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tteokdoroki · 4 months ago

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

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

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

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

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

“or else, what, honey?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“it’s in that pot…isn’t it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you blink once. confused.

“improper?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“what’s next, sweetheart?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“you’re no better… you’re filthy,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

he’s going to cum.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

the end.

#✐ᝰ KINKTOBER ‘24 #gojo smut #gojo x reader #jjk smut #gojo x you #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #satoru gojo x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo x y/n #jjk thirsts #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing #tteokdoroki #gojo thirst

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gojonanami · 1 year ago

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❝ 𝐈 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 ! ❞

❝ I HEARD FROM A FRIEND OF A FRIEND, THAT DICK WAS A TEN OUT OF TEN !! ❞

✧ pairing: jjk au sorcerer! suguru geto x sorcerer! reader

✧ summary: geto's routine after a mission -- ingest the curses that he collects before his shower. but after he does, his body begins to burn and ache with lust to the point of pain -- and he can't get rid of the feeling alone. so what else can he do when you show up at his doorstep offering to help but accept it (aka a sex pollen / aphrodisiac curse fic).

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, so much smut, jjk compliant au, geto stayed a sorcerer and didn't defect, reader is one year younger than geto, (set during jjk s1), aphrodisiac curse (sex pollen), multiple orgasms, multiple positions (missionary, doggy, riding, other positions mentioned: standing, against the wall, spooning from behind, against the wall), masturbation (m), soft dom! geto, oral (m +f), handjob (m! receiving), fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), creampie, cervix fucking, panty stealing, squirting, mutual pining, a little angst (discussion of star vessel / premature death arc), but a lot of comfort, cuddling, gojo hijinks

✧ wc: 8,180

Suguru was only sure of one thing, as he stared at himself in the mirror — cheeks flushed red, sweat nearly soaking through his black t-shirt, and a painful and glaring problem in his boxers—

This was a curse — literally.

Curses were made up of different negative human emotions — from loneliness to grief to anger, these negative feelings would pool and create a curse. Sorcerers were made to exorcise these curses, and Suguru did so — but in a different way than the others. He had to consume them as part of his technique. And even with the hundreds of curses he’s swallowed over the years, he would never get used to the taste — a shit soaked rag used to clean up vomit was how he could best describe it, but even then, that didn’t come close to the indescribable act of swallowing the manifestation of the worst negative human emotions — at least for most of them.

The one he had swallowed today was different — he was sent to exorcise a grade 1 curse in the heart of Tokyo that dwelled in an abandoned building — from the inside, he could tell that it was used as a strip club and possibly a bathhouse-turned-brothel, from the seedy mattresses left behind with dirty sheets and mussed covers, with rusting incense burners placed around the room, and the gaudy, fake jewelry that laid strewn about the place — assumedly any real jewelry picked clean. He swore he could have even smelt the ever lingering scent of cheap perfume in the walls and vents.

But the greater concern was the curse he had found himself with — a grotesque creature that stared back at him — its body a deep maroon, many eyes dotting its back with a large pair of black lips that Suguru didn’t care to draw any closer to. It was more humanoid than most — its form showing a more sophistication than many curses did, muscles of its many arms contracted as it finally spotted Suguru, its many eyes settled their gaze on him.

It was far too easy for him to take down the curse in hindsight — far too easy — and it seemed to watch him summon curses — and he swore it almost had seen a glimmer of recognition in its eyes and then it allowed him to deal the final blow.

He had kept the curse on hand — he could swallow it later, when he was near a toilet and perhaps some mouthwash — though that barely did much to remove the taste from his mouth. He had returned to Jujutsu Tech to do his reports, and hopefully head back early — Satoru was out on another overseas mission and Shoko was busy tending to patients and bodies as always, but you—

He wasn’t sure what you were doing, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to text you. Not after what Satoru said.

“When are you guys gonna fuck already?” the strongest sorcerer asked, making Suguru choke on his Sprite — strong in ability, but not in tact, “you and her have been eye fucking for weeks and you had such a thing for her before she decided to move to Kyoto—”

“That was years ago—”

“She has a key to your apartment—“

“So do you!” he glares.

“Then what about last night at the bar?” Satoru leans back in his chair, lifting the front legs off the ground, as he pulled his sunglasses down, “you could have murdered the guy that was hitting on her with your look alone — and I think you did when you stuck yourself to her side with your arm around her waist, until he ran with his tail between his legs,”

If looks could kill, Suguru would have surely murdered his best friend — infinity be damned, “She looked uncomfortable, what was I going to do—”

“Well, she certainly didn’t look uncomfortable with you hanging all over her, now did she?” He raises an eyebrow, as he leans forward again, the front legs of his chair landing with a thunk, “what are you gonna do if a guy comes along that she falls for? You’re telling me you’re not gonna regret it, Suguru?” Suguru says nothing, unable to meet Satoru’s gaze, as Satoru crushes his own can into a ball, before tossing at Suguru, “You guys just got to hurry up and fuck,”

Suguru swats the crushed can away, “You’re disgusting,”

He grins, as his words seemingly only confirm what he assumes, “Disgusting, but correct, and if I’m right, you’re taking some of my missions off my hands,” he grins.

And Satoru’s words had been running around in Suguru’s head — just like any annoying song on the radio — but he couldn’t let Satoru’s words stop from hanging out with you. He had just gotten you back in his life again — he couldn’t lose you, not again.

Geto: Are you free to watch a movie and have takeout?

You: sounds good - did you get back from your mission alright? No injuries I need to yell at you about?

He snorts, as he types his reply: no, not this time.

You: Let’s keep it that way! :)

He bites back his smile as the two of you decide to have you head over in an hour to his place — you preferred it that way since you were still settling into your place, boxes still unwittingly everywhere there should be actual furniture. Last time he came by to pick a report up, he found you eating your meal on a packed box, instead of a table.

And he catches himself smiling, before his face sours at the thought of Satoru again.

Satoru was right — and he hated to admit it, his knuckles pressed to his lips. A year under him, you had spent days with him, along with everyone else — you always waited for him with his favorite snacks when he would return from a mission. You sat with him sometimes when he would get sick from swallowing curses, helping him swallow some water and saltines after he turned his stomach inside out. You were the one that pushed him when he hid his disillusionment from everyone else — even from Satoru. You wouldn’t leave him alone, you wouldn’t stop dogging his every step with snacks and comfort and company, hounding him to sleep, to eat, to say something, anything.

Until he did — one late night you spent up together — he didn’t sleep much those days anyway. And he told you everything — the poison seeping from his body, and leeching onto yours, your frown and hurt was the whole reason he hadn’t wanted to tell anyone to begin with. But the frown wasn’t yourself — it was for him, as your arms only curled around him, and he let you hold him the entire night.

“You don’t always have to pretend to be strong, Suguru. You’re allowed to be upset, you’re allowed to be angry, you’re allowed to grieve — but don’t bottle it up,” your fingers raked through his wet hair, undoing the tangles gently before running the comb through it, “don’t let it kill you from the inside out,”

“I feel like I did die — along with Amanai,” and you pause, your arms curled around his shoulders, chin resting on his head before you pinched his cheek and he flinched.

“There, you’re definitely not dead,” you say, “so don’t act like you are. And don’t act like you’re alone — because you’re not. You have me, you have Satoru and Shoko — even Nanami and—“ you voice cuts off at the thought of Haibara — “Haibara wouldn’t want you to hide from us, he looked up to you — more than anyone else, even Satoru,”

“I don’t know why,” he mutters with a sigh.

“I do,” your fingers guide his face to meet your gaze, your face an inch or two from his, “because you’re kind, you’re intelligent, and you’re strong,”

He scoffs, “Satoru is the strongest,”

“And you think Satoru thinks any differently of you? That any of us feel differently? You’re the only person who can understand him — and he’s the only one who understands you,”

He gives a small chuckle, “not the only one,” and he tears his eyes away, hoping you don’t see the way his cheeks burned.

And when he found those two sorcerer girls locked up — you were the one who called. The rage and anger had built into murderous intent, but he could hear your words ringing in his ears and before he knew it, he had called you to come to him.

You saved them together — Nanako and Mimiko had fallen asleep in your respective laps after all was said and done on the ride back — without much bloodshed (not that the blood that was shed was worth much, in his opinion) — and with Gojo and you smoothing things over with the higher ups (mostly with veiled threats and petty remarks), you managed to allow the twins to grow up safe, under Geto’s care, and your own.

At least for a time. After you graduated, Nanami left — and you were the only one of your class left — and the absence of your best friends weighed on you, even if you didn’t show it.

“I’m leaving for Kyoto,” you told him one afternoon the two of you spent lazing around his dorm, you sat against the bottom of his bed, as he lounged on the mattress, his gaze snapping to you, only able to see the back of your head, “this place holds too many memories — i need perspective, I need space from all of this,”

He wants to ask if you have to, ask you if he could convince you to stay, if he could do something, anything to make you stay — ask if he wasn’t enough to make you stay. But he doesn’t, because it’s the best decision for you. So he instead slips off the bed, sitting beside you, his hand ruffling your hair, “You’ll come to visit right?”

He knows you’re blinking back tears, but he pretends not to notice, your lip quivering, and god, he knows he wants nothing more than to tilt your gaze toward him by your chin and brush his lips against yours, until every sad thought has evaporated under his touch.

But he knows that would only be one more thought that would make things far more difficult — for the both of you. It was better this way. And it was. Years had passed, the two of you had become teachers at the Tokyo and Kyoto schools respectively — but as the years had passed, your relationship grew more distant, as it always seemed to with time and distance.

But then you decided to come back to Tokyo, transferred over — Yaga explaining it was due to all the happenings in Tokyo with the special grades and emergence of Yuji as Sukuna’s vessel — and he found himself in your presence again. And it was as if no time had passed — your days off spent in his apartment — as yours had become a haven of unpacked boxes. And he couldn’t help but wonder — when he’d glance at you in the dark of his living room, the only illumination was the TV that played some shitty horror movie (your words not his) you had put on — if the special grades were the only reason you’d come back. Your fingers were so close to each other’s on the couch, but an inch felt like a ravine.

One he couldn’t dare to cross.

But It was fine, just as he told Satoru — you were just friends, until both of you decided otherwise. Not that it would ever happen — no, he thought that ship had sailed, even if his heart had stubbornly said that it hadn’t.

Until he decided to consume the curse — and his heart was no longer the problem.

Or at least, not his main problem.

He sat in his bathroom, towel in the shower rack, ready to shower after he dealt with this. He had discarded his uniform jacket and pants — only in a black t-shirt and boxers. He stood by the toilet — as he learned his lesson the first few months swallowing curses — he never knows when one will turn his stomach inside out.

He holds the balled curse in his palm — he could feel it squirm just underneath of his cursed energy — the thing keeping it contained at all, itching to be freed from his grasp — though it never would. He pressed the ball to his lips, bracing himself as he opened his mouth, nearly having to unhinge his jaw for how large this curse was and pressing it past his lips and into his mouth. His palms pressed against his mouth, as he swallowed, eyes squeezed shut.

It…wasn’t as bad as he thought. He frowned, brow knit as he stared at his empty palm — it was still appalling to consume, but it was….sweet? But it burned as it went down, heat remaining in the pit of his stomach, even as it should have faded.

That should have been his first clue.

Either way, he turned on the shower before he shed the rest of his clothes, and stepped in. The water felt warmer than usual, as he washed his body first, letting his hair grow wet under the shower head. His fingers reached for the shower handle, turning it even colder, but his body barely reacted to the water — was it even cold?

Even under the water, he felt like his body was burning — a slow fire that lingered under the surface of his skin, burning and aching, the frigid water barely doing enough to soothe it. Running his hands over his body seemingly helped, a shiver running down his spine as he washed himself, but he knew it would have felt even better if it was you.

….what? He tried to shake that thought from his head — it wasn’t the first time he had thought of you like this. There were many times where his mind would drift to you at night, the warmth of your touch from a few hours ago still lingered, as his hard-on pleaded for his touch. Guilty gnawed at his conscious when he indulged, the first time being after a particularly vivid dream of you pinning him down while training — your mouth kissing down his body, eager fingers tugging at his shorts until that smirk met—

This wasn’t helping.

The burning had traveled southward, as his blood did, and he glanced down at his raging hard-on.

Fuck.

No, he couldn’t.

But his fingers were possessed, already reaching for his aching cock, large beads of pre-cum leaving his slit just as hand closed around it. He hisses when he does, a gasp ripped from his throat, as he braces himself against the shower wall with his other hand.

He palms his erection, swallowing thickly, as he grunts, as he begins to pump his cock from base to tip, smearing his pre along his length. But his mind wanders to you, how pretty you’d look pressed against the wall of his shower, his hard cock dragging between your ass. Lovely moans parting your lips as his fingers would reach around to rub at your puffy clit.

“Suguru, please—“

“Tell me what you want baby, gotta use your words,” he’d murmur, teasing your slick entrance with the tip of his cock.

“Need your cock — need you to fuck me,” you would whine, words nearly enough to make him bust there and then. And he would sink into you just as he does his fist, but your sweet cunt would feel so much better than his hand does.

Fucking wet and tight and just for him, as he works his dick deeper and deeper, until his tip is nudging your cervix. And he’d fuck you hard, just like he’s fucking his fist now, skin slapping each time his hips met your ass.

You’d cum before he would, he would make sure of it — one hand rubbing harshly at your clit, the other toying with one of your nipples between his thumb and forefinger. And your walls would squeeze and wring him dry, just as he squeezed his own dick now.

He spilled all over the wall of his shower, white spurts kept coming, as he grunted, imagining he was painting your walls instead. He panted, but as the afterglow ebbed away, the heat only came back tenfold.

He panted, as his fingers left his cock, only to find it still hard — the tip red and angry, twitching as he stared back at it.

What the fuck is going on?

He finally left the shower, pulling on his shirt and boxers delicately — every inch of his body felt feverish and sensitive, even the rubbing of his clothes against his skin was almost too much for him.

He stood in front of the sink, knuckles white against the porcelain as he tried to will his erection away, but each thought was only chased away with thoughts of you — of the dress you loved to wear riding up, of your legs spreading for him, of the wet patch on your panties—

He was so fucked. Sweat dripped into the sink, as he glanced at himself in the mirror — skin a ruddy red flush, lips impossibly dry, pupils blown out with need — he was so fucked.

He called Shoko — the embarrassment of this situation far gone at this point fading into plain need of wanting this situation to be over. One ring, two rings — finally five rings and she picks up.

“It’s not like you to call—“

“I need your help,” he cuts her off, biting back the groan from his cock rubbing against his boxers the wrong way — “I don’t know what’s happening to me,”

Her voice shifts from curiosity to concern, “Slow down, Suguru, tell me what’s going on,” and he tells her his symptoms — and she’s silent on the other line for a moment, “you have been a teenage boy before right? You’re not really calling me because you’re horny and you don’t know what to do—“

“It’s not that—“ he hisses, running a slow hand down his face, “I already tried…solving the problem myself but it didn’t work. And I feel weird — it only made it worse. I can’t stop sweating or thinking about—“ he cuts off — he couldn’t stop lewd thoughts of you from springing before his eyes, the thoughts of your moans, how soft your flesh would be under his fingers, how you’d look when he— “what is this, Shoko?”

She pauses on the line for a moment, “When did it start?”

“Right before my shower I think,” his mind foggy with need, he could barely even comprehend a coherent thought.

“And what did you do before your shower? Anything different?” he’s swallowing the lump in his throat, as he resists the urge to brush his hand over his hard-on.

He’s barely hearing Shoko at this point — “I took off my clothes, I got my towel, and then I—“ and the realization struck him — the curse, “I consumed the curse I collected today from my mission,” he mutters, “fuck—“

And then there’s a knock at the door, “Suguru?” He heard you call through the door. His dick throbs at the sound of your voice.

Shoko’s voice cuts through the white noise, “Suguru, the curse you ate — was there something different about it?”

“It was a grade one — it seemed a little too easy to defeat — it formed in—“ he swallows thickly, “in a brothel,”

“I’ve heard of curses being lustful, but not of them becoming a stimulant,” she murmurs, and he can hear her sigh, “you could try extracting the curse from your body — I doubt that would be effective at this point. I assume the effects will linger until the symptoms pass — just as it does when you become nauseous or sick from swallowing other curses,”

His phone buzzed with texts from you:

You: I’m outside, I grabbed takeout for us this time since you always treat me!

You: are you home?

His mind swam, it wasn’t the takeout he was craving — it was you. But no, no — he couldn’t. Not like this, but he was fighting a losing battle and he just about lost the war along with it.

“I don’t know, how do I get it to pass?” he was desperate, the sounds of your knocks and messages ringing in his ear, along with your sweet voice — why do you sound so good with his name on your lips? So sweet — his boxers grow even tighter — bet you even taste even sweeter.

“If dealing with it yourself didn’t work, then,” she sighs, “you’re going to need a partner,”

Another knock.

“Shoko, I have to go,” and he hangs up before she can get another word — a thought to thank her and apologize shoved to the back of his mind, as he stumbles to his door, a thunk as he nearly tumbled into it, wood and hinges groaning under the force and weight.

“Suguru?” you’re so worried yet his name on your tongue was nearly enough to have him cumming in his boxers then, the wet patch of his boxers nearly making the fabric translucent, “are you okay?”

He says your name, “You should go home, I’m not feeling well—“

“What’s wrong? Do you need help?” And he’s biting his lip, teeth digging into his bottom lip, nearly drawing blood, “let me in,”

“I can’t—I can’t let you help with this,” he’s shaking his head, “please, sweetheart, you have to go—“ And he hears the clink of your key going into the door — fuck, that goddamn key he gave you, and the door pulls open, just as he braces himself against the doorframe.

Your brow furrowed in concern, takeout bag in hand, as your eyes examined him, until they found their way to his boxers.

“Suguru—“

“You should leave — I can’t explain, there’s a curse inside me—“

Your eyebrows knit together, “Suguru, a curse did this to you? What happened?” And he’s shaking his head, mind far too gone, as he forces himself away, “let me help—“

“You can’t help. I have to get out of my system but the only way is—“ he cuts off, as he groans again, body and mind railing against each other, as his body just seemingly burns from even being near you.

“There must be something—“ and you step closer, and he can barely hold back from grabbing you, fingers twitching to wrap around your waist, the other holding your neck, lips finding yours, as he fucking rips his own clothes off— “I want to help—“

He’s tugging at the collar of his shirt incessantly, as you step closer, closing the gap between your bodies, and he can only focus on the way your pretty lips part, the way your chest curves under your shirt, and the far too short shorts you choose to wear — fuck.

He was so fucked.

He can’t hold back, as he’s drawing close to you in a moment, his mind clouded with lust, the hitch of your breath only making him want you more — but he forced every muscle in his body to stop. He couldn’t. Not until you agreed.

“If you don’t want me to fuck you right now,” he says lowly, his lips nearly brushing your ear, “I want you — regardless of this, I’ve wanted you for so long,” the confession tumbles from his lips because he needs you to know, needs you know so you can either leave him to his fate or help him get through this, “but if you don’t feel the same—“

But to his surprise, you lean closer, breath warming his skin until it was left scalding, “who said I didn’t?”

And he can’t hold back.

His lips crash to yours, his hands holding your cheeks, as he grasps desperately to you, takeout boxes spilling from the plastic bag and your purse spilling your things when you drop it, your fingers grasping at his damp t-shirt.

And your touch alone even through the fabric is nearly enough to make him bust a nut there and then — and his mind hadn’t even felt so clear until he felt your touch. He could notice every little detail about you — the way your breath caught when his fingers ghosted down your sides, the way your lips parted for his tongue without hesitation, and the way your knees shook when he squeezed your hips.

“So pliant for me,” he murmurs, eager to touch more, to taste more, “such a good fucking girl, aren’t you?”

And you’re nodding wordlessly — lips kiss ruined and red, saliva clinging to your lips when he parted from your lips — and he wonders which one of you swallowed a glorified sex curse.

“Know how long I wanted to do this?” words said pressed with heated kisses down your neck — he was right, you tasted so sweet, he bet another part of you tasted even sweeter — “how many times I thought about this?” He nibbled at the juncture of your neck and shoulder, rewarded with a pretty gasp, “wanted to mark you up so many times — when that fucker tried to hit on you — I wanted to do more than just wrap my arm around you. Wanted to show him how he could never please you,” and he’s sucking a mark there, teeth grazing and pinching your skin before he soothes it with his tongue. He smiles against your skin, as he admires his handiwork.

You whine when he drags a thumb down your puffy lips, “Sugu, please, more,” and his lips find yours again, swallowing your complaints and moans eagerly, as his large palms slide down your back to rest on your ass, squeezing as he presses you flush to his body, hard on pressed against your body.

“Need my touch that much, Princess? Should’ve just fucked you in that club, huh? Let them see that you’re mine,” And he’s walking you backwards towards his room, as he pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it onto the floor of his living room. Your fingers running over his exposed flesh, thumbs teasing his sensitive nipples, pretty little lips pressing teasing kisses to both sides.

Fuck, the need to bury his cock in you grew by the second. But he wanted to feel good first — been waiting too long. He had all night to fuck you — but he only had one time to do it right the first time.

He’s walking you into the edge of his bed, as you both tumble onto the bed, his hands sliding under your shirt, tugging at the hem, and you help him take it off — and he hissed at the sight of nothing underneath.

“Were you always coming to my place with no bra on?” his lips curl, as your eyes look away, embarrassment painted on your expression, “wanted this as long as I did, Princess? Don’t get so shy now — you’re the one who insisted on helping me, so aren’t you going to fulfill your promise?” His lips brush against your earlobe, lips wrapping around it and sucking lightly.

You shiver, biting your lip, before you’re tugging him fully onto the bed, before slinking off of it and onto your knees for him, “Then let me help you,”

When your fingers toy with the elastic of his boxers, he’s ready to cum right there — he’s so sensitive still, he’s sure he won’t last long, but fuck, he doesn’t care with how pretty you look between his legs.

“Don’t be a tease, Princess, or I’ll pay you back later,” but your lips only curl, as you lean forward and press a kiss through the drenched fabric, tip of your tongue teasing his slit through his boxers.

“Oh I expect you to,” and you’re pulling his boxers down painfully slowly, letting the fabric of his boxers rub against his hard-on teasingly, a low hiss leaving the thin line of his lips, his balls aching with his release as his cock slaps against his stomach, “fuck, Sugu,” you murmur in almost reverence — he was thick, the tip flushed red with lovely beads of pre-cum already dripping down his length, your fingers already eager to trace those pretty veins, and feel the slight curve of his cock in your aching cunt, “how am I gonna fit you all in me?”

And his cock twitches at your words, as you pity him with a chaste kiss to the top, “Please,” he swallows, adam’s apple bobbing, fingers knuckles white as they fisted the now creased sheets, “fuck—“ as you blow air along his length, “I’ll cum all over your face at this rate,”

“Oh I think you’d like that, wouldn’t you, Sugu?” your point finger lightly follows the trail of his vein, as your lips continue to press butterfly kisses along his length, “paint my face with your cum,”

And his fingers thread themselves in your hair, pressing his length to your lips, and you smirk, looking up at him with half lidded gaze, as your lips part and his length slides in — that’s all it takes.

The coil in his stomach snaps, as he cums down your throat, hot seed spilling into your mouth, as his hips jerk against your mouth, his groans of your name sending a hot stripe of heat down to your cunt.

Despite that, his cock only seems to grow larger, twitching against your tongue, as you part for a moment, a trail of saliva and cum dripping from your lips, “Taste so good, Sugu — gotta have you one more time—“ you envelop him with your lips again — and he’s a mess of moans, head thrown back, thick haze of lust as his eyes finally meet yours. You swallow around him, tongue wrapped around his length, as your sinful fingers touch whatever can’t fit in your mouth.

“S’good baby, should’ve fucked this mouth a long time ago,” and he’s gone, as his hips begin to slowly roll against you, watching as you don’t resist, the tip of his cock brushing against your throat, “good fucking girl, never gonna go a day without these lips around my cock,” and god, he’s so close — twitching in your mouth, but what sends him over the edge is when he feels you moan, and spots your hand down your shorts.

Fuck, he’s pulling out, “can I—“ and you pump him in response, a grunt of your name as you let him cum all over your face and chest, the sight enough to make him hard all over again — his thick release slipping down your lips, as your tongue darts out to taste it again.

And he’s pulling you into a bruising kiss, tasting his own cum on your lips, before grabbing his discarded shirt to clean you off. His hand grabs your wrist and eases it from inside your cunt, tongue darting out to lick the release from your fingers, cleaning each of them.

In an instant, he’s got you spread on his bed, legs parted for him, “where’s that attitude now, pretty?” And his lithe fingers sneak under the elastic of your panties and snaps it against your skin, making you squirm, “seems like all those words fell out of your head just from sucking my cock,”

He’s slowly dragging your underwear down, before pulling at his bedside drawer to stuff your panties in, “for later use,” and you can’t managed a reply before his lips are pressing butterfly kisses up your thighs, before his teeth graze the soft flesh of your inner thigh, drawing a gasp from your lips, before sucking and soothing it with his tongue, “mine, all mine,” he’s already hard again — the feel of your soft skin under his lips was enough to have him cumming again like a virgin — the burning in the pit of his stomach only burned brighter for you — god, would he ever work his way out of this state? But as his gaze was met with your lovely dripping cunt with your puffy clit begging him for attention, he couldn’t seem to care.

You hiss when his fingers slowly spread your folds, “So fucking tight, baby, how am I gonna fit in you?” he clicks his tongue, inhaling, as his nose brushes against your clit, making your hips jump, “patience, gotta take my time with this princess cunt, gotta make sure you’re ready for me,” his dick twitching at his next sentence, “because I sink my cock in here, we’re not stopping at one round,”

Your cunt squeezes around nothing at his words, his breath warming your sensitive pussy, until he finally drags a stripe up your needy folds.

“Sugu, fuck,” his arms brace your thighs and hips down, as the tip of his tongue drags teasing circles around your clit, your slick gathering on his tongue, as he tastes it with a groan.

“Fucking, the best thing I’ve tasted,” and as much as he wants to bury his dick in you, he could live with his face between your thighs, “so perfect f’me,” and his tongue trails in tight circles around your clit, while his finger toys with your entrance, gathering your pre on his finger, teasing your entrance and delighting in the way your breath hitches.

He looks up at your face between half lidded eyes, you’re too fucking pretty — your hair a mess from, a sheen of sweat on your body, the lovely way your nipples were erect, and your eyes — pupils lost to lust and need. And all for him.

Fuck, he knows he won’t last long at this rate, he can already feel the urge to palm his raging cock, but he wants you to cum first, and he’s sinking a finger into your sweet cunt. He can almost imagine how your walls would feel fluttering around his cock — but he doubts his engorged tip would be even fit right now.

No, he needed to make this good for you — he slowly starts to finger fuck you as his tongue circles your clit in tighter circles, even sucking on it, and by the way your fingers grasped at the sheets, crumpling under your touch — you liked it.

Pretty moans left your lips, as your fingers found their way to his dark locks, still slightly damp from his shower — as he added a second finger inside. His name said between pants, as his fingers drag against your molten insides — the wet squelch rang in his ears as he fucked your cunt open. Knuckle deep in your sweet pussy, he knows he’s addicted — to the feeling of your molasses insides — warm and soft for him, his digits curling against your walls, looking for that one place that would make you fall apart.

“Sugu, please, please ‘m close—,” and he knows you need a little more, and he’s obliging with a chuckle, a third finger joining the other two, and he’s fucking you in earnest now — lips closing around your clit and sucking mercilessly, as his fingers find that spongy spot that has you seeing stars. Your back arches, as your nails dig into his scalp, as you cum around his fingers — walls fluttering as he eats you out through your high, his name leaving your lips again and again, as you slowly come down from your high, thighs twitching and chest heaving as you do.

As he finally pulls away, his chin and mouth glossy and drenched in a mixture of your cum and his spit — that he licks clean from where his tongue can reach, fingers collecting the rest, as he looks at your sticky cum gathered on his fingers.

Fuck, he could live in your cunt. Your sweet taste was the only thing he’d crave now after consuming curses — he wondered if you’d let him eat you out for hours after the curses he ate — he was sure your taste was the only thing that would erase that disgusting like nothing else ever would.

He’s giving you soft kisses after, dotting them up your body, murmuring praises, but you’re pulling him into a kiss, your fingers resting against the back of his neck, as your other hand finds his aching erection, swallowing his gasp with pleasure.

“Want you, Sugu, please,” and your words are enough to make him cum right there, as he tugs your hand away, “Sugu—”

“Won’t last long if you keep touching me and whining like that, Princess,” the heat only seems to lick at his skin like flames, engulfing him with every touch, and his cock was the epicenter of the wildfire, while you were the fuel that only made it consume you both to ash, “but I know it won’t be long until I’m fucking you again anyway,” Your cunt throbs at his words, as he draws close, dragging his weeping tip against your folds, watching his pre-cum smear against your slick with a grunt, “feels like you’re already trying to swallow me up, princess — you want this cock that bad?” fuck, he can’t hold back anymore, as he’s lining up himself up, and he’s sliding right into you with a groan, “know how long been waiting to do that?” his skin meeting yours as he bottoms out deliciously, stretching your walls out with his girth, pleasure ripping up your spine, “wanted to do this since the moment you walked through the door, but needed to do this right — when nothing about this was right,” he had so many things to say, while your mind had left you with not even a syllable, his cock twitched and pulsed inside your walls, dragging against it deliciously, “wish our first time wasn’t like this — but I’m so glad it’s finally happened, sweetheart,”

And you can’t help but smile up at him, lips parted with a small moan, as tears burned at your eyes from his size, “Me too, Sugu, wanted you for so long, needed you—” and he’s kissing your tears and words away with his lips,

Then he begins to fuck you — hard, the slapping of your skin and the wet squelch of your sex filling up most of the silence of the room, while both of your moans and grunts took up the rest. Your cunt was heaven to him — warm, wet walls wrapped around his aching cock — the slightest bit of relief was overcome with waves and waves of need — he needed to fuck you, needed to make you cum, needed to cum inside — he just needed you.

“S’big, Sugu, too big,” you whine, he was almost too much for you, the way his dick fucked places you only could imagine reaching, as his mouth leaned down to take a pert nipple between his lips — sucking and licking, as he couldn’t have enough of you, while his hand toyed with the other, “feels too good,”

“I know baby, gonna fuck your princess cunt so good — make sure its made just for me,” he’s murmuring, as his teeth graze your tit, as he pistons into you again and again, the tip of his cock brushing your cervix with each thrust, “all mine, baby, fuck — such a good girl for me,” and the praise has you keening against him, the knowing flutter of your cunt that tells him you’re all too close to the edge, as his hand reaches between your bodies to rub at your clit, “cum for me, pretty, need to feel your pretty little cunt squeeze me,”

And you do, falling apart as he fucks you through your orgasm, again and again — fuck, you felt so good, as he watched his cock slip in and out of you, a white ring of your release forming around his base. He’s fucking close too — can feel his balls tense, eager to blow his load, “where—”

You’re still moaning, eyes blown out in pleasure, as you watch him fuck you again and again, “Inside, Sugu, fill me up,” and that’s it, he’s gone — spurting his hot release, painting your walls, as he does, fucking it inside you — deeper, deeper, until he stills for a moment. And you’re twitching, eyes fluttering shut, when he pulls out, a groan parting his lips as he watches his seed spill from your cunt.

But then silence for several moments, the soft pants of your breathing only, before you hear him swearing and grunting, as your eyes open, and your pussy twitches at the sight before you. Suguru’s hand slid up and down his still erect cock, his eyes squeezed shut, as he groaned, “Suguru—”

“Wasn’t enough, need more,” he’s shaking his head, as his fingers squeeze around the base of his cock, “thought it would be enough to cum with you, but I can still feel it—” and he’s groaning, as you sit up, watching your mixed releases drip from you, “baby—”

And your lips kiss the tip of his weeping cock, “I told I’d help you,” and you ease his hand away, as you lick up his length, your eyes fixed on his, “just because we fucked, doesn’t mean we’re done,”

And in a moment, he’s got you flipped onto your hands and knees, as his cock slaps against your ass, his fingers squeezing the flesh, as he leans over to kiss your back, “Then I guess we’re gonna be up all night, sweetheart, because if you’re okay with this — I don’t think I’ll be satisfied with just a blowjob,” his tip drags against your messy cunt, “gonna need something a little tighter than your mouth,” and he’s sinking his thick cock into you again, balls slapping against your ass as he begins to fuck you, “better cancel any plans you have, pretty — because we’re not leaving this bed for a while.”

“Don’t fall asleep on me, baby,” his fingers grab your chin, and force you to meet his gaze, as he fucks into you, as you sit on his lap, your hands finding purchase on his shoulders, “almost gonna cum, and don’t want you to be asleep for it,”

How many times had you fucked? You had lost count — but you knew you had done it in far too many positions — on your hands and knees, standing up, against the wall, from behind with his hand gripping your leg up, and far too many others — and now you were spread in his lap, cock deep in your pulsing pussy, his lips kissing your neck, as he fucked into you, his dick reaching a deeper angle from this position, easily able to hit the furthest parts of you.

He had cum in you more than you thought was humanly possible — and you supposed it wasn’t — it was only the curse that enabled this — it was animalistic even, the way he rutted into you desperately. He grabbed a water bottle only to take a swig, and find your lips again, forcing you to swallow the water.

“Good girl,” he’s grunting, his hips beginning to stutter, “I’m close baby, are you?” You hadn’t thought it was still possible to feel pleasure at this point, but it was — his cock dragged against your walls, his dark gaze finding yours, “tell me you wanna cum,” and your pussy twitches at his order, “use your words, pretty, or have I fucked them all out?”

“Please, Suguru, I wanna cum on your cock,” and you’re so fucking close again — the all too familiar knot in your stomach ready to snap any moment.

“Fuck, greedy pussy hasn’t enough of me? We’ve been fucking until the daylight now,” as his hand grabs your chin to make you see the first rays of light peaking over the horizon, and he’s making you bounce on him with each thrust of his dick — your orgasm building and building with every brush of his tip against your g-spot, “fuck, s’good for me, baby — been so good — just need one more and we can stop,” and tears stream down your cheek that only make him groan, his lips finding yours in a messy, sloppy kiss, his tongue sliding into your mouth right as his cock hits at the deepest part of you—

And you squirt all over him, drenching his cock and lap as you cum, your lips parting from him, as your head is thrown back, boneless, as he fucks into you, your spasming walls pulling him over the edge as he paints your insides with his release, fucking it into you, until he finally slows, your body draped on his, head resting on his shoulder. Bodies sticky with sweat and cum, his cock finally softens inside you, the heat finally beginning to dull, as he presses soft kisses and gentle caresses to every inch of your skin, as he lays you down carefully, pulling himself from you.

“Thank you, princess, thank you,” and you’re burying your face in the crook of his neck, soft breaths cooling the sheen of sweat on his skin, “did so good for me,” and he slowly rises, grabbing his shirt and running it under water to clean you off, if only a little.

You’re already half asleep, eyes only fluttering half open to watch him, and he can’t help but bite his lip, “Sugu?”

“Yes, princess?” And you nod, fingers twitching for him, and his lips curl as he obliges, wrapping you up in his body, “know it was rough on you baby, I’ll make it up to you — don’t worry, just rest,” he grabs a water bottle, and lifts your head ever so slightly and helps you drink some water.

“I know you want to ask me something,” and he pauses, as he pulls the bottle away, “I can see the gears grinding in your head — you can ask me anything, y’know,” you had quite the way of embarrassing him, didn’t you?

“I know, I just,” he swallowed, “was there any other reason you came back to Tokyo, aside from the threats, did you come back for anything else?”

And your lips curl, raising an eyebrow knowingly, “Anything or anyone you mean?” and you chuckle when his eyes can’t meet yours, your fingers finding his again, “baby,” and your hand brushes against his cheek, tracing the cut of his jaw, making his breath catch, “I did come back for someone — a very particular someone,” and he smiles, as your lips lean up to press a chaste kiss to your lips, “and my friends, of course,” you add, “I love Utahime, but I missed Shoko and Satoru, and you,”

“You did?” he murmurs, and you giggle, kissing him again, melting into his touch again, as your foreheads brushed against the other’s, “Sugu?” and it’s your turn to ask something now, chewing on your bottom lip, “can we do this again?” you murmur, before adding, “not like this but—“

And he laughs, pulling you impossibly closer, lips finding your leaping pulse, “Yes, we can, if you want to — because I know I do, because,” his thumb brushing the length of your cheek, “but I want all of you — want your body, your thoughts, your time, your heart and soul—“ and his lips quirk at the sight of your eyes widening ever so slightly, “is that okay?”

And your lips find his own as an answer, sweet kisses turn languid, heat stealing any doubts from either of your minds, “As long I have yours as well,” and the two of you share only a few more kisses, before you both finally drift off.

“If he’s fine, and I’m checking on him, I’m kicking his ass,” Satoru grumbled, as he held his phone between his cheek and his shoulder, Shoko sighing as he rooted through his pockets for his keys.

Shoko chewed her lip, she hadn’t heard from him in hours, “He was in bad shape, I can't find the time to go check and you were on your way home anyway,” Shoko says, wiping her brow, twisting a strand of her hair between her fingers.

“Yeah, on my way home back from a mission,” he finally finds his keys, sticking Suguru’s spare key into the lock and turning it, “If I have jet lag, and all I find is him jerked off and sleeping, you owe me,”

He twists the knob, and looks — he doesn’t see Suguru in the living room or kitchen — but he does see takeout containers spilled on the floor, along with a very familiar bag, and he blinks, before his lips curl. He asks if she’s heard from you, to which she says no,

He walks silently to Suguru’s bedroom, opening the door a crack to see you and Suguru curled up against each other, your head on his chest, his arm wrapped around you, the comforter strewn about and covering the rest of your bodies.

Satoru only grins, before he pulls his phone from his ear and switches to the camera.

“Never mind, Shoko, I owe you one,” and he snaps a picture of the two of you, wondering how many missions he could pawn off to Suguru now, “I’ll treat you to lunch.”

✧ a/n: so this turned out way longer than i thought (story of my life). i had so much fun writing this - i've been writing this in conjunction with prof geto part 3 and its been funny darting back and forth between these two -- although the scenes i've been writing

✧ taglist: @peachyminx, @garfunklefield, @unicornqueen05, @hiyori-ii, @equikaz, @unoriginalidea, @forest-fruits-jam, @torusinfinity, @hellkaiserinphoenix, @loonimae, @gojoedd, @sugurufic, @glaceliy, @telvess, @kentocalls, @nayasch, @iluvvreze, @yamaguccitadashi, @faeismism, @hanxyy, @catsgomurp, @sukaibg, @sugurusdiscordmoderator, @gojorgeous, @getos-slvtt, @sirencholia, @teatreeoilll, @dewdropdive, @appysauc, @kobycetacean, @missroki, @fushitoru, @pricetagofficial, @that-goth-bisexual, @shoyosdoll, @regrettinglifechoices, @mostinsanegirl, @roseybean, @fayyyrieee, @gojobbg, @strangehuman101, @saccharine-nectarine, @i-belong-in-a-retirement-home, @spider-fan72

#sab [mlist]#geto suguru x reader #geto suguru smut #geto x reader #geto smut #suguru geto smut #geto suguru x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #geto x you #jjk x you

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imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul · 7 months ago

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Overprotective- Jacaerys Velaryon

A/N: My thoughts lie only on HOTD, and most of those thoughts are on this PRINCE. I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Reader Word Count: 3.0k Synopsis: Jace's overprotective nature begins to grate on the reader's nerves as the birth of their first child looms closer.

Legend told that when in the womb, Targaryen babies started out as dragons before transforming into human children. It was nothing more than a silly folktale, your Targaryen family had assured you. But waking up in the dark of night, flinging the covers off of your scorching body, you aren't so sure.

Your nights had been spent like this for nearly two months now. If it wasn't the heat that coated your body, clinging sweat to your brow, it was waking up nearly ever hour to relieve yourself.

The child growing in your stomach was truly a Targaryen - passionate and unyielding.

The first four months of your pregnancy had been wonderful. You had none of the sickness that so many face in the early stages of their maternity. Back then you were often tired, but the child slept whenever you did. And to top it all off, Jace was a perfect husband. He brought you water when you needed it, rubbed your feet when they were aching, and then, you had wanted him constantly, and he had been more than happy to oblige.

But things change quickly during pregnancy, you are coming to understand. Jace wakes up next to you now, sitting up immediately.

"What's wrong?" he asks.

"Nothing," you say, turning to face him. Your bedroom is dark, but even so, you can see the worry in his eyes. "Just too hot."

"Can I do anything for you? Should I call the Maester?"

"No, I'm fine," you say, straining to get out of bed. He supports your back, giving you the extra push to get up. You hate that he has to do this, that he has to push on your sweat drenched back, in order for you to stand.

"Where are you going?" he asks.

"To relieve myself."

"You just got up--"

"I know, Jacaerys," you snap, holding your stomach as you leave the room.

Jace had been wonderful those first few months, when you had been in high spirits. But now, you were in pain constantly, which made you irritable, which made any attempt he made to help you irksome.

When you came back into the room, Jace is still up, his head resting on his pillow. He lifts it a little when you come back in, smiling at you gently. The sheets have been changed - another new routine - but one that doesn't bother you so much. It made a world of difference to lay down in a cool, clean bed after waking in a pool of your own sweat.

"All right?" he asks as you lay down beside him.

"Yes."

"Sure?"

"Yes, why?" you ask, tilting your head up to look at him.

"Because you called me Jacaerys," he says, brushing a stray hair off your brow. "You only do that when you're mad at me." You let out a breath of laughter, but immediately feel like the emotion could change into a sob. Jace must see it, too, because he scoots closer, pulling you into his bare arms.

"Hey," he says, kissing your forehead, "You can call me Jacaerys whenever you like."

"I'm not mad at you," you say, turning into him, so your growing stomach presses into his. "There's just this monster inside of me making me go mad." Jace smiles to himself, nodding his head.

"I know."

"I love you," you say, a hand to his cheek. He leans in to kiss you, his lips cool. When you break apart, you realize the windows are wide open, and while you've been sweating all night, he has to be freezing. You start to say something about it, but he cuts you off.

"I'm fine," he says. "I love you. Please just try to get some sleep."

"Get off me, then," you say, pushing him playfully. He smirks, falling back over to his side, taking your share of the blankets, as well. You lay on your back, and can't help the groan of pain at the pressure the position puts on you. Jace immediately reaches for your hand.

"Jacaerys," you say, squeezing his palm once. He laughs.

"Good night, Y/N."

"Goodnight."

At seven months pregnant, the burning has finally stopped, but you feel weaker still. Every movement puts pain on your back, your shoulders, your feet. You and Jace speak a language that is mostly moans and groans, and not the kind that used to be typical for the two of you.

One morning, when Jace is away at Driftmark, Rhaenyra joins you for breakfast. At the sight of your sovereign, you try to stand, which makes Rhaenyra laugh.

"Don't trouble yourself, Y/N," she says, walking towards you. "I remember when I was your size. Took me all morning just to get out of bed." You give her a tight lipped smile, settling back into the comfy position you had arranged for yourself.

"Thank you, Your Grace."

"How are you feeling?" she asks, pouring herself a cup of tea. She motions to you, but you decline with a shake of your head.

"I'm alright."

"Is she kicking?" she asks, nodding to the hand on your belly.

"Only when I'm trying to sleep," you say with a laugh. "You agree with Jace, then? You think it'll be a girl?"

"The way you're carrying, yes, but one never really can tell. What are you hoping for?" she asks.

"For these next months to pass quickly," you say, straining when a nerve pinches in your side. You adjust your position, and find that Rhaenyra is looking at you with a small, understanding smile. "And of course, for a healthy baby."

"Of course."

"I don't know how you've done this so many times," you say. "Does it get any easier?"

"No," she says simply. You sigh, which makes her smile grow. "How has Jace been?" she asks.

"Very protective," you say, smiling. "Maybe too much so. I feel like if I just breathe wrong he's on alert, worried something has happened." A strange expression passes over Rhaenyra's face - equal parts pride and sorrow.

"I'm afraid Jacaerys has seen more than his fair share of pregnancies gone wrong," she says gently.

"I'm sorry, I know," you say, embarrassment passing through you.

"That's not to say that he isn't overbearing," she adds with a smile. "He's much like his father that way."

"Really?"

"He couldn't always be there," she says, "But when he was, he made up for the time apart with his watch over me." You smile at her as the door opens across the room, and Jace enters.

"You're back early," Rhaenyra says, lifting an eyebrow at him. He smells salty when he leans down to kiss you. He smiles at you, then looks to his mother.

"Thought I might join you for breakfast," he says, sitting next to you. "Besides, I was needed here more than at Driftmark." You exchange a look with Rhaenyra.

"How are you feeling this morning?" he asks you.

"Just fine, Jacaerys," you say, patting his cheek. "You didn't need to cut your visit short."

"Well, there is something I need to do here nonetheless."

"What's that?" you ask.

"It seems Syrax has laid another clutch of eggs. Joff and I are going to retrieve them, and the younger boys are going to help us pick one for the babe," he says, a hand on your stomach. You smile at him, at the gentle caress of his hand. You know he comes from a place of love with his attention.

"Do you want to join us?" he asks.

"I doubt I could make it downstairs, much less down to the Dragonpit."

"We could bring them to you," he says.

"No," you say, "Decide with your brothers. Just pick out a good one." He nods to you, leaning in to kiss your temple.

At the end of breakfast, Jace goes off to the Dragonpit, but only at your insistence. He wanted to walk you back to your chambers, but Rhaenyra assured him she was more than up to the task. Once he was out of sight, she laughed to herself.

"I see what you mean," she says.

Jace returns to your room that night with a shiny, white dragon egg.

Jace's lips are soft on yours. At eight months pregnant, finding moments with him is getting harder every day. He lies next to you, a hand on your stomach, the other cradling the back of your head.

"Y/N," he hums, each word spoken onto your lips, "I want you." You make a sound in your throat, both in agreement and in discomfort. It has been too long since the two of you have been intimate.

"I'm huge," you say.

"You're not and I don't care," he says, his mouth moving across your jaw.

"The last time we did this," you breathe, arching into him when he nips at your earlobe, "We had to stop because you worried you'd hurt the baby."

"I promise I'll relax this time," he says.

"How could you even get to me?" you ask with a laugh. Jace smiles at you as his hand moves from your stomach to your hip, turning you onto your side easily. He presses up behind you, kissing along your neck.

You sigh, relaxing into him. His hand pulls up the skirt of your nightgown, exposing your legs to the cool night air. It has been so long that you know you're ready for him immediately.

"Just tell me if I'm hurting you," he says. You groan, putting a hand to his face to stop him from kissing you more. "Y/N."

"Jace." You scoot away from him, turning slowly to face him.

"I didn't mean anything by it," he says with a sigh.

"How many times have you fucked me in that same position?" you ask. Jace frowns, frustration evident on his face. "Have you ever hurt me?"

"No, but things are different," he says. "What's the harm in asking if you feel okay?"

"It doesn't make me feel desirable," you say, looking up at the ceiling, stupid, frustrating tears forming in your eyes again. Jace sighs and moves to your side, propping himself up on an elbow so you have to look at him.

"Y/N," he says gently. "Of course you are desirable. You are still the most beautiful, incredible woman I know. And it's because you are so incredible that I want to make sure that I don't do anything that puts you in more pain than I know you are already in."

"I promise I will tell you if I am hurting, okay? You don't have to coddle me."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," you say, hand on his cheek to bring his lips to yours. "I'm the bitch for complaining about her kind husband." He laughs and kisses your palm.

"You're not a bitch," he says. You kiss him again. "Now please roll onto your side and let me fuck you." You laugh, doing as he says.

"Of course, My Prince."

Jace is at Dragonstone Castle when you go into labor. He has been anxious for the last month, knowing that any day the baby could arrive. He intended to postpone this meeting with the great houses, but you assured him that the babe would not come today. The only thing that kept him to his promise was the fact that Vermax could bring him back to the Red Keep quickly.

When Joffrey bursts into the room, Jace is immediately on his feet, already fearing the worst.

"What is it?" he asks.

"Y/N has gone into labor."

Jace barely spares a glance at the lords around the table. He urges Joffrey along. His brother had the foresight to request that Vermax be readied for when they arrived upon the shore.

The ride is quick, as he knew it would be, but he still urges Vermax along, wanting and needing to be close to you as soon as he can.

When he gets to the Red Keep, he runs up to your chambers, intending to throw them open and run to your side. Instead, he finds that they are locked. He can hear soft discussion, encouragements, but the loudest sound coming through the door is your screaming.

Joffrey followed him to the door and carefully peels him away. "She's alright," he insists. Jace won't be able to agree until he can see you himself.

Together, they sit outside your door for the next three hours. Joffrey doesn't say much, but when your screaming gets louder, or there seems to be a rise in urgency to the voices inside, he puts a comforting hand on his shoulder.

It seems like ages have passed when the doors finally open.

He doesn't wait to hear what the Maester has to say. He rushes into the room, his eyes going immediately to your bed. Midwives quickly take away bloodied sheets, and when they clear, he sees you. You are drenched in sweat, your hair matted all around you, and he's not sure he's ever seen you look more beautiful.

"Y/N," he says, as if he's looking upon the gods themselves. You look up at him, your face breaking into a smile. He rushes to your side.

"Are you okay?" he asks, taking your face in his hands.

"I'm okay," you say, laying a hand over his. He laughs. It's a result of the built up tension from the hallway, and he can't stop himself. He laughs as he kisses you, over and over. You laugh, too, and he tastes the salt of your tears on your lips.

"What is it?" he asks, quickly studying your face.

"Don't you want to meet him?" you ask.

"Him?" Jace's face falls in awe.

"Him," you say. You look towards one of the midwives and they bring over the smallest bundle Jace has ever seen. He sinks onto the bed beside you as the babe is placed in his arms.

"Hello," he says quietly. You lean onto his shoulder, looking down at your son with a smile on your face.

"Isn't he beautiful?" you ask, your voice a whisper.

"Yes," he says, his heart still thundering from the surprise. "What have you called him?" he asks.

"I assumed we'd discuss that together," you say, "But I was thinking Lucerys, if that'd be alright." Jace has tears of his own in his eyes. He bites back his smile, unable to put into words what the name means to him, what you mean to him. He nods his head.

"Does that sound good to you, Lucerys?" you ask, your finger touching the blanket over the baby's stomach. He starts to move around, crying out just a little. Like you've done it a million times before, you take Lucerys into your arms and shush him gently.

Jace kisses your temple repeatedly, until you laugh. You turn towards him and kiss him fully, passionately.

"I love you so much," he says, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

"I love you, too."

You stay in that position for an hour or so, Jace holding you, and you holding Lucerys. Joffrey is the first to meet the future heir to the throne, and he kisses you on the cheek when he learns his nephew's name.

When his mother enters the room, Jace doesn't stand, wanting to keep you in his arms forever. She is all smiles as she leans over your opposite shoulder. You sit up slowly, and Jace's arm around you helps guide you upright.

"Hello, little one," Rhaenyra says, taking the child into her arms. You sigh happily, watching her interact with him. Jace can't keep from kissing your face a few more times. He doesn't think he has ever been this in love with you.

"And what is the name of our little prince?" Rhaenyra asks, looking between the two of you. Jace looks down at you, but you nod your head to him.

"We've decided to name him Lucerys," he says simply. Rhaenyra's expression changes immediately, her eyes welling up with tears of her own. Holding Lucerys in one arm, she leans down to kiss you both.

"A fine name," she says through tears. "You did well," she says, looking at you. You smile back, tears forming again in your own.

After a few moments in her arms, she hands your son back to you, and departs, letting the two of you get acquainted to your new family. Neither of you say much. You just watch Lucerys with rapt attention, counting his fingers, and touching his soft patch of hair.

"He's so beautiful," you say quietly.

"He is."

"I don't think I'm ever going to let him out of my sight," you say, looking up at Jace with a smile. He smiles back, but notices the exhaustion on your face.

"Maybe you can for a little while," he says, "Just to get some rest."

"Still so overprotective," you say with a smirk.

"I've got two to protect now," he says, "So if you could just once let me take care of you without arguing--" You cut him off with a kiss.

"I'll try," you say. "But don't either of you leave this room."

"I don't think you could kick us out if you wanted to."

Jace stands with his son in his arms, watching as you lay down. The midwives come back in to check on you and Lucerys, before leaving the three of you alone for the time.

"It's okay, Y/N," he says lowly, when you still haven't shut your eyes, your gaze locked on the two of them. "We'll be here."

"Promise?"

"I swear it," he says, giving you an easy smile. He watches you close your eyes, and in a few moments, your breath falls into an easy rhythm, just like Lucerys's.

Jace looks down at his son. He doesn't want to disturb his sleep, but he wants to tell him, here and now, that he'll always be overprotective. So he makes the vow to himself, just like the one he made when he married you. He is always going to protect the people he loves, even if it sometimes drives them mad.

#jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon x you #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys velaryon #hotd #hotd imagine #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #jacaerys velaryon imagine #jacaerys velaryon fanfic #jacaerys velaryon fanfiction

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bunnis-monsters · 6 days ago

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NSFW

a/n: a naga kofi request!

warning: yandere behavior, restricting, double peen

It had been about a year since you had been taken to live with the naga who kept you prisoner. You had done an act of kindness, helping a snake cross the road so it didn’t get hit by oncoming traffic.

Unfortunately, though, a certain someone watched this from the treeline. He seemed almost amazed, realizing that perhaps there were some humans that did not think a snake like creature was a hideous abomination.

No, he soon realized you were nothing like any other human. The naga kept an eye on you, learning your daily schedule, never straying too far from the wooden area outside of your home.

At night he’d slither in, watching over you with possessive yellow eyes.

It wasn’t clear to him if he felt love for you, but the naga knew for sure he wanted nothing more than to have you for his own.

It was clear that soon, he wouldn’t be able to take the distance between you two any longer. He already considered you to be his, a thing he owned and got to do whatever he pleased with.

Late that night, he slithered into your room, his torso leaning against your bed as he took a moment to take in your sleeping face.

You looked peaceful and he could feel your soft and warm breaths against his face. Something about being so close to you had him all excited, his heart thumping painfully in his chest.

Why did he feel so… strange? You made his body heat up, something that shouldn’t be possible for a reptile like himself. But still, he felt warm and fuzzy all over every time he made his way to your bedside.

To keep you asleep while he carried you away, the naga sank his fangs into your neck. His venom could be many things, but tonight he made sure to give you a dose high enough to keep you asleep for a few hours.

Once you were in his den, he set you down on a pile of furs, unable to stop himself from staring at you. His lower body coiled around you tightly.

“So pretty… like a doll…”

While you slept in his arms, he gently brushed back your hair. The naga was being uncharacteristically gentle and tender with your unconscious body, his face nuzzling into your neck.

He was desperate to mark you.

You woke up in a huff, struggling the second you realized something was holding you in a tight grip. He attempted to calm you with soft kisses to your jaw, but when you wouldn’t stop moving he frowned deeply.

It couldn’t be helped, his snake body began to tighten around your body, his fingers working on your clit as he restricted all of your movements.

It was hard to breathe, but he didn’t dare to loosen his grip. You were his, and you’d learn who you belonged to soon enough.

His two cocks bulged against his slit, poking out and rubbing your clothed cunt. Watching your struggling slow down and turn into weak squirming made him hard beyond belief.

“That’s it, pet. Don’t you understand you can’t get away? Just let me make you feel good.”

He pushed your panties to the side. Before, he had planned on starting off gentle. The naga would only push one of his cocks in after fingering your fat, sopping wet cunt until you begged for his second cock.

But now that he had you at his mercy, he couldn’t help but shove both of his cocks inside of you, stretching your poor pussy out and making you tear up.

If only you had struggled a little less, he wouldn’t have been so damn horny. It was all futile, nothing escaped his iron grip.

His cocks were covered in slick as his hips slapped against yours. It was so easy to work you up, playing with your clit made you so, so wet, and you rather enjoyed being completely powerless.

The feeling of his lips and fangs on your neck made you shiver, your breasts being groped and played with roughly as you finally stopped struggling.

At this point you were panting, struggling to take in big breaths as you reached your peak. He was hitting that perfect spot with both cocks, and you were seeing stars.

The two of you came, cum pouring into your womb. He groaned against your neck and continued to thrust into you well after he finished cumming. You could tell he wanted to continue… but it seemed he was being nice to his little mate.

For now.

The naga carried you further into his den, curling around your body too keep you safe from any predators or potential rivals.

His teeth sunk into your flesh multiple times that night. He had to make sure everyone could tell you were his property, his little mate.

“All mine, little one.”

————————

YANDERE TAGLIST: @katerinaval @avalordream @atransmuter @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @yoongiigolden @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @enchantedsylveon @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96 @slightlyusedfloormat @bubblez-blop @sunshineangel-reads @heroneki-neko @soapybabyboop @sandramalikstyles-blog @anonymouskiwi @pedropascalbabygirl @flamefoxx @an-ever-angry-bi @bath1lda @ilyanadelarosa @iswearimnotadrugdealer @whysageee

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kizzer55555 · 23 days ago

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Do You Feel That?

Idea. So imagine the bats are going to Amity (or a place nearby) to investigate something. A building that had very strange readings, maybe even investigating a case. Probbaly starting in a forest. So this place is haunted naturally, and the ghosts can’t be perceived by the human eye. In this universe, Danny can technically become visible in his ghost form if he concentrates, along with many powerful ghosts, but their default is intangibility and invisibility and it’s just inefficient to use a that much power just to be seen. So most things that happen in Amity are not seen by normal people. Those infected by ectoplasm (the pits and ectoplasm being two separate things in this) are able to see ghosts after enough exposure. So if a hero were to come to Amity, they would see the destruction happening but it would look like some kind of invisible force, and then if they ask why others aren’t panicking, they just say Phantom is taking care of it.

Anyways, so the bats do not know about ghosts and are investigating this house and basically every kind of malevolent spirit you can think of is there and trying to mess with them. After all, even if they can’t see a ghost, that ghost can still affect them. And Phantom sees these idiots getting closer to one of the designated danger zones in his territory. (Or he was visiting a nearby haunted area due to the rising danger level and sees the bats right in the middle of it) The place all natives know to avoid at all costs. So the bats go anyways, completly oblivious to the danger. Danny arrives just in time to stop a ghost who was inches away from digging their claws into Red Robin.

And it goes on with Danny desperately keeping the ghosts back, tackling them, shooting them, growling and hissing and doing everything in his power to shield the oblivious heroes and keep them safe. He can’t even warn them because he’s spending too much power just keeping them alive in the woods. Because of course they decide to investigate the most haunted woods near Amity. Most of these spirits are old, angry, and wild.

And the bats are just casually going about their buisness, discussing the case and the evidence they found.

Danny tackles a ghost wolf to keep them from biting their fangs into Red Hood’s neck.

They follow some tracks.

Danny grabbing the shadowing tendrils attempting to strangle Nightwing.

They even joke around and push each other.

Someone temporarily possessed Red Robin and he starts reaching for a batarang with bloodlust in his eyes, before Danny digs his hands into the bat’s chest and rips out the foreign entity.

There is screaming, snarling, screeches, and lots of punches thrown, all unheard by the bats.

By the end, Danny is panting as they finally made it out of the forest. The bats are tracking a signal, and heading towards an abandoned house. Danny looks up and sees the place absolutly overflowing with spirits. They are crawling up the sides, eyes and teeth and tentacles moving through the wooden boards. Banshees and wraiths, eyeing them through the windows. Skinny limbs with barely any form creaking as their claws try to escape the house and reach towards the group below. Hundreds upon hundreds of spirits all confined to this small hut and ready to tear apart any who enter.

Danny takes one look at them, overhears the bats say that they have to head inside, and decide that he’s not dealing with this today. So he shoots a small laser to cut their power. No signal? No lights? No search.

He can hear the bats complaining but eventually, they have to turn back as they lost the signal and they are unable to continue. And hears them talk about how the place was so weird. Almost like something was watching them.

Phantom sags in relief once they are finally gone.

While they leave, Danny squares his shoulders because he needs to deal with all these ghosts before they get back.

Later, after not finding anything strange about the house or forest or the cause of their case (possibly a death? Or maybe just trying to find information connecting to something else?) and all the previous evidence and traces were gone. So they call in the magic users to use a spell to show the past and figure out what happened. And they can see the group in a sort of 3D holographic image as they investigated. But the spell doesn’t just show them, it shows every being from that time….so the group gets to see just exactly how close they all came to dying.

#Dpxdc #dcxdp #Kizzer55555 ideas

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blkkizzat · 1 month ago

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PU$$Y GOT MORE M⛧RDERS THAN SHIBUYA.ᐟ 𝐌⛧𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑#𝟏 — 𝐊𝐚𝐦𝐨, 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨

⛧ 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡: nov 1st, 12:03am ⛧ 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡: cockwarming + dubcon + somnophilia + pussy drunk + creampie + nemuidere!reader ⛧ 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐬: 1777

𝐧𝐧𝐧 𝐦.𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Haunted by old traumas and abandonment, it’s no surprise that Choso struggles with insomnia. Plagued with nightmares the moment he closes his eyes, Choso would easily spend the entire night awake—if not for you—his ultimate source of comfort.

Therefore, it makes sense why the only way Choso can successfully fall and remain asleep peacefully is when his cock is nestled in the comforting hug of your tight pussy. Your tender sweet cunt could always keep his fears at bay so it’s how he falls asleep most nights.

This is also Choso’s way of protecting you.

Nothing could happen to you, and you couldn't possibly leave him, when his hefty girth is plugged balls deep inside you. He'd sleep all night like that if you'd let him.

Most nights you did too, it was much easier than denying your cute puppy-like boyfriend when he'd start his adorable whimpering.

But tonight happens to be the first night of 'No Nut November'—or it will be in 20 minutes.

There’d been too many times you’d wake up to the syrupy feeling of an early morning creampie oozing out of your sore pussy. Choso often woke up in the middle of the night regardless and slow fucked you until he fell back asleep.

You needed a break.

So of course you refuse Choso when he cuddles up behind you in bed to be the big spoon and presses his stiff erection against the crease of your soft ass cheeks.

Choso in turn, whines like a kicked-puppy into your ear at the reminder of NNN, he hates this stupid bet so much. He doesn't understand why humans participate in this at all and loathes the fact that he let Yuji and Todo goad him into this at the Halloween party earlier that night.

To be honest he didn’t even know what it was about at first, he legit thought you just didn’t eat nuts all month.

But not being able to cum!?

It wasn't just about not fucking you, he wouldn't even be able to jerk it to your angelic face while you slept either!

And for what even—bragging rights?

This was pure madness to Choso as there are no better bragging rights for him than to be able to say his cock was the one that was sheathed in your guts every night. Knowing he couldn't sleep with his cockhead cozying up to your womb for an entire month was driving him mad already.

“Please princess, I need her—one last time!”

Choso’s voice is so pathetic as he whimpers kisses into the back of your neck. It’s a move that usually would have you caving but the effect is greatly dulled by the bags of sand weighing down your eyes. You had to get up for work in the morning and all the hot spiked ciders you had at the party were finally taking their toll.

“Choooo, *yawns*.... but it’s the first night... you can show a little control *yawns* ….can’t you baby?” But Choso is desperate!

“It’s 11:43pm babe, it’s still Halloween—please!”

Choso’s voice breaks slightly as he gathers you up in his arms, pulling you deeper into a toasty cocoon surrounded by his bare chest and blankets. His embrace is so warm and so comforting it's rapid lulling your sleepy eyes closed, you don't have the will to fight him on it this time either.

“Fine C-Cho, *yawns*...but you better fall asleep in 17 minutes—and set an alarm….you hafta pull out before midnight.”

“Thank you baby! Thank you, thank you!”

Choso continues to groan his gratitude into your skin, pulling your tank top straps down to pepper kisses on your shoulder. The relief he felt on being allowed to slip his cock into you was the only thing he could focus on.

Actually considering if he would even be able to keep his promise was the furthest thing from his mind.

Spoiler alert: He wouldn’t.

Slipping down his pajama bottoms and pushing up your nightie, Choso doesn’t waste time slotting himself inside you. He doesn't even need to prepare you. His hard weepy cock meets little resistance to rest against your cervix as your gooey pussy eagerly accommodates him in your drunkenness.

You're fast asleep but your body is still responsive, constricting around his thick throbbing intrusion.

Credit to Choso, he does try to close his eyes and join you in sleep.

Yet your runny cunt is extra sloppy from all the alcohol and it's not long before she is fluttering around his thick girth. Oh god, your pretty pussy was practically begging Choso to fuck you into the mattress like she didn't give a single fuck about 'NNN'.

Bracing himself, Choso lightly presses his clammy palms into the flesh of your hips trying to keep still—but to no avail.

His sanity is slipping, stripped away by your sloppy wetness. Soon, there's no stopping Choso's the tiny micro thrusts from slowly spearing his length deeper into your core. Choso’s fat bulbous tip is planting soft smooches on your womb and the moist suction of your cunt to constricts around him in turn, pulling him in that much deeper.

A sheen of sweat is already over his body as he looks at the time:

11:48 pm.

Fuck!

Choso needed to cum so badly.

He had to get a nut out before midnight—just one.

You wouldn’t be upset with him if he did that, right?

As long as it was before midnight?

You never said he couldn't nut in you, just to pull out before midnight.

Checking to make sure you were still asleep, Choso lightly pushes up your knee. His blunted nails dig into your thigh as he steadily slides his pulsing cock in and out of you with more deliberate strokes.

It takes a strenuous amount of effort not to groan hotly into your ear and wake you and as a result Choso is chewing his lip near bloody. Any thoughts in his head quickly dissolve as it feels too fucking good to bottom out in your slick silken pussy over and over again.

“...m’sorrrrrry…m’so sorrry!”

Choso whispers apologies for his disobedient cock while he slobbers open mouth kisses down the column of your spine.

God, he wanted to keep his promise to you so bad but it was your tight lil’ cunts’ fault for being so slutty when you drank—even in your sleep.

How was he supposed to fall asleep with your core being so warm and twitchy around him?

“Ah—ooo shiiit…Choooo…b-baby…”

Your soft sleepy mewls are almost drowned out completely by your lewd pussy talking so loud the room fills with milky squelches. Choso hears them though, his chest pounding from knowledge that he was dicking you down good enough for your sleepy slutty ass to start dreaming about it too.

FuckFuckFuck!

This wasn’t just about his nut anymore. He couldn't allow you to have a bad ending to your dream if he were to just edge you without making you cum!

Choso couldn't possibly let you suffer, not even in your dreams.

Sliding a hand down your hip to fondle through the soaked folds of your cunt, his thrusts become much deeper, shaking the bed with increasing friction as he continues to spoon and fuck you. Choso pants sound like a dogs whimpers as he sucks the skin behind your ear and rubs circles more furiously on your puffy bud. Disonnected from reality Choso is utterly pussydrunk. His madness is spurred on by the messy acoustics of your soggy clit clicking and joining in the with vulgar melodies from you being split open on his cock.

“C-Can’t d-do it! C-Can’t live…w-without ‘er—w-on’t do it! M's'sorry!”

Choso’s incoherent babbles and frantic thrusts weave their way into your dreams, his pathetic whimpering bleeding into your subconscious. His free hand slips down to press firmly against your belly, right where he knows your sweet spot lies in your core. The pressure sends a jolt through your body, your pussy spazzing around his length as a flood of wetness gushes down your thighs, soaking a large spot into the sheets beneath you.

Your legs twitch as your orgasm peaks, the overwhelming pleasure pulling a soft, sensual moan from your lips, even in your slumber.

Already on the edge, Choso's cock soaks in the tremors of your ecstasy, as you continue to cum from his relentless flicking on your clit.

Choso isn't thinking straight when cruelly pinches your swollen bud so hard you contract on him like a vice and he instantly is cumming buckets inside your cunt. The load inside your pretty pussy is so large you would have thought he actually had waited all of November to fuck you if you'd been awake. Not being able to control his moans Choso turns his head into the pillow as he tries to calm himself, his hips never stop rocking into you until every drop of cum is out of him.

Body sweaty and shuddering against yours Choso eventually pulls out of you although reluctantly. Nerves still tingling from his orgasm, Choso bitterly muses that the real torture hadn’t even started yet.

Choso looks at the time, it wasn’t even November yet, it’s only—

12:03 am.

Damn…welp—fuck it then, right?

His thick cock twitching to life again, Choso guides you over now on your belly, sliding a cushy plush pillow under your hips as you sleepily moan from your dreamworld for him 'not to make your pussy lonely again.'

Well he would certainly remind you of this, in the morning. Sure, it was his fault he fucked up but he surely couldn't keep his pretty princess' pussy empty if that's what she requested of him.

Gripping the base of his cock, Choso buries himself to the hilt once more. He means to ease himself in but momentarily loses control, as strangled cry escapes him and he rams himself back into your guts. Chest heaving, Choso squeezes his eyes shut to hold off cumming so soon again.

The sound and force is enough to make you stir fitfully in your sleep, but Choso is quick to press soft pecks to your forehead to soothe you. “Shhh, princess. I gotchu.” The sleepy reassurances Choso murmurs lulls you back into slumber instantly. Choso takes a moment to admire your angelic face, brow slightly furrowed as you continue to softly hum in sleepy pleasure, before he resumes fucking you.

Yeah, fuck ‘No Nut Novemeber.’

Choso would rather stay inside your sweet pussy for the entire month straight then go a single night without you.

𝐚/𝐧: next 12/12 6:00 a.m. PST queued otaku!gojo.

Comments and reblogs make my coochie wet tysm !

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aly4khq · 2 months ago

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A DRAGON'S LAIR! ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ⋆*

— sum: You were exploring Tarus city as a self mission, trying to find the dragon who was told to have lived in the city for many years to come. You thought that you would encounter barely anything, but you were ever so wrong.

— characters: dragon!sylus

— warnings: pining, he tops ur clothes, double penetrartion (he had too dicks), improper use of his tail, manhandling, biting, fuckin from behind. (if i have missed any, please inform me!)

— wc: 1,746

You've never been one to lerk into unknown territory or to find refuge in a random city that you learnt about in a history book — it's never been in your nature at all. But once you saw the posters, you knew that it was a place of worship and surprise.

Tarus city, a city where it's been claimed to have a dragon that laid in the depths of a special cave. The cave was highly risky for any normal human being, I mean, the image that laid on the posters was frightening enough to keep away tourists. The unusually greyish-red that scattered around the cave's entrance, moving around like a line circling a branch, a black thick coating around it which looked like claws when compared to each other, the singular hand on the top leading to the cave like it was inviting you.

You loved mythical creatures so this was a field day for you, you needed to go.

There was also a garden which yearly grew beautiful flowers there, crimson in colour and rose in shape. They scattered everywhere, and they seemed to have been planted by a very skilled gardener — if there even was one back in the early years of life. Oh how you'd love to distress by rolling in there after a long day, what a dream.

But you weren't just there for the cool looking dragon, you were there for the sword. Like that playground sword that you had to remove from the ground, and whoever could move it was the 'chosen one', there was one that laid outside the cave, imbedded in the beautiful scenery of flowers and healthy grass with its delicate pattern leaving you with mysteries.

"Where did it come from?" "What does it symbolise?" "How did it get there out of all places?"

Who owned it?

Well, let's just say that you weren't too scared to find out. You needed answers and if you had to dig into a random mythical cave then you will. Despite the lack of information, you searched up any little tips to help you navigate inside of a cave.

You needed to be prepared, and properly prepared.

After a while of constant climbing and exploring the beautiful long yards of greenery, you stood face to face with the cave that was feared the most back in Linkon City, aka the Dragon's Lair. In the papers, it looked like absolute horror capturing in a frame but in person, it was gorgeous.

The cave was expanded and opened for anyone to come into, and you'd did just that. Entering the cave, you turned on the flashlight you brought, seeing insta treasures of many different kinds of art scattered around the walls of the cave. "Wow...this is cool..." you softly murmured to yourself, still engrossed in the scenery—

...what the hell was that?

A deep and raged growl sped through the walls of the cave like air, filling your eyes with an intense sound. Hissing, the growl's sound waves led you to an expanded room, where a big bed-like item was in the front, surrounding by more jewels of ancient treasures. You found yourself searching around, looking for what this place could've belonged to.

And after 5 minutes, you dug in, "What's the worst that could happen?"

Searching the amazing rich items on the floor, your bag got heavier and heavier with time. Each jewel that caught your eye went in. Some of them even had ancient symbols on them, now that's a lot of money.

But, a singular gem caught your eye. It was a necklace that had a black substance scattered all over it, laying on the bed that was in the middle of the room. "Oh?" your hand went out, curious, "This is peculiar."

The necklace was a beautiful golden chain, wrapping with ancient knots and twists so it was bonded together perfectly. On both sides of the pendants scattered around the necklace, there were small, very intricate patterns dented into the metal. It had a pocture of a dragon on the front, and it...was weirdly shaped. Like the top half was crossed out, but forget that, you just found a good millions of money in your hands.

"Well, that's been a nice journey here cave, thanks for the new finds and...yeah. I'll be going."

You turned for the entrance where you came from, and it was blocked off by a large bolder. "Huh..? Why...who?"

You turned around to find a way to get out when a tail wrapped around your waist, pulling you down to your knees in a rapid manner. You scrapped your knee on the harsh carpet. "Ah! Hah...ow.." You tired to arise from your forced position when you heard a deep voice.

"Were you never taught of etiquette? Or was it just you who missed out?"

He boomed over you, a...handsome man. He was silver hair, crimson eyes and weird black claws and a tail. His clothes bleeding in with his skin.

This isn't the dragon. I mean, it's a literally human being?

"Etiquette? Who are you?" You replied back harshly, not thinking before you spoke. Remembering quickly, it was too late, his tail went around your body before whipping the skin behind you thighs. You yelped, cursing the man-dragon above you.

"You!—" "Me what?"

He arose from his throne, walkijg menacingly to grab your waist before pulling you up to your feet. He turned you around, your back against his toned chest. His hand went over your chin and upper neck, pushing your head back to his shoulder with a smirk.

"Maybe I should teach you," he bite your collarbone before growling, "how to respect a dragon's cave."

"Gahh—Ugggg, you're so deep!—"

"Focus."

That same dragon had you bent over the same drawer you had stolen from, your clothes ripped from his sharp claws just where you soaked pussy was.Your back arched like never before and his hand still around your chin, his teeth biting and sucking on your collarbone with delight. His hips were slow but deep, reaching your cervix with long strokes, his dick sending you into a wave of pleasure.

"What's the answer?"

He'd made you write down the rules of entering his cave again, the pencil shaking vigorously in your trembling hands. The paper soaking up your falling tears as you begged and pleaded with the man above you. "Hahh— Sylus— please...! Please! I might just—"

His tail traveled down your clit, gently caressing it with the peek of the tail. "Write it down, or I'll do even worse." He threatened, and you obeyed, grabbing the pencil and harshly writing down, "I will be respectfu—"

"Ah!!" His hip gave you a sharp thrust, a warning to behave and write properly. His hand groping your wee cheeks to the point that you could feel his claws digging into your flesh. "You have one more chance." With every word, he thrusted harder until you shrieked, your body bending more forward to escape his powerful hips, you pussy squeezes into the life out of him.

Your hands went back, trying to push his pelvis away from you. "Hm?" He hummed, his eyebrow rising before you hear a chuckle, "Want me to slow down sweetie?" His voice was playful, yet you nodded quickly anyway.

"Too bad."

He sped up, his hips snapping so fast with your to the point where it echoed in the room. Your hands banged on the drawer, lookijg for a way to soothe to intense pleasure that you were being given. You couldn't even speak, your face fucked out and your body slowly weakening.

"S-Sy...luss...I can't...! Please..." You begged, trying to find a better way to convince him to give you a break. His dick the was so deep that you thought that it was two dicks at once. It felt so huge, and more struggle.

The stretch was too much, you yelled, "Sylus! Why is it—" You gasped loudly, relent that he had two massive ducks in you at the moment, both of them lodged deep in your pussy. In that moment, you nearly passed out. "Ahh ah hah...hahh!!" You cried out, tensing, "Pleaseee..."

"You're fine, just one more." Sylus cheered on, his tail moving up to caress your back, travelling down the straight line. His tail met your ass, gently put slowly digging it into your other hole, "No! No no, please, i can't, please," Your whole body was shaking, your sweat coating your skin.

"Mhm, fine, for now." Sylus replied in a teasing tone before continuing to roll his hips into yours, and by that tight squeeze he knew that you were close. You stood a little, crying, "I can feel it!— I need to pee—Why does it feel like I need to pee?!—"

He reassured you, speaking in your ear, "It's normal, you're fine, just relax." You wasn't breathing at all. He grabbed your chin again before ordering you, "Cum."

Your orgasm hit you, your lungs not being able to take in oxygen due to the sheer force of your release. The intense feeling was still shocking you, your hands braking some of the wood of the drawer due to your grip. Your legs shaking like no ever before you felt his claws tap your chest, "Hey, Breathe."

You took a deep breath in before covering your mouth, instantly being met with fatigue. "I need a rest...I can't feel myself..." Sylus chuckled at your position, his hand goijg around your waist to carry you to his bed. "It's okay, you took both off my dicks, well done."

"I knew you'd come along," Sylus hummed, "so just relax my Queen, I'll take care of you.

this is not proofread! i was too eager to post so sorry hotties!

@ aly4khq, do not plagiarise, translate or copy my work. (30/11/24)

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gurugirl · 3 months ago

Text

The Mushroomer | friendly ghost!harry

Summary: Y/n moves into a small house in the woods and she soon realizes the house is haunted. But it really turns out to be not so bad at all to have a ghost when he's as kind as the one living with her.

A/n: Harry's a sweet ghost - so nothing scary here. But it is a little sad (with a happy ending). Also, I took some artistic liberties on what ghosts can do with this one shot so you may need to suspend your disbelief a bit. xoxo

Word Count: 11.5k

Warning: smut, talk of depression & suicide, loneliness (Harry's a sad ghost but Y/n makes him happy)

✨🍂',•* 🍄 *•,'🍂✨✨🍂',•* 🍄 *•,'🍂✨

Y/n had been living in the small house in the woods for only a couple of weeks when she started noticing strange things. She'd be typing on her laptop, cozy and focused when suddenly the tea kettle would whistle, breaking her out of the moment and scaring the life out of her. Somehow, not only would her tea kettle be on the burner but it was magically filled with water -both of which she had not done.

Or like the other evening when she was getting ready to settle into bed and she remembered she needed to turn off the lights in her kitchen so she grumpily got up and padded into the living room to see with her own eyes as her kitchen lights shut themselves off. It was nice to not have to walk all that way (which really wasn't all that far) but the creep factor of that happening was quite substantial.

But there were a lot of little things she'd been side-eyeing that made her wonder what was going on. However, she couldn't ignore it that morning. The way the blankets next to her were raised up as if someone were lying underneath them with her.

She had just woken up and her eyes were bleary and tired but the drizzle of morning light shining in her room made it clear that something was in the bed right next to her. Reaching toward the human-sized lump she blinked her eyes slowly and the moment her hand came into contact with the wool it suddenly deflated and dropped to the bed. She sat up and looked around the quiet space of her small room with her heart pounding in her chest.

"Is someone here?"

She was answered with silence. Pulling the blanket back she found exactly what she imagined. Nothing.

But then the kettle was going off and she jumped from the bed, quickly putting her slippers on her feet before dashing into the kitchen to shut off the burner.

"What is going on? Is someone here? Just…" She put her hands over her face in frustration as she groaned and when she pulled her hands away, there was her favorite mug sitting out for her already.

She remembered emptying the kettle and cleaning her mug and putting it away the night before. This was all impossible.

But she was in the mood for a hot cup of tea so she reluctantly grabbed the mug and that's when she saw her tea ball inside already filled with her favorite English breakfast tea leaves.

Pouring the hot water into her mug she peered around the kitchen, "Thank you. If there is someone there. This was nice. But… kind of creepy."

So, Y/n's day was off to an interesting start, and even though she'd been experiencing strange things and there was a small part of her that wondered if perhaps she had some kind of friendly ghost in her house, that day she was especially present and keeping her eyes open for anything odd.

Which led her to do some research on the old house she'd bought. She wondered who'd lived there before her. She only knew what was public. The property tax amount, and how many times the house had been bought and sold over the years (that number was surprisingly high). And that made her wonder if there was a connection. Had others been experiencing strange things in the home too? Had they been so spooked that they left, selling it to the next person to start the process all over again?

Of course, nothing that was happening was scary. Not really. It was strange, yes. It got her heart rate up a few times… but in the end, everything had been friendly or harmless gestures. Helpful even.

She didn't get much writing done that day, but rather she did find some interesting things online. It took her some time to get down to any names of people who'd lived in the house before (she didn't find many), but there was an old article from 1999 about a young professor who lived in town who died after going mushroom picking and eating the wrong kind. The article was more of an informative warning kind of story but there were some details that caught her interest.

The man would often forage for mushrooms being somewhat of an expert, but even with all of his knowledge he still mistook a bad one for a good one. Supposedly he died in his home all alone. And he was called by the name Harry. It didn't say where Harry lived exactly just that he was a professor from the area and he'd lived in the woods.

And that story led her to other smaller accounts of Harry the teacher and mushroomer who lived in the woods. She was so fascinated by the little bits of information she found that she hadn't realized the sun was already setting. She'd been at her desk reading what little she could find about this mysterious man who died in 1985, likely in the very house she was sitting in. He was 30 when he died.

"Mushrooms…" she spoke to herself as she recalled the mushrooms carved into the top of the banisters on the porch.

Closing her laptop she flicked on a lamp and then turned on her front porch light to double-check the wooden banisters and sure enough, mushrooms.

She placed her hand over the tops of them and bent to look at the work. It was crude, not carved by a wood maker but maybe an amateur. Perhaps Harry himself had carved them. Over the years, of course, the wood was aged and worn from the elements but it was clearly meant to be the shape of a mushroom.

She made a mental note to buy some varnish to cover them and make sure they didn't erode further. To keep the artist's work intact.

"I like these," she smiled and looked around herself, not sure if the ghost, or whatever it was, might be watching. She knew she might be losing her mind, entertaining such thoughts, but what else could it be? Surely something was afoot. Luckily, whatever it was, seemed to be kind and liked to get her tea started for her.

Y/n turned on her radio as she made cucumber and cheese sandwiches and hummed along. She'd peek behind herself every now and then in hopes of seeing something but that night nothing more came. Just when she was beginning to find the whole idea of having a ghost exciting, he suddenly wanted to be quiet.

✨🍂',•* 🍄 *•,'🍂✨

She wanted to sit outside to write that day. Took her hot tea with a little honey that morning and an English muffin with a jammy egg and extra butter. Then she piled the wooden bench with blankets and a couple of pillows and spread herself along the space and began to write.

Y/n loved her solitude. Loved the quiet and the freedom to live her life as she wanted day to day. She might call herself lucky that she didn't have to work a traditional 9-5 job but being a writer and trying to keep on schedule with her publisher was quite difficult at times. But she wouldn't trade the stress of getting her work done on deadline for anything. Especially not when she got to enjoy such peace in her life.

She wasn't rich. Not even close, but she did alright for herself. She'd been able to buy the adorable little house in the woods all on her own after all. So she was grateful for her life.

Content.

When she heard rustling leaves coming from the side of the house she stopped typing and kept her ears perked to listen. It sounded like a large animal moving through from the woods.

Getting up slowly and as quietly as she could she carefully stepped toward the edge of the porch and looked down at the side of the house to see nothing but dried brown leaves.

She was still hoping to see her ghost. Hoping he'd show himself –if there was a ghost (though she was almost certain by then). But everything had been quiet since before she ate dinner the night before.

Pursing her lips, she was a little disappointed that she still had not seen anything substantial yet. But as she turned to walk back to her bench, there, atop her closed laptop was a mushroom. A freshly picked mushroom. She wasn't sure what kind it was but it was clearly wild with a bit of dirt still at its base.

Plucking it up between her pointer finger and thumb she laughed as she moved her eyes all around her, "Is this from you, Harry? Harry the Mushroomer? That's what they call you, you know."

She walked down the steps of her porch to the front yard with the mushroom in her hand and peered around, "Thank you for this, but I'm not sure I'm comfortable eating it. Didn't you die because you ate the wrong kind? Accidentally poisoned yourself?"

Y/n knew that if anyone could see her they'd think she was a crazy woman talking to herself like that. Luckily she had no visible neighbors.

"Well? Are you gonna show yourself or just keep doing little things like this? It's okay if this is it. I don't mind, but it's hard to talk to you when I can't hear or see you."

In almost an instant there was a figure at the limn of her eye and she turned to see a tall man looking at her. She waited for a moment before speaking as his appearance seemed to slowly fill in… like he was being painted to life before her eyes.

He pointed at her hand, "It's safe. I promise."

She looked down at the mushroom in her palm and then back at the man, "Are you… Harry?"

He stepped back, the lines around him seemed to fade and Y/n reached toward him, "Don't leave! Please. I'd like to talk if you can."

"I can't leave."

"You can't… Because you're stuck here? Attached to this house?"

He nodded, the vibrant color of his skin filling in again and she noticed his eyes were a soft green like the moss in the small pond up the path.

"I'm sorry. It must be hard to be stuck like that."

"It is."

"Did you carve those mushrooms there," she pointed toward the banister.

He nodded again. She didn't know if that's just how he was, quiet and shy. Or maybe it was because he was not used to interacting with people anymore.

"Um… thank you for the mushroom. And for the tea. You seem to like to help."

He looked like a real man standing in her front yard with his brown shoes in the dead leaves that were scattered about. He wore a cream-colored sweater and khaki pants.

"I do like to help. You can eat that. They were wrong."

"Who was wrong? About what?"

She watched him blink and look toward the porch before he motioned to the house, "May I?"

Y/n grinned, not quite believing what was happening but fascinated all at the same time, "Of course. It's your house, Harry."

He looked at her for a second, the smallest bit of a smile spread across his face before he nodded and began to move up toward the porch, Y/n following behind him.

She stopped and watched him walk toward the wooden bench and sit down, as if he were too weary to stand, though she never imagined ghosts feeling tired like that. He stared out toward the trees before he spoke, "I did it on purpose. It wasn't an accident."

She stitched her brows together and wrapped an arm around the wooden post at the top of the steps, "You poisoned yourself?"

He nodded, still staring toward the yard and trees with their changing leaves, "I wish I hadn't but I was sad and I wanted to stop feeling sad. And then everyone thought it was just an accident. A mistake. But it wasn't."

Y/n stepped toward him cautiously, not wanting to scare him off, "Can I sit next to you?"

He looked up at her before moving his mournful eyes back toward the woods. She took that as a yes, so she carefully sat on the bench next to her sad ghost.

"Why were you sad?"

He shook his head slowly, "Lonely. But it's much worse like this. No one wants to talk to a spirit. Everyone gets spooked."

"You can talk to me. I'm not spooked," she spoke quietly and he looked at her again, brows softening as she continued, "If you want we can be friends."

"Why?"

"Why what? Why am I not spooked? Why do I want to be your friend?" She raised her brows.

Harry didn't answer, though. He only kept his gaze on hers. She figured his why was to all of the above. He wasn't used to people anymore.

"Well… you've been very welcoming toward me since I moved in. Kind even. Getting my tea ready, that was clever," she laughed and watched as his shoulders seemed to relax, "That's not spooky. It was helpful. And I like that you wanted to be nice so I'd like to be your friend."

"Okay. Just know… I can't leave. So if you feel bothered the best I can do is step outside or into another room. People have tried having the house blessed. A priest came in once and tried to get me to leave. I wish I wasn't stuck here. I hoped that somehow that would work, with the priest, but it didn't. I'd rather be gone but instead, I'm trapped, halfway here and halfway there."

"So, you're the kind of ghost that can pick things up and –well you also look like a real man too. To me you do."

He shrugged, "I don't know. I guess. I've never met another ghost."

The pair sat on the porch together for nearly two hours. Y/n was intrigued and had quite a few questions but she also told him about herself. At one point Harry could see she was chilled so he handed her blanket from underneath him and helped her drape it over her shoulders.

She couldn't imagine how a man like him had found such a fate. Every now and then when he spoke she noted that he had a natural charisma, a charm that certainly had caught the eye of a few ladies at one time. He was smart and kind. And she couldn't help but notice how handsome he was too. But mostly he was sad. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and hold him if he'd let her. Tell him he wouldn't be alone anymore and that it was going to be okay.

When she made dinner for herself she used the mushroom he'd picked and he told her where she could find more of them. That they could forage together if she were up for it. He made her tea and told her that she liked her tea the same way his mother did.

It felt like she was talking to someone she knew a long time ago and that they were just reconnecting after years of being apart. It took a bit to warm up but once they got going Harry was a regular conversationalist. She could picture him as a professor in front of students relating his biology teachings to a story about being chased down the street by a pack of wild dogs.

He was funny. Y/n liked Harry a lot. She hadn't really gotten any work done that day but there wasn't a part of her that regretted that.

When the sun had gone down she turned on all the lamps and let Harry sit in her comfy chair near the wood-burning stove (that he installed all by himself in 1981) and take his pick of book to read from her bookshelf.

She finally wound up getting a decent amount of writing done with Harry just there reading. It was nice to have a companion with her. She loved her peace and quiet but it was easy for her to adjust to Harry being there. Maybe because he had been there all along.

When she was getting tired and couldn't write anymore she looked over at Harry and noticed that he was still fully immersed in the book, "I think I'm gonna go to bed. Um… you can do whatever you want. And no need to hide or anything. Okay? I like you around."

"Oh. Yeah. Of course. I'll just be here. Won't bother you."

Y/n smiled at him as she stood up, "You're not a bother. I'll see you in the morning?"

He smiled and nodded at her, "Thank you."

✨🍂',•* 🍄 *•,'🍂✨

"So you do sleep at all, Harry?" Y/n asked him as she poured hot water over her tea.

"Yes. That's mostly all I do. I like to be unconscious. Pretend I'm not here."

Y/n felt so sad hearing the way he spoke. Even in death, he seemed to be depressed, sad.

"And where do you normally sleep?"

He shrugged, the book he had been reading from the night before was in his hand, "Wherever. In the bed sometimes."

Y/n looked at him, squinting her eyes, "Next to me? Like you did the other morning?"

He looked down and nodded, "Sorry. I won't do it again. Just like to feel like I'm not alone and when you're sleeping I know I won't scare you because you won't even know I'm there. But," he looked up at her quickly, "I've never done anything weird. I would never. It was just to be closer is all. Not in a weird way-" he shook his head and grumbled something under his breath, "But that still sounds weird to you I'm sure. I meant no harm."

She reached her hand toward him, almost not expecting to feel anything but when her finger grazed the fabric of his sweater she was startled and stepped back. But the moment Harry realized she'd gotten spooked he was gone in an instant. The book he'd been holding lying on her tile countertop.

"No. Harry don't leave, please. I… just didn't expect to be able to touch your sweater. It's… I promise it wasn't because I was scared of you. Please come back. I'm sorry. This is all new for me and I was surprised is all."

She saw movement out of the corner of her eye and turned to see him, but he was hazy, not quite there, "I don't want to scare you. I'm used to just staying in the shadows, Y/n. I don't think I could bear having you be frightened of me."

Moving toward him slowly she put her palms facing out to him in conciliation, "I'm not frightened. I promise. I just didn't realize I'd feel it when I reached for you. I want you to stay. I like you here. I like your company. I like seeing you. And now I'll know better than to be surprised when I can feel the wool on your sweater next time."

"Are you sure?"

She nodded, putting her hands down to her side, "I'm sure. And I don't want you to be skittish around me either. You don't need to disappear like that. Let's just get used to one another okay? But I'm not frightened. I think I already prefer you to most people I've met, in fact."

That got him smiling and it almost appeared like he was blushing as he looked down at the floor, a dimple scored into his cheek.

Quite the handsome ghost when he was smiling. He blinked his eyes as his form became tangible again, corporeal.

She took a deep breath and reached for him again, slowly that time, placing her palm up for him to reach out toward. She watched as he lifted his hand and gradually pushed it forward until she could feel the whispy brush of his skin on her fingertips before he pressed his palm over hers. Like a real person, with skin and everything.

"I can feel you. Can you feel me too?" She asked.

He nodded as his grin spread, "Yes. That's nice."

"It is nice. See? Nothing to worry about."

"Nothing to worry about," he repeated, his eyes on hers.

"Can we rewind? Go back to what we were just talking about before I got all jumpy? About you sleeping in the bed?"

"Okay."

She moved her fingers around his hand and squeezed it gently, "If you ever need to be close, it's okay if you come to sleep in my bed with me. This is your house too, Harry. It was your house first. I don't want you to feel lonely in your home. Just because you're… well, a spirit, that doesn't mean you deserve a life of isolation. I'm your friend now. Okay?"

"Okay. Thank you."

Y/n found that having Harry around somehow inspired her and kept her focused. She'd gotten more work done than she had in a very long time. Perhaps it was just that there was another presence there with her, watching and paying attention. Somehow it seemed to keep her on task. He was quiet most of the day. He'd read or take walks outside and bring mushrooms back when he found them. In the evenings they'd chat and she often caught herself wishing he was a real live man because if she were being very honest he had all the qualities she'd want in a partner. But on top of that, he was tortuously handsome. And it seemed the more she knew of him the more attractive he was.

He was quite humorous at times, a natural storyteller. And it seemed he enjoyed making her smile. He listened to her talk as well and remembered every detail of every word she spoke. Like she was worth listening to. It's something she didn't often find with other people.

Sleeping next to him at night was also increasingly difficult as now there was a sentient and conscious being lying next to her when she was feeling a bit lustful (as did happen on occasion inevitably). But there was little she could do to satiate herself in her bed when Harry was there too.

So she wound up changing her schedule slightly, to have her showers at night and find relief under the warm stream of water before she climbed into bed with him, who took up a lot more space than one would assume a ghost would.

He was always perfectly polite. Too polite maybe. But then again she had no idea how that would work with him anyway. Yes, she could feel his skin and touch his clothes and once had the pleasure of running her fingers into his hair… but certainly they couldn't… get intimate?

Though, she'd imagined how his lips might feel or those big hands on her hips or her waist. She'd imagine his eyes peering at her as he undressed (she'd never seen him remove any clothing but she often wondered what was under his clothes). She knew it was wrong. Felt guilty for thinking about him like that.

But she was a warm-blooded woman with certain needs that every other woman had just the same. And Harry, ghost or not, was easy to look and he was even easier to trust.

He was sweet.

And she was ovulating.

So even taking care of herself in her shower didn't quite scratch the itch by the time she got into the bedroom to find Harry already sitting with the blankets over his lap and his back against the headboard and his nose in a book. It was like having a really hot friend who lived with you who you knew you could never do anything like that with.

"Feel better?" He asked her as he closed the book and watched her take off her sweater.

She didn't remember telling him she hadn't felt good before her shower. In fact, he hadn't ever asked her before if she felt better after her shower so it made her wonder if he was paying closer attention than she realized. Could he tell that she had a change in mood? That her hormones were fluctuating? Surely not.

"Um, I think a little better," she smiled and slid into the bed, wishing she could climb into his lap and lift up his sweater to feel his skin. She was curious about him and wondered if there was more to explore with him. Was there anything under the clothes? Did he ever have those natural human urges he likely had when he was living?

"You seem a little tense. Would you like a tea? I think camomile is good for helping you calm."

She sighed, "I'm just… yeah. A tea sounds good. Maybe that'll help."

Harry left her alone in her room and she watched as the light in the kitchen gently spread out and illuminated the hallway off the bedroom. With a few minutes to herself, she reached into her soft night pants and rubbed over her panties. It was risky and she knew he might return any minute but she was hidden by the covers over her lap.

And it felt good. Obviously, the shower had been nice but there was something about doing it in her own bed on a dry surface that was her favorite. And she was already wetting the material of her underwear as she pushed the fabric aside and pressed her fingers directly over her clit. She could be quick.

A quiet gasp fell from her lips when she began hitting the right spot, fingers quickly swiping back and forth, body heating, heart pounding.

But then he was there at the door with a steaming mug in his hands, standing still like he'd been the one to see a ghost. She was covered up but by the way he was looking at her…

She slowly moved her hand away and smiled, "Uh, that was fast. Thank you."

He placed the mug on the table next to her bed quietly and looked away from her, "I can give you some privacy. I'm sorry."

Oh. He knew what she was up to. She'd been so stupid to think she could rub one out fast enough without him realizing.

"No, I'm sorry. I… since you've been around, or since I knew you were here I have to kind of… God, I'm embarrassed," she put her face in her hands and groaned.

"Don't feel embarrassed. It's normal. Nothing shameful about any of that. I was a biology professor after all."

Y/n looked up at him, "You're always too nice, Harry. I feel so awful. You probably don't even… well… you know. Things are different for you now than when you were alive?"

He cocked his head to the side, "Things are different yes. But if you mean in terms of feeling stirred, aroused… I can -still. But it's been a very long time."

She swallowed, unable to quite comprehend how that was possible, "So… you, as a ghost, can like feel that way? Does your body react as well?"

He puffed out a laugh and looked down at the wood floors below his feet, "Yes. Mostly. I still have all the feelings and emotions within my consciousness as when I was alive. And yes, I feel it and it can be visible if I let it."

Visible. That did nothing to quell her growing curiosity.

"That's… I guess I don't really know much about spirits, but I'm surprised."

"To be honest, I don't know much about myself like this either. I just know I still feel emotions and physically can feel…. excited. And that I can only go as far as the perimeter of the land this house is on. If I step past the boundary I wind up back inside the house. You're the first person I've really interacted with. Everyone else was terrified. I don't blame them."

"You can come back if you want," she patted the spot on the bed next to her. "If I didn't make you uncomfortable. I'm good now I think. Sorry to make this weird."

"Are you sure? I can leave for a bit–"

"No. No, I'm over it now," she took a sip of the tea he'd made her. He always seemed to know exactly how to make her tea.

Harry pulled the blankets back and settled into bed next to her before she flicked off the light on her lamp.

"I'm sorry I interrupted."

"Don't be sorry. You did nothing wrong."

She wished she could ask him to hold her. Just to be in his arms, to know what that would feel like. And she was sure that if she asked he would because he was so kind. But he'd just caught her playing with herself and she felt like a pervert and she was sure he'd wonder what her intentions were. Hell, she wasn't even sure of her own intentions at that point.

So, she closed her eyes and tried to push down how embarrassed she felt and the subtle ache between her thighs. Perhaps she'd get on birth control so she wouldn't ovulate anymore. She felt out of control, led by her id, her hormones calling the shots.

Eventually, she found sleep, and for a while, she forgot all about her misdeed and her aroused state in exchange for much-needed rest.

But upon waking she found that she'd snuggled into Harry tightly. Her cheek smushed against the sweater over his chest and his arms were placed around her back. It felt like waking up in the arms of a real man. It was soft and cozy. She felt warm and safe.

She knew he could sleep. He told her as much so she wasn't sure if he was awake or not which was her reason to keep still and bask in the moment. As much as she loved her solitude, it hadn't dawned on her until then how much she missed human contact. It was lovely to feel him so close like that. He felt solid as if he had a real live body.

Slowly the light from the sun began to brighten her room as the morning grew later. She probably should get up but it was so hard to peel herself away from Harry. Not only did she not want to wake him, she wanted to enjoy him holding her for as long as she could.

"If you need to get up you can."

She startled, tilting her head back to look up at him, "I didn't know you were awake. I didn't want to -wake you."

He was cute. His face half-covered with her pillow as he looked down at her, "I know. But I am awake. You can stay here like this for as long as you like, though. I don't mind."

Harry adjusted his face into the pillow, pink lips set in a soft smile as he kept his eyes on hers. He was beautiful and she could think of nothing better to do in that moment than to reach her hand up to his neck and stretch up toward him so she could give him a quick peck on his mouth.

Maybe it was her sleepy brain or just the soft moment they were enveloped in together. Perhaps it was the way he was looking at her that did it. But whatever made her do it felt like something she needed to do. To feel.

And then he kissed her back. It was like kissing a man. A real live man. His palms slid over her back softly, upward to her shoulder blades as he continued moving his lips with hers. Gentle and slow. Sleepy.

It did nothing to make her hormones calm. Which just led to her sliding her hand down his sturdy chest and to his hip. She wouldn't take it too far, she was just curious what the skin under his sweater would feel like as she edged the tips of her fingers upward and he was still real underneath too. Taut skin and sinew over muscle and bone. Moving her palm higher up his stomach she found herself quite pleasantly surprised by the way he felt under her hand.

But he stopped abruptly, sitting up and clambering out of bed, "Sorry. I'm so sorry. I don't know why I did that. You… I'm really sorry."

She looked up at him from her spot on the bed and blinked her tired eyes, "Why are you sorry? I kissed you first."

"You did?" He shook his head, "I thought I started it. I'm not used to this. I don't know what I'm doing." He ran his hands into his hair and stepped around the bed toward the door, "I'm sorry. I think I need to… just some time to think."

She watched him walk away out of sight, blindsided by what had just happened. Of course, the whole thing was wild. It was insane even. He was a ghost. It wasn't like they could be together. She wished things were different, she really did. She needed to pull herself together. Harry had real feelings, he'd told her as much.

Taking a warm shower she tried to reason with herself about what had happened. But the more she considered it all, the more she wondered what a future would look like if she were to fall in love with a ghost. She didn't want to indulge in those thoughts but she couldn't help it. She didn't like being around people and rarely needed to leave her little house. Would it be so bad to just be with Harry? He was lonely and needed companionship just like she did and she really enjoyed his company. He seemed to be the perfect companion, the only issue being that he was technically dead. And she had no idea how a physical relationship would work but she was beginning to think, after that kiss, that was in fact possible.

She could stay "single" forever and if anyone asked why she never married or dated she'd just say she preferred to be alone. No one would need to know about Harry.

Y/n shook her head as she dried her hair. She was losing it. Why was her mind going there? Yes, maybe she was a little lonely at times, and he was kind and nice to talk to, and he was clearly a very attractive… specter. But he wasn't a living man.

Opening up her laptop after having made herself a tea, she tried to ignore the pit in her stomach. Harry hadn't come back. Or if he had he wasn't showing himself to her. Had it really been all that bad for them to kiss? Probably. She shouldn't have done it. And now he was the one who was spooked. She couldn't blame him. It'd been a long time since he'd had a person to even talk to who knew of his existence and the one that he finally does show himself to winds up developing silly feelings for him and wants to kiss.

Y/n hardly got any writing done that day. Harry stayed away. The house was quiet. She didn't want to push him to show himself or to talk to her. If he needed space, she'd give it to him.

✨🍂',•* 🍄 *•,'🍂✨

She figured that the worst part about having a ghost was knowing he was there but not knowing where he was or what he was seeing her do. If he was even watching. Harry didn't return that first night nor the following day. He didn't sleep next to her in bed and he didn't prepare her tea.

She started to wonder if he was going to come back at all.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I'm sorry for scaring you like that. I hope you can forgive me and come back. I promise I'll never be so reckless again. I just had a lapse in judgment."

Her phone rang, startling her from her speech to her ghost. She had an inkling he was there and listening.

"Hello?"

It was her cousin Sil. She had promised to bring over a small kitchen table, something Y/n didn't have when she first moved into the house.

"Oh, tonight? Sure. Um… yeah. I'll be here."

She would be happy to have a kitchen table and chairs finally but she wasn't really up for company. Hopefully, Sil would be in and out quickly, though getting to her house in the woods was quite the drive.

"Harry, my cousin is coming to drop off some furniture. I'm just letting you know," she looked around the space and the room was empty and quiet still. Her heart dropped as she sighed.

But she had to stop moping and pull herself together before Sil arrived. She put on something a little nicer and swiped a little mascara onto her lashes before spritzing herself with her favorite perfume. Then she filled her kettle with fresh water and pulled down a couple of mugs and plates and then sliced up strawberries and cantaloupe.

She kept herself busy until she heard a knock at her door and put on a smile before opening it to see not only Sil, but a man wearing a thick flannel just behind her.

"This is Memo. He offered to help with the table. It's kind of heavy."

"Oh, of course! Thank you! And it's nice to meet you, Memo."

Y/n propped open the door and then she and Sil got to work carrying in the chairs as Memo shimmied the table inside on his own. When everything was set up in her little kitchen she was quite pleased with the way it looked.

"I love it. Thank you so much, Sil," she pulled her cousin in for a hug and then reached for Memo's arm and squeezed, "And I appreciate your help. Thank you."

"Your house is amazing. Ever get lonely living out here by yourself?"

Y/n looked up at the man and shrugged, "Um… not really. I like the peace out here. It's great for inspiration."

"She's a writer," Sil interjected, "Already has two published books and one on the way. She's the famous one I was talking about."

Y/n laughed and put her hand up, "I'm not famous. That's an exaggeration…"

"Well, she's a published author and her first book sold almost, what… like 50,000 copies?"

"That's average at best. I'm not… I'm lucky but I'm not anywhere near famous," Y/n looked at Memo and then at her cousin. "It pays the bills. And I love it, so…" She turned toward her kitchen counter, wanting to change the subject, "Would you guys care for some tea or coffee? I've got fruit sliced up as well?"

"I could go for some tea. Thank you, Y/n."

Memo smiled at her softly and her cousin raised her brows with a nod, "Sure. We'll stay a little longer."

Y/n prepared tea and placed the fruit and plates on her new kitchen table before joining Sil and Memo to sit. She learned that Memo was Sil's neighbor and when Y/n commented that she thought they were cute together Sil quickly corrected her cousin, "Oh, we're not… No," she laughed. "He's just a friend."

"I'm as single as they come," he winked at Y/n before taking another sip of his tea.

She found that to be a strange thing to say. Was he suggesting something? Y/n didn't know but she definitely wasn't interested. Her mind was still on Harry and wondering where he was, if he was watching everything.

When the fruit was all eaten and their mugs were dry Y/n got up to place everything in her sink and Memo followed, "I can help. Let me wash the dishes."

She looked back at Sil who was grinning, a raised brow in her direction. Y/n shook her head and rolled her eyes. Maybe it was a setup. She'd be nice but there was no way in hell–

"What the… shit!" Memo stepped back from the sink quickly and turned, his arms out exasperatedly.

He had water all over the front of his flannel and Y/n covered her mouth to hide her laugh.

"Something just… I turned on the water and it was like the stream just sprayed out right at me. Got all over my shirt!"

Sil stepped passed Memo and turned off the water then turned it back on to check, "Seems okay now. Maybe it was just air in the pipe or something?"

"Sorry. That has never happened. Would you like a towel?" Y/n offered.

"Yeah. If it's no bother."

When Y/n walked into the hallway to grab a towel she felt someone behind her. She brightened up as she turned, hoping to see Harry but found the other male standing there with her, plucking at his shirt.

"Here," she handed him a white towel, "I'm really sorry about your shirt."

Memo nodded as he dabbed at himself, "Yeah it's just water. My shirt'll be fine. Just a little embarrassed."

Y/n laughed, "Embarrassed? Why?"

"Got my shirt all well and startled everyone. Especially in front of a pretty girl. Little bit of a hit to my ego."

Y/n's brows stitched together, "Oh. Well, don't worry. I really don't care–"

"Would you… Well, we're about to leave and I thought maybe I could give you my number or something?"

There was no way she was going to call Memo or entertain anything more with him. But she decided to play dumb and just go along with it. She'd take his number and then lose it. Not that he wasn't a good-looking guy. And he was probably perfectly nice (he seemed nice). In a different world, one where she was more outgoing and liked to meet new people, maybe she'd actually be interested.

"Uh…"

Suddenly the hallway light flicked on and her TV came on in the living room, volume all the way up. The lamp in the corner flashing on and off and then on again.

Y/n quickly slid past Memo to turn her television off, one hand cupping her ear as she aimed the remote at her TV.

Sil looked spooked as she stepped out of the kitchen and then Memo suddenly rushed in, tripping as he cursed, "What the fuck?"

Everyone stood in shock staring at one another when all the lights in the house went off and Memo gasped, "Shit! What is that?!" The sound of someone running into her coffee table and something slamming into the wall had Y/n rushing to flick her lights back on.

Memo was swinging into the air on his ass next to the wall, "Something just pushed me against the wall!"

Sil put her hand out to help Memo stand up and then looked back at Y/n in worry, "Is this place like… haunted? What was that?"

She shook her head, "I don't know. You guys should probably leave, though. I'll clean up. I'm really sorry about this."

Memo stepped toward Y/n, "You need to come with us. It's not safe. It felt like someone grabbed my shirt and pushed me… slammed me! Whatever it is, is very strong and very angry."

Shaking her head she looked from her cousin to Memo, "No. I'll be fine. I promise."

It took a little convincing for Sil and Memo to accept that Y/n wasn't going to be leaving with them with Sil pouting and giving her a long hug outside, "Are you sure? I'm going to call you when we get back. I'm really worried about what just happened in there."

"I'll be fine. Okay? You don't need to worry about anything."

When they were down the street Y/n let out a breath and closed her eyes. She knew exactly what had happened in there.

It was Harry. Her gentle, easily spooked ghost, who had somehow flipped a switch and scared the shit out of Memo and her cousin.

When she stepped inside she straightened out her coffee table and looked around the living room, "Harry? Please come out and talk to me. I need to see you, okay? I'm not mad about what you just did but I think we need to talk about it. About why you did that."

She was startled when she turned and there he was. She had expected to need to plead with him for a little longer.

"I'm sorry."

Looking up at him Y/n shook her head, "Why did you do that? Was it because you didn't like him? Memo?"

He nodded, "I didn't like how he was looking at you when you'd turn away. Like you were a piece of meat or something. He was flirting with you."

She smiled, "You didn't like him flirting with me?"

"It's just that… I don't know," Harry turned and ran his fingers into his hair, "I'm stuck. I don't get to have anything good but people like… Memo," he spat the name like it was bitter in his mouth, "Get to enjoy whatever they want." He turned to look at her again, "He could have you if he wanted. It's so easy for him."

"Well, you're wrong. He can't have me if I'm not interested, which I'm not. Not my type."

"He's not?"

She shook her head, "No."

Harry groaned and looked down at the floor, "Doesn't matter anyway, does it? No matter how I feel about anything, about you… I don't get to have you. I don't get to fall in love and live happily ever after. I've made it so that I'll suffer in sadness forever. This is what I deserve for what I did to myself. Might as well watch you fall in love with another man while I'm at it."

Stepping toward him, she slowly reached her hand out toward his, "Hey, look at me."

She swore it was like looking at a real man. His eyes were so green and so sad as he placed his gaze on hers. "Is that what you want? That we could be –together?"

"Doesn't matter what I want."

She took his hand in hers, "Yes it does. It matters. You matter to me. And to be honest," she shrugged, keeping her eyes on his, "As long as I'm here and you're here, I don't think I need anyone else."

Frown lines carved in between his eyes as he looked down at her hand, "You can't say that. You don't know. I can't give you what you need."

"And what is it you think I need that you can't give me?"

"A real relationship. I couldn't meet your family or… anyone. I couldn't –touch you. Not really. I know this doesn't feel the same," he squeezed at her fingers. "It's not warm. It's not real. And if you wanted to have a family… well obviously I can't give you that either."

"Your hand feels pretty real to me, Harry. It's not quite as warm as if you were flesh and blood but you're firm against my skin. I feel you. And that kiss… I can't stop thinking about how nice it was. I liked that. I like how you did it."

"Really?"

A wider grin spread over her face as she watched the edge of his lip quirk upward, "And I've never wanted kids anyway so I don't care about that."

"You don't?"

Shaking her head she smiled, "Never. But we haven't known each other all that long so you wouldn't have known that about me. You also wouldn't have known that I don't really like going out unless I have to. It's why I bought this house. To be away from people. But I do get lonely so when I met you it felt like a special gift."

"When you moved in it did feel different for me too. I wanted to be your friend right off."

"See? We can be friends. We can maybe even be more. I know it's weird probably… I'm not particularly normal, though. But… I was already imagining what it might be like. You and me. It's not perfect but life isn't perfect and maybe we can find some happiness together."

Harry had been jealous of Memo, Y/n had figured that much. He hadn't really hurt him, just scared him. And in a way, she was glad that he was spooked and left relatively quickly so she didn't have to take his number and then sit in that awkward moment where she didn't give him hers back or have to explain later to her cousin why she never called him.

What would she use as her reason? Well, she'd probably simply just say she wasn't interested. But knowing Sil, there would be some pushback – You don't even really know him. He's the sweetest! Give him one date…

The real explanation, which she'd be unable to express, would be that she had already met someone and she wanted to find out what would happen with it. That the ghost that lived in her house with her, the one who'd pushed Memo, was warmer, sweeter, smarter, and more handsome than Memo by leaps and bounds.

Not that Memo wasn't a catch. But Y/n liked Harry much more. Even if he was a ghost. And maybe him being a ghost was better for her in a way. Of course, she was insane. Perhaps if she were a more well-adjusted person with healthy relationships she'd be interested in living men. But most men made her uncomfortable.

"What if –we just see?" Y/n placed her hand on his arm over his sweater as she kept his hand in hers, "Would that be okay with you?"

"I just don't think I can satisfy you how you need."

"So far you've done a great job of making me happy. I haven't felt this way about someone before. It's unconventional, yes, I know. But so what?"

He turned to face her, "So what…" he mimicked her words before he moved his hand to place at her hip. She could feel the weight of it on her side, "I can kiss you again?"

"Yes, Harry. Please do."

He leaned down slowly before she felt his nose bump into hers and then his lips press over her mouth. And it was sweet and emotional. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in close as if he realized suddenly he couldn't let her get away.

It was different than kissing someone with skin and warm blood and saliva on their tongue. But she could feel it. Feel him pressed into her, his body his mouth, his hands on her back. She could feel his neck on her palm and it might have just been better than any other kiss ever. Because it was Harry she was kissing.

She felt him open his mouth and close his lips around her bottom lip, felt him poke his tongue against hers… so different but still it was real and so nice. He was conscious and he was kissing her and holding her.

Y/n pushed her hand up his neck and let her fingers card through his hair, whispy silk between her fingers. Every bit of him had mass even if it didn't feel quite the same, it was so close and that only excited her, made her insides light up and liquify.

She could tell he really seemed to enjoy it too, small moans fell from his throat as he brought a hand up to her jaw and kissed downward to her neck. Like he knew what he was doing. But he did know, didn't he? He was once a man, living on earth, meeting women and no doubt had at least some experience.

Y/n couldn't imagine that someone who looked like Harry would have trouble in that department. So he knew what he was doing.

And when he moved against her hips she felt a solid lump under his pants poking against her. Even though he said that it could be visible and that he could feel aroused, it still surprised her. Especially that she could feel it. A decent-sized lump. And she wouldn't classify that as just a lump either… more like the bulge of a man who was nicely endowed.

Her body was hot. She needed more. Gripping onto his back she pasted herself against him, letting him curve around her as he kissed her neck and her jaw. He was better than any man she'd met already. Sensual and full of emotion.

When he placed his mouth back against hers she realized that her back was pressed into the wall. She hadn't even realized they'd moved at all. With a moan, she raised her leg and hitched her thigh over his hip. Part of her thought that might deter him or make him stop. Maybe he'd be too shy or he'd tell her they didn't need to do that, but what happened instead was that he went in harder, hips glued to hers as he reached down to grasp her thigh to keep it in place.

And now the swollen bulge was pressed over her dress right where her pelvis was and he rocked against her.

"Oh god… Harry…." her words were mushed into his mouth as he kept kissing her.

"Y/n…"

"Let's go to bed."

Again, she thought perhaps it might be too much for him. That he'd try and slow down or maybe he'd back away… But she gasped when he picked her up and held her under her thighs and brought her to the bedroom. Like he'd just been waiting for permission and the shy and conflicted man from earlier was all but gone.

Her head was placed on her pillow, with his palm under her neck as he smothered her mouth with his. Y/n moved her legs apart for him and he settled against her, using his free hand to clasp over her hip.

It felt so good to be with him that way. It was exciting and soft and it made her insides ache. Reaching down for the button on his trousers he parted from the kiss and looked down at her hands as she pulled his pants open.

"I don't know if… it's gonna be different. I haven't done this before. Like this."

"It's okay. Will it feel good for you?"

He nodded, "Yes. I can still feel like that. Just don't know what'll be like for you."

Y/n bit her lip and pushed herself up, "I'm gonna take off my dress. Okay?"

"Okay. Should I… I don't know what to do."

It was funny that only moments before he was carrying her to the bed but now he was unsure of himself once again. She figured it would take some getting used to, "Can your clothes come off? Is it possible?"

"Yes. Should I take them off?"

Y/n smiled and cupped his cheek, "If you want to. If you want to find out what it'll feel like with me. It's up to you."

He nodded and pulled at his sweater, bringing it up over his head and Y/n reached for his torso, smoothing her hand up to his pecs and shoulders. He was fit and looked strong. Tattoos on his chest and his arms. It wasn't what she expected exactly. She had seen the peek of tattoos on his hand but hadn't imagined he had many more. She'd been wrong.

Lifting herself she slid her dress off and unplucked her bra to get rid of the uncomfortable thing, tossing them to the floor as she watched him bring his pants down. He had on blue boxer shorts. She didn't want to let her mind go there, but she wondered if those were the last clothes he wore as a living person. Most likely.

He looked at her, searching her face and then his gaze dropped over her body. Her breasts, her tummy, her panties. She reached for his hand to place on her breast, "What does it feel like?"

Harry blinked his eyes closed, "It feels real." He reached up with his other hand to cup her opposite side and softly massaged, opening his eyes to watch as his palms smushed and slid over her skin.

Y/n inhaled as she let him group and knead. The gentle fondling was perfect.

Harry adjusted his position, bending his knees as he leaned in and looked at her, mouth nearing her nipple, "Can I?"

Nodding she placed her hand in his hair when she felt his mouth on her tit. She could hardly tell the difference. It wasn't wet and warm but his mouth was on her. He switched sides and focused on her nipple.

"Fuck… Harry that feels good."

Looking up at her he pulled away, "Does it?"

"Yes. You're really good. I like this. How do you feel?"

"I like it too. A lot. I feel…" he shook his head, lips parted, "Like a man. Like I'm alive again."

Y/n reached down for his thigh and ran her hand upward, "Can I touch you too?"

He looked down at his lap, blue boxer shorts tented from his erection as he nodded and shifted to his knees so he could bring them down and off.

And fuck if he just didn't look completely real. Like a live man with a big cock and soft green eyes looking at her for approval.

Y/n got to her knees and dragged her hands down his chest and over the silky bits of hair, "You're very handsome. I've never seen a more attractive man, Harry. Everything about you…"

When her palm found the underside of him there was weight to it. Bulk. She was having a difficult time understanding it all. That he wasn't flesh, nor alive, but that he was conscious and he was solid. The moment her palm dragged upward on his length, fingers curling around his shaft he sputtered a deep moan.

"Feels good?"

He nodded, "Just like when I… from a long time ago."

"When you were still alive? When you had a woman in your bed with you?"

He nodded again, "Yes."

"Good. I want to make you feel good."

He moaned again as she worked her fist over him. He was long and he had girth. A very nice cock for a ghost, she laughed to herself about how her inner dialogue was working itself out.

"I want to make you feel good too," he placed a hand at her hip over her cotton panties and she smiled at him. Of course, he did. Harry seemed like a giver. That much she did know.

Releasing him from her hand, she peeled her panties off and Harry quickly pushed her down to the bed and tucked in between her legs, hands sliding up her inner thighs, "You're so pretty."

Y/n giggled and turned her eyes to her ceiling. No one would ever believe she was doing something like this. Hell, she hardly believed it herself. When she looked back at Harry she pulled his hand to bring up to her center, "You can touch if you want. In fact, you can do whatever you like. I trust you."

His lips parted as he grazed his fingertips through her labia and kept his eyes on her pussy. Soft strokes up and down like he was inspecting until he slid his pointer finger up to her clit and looked into her eyes as he started to circle, "You're getting wet. That feels good?"

A laugh puffed from her lips as she nodded, "It feels so good. You make me wet, Harry."

His brows pinched together as he leaned over her body to kiss her, fingers still gently circling her bud. She reached down to stroke him in her hand, making him moan into her mouth.

He thrust into her hand softly as he pressed a finger inside of her. She inhaled sharply, "Yes…"

"Yeah?" He panted against her mouth, finger tucked inside of her thrusting as she pumped him the best she could with the angle.

And he might have been a ghost but when he added another finger the gushy sound her pussy made couldn't be mistaken. As if something solid was plunging into her. Which made her certain his dick would be the same. Better.

Pushing at his chest he backed away from the kiss as she pulled his shaft, angling his tip at her mons, just above where he was pumping his fingers into her, "You can if you want. I think it'll feel good."

He didn't say anything but when he pulled his fingers out and grasped around his cock, hand over hers he kept his pupils pinned to her eyes as he dragged his tip through her pussylips and down to her opening.

The moment he began to penetrate they both dropped their mouths open. It felt just like it should. Two people connecting with their bodies and their emotions. The friction felt different inside of her but she could feel the weight and the circumference of him slowly sliding into her walls.

As he blew out a harsh breath, she could feel it on her neck. It wasn't humid nor warm, but she felt the draft against her skin as he buried in.

"Can you feel me?"

Y/n reached her hands around his back, "I can feel all of you. Keep going."

He dropped his hips down against hers, pushing himself in and then easing back, dragging through her insides deliciously.

"I can feel how wet it is around me. So warm… Squeezing…"

She panted as she placed her feet flat on the mattress and rolled up against him, her clit pressing into his pelvis as he rocked into her so gently. So easy and so soft, but the swollen length inside of her was anything but soft. She felt every inch of it as he worked in and pulled back.

"It's so hard. Harry, you feel so good," she mewled before he pushed his lips against hers again.

Her old bed creaked in time with his languid pace. He held her tight, one hand at the back of her head and the other wrapped under her back as he fucked himself into her warm, gummy channel.

As fantastic as Y/n felt she imagined for him it was even better. He could feel her temperature and the moisture of her arousal, he could feel the tightness of her around him as he drove into her and surely he could feel her heart pounding in her chest.

She was in heaven. Y/n would swear off men forever if she could have this with Harry. They could have soft, lazy days together in silence, go mushroom hunting together in the afternoons, and have deep conversations about the world and biology and books they'd read… then go to bed together every night with full hearts. She'd be satisfied with him. It didn't matter what people thought of her. The strange woman who moved into the woods to live alone, never married or had kids, never had an interest in dating…

He grunted as he began to plunge in harder. He was feeling it. Just like any man would. His release, whatever that might look like for a ghost, was coming. She lifted her hips against his thrusts as he wound his lips around her slowly. The faster he moved his hips and worked into her the louder her mattress squeaked under her.

She gasped as he ground into her, swiveling his hips and groaning into her mouth, "Right there…" She panted.

If he kept his pelvis against her clit she'd come, "Don't stop. Just like that…"

So he rocked against her like she wanted, pelvis pasted to her clit as he tucked in deeper and filled her insides with his sturdy mass. She felt his hand move down, fingers wrapping around the back of her neck as she ran her tongue against his.

With their bodies glued together, Harry's big cock stuffing her and his hips down against hers she began to shake. He flexed his glutes and thighs as he continued sliding into her, raking against her walls, patting against her softly when her metal headboard started to hit her wall with every other plunge.

Harry stopped abruptly but Y/n draped a leg over his low back and pressed her hands into his bum, "Keep going. I'm gonna come…"

Shifting against her he prodded into her guts that time, making her hiss as he dragged his lips down to her neck.

"Oh fuck…" she moaned into the dark room as he plowed into her tummy, sucking on her delicate skin between panted breaths.

She loved how it felt to have him curled around her like that, arm holding her close, hips pressed against hers as his thighs pushed against the underside of her own. She loved how he did it so tenderly but so needy.

Because it'd been a long long time since he'd had sex. The poor guy had been moping in the shadows for so long, he deserved a warm pussy to enjoy. He deserved her.

When she started to come her lips parted and she sobbed his name. She also hadn't had sex in a long time. Not with another person anyway. And Harry was just as much a man (more so even) than what she'd had in the past. He grunted against her neck as she arched into him, her pussy clenching and sucking him in as she released around him.

He whimpered and then moaned loudly and suddenly he pulled his arm from under her back and took both hands to hold her hips down as he pounded into her, the frame of her bed slapping into the wall and creaking loudly as he came. His big cock was pushing into her depth, bulbous head dragging into her guts as he orgasmed. He gasped and panted as he rutted in and then stilled his hips as he bottomed out inside of her.

She rather enjoyed the way he manhandled her at the end. Holding her down so he could fuck into her to finish himself off like that. The gruff noises he was making and the pinch of pain she felt from having something so hard and so big drill into her tummy was actually quite pleasant. Satisfying.

And just as if he were alive and needed oxygen in his lungs, his chest was heaving as he looked down at he, letting go of her hips, pulling her up into his arms, and dragging her into his lap.

"Are you okay?" He asked her as he kissed her cheek and placed his palm on the back of her head.

She wrapped her arms around his torso, "I'm so good. That was so good, Harry."

He looked at her, holding her face in his hands, "It was?"

Nodding she ran her fingers up his back, "The best."

✨🍂',•* 🍄 *•,'🍂✨

Y/n would have loved to tell everyone about her boyfriend. About how happy she was and how amazingly well they got along. But she couldn't. Because if she did some of the more nosy ones (her mom for example) would want to meet him. Would want to invite him over for a family dinner so everyone could meet him.

And when she'd have to tell her mom that he wouldn't be joining them for dinner she'd be convinced that he was a lowlife. A deadbeat. Which was the furthest thing from the truth.

No. He's not a flake. He's a ghost.

So, she just told everyone she was happiest single. That men were garbage anyway (that was true).

She was happy. And so was Harry.

"I feel like this is what I was supposed to do. Meet you in the afterlife. Well, my afterlife. So our timelines would fit together."

Y/n grinned and dropped a mushroom into her basket, "I think so too. We were meant to meet, weren't we?"

Harry smiled and looked up at the sun poking through the canopy of the trees above, "It's all I ever wanted."

Y/n took his hand and looked up at the trees with him. Most of them had lost their leaves as the weather was turning chillier. This was the time of year, Harry said, that his favorite mushrooms were out. Chicken of the woods and oyster. She was going to saute them with butter and eat with the pot of lentil soup she had started before they went out to forage.

Squeezing his hand and leaning into his arm she turned her gaze from the trees to her handsome ghost, "It's all I ever wanted too."

✨🍂',•* 🍄 *•,'🍂✨✨🍂',•* 🍄 *•,'🍂✨

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candy69gurl · 10 months ago

Note

can you do hybrid! Wolf toji claiming you during his rut?

THE HOWL OF DESIRE

Hybrid! Wolf toji x f!reader

Warnings- 18+, dark, slight non/con (Toji does not intend to harm you), size kink (both are adults), cave sex, multiple orgasms, nipple biting & play, fingering (Toji has black big nails), raw sex (cumming inside many times), breeding, pussy eating

wc - 2.6k

ART NOT MINE !

As you traverse through the dense woods, you find yourself getting increasingly disoriented, unsure of which way leads back to civilization. The sun's rays barely penetrating the thick canopy above, casting eerie shadows on the forest floor. You begin to worry, knowing that spending the night here could lead to dangerous consequences.

Suddenly, your senses pick up on the sound of rustling leaves nearby. You freeze, trying to discern whether it is an animal or something more sinister.

A figure emerges from behind a tree, and you gasp involuntarily. It is a creature of height 6'1ft, he appears as a magnificent wolf-human hybrid. He is slender but muscular and athletic, and his wolfish aura makes him look intimidating. As he closes on your position you notice his ears flattened on his head and his tail is pointed upright, his body has chiseled muscles and trademark scars, his green sword-like eyes looking through your soul. His mouth bore fang-like teeth that you swear are more vicious than natural canine teeth of humans.

His eyes lock onto yours, a mixture of hunger and desire burning within their depths.

"Hello, human," he growls softly, his voice tinged with an animalistic quality. "Lost, are we? Well, I don't normally go for humans, but you seem intriguing enough."

As you stand frozen in fear and confusion, Toji takes a step closer, his form shifting slightly, the wolf aspects becoming more pronounced. His eyes gleam with lust, and you can faintly smell his pheromones in the air – a testament to his overwhelming need to mate. "Ah finally," he says, taking another step toward you. "It's just my rut, and I need a mate to breed with. Normally, I wouldn't ask a human, but I cannot wait anymore."

His voice is calm, almost soothing despite the terrifying situation. Your heart races as you contemplate your options, but you realize that running might only agitate him further. Nonetheless your legs unconsciously start to move. There is only one way to get out of this- by running.

"So," he continues, his back facing you but when he turns to you, he sees you running, " What's a prey if they don't try running".

With a grin spreading across his face, Toji starts running after you, muscles rippling as he leaps after you. His movements are fluid and quick, darting through the trees with ease. You feel your adrenaline surge, pushing your speed to its limit as you navigate the unfamiliar terrain. However, he seems to know these woods intimately, and your panic increases as you realize you're unable to shake him off.

"Caught you little bunny" he exclaims, grabbing your neck. Despite his triumphant words, there's a hint of concern in his eyes. He pauses, contemplating his next move. "Running isn't going to solve anything, and believe me, you don't want to get hurt.. Or do you?"

"P-please let me go.. I have to get back home."

Toji weighs your plea, his gaze lingering on you thoughtfully. His need for release is urgent, but he doesn't wish to harm you unnecessarily. "I can let you go, but I'm afraid you won't find your way back alone." His voice holds a note of genuine concern, his eyes softening momentarily.

Then, his expression shifts, the wolfish hunger returning. "But," he adds, "If you agree to stay and help alleviate my… condition, I promise to guide you safely back to where you belong. You won't regret it, trust me." He leans close, his breath warm against your ear as he whispers, "I'll make sure you enjoy it too."

You stand there, contemplating your options. The thought of being alone in these woods, possibly lost for another night, is daunting. On the other hand, submitting to Toji's demands is equally terrifying, but there's a strange allure to it as well. His promise of safety and pleasure seems almost too good to be true.

As you weigh the pros and cons, Toji watches you intently, his eyes never leaving yours. He can sense your hesitation, and it fuels his desire even more. "I understand if you're scared," he says softly, reaching out to gently cup your cheek. "But I promise, I won't hurt you. I just need someone to share this with, and you seem like the perfect one."

His touch is warm and comforting, despite the situation. You can't help but feel a strange sense of comfort in his presence, as if he truly means what he says. "So, what do you say?" he asks, his voice low and seductive. "Will you help me, and let me help you in return?"

"O-only if you promise to be gentle..", you reply, your voice shaking from his intimidating aura.

Toji's eyes crinkle at the corners, a rare smile gracing his features. "Gentle it is," he assures you, his grip on your cheek gentle but firm. "I can't promise but I will try since you are my first human mate.. Come, let's find a suitable spot. We don't want to draw attention, do we?" His voice is smooth, radiating confidence and control. You hesitate, but there's a sense of safety in his presence that you can't deny.

With a deep breath, you take his hand, allowing him to lead you deeper into the woods. The fear is still there, but it's tempered by a growing curiosity. You're stepping into unknown territory, but for some reason, you don't feel threatened. Instead, there's a strange excitement coursing through you, making your heart beat faster.

As you follow Toji deeper into the woods, you begin to notice subtle changes in the landscape. Brambles part before you, revealing a hidden trail leading to a small clearing. In the center of the clearing lies a cave, half-hidden by the surrounding foliage. This is where Toji leads you, guiding you inside with a gentle push.

The cave is surprisingly cozy, lit by the dim light seeping through the entrance. There's a palpable sense of warmth and security, and you can't help but feel a sense of relief wash over you. Toji observes your reaction, a satisfied smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"This is my den," he explains, gesturing around. "Now, shall we proceed?" He tilts his head, his eyes holding a mix of anticipation and expectation. You can tell that his rut is still strong, but he's patiently waiting for your lead.

Your nod sends a wave of excitement through Toji, his eyes glinting with eagerness.. He quickly steps closer, nearly ripping your pants and panties off. He hovers over you, his eyes locked on yours as he positions himself between your thighs.

Surprised by his sudden movement, you struggle in his grip, "W-wait you need to loosen me up"

Toji pauses, confusion clouding his features for a brief moment. "Loosen you up?" he repeats, his voice heavy with confusion. Then, understanding dawns on his face, and he chuckles softly. "Tsk, I can wait no more but fine since you beg me so obediently", moving between your legs. He gently parts you with his fingers, feeling your dampness.

"You're already prepared," he murmurs, a note of approval in his voice.

"Ah~", your back arches at his finger movements, your back hitting the ground of the cave.

At your response, Toji's eyes darken with lust. He thrusts his fingers into you roughly. "Are ya loose yet?" His eyes remain locked on yours, his expression a mix of impatience and excitement.

"n-no not yet.. a-ah", your voice cracks up in pleasure.

Toji's eyes narrow, his brows furrowing in concentration. He inserts a third finger, thrusting harder this time, stretching you wider. You cry out, a mixture of pleasure and pain washing over you as you near your edge.

"Humans are so responsive..." he mutters, his voice thick with desire as he continues to fuck you with his fingers. His eyes never leave yours, the intensity between you and him building, is only heightened by the dim light of the cave.

Finally, after several more thrusts, you reach your orgasm and he withdraws his fingers, a satisfied smirk gracing his lips. "Ready?" He asks, his gaze locked on your face, waiting for your answer.

"mghh.. n-not now.. I need sometime.. I am sensitive right now", you protest.

Toji's eyes squint in annoyance "Shut up, I have been patient enough. I can't wait any longer."

With that, he positions himself between your legs again .With a sudden powerful surge, Toji thrusts into you, his giant cock stretching your poor hole wide. You gasp, your nails digging into the cave floor as you struggle to adjust to the intense sensation.

"Please.. A-ah .. be gentle"

"Shush..I am trying .. You humans are so fragile.. But", he grunts in pleasure, "ya feel so good. I never thought humans feel this good"

Though he is trying to be gentle, but your insides feel so good that he can't help but move relentlessly, his hips pumping in a primal rhythm. Each thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure and pain through you, your body responding to his dominance.

Despite your initial protest, you can't help but moan loudly, writhing beneath him. His roughness sets you ablaze, and you find yourself meeting his thrusts eagerly. His scent, his strength - everything about this experience overwhelms you. Your body cries out for release, and you know you won't last long.

"That's it, take it!" Toji growls, his eyes locked on yours. His primal nature is on full display, and it's intoxicating.

Your toes curl up as Toji's thrusts intensify, his eyes widening at your reaction. "Fuck, you're tight," he groans, his voice thick with lust. "You feel incredible." His pace quickens, his hips slamming into you with brutal efficiency. You cry out, the cave echoing with your sounds of pleasure and pain.

His rut is nearing its peak, his body trembling with suppressed energy. With one last powerful lunge, he buries himself deep within you, filling you with his seed. "Take it all," he rasps, his breath hot against your neck.

In that moment, you surrender to the sensations, your own climax washing over you. Together, you collapse onto the cave floor, feeling spent but incredibly fulfilled. Your legs wrap around him instinctively, holding him close.

As he recovers, Toji nuzzles your neck, his breathing ragged. "I hope I was gentle enough," he murmurs, his voice filled with satisfaction.

"No .. you are so mean..", you reply panting.

Toji laughs, his chest rumbling against your throat. "Mean? Maybe, but effective, wouldn't you agree?" He teases, his grip on you tightening. "Besides, don't lie, you enjoyed it too."

He's right, you did enjoy it - despite the roughness. The intensity of the encounter left you shaken yet exhilarated. He turns you on your stomach "don't think it's over yet.. It's just a starting"

"w-what?", your pupil dilates at the though.

Toji pushes you on your stomach and he enters from behind. You moan, feeling him stretch you once again. With a smirk, he begins to thrust relentlessly, his body slamming against yours. His large hands grip your sides, holding you steady as he takes you from behind.

"We are going to do it whole night" he growls, each word punctuated by his thrusts.

You cry out, your body responding eagerly to his advances. You can't deny the pleasure surging through you. His dominance excites you, the raw intensity of his actions sending you spiraling towards another climax.

"God, you're so good," he praises, his voice thick with lust. "I could spend hours with you, sweet human."

"P-please can't no more", you plead.

Toji stills, pulling his cock out, your body shaking from oversensitiveness. "Already?" then he thrusts into you again. "I know you can handle this."

You cry out, feeling him entering you again.

Time skips, and you and he are still at it, you don't know what time it is, you don't know how many orgasms coursed through you.. The only thing you know is the pleasure you are getting from this.

Toji's eyes shine with lust, his hands firmly grasping your hips as he bounces you on his lap. Your hair falls in disarray around your face, your skin flushed from exertion. Each thrust elicits a soft moan from you, your body responding to his every command.

"Feel good?" he asks, his voice low and sultry. His eyes hold a mixture of satisfaction and hunger, his gaze never leaving your face. You nod, breathless, your nails scratching lightly at his shoulders.

"Good," he growls, increasing his pace. "I knew you'd love this." His hips buck, driving into you harder, faster. You cry out, your body reacting to his every touch.

"p-please play with my nipples too.. mhmm", your face flush with shame as you beg him to pleasure you. Unknowingly removing your hands remove your top and push up your bra, revealing your breasts with stiffening nipples.

Toji's eyes light up at your request, his hands immediately moving to your breasts. He pinches your nipples gently, then harder, eliciting a mix of pleasure and pain from you. You cry out, your body arching in response.

"You like that?" he asks, his voice thick with lust. "Is this what you wanted?"

You nod, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps. He leans to catch one of your bouncing tits in his mouth, licking and sucking. His fangs brush your nipples, nibbling on them gently

"f-fuck .. dont bite them.. ahhh."

Toji pulls back, releasing your nipple with a wet pop. He looks at you, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips. "My apologies," he says, feigning innocence. "It seemed to please you though."

He resumes his thrusts, his movements fierce and unrestrained. His hands pinch and twist your nipples, his tongue lashing over them in turn. Each touch sends waves of pleasure-pain coursing through you, your body responding eagerly.

"I'm close," you whisper, your voice hoarse.

"Not yet," he growls, his eyes darkening. "I'm not done with you."

His words send a fresh wave of arousal coursing through you, pushing you closer to the edge. You cry out, your body writhing beneath him as he plays with your nipples, fucking you relentlessly.

"R-really can't anymore.. please let me .. let me cum", you beg him, tears falling from your cheeks.

Toji's eyes meet your teary eyes, his breath ragged.

"Don't cry little human", he licks your cheek wiping off your tears. "Then cum," he growls, his voice rough with pleasure. "Let go."

With a final, hard thrust, he drives into you, the motion perfectly synchronized with your climax. You cry out, your body shaking as you crest over the edge. He follows suit, his cock pulsing within you as he finds his own release. He growls which sounds more like a howl, as he fills your womb with his thick seed.

Exhausted, you slump against him, your breathing ragged. He holds you close, his arms wrapping around you protectively.

Soon you pass out. Toji catches you easily, his grip firm yet tender. "Awww. I wanted more though," he whispers, his voice softening, "but fine.. I have had enough fun.. I will help ya return tomorrow"

He gazes at your sleeping form, a hint of tenderness in his eyes. Despite his rough exterior, he cares for you. He wraps his big arms around you covering your fragile body, ensuring you stay warm throughout the night.

You awaken slowly, feeling warm, wet warmth between your legs. Your eyes flutter open, landing on Toji's face, his eyes gleaming with desire as he licks your cunt. The sight is both erotic and overwhelming.

"Morning," he greets, his voice thick with lust. "How are you feeling?"

You swallow hard, your heart racing. "W-what are you doing?"

"What does it look like?" he responds, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Cleaning you up after last night's fun."

You blush, your body reacting to his touch whether you want it to or not. Your eyes squeeze shut as he licks and kisses your most intimate places.

"Mmm, you taste delicious," he murmurs, his voice vibrating against your skin. "Like sweet honey."

"H-hey you said.. you will help me return back home.."

Toji raises his head, his eyes locked on yours. "Go home?" he repeats, surprise clear in his voice. "Oh yes.. But I want to fuck you before I leave you alone for good"

Your skin is already sensitive from his licks and touches, your body ready for more. You bite your lower lip before nodding.

He grins, his eyes filled with lust. "What we waiting for then?" He quickly moves, positioning himself between your legs.

He chuckles as your walls devour his huge girth. "I love how good your taking me.. Fuck.. I'll always find you during my rut, my little bunny."

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nereidprinc3ss · 3 months ago

Text

trolley problem

in which fem!reader has been gambling with her life and spencer reid is more than a little concerned

flangst, hurt/comfort warnings/tags: passive suicidal ideation from reader, she keeps risking her life, that really grinds Spencer’s gears, established relationship, existential dread, existential euphoria, lots of stuff about grief and death and self worth, not advocating for this, pretension from the author, blasphemy probably?, reader gets fuzzy from prescribed painkillers, arguing, hospital stuff, mention of sleep paralysis involving spiders, reader gets shot but she’s fineee, I pander to intro to philosophy takers, bau!reader, neurodivergent coded reader, if she’s not exactly like you I’m sorry, bean soup a/n: one day you’re in a writing slump literally the next you are in your notes app for six hours writing whatever the fuck this is but I think I love it even tho it’s weird and I hope u like it too!! btw this was gonna be called cotard's syndrome but then I never once talk abt cotard's but if u care that might be interesting context for the motif of not feeling human/alive, WC 3K

Spencer hasn’t spoken to you since the doctor left the room five minutes ago.

The air is antiseptic as you take it deep into the hollows of your lungs and trap it there for a moment, trying to optimize oxygen intake without actually having to breathe very often. Hospital smell is as universal as it is suffocating. It reeks of everything but death—flowers, blood, bleach, vomit. A humiliating, desperate scramble to defy the very thing that defines mortality. It’s pathetic. It reminds you of the worst instances of failure and loss and denial in your life. It curdles your blood. Literally rots you from the inside out.

You’ve had ample time to ponder that smell over the last few months because you keep ending up here, and some time ago you decided the institution of the hospital is inherently absurd. It’s stupid to think you could avoid the one absolute condition on your corporeal form: impermanence. It is the only thing that is promised, and people still waste their lives away running from it. It is the ultimate self-fulfilling prophecy.

So around the time you acknowledged that hospitals are simply monuments to the self-importance of man, you gave up on trying too hard to preserve yourself. You’ve seen death too much and too often. You’ve tried staving it off with prayer and the miracles of modern medicine, and it never matters in the end because it’s all magical thinking anyway. All the wallowing and the bargaining and pleading never got you anywhere.

You’ve accepted that from the moment you were born, you were marked for death.

But you’re not a complete nihilist. You’re not even totally resigned to the abject certainty of death—because you’ve found a loophole.

Everyone has as many chances at escaping death as other people are willing to offer them at the cost of their own lives. Not many people are willing to make that trade—someone else’s life for their own—but you’ve decided you are. Because if not you, then who?

It’s not that you don’t see the value in your own life, as Spencer keeps making it sound. It’s just the opposite. You understand that you’ve got an extremely valuable resource, and you don’t just have to sit on it. There are things you can do. Choices you can make. Ways to defy death.

Just… not yours.

Or maybe you’re just in deep denial.

Either way—this is a philosophy your boyfriend intentionally refuses to understand. He gets mad, or some kind of upset, every time you try to explain it. Usually he ends up leaving the room close to tears. You never feel good about it.

Right now he’s presumably trying to give you the silent treatment and not doing a very good job.

“Stop holding your breath. Why are you—stop that.”

Spencer’s frowning, skin sallow and milk-blue under fluorescent lighting. Purple seeps from around his eyes like spilled wine on a white table cloth. Your stomach turns.

“Sorry.”

He doesn’t tell you not to apologize. You don’t expect him to.

“Why are you doing that? Does something hurt?”

Other than your entire bicep being on fire due to the 9 millimeter Luger it recently came into contact with?

“Not really. I just don’t like the smell of hospitals.”

At that, he gets stony again. Like, Medusa stony. You feel a tightening in your chest that has nothing to do with a lack of air. His arms are crossed. A silk lined blazer drapes over your lap, and you wonder if he’s cold in just that white button up. It’s translucent in this light, like onion skin, or maybe something less organic—the folds and wrinkles look like fabric, but lots of things look like something they aren’t. In the Pietá, Jesus lounges dead on his mother’s lap, his cheek pressed to her arm like either of them have warm flesh, and her skirts drape from her knees and fall to the ground in delicate folds just like Spencer’s jacket and looking at pictures of it you swear you could find comfort there too—but if you wanted to make space for yourself next to Jesus you’d have to do it with a chisel and mallet. You’re starting to think that’s what it’s going to take with Spencer, as well.

“So stop walking into active gunfire. You’ll spend a lot less time here.”

Every deep sigh (of which there have been several) calcifies you further. Ironically, you never feel less alive than you do in a hospital.

“I didn’t walk into active g—”

“I’m not debating it with you. It’s not a discussion.”

“So you’re just going to be pissed at me for the rest of forever? I mean, if it’s not a discussion—what are you gonna do? Break up with me?”

You feel yourself dripping poison in the well. Even as you say it. As his head tilts toward you slowly and intently from his spot against the wall, and his warning gaze is cold and unforgiving and weighs 3.35 tons.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what? Talk?”

“Don’t try and manipulate me by implying that there are no options between permissiveness and dumping you!”

“I’m not manipulating you. And I don’t need your permission to do anything.”

The first part is an incredulous scoff as well as a blatant lie. You are manipulating him. Chisel and all. At least, you were trying to. It clearly doesn’t work very well. His jaw clenches.

“Is this worth it to you? Fighting with me like we’re children solely so you don’t have to take accountability?”

“Accountability for what? I made a choice. I don’t regret it. You’re upset because I did my job.”

A beat.

Silence always makes you feel the gravity of your words.

“Do you believe that?”

His voice softens so much, so quickly, it splinters down the middle.

You’ve never been known for your light touch. For someone who sees eviscerated bodies nearly every day, and prides herself on her evolved understanding of mortality, you often forget other people are not, in fact, impenetrable marble—they are flesh and blood and bone, and you’ve splattered yourself in the evidence of that.

“What?” You murmur. You easily turn timid, when you’re afraid you’ve been too heavy-handed. Spencer’s seen you sob over the birds who hit the windowpane and never reappeared from the shrubbery—their delicate wings, their little beaks—he didn’t mean to, Spencer, and now he’s dead! He’s seen you spend forty minutes catching a spider with a cup and an envelope rather than smush it, even though you have reoccurring episodes of sleep paralysis wherein a giant arachnid is sitting on your chest, hissing and clacking its pincers. He knows you are, at your core, kind and good.

It’s a little scary for someone to know that about you. It’s a little scary when you see your own vulnerability reflected in their eyes and the way they speak to you, the way you see it in him now.

“Do you believe that the choices you make regarding your safety don’t concern me at all?”

“They’re… my choices to make,” you whisper, but you’re less sure than you were a minute ago.

“I’m not talking about that—I’m talking about how it feels like you are trying to kill yourself every time we’re in the field.” His voice shakes. You swallow. “You have been hospitalized for four serious injuries sustained on the job in the past five months. Every time I bring it up, you—you talk about life like it’s optional for you. Like you’re not only willing to give it up but are actively looking to throw yourself in harm’s way every chance you get. You think that doesn’t terrify me?”

There’s a small chip in the paint on the wall next to him roughly the shape of Africa.

“It’s not like that. I’m… I’m just having an unlucky streak.”

He snaps.

“Luck isn’t going to get between you and a bullet. Ever.”

“It’s my job, Spencer.”

“No. It is a risk of the job. Not a defining feature or requirement. But you keep running toward gunfire like you have a quota to meet.”

“Spencer, I’m not doing it at you. I’m not trying to get myself hurt.”

“Well it doesn’t really feel like you’re trying to avoid it, either,” he shoots back immediately, and you feel the anguish radiating from him until it lodges in your own chest, like it was always yours. Maybe it was.

You want to make it better, but you don’t know how, and even if you did, he’s pushing off the wall and crossing the room toward the door.

“Where are you going?” You call, a little too desperately for your liking.

“You need to eat something.”

Which translates roughly to he’s pissed and upset and he needs to leave the room. You’ve done this song and dance before.

However, food and an absence of him are contenders for the absolute last two things you want right now.

“Spencer, please don’t—”

But the door is already whooshing closed.

You stare at the grey and white checkered floor. Light bounces off the waxen reflection—some sort of parallel universe you can’t reach, perhaps. The whole room is desaturated. A mechanical humming threatens to drive you insane. It doesn’t feel like a place for living humans. You’re not convinced you are one.

When he comes back, maybe ten minutes later, nothing’s moved at all. In fact you’re not even sure you’ve been breathing.

The door closes as quietly as it opens.

This time, wordlessly, Spencer comes to you. You see his shoes first—his serious adult shoes. You wish he was wearing his Converse.

Then you see the bottle of apple juice he’s cracking open for you. Blue lid. Same kind you always get.

“You didn’t bring food.”

“You wouldn’t have eaten it.”

Fair enough.

You take the bottle with your good arm and sip shallowly—all that adrenaline and the subsequent interpersonal strife has left you nauseous. The drink is too sweet. It clashes with the tang of metal in your mouth.

Still, you drink enough to satisfy him, and then you’re tossing his jacket aside before balancing the bottle between your thighs so you can screw the lid back on. He doesn’t go back to the couch or his spot on the wall.

Spencer doesn’t pull away when you lean into him, but it does take him a moment to reciprocate. You’re still grateful all the same when he cradles the back of your head to his stomach like you’re made of porcelain.

“I don’t think you understand how upset I am,” he says quietly.

Only Spencer Reid could be furious with you and still hold you like this.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur.

“That’s not good enough. You need to stop risking your life like that.”

He doesn’t get it. Your brows flutter as they try to furrow but even holding that expression saps you. Maybe the pain meds are finally kicking in.

“I just wanna help people.”

“That doesn’t explain to me or justify your urge to do it at the cost of your own life. We all want to help people, angel. The whole team. That’s why we do what we do. But we don’t run into shootouts. We don’t split off and provoke people with guns when we’re unarmed and unprepared.”

“But it worked. She got away.” You feel a spark of fulfillment at the memory of Gloria Sanchez in JJ’s arms just before the ambulance doors had slammed you into your first cage of the night.

“We don’t know if he was going to kill her. He might not’ve fired at all if you didn’t go running toward him. That wasn’t strategic, it was reckless and irresponsible and you know that. I know you do. So something else is going on.”

The pressure in your nose that usually precipitates tears comes as a surprise.

“I just—if that’s how I can save someone, why shouldn’t I, you know? Why do they have less of a right to live than I do just because they’ve been deprived of the choice? If I have a choice, and they don’t, I should choose to… to help them. That’s my job.”

For a long moment, you listen to your own breath, muffled by Spencer’s shirt, and the mechanical humming, and something dripping, and the low, buzzy chatter of nurses far down the hallway.

When Spencer next speaks you get the sense he’s holding a lot back. His voice is taut enough it wavers slightly. Taut enough that if he weren’t speaking so quietly he might be yelling. It’s like pinpricks all over your body—not enough to hurt, but enough to make sure you’re paying attention.

“You can’t help anyone if you’re dead. Do you understand me?”

And yes, in theory, you do. But that doesn’t negate your original point. It only takes one life or death moment for you to utilize the most valuable resource you have. What happens after is no longer your concern.

“On the psych evals you helped develop it asks if you think it’s appropriate to sacrifice the one to save the many. The answer is supposed to be no. If you say yes you get flagged. The FBI frowns upon… lever-pullers. And that’s exactly what I’m doing if I let one person die when I could’ve potentially saved them.”

“Protecting your own life is not pulling the lever. What you’re doing isn’t smart or morally righteous. You’re just throwing yourself across the tracks, too. If you were to fail a psych eval right now it would be because you’re passively suicidal. And you know what? The FBI also tends to frown upon self-immolative delusions of grandeur and girls who like to play sacrificial lamb.”

“’M not a… sacrificial lamb…”

“No,” Spencer agrees quietly, stroking your hair. “You’re not.”

And you can’t react to the fragility in his voice, or the content of his words, and the fact that when he says it he means something different—you can’t do anything about it. You can only catalogue it. You can only know that he loves you, and feel a little guilty about it.

Some time passes. You don’t know how long he remains standing so you can doze against him. He does not smell like the hospital. He’s the antidote for whatever grief they distill from widows and orphans before aerosolizing it through the whole place.

“Baby?” He asks eventually. You know the lilt of it. He’s been thinking.

“Hm?”

He hesitates.

“Can we talk about you maybe taking some time off of work?”

“You heard the boss,” you mumble. “I can’t come in for at least a week.”

“I mean beyond that.”

You intend to respond, but by the time you open your mouth you’ve lost the prompt in all the brain fog.

“You’re so comfy,” you murmur dreamily. “Thank you for being mad at me.”

If he responds, you miss it.

You’re imagining the bed waiting for you at home, once the doctor is done observing you—warm, neatly made. Blankets woven with soft fibers. A mattress that will sink under your weight. You think of Spencer, who’s shaping himself to you, Spencer, who intentionally inhales when you exhale at night to make room for the rise and fall of your chest against his. You think of the imprint of his buttons on your cheek. You are both flesh and blood and bone.

Strange, pill-induced half dreams and visions and memories take over. You’re in that alleyway again. That man fires. You don’t blink or scream or feel.

Just before the bullet makes contact you’re standing in front of the Pietá. It’s massive. Spencer is there, too, holding your hand.

You can’t actually see him, only, you know he’s there. You feel his warmth, his presence, when he leans over to whisper in your ear. The way you know him goes beyond sight.

The Pietá—meaning the pity, in English—is 6’7” and six feet wide. It weighs 6,700 pounds. Michelangelo had to quarry the block of marble himself. He was only 25 when he finished. The Basilica keeps it behind bulletproof glass.

Jesus and Mary behind bullet proof glass.

God. Who’d try to kill Jesus a third time? He’s already dead.

Besides—they’re both made of stone. Bullets would probably just ping right off of them. Or maybe they’d shatter just like you did.

Probably not though. You’re not actually made of marble. You’ve no idea what it feels like to be a statue and get shot at. You sure know how it feels as a human, though—and it feels like shit. You don’t really know why you keep doing it. None of your reasons are good enough for Spencer, and he’s, generally speaking, pretty smart about some things.

Maybe you’re tired of being human.

Maybe you’re tired of sleeping on your arm funny and waking up to a hand in your bed that doesn’t feel like yours and remembering all the hands you’ve held moments before they couldn’t hold yours back. Or tired of those moments where you are being held and it’s so unbelievably perfect and then someone has to let go, or when someone you love hugs you goodbye and you realize that there will always be a final I love you, or simply getting older and watching potential life paths fall away like rotten fruit to the ground. Maybe life is sometimes so good it hurts and you can’t bear it. So you tempt fate. You walk a tightrope because even if you fall and it can’t ever feel good again—at least it can’t hurt either. At least you won’t lose anymore.

And yet.

It does feel good, sometimes. Sort of often, actually. Even when it’s awful.

Dead Jesus and Mary, with their marble skin and their bulletproof glass and their holiness and their virginity and all the other things they have that you don’t. Nobody can hurt them anymore. Not ever.

Maybe that’s something you envy.

But you doubt they’ve ever been so terribly, wonderfully alive as you’ve been, or as comfortable as you are like this, leaning into Spencer’s warmth and his softness, in the hospital, or the Vatican, or your dreams. Your bicep was ruined but it’s healing. You are capable of ruin and rebirth in the same lifetime. In the same day, in the same hour.

You doubt that in 520 years, behind bulletproof glass and unyielding, eternally flawless skin, they’ve ever felt as invincible as you do now.

You doubt they ever could.

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic

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userlando · 11 months ago

Text

lending a hand — lando norris

lando norris x fem!reader [5.5k] summary: exams are coming up and studying for it turns out to be more tedious than usual. luckily, lando is around & more than eager to lend a helping hand. warnings: 18+ fingering, dirty talk, protected sex (piv), brief oral, doggy, missionary, dom!lando, derogatory name calling, choking, slapping (lando smacks a tit and ass lol), everything is absolutely consensual a/n: HI EVERYONE!! i know it's been agesss since i came on here and i'm still kind of on a hiatus because i just haven't been feeling tumblr lately. i wrote this piece a while back for another cc but they've since then showed themselves to be a bad person and i don't wanna be associated with that. so i rewrote and added some things because i really like this one. so hopefully you do too :') i love u and miss u all so much, i'll hopefully jump back on when i've got my mojo back!! read before interacting: I suck at biology and googled every single medical term and everything it’s got to do with it. i’m so sorry if i wrote something incorrectly, please don’t come for me. thank you x

The air was stifling hot and damp, your fingers were cramping up and the words on your textbooks were starting to blur into one big mess the longer you stared at them. There were so many books laid out in front of you, pictures of cartooned organs and human anatomy that on any other day, would be of massive help. But right now they just made your head hurt even more.

When your fingers cramped up for the fourth time, you let go of your pencil and watched it land softly on the sheets in front of you. You were in serious need of a massage, tension rippling in your body that would only perish once your final exams were over and done with. It wasn’t long until you took them, two weeks to be exact but the stress was weighing heavier on you than you’d like to admit.

The only thing pushing you forward was the fact that you’d be one step closer to graduating and the promised deep massage in Monaco’s finest spa.

Your boyfriend had been the true pillar in your life. Lando been so patient and tried to help in any way he could when you’d seek comfort in his arms and awkwardly stumbled words. Poor thing didn’t know how to make your stress go away when you were at your worst, but he certainly tried his best and that was all that mattered. Lando felt helpless at those times, but he found himself relaxing when he held you and could feel the tension in your shoulders lessen.

You’d been neglecting him for over a week now, but he was nothing if not understanding and he took advantage of that time to spend more in front of his computer with his friends or even the racing sim, while you holed up in your shared bedroom.

It had made you feel a little guilty at first, seeing as it was his season break and he’d intended to spend his free time with you but your schedules didn’t align enough. There were only so many hours you could spend procrastinating before the stress got to be too much.

You’d first opted to sit next to him while he played and streamed but you’d found him too big of a distraction so it hadn’t been long before you migrated to your bedroom. Hearing him from down the hall was comfort enough.

It was as if your thoughts had summoned him, the creak of the door pulling your attention to it and you blinked away the blur in your eyes to watch his upper body and head peak through the space. The curls on his head were wild, unrulier than usual and you’d have taken a step back to admire them if you had the strength to.

“You alright?” He asked tentatively, and you nodded with a wave of your hand; Gesturing for him to come in because suddenly you were in need of his comforting hug.

He’d gone quiet in his office a while ago and you figured he’d gone offline, not hearing a peep from him. Or maybe you’d had, and just didn’t notice.

“You need a break.” Lando murmured as he stepped inside, coming to stand by the bed.

You blinked up at him and realised the blur in your eyes were from unshed tears of exhaustion. It seemed as if Lando realised it at the same time you did, letting out a surprised soft laugh as he pouted his bottom lip in sympathy.

“Darling.” He reached out both of his hands to cradle your face, thumbs reaching out to swipe beneath your eyes. “This isn’t healthy.”

“I’m not crying, I swear.” You placed your hands over his, letting out a watery laugh at the worry in his eyes. “I’m just tired. These words aren’t making sense anymore.”

Lando made a sound in his throat, turning to plop down on the bed. You tried to keep the scowl from showing on your face when he moved around the meticulously arranged papers on the sheets, but he saw it and grimaced in something you guessed were apologetic.

“How about we go out and get something to eat?” Your boyfriend suggested, laying down on his side and propping his head up with the help of his hand.

“I’m not hungry.” That was a lie.

You’d been cooped up in your room for over - you glanced at the clock and winced - three hours, and the last time you’d ate was a bowl of yogurt and granola. It wasn’t healthy, and you always made a point of eating before your insides started twisting with hunger, but it was easy to get carried away while revising.

“Don’t pull that shit on me.” Lando’s eyes rolled, reaching a hand out to nudge you in the side to garner a reaction out of you. You jumped with a startled giggle, swatting at his hand. “Just an hour and then we’ll be back, I promise.”

You shook your head, no matter how tempting that offer was. You knew yourself well enough to know that you’d go out to eat, come back and then push studying aside to cuddle in bed with him. And seeing as the both of you hadn’t gone further than kissing for the past week, Lando would definitely not protest if you procrastinated in order to spend some quality time with him.

“Lan, I love you but I really cannot abandon this until I’m done.” You gestured to the mountain of stress in front of you.

Lando followed the gesture with his eyes, stretching a hand out to pluck a notebook with your scribble on it. You watched him scan it, a furrow making its way between his bushy eyebrows and it made you smile involuntarily. He looked absolutely adorable and so very confused.

“Medical terminology…” He read before trailing off with a sound of aversion. “So… What? You need to memorise these words?”

It would be a lie if you said that you hadn’t been a little distracted while he skimmed over the pages as if he understood what the words such as Popliteal and Supraclavicular meant. You were too busy looking at the arch of his nose and the tempting pout of his lips, admiring the slight redness covering the apples of his cheeks.

His eyes flicked up and you blinked back to reality, ignoring the teasing smile playing on his lips as you answered his previous question with a forlorn nod. You watched him light up slightly as an idea struck him.

“What?”

“What if I help you out?” He asked, sitting up slightly.

You almost laughed. Help? You’d be a delicious distraction.

“How would you help me?” You asked instead, smiling as he sat up fully and waved the notebook in his hand between you two. As if that would answer your question.

“May I?” He asked and you looked at his hand hovering over the textbooks.

It took you a second to realise what he was asking and you almost shook your head no, but Lando looked too excited and you weren’t about to rain on his parade so you nodded.

He didn’t waste any time with packing everything up and placing them in a surprisingly organised pile on the floor by the bed, keeping the notebook he’d been holding close by as he scooted up the bed and laid down with his head on the pillow. You gazed at him questioningly, feeling lost.

“Wow… You sure cleared my confusion up.” You said slowly after a beat of silence.

You watched your boyfriend roll his eyes, so sassy and so Lando it made your chest hurt with adoration.

“Alright smartass. Come here.” His hand circled your wrist and the tug almost sent you flying over him. You squealed in surprise, thankfully steadying yourself before you toppled over and looked down on Lando between the curtain of hair that had fallen over your face. “Sorry.”

You slapped his chest lightly and rearranged yourself so you were straddling his thighs gently as he’d probably intended to have you do from the start. The position made unexpected arousal flare up in your abdomen and it wasn’t disappearing any time soon with the way Lando was looking up at you from his position.

“Alright, can you please tell me what’s going on?” You asked nicely and placed your hands over his where they’d snuck up and found a home on your thighs.

He freed one hand and grabbed yours, fingers slotting nicely between yours and you resisted the sudden urge to grind down on him. Something about this man made you shamelessly feral.

“Okay so, you have to memorise all this gibberish and what better way than to practice on me?” He finished his sentence by tugging softly on your hand and you bent down when you understood his silent request, slotting your lips against his.

His lips felt soft and you couldn’t help but open up to his tongue, your body automatically melting into his as his free hand found its place on the small of your back to pull you in closer.

You allowed yourself a few seconds before sitting back up in his lap, feeling slightly disoriented.

“Is this your way of getting me into bed?” You narrowed your eyes jokingly in suspicion, earning a laugh from him.

“No, I genuinely want to help. But I wouldn’t mind you in bed with me, either.” He replied, pushing his hips up to readjust his position and jostling you in the process. “Go ahead, where do you wanna start?”

You pursed your lips in thought, deciding that starting at his face and working yourself down was the best way to do it. You were, after all, already sat on his legs and had made yourself quite comfortable. With your decision made, you placed one hand on the left side of Lando’s head and got close to him.

Lando sucked his lips into his mouth, big eyes watching you in silence but his facial expression said it all. It truly had been too long since you’d had sex, but maybe there was a way of incorporating intimacy into studying. Who birds, one stone and all that.

“So, this is the frontal.” You murmured, the other hand coming up to swipe a gentle finger across his forehead before moving down to his cheekbone. “The zygomatic bone.”

Lando blinked slowly, but he stayed silent as your fingers trailed down over the slope of his nose. A giggle left your lips as he scrunched his nose, the skin moving beneath the tips of your fingers.

“The nasal,” You muttered, trailing your fingers up to gently touch his eyelids as he closed his eyes. You couldn’t help but place soft kisses over each of them, watching him flutter them open to look at you. His eyelashes were ridiculously long and seductive. You hated it. “Oculus.”

Lando shifted beneath you, tongue coming out to wet his lips and you were immediately drawn to the sheen of them. You let out a small desperate breath, closing the small distance between the two of you for a kiss. Your boyfriend made a sound in his throat and you pulled back barely an inch to whisper.

“Oral cavity.” Before diving back in for a second kiss that he was more than happy to reciprocate.

It was easy to lose yourself in his touch and the warmth of his body against yours, your hand coming up to grab his thick hair in your grip while his circled around your body to pull you flush against him.

“Lando…” You let out a small whine when he pulled back to bite on your bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth in a way that had your toes curling. “Fuck me.”

Any other day and you’d probably flush at the way you sounded so whiny, but you didn’t have time to overthink it before your boyfriend gathered up what remained of his self restraint to pull back. You chased his lips and only got a nip back, making you pout down at him.

“Keep going.” He ordered and you scooted up so your nether regions were flush against each other. He hissed your name in warning, “Don’t be a brat, finish what you started.”

You huffed and opened your mouth to protest but caught yourself when you saw the expression on his face. Shit, he really wasn’t playing around.

“Fine.” You bit out, wiggling a little in place to feel the smooth hardness of Lando between your legs.

The man in question tutted and reached out to grip your throat in a hold, gentle but it was strong enough to catch you off guard and still yourself in his lap.

“What is this part called?” He asked, awfully casual for someone who was half hard with their hand wrapped around your throat.

He flexed his fingers lightly and you searched your muddled brain for the answer, fighting the urge to moan when he squeezed. It wasn’t fair, he knew what he was doing to you.

“The esophagus.” You whispered, not daring to look away from his intense gaze as he carefully unwrapped his fingers from said body part, two of his fingers tapping your chin before resting on your bottom lip.

“Open.” He commanded softly and you did, without question.

You held his eyes as he slid two fingers inside, tasting the saltiness of his skin as he stroked over your tongue. The urge to gag hit you when he slid too far down, eyes watering when he wiggled his fingers inside teasingly.

“What’s this called?” He asked, and you could see the teasing pull of the corners of his mouth when you glared down at him.

How am I supposed to respond with your fingers down my throat? Your eyes screamed, but Lando merely raised his eyebrows and pressed his fingers forward in retaliation.

You gagged, a sound of despair escaping your drooling mouth.

You tried to reply with “Pharynx” but the words came out as a jumbled mess and you drooled down his fingers. But it was apparently good enough for Lando because he pulled back slightly to let you breathe more properly, stroking the width of your tongue in a silent command. You sucked on his fingers, cleaning them off of any saliva before he retrieved them entirely.

“Good girl.” The rasp in his voice made your stomach swoop as he smiled at you, placing his hands on either side of your hips. “Go on.”

You stared at him, not entirely sure what to do but he gave you the answer when he tugged on your t-shirt; A silent urge to take it off. You didn’t waste any time, grabbing it by the hem and lifting it off your torso; Almost falling over in the process. Lando chuckled at your eagerness and your face burned, but you refused to let that affect you. The two of you looked at one another for a beat before he dropped his gaze to your heaving, exposed chest. Never had you been happier to have foregone a bra, especially when he stroked both hands up your sides. He felt your skin beneath his palms, a shiver escaping you.

“Please,” You whispered, grinding down on the hardness beneath you. Your eyes fluttered.

“Please what?” His voice sounded teasing, bright eyes trained on you.

Instead of answering him verbally, you grabbed his hands in yours and placed them over the swell of your breasts. Lando inhaled at the feel of them in his palms, letting you squeeze his hands in yours. A moan escaped your mouth as his thumbs swiped over your nipples until they pebbled, back arching into his hold.

“So needy for me.”

His rough voice had you opening your eyes and he must’ve seen something in them because he took pity on you. The yelp that left your lips was anything but attractive when he embraced you and flipped you both over. Lando laughed when you bounced on the mattress, and you couldn’t help but giggle as the tension broke.

“Please, Lando.” You pleaded after the both of you had calmed down from your little fit, hands coming up to feel the taut of his stomach over his t-shirt.

You sounded needy in your own ears but you didn’t really care. And judging by your boyfriends teeth sinking into his bottom lip, he loved hearing you like this.

“Please what, darling?” His eyebrows drew together in fake sympathy, his gaze dropping to your chest when you arched your back.

You opened your mouth to answer him but the words died on your lips the second Lando leaned down and sucked a nipple into his mouth. You should’ve seen it coming, because he could never keep away from your tits for too long but the suction made you gasp all the same, hands coming up to grab at the back of his head.

“Just fuck me already.” You said.

Lando grabbed the both of your hands in his before pinning them to the side, suckling harsher on your teat before kissing his way over to the other side. You didn’t know what to focus on, the cool air on your wet nipple, his unforgiving mouth on the other one or the way his hands were digging into the skin of your wrists. The thought of him bruising you made you buck your hips up, craving it more than ever.

“You’re impatient tonight.” He drew back, blowing cool air on your saliva soaked skin and making you squirm. “I can’t decide whether I should punish you for being a needy little slut or fuck the brattiness out of you.”

You knew you shouldn’t talk back, but the words were out of your mouth before you could stop them.

“Anything would be better than this.” It came out as an indignant mutter but Lando’s eyes flared in challenge.

It was quick and you didn’t have time to react to his hand sailing down and slapping the meat of your breast. You yelled out in shock, feeling your pussy clench around nothing as you tried to sit up as an automatic response. Lando tutted, quickly grabbing you by the throat and pushing you down with a strength that had you gasping for breath.

“This is what happens when I don’t fuck you for a week,” He hissed, eyebrows drawn in anger but you could see the desire in his eyes as he bent down to your eye level. “One week without my cock and you start acting like a bitch.”

Holy fuck, the filth coming from his mouth made your nerves light up in anticipation. It had been too long, so fucking long since he talked and behaved like this. You hadn’t realised how much you missed it until now.

His hand let go of your throat and instead cupped your chin, his fingers squeezing your mouth together until your eyes fluttered shut in need with a moan. Lando grinned down at you, tightening his grip just to watch your eyes roll before pressing a filthy kiss to your mouth that you barely had time to reciprocate before he pulled back.

It felt like you were in a daze, feeling him pull your sweatpants off along with your panties. He made an offhand comment about the wetness that you didn’t register, choosing to grit your teeth and ball your fists to keep from touching yourself instead.

Lando undressed himself without getting off the bed, albeit a little clumsily but he recovered quick and grabbed your thighs to spread them apart. The look on his face made you flush hot all over, almost like you were a meal he couldn’t wait to devour.

“Look at that, so wet already.” He hummed in appreciation and coated one finger in your slick before sinking it inside of you, revelling in your gasps. “All this for me, baby?”

“Mmm,” You swallowed, throat drying up and eyes closing at the sensation. “Just for you, Lando.”

“That’s what I thought.” He said smugly.

He sank a second finger inside and scissored them until he deemed you stretched enough, his free hand stopping your thighs from closing when you started to feel him pull out. It had been too long since you’d been touched like this, and Lando was always so talented with his fingers. He could truly play you like a fiddle.

“Don’t.” He growled, the tone of his voice making you squirm and separate your legs obediently again. “Good girl.”

You watched him in silence as he pulled his fingers out, slipping them into his mouth to clean them off with a hum that you felt in your core. Sweat was beading on your forehead and you were sure that you looked a mess. Lando didn’t seem to mind it though, his eyes roaming appreciatively over your body before settling on your face. His eyes softened at whatever he saw in your eyes and something warm bloomed in your chest.

“Kiss me, please?” You begged, suddenly needing him near you.

Lando didn’t hesitate as he bent over to press his mouth to yours, the kiss uncharacteristically gentle consider how crudely his cock was pressing against your mound, one hand sinking into your hair to tilt your head to his liking. He broke the kiss for a moment to reach to the side, opening up the drawer with a groan and rifling through the contents. You watched in mild amusement, taking in the pinch of his eyebrows and the concentration on his face. You took the opportunity to press kisses to his shoulder and up his throat, your tongue tasting the saltiness of his sweaty skin. Lando’s unstable position faltered and you sucked a small lovebite into the delicate skin of his neck for good measure.

“Fuck.” He swore with a breathless laugh, steadying himself and sitting upright.

You smiled up at him, planting your feet on the bed and bending your legs so Lando could get even closer to where you needed him the most. His bright eyes found yours, eyebrows rising. He bit into the tinfoil, tearing it open and fishing the condom out to slip it on.

The rubber wasn’t needed, not really. But Lando knew you well enough to know when you had enough energy after the deed to clean yourself up, and today wasn’t one of those days. He would often do it himself, ignoring your embarrassing protests as he wiped you down with a cloth and eventually giving up when he swatted your hands away.

Anticipation rose in you when he positioned himself but he seemed to change his mind at the last second, a devilish smile widening on his lips when he patted the side of your hip twice. You knew what that meant and you bit your lip in uncertainty. The dreaded position you loved and hated at the same time.

“Turn around and don’t make me ask twice.” Lando said after reading the look on your face and you made a noise that sounded a lot like dislike.

But you definitely didn’t want to stall it any longer, so you turned your body around and pressed your cheek against the mattress with your eyes closed. This position hit absolutely every nerve inside of you, but it also left you completely exposed and that’s mainly why you hated it.

Lando grabbed your hips and lifted you upwards so your knees were beneath you, exhaling as he slid his hands from your ass and down your back. The feel of his palm against the skin of your back made you arch despite your initial hesitation and something about that made the man behind you feel all the more needier.

“So fucking gorgeous,” You heard him whisper and you believed it. “Can’t wait to sink into this pretty little cunt.”

Unexpected heat shot down your back and you moaned, pressing back against Lando in hopes that he’d finally get the hint and fuck you. Your hands gripped the sheets on either side of your bed in anticipation at the thought.

“Fuck me, please.” It came out as a whispered plea.

“I will, don’t worry, love.”

And with that promise, he nudged himself inside. You arched in response, eyes shutting as he started pushing inside little by little. The stretch was incredible, making your toes curl and mouth open in a silent moan. Lando let out a sound of his own as he bottomed out, one hand grabbing your hips while the other settled over the small of your back to push down gently. You arched, and he seemed to like that because he immediately drew back before thrusting back in.

He found a rhythm you assumed he liked and you matched it by pushing back when he pushed in. A wave of heat overtakes you and your eyes roll in your sockets the harder he thrusts; Like a man on a mission, eager to bury himself inside you as far as he can go.

It hadn’t occured to you just how badly you’d been neglecting Lando lately, but it was evident in how his hands grabbed anywhere he could find purchase, your name leaving his mouth in a chant as he fucked you harder. You needed this as much as he did.

“Fuck, oh my God.” You tried to pull your hand back to touch yourself but you were jostled too harshly and you ended up being thrown off balance.

A high pitched whine left your mouth as Lando slipped out and just as you were about to turn your head to look at him, he’d grasped your hips and turned you around on your back. He reached for the pillow next to your head, stuffing it under your hips and kissing just beneath your navel in the process as a silent praise for raising your hips without him having to ask.

You watched with bated breath as he pressed kisses down your stomach, over your mound before latching his mouth onto your clit. The unexpected touch of his sinful mouth had you throwing your head back, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Oh my God, Lando...” You moaned, attempting to tilt your head down so you could watch him but he was quick to flick his tongue against your clit and it only made you arch into his mouth.

Lando was holding the base of his cock, squeezing and willing himself not to blow too soon. He’d been waiting to get inside you long enough and he wasn’t about to end it before he’d had his fill of you. When he deemed it safe enough, he pulled away and positioned himself between your legs before sliding in. His teeth sunk into his bottom lip at your reaction, loving the flutter of your eyelids and the pretty way your mouth opened in a pathetic moan.

He couldn’t help but lower himself down onto you, mindful as to not suffocate you but just enough for you to feel the press of his chest against yours as he started fucking into your wet heat.

You took it like a champion, arms circling his upper body and legs falling open as he fucked you into the mattress with reckless abandon. The stress you’d been feeling the past week was slowly seeping out of you, and you welcomed the feeling of it as you brought Lando to your mouth, kissing him until you lost your breath.

“You’re so pretty,” Lando murmured against your lips breathlessly. “My pretty baby.”

He slid one hand between the two of you, long fingers finding your clit and rubbing it in a way that had you crying out against his mouth. Lando refused to blink, didn’t want to miss the look on your face as he brought you closer to euphoria.

“You know what this is, baby?” He asked, hand cupping your pussy and trying not to falter when he felt where the two of you were connected.

Fuck, you were soaking and Lando was really about to blow.

“This is mine.” He hissed, watching the way your eyes rolled before shutting. “Only I get to fuck it, you hear me?”

You opened your mouth to respond that yes, of course it fucking is - but the loud cry that left you instead surprised the both of you as your body tensed up, pussy clenching around his cock as you sobbed through your orgasm. Liquid heat trickled down your back and you momentarily blacked out at the sheer force of you tensing up in your climax.

“Oh fuck.” Lando hissed, dropping his head against the crook of your neck and fucking into your clenching pussy.

If your sounds and the look on your face wasn’t enough to bring him to his end, then the feel of your legs circling around him and locking him into place was enough to do his head in. You moaned weakly as he tensed up in your arms, shooting into the condom and grinding into your sensitive cunt, like he wanted to bury himself as deep as possible.

He probably didn’t realise that in his high, he’d dropped his entire weight on you but you absolutely didn’t mind it; Finding comfort in his heaving body and the feel of his damp hair as you buried your fingers into it.

“God, you’re gonna fucking kill me.” He garbled against your skin as he pulled himself out of you, lifting his head weakly to take a look at you.

You couldn’t help but grin at his flushed face and blown wide pupils, feeling thrilled that this gorgeous man loved you. And you loved him, so much.

“I could really go for a sandwich from the deli down the street right now.” You whispered dreamily, closing your eyes shut as he brought a shaking hand up to swipe a few damp strands from your forehead.

Lando pulled a face.

“If you think we’re not gonna order in, you’re sorely mistaken.”

He shook his head at the thought of leaving the bed - leaving you naked in his bed - to buy sandwiches. No matter how absolutely amazing they were. You blinked up at him with big eyes, pouting your lip and Lando knew right then that he’d lost any willpower he’d had left.

“Oh, you’re good.” He narrowed his eyes, sneaking his hands down to tickle your sides.

You squealed, squirming underneath him and yelling at him to stop, your body too weak to fight back. Lando kept going for a few seconds before he let you push him to the side so you were half laying on top of him instead.

“You’re evil.” You glared at him, but he could see the twitch of your raw lips and the love in your eyes so he didn’t take it too hard.

Lando gripped your chin gently and brought you in a for a kiss before pulling back to look at you. You blinked back and he smiled.

“Alright I’ll go down to the shop in one condition.” He said, trying to sound serious despite the massive grin on his face. “You hop in the shower, and then I want all these books gone from this room by the time I get back. We’re taking the rest of the night off.”

You suppressed a smile at the “we”, nodding your head reluctantly instead because for once you weren’t overwhelmed with stress and you weren’t about to bring it all back when Lando had worked so hard to relieve you of it. Hopefully he’d relieve you of it a couple more times later tonight.

“It’s a deal.” You agreed verbally, bringing your pinky to hook into his own.

“Alright, let’s get to it.” He brought an arm around and slapped your ass.

You jumped with a gasp, glaring at your boyfriend who cackled and jumped out of bed before you could kick him in retaliation. He looked amused as he walked around the bed to find tissues and get rid of the condom, cleaning himself up the best he could. He found the clothes he’d thrown on the floor, pulling them on all the while watching you stretch on the bed like a cat. It was so tempting to crawl back into bed and have his way with you but he gritted his teeth and turned to locate his wallet and phone.

“Text me your order, I’ll see you in a bit.” He said and leaned down to press two kisses to your lips, making a noise in his throat when you wound your hands in his hair and pulled him closer for a few more kisses. “I love you.”

You grinned against his mouth, teeth knocking together but you were too happy to care as he nipped your lower lip and pulled himself up to stand straight.

“Love you too. Be safe.”

You watched him walk out, smiling to yourself at how incredibly lucky you were.

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #f1 fic #f1 smut #lando norris smut #lando norris fanfic

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