set. No, his strategy is to knock them out within the first fifteen seconds. Use their weight against them, and whatnot. A tactic he’s found has worked, since he’s been undefeated thus far.

He can never wrap his head around it. The drug lords that run the rings who’ve gained millions the night before from selling crystal meth only to lose it all the night following in the second Gojo hooklines a solid punch to their betting boxer’s chin, making them see God & their Momma before they tap out (if they’re even able).

He doesn’t pocket much money from it, not anything compared to what the men who bet on him end up making at least, but it’s a decently solid sum. How lucrative it really is depends solely on what he thinks the value of his life is.

It’s not unheard of, boxers dying in the ring. Turns out, rich drug dealers care very little about the sheep they’ve captured to perform their entertaining little stunts. But Gojo wasn’t doing all of this to feel some sense of work-life pride, no, it was just sustenance. When basic needs are not met, humans resort to the most animalistic of all behaviors, and while he’s not proud of what he does, he can’t deny the fact that it’s turned him into an adrenaline junkie that gets a rush in his veins every time he knocks a jaw loose.

But balance was key. And hence why he’s a boxer by night, babysitter by day. For at least four days a week, he gets to pretend he’s the king’s most trusted appointed knight, or he’s the radioactive tyrannosaurus rex that wants to tyrannize all the other dinosaurs, or maybe he’s the evil power ranger (he always forgets which color that one was) that is determined to make the world a living hell by smashing mr. potatohead against the bunk bed post a billion times for all the other toys to see. Or whatever other imaginative hyperfixations Yuuji imposes on him in the later afternoon once he’s had his bowl of spaghetti-O’s and is ready to play. Lately, the kid’s been really into space. They’ve got all sorts of space toys these days. Back in Gojo’s day, he just had a good ol’ Buzz Lightyear.

“One rule, that’s it: don’t accidentally kill my son. Actually, one more rule. Don’t flirt with my daughter.”

There’s a part of Gojo that believes your mom kind of knows he’s up to shady shit at night, otherwise why else would she clause for him to not flirt with you if she didn’t read the slight swell to his eye and the healing gash across his cheek as anything other than this boy is trouble and I want him nowhere near my too-good-for-him daughter of reproductive capacity since that’s the exact tale of how I became a single mother in the first place. Or maybe he inherently looks like he’s up to no good? He’s not sure which angle is more offensive, and which one was more flattering. Well in any case, she entrusted Yuuji’s life to him, despite acknowledging the plausibility of harm, and that means she overall thinks positively of him, right? ……right?

The first night he met you, it was awkward to say the least. Gojo spends most of his nights performing deadly stunts for middle aged men with potbellies, and most of his days hanging out with a five-year-old (one who he’d argue is his only friend at this point). Sure, he’s got some people he sees occasionally back in his high school hometown when he can brave hearing about how everyone’s in college now or doing a masters or they’re working respectable nine-to-five day jobs meanwhile he has to lie to his Pops that he’s been working in insurance for the past two years. Listen, in fairness, he probably makes the same amount of money as an insurance broker would anyways, but he can’t exactly own up to the identity of his craft.

Anyways, the point is, he’s not used to seeing other people his age anymore. There’s the occasional hook-up with girls he hasn’t seen since Mrs. Tracy’s homeroom period back in sweet two-thousand-sixteen, or his twice-a-year hangout with Suguru where he only learns the day of where he's visiting from since the guy moves around more than Gojo can keep up with. But save for that, he mostly just sees your mom and then Yuuji.

So seeing you standing in the kitchen for the first time when he went to put Yuuji’s half-finished GoGurt back in the fridge was startling to say the least. When the sight of a woman startled him, he knew he needed to start getting out again.

You were on your tiptoes, reaching up to grab at something over the fridge, and wearing these ridiculously short shorts to where he could see the curve of your ass, his line of sight trailing down the skin of your bare legs. He couldn’t see anything of your form above your shorts, given you were wearing an extremely baggy t-shirt with NYU on it in big bolded university letters. As far as he knew, you were a senior at NYU, studying psychology, made dean’s list consecutively for the past three years given the way your mother posted all your stellar transcripts up on the fridge (he gets that she’s proud of her daughter, but doesn’t that kind of stuff usually end in grade school?) But other than that, it was all the information he had on you.

“Here,” he said, pressing his front to your back, maybe just to get a feel, as he reached over to you to finally grab the box of cereal you were swatting for, the one that he purposefully placed at the back because Yuuji learned how to climb counters recently. “Is this what you want?”

He had heard you gasp, spinning around on your heel fast, staring up at him with wide eyes like you weren’t expecting some random man to be in the house right now, and your first instinct ended up being to grab the knife out of the kitchen knife block and lunge it straight at his torso.

If it wasn’t for his boxer reflexes, he’d have ended up at the ER that evening. Or dead. All depending on the strength you could pack into a stab. But instead, he deflected it, though not without a gash to his torso through the fabric of his shirt, one that you spent the rest of the evening profusely apologizing for and eventually mending to with cotton balls and neosporin.

“I didn’t know you were my little brother’s babysitter,” you mumbled with a small wince on your face as you dabbed ointment on the wound while he pulled the hem of his shirt up to his shoulder. He’s never had an injury tended to before. It was nice.

“It’s fine, I get it, totally acceptable response to seeing a random dude in your house.”

He remembers the curl of your eyelashes while you stared down at his bare upper half, something he imprinted on his memory rather than the concern in your face as your fingertips traced the scars across his chest. He hoped they made you feel better about the one you just slashed into him, because after all, what was one more?

He knows he shouldn’t have, but he kissed you that night. Two minutes before your mom came home, and right after you bid him goodnight with one more apology, he backed you up against the door of your bedroom, his hands on your hips pulling you towards him, and his lips pressed against yours. Something seamless, from candid conversation that was heading towards an end, to full fledged making out against white-painted wood, his teeth nipping at your lip and he wondered just how touch-starved those university boys were leaving you given the desperate way you’d clinged to his shirt for dear life as he deepened the kiss.

The moment only lasted one minute and fifty-seven seconds, and in the remaining three, your mother’s key pushed into the front door and he had to pull away. Always, on the dot, 10PM, she was home. It was how he knew he had two minutes left to make a move in the first place.

So much for no flirting.

6:57pm Gojo Satoru: Bahahah I accidentally forgot where yuuji’s epipen is 6:58pm Gojo Satoru: [sent a photo] 6:59pm Gojo Satoru: Turns out this can-o-soup was just covering it in the cabinet

7:01pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): ??? why did you need to find his epipen

7:08pm Gojo Satoru: Oh he accidentally took a bite of my pad thai 7:09pm Gojo Satoru: I freaked cuz I thought it had peanuts in it but I remember I asked for it without any 7:09pm Gojo Satoru: shit’s crazy

7:10pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): WHY THE FUCK DIDNT YOU TEXT ME????????

7:12pm Gojo Satoru: YOU SAID YOU DIDNT WANT ME TEXTING YOU UNLESS IT WAS AN EMERGENCY ?

7:13pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): SATORU YOU THOGHT HE ATE SOMETHING W PEANUTS IN IT AND YOU FORGOT WHERE HIS EPIPEN WAS THATSS A FUCKIGN EMERGENCY

7:15pm Gojo Satoru: THE KID IS DOING FINE HES ALIVE JESUS LEAVE ME ALONE 7:16pm Gojo Satoru: [sent a photo] 7:16pm Gojo Satoru: See. he’s chill 7:17pm Gojo Satoru: with intact airways might I add 7:18pm Gojo Satoru: Also isn’t he a little too old to still be watching baby sensory videos?

7:20pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): yeah my mom thinks he has adhd :(

7:22pm Gojo Satoru: oh

He tried to keep his word though (although he doesn’t recall ever giving it) out of the respect he had for your mom. She was a hard-working lady, single mom of two who went from working three jobs to now being a major administrator at a big law firm near the outskirts of town. It was an underdog story if he’d ever heard one, and he loved an underdog story.

But a little texting here and there wouldn’t hurt, right? Or so he thought, until you told him to cut it out with the contact. Maybe you were just trying to be the good one in this situation. After all, hooking up with your little brother’s babysitter? That sounds more like a bad porno than a sensible decision. Still, he’ll eventually get your replies to his which shirt should Yuuji wear to the park? and look, the toothfairy gave him the butt of a joint and a couple thumbtacks for his front tooth. he’s ecstatic texts, although in a less timely manner than before when you weren’t trying to preserve propriety. And when you’d occasionally visit every other weekend, he’d do his best to keep his hands in his pockets, and you’d fill up your nights with hangouts with your hometown friends to avoid spending too much time with him at the house. A silent agreement to not fuck each other, it was.

4:55pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): send pic of yuuji pls i miss him :(

5:04pm Gojo Satoru: [sent a photo]

5:08pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): IS THAT BLOOD?!?!?!?!

5:09pm Gojo Satoru: chillllllll it’s fake. We’re working on his halloween costume

5:09pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): WHY DOES IT HAVE BLOOD?!?!?!?!?!?

5:10pm Gojo Satoru: He wants to be a baby xenomorph and I'm his parasitic host. You know that iconic chestburster scene from the old school alien movies? yeah

5:12pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): satoru please for the love of god just dress him up as a dinosaur or something

5:13pm Gojo Satoru: I’m not the one that came up with the idea, okay? It was him

5:14pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): because you let him watch adult swim with you before putting him to bed. you’ve deranged his brain.

5:14pm Gojo Satoru: He needs it. Builds character.

Gojo was living a double life, and if someone asked him, he’d say it was less of a Clark Kent way and more of a Bruce Wayne way, although in reality, he knows it’s close to neither. He’s no superhero with a concealed identity fighting crime, he’s a con artist that’s tricked a hard-working woman into hiring him just because he’s trying to save up enough money to get the fuck out of this godforsaken town, given he’s not knocked dead before then for the crime’s amusement.

But Yuuji looks up to him now. And Gojo’s grown attached to him too. He taught the kid how to tie his own shoes and piss inside the actual toilet like a real man. And that kid’s the only thing that’s made him question any of this. Maybe that’s what dads feel, suddenly held to all this impossible responsibility and the pressure to stop doing stupid shit so that you’ll stick around to see your kids get older. The thought that there are eyes on you now, eyes that are innocent and hopeful and learning, and because they know nothing at all, you feel the responsibility to protect them from everything. For fucks sake, remind him to never become a dad.

“Do you like my sister?” Yuuji had asked him out of nowhere one afternoon after he just got home from preschool, stacking a blue cube over a yellow one at the dining table.

“Uhh,” Gojo starts. He wondered if your mom had put a wire on the kid, so his answer was as diplomatic as he could manage. “Yeah, she’s cool. You’ve got a cool sister.”

“But. But.” Yuuji stutters, trying to find his big boy words. He stretches up higher to reach the top of his stack of blocks, but he only has so much arm real estate at the age of five. “Do you like her like you wanna kiss her?”

Gojo grabs the block from the kid’s hand, for a moment questioning Yuuji’s decision to want to put a blue block over another blue block, but he figures aesthetics are the least of a kid’s concern, and so he places the block where Yuuji wanted it.

Why does the kid know what kissing is anyway? Do kids know that kind of stuff at that age? Isn’t a kiss to a five-year-old just something their mom gives to them before they head off to preschool for the day? And not something that happens between adult men and women? Maybe he should stop watching that adult swim in front of him.

“No. I don’t want to kiss your sister,” he says, again, because he is suspicious of a wire. It was a lie and then some, because he wants to do a lot more than just kiss you.

Gojo lifts the RedBull he was nursing up to his lips and watches Yuuji in the corner of his eye as the kid stares at his growing stack of blocks with a concentrated expression on his face, his chubby fingers squeezing tightly into little round dimpled balls, like he’s putting together all his tiny brain cells together to form another coherent thought before turning to face Gojo on the chair.

“It’s ok. You can kiss her if you wan’ed to. You can marry her too,” Yuuji says.

Gojo almost spits out his RedBull. He barely manages to swallow it, a broken cough immediately leaving his throat when some of the liquid goes down the wrong pipe and he’s smacking a fist against his chest to knock the sanity back into himself.

“Where the fu—…where the flip did that come from?” he asks, blinking back tears from the rasp in his throat.

Yuuji’s small shoulders sulk as he sits back on his heels. “I want a papa.”

Oh fuck that hurt. Jesus christ, there was nothing more sad than that. Yuuji has literally never known what it’s like to have a dad, since his had left before he was even born. Gojo’s not really close to his old man by any means, but he had still been a fatherly figure in some pivotal moments when he had needed it growing up. Kids need their dads. And he’s seen enough people lose their way without one to know that the value of them is really underestimated.

He’s also kind of shocked that Yuuji really did think of you as his motherly figure. Maybe since it had always just been him and his dad, Gojo learned how to self sustain from a young age, and he and his dad became accustomed to just looking after their own interests to avoid the headache of tending to one another. My land is my land, and your land is yours, and there was the occasional Saturday night spent together with his dad’s millions of beer bottles emptied dry on the carpet in front of the 1992 box TV as the two shared a greasy pizza from the place down the street. That was the extent of family solidarity that he knew.

But he can’t imagine being barely eighteen and having to take care of your little brother all by yourself because your mom was too busy trying to put food on the table and was too poor to hire a babysitter. Your mom tried so damn hard to keep you away from the single teenage mother life, but somehow ended up giving it to you by proxy in the end anyway. It was no wonder you wanted space now that Yuuji’s a little older and your mom can afford a babysitter. No matter how much you might love your sibling, being their effective guardian out of pure necessity had to have taken a toll.

Gojo clears his throat before he speaks. “Buddy. If I married your sister, we’d be brothers. I wouldn’t be your dad.”

Yuuji’s eyes light up at the word brother. “Brothers? Me and you?”

“Yeah. Bros.”

The kid giggles, all bubbly with cheeks rounding fully and eyes sparkling. Gojo reaches out to ruffle at his hair before Yuuji gets down onto one stubby leg at a time from the chair then bolts towards the kitchen.

“Juice!!” he yells somewhere around the corner out of sight.

Gojo sighs, staring at all the toys he pulled out for Yuuji to play with, all left in a scattered mess across the table. He gets up out of his chair and heads towards the fridge. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll get you your juice, you little demon.”

The conclusion he comes to, and it might read like an obvious one, is that kids don’t really know the reality of life, hence why adults hide so much from them.

This is what he thinks of tonight when he wraps his worn out boxing tape around his hands and his wrist, tightening it with his teeth, and he can smell the sweat and grime from them. The back of the underground gym had an old dated locker room, and as Gojo stretches his neck side to side while sitting on the stiff metal bench, he eyes the peeling red paint of the locker in front of him, blurring vision making it look like spilt blood.

His phone pings with a text. He shuffles inside his duffle bag to look for it while his other hand scratches at his bare chest.

1:07am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): hhhhhhhhhiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii 1:07am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): omgomgomg sor y i’m

He blinks at the screen, confusion flashing across his face. He types one letter, but then he sees three dots and a speech text bubble in the bottom left, so he waits for you.

1:09am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): i drunk :(

The corner of his mouth ticks up slightly.

1:09am Gojo Satoru: Yeah I can tell

1:10am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): at a apartyyyy

His eyebrows raise slightly, the thought of you tipsy on some frat party couch flashing through his mind, yet of all things you could be doing at that frat party, you’re texting him? Must be a really boring party.

1:11am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): whyyy are you aawake?

1:12am Gojo Satoru: Couldn’t sleep 1:12am Gojo Satoru: Don’t you have a midterm in the morning?

1:14am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): wtf hwo do you knwo that

1:15am Gojo Satoru: Your mom keeps your schedule posted on the fridge

1:15am yuuji’s sister (no flirting): im so fucked;’;(((

He snorts. He’s got a bit more life experience than you, five-ish years to be exact, more than enough time to master the no-hangover hangout, but just before he can offer you some advice, he sees another text from you.

1:16am yuuji’s sister (no flirting): can i tell u smething

His gaze flits up to the ceiling briefly, and he hears commotion outside the thick walls of the locker room. The previous fight was over, and fast. The guy must’ve been knocked out in under twenty seconds tops, which means that Gojo was next up against whatever superbeast just beat him up.

1:17am Gojo Satoru: Sure

He stands up, placing his phone down on the bench before he flexes the muscles in his arms a couple times to get the blood flowing into them. And there’s the noise of another ping. Actually, four.

1:14am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): sonetimes 1:14am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): i thikn of 1:14am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): when u kisse me 1:14am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): *kissed me

His eyes widen slightly, irises dry to the ashy cigarette smoke from outside lingering in the air, and his heart rate picks up a bit. An adrenaline junkie with close to no fear in his veins due to the way his amygdala’s been fried to a crisp from years of boxing, yet he’s got his breath hitched from the memory of your soft lips against his. It makes the blood rushing through the muscles of his arms rush somewhere down south instead.

Loud banging on the door of the locker room jolts him out of his trance, and he’s stiff around the edges once more.

“Satoru! You’re up, man,” he hears Danny, the fight coordinator, yell at him from the other side of the heavy & poorly-installed steel door.

Gojo sighs, glancing down at the texts on his phone. To respond, or not to respond. You’re off your face, clearly chatty from the alcohol, and he knows for certain you’ll regret every life decision you’ve ever made once you wake up in the morning and see the self sabotaging behaviors you’ve engaged in tonight. He knows that responding to you might put you at ease rather than straight up ignoring you, but the feeling will pass, and he has a match to win with no more room left to stall.

He makes his way out the locker room, pushing past the crowded halls of people underneath dim flashing club lighting, some dudes angrily jerking to face him when he pushes past them with a stiff shoulder, only for their eyes to widen when they see just exactly who pushed them.

There’s strippers in the ring, doing some routine for pre-match, and Gojo narrows his eyes at the man he sees laying back over the rubber boundary rope, head tipped back up to the ceiling with a wicked grin on his face. So that was his opponent? He’s never seen the guy before. Was he from a different district? Different district talent was tough, you had no background info on them, while they’ve been preparing to be here for weeks. Hence why boxers tend to do better when they visit a different district than they do in their own. There have been rules made to limit these types of fights, mostly over outrage that it was unfair to bid on them, but they were also usually more entertaining to watch. Gojo’s got a sick feeling to his stomach as the strippers clear the ring.

“Hey,” Gojo calls out, grabbing Danny by the back of his collar and dragging him towards him and away from the girls stepping down onto the floor, “what’s in for this fight?”

Danny glances up at the ceiling. “Tarp’s bettin’ tonight, so it can’t be anything less than ten grand for you. I’d say tops fifteen?”

Gojo narrows his eyes further, then glances off into the ring again. The man stands up, and Gojo gets a better look on his face. He’s got short hair, neon green in color with a dark fade underneath and tattoos all over his face. But those eyes. They were freakishingly red, and it made him uneasy. He knows the type. The type of boxers that do this to genuinely hurt people for thrill. Make no mistake, Gojo understands he’s made himself out to be like that too, gaining some kind of rush out of this profession, but this type of fighter was different. The type to literally continue smashing a dude’s face into the floor until they’re a bloody mess even minutes after the winning call, and no referee to stop it because that’s the kind of action the spectators wanted.

Danny reads his line of sight. “That’s Gale. Newton’s new boxing toy. Came outta nowhere about a month ago. He’s undefeated so far in his district, and Newton specifically wanted to see you up against him tonight,” Danny tells Gojo, resting his elbow up on his bare shoulder. “Chances are he’ll compete with Tarp for final bid if you win this one. I’m talking twenty-five grand in the next if you can knock him out in this.”

“Uh-huh,” Gojo acknowledges, rolling his shoulder so Danny’s elbow falls from it. Forget the money, he just wants to make it out of this alive.

He sets his foot up on the square, ducking through the dividing boundary straps and the tacky caution construction tape that the gym thinks creates an exciting ambience. He hears the static of the speakers as the announcers call out Gojo’s name, then this other guy, loud bass club music booming through Gojo’s chest as he tries to take a few deep breaths through the thick air of this low-ceiling arena.

The dim overhead lights flickered, casting shadows over the makeshift ring, and the crowd pressed tight around at every perimeter area, yelling and pushing, one even tosses a beer bottle on the square and it shatters, spreading glass all across, a few shards reaching Gojo’s feet and he looks down at them with a shudder. A fight immediately breaks out in the crowd over something related or possibly entirely unrelated, and he’d have no way of knowing as he swipes the shards away with his heel.

The influential men always sat up on higher seating, off towards the back in their own VIP section where they suck in the smoke of fat cigarettes and peer through 100% tinted sunglasses to assess the boxers they’ve bid thousands on. The light reflects off the golden grills of their teeth with every snarl at any passerby that gets too close, like a lion in its den. That’s what the sanction was called. Lion’s den.

Gojo sighed, eyeing the twisted grin of this Gale guy across from him. Was that his real name? Usually, foreign district guys get nicknames. Gojo’s always thought the nicknames were tacky, and he’s accumulated some of his own over the years, but to his ears, none of them ever really landed, although The White Fox admittedly was kinda nice. Reminded him of throwback shooting games.

He sucked a breath in through his teeth, holding his hands up in front of his chest in weak fists, storing energy in them in the form of pure anticipation alone, and then the bell rang.

His opponent lunged towards him immediately, fists flying in a barrage of reckless strikes, and Gojo’s eyes momentarily widened in the briefest moments of hesitation he had been allowed before ducking and dodging every one of this guy's shots, then jumping a step back to create distance.

Fuck. He was fast. Not just boxer fast, athlete fast. There was a difference. And it wasn’t a good one to be up against.

Gojo picked up light on his feet. He couldn’t win this one fast, that much was certain. One single careless or reckless move, and he’ll get tackled. He knows that by the malicious look he sees on that guy’s face, grin wide like he’s some cannibalistic beast.

Stepping back towards the center, Gojo purposefully set himself up for Gale to swipe a vicious hook towards his head, before Gojo last minute ducked down, crouched to the floor, and swung his leg out to knock the guy off balance by his ankles, and he falls onto his back with a loud thud!

There’s a moment of momentary silence from the crowd, right before Gojo put the man in a torso-lock, twisting him in a way a human body should absolutely not be twisted, hearing the grunts of pain and the crack of spine even through the shouts of the crowd.

He can hear it. Kill him! Knock his fucking teeth out! Snap his neck like a goose, man! FIN-ISH HIM! FIN-ISH HIM! FIN-ISH HIM!

He feels like throwing up.

Gojo looks up at the referee, who wasn’t really a referee, just there to run the clock when there was action and only barely stop it before near death. “This is enough, right?” he asks.

The referee nods. “1-0, next round.”

Gojo lets go of his opponent, leaving him there to heave for a moment before he gets up onto his feet again. Just needs one more, and he’s a winner. Ten grand in his pocket, and he won’t have to come back here for a couple weeks.

Gale gets up, swiping at the spit that had trickled out the corner of his mouth down to his chin, and he had an enraged look on his face. The second the bell rang for the second round, he exploded forward towards Gojo with even more fervor than before, gritted expression with a thirst for violence fueling the storm of punches he was throwing towards Gojo but he tried to remain calm, light on his feet, swiftly duck and avoid before he can find another opportunity to clear a sharp, clean jab right to the ribs—

sometimes, i think of when you kissed me

Gojo misses his strike, leaving his guard wide open, and Gale takes the opportunity to land a solid punch straight to his jaw, sending his mouth guard flying straight out of his mouth into the air, and knocking him backwards onto the ground with a thud and then he finds himself staring up at the rusting metal ceiling and a ringing in his ears that almost matches the roar of the crowd.

His head is in a haze, dizzy like where one second could feel like a millennia. He feels a soreness underneath his chin, a pain that radiates to his mouth, and he briefly swipes his tongue over his front teeth to make sure he still has all of them.

What the fuck was that? That intrusive thought. There’s no intrusive thoughts allowed in life or death situations, not when he was always just one smash to the head away from a permanent concussion. But, fuck, he can’t help it. Can’t help thinking of you. Even when his vision has gone blurry and he should really be weary about what happens next in this ring, his mind’s just thinking about you, at some frat party, tipping back shots of tequila and waiting for a text-back in response to your tipsy ones. Were you even waiting up on him? Have you already passed out on the couch, or were your friends dragging you back to your dorm? Or are you fucking some other dude right now? Has he got his hand up your top, squeezing at you, sleazily feeling you up before spilling beer all down your shirt, and are you kissing him back with the same enthusiasm, your phone now somewhere long slipped between the cushions of the couch and out of sight?

Even though it’s still sore, he tenses his jaw. Grinds his teeth, even. Tasting blood somewhere along the line of his gums, he realizes his lip is split. He licks at it, the flavor of copper more rich on his tongue, and he clenches his fists tightly. Why’s he thinking of that right now? It just pisses him off, the thought of you with some other dude. Maybe that’s what he needs to win this fight. Spite. Although he’s not sure why the guy across from him at the ring has to pay for it.

He lifts his head up off the ground, and while it felt like years he had been down, a glance at the timer tells him it’s only been a solid four seconds. A solid four seconds that his opponent had to fully charge a lunge towards him with the look of death in his face, raising his elbow up into the air in time with his leap, ready to come straight down, and Gojo’s eyes widen at the sight above him from where he’s still lying on the wood.

“Shit—” he cusses, rolling his body over to the side so that the dude falls straight down onto the floor rather than elbow Gojo in the fucking ribs, and then he gets back up on his feet.

Stakes were high, he has to end this, he has to end this now, and he flexes the muscle in his right bicep, channeling everything he has into this one blow, and before Gale even really has a chance to turn around and face him again, Gojo’s already three-fourths set up a knockout undercut that he drives straight up the guy’s chin, with so much force it has him lifting up off the floor, a vertebrate stretch to his spine before he’s sent flying backwards and slammed against the tight rubber lining of the ring to where he was half hanging over it.

The room fell silent for a split second, then erupted in a roar as the referee fell to one knee beside Gale, checking him for any semblance of consciousness, and when he found none, he waves the match off.

Gojo’s eyes flit up towards the lion’s den, the only opinions that he really needed to care about were sitting in those mahogany chairs with glasses of scotch swirling around in their hands, and he sees some of them looking straight at Gojo before leaning towards one another and discretely talking about something he can’t make out because he doesn’t know how to read lips.

He feels someone tug at his arms from behind, pulling him to crouch down and he balances back on the balls of his feet. He glances down through the ring at the floor. Danny was leaning against the wooden surface of it. “Dude. Go.” He jerks his head towards Gale, who still laid there sprawled across the now stretched out rubber perimeter bands. “Go fuck him up. Knock a few more teeth out, I don’t know, get some more blood out of him.”

“What?” Gojo huffs, yanking his arm away from Danny’s grip. “The fuck are you saying?”

“I told you, man, Newton’s here and he’s got his eye on you. Go give him a show,” Danny says, “do it.” And when he sees clear frustration on Gojo’s face he sighs. “Twenty-five grand, consider that, will you?”

Gojo sneers at the man, an awful taste in his mouth as he spits blood towards Danny’s feet. “Go fuck yourself on his cock if he wants a show that bad.” And then he ducks underneath the bands and hops back down onto the floor, pushing past people who were trying to grab at him and pull at him and lift him up and even throw him down until he made it through flashing hallways and back to the locker room.

He shuts the door behind him, sliding the bolt lock into the frame so no one can follow him inside, and then he leans his weight back against the chilling steel before tipping his head back until it hits the surface too.

He lets out of a few deep breaths, then stares down at the sting he finds over his knuckles. Red and blistering from the last punch he delivered, and he’s almost certain he broke a bone in his hand. Fuck. It was bleeding across the cuts, too. He had to figure out a way to get it all healed by tomorrow, as if that was humanly possible, just because he doesn’t want Yuuji questioning him about it.

Yuuji. For fucks sake, when has he ever thought about the kid this much? When has he ever thought about much of anything when he’s out here or in the ring? He’s a babysitter by day. He’s a “part” of your family when the sun is up and normal functioning society is breathing their lives into the clean air. That’s it. He’s no five-year-old’s caretaker in front of all these primetime drug lords, and he certainly shouldn’t be thinking of you when facing big, burly men he’s aiming to rough up, all within the dead hours of night. So then how come these thoughts are on his mind at all times, twenty-four-seven, around the clock?

He heads further into the locker room, glancing down at the bench where he’d left his phone, then picks it up, neck craned all the way down to glance at the screen as he holds his phone by his hip because he doesn’t have any energy to pick it up any further towards his eyesight.

He sees your messages. You never sent any follow-up ones, just your horrendously typed out sonetimes, i thikn of when u kisse me *kissed me across the span of four texts, and Gojo runs a tired hand down his face.

He tips his head back to groan at the ceiling, guttural with no basis other than a release of all the pent up frustration of every sort, then he types in a couple messages to you,

3:23am Gojo Satoru: That’s nice 3:24am Gojo Satoru: I think about fucking you all the time

—and then tosses his phone into his duffel bag to call it a night.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

You’re awoken to your alarm blaring heavily, and you whack your arm across your nightstand table beside your tiny twin-size bed to hit the snooze button, then rub your eye with a loose fist while smacking at the residual taste of alcohol you have on your tongue.

“Mm…” you mumble to yourself. And then the thirst hits you. The overwhelming, intense, unquenchable thirst that leaves your mouth feeling like the Sahara desert before you grab your twice-dented Hydroflask from the nightstand, twist the cap off and chug about twenty ounces of water in one breath.

You let out a deep exhale and fall back into bed, your hand resting on top of your water-filled tummy, and you stare up at the ceiling of your dorm.

Last night was horrible. You knew you shouldn’t have gone to that frat party, especially given you have an exam in—you checked the time on your phone—about an hour, and an hour was not enough time to recover from the raging hangover headache that’s pounding through your head. But your roommates insisted you went, and so go you did. You never knew what to expect, always torn between shaving your pussy before you go or throwing on a stained pair of sweatpants to keep the guys away instead. Sometimes, it was a combination of both. But last night, you ended up drinking more than you usually do, and that always led to poor, poor, poor decisions, in which all the sense of pride you had in yourself was washed down with the puke that you hurled into the upstairs toilet.

You grab at your phone again, briefly seeing that your friends had sent you some photos from the night. You immediately swiped off to the side to dismiss the notifications, because as far as you were concerned, you never wanted to see those photos in your life.

And then, in the briefest of moments, you saw a familiar name in your notifications that made you heart skip a beat.

Gojo Satoru (yuuji’s babysitter)

With an immediate gasp, you pulled your phone to your chest and held it there, blinking up at the pale yellow ceiling, your heart picking up in rhythm.

Oh fuck.

That was right.

You drunk texted him last night.

You drunk texted your little brother’s hot babysitter.

Fuck.

Mortified was an understatement, possibly because you don’t even remember what you said, and so you don’t even want to see what he replied with.

You groan, rubbing both your hands across your face then kick your sheets back with your feet like a child having a temper tantrum because you were so embarrassed you had even texted him at all last night. I mean, he was hot. A little older than you, really gorgeous eyes, tall, and, yeah, you gave him shit for the Instagram muscles thing, but that’s only because you thought he’d find it cheeky that you were trying to humble him despite the fact that he’s more toned and ruggedly sculpted than any other man you’ve ever met. You didn’t want to have a flustered schoolgirl attitude because it would just seep through to his ego.

In any case, he was hot, there was no denying it, so can you really blame yourself? But still. There was collateral with this. You had to see him every other weekend. He knows your family, even your extended since they invited him to Thanksgiving dinner a couple weeks ago. A high-risque drunk text recipient if he ever was one (of course he has been, look at that face). Why couldn’t you have just drunk texted ECON160 guy from last semester who Clit DJ’d you underneath your desk at the back of the lecture hall instead?

The thing that made you nervous about Gojo Satoru was that he was just so…confident? Like, in that I was raised to be this way confident and not that I fought inner demons my whole life to barely end up this way confident, y’know? Never had to fake it ‘til he made it, he just was. At least that was the kind of energy you got from him, and unfortunately for you, it was nerve wracking but enticing all at the same time.

You sigh. “Stupid. Stupid. Stuuuuuupiiiiidddddddddddd. You. Are. So. Stuuuuuupiiiiddddddd,” you sigh, running your hands through your hair to grip at the strands.

You pull your phone away from your chest, and finally brave yourself to read the texts from your notifications screen, but not without blurring your vision a little to further stall. And then you finally refocus it to read them. The first one you see has you gasping—

3:24am Gojo Satoru (yuuji’s babysitter): I think about fucking you all the time

It has heat spreading across your cheeks, and you blink at your screen, then quickly swipe up to read the previous messages with rushed glides of your index finger on the screen to see that he had sent it to you in response to your barely coherent texts about how you still so often think about that time he randomly pressed you up against the door of your bedroom to kiss you that night you first met him.

I think about fucking you all the time

At 3 in the morning? He decided to send that text at 3 in the fucking morning? That was the devil’s hour. What’s he trying to tell you?

Oh come on, you’re not stupid. And you know he isn’t either. The sexual tension was palpable, it was there since the day you two met and you almost stabbed him, and also everytime you were visiting the house, and his shoulder brushes against yours when he’s trying to get past you in the kitchen, or when you’ve got Yuuji in your arms and the kid is clinging to Gojo’s sleeve because he wants him near him at all times. There’s even sexual tension over the phone, in those stupid texts he sends you all the time about meaningless child care stuff, and honestly, those little updates made your day.

But… you don’t know much about him, and your mom would kill you if she ever found out you wanted him. And she’d probably pulverize him if she found out he ever made a move on you. Cremated without leaving a trace behind would be an understatement. She thinks he’s no good and she thinks you��re too good. You know she’s warned him before to not get close to you, as if she was pre-emptively expecting him to try to get in your pants like it was some canon force of the universe, hence why he’s probably so fucking awkward around you whenever she’s there too. Like if he accidentally got caught staring at your ankles, your mom would light him on fire, so he’d rather not risk it by just avoiding looking at you at all.

Your mom has always been protective of you. Your father was a deadbeat, one she thought she loved, only to watch him leave. And she had to raise a baby all by herself. He re-entered your lives right before you graduated high school, knocked up your mom again with Yuuji, and guess what? Left again without a trace. To be doubly humiliated by a man is a fate you wouldn’t wish on any woman, but that’s exactly what your mom went through. It was a wake-up call for her, though. No more living paycheck to paycheck like you had been your whole lives up until Yuuji was born. The kid doesn’t even know how lucky he is with everything he has right now. Your mom worked her way up the corporate ladder and made something of herself and now you guys were comfortable, so it was safe to say she had some sort of right to look after her daughter, of whom she simply doesn’t want to follow in the same naive footsteps of her youth.

You get it. She wants to break the generational cycle. But it made being with men tough on all fronts, let alone dating. You could never bring a guy home because he’d never be enough, even if he cured cancer or could make you orgasm while doing a sixty-nine handstand. And while her overbearing paranoia over what you do or where you are or who you’re with has since dimmed slightly since you officially moved out to finish your last year of higher education at NYU, you can still feel her disappointment from a hundred miles away when you’re making out with some random frat guy on his beer-stained couch at eleven AM on a Tuesday.

But you got to college. You’ve already made it this far. You’re on dean’s list. You graduated high school as salutatorian. You’re the most highly decorated cello player in the state. You won Miss County pageant when you were sixteen for your philanthropic efforts towards feline leukemia. You did online community college for three years so you could stick back after high school and help your mom raise Yuuji, which meant that you had to forfeit your scholarship to Cornell. You’ve spent your whole life being good, you just wanna be bad for a little bit.

And if bad meant fucking the hot and mysterious babysitter, then so be it.

You pick your phone up, begin blasting what the hell by Avril Lavigne on your dorm room bluetooth speaker, then type a message to him that says—

10:34am you: do it then

—then shove your phone under the sheets and belt out the lyrics aaaall my life i’ve been good, but now, ahhhh i’m thinkin’ what the hell!!! while kicking your feet and clutching your pillow.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Gojo has no clue what divine entity has overcast their gratuitous spirit over him on this blessed Monday afternoon, but he’ll thank them for it later once his balls are empty.

He’s got you on your back, sprawled across the couch in the living room, the first fuck being a rushed one that you offered him with before he has to go pick Yuuji up from circle time at preschool, which wasn’t ideal, but he’s delirious at the sight of you underneath him right now. Your little NYU shirt, a tighter one this time, bunched up over your bare breasts, otherwise entirely naked other than the flimsy panties dangling at your ankle, and the view of the tip of his cock looking hot and heavy against the velvet of your cunt, slowly pushing in, feeling the warmth of your walls squeeze around him paired with the sweet moan that leaves your lips, makes him fall forward with a bracing hand dug into the cushion by the side of your head because the sensation feels so fucking good he can hardly keep himself upright.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he grunts, pushing himself in further to try and bottom out but he’s still got a couple inches he needs you to take, and so you curl your hips upwards towards the cieling to make more room for him, practically putting yourself into a mating press and soon enough he’s balls deep, “you on any birth control?”

“Uh-huh,” you moan, eyes closed and head tipped back with one hand squeezing your own tit.

“I can cum inside then, yeah?” he asks you, pushing your knees to your chest, slowly drawing his hips back and you squirm underneath him.

“Let’s get there first, and then we’ll discuss,” you breathe out.

“I’ve been there for the past ten minutes, baby. I could cum at any second with the way you look and feel,” he informs you flatly, because it was just the truth and you had to know it, then he feels himself twitch inside, slowly working up to a languid rhythm, almost fearfully like your mom’s going to pop out somewhere around the corner with a camera crew ready like one of those retro TV shows just to humiliate him on national television for not keeping it in his pants like she’d told him to.

“Harder,” he hears you whisper, and he rolls his eyes shut to just focus on the feeling. The feeling of your nails grazing down the skin of his chest and his abs, tracing the scars he’s collected over the years, and he feels you tightening around him. He leans down to kiss you, fucking you properly now with the squeak of the couch springs echoing across the room, your hums of moans seeping through his lips until he’s fully taking them on with an open-mouthed kiss of sloppy tongue.

The fact that it was wrong felt right to him, and he realizes in this moment he’s lost all sense of control. He wasn’t just an adrenaline junkie that liked to rough up dudes, he was an adrenaline junkie that wanted to fuck you against all better judgement or moral compass. The way your tits were bouncing, the slap of skin on skin, his balls slapping against your ass while you wrap your legs around him tighter, all convincing him that any consequence made it worth it.

“Good,” he groans the praise, pinning your hands above your head as he rams his hips against yours, your cute moans and squeals sounding like literal music to his ears and he feels heat spread all the way up his neck, “goooood, keep squeezin’ me like that, fuck.” He slows down momentarily, just to take a moment and watch, really look and see the way his length disappears inside of your pretty self with every push forward, and then he works back up to a relentless pace that has you tipping your head back with a slack jaw and eyes closed tightly shut, sprained expression of pleasure spread across.

“Oh, oh my god, Satoru—” you mewled and he felt dizzy from the sound of his name from your softly parted lips.

“Fuck, I’m gonna—” His hand finds it’s way between your legs, calloused pads of his fingers brushing against your clit and you jolt underneath him, gasping as your hand shoots out to dig your nails into his bicep for purchase. “I’m gonna cum, better tell me where you want it.”

“In me,” you moan, “nowhere else.”

He presses his mouth against your cheek in a lazy smile, “Atta girl,” he drawls before pushing your ankles down as far as they’d go near your ears, folding you in half and then reigns all hell into your cunt. He should really care a bit more about your pleasure, but testing your flexibility like this with both his hands holding you down was doing sinful things to his brain, and besides, you had yourself covered with the messy circles you were rubbing over your clit. It was hot to see that too, your nimble pretty fingers so close to the place where he was pounding into you.

“Oh shit, shit, shit—” he grunts when starts to see blistering white in his vision, balls straining with a pleasure that was almost painful. The moment he finishes feels like hot flashes in his brain, a heat like the cum he begins to paint inside your walls in time with your release, thrusting over and over and over, each one more staggered as he lets off a long, drawn out groan that comes from deep within his chest with the feeling of you milking him dry and the sound of you enjoying every second of it. He can’t remember the last time he came this much or this hard and even after coming down from the high, he feels the remnant pulse of your orgasm around his now half-flaccid dick.

He leisurely pulls out, hearing you let out a soft whimper as he marvels at the sight of his cum slowly dripping out of you and down towards the couch, before he scoops it up with a couple fingers and pushes it back inside. You grip his wrist tightly, but you weren’t stopping it, that motion of him plunging it all back into you.

“Want a taste?” he asks, casually.

“Mhm,” you nod, face looking flush.

He pulls his fingers out of you, coated with sex, then plugs your pussy with the fingers of his other hand because he kinda likes the idea of you walking around all day with him inside of you, so he doesn’t want it getting out. He’s then pushing his other fingers past your lips, pleased to find he’s met with not even so much as a grazing of teeth, and he grins, “bet you take a dick in your mouth as good as you take it down here.”

Your furrow your brows at him, the pout of your lips seen in the way they were puckered to lick his fingers off clean, and when you release the suction with a smack of your tongue and his fingers were wet from your saliva now, his eyes narrow with desire. You push his face away with the heel of your palm to his forehead. “Flattery won’t make me suck your dick.”

“Alright. So? How is it?” he jerks his chin towards your face, pushing against your hand with his forehead until he’s hovering over you again, “taste good?”

“It’s cum, Satoru.”

He shrugs. “Bad?”

“No,” you say, and you can’t make eye contact, “good.” You sigh. “Hot. I don’t know. Salty, sweet. I’m the sweet. You’re the salty. And this conversation is obscene.”

He kisses you, capturing your lips softly, tongue darting out to taste what’s on yours. “I like it that way. Dirty. Nasty. Obscene, whatever.”

There’s the slam of a car door heard from the driveway, and the two of you instantly make eye contact with round eyes.

“Sa—” you stutter, “Satoru.”

He gets up off the couch in a panic, and heads to the window of the living room fully butt-ass naked, then peers through the blinds to see—

Your mom was making it up towards the front door, rustling with her keys in her purse. And the last thing he sees before he turns around to face you is her pushing the keys through the lock.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,” he cusses, finding his boxers off of the floor, hopping on one foot with his cum & slick coated dick flapping around and slapping against his thighs unceremoniously as he tries to get one leg in through them and then the other. You’re trembling as you hook your panties back into place, pull your shirt back down your torso, and even in his extremely panicked state, he’s still sad he can’t freely stare at your tits anymore. You’re rummaging for your skirt in a haste, looking everywhere for it, and he finds it underneath the coffee table before tossing it to you and then he side-to-side hops towards the coat closet while he pulls his sweatpants up over his ass, in time for you to quickly run and shut the door of the closet closed just before the front door of the house swings open.

The inside of the coat closet is dark, barely enough space in there for a six-foot-four two-hundred-and-twenty pound man, but it’s better than being balls deep inside his boss’s daughter on the couch when said boss just came home from work.

He hears conversation on the other side of the door, albeit muffled, and he presses his ear to it to hear better while he tucks his dick into his boxers from where it was hanging over the waistline.

“Mom! You…you’re home so early,” he hears you squeak out.

“Yes,” your mom says, “The rest of my meetings today are online, so I figured I’d come home when there’s less traffic.”

Gojo feels you lean against the coat closet door.

“I see, I see, how was your day at work?” you ask with a tremble in your voice.

“Fine.” And then nothing. The silence could mean that was all she had to say, since your mom wasn’t really a woman of many words, or it could be a silence that means she’s suspicious about something. “Darling, why is your skirt flipped up and tucked into your panties? Your whole butt is showing.”

Through the wood of the door, he hears you softly gasp. “Oh, um, I just went to pee. Must’ve—…must’ve got caught when I pulled it back up.”

“I see,�� your mother says, and Gojo can hear her dropping her heels down near the shoe rack at the entrance. “You know, I really don’t like those short skirts you wear often. Maybe it’s just your generation, but I think it looks tacky and cheap.”

“Mom,” you say, in as stern of a voice as you can manage without sounding embarrassed.

Your mother sighs. “In any case, where is Satoru? I still would like him to go pick up Yuuji. I don’t have the patience to sit in preschool & daycare traffic right now.”

“Oh gosh, I don’t know,” you chirp, and then he hears you let out a small oh no before you lean even more weight against the door, this time somewhere lower, and he realizes you’re pressing your ass against it. His eyes narrow with a small frown, and then he realizes— his cum must still be trickling down your thighs. You couldn’t put your panties on fast enough.

Shit. That’s hot. A little fucked up, but hot. He feels his dick harden against the fabric of his boxers, and he rests his forehead against the door, fringe stuck to his forehead with sweat as he slips his hands down his sweatpants and then gives his cock a firm squeeze. The thought of you discretely swiping his cum up your inner thigh and smearing it against your thin panties so your mom doesn’t catch sight of it dripping down your legs has him slowly working up to a rock-solid erection, and he almost lets out a broken grunt from the feeling.

“What?” your mother says, “what do you mean you don’t know?”

“I’ve just been watching TV this whole time,” you say, “last time I saw him…he was…um, in the backyard pulling weeds?”

He lets out a small scoff through his nose at your cover-up. Cute. And not bad.

Your mother sighs loudly, and he glances down at the strained veins on his dick as he tugs it through his hand, the tip rearing and appearing flushed and dripping with precum. God, you were just on the other side of this door. Less than a few inches away, and he’d be inside of you.

“I’m going to take a shower. Go find him and tell him to pick up Yuuji soon. But before then, change into something less revealing,” your mother says in a more or less detached tone, and he can hear the stomps of her footsteps up the stairs from above him in the coat closet.

The two of you wait at least a solid minute, and just when the coast is clear, he hears you turn the knob of the coat closet and slowly crack it open.

“Okay, I think she’s in the shower, I hear the water running,” you whisper at him, “you can go now—” You glance down towards his groin, your jaw dropping. “What—…Satoru, why the fuck is your dick staring at me right now?!” you whisper-hiss at him.

He pulls you into the coat closet, pushing your front against the door to where it clicks shut, and you gasp when his hands pin your wrists crossed behind your back and his dick presses into the plush of your ass.

“You talkin’ to your mom while your pussy’s stuffed full of my cum was the single hottest thing that’s ever grazed my lizard brain,” he tells you, flipping your skirt up and hooking your panties to the side, his index finger briefly brushing against your entrance to find it still leaking from the way your walls were pulsating from his words. And then he aligns his tip to your entrance. “Now keep quiet while I do this, ‘kay?”

“Oh—” you gasp, your cheek pressed against the door as you arch your back and push your ass out for him, “okay—” you say, barely vocalizing the first syllable before he’s already stuffing himself inside of you with one solid glide of a push, making you yelp loudly and he has to instantly cup a hand over your mouth.

“Shhhhhh,” he hisses at you, immediately starting to pound you from behind, “told you to— fuuuck,” he catches sight of his length covered with a mix of your glassy arousal and his white cum, now starting to cream at the base of his cock, “jesus christ—” he breathes out, squeezing the flesh of your ass harshly with his other hand and you let out another yelp, “I told you to fuckin’ keep quiet.”

“I’m—mff,” you muffle against his palm, “I’m trying but,” your hips move back in time with his, “feels good, feels too good,” you mewl, and his hand desperately yanks up the fabric of your shirt so he can squeeze at your breast.

“Yeah?” he grunts, hypocritical for telling you to keep it down when he was slamming his hips against your ass with so much fervor he wouldn’t be surprised if the sound was reverberating across the entire house, “you like it when I fuck you while your mom’s all clueless just up the stairs?” His rhythm falters, feeling his release building, and his hand reaches in front of you to rub your clit, making you drop your head against the door with tightly closed eyes. “Gets— you—wet, doesn’t it?” he torments you, his lips near your ear as he slams his hips against you harshly with every enunciated syllable.

“Mhm, mhm,” you easily agree, or maybe that’s because it’s all you can really articulate, and he angles his hips up so his balls slap more fervently against your clit, making you scream into his palm while he picks up the pace of the circles he draws on your clit and in one, two, three— beats of his pounding heart, he feels you come undone around his cock, gushing wetness leaking out of you, he can feel the mess of fluids splattering on the skin of his thighs due to each of his heaving thrusts as he cusses out a fuuuuuuckkk before spilling his cum inside of you, a short-lived and thicker release this time that has you mewling from overstimulation, and in a few following thrusts, he’s given you everything he had to give.

His eyes open, he wasn’t even aware he had shut them in the first place, and he glances down at where the two of you were joined. Rings of arousal coat the length of his half-pulled-out dick, and the second he retreats all of it, a bulging push of his cum seeps out of you, dripping and pooling all over the hardwood floors.

“Holy shit, I wish I could take a picture of this,” he says, taking a step away to commit the sight to memory, your legs trembling and still slightly spread, ass pushed out and when you wiggle it a little, he lets out a huff of an exhale because he just can’t believe how sexy you are. Are all college girls like this? He’s never been to college, his old man’s been trying to get him to go for years, but maybe this is what finally convinces him.

“No pics,” you breathe out once you catch your breath, standing up straight slowly, “that’s my one sex rule.”

He takes a step closer to you, flipping your skirt back over your ass while you shimmy your shirt down to cover your chest. “That’s the only rule you have? Anything else goes?” he asks.

You spin around to face him, his eyes briefly flitting down to the still exposed skin of your midriff. “I have a feeling I’d be making up more specific rules if it was with you.”

He smiles, his hands grabbing your hips before pressing you up against the door again. “I also had a rule. It was to not fuck you. Wait, no, to not flirt with you. Which, technically, I didn’t do.”

You blink your eyes at him. “You’re kidding, right?”

“What?” he asks, genuinely confused, “I didn’t.”

“Huh—” you scoff, “how do you think we got into this situation in the first place?? You didn’t just say wanna fuck? You were insufferably flirty with me.”

“Nahhh nah nah nah nah, baby, that’s not flirting,” he tells you, thumb running circles over your hips, “that’s, like—…I don’t even fuckin’ know how it worked on you to be honest, I was just being stupid.”

“Oh okay so I’m stupid.”

“I never said you were stupid?”

“Well you said you were being stupid so me falling for it must mean I’m stupid.”

“Pshhh. You’re cute. Pulling weeds, by the way? Adorable.”

Your hand slowly roams up the front of his shirt, the fabric bunching at your wrists until you uncovered up to his collar bone, and you stare at his skin. He tries to not let the way his heart’s beating faster show through the heave of his chest.

“Why do you have all these scars, anyway?” you whisper to him.

“Too many girls tryna stab me,” he tells you.

You roll your eyes. “Seriously.” Your thumb traces the one you had left on him.

“I—” He stops himself.

Does he tell you? Should he tell you? What, just because he’s seen you naked and you took his dick like a queen he’s supposed to open up to you about these things now? He doesn’t know. Maybe he could? Maybe you already suspect what he does at night. And if not, at the very least, I’m an underground boxer might make you think he’s hot? At the very worst, you’ll report him to the cops and he’d get fired as your little brother’s babysitter then thrown into jail, but not before the busted cartel gets him first.

“Maybe I’ll tell you some other time,” he says, his hand wrapping around your wrist and pulling it from his chest, “no hyper personal details until you’ve had my dick in your mouth at least once or twice. That’s my one rule.”

You snort. “I could’ve guessed that rule from a mile away.”

He hums. And then there’s the sound of steps creaking down the stairs above the two of you.

You both make eye contact, eyes widening, internally yelling at each other: how the fuck did we get into this situation twice?!

This time, Gojo opens the door and stumbles out of the closet, leaving you inside of it, just in time for your mom to come down the stairs.

“Satoru. I was looking for you,” she says as she rounds the post. “Have you picked up Yuuji? He has to go for his swimming lessons soon.”

“Ah, nope, was just about to head out,” he says, letting out a cough to diffuse tension, “sorry, I was—” he points his thumb over his shoulder to behind him, “…pulling out some gnarly weeds.”

She narrows her eyes at him. “I see. Well, thanks. If you want, I can add a gardening stipend to your paycheck. Let me know.” And he’s not sure how to respond because he’s not sure if she’s joking.

He heads out the door, the keys to your mom’s minivan in his palm as he throws them up into the air and catches them a couple times. And just before he gets inside the car, he turns on his heel to face the house and pulls his phone out of his pocket to type in a message for you.

3:22pm Gojo Satoru: Send over those me-specific sex rules soon

[the end]

a/n. hope u enjoyed im shitting bricks posting this bc i haven't posted a oneshot smut since february but thanks so much for reading i appreciate u!! i got way too invested in the whole underground boxer thing 😂😂 but the fact i managed to keep everything under 12k is an accomplishment to me bc if u read my other fics you know i’m a yapper LOL i have another kind of a similarly written smut oneshot n it’s a lil angsty (totally different au tho) i’ll probs post that one next but yea i really like, hmm, i really like exploring entire characters within a short amount of time i enjoy writing the obscure lore drops xd it’s been kinda fun so far anywho much loveee hope to see u around! <3

➸ masterlist

taglist:

@joemama-2 @erencvlt @pickuptruck01 @hanakotateyama @nuronhe

@beabadobeee @air3922 @timetoletmyimaginationfly @chiyokoemilia @jotarohat

@sirencholia @sorcerersseestars @horisdope @to-dabi @staoru

@aliidarling @ninjaturtletoes @lavender-hvze @lanadelreylover11 @chckn-pi

@satoryaa @gojodickbig @v4mpieres @reinam00n @sleepyyammy

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@milkm4nz @athinasaurus @sashisuslover @welldamnsatoru @aeriiixhh

@crystalymin @dcvilxswish @miakxn @satxoru

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bluetimeombre · 3 months ago

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ׂׂૢ Hugh and you are WIRED,

You and Hugh take part in the Wired autocomplete interview

[this has been sitting in my drafts collecting dust, enjoy! Not proof read, just the vibes]

'Hello, I am Hugh Jackman,' he smiled at the camera.

'And i'm Y/N.'

'And we're doing the autocomplete interview,' he said.

You smile at how he tried his best. 'The WIRED one,' you added.

Hugh looked back to you. 'Oh yeah.' he laughed and apologised to the crew. 'I'll hold, you peel and read and I'll answer,' said Hugh, taking the board that started with him.

You leaned back in your chair, eyes peering at him. 'So, I do all the work and you sit there, ok, yeah, that's fair.'

He chuckled as you peeled away the first question.

'Is Hugh Jackman Australian?' you read, screwing up the paper and chucking it behind you. 'Um, no, he's not. It's all a bit he does, it's incredible he's kept it up for years,' you answer for him.

Hugh laughed. 'I am, I am Australian,' he insisted.

You shook your head, nudging him friendly. 'Such a good actor. Is Hugh Jackman retired?'

'No, just old,' said Hugh.

You chuckle before looking at the camera. 'He said he was retired but that was a lie,' you poke fun at the amount of times he said he'll never do Logan again... but did Logan again. 'He's a lair like I said- a good actor.'

You rip the next one off. 'Is Hugh Jackman... a good singer? Uh yes!'

'Thank you, there you go,' nodded Hugh.

'He's such a good singer,' you boast, holding his knee. 'Les mis, Oklahoma, The greatest showman.'

'That's where we met,' he smiled. The two of you did meet during the filming of The Greatest Showman.

You smiled back at you. 'We did. Yeah, highly recommend having Hugh Jackman sing to you, it's-it's magic.'

You do a couple more questions before finishing his first board and letting Hugh break it over his knee before chucking it away. 'Oh woah. You know, people would pay to have that done to them.'

Hugh laughs. He takes the board meant for you and peels the first away. 'I've got it love, let me. Is Y/N dead?'

'Starting off strong here,' you said. 'Um, only on the inside.'

Hugh chuckled. 'That's horrible,' he said through his laughter.

'Don't worry babe, I'm still here. Alive and kicking,' you mumble off.

Hugh eventually peeled away the next one. 'Ok, is Y/N in Wolverine origins.'

'No, thank god,' you said as Hugh, again, keeps laughing. 'No, I do not appear in that movie. But a version of my character does for like ten minutes. And i'm sure it was the better ten minutes of the movie.'

'I won't argue with that,' said Hugh.

'So it wasn't me but another actress playing my character.'

'Right, not confusing at all,' said Hugh. 'Just don't think about it really. Yeah. Right, is Y/N a billionaire? If she was, I would've married her by now,' said Hugh.

You laugh, rocking back and forth. 'Now I really need to reach that billionaire status,' you said.

Hugh's board was next.

'Ok, how Hugh Jackman got jacked?' you read, looking over to him. 'How did the Jackman jack?' you asked, the question coming out a bit more on the naughty side than you intended.

The both of you looked at each other promiscuously.

You held up a finger. 'Maybe I should have worded that differently.'

'Yeah,' he chuckled. 'Um, I basically was miserable for six months. No I'm kidding, a lot of training and boiled chicken.'

'Yum! How tall is Hugh Jackman?'

'6'2- 6'3,' he hummed, thinking about it.

'Do you think people are asking cause they're angry you're not 5'3 like Wolverine should've been in the comics?' you asked.

Hugh's face straightened. 'Why'd you have to bring that up?'

You chuckle, peeling away another one. 'What is Hugh Jackman.., made out of?' he laughs as you whisper to the camera. 'Boyfriend material.'

'Is that actually what it says?' he turns the board, checking it. It really did. 'Oh woah. I assume the interweb means the Adamantium in Logan?'

You snorted. 'The interweb, is that what you just called it?'

'Isn't that what the cool kids call it these days?'

You shake your head and toss his board behind you without sparing a thought.

Hugh stared after it. 'Is that how you treat all yours lovers?'

You purse your lips, trying to hold in a laugh. 'It's just a board, babe, you're the real thing.' You picked up the next board for you and handed it to Hugh who was peeling the first one away immediately.

'How is Y/N... oh it ends there. Well, that's very nice, how is Y/N?' Read Hugh, answering before you got the chance. 'She's very well, er, cause she's with me. Next one. Is Y/N single? What a good question.'

Next to you, Hugh was grinning like a mad man, or a man who knew a secret. Or just like an idiot in love. Any of them worked as you just stared back at him. 'Um, you'd have to ask her,' you said, trying to do what you did best and avoid questions.

'We are asking you, c'mon, the people want to know, are you single?' Hugh teased.

You shook your head with pursed lips. 'You know, Y/N is...' you trailed off, mumbling incoherently under his breath.

Hugh chuckled before looking into the camera. 'His name rhymes with Pugh Ackman.'

'Ryan Reynolds, of course!' you say, peeling off the next one yourself. 'Ok, is Y/N in marvel movies? um yes, a few.'

'Most,' Hugh corrected. 'If not all,'

'Yeah, i've done a few in my time,' you answered. 'Started when I was like, sixteen now i'm,' you pretend to count on your fingers, freaking out when you realised the numbers were high. 'Anyway, Hugh's turn!'

'Ok, i'll peel now,' said Hugh, giving you the board.

'Oh thank you, give my poor nails a break,' you said.

'Does Hugh Jackman... smell nice?' he leant over to you and you took an inhale.

You shrug. 'Yeah, he's alright.'

He chuckled and made a gesture at you before going onto the next one. 'Does Hugh Jackman, my name is falling on deaf ears I think now, does Hugh Jackman do all his own singing?'

'Yes, he does!' you yell. 'He's a great singer guys, no debate.'

'No cap!' added Hugh.

'Oh jesus,' you hide your face and laugh into it.

'What?' asked Hugh.

Eventually you moved onto peeling the next one. 'Does Hugh Jackman have tik-tok?'

You laugh too loudly. 'No, could you imagine if he did? I have to help him out with instagram for gods sake.'

'That's true, I do not know what the tik, nor the tok is,' said Hugh. 'Ok, last one on this board. Does Hugh Jackman do all his own stunts? No.' he threw the board.

'That was an easy answer,' you scoff. 'Do you want to tell us why?'

Hugh thought about it. 'No.'

'Alright then, my turn,' you said.

Hugh took the board before you could, not letting you hold it or do your own peeling. 'Alright, ready? Does Y/N do all her own stunts, aw, we're matching.'

You laugh. 'Um, I try to,' you answer. 'I try to, I really do but some are just too dangerous. Like I'm legally not allowed to jump from a building into a dumpster or walk away from an explosion.' You give Hugh a look, referencing that scene in Wolverine origins which he cringed at.

'Does Y/N write her own songs in The Greatest Showman? Can I answer this?' Hugh asked you.

You lean back. 'Only cause I know you're going to gush at me, so go ahead.'

Hugh got his answer ready. 'So when Y/N came on the project, it was only a half developed idea- if that. And I'd seen her at an Oscar's party and we started chatting and I asked if you were interested in this little project we were doing, you immediately came on board and started writing songs for this. I think, in total you wrote, what was it four- five?'

'Five I think,' you nod.

'Five of the greatest songs on that movie. Honestly, hearing it live and in the workshops was just, the best thing i've ever heard,' Hugh looked back at you, a loving smile on his lips.

You pout and rest your head on his shoulder. 'God that Pugh Ackman is a real nice guy.'

Hugh laughed and pecked your forehead. 'Does Y/N enjoy being in the avengers?'

'I do yeah,' you answer. 'I think there's like a lot of talk that when you stop playing a role you're supposed to come out and say you hated it, but I loved it. And I still love it. And I'll always love it.'

Hugh held up a hand. 'That being said. She would love being in the X-men more.' He waited for you to reply but you didn't and just stared at him. 'Ok, never mind. Anyway. Does Y/N drive?'

'Absolutely,' you nod. 'I've got the speeding tickets to prove it.'

'Ok, so these are your last boards,' said the lady behind the camera.

Hugh frowned. 'Oh, i'm having fun,' he said, taking his board.

You shrug. 'We'll just have to google ourselves at home more often.'

Hugh agreed and peeled the next ones, these questions beginning with 'Why'. 'Why Hugh Jackman, returned as Wolverine?'

'Good question, liar,' you said.

'Well, at first, you know, I wasn't going to, I really wasn't,' he spoke, looking to you as if cameras weren't pointing at you. 'But then this Ryan... Gosling guy? I think that's his name. He just kept asking and asking, turning up at my house, he got my number, I don't even know how-'

'Yeah, sorry about that,' you added.

Hugh laughed before carrying on. 'Eventually you know, he waved a bag of cash in my face and I knew, just to get him off my tale, I had to.'

'Yeah, that sounds like a Ryan Gosling move.'

'Why didn't Hugh Jackman win an Oscar?'

'Guys, that's mean,' you tell the camera.

'Thank you, interweb for reminding me I didn't win an Oscar,' said Hugh. 'Well, listen, when you find out you're up against Daniel-Day Lewis, you kinda know not to prepare a speech. And then when your publicist the next day calls and says yeah don't worry, you- you don't worry.'

'You were robbed for Logan,' you mused.

Hugh agreed with a chuckle. 'She's my number one fan. Why Hugh Jackman ran naked?'

You perked up. 'Hello, he what?'

The crew laugh at your excitement.

'It was for X-men two... well, I feel like every X-men movie I strip down,' said Hugh. 'Thinking about it.'

'Got to get that watch rate up,' you said.

'Yeah, exactly. So I did a scene in X-men two where I was running the corridor after just finding the metal in my body and the claws,' he explained, again only looking at you.

You nod, like it was the first time you were hearing the story. 'As you do.'

'And then I turn the corner and the entire crew of women are just there waving dollar bills and I, on reflex, went to cover myself you know and then I cut myself.'

You seethed in pain. 'And then you did it for Wolverine one and two and the next X-men movie,' you listed.

Hugh nodded. 'Then I never stopped.'

'Why would you?' you asked, raking your eyes up and down him and winking.

The last board up was yours.

'Ok, let's go,' said Hugh, scraping at the board. 'Why Y/N is famous?'

You laughed.

'Because she's fucking talented!' said Hugh, 'why wouldn't she be famous?'

You shrug. 'It was gonna happen one way or another. I became famous because I wanted money. And Hugh Jackman, one of them i've got, the other i'm still working on.'

Hugh grinned, wriggling his brows. 'Why did Y/N win an Oscar? Oh, you won one,' he joked, glaring at you as you laughed. 'Lucky you.'

You read the question again. 'I mean- that feels almost condescending you know like oh she won an Oscar, why?'

Hugh stared and pointed at the camera again, repeating himself. 'Because she's fucking talented! Why wouldn't she win an Oscar?'

'I won best actress for a movie called Room, which was very tough, very well written annnndddd I deserved it,' you shrug.

'Why did Y/N marry Hugh Jackman?' he gasped. 'You married him?'

'I have not yet, but I am engaged to Pugh Ackman, so um, please, feel free to send us gifts,' you say causing Hugh to drop the board and laugh. 'Um, I really need a new toasted and he likes watches.'

'Oh, he sounds like a nice guy,' said Hugh.

'He is, he's great.'

taglist (thank you!): @oatmilkriver, @angstdaddy, @chronicallybubbly, @white-wolf-buckaroo, @th3mrskory, @wolfyychan, @chaimshelii, @wolviesgirl @haytchee, @aoi-targaryen

#hugh jackman #deadpool and wolverine #logan howlett #wolverine #deadpool #logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #x men #hugh jackman edit #hugh jackman x y/n #hugh jackman x you #hugh jackman x reader #hugh jackman wolverine #Hugh Jackman x femreader

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hypnagogics · 5 months ago

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pathetic/nerdy/loser/perverted ellie ramble AJAKSOJSOJS. LOTS OF SMUT!! quick and really crass, just needed to get this outta my system LMFAO. want some more? click here for the continuation!!

she'd be pining for you so hard, just consumed entirely by the limerence, so impossibly down bad for everything about you, it ate her up inside. she needed you in every way possible, needed to smell you, to taste you, to feel you clench around her fingers and tongue, she wanted you to crush her head —glasses and all—with your thighs, she needed it all.

and yeah, she did feel creepy about it—staring at your tits from afar, maybe sitting in the park someday after her class, thank god for transitional lenses. she felt her face go tomato-red from the shame, what in the world was she doing, ogling her sort of-friend like that, but fuck did it fuel her fantasies.

in the dark of the night, you were the only thing occupying her poor, horny mind, as she stuffed two, no, three digits in her soaking pussy, using every morsel of her imagination to materialize the sight of you being the one to make her see stars. she'd imagine covering you in marks and hickeys, watching your wrist flex while you were knuckle deep inside of her.

her eyes brimming with tears, knuckles dripping in pearly cum forming a fucking puddle beneath her, pounding in and out of her quivering walls over and over and over again until she felt light-headed, she found it the only way to cope.

“ugh- fuck baby, yeah that's it..mmf." whines and just the utmost pathetic pleas tumbled from her swollen, rosy lips, her clit near aching from the abuse she thrusted on it nightly. chanting your name in the night akin to a prayer— ironic. this was anything but holy—imagining the way your tits would bounce, the way you'd cry her name out and drench her in your fluids, she'd even imagine herself on her knees, being the one staring up at you between your legs as you run your nails through her hair, hold her chin.

“please, wanna cum again, c'mon baby. fuck, fuck, fuck- yeah, hnn-!!” tears fully streaming down her freckled cheeks at this point, her whole body tensing as she came for what seemed like the thousandth time this night, she continued until it was causing her a great deal of pain. until she was completely wrung dry. “...what am i doing. fuckin’ hell.”

breathing heavily, the shame really sets in now. what was she doing? rolling over in her damp bed, she'd groan while the embarrassment made her cheeks burn hotter than the deepest pits of hell—where she's convinced she's gonna enjoy the hospitality of if she keeps this up—she'd bury her face in her pillow and pass out into a slumber, only until the cycle repeats itself the next night.

but little did she know, her experience was being mirrored, almost with creepy accuracy, wherever you were. pining just as hard for the lanky loser you were mere acquaintances with. teasing her on purpose, just to watch the dark flush spread across her features, to watch her shift uncomfortably and avoid your taunting stare with everything she's got, squeeze her thighs together to soothe the ache you knew she was going to take care of later as soon as you part ways. it drove you nuts too. if only she knew. if only!

WHY DID THIS EAT LMAOOO but oop went a little overboard my bad um ok enjoy bye can u tell im in a mood lately pls give me notes even tho its 2am ik everyones dead but oh well luv u

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eddiesxangel · 9 months ago

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You Look Tense |Masseuse!Eddie x f!reader

Cw: reader uses where/her pronouns, seduction, perv!reader, perv!eddie, dirty talk, fingering, p in v, unprotected, pull out, pet names (sweetheart, good girl) modern!eddie

wc: 2.9k

You were on a fold-out massage table in the middle of your living room. You downloaded the app to have a masseuse come to you on a whim. Your friend swore by it. You were a bit apprehensive about letting some stranger come into your home and rub you down while you were naked, but she said it was legit.

When you heard the knock on your front door, you didn’t think you would open it up to one of the hottest men you had ever seen. Leaving you staring at him with wide eyes and your jaw agape.

“You order a massage?” He smirks.

“Yea, sorry, um, come in.” You observe his dark blue scrubs as they hug his upper body.

You lead him inside to show him where to set up.

“First time?”

“What?”

“Is this your first time using the app?” he smiles. Taking off his coat, you notice his tattoos and muscular forearms.

“Oh, I’m… yeah.” You stammered because you were so distracted.

“I could tell, don’t worry. Things are strictly professional.” He explained.

Professionalism was not what you were worried about at this point. Quite the opposite, really.

After Eddie set up his things, he instructed you to lay face down, and then he left the room so you could strip and get under the white cotton sheet.

You called out that you were ready and heard his light footsteps entering the room.

“Anything specific you want me to focus on?”

“Um, my lower back and shoulders have been really hurting,” you mumble into the head pillow.

“Ok, great, let’s get started.”

His hands were like magic, the way he wasn’t too rough or too light. He worked your soar muscles perfectly.

“What’s got you so tense, sweetheart? Let me help you relax,” He spoke.

Relax?! How could you be relaxed with this extremely attractive man who is rubbing his hands all over your naked body in your own home!

And the voice! Oh god, his voice is so hot, you don’t want him to stop talking. It didn’t help that you were wound up in more ways than one.

“Um, uh…. Work, I guess.” You didn’t need to guess; you were drowning in the stress of your responsibilities.

“Well, don’t worry, I’m here to help with that,” he hummed as you heard the squirt of more oil fall into his large palms.

“Oh, yeah, your shoulders are so tense; that's a big knot.” You felt him shuffle, so he stood at your head. If you lifted your head up any further, you’d be face to face with his crotch.

You were trying too hard not to let out a moan as his strong fingers dug into your aching back.

“You gotta relax for me. Is the pressure too much?”

“No-no, you’re perfect- I mean, it’s perfect…”

Eddie let out a chuckle as he continued.

This was so good, too good, but he was right...You needed to relax. You tried not to focus on who was above you but on the feeling that he was giving you.

A few minutes later, you were successfully relaxing into the table.

“That’s it, very good,” he praised, and you let a moan slip out.

“Sorry,” you squeak.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. It happens all the time, and it lets me know I’m doing a good job."

Like Eddie said, he was keeping things strictly professional, but you were making it very hard, especially with that moan you let slip from your pretty lips.

Your skin was unbelievably soft, and you smelled really good. With this particular job, Eddie is used to all kinds of different clientele; he never knew what he was walking into when he got booked. So when you answered the door, he was very pleasantly surprised.

You stew in your own thoughts about how good this man’s hands feel, holding back the noises threatening to break the silence. The only sounds filling the room are Eddie’s feet shuffling, breathing, and wet, slippery skin.

“The best way to help with your shoulders is if I also rub down your neck and head. Are you okay if I get oil in your hair?” he asked again in that sexy, soothing tone.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” you sighed. Eddie smirks to himself again, knowing he is doing a good job.

“Great,” he shuffles to position himself to get the best angle. You feel as he sits beside you on the table, drapes your arm over his thigh, and uses his free hand to work at your neck.

His hand slowly works its way up, up, up until his long, thick fingers grip your hair, tugging on your scalp. His fingers dig into the perfect pressure points on your head.

You can’t help but let out another moan of pleasure; it just feels so good. You can’t stop your mind from going to an x-rated place, thinking about how good his hand feels tangled in your hair.

You couldn’t ignore your pussy any longer; there was no denying how wet you had gotten over the last half hour, and he hadn’t even made his way down to your lower back. How are you supposed to survive the rest of the time?

Your pussy was throbbing by the time Eddie made his way down to your lower back. You could feel Eddie move the sheet down lower, exposing more of your skin to him. He lightly draped it over your ass, careful not to expose it too much, trying to tuck the sheets into the band of your underwear, but to Eddie’s surprise, you weren’t wearing any.

You hear him clear his throat as he discovers that you are fully naked underneath.

“What side is, uh, bothering you?”

“Right,” you sigh. And I think I might have pulled the back of my thigh,” you suggest, hoping Eddie reads into it.

“Oh yeah, for sure,” he hums.

Eddie was in serious trouble, and the thin material of his pants did not help his situation.

Eddie had never grown hard with a client; this was not normal. He could not excuse himself until the session was over, so he hoped and prayed that his situation would defuse itself until it was time for him to leave.

It did not, you were torturing him, at this point you had to be doing this on purpose. Your moans were getting more and more sensual.

“Mmmmm, you’re so good at this,” you praise as his hands run along your lower back, creeping closer and closer to your ass muscle.

“So I’ve been told”

“Bet you’re really good with your hands in other places.”

Eddie froze. Did that really come out of your mouth, or did he hear things?

“You uh-" he cleared his throat, “-uh, said your lower back, right?”

“Yeah, but like, really low,” you hummed.

“You comfortable if I move the sheet, uh, lower?”

“Yeah,” you wiggled your hips slightly to encourage him to take things further. You cannot remember the last time you had been so turned on.

You hear Eddie’s breath hitch as you feel the fabric slip off your skin.

“Oops”

“Oh shit-”

“It’s okay; you can leave it off”

“You? Uh? Oh-okay” what was he thinking? This was not professional! It would get him fired if anyone found out… but how could they? He was in your home. You wouldn’t tell anyone? Against his better judgement, he decided to leave you exposed…

With your naked body exposed to Eddie, he continued to work on your lower back. Your oiled skin was glistening under each touch, and Eddie’s cock was growing by the second.

Eddie’s hands worked lower as he hesitantly yet excitedly explored the vast planes of your body. He hadn’t dared make a move, but you could feel his hands move closer to your inner thighs, so you partied your legs so he could have better access.

Eddie watched as your legs moved for him, your legs parted, and he had the perfect view of your glistening pussy lips.

Eddie’s eyes widened as he knew he had not even gotten close to that area of your body with the body oil.

With a deep breath, Eddie grazed his fingers closer to your upper inner thigh, right below your ass; the tops of his fingers lightly traced the outside of your lower lips to test the waters.

The last thing Eddie needed was to read your advances the wrong way and end up in jail.

“Mmmm, that’s good,” you hummed, encouraging Eddie to keep going.

“You need me to work on anything else?” Eddie asked suggestively.

“Now that I think about it, I pulled my groin the other day; I think you could really help me with that; you’re so good with your hands.”

“Sounds good, sweetheart,” Eddie hummed, shifting his weight to get the best angle. You felt him crawl up onto the table with you and straddle his legs around you.

His hands work your ass, massaging the muscles up, pulling your skin taught so he could see your swollen pussy lips.

Sucha pretty pussy

“Mmm thank you”

Shit, did Eddie say that out loud?

You let out a chaste breath as you felt his long thick fingers finally graze your wet slit.

Eddie gently massages circles onto your clit, and your hips roll into his hand.

“Mmmm, that’s it, relax f’me… this is what you needed, hmmm?”

“Uh-huh,” you sigh as your body fully relaxes into Eddie’s soft touch.

Eddie’s hand continues to work your fluttering clit before he decides to let an oiled finger slip into your hole.

“Oh, sweetheart, you are so tight, so tense. You should have told me earlier. I really need to loosen you up” he pumped his finger in and out of your pussy before curling his fingers to massage your inner walls.

“Maybe we could extend the session,” your breath hitches.

“I think that can be arranged,” he slips a second finger effortlessly.

As he continued to work your pussy he added his thumb to your clit. That familiar feeling of lust and need built up in your lower stomach as Eddie sped up his fingers.

“More,” you pleaded. You were at his mercy. You’d do anything to have him make you cum.

“I think I need to get in deeper,” he hummed.

You liked that idea; you popped up to finally see him. You watched as his pants slipped from his hips, and your mouth waters at the sight of his hard cock staring you in the face.

“Like what you see?” He smirks as he watches you checking him out while he checks you out, seeing your naked breasts for the first time.

“Yeah, like what you see?” You ask back.

“Oh yes,” he leaned in to cup your face, bringing your lips together.

Eddie’s mouth took over yours, and he ravaged you. His plush lips were so soft as his lips explored your own. His tongue slipped into your mouth as his soft hands moved up your middle to kneed your breasts.

You shuffle back so Eddie can place himself between your legs.

“Need you now,” you spoke into his mouth between kisses.

“Want you so bad” Eddie replies.

“Please,” you begged for him.

Eddie stripped the rest of his scrubs and exposed the tattoos that dawned his alabaster skin. He was covered head to toe in ink. You wanted to kiss every inch of his body, but the need to have him inside of you was more, so you widened your legs as far as they could go to expose yourself.

“Thought you said you pulled your groin” Eddie smirks

“Guess your magic hands healed me” You sank your hand between your legs so you were touching yourself, teasing Eddie as you worked your fingers in your needy clit.

“Magic hands, huh?” He replaced your hand with his.

“Mmmmhmmm,” you hum as Eddie kisses you and guides you to lie on the fold-out table.

“You think these are magic just wait and see what my cock can do.”

You gasp as Eddie slips the head of his cock across your wet lips, collecting your slick before the tip of his cock breaches your hole.

His cock was thick and long. Slowly, he stretched you out inch by inch. Sinking deeper and deeper until you enveloped him wholly.

Eddie watched as your pussy swallowed him, skin to skin, he didn’t even know you, but it didn’t matter; all that mattered was how you were making him feel and how he was making you feel.

“Oh, Eddie!” You cried as he started building up his speed, pumping into you.

“Mmmmm, I like how you scream my name.” You watch as his body pumps into you, his abs defining themselves with every thrust in. His big hands grip as best they can on your oiled skin and push your legs to your chest, folding you in half as he does.

“S’big,” you try and grab at Eddie, but he’s too far out of reach, so you ball your hands into fists and grit your teeth in frustration. You want to feel him, to touch him, to have all of him.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“Wanna kiss you” you whined.

“Shhhh, you’re okay; as long as my dick is inside of you, you’re fine.”

“Oh fuck!” He sunk deep into you, faster and faster, his hips thrust his cock deeper into your needy cunt.

“That’s it, take it like a good girl.”

God, the mouth on this man, you had no idea.

Eddie gave in and leaned over to kiss you before he unexpectedly jumped off the table and flipped you over to your hands and knees.

“The only way I’m going to get as deep as you want, baby,” you could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke.

“Just give it to me”

“Oh, asking to be fucked? Wanna be fucked by my cock, huh?”

You nod your head frantically as he aligns your hips to be at the perfect height for him to pound into you.

“Fuck look at that” he massaged your ass, spreading it apart before plunging his hard cock back into your throbbing pussy.

You let out a scream; Eddie was right; this angle was deeper, so deep you swore he was in your stomach at this point.

“That’s it, you can take it.” Eddie watched as your oiled skin bounced off his cock, and he swore he was in heaven.

Your tight pussy clenched down on him even more from the angle. The way your warm wet walls were hugging his cock, how your ass looked bouncing off his body, he could have come by now, but he wanted to hold off, savour this a little while longer.

Eddie reached round your body to massage your clit once more. His fingers were moving so meticulously while his cock was pouncing into you from behind.

“Faster” You grabbed Eddie’s wrist because his fingers were too slow; no way you would cum from them slowly circling your swollen clit.

Eddie listened to your plea and picked up the pace with his hands and his hips. Eddie was pounding into you so hard. If you were an outsider looking in, you would swear the fold-out table would have given out, but you were so cockdrunk you had no other thoughts than how Eddie was making you feel.

“You’re close, baby; I can feel the way you’re squeezing me; you’re going to cum when I say okay.”

“Can’t hold it, wanna cum, wanna cum so bad!” your upper body gives out, only making your ass arch higher for Eddie. He looks down to see the creamy ring form at the base of his cock as your orgasm threatens to take over.

“Hold on, on my count ok.”

“Mmmmmmmm” was all you managed to get out. Eddie s fingers still circling your clit, with his cock hitting your g spot. There was no way you were holding out any longer.

You wanted to cum so bad, but you also wanted to please Eddie, your friend, your hardest.

“Cum for me in…. 3….2….1, cum on my cock” he spoke between each thrust into you.

You listened and came as soon as the words left his mouth. Your body seized, and your mouth opened, but nothing came out as your silent cries were met with a wave of pleasure that washed over your whole being, soaking Eddie’s cock even more.

It could have been minutes or a few just a few thrusts later, you didn't know, but Eddie pulled out and finished, spreading his seed on your ass, which was somehow still perched in the air for him.

“Holy shit,” you hear Eddie whisper. “Definitely never done that before,” he laughed.

“Same,” you sigh, still fucked out.

Eddie picked up the discarded sheet off the floor and wiped off the remanence of his seed off of your ass and back.

“So, uh, that fix your problem?” He smirked.

“Only time will tell.” You sit back up finally with the sheet wrapped around you. “Maybe next time we will have you set up in the bedroom… You know, there is more space up there,” you smile.

“Next time?” Eddie smiles back.

“Yeah, maybe I’ll even cook you something, buy you dinner first.”

“I’d like that.”

Tags: @munson-blurbs @hunter-in-the-upsidedown @joejoequinnquinn @hellfirenacht @cinemabean @voyeurmunson @impmunson @asimpforthe80s @ali-r3n @take-everything-you-can @taintedcigs @trashmouth-richie @strangerstilinski @daisy-munson @bl00dy-hideout @babybimbo777 @lokis-army-77 @jamdoughnutmagician @sadbitchfangirl @mrsjellymunson @xacora @girlwiththerubyslippers @justiceforfoxface @katethetank @frogtape @cool-nick-miller @susie3334 @mrmiyagislittletrees @penguinsandpotterheads @eddies-acousticguitar @elvirasleftnipple @american-idiot-jpg @emo-taurus @ilovetaquitosmmmm @chloemm13 @gri959gri @seatnightsdea @faeriemunson14 @veemoon

#Eddie Munson x you #eddie munson x reader #Eddie Munson smut #modern!eddie #Eddie Munson imagine #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #modern!eddie munson x reader #modern!eddie munson #modern!eddie munsun x you

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citrustan · 2 months ago

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dating girl (jjk)

pairing: jungkook x reader

summary: you try to convince yourself that you're really okay with 'casually dating' your crush.

genre: college au, fwb kinda thing but more than friends ygm? angst!

"Are they allowed to cancel an entire day at college? That can't be good for anyone..." Your mother ponders out loud as you walk around the city hand-in-hand.

"There's not much you can do if someone decides to paint over every projector lens on campus." You nod.

"Lucky for me, I get to spend time with my little baby," she nuzzles her nose into your hair, squeezing you in a side-hug, "Still can't believe we have to schedule our hangouts now."

"Yeah, there's that..." You smile half-heartedly.

You stop near a flower stall, taking in the hustle and bustle of the city. It's especially crowded because of your university abruptly cancelling a bunch of classes.

After your day had freed up unexpectedly, you had invited your sorta but not really boyfriend, Jungkook, to go cafe hopping to find where all the good teas are because you knew he'd be available. But he never responded.

So your mood has been a bit damp all day.

You had just stepped out of this store that sold handmade sweaters and yarn balls. Not even a good shopping spree could lift your spirits.

What certainly doesn't help is randomly seeing said sorta but not really boyfriend who didn't respond to your texts out and about with some leggy blonde girl.

You've never seen her around.

Not that you know every single person on campus, but if they've crossed Jungkook's path, you know them.

They're dining together al fresco, at one of the cafes you had literally listed in your text to Jungkook.

Talk about a slap in your face.

For a second, you think she might just be his sister or something.

But that thought bubble is quickly shot at with a razor-sharp arrow when you see him kiss her knuckles.

Your eyes involuntary darken, and your mouth forms a pout. The kind one has when they're trying to hold back a cry or a sob.

All the while, your mother had talked about your grandparents' separation, the local diner having caught fire, and matching mother and daughter shoes she had bought for your birthday.

You were listening passively so you didn't quite catch everything.

When your mother notices the look on your face, she frowns, following the line of your vision.

Upon spotting Jungkook and mystery girl, she gasps angrily, "Oh, no, he sucks." She turns back to you, "Honey, I'm so sorry."

"No, mom, this is normal," you smile weakly, "And it's okay."

"You're still seeing him, aren't you?" She tilted her head in confusion.

"Yes." You nod, "I am."

"But then he's there," she points at the pair with her chin, "seeing her. How's that okay?"

"It just is, mom! Really," you attempt to convince your mother (and yourself) that you were 100% fine with witnessing Jungkook out with other women. "We're keeping things casual. Very... casual."

"And that's a mutual decision?" She confirms.

"We both agreed." You concur.

Your mother's still unsure about your choices. "Well. Okay then."

You glance at Jungkook and mystery girl one last time.

The picture isn't pretty. He's leaning into her ear and has his large hand placed over her bare thigh as she caressed his arm with her much smaller hand, thoroughly enjoying his attention.

Your mother watches your expression go stiff, "So, how does this work again?"

Snapping you out of your daze, she pushes a few strands of hair away from your eyes.

"Oh. Um..." You exhale, "Well, we see each other and we see other people, and that's that. We're cas-" - "Yeah, casual, I heard." Your mother interrupts your blabber.

When you frown at her she sighs, "Sorry..."

"It's ok." You look down at your feet, kicking a few stray pebbles out of the way.

"I just--- I thought you guys were sleeping together." She blurts.

"Mom!" You exclaim, looking around to see if anyone had heard her, "It's not that big of a deal. I want this too. And I need to learn to date too."

Again, you try to ease your mind about your decision.

"So who else are you dating?" She asks pointedly.

This is suddenly getting very exhausting.

You lightly cringe and look around, "Uh... Nobody yet. But this guy from one of my extras--- his name's Hoseok but we call him Hobi, or Hoba, depending on how close you are to him--- anyway, he asked me out to a halloween theme party next week."

Your mother gives you a knowing look, deciding to play along anyway, "Oh! You've never mentioned him before."

"Mhm. Because it's new." You hunch your shoulders nervously.

The party was hosted by the student body to raise funds for, you don't know, collegiate stuff.

You had imagined going with Jungkook, with matching Dentist and Tooth Fairy couple costumes. But he hadn't asked you yet and you definitely weren't going to bring it up first.

It's less than a week away, so you're not expecting anything from him either. He probably already has another date lined up.

You wonder if it's the blonde he's with now.

Maybe you can do the look with Hoseok instead.

"So, are you gonna do it?"

"Do what?" Was she in your head?

"Go with Hobi or Hoba." She makes air quotations for 'Hobi or Hoba.'

"Oh, yeah. Yep. Definitely." Suddenly remembering, you add, "Oh and can you make me my costume? I want to be the Tooth Fairy?" You softly ask her, knowing it's a little last minute, but also knowing she wouldn't deny you.

"Why of course! Does... Hobi need a costume too?" She asks carefully.

"Oh, no. Probably not." Well, you don't know. You don't know if his offer even stands now and you might end up not going at all.

Your mother rubs your shoulder, "Ask him and let me know, 'kay?"

You force out an uncomfortable smile and nod, "Thanks."

Although your mother's not convinced, she decides to drop the topic all together.

"Well, that's good," she smiles down at you warmly, "Do you want to get that sweater exchanged?"

It was vague, but you appreciated her attempt either way.

"Mhm. Back to the store we go." You narrate with an airy laugh.

Your mother was in the lead, already making her way to the store you had just walked out of.

Once again, your gaze falls on Jungkook and his date, and to your surprise he was staring right back at you.

You want to give him a little smile. To show him you're unbothered. But you couldn't seem to force one out this time.

So you settle with giving him a small wave, which he returns, mirroring your expression.

His date follows his line of sight and spots you too, giving you a tight smile. It's not passive aggressive, just... decent. Not polite either. But why should she be?

Jungkook blinks at you as you hurriedly leave trying to keep up with your mother.

Maybe you should focus on Hoseok for now.

note: nobody asked for this but i was feeling a little silly :p needed some angsty ouchie with the possibility of a favourable conclusion so i indulged!

hey bonus points if you can tell what inspired this! and if you read all this lmk what you think regardless :D

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defire · 1 month ago

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do you perhaps have any prompts for when the living weapon is rescued and is just… so fucking awkward and doesn’t even notice. like no social cues existent (same), no sense of manners, social etiquette or politeness. they dont really talk unless spoken to first, but when they do speak they have absolutely no filter. this guy could murder everyone in the room but would not survive a high school lunch table

Oh hell yeah this is my cup of tea and my favorite brand.

Living weapon after they are rescued:

["long as I can remember" vibes]

Sorry it took me this long to answer! I was going through some stuff. I wanted to make sure i could give you quality content 👌 accidentally made too many though.

Eating as fast as possible and super messy. Everyone is just trying to talk and slowly stops as whumpee slurps their food down.

"are you ok whumpee?" "Yes, sorry, so sorry, I'm done. What do you need from me?"

Just casually leaning onto the table in a new tank top, and everyone suddenly notices the evenly-spaced scars down each shoulder. Clearly intentional. Everyone looks horrified at whumpee.

"Oh. I'm sorry. I forgot to cover, um," whumpee backing away flushing and covering their shoulders because they think their scars are gross.

Whumpee biting off their nails, picking their nose, other stuff they got used to doing whenever they had a chance because there was rarely any access to basic hygiene.

Or, whumpee coming in scrubbed and smelling like 5 different soaps because even the slightest smell of body odor triggers them

Whumpee sitting down stiffly, then stiffly mimicking others' relaxed posture when they see people staring. "Whumpee, it's ok, you can relax." "I am relaxed, I'm doing the relaxing thing. I've got this leg on the other leg just like you, what am I doing wrong?!" (Panicking that they're not following protocol!)

Right after being rescued, insisting that they're fine, because any touch feels like an attack.

Getting angry/defensive/paranoid when people show concern. They're not familiar with it and don't trust it at all.

Defending their abusers, forced laughter, panic in their eyes. "It was just a few lashes. Technically they were being merciful." "For refusing to kill a child!"

"I don't really have feelings, it's ok."

"Your OWN PEOPLE tortured you?" "No, torture is different, I've been tortured actually, it's not as scary, hah, uh," whumpee's voice falters as they freeze, that familiar sense of dread trickling down their spine as they flash back.

"I'm aware that you are saying you're not going to hurt me, yes. I understand completely. The concept." Whumpee smiles stiffly. "But do you believe me?" Caretaker pushes. Whumpee swallows, still smiling. "If that's what you want me to do."

When they hold their breath as they sit down in a comfortable chair for the first time in years.

This is going to have a pt 2 because it's really long!

#living weapon whumpee #whump writing #whump prompt #whump ideas #living weapon #whump #whump prompts #war whump

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jamiethebeeart · 2 months ago

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“But it’s not gay if he’s dead.” Danny’s head whipped around to stare down the street at two guys walking on the other side. He thought he was free of hearing that phrase ever again. Heart thudding in his ears, he crossed the street to tail these two guys. There was no way? Right? I mean Danny was something like 1,000 miles away from his hometown. There was no way two random guys in the big city of Gotham would’ve ever heard of –

“I don’t know man, it’s never been confirmed whether or not the “big guy” was actually… ya know?”

Danny seethed in frustration at the vague conversation. He stepped around a group of kids as he barely made the end of the crosswalk countdown.

“Nah, Red makes too many uncomfortable jokes about death to not have died.”

Danny sped up, weaving in between people to catch up before he lost the conversation in the din.

“It’s Gotham, we all make jokes about death.”

“Ya, but not like him. He seems to revel in them, like he actually kicked the bucket, permanent-like, not like those people who – I don’t know – cardiac arrest and are technically dead for a couple minutes until the EMTs get to them or whatever.”

A car puttered down the road – releasing a huge plume of exhaust in between Danny and the guys. Danny sighed, fully intending to return to his original path with the reassurance that they weren’t talking about Phantom. Then the next damned sentence came out of one of their mouths.

“Ok sure let’s say you’re right. Is it necrophilia if his body started decaying before coming back?”

‘Fuck it’ Danny thought as he turned back around. He had to see how this conversation ended – definitely not because the answer to that question kept him up night. Absolutely not. Call him a cat because he was just curious and not all at invested in the answer.

“Oh! Dude, shut the fuck up! Why would you – that’s disgusting! Are you kidding me!”

“Answer the question Mr. It’s Not Gay if He’s Dead – necrophiliac: yes or no?”

“No? Have you seen Red’s body? No way a dead guy could have muscles like that – I mean you gotta have working bodily functions right? To build muscles or whatever the fuck? Like have you seen his abs? Or, shit, just his arms - I mean swoon worthy, what I wouldn’t give to have him hold -”

“…….”

“- me…. What are ya looking at me like that for?”

“When, exactly, have you seen his abs.”

“Aaaah - that’s not the point –“

“Sure as hell hope that’s the point.” Red Hood stepped out of an alleyway they were walking past. Even with a helmet on, Danny swore the guy stared straight at him. He was so fucked getting caught listening in to this conversation – could he play it cool? Danny was cool right? Yeah, he could totally pull this off, act totally normal and keep walking. Hunching his shoulders some and turning his body away from the three men, he walked past. Or tried to. Red Hood caught the back of his shirt, stopping him from getting away. Unless Danny was willing to expose his powers to get out this situation, the best he could do was play dumb and hope Hood let him go without too much hassle.

“Boss!”

“Hey Boss – you didn’t happen to only hear the second half of that, did you?”

Red Hood growled, “the part about necrophilia or the part about my abs?”

Danny twisted his head back to see Goon #1 turn pale. “Uuuh – uh- um,” met Red Hood’s question.

A choreographed roll of the eyes, “Better question, why are you talking shit out on the streets and not paying attention to your little stalker,” Hood gestured to Danny.

“I’m not a stalker!” Danny huffed. His eyes widened. All three guys looked over at him. ‘SHIT’ Danny thought. He did not want to catch anyone’s attention more than he had, much less all three.

Goon No. 2 looked at him, as he resumed his squirming in Red Hood’s grasp, “So who are you?”

Danny glanced up to see Red Hood staring down at him. Today just wasn’t his day. “Hood,” Danny blurted out.

Silence. The tips of Danny’s ears turned bright red

“Uhm, I mean, a tourist?” “In Crime Alley, kid?”

"I'm not a kid," Danny muttered.

Hood shook Danny’s shirt hard enough to also shake Danny himself. “Try again. I’ve seen you around often enough to know that’s a lie.”

“It’s true!” Danny lied. “I was visiting the city, my wallet got pickpocketed with most of my money, so now I’m… kind of…. Stuck here? Indefinitely?”

Goon No. 1 laughed at him, “do ya think we’re dumb? You have a cellie right? No way you’re ‘stuck here’.”

“Exactly, so who do you work for? Penguin?” A jab towards Danny’s face. “Riddler?” Another jab and a step towards Danny. “Is it Two Face?” Another, even closer jab. Danny went cross-eyed looking at the finger in front of his nose.

“Back off,” Hood said. Danny breathed a sigh of relief at being given some space. And then the next words came out of Red Hood’s mouth, “Get lost you two – and stop gossiping on the street. And you-“ Hood turned back to Danny, “ – you’re coming with me.” Danny gulped. Today was going down as another shit day in the books for sure.

#dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc #dp x dc fanfic #i think i covered my bases? any other tag variations i should know of?#danny fenton #red hood #a little silly one shot because ingifd is iconic. sorry for bringing it back up (not)#the bee writes #i /think/ we're still on the don't tag the individual fandoms... yea?

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keeksandgigz · 1 year ago

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more 18+ smutty thots (minors dni)

I don't know what came over me I was supposed to write an essay and this came out. disgustingly fluffy smut under the cut.

ok so while the idea of being fingered with rings on is really hot, I personally think it's really painful, you just get repeatedly punched in the pussy by like chunky metal. not very hot.

so picture this, Eddie always fingers you with his right hand because it's easier to take off one ring than three, big, chunky ones. He usually puts it down somewhere, maybe on his dresser or his desk, just so he knows he won't lose it.

And he's kneeling on the floor between your legs, getting ready to give you the biggest and sloppiest and the best head of your life. His hair is tied up and his other hand is keeping your thighs spread- now, the bite of those rings on your thigh you don't mind. They're cold and your flesh gets stuck in the gap between the ring and his finger, giving your inner thigh a delicious pinch.

But he's shirtless and he's famished and you notice that he still has that ring on. And he's circling your entrance with his ring and middle finger and as much as you'd love for him to keep going, because he's making you feel so good you have to stop him.

He emerges from in between your thighs, alarmed.

"What's wrong sweetheart? Need to stop?" his eyebrows are curled in a concerned manner, he's worried you weren't enjoying it. Ever the people pleaser.

"No no no, not at all" you huff, there is not enough oxygen in your brain for you to think right now. You stare at the ceiling, hoping that miraculously the words will come to you.

"What is it then?" he urges, giving your thigh a soft squeeze.

"Your um- your ring" you whisper softly, tilting your head towards his slick soaked fingers. He takes a moment to register, looking at his right hand, seeing the small little silver ring on his ring finger.

"Oh shit, sorry sweetheart" he goes to clean his fingers on the duvet of his bed, which makes you wince a bit. He probably won't was those sheets anytime soon.

He takes his ring off, but a malicious grin adorns his face as he plays with it a little, looking at you, still spread open and naked on the bed for him.

"Why don't you hold on to it for me?" he asks, as he reaches for your left hand, placing the slightly loose ring on your fourth finger. Your ring finger.

The thought makes you gasp as he wastes no time diving back into eating you out. His thick fingers spreading you open for him, as the gesture, though small, makes a wave of arousal mixed with utter love and devotion wash over you.

Your moans get louder with the possessive nature of the gesture, he wanted you to be his.

"Yeah? Y'wanna be my little wife?" he says in between licks and sucks at your core as his fingers make quick work of brushing that soft spot that makes your eyes roll to the back of your head. His words only top the whole thing off.

"Oh- sh-yes, Eddie!" and you're not even sure what you're saying yes to. Everything feels too good, from the way his ringed hand is gripping your thigh, to the way his too- big ring burns its way into your skin. His. His little wife.

Your right hand digs at his hair, grabbing and pawing at the soft curls, urging him to fulfill you, a carnal need for more of him. A need for him to have you in any way he can.

His fingers picked up the pace, compensating for your mouth separating from you, chin and nose covered in slick.

"Who would've guessed a ring was all you needed. I put this little piece of tin on your finger and you go insane? Trust me baby, I'll give you the real thing. I'll give you everything you want" he mumbles against the skin of your tummy, mouthing soft praises.

"So good for me, aren't you. Gonna be mine so soon" and the promises of such a certain future make your head reel. His fingers curling inside of you as you cry out, the feeling of him being everywhere on you. Inside and out.

His hair fanning on your tummy as he continues his trail of hisses to the hinge of your knee, your calf, your ankle. The arch of your foot.

Then his hand is on you, brushing stray hair out of your face, cupping your cheek as your moans become lighter, airier.

"You close, baby? My little wife wants to cum for me?" he asks, his mouth against the seam of your thigh, licking and sucking bruises in his wake.

And you can't really speak aside from soft hn! noises and the occasional cry of his name, a prayer above as your walls begin to tighten around him.

"'mclose" you deliver curtly and he smiles, watching the way your cheeks flush, your eyes can't stop rolling to the back of your head.

"C'mon, baby, cum for me" he says, and like a spell has been cast on you, you follow his order, tightening around his fingers that don't seem to be stopping as you ride out your orgasm.

You have to push his hand away, an overwhelmed whine coming out of your mouth as you lay there.

"No more, no more" you chant, laying back as he sits on his bed, laying your head on his lap, caressing your matted and sweaty hear, brushing them away from your forehead as you catch your breath, playing with the new addition to your finger to steady yourself.

"You can keep that if you want. Gonna get you a chain, wear it around your neck" he says, smiling down at you.

"But it's yours, Ed" you squeak out, tired in a post orgasmic glow.

"Consider this an advance. For when I get to put a ring on that pretty finger" he says, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

And you feel safe, secure. Happy.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson smut #stranger things #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson blurb

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emotionoitme · 4 months ago

Text

nectar of the gods

nectar of the gods - lana del rey

part 2 of don’t call my name

warnings: jealousy, the c word (claire), pervy carmy but that’s a given, date gone wrong (pushy man & use of some force. nothing bad happens), guard dog carmy, small argument. nasty smut: themes of brat tamer carmy, female masturbation, teasing + condescending dirty talk, fingering, squirting, biting, kissing, unprotected sex (oops), slight size kink, he doesn’t choke her but he holds her neck, slight breeding kink, ok maybe not so slight, she gets fucked kind of stupid.

wc: 9.5k

a/n: thanks so much for the love on part one! let me know what u think of this one!! <3 enjoy the nastiness

playlist

the weeks that followed the soft touches and heated kisses were, to say the least, awkward.

carmen has never been the strongest communicator, and working long hours at the bear conveniently meant they didn’t really see much of each other.

unluckily for him, she conveniently seemed to be home when he had invited claire over to talk.

in his defense, it was a late night, heat of the moment decision. one in which he was caught in a weak spot–feeling lonely and, admittedly, thinking obsessively of his roommate. a decision he deeply regretted the following day, when he had checked his messages and saw she said yes.

claire came over for morning coffee when carmy decided to go into work late. she gave him a enthusiastic greeting when he opened the door, rushing forward to hug him. it didn’t feel right, but he reciprocated.

“so good to see you, carm,” she told him, warmly.

“hey, you too,” eyes glancing over to the clock beside the door, “you’re early.”

she pulled back, smiling.

“i thought you’d be happy to have more time with me.”

he gestured her in and shut the door. he hadn’t really wanted her to come at all once he woke up, but how could she have known that?

he felt stupid.

“i, am” he replied unenthusiastically, “but my, um…. my roommate is still home.”

“you have a roommate now?” she asked.

“yeah, just for a while. want to go outside?” he questioned, eyes darting to the stairs.

“can’t we just sit at the table? it’s cold out.” claire followed his gaze to the staircase.

he paused, sighing.

“okay, yeah. let’s sit at the table.” hand running through his hair, pulling slightly. he forced himself to sit and meet her gaze, asking her how she’s been, trying to pay attention. trying to care.

a few minutes into their conversation, he heard soft footsteps approaching from behind.

“goodmorning,” his roommate called out, smiling at claire. carmen whipped his head around. she was dressed for work. she looked good.

“oh. hi,” claire returned, “you’re carmy’s roommate?” the surprise evident in her voice.

“only short term,” she replied, shooting carmen a glance, “and you are?”

“i’m claire,” she returned with a smile, “i’m his-”

“she’s my friend.” carmy interrupted, watching as claire’s eyebrows shot up at this.

“umm, we’re a little more than friends,” claire laughed, turning to his roommate, “me and carm have known eachother since we were kids. and we dated for a while, didn’t we, bear?”

he watched as his roommate widened her eyes a bit, nodding.

“how sweet. you guys are so cute together, you should date again,” sickly enthusiasm rung from her voice, “nice to meet you claire, but i’ve gotta get to work.”

“so nice meeting you! i’ll see you around.”

his roommate didn’t respond, quickly walking to the kitchen to grab a thermos of coffee then rushing out the door, letting it slam behind her.

“she’s cute,” claire complimented, “should i be worried?” her tone joking, but still locking eyes with carmen. he stayed silent, rubbing a hand over his face, then exhaling.

“listen, claire, you, uh…. you’ve gotta go. i’m sorry for inviting you.”

“what?”

he left for work as soon as she was out the door, trying to distract himself from the reminder of all the people he had hurt so early in the morning.

besides that tense interaction, he didn't see his roommate at all for about a week and a half.

that didn’t mean he wouldn’t still think about her, though. in fact, it felt like he couldn’t focus on anything else—the night of their hungry kisses and gentle touches playing like a loop in his head.

he thinks of how responsive she was, how her lips felt. how he longed to hear her beg for him.

almost two whole weeks passed, and he still wasn’t man enough to face her, making sure he was in the restaurant until late at night and out of the apartment extra early in the morning.

he scrubbed at the stovetop, remembering the smell of her skin. yearning for it. he stood at the expo and barked directions, skin prickling with the memory of her touch. the slight drag of her nails across his abdomen. how eager she was.

that morning, as the sun just began to flood through the windows, he found himself passing by her room, glancing through the open door.

he stopped himself as soon as he passed, taking a step backwards to get another look.

she lay sleeping on her side, facing away from him, one leg resting on top of the duvet. her breath was steadily rising and falling, big shirt was bunched up over her waist, allowing him the pleasure of gliding his eyes along the curve of her bare waist. he savors the moment, gaze gliding down to her hip, then falling on the little blue pair of underwear that clung to her ass.

and yes, he felt like a creep, but he still continued to stand there and watch her for a few minutes, wishing he could take a picture to remember the captivating sight.

instead he just forced himself to walk away.

it’s a long, stressful day of refires, late tickets, and continuous yelling.

carmen only gets home shy of midnight, basking in the still silence of the apartment as the door latches. he slips his coat off and hangs his keys on the hook—the key hook she put up, after the 5th time he had asked her if she had seen his keys.

hers were gone, surprisingly. he wonders where she could’ve been at midnight with a nervous uncertainty.

carmen makes his way to the kitchen, grabbing a cold glass of water before walking over to the couch to collapse.

the living room was illuminated in a soft lamp light. he loved that there would be lights on when he came home. it felt less lonely, somehow.

his eyes glance around the room, noting the addition of potted plants, some throw pillows and blankets, art, framed pictures. some of her family, some of his.

it had thrown him off, a bit, to come home one day, before the awkwardness, to see a framed picture of him and mikey standing on one of the living room’s side tables. he hardly recognized the old picture, studying it with disbelief. on that day, he picked it up and walked to his roommate’s door, knocking softly.

“come in,” she had called.

he opened the door, and found her sitting at her vanity, combing her hair. he held up the picture, pointing to it.

“shit, i’m sorry. i should’ve asked,” she started to explain.

“-no, no, i was, uh, just a little surprised,” he reassured, “where did you get this from?”

she set her comb down on the vanity and turned to face him.

“it was in a box at the back of my closet,” she told him, “lots of pictures. i promise i didn’t go through it. that one was just at the top. and i thought it was sweet. i was just thinking since i have so many up of my family, you would-”

“-no, yeah. thank you. it was really nice of you,” he admitted, “just caught me off guard.”

she gave him a sympathetic smile.

he fondly recalls the memory as he studied the decorations. never before had his home felt so much like a home.

he lets his eyes shut slowly, basking in the comfort of the plush couch. around 20 minutes pass until he hears muffled voices from outside the unit, then the sound of keys fumbling with the lock.

his stomach drops a little at the thought of having to face her, so he keeps his eyes closed, hoping he could ignore the interaction all together. as the door swings open, he hears her voice.

“okay, thanks. i’ll see you around,” tiredness evident in her tone. then, a man’s voice.

“it’s a nice place. what’s the inside like?”

carmen feels a surge of annoyance. was she bringing men over?

“it’s, uh, nice too. i have to get up early tomorrow though, so-”

“we had a nice time, right? let’s keep it going.” the man’s tone becomes pushier. carmen’s annoyance turns to anger. who did this douchebag think he was? he hears his roommate release a sardonic chuckle.

“listen, dude, get out. i’m not interested.” her tone firm and assertive. carmen sits up slightly to peek over the couch.

“god, i can’t stand women like you,” the stranger retorts, “a $200 check, and you’re not even gonna invite me in?”

carmen watches as she tries to close the door. the man puts his arm out, aggressively pushing it back open. he sits up the rest of the way, having had enough of the interaction.

“hey fuckhead,” he barks. the stranger’s eyes dart to him, clearly surprised there was another person home.

“she said get out.” his jaw is tight, eyes wide, staring the man down. “we gonna have a fuckin’ problem?”

the stranger puts his hands up in defense, taking a step back.

“hey, no problem here, man. just trying to say goodni-”

she slams the door in his face, latching the deadbolt. the girl lets out a heavy sigh before glancing over to where carmen sits.

“thanks,” she mumbles, hanging up her keys and taking her jacket off. he glances over the skin-tight long sleeve dress she was wearing.

“who was that?” he asks immediately, trying to keep the hint of possessiveness out of his voice. she leans down to slide her heels off, glancing up at him.

“a date.”

he continues to stare at her, hoping she would elaborate. instead, she ignores him, walking to the kitchen and putting the tea kettle on to boil. he stands and follows her, brow twitching.

“you, uh, going on dates now?” he questions, hands coming to his hips.

“yep,” she curtly replies, grabbing a mug from the cabinet and placing a teabag inside.

“with guys like that, huh? nice.” he scoffs. the man has trouble rationalizing why he feels so aggravated.

“fuck off, carmen,” she sharply retorts, refusing to turn toward him, “it’s none of your business.”

“it is when you bring them here” he argues.

“what, like how you brought your little girlfriend over?” she yanks open the fridge and grabs the milk.

“she is not my girlfriend” he asserts.

the girl rolls her eyes and ignores him, turning the burner off at the sound of the kettle whistling, pouring the hot water into her mug. he moves closer to her, staring at the side of her face.

“she’s not,” he emphasizes. the added pressure makes her feel compelled to respond.

“well, she’s something to you,” she argues, setting the kettle back down harder than she intended, turning to face him. she immediately wishes she hadn’t, the intensity of his eyes setting her ablaze, skin prickling. it makes her a little weak in the knees to be face to face with him again, as much as she hated to admit it.

“no, she isn’t, i- fuck…i had this weak moment after…you and i kissed, and it-,” he exhales, pausing. “i didn’t realize how much i missed…that kind of thing. so i invited her over. and immediately fuckin’ regretted it when she said yes.”

“why?” she asks softly.

“why’d i regret it?” he clarifies. she nods.

he takes a small step closer to her.

“because i don’t want that kind of thing with claire,” he confesses.

she doesn’t know what to say, instead just watches him, studying his face. she catches the split second his eyes dart down to her lips, and feels what little resolve she has begin to crumble, so she turns away from him, back to her tea, and begins to stir in some milk.

“okay,” her reply comes softly, “i get it.”

“yeah?” he presses, eyes locked on her.

“yeah,” she responds, “i know how it feels. to get…lonely like that. so truce.”

he lets out a breath of relief, threading his fingers through his hair.

silence, for a moment. he watches her bring the hot drink up to her lips and take a small sip. carmy is the one to break the silence.

“is that, uh, the reason you’re going on dates, then?” he pries.

“what, because of loneliness?” she asks, warming her hands on the mug. he gives her a small nod, his eyebrows slightly furrowed.

“yeah. i guess so” she responds, “with these… weirdos that don’t let me know they’re weirdos until it’s too late.” her gaze fixes on a point in front of her, unfocused. she stays like this for a moment, then breaks her trance, eyes coming to carmy’s face. his sweet and handsome face.

“i’m really glad you were here, by the way.” she adds softly.

he doesn’t know what to say for a second, shaking his head. trying to push away the anxiety that came with what could’ve happened to her, had he not been on the couch at that exact moment.

“yeah. me too.” he replies soberly. she watches his serious expression, eyes locked. the girl can’t help but break out into a grin and softly giggle. she leans back against the counter.

“it was kinda sexy, too,” she quips, “watching you get all mad like that.”

carmy can’t help the smile that breaks his solemnity.

“fuck off,” he amuses, shaking his head. she begins to laugh. he likes it a lot.

“seriously,” she presses still smiling, “it was-…i liked it.” she gave a nod of her head.

he just keeps staring at her with a soft smile on his face.

“well i don’t wanna yell at anyone else. so no more guys over.”

“oh yeah?” her tone teasing, “it’s kind of your fault that i even went on a date in the first place” she chimes, taking another sip of tea.

“my fault?” he asks, eyebrows lifting.

“yeah. i mean, i wouldn’t have to if you weren’t such a…fucking tease.” she tells him, smiling against the lip of her mug

that was the last thing he expected her to say, letting out a small scoff at her bluntness.

“i’m the tease?” he asks in disbelief. if only she knew the relentless battles he fought internally from the second he first saw her. she’d been teasing him without knowing it for weeks.

“you wanted me to beg,” she reminds him, “and then, you left me. i had to fend for myself.”

he knew. he could hear her through the door.

“yeah, uh,” he fights the smile that creeps onto his face, “sorry about that.”

“that’s okay,” she replies, “cause i’m gonna give you payback.”

“payback?” he amuses, eyes creeping down her face, briefly falling to her chest and admiring the scoop neck dress she wore. okay, maybe not briefly.

she nods, stepping forward into his personal space, only inches apart. his eyes dart back up to meet hers. she keeps her gaze locked with his and slides her fingers under his white shirt, ghosting over the deep cut lines of his hips.

carmen’s breath stills as she hooks the waistband of his pants, leaning in to softly kiss his neck. she peppers sweet kisses up to his ear, then gently catches his lobe in between her teeth. her hands trail up, splaying across his stomach and feeling the firm muscle. carmen clenches his teeth as her lips begin moving along the base of his jaw.

she had barely touched him and yet that burning sensation begins to creep up his skin.

once her lips make it to his chin, she straightens and pulls him into her.

he feels his breath skip.

the girl hovers her lips over his, giving him only a light impression of touch. the front of her body is flush against his, and she can feel his hardness pressing into her.

carmy knows exactly what she’s doing, and he doesn’t feel entirely enthusiastic about being teased.

he glides his hand under her jaw, fingers carding through her hair and resting near the base of her skull. he grabs it tightly and she lets out a soft whimper, lips parting. the sound is too sweet for him to maintain his composure—he wants to taste it.

carmen pulls her into his lips impatiently, relishing the supple feeling of her mouth. their lips lock together desperately, kisses in tandem. with a last, slow kiss she pulls away with a small grin on her face. his hand still entangles with her hair, eyed fixated on her lips.

“that all you gonna give me?” he grumbles lowly.

she nods, “mmhm,” and her lip catches between her teeth.

his free hand comes to grab her side, thumb pressing into her hip bone. she arches into his touch, lids heavy, body increasingly hot. he meets her eyes.

“you’re…” he exhales, smile creeping at the edges of his lips, “you’re a little brat. y’know that?”

“you like it,” she argues softly.

she’s wrong, he thinks, he loves it.

she smooths her hand up his abdomen, fingers pressing into the firm muscle. he tenses under the rousing touch, then groans as she gently drags her nails down the length of his stomach.

she feels his bulge twitch against her pelvis.

the girl smiles at this, satisfied with her work of payback. she doesn’t give him a chance to respond before she pulls away completely.

he blinks a few times, processing the loss of heat, watching as she turns to walk out of the kitchen.

he almost follows her, too, but stops in his tracks when she calls goodnight.

fucking tease.

it was after 1am by the time the girl had showered and completed her nighttime routine, peeling back her duvet and slipping into the silky sheets.

she tried desperately to clear her mind over the past hour, having difficulty thinking of anything besides her roommate. anything besides how much she had turned herself on in the process of “payback”.

she lays flat on her back, then turns to her side. then she turns to the other side. then flat on her stomach. the girl releases a sigh of frustration. nothing was comfortable. every inch of her body felt hot. carmy’s lips felt so fucking good.

the heater is too loud. the streetlights are shining through the curtains. she wants to take him inside of her.

her hand sneaks underneath the duvet, brushing over her hardened nipples, trailing down her stomach and creeping under the waistband of her panties.

she thinks about how much she liked kissing him as she begins to drag her finger through her folds. she thinks about how he would always hold himself back. it was easy to tell—he would tighten his jaw and his eyes would get dark, giving her this look at her as if he wanted to devour her whole. she feels herself getting wet, beginning to circle around her clit, frustration at the dull ache within that seemed incurable no matter how much she tried to pleasure herself.

the girl feels so desperate laying in her bed that she decides she would take whatever carmen would give her.

even if that meant having to beg for it.

she rips her hand out of her panties and flings the duvet off of her, sharply exhaling as the cool surrounding air kisses her skin. she throws her legs over the side of the bed and stands up. maybe a cold glass of water would help.

the temperature drops as she exits her room. clad in only underwear and a cropped tank top, goosebumps begin to rise on her skin

as she makes her way down the hallway, curious eyes land on carmen’s cracked door. she stops and takes a peek inside.

the outside streetlights flood in through his window too, yet there he lay sleeping heavily, completely unbothered.

she pushes the door open a little more, just out of curiosity.

he lay on his back, shirtless, with an arm thrown over his face, chest rising and falling steadily. watching him did nothing more than worsen the desire she felt.

she inches into the room almost uncontrollably, coming to stand next to his bed.

before she gains enough sense to turn away and leave, she peels back his sheets and slides in next to him. the man shifts a bit, then settles back into his slumber.

she feels kind of creepy just watching him, but he looks so incredibly handsome in his relaxed state, his plump lips parting with soft exhales.

she feels such little control over herself, thinking of how she wants to feel him. wants to taste his skin.

fuck it.

she slowly pulls the sheets down and off of him. he’s wearing a pair of boxer briefs and she can’t help but release a breath of anticipation at the sight. she leans forward and crawls over his sleeping form, straddling him, hands coming to his chest.

she watches as his head turns and his arm falls from his face, eyes blearily blinking open.

his eyes meet hers, a stunned expression on his face.

carmen thinks he’s dreaming at first—the sight above him all too similar to the filthy dreams he had been having lately.

“uh, hey” he hesitates, voice deep and raspy, heavy with sleep.

“hi,” she whispers.

his eyes scan over her form and take in her position. her lack of clothes. she can feel him growing beneath where she sits.

the girl smiles, giggling softly.

a lazy smirk grows on his face at this, and he closes his eyes again.

“fingers not doin’ it for you anymore?”

“shut up,” she retorts, slightly embarrassed. she hates how he knows. “i just wanted to…come see if you were sleeping well,”

carmy opens his eyes again and his smirk morphs to a grin, arms folding behind his head.

“i was” he confirms, lazily blinking, “but then i got, uh, woken up.”

“sorry” she sweetly exhales, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “i, um…” her eyes rake down his handsome face, losing her lame excuse completely. she’s silent, zeroed in on his lips with an overwhelming urge to kiss him. she watches them morph to a smile.

“c’mere,” he whispers, tilting his chin up a bit. she follows his command, almost as if in a trance, leaning forward to capture his lips in a gentle kiss.

it feels blissful, almost like everything besides the two of them fades away.

soft kisses become deep and the gentleness seems to fade as soon as it starts. the pair mutually quicken the pace of the kisses. they become messier, more desperate.

the girl leans into him, hand coming to the side of his neck, the other caressing his collarbones.

carmy chases her increasingly desperate kisses, gripping her hips with both hands, cherishing the feeling of her skin.

the girl slips her tongue into his mouth and gently moans at the feeling, with which he reciprocates, indulging in the taste of her. his fingers press into her bruisingly.

she rocks her hips against him. the sensation shoots a spark through her spine, so she continues to rock back and forth, grinding against his bulge, moaning softly into his mouth.

carmen kisses her roughly, gripping her hips tighter, pulling and pushing her across the length of his cock.

her panties feel slick, core feels tight, beginning to speed up her gyrations. she can feel the head of his cock through his briefs, and quickly becomes lost in the pleasure, kissing him with a ferocity she hasn’t felt in a long time.

the sensation is incredible to carmen, becoming more pent up by the second.

she bucks her hips wildly. it feels so fucking good.

he mindlessly tightens his grip on her hips further, and her kisses quickly stop. hips stop. with a sharp inhale and a soft “ow,” her hand comes to his wrist.

he immediately releases his grip, eyes snapping open.

“shit, i’m sorry,” he hurriedly apologizes, smoothing his hands over the yet-to-appear bruises—a reminder of why he had tried to force himself to take it slowly with her. “y’okay?” he couldn’t help but feel guilty.

“mhmm,” she confirms, leaning down to give him a soft kiss of reassurance. “so strong,” she murmurs into his lips. he releases the breath he was holding, hands still on her hips.

“can hardly fuckin’ control myself with you.” he admits guiltily.

“then don’t,” she replies softly, sitting upright.

carmen’s hand falls over his face, sighing. his fingers card through his messy hair, eyes scanning over the girl. a soft smile twitches at the edge of his lips.

the young woman sucks in a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves from the moment. her fingers thread under the edge of her tank top, and without saying anything, she slowly peels it over her head.

carmen groans at the reveal, and she feels a twitch underneath her. his hand comes to grab the side of her waist, thumb stroking over her stomach. he stares at her breasts in awe, trying desperately to memorize the dreamlike sight above him.

“you’re beautiful,” he marvels, hand sliding up her stomach to her ribs, “y’know that?” fingertips grazing the underside of her breast.

goosebumps rise on her skin from the light touch.

“touch me,” she tells him impatiently, pushing her chest out further as to emphasize.

the man lets out a small scoff at her tone, but gives in, cupping her breast and giving it a soft squeeze. he runs his thumb over her raised nipple, giving it a gentle pull.

she exhales harshly. it feels as if her blood had become hot, biting down on her lip to refrain from making noise.

carmy brings his hand to her other breast and repeats: a soft caress, then squeeze, then a tug of her nipple, harder this time. she bucks her hips at this, whimper muffled by the tightness of her teeth around her lip. carmen lets out a soft groan at the momentary friction.

he can feel the heat from her core over his thinly clothed erection as he touches her. the man marvels at her flushed skin, the curve of her breasts, the shape of her stomach, the expression of pleasure on her face.

she finds herself aching for the friction of a moment ago, giving another testing buck of her hips. so good.

her hands plant on his chest and she continues to slowly grind back and forth against him. the perfect angle causes her bottom lip to release from her teeth, a moan spilling out into the silence.

carmen keeps his hands pinned to his sides as he watches her closely, clamping his teeth together, clutching his fists. anything to keep himself from spinning her around and fucking her senseless.

the girl continues to grind against him, one hand planted on his chest and the other coming up to grab her breast. she’s completely blissed out, but carmen feels hungry—her teasing movements not fully satiating. he can feel her wetness begin to seep through and slick the fabric of his boxers.

“jesus, you’re fuckin’ killing me,” he strains, feeling his patience wear thin, “do something.” sounding almost like a plead.

she smiles, head falling back in pleasure, continuing to chase her high. her eyelids flutter at the pleasure, rocking back and forth.

carmy groans her name, followed by a “c’mon.”

“ask nicely” comes her taunt, followed by a breathy laugh, continuing to pleasure herself.

carmen decides he’s done playing with her. he plants his arm on the bed and sits up quickly, pushing her back against the bed, watching her eyes snap open to protest the loss of pleasure.

“quiet,” he demands, cutting her off. she shuts her mouth, a look of disappointment on her face. he dips down to nuzzle her neck and hide his forming smile, peppering gentle kisses into her skin. her smell is almost intoxicating. carmen grips her waist as he kisses her neck slowly trailing down to her collarbones. he hooks his thumb into the side of her panties and shuffles them down her thighs.

the girl breathes heavily, skin tingling in the wake of his touch.

the man dips his hand into her panties, fingers slipping between her folds, feeling her wetness.

“fuck,” he growls into her neck, “all this for me?” beginning to slowly circle her clit, the noise of her slickness like music to the man.

she stays quiet, eyelids as heavy as her breathing.

“hm? c’mon” he pushes, coming up from her neck and looking her in the eye, “tell me, pretty girl.”

the name causes her chest to flutter, allowing a soft whimper to spill from her lips. the intensity of the sensation in tandem with his eye contact makes her feel dizzy. makes her less embarrassed about showing appreciation.

“s’all for you, carm” she softly moans.

his fingers continue softly circling around the bundle of nerves, every few moments dipping into her opening to collect more wetness.

she teases down his abdomen and slips into his briefs, wrapping around his erection.

carmen softly groans, then inserts a finger, beginning to drag it in and out along her walls. she softly gasps at the feeling, and he can feel her squeeze his cock.

“more,” she demands softly, starting to stroke him.

he obeys, inserting a second finger, feeling more resistance now. she gasps.

he plants a gentle kiss on her cheek, then shuffles down to kiss at her breasts. down where she couldn’t stroke him anymore. the loss of her touch feels cold, so he fucks her with his fingers a little faster to make up for it.

as he sucks her nipple into his mouth, she can feel her juices trickling down her thighs and onto the bed, a bit embarrassed about the mess she can feel herself making on his sheets.

wet squelching sounds start to reverberate through the quiet room as carmy speeds his fingers up, softly nipping at her perked bud. the girl claps a hand over her mouth, muffling a boisterous moan.

“hand off,” he growls, sending her a warning glance. she ignores him and closes her eyes, continuing to muffle her sounds of desperation, biting into her hand.

his jaw clenches, and he pauses his movements. with his free hand he grabs her one wrist, then the other, and pins them over her head.

the girl’s eyes snap open, and she attempts to fight against his single-handed hold. she gives her best effort, but in her weakened state her struggles do nothing against the man’s strength, so she just huffs.

carmen scoffs at this, towering over her, beginning to slowly resume the movement of his fingers inside of her. he watches her face closely as he continues—studying the way her eyelids flutter, how her lips part, how her breathing picks up again, how she tries so desperately to hold onto her moans by biting into the flesh of her lips.

he draws his fingers completely out of her, then slowly reinserts them, curling upwards and beginning to rhythmically thrust them into her. she releases the hold of her lip with a loud moan, unable to stifle it at the new positioning of his fingers. he smiles, having accomplished his goal. his fingers curl further into her.

the girl begins to feel a bit of panic, an intense and unfamiliar sensation building up within her stomach. not an orgasm, but a deep, hot, wet feeling. with her arms pinned above her head, all she can do is take it.

carmen speeds up the motion, thumb coming to brush against her clit.

“fuck!” she yelps, arching into his touch. her mouth falls open, unashamed moans starting to pour out. his pace is relentless, and it feels too good to try and refrain anymore.

“yeah?” he asks, tone cool and calm, getting a sick type of pleasure from watching her unravel beneath him. he curls his fingers up further, hand becoming soaked with her arousal.

“mmh-carm, that’s-” she’s cut off by another whine, gaze flickering down to where he was rhythmically pounding his fingers into her. “ah-you…mmmh sogood,” she babbles, completely lost in his touch.

carmy feels his composure crumbling, groaning at the way she was reacting.

“c’mon, baby, let go,” he growls, palm sloppily smacking against her clit as he drives his fingers into her. her eyes roll back a bit, and with a final few curls of his fingers she does exactly what he says and lets go, giving into the sensation. the hot, wet tightness within her core bursts, flooding throughout her whole body.

“fuuckk” she hears him groan, his voice seeming distant.

her muscles convulse with orgasm, eyes tightly shut and mouth open. everything feels so wet. his fingers slow in pace, remaining deeply lodged inside her, releasing the grip of her wrists from overhead.

it seems as if the only thing she can concentrate on is trying to remember how to breathe. as she struggles to blink her eyes open, she’s met with a handsome face that stares back at her with what seems like both shock and amazement.

“whathappened?” she jumbledly breathes out.

he just groans again, dipping down to kiss the girl, big hand grabbing her face. his fingers are wet and sticky on her face. she eagerly reciprocates his kiss, hands coming to feel his chest, a pulsing in her lower stomach.

carmy plants a kiss to her cheek then sits upright again. she pushes herself up onto her forearms, attempting to reorient. her gaze comes to where he kneels, then falls on the dark spot on the sheets that surrounds them, as if something had spilled. her brows furrow as she pulls her eyes back up to carmy. his face is flushed and pupils dilated, gripping onto the backs of her thighs.

“you, uh…. god that was fucking hot,” he says with an unwavering stare.

“did i do that?” she gasps, “fuck, i’m sorry, i’ve never-” hand coming over her mouth in embarrassment, “i’ll wash your sheets. or buy you new ones.” her face turns hot and red.

he swipes his fingers over her opening, collecting her wetness, then sucks them into his mouth.

her eyes widen, watching him savor the taste of her.

“carm, say something,” she begs, still partially mortified.

“you taste good,” he replies, pulling her closer by her thighs. there’s an animalistic glint in his eyes.

“not about that,” she looks away out of embarrassment.

“m’gonna make you do it again,” he strains, pulling down the band of his boxers and allowing his erection to spring free. he works to shuffle them down his thighs.

her short-lived embarrassment dissipates completely at the sight of his cock. he’s thick, and slightly curved, throbbing with arousal, emerging from a dark bush of curls. her breath hitches, and she almost moans at the sight, instinctively spreading her legs further apart for him.

carmen grabs a pillow and lifts her legs, tucking it under her tailbone and pulling her in closely. he begins to glide his head in between her folds, collecting her slick. he nudges against her clit, and she gasps, covering her mouth.

“y’okay?” he checks, locking eyes with her. she nods her head.

“mhm, just….be gentle,” she pleads, “please,” slightly intimidated by his girth.

“i will be,” he nods, giving her a sincere look, “promise.”

she nods back, a signal to go ahead.

carmy pushes against her opening, slipping his head in slowly. they release a breathy moan in tandem.

he pushes forward until he finds resistance at less than halfway in.

“fuck,” she pants, hand flying up to grab his wrist.

“doin’ so good,” he praises, “tell me when you want me to keep going.”

the girl nods, eyes shutting tightly, trying to adjust to the imposing stretch. she releases her grip on him, trailing her fingers down her body to rub circles into her clit. she feels herself relax a bit at the pleasure as carmy’s eyes stay glued to her, watching her every move with enthusiasm. her slow circles speed up ever so slightly, letting out a gentle moan, droopy eyes coming to meet those of the man above her. it feels so good, and she clenches around him. the only thing that would make it better would be-

“kiss me,” she pleads.

he studies her swollen lips, flushed face, sweet doe eyes—he can’t help but mindlessly obey, caging her with his forearms.

the intoxicating mix of carmen’s kisses and the work of her fingers help her relax. the grip on his wrist loosens, and carmen is able to fully sink in. he pushes forward until his hips are completely flush with hers, moaning into her mouth. she matches it with a gasp.

the girl can’t believe how full she feels. It’s almost hard to breathe, nails digging into carmy’s bicep. he pulls away from the kiss, thumb coming to stroke the side of her cheek.

“doin’ okay?” he asks softly.

she has to take a moment to find her words, overcome with a dizzy head high.

“fuck, it’s s-so big,” she stammers, both hands now gripping onto his biceps for dear life.

he can’t help the surge that runs through him at her words, small smirk tugging at the edge of his lip.

“yeah?”

“mmhmmm.”

“too much f’you? want me to take it out?” he teases, knowing full well what her answer would be.

“no!” her eyes snap open “so good, carmy. want you to fuck me.”

he groans.

“give it a sec. play with ‘yrself some more. fuckin’ gripping me down there.”

her chest flutters at the sound of his voice—the low growl of it that seemed to resonate through her bones.

“please,” she begs, pressing a kiss to his lips, “want it so bad,” another kiss, “i can take it.”

he tightens his jaw, feeling his cock twitch inside of her at the desperation in her tone.

“you tell me if it’s too much, okay?” he asserts, hand grabbing her waist to steady himself, sitting up. she eagerly nods her head.

carmy begins to slowly ease out, his length dragging along her tight walls, then pushes his hips forward gently, sinking into her fully. her mouth falls open, a whiny breath spills out.

he repeats this again, this time snapping his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt. her hands smooth up his biceps and wrap behind his neck, tangling in his hair. she pulls him down to her lips, and kisses him with frenzy, then peppers kisses along his cheek and jawline.

the man swears he’s miraculously died and gone straight to heaven, even though he hadn’t been to church in ages.

the way she smells, the feeling of her lips trailing along his face, the fucking vice grip her pussy wrapped around him with. it’s all like heaven.

he moves slowly, rolling his hips to softly thrust in and out of her.

the girl responds enthusiastically, bucking her hips up to accommodate him further. it feels incredible, but it’s not enough for either of them.

he wants to be gentle with the girl, try and counter the thoughts that pop in his head whenever he looks at her. he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to stop himself if he gives in.

so he forces himself to take it slow. and gentle and sweet.

but the girl keeps bucking her hips up to take more of him, frustrated that he won’t get the message.

“faster,” she whines, placing a few more kisses along his face.

he ignores her, leaning down to nuzzle her neck. his hand trails downwards, wedging it in between them to lightly rub her clit. his pace stays lazy and soft, kissing her neck.

“carmy,” she complains, fingers carding up through his hair, “give it to me.”

he just ignores her, slowing the pace of his fingers and biting her neck.

she gasps and yanks his hair.

“fuck me already,” she huffs, pout on her lips.

he growls into her neck, then pulls back, looking at her. his eyes had grown dark, eyebrows slightly twitching. a completely different expression than the soft one he wore previously.

this one was much hungrier.

he sits straight up, pulling her legs to be flush with his shoulders, then he practically bends her in half, hands pressing down on the backs of her thighs.

she flushes at the new position, feeling entirely vulnerable, but too overwhelmed with lust to do anything about it. she goes to say something, but he cuts her off by snapping his hips against hers, driving himself deeply inside of her. her mouth falls open into an o shape, taken aback by the sudden change in angle. she can feel every inch of him this way, so fucking full she can’t even seem to form a thought.

carmen eases out of her, then sinks inside again, hips slamming against hers. this time she lets out a throaty gasp, eyes droopy, completely transfixed by the sight of him above her. his chest was flushed, a light sheen of sweat glistening on his skin. she wanted to lick it off. his messy curls bounce in time with his movements.

he pulls back again, and snaps his hips forward, releasing a deep groan.

she feels too full to make any sounds besides the needy gasps that pour plentifully from her lips.

carmy smirks down at the girl, studying her blissed out expression with a sense of pride as he continually thrusts into her. his eyes fall to watch her breasts bounce in conjunction with his thrusts, and he can’t help but grab one, squeezing, brushing his thumb over her perked nipple. she arches into his touch.

he increases his pace, hips beginning to drive into her harder.

she can feel herself slipping into a cloudy haze, the consistent slap of his hips against hers almost meditative, a red hot pleasure circulating through her whole body.

“look at me,” he orders, tweaking her nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

she didn’t even realize she had shut her eyes, forcing them back open to meet his gaze.

he slides his fingers down her stomach, over her pubic hair, coming to rub her clit. slick noises fill the room as his movements are eagerly met with more and more wetness.

she studies his handsome face, watches how his eyebrows scrunch, how he bites down onto his lip and flares his nostrils ever so slightly. she wants to have his babies, she thinks in her haze. in that moment she would willingly take anything he gave her.

she opens her mouth to express her gratitude, but all that comes out is a loud moan.

“yeah? y’like that?” he asks, hiking her leg further up onto his shoulder.

“mm-hmmm,” she cries in between breaths, wincing at how deep he was going, but somehow wanting even more.

“tell me, pretty girl. use those words.” he plants a kiss to the inside of her ankle and keeps thrusting into her.

“fuck,” she cries, “so good, carm. sososo good.”

his circles around her clit speed up, and the pleasure pushes her to continue, embarrassment out the window.

“love it,” she gasps, “i love it. you fuck me so good,” beginning to babble, “please don’t stop. please don’t ever stop.”

a grin breaks his face at this, and he drives into her faster, a wet slapping resounding through the room. he kisses her ankle again, then her foot.

“whatever you want,” he tells her sincerely. “fuckin’ perfect, y’know that?” another kiss on her foot, “like you were fuckin’ made for me.”

she opens her mouth, but her rationality kicks in and thinks it might be too early to ask him to put a baby in her. she opts to take a less direct approach.

“cum in me,” a breathy plead, “please,” locking eyes with him. he gives a slight shake of his head, surprised by her words. surprised by how mindlessly he wants to obey.

“fuck,” he enunciates, “you know i can’t.” the justification of why barely makes it to his mind, overcome with the flood of arousal from her words.

“i want it,” she whines. her legs slip from his shoulders and wrap around his back, pulling him in close. he releases a groan, sinking further into her, slowing his movements and beginning to punctuate his thrusts. he leans down and kisses her neck.

“i said no,” he growls, “be fuckin’ good.”

she bites his shoulder. hard enough to sting.

“ah-f’you keep acting like a brat i’m gonna fuck you like one,” he warns, hands holding her firmly in place.

she grins, then bites him again, this time on his bicep. and much harder.

carmen feels himself run out of patience, sitting up and pulling out of her. he shuffles off the bed and stands, and before she can open her mouth to complain, he yanks her up by the arm. his hand presses on her upper back and shoves her into the mattress, grabbing her hips and lifting her to arch to his liking.

the girl feels slightly humiliated by the vulnerable position, yet finds it does nothing but make the tingling heat of her body intensify.

she notices her cheek is wet—he had shoved her face first into the spot she made earlier. at this, she lets out an unenthusiastic groan.

“yeah well, i told you to fuckin’ behave,” he responds, collecting some of her slick and coating it over his cock, stroking a few times. “was tryin’ to go easy on you.” he begins to press the head into her, eliciting a breathy sigh. “but you don’t want me to, huh?” he sinks the rest of the way in. “you’ve been wanting me to give it to you rough, yeah?”

he buries himself to the hilt, and she gasps, feeling fuller than she ever thought possible.

“no,” comes her breathy protest into the mattress. he wasn’t wrong. at all. but she had too much pride to admit it, so instead she argues.

carmy scoffs.

“yeah? that why you’re fuckin’ soaking me? cause you don’t want it?”

he pulls back, dragging along her walls, then thrusts forward. the girl yelps, and takes a deep breath.

“i’m not,” comes her sharp retort, forearms coming to the bed and pushing herself up.

carmen drags his fingers up her inner thigh, collecting some of her juices that had trickled down, wordlessly holding them in front of her so she could see.

her cheeks feel hot. she doesn’t say anything, instead turns her face away from his glistening fingers. he grabs her jaw and pulls her back, pushing his coated fingers into her mouth. the girl makes a noise of disagreement, but doesn’t move away. she swirls her tongue around him, sucking his fingers clean.

he was right, she does taste sweet.

carmy drags his fingers out of her mouth slowly, catching her lip on the way down, and wraps around her neck, pressing gently. only enough to remind her who was in charge.

she willingly submits to the pleasure, arching back against him, growing impatient with his lack of movement.

she begins to ease herself forward, then rock back onto him selfishly, working to help alleviate some of the pressure that had built within her.

he lets her, for a moment, admiring the way she bounces against him, watching as she desperately tried to satiate herself.

he leans forward to plant a kiss to her cheek, fingers still wrapped around her throat, and begins to drive his hips forward to match her movements.

“yes,” she cries, hoping to god he wouldn’t stop again.

he doesn’t, continuing to rhythmically thrust into her, filling her up and stretching her out. her hand flies down to her clit and begins softly rubbing, keeping in time with the movement of his hips. she can’t help the plentiful sounds that spill from her lips—sounds of motivation for the man.

carmen, on the other hand, clenches his teeth together tightly and anchors himself by gripping her hip with his free hand, leaning over her.

he’s wanted to cum since the second he slipped into her, actively working to refrain and make it last as long as possible.

her juices begin to flow uncontrollably, completely covering his cock, sticking to his pubic hair.

everything was wet, and hot, and felt so fucking good.

the man wants to stay in this very moment for eternity, he thinks.

a particularly deep thrust makes the girl cry out voraciously, a primal cry that seemed to ignite something in him.

his hand moves from her hip to her upper arm and he pulls her upright. she leans her head against his shoulder, and he wraps a strong arm around her torso, hand coming to hold her neck once again.

the girl can barely support herself, legs trembling as carmen beings to increase the ferocity of his thrusts. the new angle situates him impossibly deeper—that familiar deep, wet feeling of heat starting to re-emerge within her stomach. his free hand trails down to her clit to help her climb higher.

carmy’s thrusts begin to cause wet squelching sounds. she completely loses herself in the sensation, mind blank with bliss, feeling tears begin to leak from her eyes.

he grabs her jaw and plants a rough kiss on her cheek. his lips become wet with her tears.

“that feel good, baby?” he hums into her skin, bucking up into her relentlessly.

“so good, carm,” she cries, gripping onto his arm for dear life, “love it. so so good.”

“fuck” he growls, shifting his hips further up into her, eliciting a yelp from the girl.

“thank you,” she mindlessly moans, “thankyouthankyouthankyou.”

he grins, grabbing her jaw tighter. another rough kiss on her cheek.

“where’d that fuckin’ attitude go, huh?” plowing forward into her, biting her neck.

she just whimpers, body falling limp against him. he effortlessly holds her up right where he wants her and continues drilling his hips forward.

“carmy, i’m- ah,” her mouth agape, “‘sgonna happen again,” she warns. he maintains his relentless pace, skin slapping against hers.

“let it go, pretty girl. i got you,” he assures, face scrunching, muscles tightening, trying to keep his own orgasm at bay long enough to pull her through.

with a primal cry of pleasure, she does exactly what he says and lets go.

it’s a flood of heat through her body, a release so satiating she thinks she‘ll be addicted for life. her vision goes spotty, ears start ringing, mind becoming numbingly empty for a moment. her fingernails leave marks along carmen’s arm from how hard she grips, using him as her last remaining tether to reality.

her breathing becomes rapid, body overstimulated with his continual thrusts. it’s almost too much, and then it’s nothing at all, feeling him pull out with a loud groan. feeling warm ropes shoot across her lower back. feeling him gently lower her down onto the wet bed. feeling her legs start to shake as the orgasm begins to subside.

a few moments go by. she feels a cold wet rag clean off her back. she feels his hand rub over her ass, feeling it be squeezed. she doesn’t move. she can’t move.

“hey.”

his voice is so distant, sounding like he’s talking through a tin can. she feels him push her onto her side. she feels him smooth her hair out of her face.

she can’t seem to open her eyes.

she can’t even seem to breathe without panting.

her entire body feels tingly.

“hey,” comes again, this time a little closer, “y’okay?”

she can’t respond. It’s like she forgot how to vocalize.

carmen gently pats the side of her face. she doesn’t respond, so he does it a little harder. her eyes blink open at the soft smacks.

her eyes meet his. they’re so blue, hazed with a slight expression of worry.

“hi,” she whispers once she’s found her words. he’s so handsome, she thinks. his cheeks are flushed. his lips are swollen.

“hi,” he softly smiles, “y’okay? was that too much?”

she shakes her head no, a blissed out grin forming on her face.

“mm. i liked it. a lot,” she tells him earnestly.

“yeah? earlier you were saying you loved it,” he teases, smoothing her hair back behind her ear. she opens her mouth to respond but shuts it, rolling her eyes.

there was that attitude again, carmen thinks to himself.

“your bed is wet,” she complains, rolling onto her back and pushing herself up onto her forearms.

“who’s fault is that?” he asks, an eyebrow lifting.

she holds onto his bicep and pulls herself up, sitting on the edge of the bed. he sits next to her.

“yours,” she responds.

he scoffs.

“it is,” she huffs, head resting on his shoulder, “i’ve never done that before. it felt…crazy.”

the comment makes him feel big headed, a surge of pride and possessiveness that he’s the only one who’s ever made her feel that way. he doesn’t say it, though. just wraps his arm around the girl and kisses her head.

a quiet settles between them. the yellow of the streetlights through the window gives the room a dreamlike glow. the time on the clock shows that it’s an ungodly hour to be awake. carmen thinks of taking a personal day.

“wanna take a shower?” she asks softly, leaning up to kiss his neck, hand on his thigh.

“that-” he exhales as she nips his neck, “sounds really nice,” his own hand coming to cover hers. his were so big comparatively. another moment of quiet.

“i don’t think i can stand,” she admits, breaking the silence. he lets out a laugh.

the silky sheets wrap around entangled limbs, draping the two lovers in a soft sleepy haze.

the girl had to offer her own bed up for sleeping arrangements, given that carmen’s bed was completely soaked.

their legs intertwine, feet rub together, skin smooths against skin as they lay facing each other.

the cracked window allows an early november chill to sweep through the room. the girl gives a small shiver, and carmy pulls the blanket up over her bare shoulder, wrapping his arm around her back.

they remain in a comfortable silence, both nearly delirious in the early hour, but too giddy to fall asleep.

she studies his face in the close proximity, eyes smoothing over the small scar on his cheek, the light freckles that scatter his skin, the alluring curve of his nose.

it feels almost as intimate as their shared shower, where they had tenderly washed each other’s hair and studied each other’s nudity in the light. he had called her beautiful. she returned the compliment. he held her up in the shower on account of her shaky legs, kissing her lovingly under the stream of the hot water, fingers gripping onto her as if he was scared she’d vanish into thin air.

all that she was scared of happening had happened. she found herself completely infatuated with the man, the mere thought of him making her stomach flutter.

she tries to push it out of her mind, as she lay studying his face, that she only had a little over a month before she would leave chicago. as much as she tried to push it away, though, it came back.

she doesn’t realize she’s furrowing her brows until carmen reaches up to touch her forehead, smoothing his thumb over the scrunch.

she meets his eyes, and immediately feels a soothing sensation.

his hand slides down the side of her face and cups it, thumb rubbing over her lip.

“whatcha thinkin’ about?” he asks softly.

she stays quiet for a moment, not sure how to express herself, chewing on her lip trying to piece together her words. he gently pulls it from between her teeth, his eyes fixed on her face, studying every emotion.

she takes a deep breath.

“i really like you, carmy,” her admission comes as a whisper.

a tear escapes down her cheek, and she feels stupid because of it.

“hey,” he soothes, thumb swiping away the stray tear, “c’mere.”

he pulls her into an embrace, arms engulfing her smaller frame. he rubs her back, and presses a kiss to the top of her head.

“this about california?” the man asks after a moment.

she doesn’t answer, just nuzzles her face into his neck.

“we still have some time, yeah?” he consoles, “and it won’t be forever. you can come back and visit.”

he stays positive, partially to reassure himself as well.

“okay,” she murmurs into his neck, pressing herself closer to him.

she thinks it might’ve been a mistake to have started something she can’t finish.

it might’ve been a mistake to even entertain the idea at all.

but even still, he’s so warm, smells so nice, feels so incredibly safe.

he runs his fingers through her hair and kisses her temple, holding her tightly.

it feels so good she thinks it can’t be a mistake.

right?

next part

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmy x reader #carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto smut #carmy berzatto imagine #the bear imagine

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