#tipsy reader is so cute sob | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

written-in-flowers · 2 years ago

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Lost Blossoms

Pairing: Raffy x Plussize!reader

Fandom: Consent (2023)

Genre: smut, slight angst

Word count: 15k (a hefty boy, I know)

Tags: dub-con, bullying, fat-shaming, fatphobia (from others), blackmail, extortion, drug use, alcohol use, pet names, slight daddy dom, light dom/sub themes, pet names, breast/nipple play, oral sex (m and f giving/receiving), semi-public sex, car sex, tipsy sex, vaginal fingering, handjobs, protected sex

****

‘Search: CherryBlossom_03 *user not found*’

You sighed to yourself. You don’t know why you keep typing it in; you already know it’s not there. Only twenty-four hours ago, Reddit user CherryBlossom_03 deleted her channel and all the posts, videos, links, and comments that came with it. All the hours of setting up scenes, the physical effort it took you to do your scenes, and the money spent buying lingerie and sex toys went down the drain. Your body still buzzed with nerves whenever you thought about it.

You originally started with posting your smut stories online for other people to enjoy, but then Daniel broke up with you. He said his mates ragged on him when they found out he was seeing you. Daniel was lean, tall, and handsome. You’re fat. He’s considered attractive. You’re not. A part of you always knew he’d been ashamed to like you, and that he’d kept you a secret from people. It hurt, but back then, you tolerated it because you feared being alone. You thought when he ended things, you wouldn’t be so hurt, yet you were. You remembered crying your eyes out, sobbing hard enough to hurt your throat. The break up left you feeling disgusted with yourself; looking into mirrors whenever you changed made you hate yourself even more.

But one day, whilst posting your newest story on Reddit, you came across other plus size girls posting risque photos and videos of themselves online. They exude so much confidence and self-love. One of the girls you followed told you it really boosted her self-esteem. You decided you’d give it a shot. You set up your camera, wore some lacy undergarments, and took a few photos, cropping out your face in most of them. Being a bit thicker in certain places, you never really liked your body before. Even looking at yourself in the photos was difficult. Yet, when people started commenting on the lingerie photoshoots, saying everything from ‘cute fit’ to ‘let me suck your toes’, it boosted your confidence a bit.

You started doing it more, mainly posting photos. Then, you started going even farther like strip teases and posing completely nude. That eventually evolved into using sex toys you’d bought online without your parents knowing. You realized you needed a persona, a sort of alter-ego to avoid creeps from finding you. You came up with the username CherryBlossom_03, going simply by Blossom, since Cherry alone sounded dumb. Whilst Y/N is a sixth form student who likes books and playing the violin. Blossom was a soft girl, sweet and bubbly. She wore lots of pastel colors, pleated skirts and shorts, and spoke in a soft, innocent voice that made her viewers drool. It became easier once you learned to separate both yourself and Blossom.

“Alright, class,” your teacher, Ms. Parkinson, spoke over the general chatter of the room. You tucked your phone away, and sat up straight, “Allow me to take roll call, and then we’ll begin. Alice?”

Blossom’s good run came to an end yesterday. You’d come home from orchestra practice to find your mother and father sitting in the lounge waiting for you. By the stern expressions on their faces, you worried something bad happened. It did.

“Y/N?”

“Present.”

They’d discovered your profile. Your mother came across it when she accidentally bumped your desktop mouse and the last thing you saw popped up. You did not believe her story for a single minute. From your deductions, they must’ve suspected your secretiveness, and all those hours spent in your bedroom, and wanted to see what you did in there. They told you that what you’d done was stupid, and could damage your life if the wrong person discovered the photos. You’re going to Burlingdale College, a prestigious elitist school, on a scholarship. If the school found out, they’d pull the scholarship. If they learned you’d worn a tighter, shorter version of your uniform, they might expel you. They forced you to delete the page, and erase any videos or photos you might’ve kept. They took away the toys, but they let you keep the underwear since you’d bought it and they’re only clothes. You felt as if they’d ripped a piece of your body away. Blossom became such an important part of yourself, that having to give her up tore you up. It was similar to losing a close friend or a relative. When you’d been stocking away the sex toys, you felt like you were putting away the old things of a deceased loved one. You cried for ages, though you didn’t let anyone hear you.

“Okay, now that we’re all here,” Ms. Parkinson said, “Let us turn our books to page 94 and start talking about the ancient civilizations of the world.”

You had difficulty concentrating in class. Your heart lamented over the thousands of followers you’d gained over the course of the year. A part of you considered bringing her back simply for your own healing, but you knew your parents watched you now. Your parents placed parental controls on your desktop and laptop, so they could see what you’re doing on your computers. However, they knew nothing about VPNs. You installed it into your computer, and simply renamed all the files to innocuous things. With how busy your parents are, you doubted they checked on your business too often. As long as you did not raise suspicion, they had no reason to check in on you. But, thinking about it, it sounded like so much work. The backups you thought you had were wiped out by your dad’s scan through your files. You’d have to redo them all over again.

‘If you wanted to feel good about yourself, you should just post things on your social media,’ your mother advised.

‘Or put all that time and effort into your music lessons instead of pornography.’

“You’re quiet today,” Natalie leaned over to you once Ms. Parkinson set writing tasks. “I thought you’d be buzzing about the party tonight.” She looked over at you, “You are coming, right?”

“Of course.”

Blossom’s “death” killed your anticipation for your friend’s birthday party. You’d searched for the right outfit, the right makeup look, and accessories for ages. You didn’t go to parties that often, so this would’ve been a highlight for you. But, your newly formed gray clouds rained on your excitement.

“Good,” she nudged you, “It won’t be as fun without you.”

You looked over at her. Round-faced, dark-skinned, with long thin plaits going down her back, Natalie Brown was the second recipient of Burlingdale’s full scholarship. You’d met during the examination process before term began. Both of you coming from lower class families, you’d bonded over the fact you both were aliens in this elitist world. You often liked teasing her for being the second accepted, whilst you’d been the first.

“Oh hush,” you scoffed, jotting down your long-form answer.

“I didn’t think you’d want to go,” she replied, with a small laugh. “Since, you know, Daniel’s going to be there with his mates and all that.”

“I’m not going to let someone like Daniel Burgess ruin my good time.” Your recent deletion blew Daniel from your mind completely.

“I take it you’re over it then?”

“Very over it. I couldn’t be any more over it.”

“Who are we over?” Alice turned her head to look at both of you.

Alice, fair with dirty blond curls tied back, stared at you with large blue eyes. Unlike you and Natalie, she came from a well-off family who could afford the fees. Not that either of you resented her. You’d originally met one another on the first day of term, but didn’t speak until your first orchestra practice. She played clarinet; you played the violin. You liked Alice more than most of the people in the orchestra. It was for her and her twin brother who the party was for.

“Daniel,” you answered. “Nat says he’s coming to your birthday party.”

“I couldn’t help it,” she said, “He’s dating Charlotte now, and I invited her. She told me she’s bringing him whether anyone likes it or not.”

You turned to a corner of the room where Charlotte sat, working and chatting with another classmate. Charlotte, with her black hair and sultry eyes, is every teenage boy’s dream. She had the slim curves and slender legs of a supermodel. You imagined she ensnared Daniel rather easily. She could have anyone she wanted. Girls like you had to settle for the desperate nerds and creeps who thought fat girls were easy. You wished you could say Daniel and you shared a special kind of love, but you’d be lying. Daniel only did romantic things in hopes of getting laid. The fact he hid you from people did not help either. He never went out in public with you; he never met up with you at school. You’d hoped he’d stop caring what his friends thought and maybe be a real boyfriend. Often, you pictured him walking you to class holding hands, him leaving love notes and flowers in your locker, or even writing you songs and singing them for you with his guitar. All the romance you read about in your books did not exist in the real world.

Girls like you did not get romantic happy-ever-afters. You got shut-up-and-accept-it-ever-after.

“Hey,” Alice smacked your hand lightly, “You’re prettier than her.”

You scoffed, “No way.”

“Yes way.”

“Charlotte’s a total bitch,” Natalie whispered to you. “You’re a sweetie,” she smiled at you.

“And incredibly talented,” Alice added.

“You two don’t have to butter me up,” you smirked. “I’m still coming to the party.”

They both laughed before Ms. Parkinson caught you all talking. You resumed your work, and your mind went back to Daniel and Charlotte. No doubt he’s not ashamed of being seen with her. That bitter person inside you suspected he’d gotten with her while he was with you. He moved on from you fairly easily, while you thought you’d never be happy again. You imagined he bragged to all his friends that he’s dating Charlotte, the prettiest girl in their class. You hated him. You hated her. You hated yourself. Losing Daniel did not hit you as hard as losing Blossom. Blossom’s “death” took away pieces of your soul. Daniel’s harsh break up removed parts of your heart. You knew you’d eventually heal and move on, but right now, you couldn’t think of anything else.

“Daniel was a dick anyways,” said Natalie once classes ended and you walked out of the room. “He was embarrassed to be seen with you. Why are you moping over a guy who was ashamed of you?”

“I don’t know…It felt nice, I guess, to have a guy pay attention to me,” you shrugged. “Like, I know I’m not supposed to care what boys think of me and that I don’t need their validation for my self-worth but, it’s nice sometimes. Daniel made me feel pretty. He made me feel lovable.”

“You are lovable, you idiot,” she scoffed, shaking her head. “There are so many wonderful things about you, and you’ll find a guy who sees those things and isn’t concerned with what his mates think.”

You stopped by your locker, using your key to open it. Stuffing some books inside, you said, “Still…it was nice.”

A giggle from nearby caught your attention. Charlotte stood at her locker a few feet from you. Daniel was there. He’d taken her by surprise, grabbing her around the waist and turning her to kiss her. In full view of everyone, he kissed her. He never did that with you. He always stood away, acting more like a friend or an acquaintance than a lover. You turned your head back to your locker, though your senses couldn’t let them go. Another painful sting hit your chest when you saw the picture plastered inside your locker door. A fan made a sticker set for Blossom with her sexy catchphrases. You taped your favorite to the metal door, so at the end of term, you can peel the tape instead of the sticker. It was an outline of your naked body with cherry blossom flowers blooming from between your thick thighs.

“I can’t believe you have that in your locker,” Natalie laughed, not having seen Daniel and Charlotte. “If a teacher saw that, you’d get into trouble for sure.”

“It’s only a sticker,” you reasoned, a murmuring of Daniel’s deep voice from nearby. “It’s body positivity,” you lied.

‘I miss you, sweet Blossom,’ you thought solemnly. ‘We had a good run.’

“I need to know where you found them then,” she said, as you closed your locker. “They’re so well done.”

“A friend sent them to me,” you said, “I can show them to you.”

Natalie’s mood changed when she spotted Daniel and Charlotte walking ahead, holding hands. “I hope the outfit you’re wearing is ultra hot,” she told you, “Because if that prick is there, you can definitely make him regret dumping you for her.”

“Oh please,” you snorted, shaking your head.

“I mean it,” she said. “You got those little curves of yours!”

She poked your hip and you moved away, laughing. Your curves are far from “little”. You’d inherited your mother’s hourglass figure, but yours stretched farther than hers. If you wore the right clothes, you did look pretty. Your followers praised your figure all the time, not bothered at all by your round belly fat or flabby biceps. But, of course, outside the internet, you received different comments and treatment was considerably harsh at times.

Alice came up between both of you, and said, “Alright, so are we all ready for tonight?”

“I am.”

“Me too. I can’t wait,” you added an extra excited bubble to your tone.

“Awesome,” she smiled. “Tonight is going to be insane. My mum’s given Archie and I the house to ourselves for the night, but she says upstairs is out of bounds, of course.”

Alice went into more party details as you exited the school. You’re surprised you’re even going, since you’d been sure your parents wouldn’t let you. Though, you guess they saw it as a night to themselves. You did not want to think about what that meant.

Parting from Natalie and Alice, you headed over to the field behind the school. The long way home is going from the main entrance, then walking along the sidewalk and then around in a big square to reach your street. Considering the turmoil slowly rising inside you again, you wanted to get home quickly today; thankfully, you didn’t have orchestra practice since Mrs. Lee is out sick. You walked onto the rugby field where you spotted the team practicing. Boys in blue sweaters and shorts ran through plays and exercises. Your heart dropped when you spotted Daniel amongst them. Quickly, you turned your face forward and kept your distance. You thought you’d be in the clear, since they’re occupied and you’re far away. But, you’d been too hopeful.

As you came to level with the core of the group, you heard a voice call out to you.

“Hey Fraser,” you recognized Daniel’s voice anywhere. He used your surname as if that’d bring more formality between you. It meant neither of you shared any intimacy anymore. “I think you’re going the wrong way! The city zoo is on the other side of town!”

“They elephant trainers are looking for you!” called out another voice. You recognized it as belonging to Kojo, a dark-skinned youth who sometimes hung around with Daniel. “We wouldn’t want to worry them, would we?!”

They all laughed at their dumb, unoriginal taunts before their coach called for attention. The break up with Daniel already punctured holes inside you. Now, Daniel’s treatment of you in front of people plunged the knife in even deeper. You imagined he never told his friends anything about you until they found out on their own. You continued walking, their laughter carrying until it died out, and reached the exit gate. Closing it behind you, you turned to watch Daniel from the shadows of the trees. Broad with long-limbs, you’d missed feeling his dark curls through your fingers, and how it felt laying on his hard chest. Dark brown eyes that used to look on you fondly now mocked you. You recalled how he’d looked at Charlotte earlier, and you held back a sob.

Blossom. Blossom, who’d been a piece of your identity, truly left a hole where that confidence once was. Before the delete, you would’ve gone home to make some updates, post a few porn snippets and teasers for your next video. Your parents both work during the day, so you always had a few hours before they came home. Now, you only have your violin waiting for you at home.

Your phone pinged in your jacket pocket as you walked up the drive to your front door. But, you didn’t look at the text until you’d finally come inside.

Danny <3: Sorry about the joke. It was really mean of me.

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t believe he still had your number saved; you kicked yourself for not deleting his number right away. You went to your bedroom, and put your belongings down. You’d been setting your music sheets on the stand in the corner of your room when your phone went off again.

Danny <3: Can we talk? I know you’re going to Archie’s party tonight. Maybe I can see you there.

‘Aren’t you supposed to be going with Charlotte? You know, YOUR GIRLFRIEND????’ you typed back angrily, smashing keys so much you kept having to rewrite them.

Danny <3: I am, but we can still chat somewhere private.

“Daniel, can I ask you something?”

Danny <3: Anything, beautiful.

“Did the dick head shop have a discount on audacity today?? You really got some fucking nerve texting me when you dumped me, started dating someone else, and just called me a fucking elephant in front of your asshole mates.’ Those hot tears finally spilled down your cheeks, blurring your vision and drying out your mouth. ‘Don’t text me ever again. Don’t talk to me. Don’t even look at me. I hate you. Leave me alone.’

Danny <3: Come on, baby. Don’t be like that. It’s just that my mates wouldn’t get it. They’d think I’d have some weird fetish and rag on me. Bro banter is different from girl banter. Let’s just talk about it.

“There’s nothing to talk about. Bye, Daniel.”

You blocked his number, and put your phone screen down. The desire to play violin sunk out of you. You left your violin where it was to crash onto your bed, the sobs coming fast and hot. You felt so alone. You normally turned to your followers when you felt particularly sad, since their encouragement and comments lifted your spirits. Blossom. Oh sweet Blossom. Where are you with your confidence and sass? You wished more than anything you could bring it back without needing the blog. It’d sound weird to anyone outside of it.

A small ding on your phone came a few minutes later. You didn’t particularly care about Instagram notifications, since it was also ‘so-and-so- just posted their story!’ or ‘so-and-so and this-person posted stuff today!’. Yet, curiosity stroked your back and you opened the app.

‘DannyBBoy messaged you!’

DannyBBoy: Seriously?? You blocked my number?? Wtf, Y/N? I was trying to be nice by talking it out.

‘No, you want to talk it out because you want to keep fucking me behind Charlotte’s back. I’m not a whore you can have whenever you like. Fuck off.’

His name message stung the most:

DannyBBoy: You were when I was hitting it from the back a few nights ago.

You did not respond, and blocked him. You proceeded to do it on the other platforms as well. Wanting to wash him from your brain, you searched yourself on Reddit again. Anything relating to you popped up. The moderators of the community you’d been a part of made a post about your blog being deleted. People wrote about how sad they’d be since they liked your stories; others said they wished they’d saved your videos or photos. It broke your heart, so you turned the app off and switched back to Instagram. You’d liked one of Alice’s posts about her party coming up when a notification came up again. When you pressed it out of curiosity, you found a bit of a surprise.

Raffy Barton had liked one of your photos. Raffy was one of Daniel’s rugby friends. Skinny with long blond hair, you’d find him cute if you didn’t already know he wouldn’t be interested. You opened the picture in question. A selfie you’d taken before going for a girls’ night with your friends, you wore a draping halter top and tight jeans. It was dated a few weeks ago. Why did he like it now? He wasn’t following you either. It struck you as strange. You supposed he probably planned on finding an embarrassing picture to bring up someway. You had no headspace for pricks like Raffy Barton, so you locked your phone to put aside.

There, you laid on your bed and mourned a person who did not exist.

****

‘Search: CherryBlossom_03 *user not found*’

What a shame, he thought, closing out the app on his phone. He’d rather enjoyed the porn blogger’s content. Her photos sparked arousal in him, of course, but there’d been something artistic about them. He could tell she put a lot of time and thought into her content; not to mention, her writings definitely stirred his imagination. He isn’t a big reader, but her steamy, smutty stories gave him serious boners. She was much kinkier than any girl he’d ever hooked up with before. He particularly liked that they shared a lot of the same fantasies and kinks. He’d enjoyed her cutesy aesthetic, and the various toys she used on herself. Raffy felt glad he’d saved everything to his phone, at least. But, it would’ve been nice to have some new masturbation material before tonight.

Sitting in the locker room after practice, he’d gotten to his locker before his friends, who still showered in the next room. This gave him a few private glimpses of his favorite porn blogger. Going into his gallery, he found the private folder he’d created for her photos. Simply labeled “Blossom”, he opened it to see dozens upon dozens of videos and photos of a plump scantily clad girl. He gulped the saliva building in his mouth from seeing thumbnails of her curvy body, and wishing it was in his lap right now. He couldn’t have a video, so he thumbed through the pictures instead. His favorites were marked, of course, for an easier search.

Blossom wore a school girl uniform in this one. She knelt on a bed with a sheet behind her on the wall. None of her content showed her face, but that didn’t matter. A lot of these models did that to protect themselves. Raffy’s jaw dropped when he observed her in the tight white shirt, the buttons stretching across her large bosom and tummy below; he saw their curves and her nipples poking through the fabric. She’d loosened the navy and yellow tie to flaunt her cleavage. Raffy went to the next photo where she’d opened the shirt to reveal a black lacy bra, and he bit the inside of his cheek. Her short skirt rode up the tops of her thick thighs, soft and fleshy inside black high stockings. His cock twitched in his shorts seeing the small bit of pudge coming over the stocking’s band. Raffy imagined himself between those luscious thighs, his cock pounding the tight cunt underneath that skirt. He went a few photos down to his favorite.

Blossom on all fours, wearing only the skirt with pussy and ass on full display for him. He kept it close to him, and drooled seeing the long dildo pressed right to her clitoris. He pictured it being him instead of a toy. Raffy knew he was only building himself up for a long wank-off session later at home. He saw her sitting on him, lightly brushing her sex to his pulsating cock and begging for him. He’d kill to be balls deep in her. The lights placed in the right place showed her glistening folds, which he imagined fluttered and throbbed at the tip pressing against it. She kept everything neat, Blossom did. Not that he cared too much. Pussy is pussy, in Raffy’s book.

His attention flitted to the background. Blossom used her photoshop and editing skills to blur out some backgrounds since she mainly worked in her bedroom, he guessed. But, as he made out a closet, he saw an unblurred section of the space. It was half of a clothing hanger on the closet door knob. On it hung a navy blue with an emblem on the breast pocket. Raffy zoomed in on the side, and suddenly recognized the blazer. It had the red and gold emblem of Burlingdale, his school.

No, he’s wrong. It’s probably another school. No way would a Dales girl have a porn blog on Reddit. He scoffed at his blimp of foolishness, and scrolled to a video that followed it. His suspicions were confirmed. Blossom sat nude on top of her “favorite stuffie” Mr. Buttons, an oversized bear that often served to pleasure her. He’s never envied a stuffed toy before. Mr. Buttons laid down with his head to the camera, and Blossom’s delicious body on top with her hands on his fuzzy chest. She wore the school blazer and nothing else. In the small video, she was riding the toy, a thick pink dildo she loved to use. When she leaned back to let the viewer see the dildo inside her, the blazer’s lapels flattened. He saw the emblem much closer now, and yes, it was from his school.

And, now that he thought about it, he realized he knew those lips. Blossom made the mistake of letting the camera catch half her face during her little ride to orgasm. He shook his head. Actually, he acknowledged the hair as well. He’d seen that hair before…on the field…about half an hour ago. Raffy thought he might be disgusted by the fact that he thirsted over you, but he wasn’t. He went to the next video, which was Blossom cleaning her toy with her mouth. He needed to be sure. He needed to be a hundred-percent sure.

His friends came back to their stalls, but he did not acknowledge them right away. Going into Instagram, he went to Daniel’s profile. Raffy didn’t follow you obviously, but maybe Danny did. Scanning through the following list, he found your profile. He pressed on it to end up on your profile. You mainly took photos of friends and objects, but eventually he found one. A mirror selfie in your bedroom, he saw the purple duvet he often saw in Blossom’s videos. Yet, the skimpy top you wore in the photo clung to your body like a second skin. The same curves. The same size. The same supple flesh and fullness he’d fight a bloke to touch. He took in your tiny waist and wide hips. His thumb touched the screen, and when it didn’t slide up, he accidentally double tapped it.

Resulting in liking the photo.

Raffy quickly unliked it, but he knew you’d get a notification anyway. Fuck, now you’d know he was on your page. A blush of embarrassment filled his cheeks, and he put his phone aside.

But, yes, it was you. This made him harder. His cock throbbed now that he knew THE CherryBlossom_03 was someone he knew. She was close by. He could have her. He’d make his own videos with her, and post them to his own page where he sent so many others. It’s not like you’d say ‘no’. You had sex with Daniel Burgess, of all the boys in the school. You must not get much attention being the way you are, so you’d be grateful to be the object of his deepest, horniest, smuttiest desires.

“-I don’t know how Burgess banged that,” Kojo’s voice reached through his thoughts to bring him to reality, “She must weigh more than he does.”

“You think he dumped her because she crushed him?” Nav replied, laughing at his cruel joke.

“Or she broke his bed just getting into it,” he smirked back, earning laughs from everyone around.

“It’s a shame though,” said Kyle, who sat next to Nav, both boys shirtless now. “She’s got a pretty face at least.”

Kojo wasn’t wrong. Daniel must’ve found you attractive if he had sex with you. It’d been Nav who discovered it when he says he saw them making out by the tree outside the field. Raffy couldn’t help envying him now. Daniel Burgess, dumbass extraordinaire, got a taste of Blossom’s soft body. Daniel Burgess, who once asked him how to spell ‘orange’, got to suckle your tits and lick your dripping sex. You probably faked your orgasms with him. You wouldn’t with Raffy. He’d keep going until your juices dripped from your clenching hole to your ass cheeks. He’d make sure his Blossom came as much as possible, and he didn’t normally do that with girls he slept with.

“She’s not that bad,” Raffy heard himself say as he pulled on his undershirt.

“What?” the boys around him said with surprised eyes.

“You’re taking the piss with us, right?” asked Kojo, pointing at him.

Raffy tucked his cock into his belt to keep his boner from sticking out too much. He turned as he zipped his pants up and said, “I think she’s pretty cute. She might be fat, but the plus side is she’s got big tits.”

And a nice round ass he can spank. You liked being spanked. He knows because you stated as much when you posed with a paddle. Lord, how badly he wanted to have you right then. It was pathetic.

“I’ve never bagged a fattie before,” he said thoughtfully, unable to stop the flood of erotic visions in his mind. “I imagine she’s-what-double points?”

They looked at one another with consideration. He almost said he didn’t care about score points when it came to you. He desired you for too long. He’d do it purely for pleasure.

“She’s big enough to be double,” Nav chuckled.

“Anyways, who’s ready to score some points tonight?”

He’d be seeing you tonight. Being a friend of Alice’s, you’re no doubt invited to her birthday party. Raffy smirked to himself as he started changing out of his uniform, cleverly maneuvering himself to avoid the others spotting his semi-hardon. Nowadays, if a girl is caught doing slutty things, she’s ostracized and criticized. He knew if any other person found your photos, and spread them through school, you’d be so embarrassed you’d have to transfer out. All the effort you’d put into getting your free-ride into Burlingdale will be wasted, and you’d be expelled for wearing your uniform in a porn video. You get bullied enough for your appearance. Imagine if someone spread videos of you being an absolute slut for thousands of strangers…

When you can be an absolute slut for only one person…

****

“Gettin’ ready for the paaarty, cause it’s your biiiirthdayy and you are pretty!”

You heard Natalie say this in a sing-song voice to Alice, who sat in front of her mirror doing her makeup. Alice insisted you come to her house before the party to get ready with her and Natalie. No doubt they wanted to judge each other’s outfits. You stood behind Alice, dancing to Natalie’s made up song in case you were in her video line. As always, you constantly checked on your appearance. Things were different for Alice and Natalie. They looked good in everything they wore. You need to be pickier on what you wear. If you show too much, people will stare. You try not to care if they do, but you’re feeling particularly sensitive today. You’d chosen your lilac off the shoulder crop top, with its matching cardigan and skirt. It showed a decent amount of cleavage and hid your stomach somewhat. You feared the chaffing you’d have when your thighs started rubbing together, but your petroleum jelly trick in that whole area will keep that from happening. Thigh high lace stockings shape your thighs and legs nicely, so their fatness isn’t so noticeable. You hated hiding parts of yourself, but people are vicious. Blossom’s followers loved anything you wore. They’re who you felt the most comfortable with.

“Anything from Daniel?” Natalie asked, going back to the bed behind you.

“He messaged me after I got home,” you said, applying your lipgloss. “He had the nerve to do the whole ‘let’s-just-talk’ thing after he and his mates made fun of me on my way home.”

“What did they say?”

“Nothing I haven’t heard before,” you assured her. “I blocked him, though. I don’t want anything to do with him or ‘Lottie’.”

“Who’s Lottie?”

“It’s his stupid nickname for Charlotte, I suppose,” you said. Putting your lipgloss back in your bag, you fixed your hair one more time before sitting with Natalie on the bed. She encouraged you to take a selfie together, which you agreed to. “I seriously want to know where they get their nerve from. Maybe there’s a sale and I can get some too.”

Natalie and Alice laughed at this. You watched Natalie tag you in the photo and post it. You took your own photo on your own, and did the same, adding a caption about the party. Minutes went by before someone commented. It was Charlotte. You forgot you’d accepted a request once, though you’re not particularly close anymore. Her comment hit your gut.

‘Where’s your neck??? LOL’

You deleted the photo. Not to please her, but so you never see that comment again. Perhaps only Blossom could have nice pictures.

“She’s a bitch,” said Natalie, comfort behind her voice. “What she thinks isn’t important.”

“No, it doesn’t,” you replied.

“Have no idea what you both mean, but yeah,” Alice said, typing on her phone distractedly.

You and Natalie laughed. You went through your notifications once more to see if the comment is there, and then you saw Raffy’s like again. “Raffy liked one of my pictures.”

“Huh?” Natalie whipped her head towards you, “Raffy? Raffy Barton? The world’s biggest prick? That Raffy?”

“Do we know any other assholes named Raffy?”

“Which one did he like?” Alice laid beside you to get a good view of your phone. She tapped the link to see said photo. “Oooh, I remember that one,” she sneered at you and giggled, “I don’t blame him for liking it. You look hot.”

“But…Raffy?” His name came out quickly from your tongue. “I’ve never gotten Chubby Chaser vibes from him before.”

“I can imagine perverts like Raffy fuck anything that moves,” Alice said. “He probably heard you and Daniel broke it off, and wants a piece of your cake.”

“Ugh,” you groaned, “As if.”

“I wouldn’t read too much into it,” Natalie concluded. “It’s not like he commented on anything. He probably liked it by accident.”

“But that means he was still on my profile.”

“Which still doesn’t mean anything,” she assured you. “Now,” she adjusted herself next to you, taking your phone, “Let’s take a cute one for you to post.”

You pushed Raffy from your mind. Plenty already bothered you. Charlotte did not comment again, but you’re sure she’d seen some photos since she liked them on Alice and Natalie’s pages. You knew you’d be seeing her tonight with Daniel. If anyone else hosted the party, you wouldn’t go, but you loved Alice. You wanted to be with her on her special day. You vowed you wouldn’t give him any attention. You refused to let him in your head anymore. If anything, your heart should be mourning the death of Blossom and her beautiful blog, not some idiot rugby player and his new girlfriend.

Guests started showing up an hour or so later, and the party kicked into gear. You poured yourself a drink from the spread on the table, and sat with Alice and a few friends. The party atmosphere excited you, yet that lingering thought of running into Daniel somewhere kept pestering you. You told yourself if you stayed in groups of people, then he cannot corner you. You enjoyed the vibes going throughout the party, taking photos with friends, joking and drinking with them, and having a good time. You’d been chatting with a friend about your recent class project outside when you heard a voice from nearby grab at your ear.

Daniel stood by a lounge area by the pool, clasping hands with the boys sitting there talking and smiling. Charlotte was nowhere in sight, and you liked it that way. You scooted closer to the table to try staying out of his eyeline, but that only landed you in someone else’s: Raffy Barton’s. Blond hair, a messy mop of golden curls, with an aliquine nose and round chin, you saw why girls fell for him. You might even like him if it weren’t for his reputation. He was a ‘lad’. A ‘guy’. Girls you knew who’d hooked up with Raffy were ghosted the next day. Lily Reeves claimed he’d posted photos of her on a site. He’s one of the worst kinds of men. Most likely sensing someone’s eyes on him, Raffy naturally turned his head. Bright blue eyes met yours through and did not look away. He sipped from his beer and continued eyeing you smugly. A chill went through your spine when his eyes scanned over you in your outfit, and suddenly you felt naked. His Instagram like might not have been an accident after all.

To avoid him, you excused yourself from the table and hurried inside. Finding the food table, you nibbled at the finger sandwiches there so something soaked up the alcohol. The last thing you needed was getting wasted when Daniel and Raffy are walking around.

“-Wow, so you actually were invited.” Charlotte came up beside you, smelling of sweet perfume and flipping her hair extensions over her shoulder. “I would’ve thought Alice sent you the invite as a pity thing.”

“Evening to you too, Charlotte,” you responded, eating a bit more of your sandwich. “How’s life?”

“Awesome,” she smiled, “Especially since Daniel and I are a thing now.”

“So I’ve noticed,” you wouldn’t give into it. “Why aren’t you with him now? I thought being a happy couple, you’d be stuck like glue.”

“I’m not the possessive type,” she said, “You know, because I know Daniel actually likes me and doesn’t see me as a plaything.” She looked you over, giving a patronizing smile when your eyes met again. “I’m sure you’ve seen our pictures from his house. We came here together in his car.”

“I’d assume so, since he doesn’t carry bus fare. Lottie, it’s been fun having this chat, but I need to find the birthday girl.”

She scoffed at the nickname, but you patted her shoulder and walked away. You didn’t really mean to look for Alice, though you might as well. You found her in a seating area in the corner of the living room, then made your way towards her. Yet, as you did, you spotted Daniel reentering the house. He caught sight of you at the door. You turned away into the nearest room which was another seating place. The french doors muffled the ambience from outside with a single close. You’d hoped he hadn’t seen you come in. You hoped Charlotte got to him before you, and distracted him with something trivial. But, right when you took a seat on the leather sofa, the door opened again.

“Y/N?”

Daniel walked into the room, closing the door behind him. Your body immediately tensed up in your seat. Everything in your body screamed to run away again, but he sat beside you before you moved.

“What do you want?” you asked, not looking at him.

“To talk to you,” he said, “I've been looking for you.”

“Why do you want to talk to me?”

“Because I wanted to tell you that I love you,” he said softly, scooting closer and cupping your face. His hand felt so gentle on your skin. He turned your face to look at him, “And that I miss you.”

“That’s tough,” you said, pushing his hand away even though you secretly wanted him to touch you. You needed to be touched, to be held. Blossom was gone, and you’d never truly get her back. “Because I didn’t love you nor do I miss you.”

“Ah, come off it,” he snickered, “We know that’s not true. After all the stuff we’ve done? After all those nights in my bedroom?” he pushed hair from your face, “You can’t just forget me like that.”

“Why? You did it,” you smacked his hand from your hair. “You truly have some balls, you know that?”

“Y/N-”

“-No, no, shut up,” you snapped. “You keep me a secret from your friends. You pretend not to know me when we were at school. You never bought me nice things, wrote me love notes, or took me on a date in public in the day time. Every time we met it was in the middle of the night, and I had to sneak into your house. I had to sneak into your house. You didn’t even want your parents knowing about me. You’ve been ashamed to say you like me and find me attractive.” A thing you tolerated because you did not want to feel alone. “You ditched me because your friends found out you were screwing an ‘elephant’,” you let the word dig into his skin, “And were embarrassed. I don’t think I could love someone who isn’t proud to call me theirs.”

“I wasn’t ashamed, baby,” he said gently, putting his hand on your exposed knee before you pushed it off. “You wouldn’t get it because you’re a girl. Shit like this is different with girls. Y/N,” he put his arm over the back of the sofa and faced you, “You’re the coolest girl I’ve ever dated. You’re funny, clever…sexy,” he smirked at the last word. “Any bloke would be lucky to have you, and I want to be that lucky bloke.” When you appeared unconvinced, you said, “Come on. I’ll break it off with Charlotte, if that makes you happy.” He put his hand back on your knee, “I promise.”

In the split second you nearly gave in, someone opened the door. You and Daniel looked to see Raffy walking into the room, holding something in his hand.

“Excuse me,” he said, walking in front of Daniel and plopping himself in between you both. He placed down a credit card, a dimebag of white powder, and pulled out his phone. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

“Nah, mate,” said Daniel. “Y/N and I were just chilling, that’s all.”

“Yeah, well I wouldn’t chill with Y/N for too long,” he said, dumping the bag’s contents onto the coffee table. “Charlotte’s been looking for you, and I don’t think she’ll be happy finding you two in here.”

“Shit,” Daniel hissed through his teeth. “Fucking…”

He gave you one more annoyed look before leaving the room. Now, you’re alone with Raffy. Great. “Hmph,” Raffy said, “Glad he’s gone. I can’t stand Burgess for more than, like, ten minutes before I want to blow my brains out.” He started cutting the little pile into lines, “Want some? I’m feeling generous tonight.”

“No thanks,” you said. “I think I’m just going to, you know…”

You stood to leave before he grabbed hold of your wrist. “No,” he said, “Stay with me. I don’t want to do it on my own. It’s not as fun.”

“I’m not interested, Raffy.”

You yanked your wrist from him and started to walk away. Right as you reached for the handle a voice rang out into the room.

‘Oh god, it’s so big. I don’t know if this one will fit…do you want me to try, Daddy?’

Your blood ran cold, and every muscle in your body froze. Your own voice went throughout the room as the video continued. Surely, you’re hearing things. Raffy’s probably playing another video that simply sounds like you. Turning around, you saw his phone on the coffee table, and spotted a very familiar video playing on the screen. It was you. You were sure of it. A POV shot, you wore lavender garter belts and stockings as you tried sliding a thick black dildo inside yourself. Some of Blossom’s videos involved pretending the viewer was with her, putting the camera where they’d see everything. This was one of them.

‘Daddy, I don’t know if I can take it all…’

“Now, now, Blossom, you can fit that in you,” Raffy tsked, cutting the cocaine into more lines, “Just go a bit further down, kitten.”

“Okay. I’ll try, just for you.’

He knew all the pauses. You stayed by the door for a moment longer, looking at Raffy’s back in complete shock. He finally turned his head over to you as Blossom let out a high pitched squeal, the dildo finally inside her. That was when he stopped the video, smiling over at you.

“I think you’ll want to come sit back over here…Blossom,” he leered, looking over your body once more.

You said nothing. Your mind drew blanks at what to say. How did he know? How did he guess? You always made sure to keep your face out of photos or at least blur the bits showing. Raffy could not have figured this out by chance. You walked back to him, and sat down. The cocaine cut into four lines, Raffy pulled out a short pipe from behind his ear.

"You see, earlier this afternoon," he began, "I was lamenting over the loss of one of my favorite porn creators on Reddit. She was one of my favorites because she and I share a lot of the same kinks, I liked her style of videos, and she got me hard in minutes," he chuckled. "I saved a whole bunch of her videos and photos on my phone in case she deletes her profile or the link gets trashed. I was having a little look at this school girl shoot she did, watching her bounce up and down on her stuffed bear, when I noticed the blazer in the back of the video. I'm sure she didn't notice it since she blurred out the background, but she missed a spot. I thought it was a coincidence until she was wearing only the blazer."

You gripped the edge of your seat as the memory came back to you. The late night and school in the morning left you with little time to properly edit the shoot. Normally, you left it for the morning, if anything, but you needed it out of the way. You didn't think anyone would notice, since they're focused on your body. Apparently, you'd been wrong.

"I realize that it's a Burlingdale uniform," he said. "With a bit of detective work, I realized it was you."

"How?"

"The shape of your tits and the covers on the bed in the background," he answered. "I knew it was far-fetched until I listened to your videos again. I mean, I really listened. I'm surprised I didn't see it before." He placed the pipe in his nostril and snorted one of the cocaine lines. Sniffing hard, he rubbed his burning nostrils before continuing, "You are certainly a naughty girl. All those dirty stories and photos. I can't help admiring the production value and design put into each one. I don't normally watch porn for that, but it's a nice perk." He handed you the pipe. When you shook your head, he pressed the pipe into your hand.

"What do you want?"

"For you to do coke with me?"

"No, what do you want from me? I'm assuming you're going to blackmail me for something?”

“I think it’s obvious,” he tucked hair behind your ear, and said, “I want you to be mine.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Dread replaced the finger sandwiches and alcohol in your stomach. You’d always worried one day a creep might stumble upon your secret and use it against you. You never thought it’d be someone you knew.

“You heard me,” he said, “I want you to be mine.” His hand touched your knee, his thumb rubbing the side tenderly so shivers went through you. “Mine to fuck whenever I like, and I really do mean whenever,” his voice became low in the quiet room and he drew closer. His eyes scanned over your face until they fell on your lips.

“Burlingdale is paying all your fees to join our school. Imagine what would happen if they found out you did such dirty things while wearing their emblem on your naked chest,” his hand went further up your thigh, “Especially when Ms. Parkinson praises your intelligence so much.” You hitched a breath when that hand slid underneath your skirt, lifting the fabric with it.

“Stop it,” you snapped, pushing his hand away.

“-Not to mention, our classmates would no doubt find out as well,” he said, ignoring your protest and touching your knee again. “’d post your little collection onto my Instagram and everyone in sixth form will hear about it. You know above most people how cruel kids can be when unprovoked; they’ll be even worse when given a cause.” He looked down to your chest, exhaling deeply.

You smell the alcohol on him, and it sickened you even if yours also smelled like it. He was right, and you hated the fact that he was right. You’d created a whole other identity to avoid people you knew in your life finding you. VPNs, proxy servers, and other firewalls kept your information a deep secret in case someone hacked your devices. People already picked on you for no reason. If Raffy sent them Blossom’s content, you’ll be taunted and subjected to more abuse. You’d have to leave the school, which resulted in a less than bright future for yourself. But, being Raffy’s plaything? His toy? You hated the idea.

“I won’t be cruel to you,” he said, “Unless I’m feeling particularly merciless.” He felt up your thigh to the outside side, giving the fat there a soft squeeze. The corner of his mouth twitched at the little gasp you gave. “Just watching alone makes me cum so fucking hard,” he continued, “I can’t wait to see how hard from having the real thing in person.” His hand went up your side to your breast. You knocked his hand away instinctively. He laughed at your attempt to stop him. “The girls at our school would never do the things I’ve seen you do. They’re so boring and vanilla. Reeves got pissed at me just for spanking her ass too hard. I don’t think you’d be bothered by that,” He cupped your chest again, and you swiped his hand away a second time.

“You think a little threat like that will really concern me?” you asked, trying to hide your fear with a glare. Raffy did not buy it.

“It most certainly will,” he chortled. “If people recognizing you didn’t bother you, then you wouldn’t bother editing out your face. You hid it because you know you have to keep up this annoying, boring, clean-cut good girl act to stay in school. If the wrong people found that blog, well,” he sighed, “I imagine it’d go quite badly for you.” He reached up to your breast a third time, keeping his eyes on yours as his fingers slid right under the bottom curve. “Fuck-” he huffed, feeling the heavy weight of your tit in his large hand. “-They’re so soft,” he untied the cardigan you wore over your top to see more of your cleavage, “And warm…I almost feel obligated to fuck them tonight just to see my dick get lost in them…”

“Raffy,” you finally pushed him away, breathless from the violation. That natural warmth built up in the apex of your thighs, and you pushed it down. It’d been a while since anyone touched you so gently. Daniel usually grabbed them a few times, then got down to business. Raffy clearly liked drawing it out. “No.”

“‘No’ what? ‘No’ you don’t want to fuck right now or ‘No’ you don’t want to fuck at all?” He asked, pretending to be bemused. “I don’t know. I’d reconsider this answer. I can send that,” he nodded to the phone, “In seconds. Everyone would know. Everyone. I wouldn’t think you’d want that.”

“You won’t do it.”

“Oh?”

“Then, you’d have to admit you wank off to fat girls, and we both know how judgemental your friends are,” you accused. “Daniel dumped me over it because they teased him so much. They’d do the same to you.”

He chuckled, “As if that matters to me. I’m not Daniel,” he gave your tit a squeeze that made you bite your inner cheek. “My mates would eventually get over it. They did it to Daniel because nobody on the team likes him that much. They all like me, though. They respect me more.” He circled his thumb where your nipple would be, and you forced yourself not to react. “It’s always the girl everyone judges and ostracizes. Why do you think Reeves was so bothered when I posted her pictures? She knew people at school might see them.” He then said, “But, no worries, kitten. I wouldn’t share yours on my blog. I’d keep them to myself.”

“You prick,” you spat, venom in your voice. “How could you do that?”

“Easy. I uploaded the photos and then pressed ‘post’?” He laughed. “It’d be the same with yours. I think I’d start with the school girl one, even though my all-time favorite is the play time ones. You know, the ones where you put on cute little outfits, call me ‘Daddy’ and act innocent as you play with all your toys. Fuck, it’s so damn sexy,” he breathed. “So, do we have a deal?”

No. You wanted that to be your answer. Yet, your stomach bubbled with nerves. He’s right. You knew this to be true. You already pictured the taunting you’d receive once people found out. Raffy’s proposal puts you between a rock and a hard place. You’re a caged animal stuck in a corner. You wanted to escape him, but that’d be a bad idea. Raffy’s hand went down your body to your skirt.

“I’m waiting, kitten,” he teased, gradually pushing your skirt up your thighs.

He’d do it too. You know he would. It won’t affect his reputation at all. Your friends might hate him for it, but he didn’t care. For a flicker of a moment, you envisioned Daniel becoming enraged and beating the lanky boy to a pulp. You also saw him being so jealous, he dumps Charlotte and crawls back to you for forgiveness. He’ll promise to be a proper boyfriend, and flaunt you wherever he goes. But, you knew that’d never happen. Daniel would always be ashamed, and Raffy would be no different despite what he says. No guy you know will admit to having any sort of romantic or sexual interest in you out loud. It ruined the buzz you’d been riding for the night. Blossom was the sex icon. You’re what you are.

“Kitten…” you hated that you liked the way he said it. ‘Kitten’ is usually one of your preferred pet names.

You got a tighter grip on the pipe in your hand, bent over the coffee table and quickly snorted up the white powder. It burned through your nostril and into your nasal cavity. You sat back up, breathing through your nose and rubbing out the sensation. Looking over at him, you then said:

“What would I have to do?”

“Anything I want,” he told you, “Though, it’d be nothing you haven’t already done or fantasized about. Like I said, we both share a lot of the same kinks, and I’d love to have an experimental partner. You know, a girl that isn’t so uptight.”

“And after I do whatever you want, you’ll delete it?” you asked to confirm.

“When I’m completely through with you,” he mulled this over, “I’ll delete them, sure.”

“That doesn’t sound very convincing, Raffy.”

“It wouldn’t to you.”

He scooped up one of the powder lines with the bag’s opening, then gently leaned you back. Tugging down one side of your shirt slightly, he poured the contents onto the top curve of your tit. Sprinkling a line over it, Raffy drew closer.

“Stay still for me, love,” he said, “We wouldn’t want to waste any of it.”

He tilted forward and sniffed the powder off in one snort. Having his body, skinnier and longer than yours, pressed close to you, his heat radiating through his thin white button down to your own, left you slightly dizzy. You shivered when you felt a warm, wet tongue licked up the residue he’d left behind. He left it there before softly giving open-mouth kisses up your chest to your neck. Heat pooled between your thighs as he nibbled at the base of your throat, groaning against the flesh and licking once more. Your hands touched his shoulders. You made a weak attempt to push him off, but his wandering lips distracted you. Going across your jawline, he finally landed on your lips. It started chaste. He gently pecked your lips like a swimmer testing the water. He then deepened it, his tongue poking through to open your mouth for him. Daniel never kissed you like this; his kisses were usually hungry and hard. He said you were big enough to handle a bit of roughness. Raffy showed no roughness here; he did not have an ounce of eagerness or quickness in his kisses. He wanted to savor your taste before having to pull away.

“Sweet,” he mumbled, pecking your lips. “So sweet.” He pulled away from you, “Have another line, Kitten. I think we should have some fun tonight, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you breathed, realizing you’d been holding your breath.

Raffy kissed you a few more times before letting you bend forward to snort the last line of cocaine. He gave you a satisfied smile and pressed you to the sofa again. You felt his hand caress the outside of your thigh again before moving upwards to your chest. You only needed to tolerate this for one night. Once Raffy’s gotten what he wants, he’ll trash the evidence and you’ll be safe. He cupped one of your tits, and gave it a gentle squeeze. He pulled down the neckline of your top just enough for your nipple to pop out from underneath. All the hairs on your arms stood up at this sudden exposure. You glanced around to see if anyone’s noticed through the windows; they had not. Raffy gave a low groan, then swiped the tip of his tongue over it.

“Raffy,” you huffed, trying not to squirm as sparks of pleasure hit your center. “Not here.”

“I know, Kitten,” he said, sucking your nipple and flicking it again. The feeling arched your back and you clenched your thighs closed. This did not go unnoticed by Raffy. “Is my little slut getting turned on?” he asked, amused as he continued licking your nipple. “Hm? Should I turn my attention somewhere else?”

“No,” you gritted your teeth.

“I think I should,” he said, “Open your legs for me.”

“No, Raffy.”

“Yes, Kitten. It’s mine now. I’m allowed to play with what’s mine.”

You grabbed his wrist as he settled his hand on your exposed thighs, but the attempt was feeble. Raffy continued teasing your nipple while his hand slid up your inner thighs. You tried squeezing them to keep him from going further out of habit. Yet, he continued, gently massaging across them before his fingers brushed your underwear. The new intrusion made you gasp. Raffy let out a long groan when his hand cupped your sex, and he felt your pussy throb. He ran his fingers torturously over the slit several times much to your dismay and your pleasure. You wriggled yourself out of his grasp, trying to escape before your body gave into his demands. Yet, Raffy was stronger than he looked. He still rubbed over your sex, his middle digit found roughly where your clitoris would be. The teasing touch made you bite your lower lip.

“My, my,” he tsked, kissing the rim of your ear, “Somebody’s getting wet.”

You couldn’t help it. His hand felt so good. His mouth felt good. How could your body not respond? You wished there was an internal switch to shut it off. You gasped as those fingers pushed your panties aside. The metal rings he wore smoothed over your folds, feeling slightly colder in comparison to his skin and your heat. This new touch made you gasp and clutch his shoulder tightly.

“Touch my cock,” he ordered, pulling down your bra to show your other breast, which he began teasing as well. “I can’t wait any longer.”

When you did not move your hand, he ceased his teasing and put your right hand on his crotch. In the center of his trousers, a hard bulge hit your palm. Raffy groaned, closing his eyes a second to take in the warmth of your hand. He went back to touching your pussy while you reluctantly groped the outline of his cock. It was bigger than you’d imagine, but not too big. You often joked he probably had a small dick, which is why he tried too hard, but no. It felt nice. He moaned into your nipple as you stroked. You hoped this would be all he wanted, but then he moaned into your ear.

“Take it out, Kitten,” he said, “Rub it out for me.”

“No. There’s…” people in the next room who might come in any second.

“Do it,” he demanded, giving your nipple a gentle bite. “Now.”

With one hand, you undid his pants and stuck your hand inside. This new sensation made Raffy’s eyes fall closed. You held back a cry when his fingers found your clit again. Circling the hard pearl, you couldn’t stop the flood of pleasure breaking through. You didn’t want him to stop, but at the same time you did. You stroked the cock pulsating against your hand, lightly brushing it up and down. He’s thick with a dripping tip that slickened your motions. You felt the veins throbbing each time you went down the shaft. You liked it. Daniel’s was smaller than Raffy’s. The desperation inside you heated up, imagining yourself riding this cock. You had a dildo about his size, which filled you completely every time. Right as you pictured it sheathed fully into your pussy, Raffy slipped the two fingers inside you and you tensed in his grasp. Your legs suddenly spread further apart to give his hand more space.

“Good girl,” he murmured, groaning when you squeezed his member, “Keep going just like that. Oh, just like that.”

His fingers curled up into your pussy, and immediately prodded the rough patch inside. You’d never think in a million years that Raffy Barton would know where the g-spot is located. His thumb worked your clitoris in circles while his fingers fucked you carefully. The rings he wore only added to your pleasure, working like ridges on a ribbed toy. Jerking him a bit faster, he moaned out loud, face contorted by pleasure as he came closer to orgasm. Soon, you felt your walls clamp down around his digits, and the sensitivity in the nub up top became more prominent.

“R-R-Raffy,” you stammered, huffing as it came closer. “Oh god, I’m gonna cum.”

Upon hearing this, he deepened his fingers to prod your g-spot expertly. You shuddered and your muscles tensed as your climax came closer. Not wanting anyone to overhear, you lowered your cries to whimpered curses laced with his name. His own orgasm approached as you rapidly stroked him now, making him groan as he kissed you.

“Come,” Raffy huffed on your lips, “Cum for me, Kitten. I want to feel this pussy cum on my hand. Come on now. Don’t keep me….me waiting.”

Then, you did. Your climax was shaky breaths and constricted muscles. You continued pumping his slick cock, coated by sticky precum. You imagined it inside you later as he brought you over the edge. Raffy watched you the entire time, drinking in the sight of you half naked and quivering in his hand. Right as your orgasm ended, his began. Raffy gritted his teeth and bit his lower lip so much you thought he may draw blood as it hit him. Thick streams of hot cum spilled over your hand, slightly disgusting but also arousing. Raffy’s body contorted to the pleasure, letting it guide him until he was completely spent.

“Fuck-” he breathed, leaning on his side once his climax subsided. He removed his fingers, and brought them to your lips. Naturally, you opened your mouth to taste yourself, something you’ve done plenty of times. “It’s better than I imagined,” he said once he pulled his finger away, “You’re so tight and warm. How am I supposed to stay away from you, hm?”

“Alright,” you sat up and put your breasts back in your bra and shirt, “You got what you wanted. Delete what you have.”

He chuckled, “Not a chance.”

“What?” you looked back over at him, seeing him zip up his trousers. You wiped your sticky hand on a throw blanket on the back of the sofa. “Why not? You got what you wanted, didn’t you?”

“Not nearly,” he told you, bringing you back to him and pecking your lips softly. “Not even an ounce of what I want, and I want quite a lot.” He grabbed your breast again and kissed you deeply, moaning when he tasted your juices on your tongue.

“You said once you got what you wanted, you’d delete them,” you argued.

“And I will, no worries, Kitten,” he reassured you with a soft kiss. “I’d love to stay in here and keep doing this, but there’s a party we need to get back to.”

You didn’t think you could face the people outside after what you just did. You’re not surprised he won’t delete the videos. If only you could get your hands on his phone, then you can do it yourself. No video, no blackmail. The embarrassing, shameful thought that you enjoyed what he just did to you flooded back. You should’ve fought back more. You shouldn’t be so damn weak. What you did only enforced the idea that fat girls are desperate and easy. Perhaps tonight you are. Perhaps tonight you can be. Losing Blossom and Daniel plagued you too long, and if you could lose yourself in the drugs and orgasms Raffy could bring, then you’d accept it for now. You could go back to hating him tomorrow.

Standing on wobbly knees, Raffy led you out of the room by the hand. During your time in the room, the party went into full swing. People grouped together in the middle of the living room, which had been cleared for a dance floor near the stereo. Their bodies gyrated, whirled, rocked and swayed to the hip-hop beats going through the house. Blue lights bathed the white walls in a faint baby blue color, giving the room a club atmosphere instead of a home. The bumping music seemed to ignite the drugs in your system, and brought energy into your relaxed body. You spotted Alice dancing with Kojo, and Natalie dancing close to Archie, Alice’s brother. You hoped neither of them saw you with Raffy, who brought you over to the dance floor. His arm snaked around your waist, with your bodies coming close together again. The drugs coursing in your bloodstream made it hard to care if anyone saw you two. All judgment went out the window when Raffy kissed you again, deeply and tenderly. The only reason you parted was due to the heckling coming from his friends a few feet away. When he swiped a bottle of gin from nearby, he popped it open and tipped some into your mouth. You managed to swallow the burning alcohol, but some dribbled onto your chest.

A thing Raffy had no trouble licking off you, grabbing your ass in the process. You giggled, shocked by the brazen act.

You’d allowed yourself to get lost in the party. The lights blurred your vision. The music drowned out the sorrow and pain plaguing your mind. Nothing could hurt you behind your wall of substances. You drank more gin before passing it to Raffy, who took his own shot. As he drank, you glanced over to see Natalie watching you both. She shifted her eyes to Raffy, then furrowed her brow in confusion. You laughed and shrugged. Raffy turned your face to kiss you again, the pure alcohol flowing between the both of you. He bent to your ear and spoke.

“You turn me on so fucking much,” he growled in your ear, giving your bottom another squeeze. “I can barely contain myself around you now.”

You glanced over his shoulder to see Daniel with Charlotte. With a drink in his hand, he watched you and Raffy enviously. You smirked knowingly.

“You must’ve been a big fan of mine,” you quipped, hands on his shoulders, “To have so much evidence.”

“Too big of a fan,” he replied, kissing your neck. “I should be embarrassed about it, honestly.”

“How come?”

“Because I wank off to you nearly every day…And now I get to fuck you every day too.”

“Says who?

“Says me,” he replied. “I still have your stuff. I can send it whenever I want. So, if you want to make sure everyone keeps thinking you’re an angel, you’ll be a good pet and come home with me tonight.”

His words brought back the reality of the situation again. He basically owned you as long as he had the footage. If you refused him in any way, all he’d have to do is release content into the world. A feeling of helplessness came over you as he pulled you in for another kiss. You regretted ever letting this happen. You should let him post them, and be done with it. He already fingered you on the couch, so he cannot say he received nothing. Running your hands in his blond curls, you thought about how his hands felt on your body. Boys do not pay attention to you like this very often; they’re usually disgusted by you. When will you have another boy touching you this way? When is the next time you’ll be caressed and kissed? You should soak it in for all its worth at the moment. Having someone like Raffy absolutely craving you reminded you of Blossom, a desirable wanton creature from their fantasies.

You continued dancing together, occasionally kissing as you gyrated together, before everyone went to the dining table where they sang happy birthday. Drinking a cocktail of rum, fruit punch and lime soda, your inhibitions became looser. Suddenly, you wanted Raffy. You didn’t care if he was a prick. You didn’t care if you’ll regret it in the morning. You’ll cross that bridge when you get there. If anything, you’ll blame the alcohol in the morning. No doubt he’ll do the same. Warmth spread through your body, and you forced yourself to eat to keep yourself from getting dizzy.

The party raged on until the late hours of the night. By the time Raffy led you out of the house, a chauffeur waiting in a luxury car for him, you giggled from the fuzziness all over you. You slid into the backseat before him, shuddering with anticipation as he joined you. The partition between driver and passengers remained closed, so you only saw a black wall.

“Now that we’re alone again,” Raffy slurred, not wasting a second in capturing your lips, “Come here."

He kept his left hand on your jaw while the right lifted up your top over your chest. Your hands went up his stomach to his chest and then his shoulders, where you felt the lean muscles underneath your fingers. Your arousal ignited once more under the influence of alcohol and Raffy’s lips. Leaving his mouth, you left a trail of open mouthed kisses down his pale throat. He groaned softly at your lips marking spots on his neck and collarbone as his hands went to the clasp of your bra. You heard it unclasp, and fall away from you slightly. Under your shirt, Raffy felt both your tits gently like before. You kissed the top buttons of his shirt, which you popped open to reveal more of him. His smooth ivory chest made the perfect canvas for more hickies and bites. Raffy enjoyed each one, hissing and wincing at the particularly hard ones. Reaching the buckle of his jeans, you swiftly undid his fly to grab his cock from within. The limited space made the position a bit difficult but you've done it in smaller places.

"Suck it," he huffed, small hips wiggling at the arousal building in his groin. "I want to feel the pretty mouth around my dick."

Withdrawing him fully, you slid your tongue across the very top of his dick. You did this a few times, a motion that made his thighs tense up, before sliding down his length. His cock grew harder the longer you teased him. You giggled softly when it twitched in your hand, almost as if moving away from the sensitivity. Chasing that down, you flicked your tongue along the thick under vein where blood pumped through him. You liked the look and feel of it. A white shaft topped with a reddening bulb looked utterly delicious to you. Raffy then moaned particularly loud when you inched his tip to your throat, the faint gagging sounds in the car. He gripped the back of the seat for support as you deepthroat him again.

"Better than your toys, huh?" You couldn't see it, but you knew he’d smiled at this.

"So much better," you said. Precum soon trickled out of his tip, spilling onto your tongue it wasn't unpleasant. You hummed in delight, tasting the sweet but salty substance. "I love sucking cock," you moaned, knowing guys love to hear that even if it's a lie. "So much."

"And now you're going to love sucking mine, Kitten," he groaned.

You continued doing this until the car came to a halt. Quickly, you both straightened yourselves and stepped out right before someone opened the door. Neither of you acknowledged the driver, who'd let you out, since you were too distracted by one another. Raffy’s house remained in semi-darkness, with a low light coming from moonlight and lanterns on a porch outside. Not that this mattered. Raffy was all you could really see. Your sex pulsed and you whimpered when Raffy pushed you up against a wall right inside the foyer. His hands stayed on your hips, lips crashing into yours, as you felt his fingers find the zipper to your skirt. In a flick of his wrist, he unzipped the garment and loosened it enough for him to slide his hands inside. You unzipped his pants for the third time tonight, and lightly stroked his throbbing member.

This propelled Raffy to lead you from the wall into a nearby lounge, where you hit the back of a sofa. You hastily removed the cardigan he'd originally worn to the party and unbuttoned his shirt. Not fully removing the shirt, you went back to groping any part of him you could while he untied the strings to your own jacket. His dick twitched in your hand once more, so you gave it a squeeze that had Raffy growling in your mouth. He grinded himself into your hand a few times as he lifted your shirt and bra over your chest. You moaned softly when his fingers found a nipple to pinch, rolling it between thumb and forefinger.

"Bedroom?" You muttered between kisses, gripping his hair to keep his head where you wanted it.

"Fuck yes," he breathed, chuckling drunkenly.

Stairs are a drunk person's biggest obstacle. You and Raffy stumbled or tripped multiple times as you continued kissing and fondling your way up the stairs. At one point, you landed on him at the top, and felt nearly content to have him there. But no, staircases are too much of a challenge.

Raffy and you eventually made it to his bedroom, which was shrouded in utter darkness. He guided you into the room and shut the door behind him. Clothes immediately came off. The sounds of fabric hitting his bedroom floor were accompanied by the faint whines and whimpers you both let out. The moment he had you naked, Raffy pushed you onto his bed. Underneath, you felt a soft mattress and smooth covers. With a soft click, he turned on his bedside lamp.

"Shit…" he said in a single breath, "Look at you…"

No malice. No taunting. Pure amazement swirled in those blue eyes. In nothing but your panties, you felt wanted under his gaze. Raffy stared at you the way you imagined Blossom’s fans staring at her photos. He wanted you. He wanted all of you. You saw his cock standing at full attention between his thighs, and his chest heaving in every breath. Blond hair more tangled than usual from your hands, and lips swollen from rough kissing, he looked beautiful. You'll worry about the outcome of this in the morning.

"Don't just stand there," you said, reaching for his wrist, "Come here."

You yanked onto the bed with you, and you immediately spread your legs to let him in. Stings of pleasure burned in your clit every time his shaft grinded into you. Your need became exponentially higher when his tip brushed your clit, the head spreading the folds apart for direct contact. You gripped at his biceps, your nails digging into his flesh as he continued this motion. His mouth on your nipple added more kindling to the passion burning inside you.

Your desire held a vice-like grip on you, and only Raffy could break it.

"Raffy, please," you whined into his ear, the way Blossom did in her videos. "Please, don't make me wait any longer."

He grabbed you by the throat. Most inexperienced boys nearly strangle a girl when they try doing this "taboo" move, but not Raffy. Only his thumbs dug into the sides of your neck, while his palm simply pressed to the center. You liked it. The small bit of pressure kept you from breathing too deeply, yet not so much that you'd pass out. He forced you to look at him as he said:

"Call me 'Daddy'," he said, "Like you do in your videos. I like hearing you say it."

Ugh, so typical. But, it was the only way to get what you wanted. Maybe if you did this one favor, he'll delete his evidence and you'll be free.

"Daddy," you called in your most innocent tone, "Please, fuck me. I need it so bad. I feel so tingly and hot down there."

He chuckled between gritted teeth. "Of course, Kitten."

Raffy separated from you to grab a condom from the bedside drawer. He fiddled around in the area for a minute or so before climbing back onto you. You expected him to rip open the packet and slide it on, but he didn't. Instead, he kissed down your body to your center, where he gave your aching pussy a swift lick. Your knees trembled and you gripped his bed sheets as he continued lapping at your soaked clitoris. He wasn't hasty. He circled the tip of his tongue slowly up and around it, occasionally dipping lower to your entrance. Clearly, porn must've taught him a thing or two. Or maybe he's watched enough of your videos to know what made your back arch. Delighted hums escaped your chest and went into the air as he tortured you with his tongue. You didn't want him to stop despite the growing tenderness flickering in your clit. It dawned on you why girls hooked up with him despite his reputation.

Finally, he came back up with the condom. Quickly, he rolled it on and then pressed to your pussy one more time. It was hell. You'd never let him know exactly how badly you needed him, but he knew. It was why he so carefully dragged himself across it before finally pushing inside. A rush of euphoric relief shocked you. You wrapped yourself around him immediately, his lanky body resting on top of yours as he rocked himself into you inch by inch.

Your nails dragged your hands down his back, causing him to thrust into you harder. Soon, Raffy built up a steady rhythm that pushed right near your g-spot. It became unbearable. You swore it was an archer missing the target on purpose. Raffy kept his hips angled a certain way as to touch near it but not on it. You thought at first he must not be finding it, so you directed your hips to guide him there. But then you realized that he did it on purpose when you saw him firmly pin your hips down.

"I decide where this goes, yeah?" He panted, going back to his pace as he knelt up. "You just lay there and take it how I give it to you."

"Daddy…" you cried out when he gave a particularly rough push. "Oh god, Daddy, please."

Holding your hips, he withdrew from you and rolled you over. Stronger than he looked, you thought. Raising your lower half up, you cried out with his swift push back inside you. He knew you liked this position. Being a fan, he must’ve known you liked taking it from behind. You loved being forced down, and slammed into by your lover until you both came. Raffy made it even better with sharp smacks to your ass.

"Yes, yes," you panted, clutching his satin pillowcases, "Smack my ass. Smack it again."

So he did. He did it again, again, and again. You knew your bottom would hurt, but with the overwhelming sensations, it didn't matter.

"Push back," he huffed after a while, "I want to watch you bounce on it-oh god."

You put yourself firmly in place and started rocking your hips. The view Raffy must have awed him. His grip on your waist became tighter as he watched your ass ripple and smack into his narrow hips. He didn't move while you worked, happy to stay kneeling and observing you. The sounds he made were sweet. Short, needy whimpers sometimes followed by soft groans joined your own. So, you alternated between fast and slow strokes to drag out those whiny moans of his.

You then knelt up so your back hit his chest, giving him access to the front of you. His face immediately buried in your neck, kissing and licking there.

"You feel so fucking good," he said in your ear, now bottoming up into you. "I knew it'd be the best pussy I ever had."

"Oh yeah?" You pushed onto his cock and stayed there with him buried deep in you. "I'm the best?"

"Yeah, you are," he grunted, palming and squeezing your breasts. "I spent so many hours watching this pussy take all sorts of toys and dildos, I knew it'd have such a good grip-Fuck, Y/N."

You started rutting against him out of nowhere. His cock now hitting the very center, you held onto his forearms as your orgasm snuck onto you. It rippled throughout your body and constricted every muscle until they burned. His own came with sloppy, erratic thrusts and him holding onto you tightly. You each rode out your climax together, trembling together until you collapsed onto his bed. Laying beside each other, neither of you said anything for a while. You did not know what to say; you're here because he'd expose Blossom if you did not.

"You're better than I expected," you laughed weakly, carefully stretching your burning thighs and legs.

"The fuck's that supposed to mean?" He asked, affronted but amused.

"Guys like you don't know what they're doing when they get in bed," you answered. "You usually care about yourselves."

"I've had a lot of practice," he replied. He turned to you, "I think this is a good start to a wonderful thing, don't you?"

"What do you mean?" You asked cautiously.

"You didn't think I'd only shag you once, did you?" When you stared in confusion, he continued, "I've been wanting to fuck you since I saw your first post. There's no way I'm only hitting this once," he grabbed your bare bottom and pecked your lips.

"You can't do that," you reasoned, sitting up despite your tiredness. "That's…so fucked up, Raffy."

"Who says I can't? I didn't get these illegally. You're 18, so you're legal," he replied, sitting up with you.

"Because it's wrong."

"It wasn't wrong when I was fucking you a few minutes ago," he smirked. "I didn't hear any complaints then."

"Whether I liked the sex or not isn't important," you retorted, "You're exploiting me. You're…Ugh, just delete the photos."

"No," he said confidently. "I've only just scratched the surface of all the things I want to do with you."

"What else could you possibly want?"

"As I told you, nothing too extreme." He scooted closer to you, hand on your thigh, "It's not as if you didn't enjoy it, right? There's nothing wrong with that. I know I definitely enjoyed myself tonight, especially since it's you, Kitten." At your stony expression, he said, "Look, I'm not going to tell anyone about it. It'll stay between us, if you want," he pecked your bare shoulder, then brought his sheets over both of you. "I'm not deleting them. Don't try unlocking my phone either because I have them elsewhere."

You slid off the bed, wrapping the duvet around your body. Your disbelief turned into anger. He made you go through strenuous sex with him, for him to not only go through with his end of the bargain. You honestly should not be surprised. Guys like Raffy will seize any chance at free sex. He didn't stop you as you made your way to the door. Shutting it behind you, you stewed in your anger as you cleaned yourself up. You hated it. Yes, you'd liked the sex but not enough to let him continue extorting you.

You felt so helpless.

****

Raffy watched you leave into the bathroom, then reached for his phone. He stopped the recording, and then accessed it from his gallery. He skimmed through the video to the end, where he and you spoke. He cropped it out. His friends didn't need to know what he held over your head. They only needed evidence. He then added the one from the car, and Archie's sitting room. You looked divine to him.

Raffy: bagged the fattie tonight! Worth it!

He waited for them to respond. He put on the first video, content with watching how you slowly unraveled for him. You must be desperate for sex if you let him have it so easily. Not that he blamed you. Lots of girls fell for his charms in the end. He would've thought there was something wrong with you if you'd said 'no'. He watched the way your breasts spilled from your top, and how sensitive they were to his mouth. He'd loved sucking on them alone. But, the best part was your orgasm. Raffy could watch you orgasm over and over and never tire of it.

Kojo: yooo you did?? LMAO

Nav: Hope you're not hurting too bad hahaha

Kyle: and your bed is still intact lmao

He attached the video and sent it into the chat. Honestly, you aren't as large as they say. He certainly handled you without issue. He liked all the soft rolls and curves he could hold onto. They didn't understand because they never broaden their minds in the world of sexual pleasure. Next to him, tucked away inside his dresser are all the sex books he'd bought over the years. He spent time studying the female body and sex just to be the best. Girls don't come back if you're shit in bed. He would have you more than once, certainly. Raffy sat back against his pillows, the glow of his orgasm still lingering inside him. He heard the shower inside turn on. He considered joining you, simply to hold you in his arms for a while.

Raffy: And that's only half the action boys! She gave me a handy at the party and head in the car.

The best he's ever had. He remembered being stuck in a place between reality and utter bliss the entire time. From the moment he felt you cum around his fingers, he couldn't satiate his appetite. Normally, he can contain himself with girls. They didn't like it if he pushed or acted too forward, but not you. He's sure you did this because of the blackmail, but he knew you enjoyed it. You came so much and so hard on him that your juices spread onto his balls. Your pussy gripped him in a way that he thought he might lose all sense. You could have asked him for his car keys, and he would've handed them over. How can you expect him to give it up so easily?

Nav: FUCK SHE'S HOT!! 🤩🤩

Kojo: Bruv, I take back everything I said about her. Look at them tits, man! I'm in love 😍

Nav: she knows her way around a cock for sure

Archie: Can I have a turn??

Raffy: she's too much woman for you Chubs

Archie: I'm bigger than you. I could handle her.

Kyle: He's not wrong. You're a twig, mate.

Raffy: I like to think I'm more of a branch than a twig.

Raffy watched the car video, where he held the phone to show you choking on his length. You'd kept him walking around the edge the entire time. He might ask you to suck him off again only so he could feel your mouth and tongue. Some of Raffy’s favorite videos were the blowjob POVs.

Kojo: just noticed she's wearing stockings.

Nav: love that 😍

Kojo: yo let us come over for a turn, yeah? 🤣

Raffy: as if

The shower turned off. You could use whatever you liked in his bathroom. He pictured you coming out, dripping wet and batting your lashes, telling him you can't find a towel. He'd offer to dry you himself, just to make sure you're dry, and it leads to a second round inside your gorgeous body. But instead, you came out dry with his duvet wrapped around you again. It'll have your scent on it now. He couldn’t wait to bury his face in it.

"I've decided to go along with your bullshit exploitation," you said, arms crossed. "For now," you added quickly.

"Okay," he snorted as if he needed your permission in the first place.

Kyle: I reckon that's a whopping 300 points

Kojo: lucky fucker

He put his phone down and pulled the sheets down next to him. "Stay with me," he said, patting the bed. "I like having you here."

"Your parents won't care that a girl stayed over?"

"They're in Paris."

Or so said their last message. Raffy didn't want to think about them right now.

When you did not come to him, he went to you. Cupping your face, he placed gentle kisses on your lips and cheeks. He kept kissing you until he lured you into the bed with him, letting you straddle him. Nav was wrong. Your weight did not hurt him at all; he liked it. It was similar to a restraint, light and with a bit of wiggle room. He pulled the covers over you again, and you two spent the night kissing and fondling until you drifted to sleep.

He slept like a baby.

****

a/n: Hey, I hoped you all liked this one. It’s my first ty tennant fic so I’m not sure if it’s any good lol Thanks for reading

#ty tennant #raffy consent #raffy barton #consent 2023 #raffy x reader #raffy x you #raffy x yn

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crybabycinna · 6 months ago

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Tipsy Nights

Sugar mama Lin Beifong x sugar baby reader

Summary: feelings are all over the place because Linny is stressing you out (mentions of alcohol and semi flirting)

When I woke up the next morning there was no sight of Linny or any smell of food. I brushed my teeth then went to the kitchen. I don’t even know why I came out here so I just decided to go lay back in bed. I started crying all over again. I thought we were doing just fine! What did I do? What made her so upset? I’m trying to be patient but it’s so hard. I ended up falling asleep and only woke up to the sound of the phone ringing. I sighed then answered it. “Hello.” I said. “Hey.” Lin said. “Hi honey.” I said. “I was calling just to say you don’t need to bring me lunch today.” Lin said. “Are we going to a restaurant again?” I asked her.

“No.” Lin said. “Then why don’t you need lunch?” I asked. “I'm busy.” Lin said. “You need to eat.” I told her. “I’ll be fine and I won’t be back for dinner either.” Lin said. “Do you want me to bring you dinner?” I asked. “No.” Lin said. I just hung up then grabbed my pillow and put it over my face. “Ahhhh!” I screamed into the pillow. She’s so stubborn. “What did I do?” I asked myself as I sobbed all over again. I cried until my head hurt. I had to get out of bed and make myself some tea. I drank my green tea while ordering something to eat. I refused to cook.

I tried to keep myself distracted by cleaning and other things but soon I ran out of things to do so I decided to go out and go to the spa. I decided to do the biggest package they had which included drinks, hot rocks, mud bath, full body massage, manicure and pedicures and a facial with all the best quality products. It felt so nice to be pampered like this. I deserve it. “Your eyes are very puffy.” One lady told me as she worked on my face. “You’ve been crying haven’t you?” The lady who was massaging my feet asked.

“I have, I’ve had a long day and night.” I told them. “What happened?” I explained everything and even what my friends had said about the situation. “If she can’t communicate with you then you need to leave.” “Agreed it’s doing you more harm than good.” “But I care about her.” I said. “But does she care about you? All you asked her to do was put cute stuffed animals on her desk. You weren’t asking for a kidney.” “I know I know but she’s just rough around the edges.” I told them. “Oh honey please. She’s got you crying and then basically told you don’t even come to her job to eat with her.” I sighed.

After my spa day I know a hefty amount of Lin’s money was spent on that but I don’t care. When dinner time came I got dressed up then took myself out to eat. I don’t care. I was not going to sit here and be sad! I got seated and ordered as much food as I knew I could eat. When I got my appetizers I ate them then drank the water I ordered after I finished I got up and went to the bar. I ordered a few shots and tossed them back like water. “What’s a pretty thing like you doing all alone?” I turned my head to the left and saw this tall guy with brown hair. “Not interested.” I said. “Come on, pretty girl give me a chance.” He said.

“I rather drink bleach.” I said. I was being harsh but I don’t care. “Ma’am your food is ready.” A waiter said to me, I nodded my head then ordered another shot of cactus juice then went back to my table after I finished it. I sat down and ate my food in peace. I didn’t think about Lin, I just enjoyed my food. Everything tasted amazing. “Here is your drink ma’am.” The waiter said and placed down a wine glass. “I didn’t order this.” I said. “From the gentleman at the bar.” He said then walked away. I looked towards the bar and the brown hair guy raised his glass to me.

Geez can’t people take no. I don’t care how cute he is. I’m in a committed…no I’m not. I’m not in a relationship! I’m technically single! I grabbed the wine glass then raised it. He smiled and I smiled back. I drank my wine then went back to eating. After I finished eating I got my boxes together since I didn’t eat everything. I got the check then paid again with Lin’s card. Then after I got a car service as I was waiting outside the guy came out. “You need a ride home, pretty girl?” He asked. “No thank you.” I said. “You are very beautiful and I would love to get to know you.” He said. “Thank you and I’m sorry baby I don’t wanna get to know you.” I said.

The car pulled up and I walked towards it. “Let me get this for you.” He said and opened the car door. “You’re very cute but honey I’m not that interested in men.” I said and got into the car. “I understand beautiful.” He said and closed the door. I shook my head. When I got home I took my shoes off and giggled as I leaned over. I’m a little tipsy. I put my food away then went to the room.

#tlok lin #chief of police lin beifong #lin x reader #sugar mama lin beifong #tlok lin beifong #lin beifong fanfiction #lin beifong x reader #tlok x reader

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seiwas · 11 months ago

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oh my GOD midi 😭 your comments and reactions to this im SOBBING

where do i even begin!!! omg i'll try to respond as orderly as i can!!!

i as well!! am such a sucker for a 5+1 trope 🥺 i feel like i have to do it for each of my faves at some point & was reaaallly looking forward to doing it for col 🥹

and ur reaction photos never not gET TO ME omg they're always so funny i LOVE THEM 🥹

PRE-SCENE

col gojo is truly neck deep in this and there's no escape!!!! (not like he wants to.....) and your prediction!! omg 🤭 kinda true??? wUHWHAUHau

SCENE 1

i looove using the sky to describe gojo's eyes!!! apart from colour, just the fact that it can transition from cloudy to clear, dark to bright leaves so much creative room with it!!

AND THE FLIPPING OVER SCENE OMG writing this scene was a challenge bc i don't normally write action scenes (i focus a lot more on feelings) so figuring out the logistics of how to describe flipping someone over was A Bit. but i'm happy w how it turned out eventually 🥹

am so happy u enjoyed this lil scene!!! honestly i think it might be one of my favourites out of this bunch, just bc i put so much mental effort into it LMAO i'm so glad u caught some of my favourite bits of it too!!

SCENE 2

writing this was so fun omg i think cos writing reader kinda tipsy left a lot of room for them to be more vocal and straightforward abt their feelings 🥺 i think they've always considered gojo's feelings first when talking to him that their own feelings tend to be a bit overshadowed 🥺

and i am SOOOO happy that you felt the yearning in this scene bc i was really trying hard to drive that home 🥺 U CAN REALLY TELL I PUT MY WHOLE SOUL INTO THIS HELP 😭 i think!! bc!! the feeling is too familiar to me and i was figuring out how to convey that!!

the lil lines u noticed too!!! omg those are some of my faves as well i think... aaaah sdhfsdf this scene holds a special place in my heart fr!!

SCENE 3

this one was rlly tough to write!!! i'm not sure why... i think bc the initial outline wasn't how it turned out to be at all!! so i was struggling with the direction of it bUT am so glad u enjoyed it nonetheless 🥺

SCENE 4

pls omg he secretly loves that apron i just knOW it and omg yes megs is rlly only helping bc he loves col reader 🥺 AND THE BROWSER TAB OMG THIS GUY DOESNT GIVE A FLYING FUCK RLLY 😭 he's leaving his laptop out in the open he doesnt CAAAREEE

megs is a menace deep in his core i feel it in my BONES (you drawing them with cutesy headbands would be SOOOO cute 🥺) + your reaction miDI OMG DSBGHSD PLS ICB U HAD TO STAND AND PACE AROUND READING IT 😭 AAAAH UR FRIEND IS SO REALSDABSD it's so interesting!! seeing which parts u liked best omg sdhjbfsd this makes me so happy 🥺

SMACKA SMACKA IM LAUGHIGNSDBASD i wanted to reference stuff from the other col fics and thought this would be neat ! esp since the lingerie fic takes place along this timeframe !!! so having it featured here kind of informs the sequence of events too!! (that the lingerie fic happened before this) and you knoWWWW am not an explicit writer omg but am glad u felt the intimacy in it 🥹 i am slowly !!! warming up to more intimate scenes the more i write it 🥹

SCENE 5

FULL SMACKA SMACKA HELP 😭

and omg that is the sweetest thing u can say abt this scene midi 🥹 thank u sm and am so glad that my kinda nsfw way of writing scenes like this still hits some way 🥹 i get flustered myself when writing intimate scenes like lowkey i feel like i'd have to detach and blackout just to write it explicitly buT YEA 🥹 im so happy u like it!! esp since u do read smut on the regular omg 🥹

SCENE +1

AAAAAHH he really is 🥹 i sometimes worry that bc col isnt a super strict series, more like vignettes of their relationship, that, even if someone can pick this up without the context of the other fics, my characterisation of satoru might be a bit off?? mainly bc i think col satoru atp is a product of how he was in the earlier pieces of col 🥹 and i am soOOOO glad that u've been here to witness his growth from the start!!!

gsdgsdu i reaLLY wanted to write that breakup miscomm bc i think its so siLLy and SO FUNNY dsbfsjadf but AAH am so glad u felt the tension... i was so unsure if it was felt hELp

and to answer your prediction!! of it being a proposal!! i will say!!!! that i turned over the idea in my head quite a few times, and i won't say my current thoughts on the col couple and a marriage proposal just bc it's still open to change for me but!! this is a step towards a kind of permanence—a forever, like you said!! it's not a marriage proposal, but it is a proposal to move in together 🥹 i was just thinking of a way he could say it that felt a bit more weighted!! and less conventional?? bc i do think they're a bit unconventional (esp gojo)

UR REACTION PHOTOS ARE SO CUTE AND I AM BEYOND FLATTERED AND TOUCHED THAT U TOOK THE TIME TO WRITE THIS FR MIDI 😭 i cant even imagine the amt of time it took 😭 i appreciate this and you so much!!!!

TAGS

AAAH to hear that this is ur fave fic so far??? omg 🥹 i was expecting it wouldn't do as well bc the fics i tend to enjoy writing/like don't really end up as people's favourites too!! but i did thoroughly enjoy the pre-writing and writing process for this 🥺 my whole gojussy indeed 🥺

and i translated ur indonesian and omg that'S SO SWEET SJDFBJSD IM so glad the second read is just as good as the first 😭😭 srsly midi i am sososo flattered and this means sososo much ilysm thank u so much AS ALways

₊˚⊹。these traces of love, they outline you | gojo satoru

wc: 12.9k

summary: the 5 times gojo’s sure you’ve changed his life + the 1 time he hopes to change yours.

contains: f!reader, uses pronoun she, 18+ nsfw (not super explicit but the act is there), vague allusion to symptoms similar to synesthesia, mentions of reader’s cursed technique, sparring, drunk call, use of pet names (cutie, silly, pretty, baby), nervous feelings, tummy ache, food descriptions, surprise appearance of one character, emotional tears!!, internal thoughts and insecurities.

a/n: primarily in gojo's pov! & best read if you’ve gone through the other parts in the series! (there are lots of callbacks and references, and you’ll get better context!), used lots of songs as inspo for this (would gladly share if you’re curious!), food names are in japanese, so i’ll add explanations in the a/n at the bottom!, hope you enjoy! from conceptualisation to actual writing, this piece is my baby!!

collection masterlist: conversations on love +4 (extra). take my time (i’ll spend it all on you) <- you are here

MINORS PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT.

Gojo thinks he might pass out.

There’s a feeling of unease sitting deep in his gut, nervous and gurgling. His hands have always been restless and fidgety but never this sweaty, and his head feels like it’s floating—even more than that first time he attempted a 24-hour stint on keeping up Infinity.

It’s eerily quiet in his office as he waits for your meeting to end, the white colon on his digital clock taunting him as it flicks on and off—16:27. 3 more minutes until you finish.

He paces around the room.

Attempts at any distraction are thwarted when everywhere he looks, he’s reminded of you. There’s a photo hanging by the door, the mix-and-match of couch cushions in varying hues—all souvenirs you’ve given him from places you’ve been to. The coffee table books hold your touch too, and as he runs his hand over his face. he’s hit with that signature scent, clean and subtle from the hand cream you use.

Waiting in his office today has been absolute torture, but what’s made it more excruciating is the fact that he knows you’re aware of absolutely nothing.

To you, this is just like every other Friday.

You’d done your usual morning routine, kissed him on the nose with the promise to meet him in his office after work, as you always do. And it feels like a big joke when he thinks about it now, because while he’s been on edge this entire day about it, you really have no clue what’s coming.

To him, this could change everything with you.

He’s been feeling it for a while now, the ripple effect of loving and being loved by you—how he can recall every time a single drop of you has shifted something deep within him, marked and colored you.

There’s not a lot that Gojo wants now that he feels like he truly has it all, but when he thinks about all the times he’s sure you’ve changed his life, he hopes that with this one thing, he can change yours.

1 — UNDER YOUR TOUCH, WHEN IT GETS TOO MUCH

The weather today is good—sunlight peeking behind cloud pillows and the occasional gust of wind passing through the space you’ve put between you and Gojo. It’s neither too humid nor too dry and though Gojo does get the occasional sniffle from his pollen allergies around this time, he woke up earlier completely fine.

So, the weather today is good, perfect even, for a brush-up on sparring practice.

You’ve kept a sizable distance away from him since it started, and every attempt he’s made to draw nearer, you’ve only moved away farther—a push-and-pull, an old dynamic that shows itself in the ways you engage in battle.

Gojo’s hands stay tucked in his pockets, his stance one you know perfectly well as relaxed but still guarded. He’s gotten a lot bulkier than the days you used to spar often, the past few years having filled in all the areas of what used to be slim, lean muscle. He doesn’t move because he knows the style you fight with, how you stay on defense until your opponent charges, utilizing their own strength against them.

It’s the only way you’ve managed to win against someone as deadly as Gojo, equal-parts lethal in speed and strength.

So when a cluster of clouds pass by and the sun glares directly into your eyes, Gojo smirks, then bends his knees as he lunges for an attack.

Your senses are sharp and reflexes quick; in the split second that a white-and-black blur appears before you, you attempt a high kick, only for it to be blocked with his forearm. He uses his other hand to twist around your ankle, trying to flip you over, but you see right through his motives. You huff, furrowing your brows as you narrowly escape, slipping your ankle out before he can fully grab a hold of it.

Most of this practice has felt like a stalemate, with the both of you waiting on the other for the most part of the hour. Gojo can see how it’s wearing you down, this entire thing being dragged out, and if he’s being honest—this is exactly what he wants.

Sparring out here with you today, while still meant for actual training, is also just an excuse to do this for old time’s sake—the way you huff and frown, jaw clenched as your fists ball up tightly like you’re doing right now.

He kind of misses seeing you like this, impatient and frustrated, so unlike the tenderness you always regard him with.

A smile threatens to form on his lips, and he bites it back down.

You only ever get like this sparring against him.

The tension breaks when you decidedly throw a punch; it’s a desperate attempt to get the fight moving but he ducks, arm securing itself around your waist as he locks your hip with his. Before you can even comprehend, your body is lifted across his back and lowered down to the grass below—the only thing in sight being two blue skies, beaming at you.

Somewhere during the commotion, he managed to remove his blindfold, hair let loose, fluffy and white almost like the clouds above you. Gojo isn’t taking this seriously at all; he’s way too soft, having cushioned your fall by carrying most of your weight instead of throwing you down like anyone seriously sparring is supposed to.

He doesn’t care though. All he really wanted this afternoon was to reminisce with you.

You’re kept underneath him, one of his arms remains wrapped around your waist while the other cradles the back of your head—and it’s there, that frown on your face, that pout he’s witnessed for years evolve into what it is now. Beads of sweat collect at the crease between your brows, your temples tensing as you breathe out.

Gojo at 17 would have teased you relentlessly for this, but he feels different now, warmth settling in his chest as he stares; he can’t help it, the words coming out of his mouth—

“You’re so—”

But he doesn’t even get to finish.

Everything around him blurs, green and blue blending in motion before he finds himself on his back, completely flipped over. He’s met with the sight of you, smug smile pulled wide with your hands resting on his chest. And his heart—

Can you feel it under your fingertips? How it’s beating a mile a minute?

A shiver runs down his spine, the pinpricks of grass tickling the nape of his neck. The shock is tingling, his eyes fully open as he processes what just occurred.

In the lapse of time he’d been a little too preoccupied staring at you, you managed to inch your leg to wrap around his, locking it at the last minute to flip him over—it lands you where you are now, on his lap, straddling his hips.

“Sneaky.” he gazes fondly, grin teasing.

You catch your breath, “Do I win?”

“Only because I let you get too close this time.”

Which is a lie, he knows, because having you near him like this, with some form of touching—you could never be close enough.

You roll your eyes, his fingers grabbing hold of your thighs. The grass pricks at your knees through the fabric of your leggings, and Gojo knows that if you stay like this any longer, it’s going to start to itch.

“Did I hurt you anywhere?” you ask, already assessing him for any point of injury. Your eyes go over his face before trailing down his arms, rarely exposed today in his black compression shirt.

“Yeah,” he pouts, pointing to his lips, all pink and puckered out, “kiss it better?”

Asking for this is against his better judgment, he’s aware; with the way you’re situated on his lap, this could escalate into something else entirely. You shake your head, swatting at his chest. His grip on your thighs loosens as you get off him, but the curl of your lips is extremely telling.

As you stand up to dust your knees, Gojo gazes at you fondly. The sun hides behind you from where you tower over him, but the halo effect around your head is just as blinding.

“Lie down with me,” he pats the space beside him. You quirk your brow but follow anyway.

He requests, not asks, because the weather today is good, and it’s making him a little bit sentimental, remembering earlier days with you.

You lie down, positioning your head to align with his. And for a few moments, Gojo doesn’t speak, just looks at you once and smiles before turning to face the sky, hand placed behind his head as he sighs.

You do the same for a while, this shared silence warm and just right.

“So rude,” he jokingly tuts, “interrupting me while I was talking earlier…”

“You shouldn’t have been so distracted then,” you tease back, sneaking a glance only to lock eyes with two skies.

He wonders if you can tell—how he’s always looking at you in the stolen seconds before you notice him.

“Well, you shouldn't have been so distracting then,” he holds your gaze.

It’s incredibly cheesy but a part of you still feels like melting—he sounds so sincere; no lilt, no tease, no Gojo-typical flirting laced into it.

You scrunch your nose, shifting on your side to face him, the arm used to support your head now resting against your cheek. He follows, taking one last look around him before turning to you. His other hand rests on your hip, fingers splayed out while his thumb draws hearts on fabric.

You reach for him.

The gesture is small, just your finger running across his cheek, but it nudges something in him—a memory of you and how you’ve always touched him like this: softly, kindly.

“Remember when you used to do this?” he takes your hand, long and lithe fingers wrapping around yours as he guides them over his ear.

Your eyes widen in recognition and he blinks, taking you in as he stares, “Wanna do it now?”

Concern reveals itself in the furrow of your brows, “Is it hurt—”

“No,” he chuckles, already knowing what you’re about to say.

The last time you did this for him, he didn’t even have to ask. One look and you knew—it’d been the night of his final conversation with Suguru. His skull-splitting migraine ensued after bickering with Shoko on what to do with the body. You were there; you heard everything, and when she gave up arguing and left, there was only one thing you could do.

With his head on your lap by his office couch, you tuned out the sounds.

He doesn’t prefer you using your cursed technique this way; it takes a considerable amount of your cursed energy to focus its effects solely on another body—and frankly, it’s a waste of time for you to spend all of that on him, at least in his opinion, personally.

You’d struggled a lot with your technique back in high school, having to learn how to fully manipulate different sonic hues: white noise, brown noise, any and all of it in the entire spectrum. Being able to amplify, distort, reduce, and isolate them into their respective hues covers only the bare minimum when it comes to understanding your technique.

It’s tedious work, and when one of your senses holds so much more power over the others, the information that flows through it can be overwhelming, overloaded even. Sorting through all that noise—he gets it, gets you, and how it must hurt too.

And yet you, at 17, still figuring out how to grasp it all, came knocking on his door when you noticed he hadn’t come for dinner. Quietly, you placed your hands over his ears and selflessly offered your discomfort for his relief.

The first time you did this for him, you’d only heard of his migraines from Shoko. You witnessed it yourself when he opened his door and looked so unlike himself: blindfold secured tightly but haphazardly, strands of hair sticking out oddly; his room seemed to be blacked out completely.

Gojo Satoru is no stranger to sensations beyond what any human should be subjected to, but when you laid your hands on him that day, cursed energy tickling his ears as it flowed through your fingertips—he’d never felt more normal, more human to be able to hear things without conjuring a visual of it.

It’s almost like you silenced his mind—enough to hear himself, and you, and the buzz of the white noise you’d amplified to flow through him in his blacked out room.

You’ve gotten a lot better at controlling it now, the task in itself barely causing you any ache or struggle at all.

“Just like old times,” he nudges you.

So you keep your hand where he’s left it, covering his ear with your palm as your fingers rest on his temples. Cursed energy flows from your touch, all sounds drowning out.

He keeps his eyes on yours, watching as your expression shifts with every sonic hue you focus on—an upgrade to your abilities the more you’d gotten the hang of it.

You concentrate hard for white noise, creating your own mix to emulate radio static, transitioning out to green noise the moment you highlight the sound of birds chirping. Then, you ease it to brown noise, intensifying the soft whistles of the wind to mimic it.

It’s weird how sentimental he’s been feeling lately—without any trigger or anything, but the more he leans into your palm, the more it gets him thinking.

Touch had begun as extremely foreign to him—a god revered and valued but never really truly loved, untouchable with infinity, and the pedestal he’s always stood on.

It was never supposed to be important to him.

Until you.

From your kindness that first day, and the many more that followed: of fingers brushing and hand-holding to breaths mingling and bodies moulding, moving—you’ve always touched him in ways no one else has, in places no one’s been able to reach.

And if it wasn’t important then, completely foreign, it’s important now, so much that he looks for it everywhere, all the time, even. The way you scratch the short bristles of his undercut, fingers dragging down to the nape of his neck; the way you tap his collarbone thrice, run your fingers across his lip, and intertwine your fingers with his at random.

When Gojo thinks about your touch, he thinks about how gentle it is, with intent and purpose. How it’s always been careful for him but never of him, and that’s made the biggest difference.

He blinks, and you follow two times, focusing on him.

All he hears is a heartbeat now, a little too fast to be at rest, but still steady and grounding—

The way he feels when he’s with you.

Whether it’s his or yours, from your cursed technique or just the blood rushing in his ears, he knows this is pink noise, the one you’d so excitedly shown him when you first mastered it.

The pink noise that resounded all throughout his twenty-somethings, when he first realized that you meant more to him than what you were.

2 — WHEN YOU CALL MY NAME

The bed feels cold tonight.

Gojo’s been staring at the lights on his ceiling for the past 30 minutes, and though his pillow is cool and blanket soft, he’s wide awake—nowhere near falling asleep any time soon.

He shifts to the side, the space beside him taunting, empty.

He misses you.

For the past week, you’ve been off to a much-needed girls trip with Shoko and Utahime. He’d even offered to pay for the entire accommodation—to which you and Utahime declined, while Shoko shrugged, crossing her arms as she snorted, “If he really wants. At least he’s being useful.”

You’d compromised and agreed that he could pay for an evening out in some nightclub.

Now, he regrets it. A little bit. Maybe.

Gojo’s bed is big, a king-size that fits the height of him and all his long limbs, and while it’s comfortable and spacious–supposed good things–he feels anything but comfortable in how spacious and vacant it now feels.

He turns to the other side, facing his sidetable instead.

The digital clock reads 01:17 and he sighs; you still have a few days left.

The next time you bring up being away for this long, he’s going with you. Even if he has to spend the entire day on his own, he’ll do it—as long as he gets to end it next to you.

If he’s really thinking about it, nothing’s stopping him from teleporting there right now. He could hop in quick, give you a hug, hopefully a kiss, and maybe even get lucky if you allow him to steal you for the night. He’ll teleport you right back in the morning and it’ll be like you never left, even.

He could do it. You can never resist him when he gives you his googly eyes.

If you’re already back from—

Bzz bzz. His phone vibrates.

He reaches for it over his night stand, instantly sitting up once he reads that it’s from you—the nickname he just recently changed your contact to.

(It was always just your name, simple and straightforward, easy to find; when you return, he’s probably going to change it back because you prefer it that way—for safety purposes and everything.

But while he still can, he’s going to keep it like this: a petname with an obnoxious string of emojis that he associates with you).

1:20 a.m.

cutie 💞🥺☁️🌸✨

> satoourur are u awaeke??

The corner of his lips curl up, endeared at the image of you hunched over your phone, fingers slipping as you clumsily press the wrong letters. So cute.

1:21 a.m.

< yes cutie? ( ˘ ³˘) 💕

1:21 a.m.

cutie 💞🥺☁️🌸✨

> casll?

He stares at it for a good minute or two, trying to decipher this rare, drunken code from you. But before he gets the chance to respond, your face appears on his screen, a photo of you he’d taken months ago, mid-chew special Daifuku.

You’re calling.

He grins, biting his lower lip. His feet slip inside the house slippers by the side of his bed as he gets up, swiping his phone to answer before holding it against his ear.

“Miss me already?” he teases, padding out of his bedroom.

“Satoruuu,” you drawl. Definitely drunk, if not tipsy.

Even like this though, Gojo aches when he hears you speak; there’s a twinge that pokes at his ribcage, making him wish he was right next to you.

The music around you sounds muffled, almost as if you’d stepped out just to make this call—another thought that makes him ache.

He walks down the hall towards his kitchen and stops, realizing: if you stepped out of the club, does this mean you’re alone? He trusts you can take care of yourself, but if you’re this inebriated…

“Are you with Shoko and Utahime?” he asks casually, attempting to mask his worry. His hand digs deeper into his pocket, shifting his weight to his other foot.

“‘Nside.” you slur.

You don’t actually sound that drunk, more sleepy if anything, really, but his heart still picks up pace. Maybe he should just go to you already.

“You should go to them,” he urges, continuing his walk to the kitchen.

“M’be later,” you sigh, and he hears a bit of rustling on your end—a soft curse and a small thud, “w’na talk t’you.”

Another ache.

He can picture it: you, in some sidestreet, phone clutched to your ear as you tuck your hair back before sighing, legs buckling as you clumsily drop down to sit.

“Oh?” he lilts, eyebrow lifting. A smirk forms on his lips, head tilting as he wedges his phone between his neck and shoulder. He reaches for his refrigerator, “Got something to tell me, pretty?”

He doesn’t really know what he’s expecting you to say, maybe a recount of your day, or something funny that he’s bound to laugh at, whatever it is.

“Just miss you.”

He wasn’t expecting you to say this—

—in an exhale, with a slight tremble, like it’s been waiting to be let out. Vulnerable.

There’s another ache, and he nearly drops the water bottle.

He should really just go to you.

His phone nearly slips from his neck, the thump of his heartbeat on rampage as he readjusts it.

He swallows, “I miss you too.”

And it’s odd, how it sounds when he says it, a bit shaky too. A stillness settles in the room and it echoes off every kitchen equipment and countertop. He can’t even get himself to tease you for this one.

“I can go there now, if you want.” he offers, almost a whisper, before attempting a chuckle. It comes out flat, tinted a little sad, “Blink twice and I’ll be there when you open your eyes.”

You giggle on the other end, and it fills him in this moment.

When he looks around his apartment now, steel finish and walls accented black, the backsplash of his kitchen a grayish hue of iron—it reminds him of luxury fit for a bachelor, sleek in its utility.

He’s lived here since his mid-twenties, and he likes how it’s designed, the colors and feel of it right up his alley. The furniture remains simple, modern and minimalist, filling the spaces of his open floor plan down to the two bedrooms and office space.

But right now, it feels so empty.

“Silly,” you chuckle, he can hear your grin forming, affection dripping, “my silly baby.”

Now his heart really aches.

The subtle static makes you sound unreal, strung together by radio waves; it’s rare enough for you to call him ‘baby’, and for you to say it when he can’t even see or hold you while you do it—it’s cruel; a test of his restraint.

He rests his back against the kitchen counter, arm coming across his chest to rest under his elbow, supporting the one holding his phone–you–by his ear. His teasing is softer tonight, tinged by yearning, so he hums, “Your silly baby, huh? Any chance it could be your silly ‘Toru instead?”

The way he says ‘‘Toru’ is a pitch lower, slower, and exaggeratingly more seductive in his banter; it’s what you call him in bed, or by accident, and in the moments you find yourself needing him in ways he can only satisfy by being your lover.

If you say it, he’s definitely going to teleport himself over.

You giggle again.

“S’that your fav’rite one?” you mumble, words blending together. He can imagine your cheek smushed against your knee, arms curled around your legs as you sit on concrete, “‘‘Toru?’”

When he thinks about it, you aren’t too big on his nicknames—at least, not as much as he is with you. You only call him three things: baby (which truthfully, he had to convince you to), ‘Toru (first whispered in the moment, heat fueling it), and Satoru (since you were 16, weighted and grounding throughout all the years you’ve known him).

Is ‘‘Toru’ his favorite?

For obvious reasons, maybe.

But—

“I like everything you call me,” he smirks, shifting his weight.

“Sweet-talker.”

He closes his eyes, head tilting back as he leans further—and he swears, he can see you, the image of you rolling your eyes and scrunching your nose seared into his eyelids.

God damn, he really misses you.

“You love it,” he murmurs.

A beat. He hears the faint honk of a car before you drown it out, sighing.

“I do,” you whisper, admittance ringing in his ears, “I love you, Satoru.”

He hears this all the time, but tonight it just aches; the way you say things so sincerely, so honestly even in an inebriated state—how you call him Satoru and it’s still weighted, still grounding, like who he is resides right there, in the softness of your lips.

Gojo’s always been relevant but when you call him Satoru, he feels more than just the name.

If you’re asking about his favorite, he thinks this might be it—in every handwritten note you leave, his name scrawled in your hybrid of semi-print-semi-cursive letters; in every call you pick up, opening always with a ‘Satoru?’, end pitched higher, sweet and curious.

“C’n I tell you somethin’?” you ask (even when you don’t need to, even when he’s already listening).

“Let me guess, Utahime has a travel ick and Shoko—”

“Satoru.” you scold, rolling your eyes, but there’s no bite. The next bit you say under your breath, a little fragile, “‘M serious.”

The nervousness sits in his stomach; this conversation feels significant.

He takes a seat on his barstool.

“Listening.”

For a while, it’s only your breathing; knowing you, you’re probably thinking, crafting what to say carefully.

You sigh again, and—

“I worry sometimes,” you admit.

He furrows his brows, “About?”

“That maybe bein’ with me’s a lil’ boring?”

And this… this aches in a different way.

How can you even think that?

You chuckle anxiously; he can bet you’re biting your lips, a habit you’ve picked up from him.

He rests an elbow on his kitchen island, leaning onto it as he tilts his phone closer to his ear.

“Apologize right now,” he commands, sternness making him feel a little guilty, “that’s the person I love you’re slandering.”

But you only laugh, real and more relaxed, nervousness dissipating.

“My bad, my bad,” you play along before mumbling, “‘m just sayin’, there’re lotsa others who are more everythin’ y’know?”

He wonders what’s got you thinking like this, if it’s triggered by seeing people at the club, perhaps younger and far livelier—how you spent those years of your life exorcizing curses and making a home for two kids.

“So what? They’re still not you.”

And he means it, genuinely.

Your breath hitches and he grins, swinging around on the bar stool.

Those years of youth were still fun, he thinks, and it’s precisely because of you—how you’d made the apartment the four of you stayed in as fun and homely as a teen barely pushing twenty could.

You had your fair share of mishaps and adventures—rushed breakfasts and Megumi’s ‘my dog ate my homework’s. Tsumiki had to miss a day of school once because you accidentally booked her a birthday gift trip to Disneyland on a weekday.

(And he got scolded a lot, ‘Satoru’ exhaled with a look. But it would only last a few moments; you can never stay mad at him, no matter how hard you try).

There was no way you and Gojo had the maturity and responsibility of actual parents (maybe more like inexperienced guardians, really), but you tried your hardest to give Megumi and Tsumiki a home.

Home, what he’s beginning to realize reminds him of you.

He looks around him now, at the details of his interior, and begins to think of yours—your apartment, a little more wooden and lived-in; there’s a lot more wear but also a lot more love, never empty like his feels right now.

“If being with you was so boring, I wouldn’t be itching to go to you right now.” he confesses, fiddling with the string of his sweatpants.

You laugh again before it falls into comfortable silence.

Muffled conversations and the occasional beep sound in your background. There’s a couple giggling around you and he thinks that could be the two of you—if only he were with you.

“Satoru,” you call him softly.

He hums, letting it sink in—the way you say his name, distinct in how you stress his consonants despite the softness around his vowels.

When you say ‘Satoru’, it always feels targeted, speaking straight to who he is.

“‘M so happy it’s you,” you whisper shyly, but it’s bright—unmistakably smiling, the visual of your eyes crinkling.

He doesn’t know what’s gotten into you tonight, drunken affection and vulnerable confessions, but there’s that ache again, and all he wants to do is go to you, hold you. Be with you.

For a while, Gojo’s been resigned to the fact that there are some things he can’t give you: how you’ll never know true peace because he’ll always be linked to jujutsu society; how choosing him means choosing the tumultuous, the unpredictable.

And while you’ve already told him that you prefer this life with him better, for you to say you’re happy, that it’s him—

He’s thankful it’s you, too.

Tears collect at his lash line, pools of gratitude, “I love you.”

“Hmm? you’re coverin’ the mic w’your double-chin,” you joke, just to hear him say it again, he knows.

(There’s no way he has a double-chin from how you complain about his jawline being too sharp all the time).

“I love you.” he repeats, louder, steadier, pressing it into his phone’s microphone.

He’ll repeat it again as many times as you want him to.

You giggle and he echoes it—like that couple from earlier, your own version.

The clock reads 02:47, and he normally doesn’t like being up this late, barely getting enough sleep as is. But if you’re the reason why, he doesn’t mind staying awake.

3 — TUCKED IN BED, WHEN I LIE CORRECTED

“Satoru, you can’t keep eating sweets on an empty stomach.”

He turns beside you, the dull rumbling of the Shinkansen hardly masking how loudly he asks, “Why not?”

An old man seated across the aisle looks your way, grumpy by the folds between his brows—as if he’d been woken up by Gojo’s whining. You bow your head slightly in apology.

It’s been an early day so far, with you and Gojo catching the first train out from Kyoto to Tokyo. Departing at 06:14 doesn’t exactly leave room for food stops, so all you have are the two water bottles handed out from yesterday’s meeting and a pack of (now) half-eaten Hi-Chew that Gojo picked up from the convenience store last night.

“You’ll get a stomach ache.” you whisper, with emphasis.

He fiddles with the stick of Hi-Chew, tossing it between his fingers before popping one piece out.

The seats in the Shinkansen are spacious enough for Gojo to stretch his long, gangly legs, but despite all the free room in your row, he’s chosen to encroach on your space, sticking to you shoulder-to-shoulder.

“Nonsense,” he tilts his face, sunglasses sliding a few centimeters down the bridge of his nose, “I do this all the time.”

And his eye, clear and bright blue amidst the morning haze zipping past the windows of the train, winks at you.

Heat warms your cheeks; it’s too early for this.

The moment you look away, hiding your smile, he knows he’s got you.

Or not.

Because you seem to have gotten him—

—tucked in bed, nursing this stomach ache that could have been avoided if he just listened.

To be fair, he does do it all the time: a few candies, sometimes gummies first thing in the morning, last thing at night. So he’s right, it’s nonsense; he probably got this from something else.

(Even when you’d both eaten the same meals—how you always order to share because you like tasting a little bit of everything).

Which is why, you insist it’s from the sweets, his beloved Hi-Chew to be specific. And though he wants to, he can’t argue much when he’s curled into a fetal position, clutching his stomach while writhing in bed.

“I made you tea,” you stand by your bedside, holding out your mug—small cereals patterned all over it.

He opens an eye, hair mussed up from all his squirming. The pain in his stomach is radiating, a knot that tightens in waves; this is different from the twist-y pop-y sparks of jealousy, and is nothing compared to the sting of multiple slashes.

Still, it’s a pain he doesn’t understand: a mixture of feeling gassy and bloated, like he needs to run to the toilet only for it to turn out futile. What makes it worse is that when he catches a glimpse of you, a lock of hair perfectly out of place, the sensation in his stomach intensifies—like butterflies flapping (or maybe just another wave of radiating pain).

“S’hot,” he grumbles, half of his face mushed into the pillow.

The mug in your hand is piping hot, steam lifting from it, and Gojo doesn’t like drinking hot things; he’s burnt his tongue enough times on hot chocolate that he swears any hot liquid is out to get him.

But you don’t know that about him—he’s never told you, he thinks.

You take a seat on the edge of the bed.

“That’s kind of the point, baby.” you chuckle, tone doting with a hint of pity, “It has to be.”

Your hand rests on his thigh, attempting to soothe him. He catches your eye and whines.

“If I blow on it, will you drink?” you plead, “Please?”

At this point, he doesn’t know what hurts more: this stupid stomach ache or how nice you’re being.

You could have said ‘I told you so’ the moment his stomach started gurgling when you both arrived in Tokyo—but you didn’t. Instead, you asked him what exactly he was feeling and had him change into his pajamas as you nursed him to bed. Then, you cooked him real food, a bowl of Okayu for his stomach to digest something plain and non-irritable.

You haven’t stopped moving since you both got back from Kyoto, unpacking both your things while simultaneously darting in and out your bedroom, checking in.

How you speak to him is so gentle, caring, doting—even when you have every right to hold it against him.

He pushes himself up, leaning back on the headrest. You smile, lovely, and beautiful, and every bit healing that it eases the pain a little, somehow. Your mouth forms an ‘o’ as you blow on his tea, scooting closer.

A gurgling sound comes from his stomach again, but it’s manageable, and he bears it as he takes you in—how you’ve barely had the time to change out of your clothes since this morning. You’re tired, he’s sure, but you don’t mention it as you take care of him.

The bed as you draw nearer, bringing the mug to his lips—he’s a grown man and he can definitely do this on his own, but you always take such good care of him.

Who is he to say no?

Sips of peppermint coat his tongue, warm as it eases down his throat. He wraps his fingers around yours, drinking a third of the mug before urging you to set it down.

“I’ll heat up a hot compress,” you motion to get up, placing the mug by your bedside.

He stops you, grip loose on your wrist.

“Have you eaten?”

You stare at him, a little surprised, but you nod.

“Just stay with me, then. Don’t need that thing.”

Your brows furrow, pouting, “But it’ll help,”

“Hug me instead,” his fingers play with yours, intertwining, “or I’ll hug you. Either.”

You shoot him a look, disbelieving, but he musters up a wink, for you, despite the new wave of pain arising.

“Okay,” you sigh, knowing you can’t exactly argue. As you get up, you land a kiss on top of his head, rubbing his knuckles as you get ready for bed.

When you come back, dressed in your pajamas, he’s turned to his side, lifting the comforter to welcome you in. You lie face-to-face with him, his arm reaching out to rest on your lower back, pushing you closer.

“You sure this is enough?” you whisper, breath tickling his chin.

“Mm, yeah,” he hums, hugging you tighter as he grins, “you’re hot.”

You hit his arm lightly, and he chuckles.

It turns quiet, then he shifts, resting his forehead against yours. White strands, as pale as your pillowcases tickle your eyes.

He nuzzles your nose, hiking your leg up to rest on his hip while slotting his leg between your thighs—like a pretzel, twisted into each other tight.

“You’re too good to me.”

He’s said this before, and no matter how much you say it isn’t true—he’ll always think it, believe it.

You frown, gripping his waist, “I don’t like seeing you in pain, you know.”

And he thinks you’ve always been like this: hands outstretched farther than his, offering yourself to help carry whatever pain, struggle, or burden you can. You cry for the sadness others feel, share the hurt of anyone who needs it. You’re the pillar, the support for everyone around you—from Yuuji, Megumi, and Tsumiki all the way back to Utahime, Suguru, and Nanami.

You’ve always been this way, ever since he met you.

“Does it still hurt?” you mutter, concerned, fingers grazing his stomach.

It does and it doesn’t—the pain is unfamiliar but he can take it, having gone through far worse. If he’s being really honest, a part of him just likes being babied by you.

“Better,” he inches back a little, lips curling into mischief, “would definitely go away with some Hi-Chew.”

You shoot him a look, then pout.

“Satoru.”

He figures there are still a few things you don’t know about him: how he really dislikes hot drinks, how discomfort turns him into a whiney, needy baby, and how he remains incredibly stubborn, maintaining what he stands for (but maybe you know this already).

“Hey, you should be thanking my Hi-Chew’s. It helps with energy when we fu—”

You swat at his chest in hopes of shutting him up.

He clears his throat, correcting himself instead, “—make love.”

This is hardly the time or situation to be talking about the other things you do on your bed, given that he’s been out of commission, curled in on himself the entire day on it. But you sigh, resting your palm on his cheek.

He turns to peck your wrist, hand coming up to cover yours.

“Just because you were fine doing it before, doesn’t mean you always will be.” you whisper, rubbing your thumb across his cheekbone.

And Gojo thinks he’s right most of the time, if not all the time, but—

“We’re not old, but we aren’t as young as we used to be, you know? Have to take better care of ourselves now…” you continue.

—when you talk to him like this, you humble him. Immensely.

He’s always known that if he were to give in to anyone, it’d be to you.

Things are different now, he knows; his considerations have changed too—like how to lay the foundations of a new, ideal jujutsu society, with all the political and diplomatic gymnastics he knows is necessary; what to do with all this downtime, with all this life and no more death looming overhead; there’s also you, where this relationship is headed, what he plans to do.

“What will I tell everyone when the love of my life, Gojo Satoru, the strongest, gets knocked out by sweets?”

Then you joke around like this so casually, kissing his nose and calling him the love of your life like it doesn’t bear commitment that spans your–his–entire lifetime—it shakes him a little.

He holds his breath, eyes staring at yours. You seem completely unfazed—a slip of the tongue maybe, so he lets it go.

“Okay, okay,” he pinches your nose as you scrunch it, “I’ll try, but no promises.”

You kiss his wrist in return—the softness of your lips always turning him a little delirious when he feels it. He pulls you closer to his chest, palm pressed to the back of your head as his other arm wraps around you, squeezing you tighter.

“But don’t complain if I only last one rou—”

He gets kicked in the thigh.

4 — WHEN IT'S YOUR WAY OR DOWN THE DRAIN

There’s the right way, then there’s the Gojo way.

Sometimes there’s an overlap, but most times he’s just unorthodox. Gojo’s always had his own way of doing things, but now, he’s throwing all that down the drain in lieu of doing things your way (which in this case, he’s decided is the right way).

Between the two of you, you’re definitely better at cooking.

He isn’t inept at it per se; all these years, he’s managed to get by. It’s just that, he’s only ever made quick, simple things—barely having the time or need to make things on his own when you seem to have an extra plate on standby.

Long cooks like this, for real, big meals aren’t his forte at all.

This is the fullest his kitchen has ever been, a trip to the grocery store producing bags overflowing with the ingredients he needs. He tightens his apron (yours, actually) by his waist, pale pink a stark contrast to his black shirt and gray lounge pants. It’s tiny on him, barely fitting, but it covers enough to (hopefully) save him from any mishaps.

With all the ingredients lined up on his kitchen counter, he stares, hands on hips as he contemplates where to begin.

You’ve mentioned before how his kitchen is every cook’s dream: complete equipment, all high-grade with steel surfaces for easy wipe downs and more than enough real estate to move around. It’s a shame he’s barely used it over the years, either too busy out on missions or lately, too often staying at yours.

The unease makes him fidgety.

There’s an air of confidence that normally surrounds Gojo in everything he does, but it wavers just a bit with this one.

He has to get this right.

It’s your anniversary—the third (officially), but the number doesn’t matter as much when the years have always blurred the lines of what you are to each other.

The past two celebrations were cute and fun, adventurous in how you’d spent the first one on a trail date up north, and the second one fruit picking in a farm, just west of Tokyo—things you’d both done for the first time, together. Now, there’s added pressure because this is your thing; everything on the menu for tonight’s home cooked dinner is based on your recipes.

You know all of this by heart. And though he’s aware he doesn’t have to impress you, he wants to.

He glances at the clock: 15:05 in white, 4 hours until you arrive. The table hasn’t been set up yet and he’s barely dressed, an array of ingredients on the table waiting to be transformed into four of your recipes he plans to attempt.

Gojo is no quitter, but it’d be stupid of him to underestimate how fast time flies.

He pulls out his phone, scrolling through his contact list—then he shoots a text, pocketing the device as soon as he hits send.

In the amount of time between asking for help and said help standing outside his door, ringing the doorbell, Gojo’s managed to do most of the prepwork: slice all the vegetables, set the rice cooker, and mix together all the sauces and glazes so he can set them aside for later.

“Just type it!” he shouts from the kitchen.

Four beeps sound from the door, a soft woosh following as it opens. Help enters in the form of spiky hair and a deadpan gaze, putting on house slippers by the genkan as he drags his feet to the kitchen counter.

“Megumi!”

The younger boy sighs, tucking his hands into the pockets of his joggers, long sleeves wrinkling higher. “Why did you call me?”

“Oh!” Gojo claps his hands together, “I need your help.”

Megumi looks him over, eyes zeroing in on the pink apron, then the bowls of sauces and chopped vegetables in front of him. The rice cooker is steaming beside the sink while empty pots and pans line the burners of the stove.

“With cooking?” Megumi shifts his attention back to Gojo as the older male nods. He mumbles, “You made it sound like an emergency.”

(“Come here now.” in proper punctuation, lacking any of his usual emoticons—only ever being used in the most dire situations).

Gojo furrows his brows, “It is!”

Megumi stares.

“Anniversaries are emergencies.” Gojo stares back, holding the silence for a few seconds before he continues, demeanor turned serious, “Think of it as doing this for your Sensei, not me.”

There’s a crack in Megumi’s resolve that Gojo knows only appears when it comes to you; a soft spot that exists because you’ve always been closer, warmer—an accumulation of all the times you were adamant on being present because the kids deserved someone there, especially when he couldn’t be.

Megumi sighs, resigned, as he pushes up his sleeves, trudging over to the sink. He turns on the tap, soaping his hands until it suds, “You should have asked Itadori.”

“Yuuji wouldn’t know how it’s supposed to taste though.”

“Sensei’s recipes?”

Gojo nods, fanning out pieces of paper from the recipe folder you keep in your kitchen drawer, “Your favorites.”

Megumi scrunches his nose, embarrassed as pink tints the tips of his ears.

His relationship with Megumi has always been a bit weird, a not-quite-parent-maybe-kind-of-distant-guardian-and-good-but-annoying-mentor-slash-benefactor kind of weird. And he’s sure that the boy isn’t too fond of the idea that he knows small, seemingly trivial things about him like his favorite food, but if there’s anything they can settle on, it’s definitely love for you.

“Do you have another one?” Megumi turns to Gojo, pointing to the hair band pushing back his hair.

There’s a different kind of care in cooking that he’s now realizing, coming face-to-face with the pot of dashi he’s just started boiling—a patience that comes with waiting and an efficiency meant for multi-tasking.

During the 30 minutes of soaking the kombu, they split tasks: Gojo takes duty rolling the Temaki on his own, while Megumi seasons the Wagyu and prepares the Sunomono. It’s not long before Megumi is directed to setting up the table as Gojo focuses on the Miso Soup.

There’s a reference photo, some picture he pulled online. The gray plates and silverware on his dining table match the iron-hued backsplash and steel surfaces of his kitchen, sleek but softened by the vase of red and white camellias from the florist you frequent.

Megumi doesn’t say anything, frankly because he’s gotten used to walking in on Gojo searching up these things: a youtube video of trail dates and articles of ‘the top 10 best farms for fruit picking’. There was also that time he found Gojo’s browser open on a catalog of lingerie.

(Megumi’s been trying really hard to forget that).

These aren’t things Gojo’s done before, much less thought of—romance and all.

But he admits, it’s hard work, wiping off the sweat on his brow caused by the heat from the stove.

“Why,” Megumi sighs, “Why are you cooking anyway?” He mumbles, adjusting the silverware on the table, “Couldn’t you just reserve some place?”

Most of the cook has been silent, with Gojo too focused and Megumi barely saying a word. So while adding the katsuobushi after the kombu boils, the older male answers.

“I would have, but she said she wanted to stay home,” he turns away from the pot, leaving the katsuobushi to soak as he shrugs.

Megumi snorts, straightening out the black tablecloth, “Don’t you have anywhere you want to go?”

It’s a simple question. Innocent.

But it hits him then, how what you say follows; how ‘anywhere he wants to go’ is wherever you are, how he’s choosing to cook this meal for you instead of just ordering in—-how he’s now considering you, in everything.

This isn’t his strong suit, far from it, really, but because he’s thinking of what you want—suddenly he’s domesticated, cooking for you in hopes of romancing you (even though he already has you).

You come first now, and he finds that he doesn’t mind.

He turns back to the stove, straining the soup through a fine-mesh sieve before adding miso paste, dissolving it into the dashi.

“I guess not.”

The thought stays with him, even as he drops in the tofu, dried wakame seaweed, and green onion. Even as he waits for it to finish cooking, moving the pot atop a different burner while grabbing a spoon to dip in it.

“Megumi, come taste,” he calls behind him.

And when the boy sidles up next to him, he feels nervous, fingers trembling as he hands over the spoonful of Miso Soup. He stares at Megumi, eyes wide open, anticipating.

The boy arches an eyebrow as he takes the spoon, blowing on it gently. He takes a small sip.

“I added less salt because—” Gojo speaks up, a bit panicked, fingers scratching at his nail beds.

“She’ll like anything you make, even if it tastes bad.”

Gojo’s brows furrow, “Are you saying it’s bad?”

“Or bland.” Megumi adds, smacking his lips.

“So it’s bland?”

The horror on Gojo’s face is laughable, but Megumi continues, deadpan.

“No, it’s okay.”

Gojo sighs in relief, then pouts, “Don’t mess with me like that.”

“I don’t.” Megumi sets the spoon down, walking back to the dining table to finish setting up.

The 18:03 on his digital clock flickers, and the rest cook continues: he heats up the skillet to cook the Wagyu—Matsusaka Beef, grade A-5, heavily marbled, meant to be tender and sweet. Some oil is drizzled onto the pan before cloves of chopped garlic are thrown in, followed by the beef, cut into bite-sized pieces. He adds a bit of soy sauce and red wine, to draw out the sweetness (or so he’s read), then finishes it up by plating it.

And, there really is a different kind of care in cooking, he’s now realizing; how, when he stares at what he’s cooked in the past hour, he’s thought of you through it all—your preferences, the way you make things. How big meals aren’t his forte, but for you, he tries anyway.

“Do you need me to do anything else?” Megumi asks, adjusting the camellias in the vase one last time. He takes off his hair band and ruffles his hair, hands tucking inside his pockets immediately after.

Gojo looks up from the spread of food on the kitchen counter, motioning for the boy to come closer, “Taste test everything with me.”

Lined up are a plate of Temaki, a wooden board of Wagyu, a plate of Sunomono, and a bowl of Miso Soup. For every bite he takes, Megumi follows. And honestly? He thinks everything tastes… okay.

The Temaki bursts with the sweet umaminess of buttery salmon dotted with ikura, the yellow daikon pickles adding a tart balance that complements the salmon well by simultaneously being sweet and salty. The avocado adds extra creaminess, while the cucumber and corn provide a freshness that lifts everything else. For some added decoration, he uses radish sprouts to mimic leaves on the filler plants of bouquets—-the main reason he chose to make this: it looks like the bundles of flower arrangements you keep on your desk. What ties everything together though, is the crunchy, crispy texture of the nori, giving contrast to the creaminess it holds inside.

There’s a reason why Wagyu is so expensive, and it’s being told in the way it melts into his mouth right now, sweet and tender. He paid a pretty penny for this, but it’s worth it because he can’t wait for your reaction.

The Sunomono is meant to be a palate cleanser—with sesame seeds sprinkled on it, mild and sweet, while wakame seaweed and cucumbers serve as the base ingredients. The sauce is meant to be light, just a mixture of rice vinegar and soy sauce, seasoned to taste—and maybe his is a little lackluster compared to yours, but he swears you have some form of magic when it comes to cooking.

After each bite, Gojo looks at Megumi for his reaction—but the boy gives nothing away, face blank and devoid of any emotion. None of them are as good as yours, definitely, but for his first shot at this, they aren’t too bad. He’d pat himself on the back for it.

“They don’t go together.” Megumi regards the entire spread with his chopsticks.

All his hard work? Shattered.

Gojo is dumbfounded.

It’s too late to change everything now.

Should he just scrap everything and order takeout?

“But they’re not bad.” Megumi continues, washing his chopsticks by the sink before heading for the bathroom to change out of the house clothes he’d borrowed because there were no more aprons.

When he emerges, long sleeves and joggers, he asks one last time if that’s all he needs to do, taking Gojo’s nods as a sign to take his leave. The older male remains rooted behind his kitchen counter, frozen from the crisis he’s facing.

You arrive a little later (thankfully), giving Gojo enough time to figure out this whole debacle. He’s ultimately decided to feel around for how the night goes, then he’ll act accordingly—if you show any sign that you aren’t happy, he has the delivery app ready.

He dresses in simple slacks and a white button down, fiddling with how he’s rolled it up; the thought of you finally seeing everything he’s prepared for tonight makes him nervous—the table set-up, the ambiance, the food.

(He’s even cleaned up his bedroom).

Then he senses it, faint traces of your cursed energy by the door, and he holds his breath. The beeps on his lock count down the seconds to your entrance; and when he sees you come in, surprised and so amazed at the entire thing, the tightness in his chest eases up immensely.

All he told you was to wear something nice.

And, by god you did.

You walk up to him, pretty and smiling in the simple dress you’d opted for tonight—a midi slip-on with a cardigan thrown on top. Black has always looked good on you, uniform or not, ever since up to now.

But in white, you’re radiant. Glowing.

He reaches for you.

The grin on his face is lovesick as he grabs a hold of your waist. You instantly tiptoe up to kiss him, hands on his shoulders as you land a soft peck that transfers a light sheen of lip gloss onto his lips. The view behind him shows the table set-up, a pop of white and red amidst all the food he’s prepared for tonight.

Your eyes widen, gasping, “Did you make all of that?”

He nods, pulling away from you as he grins cockingly, “Call me chef.”

But he immediately bites his lips, restless as he shifts his weight. He hopes you don’t notice how nervous he is—if you weren’t able to tell from his heartbeat, pressed against his chest.

“You didn’t have to,” you pout at him, eyes watery as you swipe your thumb across his lips, wiping off the residue of your lipgloss.

“Guess I’ll just undo everything then.” he chuckles, hands sliding lower to rest on your lower back, fingers tapping against silk.

You roll your eyes, and before his hands get the chance to grab you lower, you’re whisking him away, holding his hand as you lead him to the dining table.

He pulls out your chair and you sit, the rare gesture making you giggle. As he settles in the seat across you, there’s a disconnect between the expression on his face and his body language—eyebrows wiggling and lips smirking, meant to be lighthearted and teasing, but he won’t stop fidgeting, shifting as he readjusts his seating.

As you reach for the Temaki, he sucks in a breath, entirely hyper aware of every move you’re making. When you bite into it, he’s waiting. Anticipating.

Your eyes fall shut as you chew, humming, then you grin. But when you open them and they catch his, it’s like you can tell—what he’s feeling. The furrow on your brows deepens as you look at him, concerned, “Hey, what’re you thinking?”

How he hopes he hasn’t fucked this up, this dinner. What if the Miso Soup is too bland? Isn’t at all to your liking? What if the Wagyu’s dried out? Isn’t cooked properly?

If he can’t get this right, this seemingly simple thing, how can he do everything else? Consider you the same way you’ve always considered him?

He’s so sure of you his heart could burst at it, but what if he can’t ever come to terms with himself? With what he’s able to—

Then he feels it, your hand on his as you reach for him across the table, rubbing the back of it, soothing.

He doesn’t even realize how much he’s worrying.

“Megumi said it doesn’t go together,” he stares into your eyes, breathing slowly, grounding. It’s been a while since he’s given you a non-answer, but you accept it, patiently.

“Megumi was here?” you ask gently, brow arched curiously.

He nods, “Asked him to help a bit.”

You hum, looking back at the food on the table before taking his other hand, soothing, “Well, that’s Megumi’s preference. Mine will be different.”

The smile you give him is warm, like the Miso Soup you’re reaching for right now. He watches you take a sip.

“S’good, better than mine.” You hum and he knows you’re lying but it’s still comforting, the fact that you’d do this for him.

So if this is your effort for him, he isn’t going to waste it.

The rest of the dinner has you making the most exaggerated sounds, your ‘mmm’s and ‘ooo’s emphasizing how good the food is if he still doesn’t believe it. Your reactions are over-the-top and definitely overplayed, but it makes him laugh—-has him grinning in his seat the more he relaxes.

You help clean up, even though he insists that you shouldn’t.

“It’s our anniversary, Satoru.” you bump his hip, shooing him away from the table as you stack up the dirty plates.

When he finishes washing the dishes and turns to find you, sitting atop his kitchen counter, nibbling on a piece of strawberry from the special Daifuku he put out for dessert, he approaches you.

“Don’t be greedy now,” he rests his hand on your knee, coming to stand in between your legs. You hike your dress up a little bit, just to give him some space.

You chuckle, cupping your hand under his chin as you feed him; he eats the entire thing, half-bitten by you already. And as the tips of your fingers touch his lips, sticky and syrupy from the strawberry coating, he takes them in his mouth, sucking lightly.

He holds your gaze.

“Thanks for doing all this,” you blink twice as he releases your fingers, interlacing them with his, “s’not everyday you have an entire dinner cooked by the love of your life.”

You say it again—how you call him that so casually.

What do you mean it’s not everyday you have an entire dinner cooked by the love of your life?

You do it for him all the time.

He hums, moving closer. His other hand rises higher, kneading the flesh of your thighs through the smooth silk of your midi dress.

“Thought you were going to spit it out for a second there,” he swallows his nerves.

“Stop,” you frown, grabbing him by his belt loops before pressing your lips against his forehead, landing a loud ‘smack’, “go away silly thoughts.”

He chuckles when you blow a raspberry on it, laughter easing up as you drag your lips down to the center of his brows, tense from all the worrying earlier.

You always seem to get it right, he thinks, this whole relationship thing—always knowing what to say.

He tilts his head up, leaning closer to kiss you on the lips, fully. The breath he lets out mingled with yours, sweet with hints of strawberry, and when he catches your bottom lip you lean back, hands coming to rest on his cheeks.

You nip on his upper lip, playful but lightly, and he groans, hand reaching up to slot itself by your neck.

It’s there, underneath his fingertips, the pounding of your heartbeat.

As you squirm on the kitchen counter, you pull away for a moment, restless from the growing heat. The action is subtle but dangerous as your cardigan slips off your shoulder, revealing the strap and lace of your lingerie.

Blue eyes land on familiar pink, one he’s certain he’s caught you in before, but seeing it now, under white, it does something to his brain—-blood rushing, ears ringing.

He leans closer, grabbing you by the waist as he runs his lips against along your neck, nipping on sensitive skin.

“‘Toru,” you gasp, breathy as you grip his shirt.

“Tell me what else you want,” he murmurs against your skin, muffled. He sneaks one glance at you, pupils blown, before hovering over your temple, lips barely touching, tickling as he whispers, “anything.”

Your fingers trail lower, pinching at his shirt before you tug, untucking it from his slacks. You turn to him, finding his lips, sliding them over his as you match his rhythm. It’s careful and slow, the way you unbutton his shirt, but it’s like he said—

This is your way; he’ll follow anything you say.

5 — WHEN ALL I SEE IS ME AND YOU

Gojo never thought he’d make this decision all because of your joint streaming subscription.

It’s a normal weekend, regular in every way possible—just a night in for the both of you. He usually stays over at the end of the week, but it’s been bleeding into the weekdays too, lately.

The sound of splashing water against tile echoes along the hallway; you normally play songs when you shower, but he guesses today isn’t that kind of day.

He plops on the couch, pointing the remote to the TV as he selects the streaming app. Normal weekends consist of movie nights, half actually paying attention to the screen, and half paying attention to other things—either way, it ends in falling asleep.

When the homepage lights up on the screen, he spots two accounts: yours and his. And it’s joint, under one household—your home.

And he doesn’t know if it’s because he’s been thinking about this more lately: how the past months have been a slow realization coming to terms with himself, and where he sees this relationship going, but the visual in front of him sparks an influx of things he’s been noticing.

The pajama pants he’s wearing now exist as a pair to a matching set he has with you, but tonight, he’s opted for a white t-shirt because his pajama top is tucked somewhere in the drawers of your bedroom.

(You keep it with you because you like how it fits more, you say, but he thinks it’s because it smells like him, and you sleep with it when he’s away).

There’s another pair of chopsticks you always wash now, too, plain bamboo with a ring around the handle, light blue. You’d bought it from a market down the street a year ago, and told him it reminded you of him—-how it’s his from now on, in the container of utensils by your kitchen sink.

He’s always known how intertwined your lives are, a decade and more of learning one another is bound to entangle you somehow. But the past few years have caused knots, impossible to unravel—a thought that doesn’t scare him as much as it used to; a thought he now thinks doesn’t sound so bad as long as it’s with you.

As long as it’s with you.

The creaking of the bathroom door snaps him back, the soft pads of your footsteps growing louder as it reaches the living room.

“Oh, you haven’t picked a movie yet?” you ask, ruffling your hair with your towel.

He puts on a smile, facing you as he hands over the remote, “You pick tonight.”

You barely pay attention to the movie, snuggled up against his chest, constantly looking up to kiss his neck. He’s the same, distracted, but not for the same reasons you are.

It’s a lot to resist, the way your hands creep under his shirt, warm against his stomach, but the sinking feeling in his gut makes it impossible to focus anywhere else.

“Not the time?” you tap his cheek, and he tilts chin down, acknowledging you. The look on your face is anything but disappointed, and it tugs at him, makes him feel guilty that he’s making you worry. That he can’t give you what you’re looking for right now.

“Maybe later,” he takes your hand, lips grazing your fingertips, “I’ll get ready for bed.”

You nod, sitting up as he taps your hip. He knows you can tell something’s bothering him—it’s impossible to hide anything from you at this point, but this realization feels like a long time coming, like it’s been brewing, now spilling.

He gets up, kissing the top of your head before walking to the bathroom.

When he steps in, it still smells like you—the shampoo and bodywash you use. (Technically, it smells like him too—he’s started using yours because it feels like you’re right there, everywhere he goes).

As he finishes brushing his teeth, reaching for his towel hooked beside yours, he remembers how none of this existed when it was just you. You only ever had one hook for one towel, how he used to share it with you only to realize that it would never dry.

Then he found it, some time last year, when he walked in to take a shower and found a hook installed right beside yours, presumably his.

The lights are adjusted for him too; fluorescent white is too bright, a pain for his Six Eyes, so you changed the bulbs to soft white, tinged a bit yellow, warm.

And thing is, he never asked you to do any of this.

You just… did.

Because that’s you.

And it’s making him realize even more how he wants to keep it this way, how he wouldn’t mind if this was the rest of his life, everyday.

The mood shifts when you both get in bed, and if you notice it, you don’t tell him. Whatever was bothering him before has settled, his head clear, more focused to reciprocate your earlier advances.

He’s gentle when he touches you, taking the time to love you. Your clothes come off one by one with no haste at all, slowly, almost painfully.

But he kisses you all over, leaves marks on places only he can see—by your hip, at the center of your chest, and another one, visible, on your neck below your ear. This is more than what he usually does, but he feels determined tonight.

“Off,” you whisper, as you tug at his shirt, pulling it off before throwing it to the side of your bed.

He holds his breath when your fingers land on his chest, dragging across his collarbones before you tap thrice. This is a spot you’ve loved so intently, he’s become sensitive to it every time you come close. You leave kisses along it, some wet, others dry pecks, but it makes him shudder all the same, every time.

As he hovers above you, arm bent by your head, his fingers trace your lower lip, tugging only to let it bounce back; he kisses you, noses bumping, softly at first before it turns hungry, lips overlapping, biting. His tongue runs over your lips, smooth and warm.

There are more touches, more gazes; lips brushing and breaths mixing. The heat between you is shared, intermingling, and when he’s in you—

—it’s too much, how he feels looking at you right now, like you’re everything, the only thing seared into his memory.

There’s a life he wants to give you, and though he knows there are others who might be more able to—he can’t let go of you, refuses to. He can’t bear the thought of anyone else being this close, doesn’t even want to think about someone else waking up next to you—the bed hair he always looks forward to, the lazy smile you always give him, the hands that always reach for him, first thing.

These traces of you have made him want the whole of you, and if this is him being selfish, then so be it.

His arms wrap around your back, hoisting you up as your legs wrap around him, and you’re both moving, timing in sync, and he’s crying.

He tucks his face into your neck, and he’s sure you feel everything—wet tears, shuddery breaths, but you don’t say anything. You hold him tighter, fingers scratching his undercut as he gets closer and closer.

Gojo Satoru is a man of impossibilities.

And this life he thinks you deserve—he wants to be the one to give that to you.

+1 — WITH MY KNEES ON THE FLOOR, WHEN I ASK FOR MORE

He shouldn’t even be feeling this way, because what’s the worst thing you can say?

It’s just you.

It’s just you—

And… maybe it’s because it’s you, that the .01% possibility of you even saying no—

—it makes him feel sick.

He looks back at the clock: 16:30. The walk from the conference room to his office will take an extra 3? 5? minutes.

The room feels tighter, smaller, floorboards practically worn down from how much he’s paced around it.

He’s rehearsed what he wants to say, how he’ll grab your hand and look you straight in the eyes as he does it. Fear and excitement churn in his belly, how he’s imagining the look on your face.

If you were here, you’d tell him to breathe—to follow you with every inhale and exhale.

If you were here, you’d smile at him, lips curled up softly, gently, the one he loves.

If you were here—-

—-the door opens, and you step into the room.

Now that you’re here, he doesn’t know what to say.

You stand before him in your uniform, smiling, just as he imagined you’d be. Your eyes crinkle at the corners, sparkling, the way he’s noticed they have since you were 17.

He must be doing a terrible job hiding how he feels because your demeanor instantly shifts, face contorting into worry, brows furrowed and frown forming. You drop your bag as you walk to him, hands reaching to cup his face.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, voice hushed and delicate, “Did something happen?”

Your fingers are warm on his cheeks (or is he too cold?), tilting his head lower so you can look him in the eyes. He can’t breathe, can’t hear you properly; you’re drowned out by the thumping of his heartbeat.

“Need to tell you something,” he manages to mutter.

Your eyes widen before you nod, lowering your hands as you speak slowly, “Okay, do you want to sit first? I have water—”

He shakes his head, hand reaching for your wrist, “I think… you should sit.”

The pause alarms you, your body turning rigid. He has no idea what’s going through your mind, and you give nothing away as you mumble an ‘okay’ while walking to the couch.

He stays beside you, not too far but still placing a bigger distance than he normally would—for the 0.01% probability that this isn’t what you want, that he isn’t too close, forcing you into an answer you might not want to say.

The words float in his mind, but none of them string together to form the sentences he wants to tell you. Does he take it from the start? How this whole thing has always terrified him? How he never thought this was meant for him, but here he is, still learning but loving every second of it?

There are things he’s never had to consider before that he cares so much more about now—all because of you, how it’s for you, how he wants to do better by you.

You call him the love of your life and he hasn’t told you, but you’re that and more for him, too.

He practiced this, damn it.

Why can’t he remember a single thing?

The silence between you is tense, tainted by overthinking on both ends. You look like you’re waiting for bad news, and Gojo’s too stuck in his head, turning over the right words to say instead of reassuring you.

“I’ve been thinking lately,” he starts, fiddling with his fingers. His feet won’t stop bouncing, knee fidgeting. He’s biting his lips, a tell-tale sign that there’s a lot he isn’t saying,

You place your hand on his knee to calm him down, and he stops bouncing it, looking at you as you muster up a small smile—far from being genuine, but it’s the fact that you’ve mustered it, as if to say: ‘it’s okay, you can tell me; i’ll always want to hear all of it.’

He swallows, “This arrangement isn’t working.”

Your face drops, brows furrowing, “What arrangement?”

His heart is pounding.

“I stay over at yours too much.”

Too much, that mine doesn’t feel like I belong there anymore, he fails to add.

“I think we need more space.”

Your hand on his knee slides off as you tuck it between your thighs. There’s a frown on your face he can’t seem to figure out, and the fact that you’re giving nothing away, whatever you’re thinking—he’s turning even more nervous right now.

“Okay,” you finally say, tone flat, “when do you want me to return all your things?”

He tilts his head at you, confused, “What—”

“Actually, can I…” you shift around, tucking loose strands of hair behind your ears before clearing your throat, “can I ask if it’s something I did?”

And his heart drops, straight into his stomach.

It’s not like that at all.

He’s hit with déjà vu; this conversation feels so familiar, so similar to one he’s had with you before—on the sofa chair across this couch, laying himself bare the same way he is now.

The couch dips as he scoots closer to you, reaching for your hands.

“It’s not—”

You scoff sadly, “Please don’t give me the ‘it’s not you it’s me’ thing,” then your tone drops, blinking away your tears, “if you’re going to break up with me, Satoru, just tell me why. Honestly.”

He blinks.

There’s a secret Gojo keeps, one he once told himself he’ll never tell you.

But now seems like it’s fitting—the right time to say it.

“You remember when I was unsealed?” he moves to the floor, getting down on his knees in front of you. You nod as he rubs circles over your knuckles, “When I first saw you, it was pretty scary.”

He brings one hand to your cheek, catching a tear with his thumb. You pout, the crease between your brows growing deeper.

“You ran yourself dry because of me.”

When he thinks about it now, he still feels guilty.

He believes that people are accountable for their own actions, and he still believes that with you, definitely—but he knows your reasons, why you acted that way, desperate for hope everyday. And for that, he takes responsibility.

“I didn’t want that for you, still don’t.”

Your frown deepens, tears welling up even more.

Do you still think he wants to do this without you?

He can’t take this, seeing you cry; he promised himself he wouldn’t be the reason behind this anymore.

“I’m not breaking up with you.” he tells you firmly, surely.

You blink.

Then your shoulders drop as you breathe out—what he hopes is relief. When your eyes meet, a little less sad, he sees the stars in them, glinting like they do when you look at him.

This should be his answer already, how much you brighten at the thought of staying with him. But—

“I still think you deserve more,” he brings your hands to his lips, brushing them against it, and as you’re about to interject, he chuckles, “but I’m also too selfish to leave that up to someone else, you know?”

“Soooo,” his hand reaches for his pocket, fishing around until he feels for what he’s looking for. He takes out his phone, swiping and scrolling until he finally stops, placing it on your lap for the both of you to see, “I’ve been thinking lately…”

He looks up at you, the two skies you’ve always been drawn to, waiting. The unease in his stomach returns, churning.

It’s a compilation of properties: houses, apartments, plots of land—all scattered around Tokyo, some central and some further on the outskirts.

Your eyes widen, tilting your head to the side as you attempt to read what’s on his screen. You turn to him immediately, eyes still watery; the expression on your face is unreadable, a mixture of surprise and confusion, like you don’t exactly know what he means.

“We don’t have to choose from these, it’s just a few brokers I talked to recently. We can look for others if you want, in quieter areas too—”

Then you smile, beaming, tears falling from your eyes, “Satoru,” and you breathe out his name but it sounds like I love you.

There’s a quiet life he can’t give you, but he likes this one with you much better too. He takes your hands, placing one on his chest, over his heart, and the other on his cheek. Then, he leans into it, kissing the insides of your wrist before staring back at you sincerely.

His heart is beating wildly, he’s sure, but if he can continue to make you this happy—

“Make a home with me?”

a/n: food descriptions—temaki is easy hand-rolled sushi, sunomono is japanese cucumber salad.

thank you notes: @stellamancer the actual birthday gift for u :') + @em1e for listening to me talk abt the entire plot and even reading the first few scenes!! + @mididoodles @kissxcore @itadorey for always being so supportive when am sharing my progress posts ilu + @crysugu @soumies @augustinewrites @ufo-ikawa no reason other than i just love u ᰔ i reply so slow when am writing smth...

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

#midi.🥔#mididoodles #this was SOOOOOOOOOO nice of you midi i am sawbing #matcha latte #shotorus.feedback #thank u SO MUCH #srb

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pinkandblueblurbs · 2 years ago

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this isn't really a dialogue? idk?maybe? I just wanna share this thought I had when I saw you say Tommy,,,

reader who is a bit of a lightweight and one day she goes down to the garrison to wait for Tommy because he's taking way too long :( and somehow she ends up drinking a bit of beer (which she hates </3) and there's a new bartender who doesn't know any better so he makes her some type of fruity fucking drink that has her giggly and with a warm face in no time <3333 and then Tommy is walking out of his office because that fucking giggle sounded a little too familiar and he finds his tipsy wife laughing along with the men like they're life long friends or smth and she's being so cute and gets so happy when she sees him soBBBB :') anyWHO sorry just brain dumping

PLZPLZPLZ

he has to hold back a smile as he walks over to you and you greet him with a thrilled “Tommy!” And lean heavily into him

“What’s goin’ on out here, love? ‘avin a party?” and he does smile (just the tinniest bit) when you let out another light giggle

“Yeah!! Been havin’ lots of fun—“ your words are slurred and you lean up to give his cheek a sloppy kiss. “Gotta introduce you to everyone!”

#tipsy reader is so cute sob #i tried to write more for this like 3 times but couldnt get anything rigjt #so i didnt rlly add much sob #i forgot how hard writing is ig #but ty for sending this sof ily :��))#thomas headcanon #peaky blinders headcanon #sof 🍬

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javiersprincess · 2 years ago

Text

tags: 18+ minors dni, fantasies of sex, toys mentioned, f! receiving oral mentioned, fingering mentioned, fem reader, alcohol mentioned (reader is tipsy), age diff (present mic, midnight and aizawa are all in their 30’s and reader is in her late 20’s), all three of these freaks want a taste of sweet reader, corruption

synopsis: a confession of yours sends the minds of your dear co-workers’ a blaze and aizawa knows exactly what it is they want.

aizawa’s eyes glint with something dangerous as he looks you over after your confession. you demure expression made you seem angelic under the dim bar’s lighting. it was here, on a outing with hizashi and nemuri for drinks on the first night of winter break you had confessed to you co-workers that no one has ever made you finished before. maybe it was the 2 pints of beer in you or nemuri’s overall pushiness but you lips have been loosened and nemuri eats it up like a satisfied cat.

“so no one’s ever done it for you?” nemuri prodded, sitting the closest to you her painted nails resting on your thigh. her thumb gently scratching the ribbed material of your stockings. she watches with careful eyes how the soft sensation makes your thighs tense. you nod, unable to meet anyone’s eyes and your cheeks are flushed from the alcohol and embarrassment.

“man you must not be very lucky, huh?” hizashi says, mostly teasing but in the haze you don’t see the flicker of something darker in his green eyes. he licks his hips and he can taste the sweet cocktail in the whiskers of his mustache that he forgets to trim from time to time. he’s sure you’d taste far sweeter.

“yeah i guess…they weren’t really good guys to be honest. i don’t really remember what i was thinking dating them.” you confess, eyes sparkling under the overhead lamps that light the bar and aizawa hides his face in the palm of his hand and he thinks - how could anyone deny you of such a thing?

he knows his two friends are the thinking the same; thinking of you hot faced and teary eyed - your hiccups and sobs as they wreck you. nemuri with her toys, she’s probably thinking of what vibrator would do it for you and your little clit. you’re shy and sensible girl, a sucker might do you in too fast too quickly - a rabbit vibrator would be his pick, something to fill your cunt as you hump the air futilely from the pleasure. maybe some cuffs and cute collar would complete the picture he has in mind. when he looks over and catches twinkling blue eyes he knows he’s right.

hizashi’s thinking of having you spread open for him his hand gripping the meat of your thighs, aizawa notes as green eyes keep glancing down at how nemuri pats your covered skin. the softness the tongue and the warmth of the mouth would drive you to tears, your curls would stick from the spit and the slick and you’d be helpless as hizashi would hum into your clit. you’d be boneless and drooling - defenseless as how the blonde would pull orgasm after orgasm from your body leaving you wrung dry on the bed. every-time hizashi sips from his drink, he licks his lips and aizawa knows the blonde man wonders what would be sweeter, the tang of your cunt or the salt of your tears.

aizawa hums as the conversation changes, keeping quiet unless asked something glimpsing at you from the corner of his eye carefully. how would he make you cum? would it be keeping you open, one thigh in an ironclad grip as the other busies itself by putting in one than two than three fingers in your cunt? he thinks so, he likes the idea of fucking you open - making the petals of your cunt bloom for him as his fingers find that soft little spot inside of you that makes you gasp and sob. his thumb rubbing at your clit and his fingers spreading the lips of your cunt - he bets your arousal would stick to his fingers in gossamer strands. he wants to have you clamp and squeeze and milk his fingers and think about how you would do the same for his cock.

yeah that sounds the most suitable.

“-outa? shouta?” his musings are broken by the voice of hizashi who gives him what would be a flat look but by the light in the green of his eyes, aizawa knows that hizashi and nemuri know what he’s thinking of.

“she’s asking if we wanna head to hers, she made a pie!” hizashi cheered and nemuri looks pleased as you duck your head and scratch your neck.

“im not sure if you like desserts but it’s getting cold so i thought it’d be nice to have you guys over at mine. i can make coffee or tea too?” you offers and aizawa smiles as nermui coos at your consideration. they really are going to have fun with you.

#lamb.writes #aizawa smut #present mic smut #midnight smut #bnha smut #sorry this came out of nowhere and i am frightened

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dorimena · 4 years ago

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I seriously love Bakugou and Todoroki. Especially Bakugou in his tight winter costume in S5. And I love Dom reader and femdom more than a sub. Can I pleaseee request Todoroki or Bakugou where the reader is recording them playing with a vibrator or dildo but get overstimulated because they can't cum from the cock ring because it's their punishments since they forgot their anniversary so reader also forget to stop the toys even if they beg reader to stop in the camera.if you don't mind the request

I don’t mind~ May your sin be forgiven with this prayer (˘⌣˘人) This sounds really, really sexy, so I had a blast imagining and putting this into words.

𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔢𝔯; bakugou katsuki & todoroki shoto

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱; 2.1k

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰; fem!reader, sex toys (dildo, vibrators, cockring), overstimulation, cam sex (recording), exhibitionism, semi-public, dom!reader, sub!character

𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔰; balcony sex (?), threesome, whiny Bakugou, weeping Todoroki, punishment, orgasm denial, aged-up characters, Bakugou and Todoroki are both 20+

𝔰𝔦𝔡𝔢𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢; Unravel Me by Sabrina Claudio and Fuck Love by XXXTENTACION ft. Trippie Reid somehow helped me piece this together. Sorry if there are any typos! It’s not proofread.

𝕯𝖔𝖚𝖇𝖑𝖊 𝕿𝖗𝖔𝖚𝖇𝖑𝖊

“I-I-”

“W-we! We-”

You watch as both men struggle to speak, trying to ask for forgiveness, once again. It’s the fourth time this hour, the way Bakugou tries to open his mouth wide enough to not slur his words and Todoroki tries to correct Bakugou while keeping himself coherent.

It’s cute how the smartest guys in your life seem to fail miserably in having a decent human conversation

Well, you can’t blame them either, not with the way you keep toying around with the intensity of the vibrators taped to their dicks, cum drying on the toy enough to show anyone who looks up on the balcony that these two men, with such stature and muscles, are easily falling apart.

“Speak better, sweethearts. Can’t have you guys sounding so dumb on camera, right?”

Oh yeah, and you’re even recording them, in case anyone else would want to watch the rising proheros break.

You’re not actually going to show them to the public, but maybe to their friends. Maybe Kirishima would like to watch? Kaminari? Sero? Or maybe Iida? Midoriya?

Heck, the girls might even ask some day.

But you know what makes you curious about showing this video to their friends?

The way both Bakugou and Todoroki are presenting themselves beautifully, as if they’re pro porn stars saving the wanks rather than proheros saving the day.

It’s cute, how Bakugou’s puffing his muscular chest in the air as if they were the juiciest tits ever, which they are, and how Todoroki is somehow sensually humping the air with every buzz against his furious red tip.

Your eyes stay on the screen, making sure the lighting is entering nice enough to make it seem like they’re glowing, other than their post-orgasm glow.

How many times have they come by now?

“Babes, how many times have you cum?”

They both shake their heads.

Of course they wouldn’t know. They just take what they’re receiving. They’re making up for their mistake.

You still pout, tapping the touchable screen to even out the weird lighting as another cloud covers the sun, again.

Maybe giving their punishment out on the balcony wasn’t such a good idea.

As you look down to the floor below them, seeing the once growing puddle of cum slowly be pushed by the wind to trail off towards the side of the balcony, seeping through the small opening and probably dripping feets below is what keeps you positive, happy knowing people will eventually look up and wonder ‘what the fuck is going on?’

Well, either the drying cum gives away your dirty activities or it’s Todoroki’s wailing as an orgasm is ripped out of him forcibly.

Pity nothing comes from his tip, not since some time ago.

They both thought they deserve to cum and be satisfied?

Maybe you should’ve put the cock rings on them before making them come the first two times, but their reactions and frustration with how little some cum leaves or how their body reacts with the dry convulsions makes you giggle in pride.

Pretty babes.

“Todoroki, shut up. You’ll make the neighbors look over- oh! Oh, that’s what you want? I understand.”

And poor Todoroki is just shaking his head way too fast, enough to give him whiplash, but you just snicker as you reach over to a white box.

An unfamiliar white box.

Bakugou’s eyeing Todoroki in pity, wondering what the other will have to endure as he keeps trying to fight off his orgasm.

How he’s doing it, he has no clue. But god his dick hurts.

He’s been wanting to cum for the past 30 minutes, but with the way he resents this stupid cock ring, he’d rather not humilliate himself in front of you and figure out how else to please you.

Maybe he should offer to eat you out?

The way his body is super tense and his breathing is shallow doesn’t escape your attention, less how much pity is showing itself on his face as he shakes his face in disapproval with Todoroki’s recent dry orgasm.

Good thing you invested in this double dildo.

Neither of the boys take notice with how you’re lubing the dildo that looks like it’d belong to you. It’s quite pretty, long and thick enough to hopefully please your boys.

Even if they won’t get to cum.

“Bakugou,” you start, smiling as you watch his once bright eyes suddenly darken as shock takes over his face.

What the

“Fuck is that?!” He yells out, accidentally letting his body relax as it finally submits to the vibrations of the toy, his yell turning into an unbroken series of high-pitched moans, his hips losing control with how incredibly close he is.

“A double dildo, baby. Look! It even looks like if I’d be fucking you two, isn’t that fun?”

Bakugou shakes his head, gasping ‘no, no, no!’ before he falls forward, balancing himself with his palms as he sobs through his first dry orgasm. Maybe he shouldn’t have held back for so long, not with the way his body unforgivably goes through waves of pure unsatisfied pleasure.

Todoroki, meanwhile, is nodding eagerly, eyes welling up in happy tears at the idea of getting fucked, in getting more pleasure and love from you, even if this is meant to be punishment.

But, why are you exposing them like this?

They forgot your anniversary.

Your 3rd anniversary as a throuple, the anniversary Bakugou swallowed his bite and pride to confess to you how much he loves you and how he’s falling in love with Todoroki too; the anniversary Todoroki finally let loose the dam of emotions and even if a bit tipsy, agreed he too was falling in love with both you and Bakugou, how he hasn’t ever felt so understood, so loved, so safe.

So, yeah, how dare they forget?

But if they wanna be dumb, you’ll help with that.

It’s been a while now since you’ve turned off the vibrators and since you’ve prepped them well enough to take the dildo together.

The scene in front of you is gorgeous, ethereal, sublime.

You just want to ruin them like this everyday.

“Aagh! Ugh! F-fuck! Sl-slow do-own! Haaah~”

“S-sorry! ‘m s-sorry! Ca-an’t! Nnah…”

It’s cute watching them argue a bit, how Bakugou can’t take how fast Todoroki is fucking himself back on the dildo while also pushing the toy deeper into Bakugou. And Todoroki doesn’t actually look sorry, not with how his eyes keep crossing everytime he manages to get the toy to hit his sweet spot.

He’s trying so hard to win your forgiveness by putting up with this, but it’s kind of sad knowing you’re not going to stop anytime soon, or take off the cockrings.

Not like they know anyways.

Bakugou might’ve known, might’ve noticed, with the way he’s trying to keep this dragging as slow and steady as possible; with the way his precum is struggling to escape the confines the cockring gives; with how much his red and miserably hard dick keeps jumping with every push Todoroki’s ass gives him.

You’re lounging about, resisting the urge to get off to the scene in front of you, or else they’d start begging to let them please you as apologies, and knowing how sentimental this day is for you, you know you’d immediately give in.

But this is punishment for their forgetfulness.

So, as the cherry on top of this cum covered balcony sex sundae, you’ll also forget about them.

It lasted for a while as you got bored with how neither of them seemed to be reaching another orgasm.

If only the dildo had a vibration option.

But the vibrators still taped on their dicks will have to do.

So you turn them back on, and oh would you look at that! The cockrings could also vibrate.

The pleasure-filled scream coming from Bakugou and the cute, drawled whine of your name Todoroki lets out makes you feel grateful for thinking ahead, kinda.

Now both boys are writhing against each other, different ways to let out their desperations and dying need to properly cum manifesting in either rapid fucking on the dildo to simply submitting to the minstruations of the other party.

To put it in better, shorter words, Bakugou took the reigns in fucking the dildo in such rigor and strength that made Todoroki lay on his chest, ass still up as he simply took everything Bakugou kept pushing into him, mouth opened as hiccups and drool escaped. His eyes settle onto your form, watering as more tears gather on his waterline before dropping to the ground his face is resting on.

It feels so good, so, so good he can’t believe this is punishment. Even if he hasn’t been able to properly cum for some time now, he still thinks you’re being nice with them. Must be because of the anniversary that you sadly reminded them of.

He’s trying his best to push back on the dildo, wanting Bakugou to feel just as good as him, just as fucked as him.

And everytime the toy hits him just right, Todoroki sees stars, feels an all too familiar tingly sensation as he tries to grab his dick, but when you turn the vibrator up even more, his hands just lay on the ground, nails raking as he tries gripping on something, anything.

He really, really, really needs to cum. He wants to cum.

Keep being a good boy for you.

But all he gets is a choked sob of your name leaving his mouth as his eyes roll to the back of his head, eyebrows furrowed upwards as the strongest orgasm takes over his body, he’d be convinced there’s an earthquake happening. Small whimpers of how much it hurts leaves his mouth soon after, his dick twitching pathetically as it slowly becomes purple, barely a dribble of cum managing to escape.

Bakugou is in no good shape either, loudly moaning and crying out how good you’re fucking him, how he’s taking your cock, how good he is being, to please, please, please let him cum.

But actually cum, to let him contaminate the floor even more with his sperm, to let him taste it even, if that would make you happy and forgive him.

He’s close to wailing by now, hips going impossible faster as he forgets all about poor Todoroki riding out his high.

And the moment you turn on the vibrators intensity, he gets dizzy, breath getting stuck in his throat as his brain tries to process the spiraling of his warm, hot orgasm growing too much, burning him everywhere as if it were lava.

Small sparks sound on his fingertips as he howls and gets hurled into his own orgasm, back arching and head thrown back as his eyes roll to the back of his head.

He didn’t even notice the tears rolling down his cheeks, not with how his mind only cares about how good yet bad this orgasm feels.

Not even how loud his high-pitched wails of how good it feels, how much it hurts, is enough to alarm anyone near the radius of this defiling act.

Both boys are left shuddering or twitching through their intense dry orgasm, the way their bodies react with the built up cum in their dicks, with how hot and how wreckless they’re becoming with their quirks.

Still connected with the dildo, neither move, unless it’s some pathetic hump to help drag the orgasm a little more before they try to even remember what letter your name begins with.

Bakugou’s whimpering.

Todoroki’s crying silently.

Both blinking the haze out of their vision as they remember about the buzzing, about the relentless feeling on their really, really sensitive dicks.

Bakugou’s crying now.

Todoroki’s just busy mewling like a slut by now.

And when they both turn to look at you, they gasp so loudly one of them begins choking on air and the other with saliva.

Where’d you go?!

Come back!

And ‘come back’ and ‘forgive us’ is the only thing anyone could possibly hear for the next few hours as they fuck the dildo and let the vibrators do their job in milking more and more orgasms out of them.

If only they’d look closer, they would’ve seen a post-it note stuck on the tripod of the camera telling them you went to the kitchen and that they better come crawling.

Oh well, you’re enjoying the view anyways as you sip on some liquor of your liking, turning off the vibrators as you slowly walk to the balcony.

The sun’s beginning to set. You’re not that cruel in letting them fuck each other in the cold.

The bedroom is much better, and comfier.

Perfect for you to finish the job and let them finally, finally, get their deserving orgasms.

You’ll be sure to milk out

Every.

Single.

Drop.

#✿; impurity #bnha smut #mha smut #bakugou smut #todoroki smut #bakugou katsuki smut #todoroki shoto smut #sub bnha #sub bakugou #sub todoroki #ლ; blasphemy #𝖇𝖆𝖐𝖚𝖌𝖔𝖚 #𝖙𝖔𝖉𝖔𝖗𝖔𝖐𝖎.𝖘

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lovinkiri · 3 years ago

Note

OUUUUUUWWEEEEEEEEE!!!!! I GOT SUMN FOR YOU!!! 😈

So the reader has a bf but she caught him cheating on her and so she goes to her yandere best friend for comfort who in turn fucks her till she forgets about him, makes her their boo, and while the reader is sleeping all snuggled up in their arms; plans on how to kill her shitty ex after they see her phone notify her getting a text of him begging to talk things out with her. The characters in question shall be Sero, Momo, and Tamaki

No Turning Back

Author's Thoughts: C'mon, these asks are killing me guys 🥵 Keep 'em comin!

Warning: Smut, Cursing, Bondage, Oral (Giving & Receiving), etc.

Hanta Sero

When you came to his house that night, he was worried.

Immediately checked you for injuries.

When he found none, he sat you down a pulled you closer.

"What happened, Mi Amor?"

You explained how you'd come home from a long day of work to find your now ex boyfriend fucking a coworker of his.

The one coworker he told you not to worry about.

And immediately, Hanta wanted nothing more than to kill the fucker.

How dare he hurt you?

He was going to pay.

But for now, he needed to stay with you.

So you stayed with him for a few days.

And next thing the both of you knew, you were in his bed with your hands bound above your head and your eyes blindfolded.

The way you squirmed was so cute.

The only good thing out of this heartbreak?

You were now all his.

And he definitely showed it.

You'd whine softly, just wanting to see him.

You simply hushed softly and Sero gently rocked into you

"Shh, let me take care of you, chica bonita"

His breathing was shaky but it wasn't his fault

God, you were just so tight

Your ex was a fucking idiot

And when everything was all said in done

When you were in the shower as Sero changed the sheets

Sero thought of how he'd dispose of the guy who dared break your heart.

Then your phone went off

Normally he'd respect your privacy but your ex's name popped up

Not only did he change his name, but he decided to.. Give your ex a warning.

Momo Yaoyorozu

Momo was pissed when you called her and told her what happened.

That dick was lucky to have you, and he was somehow to blind to fuckng see it.

She invites you over immediately and you agree.

When you get there, she makes you tea and pulls your against her chest, letting you cry if you need to.

She'd hush you and pet you ever so gently.

And later that night, she'd offer wine

You two would stay up all night, joking and drinking

You'd both get tipsy and one thing leads to another

And her lips are on yours.

She'd pull away and go to apologize but...

Then your lips are on hers 😳

What a twist!

And she thinks..

Maybe this is just what you need.

So its not long until your in her bed, fingers tangled in her locks as she works your clit better than you ex ever could

"What's the saying? A woman knows what a woman likes, heheh."

Her sultry voice makes you buck your hips and she chcukles.

Gives you so many orgasms.

She won't let you return the favor, at least not yet

This is your time ❤

You guys shower afterwards and you collapse in bed.

As she's stroking your hair, she sees you get a text from "Ugly Hoe"

She already knows who this is

And she's not happy

So guess what?

Hes about to lose his head.

Literally.

Tamaki Amajiki

Listen, Tamaki wouldn't describe himself as an angry guy.

It takes a lot to anger him.

But seeing his best friend sob because some asshole made her feel like she wasn't good enough?

That'll do it. That'll definitely do it.

So he immediately knows that he's going to strangle the guy-

He'd planned this out long before.

Just for the fact that this guy had asked you out the exact day he was gonna do it

Literally 5 minutes before he got to your place to ask you out too.

So as you can imagine, he already hated the guy.

But he had to take care of you first.

He wrapped you up in a blanket, made you hot cocoa, offered some ice cream Fatgum had gifted him.

It was all worth seeing the way you smiled at him.

And by the end of the night, you were wearing his t-shirt and laying in his bed.

He walked in straight out of the shower, shirtless with a towel around his waist.

Years of hero work did him justice ☺

"Is there anything else I can do for you, Butterfly?"

You looked him up and down

"Well.."

And that's how you ended up riding him, gripping the headboard for leverage.

His grip on your hips was tighter though.

You felt so in control making him feel this good.

It was just what you needed.

The way your pussy milked his cock 😩👌🏾

Felt too fucking good

"Fuck, I love you, I love you, I love you"

Without hearing a response, he sat up and pressed a kiss against your lips

You were his, all his

And he was so lucky

You quickly bounced your hips against his, moaning into the kiss

This position let you take him so deep

Your walls hugged him so good

He couldn't help cumming early, filling you up

But.. You didn't stop there.

No, you kept going.

Needless to say, it was a long night.

Then, the next night, as you laid in his arms..

You got a text.

Tamaki shamelessly checked your texts, knowing you'd forgive him.

And there was the anger again.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #smut #hanta sero #momo yaoyorozu #tamaki amakiji #yandere

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piecksz · 4 years ago

Text

pet. | (m)

pairings: yelena x fem!reader

warnings: nsfw, non con, oral sex (female recieving), fingering, intoxication, gun play, violence, slight degredation, explicit language

words: 2.3k+

summary: hange sends you to investigate her suspicions about yelena’s loyalty to the military, but unfortunately for you, she’s already ten steps ahead.

You should have known better.

Maybe if you’d been more wary she wouldn’t have had the advantage, but you weren’t. Instead you’d been unsuspecting, accepting her blithe invitation to talk about military proceedings over a drink when it hadn’t been your original plan because Hange’s directives were simple. Suspicions had been propagating amongst the higher-ups that the anti-Marleyan volunteers were planning an underhanded coup, and at the forefront of the insurrection was their ringleader, Yelena.

Your orders were to meet with her and solicit information that could have given Hange and the rest of the authorities a lead, so you thought nothing unsavory of Yelena suggesting you two meet at a bar. She offered to cover the tab, and you figured it would be easier to seek out details if she had some alcohol in her system, but Yelena was observant, much more than you had been. She knew the basis for the occasion, and so she coaxed you into one glass after another until you’d grown so tipsy that you didn’t realize she never took one sip.

Afterwards, it didn’t take much effort to convince you to come back with her to her place, accommodation she’d been provided as a guest on Paradis. The minute she lured you inside with the promise to take care of you until you were sober, she seized your arm and forced it behind your back into a nearly impossible position. With the weight of her body, she drove you into the wall, effectively cornering you with the threatening barrel of her gun pressed into the underside of your jaw.

She lowered her mouth to your ear. “The military doesn’t trust me, do they?”

You only grunted in pain, pointlessly writhing in Yelena’s hold.

“And here I was thinking we were just starting to become friends.” She sighed. “They’re smart not to.”

You said nothing, already realizing it was futile to try and prove that you had no ulterior motives for meeting with her, she already knew everything you presumed she didn’t.

“At least I weeded out their pet.” She prodded the hollow cavity where your jawbone met your neck with the cold metal. “What do you say to becoming mine instead?” She thumbed over the gun’s cylinder, clicking the plate into place before teasing the trigger.

You sent her a malicious glower over your shoulder, eyes blazing with animosity. “Go fuck yourself.”

Yelena’s eyebrows lifted in surprise at your rancorous choice of words, but her expression quickly melted into a duplicitous grin. “Is that a yes?” She nudged her gun against the side of your throat, an understated reminder that she still had the option to censor you with a single bullet.

You stuck your chin out in resistance yet remained silent. Compliance was your only alternative, but nothing made you sicker than the thought of submission.

“Good girl,” Yelena chuckled. She released your arm and stepped back, continuing to stand with the firearm pointed in your direction. “Shirt and pants. Off.”

Her command was curt, and it had you carefully turning to face her. “Yelena—”

“Pets don’t talk.” She flicked her gun to the side, emphasizing her instruction. “I need to make sure you’re not concealing any weapons.”

You hesitated, but quivering fingers traveled to the buttons of your shirt, undoing each of them one by one. Your movements were slow while you tried to stall as much as possible. If you failed to report back to Hange in time, they would conclude that something in your job had gone awry, then they’d come looking for you.

“Faster.” Yelena’s eyes narrowed. She must have sensed your deliberate pace.

Calculating bitch.

You shrugged your shirt off, tossing it on the floor beside you before working yourself out of your pants and discarding them in the same heap.

“Happy?” You held your arms up, turning around once over so Yelena could see that you didn’t possess any visible weapons.

She flicked her wrist down to your feet. “Shoes too.”

Your irritated look slackened at her awareness, still, you slowly bent down, reaching your fingers into your boot until they closed around the smooth wooden handle of a switchblade. You pulled the weapon out, briefly considering the odds of successfully landing damage if you lunged at her from where you were. You decided against it, knowing that it would take less time for her to activate the trigger than it would for you to attack.

Yelena held her hand out, and you reluctantly pressed the blade into her palm. “It would be a shame if I cut you up with your own knife, wouldn’t it?” She snapped it open, studying its whetted edge with eagerness.

Your eyes widened at the mention of her threat, and you backed further up against the wall, arms wrapped about your body in a miserable attempt to offer yourself some decency.

“Don’t look so scared. I won’t.” She retracted the blade and slid it into her pocket. “I have other plans for you. You’re gonna tell me everything I want to know.”

“Or else?” you combated.

Yelena grinned with amusement. “Or else? Dauntless are we? I admire that.” She took a long stride, closing in on you with her imposing height. “You’re gonna tell me everything I want to know if you don’t want your brains on my wall.” She tapped her gun against your cheek.

“You’re not gonna kill me.”

Yelena raised her eyebrows at the way you underestimated her vice.

“Commander Hange and Captain Levi wouldn’t let you see the light of day.” You chuckled. “And after they’ve been such kind hosts to you, is that any way to repay them?”

She pretended to muse over your reasoning, and then she shrugged. “Should I get my information another way then?”

You tilted your head to the side, now at a loss for words. You drew your brows together and shook your head, unable to discern what she was hinting at.

“It was easy getting you this far.” Yelena’s rich voice was strangely comforting as she spoke into your ear, the melodic rhythm of her voice lulling you into relaxation. “Your heroism is cute Y/N, but you’re not as smart as you think you are.” She coiled a strand of your hair around her lithe fingers before her hands traveled down to your chest.

“You think all your decisions are yours, but they’re not.” Her touch trailed along your breastbone, ghosting over the skin of your stomach until she met the thin fabric of your underwear.

Your mouth ran dry at the feeling of Yelena’s fingers while they lingered along your waistband. You tried to protest, but your words were stilted.

“Nothing is. Not even those thoughts in your head, someone put them there.” she whispered, dipping her hand into your underwear while pushing her gun’s end into your temple. She delighted in your afflicted expression, eyes welling with hot tears but still soundless. She skimmed over your clit lightly, watching how your body twitched in response, and she hummed at your quiet feedback before circling the sensitive swell of your cunt with her middle finger.

Fearful of grabbing Yelena’s hand to cease her movement, you cupped your unsteady hands over your mouth instead, trying to smother your panicked sobs.

Her fingers slid down to your pussy’s orifice, forcing just the tip of her finger in and growing amused at how your hole tightened desperately with every small ministration. “You’re merely a puppet on a string—easily controlled.” The mention of her last word had her pushing two fingers up into your entrance, eliciting a strident cry from you.

Yelena moved quickly, long and lean digits thrusting in and out of your hole while your body quivered under her commanding strokes. She worked you in steady pulls, curling her middle and ring finger up against the sensitive center of your core. Her movements were effortless and adroit, playing you like an instrument while listening to your airy whimpers of indulgence—the music.

“Not even a minute ago you hated me, but your lack of resistance says otherwise.” She sunk her fingers again until she was knuckle-deep.

Your feeble pleas for Yelena to stop suggested something entirely different from the way your wet and needy walls tightened around her touch while your vocalizations grew louder. You undulated your hips in tight, urgent circles, shameless in your pleasure until you felt your orgasm tickle the bottom of your spine. A sweaty hand slid over the lapels of Yelena’s blazer, gripping the fabric while you fought to keep yourself upright.

“Take my advice.” She brought her face closer to yours, lips hardly brushing over the streaks of tears that painted your cheeks. “Being so naive will only get you killed.”

She slipped her hand out of your underwear, her fingers covered in a gossamer layer of your arousal, and the sudden absence just as you had reached the cusp of your orgasm caused your pelvis to jolt. Through glossy eyes, you looked at her own, your hold on her jacket tightening. “Please—”

Your fingertips slid down to your clothed folds, gingerly skimming over the fabric to imply what you wanted. With a sober mind, you wouldn’t have dared admit that you were surrendering to the enemy, but the residual effects of the alcohol in your system blurred all your coherent thoughts, and all you could focus on was your desperation for a climax.

“Yelena, please—”

Yelena’s hand closed around your wrist, and she forcibly pulled you off of her. “Don’t beg. Have some self-respect.”

She withdrew her gun from your forehead, ungodly eyes never leaving yours. Her pinched expression relaxed back into her classic inscrutable appearance, and she slowly lowered herself onto her knees in front of you until the top of her blonde head just barely peeked over your midriff.

The sight of seeing her shorter than you for once would have been comical if it weren’t for the aching between your thighs that took priority.

Yelena wrapped an arm around the back of your knee, and hoisted your leg over her shoulder. The hand that clutched her gun pushed it into the curve of your hip bone, spawning a small whimper of discomfort from your throat.

She glanced up at you before leaning in and lolling her tongue out, delivering a long wet lick up from your entrance to your clit.

“Oh my god—” Your words were breathless and waned into a decadent purr as Yelena continued to circle the sensitive bud with the authoritative head of her pink tongue.

With a final and potent flick, she lapped your clit into her mouth, methodically oscillating between sucking and kissing your glistening cunt until she discovered the best combination to draw out the loudest moans. The fingers she dug into your thigh migrated to your backside and pressed into the skin of your ass instead. Yelena nudged you closer to her until her nose gently grazed the skin of your pelvis every time she shifted against your center.

You whimpered her name again while your restless hands slid over your chest, tugging at the sheer material of your bra and weighing your own breasts in your palms. “I’m—”

Yelena trailed down to your hole, teasing and prodding while she dragged her touch from behind. She rested her fingers against your clit, massaging it alongside her tongue’s performance to excite you into greater stimulation.

“Yelena—” You swallowed thickly. “I’m—close—”

Half-delirious with lust, the other half—inebriation, your hand settled behind her head and you rolled your lower body against her mouth, allowing the dual sensation of her fingers and tongue to send you over the edge. Your climax surfaced in two waves, first presenting itself as a tiny shiver that painted your skin in goosebumps, but the second had you crying out fervidly while your body descended into uncontrollable spasms.

“Yelena—fuck—”

Yelena continued to urge her tongue deeper, penetrating the depths of your cunt and relishing in the way your walls tightened around her slippery muscle before she withdrew from between your thighs.

The strength of your orgasm had your knees buckling, sending your back sliding down the wall until you collapsed on the floor. Your fingers scratched pathetically against the wood surface while you quivered from the aftershock of your climax, and your heavy breathing didn’t relent. You stirred briefly, drifting in and out of clarity until your eyes flitted open to see Yelena rising to her feet in a squatted position.

She observed you thoughtfully, her warped smile matching, yet at the same time contrasting, her seemingly kind eyes. It appeared she had discarded her previous plan to pry information out of you, and debriefing you wouldn’t have been worth the effort seeing as how you could hardly form an intelligible sentence.

Yelena reached out to grab your chin, forcing your lips to part wider with her thumb, just enough for her to slide the barrel of her gun into your mouth.

The metal was leaden against your tongue and it’s sharp flavor was unpleasant, making you tug your head in the opposite direction, but Yelena’s grip was unyielding. You looked onward at her as a new surge of tears flooded your waterline, and your helpless cries were muzzled by her weapon.

She rested the end of the barrel against the roof of your mouth before clicking the hammer and rotating another bullet into place.

You strung your eyes shut, waiting for the deafening sound of gunfire, quick pain, and then terrifying silence, but when nothing came, you carefully opened your eyes, wondering if you were already dead.

Rather, you were still met with Yelena’s squinting eyes, and she hummed before pulling her gun, now daubed with your saliva, from your lips. Her eyes drifted to the floor, and she stretched a hand out to grab your bundle of clothes from your side. She held them to your chest, and you hesitantly accepted them, hugging the articles to your stark frame, then Yelena rose to her feet, peering down at you with self-approving satisfaction.

“Give the military my best.”

#yelena smut #yelena x reader #yelena x reader smut #attack on titan smut #aot smut #attack on titan x reader smut #aot x reader smut

1K notes · View notes

kestrel2001 · 2 years ago

Text

Unpredictable Sky | THOR

Summary: Unexpected events turn your night into an adventure when the God of Thunder makes an epic apparition in front of your eyes, finding him in need of help makes you forget about your problems for a while.

Pairing: Thor x Gn reader (they/ them pronouns)

Warnings// Substance abuse (Alcohol, other substances may be implied, not mentioned ). Wounded character. ( Blood, mentions of blood) Language? Suggestive if you squint.

Let me know if I missed anything

Word count: 6k and I cut so much lol

( I’m sorry, but I promise hope it’s worth it!!!)

AN: Apart from this, I’ll just say I’ve never been drunk (I think) Also this whole situation is really fun and cute so I hope you like it :) btw this is my first time publishing a fic ever!

Tags <3 @tonyee @dilfsarebetterthanyou @cristinatheloser

You braced your arms around your knees, trying to find some comfort in the night sky as you dried your tears with your sleeve, the cold grass felt refreshing against your bare feet, especially after running almost five blocks fearing someone was following you (the creeps at the club definitely seemed of that kind). You let out a soft sob before drying your face once again, you tried to calm down and enjoy the view in front of you, the flowers contrasted with the trees nearby, and the lake at the distance reflected the perfect midnight sky like you’ve never seen it before, stars were shining bright and the moon had enchanted your eyes.

It had been a rough night, you lost count of the drinks you had and other stuff you took, certainly not your best moment but you were proud that you got out of that place on your own, leaving your so-called friends behind, on the other hand, now that you were completely alone, you wished someone had come and saved you, saved you from your decisions, soon enough you realized no one would and no one could, apart from you.

You took a last glance at the sky, taking in every detail making sure you would remember it for many years to come, thinking that at least something good came out of that trip. With a groan you grabbed your shoes and stood up, ready to go back and find somewhere to stay, and hopefully avoid your friends. As you took your first step you felt the earth shake beneath you, along with a roar that resembled that of a thunder. Almost too scared to look you turned around slowly watching a thin layer of smoke starting to dissipate just some meters away from you, a mysterious figure emerged from it

“I didn’t mean to scare you” A deep voice traveled weakly through the dust.

“Wh-“ You cleared your throat before speaking again, wishing that would get rid of the fear as well “What did you mean to do, then?” you gave a step forward.

“Not fall?” The only thing you heard after that was a grunt and a loud thud.

You walked cautiously towards the figure, furrowing your eyebrows as you leaned down to have a better look, finding a blond man with his face pressed against the grass and his hand holding his side and resting not too far away from him laid his hammer, you recognized him easily after that, although he was wearing a different armor and he had shorter hair now. You didn’t think twice before helping him get up, you reached out to him using all of your strength, while he thanked you and apologized multiple times, it was surreal to see him rely only on your help.

“I’m sorry to ruin your evening” He grabbed onto your shoulder and tried his best not to fall again, he then opened his free hand and the hammer flew towards it.

“It was already ruined, don’t worry” You replied jokingly hoping he would relax a bit, after all, he was the one that just fell from the sky, he chuckled and held his hammer close to him, and the both of you began walking, your body reminded you that you were still tipsy, so you both looked like two idiots stumbling around, he was injured and you were drunk, the best combo. You managed to walk up to a tree and rested there. “What happened to you? Should I call someone? Who should I call?” you searched for your phone in your pocket and when you checked it, it was dead.

Either way, Thor shook his head at your suggestion, without a warning he took off his upper armor and you looked away, mainly out of respect but also not wanting to see his injury, you heard his breathing getting faster, the tearing of his cape and a few other sounds you would rather forget.

“I got into a little bit of trouble,” he sighed as he put his armor back on “but I think I’ll survive, I just needed you to rescue me” You huffed and turned around to face him again “All good now” Thor reassured you with a weak smile

“Are you sure?” you looked at him worried and wiped a bit of blood off your hands, your clothes have already been ruined either way.

“I’ll be fine, don’t need to worry, how about you?” He asked as he inspected what was left of his cape. “Because if you are cold I can offer you this, which was left untouched by blood and stuff” As he spoke he slowly realized what an odd suggestion that was, but you were immediately thankful for it, you were freezing and you had left your jacket back at your car.

“Thank you, that’s very kind of you” you wrapped the fabric around your shoulders and he looked at you as if he was waiting for an answer to his previous question, you wiped your eyes out of reflex and held onto the cape a little tighter. “I’m good. We should walk back to town, if you don’t feel too good when we get there, we’ll try to find a doctor, someone must know the anatomy of a God, right?” you nervously smiled, hoping there was.

“I don’t think so” you frowned “I mean we can try looking” He laughed shortly as the following made you smile again “And, you are right let’s go back to wherever you are staying- I mean, I’ll walk you there” He explained himself, but you were to out of it to assume he meant something else.

“Sure! I don’t exactly have a place to stay yet though” The both of you held onto one another as you zigzagged your way back to town, luckily without any accidents apart from stumbling and almost hitting fences or road signs that crossed your path. “There it is! the motel I was telling you about! Thank god we didn’t get lost” you said as you crossed the street, a blue neon sign shined just a couple of meters away.

“You're welcome” He answered with a silly grin on his face and you looked at him unamused.

“That was terrible” you said laughing and he looked down defeated and didn’t notice the pole he was about to hit.

You pulled his arm abruptly in an attempt to save him as if you guys weren’t close before, you started to feel conscious about it, he placed his hand on top of yours and you felt your cheeks burn.

“I already lost count of how many times you’ve saved me today” He let out the cutest giggle, and you felt your eyes turning into hearts. No, no, no, it’s the booze. Thor tried to fix his posture once he noticed he was leaning a little too much on you but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

“Don’t worry we just need to get to my car” You caught him struggling to keep his eyes open.

“So, how’s your car?” He asked out of the blue as you got closer to the club where you had left your friends, the music grew louder with every step you took.

“It’s white and it has some stickers on the back, not too big…One of the stickers it’s a thunderbolt!” You remembered raising your brows.

“Really?” Thor asked with a smile “We’ll just have to check every car for that sticker then!”

“Let’s hope I can recognize it before choosing that option” You teased and fixed the cape around your shoulders, taking another glance at him “We are close I think” you tried reassuring him, he nodded and passed a hand through his face.

“I’m good, I’m aaaall good”

“I’ll believe that” you giggled nervously and finally laid eyes on your car on the other side of the small parking lot. “That’s the one” you pointed at it so Thor could see it. Finally, a light of hope, your charger, your clothes, and most importantly your wallet were there. You looked down fearing that another strike of bad luck had hit you during your runaway and that you may have dropped your keys, you checked your pockets and sighed in relief when you felt them, everything was going according to plan.

“Who are those people around it?” Fuck.

“Damn it!” You pulled Thor once again, hiding behind a parked truck, he mouthed a silent ‘ouch’ and you gave him an apologetic look. “They are one of the reasons why I ended up out there where I found you” you peeked carefully watching how everyone was looking for you, Thor and you crouched the moment one of them turned around, covering your mouths to avoid laughing.

“You want me to scare them?” Thor asked playfully as if the whole situation had given him energy.

“No, no, I think,” you let your head fall back dramatically, “I think I should go talk with them and send them to hell, but you stay here” You brushed the hair out of your face gathering courage to walk up to them.

“Come on, I may be injured but I can still give them a good scare” He tried to convince you with a mischievous smile.

“I’m not letting you do that, it’s not worth it” You sighed “and you are looking rather adorable” Your eyes widened as you spoke without thinking. He looks at you slack-jawed, quickly breaking into a laugh.

“I’ve never been more disrespected” Thor faked being offended and then carefully peeked in direction of your car.

“Listen” you tried to focus again “I’ll go there, I’ll get my things and distract them while you wait here, if they see you they’ll probably ask you a million questions, like if you can spin your hammer and take pictures with them”

“They sound nice” Thor shifted in his place to look at you “What happened? What did they do to you?”

“It’s kind of what they didn’t do as well” you took a deep breath “Our designated driver got drunk and he was supposed to drive my car, so of course, I asked him to give me back my keys, everyone got mad at me saying that I was a killjoy and that I was being irresponsible because I was drunk too,” Thor looked confused and you continued “they probably thought I would drive around like crazy or something, we were all being idiots I’m not gonna lie. I sat alone at the bar and two guys came up to me, I immediately knew they didn’t have good intentions, they started being disgusting overall, I tried to call for my friends when I saw them and they straight up ignored me, if I was feeling bad before then I felt worst, the alcohol didn’t help and the weird guys surely didn’t care that I was uncomfortable, I somehow got out of there and took off running as fast as I could, not wanting to see the end of it”

“Why were you with them in the first place?” He asked genuinely curious but couldn’t hide the fact that the whole story made him upset.

“I met them quite recently, I just got a new job in a new city and I wanted to be easygoing for a change, I didn’t want to be alone, I thought they were good…” You were too embarrassed to admit all of this, you thought you were lucky for finding a group of people that accepted you so fast, and you didn’t want to burst your bubble with negative thoughts, but after all that had happened you wish you had.

Thor clenched his jaw, just the thought of you ending in a much worse situation only because your friends were being petty made his blood boil. He looked in direction of your car, watching your friends disgusted. As adorable as it was to see him scrunching his nose, you wanted to do something to distract him from it, you didn’t think it would bug him so much.

“How would you scare them if I had said yes?” you asked with a playful tone and his expression softened.

“Mm, I would make my eyes glow, a thunder here and there”

“That sounds cool” you teased him “not so scary”

“Well, do you want them to collapse?” A grin appeared on his face as he looked at you but it disappeared the second he turned to the front and noticed your friends were gone. “Wait where are-” he didn’t finish his sentence before grabbing your hand and your waist, pulling you to the side of the truck, after that, you heard sloppy steps behind you, you covered your mouth and grabbed onto his shoulder. He looked at you doubting if he made the right choice and you gave him a thumbs up, he had to gather all his willpower not to let out the noisiest laugh alerting everyone of your location, he still held onto you waiting for them to go away, you could feel his breath hitting your temple, the warmth of his body making the awkward position somewhat comfortable.

Thor softened his grip on your skin and guided you to the front as your friends got to the back, you couldn’t get a grasp of what they were saying but you were positive they were way drunker than you and figured they didn’t notice a thing.

The both of you saw how they were all heading back to the club, “Really?” Thor whispered in disbelief and you squeezed his hand.

“They’re probably very worried about me” You joked and Thor shook his head. “I guess it’s my fault for trusting them so easily, but I’m done feeling sorry for myself” you smiled at him and walked to your car.

“Hey, it’s not your fault. People are unpredictable, and not only on this planet,” Thor mentioned “but in a way, now I’m trusting you, how you trusted them,” You glanced at him, thinking the situations were completely different but you let him finish “I have a feeling I’m not going to regret meeting you even in the slightest” his words were genuine and you felt your throat burning. “if they were the ones that found me I would probably still be laying in the grass, and you should trust what I say, I’ve met a lot of people” His words carried a lot of meaning. Yes, you had crossed paths with a selfish group but it didn’t mean everyone you’ll meet would be like that, even after all you went through, you were still willing to help someone you just met.

“Thank you, Thor” your voice was barely a whisper as you wrapped your arms around him, he hugged you back and gently stroked your back.

“You’re better off without them” He spoke softly “You’ll find better friends, like me for example” You pulled away from him with a grin.

“You think so?” You opened the door of your car and he stood in his place.

“Well yeah, what do you mean?” You laughed at his answer “Can’t I be your friend?”

“I didn’t mean to offend you” You said playfully while you changed into a more comfortable pair of shoes “But, here on earth you’re supposed to know your friend’s names”

Thor raised his finger and stopped midway quickly realizing your point. “I am so sorry” He walked up to you seeming flustered “I have no excuse for my behavior”

“You don’t” You laughed as you gathered your bag and two water bottles from the trunk.

He chuckled “But now that no one is around and I bet we are feeling a bit better, would you tell me your name, please?” you looked at him amused when his formal dialect came through.

You handed him one of the bottles “My name is y/n,” he accepted the water and carefully fixed his cape around your shoulders “Pleased to meet you”

“The pleasure is all mine” He winked at you and you pressed your lips into a thin line. “You have everything now?” You wondered how could he be so charming and caring at the same time, you blinked realizing you were staring at him, and thought of your answer.

“Oh yeah, are you ok to keep going though? Don’t you need some more time to rest?”

“Don’t worry, I can feel I’m already healing”

“Ok” you nodded as if that was a normal sentence, he offered you his arm. “Thanks, I mean” you took his arm “You still need my help?”

“Not really, but why change things now?” He shrugged and you weren’t about to argue with that, you smiled and made your way back to the motel, relieved to finally have a place to rest. The lady at the desk greeted you and you approached her, reaching for your wallet.

“We’ll take a room for two,” you gave her your card and your ID as you spoke, thinking it would be that easy “Uh, two singles” you tried to make yourself clear, and the lady gave you a troubled look.

“I’m afraid we don’t have anything like that available at the moment”

“Ow, are you sure? I didn’t exactly want to sleep in my car” Your voice fell on the last part, brushing away your facade of a responsible adult, without taking into account Thor’s cape.

“We do have something available” Her eyes widened and Thor intervened

“We can take two separate rooms if that makes you comfortable. I’ll repay you, I promise” He didn’t want to cause you any more problems and he was aware that that option would be the most reasonable, even if he wanted to spend more time with you he didn’t want to overstep.

“Sir, you’ll see” The lady turned to Thor this time “It’s a busy day for us, and although the only room I can offer you is very good” she grabbed the room key card and motioned the both of you to follow her to the suite. When you arrived she didn’t have to say anything else, you frowned thinking it had to be some kind of joke, either that or it was an elaborate dream that your mind had created.

Thor stepped inside the suite and you followed him mindlessly “It only has one bed” He stated the obvious and the lady let out a giggle, you wondered around and opened the door you hoped would lead to another room but it was just the bathroom. The suite had an elegant and cozy feeling to it, it had a small living area with two barrel chairs and a coffee table that pointed to the tv.

“I could maybe call around to other places for you and see if anything it’s available, but the closest one is thirty minutes away by car” The lady suggested after a moment of silence.

“Ok, why don’t you stay here? You need to rest and I’m already feeling better, you literally just came from a battle, I can go find somewhere else, I promise it’s fi-”

“What?” Thor said in a high-pitched voice that made you huff “I’m not doing that, if you go I’ll go, and we’ll find something else, no, actually you should stay here” The lady stood in silence enjoying the fun interchange between you two

“I don’t want to sound too blunt but, you both look quite…Tired” Thor fixed his hair as if that would brush away the fact that he was covered in blood and dirt, and you didn't even want to glance at your reflection in the mirror nearby. “How about you guys take a moment to rest here and I’ll call around to see if there’s anything available?” You clearly needed a break, you shared a look with Thor and you immediately thought it was enough adventures for the day.

“I think we’ll just take this room.” You said quietly, with a hint of doubt in your voice.

“Yeah” Thor agreed, nodding slowly

“Excellent!” The lady handed you the keycard eagerly “Let me know if you need anything, have a nice stay!” the both of you laughed when she left, she certainly had her fun witnessing the situation. You let yourself fall into one of the chairs and for a minute you thought you wouldn’t have the energy to get back up.

“I’m surprised she didn’t ask us more questions, given how we look” You turned to him and he instantly regretted his words “I mean I’m not saying that you look bad, I’m saying we are covered in blood!” You knew you were looking questionable, his expression of relief was precious the moment he heard you laugh.

“I have a feeling she has seen some stuff” You joked and he sat beside you “I’m sure this isn’t the end of the world, we’ll manage, right?” you looked at him hoping you were both on the same page.

“Of course not we’ll be fine”

“You’re lucky that I decided to be the mom friend” Thor stood in front of you, freshly out of the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist, your eyes wandered to where his wound was before, there was barely any scratch now, only an amazing set of abs, you looked back to his face without being too obvious and he glanced at you with a playful smile.

“You are amazing” He winked at you, again. He closed the door again. You could tell you wouldn’t survive a third wink so he better not.

You paced around the room nervously while he changed, everything was just then dawning on you, you dried your hair as you looked over to the chair where you rested before, would it be that bad to sleep there? you figured it wouldn’t, but the moment you sat on the king-sized bed that thought seemed ridiculous, you laid down and curled into a ball enjoying the feeling of the soft covers against your skin, then you stretched as much as you could, knowing that even like that you wouldn’t reach the edge, your heart skipped a beat when you heard Thor calling your name. “Hm?” You hardly let out as you sat like a decent person, still out of your sight he spoke again.

“I’m turning off the lights” He mumbled childishly

“What?” You let out laughing “Why?” you heard the switch click and the only light left in the room was the one coming from the blue neon sign outside

“Now close your eyes”

“Are you still naked?” You asked half joking half serious. “Did you wear the clothes I gave you?”

“No!” He huffed “I mean yeah, I’m not naked” he took a deep breath, he was going through it.

“Is it that bad?” You asked cautiously and he let out a stifled laugh, your lips pursed up slightly at the sound.

“Listen,” he began as he slowly took a step into your field of view” I’m not criticizing your clothes at all, just so we are clear, I think the strawberries on the t-shirt look phenomenal” Your eyes widened when you saw him standing timid in front of you, the t-shirt hugged his figure tightly and the shorts were, a little too short. The fact that he seemed so much more confident when he was only wearing a towel was hilarious to you. He grabbed his cape and covered himself with it. “Perfect”

You giggled and patted the spot beside you “I’m sorry”

“How could you have known? Plus the material is very soft” He shook his head and sat beside you “I hope I’m looking better next time I see you” he tossed the cape around his neck as if it was a scarf.

“You look great, what do you mean?” You chuckled “Why don’t you get under the covers?” you played around with your hands and you felt his eyes on you.

“Are we going to share the bed? I was just thinking I could sleep on the chair” he shrugged

“Yeah, I thought I could sleep on the chair as well-“

“What? No, that’s ridiculous-” you interrupted each other.

“Either of us sleeping on the chair would be ridiculous” You stated raising your eyebrows.

“You’re right” He sighed with a smile “Are you sure?”

“I am” You insisted, Thor laid down and you copied him

“This is really nice” He turned to face you resting his head on his arm “Didn’t realize how tired I was, this is comfortable” he closed his eyes “I could fall asleep at any second” he muttered with a side smile.

“You’ll get cold”

“I have the cape, you will get cold” Thor joked and opened his eyes again, to help you get under the covers with him, he gave you all the space you needed, even more than that, so much you feared he would eventually fall off the bed. After a few minutes, Thor whispered your name in case you were already asleep.

“Yeah?” you whispered too.

“Thank you, I didn’t know today would end like this but you made it so much better, I owe you a lot after tonight”

“You don’t owe me anything” you smiled at him and he looked at you delighted.

“Yes, I do, you went above and beyond”

“If you say so then I must thank you too, you helped me with my former friends back there” he chuckled and you continued “Maybe we won’t be able to see how much we helped each other tonight”

“That’s a shame” he said faking sadness and you nodded playing along.

“It truly is” You closed your eyes while getting comfortable to sleep.

“Good night y/n” He whispered as he did the same

“Good night, Thor”

Any other day the warm feeling of the sun hitting your face would’ve been nice, but the sudden pounding of your head as you moved around didn’t allow you to enjoy it, you covered your eyes with your hand and sat down on the bed, trying to move slowly fearing you would worsen your headache, you found an empty space beside you as you adjusted to the light. “I didn’t dream last night did I?” you questioned yourself for a minute but realized it was nonsense once you heard the doorknob turning.

Thor entered with some bags in his hand “Good day!” He spoke loudly and immediately regretted it.

“I just woke up” you warned him and ran your fingers through your hair, not really caring how you looked, just wanting the pain to stop.

“Ok, so I woke up feeling hungry so I got us some breakfast” he spoke quietly this time but with the same excitement. “I supposed you’d like waffles and they recommended me the tea instead of coffee, so I got tea” You stood up and thought if he used his smile privilege to get food, if he did, you didn’t mind at all, it smelled good.

“That’s very nice of you” Still squinting your eyes you made your way to the window as he continued talking.

“It was the least I could do” Thor finished setting up everything on the coffee table, you noticed he was wearing his pants again but he was still wearing your strawberry t-shirt, you felt another twinge on your head.

“How did you sleep?” you thought making conversation would help distract you from the pain, you closed one of the curtains and Thor helped you with the other one, meeting in the middle.

“I slept great. Not a fan of the sun?” He tilted his head realizing you weren’t feeling as good as him.

“Not right now,” You sighed and sat on a chair “I have a horrible headache, but as you said last night ‘I’ll survive’” you made your voice deeper trying to imitate him and he let out a little wheeze as he handed you the food, helping you reach everything so you wouldn’t have to move so much.

“I said that? Embarrassing” You hit him lightly on his arm and the both of you laughed but even laughing hurt, you raised your hands to your face instinctively after feeling the sharp pain. He looked at you with a worried expression and placed a hand on your knee “Are you sure you don’t want anything? A medication or something, I’ll take you to the hospital-“ he started rambling and you stopped him placing your hand on top of his.

“No, no,” you whispered “I’m sure the food will make me feel better” he handed you the tea, you took a sip and the flavor made you relax for a moment. “I’ll take a painkiller later, I don’t think it’s that serious”

“I’ll get it for you” Thor insisted as he stood up, you held tighter onto his hand when he took a step towards the door, avoiding that he went any further.

“Please, just stay here with me and let’s eat together” you slowly let go of his hand “I promise it’s not that bad” you furrowed your eyebrows as if you were begging him to stay.

“Okay.” He hesitated and sat back down, he could see you were unwell but he didn’t want to nag you, he ate in silence while keeping an eye on you. The curtains helped you lessen your discomfort but you could still feel your head throbbing, you crossed your legs and rubbed your temple, trying to hide the pain from Thor was useless.

“Will you tell me where I can find the painkillers…?” He asked carefully, cleaning his hands with a napkin.

You could truly use one right now, you hummed trying to remember, and took another sip of your tea. “I’m pretty sure I had a bottle of Advil in the glove compartment of my car”

“The one in the co-pilot seat?”

“That one” you hissed and close your eyes at the pain, you hear him stand up and open the mini-fridge.

“I’ll go get them now” he handed you a cold bottle of water that you instantly pressed against your forehead.

“Ok” you nodded weakly, not wanting to argue this time. “My keys are next to the tv”

“Got them, I’ll be back soon, don’t worry.” He said as he opened the door.

“Thor?” You called out but he was already gone, you stood up clumsily and hit your shin with the coffee table, you cursed under your breath and walked to the bathroom. “It’s fine it’s not like I’ve never had a hangover before” you left the bottle of water next to the faucet and washed your face.

After sprinting to your car, Thor began pushing all the buttons on your amazingly complicated car keys, he grunted while closing the trunk, before finally being able to unlock the doors and go inside. He checked the glove compartment and searched for the bottle of painkillers there, just when he found it, he saw your last night’s acquaintances gather around your car, ‘don’t they have anything better to do?’ he thought as he got out of your car, closing and locking the doors.

All of them started to ask dumb questions, and point their phones at him, when he declined to take pictures with them, they asked him why he was there. “I don’t have time for this” he rolled his eyes at them.

“Suddenly you don’t have time,” one said and Thor raised an eyebrow “Why are you snooping on our friend’s car, huh?”

“You guys are so thoughtful and caring,” Thor said sarcastically and held the painkillers close to his heart. “If you call yourself good friends, you would let me go” They stood around him blocking his path.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” someone asked.“What the hell is he wearing?” another whispered.

“Do you even know where they are? No. But I do-” Thor started and was interrupted by one of the guys trying to open the door of your car. “Hey, hey, hey, what do you think you are doing?”

“I traveled with them in this car, I think I left my bag in there” he tried to look inside and Thor pushed him away gently yet firmly.

“You’ll have to wait, unfortunately,” the guy looked at him annoyed. “What? You could be lying” Thor scowled starting to lose his patience.

“You could be lying as well!” the guy bit back and everyone started shouting and asking the same questions he had already answered, they kept slowing him off and obstructing his way, Thor had had enough of them and started to get mad.

“I won’t say it again” Sparkles of lightning started to form around his hands taking over his arms, making all of them take a step back. “Get lost before you regret it” the clouds above darkened making his glowing eyes even more noticeable. They took off running, disappearing in mere seconds “I told y/n that would work” he sighed and rushed back to the motel, just in time, minutes before his arrival you could swear you would cry out of pain, you heard his voice coming from the hallway and you blinked away the tears.

“I’m here!” He searched for you, finding you sitting on the bathroom floor. He looked a bit shaken up but you were even more concerned when you saw the bottle in his hands, the bottle was deformed and slightly burned, he opened it and handed it to you along with the water you left on the sink.

You took the pill and gulped it down, of course, it wouldn’t be effective right away but you were glad that at least it was now on your system, Thor sat beside you and you let out a faint laugh after taking another sip of water. “What happened to this?” you raised the Advil bottle up to his eye level.

“What?” he lengthened the word pretending to be confused. “What do you mean, they’re not built like that?”

“I’m just glad the capsules didn’t get messed up” you replied with a giggle.

“Let’s just say I had a little one-on-seven confrontation with your friends, I could’ve come back faster but they were …holding me back”

“You didn’t” you widened your eyes.

He tried putting the cap back on the bottle with no luck “I did” he chuckled “they probably have a video of the whole thing” he joked.

“I doubt they’ll let me see it” you whined covering your face.

“You should’ve let me do it yesterday.” He remarked, and his laughter filled the room.

“Fine, you were right” you sighed dramatically. His laughing stopped as he turned to face you.

“Are you feeling a bit better now?” Thor tilted his head, trying to get a better look at you “You are looking better.” He smiled cheekily and you felt your face burning.

“Gee, thanks” You joked, happy to make him laugh again, you wouldn’t get tired of the sound any time soon.

“You know what I mean”

“I’m feeling better, thanks to you, so I guess we are even now” You implied looking at his eyes.

“Mm, I don’t think so,” He looked away from you “I think that I still owe you breakfast, one you get to finish without any pain”

You looked at him oblivious “My headache wasn’t your fault” you tapped his hand and he faced you again, shifting in his place.

“Then, do I have to find another excuse to ask you out on a date?” He said lacking his usual tone of confidence. You let your jaw slightly fall before being able to process what he had just said, you thought all the little gestures towards you were exactly what he said, a way to repay you, or him just being extremely kind and sweet.

“You won’t have to, I would love to go out with you” A shy smile formed on your lips while you looked at your hand on top of his.

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