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tonycries · 4 months ago

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Something Stupid - G.S.

Synopsis. Five times the strongest would rather díe than tell you he loves you, and the one time he almost does. Almost.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, friends-to-lóvers, canon fix-it, PINING, dry-húmping, face-sítting (fem receiving), creampíe, overstím, PÚSSYDRUNK GOJO, ríding him until he whínes, no smút until they’re adults obvs, slight ángst, manga spoilers, found family, THE HAPPY ENDING WE DESERVE, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 9.6k

A/N. Tumby lemme post this pwease? What canon? This is the only canon I know.

“Catch me if you-”

Sixteen-year-old Gojo Satoru doesn’t have the privilege of finishing his sentence - hell, he doesn’t even have the privilege of standing, apparently.

Because in the blink of an eye, his back is hitting the soft grass of Jujutsu Tech, followed very shortly by a bewildered you. Foreheads knocking together, your hands grabbing at his broad shoulders, his own wrapping around your waist for some sense of stability.

Years later, Gojo tells everyone that would listen - and anyone that won’t - that life became just a bit brighter ever since you crashed into his life that day - literally.

But right now, he’s opening his mouth to spit an irritated, “Watch it!”

It’s the first words you ever say to him, a shrill - almost hysterical - “Huh? No, you watch it-”

“Nuh uh, you-” Head spinning, shades skewed, it takes Gojo a few seconds to screw his bleary eyes open to the sudden newcomer straddled on top of him. And a few more to register that no, he wasn’t in heaven and hey, that uniform looks familiar. And, unfortunately, not even a split-second longer to breathe out something stupid, “I…I think I love y-”

“You stupid, moronic- wait what?”

The next few words out of his mouth are just as bad as the last ones, if not worse. Because yes he knows - for once in his life - that maybe he should just stop talking. He knows that even a moment longer with you is gonna turn his mind into more of a melty, honeyed mess than Six Eyes ever could.

Which is exactly what he blames when jumbling out a garbled, “Dinner tomorrow?” Wincing, Gojo swallows them back almost as quickly as he wished he was swallowed up by Geto’s rainbow dragon instead.

To your credit, you look a lot less bumbling than the strongest currently pinned underneath you. That look of annoyance on your pretty features melts into something of concern. And before he can dig a deeper hole for himself, you’re raising the back of your hand to splay out across his forehead.

“I didn’t think you hit the ground that hard but-” you raise a brow, head tilting to the side. “-I think you’ve got a concussion.”

Oh, yeah he’s definitely in heaven - that or actually concussed. Maybe both.

A low whistle sounds from his right - and soon enough he’s staring at the shoes of the other first-year he’d met just today. Low bangs hanging over his face, jostling with light cackles, “Haven’t they told you not to confess your undying love until at least the second date, Gojo?”

Nevermind, he was in hell.

“Ieri!” Geto turns towards the other girl, who was busy typing away on her phone. But Gojo could’ve sworn he heard the shutter of a camera coming from her way. “He was flown out of bounds, that’s gotta count as one point for me, right? And another for the pretty girl. You keepin’ score?”

She only sighs, “No.”

What’s a first day at high school without a duel between two of the proudly self-proclaimed strongest? And, of course, you - the fourth addition to their little group, hastily scrambling off of Gojo’s lap at the jeering laughter from above.

Dammit.

Later, he might apologize for running headfirst into you - might. Ignoring the pointed giggles, and the burning rouge at the very tip of his ears, to find out your name. And to make up some stilted excuse about how that was completely the concussion talking and he totally wasn’t serious about having dinner so please, please, please don’t snitch to Yaga about the impromptu matches taking place on school grounds…unless?

But for now, Gojo’s only lazily turning to look up at Geto, bringing a hand up to squint against the harsh sun beating down. Or, at least, that’s what it was meant to look like - “Technique amplification: Blue!”

He only hopes the property damage isn’t as high as what his poor heart had just gone through. Detention with Yaga be damned - and if by some grace of the universe he actually does end up escaping before he’s caught then, well, he’ll actually ask you out to dinner tomorrow.

---

Gojo Satoru is almost eighteen when he thinks that not even the Gojo family’s most expensive insurance will cover whatever curse you’ve casted on his poor heart.

You’re both well into the second year, and by now he’d been to twelve different doctors, five shamans, and Principal Yaga himself before Geto smacked him upside the head.

“Satoru, you complete imbecile-”

“Hey!” He fights out of his best friend’s grasp around the scruff of his uniform, crossing his arms over his chest with a whine, “I’ll have you know that I got the highest exam score last week, and I cheated only a little bit-”

Geto cuts him off with a sigh, wearily pinching the bridge of his nose, “No- you idiot. What do you mean you went to Yaga to girl-talk with him about your crush.” And when Gojo’s mouth falls slack, he’s smirking, “Oh- my bad, I meant your love-”

It’s said that Gojo’s gasp echoed all throughout the wooden corridors of the school - maybe even the entire grounds. Hotly, he’s sputtering out broken little excuses, “I don’t- what do you-” Before turning away to cool the burning of his sweetly rosy cheeks, “You’re the imbecile for spewing out such nonsense, Suguru.”

“Are you sure?” Geto turns to get a better look at the way those pretentiously expensive glasses fail to cover even the half of it. He’s never been able to, when it comes to you. “Because that’s quite literally the first thing you said to her-”

“I had a concussion!”

“After she touched you?”

And for perhaps the first time in the years he’s been wreaking havoc on Earth, Gojo is speechless. A welcome change for Geto, who mulls over in the silence while they loiter - very much missing whatever mission was assigned right now.

“I…” he starts, voice small. Pathetic, even. “...was concussed.” And before Geto can let out the same frustrated, dragged-out groan he often does whenever he’s around the two of you, Gojo’s plowing on, “But if I did lo- like her - hypothetically speaking - how would I even tell her?”

Usually, the other’s first reaction would be to tease his best friend. But at this moment he sounded so…young, painfully sincere in a way that was so disgustingly un-Gojo-like that he can’t help but cringe.

“Well, Satoru.” he muses, throwing a hand around his shoulder. “You just gotta…tell her my man. Preferably before that big mission coming up because I am not dragging your moping self around.”

He rolls his eyes, scoffing, “Gee, thanks. I’ll totally get on that tomorrow.”

“You’re welcome.”

BANG!

Yaga’s voice bellows, “Can you two stop doing this outside my office!”

And as much as Gojo hates to admit it, Geto was right - he usually was.

Well - perhaps not about the love part, but subconsciously, he found himself seeking out every tiny moment with you. Every second by your side - ignoring the other two bothers - was a new opportunity to just tell you. To break that thick solitude inside your little bubble with those little words. Ones that would go and spoil it all.

Not to be dramatic, but Gojo almost made a game out of it. Mouthing out the words whenever your back was turned - it started from “Dinner tomorrow?” to “I like you.” to something stupid that only gave Shoko aneurysms.

And, expectedly, “tomorrow” doesn’t happen to be tomorrow.

Tomorrow isn’t in your next class, or whatever mission Gojo tags along with you for “moral support.” Tomorrow isn’t the cozy little detention the two of you attend after catching Yaga’s interpretive dance routine - “that’s the scariest thing I’ve ever seen- even more than any curse.” you whisper fearfully to him, and he thinks he might just blurt it out right then and there.

Tomorrow isn’t when he’s just about to leave on some confidential mission with Geto, bidding you goodbye with a roll of his eyes and a hug he pretends he doesn’t like as much as he actually does. Tomorrow isn’t even when he’s baking in Okinawan sun, or strewn out bloodied and left for dead on the very grounds he met you on.

But oh how he wishes it was.

In that moment, incapacitated by Toji Fushiguro, and wondering where it went wrong, he thinks of you. Gojo thinks he’ll always remember you in every moment, and especially when they’re his last.

The Star Plasma Vessel mission and its aftermath takes up most of his mind afterward, even when he didn’t want it to. And all he can remember about tomorrow comes only a few months later, when an ashen-faced Gojo Satoru slams open the rickety door to your dorm.

“G-Gojo?” you sputter, sitting up in your bed. But before you can even think of reaching him, he’s crossed your floor in a few long strides. “Are you ok- mmpf!”

In an instant, he’s splaying out on your mattress, legs dangling off the end, strong arms wrapped tightly around your waist.

Your first instinct is to snap something snarky - but every tease at the very tip of your tongue vanishes when he buries his head into your lap. And you feel something wet, something drench though your skirt heatedly.

“Is…” you’re gulping thickly. “Is everything okay, Satoru?”

Ah, his name sounds too perfect on your tongue.

“Suguru…” Is all he shudders out wetly, jittery hands looping even more vice-like around your figure. “He-”

It’s just about the only thing he can get out, and it’s just about everything you need to hear before bringing his shivering body closer. Quiet. Steady. Rocking the strongest gently, while you hum a wordless melody. “S’alright. S’gonna be okay.”

Now, he thinks. Now now now now - tell her. Tell her. But when a tear of your own stains his shirt, he knows. Hauling you in even deeper to his chest, he prays you don’t hear his thundering heart. Perhaps tomorrow.

---

Gojo is twenty-one by the time he’s dragging you hand-in-loveable-hand through the winding hallways of an apartment in the heart of Tokyo. Mumbling excited little mutters, and almost tripping over his own feet with how fast he was navigating the corridors.

“Sato- S-Sato-” you’re squealing out, grimacing at the tugging burn of your hands in his. “Toru! Where are you- taking me?”

Sheepishly, he looks at you over his shoulder, “Whoops, did I forget to tell you- I have kids!”

He doesn’t know what’s louder - your shocked shout of “What? When?...By who?” or the screeching of his own two shoes skidding to a halt in front of that familiar door.

“Well, they’re not mine.” Gojo sighs ultimately, with a hand at the door. And that makes you quieten down just enough to hear his barely-audible little whisper. Determined. Reverent, almost. “But they’re mine.”

And when he finally opens the door, just one look at the tiny, black-haired little boy and his sharp scowl is all you need to understand. You’re whirling your eyes back to his beaming gaze, oh, Satoru.

Only mere moments later the two of you - accompanied by a very begrudging Megumi, and his sister - sit by the booth of one of your favorite cafés. Embarrassingly, he finds himself sighing while watching you crack jokes with the little girl. Turning to the server to order for her - it almost felt like a little family. Oh you’d make such a perfect mother. A completely objective observation, of course. Completely. Unless-

“You’ll never do it.” a tug on his sleeve has him facing Megumi’s leveled stare. How the hell does a kid manage to look like he’s seen the monstrosities of the world already? Gojo blames the father.

Baring his teeth, “The hell’s that supposed to mean?”

Little did he know that all it took was watching him seethe whenever the waiter by your side was just a bit too talkative, a bit too lingering with his gaze. In his little reverie, Gojo had accidentally croaked out a low, “I-” before you’d turned those pretty eyes his way, only to choke back embarrassingly on every syllable. Gesturing at you to ignore his little mishap.

“Tell her, I mean.” Megumi hums. Taking a wizened sip of his milkshake, “She’ll date that waiter before you if you don’t tell her.”

“That’s so…so stupid.” Gojo whispers back hotly. “I will tell her.”

“Will not.”

“Will too.”

“Will not.”

“Will-”

“Boys!” Your scolding tone makes them both jump - mainly Gojo, however, caught off-guard. Who scratches behind his neck when you wag a finger admonishingly, “Stop arguing, we’re in public. Now, as for payment-” Before turning back politely to the waiter.

“See?” Megumi counters, back to appraising the last of his cupcake. “You’re such a loser.”

Gojo’s gaze, however, stray back your way, as he found them often doing these days. Only to find them already on him, scrunched into crescents with a smile and twinkling so bright that he could almost catch his idiotic gawking in them.

Very pointedly he ignores the knowing roll of Megumi’s eyes, the exact type he’s seen too much with Shoko, and Nanami, and Utahime, and Yaga - and every single being to come into contact with his almost-tangibly hopeless feelings for you.

Instead, slamming that shiny new black card of his down in front of him - with enough fervor that the tabletop jostles, and you jolt out of your conversation with the waiter.

“I’ll be the one paying for myself, and my two kids and-” His burning eyes drink in every shred of surprise on your features. “-my wife.”

Somewhere in the distance, Gojo can hear Tsumiki giggle, and Megumi smack a hand onto his forehead. But right now he’s too busy remembering the exact degree to which your lips curl up, the way you hold back a laugh at the waiter’s jaw dropping. Nevermind the fact that the two of you were way too young to have two kids of this age.

“He was getting a bit pushy.” you’d conspire afterwards, now completely full and fatigued after a long day. “Thanks for that, Toru.”

Gojo sighs, flashing you a megawatt grin. If there were ever a time he thanks his Six Eyes for being able to memorize every little detail - every little feature in this picture - then it would be right now. He’s reveling in the bittersweet perfection. Yeah, he thinks, holding up a sleepy Megumi in his arms, maybe tomorrow.

---

There’s actually been about sixty different times over the years that Gojo knows you’d wanted to punch him straight in his face - and he’s sure, at the age of twenty-seven, that this is the very latest one.

“How did you get hit, don’t you have limitless?”

He shoots a wink your way, “Maybe I wanted you to patch me up?”

You scoff, “You stupid, moronic-”

“-no-brained, glasses-wearing dumbass.” he finishes for you, flashing you a cocky smirk that wouldn’t have been endearing for anyone but him. Gojo makes himself more comfortable on the hard infirmary bed, “You know, you’ve really got to update your list of insults, sweetheart. I don’t even wear the shades that much anymore.”

It was new - as soon as you’d cackled at the idea of him being a teacher with perpetual sunglasses, he’d wrapped that blindfold around his head. It was a slight shame, frankly, he was always honest with his eyes - but what was more important was that change.

Sweetheart.

Sometime after you’d intertwined seamlessly into Gojo’s mishmashed little family, he’d taken to calling you syrupy sweet nicknames. It’d started out as a joke, you think - with “sugarplum” and “honeybuckets” and whatever grocery item he could think of, before turning into something very, very real.

Though, they still made poor Megumi grimace in disgust just the same.

“Zoning out on me, babygirl?”

Yeah, sometimes they made you grimace in disgust, too.

“No-” you’re rolling your eyes, putting a little bit more force than necessary when you dab the warm napkin at those tiny specks of blood on his lip. “Just hoping you’d shut up.”

Gojo hisses, eyes crinkling at the edges - and you can’t help but think of how much older he looked than the disgruntled sixteen-year-old that swore at you on your first day.

“What?” his snowy brows raise, catching the hints of your laughter.

You take a moment longer to bask in the memories, before sighing. “Nothing. Just thinking about when we first met, s’been ten years already, hasn’t it?”

Of course, it has - it’s not like something the great Gojo Satoru could ever even think about forgetting. He remembers it in every cheesy selfie from high school you show him, he remembers in each and every one of your laughs at his overused jokes - the same ones he’d cracked way back then.

“It has.” he’s settling on after a few rare beats of silence. The thick white sheets on the bed rustle as he grasps your hand in his, “And I think I remember that today more than any other.”

It was impossible not to, when you’d just met your best friend after ten years. When you’d just killed your best friend with your own two hands.

Your pretty eyes shine with all the tears you’d been hiding, “Yeah? Guess so, huh?” Without warning, you bend down to meet your forehead with his, gulping back heavily. You knew he didn’t just want to be patched up, you knew better. And you knew that even the strongest gets lonely. Especially the strongest. Your voice is strained, quiet. “Do you think he’s happier now, Toru?”

Truthfully, Gojo doesn’t know.

But he whispers anyway, “I think so.”

To soothe you - and himself - if anything.

His eyes burn, and he’s scrunching them shut. A lump forming in his throat, Gojo can feel his entire being just rattle with the sudden wonder whether you’d feel it just the same when - if - he dies. Would you ask if he’s happy, too? Thinking he did and had everything he wanted in this life - not knowing he’s searching for you in every one? This life, and the next, and each one after.

“Sweetheart.” Gojo mumbles, eyes widening when you’re raising your head to look back at him, as if he didn’t even expect the words to fall from his lips. His jaw clenches, eyes flitting between your eyes and your lips like the rest of it was just threatening to wrench from his throat. “He- Suguru. Back in high school - before he…left- he told me-”

“Gojo sensei, where is the- Oh!”

The two of you jump apart as if it burned, and for Gojo, the angry split on his lower lip hurts infinitely less than losing your touch. Holding back a silent whine, he turns towards the dark-haired boy fretting by the doorway, “Yuta? Something wrong?”

“Oh, you’ve done it, newbie.” Panda’s deep voice sounds from behind the doorway, and he peaks his large head in. “Gojo’s got his serious voice on, should’ve just spied silently like me. I told you not to interrupt him and his wife.”

“You’re married?!”

“We’re not married!”

“Tuna.”

The room erupts in far too many voices, and before long you’re clapping your hands in that strict teacherly manner that Gojo teases you always learned from Yaga himself.

“Okay, that’s enough.” you call out, before turning to the newest first year. “Okkotsu, do you need help with anything? I’ll be right with you.”

“I…I really didn’t mean to interrupt.” he’s bowing with apologies, ones that you only wave away with a chuckled-out, “It’s okay, Panda’s joking. We’re not married or anything anyway.”

And Gojo doesn’t know whether the look Yuta gives him is more akin to pity or understanding - he prefers it be neither, which is why he’s covering his head with the blanket. Groaning dramatically until you’re turning your attention back to him.

You ruffle the amount of his hair peaking, and he has to screw his glassy eyes shut. “Toru, what is it that you wanted to say?”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s stupid.” His tone is unreadable, “I’ll tell you, hope- hopefully tomorrow.”

---

“Stay.”

“Sweetheart-”

“Stay.”

“Sweetheart.”

You’re barely holding up the clingy mess that is a twenty-nine-year-old Gojo Satoru. Huffing and puffing in a way that makes his heart and his arms around you just squeeze, “It’s not an option. You know I have to do this.”

How he wished he didn’t.

How he wished he could grab your hand and run away from the fight with Sukuna, hide in the countryside of his hometown and build a new life with you.

It’s already been a hellish few weeks trying to get Gojo unsealed, and you can feel the last few months pounding at your temples. You let out a sigh, one that has him holding back a strangely giddy laugh. But before you can open your mouth to yell at him to not go - or more accurately, beg him until he doesn’t - there’s a tentative voice speaking up from behind you.

“Um…sensei?” Yuji’s wide eyes sweep over his two teachers, being at Jujutsu Tech for a few months, he’s seen everything there is to see about the two of you. He saw the way you smacked the strongest when he got too mouthy, the way he let down limitless just so you could smack him. He saw the laughs, the looks, the way you’d flown into a frenzy when Gojo was sealed.

Everyone saw.

It was like you were crazed, and right now, only a month after his return - you were gripping onto Gojo like he was the only thing keeping you anything but.

So, it shouldn’t be new at this point. But he still can’t hold back the wonder in his voice, “I uh- wanted to ask about your robes for tomorrow- but maybe I can come back another time?”

“Yes yes, come back another time-”

“What robes?”

You narrow your eyes at the man, and that sheepish little curl of his lips does everything but soothe your worries. He knew you saw right through him, you always did.

Gojo’s exclaiming out loud, “Well- remember Toji-?” He waves his hands around, trying for a slightly softer way to say ‘the sorcerer killer and father of our honorary kid, who just-so-happens to be on a rampage right now’, before ultimately settling on, “-the worm guy? Well, I just figured I might as well take a page out of his book and dress like him, y’know since I’m fighting…Megumi after all.”

It takes a few seconds of stunned silence for you to find your voice, “You stupid-”

“-moronic, no-brained, blindfold-wearing-”

“-dumbass! You remember what happened to him!”

He bats his long, long lashes at you, “Why? Would you get this heated if I died just the same way he did?”

“No!” Your voice makes even Yuji flinch, which in turn has you reaching over to pat his head, “This is not on you, darling, of course. But your teacher here-” And it was comical, almost, the way the strongest stands up ramrod straight at just a leveled glare from you, “-will be getting it when he comes back from the fight.”

Comes back.

Oh, as much as Gojo throws his head back with chortles, he can’t help the way his heart twinges at the very thought of leaving you.

And he can’t be sure of just how long.

“Ah, you talk too much, pretty. I’ll tell Megs how much you miss him.” You’re not given a second’s warning before you’re back in his embrace - more steady, this time. His arms securely around your waist, like they’d been twelve years ago and never wanted to leave since. Lips pressed up against the thundering pulse at your neck, Gojo’s voice dips just a bit lower than you’re used to. Breathing you in, “I will, too, y’know? Very much.”

Jittery, he could feel every slight tremor in your nervous fingers when you run them through his hair, dipping into the ends of his black blindfold.

“Wh-what do you mean? S’only for a few hours, Toru.” you hum. “You better be back or so help me.”

“I know…” he heaves out, only pressing you close up against his broad frame. “But just in case- I-” Gojo’s voice cracks pathetically at the end, and he’s instantly too aware of Yuji’s keen eyes still watching. Edging up against the corner of the room like he wished he could have Gojo’s teleportation powers right about now. “-have something stupid to tell you. So I’ll hurry home anyways.”

You’re pulling back to quirk a brow, “Why not just tell me now?”

How he wished he could.

“Because it’s stupid.”

Later, Gojo will find himself strewn across jujutsu hall with Yuji himself - the only one, other than you, he thinks, that can stand to be around a weapon like him right now. Listening to the hum of cursed energy in the air, he gets himself ready for the fight.

“Why didn’t you tell her? Especially now?” His student pipes up, suddenly, and Gojo remembers with a sigh just how uncomfortably in tune he is with everyone around him. Fearfully, so. “That you lov-”

“Because it’s stupid.” the older one grins. Such a sad, warmly smile - and for perhaps the first time, Yuji thinks that Gojo Satoru looks his age. “And I don’t think she’d want to hear it if I don’t make it to tomorrow.”

---

“Stupid.” you mutter, biting angrily at your nails. Hot tears burn behind your closed lids, and you can’t help but tighten your hand even more around his cold, cold ones. Limp. Like death. “You’re so, so stupid.”

There’s no response. No sing-song voice finishing off your insults, no large and ruffling your hair until you have to bat him away.

Gojo Satoru was deathly still.

Laid out on the cold mattress of his room, you’d bugged Shoko enough to let you move him here, knowing how much he hated the infirmary.

“Being so reckless- having Yuta use your body-” in your fit of anger, you’re whirling your head up. Only for the pang of regret and grief to hit you tenfold all over again - because like this, he was too statuesque. A pretty mask of pale, what you’d give to have those eyes wink at you once more. “-if- when you wake up, I’m gonna kill you all over again.”

They told you he was dead - there was no point in waiting. In fact, you were sure there was a grave dug already, it was just a matter of how soon they could get to you.

It was a strange thing, to be loved just enough to get a burial. In the end, it was lonely.

And so stupid.

And at times, you felt that way, too. But all it took was one visit to where Geto’s grave was, a few long hours sat by his side, and you knew you couldn’t let Gojo escape you that easily. Not after everything, not after what he hasn’t told you, yet.

“Just wake up.” you sigh, the defeat bleeding into your every word. You run your thumb over the pronounced knuckles on his hand, calloused and scarred from his fight. “There’s so much to hear about. Higuruma’s alive, Nobara’s alive, pulling off that eyepatch. Like father, like daughter, huh? And Megumi- I saw Megumi laugh today. Yuji, too.”

Silence. Only stone-cold silence. He didn’t even move - not even the barest twitch of a finger.

“I just need you to wake up.” Your words are tumbling out a mile a minute, distantly, you wonder whether this was how Gojo felt when he first met you. How he couldn’t stop talking. Couldn’t stop wanting. “Shoko’s mad at you, y’know? But I know she misses you, no matter how much she pretends not to. I know that Jujutsu Tech can’t go any longer without Yaga, we- I need you. Didn’t even get to tell you-”

It’s all croaked out into a deafening silence, at least if you were in the hospital room then maybe the pinging of the heart monitor might’ve accompanied you. But they’d pulled him off that, too.

Unmistakable.

“And I know that I…” You bury your face into the now-damp blankets, “I love you.”

“And I love you.”

There’s only the split-second you take to snap your head up before lips are crashing onto yours - plump, slightly-chapped but something so sweetly Satoru. Before you can even think about kissing back, however, he’s pulling away.

Only to press hasty, chaste pecks again. And again. And again and again and-

Gojo kisses your wet eyelids, “I love you.” Your forehead, your cheeks, the corners of your lips. “I love you I love you I love you- and you beat me to it.” Those strained little words strike your very core - because it’s unmistakably Gojo. Sounding anything but, they’re broken and wrenching painfully out of his wracking chest. “So I just- I just had to-” Big, strong arms wrap around your middle - when did they even get there? It pangs somewhere in your hazy mind that you’re basically hoisted up on Gojo’s bed now, “-to do exactly what I’ve been wanting to since we were like this, thirteen years ago. Everything I’ve ever hoped for.”

“Everything?” you whisper.

“Everything. Even the strongest has dreams, y’know?” And he flashes you that smile you’ve missed so much, one you don’t think you’ve quite seen in years. “Even something stupid like ‘I love you.’”

That makes you cautiously glide over your palms onto the planes of his muscled chest, lightly pushing away to take in all of him.

It was him. Alive.

Really alive.

“Gojo…” you whimper, tears welling up behind your eyelids all over again.

“Ouch. Really?”

“Satoru.”

“Hmmm…”

“Toru.”

“That’s more like it.” The circled warmth around your waist crashes you even closer onto every ridge and divot of his hard chest, into the sweetest embrace - the kind you really couldn’t be mad about after your best friend had almost left you forever. “Told ya I’d come back, sweetheart.”

You could practically hear the sunshiney smile in his words, and his entire hulking body shook with emotion.

“You’re back.” you breathe, dancing your arms upwards to wrap around his neck. “You’re here.” It takes only a second longer of being in his burning proximity, to catch that pearly white smile - tired, and infinitely harder than before - to have some semblance of rationality dipping into your mind. “-and- and we have to tell everyone!” you’re yelping. Moving to scramble off of his lap, “Oh- fuck, and they thought I was crazy. We have to- have to have Shoko give you a check-up and have Kusakabe finally ditch those funeral plans and-”

You’re being shut up by Gojo’s lips on yours again, slow and sensual. It’s deeper this time, and he’s taking the time to part those candied lips of yours, sucking gently on the very tip of your hot tongue.

“My funeral is the last thing I wanna think about right now.” he chuckles against your lips.

“But-”

“Tomorrow.” Gojo soothes, craning his weary neck to kiss your forehead. “We can do all that tomorrow. But right now, I just want to spend time with the love of my life.” His cerulean eyes just gleam with unshed tears and even more unspoken words, “Doesn’t have to be forever. Just right now.”

As promised, he’s petting up and down your body lazily. Kissing you until even smiling felt bruised and raw. But it’s only when the air grows thick, when the slight jostle of your body on top of his becomes hot, his own skin burning soon after that Gojo lets out a sullen hiss.

“Toru-” you pull away panickedly, delicate strings of saliva snapping in the nonexistent air between you two. “We should really-”

“No- no no no no. Please wait-” Hastily, he’s bringing down a jittery hand to his hip, the buzz of reversed curse technique flowing through his thrumming veins. Meeting your uncertain gaze, “I’ve waited so long. Wontcha just let me worship you right now?”

As if to prove his point, he’s bucking upwards ever-so-slightly. The momentum teetering you precariously on his lap, dragging the heated core between your legs down in such a sloppy drag.

You’re gasping when the very outer edges of your panties rub up against something so hard, and rotund. Feeling the wet squelch of his angry tip gush out in a dripping wet wave at the friction. “A-are you sure?” you’re stammering, trying to hold back the way your greedy thighs were trying to rub together. Only achieving heavy, languid gyrations on top of the rock-hard outline of Gojo’s cock. “How about tomorrow? When you’re feeling better?”

It’s a slow, steady rhythm. There’s a ringing schwf! schwf! schwf! of sopping wet fabric, and it was driving him crazy.

“Right now please- haaa-” Gojo’s tongue lolls out so sluttily to graze against your own, dazed blue irises rolling to the back of his head. His spine curves upwards, abs rippling with a harsh drag of your clothed pussy down his weepy shaft. “Whenever you’d have me.”

Almost tentatively, your hips roll forward. That flimsy excuse of your panties bunching up with each grazing rub, it’s all you can do to not just keen at the utterly delicious curve of his thick girth. Throbbing and twitchy under each of your motions.

He’s hissing when your underwear snags on the very divot at his thick head, sitting up on two elbows, “S-sweetheart.”

“No, Toru.” your palms are back on his pecs, easily pinning the strongest down with a gentle push of your own. “Jus’ let me do all the work, m’kay?”

Gojo wasn’t all too happy - and the sullen pout jutting on his spit-glossed lips told you more than enough. But he wasn’t going down without a fight - that was for sure.

“F-fine.” he grunts at a particularly harsh grind of your hips. Fuck, he felt like some animal, humping up into you like he was out of control. He could practically feel your puffed-up pussy lips through his pants, he could almost taste it. Two rough hands come to rest on your hips, grabbing and kneading a handful of your ass. “But then you’re not just hah- sitting there, pretty.”

And, shit, even like this, you should’ve known better than to underestimate Gojo Satoru himself. Because whatever he wanted, he got. The one thing he didn’t was you - and now, since he had you, too, fuck- he might just be going insane.

Not a moment’s wasted before you’re being so easily hauled up, up, up the entire expanse of Gojo’s body. Jittery body being balanced easily as if you were some type of toy, up from the slender curve of his toned hips, up around where his broad deltoids were spread, all the way until your cunt was hovering over his needy mouth. “Can’t believe I hngh- almost died without havin’ a taste of this pretty pussy.”

“Toru.”

“Sweetheart.” he mocks.

You shiver with each feverish puff of hot breath blown right onto your clothed cunt. And even more so when you’re feeling such a long, slender finger slide in through the translucent fabric.

Fuck, Gojo swallows thickly, bunching up your skirt. You were so sopping wet he could almost see the outline of his index through your panties. He slides the back of it slowly up and down. Heavy balls squeezing painfully at the volume of your saturated slick collecting on his digit, just trailing glossily down to his deft wrist.

Mesmerized, your jaw falls slack at the sight down below of Gojo - cloudy hair mussed, cheeks all pink and burning a blushing rouge, tongue darting out to catch each stray drop of your sweet sweet juices. Drip! Drip! Drip!

“Oh- sh-shiiit-” he rasps, lowly, mulling over your honeyed taste. Sounding so awed, breath hitching when Gojo tugs your panties just enough to the side to catch a mere glimpse of your messy cunt. Glistening and winking down lewdly at him. “S’jus’ you n’ me right now, huh?”

You don’t know who exactly he’s talking to - and you don’t get to find out, because that’s all it takes for Gojo’s kiss-bitten lips to clash messily against your cunt - panties and all.

A soft swipe of his tongue glides the fabric to the side, so depraved, so needy that for that split-second he’s tasting you, he can’t even think of removing it. One taste of your sweetened pussy and he can’t even bear the thought of breaking apart, licking up in long, languid stripes that wet the very front of your swollen folds.

Just the taste of you had him palming desperately at the tent in his pants, rubbing up and down at a pace that matched his rummaging tongue.

The very edge of your tastebuds rub so deliciously in teasing circles around the corners of your dripping silt, your inner thighs.

“S-s’toru-” you’re letting out such throaty, dragged-out groans that send every drop of blood in Gojo’s body thumping to his achy cock. “Don’t be such a- a tease.”

You’re locking your glassy eyes with him and he feels like he could pass out. Groaning and smacking into your cunt, “Tell me- fuck fuck fuck- tell me what you want, sweetheart. Anything.” Your entire body arches into his hot mouth like such a slut, when he bullies between your folds. Barely flicking against the sensitive nub of your clit. “Everything. Anything for you.”

When you’re weaving your fingers deliriously through his silky soft strands, he babbles, “Oh fuck- yeah, pull on my hair.” One of his hands come down to grip onto your panties, pulling the fabric so that you revel in the filthy friction. “Use me while you ride m’face, okay?”

With that, his mouth is sagging open even further letting your thighs straddle the entirety of his face so easily. So close. So messy how he was carding his tongue from the very base of your pussy, up into your quivering entrance.

“Fuck–” you’re whining, grinding into his touch when he wraps his soft lips around your clit. Barely even easing you with syrupy, wet circles of his heated tongue before sucking. Harsh. Depraved. But so, so him. “Don’- don’ stop, feels too good–!”

You didn’t know if he heard you, fuck you didn’t even know if Gojo was even breathing.

Even if he wanted to stop - he didn’t think he could. Because he was so ravenous between your legs, forcing your pliant body into such smooth gyrations on his tongue. Silken, soft, such sultry licks of his tongue on your clit.

Electricity sparks behind your eyes when with a wet slurp! he smacks away from your pretty pussy, “You think- you think I can stop?” And he sounds so genuinely in disbelief, as if the very thought of it was appalling. Through heavy, lingering kisses and sucks onto your clit, Gojo’s managing to get out, “I can’t have enough. Fuck- please.” The very rounded pads of his fingers dig so bruisingly into the flesh of your ass, jiggling and kneading with every drag of your hips. He’s begging at this point, “Fuck yourself on my face. Rougher, faster, c’mon now. You can do it, my sweetheart.”

He was so fucking desperate, big fat tears almost welling in his eyes while he whined underneath you. Groping so obscenely at his sweltering hot erection. How could you not listen?

“If you say so.”

Using the vice-like grip on his locks, you’re managing to leverage your motions even deeper. Rougher, like he’d wanted. Every protesting creak of the bedpost was accompanied by a synchronized whimpering of ah! ah! ah! coming from both your mouths.

“S’it good?” he gasps, and all you could see was the flushed upper half of his features. And the lower half - fuck, though the peaks and cracks you could make out just how glisteningly wet it was with all of your messy cunt. His lips were just drenched, slick-soaked mouth making out harshly with your pussy through your panties. Trailing all the way down in a glossy sheen over the lower half of his face, dripping off his chin, fuck- up to his cheekbones-

As if that wasn’t enough, the massive palm resting at your thigh comes dancing down to tease around your sopping wet entrance.

If you were in the right state of mind, you could’ve sworn that you heard a sharp rip! coming from that poor tattered fabric of your underwear right then and there.

“Tell me- fuck fuck fuck- use that pretty voice of yours please.” Still suckling lewdly on your clit, his cheeks hollow out . Entire body just jolting upwards, forcing you to press down harder with your motions. “Use me. Use me.”

“S-so–” you mewl when his slender fingers bully easily past that first ring of muscle. So many cold inches of his digits, feeling around determinedly inside your heated, gummy walls for those sweet spots that will make you whine. “So loud, Toru-” you’re spitting, meshing his mouth even harder with yours down below. And you can practically feel him smirk against your cunt. “For someone that wants this s-so hngh! bad you sure are-”

There.

Right there.

Gojo Satoru had just crashed into the spongy cavern of your g-spot - easily, at that. And there was such a crazed, sloppy sting to each of his movements. Smashing in over and over-

“Heh…tha’s how I l-like it.” he’s spying up at your trembly thighs, the way his overworked lips were being coated with a fresh wave of our honeyed slick with each passing second. “Good girl- gooood fuckin’ girl–”

Hazily, you’re wondering whether it doesn’t hurt. Whether his weepy cock ached just as badly as it looked, how his tongue isn’t fucking cramping up by now.

But he goes on - like he couldn’t stop, like he was out of control. A greedy little push and pull, dragging his tongue all over until you saw flashes of white. Until you could only scream out his name like a mantra. Until you were cumming.

“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck- Toru!” your slurring out a mile a minute. Both of your hands now steadfast on his head, riding out your high all over Gojo’s pretty, pretty face. And he let you - fuck, he let you. “M’cumming- shit, feel so good. M’cumming-”

So good, so filthy that it made your toes curl, your hips stutter sloppily. Arching like such a slut, you could barely even see properly. Your breath was coming out in such labored heaves at this point, and Gojo wasn’t any better.

It was like he couldn’t stop, happily drinking up every single, sticky drop your cunt had to offer. Pussydrunken eyes drooping shut, unable to let out anything but satisfied grunts. The muscle of his tongue is just frenzied in eager slips and slides along your cunt - absolutely no rhythm or method right now. Sucking, licking, biting anywhere he could possibly reach.

“F-fuck–” you’re crying out tearily once the very peak of your orgasm fades, and all that’s left are a few overstimulated tingles being wrenched out by a greedy Gojo. “Toru, m’done.” You tug desperately on his hair - but even that doesn’t bate him the slightest bit. “S’getting too much- fuck-”

“Awww, too much for my girl?” he’s cooing, the words jumbling together in his drunken state. There’s a glossy mess of spit and slick drooling down the corners of his smirk. “Does this cute cunt of yours need a break?”

At your barely-lucid nod, it only grows wider. Smugger. “Too bad-” And Gojo’s just taunting you with a final, long lick up the very core of your pussy, “Because if I almost hah- died without her once, then you best believe m’gonna c-crawl back from death for ya each and every single time.”

It takes his strong arms - even bruised and battered through battle - only two whole seconds to plop you back down prettily onto his lap. Right over where his angry cock was just weeping for attention. And suddenly, it hurts without you. “So you’re not getting a break anytime soon. Maybe tomorrow.”

“Ha ha.” You’re rolling your eyes, “Very funny.”

“Mhm.” Gojo looks up at you through his white lashes, and you can only watch when he brings up his syrupy-sweet, glossy fingers up to his mouth. One by one. Sucking. Slowly, looking right into your eyes. It makes your mouth just salivate. “Got that right.”

The sheets billow behind you when you’re fumbling deftly with his shirt, all but ripping - tearing that stupid thing off of his form. Your skirt and top are soon to follow - his jaw clenches with the slight strain, leaving it in poor tatters on the floor.

“Shit- shit you’ve been-” his mouth just waters when your tits are released from your bra. Jiggling tantalizingly in his face in a way that makes him bury into it. “-been holding out on me.”

“Oh-” you let out, traitorously, at the first sight of each curve and divot along his milky sculpted body. Gojo Satoru was serious about dressing up like Toji, and no matter how much his t-shirt looked so sinfully painted on - actually seeing it was something else. “You’re so pretty, Toru.” You smooth your palms down his large shoulders, the faint scars between his pecs, his abs - that scar. Stark and large, Shoko had done her best work, but it still looked so painful. It must feel so, too, being sewn back together like some ragdoll. He catches the way your expression dampers - of course, he does. “Toru…”

Gojo winces when your fingers glide over that jagged scar. But if that was pain, then it was absolutely nothing compared to the pure, unadulterated fear when you abruptly pull your hands away.

“S-sorry- I didn’t mean to-”

“No!” he cuts you off, wrapping his long fingers around your wrist. All but dragging it - right along with you - to his still-healing body. “Touch me. Hurts more when you don’t.”

You’re batting your lashes up at him in a way that makes his heart stutter, and his poor, angry cock twitch. “Hurts me when you lie.”

“M’not lying, see?” With a low nod of his head, he’s gesturing you to look down - where it was unmissable.

Because straddled right in-between your pussy lips was Gojo’s erect cock - proud and so prominent, even through his pants. With the sheer girth bulging upwards you could feel your greedy pussy dampen over the cloth in anticipation.

“Well…” He’s throwing his head back when you knead your palm over the very end of his print, “I can’t quite see-”

Gojo takes the hint - and you have to bite your lip from teasing that it was quite possibly the only hint you’d thrown his way that he’d actually understood. But it was so hard to - not when he was this eager.

And, on those long, lonely nights, you’d imagined that your best friend would be suave, infinitely collected with things like this.

But, no, he was fumbling and jittery with his movements. So needy to please you that it takes you to help him pull down his tight, sticky boxers over the curving muscle of his thighs.

“O-oh fuck–” you breathe out, when he finally springs out. Sweeping up and down each and every long, thick inch of him - Gojo was as hard as if he was carved out of fucking diamond. Such a furious, rosy red at his leaky tip, glistening down, down, down into the most mouth-watering shade of creamy pink at his thick hilt. He was so big. Your thighs squeeze together in sultry need - with a slight tinge of fear. So unfairly pretty - even like this. “You’re- you’re so much bigger than I’d imagined, Toru.”

No sooner are the words out of your mouth that you’re being flashed with his dark smirk once more, “You imagined this?” There’s a slight reverence to his voice, scared.

It almost makes you shy - and Gojo can practically sense the waves of embarrassment rolling off of you.

“Awww, come back to me, please, pretty- Please-” he purrs, cupping your cheeks. “I came hah- back, didn’t I?” You’re being jostled to and fro when he rests himself more comfortably on the bed, leaning back to admire you further. “And now-” Your breath hitches in your throat when he situates himself right in-between your thighs, the fat curve of his head so swelteringly kissing your folds. Drenching it in his thick precum, “-now m’never gonna let ya go.”

Fuck, you know you should heave in a few gasps of hair, you know you should relax, maybe even stretch your legs wide open.

Because Gojo was so fucking big, it felt like he was splitting you from the inside out. Just the slight push of his tip bullying between your folds has you moaning - crying.

“You- you’re so big-” Your nails dig into the plush of his pecs for stability, leaving neat crescent patterns that stand out redly. “S’like you’re reaching into my hngh- l-lungs-”

Just those words have him expanding even deeper, ruddying even more furiously. Gojo gets so much bigger that you just can’t help but sink yourself down his shaft, feeling your elastic walls contort so easily around his length.

“H-heh– ohhh-” he breathes out - baritone voice lilting a few pitches higher than usual. The hands around your waist grab you even harsher, feeding you each inch by fucking inch of his fat, pulsing cock. “You got me- so–” His hips thrust upwards in mindless little jabs, “-fucked up, right now, sweetheart.”

And while all you can do is whine and moan around his unforgiving cock, Gojo babbles on, “B-better get ready ngh- because I’m gonna be riiiight-” His thick index draws and invisible line up, up, up to somewhere midway up your stomach. Before pressing down. Brandingly. “-here.”

The pressure is enough to have your hips just slamming down with a wet smack! all the way to his hilt. The slap of skin-on-skin rings through the heady air and into both your drunken brains, making him just throw his head back into the plush pillows.

“Yes-” you’re keening, your fingers wrapping subconsciously around Gojo’s pretty throat to have him facing you once more. He was so gorgeous this way - blue eyes falling shut with pleasure, mouth bitten raw and parted into a soft oh! pale muscles twitching with each breath. So fucked-out already that it almost made you think the sight alone could have you cumming. “Look at me, Toru- hah- gonna make up for lost time, right? Gonna fuck me good?”

His answering nods are more than enough, but Gojo doesn’t just stop there - no, he’s putting in every bit of last strength he has to just hammer into you upwards. Meeting every one of your relentless bounces down on him, he just clashes into your ravaged g-spot.

“Oh yeah, my girl.” he spits, a twinkling trail of drool dripping down the side of his lips. Crushing you so tight to his hardened front, “Ride me- ride me jus’ like that. Fuck- thought I saw heaven on the battlefield but it might jus’ be this pussy-” Over and over.

The back of your hand ends up on his forehead, “I think you’ve got a concussion.” It was in every little touch - that “something stupid.”

At your surprised giggles, he’s rummaging your insides even more ferociously. Smushing the very end of his thick head against your spongy cervix. It was so soft, so swelteringly hot having him inside you. Clashing in long, wet glides against every inch of your pussy.

The stretch was dizzying - and if it hadn’t been for Gojo’s lips attacking yours, then you’d have let your head loll backwards. It’s like he was marking you from the inside out, bruising the plushy insides of your cunt to every ridge and thumping vein down his possessive cock.

“Spit on me.”

His sudden plea puffs out of his plump lips, startling you out of your cockdrunk little reverie. “Spit on me, please, pretty. Mmpf-”

Gojo whimpers - whimpers - when the thick wad of your saliva hits his pink tongue, and the action has him delving into you impossibly deeper. Planting two feet onto the mattress, he angles his hips into your tight channel even harsher. Grimacing at the slight twinge of pain, “Shit-”

“Toru–”

“Wait wait- please- let me-” Expectedly, he’s cutting you off frantically. Begging, pleading with everything he had before activating reversed curse technique more. “Wanna fuck this gorgeous cunt so bad- fuck fuck fuck-”

But you’re only grinding your hips down faster - all the way from the pretty pink tip of his cock, until your ass massages against his tight, cum-filled balls. Thwacking! against your skin deliciously, pushing you up to scratch your clit against his snowy pubes.

A few more unapologetic kisses up against your sweet spots have you blinking back stars, “Toru–” Your swiveling motions have him so hypnotized, following every move where his massive cock was disappearing in and out of your snug hole. “Kiss me-”

Oh, you didn’t even have to ask.

It’s such a sloppy kiss - all teeth and lips and Gojo grunting gutturally into your mouth. Letting you just use him like your favorite toy, fucking him until the bed creaked with effort and Gojo’s balls just smacked! angrily.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he whispers. Drinking in your saccharine sweet gasps when he dips down one of his hands to your puffy clit, rolling the soft edge of his thumb in slow, methodical circles. “You’re gonna be the ah- d-death of me.”

Your hand around his throat tightens, making his eyes just roll back in ecstacy. “Better not die on me just y-yet, Toru. Not now, not tomorrow.”

For this, you’re being gifted with such a tight squeeze of his two fingers around your sensitive nub. Wracking your body forwards - exactly where he wanted you, exactly where he needed you to smash his sobbing tip into your g-spot.

The stimulation is too much, and each of your pressurized slams down onto the sharp bones on Gojo’s v-line have him moaning. Bucking up helplessly whenever your heavenly walls drag sloppily up his shaft, like it hurt to not have each and every one of his heated inches buried inside.

“Well- then-” You’re riding him now just as much as he was fucking up into you, leaving a damp puddle of slick and dredges of precum on the sheets below. Gojo’s punctuating each word with a harsh battering ram, “Better- cum f’me soon, huh? Because m’not gonna- fuck-” His nagging tip jolts into your sweet spots as if being zapped with white-hot electricity, in such a sloppy staccato with his feverish fingers. “-fuck I don’t think m’gonna last long.”

You’re nodding your head, clinging onto him like a second skin. “Mhm- m’so close, Toru.” Biting down wetly on his lower lip, “-gonna cum soon.”

Just the thought of it has him keening, stuttering up so messily. His precum coats your insides even more slippery slick, so heated in a way he thinks he might just explode.

“I know, I know, sweetheart–” he’s simpering down in your tone, though his hips were anything but. Letting out some of the lewdest slurps that made your ears ring. “I got you. I got you, cum all over my cock, yeah?”

It only takes a few more mess strokes from both of your sweat-sheened bodies before you finally reach your high. Electricity thrums down your veins, your body arches so deeply into his. Bending into the perfect bow that has him spying down at your quivering folds, the way your gushing cunt expands and contracts through each and every one of your waves of pleasure.

And he’s fucking you through it so filthy, fingers toying so erratically on your clit. Still reeling, still smashing the very divot of his cock into your bruised g-spot. Again and again.

“Ohh- fuuuck—” Gojo whines, eyes scrunching shut. Strained. Depraved. “Fuck fuck fuck me- please, please m’gonna-”

He doesn’t even get to finish his sentence before he’s stuffing your snug pussy full with ribbon after ribbon of thick, velvety cum. Potent seed coating your gummy walls in such a milky sweet gloss, the squelches from below are so loud. So soppingly wet.

The hand at your waist moves down to where your poor cunt was just bulging with all inches of his spazzing cock. Gojo’s thumbing apart the corners of your slit just enough that his swelteringly hot cum oozes out of you in a slow trail. Sinful.

“Oh my god-” he breathes, eyes unwavering. Hips thrusting upwards to push his cum up into you even deeper. It glistens opaquely down his length, forming a creamy ring at his thick base. “Oh my god love you- fuck!”

“Toru- m’so full-” you whine. A hand of yours coming up to press exactly where he had before, except now you could feel the nudging pace of his ruthless cock, the sloshing of Gojo’s seed all up inside you. “-really can feel you right here.”

“Tha’s the point, girl - my girl, should I say.” he’s pressing such a chaste kiss to your lips. And it would be swee - almost - if it wasn’t for the way Gojo’s greedy fingers soak themselves in the obscene mess from your cunt down below. Bringing them all the way up, up, up to his mouth. Suckling gently, “But…but you wanna hear something stupid?”

Your eyes widen, “Wh-what?”

And he only grins, “I hope you know I love you, sweetheart. Because you sure as hell aren’t walking tomorrow.”

A/N. Can y’all tell I’ve been widowed not too long ago? Anyways, last post before kínktober! I tried posting this on Sunday but it refused to work so pray for me this time y’all *SOBS* <3

Plagiarism not authorized.

#gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #tonywrites

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chososrightnipple · 7 months ago

Text

❝𝐣𝐣𝐤 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 + 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 (𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨)❞

a/n: almost four hundred followers omg.. i love all you freaks mwah!! here is part two as promised. included some requests for characters. aged up! megumi and yuji of course. might do a part three maybeeee? afab body w/no gendered language as usual.

part one.

── დ ──

. *. ⋆ TOJI FUSHIGURO

▸ panty stealing. he thinks of it as memorabilia. snatching your panties from the floor before you have the chance to put them back on- just something he keeps to remember you bye.

▸ daddy kink. we all saw this coming, right? you call him daddy once and it's all he needs to fuck you into the bed for the rest of the night.

▸ thigh riding. seeing you frotting against his large thigh, desperate to cum, pussy practically drooling for it... his favorite foreplay 100%.

▸ cum play. this man will cum anywhere and everywhere and he'll love it. let him cum on your face, your ass, your chest, your back, down your throat, etc etc.

▸ hatefucking. angry sex after an argument where he takes out all of the stress you caused him on your poor holes :(

▸ breeding. you can give him another baby, can't you? you can make him a daddy all over again, right? just let him cum inside of you as much as he wants, he'll make it happen, he swears.

▸ exhibitionism. you grind against him once on the bar floor and next thing you know he's dragging out to the empty alleyway and pressing you against the nearest wall.

▸ size difference. he's so large, so big, every single part of him practically overtaking you. and he gets off on that fact so fucking hard!!

. *. ⋆ NANAMI KENTO

▸ cockwarming. seating himself inside your warm pussy while he's stuck doing all kinds of boring paperwork. he'll fuck you, he swears, you just gotta sit pretty on his lap for a little bit, okay?

▸face fucking. he loves taking out all of his stress on you. gripping your hair as he uses your mouth mercilessly, bullying his cock down the back of your tight throat.

▸blindfolding. silk ribbons in a variety of colors that he matches to the underwear you're modeling for him. only the best for his lover <3

▸ thigh riding. there's no better way to put him in the mood than pathetically grinding yourself against his thigh, using his body selfishly for your own pleasure.

▸ hair pulling. y'all know that one scene... he pulls at your hair exactly like that. fingers going white with how tight he's tugging at you, manipulating your position until you're face to face with his scowl.

▸ spanking. makes you count for every slap and if you miscount, he's starting all over again. pay better attention to him next time, yeah?

▸ semi-public. yes, he will bend you right over his desk, no he doesn't care there's a meeting going on next door. or better yet, against the window of the fourth floor, overlooking the busy street below it.

▸ phone sex. it really isn't any problem that he's across the country on a mission. even just the sound of your whines over the phone is enough to get him off.

. *. ⋆ MEGUMI FUSHIGURO

▸ panty stealing. he would say he feels bad about it, but he doesn't. you looked so good in the lacey little things, he can't help but want to keep them for later. even has his own little drawer for them.

▸ masochism. the stinging pain of your nails running down his back is utterly euphoric. and don't get him started on how harshly you tug at his hair when he's eating you out- he can cum in his boxers just from that alone.

▸ breast play. massaging at the skin, feeling the plumpness under his fingertips. sucking at your nipples and leaving a trail of kisses down the valley of your breasts. he's obsessed.

▸ edging. leaving you just on the brink of release over and over again, until tears are streaming down your face. he'll let you cum eventually, you just look so pretty this worked up for him.

▸ marking. oh my goddd do not get megumi started on this. he doesn't know why it gets him so worked up- seeing you covered in the hickeys and bite marks that he's left on you- but it does.

▸ cunnilingus. eats you out like a man starved, like he'll never eat you out again. pulling him away from your poor pussy is next to impossible if he's not yet done with his meal.

▸ mutual masturbation. sometimes you both just need to relaxation of release and nothing more. sitting across from each other on the bed, or maybe side by side, listening to the moans of the other as you both touch yourselves.

▸ dacryphilia. like adoptive father like adopted son. seeing your eyes brim with tears from how good he's fucking you drives him crazy.

. *. ⋆ YUJI ITADORI

▸ ass play. we all know he's an ass man i mean come on?! doggy style is his favorite position just because of it. seeing how the fat of your ass moves with every slap of his hips is fucking addicting.

▸ praise kink. tell him how good he's fucking you and how much of a good boy he is pleaseeee!!!!

▸ toys. he didn't realize how much he would love bringing toys into the bedroom until he sees how hard you can cum around him while he holds a vibrator to your clit.

▸ raw sex. he knows it's stupid, fucking you with no protection. you're pussy just feels so good, so warm, he needs to fuck you raw.

▸ face riding. please sit on his face, suffocate him, he doesn't care. it's his favorite position to eat you out.

▸ overstimulation. poor baby doesn't even mean to overstimulate you half of the time- he just has so much stamina, you understand that, right? and seeing you so flushed and fucked out under him has him so horny. just one more round, yeah? you can do that for him, right?

▸ dirty talk. yuji is a yapper and that doesn't stop when he's fucking you. the filth that comes out of his mouth has you wet just thinking about it.

▸ dry humping. the tension, the intimacy, the panting, the friction?? all of it, it's like a drug to him.

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savanir · 3 months ago

Text

The What Corps?

“we have you now spook! there is nowhere you can run and hide with our new spectral tethers active!”

Danny winces at the small metal clips that have hooked themselves in his leg, some new GIW tech that is messing with his powers.

“oh yeah? I was just dying for you guys to give me a challenge” plan. plan. He's gotta think of a plan to get out of here and fast. He takes a steadying breath and starts to look for anything that can help him.

he can’t get caught here. He just can't. He simply won’t allow himself.

suddenly the two GIW goons in front of him click their earpieces to clearly listen to what someone else is telling them, Danny is very glad for his own enhanced senses.

“Operatives K and O, be advised, there have been sightings of a new ectoplasmic entity near your location. Other operatives report that it’s incredibly small and moves fast. watch your backs, this may be an ambush”

small and fast? it better not be some poor little blob ghost, Danny sort of hopes it’s some manner of ectowasp, at least that could be entertaining to see.

“you better not be hoping for back up, ecto scum”

“I have no idea what you are talking about”

It's then that a small bright green light zips on scene and weaves through crowds in the distance with ease and then speeds up towards the two operatives who do not hesitate to shoot, missing completely like the storm troopers they are.

Whatever it is, it is indeed going very fast but Danny manages to figure out what it looks like and it appears to be a… ring?

“hold it you tiny accessory shaped ecto fiend!”

The ring does a speedy circle around Operative O while K is lining up a shot and ends up blasting the poor guy point blank in his face, “O!”

Danny takes a step forward with an arm outstretched and a “oh damn! Are you alright?” on his lips when the ring takes the chance to slip on his finger. “Daniel Fenton of Earth”

Danny already had a freakout about a ghost jewelry getting on him, his experiences with those so far have been incredibly bad after all, what with the rings and crowns and pendants… now this damn thing is just straight up outing him!

Thank the ancients the two GIW stooges are too busy with each other right now to pay close attention to what this weird ring is saying.

“You have the ability to overcome great fear” ah so this is related to him steeling himself just now? Maybe? or something??

You have been chosen” never good, we are back to freaking out again.

“Welcome to the green lantern corps”

… the what?

Danny notices that his usual outfit suddenly has more green going on, and his DP symbol has some sort of… he guess it’s supposed to be a lantern, maybe? shape around it.

He’s somehow even more glowy now, and there is something on his face. Feeling its shape makes him think it’s some sort of mask.

The metal clip things are no longer attached to his legs though so that’s great!

“You’re not getting away so easily ecto scum! sentient ghost paraphernalia coming to your rescue or no!” They both aim their weapons to take a shot.

Danny figures he can now easily hold them back with his usual shields,“you guys realize you just called this weird ring sentient and thereby negate the whole nonsentie-ack!”

“Attacking a corps lantern is punishable offense as of the instatement of the galactic diplomatic immunity as declared by the-” Okay so now Danny is just raising his eyebrow at this weird as fuck ring. Just what is it going on about?

“notifying nearby lanterns and requesting assistance with apprehension of hostiles”

what?

“getting your friends to help you out vile spook? such a thing is useless with the Blackout still very much in place”

Well… the two streaks of green light in the distance is making Danny doubt that statement.

Maybe there is more to this Lantern corps thing than he thought… And something tells him his life is about to get even more complicated than it already is.

#dpxdc #dcxdp #danny phantom #danny fenton #dp x dc #dc x dp #dp x dc crossover #phanfic #green lantern corps #Danny really doesn't need a power ring for it's abilities #but he's going to be an insufferable little shit with the whole diplomatic immunity thing #you can pry that trinket from his colder deader hands #after seeing those moves Danny already decided #that ring is his spirit animal #personally I also think he'd love being a Lantern because Space. but that's just me

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teaboot · 6 days ago

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One time, I had an English professor tell me I should stop using my inhaler because it was bad for the environment.

Yeah an if you dropped dead it would significantly reduce your carbon footprint too, huh. What if we ALL just stopped breathing. Can’t be throwing fistfuls of plastic fuckin straws directly into the South Pacific when you got a BPM of zilch, can you? What a fuckin innovator. Was he head of your nation’s EPA *directly* before he retired to become world’s youngest baseline edgelord 4chan ass 14 year old boy with tenure, or did he wait for his 3rd consecutive Nobel peace prize before giving someone else a chance? Ask him if his back hurts from carrying the weight of all the world’s most pressing concerns to and from Chuck E Cheese each night or if his tiny spiny propellor hat lightens the load a bit. Did his big red clown nose come standard with his tweed set or he spring for the premium model with the biodegradeable sustainable foam and the super-boosted honk-honk action? Are his size 23 clown bitch oxfords custom? Does he take one off to use as a canoe on his annual vacations to his summer home in the balmy and tropical shit fuck dumbass islands or does he just levitate everywhere he goes by the power of his unparalleled Xmen level intellect. Can you ask him if Magneto is gonna spare the human race to run laps in his hamster wheel electrical generator complex or if he’s just gonna wipe us all the fuck out for the carbon tax credit. Ask him if the weight of his gigantic balls dragging in the ground behind him everywhere he goes adds to the mileage on his Tesla. When he wipes his ass does he use single ply to save the trees or just a fistful of baby ducklings that he can then gently bathe by hand with water collected by the rain barrel in the endangered orchid garden by the solarium on the west side of his sprawling villa, the one he bought when he sold the patent for the perpetual motion motion machine he built out of toothpicks and marshmallows in third grade before the obvious intellectual gap between himself and the rest of us bumbling simpletons weighed him down and killed his passion to create. What other wisdom has he yet to share with the world? What other knowledge that only he and my reiki-healing essential-oil-drinking violet-aura neighbour know that may benefit us all? Holy shit, have I been drinking WATER my whole life? That shit that whales live in? Guess I’ll just go lay in a hole out back and wait for the compost heap to take me. Should I confess my sins to Captain Planet first, so he may redeem my wicked soul in the true Eco Catholic way, or was that recyclable soda can I threw in the trash downtown at last year’s garlic bread festival because there were no recycling bins provided the final straw that made me unworthy of glorious green salvation? BRB, gotta go strip naked and flagellate myself before the begonias so that they may know the depth of my remorse. Don’t worry, I only buy locally-sourced hemp lashes produced by small home businesses at the farmer’s market, they have a three-for-two sale on Sundays if you bring your own reusable bag. Christ on a fucking cupcake

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jungwnies · 1 month ago

Text

F1 GRID | finding out you're pregnant

୨ৎ : featuring : max verstappen, lewis hamilton, george russell, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris, oscar piastri ୨ৎ : synopsis : finding out you're pregnant with their baby even after agreeing on waiting a little bit before starting a family of your own.

୨ৎ : genre : romance & angst ୨ৎ : tws : arguing, pregnancy, mentions of abortion ୨ৎ : word count : 2786

୨ masterlist ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : got this idea from watching s2 of squid games, won't explain why, no spoilers here honeyyy

ʚ・max verstappen

max’s eyes widened as the words hit him, his gaze flicking to the pregnancy test in your hands. for a moment, he looked genuinely frozen—like you’d just told him red bull had switched to making bicycles instead of cars.

“we… agreed to wait,” he said slowly, blinking at you as if the sheer force of logic could undo the situation. he ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply.

“max,” you said gently, biting back a laugh despite your nerves.

he stopped pacing, turning back to you with a raised eyebrow. “you’re sure it’s mine?” he deadpanned, though the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips betrayed him.

you smacked his arm lightly. “not funny.”

he cracked a small, dry laugh, stepping closer and taking the test from your hand to set it aside. “okay, okay. it’s not what we planned, but…” he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “i guess this is what i get for not reading the fine print in life.”

his hand found your waist, his expression softening as he pulled you closer. “look, it’s… unexpected. but it’s not the end of the world. just the end of uninterrupted sleep for the next few years, right?”

you couldn’t help but giggle as he placed a hand on your stomach, his confidence and dry humor kicking back in. “guess i’ll have to start winning every race now. baby formula might run through all my checks.”

despite his jokes, his eyes shone with something deeper—love, determination, and just the right amount of "what the hell do we do now?" but that was max: grounded, honest, and ready to figure out a solution to every challenge that was about to come flying at the two of you.

ʚ・lewis hamilton

lewis’s face fell the moment the words left your mouth. his brows knit together, and he blinked rapidly, like he was trying to process a race-ending penalty that came out of nowhere.

“you’re… pregnant?” his voice was soft, barely above a whisper, as if saying it too loudly might make it even more real.

you nodded, suddenly feeling unsure. “i know we talked about waiting a few more years, and i understand if you’re not ready. we don’t have to—”

“no,” he interrupted, his voice firm but his eyes wide. “no, don’t… don’t say that.” he stepped closer, his hand reaching for yours instinctively. “don’t even think about that. i want this baby.”

“but, lewis,” you started, “this isn’t what we planned. you’re so busy with your career, and i don’t want to—”

“i know,” he cut you off again, his voice cracking just slightly. he let out a shaky breath and rubbed the back of his neck, his usual calm demeanor replaced by a mix of worry and determination. “i didn’t expect this, yeah, but… that doesn’t mean i don’t want it. i do. i really do.”

his hand slid to your waist, pulling you gently closer. “i mean, yeah, i’m terrified. what if i mess this up? what if i’m not good enough at… being a dad?” he chuckled nervously, shaking his head at himself. “i’ve driven a car at 200 miles per hour, but this? this is scarier.”

you reached up to cup his face, your touch grounding him. “you’re not going to mess this up, lewis.”

he sighed, leaning into your touch. “i just… i want to do this right. for you. for us. for the baby.” his hand drifted hesitantly to your stomach, resting there as his lips curved into a small, uncertain smile. “i guess i’ll have to trade in some podiums for bedtime stories.”

the stress was still there, lingering in his furrowed brow and the way his jaw clenched, but beneath it, you saw something else—a flicker of hope and excitement. lewis was many things, but when it came to the people he loved, he never backed down. and in that moment, you knew he’d do whatever it took to be the best father he could be.

ʚ・george russell

george froze, his blue eyes locking onto yours, disbelief etched across his face. “you’re… pregnant?” he asked, his voice tight.

you nodded, your heart pounding. “i just found out. i—”

“what do you want to do?” he cut in, his tone sharper than you expected.

“what?”

“i’m asking if you want to keep it,” he said, running a hand through his hair, pacing the room with a mix of panic and frustration. “because it’s your choice, and i’ll support you, but i need to know where your head is.”

his words stung, and you stood up straighter. “do you think i’ve figured it all out already, george? i’m just as blindsided as you are!”

“i’m not accusing you of anything,” he shot back, his voice rising. “i’m just trying to get us on the same page. this wasn’t part of the plan, and now everything’s—” he stopped mid-sentence, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

you watched him, your own anger fading as his shoulders slumped. “i don’t know what i want yet,” you admitted softly. “but i’m scared.”

his eyes opened, the frustration melting into something gentler. “i’m scared too,” he admitted, stepping closer. “but if you want this baby, we’ll figure it out. together.”

his hands found yours, his grip firm but comforting. “i’ll support whatever you decide. but… if you’re asking me? i want this. i want us. even if it’s messy and terrifying.”

tears pricked your eyes as he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly. “we’ll make it work,” he whispered, his voice steadier now. “and maybe… maybe this wasn’t part of the plan, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be the best thing to ever happen to us.”

for the first time since you found out, you felt a glimmer of hope—and in george’s arms, you knew you wouldn’t face this alone.

ʚ・carlos sainz

carlos’s face went pale the moment you told him, his wide brown eyes staring at you like you’d just dropped the most shocking news of his life. he opened his mouth, then closed it again, clearly struggling to find the words.

finally, he let out a string of rapid-fire spanish, his hands flying around as he started pacing. “¿estás segura? ¿cómo pasó esto? dios mío, esto no estaba en los planes.” (are you sure? how did this happen? my god, this wasn’t in the plans.)

you couldn’t help but bite back a laugh, despite your own nerves. “carlos, calm down.”

“calmarme? ¿cómo quieres que me calme?” (calm down? how do you expect me to calm down?) he exclaimed, throwing his hands up dramatically. “this is huge, my love, this is a baby."

“yes, it’s a baby,” you said gently, grabbing his arm to stop his pacing. “and i need to know how you feel about it.”

he froze, staring at you for a moment before his expression softened. “how i feel?” he repeated, his voice quieter now. he took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair as he processed everything.

then, slowly, a smile started to spread across his face. “a baby,” he said again, but this time it sounded different—softer, filled with awe. “we’re going to have a baby."

“yes,” you whispered, watching as his entire demeanor shifted.

his smile turned into a grin, and he pulled you into his arms, lifting you off the ground as he let out a laugh of pure joy. “amor, i’m going to be a dad!"

when he finally set you down, his hands immediately went to your stomach, his eyes sparkling. “i can’t believe it,” he said, his voice filled with excitement. “this wasn’t in the plans, no, but… this is amazing. you’re amazing.”

you laughed as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, still grinning like he’d just won a race. “i promise, i’ll do everything. i’ll be the best dad. and you—” he looked at you like you’d hung the moon. “you’ll be the most incredible mamá.”

all his earlier panic was gone, replaced by uncontainable happiness. carlos was over the moon, and in that moment, you knew this baby would be so loved.

ʚ・charles leclerc

charles froze, his green eyes widening as the words registered. he stood motionless for a moment, his lips parting slightly as if to speak, but no sound came out. then, he exhaled sharply, his hands raking through his hair, leaving it tousled in that way you loved.

“mon dieu…” he whispered, his accent thicker as he switched to french without realizing. “comment… comment c’est arrivé?” (my god… how… how did this happen?)

you hesitated, unsure of how to answer, but before you could, he looked up at you, his expression torn between panic and guilt. “no, i know how it happened. c’est ma faute.” (it’s my fault.)

“charles,” you started, stepping closer, but he backed away, pacing the room like he was mentally replaying every decision that had led to this moment.

“i should’ve been more careful,” he said, his voice shaking. “i should’ve… i mean, how could i be so stupid? you trusted me, and now…” he trailed off, his hands on his hips, his head hanging low.

“charles, stop,” you said firmly, walking up to him and grabbing his arm. “this isn’t just on you. it takes two people, remember?”

he lifted his head, his eyes glistening, and the vulnerability in them broke your heart. “but i was supposed to be more careful amore, and now i put a baby in you.” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “i didn’t want this to happen yet. not because i don’t want it,” he rushed to add, his words tumbling out in a whirlwind of emotion. “i do. i just… i wanted to give you more. to be ready. to make sure everything was perfect… amore you deserve everything, you deserve the world.”

you cupped his face, forcing him to look at you. “charles, nothing is ever perfect. and i don’t need perfect. i just need you.”

his breath hitched, and he closed his eyes, leaning into your touch. “you’re too good for me,” he muttered, his voice thick with emotion. “but… i promise, i’ll do everything i can. i’ll be there for you, for the baby, for everything. je t’aime tellement.” (i love you so much.)

tears slipped down your cheeks as he opened his eyes, his hands coming up to cradle your face. “this baby… it’s not what we planned, but it’s ours,” he said softly, his voice steady now. “and i already love it because it’s part of you.”

he leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours, his thumb brushing away your tears. “we’ll figure this out together,” he whispered, his voice full of quiet determination. “i’ll make sure you and our baby have everything. i swear.”

in that moment, all his earlier worry and guilt melted away, leaving nothing but love and promise in his eyes. charles wasn’t just happy—he was ready to give his entire heart to you and the life you were building together.

ʚ・lando norris

lando froze, the lighthearted grin he’d been wearing vanishing in an instant. his eyes widened as he stared at you, his usually bright expression clouding over with uncertainty. “you’re serious?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual, almost disbelieving.

you nodded, your hands trembling slightly as you clasped them together. “i just found out. and… i don’t know what to do, lando. we’re so young, and there’s still so much we want to do.”

he ran a hand through his hair, letting out a shaky breath as he sat down heavily on the couch. “bloody hell,” he muttered under his breath, his leg bouncing with nervous energy.

“i mean… we don’t have to go through with it,” you said hesitantly, your voice breaking a little. “we could—”

“no,” he interrupted, looking up at you sharply, his voice firmer than you’d ever heard it. “don’t say that. don’t even think about it.”

“lando, be realistic,” you said, your own frustration and fear bubbling up. “you’re in the prime of your career, and i’m still figuring out my life. how are we supposed to raise a baby when we’re barely adults ourselves?”

his jaw clenched, and he rubbed his hands over his face, clearly overwhelmed. “i know it’s not what we planned,” he said finally, his voice softer now but still tense. “and, yeah, i’m terrified. but this… this is part of us. and i can’t just… let it go.”

you sat down beside him, your shoulders sagging. “i’m scared, lando,” you admitted quietly. “i don’t want to mess this up. i don’t want to ruin your life.”

he turned to you then, his blue-green eyes filled with emotion. “you’re not ruining my life,” he said, reaching out to take your hands in his. “this is a curveball, yeah, but… i love you. and if this is happening, then i’ll be there. i’ll figure it out. we’ll figure it out.”

tears welled in your eyes, and he leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours. “we’re young, and we’ve got so much ahead of us,” he murmured. “but maybe this is part of that. maybe this is the crazy, unexpected adventure we didn’t know we needed.”

a small, watery laugh escaped you, and he smiled, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “hey, if i can survive driving at 300 kilometers per hour, i think i can handle a baby.”

you laughed again, the tension easing slightly as his words sank in. lando pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly, and for the first time since finding out, you felt like everything might just be okay.

“we’ll still live our lives,” he said softly. “we’ll do it all—travel, race, everything. just… with a little plus one.”

and despite the fear, despite the uncertainty, his words filled you with hope. because with lando by your side, you knew you’d figure it out together.

ʚ・oscar piastri

oscar stared at you in silence, his face unusually still. for a moment, you couldn’t tell what he was thinking, and the knot in your stomach tightened.

“you’re… pregnant,” he finally said, his tone flat, almost like he was testing the words.

you nodded, your breath shaky. “yeah. i just found out.”

he let out a dry, humorless laugh, shaking his head as he stood up and started pacing. “of course. of course this would happen now,” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

“what’s that supposed to mean?” you shot back, your voice rising defensively.

“it means this isn’t what we planned, y/n!” he snapped, turning to face you, his calm demeanor slipping for once. “we’re not ready for this. you know that.”

“you think i don’t know that?” you fired back, standing now, your voice trembling with anger and fear. “you think i wanted this to happen? i’m just as scared as you are, oscar, but this is our reality now.”

he raked a hand through his hair, his expression torn between frustration and guilt. “we’re still figuring everything out—our lives, our careers. a baby? how are we supposed to handle that?”

“i don’t know!” you yelled, tears brimming in your eyes. “but i can’t do this alone, oscar. i need to know where you stand.”

he stopped pacing, his shoulders slumping as he let out a long breath. “do you even want this?” he asked quietly, his voice breaking slightly. “because if you don’t… if you think it’s too much… i’ll support you. whatever you decide.”

the question hit you like a punch to the gut. “i don’t know,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “i don’t know what i want. but i’m terrified of making the wrong choice.”

oscar stared at you for a long moment, his usually calm eyes filled with a storm of emotions. then, slowly, he stepped closer, his hand reaching out to gently cup your cheek.

“i’m scared too,” he murmured, his voice soft now, all the anger gone. “but… i don’t want to lose this. i don’t want to lose you. and if this baby is part of you, then how could i not love it?”

your tears spilled over, and he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly. “it’s not going to be easy,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “but we’ll figure it out. even if it’s messy, even if it’s hard. we’ll figure it out together.”

you clung to him, your tears soaking into his shirt as the weight of the moment settled over both of you. it wasn’t the perfect, joyful revelation you might have dreamed of, but it was real. and as bittersweet as it felt, it was enough.

for now, it was enough.

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abyssalpriest · 1 year ago

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like idk why im surprised its because the last spirit i worked with made everything fucking up and even when it "made sense" it only made sense within the fiction and not this plane bc its like. have we not learned at this point he knows what the fuck he's doing, he's big enough to the point he doesnt need to hide who he is, and he got that big by being in touch w and worshiped/worked with by a bunch of different cultures like. anyway

#ANYyywaaayyyy im gonna take the fact that he was looking at stuff. and. this line of thinking. as confirmation for shit lmfao #that i need to start letting myself express myself in these ways #i need to let myself make the shit i feel like making and do the shit i feel like doing like wearing crow feathers and stuff bc like #im not making shit up. oh geeze i feel the rain suddenly coming in hi lev #anyway. i have no inclination nor want to copy other cultures nor try and bring out culture specific practices.... i said it before #if i were meant to be doing shit in mongolia i wouldve just incarnated there again lmfao its purposely not my business this life #but the traditions (of various cultures and places including off this plane) run through my blood and are integral to my workings w lev #(and also the things i feel just arent owned by any one people lmfao) but anyway #its nice to know im not insane #~abyssal murmurs #ah yeah i can feel the sun through the rain hi Red Sky #man this astral complex i have above my house to reconnect myself with the sky really is working

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jjscrybaby · 1 month ago

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hiii :)

could you do a rafe x reader where the reader has a panic attack in front of sarah for the first and she knows to get the reader to rafe and he immediately calms her down?

rafe cameron x reader | hurt & comfort | (pogue!reader, mean girls, panic attack, crying, comforting!rafe, insecure!reader.)

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

No one figured Rafe Cameron would go for a Pogue. For all his life he’d been the number 1 Pogue hater, the biggest Kook defender, and overall just a pretentious asshole. That’s why it was the shock of the island when you showed up on his arm to Midsummer’s, wearing a dress that costed more than your rent with an anxious smile on your face.

Your boyfriend had promised to stick by your side for the entire night, and you were sure he meant it when he said it, but he hadn’t taken into account just how enthused the elders were going to be to see him. He wasn’t that teenage boy they knew anymore, instead a man living alone and dealing with his troubles; thanks to you.

It was halfway through the night when you went to the bathroom, the few glasses of champagne had your head feeling fuzzy and your bladder full. You locked yourself in the cubicle and started to do your business, before you heard voices from outside.

“It’s strange though, right?” The door closed behind the girls that had walked in, making you flinch as you stood to sort your dress out.

“Rafe with a Pogue. Yeah, definitely weird,” a squeaky voiced girl agreed with a laugh.

“It won’t last, trust me. He’s only with her for the image, it makes him look good to do charity for a girl like that. I’m pretty sure she’s a waitress at the club,” the other one responded.

“I’ll be sure to find him later and remind him of that.” The two of them giggled to themselves, gushing over how hot your boyfriend was for a couple more minutes before leaving. You didn’t step out of the cubicle until you were sure that you were alone, hot tears running down your cheeks.

Maybe it was the alcohol in your system, or maybe it was the fact those girls had said everything you’d been thinking for the last few months you’d been together, you weren’t sure, but something about their words had hurt your feelings; and had sent you into a spiral. You sat down on the plush purple chair, breaths coming out rapidly and shakily.

“Oh my god, what happened?” You hadn’t even heard the door open, but as you turned your head you found Sarah rushing at you. She knelt down next to you, holding your hands as you let out fearful whimpers. “Fuck. Okay, stay here, okay? Don’t move!” She ran back out and you stared at the door, holding your chest anxiously.

Only a minute later the door was swinging open and Rafe was storming in, striding over to you. “Hey, hey. Look at me,” he demanded, gentle but firmly as he cupped your cheeks in his hands. “Breathe for me, okay? Slow breaths, you got it.”

He’d seen you like this a few times, he’d learnt the best ways to get you to relax. He held your hand over his own chest, feeling his heartbeat underneath your palm. He gave you a reassuring smile as you copied his breathing, gripping onto his fingers.

“Good girl,” he drawled, pulling you from the chair into his lap where he sat on the floor. He stroked your hair, leaving gentle kisses over your cheek. “You want to tell me what happened?”

“It’s stupid,” you croaked out, still gripping onto his hand.

“No. It’s not. Tell me what happened, so I can sort it out and get the both of us out of the women’s bathroom,” he joked, making you giggle tearfully.

You gave him a wobbly smile. You didn’t have much of a choice now, it was time to admit to him the insecurities you’d had over the last few months; the ones that kept you up at night as he slept soundly beside you. “No one here thinks I’m good enough for you.”

“What?” His face scrunched up in confusion. “Baby, what’re you talking about?”

“I— I’m a Pogue,” you whispered, as if you were admitting a crime.

“I know that,” he shrugged. “I’m not that oblivious, sweetheart. Why does that matter? Why are you saying this now?”

“Because everyone thinks it Rafe! I’m sure you have before, I know I have! Everyone here thinks you’re an idiot for being with me, that you’ve lost your mind. Maybe they’re right,” you cried out.

His hands grabbed your face firmly, leaning his forehead against your’s as he held you in place. “You’re the love of my life.”

“What?” You murmured.

“You are the love of my life. I don’t give a fuck if you’re a Pogue, I don’t care that you eat pizza like you’ve not eaten in years, or that you swear like a pirate. You’re my girl, and I love you. I don’t care about other peoples opinions, because they’re irrelevant,” he explained slowly, caressing your cheek as he spoke. “Now, do you want to go home or do you want to get the biggest bottle of champagne and make fun of these losers?”

“The second one,” you whispered, staring at him like a lovesick puppy.

He smirked, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours. “That’s my girl,” he mumbled, biting down on your bottom lip lightly to make you giggle. “Now, next time you get some dumb shit in your head you gonna tell me? Or do I have to spend all our loving conversations in the bathroom?”

You laughed, wiping your teary eyes as he helped you off his lap and back to your feet. He adjusted your flower crown with a cheesy grin, looking at you like you hung the moon and the stars. If you didn’t believe his words before, you definitely did now. “You don’t like the bathroom?”

“Well… it’s definitely nicer than the men’s, I’ll give you that.”

#rafe cameron #outer banks #obx #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron x reader

2K notes · View notes

buckiverse · 5 months ago

Text

Surrender to You

☆--- paring: sylus x reader

☆--- summary: You suggested a reluctant marriage of convenience due to your struggles in the N109 Zone. Now Sylus, will show you what it truly means to surrender both body and heart to him.

☆--- word count: 6.2k

☆--- warnings: mdni, oral sex, mating press, missionary, bit of background story (not really lore accurate), reader is a virgin, soft!dom sylus, size kink if you squint, sylus is in love fr, no protection is used (wrap it before you tap it)

☆--- a/n: the amount of time it took me to edit this was a bit ridiculous

The N109 Zone has danger lurking throughout it. From the darkest alleys to the stores, they all had one thing in common: The prioritization of information. That is your current motivation. You need more information and quick. Since the death of your beloved family members, you could no longer be complacent. It’s been hard being left in the dark. You thought you could trust the hunter’s association to be honest with you, but that was a lie.

You asked around a lot… from your hunting partner, Xavier, to your colleague Tara and even your boss, Jenna. No one could answer you honestly. Most of them barely “knew” what the N109 Zone was besides the fact that it was perilous. But that much was obvious.

You took to your own devices, relying on your resourcefulness. You looked online and did intensive research. All you could find out was that a significant catastrophe had transpired... Wander's took over, something to do with the state of protocores, resulting in a significant division between city areas. As a result, the sub-city known as the N109 Zone was established. You could not explain why, but you were sure it was due to the deaths of your parents, as well as your grandmother and childhood friend.

Initially, the plan was to invade the area, get information, meet some people, and decipher everything while remaining incognito. Unfortunately, it didn’t go that way. You were kidnapped by the most prominent organization in the N109 Zone, Onyichinus. Run by… Sylus? “Yeah, who the hell was that?” you thought aloud. You had never heard of this dude; I mean Onyichinus... Yes. But, even the Hunter’s Association defined the organization as faceless. It was an arduous task to uncover the head of the unit.

So that is how you ended up here, making a bargain with the devil. The other factions in the area had been restless since discovering your Protocore Syndrome. It was considered a hot commodity. Everywhere you turned, there was danger. This made your job to find the truth more difficult. As a result, you only partially appreciated Sylus's presence.

“Look, all I want is some information,” you said. Your eyes narrowed as you took in Sylus’s figure.

“Ah, is that so? And what exactly do you want to know? Everything comes with a price.” he replied. His head tilted slightly, a slight smirk forming on his lips.

You thought carefully, considering your following response. “It’s not your business; just know that intelligence on Protocore Syndrome has spread, and it’s impossible to handle business. So I’d like to make a deal.”

“And what would that be?” Sylus reacted with amusement.

You replied swiftly, not missing a beat. “We should marry,” you responded confidently.

Sylus arched an eyebrow, his eyes flashing with something, almost a mix of interest and amusement– that smug bastard, you thought. You attempted to hide your scour; you needed this more than you needed to get one over on the gray-haired man.

“And how does this deal benefit me?”

“That’s for you to decide and for us to discuss,” you acknowledged. A great silence overcame the room of Sylus's office. You stared at him, holding your resolve, waiting for a reply.

“Deal”, he replied suddenly. You disguised your surprise, sticking out your right hand to shake his. “Good then.” You said, recovering swiftly.

“I will handle the guests; you handle the small planning details. Utilize Luke, Kieran, and my card.” Your thoughts were threatened by disbelief. The ease with which he was complying with this was astounding. You wondered, honestly, what Sylus gets out of the arrangement. You told yourself it's nothing to do with you. Finding the truth is what matters; this is only one more step to complete your goal.

☆---

The venue you chose was stunning. The ceiling mirrored the most beautiful mosaics. The depictions of gods and angels were magnificent. You had never seen something so gorgeous. You reflected on the story presented in the ceiling. What would your life be like under this 'arrangement'? This was serious. It was real and binding. You were having second thoughts, wondering if the information was worth it all. But you encouraged yourself, "Of course, it’s worth it, y/n! How can you live the rest of your life without knowing the truth?” you affirmed aloud, looking around the venue. Everything felt real now. It's only been a few weeks at the Onyichinus base, but it has been productive intel-wise.

Moving on through your tour, you looked straight ahead at the expansive hall where the ceremony would occur. It was covered in intricate detail. The mosaic patterns worked down the walls, creating various shapes of circles and rectangles in its stead. In front of the walls was a white display of roses. The flowers were delicately spread throughout the venue, covering the reflected pattern on the marble floors. You moved your feet, looking to where the audience would be. Your heart plummeted when you realized you would only know Sylus, Luke, and Kieran. "It is just business, y/n," you said to yourself, adjusting your expression.

You truly outdid yourself; aside from the grandeur of the ceiling and walls, the remainder of the venue echoed the luxurious color schemes of white and black, with gold touches throughout. It was beautiful, but it was purely professional. Despite the vibrancy around you, you could not help but feel the sterility of the place. You kept your guard up, even to yourself. This is a warzone, and you have allowed Sylus to invite danger.

As you walked to the reception area, you could not help but admire the luxurious atmosphere. The black marble floors mirrored the massive tree in the center of the room. Chandeliers dangled from the strong branches, illuminating the space. You wandered around the white gold seats and tables, admiring the centerpieces. A glass foundation supported large bouquets of white roses in the center of the table. Each table had the right tableware and a black tablecloth folded into black swans. Reminding you of the rationale for your decision, you must persevere to achieve actual change.

You looked up as you approached the grand double doors at the end of the hall and noticed Sylus watching you silently. "I trust you managed the guest list," you remarked, jerking out of your thoughts. “Of course, sweetie. Only the most important people. Though I did include a few surprises—what is a wedding without some fun?" he quipped. You rolled your eyes at that. Why is he always insisting on pet names? This is not meant to be authentic.

“This is supposed to be a business arrangement, Sylus. ‘Fun’ wasn't exactly part of the plan.” You sighed harder than you wanted to, and Sylus simply responded with a slight smirk and laughter.

“Whatever you say… sweetie.” He then turned and made his way out of the wedding venue, leaving you standing there in shock. “Well–are you coming? Assuming you’re hungry, should I let you continue standing there looking lost?” You felt your face flush.

“Fine,” you said, quickly moving through the grand double doors. You slipped outside, watching as Sylus opened the car door for you.

☆---

A few days later, you found yourself in the venue's dressing room, staring yourself down. “This is fucking crazy,” you exclaimed. The realization struck once more: this is happening.

You were wearing the most stunning gown. It was covered in thousands of tiny diamonds, sewn individually into the dress. The neckline reminded you of a wide v-neck as it rested between the valley of your breasts. Pushing them out just enough–you looked amazing. The dress was perfectly fitted to your curves, and you turned to admire your backside, noticing the cutout of the dress. The fabric rested just above the crack of your ass, but you could not help but admire your good looks.

‘One thing Sylus definitely can provide is unlimited money,’ you laughed out loud. Turning back to face yourself, you admired the mermaid bottom of the dress accentuating your curvy body. You felt like a whole new person.

Your swirling thoughts were cut short by the knocking on the door. “Yes?” you replied, swiftly turning towards the sound. Luke and Kieran opened the door and made their entrance. "Wow," they said in unison. "You look so beautiful, y/n!" Luke said. "The boss will undoubtedly love this dress on you," Kieran remarked. "And off," Luke added, getting pushed in the arm by Kieran. Your cheeks warmed at the statement; you had not considered consummating the marriage.

Because once again, this is business, you convinced yourself. Even though Sylus is beautiful, his eyes, nose, and plump lips… “Anyway, this note is from the boss. We’ll see you out there, y/n,” said Kieran. You took the note from him and watched as they both walked out.

A shudder ran down your spine as you held the note in your palm. You looked up to see Mephisto, who "cawed" at you as he flew through the open door.

“He’s probably running to tell Sylus I got his note,” you commented, side-eyeing the door. The note had a red wax seal on the front of the black envelope. You opened it, and a little pop revealed the white note. You pulled it out with shaking hands.

“I promised you forever, and I don't break my promises.”

You felt your face flushing by the second. This note was so sudden, so why did it feel like he was talking about something deeper than these words reflected? You ran your hands over the words on the page, interrupting your thoughts, and you heard your song start.

“You can do this, y/n,” you said, leaving the dressing room. Now is where the real work begins.

You stood at the end of the aisle and looked around. You recognized some of the biggest names in the N109 Zone. At least Sylus kept that promise, you thought. The piano rang the most angelic symphony, bringing emotion forth in you.

You began your walk, stride confident, keeping your head high. Sylus stared at you, his smile widening as you worked your way before the steps. He reached down, grabbed your hand, helping you up the steps to the altar. The officiant began to address the crowd, but it felt like it was just you and Sylus. Why was he looking at you like that? You pondered.

“I’ve waited for this moment longer than you know,” Sylus whispered for only your ears to hear. You cocked your head slightly, you were going to ask what he meant by that, but the officiant addressed Sylus, stating the vows, “Do you take y/n to be your wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward.” Sylus’s red eyes flickered as he looked down at you. “For better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and health, to love and to cherish, ‘til death do you apart?”

"I do," Sylus responded, his big hands attempting to secure the large rock to your finger. Your eyes watered slightly at the sight. Why is this so intense, you wondered, as the officiant recited the vows to you. Of course, you responded with an "I do."

“You may kiss the bride.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Sylus didn't hesitate. He stepped closer to you, his hand reaching out to cup the side of your face, his thumb grazing your cheek. His touch was gentle but possessive, almost telling you that now you’re his.

He kissed you firmly but slowly and deliberately. Sylus doesn't rush his kiss with you, almost like he is savoring the moment. The way his lips moved against yours sent warmth coursing through you, pulling you deeper just for a moment.

For a second, you hesitated, thinking you should pull away and make distance. But then Sylus slid his hand around your neck, pulling you closer and deepening your kiss. And you went with it, kissing him back, slowly at first and then increasing the intensity.

The world around you faded. It felt like it was just the two of you. Allowing the kiss to linger on longer than it should have. When Sylus pulled away, his lips parted slightly, and you felt his warm breath against your skin. He whispered just for you to hear:

“If you wanted more, sweetie, all you had to do was ask.”

You felt your chest tighten, and you swallowed hard at his statement. You hated that he could make you feel like this. You forced yourself to look away. “Don’t get used to it,” you muttered quickly, knowing your heart raced at the kiss you shared.

Sylus smirked while looking into your eyes. “We’ll see about that.”

☆---

The reception truly went off without a hitch. Some people you’ve never met made elegant speeches, wishing for happiness and prosperity. This was so fake you fought the urge to roll your eyes at the theatrics displayed before you. You glanced at Sylus, admiring his features as the current speaker discussed alliances and protections.

When Sylus leaned into your ear, “Is my face more interesting than the speech, sweetie?”

You rolled your eyes at him and returned your attention to the speaker. “He’s so cheeky,” you thought. Despite your harsh admissions, you secretly enjoyed his playfulness. It made this whole ordeal feel lighter.

After serving food and drinks, Sylus walked you around the room. The reception hall buzzed with conversation. The guests mingled about discussing business deals disguised as casual conversation. Sylus worked the room effortlessly. His hand rested on the small of your back, sending tingles up your spine as he made contact with your bare skin.

“Ah, there you are,” Sylus said smoothly, flashing a charming smile. “I want you to meet Mr. Blackthorne. He’s one of the key players in the project we’ve been discussing.”

Mr. Blackthorne turned to face you, offering a firm handshake. His gaze lingered over you, measuring you up. You returned the handshake, nodding politely. “It’s a pleasure,” you said.

Truthfully, your mind was already wandering. The prospects of the evening had been exhausting. The smiling and pretending were weighing on you, and Sylus’s insistence on blurring the lines between you wasn't helping. Focusing was so hard your mind constantly drifted back to the kiss you shared just hours before.

Mr. Blackthorne spoke about contacts, future meetings, and something else—but you couldn't tell what. Your eyes continued to drift around the room, searching for a distraction. You tried your hardest to avoid looking at the white-haired man beside you.

After a few moments, Mr. Blackthore excused himself. “I hope you both enjoy the rest of your evening. We'll be in contact soon, " he said, nodding and walking away.

A smile became present on Sylus’s face. “Sweetie, I think you missed that entire conversation,” He teased, his voice amused. “I could see it on your face—completely checked out. What were you thinking about, hmm?”

Your face heated instantly, and you shot him a sharp look. “I was listening.”

“Really?” Sylus raised an eyebrow, leaning in slightly, his voice dropping to a hushed murmur. “It looked to me like your mind was somewhere else entirely. Let me guess… still thinking about that kiss at the altar?”

Your eyes widened at his assertion. “It was just a kiss, Sylus,” you said curtly.

He chucked at your discomfort, “Sure if you say so. But next time, you might want to pay more attention when I introduce you to someone important. We wouldn’t want them thinking you’re too distracted by your new husband to focus on business, now would we?”

Your pulse quickened the way he said, “Husband.” “I’ll try to keep that in mind,” you shot back. You felt like a firecracker inside.

Sylus grinned at you. “Good. Because I have a feeling I’m going to be keeping your attention quite a bit from now on, " he said, grabbing your hand as another guest approached the two of you. The conversation was a perfect invitation to shift your mind from his teasing.

The wedding ended quickly after that. When you looked up, you felt that the wedding had ended, and you were in the backseat of an old luxury car, staring directly at Sylus. The mood was slightly lighter than at the wedding, yet it felt heated. And he could not take his gaze away from you; he was blatantly checking you out, making the ride seem shorter.

“You planned the perfect wedding, but tonight is where the real deal begins, sweetie,” Sylus suggested. The driver maneuvered the luxury car to the massive private gateway of the Onyichinus base. The base itself was vast and Gothic. You had never really stopped to appreciate the building's grandeur before. You reminded yourself that this was only temporary.

Entering the gate revealed a primarily gray and black building spanning at least a few hundred acres. The arches rested so high in the sky that they broke through the beautiful tranquility of sunset. Large windows, elegant arches, detailed carvings, and the crow resting at the highest peak of the building. How had you not realized the beauty of this place amidst the chaos of the N109 Zone?

Distracting you from your realizations, Sylus reached for your hand, pulling you out of your thoughts and the car. This felt different now. Sylus led you into the great corridors, walking for what seemed like miles. You walked through the two doors into Sylus's bedroom.

The room was dimly lit, and soft candlelight cast shadows across it. The wedding had been a blur, but now the evening had ended. It was just the two of you.

His room smelled so fucking good. A simple vanilla musk? But it was so amazing that you wanted to bury your face in his sheets. You heard the doors click behind you, bringing you to the present. Sylus leaned his upper back against the oak doors, his giant chest moving up and down, the only sound in the room being your breathing.

“You’re safe with me, no matter what,” he said, moving off the door and towards you, standing by his bed. Your heart pounded in your chest; it felt so loud that it drowned out the silence. You knew this moment might come, but now you stood before Sylus.

“You’re nervous,” he said softly, his voice lower now, less playful than it had been all evening.

You swallowed, and your throat felt tight. You didn’t know what to say. The air had a thick, unspoken tension. This was supposed to be part of the deal—another step in this arrangement. But now you feel vulnerable in front of him.

Sylus stepped closer, his movements slow and deliberate, giving you time to feel every bit of space he closed between you two. His hand came up, gently brushing your hair out of your face. The touch was tender, and it made your breath hitch.

“You don’t have to be,” he murmured, his thumb lightly grazing your jawline, tipping your chin upwards so your eyes met his. “I’m not in a rush.”

Your chest tightened. You knew Sylus for his confidence, his teasing—proficiency at getting under your skin—but now, there was something different in his eyes. A softness you didn't know he possessed.

“I—I don’t know what to expect,” you admitted, your voice almost a whisper. You felt so exposed; your inexperience was so evident. It was increasingly hard to maintain your usual composure.

His smile was slow, warm, knowing. “You think too much, sweetie.”

He leaned down, brushing his lips against yours—not demanding, not forceful, just soft and testing. The kiss was meant to calm you and reassure you, yet you found yourself responding. He slid his hand to the back of your neck, slightly deepening the kiss.

When he pulled back, Sylus’s red eyes searched for yours. “Tell me if you want to stop,” he said, his voice quieter, more serious now.

You bit your lip, your heart still racing. You were nervous, but some of you also wanted to trust him. How he looked at you, and his touch sent sparks through your skin… you wanted him.

“I don’t want to stop,” you admitted, barely loud enough for him to hear.

He kissed you again, but this time with more intensity, his lips moving against yours with a deliberate, intoxicating rhythm. Each brush of his mouth sent a warm shiver through you, and instinctively, you rose onto the tips of your toes, your hands pressing against his chest as if to steady yourself. His heart beat strong and steady beneath your fingertips, grounding you as your pulse raced.

The kiss deepened, his tongue softly parting your lips in a request for more. You hesitated only momentarily, then parted them, inviting him in. His tongue brushed against yours, teasing and coaxing, his every movement confident and controlled. It was overwhelming and perfect, a mix of dominance and tenderness that left you breathless.

Sylus pulled back slightly, his breath warm against your swollen lips. He was grinning now, his eyes dark with desire and amusement. “Why don’t you let me help you with this?” His voice was a low murmur, and before you could respond, his hands slid to your waist, his fingers curling possessively around your hips.

With a slow, deliberate motion, he turned you, his body pressing against yours from behind. Your back pressed to his chest, and your breath hitched as you realized what he was doing. He had positioned you in front of a mirror. Your wide eyes met your reflection, and you could see Sylus’s smirk in the glass, his gaze fixed on you with a heat that made your skin tingle.

“Look at yourself,” he whispered in your ear, his lips brushing against your neck as his hands moved to the fabric of your dress. “So beautiful when you’re nervous.” His fingers began to undo the delicate fastening at the back, his movements slow, deliberate, as if he was savoring every second.

The sight of him undressing you in the mirror, the way he watched your every reaction, sent a thrill through you that you couldn’t entirely suppress. You felt vulnerable and exposed, but there was something undeniably magnetic about the way he controlled the moment, making it impossible for you to look away from the reflection of your shared desire.

Sylus leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your bare shoulder as your dress began to loosen under his touch. “Let me show you how good this can be,” he murmured, his voice a silken promise that sent heat pooling low in your stomach.

And as his hands continued their slow, teasing exploration, you realized you were already too far gone to resist. His movements caused the straps of your dress to loosen, but you held the fabric against your chest, not letting it fall.

He pressed soft kisses against your earlobe. “Let it fall,” he commanded tenderly. Your breath hitched at his command, but you complied, allowing the dress to fall forward, revealing your nipples.

“Beautiful,” he said. Reaching his large hands to cup your breasts. Sylus pulled your body back till you were flush against his broad chest. He was moving his hands to play with your nipples. He rubbed them softly, allowing them to harden between his fingers and tugging them forward firmly. He watched your reaction in the mirror as your face contorted slightly to tug your bottom lip between your teeth.

He grinned, removing his hands from your nipples to the back of your neck. He dragged his middle finger down to just above your ass, where the fabric of the dress ended. You tilted your head slightly at the movement of his hands. You missed the warmth of his hands on your nipples, but you didn't dare ask for them back as you wanted to see what he was doing next.

Suddenly, you heard the hidden zipper opening the rest of your dress. You stepped forward out of the dress just in panties, turning around to fully face Sylus. “You’re so beautiful,” Sylus murmured, a satisfied smile playing on his lips as he gazed down into your eyes. He pulled you in for a soft, lingering kiss—just enough to make your heart race. You flushed under his gaze, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks but not daring to look away.

“Let me help you, Sylus,” you said, your voice barely a whisper. “I can’t be the only one left like this.” You reached up, gripping his tie and giving it a playful tug, your eyes gleaming with mischief.

His smirk deepened, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Take it off then,” he challenged, his voice low and teasing, daring you with his trademark confidence.

Your hands moved to unwork his tie, pulling him closer to you, causing him to chuckle slightly and grab your bare waist. You shuddered slightly under his touch, continuing your steady exploration. You discarded his tie to the floor and began unbuttoning his perfectly fitting shirt. It was a red button-up. You slowly unbuttoned his shirt, revealing Sylus’s beautifully sculpted body. You innocently peered up at his intense stare. He watched your every movement so close that the only sound in the room was your shared breaths. You drew your finger from his collarbone down to his navel, where you watched him flex slightly at your touch.

You slid his shirt off, letting the fabric fall to the floor before lowering yourself to your knees in front of him. Sylus raised an eyebrow, a smirk curving his lips as he looked down at you.

“And what exactly do you plan on doing down there?” His voice was rich with amusement and teasing but edged with something darker and more intense.

You glanced up at him, a slight pout forming on your flushed face. “Helping you undress,” you replied softly but with playful defiance.

Your hands moved to the front of his pants, your fingers steady as you unbuckled his belt. The sound of the leather sliding through the loops was the only thing breaking the tension in the room.

You looked up at Sylus, licking your lips. You pressed your hand against the bulge in his briefs. Your eyes widened a bit, realizing his size. It’s so big.

Sylus’s hand reached down, his fingers threading through your hair gently but firmly. He tugged you up to your feet with one swift motion, pulling you close until your chest pressed against his. His eyes, dark and heated, locked with yours as his other hand slid around your waist, securing you against him.

“That’s enough of you on your knees, sweetie,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous with a hint of a smile on his lips.

Without another word, he tilted your chin up, capturing your lips in a heated kiss, leaving no doubt who was in control of the moment. His touch was possessive, but there was a gentleness in how his fingers trailed over your skin, as if he was savoring every inch of the contact.

He laid you back gently on the bed. You looked up at him, patient and waiting, propping yourself up on your forearms.

The noise in your mind was silenced as all you could focus on was Sylus. He dragged his large hands languidly down your body, stopping at the waistband of your underwear. It was a lacy white piece that beautifully complimented your skin. He hooked his fingers underneath it, tugging the fabric down the length of your legs before discarding them behind him.

You held your legs together, not daring to let them fall apart. Sylus’s hands worked between your knees “Kitten, relax for me”, he said softly, looking longingly into your eyes. You allowed yourself to relax a bit as he pulled your legs apart. “That’s my girl,” he drawled.

“Fuck, you’re drenched” He knelt before you, his hands coming to rest on your thighs as he leaned in, his hot breath fanning over your cunt. His fingers traced slow circles teasing you, his eyes locked on yours.

“Do you want me to taste you, sweetie?” The question tested your resolve, and he waited for your response.

“Y-yes,” you whispered. Your hands moved up to cover your face.

Sylus’s lips curved into a smile, his eyes gleaming at your permission. He leaned in, his fingers parting your folds before pressing a single, languid, wet kiss against your core. The sensation of his kiss caused you to arch your back, “Oh god, Sylus.”

“mhm, you taste so sweet,” he murmured. His voice was thick with desire as he continued to tease you. The sound of his voice, the noises from his mouth as he made out with your cunt, made you wetter.

You felt his rough hands hold under your knees, pushing your legs further apart, splaying you open for him.

“Tell me how it feels, Kitten. Tell me how much you want me to make you cum for me.” Your back arched off the bed, your hands moving to grip his hair. You felt heat moving through you.

Sylus took his time, drawing out your pleasure. He was focused on bringing you to the edge. He spent time learning you, tasting you.

“Please… p-please, Sylus, I want to come.” This was the first time you've ever been touched like this, and you loved it. You had never felt anything like this before. Touching yourself could never compare to what Sylus was doing to you.

Sylus’s tongue flicked faster, and his fingers moved, pressing that sensitive spot inside you. His eyes opened and locked onto yours, his gaze fierce. He was testing your reaction and pressing the little spot inside you firmer.

You squirmed against his face, and your moans escaped you. You gripped his hair harder, pulling his mouth closer to you.

“Say it again, sweetie. Beg me to let you cum.”

Fuck, his mouth is filthy.

His tongue swirled around your clit, drawing your orgasm nearer.

He wanted to hear it, wanted you to surrender completely to him, to trust him. His lips closed around your clit, sucking down on your nub hard, driving you closer and closer to the edge. His fingers joined in, working your insides as he stroked your slick cunt with his mouth.

“Say it, kitten. Say you want to cum for me.”

“I want to come for you, please!” you shouted. Tears threatening to fall off your eyelashes.

Sylus’s lips curved into a satisfied smirk, his eyes glinting with triumph as he felt your body tremble beneath his touch. Your orgasm crashed over you, and pleasure flooded your senses. Your legs spasmed as you came on his tongue.

He held you down while you came, allowing you to ride out your pleasure. His tongue lingered until the very last moment, leaving you quivering and desperate for more.

You lay against the bed, your body slowly coming down from the high. You couldn't find the words for a moment, your mind still swimming from what he’d just done.

Finally, you managed a shaky breath, your voice soft but laced with disbelief. “I… didn’t know it could feel like that.” Your cheeks flushed at the admission.

Sylus hovered above you, and you could feel the heat radiating from him. His eyes lit up with satisfaction as he looked down at you, watching you try to catch your breath, your flushed cheeks, and parted lips.

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as his hand slid up your thigh, sending another shiver through you. “I’m just getting started. Trust me, it can feel even better.” His tone was both a promise and a challenge, daring you to let him take you further.

A shaky breath left your lips, and a wave of heat ran through you from his words. A small smile fell on your lips. “I guess I’ll have to trust you, won’t I?” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you turned your head to meet his eyes. Your tone was still nervous, but your body’s response to him showed how you felt.

You leaned in, brushing your lips against his, your heartbeat thundering in your chest. “Be careful with me… just for now,” you said, smiling slightly, allowing yourself to be a bit vulnerable with him.

His hand slid to your waist, fingers curling around your hip as he pulled you toward him again.

“Oh, sweetie,” he murmured, his voice a smooth, velvety purr, “you don’t just ‘have to’ trust me… you’re going to want to.”

His fingers traced slow circles on your skin, sending shivers through you. “Trust me,” he whispered, “I’m very good at making you want more.”

At that, you turned him towards the bed, pushing him down on his back. You straddled him, and you felt his clothed bulge pressing against your naked pussy, leaving a wet spot on him. You laid your hands on his chest, rubbing your hands down his hard body. Your heart was pounding through your chest. You moved your hands to push down his briefs, feeling his cock in your hands.

Sylus flexed his abs at your touch. His lips parted slightly, his breath catching in his throat. You wrapped your fingers around him; he felt heavy in your palm.

Sylus watched you through half-lidded eyes. Waiting for your next move until he switched your positions. You were now underneath him, his cock hard and ready, resting against your thigh.

He sat up and positioned himself at your entrance. His eyes trained on where you’d be connected. The head of his cock rubbed against your arousal, catching on your sensitive clit. Your breath caught as he moved to press his erection inside.

Fuck. You felt your walls stretching to accommodate his thick cock. You saw the flush forming on his cheeks through your teary eyes.

He bottomed out in you, finally looking into your eyes. “Breathe for me, kitten.” And you did. His hands came down by your head, caging you in. His hips moved backward, pushing back into you slowly.

His mouth parted slightly as he looked down at you, “You feel so good.” he grits out.

His thrusts were slow and deliberate, his eyes locked onto yours. You stayed there, not daring to look away. Your breath hitched, and your heart pounded out of your chest. You could feel him throbbing inside you, causing your walls to clench around him.

Sylus moves by repositioning your legs on his shoulders, allowing him to move deeper within you. Your tits bounced up and down at the power of his thrusts. He moved his hands to pinch your nipples. The pinch of his fingers shot heat to your core, making you squeeze around him again.

“Fuck” he purred out, his eyes closed at the feeling of you wrapping around him. He moved his hands in between your legs, settling on your clit. He rubbed it steadily, flicking it between his thumb.

Your mind was empty from Sylus fucking you. He was hitting that sensitive spot inside your pussy over and over. You felt your body tensing up again, the wave of pleasure starting to work through your body.

“Come for me one more time, kitten. Let me hear you.” Sylus whispered into your ear, pressing your legs back by your head. You felt him kiss the shell of your ear. You could feel your sensitive nipples rubbing against his chest, his thumb playing with your clit.

“Come for me, Wife.”

You gasped, body trembling as the tension in your core built until it snapped. “Sylus…!” you cried out, your voice breaking as your body twitched uncontrollably in his arms. He held you firm, grounding you as his thrusts remained slow and deliberate, each one pushing you further into bliss.

“Look at me,” he gritted out through clenched teeth. You forced your eyes open, locking onto his. His beautiful, red gaze never wavered, even now. The look in his eyes was more than lust—it was a connection, raw intimacy that seemed to transcend the physical. It made your heart skip a beat, just as much as the sensation of him inside you.

His pace faltered then, his movements growing erratic as he drove into you deeper, harder. “Fuck,” he growled, his lips parting in a low, primal sound that sent shivers through you. His body tensed, muscles tight as he pushed as far into you as he could, his release crashing through him.

With a final groan, Sylus collapsed forward, his weight settling over you as you both came down from your highs. His breath was warm against your skin, his heartbeat slowing in time with yours.

He lifted his head, eyes softening as they met yours again, a tenderness replacing the intensity from moments before. “Thank you for trusting me, y/n,” he whispered, brushing a thumb gently across your cheek.

“You’ve given me every reason to,” you said, smiling at him gently.

☆---

yall this idea was stuck in my head for a solid two weeks. i blame twitter l&ds stans for this. I SWORE i did not fuck with sylus like that up until a couple weeks ago...

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