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sugugasm · 7 months ago

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☆ CLICK TO PLAY ! ➜ 450 DEGREES

YOUR LEVEL IS STARTING SOON . . .

level quest : pov ur neighbor is a firefighter, and you love a man in uniform . . just as much as he loves your chocolate chip cookies.

☆ — a message from the developer : hiii i missed uguys sm, i’m so glad to be back for realsies this time :p don’t mind any mistakes or errors & before you read — nsfw content up ahead so pretty please read these warnings !!! strangers to lovers !!! age gap alert ➜ toji is 35 and reader is 25, mentions of sexual themes such as oral, vaginal penetration, pet names such as : sweetheart, angel, baby ofc, princess, honey, etc. usage of sexual terms and usage of terms describing female anatomy, uses she/her pronouns. firefighter! toji x baker! blk fem! reader 333 — word count : 8.0K or 9.0K, i lost track LOL

“fuck . .”

toji cut the engine of his ford pickup and sat for a moment, eyes closed, letting the silence wash over him. every muscle ached with exhaustion, the double shift of 48 hours catching up to him. he couldn't remember the last time he'd slept in an actual bed instead of snatching a few hours on the lumpy firehouse couch in between calls.

sighing, he grabs his duffel from the passenger seat and levers himself out of the truck. as he turns toward the house, a flash of color across the street quickly catches his attention. his new neighbor — you, out puttering in your postage stamp front yard, wearing a tank top the same vivid coral as the geraniums you were watering and cut-off jean shorts that barely qualified as clothing to any old, bitter bastard.

he’d seen you before. many times. whether it was while leaving for an early session at the gym as you walked your puppy, or his moving day . . where he could barely order around gojo and geto, struggling to tell them where they should place certain boxes due to hearing your alluring giggle coming from the house next door, your curls flowing in the breeze as you gossiped over iced lemonade with mrs. johnson on her porch.

his thoughts are interrupted when you glance toward him, face lighting up with a friendly smile as you spotted him. “hi there! nice to finally see you in the flesh instead of just passin’ headlights at odd hours of the night.”

“sorry about that.” toji hoped his answering smile passed for normal and not serial-killer exhausted. “i’m toji, toji fushiguro. i jus’ moved in last month.”

“well m’ yn. welcome to the neighborhood!” you propped a hand on one cocked hip, thoughtlessly drawing his eye to the thickness of your legs that almost looked golden in the sun lighting.

jesus.

realizing he was staring, he jerks his gaze back to your face, feeling his neck heat up at the idea of you catching on. “thanks. s’ a nice area. quiet.”

“i like to think we're a pretty welcomin’ bunch. in fact . . .” you bite your lip, looking almost shy for a second. “i was plannin’ to do some baking later, as a housewarming gift for all the newbies. any requests? cookies, muffins, scones? i make a mean cinnamon roll too.”

an unexpected warmth kindled in toji’s chest at the kindness of the offer. even as his stomach rumbled in anticipation, he couldn't remember the last time someone had gone out of their way to do something nice for him. sadly, baked goods didn't really tend to hold up well on 24-hour shifts.

“that’s really sweet of you, thanks. i love a good chocolate chip cookie, but i’ll happily be your guinea pig for anything.”

“sounds like a plan.” you graced him with another one of those classic, southern hospitality miles. “i’ll surprise you. they’ll be over before you know it!”

“looking forward to it. i better let you get back to . .” he waves a hand vaguely at the riot of flowers on your lawn, colors and smells galore.

“oh, right. see you soon then. welcome home!” with a small wave, you bend to retrieve the watering can, giving him an unobstructed view of her perky ass in those obscenely small shorts.

strangling a groan, toji spun on his heel and double-timed it into the house before you caught him ogling you like a creep. so much for a quiet neighborhood, he thought ruefully as the door shut behind him. you were gonna’ be one hell of a distraction, though some traitorous part of him looked forward to the temptation. it’d been way too long since he'd been around a pretty girl. maybe that's what all this edginess was - his libido waking up and taking notice after a long dry spell.

well, he'd just have to keep any wayward urges in check. no matter how mouthwatering you looked in tiny cutoffs, you were practically a decade younger and a neighbor, at that. off limits. he’d accept your baked goods, enjoy a little innocent flirting, but anything more was out of the question.

resolved, he headed for the shower, already counting the minutes until he could taste whatever delights you were whipping up for him.

the next morning, toji was on his second cup of coffee, basking in the rare luxury of an empty day ahead with no responsibilities, when the doorbell chimed. he opened it to find you, juggling a huge wicker basket with an equally enormous smile. the sweet scent of sugar, vanilla and chocolate wafted out to tease his nostrils so blissfully, just like how your sheer presence teased . . . other parts of him.

“g’mornin’,” you chirped. “i come bearing gifts from the sugar fairy.”

“so i smell . .” his mouth waters as he relieves you of the basket and ushers you inside, noting how your flowered sundress set off your peaches-and-cream personality. no shorts today, but the dress was nearly as enticing as it grasped on to your curves. he wondered if your skin would taste as good as you smelled, then mentally slapped himself.

down boy.

“i hope you don't mind me just droppin’ by like this. i wanted to catch you before you got busy.” your smile faltered slightly as you glanced around the spartan space with its generic bachelor furniture and decided lack of personal touches. “if s’ not a good time . .”

toji set the basket on the coffee table and turned to her, hands raised in mock surrender. “you came to my house bearin’ gifts of dessert. trust me, it's never gonna’ be a bad time. i may actually make some sort of sugar delivery beacon to summon you in the future.”

your laugh sounded a little relieved. “aww cute, sounds like my kind of bat signal. i’ll have to get you a spotlight shaped like a cupcake.”

“make it a cookie and you've got yourself a deal.” he grinned at you. “can i interest you in some coffee to go with whatever magic you've got in there? smells incredible.”

“coffee would be great, thank you.”

he led the way into the kitchen, noting how you took in details like the depressing lack of clutter and decoration. the only personal items were a handful of framed photos stuck to the fridge - him and his siblings as kids, his parents' wedding portrait, shots of fishing trips with his buddies — one with snow-white hair and the other with black. it struck him how sterile the space was, more like a way station than a home.

you didn't comment on it, instead you just leaned a hip on the counter and watched him pour a darkened substance into a ‘worlds worst morning person’ mug. there’s a comforting silence as he catches a whiff of your light perfume over the powerful espresso aroma - something floral and citrusy. it suited you.

“i wasn't sure what kind of treats you'd like, so i made a sampler of my greatest hits,” you say brightly. at his gesture, you unpack the basket, setting containers and various utensils on the table. “okay so . . we’ve got triple chocolate chip cookies, blueberry muffins, apple cinnamon scones, and my famous brown butter cinnamon rolls.”

“good lord,” toji shook his head in awe. “you made all this yesterday? after we spoke? do you even sleep?”

you laugh and accept the steaming mug he offered. “who needs sleep when there's sugar? besides, baking relaxes me. i love seeing people enjoy my creations.”

as if on cue, his stomach rumbles loudly, and you bit your lip against a smile. “sounds like someone's ready for a taste test. don’t be shy . . dig in.”

toji didn't need to be told twice. he selected a cinnamon roll, still warm from the oven, and bit in with a moan that would've been beyond embarrassing if his mouth wasn't full of heaven. “shit . . think i jus’ found my religion.”

you giggled that giggle that’d been stuck in his head since the day he heard it. “the cinnamon rolls tend to inspire a cult-like devotion. you haven't even tried em’ with the cream cheese frosting yet.”

he halted with the pastry halfway to his mouth for another rapturous bite. “there’s frosting too?”

in answer, you pulled a container from the basket with a flourish. “i figured you could handle adding your own so it didn't get soggy.”

“you’re an angel.” he slathered a generous amount of fluffy white frosting on the roll, not even caring that he probably looked like an overexcited kid.

watching him take another blissful bite, you cradled your coffee mug in both hands. “soo . . what d’you do that keeps you gettin’ home at such odd hours? i promise m’ not stalking you, but it's a quiet street. hard not to notice the comings and goings.”

toji washed down the sticky-sweet mouthful with a swig of coffee. “i’m a firefighter. we work 24-hour shifts, so my schedule can be pretty unpredictable."

interest sparked in your eyes. “really? that’s so cool! i bet you have some amazing stories.”

“eh. a few,” he allowed. truthfully he tried not to dwell on some of the things he'd seen, the memories that still occasionally jolted him awake in a cold sweat during the night. “it’s rewarding work, but not exactly a picnic for the social life.”

you give him a sympathetic look over the rim of her mug. “i can imagine. is that why you moved? needed a fresh start?”

“somethin’ like that. the job costed me my marriage a couple years back. got tired of walkin’ around the old place alone, so i thought a change of scenery might do me good.”

change of scenery in deed. toji even went as far as to relocate to a different state after his divorce with his wife. even the landscaping around the city had become too much of a heartache. what was once a happy, sensual marriage quickly turned sour the moment toji began working more. the position as chief hadn’t sounded that horrible in his head, but if he knew he’d come home one night - the clock reading exactly 3:17 am, to an unrecognizable man fast asleep in his bed, naked next to his wife, that that position could’ve waited. could’ve been passed on.

there’s a silent second between you two, your face still, “i-im so sorry,” you say softly, and toji feels relief when he sees that your eyes were warm with understanding, free of the pity he'd come to dread whenever his divorce came up in any other conversation he’d have with someone who didn’t know him.

he shrugged. “it is what it is. we married too young, grew apart. my hours didn't help. no hard feelings though.” he mustered up a wry smile. “what about you? you’re a little young to be living the retired grandma life, baking up a storm in the 'burbs.”

you grin, allowing him to lighten the mood. “hey, hey, hey, this grandma can party with the best of em’! fyi, i stayed up past 10 last saturday watching bad girls club.”

toji clutches his chest in feigned shock. “damn, so scandalous! what was the special occasion?”

“all have you know . . i was trying to perfect a new macaron recipe. passionfruit with dark chocolate ganache. they’re a fickle mistress though - one minute too long in the oven and they're as dry as bones.”

“sounds like bakin’ is more than jus’ a hobby for you,” he observed.

you toy with your mug. “it’s my whole life, really. i’m in my second year of culinary school, specializing in pastry arts. when i graduate, i’m hoping to open my own bakery. somewhere people feel welcome and cared for. a safe space, i suppose.” he stares, and you duck your head with an embarrassed laugh. “sorry for the tangent . . it probably sounds so silly.”

“not at all.” toji found himself impressed by the passion and dedication evident in your voice. you had a dream and you were going after it. he remembered that feeling. before the reality of adulthood had started chipping away at his own youthful idealism.

he wanted to say something to encourage you, to protect that light shining in your eyes for as long as possible. “for what it's worth, i think you're gonna’ be amazing,” he told you seriously, holding your gaze. “if this morning’s haul is any indication, you'll have lines around the block.”

you shield your smiling face sweetly. “that’s kind of you to say. i appreciate the vote of confidence. speaking of . .” you hesitate, then forge ahead. “m’ actually working on developing an original signature recipe for my final. multiple components, flavors, textures. the works.”

“sounds ambitious,” he said, eyebrows raised. “what’d you have in mind?”

your eyes sparkle with enthusiasm at the question, the thought of genuine curiosity making your heart flutter. “deconstructed black forest cake. dark chocolate cake, kirsch-soaked cherries, vanilla bean whipped cream. i wanna’ play with it, update it. maybe turn it into a trifle or a parfait of some sort.”

toji was no culinary expert. hell - he didn’t even know what half of those things were, but even he could tell you were on to something special. “that’s incredible, yn. lemme’ guess - you need a guinea pig?”

you bite your lip nervously, smile turning impish. “i didn't wanna’ impose, but since you offered the other day . . how would you like to be my official taste-tester? i can't really pay you, but you'll get free rein to sample every variation.”

“where do i sign up?” he was only half joking. even if your creations turned out to be awful, which he highly doubted, any excuse to spend more time with you sounded like a win.

you laugh. “i think i can waive the usual application process on account of the fact that you're doing me a huge favor. plus, it means you won't be able to avoid me constantly showing up at your door to force-feed you desserts.”

“oh no. however will i cope.” he feigned a put-upon sigh.

you shot him a look of amused reproof as she packed up the empty containers. “try to contain your disappointment. i promise to space out surprise sugar bombings. wouldn’t wanna’ make you sick of me or my baking."

“i don’t really think i ever could . . to be honest,” he declared firmly. on impulse, he reaches out to still your fluttering hands with his own. your skin was so soft and warm, sending a tingle zipping up his arm. your breath pauses at the contact and your eyes flew to his, startled.

“i mean it,” he said, voice gone low and intent as he tries to infuse sincerity into every word. “i can't imagine ever getting tired of you. or your company.”

for a suspended moment you just stare at each other in silence. then you swallow, sounding a little breathless as you replied, “likewise. m’ really glad you moved in, toji.”

“me too,” he said roughly. and though he knew he shouldn't, that he was venturing into dangerous territory, he allowed himself to stroke the delicate bones of your wrist with his thumb. just once, to feel your shiver lightly in response. then he released you and stepped back, moving to hold the door open for you in unspoken signal.

“i’ll get out of your hair now,” you murmured as you gathered the empty basket with hands that trembled just slightly. “but i’ll see you soon? for taste testing purposes, of course.”

“absolutely,” he confirmed. “anytime. y’know where to find me.”

with a final nod and smile, you slipped out the door. he watched you go, admiring the sway of your hips, the bounce of your hair, already counting the minutes until he'd see you again.

you were gonna’ end him, so so sweetly too., he realized with a trace of fatalism.

but what a way to go, huh? death by cinnamon rolls.

the day of the first official tasting arrived, and toji found himself unaccountably nervous as he approached your door. he felt a like an awkward kid picking up his prom date, palms sweaty and heart knocking around his ribs. which was ridiculous. this wasn't a date. just two neighbors getting together to sample some sweets. totally casual.

never mind that he'd changed his shirt three times, vacillating between wanting to look nice for you and not wanting to seem like he was trying too hard. he’d finally settled on a plain black tee and his least disreputable pair of jeans, adding a hint of cologne as an afterthought.

now, standing on your stoop, he wished he'd brought something. flowers maybe — lillie’s like the ones in your garden, or perhaps wine. did people bring wine to taste testing sessions? probably not. you’d most likely think he was a presumptuous idiot.

shaking his head at his own weird bout of nerves, he raised his hand to knock. before his knuckles could connect, the door swung open to reveal you, looking adorably pretty and flustered. you were wearing a frilly pink apron over a gauzy white sundress scattered with tiny red cherries. your hair was bundled on top of your head in a haphazard knot, loose curls escaping to dance around your swelled cheeks. a dusting of cocoa powder streaked one of them.

“toji - oh, you’re right on time! m’ runnin’ a bit behind, so sorry. come on in.” you stepped back to let him enter and he caught a blend of tantalizing scents - rich chocolate, sweet cherries, warm vanilla, and underneath, the subtle floral musk that was purely you. it made his head swim and his stomach clench with a hunger that had absolutely nothing to do with the promise of dessert.

he followed you into the kitchen, blinking a bit as he took in the transformation. when he'd helped you carry in groceries a few days ago, the room had been tidy and quaint, with cheerful yellow walls and kitschy retro appliances. now every surface was strewn with baking detritus - bowls, whisks, spatulas, piping bags. the air was hazy with a fine mist of flour and powdered sugar, swirling in the slanting sunlight.

incongruously delicate paper doilies serving as placemats were scattered with miniature cakes, puddles of sauce, and billows of snowy cream. it looked like a fancy bakery had exploded all over the place.

“as you can see, i’ve been experimenting with a few different iterations of the concept,” you said with a small smile, waving a hand at the sugary chaos. “couldn’t settle on just one. i thought i’d get your input n’ then we could narrow it down together.”

“i’m at your service,” he told you gallantly, skating his gaze over the counter. “i’ll warn you though, my palate isn't exactly refined. you might end up with the bland 'it all tastes good' as feedback.”

you giggled. “i’ll take it. okay, let's start basic.” you gestured for him to take a seat at the flour-dusted table and set a plate in front of him. on it perched a generous slice of cake, glossy with ganache, accompanied by a scarlet swoosh of what he assumed was the cherry compote. a dollop of whipped cream, flecked with black speckles, completing the overall masterpiece look.

toji quickly picked up the fork and took a bite, closing his eyes to focus on the flavors. the cake was intensely chocolate, the ganache dark and silky. tart-sweet cherries burst on his tongue, balanced by the subtle fragrance of the vanilla-specked cream.

“damn,” he mumbled around the mouthful. “fuckin’ fantastic, yn.”

you beam, looking relieved. “yeah? the cake recipe took a while to get right. i wanted something more . . . complex than a standard chocolate cake, so i used black cocoa powder to really amp up the flavor. n’ i even added a little coffee to enhance the chocolate.”

“s’ a winner,” he assured you. “i dunno’ how you could improve on it, honestly.”

“oh i have a few ideas,” your smile turned mysterious. “you haven't seen anything yet.”

over the next hour, you walked him through several variations. chocolate cake layered with cherry compote and kirsch-soaked chocolate cake crumbs, topped with cocoa whipped cream. dark chocolate and cherry bread pudding drizzled with cherry coulis. chocolate panna cotta with drunken cherries and cherry gelée . . . and toji sampled them all, humming with pleasure while you watched him anxiously. your initial nerves seemed to melt away as you lost yourself in describing the ins and outs of each dish - the technical challenges, the way certain flavors complemented or contrasted, ideas for garnishes and plating.

he found himself captivated by your intensity, the way your whole being lit up when you talked about your craft. it was more than just a job or a hobby for you . . . it was a calling. he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt that kind of soul-deep passion for anything. couldn’t take his eyes off the way your slender hands sketched shapes in the air, punctuating your words. delicate, clever hands that created so much beauty.

“earth to toji,” teased, waving one of those mesmerizing hands in front of his face. “did i lose you? too much of a sugar crash?”

toji blinked and refocused on your amused expression, realizing he'd been caught woolgathering like an idiot. “sorry, just slipped into a brief dessert coma. what were you saying?”

“i was asking what you think of this last one. it’s the more . . . wildcard of the bunch.” you pushed a small glass toward him. it looked like a miniature trifle, with layers of cake and cream, a vivid cherry layer in the middle, and a fan of shaved chocolate on top.

he dug in and had to suppress an absolutely obscene moan. the combination was incredible - velvety smooth, creamy, rich, and fruity, with a kick from what had to be a generous glug of kirsch. sweet but not cloying, a sophisticated twist on a classic.

“i think we have a winner,” he managed, not even caring that his voice came out husky. “if you're going for adding a 'wow' factor, this is it.”

you stand on your tippy-toes, looking hopeful. “you think? i couldn't decide if it was too out there. verrines aren't exactly traditional black forrest cake material.”

“doesn’t matter. it’s a showstopper. interesting to look at, fun to eat, n’ the flavor is phenomenal.” he scraped the glass clean with his spoon, not wanting to waste a drop.

your smile could've lit up the city block. “thank you, toji. you don't know how much it means to me, you bein’ here. lettin’ me talk your ear off and stuff you with treats. it really . . helps a lot."

“believe me, it's my pleasure,” he said, returning her smile with one of his own. “i haven't had this much fun in . . i can't even remember how long. i like seein’ you in your element.”

you both just grin goofily at each other for a moment, the air feeling thicker. then you hopped up and began clearing the table, stacking dishes and bustling around the small space.

“y’know i feel bad, you feedin’ me all these goodies without me contributing anything,” toji said, rising to help. “at least lemme’ take you out for a meal that isn't 90% butter and sugar. you must be sick of cookin’, day in and day out.”

you slanted him a glance, tucking a stray curl behind one ear. “m’ not, actually. it never feels like a chore. but i . . wouldn't say no to dinner out. if you're sure you don't mind.”

mind? he’d been trying to come up with an excuse to spend more time with you, and here you were gift wrapping one for him. “i’d love to,” he said firmly. “s’ the least i can do. and i’d like to hear more about this final project of yours. when do you present it?”

“next month,” a shadow crossed your expressive face, there and gone in a blink. “m’ tryin’ not to think too much about it yet. one step at a time, y’know?”

he recognized that look. the flickering uncertainty, the hint of stage fright. he’d worn it himself, back before his first real fire. wanting so badly to prove himself, to show what he was made of, terrified of choking.

impulsively, he reached for your hand, halting her flitting movements. your fingers curled reflexively around his, warm and strong. “look at me . . . you got this. you’re a star, you're gonna’ impress the hell outta’ your professors.”

you swallowed hard, eyes searching his. looking for the belief you couldn't quite muster on your own. “i hope so. i want it so much, toji. this . . all of it. it’s all i’ve ever wanted.”

“then don't let fear hold you back,” he told you gently. “don’t doubt yourself. you have a gift, mama. i know m’ a dumb scrub who can barely tell a macaron from a macaroon, but even i can see that you were born for this shit.”

your hand squeezed his, almost painfully tight. from both the nickname rolling off his tongue so elegantly and the encouragement that you sometimes failed to receive from your closest peers. “thank you, seriously,” you whispered. “for believin’ in me, i guess. it means a lot to me . . .”

he squeezes back, thumb sweeping over your knuckles. he had a sudden, wild urge to haul your into his arms. to soothe the worry from your brow with his lips, to show you with his hands and body and breath how special you were. how much he'd come to care for you in such a short time.

but he couldn't. however strong the pull, however much he wanted to cross that line, he knew it would be a mistake. you weren’t for him, this shining woman with stardust in her eyes. and he was in no position to offer you anything real. he needed to remember that.

so he contented himself with a soft “anytime,” and released your hand, stepping back to a safer distance. “now, about that dinner. friday work for you?”

you blinked, then hitched your smile back into place. it wobbled a bit at the edges, but he pretended not to notice. “friday’s great. s’ a . . . plan.”

even through the awkwardness, the unspoken words clogging the air between you, a little thrill went through him. it’s a date, you’d almost said. and god help him, he wished it was — that’s why you settled on making plans to try the new, cozy italian restaurant that had opened downtown, the one you’d mentioned wanting to visit after a neighborhood watch meeting one night. it was intimate . . . romantic. toji walked home with a lightness in his step, an unfamiliar flutter in his gut. he was in trouble, he knew he was. you were trouble in ways he hadn't encountered before. you made him feel too much.

more than he ever had.

but he was in too deep to back out now. all he could do was try to keep a clear head, keep things casual and platonic. be your friend and supporter, nothing more. his life, his job . . there was no room for complications.

even if he was beginning to suspect it was already far too late.

the days leading up to friday passed in a blur of anticipation and nerves, though toji did his best to ignore both. ‘it isn’t a date. she’s not into you. this isnt a fuckin’ date . . .’ he reminded himself sternly, no matter how much his idiot heart wanted to pretend otherwise. just dinner between neighbors. a thank you for your tireless taste testing efforts. nothing to get all hot n’ bothered about.

so then why the fuck had he changed outfits half a dozen times before settling on the nicest button-down he owned and a new pair of dark wash jeans? why had he agonized over whether to bring flowers or wine or both . . again? this was so embarrassing. he was so embarrassing. he’d think being married once would've meant he had at least a little bit of game . . but nope - he had nothing.

taking a deep breath, he knocked on your door at precisely 7pm. when it swung open to reveal you, his lungs almost stopped in their tracks. you looked no less than stunning in a ruffled dress, in the pretty shade of baby-pink, your hair tumbling over your bare shoulders - half up, half down and bumped at the ends. a slim gold chain nestled in the hollow of your throat, shamefully drawing his eyes down to the swells of your titties.

“fuck . .” he said inanely, tongue suddenly clumsy in his mouth. “m’ so sorry. forgive me, i mean, you look . . absolutely amazing.”

a shy smile curved your lips, brightening your whole face up. “thanks . . so do you, toji.” your eyes skimmed over him appreciatively and he fought the urge to preen.

“o-oh, these are for you.” he thrusts the slightly wilted grocery store bouquet at you, wincing inwardly at his own awkwardness.

but you just smile, cradling the limp blooms like they were something so precious. “how sweet of you! i love daisies. lemme’ jus’ put these in some water and we can go.” you disappeared into the kitchen, leaving him to marvel at how such a simple gesture could delight you so thoroughly. damn, you were so lovely. inside and out.

the drive to the restaurant was filled with easy conversation interspersed with comfortable silences. toji let you be in control of the radio, secretly charmed by your off-key humming to the cheesy pop songs in rotation on your playlist. he could imagine countless nights like this, aimless drives with no destination in mind, just content to be in your company with no one to bother.

and dinner was a laughter-filled affair, trading bites of pasta and garlicky bread, arguing playfully over the merits of various desserts. you entertained him with customer service horror stories from your barista days, confessing your penchant for ‘accidentally’ giving rude patrons decaf.

in turn, toji found himself sharing more than he usually did - funny anecdotes about his buddies at the firehouse, his worries about his little sister starting college in the fall, even a bit about his dad. the words came without effort, drawn out by your natural warmth and empathy.

he couldn't remember the last time he'd enjoyed anyone's company so effortlessly.

when the check came, he wouldn't let you even reach for it. you rolled your eyes but allowed him to pay, primly informing him you were getting the next one. his stomach flipped at the unthinking promise of a next time.

you then lingered over coffee and dessert - the restaurant's version didn't even hold a candle to your black forest verrines, but you were too polite to say so - neither wanting the evening to end. toji watched you lick chocolate from your spoon, entranced by the tiny pink flash of your tongue. wishing he could lean in and taste the sweetness of your mouth. a pleasant shiver chased over his skin, heat simmering low in his belly. he’d never wanted anyone the way he wanted you - this maddening mix of tender and carnal, the urge to both protect and possess.

“mmm,” you purred appreciatively, pulling the spoon from your mouth with an obscene pop. “whoever said that chocolate isn’t better than sex clearly hadn't tasted chocolate like this.”

toji swallowed hard, adam's apple bobbing convulsively in his throat. “playin’ with fire are we?” he manages to rasp, fingers clenching around his mug.

you placed the spoon delicately on your empty plate, fingers lingering just long enough to draw his attention to their graceful dance. “who says i’m playin’, handsome?” you quip.

he was so fucked. so. totally. fucked.

afterwards, he walked you to your door, hands shoved deeply n’ awkwardly into his pockets to keep from doing something stupid like reaching for your hand. you then hovered on the stoop, the sultry summer night pressing in close.

“i had fun tonight,” you softly. in the light spilling from your living room window, your eyes were luminous. hopeful. “we should really do it again sometime.”

“we should,” he agreed, mouth dry. he couldn't look away from your face, tracing the delicate arch of your brows, the dark feathering of your lashes. you swayed closer, tipping your face up to his, and his heartbeat kicked into overdrive. god, you were killing him.

it took every ounce of willpower to step back, to force a chuckle past the ache in his chest. “well i should let you get your beauty sleep. early start tomorrow, right?” your smile faltered, a brief tightening around your eyes hinting at disappointment. he almost caved right then, almost said to hell with his reservations and dragged you into his arms the way he'd been dying to do all night.

but he couldn't. not when he had nothing more to offer you than heartache.

“right,” you murmured. “beauty sleep. so important for . . . baking.” you fumbled for your keys, not quite meeting his gaze. “i’ll see you round’ then.” he could only watch you retreat into the house, torn between relief at the bullet dodged and an overwhelming sense of loss.

wearily, he turned to go back to his own quiet home. he’d done the right thing. the smart thing. so why did it feel so damnably hollow?

avoidance was the order of the day after that near-miss. though it pained him, toji forced himself to keep some distance, to not make up flimsy excuses to show up on your doorstep at all hours of the night. no more dessert development sessions, no matter how much he craved the sight of you gushing and twirling over your latest creations. no more cute, little dinners with furtive hand holding under the table.

he threw himself into work with even more zeal than usual, pulling extra shifts and helping out with the neverending station chores. if the guys ribbed him about his sudden devotion to alphabetizing the equipment room or polishing the engine to a blinding shine, he shrugged it off. it was loads better than going home to an empty house haunted by what-ifs.

he ached to see you though. sometimes he'd catch a glimpse of you catering to your garden or heading off to the market, and his fingers would itch with the urge to go to you, to close the seemingly unbridgeable gap between you both with long strides and strong arms. more than once he'd picked up his phone to call you, thumb hesitating over your smiling face in his contacts until he cursed and tossed the phone aside.

it was for the best, he told himself firmly. you had your whole life ahead of you - school and internships, building your dream from the ground up. he’d only get in the way, bog you down with his everlasting issues and cynicism. he wouldn't, couldn't be the dead weight holding you back.

even if letting you go felt like tearing himself in half.

he should've known you wouldn't let him slink away so easily. that for all your sweetness, you were just as stubborn as he was. you’d never been one to give up on the things - or people - you wanted.

which bring us to now . . you ambushing him on his way home from a grueling 48-hour shift, looking unfairly pretty and indignant as you marched across the street to plant yourself in front of his truck. he barely bit back a groan, exhaustion and longing a potent cocktail in his bloodstream.

“hey, stranger,” you said archly, fine brows drawn together in a scowl. “long time no annoy.”

he cut the engine and climbed out, suddenly self-conscious about his unwashed, smoke-saturated state. “hi, yn. how’s it going?”

“ah, y’know. jus’ workin’ myself to the bone, trying to perfect this dessert that's only the culmination of my entire academic career thus far. while also attempting to figure out how i mysteriously pissed off my friend to the point of complete radio silence.” your arms crossed over your chest, a hint of hurt flickering in your eyes, “so yeah . . the usual.”

guilt lodged under his breastbone, sharp and corroding. he’d never meant to upset you, to make you think any of this was at all your fault. “shit, yn. i’m sorry . . i didn’t mean to ignore you, i’ve just been so -”

“busy . .” you finished for him, mouth flattening. “mhm, i’ve noticed. so busy you ignored all my calls n’ texts - missed our dinner the other night too. you’ve been practically living at the station lately.”

he grimaced, one hand scrubbing over his stubbled jaw. he’d never been any good with words, with making excuses. especially when faced with eyes that seemed to see right through his every defense, “you’re right. i’ve been avoiding you. but not because of anything you did. i jus’ . . needed some space to clear my head.”

your arms tightened, gaze dropping to the oil-stained pavement. “i thought we were having fun,” you said quietly. “gettin’ to know each other. but if i misread things, if i made you uncomfortable in any way i really am so sorr . . .”

“no.” he interrupted fiercely, taking an involuntary step closer. close enough to smell the light, citrusy scent of you, to see the faint mascara smudges of sleeplessness under your eyes. “you didn't misread anything, yn. these past weeks, spendin’ time with you . . . s’ been amazing. the most fun i’ve had in years, if i’m being honest.”

confusion clouded your expression. “then why?”

“because m’ a goddamn mess,” he bit out, the truth clawing its way up his throat. “because you’re brilliant, and you’re goin’ places . . n’ i wouldn’t be able to give you my time in the way that i know you more than deserve. i wanna smell muffins in the mornin’ . . not the smell of musty men and water hoses.”

he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose before sitting his stuff on the hood of his car, “i jus’,” he started, “i’ve done the dating thing, alright? the marriage thing too, y’know that. i jus’ . . i cant afford to lose another person in my life that i care about — not when i’ve come this far to prevent it n’ when they’re as sweet and pretty, and as kind as you.” you stand in silence, letting him vent, “i’m not perfect. m’ terrible at cooking, i sing in the shower, n’ on top of all that i fuckin’ snore like a grizzly bear. ya’ still want me now?”

you took a step forward, hand coming up to fist in the front of his t-shirt. he inhaled sharply at the sudden press of your soft curves against his hard planes, the way your gaze dropped to his mouth.

“yeah, you grumpy old fuck . . i still want you,” you whispered fiercely. “mess, snores and all.”

he softened as you pressed a kiss onto his cheek, gentle and warm with truce, “i have my own damn baggage. y’think thats stoppin’ me from goin’ after what i want? no. so jus’ stop bein’ such an asshole n’ kiss me alread - mmph!” — that was it. that was the straw that’d broken the camel’s back. with a muttered curse, his control had finally snapped. he hauled you flush against him, one arm banding around your waist as the other hand sank into your hair, cradling the back of your head. you made a soft, needy sound and surged up on tiptoe, sealing your mouth to his.

the first touch of your lips was electric, a livewire straight to his core. they were exactly as soft and sweet as he'd imagined, moving over his with an urgency that matched his own. he angled his head to slant his mouth more firmly over your, licking at the seam of your lips as you licked on the scar on his.

he swept his tongue into your mouth, stroking over yours, swallowing the low moan that vibrated in her throat. you tasted like peppermint and the vaguest hint of sugar, an addictive flavor he already knew he'd never get enough of. your arms twined around his neck, blunt nails scraping deliciously at his nape as you pressed impossibly closer.

dimly, he registered the whoops and catcalls of a passing group of neighbors, but he couldn't bring himself to care. let em’ gawk. the whole damn neighborhood could come out to watch and he still wouldn't be able to tear himself away from your sweetness.

he was a man possessed.

the kiss deepened, turning hot and hungry. toji backed you up against his front door, hands roaming greedily over your curves as he pressed the hard length of his body into your soft warmth. you made yet another sound into his mouth, lifting one leg to wrap around his hip, opening yourself up to him.

he tore his lips from yours only to trail open-mouthed kisses down the column of your throat, tasting the salt on your skin from the sweat of the hot summer sun. “fuck . . i want you,” he growled against your pulse point. “wanna’ touch you, taste you, feel you. if you’ll let me . . of course.”

“wow, such a gentlemen,” you gasped, hands scrabbling at his shoulders. “please fuckin’ do, toji.” patience fraying, he fumbled for his keys and somehow managed to get the door open without releasing you. you stumbled over the threshold, shedding clothes haphazardly between searing kisses - your flimsy blouse fluttering to the floor, followed by smoke stained his t-shirt.

toji walked you backwards down the hall to his bedroom, kicking the door shut before tossing you onto the bed. he followed you down, covering your entire frame with his own, reveling in the feel of all your bare skin finally against him. you were a vision in the spill of afternoon light, curls fanned across his pillow, pink lace bra and panties a tantalizing contrast to your brown skin.

he took a moment just to admire you, committing every detail to memory. the rapid rise and fall of your chest, the way your lips parted on shallow breaths. heavy-lidded eyes hazy with want and something deeper, more tender.

“been dreamin’ about you, princess. shit - you’re so gorgeous.” he rasped, nipping at your earlobe with each word, “so pretty, so beautiful, so smart.”

you shivered, fingernails raking over his shoulders, “nngh - c’mon stoppit, toji . .” growling low in his throat, he captured your lips in a nasty kiss, all teeth and tongue. large hands cupping your full titties, calloused thumbs rubbing your nipples into stiff peaks. and you arched into his touch with a moan, shameless in your pleasure.

“someone’s eager, hm?”

breaking the kiss, he began to work his way down your body, mapping every dip and curve with lips and teeth and tongue. he paid thorough attention to your titties, laving at the dark-brown nipples until you were panting and squirming beneath him.

“b-baby, please . .” you whimpered, fingers sinking into his hair to urge him lower.

he only chuckled darkly against your flesh. “patience, sweetheart. m’ not goin’ anywhere. let me love you.”

true to his word, he set about exploring you - kissing a meandering path down your ribs and belly, dipping his tongue into your navel just to hear you gasp. strong hands gripped your thighs, pushing them further and further apart so he could settle more comfortably between them.

hooking his fingers in your lacy panties, he dragged the scrap of fabric down your legs. “fuck yeah, look at you. so wet for me already. look at this pussy . .”

you mewled as he licked a broad stripe up your slit, circling your puffy clit with the tip of his tongue. he sealed his lips around the sensitive nub and sucked, fingers delving into your soaked entrance, curling to find that special spot inside you.

“o-ooh my god — yes!” your back bowed off the bed, a vibration spreading down your chest as he worked you higher. he paid close attention to your most tender skin, alternating between broad, flat licks and quick, targeted flicks. crooking his fingers just so, he rubbed and rubbed until he found — “ah f-fuck!” your g-spot, feeling your thighs start to tremble around his head.

“thas’ it, bunny - cum on my tongue. i wanna’ see it all, mama. c’mon, i know you can do it,” the filthy words combined with the relentless stimulation quite literally pushed you over the edge . . and you came with a sharp cry, gushing your juices all over his lips and chin. he groaned at the taste of you, lapping up every last drop, addicted already.

while you were still quivering and coming down from your high, toji fumbled blindly for the nightstand drawer. he managed to retrieve a condom without taking his eyes off of you. ripping open the packet with his teeth, he sat back on his knees to quickly sheath himself.

you took the opportunity to admire his body, running appreciative hands over his muscular chest and abdomen. he was all tanned skin and chiseled muscle, a sparse trail of dark hair pointing the way to his impressive erection. it jutted from a thatch of coarse curls, thick and flushed nearly purple, the bulbous head glistening with excitement.

wrapping your fingers around his rigid length, you stroked him base to tip, twisting your wrist on the upstroke so that the condom slips right back off. toji grunted, hips bucking into your touch as you rubbed your thumb over the leaking slit. you pause, your mouth watering as you begin to lower your head down. you press the side of your face against his thigh, peering up at him with batting lashes and a poked lip. your ass is arched - high in the air and wiggling as if you just wanted him to smack it.

that’s when you began slapping his heavy dick against your cheek, repeatedly, “so big, baby,” you whisper, now positioning your face to where his cock could sit right on top of it - “can i put it in m’mouth? please . .?”

“yn you don’t have to -”

“i want to.”

toji looked down at you once more, the look of want in your eyes . . . how could he resist?

he gently grabs the side of your neck, firm but not firm enough to cause pain, his other hand curling around the base of his cock as he whispered, “open wide. tongue out,” biting his lip as he braces himself for the sensation of your mouth wrapped around him.

that’s when your wet tongue dances out tentatively, tracing the ridge of his head before retreating back to safety inside your mouth. it was clear that you were just as lust filled as him. toji could feel himself pulsing with need as you took him in deeper and deeper, a low groan escaping him, “shit, doll - got it all to fit . . good girl.” your hands gripped his hips tightly, nails digging into his skin as you bobbed your head up and down. toji swore he could fall in love with the simple, yet beautifully disgusting sound of your throat — gawk, gulp, gawk! ugh, they were such disgusting noises - some gagging here, some moaning there, but he couldn’t have asked for anything better. you were slobbing, spitting, and choking on his dick and the only thing getting in your way from taking him whole was the fact that his size was still fairly new to you.

“sss’ ooh fuck - b-baby . . yn -” he hisses, both your eyes and his rolling to the back of your heads as you continue to gulp him down, spit trickling down to your tits as they jiggled to the rhythm of your mouth. each and every glide against your tongue was starting to overpower him, and before he knew it, if you didn’t stop he was bout’ to —

“cum . . m’gonna cum! m’fuckin’ cumming - asshhit . .” he groaned, eyes tightly closing as you continued to deepthroat him the best you could, “don’t stop, keep suck - y-yes . .” it was a hassle - a big one, but the taste of him warm cum painting your throat felt like a sweet reward.

almost sweeter than your baked goods.

whining and still aching to suck on him some more, toji pulls you off in fear of shaking more than he already was — and the sight of you with his cum dripping out of your mouth only did the complete opposite.

“uh, well then . . how’d i do?” you say shyly, as if you hadn’t just completely slutted out your mouth for your next door neighbor.

a surprised bark of laughter escaped him even as his cock jerked at you eagerly. “don’t exile me, but that mouth . . shit, might be better than your cookies. not gonna’ lie, sweetheart . .” toji growled, and you pout as he’s prowling back over you. you then watch him slowly, his fingers unexpectedly plunging back into your pussy as he scoops some of your wetness onto the pad of them before pulling them back out. he fists the base and tip of himself, smothering his cock in your juices as lubricant as he teases your entrance with a few pats n’ nudges. fuckin’ tease. he kept on until you were angrily swatting his chest to put the damn thing in already.

who could blame your lust? after all . . you’d been dreaming about it for weeks now.

yet again, he snags another rubber, strokes a little, and once he’s in, “oh s-shit that pussy's tight, baby . .” he’s in. you moaned in tandem, dick snuggling into your tight walls inch by excruciating inch. you were warm and wet and perfect around him, gripping him like a silken vise. it was magical, just like you - but the look on your face . . oh that look, almost seemed like you wanted to be broken. with your arms above your head, your titties swaying against your chest and your whines now hoarse n' pleading — he kinda wanted to break you too.

toji started with slow, deep strokes, mindful of your tightness and his considerable girth. he didn't want to hurt you, wanted to savor every clench and flutter around his aching cock. wanted this to last, to burn this moment into his brain forever.

“f-feel so fuckin' good wrapped around me,” he gritted out, hips rolling in a lazy figure eight that had you keening. “y’so wet, honey . . dick feel that good?”

“toji,” you whimpered brokenly, fingernails scoring down his flexing back. “more, please . . need it harder . .”

and how could he deny you anything when you begged so sweetly? bracing his weight on his forearms, he obliged, snapping his hips forward with more force. the headboard started to thump against the wall, the mattress creaking beneath your writhing bodies.

“like that, baby? hm?” he panted against your throat, sweat beading at his temples as he drove into you again and again, his cock damn near slipping out of you from the slippery speed. “this what you need? me splittin' this pretty pussy open?”

“yes d-daddy . . ” you wailed, back arching like a drawn bow. your cunt was fluttering around him, a telltale sign of your impending orgasm. “aah - don't stop, don’t stop, m'so close!”

“shh, i got you,” he promised, shifting the angle of his hips to grind against your clit with every thrust. “gonna’ make this pussy sing for me, gonna’ wring the cum outta’ you 'til you're shakin' on me. you want that?” his filthy words seemed to be your undoing because suddenly you were clenching down on him like a vice, a sharp cry tearing from your throat as you thrashed beneath him. your release gushed hot and slick around his pistoning length, drenching his groin and thighs with sweetness.

“f-fuck yeah,” toji choked out, his own rhythm faltering as your rippling walls threatened to milk him dry. “good girl, sweetheart, cream on this dick, lemme’ feel you.” he managed a handful more erratic thrusts before his own orgasm crashed into him like a freight train. he buried himself to the hilt and stilled, a hoarse shout muffled into your sweat damped shoulder as he spilled himself into the condom. his cock jerked and twitched with every pulse, vision nearly whiting out with the force of it.

for long moments, you both just shook and gasped, clinging to each other as aftershocks rolled through your bodies. toji's heart was thundering so hard he was sure you could feel it through his sweat-slick chest. he'd never come so hard in his life, never felt so utterly shattered and remade.

you made a soft, satisfied sound as he carefully withdrew from your heat, rolling to the side to dispose of the condom with a quick knot. then he was gathering you close again, palm smoothing up your spine as you burrowed into him with a sigh.

“shit,” you eventually mumbled into the heated skin of his throat. “that was . . .”

“ . . fuckin' heavenly,” he finished roughly, a laugh rumbling in his chest as he felt your answering huff of amusement. “m’ sorry i uh . . came so fast. i don’t usually -”

“did you just apologize to me because my pussy is good?” you teased, dragging your nose along the edge of his stubbled jaw. he could feel the curve of your smile, the unabashed joy, and it settled something deep within him. soothed the ragged pieces he'd thought long broken.

“damn straight,” he agreed, arms tightening around you possessively. “i can die a happy man now.”

“well, you're not allowed to die on me now, toji. you're stuck with me. escape if you can.”

“mm, is that right,” he nuzzled into your hair, breathing in the scent of you - all warm woman and satisfaction.

“mhmm. you're not getting rid of me easily. i still have so many desserts to force on you, so many early morning baking sessions to drag you into . .”

he laughed outright at that, at the sheer exuberance in your voice. “promises, promises.”

“oh i always keep my promises, mister. which reminds me . .” you pushed up on an elbow, eyes sparkling with mischief and something deeper. something that snatched the breath from his lungs. “i seem to remember you saying something about round two . .”

“did i? care to refresh my memory?” he growled, even as he was already rolling you beneath him again, mouth seeking yours. you then feel his palm colliding with your ass in a gentle spank. “what am i gonna’ do with you?”

“everything.” you breathed against his lips, a vow. “anything. i want you, toji. want everything with you.” and fuck, what could he say to that? what could he do but kiss you like a promise, a prayer, and proceed to show you just how much he wanted that too? wanted to give you everything, anything, all he had to offer?

he'd never been a man of many words. but this - loving you with hands and mouth and body, breaking you apart and putting you back together again and again until you were both sweat-soaked and shaking . . this he could do. this he would do for the rest of his life if you'd let him.

“you’ve got me.”

and from the joyous half-sob of his name as he sank back into your pussy, the way your body opened for him like a flower to the sun, he had a feeling you just might too.

there would be time for more words later - time for confessions and plans and mapping out a future he'd never even let himself dream of before. time to make good on promises whispered into heated skin, to build something real and lasting brick by brick. but for now, in the honeyed afternoon light with your legs wrapped around his waist and your heart in his hands . . let himself get lost. let himself drown in sensation and emotion, in this miraculous woman he didn't deserve but who'd chosen him anyway.

from lost to found, in the space of a heartbeat. and all because an angel in a garden had smiled at him across a sunny street and offered up a little piece of heaven. he'd never know what he'd done to deserve you, or this second chance. but he'd spend the rest of his days earning this gift, cherishing it.

cherishing you.

that was a promise. and like his beautiful girl . . toji fushiguro always kept his promises.

©️ SATORUBI - please do not copy, translate, or modify my work without my approval ! thank you for playing . . the challenge has only just begun.

#🎀 — www.satorubiwrites/games !#AHHHHH WE HERE #papa toji i luv him #toji x fem! reader #toji x female reader #toji x black reader #toji x black y/n #toji smut #jjk x fem! reader #jjk x poc!reader

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mayanneaa · 7 days ago

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domestic - ʀᴀꜰᴇ ᴄᴀᴍᴇʀᴏɴ.

PAIRING : rafe cameron x reader

SUMMARY : rafe finally experiences domestic life with you.

WARNING(S) : not proofread

A/N : celebrating 2025 with softish rafe hihi (divider by @roseraris)

WC : 1.1k

masterlist.

one.

"You're doing it wrong."

You look up at Rafe, the shirt still in your hands. He's sitting on the couch, a pile of clothes next to him.

The day’s finally come—you two had to take care of the laundry. That’s how you ended up on the floor, a big basket by your side.

"Enlighten me, then."

Rafe slides down on the floor and takes the fabric from you. "You have to fold it like this," he says, folding it neatly, his face almost screaming ‘bored’.

Sun’s shyly sneaking into the living room, casting a mosaic of lights. All you can smell is the fresh laundry and Rafe's cologne, now that he’s so close. Musk and sandalwood fill the space between you two.

There are no screaming kids outside, only the faint sound of crashing waves from the beach. It feels so… right.

“What?” Rafe’s voice pulls you out of wonder, and heat rises to your cheeks when you realize you've been staring at him the whole time, “Folding clothes is philosophical for you?”

“Asshole." You playfully push his shoulder as he puts the folded shirt on one of the little towers you created. "It's just nice. You know, doing things like this with you."

He shrugs, turning away so that you can't see his face. Too bad you caught the flush creeping up his neck.

"C'mon, admit it!" You press, nudging him slightly.

"Admit what?"

You smile as he furrows his brows, "Admit you like it too!"

Rafe snorts and pulls you into his lap, making your heart flutter, "Fine. I like it. Happy?"

"You have to mean it, Rafe!" you tease, a toothy grin spread on your face.

He rolls his eyes, the corners of his mouth twitching as he leans in and captures your lips. You wrap your arms around his neck, savoring the sweet taste of cherries on his lips.

When you finally pull away, Rafe's voice comes out not louder than a whisper, "Do you believe me now?"

You rest your forehead against his, a giggle escaping your lips. "Yeah. Maybe I do."

"Good," Rafe says looking over your shoulder, "Because we have a ton of work left."

You groan and bury your face in the crook of his neck. "You're the worst."

two.

You were delighted when Rafe finally agreed to go grocery shopping with you. Such a small thing, but it made you giddy regardless. Usually, he'd just order it straight to your door. It was nice, sure, but you missed the feeling of walking around the isles, looking at the list you made back home, and picking out the products.

That’s how you ended up in this little shop, standing in front of the ice cream fridge. The lights are quietly humming over your head, and the smell of fresh baked goods is lingering from the bakery section. Rafe’s beside you, his gaze set on the different packaging.

“Which one should we get?” he asks.

You sneak a glance at the piece of paper in your hand. “I mean… We technically shouldn’t get any.”

These words make him turn his head to you, a judging look on his face. “You’re no fun.”

“Oh? Well, since you’re such a party girl, pick something out while I go and search for the rest.”

Rafe huffs and you move to the other side of the store, away from the freezing air that pinches your skin. There aren't many people, other than an older lady picking out the best tomatoes and some kids debating on the candy they’ll buy.

Soon enough, your checklist is almost complete.

“Baby,” you hear from behind and you turn around to Rafe carrying three cans of ice cream.

You arch your brows as he puts them in the cart.

“I got a classic, which is vanilla,” he starts, pointing at each one, “Then this one, because you love it, and the peanut butter was new or something. We can try it out together!”

“And when do you plan on eating all that?”

He wraps his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer with a proud smirk, “Oh, I’ve already thought about that, baby. We’ll finish the 'Gossip Girl' or whatever it's called—"

You interrupt him, getting on your tiptoes and placing a soft kiss on his cheek.

"See? Groceries are fun, told ya."

Rafe's eyes soften before he chuckles and snatches the list out of your hands. "Maybe. But we have to get the whipped cream first. Oh, we can also get some coke—"

"Well, if you'll pay we can get anything."

Rafe snorts as he pushes the cart, keeping you snug against his side. "Obviously. C'mon!"

three.

The steady rhythm of rain tapping on the open window fills the bedroom. The day's coming to an end, and you finally find a moment for yourself.

You curl up on your bed, hiding between the fluffy blankets and pillows with a book in your hand. The candles on your nightstand flicker softly, the wisps of smoke mixing with the steam rising from the cup nearby.

"Move, please." You hear Rafe mumble as he climbs the bed, an oversized shirt hanging off his body.

He settles, resting his head on your chest, strong arms wrapped around you. Then, he lets out a long sigh, like a puppy after a long day of doing nothing.

You glance down at him—his eyelids flutter, and pout forms on his lips. Your heart softens despite yourself. "The weather drained you out, huh?"

Rafe lazily shakes his head, "Not really."

He isn’t even sure what it is about this moment that soothes him, but he never wants it to end. When he's in your room, the sweet scent of your candles filling up his head, all he wants to do is to lay down with, or rather on you. To feel the warmth of your body, he longs to listen to your voice.

You smile, the silence falling between you feels comfortable. You read through the pages, becoming more invested.

Rafe absentmindedly traces lines on your blanket. He listens to the rain, and it syncs with the steady heartbeat beneath his ear.

"I like this." Before he can think again, the words slip out of his lips, breaking the silence.

You rest the book on him, giggling. "What?"

"Being here with you, Ms. Giggles Mgoo." He raises his head to look at you. There's a flicker in his eyes, and it doesn't come from the flame beside you.

"No way," you tease, and he rolls his eyes, "The Rafe Cameron tells me he likes spending time with me..."

He pouts, and you can't hold your laugh anymore.

You lean in, peppering his nose with quick pecks. Rafe smiles, his cheeks painted in a delicate shade of red.

"You're getting soft, baby." You say between the kisses, and you feel the heat rising to his face under your lips.

"Shut up..."

You press one last kiss, this time to his lips. It's so rare—to see the softer, quieter Rafe that for now only exists here, with you. And you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

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sunniques · 4 months ago

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— 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 !

➺ PAIRING: choi seungcheol x female reader

➺ GENRE: stepdad au, smut

➺ SUMMARY: your stepdad goes to great lengths to spoil you.

➺ CW/TW: stepcest, infedilty, age gap, daddy kink, breeding kink, somnophilia, cockwarming, masturbation, oral sex (f & m), rimming, face riding, unprotected sex, creampies, squirting, cum eating, riding, shower sex, recording during sex, having sex while on the phone, reader can be carried by cheol

➺ WC: 8k

NOTE: don’t like, don’t read. thank you @wonustars for beta reading this for me <3

Seungcheol is the first to admit that he spoils you rotten. He can’t really be blamed for it since you were a spoiled princess long before he met you. Technically, it’s your mother’s fault for always indulging you every time you asked for something. He knows she only gave in to compensate for not being around as much as she should have, but now it’s a responsibility he’s happily shouldered.

That’s why when you tell him you want to fuck all over the house with no interruptions, he doesn’t hesitate to make that happen. It's not hard despite there being certain obstacles he comes across.

"I don't understand," his wife's voice wobbles just enough for him to realize she's going to push back. "If you're upset with me, what we need is to talk, not give each other space."

"I need time to think, and I can't do that with you here."

"Seungcheol," his wife's voice is tight with repressed emotion. "Don't be ridiculous. I'm not leaving my own house—"

"It's my house," he reminds her coldly. "You're hardly ever here, anyway. I know you'd rather be at work than spend time with me or Y/N."

Your mom flinches because his words are like ice, and because they're true. Still, the selfish part of her can't give him what he wants. Not when it feels like this will make her lose him forever.

"But giving you space for the entire weekend—!"

"Don't raise your voice," Seungcheol hisses, eyes dark and dangerous. "I don't want Y/N to hear."

He won't let her ruin your surprise. He wants to see your face when he tells you that you'll have the entire house to yourselves all weekend long.

Seungcheol doesn't feel bad even as his wife swallows thickly.

"Fine," she whispers, "I'll give you the space you want."

"Good. I want you gone before Saturday."

It's still early when you're gently pulled out of your wet dream by an intense pleasure. Through bleary eyes, you can see the sun still hasn't fully risen. You almost think you're still dreaming until you realize that your pussy being hot and wet is very real. Immediately, you recognize the situation and the pleasure clouding your senses.

You let out a needy mewl when you look down to see a head of hair between your thighs. Arousal rips through you when you realize you're completely naked, sleeping shirt and panties discarded beside your equally naked stepdad. Seungcheol groans into your cunt, pulling back a bit to gently suck on your swollen clit. The quiet whine you let out has his cock throbbing.

"Morning, princess."

"Daddy," you moan as you spread your trembling thighs.

"Shh, baby," Seungcheol gently shushes you while still lapping at your dripping cunt. "Your mom's still sleeping. You don't want to wake her up do you?"

More juices drip from your clenching pussy, and for a moment you wish he had crushed some of those sleeping pills in her drink again. But then again, if she slept in and missed her flight you wouldn't be able to have a cum-filled weekend with her husband like you planned. All you can do is hope she leaves for your grandparents' house soon.

"She's not gone yet?" You can't keep the whine out of your sleepy whisper.

"No," Seungcheol sighs in mutual disappointment before dropping his head back down to keep eating you out.

You toss your head back, mouth dropped open in a silent scream as he licks a broad stripe up your slit before sucking on your clit again. He repeats the action before forcing his tongue back into your slick pussy. Your clit pulses with pleasure as Seungcheol slowly eats you out.

"I've been feasting on your little pussy all morning," he hums against you, placing gentle kisses on your soft lips.

"Already got you to cream on my tongue twice."

He sounds so pleased that he got you to cum without waking you. The satisfied smirk on his shiny lips makes you moan and roll your hips into his mouth.

"You like that, sweetheart? Like that your daddy couldn't help himself?" Seungcheol's eyes are dark as he gently nips at your throbbing clit.

You give him a half-hearted nod, mind swimming with pleasure. Seungcheol's tongue smooths over your pussy and runs it up your slit to softly suckle on your clit, getting the sensitive bud messy with his spit. You grind your hips into his mouth eagerly, wanting to put on a show for the dark eyes that are watching you with molten heat.

Seungcheol pulls back, but not without pressing a quick kiss to your throbbing clit. "Roll over for me, baby. I want to try something."

You sluggishly do as he asks, rolling over until you're lying on your stomach. He grabs your thighs and pushes them until you're spread open, glistening cunt on display for him. Your stepdad's groan is guttural and makes you clench around nothing.

"Prettiest fucking view ever," Seungcheol hums to himself, cock throbbing at the erotic sight of you splayed out for him.

Seungcheol's hands grab your ass as he uses his thumbs to spread your pussy lips open. He's quick to dive back into your pussy like a starved man. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, back arching as arousal thrums in your belly.

"God, baby. Love eating this pretty pussy." Your stepdad groans into the wet mess he's created, fucking his tongue deeper into your tight hole.

You try to keep your moans quiet as your hips squirm against the wet tongue spearing you open. The way Seungcheol greedily eats your cunt turns you on even more, and just thinking about what he says gets you even wetter. Feeling his strong hands holding you open as he's fucking his tongue into your clenching hole over and over again is sending you closer to the edge.

You tense slightly when you feel the pad of a finger slide over the furl of your asshole. Seungcheol groans into your pussy making you clench and rock down on the bed. He doesn't move his finger, only rubs it softly back and forth over your asshole.

"Want me to eat this hole too, sweetheart?" Seungcheol pulls back with a wet sound, mouth dragging up to bite your ass cheeks. "All you have to do is ask."

You feel hot all over, loving how fucking nasty he is. How he doesn't hesitate to give you anything you want. All you do is hum, and in less than a second he's spreading your ass until your hole is completely bare for him to see. You wiggle your hips to further entice him. Seungcheol growls as he licks a hot, wet stripe from your cunt all the way to your asshole.

"Daddy!" You cry, pussy fluttering at how much you like it. "More!"

"Don't worry, brat. Daddy's gonna lick you clean," Seungcheol says before he spits on your puckered hole. "I'm gonna eat this cute little ass all morning."

You gasp and moan as he licks over your rim with his hot tongue. The sensation makes you squirm and rock your swollen clit into the bed. While you're distracted by his mouth, he slips a couple of fingers into your empty pussy making you squeal and buck your hips. Seungcheol hums and slowly slides his tongue into your ass, spit dripping down onto his fingers that are scissoring you open.

"Fuck, daddy." You choke out, feeling unbelievably turned on as Seungcheol fucks your ass open with his thick tongue.

He fucks his fingers into your pussy until he's rubbing against your g-spot. You whine and bite your pillow to try and stifle the filthy sounds you're letting out. His tongue greedily licks your asshole open, sloppy wet sounds echoing off your bedroom walls making you drip slick down his fingers. It all feels so good that you wouldn't care if your mom were to walk in on you and your stepdad like this.

You're so lost in pleasure that you almost miss the knock on your door.

"Y/N? Are you awake?" Your mom's groggy voice wanders through the door.

Seungcheol groans quietly and buries his tongue past your clenching hole. His tongue fucks deeper into your ass while he fingers your cunt. Your eyes roll to the back of your skull as your stepdad starts to eat you out with more vigor than before. His fingers curl into you, massaging that spot that has you mewling into your covers.

Seungcheol briefly pulls away to whisper his filthy desire. "Cream all over my fingers, sweetheart. Show daddy how much you love having his tongue in your ass."

You can't keep your moan quiet when Seungcheol fucks his fingers into your squelching pussy harder. The long digits brush against your spongy spot until your tight pussy is pulsing around his fingers.

"Y/N?" Your mom sounds a bit more awake now.

You grind your hips into Seungcheol as his tongue slowly laps at the rim of your hole over and over again. The sloppy wet noise fills the room, and you wonder if your mom can hear it. Not that you or your stepdad care.

"I-I'm getting up now," luckily, your fucked out voice can easily be mistaken for fatigue.

"I won't be able to make you breakfast before I go. Make sure you eat something before you go to class!"

She's never made you breakfast—not even when you were in grade school. Instead of pondering on why she was trying to act doting, you give her a shaky okay. All you really care about is the teasing kicks her husband is giving your clenching hole.

When her footsteps fade away, his tongue spears you open again. Seungcheol starts to roughly fuck his fingers into your sopping pussy. It all feels so good that you start to bounce back against your stepdad's mouth and fingers, a preening whine high in your throat. Seungcheol lets out a feral growl and pushes his mouth harder against the furl of your asshole to fuck his tongue deeper into your clenching hole.

"I'm gonna cum, daddy," you mewl softly.

Seungcheol hums and keeps eating your ass, his long fingers massaging your velvety walls. You writhe against your bedsheets, the friction allowing the fabric to rub against your clit. Your toes curl as the stimulation pushes you over the edge. With a muffled wail, you cum hard around Seungcheol's fingers. Your wet walls flutter around his fingers as you asshole clenches around his wet tongue.

Your stepdad pulls away once you come down from your high. He groans lowly in his throat before telling you to stay still. A familiar wet sound fills your ears, and when you look over your shoulder you see him jerking off.

"Gonna cum on your holes." Seungcheol groans, fucking his hand harder.

His fat tip bumps against your spread pussy as hot ropes of cum cover your skin. You moan when you feel him drag the head of his leaking cock up to your asshole to cover it with the rest of his seed.

"So fucking pretty," Seungcheol groans.

You lick your lips and blindly reach for your phone. "Want pictures, daddy."

Seungcheol's grin is devious as he takes your phone and does as you ask. He even gets your permission to take a quick video of your soiled holes. Once he's done, he tosses the phone aside and pulls you up to give you a filthy kiss. You moan into his mouth, knowing this is going to be the best weekend of your life.

"Come on, princess," Seungcheol coos adoringly after you pull away. "Let's go shower."

You lick your lips as your stepdad picks you up and carries you over to the master bedroom. It's thrilling for you, especially because you can hear that your mom is still downstairs. Seungcheol shares your uncaring attitude. He's too busy showering you with affectionate kisses to care that his wife might come upstairs and find you two naked.

The air between you is intoxicating, and you almost feel impatient when Seungcheol gently sets you down on the bathroom counter. You make a move to get off and go towards the shower, but your stepdad is quick to stop you. He places a sweet kiss on your lips, eyes shimmering with arousal and affection.

"Stay there and let daddy take care of you, sweetheart," Seungcheol says before going to start the shower.

He waits until the water warms before picking you up again and placing you under the soothing water. You let out a content sigh and lean against him as the humid air surrounds you both. Seungcheol kisses the top of your head before grabbing a clean washcloth and lathering it up with soap.

Seungcheol is gentle as he runs the sudsy cloth along your body. He takes his time, gently cleaning you while murmuring how pretty you are. You can't help but relax under his gentle touch.

"Cheol," you half moan, half sigh as he presses open mouth kisses on your clean skin.

Your thighs squeeze together when he slowly runs the cloth across your tits. He slowly circles your sensitive nipples over and over until you're mewling and arching into his touch. Seungcheol is quick to discard the cloth and goes to grab your soapy tits.

"Fuck," he groans as he pinches and tugs on your hard nipples. "You have the prettiest tits, baby."

Molten heat invades your senses, the praise making you keen. The way your stepdad is so rough with your nipples has your pussy leaking with a different type of wetness running down your thighs. One of his large hands leaves your soft flesh to turn your head so he can give you a heated kiss. His other hand slowly trails down your body until you feel his fingers swiping across your slit then back up to circle your slippery clit.

"Such a sexy little brat," Seungcheol groans fondly before he hooks his chin over your shoulder so he can watch himself play with your pussy. "Always so ready for me."

You cry out in pleasure when his hand comes down to spank your sensitive bundle of nerves. Your knees buckle, but luckily Seungcheol's arm is tightly secured around your waist. He slowly turns you until your back is against the cool tile. Your eyes follow the beads of water that run down his toned body. The water drip off his thick cock, and you feel white hot arousal consume you entirely.

"Daddy," you whine and reach out for his cock.

Seungcheol smirks and kneels down, ignoring your petulant pout, "Daddy's still hungry."

You clench around nothing as he rubs his large hands along your thighs before spreading them open. His grin is devious as he places wet kisses along your inner thighs. You can't contain your moan as his breath ghosts across your throbbing clit.

"Daddy!" You squeal when Seungcheol finally fucks his tongue into your wet cunt.

Your stepdad groans, the vibration stimulating you further as his tongue slides deeper into your pulsing cunt. It's impossible not to watch him as he messily eats you out, licking and suckling on your sensitive bud. His dark eyes are trained on you, loving the fucked out face you're making.

Seungcheol moans when you grind your pussy into his face. He eagerly laps up your juices, licking and tasing every part of you his tongue can reach. The way he places soft kisses between his licks and sucks make your trembling legs feel like they're going to give out. Your eyes roll back as he fucks his tongue deeper into your hole, slurping up every last bit of your arousal.

Seungcheol's cock throbs at the sweet sounds you're letting out. He smirks against your cunt when you arch up and press closer to his pouty lips.

"Gonna cum, daddy."

Seungcheol hums in approval, tongue relentlessly lapping at your clit. "Do it, princess. Cum on daddy's face so he can fill you up."

You cry out loudly and squirt all over his face.

Seungcheol groans in approval and slurps up everything you release. He's smug when fucking you through your orgasm, and he doesn't stop until your legs are shaking. Your stepdad licks his lips and slowly stands, picking you up in the process. He can tell his display of strength turns you on, and it makes his ego inflate.

"Fuck," you mewl when you feel his cock nudge against your pussy.

Seungcheol's gaze is dark as he rubs his throbbing cock along your messy lips. The leaking tip bumps your sensitive clit, making you arch your back and cry out for him. You're so needy and desperate for his dick that he can't make you wait any longer. Seungcheol grabs your ass, squeezing it roughly, before he sinks you down on his aching cock.

"Mmmh, fuck, daddy," your moans come out in a fucked out pants, arms and legs locking around his body.

Seungcheol starts to fuck you slowly, rocking his cock in and out of your pussy at a pace you're not used to from him. Hot water cascades over the both of you, and it makes you feel that much better as your tight walls eagerly suck him in. You feel his cock stretching you out slowly, making you whine into his wet neck.

"Fucking shit, Y/N," your stepdad's groan is guttural. "Tight little pussy feels too good."

It's like you both lose sense of time as Seungcheol slowly splits you open on his cock. The movement of his hips are slow yet deliberate. Every time his pelvis rubs against your clit you see stars. His throbbing tip brushes against the spongy spot inside you, barely kissing your cervix with every precise movement. Molten pleasure consumes you slowly, already making you feel cock drunk.

"Seungcheol?"

Your stepdad's hips stutter at the sound of your mother's voice, but one look at the pout on your face makes him keep going. Especially since you tighten around him at the same time his cock starts to throb and twitch inside you. You two share a filthy smirk, loving the turn of events. It’s so sick and twisted, but both of you are past caring.

"What is it?" Seungcheol calls, slightly annoyed as he starts to bounce you on his cock.

"I– Well..." your mom trails off, sounding completely unsure of herself.

You don't care that it's uncharacteristic of her because Seungcheol starts to press sloppy kisses on your neck. His thrusts have grown rougher, harshly pounding into your squelching pussy. Your eyes roll back as your toes curl. The feeling of your stepdad's veiny cock dragging against your slick walls have you gushing all over him, and the fact that your mom is standing right outside the bathroom door completely unaware only turns you on more.

"I hope giving you the space you want doesn't mean this is the end of our marriage." You can tell she's close to tears as she speaks.

"Cum inside me, daddy," you purr into Seungcheol's ear, wanting nothing more than him to stuff you full.

Seungcheol quietly groans into your neck, feeling your pulsing walls flutter around his cock. His grip on your ass tightens, and he starts to bounce you harder on his aching dick. He hears his wife holding back sobs, but he doesn’t feel bad. Not since he has her daughter’s tight little pussy wrapped around his cock.

"Such a nasty little brat," he hums against your wet skin, hips snapping savagely. "You want me to cream this cute little pussy while your mom is on the other side of that door crying for me?"

You mewl into his ear, pussy clenching around his cock and staining it with more of your cream. Seungcheol grunts, hips moving faster as he fucks into your hole deeper and harder. Your back arches as your cunt spasms around his dick.

"Want it so bad, daddy," you whimper into his ears, nails digging into his back. "Breed this little pussy. Stuff me full and knock me up."

"God damn, baby. You're such a dirty little slut," he whispers against your hot, wet skin. "What would your mom say if she walked in and saw you begging for my cum?"

You whine again, hips rocking into his as his thick cock pistons in and out of your hot cunt.

"What would you tell your wife?" You say through a fucked out giggle. "You'd have to tell her that you're bouncing her daughter on your big cock because you want to put a baby in her."

Seungcheol's deep moan almost drowns out your mother's voice.

"I know you're still mad, so I'll call you when I land. Please take care of Y/N while I'm away."

"Don't worry," Seungcheol growls, loud enough to be heard over the running water. "I'll make sure to take care of her."

You finally wail out in pleasure when you hear the footsteps fade away. Seungcheol savagely rams his cock against your sweet spot over and over until you're cumming hard on his throbbing dick.

"That's it, princess. Make a mess all over daddy's cock. Fuck. I'm gonna fill this cute little pussy all weekend long. Not letting you off my dick until I know you're carrying my child."

Your stepdad spears into your sloppy cunt harder, his leaking tip brushing against your g spot with every thrust. "Fuck, sweetheart. Little pussy feels too good."

With a loud grunt, he pushed his cock as deep as it'll go before thick, hot ropes of cum spurt from his throbbing tip. Seungcheol moans loudly, grinding his cock into your pulsing walls.

You smash your lips onto his, loving the feeling of his cum slowly dripping out of you.

The weekend is coming to an end, and true to his word, your stepdad has not let you off his cock. You've fucked all over the house just like you wanted. In the hot tub out back, then in the pool. On the billiards table and in the laundry room. Even on the kitchen counter and the dining room table. Every surface has been stained with you and Seungcheol's mixed releases. It thrills you because it feels like you're marking the house—your house—in the filthiest way possible.

Seungcheol has been especially doting, giving into every single one of your wishes. He even agreed to record the nasty things you do so you can watch it later on. The videos are mainly taken on your phone, but you have to insist that he take some on his too. After all, he should have some memories of the weekend he planned as well.

This is all so wrong. Seungcheol knows that, but he can't seem to make himself care. Especially when you look so beautiful underneath him, with your puffy nipples covered in his saliva and your fucked out expression of absolute pleasure. Especially when you moan and whimper the single word that makes him go insane every single time it falls from your pretty lips.

"Daddy!"

Fuck. To have his sweet little stepdaughter in such a filthy way is everything to him. His cock is buried so deep inside of you that he's certain he's in your guts. His teeth graze your neck as you cling to him. "Like this, angel? Like when your stepdad fucks you like this?"

A cute whine escapes you, but you can't answer because you're too far gone. Seungcheol thinks that you may be doing it on purpose for the camera, but either way, he loves it.

"Tell me, sweetheart. Tell me how good it feels," his whispered voice in your ear makes you shudder.

Your pussy clenches hard around his thick cock, wanting to keep him there forever.

"So fucking good. God, daddy. I'm gonna cum." Again.

You don't know how many times you've cum already, or if you've even stopped cumming. The entire weekend has felt like one prolonged orgasm for you.

You grab his hair and pull his face to yours, looking into his eyes. "Cum with me—cum inside me," you plead, your tongue flicking against his lips.

Seungcheol can't deny you anything. He never has. His hips speed up, his orgasm so close but he needs you to tip over first. The feeling of his stepdaughter creaming and making a mess on his cock is one he'll never get tired of.

"God, you're such a needy little brat," he groans against your lips. Words can't describe how much he loves you. How fucking thankful he is that you love him the same way. "Can't get enough of daddy's cum, hm?"

It only takes a few circles of his thumb on your clit and you're cumming with a loud whine.

"Daddy, please!" Your fingers dig into the skin of his back while you plead with him to fill you up. It's only a few seconds later that you're taking load after load of his thick cum.

"Mm, yes!" You mewl, closing your eyes, savoring the feeling of it.

Seungcheol kisses your lips, not daring to pull out. He doesn't want a single drop to escape.

"You got all of daddy's cum. Is my sweet girl happy now?"

You smile into the kiss as you catch your breath, looking at him adoringly, "Yes, daddy."

Seungcheol licks his lips hungrily and reaches for the phone propped against the nightstand. He points it at your stuffed cunt, groaning when he sees his cum running down the length of his cock and down to his heavy sack. Just as he’s about to end the video, you buck your hips with a needy whine.

“Want more, daddy!”

And so, ever powerless to your desires, Seungcheol positions your phone in the same spot before giving you exactly what you want. He’s not soft like he was earlier—not that you want him to be. You always act like a greedy brat when you want him to be rough with you.

“What a greedy fucking brat!” He punctuates every word with a rough thrust, eyes rolling to the back of his head as your sloppy hole keeps sucking him in.

“Fucking shit. You need it that bad, baby? Need daddy’s cock to stuff you full until you’re dripping in his cum?"

Seungcheol doesn't realize just how badly you do need it. Your hands reach down to squeeze his plump ass, dragging him as far into you as physically possible. “Yes, daddy, yes! Need your cock, need your cum! Need it so fucking bad!”

Your needy moans only drive him to fuck you harder. Seungcheol feels fucking insane. This is undoubtedly the best sex of his life, and he can’t remember ever fucking anyone so passionately. Fuck, you feel so good.

He’s so addicted to your sweet little cunt that he thinks he might go crazy without it. You just have a molten little pussy that’s sucking and wetting his cock so deliciously, dragging his cum right out of his heavy balls, and he’s powerless to it. All he can do is groan and bury his face in your neck as he pulses warm and hot inside you.

“O-oh fuck, baby!” Seungcheol moans against your skin as he spills his thick load inside you. “There you go, princess. Take all of daddy’s cum.”

Your sweet moans sound like heaven, and he has to smash his lips on yours as he fucks his cum deeper into your pussy. “Fuck. Such a tight fucking pussy.”

Seungcheol’s heart nearly bursts when you give him a fucked out smile, eyes full of adoration. “It’s all yours, daddy.”

If there's one thing you've come to learn about your stepdad, it's that he's unexpectedly clingy. Honestly, you love that side of him, which is why you can't say no when he asks you to cockwarm him. You're both sitting on the couch with some movie playing softly in the background. Seungcheol is on a business call while you shop online.

All the pretty things you have in your cart are courtesy of your doting stepdad, and as you go to check out, you feel yourself slowly drifting into a peaceful haze. Seungcheol keeps talking, running a soothing hand up and down your back while periodically placing gentle kisses on your head.

You bask in his warmth and the floaty feeling taking over your consciousness. Seungcheol's cock feels so big and thick inside you that it's all you can think about. The delicious stretch it provides is driving you crazy in the best way, and it only gets worse when he trails his free hand down to squeeze your ass. You mewl into his neck, loving this dreamlike state his cock has you in.

"Feel good, princess?"

His soothing voice is like honey, and it has you sighing against his neck, "So good, daddy."

Seungcheol's smirk is smug, "Yeah?"

You hum with a halfhearted nod, still too lost in the feeling of his cock filling you up.

"Spoiled little brat likes being stretched out on this big cock, huh?"

You whine cutely, pussy clenching down on his thick cock, "Yes, daddy."

"Fuck," Seungcheol grunts, pressing his hips up into you further. "I think it's time to fill this needy cunt."

You roll your hips down with a moan of agreement. It's just like him to give you what you want before you ask for it, "Daddy's the best."

Seungcheol's smirk is unbearably attractive as his hands tighten on your waist. He wastes no time in fucking his cock up into your soaking pussy, making sure to go as deep as possible. You come back to life as his big dick hits your sweet spot immediately. With a loud cry you lift yourself off of his chest to take off the large shirt you're wearing. Your stepdad groans when he sees your pretty tits bouncing in his face, cock twitching inside you.

After several skin slapping thrusts, he slows down to deep rolling grinds. His eyes are dark as he reaches for the buzzing phone he discarded just seconds ago.

"Be quiet for me, baby."

Your eyes drift down to the phone in his hand, smirking when you see it's your mom calling. Seungcheol picks up and put it on speaker, setting the phone aside so he can grab your bouncing tits.

"Hello?"

"Hey, honey." Your mom sounds deflated. "How... How are you?"

"Fine," Seungcheol grunts before he starts to thrust deeply into your dripping cunt while pulling and pinching your pretty nipples. "How's things over there?"

Your eyes roll back as you hear your mom go on about how happy your grandparents were to see her. Molten pleasure licks up your spine as you start to meet Seungcheol's rough thrusts. His mouth drops open as your pussy pulses and clenches around his cock.

"How's Y/N?" Your mom asks, but there's something off about her tone.

Immediately, you can tell she's not really interested in what you were up to. It's a tactic to keep him on the phone longer. Not that you care. You know she's not all that concerned since you're an adult and have your own life. It's why she only texted you once after landing.

"She's fine. We spent some time together earlier—just like I promised you." His voice drips with honey as he watches you fall apart on his cock.

You grin impishly as he drills up into your squelching pussy with his thick, heavy cock. Part of you wonders if she can hear the sound of skin on skin or the lewd squelching coming from your stuffed pussy. The thought turns you on so much that you have to tamper down the moan climbing up your throat. You feel like screaming because of how good you feel, and your stepdad just smirks at you like he isn't making a mess of you.

One of Seungcheol's hands slowly trails down your body to where you're connected. His thumb circles your clit slowly, barely giving you any stimulation. You buck your hips and push yourself harder into his hand, ever the impatient brat. He loves it, and yet he ignores your silent plea. Your stepdad stops teasing your sensitive bud and moves his hand to guide your hips into a rolling grind. The other goes to the fat of your ass, roughly squeezing and kneading the soft flesh.

"Thank you, honey," her tone is love stricken, and you wonder how she could easily fall back into his trap just like that. Part of you finds it funny while the other part of you feels disgusted.

"It means a lot to me that you care for her even when I'm not there."

Seungcheol smirks at you, leaning back to focus on your bouncing tits, "Of course. I have to care for our little princess even when you're not around."

You bite your lip when Seungcheol aggressively thrusts you down on his dick.

"So fucking tight." He hisses through clenched teeth.

"Well I'm grateful, even though I sometimes think she's a little too spoiled."

Both of his large hands are now cupping your ass, helping you bounce on this aching cock. His hungry gaze stares at the way your pretty pussy swallows his cock so perfectly. By now, he's sure your insides are shaped like him, and it just makes him twitch and throb inside you. He's so focused on watching his cock piston in and out of your tight hole that he almost misses his wife's question.

"Honey, are you done thinking now?"

Seungcheol doesn't answer her, instead choosing to spit on your sloppy pussy. You slow your bounces, tight cunt clenches at the action. Your stepdad smirks and does it again. He watches, completely satisfied as you shudder and roll your eyes to the back of your skull.

"No," He admits as you start to bounce on his dick again, "I'm still a little angry."

"Really?" Your mom can't hide her disappointment.

Seungcheol nearly loses it when you start to roll your hips sensually, fucking his cock exactly the way he likes it. Your thighs are starting to stick to his from the amount of wetness between you two. With a smug grin, you lean forward to give him a sloppy kiss.

"Let it all out, daddy," you whisper against his lips, "fill my pussy with your cum."

"Seungcheol?"

That annoying voice makes your stepdad fuck you harder, eager to give you what you both want.

"It's going to take some time. Some things don't just go away overnight."

Your stepdad keeps talking to your mom like you're not grinding your needy cunt on his fat cock. It's just making you more wet, and you can feel your arousal dripping down his balls and onto the nice couch. You have no doubt that it'll leave a stain, but that's the least of your worries right now. It turns you on so much to know that Seungcheol is fucking you while he's talking to his wife. You feel like such a slut, but you can't deny how much you like it.

You've never been so wet, and it makes you want to ride your stepdad harder, maybe even get caught. Your pussy spasms and clenches down on him at that thought, making him flinch and bite his lip.

Seungcheol slaps your ass with both hands and cages you against his chest. You muffle your cry of pleasure in his neck as he savagely starts to thrust into you like you're nothing more than a hole. His leaking cock is hitting inside you so deep and hard that it's not long before you cum all over his big cock.

The room smells of sex as he starts to bounce you on his sensitive cock all over again. Loud squelching and quiet whimpers fill the air as your stepdad helps you ride him. One last, milking compression of your silky pussy has him emptying his balls inside you. Seungcheol groans into your shoulder, hips never stopping.

"Okay. I understand," your mom sounds close to tears.

You don’t care. Instead, you start to move your hips to help her husband fuck his cum deeper into your fertile pussy. Your wetness and his cum seeping between your folds and down his veiny girth turns your skilled movements sloppy.

“Give me more, daddy,” you mewl, batting your eyelashes in that coy way he loves.

Seungcheol raises his body into more of a sitting position and roughly pulls you up and off of his cock. You watch dazedly as his dick drools with the remnants of your orgasm and his cum. You lick your lips at the filthy sight of his wet cock.

“Honey?”

Your mom’s voice sounds distant as her husband positions you over the armrest of the couch. He only hums in response as he slowly slides his fat cock back into your messy pussy. Your mouth drops open at the feeling. Once again he’s stretching you out so good that it has your pussy clenching down on him compulsively.

“Do…” She pauses. “Do you still love me?”

Seungcheol can’t focus on her pathetic words as he slowly starts to fuck your sloppy pussy. He can see the remnants of his cum being pushed out of you as his thrusts start to get rougher. Your warm walls cling to his cock desperately, wanting to milk him for all he’s worth.

“How could you ask me that?” Seungcheol mocks her dejected tone, though she doesn’t notice. “You’re the one that’s never home anymore. I’m starting to wonder if you still love me?”

It’s sick how good he is at gaslighting, but you don’t feel bad. In fact it turns you on. Like really fucking bad. Your pussy tightens around your stepdad’s cock which makes him angle his hips to have you biting down on the armrest to stifle your filthy moans. He fucks into your sweet spot as pleasure whites out any coherent thoughts you have.

“Of course I do!” Your mom sounds shrill and distraught, so much that she can’t hear how good her husband is fucking you. How he’s splitting you open on the nice couch she picked out when they first got married. “How could you think—?”

“Let’s talk about it when you come home,” Seungcheol says through gritted teeth, eyes focused on how your pretty ass is bouncing back on his pelvis. “You’re upset, and this is a conversation we need to have in person.”

The pathetic okay sounds distant, and you vaguely catch her saying I love you to Seungcheol before he abruptly hangs up the phone without saying it back.

“Goddamn,” Seungcheol groans as disregards his phone, “trying to suck me in, sweetheart? Greedy little pussy needs daddy's cock that bad?"

He pounds into your sloppy, squelching hole when you loudly moan and nod. Your juices are dripping everywhere, and he fucking loves it. The swollen tip of his cock hammers against your g-spot until you’re screaming for him. Seungcheol smirks, knowing you were just waiting to let it all out.

"I fucking knew it," He groans with an endeared laugh.

"Don’t worry, princess. Daddy’s gonna cream this sweet fucking pussy. Get you all dirty so I can eat you out."

You whine and claw at the couch, clit rubbing against the rough material and pushing you closer and closer to orgasm. By now your legs are shaking from the sheer pleasure his big cock is giving you.

"Should I make you squirt on my cock, sweetheart? Get the couch all dirty?"

You start to bounce yourself back on his cock eagerly, "Daddy, gonna cum!"

Seungcheol grins and affectionately squeezes your sides before his hand slips down to your clit. He tugs your hips back just a little and lands a hard spank across your swollen bud. You squeal loudly, body trembling at the mean action.

"Daddy!"

"Oh, I know,” His voice drips with lust, "you know daddy can’t help but be a little rough with your little pussy."

Your stepdad smacks you again catching your clit on his wedding ring making you scream as your orgasm rushes over you. Slick drips around his cock as your cunt clamps down on his dick. You whine and move your hips in tandem with his, loving how intense this one is.

"Fuck!" Seungcheol growls, hips pistoning harder into your fluttering walls.

“Such a good girl. My good little brat—fuck!"

Your cunt milks his cock as he fills you with hot sticky cum. His thrusts start to get sloppy as he spills rope after rope into your hot cunt.

"Take it," he hisses, biting down hard on your shoulder causing you to moan, pussy clamping down even harder on his dick.

You’re crying out loudly from how good it feels, hole still gushing slick from his fat cock bullying into your pussy and cumming deep inside you. This load is the biggest he’s ever given you. Somehow he doesn’t stop cumming. It feels like stream after stream of his hot seed paints every inch of your fluttering walls white.

"Gonna eat you out after this," Seungcheol groans in your ear, "need to get my mouth on your messy little pussy."

You whine as he pulls out, cum and slick oozing from your hole to drip all down your thighs and onto the couch. Without moving you, Seungcheol lays on his back and shifts until he's underneath your splayed legs.

"Sit on my face, baby," he guides your hips down, “let your stepdad clean the mess he made.”

With a harsh tug, your cunt presses down on his awaiting mouth. His nose bumps against your clit as his eager tongue licks into your sensitive pussy. You feel him moan against your wetness, wasting to time in lapping up the cum he’s left inside you. The filthy action makes you rock against his soft lips. You grab onto his hair and start riding his face gently since you're still reeling from your previous orgasm.

"Daddy!" You cry out as he fucks his tongue deeper into your hole. "Feels so fucking good! Fuck—mhm."

You trail off with a whine as he sucks on your pussy lips and nips at your clit. He greedily eats all the cum out of your messy cunt. Mewling, you press yourself harder on Seungcheol’s face. He groans gutturally when you settle further onto his mouth. Your stepdad grinds his mouth against your puffy cunt making you whine louder, clit throbbing with arousal. He rubs his nose against the sensitive bundle of nerves making you buck into the feeling.

Arousal gushes out of you as your stepdad continues to eat your pussy, and you don’t realize you’re on the verge of another orgasm until you’re squirting all over his face. Seungcheol groans in satisfaction, lapping up every stream that gushes out of your hot little cunt.

“Daddy! Daddy!” Your back arches in a perfect curve as Seungcheol laps up all of your creamy slick.

Of course, Seungcheol only moans along with you and presses even further into your cunt, practically suffocating himself to taste you more. He’ll never get enough of your addicting taste, and you looked back to see his cock hard and throbbing, leaking with so much precum that it looks painful.

When he finally finishes, you don’t let him get up despite the fact that your legs are too shaky to hold your weight. Seungcheol lays back, curious about your next moves. He moans loudly when you crawl down his sweaty body and take his aching cock into your soft hands.

“My turn to have a taste, daddy.”

You don’t give him a chance to say anything before you push the drippy tip of his cock past your swollen lips. His loud moan makes your cunt pulse. It makes you swirl your tongue around his sensitive head before licking down the rest of his dirty cock. You can taste yourself, and that just turns you on even more.

"Gonna make me cum in your mouth, sweetheart," he groans, watching your lips stretch around his hard cock.

You keep your eyes on him as you sink your hot mouth on his pulsing cock. He’s so big, too big to fit all of him in your mouth. Not that you care. Sucking him off always gets you so wet. Especially because you can tell how much he loves it.

"Fuck. You gonna swallow the rest of daddy’s cum, baby?" Seungcheol grins at you as you moan around his dick.

“You like that? It’s gonna feel so good, baby. Daddy's hot cum pouring down your slutty throat."

You whine, reaching down to your sore cunt to rub your clit. His filthy words always turn you on so much, and he fucking knows it. You can tell by the way he smirks.

"That turn you on, sweetheart?" He chuckles as you slide his cock deeper into your mouth. Seungcheol pulls out a few inches and sinks back down into you making you moan as he fills your throat.

"Play with that cute pussy. I want you to cum all over your fingers while I fuck your mouth."

You continue to moan as you take his cock further down your throat.

"God, baby, I'm about to cum," his hips stutter, "Be a good girl and swallow every last drop for daddy. Milk my cock just how I like."

Your fingers circle and rub your clit faster until you're moaning uncontrollably around his length. Seungcheol’s eyes roll back at the vibrations he feels on his dick. He moans your name, and that’s all it takes to have you cumming, hole clenching down on nothing as slick drips from your pussy.

With a low groan, Seungcheol eases out of your mouth until you can only suckle on the fat head of his dick. Hot sticky ropes of cum fill your mouth and the back of your throat in the next second. Your stepdad grins when you take his cock and slowly sink it further into your mouth. You moan at the feeling of cum dripping down the back of your throat. Eagerly, you swallow and milk his throbbing cock for all it’s worth.

Seungcheol pulls out of your mouth completely but leaves his swollen tip pressed to your lips, “finish cleaning daddy’s cock, sweetheart."

You press a gentle kiss on his sensitive head before giving it a shy kitten lick that drives him crazy. After he’s satisfied, he pulls you off his cock and sits back on the couch before pulling you into his lap.

Seungcheol kisses you, tongue sloppily licking into your mouth. You moan happily, unable to get enough of him.

"You’re so good for me, baby," your stepdad mumbles after he pulls away, "always such a good girl."

After you’re done, Seungcheol carries you to your room. He cleans you up in your bathroom, tenderly cleaning every part of your body before washing himself. Once he’s done, he makes sure to dress you in your favorite sleep shirt before joining you in your bed.

“Daddy,” you hum as he nuzzles his face into your neck, “love you.”

“Me too, princess,” he hums, arms tightening around you.

“Don’t want this to end,” you say sleepily before finally drifting off into a lovely dream.

Seungcheol hums in agreement, staying up longer to contemplate.

Now that he’s had a taste of what it would be like to have you without anyone getting in the way, he knows he won’t be able to go back. And so, in his deeply twisted mind he starts to plot how he’s going to make that happen. Of course, he’ll have to run his plans by you before attempting anything, but he knows you won’t have any objections.

Seungcheol drifts off to sleep, happily dreaming of a life where it’s just you and him.

#seungcheol smut #choi seungcheol smut #svt smut #seungcheol x reader #seventeen smut #choi seungcheol x reader #seungcheol x you

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ghoulphile · 9 months ago

Text

sticky fingers | c.h./the ghoul

➥ pairing | cooper howard/the ghoul x f!reader ➥ word count | 4.5k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; mildly dubious consent, dirty talk, degradation kink, fingering, squirting, rough sex, size kink, standing doggystyle, overstimulation, teasing, choking, dacryphilia, cooper howard is his own warning (he nasty y'all), canon compliant - takes place around ep 7, a grab bag mix of the show and the games ➥ summary | “Lil girls should know it’s rude ta steal.” ➥ notes | i love my men like i love my beef jerky 🫠 i wrote this over 16 fevered hours after finishing the finale. hope you enjoy~ minor edits 4/22/24 | x posted to ao3 | masterlist | feedback is always appreciated ❤️ feel free to send in thots, questions, requests!

It begins, as most things in the Southwest Commonwealth do, with a fight for survival.

City life is tough to be sure, but here on the outskirts of pocket civilizations where there’s nothing but long stretches of desolate wasteland - arid, sunbaked earth and scorched shrubbery - for miles around?

Well, if the ferals, fiends, and super mutants don’t get you in the night, then the desert itself will. During the day the sun burns overhead so nuclear hot, heat glimmers on the horizon in dancing waves.

Unforgiving, relentless as blink-and-you-miss-it mirages are swallowed by ever shifting sands.

It’s easy to get lost.

Even easier to boil alive in your armor if you’re unprepared.

Far too many travelers from the Eastern Commonwealths have met their demise here, where shade is sparse, and water even moreso. The rain - if it does blow in over the mountains - brings rad sickness.

If you’re lucky enough to still be alive, the only reprieve from the heat is in the stooped bones of bombed buildings and ramshackle shacks... where you're just as likely to catch a knife in the back from a chem fried addict as you are relief.

Because here, in the Wastes, danger lurks in sand and shadow alike.

You don’t trek out into the flats half-cocked: a fact all locals know. And if you do decide to? Well, you learn one way or another.

No, only the truly ignorant - or the desperate - dare to tempt man and nature.

Consequently, as you dust off the crumbs from the last half of a Fancy Lads Snack Cake and suck a melted smear of icing from your thumb, you're of the latter half.

You tried holding off for as long as you could. But once the shakes started, you knew you couldn’t put off eating lest you pass out and wake up in a slaver camp.

Well, shit, you think as you rattle a dented canister of purified water. This fucking sucks.

Almost going cross-eyed, your tongue hovers under the rim as you watch the last lazy drop fall free. You catch it with a grimace, smacking your lips. The water tastes metal warm in your sour mouth, barely enough to wet your whistle - let alone your thirst.

You began rationing the last of your supplies days ago, and it’s been a battle against light-headedness ever since. Pretty soon you won’t have the strength to defend yourself, scavving be damned.

Come on. Think - gotta think. What can I scrap for caps?

Not only is Filly more than half a day away, Ma June isn’t one for charity cases. The fact she offered twenty extra caps last time for some burnt books and bent bobby pins was as close as you were ever going to get to a Wasteland miracle.

Sunken cheeks and pleading eyes can only get you so far; everyone’s gotta eat.

"Fuck..." The palms of your hands grind into your eye sockets until you see stars. "FUCK!"

There are two unspoken laws in this otherwise lawless land: steal or starve, live or die. A grim reminder that surrounds you in old bleached bones, empty bullet casings, and scraps of cloth fluttering in the breeze.

Someone always has to be top dog. If you’re lucky, they might be willing to share their spoils.

It’s as you’re considering what pieces of yourself you’re willing to barter that you see them. On the horizon, coming from the west, are two dark blobs.

Stark against the flat plains - a shining beacon of salvation - is a man in a ratty duster and cowboy hat. The saddlebag tossed over his shoulder bounces with his steps while a dog trots beside him, its sable coat rippling with muscle.

Pay dirt.

Making sure to keep low and distant, you stalk them. Watching, waiting for the opportune moment to strike.

When the sun dips low, the sky a swath of pale pink and gold, they make camp at a blown-out Drumlin Diner. Off in the distance, thunder rumbles and sickly clouds gather.

Dark and roiling, acid green; a Radstorm brewing.

Electricity cracks at your skin, stands your hair on end. You scrub your hands over your arms, huddling into yourself for warmth. Meanwhile, the stranger seems to luxuriate in the budding promise of rad rain.

He lounges under an awning, his back pressed against a defunct Nuka Cola fridge. He gazes in the direction of the oncoming weather while mindlessly running his fingers through the dog’s fur as it curls up against his legs.

Occasionally, its ears twitch, and its eyes crack open.

Whenever it glances in your direction, you hold your breath and squeeze your eyes shut but it never gives any other indication that it notices your presence.

A small mercy you’re thankful for.

While you’re a pretty good shot, your body is weak with hunger. Besides, you have quick hands and light feet. There’s no doubt you can stealth your way in and out before he realizes his pack is lighter than he left it.

You’ll only take what you need - not interested in causing any more trouble than is necessary. Some food, maybe something to drink if he can spare it, and something to pawn. Just enough supplies to get you sorted in Filly.

Anyway, he certainly isn’t hurting for it by the look of things.

Any guilt you felt was short-lived when he settled down after dropping his pack inside, walking out with an inhaler of Jet in one hand and a can of Cram in the other.

Watched, greedy, as he cracked it open and picked at the tin of meat with lazy fingers. Salivated as he sucked them clean in between deep pulls of chem.

Soon, you decide, licking your lips as he chews, swallows. Soon.

However when push comes to shove, the stranger proves far more keen than you give him credit for.

The world spins like a hit of Daytripper, a kaleidoscope of color as your skull bounces off the wall with a loud crack. Air rushes from your lungs as something huge - hot and heavy - slams into you from behind.

Pins you against the wall with ease as your ears ring.

Something rattles loose; your teeth too large and your tongue too thick. Warm metal floods your mouth as the side of your face throbs in time with the rabbit fast stutter of your heartbeat.

Pain sparks and your stomach rolls.

"Wha's?" you slur, thoughts dripping like wax. "Wh-at's..."

Meanwhile, a gloved hand lassos around your throat like a collar. Brute fingers squeeze the tender flesh of your jugular until you hear your pulse in your ears. Senses struggling - sluggish to adjust in the encroaching night - as tiny cavities eat at your vision, little pockets of darkness.

“Lil girls should know it’s rude ta steal," a gruff voice mocks. “Betcha thought you was real slick, huh? Tch. You ask me, you’re dumber than shit, Darlin'.”

Trying to regain your bearings, you shake your head only to groan. “I don’t - ‘m not -” It’s difficult to concentrate, a throbbing tempo taking up residence in your temples. The words come slow. “Wha’d you mean?”

He whistles, long and low-pitched, "D’ya have any idea who you're fucking with?"

“N-No…”

“How’s about I show you, then?”

Warm breath puffs over the shell of your ear, a tongue sliding out to trace along the lobe. You jolt, squirming in discomfort as he crowds closer.

“Tasty lil thing like you, wrapped up all nice and pretty just for me." He chuckles. "Why, it must be Christmas.”

What the hell is he talking about?

It’s hard to breathe with his heavy weight suffocating you; the scent of gunpowder and bitter smoke clogging your nostrils with every labored inhale. His lips - ragged - scrape over the nape of your neck.

The grip on your throat squeezes once, twice; leather sticks to your sweaty skin.

You squint your sore eyes, taking in the faint flickers of firelight that spill through the open doorway. The desert chill of night has settled in, creeping through the busted out windows to dig beneath your padded armor.

Thunder rumbles directly overhead as lightning follows in flashes of acid green. It’s only a matter of time before sheets of rain come pouring down; the air sticky with humidity, trembling with energy.

The Radstorm has finally arrived.

You’ll undoubtedly get sick if you leave the shelter of the diner - might even die from it if you can’t afford or find any RadAway. But as the stranger’s chest digs into your shoulders, and the dog curls up in the corner - uncaring of your plight as its nose tucks into the whip-thin tail - you think you’ll take your chances.

Tilting back to glance at him from over your shoulder through damp eyes, you say, “Look--”

Only his hand moves, viper quick, as it slides from the front of your neck to the nape. Strong fingers clamp down like a vice, like scuffing an unruly dog.

He grinds your face into the wall, rough metal shredding your cheek.

You cry out, a soft, pained little thing that echoes through the empty diner.

“Now why’d you gotta go an' make me do that?”

A phantom glimpse told you all you needed to know; broad jaw, thin lips, a hollow nasal ridge, creeping radiation burns and cracked skin. Ghoul.

“Let’s try this again, Sugar.”

His free hand - sans glove - creeps over the curve of your hip to splay along the swell of your belly, fingers tucking up under the hem of your shirt. You shiver at the stroke of roughened skin.

“Don’t take another peep or I might jus' have ta pluck out those pretty eyes of yours.”

Dread pools low in your gut, a leaden ball.

Everything in you screams: RUN, RUN, RUN.

Alarms blare but you freeze. Stare straight ahead at the featureless wall, eyes wide and unseeing. Through the foggy mire of your thoughts - half formed and shapeless - you have enough presence to understand the precarious nature of your position.

Heart hammering, you plead for mercy, “Please, I’m - I’m sorry.”

"Aw, ain't that real sweet?" He remains impassive, unmoved. "The little thief does got some manners after all."

Without warning, the sharp toe of his cowboy boot kicks apart your feet. In the ensuing empty space between your thighs, his leg slots into place. Spurs dig into the tender meat of your ankle, little kisses of pain, as his hips rut forward against your ass.

You choke on your spit, pulse jumping in your throat.

"H-Hey, that's..." You attempt to shove at any part of him you can reach to no avail. Built and broad with compact muscle, it's like trying to move a brick wall. "I said I was sorry, okay!"

He ignores you, burying his face into the space behind your ear. A deep inhale sounds next to your head, the expansion of his chest against your back so firm you're not sure you won't fuse together.

The whiskey rough groan he releases does wicked things, makes your mind wander to places it shouldn't. Full of grit and gravel as his cock twitches against your backside, a burning line of heat.

A shiver ricochets down your spine.

He grunts, says, "Mm, you smell good enough ta eat."

The cap of his knee nudges up against your clit with a sudden jolt, shocks of pleasure electrifying your body. Tears prick the corners of your eyes, and a sob threatens to scrape its way up from the depths of your throat.

You swallow, mouth desert dry. "Come on, let's just forget all about this, yeah?" you reason. "No harm done. I'll even give you whatever I've got left so - so..."

He makes a noise in the back of his throat, the vibration rattling through your chest. "So?" he prompts, plucking at the waistband of your trousers.

"So let me go?"

"Now why would I go an' do an asinine thing like that?" he replies. "If you think you can buy your freedom, think again, Sweetheart."

Rain pings off the metal roof, the smell of pungent ozone and rusting metal wafting in through busted windows and open doors.

“'Sides,” he pauses to turn your attention outside, “I’d hate ta have you yakin’ before the fun’s even started.”

There’s no way to misconstrue his meaning when he punctuates the statement with a teasing rut of his hips. Those rugged fingers tug open the clasp of your trousers, yank until the material goes slack and pools around your ankles.

“Hey, wait--!”

You jolt, hands scrambling for purchase as he slides his leg against your core. The friction of his pants through your thin cotton underwear makes you ache.

Ripping through your bottom lip, blood beading to the surface, you choke on a high-pitched whimper. "I..."

There's no way he can't feel your reaction.

How quickly you're getting wet as he drags you along the length of his thigh while yanking your hips back into the cradle of his pelvis. You meet him in a slow grind that boils your blood and steals the breath from your lungs.

It’s been - shit - far too long since you’ve felt anything other than hunger, thirst; the animal drive to keep pushing forward.

"You like this, don'tcha?"

You hear the dagger-sharp smile hidden in his words.

He croons, "What would your fellow smoothies think, huh? Here you are lettin’ a ghoul get you all hot n bothered - and you’re lovin’ it. Ain't you?"

You throb in response, heat stealing its way into your cheeks as you turn your head away in shame. His dark chuckle lets you know he felt the squeeze of your thighs, the rock and dip of your hips against his knee.

"I - I don't..." you stutter, struggling for a retort. “I’m not--”

A tremble works its way through your body, crushed as you are between the rad warm burn of his body and the wall. Completely at his mercy as you try to figure out where it all went wrong and what you can do to worm your way out of this one.

Terrified of what'll happen if you stay, terrified of what'll happen if you go; stuck in limbo as what was meant to be a simple grab-and-dash devolved into this confusing cluster of shame and lust.

You loathe the embers of desire kindling to life low in your belly.

"You really outta start bein' more honest, Sweetheart."

A large hand dips beneath the worn band of your underwear, and you wait with baited breath. Helpless as calloused fingertips brush over the swell of your mond.

Your inner thighs are uncomfortably sticky with slick, and your eyes burn in humiliation. Your throat trembles around all the words you want to say.

"Didn't anyone teach you lyin' was bad?" he asks rhetorically as his fingers slip down to play with the swollen bud of your clit, tapping lightly.

You keen, low and wounded.

Short nails dig into your palms as you flex your hands for want of something to grab onto.

“I am being honest,” you bite out through grit teeth. Sweat dapples your furrowed brow. “Just lemme go, please.”

"I find that hard ta believe," he replies. "Sorry to say, but you're shit at lyin'. Just look how hungry your lil cunt is for me."

It’s the only warning you get before those long digits plunge deep inside, two becoming three as they stretch you wide. Hollow you out; knuckles massaging your entrance as the tips prod along the sensitive front wall of your cunt.

You clamp down with a strangled moan. “Shit!”

This is a horrible idea - but it’s been forever and a day since you’ve felt anything other than your own touch.

Whether it be the bone-deep loneliness you’ve been shoving down for months or the sudden, inexplicable need for contact, you long for a reminder that you’re still alive.

That you’re not some wrath of the Wasteland filled with sand and blood, doing whatever it takes to survive in a place that would rather see you fail.

“I - I’m not sure.”

He snorts but offers no council or reassurances, using his free hand to yank at the back of your head in impatience. While it might’ve been a fairer fight if you weren’t in such bad shape, there’s no denying that he’s proven himself to be more adept.

Stronger, quicker.

This is going to happen either way.

And that turns you on - even though you feel like it shouldn’t.

If you give in, if he forces you to give in, it’s not really your fault then, is it? You can enjoy it because you have no choice.

Fuck it, you think, closing your eyes and tilting your head to the side in submission.

Like a doll with cut strings, all the fight drains from your body and you’re left sharing space. The ghoul is a furnace of heat behind you, barely any space to breathe he’s crowded so close.

His cock thickens where it digs into the soft fat of your ass, as large and intimidating as the man himself. “Now stay still for me.”

The or else goes unspoken.

Then he’s stepping away, a rush of cold air filling the empty space at your back.

You shiver, tempted to turn around. Maybe make a run for it. The only thing stopping you is the awareness that his threats aren’t so idle. In your experience, it’s far better to befriend the monster than to anger it.

So you comply, waiting an eternity as your senses strain to pick up on anything other than the murmuring hush of rain, the rumble of thunder, as the Radstorm continues to blow its way through.

Though just when you think he might’ve left, ready to chance moving, you hear the clink of a belt buckle clicking open. The scuff of boots across the linoleum before broad hands shove up under your shirt, scarred palms bare as they settle on your hips.

You tense before forcing yourself to relax.

“You ain’t as stupid as I thought,” he says. “Good girl.”

A test.

You breathe a sigh of relief.

“I can listen,” you mumble, keeping calm as his hands explore the plains of your stomach, pluck at the waistband of your panties. “Promise ‘m not gonna do anything else.”

Learned my lesson the first time. Got my skull cracked open for it.

“That’s what I like ta hear.”

Without warning, your panties are being ripped from you, scraps of fabric fluttering useless to the floor. You squawk in indignation but then a heavy hand settles between your shoulder blades.

He presses down, and you follow without complaint, finding yourself bent in half.

And then the fat head of his cock is right there, teasing at your entrance. He plays with your cunt, slipping the shaft between your wet folds. Dragging up the length of you to tap at your swollen clit.

Jerking in his hold, you whine and try to bear down with all your weight. “Please,” you squirm. “Please, c’mon…”

His grip remains firm, bruising as he exhales next to your ear, a pleased little grumble. “Thatta girl. Now tell me, who’s my pretty lil thief?”

Every hard ridge of his body bites into the softness of yours, your stiff nipples dragging against the rough material of your shirt. Zings of pleasure shoot through you; bursting in your bloodstream, fizzy like warm Nuka Cola.

“I-”

“Go on now, Sweetheart: say it.” Fingers dig into your hips so hard your bones ache. “Or I jus' might be tempted ta take a bite outta your pretty lil backside instead.”

He’s bluffing, you think, half delirious, … Right? He wouldn’t--

You swallow, throat clicking, and squirm against him.

Is that a chance you’re willing to take?

No, no it’s not.

“Y-Yours - I’m - I’m your little thief.”

The unexpected flare of satisfaction in his voice is almost your undoing. A hand pets down your flank, swatting the outside of your thigh playfully.

“Good girl.” He demands, “Say it again.”

Sharp hip bones kick forward against your ass as he lines himself up and starts to bully his way inside.

“I’m - YOURS!”

Your soft, gummy walls flutter, squeeze until giving in with a pop under the hard pressure of the fat head. His cock stretches you out, thick and girthy.

Ridges of scar tissue and patches of rough friction pockmark his shaft, massaging tender places as he fills you up, fucking you open.

He feeds you inch after inch… until he can’t.

“Wait!”

Accommodating his girth is a struggle, your cunt filled to the brim by the time he’s halfway inside. No amount of slick could make him fit, so he makes do with harsh little jerks of his hips. Forces himself deeper and deeper until he glides home nice and smooth, sheathing himself to the base with a sigh of satisfaction.

You clamp down hard with a hiccupy whine, walls furtively trying to push him out. “A-Ah!”

“Goddamn,” he huffs, hands kneading your ass, “You’re a tight fit.”

Tears prick your lash line, your hips shifting as you try to stop him from moving. Begging for a moment of reprieve. You’ve never taken something so big and thick, so textured before.

Coupled with the minimal foreplay, it feels like he’s punched his way through your body. Hollowed you out to make a home for himself.

Pussy aching, a low burning tightness creeps over your lower belly as tender flesh pulses uncomfortably around the unforgiving heft of his cock seated deep inside. You swear you feel him poking your belly button.

“Please,” you pant, heat settling into your cheeks. “J-Just wait a sec-ond! I can’t - oh shit.”

“Aw, look at you.” Fingers reach around to brush over your cheeks, gather the tears that’ve slipped free. “Didn’t mean ta make you cry,” he lies.

The sound of him sucking his fingers clean reaches your ears. Your stomach swoops, and your clit throbs. Dazed as you wonder what his mouth would feel like on your pussy.

"Hah - too much, you're - fuck - you're too big."

He snickers. “Can’t be helped, I guess.” Body rippling in a shrug, his hands re-settling on your hips. “But that’s all right - I like it better when they cry.”

Before you can retort, he pulls his hips back.

Your toes curl in your boots, feet squeaking across the linoleum floor as your sweaty forehead grinds into the cool metal of the wall. The texture of his shaft burns as it slides through your swollen folds, dragging against sensitive spots you didn’t even know existed.

You can’t tell if it’s the best you’ve ever felt or the worst, but you nearly sob all the same, nerves alight with liquid fire. Want him as deep inside as he can go; a frenzy of desperation that needs him to stuff you so full you choke.

“See for all your whining, you’re takin’ me so well. What did I say about bein' honest?”

You sniffle, blurry eyes creaking open to stare out the window.

Your body throbs in time with your pulse, your pussy so stretched out you can’t clench down when he thrusts in deep. The fat mushroom head teases your cervix, a faint whisper, before he’s drawing back again.

“T-Too fast,” you stutter, head rolling back to rest on his shoulder. Your thighs tremble, knees going soft. “Slow down, slow down.”

“Sh, you can take it. I know you can.”

With a grunt, he surges forward. Wasting no time in starting up a brutal pace that rattles your bones. He drives you hard into the side of the diner; tits crushed and face smashed, a disgusting mixture of tears and drool wetting your cheek.

“Just like that, Sweetheart.”

You do little more than hold on, all thoughts driven from your mind as he fucks you swollen and bruised. Cunt a sticky mess as your slick eases the way, clinging to your inner thighs and dripping down his heavy balls.

Every thrust punches little sounds from you, and he grunts. “Fuck!”

Your hands cling to the sides of his hips, focusing on the shift of muscle beneath heavy fabric. “I can’t,” you slur, eyes cloudy as you glance up into his, gazes meeting for the first time. “Please, I - ah!”

His thrusts turn punishing, even more so than they already were, hips meet your ass with enough force to leave bruises. “What did I say about sneakin' a peek?”

While the words sound threatening, his voice is heated and breathy. For all his talk, he doesn’t look away. In fact, his hips slow into languid rolls, grinding close. When your eyes slide from his, he reaches down to pinch your clit between his fingers.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he chides. “You keep those eyes on me.”

Pretty, you think, dazed.

Glinting in the slants of firelight like wet sand or a Nuka Cola bottle in the sun; bourbon warm as they peer at you from beneath a heavy brow bone.

“That’s it, there’s my good girl."

Eyes fluttering when he flexes his hips in reward, the tip massaging along your g-spot, your mouth drops open on a whine.

“O-Oh! Right there, I - fuck, please don’t stop. ‘m so close.” F-Feels s'good.

His bare hand reaches up to curl around your jaw, gnarled fingers pushing their way past the open circle of your swollen lips. They compress your tongue as they gather saliva, stroking along your tastebuds.

Gritty, rough; he tastes of dirt, blood, and gunpowder.

You sneak a kiss to his scarred knuckle when he pulls free.

“Shit, I’ll be damned. You’re just a nasty lil freak, ain't you?”

You moan in response, stretching up on your tip-toes and arching your hips to change the angle. Your palms rest beside your head, docile.

A crazed grin cracks the corners of his lips, his teeth bared like an animal. “I like that,” he husks. “Now be a peach…”

Then those soaked digits are finding their way between your thighs, ghosting over your skin to smear spit onto your abused clit. The tender bud throbs beneath his fingertips, swollen and begging for attention.

He hitches his hips forward to feel you jerk, pulsing beneath his touch as he resumes a fast, jolting pace that has you smacking into the wall.

“And cum for me.”

A deep rumble escapes his throat, the sloppy, wet sounds of him fucking you ringing loud in your ears. Your hips roll, unsure if you want to press forward into the swirl of his fingers or back into the rut of his cock.

Tears stream down your cheeks, your chest heaving with weak sobs.

“Please,” you whine, his shaft pinching your walls uncomfortably. You feel swollen, rubbed raw. “A-Almost there.”

A nip to the ear is all it takes.

“Hhaah, I’m--!”

The liquid heat that’s been pooling low in your belly - building and building - finally bursts in a gush of slick that soaks his hand. Darkens the crotch of his pants as it drips down your thighs to splash against the tile.

You sob, a full body tremor zipping through you like bottled lightening.

In the aftermath, your cunt twitches in time with your heartbeat. Hands numb and head full of cotton as cramps bloom between your hips. Sharp little stabs shoot up behind your navel.

“Shit, I’ve got myself a gusher,” he laughs, a nasty little smirk tugging at his lips. “Look at the mess you made. Now if you ask real sweet-like, maybe I’ll let you clean it up with your tongue.”

You sag, too boneless to be ashamed as electric aftershocks tingle along your nerves. All the while, his pace never falters, quickly fucking you into overstimulation.

Your clit twitches pathetically when the fat head of his cock drags along your g-spot. "No more," you mumble weakly, letting him maneuver your body how he likes. "Please."

“Heh, let’s see if you can do that again.”

You whimper, “Oh, oh, please n-no. I - I can’t. You’ll break me.”

“That’s real cute,” his lips, harsh and rasping, drag over the shell of your ear, “but I wasn’t askin’.”

The grip on your hips tightens to the point of pain, digging in and marking you up.

“Now, why don’ we have some real fun, Darlin'?”

#cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #fallout smut #the ghoul x you #cooper howard x you #the ghoul #cooper howard #fallout #fallout fanfic

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theetherealbloom · 14 days ago

Text

Whole Package, Babe, I Like The Way You Fit

Summary: Holiday beach trip with Pedro and friends.

Or, that one new Pedro shirtless pic…

Paring: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader

Warnings: Established Relationship, TOOTH-ROTTING FLUFF, Slight Nudity, Slight Angst, Swearing, Anxiety, Cheesy Dialogue, Romance, Kissing, Real People Fiction, Cameras, Paparazzi, Social Media, Beach Trip, Light Blood, Scratch, Ocean, Swimming, Swimwear, Shirtless Pedro, Light SMUT, Spicy, Sweet, Implied SMUT, Banter, Idk Spanish so the terms might be wrong but I'm trying my best

Word Count: 4.6k

A/N: The mf decided to give us shirtless Pedro and suddenly I have the will to live again LMAO. Weirdly enough, I am also at the beach while writing this so it’s kinda a funny coincidence… Imagine if we were at the same beach, that would be so funny (He can never know my existence I might die.)

No one ask me how I knew what hotel they were staying at. I scare myself too dw.

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: Juno by Sabrina Carpenter

| Main Masterlist |

HOTEL ESENCIA, MEXICO — DAY

The warm tropical breeze carried the salty tang of the ocean as you stepped onto the soft, powdery sand of the secluded beach Pedro’s friends had chosen for the Christmas getaway. The sun kissed your skin, palm trees swayed lazily overhead, and the gentle rhythm of waves provided the perfect soundtrack for a holiday escape.

The group—Lauren Alexander, Brandan Campbell, Omar Apollo, and Pedro’s ever-charismatic agent, Franklin Latt—had already claimed a prime spot near the water. Lounge chairs were lined up under brightly colored umbrellas, a massive cooler sat brimming with ice and drinks, and Omar was enthusiastically attempting to set up a speaker while humming the latest tune stuck in his head.

Pedro lagged a few steps behind you, carrying your beach bag and his, though his attention wasn’t on the task. It was on you.

When you shrugged off your airy cover-up, revealing a stunning red bikini that hugged your curves just right, Pedro froze mid-step. His sunglasses couldn’t hide the way his jaw tightened or how his eyes darkened as they roamed over you.

“Everything okay there?” you teased, tilting your head as you caught him staring.

Pedro blinked, visibly gathering himself. “Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine.” He cleared his throat, but his gaze didn’t waver. “More than fine.”

You smirked, adjusting the straps of your bikini for good measure. “You’re staring.”

“Can you blame me?” he shot back, taking a step closer. His voice dipped, low and husky. “You look... breathtaking.”

A flush crept up your neck, but you refused to let him win so easily. “Not too bad yourself,” you quipped, lightly poking his chest. His white linen shirt was unbuttoned just enough to reveal a tantalizing hint of his tan skin and the gold chain that rested against his collarbone.

Pedro chuckled, the sound warm and intimate. “If I’d known you’d be wearing this, I’d have hired a bodyguard to keep everyone else from looking.”

“Oh, please,” you replied, rolling your eyes but unable to stop the grin tugging at your lips. “I’m here with you, aren’t I?”

He leaned in, his hand brushing against your waist as he planted a soft kiss on your forehead. “Stop being so cute, or I might never let you leave my sight,” he murmured.

“Is that a promise or a threat?” you teased, your voice playful but your heart racing.

“Both,” he said, his grin widening as he pulled back to admire you once more.

From nearby, Omar let out a loud whistle. “Pedro, are you gonna stand there all day, or are you gonna help us with this speaker? Some of us want to vibe to music!”

Pedro groaned, turning reluctantly toward the group but throwing an arm around your shoulders as he led you over. “Fine, but only because she’s coming with me,” he called out, earning a round of laughter.

As you settled into the setup, the sun beamed overhead, and the carefree energy of the group was infectious. Pedro stayed close, his arm brushing yours as you helped Lauren unpack snacks, and his eyes never strayed far from you.

At one point, Franklin handed you a coconut with a straw and a cheeky smile. “Best way to stay hydrated,” he said, winking.

“Cheers,” Pedro said, clinking his coconut against yours. He took a sip before leaning closer, his breath warm against your ear. “But if you spill even a drop, I’m licking it off you.”

Your cheeks burned as you nearly choked on your drink. “Pedro!” you hissed, swatting at him.

He grinned, unapologetic. “What? I’m just being practical.”

The day unfolded in easy laughter and warmth, with the sun high overhead and the turquoise ocean sparkling like a field of diamonds. Pedro carried you on his back through the shallows, his hands gripping your thighs as you pretended to be his commanding officer.

“Faster, soldier!” you commanded, leaning forward and tugging gently at his ears as if steering him.

“Ma’am, yes, ma’am!” he called back, mock-serious but laughing as he jogged through the water, sending small waves splashing around you both. “Anything else, ma’am? Should I do some push-ups in the sand too?”

You grinned wickedly. “Push-ups? I’d like to see you try—with me on your back.”

Pedro stopped abruptly, twisting his head to glance at you with a raised brow. “Oh, you think I can’t?”

“I know you can’t,” you teased, leaning down to press your cheek against his.

He smirked, suddenly spinning in place. “You’re asking for it now.”

Before you could protest, he dropped into the water with a dramatic splash, sending you tumbling off his back and into the cool embrace of the ocean.

“Pedro!” you shrieked, surfacing with a gasp and pushing your wet hair out of your face.

He was already laughing, standing a few feet away with his hands on his hips, his soaked hair plastered to his forehead. “That’s what you get for doubting my strength!”

“Oh, you’re so dead!” you shouted, lunging toward him.

Pedro yelped playfully, backpedaling but not fast enough. You caught his arm, laughing as you pulled him down into the water with you. The two of you wrestled like kids, splashing and laughing so hard your stomach hurt.

“Truce! Truce!” he called out, holding up his hands in surrender as you pelted him with another wave of water.

“Do you admit defeat?” you demanded, a triumphant grin on your face.

“Never!” he declared, darting forward to grab your waist. Before you could react, he lifted you effortlessly, spinning you around in the water.

“Pedro!” you shrieked, laughing and trying to wriggle free.

“You wanted a soldier,” he said, his voice full of mischief, “and now you’ve got one!”

You finally stopped struggling, letting your arms drape around his shoulders as he held you close. The laughter faded into something softer, the two of you catching your breath as you stood chest-deep in the water.

His hands slid down to your hips, steadying you as he gazed at you with a look that made your heart flutter. “You’re beautiful, you know that?” he murmured, his voice low and intimate.

The way he said it, like it was a simple truth he’d always believed, made your cheeks warm despite the cool water. “You’re just saying that because I’m soaked and ridiculous-looking,” you replied, biting back a smile.

“No,” he said, leaning in so his forehead pressed against yours. “I’m saying it because it’s true.”

Your breath hitched as his lips brushed against yours, soft and hesitant at first, like he was savoring the moment. The kiss deepened quickly, his arms pulling you closer until there was no space between you.

When you pulled back for air, Pedro’s eyes were dark, his lips slightly swollen from the kiss. “You’ve got this effect on me,” he admitted, his voice husky.

“Oh yeah?” you teased, though your voice wavered with the same breathless energy.

“Yeah,” he said, leaning in to kiss you again, his hands sliding up your back. “And I never want it to go away.”

For a while, the rest of the world melted away. You stayed there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the ocean rocking gently around you. He kissed you like he was memorizing every detail, every taste, and you couldn’t help but smile against his lips, feeling completely and utterly adored.

At one point, he pulled back just enough to whisper, “If this is what it feels like to surrender, I’m never fighting again.”

You laughed, threading your fingers through his damp hair. “I think I like you defeated.”

“And I think I like you here, in my arms,” he replied softly, his lips brushing against your temple.

The sound of your friends laughing and splashing in the distance barely registered. For now, it was just you and Pedro, lost in a world of sunlit kisses and salty skin, the ocean your only witness.

The group gathered in a loose circle, each person holding a large green coconut decorated with colorful straws and tiny paper umbrellas. The warm, golden light of the late afternoon sun bathed everything in a soft glow, making the moment feel like a scene out of a postcard. Omar crouched to capture the perfect angle with his camera while Lauren struck a dramatic pose, tilting her head back and raising her coconut like it was a chalice of the gods.

“Lauren, you’re doing the most,” Franklin said, shaking his head but smiling as he adjusted his sunglasses.

“Darling, I am the most,” Lauren shot back with a wink, drawing laughs from everyone.

Pedro, standing just behind you, pulled you snugly against his side, his arm wrapped securely around your waist. “C’mon, let’s show them how it’s done,” he murmured in your ear, his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine.

Franklin, standing in front with his phone, held it up. “Okay, lovebirds, your turn. Smile for the camera!”

You turned your face toward Pedro’s at the exact same moment he turned toward you, and the laughter bubbled up before either of you could stop it. Your foreheads bumped lightly, and you both dissolved into giggles, the kind of uncontainable joy that made your chest feel light.

“Oh, my god,” Lauren groaned theatrically, pointing at the two of you. “Are they even real? Look at them, they’re in their own damn rom-com!”

“Y’all are embarrassing,” Omar chimed in, snapping pictures anyway. “But keep doing whatever that is because it’s disgustingly cute.”

Pedro’s grin widened as he tilted his head toward you, his nose brushing against yours. “You’re ridiculous,” you said through your laughter, feeling your cheeks warm under the attention.

“And you’re perfect,” Pedro replied, his voice low but playful, the corners of his mouth lifting into a smirk.

Franklin groaned loudly, still holding up his phone. “For the love of all things holy, just kiss her already! We’re trying to make memories here, not watch a slow-burn romance unfold in real-time!”

Pedro raised an eyebrow, glancing at the group before looking back at you with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “What do you think, Hermosa? Should we give them what they want?”

You laughed, pretending to ponder. “Hmm… maybe. But only if you make it a good one.”

“Challenge accepted,” Pedro whispered, and then his lips were on yours, soft but sure. The kiss was sweet and unhurried, the kind that made everything around you fade into the background.

“Oh my god, they’re actually doing it,” Lauren shrieked, clapping her hands together like a giddy child.

“Finally!” Omar exclaimed, snapping several pictures in rapid succession. “This is going on the Christmas card.”

“Make sure you get my good side!” Pedro joked, pulling back just enough to shoot Omar a wink, his arm still secure around your waist.

“I don’t think you have a bad side,” you teased, your eyes meeting Pedro’s.

“Ugh, stop!” Franklin groaned, clutching his chest dramatically. “This is too much. I need a drink—and not out of a coconut. I’m going straight for the tequila.”

Everyone burst into laughter, the lighthearted teasing filling the air as the moment was immortalized with photos, laughter, and a shared sense of joy. Pedro leaned closer, his lips brushing your temple as the group continued to banter.

“They’re just jealous,” he murmured softly, his voice filled with affection.

You tilted your head up to meet his gaze, your heart swelling at the warmth in his eyes. “Maybe. But I’m not sharing, so they can stay jealous.”

Pedro chuckled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Good. Because neither am I.”

The heat of the day softened into a golden, languid warmth as the two of you found refuge under the shade of a broad umbrella. The beach stretched endlessly before you, the waves lazily licking at the shore. Pedro reclined in a beach chair, his book propped open on his lap. The faint breeze tousled his hair, a few stray strands falling over his forehead, and the way he absentmindedly pushed them back sent a flutter through your chest.

You leaned against his side, your legs stretched out on the chair beside him, the perfect picture of ease. With one hand, you held your favorite romance novel, its dog-eared pages evidence of how many times you'd read it. With the other, you traced patterns along the inked lines of his tattoos. Your fingertips moved slowly, savoring the ridges of muscle and warmth beneath his skin, as if committing every part of him to memory.

Pedro’s free hand slid into yours, threading your fingers together with a natural intimacy that still made your heart skip a beat. He didn’t look up from his book as he murmured, “Everything feels right when you’re with me.”

The sincerity in his tone made you pause, your eyes lifting from the words on the page. A small smile tugged at your lips as you squeezed his hand gently. “I know the feeling,” you replied, your voice soft.

For a while, the two of you sat in comfortable silence, the kind that only comes when you’re entirely at ease with someone. The distant laughter of your friends mingled with the rhythmic crashing of waves, creating a serene soundtrack to your stolen moment.

Pedro finally set his book down, slipping a receipt in as a placeholder. His gaze shifted to you, lingering in a way that made your cheeks heat even before he said a word.

“You know,” he began, his voice warm and teasing, “you’re kind of amazing.”

You tilted your head, meeting his eyes with a playful arch of your brow. “Kind of?”

Pedro chuckled, his smile widening. “Okay, more than kind of. Very. Incredibly. Like, the kind of amazing that makes me wonder what I ever did to deserve you.”

You closed your book, setting it on the small table between your chairs. Turning slightly, you rested your chin on his shoulder, your fingers still entwined with his. “Pedro, where’s all this coming from?”

He shrugged, but his eyes were soft, almost vulnerable. “Just thinking. Watching you. It hits me sometimes how lucky I am. How lucky I feel to be the one sitting here with you.”

You laughed lightly, shaking your head. “You’re the one everyone loves. The kind, talented, ridiculously handsome Pedro Pascal. If anything, I’m the lucky one.”

Pedro leaned closer, his free hand brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “You’re wrong about that. Don’t get me wrong—I like myself just fine,” he teased, earning a laugh from you. “But you? You’re everything. Smart, funny, compassionate. And don’t even get me started on how beautiful you are.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you tried to deflect with a teasing grin. “Oh, so it’s just my looks, huh?”

“Not even close,” Pedro said, his voice dropping to a softer, deeper tone. “It’s the way you talk about your favorite books like they’re old friends. The way you laugh with your whole body. The way you care about everyone—how you make every room brighter just by being in it.”

“Pedro…” you whispered, your throat tight with emotion.

“And don’t think I haven’t noticed how you’ve got everyone wrapped around your finger,” he added, his grin returning. “Omar can’t go ten minutes without asking if you need something, and Lauren keeps calling you her ‘new favorite person.’”

You laughed, brushing at your cheeks as your emotions threatened to overwhelm you. “Stop. You’re going to make me cry.”

Pedro’s expression softened further, his thumb brushing over your cheek as if to catch a tear before it could fall. “If I do, they’d better be happy tears. Because, cariño, I love you more than I ever thought was possible.”

Your breath hitched, and you leaned into his touch. “I love you too. So much.”

For a moment, the world around you faded into the background. Pedro leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was slow and tender, like a promise. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Promise me you’ll always stay this close,” he said, his tone carrying a weight you couldn’t quite place.

You smiled, your hands cupping his face. “I promise. Always.”

Pedro’s heart swelled at your words, and though he didn’t say it out loud, a plan began to take shape in his mind. He pictured the perfect ring, the perfect moment, the perfect way to ask you to spend forever with him.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he said softly, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead.

You didn’t need to say anything else. The way you melted into his arms, the way your fingers found his once again, said everything. For now, this was enough. But in his heart, Pedro knew it wouldn’t be long before he made good on the promise his soul had already made: to love you, always.

The late afternoon sun bathed the beach in golden light as you wandered back into the water. The waves lapped gently at your legs, warm and inviting. Lost in the tranquil rhythm of the ocean, you didn’t notice the jagged rock just below the surface until it grazed your shin. You winced, feeling the sharp sting before brushing it off as nothing.

You emerged from the water, the salty breeze brushing against your skin. Pedro, lounging nearby with a half-finished coconut drink, immediately sat up. His eyes darted to your leg, catching the small but noticeable trail of red trickling down your shin.

“Are you bleeding?” His voice carried that signature mix of concern and urgency that only Pedro could make sound so endearing.

You glanced down, surprised to see the cut. “Oh.”

“Oh?” Pedro’s tone was incredulous as he practically leapt from his chair, already reaching for the towel draped over the back. “That’s all you have to say? Oh?”

“It’s just a scratch, Pedro,” you said with a small laugh, trying to wave him off. “I’m fine.”

But Pedro was having none of it. He crouched in front of you, his warm hands circling your calf to keep your leg still. The towel dabbed gently at the cut, his brow furrowed in concentration. “You’re not allowed to get hurt on my watch,” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

“It’s barely a paper cut,” you teased, watching the way his features softened even as he fussed over you.

“Doesn’t matter.” His voice was firm, though his touch remained impossibly gentle. “What if it gets infected? What if—”

You laughed, cutting him off. “Pedro, it’s not like I got bitten by a shark.”

He looked up at you, his expression a mixture of exasperation and adoration. “Don’t joke about that. I’d fight a shark for you, you know.”

The sincerity in his voice, paired with the completely ridiculous statement, made you laugh even harder. “Oh, I’m sure you would,” you said, brushing your fingers through his damp curls.

“Don’t test me,” he quipped, finally satisfied that the cut was clean. He reached for the small first-aid kit Franklin had insisted on bringing, pulling out a bandage. “Hold still.”

“Seriously?” you asked, your amusement growing.

“Seriously,” he said, shooting you a look that dared you to challenge him. He peeled the adhesive back and smoothed the bandage over your shin with a precision that would make a surgeon proud.

“There,” he said, sitting back on his heels and surveying his work with a nod. “Good as new.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, shaking your head but smiling all the same.

“And you’re reckless,” he shot back, standing up and pulling you into his arms. “I leave you alone for five minutes, and this is what happens.”

You leaned into him, your hands resting against his chest. “I think you’re overreacting. It’s a scratch, Pedro.”

“It’s your scratch,” he said, his voice softening. His fingers tilted your chin up, his eyes searching yours. “That means it matters to me.”

Your heart did a little flip at his words, and you couldn’t resist teasing him just a little. “You know how you’re like—”

“Absolutely embarrassingly in love with you?” he cut in, a smirk tugging at his lips.

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face. “Yeah, that.”

Pedro leaned in, his forehead resting against yours. “I am, you know,” he said, his voice dropping to a tender murmur. “Completely, hopelessly, embarrassingly in love with you.”

Your teasing melted away as you cupped his face, brushing your thumbs over the scruff of his jaw. “Good. Because I’m absolutely embarrassingly in love with you too.”

His smile grew, and he kissed you softly, as if sealing a promise. When he pulled back, his eyes sparkled with mischief. “Now, no more rock fights, okay? You’ve got to take it easy on me.”

You laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I’ll do my best. But no promises if a shark shows up.”

Pedro groaned dramatically, lifting you off your feet as he carried you back to the lounge chairs. “If a shark shows up, I’ll negotiate with it. Tell it I’m already your protector and it can’t have the job.”

You giggled, nuzzling against his neck. “Sounds like a good plan. My hero.”

He set you down with exaggerated care, pressing one last kiss to your forehead. “Always,” he said simply.

And as the two of you sat there, the ocean stretching endlessly before you, you felt it again—that perfect, undeniable feeling of being home.

HOTEL ESENCIA, MEXICO — SUNSET

The sunset painted the sky in hues of orange, pink, and deep indigo, casting a magical glow over the beach. The group sat in a loose circle, their laughter and conversation mingling with the soft crash of the waves and the mellow strumming of a guitar Omar had picked up. The mood was serene, the kind of calm that felt like it could stretch forever.

Pedro sat behind you on the sand, his strong arms wrapped securely around your waist as you leaned back against his chest. His chin rested lightly on your shoulder, and you could feel the soft puff of his breath against your neck. His warmth enveloped you, a perfect contrast to the cool ocean breeze.

“You cold, cariño?” Pedro murmured, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“Not even a little,” you replied, turning your head to catch his eyes. They sparkled, reflecting the fiery colors of the horizon.

His fingers traced slow, idle circles against your stomach. “Good. Can’t have you shivering out here, not when I’ve got two perfectly good arms to keep you warm.”

“You’re too good at this,” you teased, smiling as you reached up to brush a strand of hair from his forehead.

“Good at what?” he asked, his tone playful, though his eyes held that familiar, unspoken intensity that always made your heart skip a beat.

“At making me feel like the luckiest person in the world,” you said softly.

Pedro’s lips curved into a slow smile, and he leaned down to press a tender kiss to your temple. “That’s funny,” he murmured, “because that’s exactly how I feel about you.”

The golden light of the sunset cast a halo around his face, and you couldn’t help but reach up, cupping his cheek as you brought his forehead to yours. “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing you say things like that.”

“You’d better not,” he said, his voice warm and teasing, though there was an edge of vulnerability beneath it. “Because I’m not planning on stopping.”

“I’ll love you forever,” Pedro whispered, his lips ghosting against your ear as the first stars began to peek through the darkening sky.

You tilted your head back to meet his gaze fully, the world around you falling away. “You promise?”

He cupped your face in his hands, his thumb brushing tenderly over your cheek. “I promise,” he said, his voice steady and filled with so much certainty it made your chest ache in the best way.

His lips found yours in a kiss that was soft and lingering, filled with a sweetness that felt endless. When he pulled back, he pressed another kiss to your forehead before tucking you closer to him.

The night deepened, and the group eventually wandered back to the cozy beachfront hotel. Pedro’s hand never left yours as you made your way to your shared room, the two of you moving in quiet, comfortable synchronicity.

Inside, the room was dimly lit, the glow of a single bedside lamp casting a warm, intimate light over the space. The sound of the waves was faint through the open balcony doors, and the scent of salt air mingled with the faintly floral perfume you’d spritzed on earlier.

Pedro closed the door behind you and turned to face you, his expression soft but unmistakably intent. “You know,” he said, stepping closer, “I meant it. Every word I said out there.”

You tilted your head, giving him a playful look. “Even the part where you said you’d never get tired of me stealing the covers?”

“Especially that part,” he said with a grin, his hands finding your waist and pulling you flush against him. “Though I might need extra cuddles as compensation.”

You laughed softly, your hands sliding up his chest to rest on his shoulders. “I think that can be arranged.”

His grin faded, replaced by something deeper, more serious, as his eyes searched yours. “I love you,” he said, the words simple but carrying the weight of everything he felt. “So much that sometimes it scares me.”

You leaned up, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I love you too. And you don’t have to be scared, Pedro. You’ve got me.”

His lips claimed yours in a kiss that was slow and deliberate, his hands splaying across your back as he pulled you closer. The kiss deepened, his lips parting to taste yours, and you felt the warmth of him everywhere.

He backed you gently toward the bed, his movements unhurried, as if savoring every moment. The backs of your knees hit the edge, and you sank onto the soft mattress, pulling him down with you.

Pedro’s hands roamed, his touch reverent as his lips moved from your mouth to your jaw, then down the column of your neck. “Tell me if I’m going too fast,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and husky.

“You’re perfect,” you whispered, threading your fingers through his hair and tugging lightly to bring his lips back to yours.

His breath hitched at your words, and you felt the weight of his love in every kiss, every touch. The world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you wrapped in each other, lost in a moment that felt infinite.

Pedro pulled back briefly, his forehead resting against yours as his fingers laced with yours. “You’re my everything,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“And you’re mine,” you replied, your heart full to bursting.

And as the night stretched on, the love between you grew even deeper, wrapping around you both like a warm, unbreakable cocoon.

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moonlight-prose · 1 month ago

Note

“please don’t make me say it if you aren’t going to say it back” with a desperately in love with joel reader would hit so much…

weaved around your finger like yarn

a/n: me writing for joel again?? this has sat in my inbox for over a year and i never meant to actually take this long with it. but i finally figured out how to write this concept. and now i am actually obsessed with the small world of softness i created for these two. this is yes jackson joel, but nothing bad happens ever to him because why would it? it's all fine right?

summary: he never made space in his life for love in the aftermath of destruction. the after of his life he once thought would extend past decades of gray hair, smile lines carved in around his mouth now set in frowns and sneers. but snowfall and alcohol blur the lines for both of you when winter comes to jackson.

word count: 1.6k+

pairing: joel miller x reader

warnings: not explicit, love confessions, heavy makeout sessions, alcohol consumption, tipsy joel, sad joel, laughter at the end of the world, hope.

He can't remember laughing until his stomach hurt. The ache that spilled into his chest, warming his insides with a sun like quality that left him shivering. He can't recall the feel of his cheeks pulled so wide the sensation became a phantom pain seconds after. He knows it happened. He can distinctly recall the jokes, the joy. But the laughter lingers like a ghost at the back of his mind—translucent and gray and distorted enough to feel false.

Alcohol simmers in his stomach with a rueful intent. A malignant aftermath that would hit him in a few hours after two months of attempted sobriety. Ellie insisted, he accepted. Easy enough to say. Difficult to follow through with.

He had his days where whiskey sounded better than the flavor of bacon Tommy would bring him in the early mornings. But the dismay in your eyes helped him hold off, regain his awareness of a world not yet shattered. For once in quite a long time...he finally lived. For you, for Ellie, for Sarah.

He lived to see his hair grow longer and the grays appear more frequently. To drink coffee in the mornings on a porch you were already settled on. To help you fix small things here and there in your cabin next door. He lived for your smile, the light in your eyes. The curve of your lips as they pulled up into bolstering peals of laughter—the furrow in your brow as you frowned from endless frustrations on long hard days.

Joel Miller lived to love you.

He existed to dig his heels in and wait shit out—it's what he was good at, what he knew how to do. But for you he relented quicker than ice on a hot asphalt driveway back home in Texas. His mind became sand that slipped through your giving hands—heart a fluttering mess that sang a tune he could never get right on the guitar stashed in his living room.

Days bloomed into weeks which grew into months. Eventually a year passed and what used to be difficult and awkward to be around people again, felt like breathing the fresh winter air. The jackets he managed to find hung on hooks by the door, a pair of heavy boots beside the small table Tommy crafted him.

The mornings were nice. When hot water hit ground coffee and the aroma plagued his kitchen for hours at a time. The evenings called you towards him—simple cooking skills shared in the confines of a home he pined for you to reside in.

Life was a sliver of peace he never imagined he'd get again. But the hole in his heart never faded, the pain still rang out sharp enough to have him clamping down on the inside of his cheek. And your smile made his stomach ache with a longing deep enough to scar.

Tommy told him to buck up and do something. Ellie called him a fucking idiot.

You...gave no indication you felt the same way. So silent and reserved he would remain.

Your feet slid on icy, fingers gripping tightly to his jacket with a yelp in a quick attempt to save yourself from slamming to the ground. Joel snickered loud and brash and a wash of embarrassment burned under frozen cheeks. Dragging you up, his arm looped tightly around your waist—hand pressed harsh and insistent to the small of your back. You swallowed the butterflies at the sight of his face flushed red—eyes shining from the effect of too much whiskey.

"We were bad tonight," you muttered, breath forming a cloud between your faces.

He grinned—skin buzzing at the close proximity of your form. "Only a little bit."

"You're not supposed to drink Joel."

Leaning in he traded his smile like a secret; you tucked it into your chest with a sharp breath. "I won't tell if you don't, darlin'."

"Joel..."

"C'mon. No one's gettin' in trouble here."

A blade pierced your heart brutally—spilling crimson along pale white snow. Even as Joel remained entirely unaware of how you clung to him. How your body called his name—your mind plagued with thoughts of his being, with images of his smile, with the sound of his raspy voice. He'd never know the way you cherished each moment with him. The mornings tucked away from an unruly world—the nights shared between friends who might one day be more.

Your teeth scraped along the cracked skin of your bottom lip, eyes cast up to the curl of his lips. The words sprang forth faster than you could drag them back. Your chest of secrets unlocked and bared to the man who drowned you in his small flecks of joy. Later you'd blame the alcohol. When the headache ravaged your head and an ache lingered between your thighs.

Later you'd comb over every small glance and breathy word.

"I like spending time with you Joel," you breathed, fingers toying with the front of his leather coat. "I like...um..."

The breath caught in his throat, gaze desperate to catch yours. "Yeah sugar?"

"It's a hard thing to say." Another cloud of your whiskey tinged breath filled the air.

"You can tell me anythin'. You know that right?" Even as hope flared bright and scorching through the width of his chest. "I'll listen."

Hesitation spilled into the night, your voice a soft whisper he barely caught. "Please don't make me say it if you aren't going to say it back."

Oh didn't you know?

Did you not see how his gaze dug beneath the layers of flesh and bone, of tendons and veins that clung to your form? Did you not understand he would take a bullet for you? That he'd bear the wound of a warrior's death to keep you alive? How could you not know that his love stuck to his tongue with a saccharine bitterness he swallowed down like the drugs he once took to numb his mind?

You healed pieces of his soul you never broke. A marred and fucked puzzle that was meant to find a home six feet underground. By his own hand no less. He was destined to die—born to suffer—yet you swathed him wool with the promise of a peaceful life.

A future etched by the hands of love.

"Say it," he pleaded, frozen hand cupping your cheek.

"It's more than just that." The breath you took shot adrenaline down his spine. "I like our mornings. I like our dinners and conversation. And even when you come into town with me. But I...I love..."

The glossy nature of your eyes created by unshed tears that pooled at your waterline dug the knife deep enough to meld it within his heart. You didn't know. You couldn't have. His silence, his hesitation, swallowed every emotion he might have told you—every secret uttered in the shadows of night that told only half his story.

He told you about Sarah. About their life together, about her smile. That in itself felt like a proclamation of love—a key to the heart he thought stopped beating long ago.

"I knew it would freak you out," you muttered, pulling away from his hold.

Only for him to panic. His hand gripped the back of your jacket, pushing you towards him hard enough for your feet to slip again. But your gasp was swallowed by the cold press of his mouth to yours. Lips chapped by the winter air slid against your parted mouth as you froze against his chest. Your hands hung listlessly at your sides. He kissed you tenderly, attempting to wake you from the spell of shock, but to no avail did it bring you back.

"'M sorry." His words were muffled against your chin, forehead pressed to yours and eyes squeezed shut. "I shouldn't have–"

The press of your fingers into his cheeks jolted him back—eyes wide as you dragged him back with a stifled moan. Your mouth found his tongue hot and wet along his bottom lip in a pleading motion he complied to instantly. Stepping forward he fell into you with a deep groan. One that echoed and vibrated right down to your stomach—one you savored with a lick along his back teeth.

Hands cupped your ass with an insistent need to mold you closer, fingers digging into the plush flesh he longed to bite and taste. You tasted like whiskey. You smelled like him. It made him dizzy with want, anxious to lead you back to his porch—to seat you on his kitchen counter in the mornings while the coffee went cold.

"Fuck I wanna take ya home sugar," he grunted, biting at your lower lip with a grin.

Your breathless reply made the hair stand on the back of his neck. "You can."

"No." He shook his head, stealing another kiss with a gritty moan. "Not tonight. 'M gonna do this proper."

"Proper," you smiled, tugging on the longer curls you refused to let him cut. "You're such an old man Miller."

The large breadth of his hand cupped your chin, pushing the cheeks he lightly bit into together. "Won't be sayin' that tomorrow when I ain't got all this fuckin' alcohol in me."

"Yeah?" The droop of your eyelids—the darkened iris now filled with lust—set his teeth on edge. His body hummed with a new buzz he craved since meeting you. "Prove it."

"Oh I will." He grinned sharply, licking his teeth like a wolf waiting to pounce. "Don't you worry 'bout that."

A glimmer in your eyes caught his attention, the grip on your face loosening. "You know I love you right darlin'?"

You smiled—big and bright—and Joel felt another piece of his soul set back into place. "I love you too Joel."

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fic #joel miller #pedrostories #my writing

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cumironi · 5 months ago

Text

COLD ICE POPSICLE!

summary. you and your friends sit in the back of the school building, smoking and talking, joint in hands. it was summer and heat waves swimming around freely, you eating some ice cream, licking and slurping while your eyes focus on your two friends, GOJO SATORU, GETO SUGURU . . . who knows that might not be the only thing you lick that day?

wc. 12k | masterlist.

warning. fem! reader, dirty talk, praise, choking, hair pulling ( gojo, geto ), nineteen! satosugu x reader, biting, risky public place, degrading, oral sex ( m! receiving ), smoking joint, drug mentioned, fingering, threesome mentioned.

in the sweltering heat of the afternoon sun, you, gojo satoru, geto suguru, and nanami kento are lounging in the back of the school, surrounded by abandoned tables and chairs. the heat wave has turned the place into an uncomfortable haven, but you all find some relief in the occasional breeze.

gojo, sprawled out on one of the tables across from you, is animatedly complaining about the heat, “i swear, if it gets any hotter, we’ll need to start using our powers just to stay cool!” nanami, sitting cross-legged on a nearby chair beside gojo, rolls his eyes. “gojo, we’re not going to use our cursed energy just to avoid a bit of sweat. it’s not that bad.”

geto, lounging on the grass with a half-smile, adds, “you’re just saying that because you’re immune to the heat. it’s like you’re always in your own personal air-conditioned bubble.” gojo grins, clearly enjoying the moment. “oh, come on, nanami. you’re just bitter because you can’t complain as creatively as i can.” nanami raises an eyebrow, throwing his upperclassmen a look. “creative? more like annoying. maybe if you spent less time talking and more time focusing, you wouldn’t be so bothered by the heat.” gojo laughs loudly at nanami’s retort, clearly enjoying every second of this.

“aw, come on na-na-mi,” he teases, drawing out the syllables, “admit it, you love it when i get all creative. adds a bit of spice to your otherwise predictable life.” you snort at gojo's words, hands waving up and down as you try to cool off your neck. gojo grins widely at your reaction, noticing your attempt to cool down. “oh, fanning yourself, huh?” he says with a smirk, “can’t handle the heat?” now shifting his attention to you.

nanami just rolls his eyes, not even looking up from his book. “you’re not any better, gojo. you’ve been complaining nonstop for the past hour.” hearing the words coming out of nanami's mouth, gojo feigns a wounded expression. “excuse me, nanami. i’m not complaining. i’m creatively expressing my discomfort,” he gasped before throwing the blonde a nasty look.

“yeah, creatively annoying everyone around you,” geto chimes in, lounging comfortably on the grass with his eyes closed. gojo turns his attention to geto, a playful glint in his eyes. “oh, look who decided to join the conversation. got tired of just sitting there looking pretty?” geto scoffs at this, a hint of a smile playing on his lips, “oh, please. as if i need to say anything. unlike you, i know when to shut up.”

gojo shoots geto a mock-offended look, placing a hand dramatically over his heart. “ouch, sugu. you wound me. i'll have you know, my talking is a form of art,” he pout as he speaks bullshit. nanami finally looks up from his book, his expression unreadable as usual, “more like art of torture.”

you chuckle when you hear the words nanami said as his eyes back to focusing on his book. “why are you even reading in this heat?” you look at your classmates, shaking your head lightly as you pull out an electric fan from your bag and opening two buttons of your uniform. gojo's eyes immediately light up when he sees the fan and starts fanning yourself, a sly smirk playing on his lips. “well,” he says, lounging back on the table, “looks like you've got the solution right there.”

geto open his one eye to look at you— eyes straight to your chest as he lets out a low whistle, eyeing you up and down, “now that's a sight for sore eyes.” nanami ignores their comments, focused on his book, but you can see a subtle flush rising on his cheeks. gojo leans forward, a mischievous gleam in his eyes, “you know, y/n, that fan would be a lot more useful if you were over here.”

he pats the spot on the table beside him, looking up at you with a hopeful expression. geto chuckles at gojo's blatant flirting, amused by the situation. “yeah,” he adds, “or come lie over here with me. i promise i won’t bite.” even nanami glances up from his book, his eyes flickering in your direction before quickly looking back down when he accidentally looking at your chest.

gojo's smirk widens as he notices nanami's reaction. “ooh, look at that,” he teases, “is that a blush i see on na-na-mi's face?” geto laughs, clearly enjoying the teasing. nanami shoots both of them a glare, his cheeks still flushed, “shut up.” gojo just grins, enjoying the effect he's having on the other sorcerer, “what's wrong, na-na-mi? can't handle a little heat?”

geto grins, continuing to tease nanami, “yeah, looks like you're finally overheating, nanami. maybe you should take a break from that book and enjoy the scenery.” which he means by scenery is your chest. gojo pour fuel to the fire, looking at you with a smirk, “well, what do you say, y/n? want to save na-na-mi from melting?” nanami glares at gojo and geto, his cheeks now turning more pink than before. he keeps his focus on his book, yet there's an undeniable flutter in his chest.

geto continues, “you know, i bet you could cool down even more if you undid a couple more buttons,” he says that last part without even an ounce of shame, which gets him another glare from nanami. gojo, ever the instigator, smirks at geto's words, “now you're talking. i'm curious to see if that would help, honestly.”

nanami rolls his eyes at their constant bickering, but he can't help but feel a flutter in his chest when he imagines you taking off your uniform. he clears his throat, trying to maintain his composure, “knock it off, you two. stop being so inappropriate.”

gojo and geto, of course, ignore his plea and continue their teasing. gojo leans forward to you as he sits on the table across from you, his voice dropping to a lower, more intimate tone, “you know, i could help you undo those buttons if you want.” you can't help but blush at the suggestion, feeling a bit flustered by gojo-stupid-satoru's boldness, “fuck off, satoru!” you throw your book at the white-haired boy, “always a fucking pervert,” you mumble loud enough for your friends to hear.

geto barks out a laugh at your reaction, clearly enjoying the show, “ah, there it is. that's the y/n we know and love.” gojo grins as he dodges the book effortlessly, his eyes still fixed on you, “oh come on, don't be like that. i'm just trying to offer my services here, love,” he smugly said. even nanami can't help but snicker at your response, his irritation momentarily fading as he glances in your direction.

“seriously,” gojo says, a smirk playing on his lips, “just imagine it. i could help you take off those pesky buttons one by one. slowly, gently.” geto grins, clearly enjoying gojo's suggestive tone and your reaction. “oh, i can already picture it. the look on your face would be priceless.” just like how they fuck you the night before’ geto thought.

nanami finally looks up from his book again, his eyes flickering in your direction. he can't deny that the image gojo is painting is getting to him, and his cheeks flush a deep pink. gojo leans back on the table— back almost touching the wall, his arms stretched behind his head as if he hasn't a care in the world, “you know, you'd look even better without that uniform anyway.”

geto adds, his expression sly, “yeah, i wouldn't mind seeing a little more skin.” he lays back on the grass, his arms under his head. of course they don't, at least not after that night. “you know,” he says, “it's not like there's anyone else around. we could probably get away with doing some pretty lewd things right now and no one would ever know.”

he shoots a sly glance in your direction, clearly enjoying the idea. gojo smirks, stretching casually as he nods at whatever geto's said, “oh, i like the way you think, suguru.” nanami shoots both of them a glare but doesn't say anything. he can't deny that the thought has crossed his mind as well, but he's too dignified to admit it.

seeing nanami's reaction you can feel your beating faster and the heat from the sun running through your blood straight to your cheeks. you pull books out of geto's bag beside you before throwing them to the two shameless hyenas. “stop putting things on na-na-mi's mind! you two are insufferable!” your voice wavering with annoyance.

feeling your cheeks start to burn, again, as your mind plays a split second of your activity with gojo and geto a few days ago, you walk over to shoved gojo's chest lightly before muttering, “asshole.” before walking back to the table across from him and sit your ass back to your original position— not forgot to kick geto's leg on your way back.

gojo snickers as you shove him, enjoying the reaction he's gotten out of you, “oh, come on. don't be mad.” geto joins in, his tone teasing but lightheartedly, “yeah, we were just messing with you.”

“can't even let you kids alone for a second, and now i heard some fighting,” shoko's voice could be heard, followed by a long sigh. you could see a plastic bag on her hand while a joint in the other with yuu haibara following from behind. you perk up at the sight of the girl, a wide grin forming on your face. “ah, my baby shoko! finally some company is worth tolerating. did you buy me the ice cream?”

shoko gives you a small smile, her usual laid-back expression never faltering, “of course. how could i not get my favorite sugar-addict some much-needed ice cream?”

yuu, trailing slightly behind shoko, gives you a wave, “hey, y/n. hope these two idiots aren't giving you a hard time.” geto and gojo, hearing yuu's comment, both let out a mock-offended scoff, clearly unbothered by the jab. pouting as you look at your classmates, yuu haibara always the soft one sitting himself beside you at the edge of the table. “they always give me a hard time,” your voice no longer lingers with annoyance as you talk to the boy, clearly different from before.

seeing the change in your behavior as you talk to yuu, geto and gojo rolled their eyes. shoko hands the ice cream to you, she glances over at gojo and geto, her eyes narrowing slightly, “what are you idiots up to now?”

geto grins cheekily at shoko as he stretches out again, “oh, nothing much. just having a bit of harmless fun.” gojo nods, and flashes shoko a smile, his eyes flickering over to you and yuu. “yeah, we were just talking about how hot it is today.” shoko rolls her eyes, clearly not convinced by their innocent facade, “yeah, right. i know you two. i'm sure you're plotting something mischievous.” geto push himself off the grass before dusting his pants and sit beside gojo.

“i swear if idiots could fly this school would be a fucking airport,” nanami mutters under his breath as he shake his head. his eyes throwing a look at gojo and geto before back to his book. you snicker the moment the words go through your ears before laughing.

both gojo and geto roll their eyes at nanami's words, clearly unbothered by his disapproving attitude. gojo, spotting the joint in shoko's hand, immediately perks up. “hey, share some of that, shoko,” he says, holding out his hand expectantly.

shoko shoots him an unimpressed look, “buy your own.” gojo huffs dramatically, “come on, don’t be like that. i’m suffering in this heat. just a little bit?” nanami just shakes his head, while geto chuckles at gojo’s persistent begging.

“me first, me first,” you tug shoko's uniform.

shoko rolls her yes lets out a weary sigh, her expression unchanged, “ah, there's the drug addict i know.” her resistance to the boys' pleas wearing thin. she sigh, voice dripping with defeated, “alright, you brats. you're all like a bunch of beggars.” she hands the joint to you first, before passing it to geto next, and finally to gojo.

“i swear, you guys are such a pain in the ass.” she mutters, though there's a hint of fondness in her tone. as gojo takes the joint, he grins widely, clearly pleased with himself, “aww, we know you love us, shoko.”

geto chuckles at his comment, taking a drag before passing it to yuu. he added, “yeah, we're like the three stooges, you can't get rid of us that easily,” referring to himself, gojo and you. nanami snort, “yeah, right, more like the three nuisances.” geto takes the next hit, the smoke swirling around his face before he lets out a contented sigh, “yeah, finally. now we're talking.”

yuu, still sitting beside you, can't help but chuckle at his friends' antics, “i swear, you three look like a bunch of potheads sometimes.” gojo lets out a mock-offended gasp, his eyes widening, “how dare you. we're not potheads. we're connoisseurs of recreational relaxation.”

geto snickers, adding, “yeah, we're exploring different states of consciousness for medicinal purposes.” nanami, clearly exasperated by their excuses before reaching his arm to take the next puff, “yeah, medicinal purposes, my ass.” hearing your snorts, clearly amused by the blonde's response. with mockery in your voice while faintly nodding your head you joked, “yeah, that's a nice way of saying we like to get high as often as possible.”

shoko rolls her eyes but doesn't protest, used to their shenanigans by now. “ah, i swear one of these days you guys are going to smoke yourselves stupid,” she mutters. geto grins, taking another drag before passing the joint to you. “what can we say? we just enjoy the finer things in life.”

gojo nods in agreement, his eyes already starting to glaze slightly, “yeah, we're philosophers of sorts. exploring the boundaries of our minds and whatnot.”

yuu rolled his eyes, grins at their responses before he takes a puff himself, “yeah, you're all philosophers, alright. the three wise men— stoned edition.” shoko can't help but snicker at yuu's comment, clearly finding their behavior amusing despite her facade of annoyance. “ah, the three wise men on a never-ending journey to find their inner peace in a cloud of smoke.”

nanami snicker, now fully closed his book as he takes a bottle of ramune from the plastic bag that shoko brought, “more like the three idiots on a never-ending journey to find a brain cell.” offended, you puff a smoke out of your lips before giving nanami an offended look, “hey, i'm smarter than these two fuckers, alright?” your fingers pointing at geto and gojo, joint still intact between your fingers.

gojo and geto feign shock, pretending to be insulted by your words. “hey, we take offense to that,” gojo protests. get corrected, “yeah, we have brain cells. somewhere.” shoko chuckles at— more like a scoff, “oh, please. we all know you two share a singular brain cell, and it's permanently on vacation.” yuu grins at her comment, nodding his head before agreeing, “yeah, it goes on a vacation every time you light up a joint.”

gojo laughs, his eyes still a bit glassy from the drug as he looks at you. “aww, that's cute. you think being smarter than us is an accomplishment.”

a smirk playing on his lips, geto argued, “just because you scored higher on a few tests, doesn't make you a freaking genius.” you cross your arms, feigning indignance taking an offended with his words, you bark with your finger pointing at yourself, “hey now. i'll have you know, i'm a lot smarter than you idiots give me credit for.”

nanami rolls his eyes, adding with his expression still as stern as ever, “yeah, like that's something to brag about.”

shoko chuckles at your response, clearly enjoying the playful rage between all of you, “yeah, she's smart. just don't ask her to do basic math. she'll probably look at you like you're speaking a foreign language.”

yuu laughs at shoko's comment, chiming in, “yeah, she's book smart, not street smart. she'd probably get lost trying to find her way out of a paper bag.” gojo grins, clearly satisfied with the jabs at your expense, “yeah, she's smart in theory, but in practice...”

geto added to your fire with his tone teasing but playful, “yeah, she's got a head full of knowledge but zero common sense.” nanami raises an eyebrow, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips, taking a liking to how his friends started teasing you. “come on, guys, don't be like that, she's good at memorizing facts, just don't puts her in a real-world situation and it's game over,” yuu berated his friends even though his word says otherwise.

you give yuu a light smack on his stomach before laughing, “shut up,” you protest, slightly annoyed by their teasing, “i swear every time you guys talk i'm seven years old again.” yuu chuckles, rubbing his stomach playfully before sticking his tongue out at you, “aww, is someone feeling a little sensitive about their lack of common sense?” shoko grins, enjoy your annoyance as much as the rest of your friends, “yeah, you're definitely showing your youthful side right now.”

gojo and geto's grins widen, having a moment with the chance to poke fun at you, “oh, you're acting so mature,” gojo teases.

geto adds, “uh-uh, like a petulant child.”

you rolled your eyes, annoyed, “whatever.”

you open the package of your ice cream and notice how it's already half melting because of the heat wave, “aw man, my ice cream melting.” geto snickers, “yeah, maybe that's what happens when you spend too much time talking crap and not enough time enjoying your snack.” he wiggle his eyebrows together when you throw him a glare before focusing back to your half melted ice cream.

you pout at all four of them, feeling a mix of annoyance and amusement, “why are you all so mean to me?” yuu grins, clearly enjoying the chance to poke fun. “aww, don't pout. we're just teasing you because we love you,” he lean in to give your cheek a kiss.

shoko smirks, her eyes sparkling with mischief, “yeah, and besides, you make it so easy.” gojo grins wider and eyes glimmering with amusement, “right, you're like a punching bag for our jokes.” shoko, who’s been enjoying the banter, pipes in, “maybe you could lick it off the wrapper. improvise.” you look down at your half-melted ice cream, contemplating whether to eat it straight from the wrapper or not. “yeah right, like i'd lick it off the wrapper like some kind of savage,” you protested.

gojo, geto, and yuu all burst into laughter at your protests, satisfied with your reaction, as always: so easy. shoko snickers, a smirk on her face, “oh, come on. where’s your sense of adventure?”

gojo wiping away a tear of laughter, open his mouth again to pester you, “yeah, live a little. stick out your tongue and taste the wrapper.” yuu chimes in with a wide grin, clearly enjoying himself with your misfortune, “yeah, embrace your inner beast. lick that wrapper clean.”

geto smirks, enjoying the opportunity to tease you even further, “or are you too much of a princess to get your hands dirty?” he, always knows which button to push. you raised your eyebrows, suddenly feeling challenged by his comments. they know one thing about you: you love proving them wrong, and you hate losing. and you, yourself know that they're doing it on purpose.

so you stick your tongue out, giving the wrapper kitten-lick as your eyes lock with the two boys across from you before fully, slowly licking the wrapper, making it as sensual as possible. and all at once, gojo and geto's minds suddenly flashed an image from a week ago where you gave them head.

gojo and geto's eyes widen as you start to lick the wrapper. the sight, as innocent as it might seem to the others, reminds both of them of something far less so. their cheeks flush red as their minds suddenly flash back to the moment from a week ago with you.

yuu, noticing the change in their expressions, raises an eyebrow, “are you guys alright? you look a bit flushed.” shoko, being more observant, smirks as she notices the similarity between your action and their reaction. you snort before throwing the wrapper on the ground and putting the ice cream in your mouth. a faint mumble could be heard from you, “pussy.”

gojo and geto, still reeling from the unintentional but reminiscent display, are left speechless. their faces continue to burn red as they struggle to keep their cool, trying not to think too much about what your action had reminded them of.

shoko, her smirk growing wider, glances at them and snickers, making a mental note of their reaction. nanami, having watched the entire exchange, rolls his eyes and mutters under his breath, “idiots are so easy to read.”

geto, trying to compose himself, clears his throat and forces a smile onto his face, “nah, we're just... distracted.” gojo, joining in, adds in a slightly shaky voice, “yeah, distracted. by how absurd that display was.” he pointed his finger at you, “did you really need to make that so sensually?” yuu snickers at gojo's comment, while shoko rolls her eyes again and nanami just mutters ‘idiots’ once more.

you, on the other hand, feign innocence as you lick the ice cream, a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. “what do you mean, sensually? i was just simply licking the wrapper, like a normal person would,” your voice dripping with innocuousness.

gojo and geto exchange a look, knowing that your feigned innocence is just a mask to cover up the fact that you knew exactly what you were doing. gojo tries to keep his composure as he retorts, “yeah, right. that was the least innocent licking i've ever seen.”

geto adds while struggling to keep his mind from wandering, “you definitely knew what you were doing. don't play coy now.” shoko, enjoying their obvious flustered state, can't help but tease them further, “oh, really? distracted by how 'sensual' it was? what's so special about licking an ice cream wrapper that you two are acting so awkwardly?”

yuu, oblivious to the hidden truth, chimes in with a confused expression, “guys, it was just a wrapper,” his voice dripping with confusion. you continue to maintain your innocent facade, licking the ice cream nonchalantly.

gojo and geto's faces flush even deeper as shoko's remark hits the mark, and they struggle to come up with a response that wouldn't give away their true thoughts. yuu, oblivious to the hidden context, looks innocently confused while nanami mutters under his breath and choose to playing with his phone, “ignore them, ignore them.”

you look up to meet their gaze, eyes glued to you. silently you are eating your ice cream, eyes never leaving them as you lick your ice cream from the bottom to the top before bottom out your ice cream. you smile as your tongue licks the bottom of your ice cream, a few times slurping the melted ice away before putting the ice cream back inside your mouth, didn't really pay any attention as your friends keep plastering gojo and geto.

gojo and geto's gazes remain fixated on you as you continue to lick the ice cream in such a manner, their faces turning even more flustered and their minds racing with inappropriate thoughts. shoko, who is enjoying the show, can't help but tease them further, “look at you two, practically drooling over there. something you'd like to share with the rest of us?”

gojo and geto quickly turn their heads away, unable to hold your gaze any longer. they try to play it cool, but their flushed faces and the occasional glances they steal in your direction betray their true feelings. yuu, still in the dark, looks at them curiously, “why are you guys acting so weird? it's just an ice cream.”

shoko, enjoying the power she has over them, gives them a mischievous smirk, “yeah, seriously guys. what's up with you two?”

“yeah, guys, it's just ice cream,” you said after finishing your ice cream. gojo rolled his eyes, finally gaining composure, just a little before he threw a comment, “oh please, nobody eats ice cream like that.” geto chimed in, trying to regain some control over the situation, “yeah! nobody eats ice cream so... seductively.”

shoko snickered, clearly enjoying the spectacle, “oh, really? i didn't notice anything out of the ordinary,” she said, feigning ignorance. geto nods in agreement, trying to regain his own composure as he adds, looking at shoko, “she was basically giving that ice cream the full treatment.”

gojo added, trying so hard to point his finger at your act for everyone to notice, a hint of irritation in his voice, “she was practically making out with that ice cream.”

nanami, start to enjoy the moment as ever, laugh at their comments, “come on, that's just ridiculous. it's just ice cream.” shoko can't help but smirk at gojo and geto's comments, enjoying their flustered states, “yeah, it's just a little ice cream. no big deal.”

gojo mutters under his breath, “like hell it is.”

geto adds, trying to sound nonchalant, “yeah, it's not like watching her eat that ice cream was... distracting or anything.”

“you two watch too much porn,” nanami said as he took a sip of his ramune. gojo and geto's faces burn even redder at nanami's comment. “what? no, we don't,” they protest, simultaneously, their voices are a little too defensive, breaking here and there with a high-pitched when they say ‘what?’

shoko rolls her eyes, clearly enjoying their discomfort, “yeah, sure you don't.”

yuu looks at them with a mixture of disbelief and amusement, clearly wondering what was going through their minds. before they get a chance to answer, yaga's voice rings out, bringing an end to the tension-filled moment. all hell breaks loose as everyone scrambles to react.

gojo grabs your hand, tugging you in the opposite direction from your teacher. he hollers, “run!” geto follows closely behind, the three of you separating from nanami, shoko, and haibara, who turn left. you grab your bag, heart pounding in your chest as you all try to evade yaga's wrath. as you run, you can hear your teacher's voice growing louder behind you, “get back here, you damn brats!”

laughter and the sound of footsteps fill the air as you and gojo and geto sprint away from yaga, trying to get as much distance as possible before he catches up. “come on, faster,” gojo calls out as you run, his hand still gripping yours tightly. “fuck, we can't let him catch us,” geto laugh, panting as he runs alongside you.

yaga's voice echoes behind you, growing louder and more urgent, “don't you dare run away, you brats!”

“fuck, my cigs!” you could hear shoko's voice faintly from behind you. “just let it be!” nanami's voice followed along, tightening his hand around shoko's wrist as he kept pulling the girl to run for her life. despite the panic, you can't help but chuckle at the scene playing out behind you.

gojo pulling you to the empty class and locked the door— hiding behind the door as they sandwiched you. you can feel their heart pounding on your front and your back. gojo leans against the closed door, pressing his body against your front, while geto stands behind you, his chest heaving against your back. both of them are trying to catch their breaths, the adrenaline from the chase still coursing through their veins.

gojo grins, his eyes sparkling with mischief, “that was close, too close.”

geto chuckles at gojo's comment, “shit, i thought we were goners for a moment there,” he laughed a little as he tried to catch his breath.

once gojo's eyes meet your face, a grin kissing his lips. he wraps his arm around you, “now we finally have time for ourselves, do you know how hard it is for me to pretend like i don't care after that stunt you pull earlier with the ice cream?” you playfully pout at his remark, leaning into his embrace. “oh, did you not enjoy the show? i thought i caught your attention quite well.”

gojo smirks back, his eyes drifting down to your lips. “oh, you caught my attention alright. you had me completely entranced.” geto snorts from behind you, his hands resting on your hips. “yeah, we were practically drooling over you. but you already knew that, didn’t you?”

“you guys are being an asshole, there,” you pout. “so i try to give you some hard time like you did to me in front of nanami, what if i actually take off my uniform? want everyone to know our little secret?” your eyebrows knit together softly when you gaze at the blue pale irises. nobody knows about your little secret with geto suguru and gojo satoru. pretend to be friends in front of the others after they fuck you to oblivious the night before, but friends, right? both boys snicker at your threat, their eyes sparkling with mischief.

gojo smirks, his hand tracing small patterns on your hip, before pulling you toward him a little, “oh please, like you don’t love the thrill of it all.” geto chuckled behind you, his hands beginning to roam over your body, “yeah, we all know you’re no angel. you get off on pushing our buttons just as much as we do.” your cheeks flushed pink as their hands continue to linger on your body, their teasing words only making you feel more flustered.

gojo continues, his voice low and sultry. “you like knowing you have that kind of power over us.” geto agrees as his hands wander further up your sides, “yeah, you love driving us crazy. it’s all a game to you, isn’t it?”

you scrunch your nose for a second, “is it?”

“and if you did take off your uniform, we would be the first to know,” gojo adds, his voice low and husky. “yeah,” geto agrees, his hands slowly pulling at the hem of your shirt. “we would be the only ones who would get that privilege.” you giggle, wrapping your arm around gojo's neck before pulling him down a little, “think i spoil you guys too much.”

both boys chuckle at your comment, clearly enjoying your playful banter. gojo grins as his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you even closer to him. “oh, you definitely spoil us.” geto smirks, his hands continuing to wander over your sides, slipping beneath your shirt, craving for more of your skin, “yeah, we’re practically spoiled brats when it comes to you. but you love it, don’t you?” nodding, you lean down to gojo's neck, kissing the boy as you hummed, “mmh-mm.”

gojo moans at the feeling of your lips against his neck, his hands gripping your waist a little bit tighter. he leans his head to the side, giving you better access to his neck, his eyes fluttering shut as he enjoys the sensation. geto smirks, watching as you kiss gojo, his hands still roaming over your sides. he leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers, “you’re such a tease.”

gojo wrapped his arm around you when you pulled your face away. he pulled you to the wooden table on the front row, sitting on the edge with you between his legs while geto walked over to the teacher's table and sitting on the chair, pulling his phone out and cigarettes, letting gojo have you for a moment before his turn.

gojo chuckles as he tugs you closer, his legs trapping you between them. he leans back on the edge of the table, looking up at you with a smirk on his face. “you’re all mine for a moment,” he whispers, his eyes tracing up and down your body. geto watches from the teacher’s table, an amused smile on his face as he lights up a cigarette and scrolls through his phone.

your heart races in your chest as gojo's eyes rove over your body, his smirk sending a shiver down your spine. you try to keep your composure, but something about his gaze makes you feel completely bare and vulnerable.

gojo leans in closer, his hands coming to rest on your waist. “you know how bad i’ve been wanting to touch you like this?” you smile, tighten your arm around his neck as you draw him close with your lips almost touching his, “i don't know, tell me.”

gojo grins wickedly, his large hands sliding down to grip your ass possessively as he pulls you flush against him. “i've been dreaming about having you all to myself, just like this,” he growls lowly, his hot breath fanning across your lips, “wanted to strip you naked right here in class and show everyone who you belong to.”

he punctuates his words with a sharp nip to your bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth and soothing the sting with his tongue. one hand slides up under your shirt, fingers skimming along the sensitive skin of your lower back. “i'm going to mark every inch of you up later,” he promises darkly, nuzzling into your neck and biting down hard enough to leave a vivid hickey.

“ahh!” a moan leaving your lips as you feel him biting down on your neck, hard. his large hands gripping your ass, intentionally pulling your skirt up to flash geto your underwear. gojo's fingers dig into your ass cheeks harder, kneading them roughly as he bites down again, marking you with his teeth. his other hand moves higher, slipping beneath your shirt to caress your back. he smirks against your neck, feeling proud of himself for making you moan so loud in public.

“suguru can see everything,” he murmurs against your skin, knowing exactly what kind of view he'd given their teacher, “and i bet he loves seeing you like this.” gojo, still clinging to you like a second skin, leads you to the back row of the empty classroom, sitting in the chair and pulls you onto his lap. he positions you so that you're straddling him, your knees resting on either side of his thighs. he wraps his arms around your waist, his touch possessive and firm, roaming over your body.

geto, noticing the change in location, gets up from the teacher's desk and slowly makes his way over to join the two of you. he takes a seat at the desk next to gojo, lighting another cigarette as he does. as soon as you settle onto gojo's lap, he grips your hips tightly, grinding his hardness against your core. a low groan escapes him, his eyes closing in bliss as he savors the sensation of being so intimately connected to you.

“you feel incredible,” he whispers, nipping at your earlobe before trailing open-mouthed kisses down your neck. his hands roam freely over your body, squeezing your breasts through your shirt, dipping between your thighs to rub at your clit through your panties.

meanwhile, geto observes the scene with a heated gaze, taking slow drags of his cigarette as he watches gojo lose himself on you. gojo has you panting and writhing on his lap. there was no denying the heat in his gaze as he observed every move you made together. he exhaled a cloud of smoke, his eyes never leaving your form.

gojo lets out a deep, rumbling moan as you start moving your hips against him and your fingers hold on tightly on his shoulder. your wet heat rubbing along his thick length through your clothes. his hands squeeze your ass tighter, fingers digging into your flesh as he urges you on.

“that's it baby, ride my cock just like that,” he encourages, his voice husky with desire. as you grind against him, gojo reaches up to cup your breasts, thumbing over your nipples through your uniform. the friction combined with his touch sends sparks of pleasure coursing through your veins, making you even more desperate for relief.

geto watches intently, his own arousal evident in the bulge growing in his pants. he takes another drag of his cigarette, blowing the smoke out slowly as he drinks in the sight of you pleasuring yourself on gojo's lap.

you keeps on grinding on gojo's clothes cock, as you rest your cheek on his shoulder and turn to your right to look at geto. moaning and grinding as you look at him.

“fuck—” you whimpering.

geto's eyes darken with lust as you meet his gaze, your needy little whimpers filling the air. he stubs out his cigarette, tossing it aside carelessly as he rises from his seat and stalks towards you. gojo notices geto approaching, a wicked grin spreading across his face. he slides one hand up your thigh, pushing your skirt out of the way to expose your soaked panties to geto's hungry eyes.

“there you go, baby,” gojo purrs encouragingly as you continue to grind on his rock-hard erection. “let suguru see what a dirty girl you are for us.”

geto looms behind you, leaning down to press his lips to your ear. “that's right, princess,” he murmurs, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. geto leans in closer, pressing his body against yours from behind. his hands come up to cup your breasts, thumbs rolling over your hardened nipples through your shirt.

“such a good slut,” he purrs in your ear, his breath hot against your skin, “wet and leaking for satoru.” his other hand slips between your thighs, pulling your panties to the side and teasing his finger tips over your slick folds. “suck on ’toru's cock, baby,” geto whispers in your ear, smiling as he look at the white-haired boy. gojo return the smiled, “why don't you show me some tricks like you did with the ice cream before, hm?” gently, he cups your cheek.

geto back to sit on the table next to yours while you go down between gojo's legs with your knees press against the wooden floor, getting uncomfortable. without breaking eye contact with the special grade sorcerer, you kiss his clothes twitching cock before licking a damp on his pants where his precum leak through his pants.

gojo groans, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure through his body. he looks down at you, his eyes locking with yours as his breath hitches in his throat, “oh, god, that feels so good,” he tears another hoarse groan when he throws his head back for a second. your hands deftly undo his uniform buttons until his abs are revealed. you gently caress his chest, a thrill of excitement coursing through you as you notice his happy trails. with a playful smile, you place a tender kiss on them.

gojo lets out another low moan as your hands begin to unbutton his uniform, his muscles tensing under your touch. he watches you as you kiss his happy trail, his eyes burning with desire. “you’re so good at this, baby,” he says, his voice a little hoarse.

gojo shivers at your touch, his abs flexing under your fingers. he lets out a soft moan as you kiss his happy trail, his hands gripping the edge of the table. “fuck. . . you’re driving me crazy,” he whispers.

gojo lets out a strangled moan as you kiss, lick and nibble on his abs. he can feel your hands on his hips, holding him in place, and it only drives him wilder with need. “oh god, baby,” he gasps, his hips arching up off the table involuntarily. geto watches from his seat, his eyes narrowing as he takes another drag from his cigarette. his jaw is slightly clenched, and he seems to be struggling to keep his own excitement in check.

gojo looks down at you, his eyes burning with desire. he can hardly keep himself still as you keep going, his body twitching and trembling with need. he reaches down, grabbing a handful of your hair and gently tugging it. “look at me,” he commands. you look up at gojo, meeting his intense gaze. his eyes are like pools of molten lava, burning with a hunger that only you can satisfy. he loosens his grip on your hair, gently stroking it instead. “you’re so goddamn beautiful, you know that?”

“am i?” you whisper. your pretty, sparkling eyes looking through gojo's soul as you painfully slow unfasten his belt. gojo watches you with hooded eyes, a lazy smile playing on his lips as he threads his fingers through your hair. gojo nods, his hand continuing to caress your hair. “yes, you are. you have no idea how much you drive me wild.” he gazes down at you, his eyes burning with desire and affection. “you’re the most gorgeous girl i’ve ever laid my eyes on,” he whispered. he bites down on his bottom lip, trying not to moan too loudly in response to your teasing tongue after it touches his abs for the second time.

he shifts slightly in his seat, allowing you better access to his throbbing member. you can practically see him grow longer and wider under your touch, the tip glistening with pre-cum. once freed from its confines, his impressive size stands proudly before you, a clear sign of how much he desires you. the head of his dick pulses, leaking pre-cum faster now that it’s been exposed.

seeing how eager gojo is for you only fuels your excitement further as you lick along his length from base to tip with slow deliberate licks. you swirl your tongue around the head of gojo's cock, collecting the pre-cum on your taste buds. the salty-sweet flavor explodes in your mouth, spurring you on to take him deeper. with a gentle suction, you envelop the first few inches of his shaft in your warm, wet mouth. your tongue dances along the underside, tracing the prominent vein while your hands continue to caress his chiseled abdomen.

“jesus, y/n...” gojo lets out a soft groan, his grip on your hair tightening ever so slightly. he watches with rapt attention as you bob your head up and down, taking more of him with each pass. from his perch on the table, he watches the erotic display unfold below him with his own cock strains against his pants, clearly eager for attention.

geto, who just lighten another cigarette, hold it between his left fingers after a faintly notification ring. he holds his phone on the other to look at the notification— a message from yuu. he reads a message from his underclassmen and chuckled, telling gojo that yaga caught shoko and nanami.

gojo’s eyes flicker up to geto when a chuckle passes his lips as the raven reads the message. “sounds like shoko and nanami got in trouble,” he says, a smirk on his face between his grunt, hand tightly around your hair. “l-looks like they’re the ones in the— fuck! doghouse n-now.” gojo rolls his eyes at the news, his attention still on you. “of course they got caught,” geto mutters, taking another puff with eyes still on the screen before adding, “those idiots have no sense of subtlety.”

he is smiling as he runs his hand on your hair, gently caressing them while his hips thrustin to your throat making his balls constantly slapping with your chin. “don't you think baby?” he ask. you— the girl who's cursing and calling him an asshole hour ago and now getting her throat fucked, going up and down on gojo-stupid-satoru's cock, only nodding.

gojo smiles as you nod, his hand continuing to gripping through your hair. he seems amused by the situation, enjoying having you at his mercy like this. geto puffs on his cigarette and watches the two of you from his seat, his eyes lingering on your lips around gojo's pink cock. “looks like you’re having fun down there,” he comments, a smirk on his face before chuckle.

gojo chuckles at geto’s comment, his hand giving your hair a harsh tug to push your head down to his cock until your nose touches his skin, forcing you to take his cock down to your throat. “shit!—” gojo groan, throwing his head back while you crying under his mercy and nail digging to his thigh. “she’s doing such a good job, so—ah! f-fucking good. . .” he mumble, back to fixed his eyes on you after he let you pushed yourself away from his cock, choking with tear down to your cheeks and chin wet from your saliva. “fuck, satoru, i can't fucking breath!” you look at him with tears in your eyes and lashes damp.

gojo chuckles at your words, his heart racing as he watches you come up for air. he gently wipes away the tears from your cheeks with his thumbs, his gaze softening. “you did so well, baby,” he praises gently, his hand caressing the side of your face. geto lets out a low whistle from his seat, his eyes dark with desire. “god, you do look good like that.” gojo looks up at him, his eyes darkened with lust and a hint of ownership. “you see what i mean? she’s so goddamn perfect.”

geto nods in agreement, his eyes roaming over your body with unabashed hunger. “oh, we’re definitely keeping you all to ourselves.”

“come here,” gojo hand meets your hair once again, “we're not done yet, baby,” his deep voice gently lures you in, again, like it always did. he pushed your head towards his tight, “i'm gonna spoil you rotten after this, don't worry.” he leaned down to kiss your forehead before tugging your hair signaling for you to continue what you were doing.

“now be a good girl and finish what you started,” he husks, his eyes dark with desire. you feel another wave of heat wash over you as gojo's deep voice calls you back to him, his hand gently yet firmly guiding you towards his lap. you shiver as he kisses your forehead, his touch sending a spark of pleasure through your body. and when he tugs your hair, you can't help but comply, your body automatically moving back into position.

gojo lets out a low, possessive growl as you return to him. “that's my good girl,” he praises. you feel a shiver run down your spine at gojo's words, your body responding immediately to the low timber of his voice. you lean into his touch, letting him guide you back down to him, your heart racing with excitement. you can feel his body trembling slightly as you get closer to him, his muscles tense with anticipation. your lips are practically touching his length, your breath hot against his skin.

gojo's hand is still in your hair, and he gives it a slight tug, pressing your face closer to his still-hard cock. “go on, baby,” he coaxes softly. “make me feel good.”

with each languid lick you give his cock, gojo's grip tightens in your hair. he tilts his hips up, thrusting his length deeper into your mouth. his breathing grows heavier, a soft groan escaping him as he watches you work him over. the taste of his precum is intoxicating, making your mouth water for more. you swirl your tongue around the head of his dick, coating it thoroughly before sucking him into your mouth.

the warmth of your mouth envelops him completely, causing him to hiss through clenched teeth, “fuck. . . just like that.” you can feel his hands on your body, gently yet firmly guiding your movements as you continue your task. gojo's eyes are darkened with desire as he watches you, his gaze fixed on your every move. he loves seeing you like this, completely submissive to his commands.

“you’re so beautiful like this,” he whispers, his voice thick with arousal, “so obedient. so perfect for us.” gojo's hips buck involuntarily as you deepen the suction, your throat constricting around his girth. he throws his head back, a string of curse words falling from his lips as he loses himself in the pleasure of your oral skills. your hands move to his balls, gently massaging them as you bob your head up and down his shaft. each stroke brings you closer to the root, your nose brushing against the wiry hairs at the base of his cock.

gojo's fingers tighten in your hair, guiding your movements as he grunts and moans, lost in the blissful sensations you're providing. the room fills with the sounds of slurping, sucking, and gojo's increasingly erratic breathing.

gojo's control starts slipping away as you continue to worship his cock with such enthusiasm. his hips begin thrusting upwards instinctively, seeking more of your warm, wet mouth. a low growl rumbles in his chest as he watches you work him over so skillfully. “shit... i'm gonna cum if you keep going like this...”

his warning comes out strained and ragged, but there's no real conviction behind it. instead, he pushes your head down further onto his cock, urging you to take all of him inside your mouth once again. gojo's control snaps, his orgasm hitting him like a freight train. with a hoarse cry, he tenses, his cock pulsing violently as he spills his hot seed down your throat.

wave after wave of his release coats your tongue and the back of your mouth, the salty-sweet flavor overwhelming your senses. you swallow greedily, milking every last drop from his quivering member. as the aftershocks subside, gojo carefully pulls you off his spent cock, his chest heaving with exertion.

“you're incredible,” he rasps, still catching his breath, “i don't know what i'd do without you, baby.” he looks down at you with a mix of satisfaction and adoration, stroking your cheek affectionately, “you really know how to make a man feel good and bring them to their knees,” he says approvingly, gives your cheek a light pinch before pulling you up onto his lap.

his arms wrap around you tightly, holding you close against his chest. you can hear his heartbeat quickening again, signaling his arousal wasn't fully satiated yet. with a sly smirk, he presses his lips to yours in a deep, passionate kiss. his tongue explores your mouth eagerly, tasting himself on your lips. gojo chuckles softly between the kiss, his voice still rough from the intensity of his climax.

as the kiss breaks, gojo smirks down at you, his eyes glinting with mischief. “but let's not forget about our lovely suguru,” he whispers suggestively, nodding toward the other end of the table where geto is watching intently. he gestures for you to crawl over to geto while he cleans himself up. geto smirks, leaning back slightly on the table as he watches you two bask in the afterglow of gojo's climax. his eyes gleam with possessive pride, clearly pleased by the display of devotion between you and his best friend.

“i think we've established that by now,” geto drawls, taking a long drag from his cigarette. he exhales slowly, the smoke curling around his head as he regards you with a heated gaze. “but after my turn, we are not done with you yet, princess,” his voice deepen, soften.

he sets his cigarette aside, standing up from the table with a predatory grace. geto moves towards you, his movements fluid and deliberate, like a cat stalking its prey. “don't worry about satoru for now,” geto purrs, his voice low and seductive, “it's my turn to play with my favorite toy.”

geto reaches out, grabbing your wrist and pulling you to your feet. he spins you around, pressing you against the table as he leans in close behind you. his breath tickles your ear as he whispers, “time to show satoru just how well you can please two men at once.” his free hand slides up your thigh, pushing your skirt higher as he explores your wetness. “soaked and ready for me,” he murmurs approvingly, circling your clit with his thumb. “you love being used for our pleasure, don't you?”

“oh, suguru..” a soft moan escape from your lips.

without waiting for an answer, geto sinks two fingers deep inside you, pumping them in and out at a relentless pace. his other hand wraps around your waist, holding you steady as he fucks you with his fingers, making sure you feel every inch of his digits stretching you open.

between your whimpering and moaning you glance over at gojo, who's watching the scene unfold with rapt attention. his eyes are dark with desire, his cock already starting to stir again at the sight of geto claiming you so roughly.

too busy drinking on gojo's spend expression you don't realize geto positions himself between your spread thighs, lining up his thick erection with your entrance. without warning, he slams into you, burying himself to the hilt in one powerful thrust.

“oh god!” you cry out, your body arching off the table as geto's girth stretches you impossibly wide. he sets a brutal pace, pounding into you with reckless abandon, each stroke hitting that sweet spot deep inside you that sends sparks flying behind your eyelids. your hands gripping at nothing on the table while geto fuck your from behind.

gojo's gaze never leaves yours, his expression a mix of awe and hunger as he watches geto take you with such ferocity. “fuck, look at her take it,” geto's command sends a thrill through your body, heightening your arousal even further. as instructed, you look over at gojo, who is watching intently with half-lidded eyes and parted lips. seeing both men so focused on you, so consumed with desire, is incredibly arousing.

“s-suguru..” you gasp as geto aligns his throbbing cock with your slick entrance, teasing you with the head before plunging into your clenching walls once again. a loud moan rips from your throat as he buries himself to the hilt inside you, filling you completely. your palm nailed unstable against the tabletop, desperate for support.

each thrust is powerful and precise, designed to drive you insane with pleasure. geto's hands grip your hips tightly, anchoring you to him as he pounds into you relentlessly.

your cries of ecstasy fill the air, mingling with the lewd sound of skin slapping against skin as geto takes you hard and fast. sweat beads on your brow, trailing down your sides as he ravages your body, claiming you as his own.

gojo's gaze remains locked on the erotic spectacle, his cock twitching with renewed interest. “such a perfect little slut for us,” he praises, his voice husky with lust. “love seeing you get fucked senseless.”

geto picks up speed, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chases his own release. “gonna fill this cunt up,” he snarls, his fingers digging into your hips hard enough to leave marks. “make you mine, all mine.”

geto's declaration sends a shiver down your spine, his dominant words igniting a fire within you. you're lost in the intense pleasure of his possession, your mind foggy with need as he continues to pound into you mercilessly.

“yes, yes!” you cry out, your nails raking down his arm as the pleasure builds to an unbearable crescendo. “fill me up, suguru! claim me!“ geto's words send a shiver down your spine, his dominant tone igniting something primal within you. you meet his thrusts eagerly, rocking your hips to take him deeper, harder.

just when you think you can't take anymore, geto's movements become jerky and uncoordinated. with a guttural groan, he buries himself to the hilt one final time and holds still, his cock throbbing violently as he spills his hot seed deep inside you.

the sensation of his cum flooding your womb triggers your own climax, waves of pure bliss crashing over you as you come undone beneath him. his release triggers your own climax, and you come undone beneath him, screaming your pleasure for all to hear. your inner muscles clamp down around his spurting cock, milking him for every last drop as waves of ecstasy crash over you.

as the aftershocks of their shared climax ripple through your bodies, geto pulls out slowly, his cum leaking from your still quivering pussy. he steps back, admiring the sight of you sprawled across the table, panting and spent.

“perfect,” he murmurs appreciatively, his voice laced with satisfaction. he wipes his cum-covered length on your inner thigh, smearing you with evidence of his claim. gojo watches the entire exchange with hooded eyes, his own arousal evident by the bulge straining against his pants. “damn, suguru,” he says enviously, “i didn't know you could be so... gentle.”

the feelings of void inside you, the feeling of never getting enough of him making you crawl down from the table and get on your knee in front of geto. your warm hand takes his silk-with-cum cock into your hands, stroking it gently as your tongue licks his overly sensitive lip, cleaning his cum with your tongue.

geto's breath hitches as you tend to his spent cock, your tender ministrations a stark contrast to the rough fucking he just gave you. he leans back against the table, his eyes fluttering shut in bliss as you lap up every trace of his release.

“mmm, careful there,” he warns, his voice low and gravelly, “still super sensitive after that orgasm.” despite his words, geto doesn't pull away, seeming to enjoy the intimate act. his hands find their way to your hair, fingers threading through the strands as he guides your mouth along his shaft.

when you reach the tip, he tugs gently, encouraging you to swirl your tongue around the sensitive head. a shudder runs through him, and he lets out a contented sigh. “that's it, baby. clean me up nice and thorough.”

“umm..” you hummed against his length, slowly running your tongue from the base before moving under his mushroom tip. your thumb gently caressing his tip. geto's hips give a small jerk as your talented tongue explores every inch of his cock, from the heavy base to the delicate underside of the head. he hums in approval, his fingers tightening in your hair as he savors the sensations.

when you focus your attentions on the sensitive area beneath the tip, geto's breath catches. his cock twitches in your hand, and he lets out a low, needy moan. “fuck, just like that,” he encourages, his voice strained with pleasure, “use that clever tongue of yours.”

as you continue to worship his spent length, geto's other hand comes up to join the first, cradling your face as he guides your movements. his touch is gentle yet possessive, a reminder of the dominance he displayed earlier. despite being thoroughly used, he seems to crave more of your affection, your submission.

geto's chest rises and falls with each slow, deliberate lick you bestow upon his oversensitive cock. his hips twitch slightly, as if trying to follow the path of your tongue. the touch of your thumb to his lip elicits a soft moan, his head falling back in surrender.

“that's so good,” he breathes, his voice heavy with pleasure, “keep going like that, and i might just have to start getting hard again.” as if to prove his point, geto's cock twitches in your grasp, the tip already beginning to swell with renewed interest. you continue your sensual ministrations, determined to bring him to full mast once more.

geto's warning only spurs you on, your tongue dancing along his length with increased fervor. you can feel his cock growing harder in your hand, the veins pulsing with renewed blood flow. his moans grow louder, more desperate, as he loses himself to the pleasure you're providing.

“ah, fuck... right there,” he gasps, his hips bucking slightly as you focus your attention on the sensitive spot beneath the head. “don't stop, please...” geto's grip on your hair tightens, almost painfully so, but you don't mind. in fact, it only adds to the intensity of the moment, making you feel owned, claimed by this powerful man. you redouble your efforts, determined to bring him to the brink once more, to make him surrender completely to your skilled mouth.

your diligent efforts soon pay off, as geto's cock begins to thicken and lengthen in your hand. a bead of precum forms at the tip, glistening in the dim light of the room. his breathing grows ragged, and his fingers tighten in your hair, urging you on.

“nnngh, that's it,” he grunts, his hips rolling subtly as he tries to grind against your mouth, “want to feel that tongue on my cock again.” emboldened by his reaction, you redouble your efforts, swirling your tongue around the head and tracing the ridges of his shaft. geto's moans grow louder, more desperate, as he teeters on the brink of another climax.

“just a bit more,” he pleads, his voice strained with need, “need to cum again, baby. make me lose control.” geto's pleas for release fuel your desire to please him, to see him unravel beneath your touch. you increase the pace of your strokes, your tongue working overtime to bring him closer to the edge.

“fuck, yeah...“ he groans, his body tensing as he approaches the precipice. his cock pulses in your hand, the vein throbbing in time with his racing heartbeat. another bead of precum appears, this time dripping onto your waiting tongue.

“cum for me suguru,” you murmur against his length. encouraged by his responsiveness, you lean forward, taking the swollen head into your mouth. your lips stretch wide to accommodate his girth, your tongue flicking against the sensitive spot underneath.

“shit, right there,” he gasps, his voice laced with raw desire, “gonna... ahh, fuck, gonna cum.” you increase the pace of your ministrations, your tongue flicking over his length with relentless precision. each stroke sends a jolt of pleasure coursing through him, and he can't help but rock his hips in time with your movements.

“shit, that's it...” he groans, his eyes squeezed shut as he fights against the wave of pleasure building within him. “gonna fill your mouth this time, baby.” his cock pulses in your hand, the tip gushing with precum. you can taste it on your tongue, salty and musky, and it only serves to fuel your desire to bring him to completion.

with a few more expert strokes, geto reaches his limit. his body tenses, a low growl escaping his lips as he cums once more. geto's cock throbs in your hand as his orgasm hits, his thick seed spurting from the tip to coat your eager tongue. you swallow every drop, savoring the taste and texture of his release.

“mmm, tastes so good,” you murmur appreciatively, your lips still wrapped around his length. you continue to suckle softly, milking every last drop from his cock before finally pulling away. you look at the man as she shaking almost uncontrollably from the action, drawing a satisfied chuckle from your lips.

geto takes a deep, shaky breath, his chest rising and falling with the effort. his cock gives one final twitch, releasing a tiny trickle of cum onto your hand. he looks down at you, his eyes filled with a mix of satisfaction and exhaustion.

“you sure know how to handle a guy,” he says, his voice a husky whisper. he reaches out, brushing a strand of hair from your face with a tender touch that contrasts sharply with the roughness of moments ago.

“breathe, suguru,” you advise with a smirk, wiping a stray dribble of cum from the corner of your mouth. “you look like you've seen a ghost.” you chuckle as you stand up from your kneeling position before turning your attention to gojo, seeing him sitting on the table beside you with cigarettes between his fingers and phone on his other hand.

he then turns his gaze towards gojo, who was watching the entire display with evident fascination. “what do you think, satoru?” eto asks, a smug grin spreading across his face. “think she's got skills?” gojo raises an eyebrow, his expression unreadable behind the smoke curling from his cigarette, “she certainly does,”

hearing the praise fill the air, you lean toward gojo, placing both hands on the table as you close the distance between you and the white-haired man. “you think so?” you ask, smiling before giving him a quick kiss on the lips.

gojo leans into the kiss, his free hand coming up to cup your cheek as his tongue slips past your lips. he pulls back after a moment, a sly smile playing on his lips. “i knew you had potential when i first saw you,” he says, his voice low and husky. “but this... this is impressive even for you.”

he takes another drag from his cigarette, blowing the smoke out slowly as he regards you with a heated gaze. “i think we should celebrate your newfound skills properly,” he suggests, his eyes glinting with mischief. “how about a threesome with suguru here? we could really put those talents of yours to the test.”

you snort before scoffing— the mocking one with no bite, cleaning your clammy hands with a paper from geto's textbook. “yeah right, like hell i'll let you two have a threesome with me here, in this stupid school,” you retort before throwing the paper to the ground. gojo chuckles, the sound is rich and smooth like velvet. “oh, come now,” he coos, reaching out to trail a finger down your arm. “we wouldn't dream of doing anything inappropriate here, where anyone could walk in on us.”

he leans in closer, his warm breath tickling your ear as he whispers, “besides, i think suguru would be more than happy to join us somewhere private. don't you agree, big boy?” gojo glances over at geto, who's been quietly observing the exchange with a predatory gleam in his eye.

the suggestion seems to stir something within geto, because he suddenly stands up, towering over both of you. “i'm game if you are,” he rumbles, his voice deep and husky with desire. “but we should probably take this somewhere else.”

you laugh with no sense of humor at the mention that they don't want to do anything inappropriate at school. “funny how you mention you won't do anything inappropriate here while i just give you two heads and let you fuck me,” you again laugh, voice dripping with sarcasm as you turn to gojo, finger pointing at him for emphasis.

gojo arches an eyebrow at your pointed remark, a slow smile spreading across his face. “ah, but that's different,” he purrs, catching your finger and bringing it to his lips. he places a soft kiss on the pad of your fingertip before releasing it. “that was just a little preview of what's to come.”

he stands up, smoothing out his shirt as he moves to stand beside geto. the two of them loom over you, their combined presence overwhelming in the best possible way. “so, what do you say?“ gojo presses, his eyes locked on yours. “ready to take this party elsewhere and really let loose?”

geto nods in agreement, his own gaze intense and hungry as he waits for your response. it's clear they're not going to take no for an answer, but somehow, that only makes the prospect more enticing.

you scrunch your nose, “you two are hornballs, you know that right?”

both geto and gojo share a look, their amusement is clear despite the serious expressions on their faces. “well, when it comes to you, we seem to lose all reason,” gojo admits, his tone is light but sincere.

geto steps closer, his large frame casting a shadow over you. “and we don't mind admitting it,” he adds gruffly, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through you. “you make us forget our own names sometimes.”

he reaches out, tracing a finger down your cheek before slipping it behind your neck. his grip is firm yet gentle, pulling you closer until your bodies are almost touching. “so, what's it going to be?” he murmurs against your lips. “are you ready to lose yourself to us?”

just when you and geto start having fun, gojo's voice annoyingly rings in the room. “as much as i enjoy having fun here, i think we need to leave,” he shifts from his phone to the two of you.

waving his phone in the air, “just got a text from yuu that yaga is still looking for us.” geto lets out a low growl of frustration as gojo announces that yaga is still looking for them. he clearly doesn't want to stop, but he knows they have to be careful not to get caught.

“what is wrong with him?” you groan in annoyance as geto help you fix your uniform, “yaga acting like he's never young when he's worse than us,” you grumble in annoyance. gojo chuckles at your frustration, a sympathetic expression on his face. “yeah, he’s just being yaga.”

geto finishes fixing your uniform, his fingers deftly adjusting the collar and straightening the hem. “yaga's just trying to keep us in line,” he says, though there's a hint of bitterness in his voice. despite his words, he can't deny that yaga has a point— they shouldn't be causing trouble when they have bigger issues to deal with.

gojo pockets his phone, his eyes still sparkling with mischief despite the seriousness of the situation. “come on, let's find someplace less public to hang out,” he suggests, putting his cock back to it's coffin. “maybe we can convince yaga to lighten up once he sees how well behaved we are.”

geto rolls his eyes, his annoyance evident. “he’s being a pain in the ass, that’s what he’s being.” gojo nods in agreement, zipping his pants up and fastening his belt. “but he’s our teacher, so we’d better listen to him for now.”

“he teaches shit, always making us a punch bag with his stupid toys,” you spat. gojo and geto both laugh at your comment, knowing that you’re not exaggerating. yaga can indeed be quite rough when it comes to training. “yeah, he can be a little hard on us,” gojo agrees, running a hand through his hair. “but he’s just trying to make us stronger, you know?”

“whatever,” you wave your hand nonchalantly. gojo lets out a soft chuckle, finding your nonchalance amusing. geto chimes in, “don’t be too upset, princess. we’ll make it up to you later.” gojo took your bag and sled it over his shoulder, along with his bag.

“promises, promises,” you tease, giving geto a playful shove as you follow gojo out of the classroom. the halls are mostly empty, which means you can move quickly without drawing attention to themselves.

as you step outside, the fresh air hits you, cooling your flushed cheeks. “so, where to?” gojo asks, glancing around to get his bearings. he leads the way, choosing a path that will lead you away from prying eyes and towards a quieter part of the academy grounds.

you smile at geto after he pulls you closer by your waist, giving you a gentle squeeze in the process and kiss your shoulder. the raven kisses your cheek before he speaks, “how about we stop at my dorm, hm? continued what we left before,” his voice teasing you making you giggle as you look into his eyes.

a devilish grin spreads across geto's face at his own suggestion, his dark eyes flashing with lustful intent. “mmm, that does have a certain appeal, don't you think baby?“ he murmurs, his voice low and raspy. “but we'd better be quick about it.”

with that, he takes your hand and starts walking faster, eager to reach his dorm room and continue where they left off. gojo follows close behind, his eyes never leaving you as he watches every movement with keen interest.

you laugh as geto starts running, holding your hand, causing both men to join in the giggling. gojo chuckles softly, the sound muffled by the rush of wind against his ears. “seems like someone's eager,” he teases, glancing back at geto with a smirk. the sight of you giggling and bouncing alongside them only serves to fuel their excitement further.

once you reach geto's dorm, he wastes no time unlocking the door and pushing it open. “after you,” he says, gesturing grandly for you to enter first. as soon as you cross the threshold, he closes the door behind you, sealing off the world outside and leaving nothing but the three of you in the dimly lit space.

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soaps-mohawk · 4 months ago

Text

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 36: To The Sea

Summary: It's time to move on. You're not sure where you're going exactly, but anywhere is better than Texas

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 7,811 words

Warnings: ANGST, injuries, medical stuff, descriptions of pain and injuries, brief discussion about strangulation, mentions of PTSD and nightmares, so much crying, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, angst, a very little sprinkle of comfort, language, mentions of medications, still very heavy emotionally

A/N: Not actually a lot of warnings for this one. It's a lot of dialogue and inner monologues. Not a lot happens, just mostly setting the scene for the next chunk of the story. Bring tissues though, the last part of the chapter emotionally wrecked me but also might be the best thing I've ever written.

11/30/24: **This Chapter has been edited and rewritten from its original version**

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

It’s warm outside.

Not even the shade from the building can completely shield you from the dome of heat that seems to surround the base. It seeps into the concrete and asphalt that lock it into place, trapping everyone in a bubble that may as well be an oven. It’s always hot in Texas, though. You hate it. You’ve been spoiled by the cold, rainy seasons in England. You’d gladly take that over Texas.

You’d take anything over Texas.

The heat prickles at your skin, your arm starting to get sweaty in the sling. It had been Dr. Keller’s idea to keep your shoulder as still as possible so you don’t continue to cause yourself pain when you move. It still hurts, but at least you won’t instinctively try to use your left arm now.

Despite the warmth, there’s still a chill deep in your bones. The warmth of the pain medicine has worn off and you’ve been left with the perpetual ice that has seemed to coat your insides. Dr. Keller says it's the stress giving you a fever. Every nightmare, every flashback sends your body temperature spiking, your heart beating right out of your chest. You’re not out of the woods yet. It can take a long time to recover from that level of distress and the omega taking over. You almost regret it, but there was no guarantee you would have lived either way at that time. You did what you had to do, and it did work out in the end.

But at what cost?

Dr. Keller’s phone buzzes in her pocket and she pulls it out, staring down at the screen for a moment. “Kyle wants to come by.”

You don’t want to see him. You don’t want to see any of them.

“I think you should see him. Even if it’s just for a moment.” She squeezes your hand. “I’ll be right here.”

It’s a predicament. Dr. Keller supports your decision to keep them away, putting some distance between all of you for the time being. Yet, she also says being close to your pack will help your healing. Having your pack around will help your omega settle once again. She needs that safety, that security before she finally lets go completely.

You don’t want to be close to them, but you may not have any other choice.

You sit there in silence, picking at the fabric of your sweatpants as you wait for Kyle’s arrival. Sweat has started to bead on your back, the day only getting warmer and warmer as the sun moves higher in the sky. You want to go back inside, back into the cool air conditioned building. You want to crawl back onto the hospital bed and lay there for the next few hours.

You can’t.

Footsteps approach, but you don’t look up. You know who it is. You don’t want to see him.

“Kyle.” Dr. Keller greets.

“Christine.” He says back. It still throws you off, hearing Dr. Keller's first name. She'll always be Dr. Keller to you. Kyle turns his attention to you, still standing a few steps from the bench you're perched on. “Hi, love.” He says. The affectionate nickname almost makes you wince. You don't look up at him. You don’t want to see his face. “I wanted to stop by and see how you’re doing.”

You don't move, don't give an answer. You don't have an answer to give anyway. You shouldn't have to give an answer.

He lowers himself onto the bench, sitting as far away from you as he can. “It’s hot today.” He says, adjusting his hat. Always wearing a hat. Maybe that's why he and Price work so well together.

He stares at you for a long moment but you don't bother moving, your gaze still on your sweatpants. They're starting to get a bit warm, even with your perpetual chill.

“I’m not here to apologize.” He says, breaking the silence. “You’ve probably heard enough apologies to last you a lifetime.” He shakes his head. “Words can’t fix what we did. Nothing can fix what we did. All we can do is give you what you need, try and make you as comfortable as possible.”

Tears burn your eyes as you listen to him. He's not wrong, an apology won't fix what happened. No words will ever be able to fix what they put you through. You're not sure there's anything they could do that would make up for it. An apology still would have been nice, despite the fact you know how guilty he is. Their avoidance of you, their willingness to give you such space in an unknown place just proves how guilty they all are.

That doesn't make things hurt any less.

You slowly turn away from Kyle, angling yourself towards Dr. Keller.

He doesn't say anything further in that regard, taking your movement as an answer to his non-apology. He leans forward instead, resting his elbows on his knees. “I just wanted to let you know that we’re getting ready to leave soon. We’ll be heading somewhere safe, somewhere quiet and secluded. I think you’ll like it.”

Dr. Keller had informed you of that earlier after she went to speak to them. They've decided what to do, what's best for the pack again. You might have protested, except for the fact it meant you were getting to leave Texas. Where exactly they're taking you, you're not sure. You just know it's not Texas.

“I want you to know that we’re here if you need us.” He stares at you for a moment longer before pushing himself up to stand.

If, not when.

Maybe they're finally getting the message.

Dr. Keller stands, touching your right shoulder gently before she steps away with Kyle, speaking quietly with him, but you can still hear every word in the nearly silent space around you.

“In an attempt to remain a neutral, professional party in this situation, I feel it would be appropriate for me to tell you not to beat yourself up too much about this.” Dr. Keller says. “The unprofessional side of me has many words I’d like to say to all of you.” She clears her throat. “That being said, on a positive note I can say you’re all doing the right thing for once, prioritizing your omega and fulfilling her needs, even if her needs require you to leave her alone for now. I know it’s hard, I know every instinct is screaming at you to help her, but just take comfort in knowing you are helping her. You’re doing the best thing you can do for her at this time.” Dr. Keller puts a hand on his arm, squeezing it gently. “Even if it is tearing you up inside.”

“Thanks, Doc.” He says.

“I’ll see you soon.” She says, patting his arm before she heads back towards your bench.

You turn your head just slightly, not missing the way Gaz lingers for a brief moment before he turns his back on you, walking back down the sidewalk.

It hurts.

You want to cry with every swallow. No matter how much you chew, it doesn’t ease the pain of trying to swallow solid food. Even the worst sore throat you’ve ever had pales in comparison to this pain. Tears burn in your eyes as you eat, unable to refuse this time in favor of choking down some liquid nutrients. Even liquids make your throat ache, but they are easy to chug to get it over with at once.

This feels like torture.

Dr. Keller looks guilty as she spoon-feeds you the soup. Chicken noodle, something simple and easy but still something with some substance. It makes you think back to when you were sick as a child, your mother dutifully feeding you homemade chicken noodle soup until you reached the age you could feed yourself.

You do feel like a child again, unable to even hold the spoon. Well, you could hold it, but it would have come at the expense of some burns from how badly your hand was shaking.

So instead you sit here, being spoon-fed soup you can barely stand eating.

“I know.” She says as a tear finally falls, your inhale shaky from the ache in your throat. “You need something in your system for the sedative. It’s a long flight and you’ll be sick when you wake up if you don’t have anything in your stomach. That’s going to hurt a lot worse than eating now.”

Yeah. You’ve already figured that out.

“Strangulation is a tough thing to survive.” She says, dragging the bottom of the spoon against the edge of the bowl to wipe off any soup that might drip on you. “Then again, so is getting shot, and distressing to the point of your omega taking over.” She holds the spoon up to your lips, and you’re tempted to refuse. “You’ve survived a lot, more than most could. And to look this good after...”

You blink up at her, teary eyed and sickly looking, exhausted and bruised. Your left eye is still almost swollen shut, and your hair is tangled perhaps beyond saving, tied up in a bun at the top of your head. All just reminders of what you survived, all reminders of what happened to you. Of what was allowed to happen to you.

You’re not quite sure when the last time you had a real shower was either.

“I know.” She says, spooning more soup into your mouth. “You might not feel like it, right now.”

“I want a shower.” You say, your voice still hoarse and cracking through your throat. A real shower might solve a lot of problems for you right now. It won’t fix much, but being truly clean would make a lot of things feel better.

“I wholeheartedly agree.” Dr. Keller says.

You give her a look. You don't smell that bad. She should know, she’s the one that cleaned the blood off of you and the one who gave you the sponge bath this morning.

She gives you a look back. “I meant it would be nice to take a real shower. Once we get where we’re going, we can work on the logistics of a shower.”

Right. You can’t exactly stand for a long time on your own, not to mention the problem of only being able to use one arm without bringing blinding pain upon yourself. That’s where the pack would come in handy.

The thought of one of them seeing you vulnerable like that, putting their hands on you right now makes your skin crawl.

A shiver runs down your spine, your body shuddering uncontrollably. You grunt as your shoulder screams in pain, another electric jolt burning straight through your nerves and down through your feet. Fuck. You mouth the word, squeezing your eyes shut. It makes your stomach churn, the soup starting to burn a path back up through your esophagus.

“Breathe for me.” Dr. Keller says, putting a gentle hand on your right shoulder.

In and out. You focus on your breath, the only thing you can do without feeling like you’re going to go insane from the pain. It’s all you can do in this situation. It’s the only thing you can do at all. Breathe. Just keep breathing.

Sometimes you don’t want to.

The pain passes as it always does, leaving behind a subtle ache that will linger until the next flare of pain. It’s a constant, never-ending cycle that you can’t escape from. Weeks, Dr. Keller had said. It can take weeks to heal. You’ll be stuck in this cycle for weeks and weeks. What if it never heals? That is a possibility. It’s always a risk with any injury.

What if the rest of your life is like this?

You’re crying again, hot tears blazing a path down your cheeks. They won’t stop, they never stop. There’s a constant stream down your face, even in your sleep. You’ve woken to find your face and neck damp from the never ceasing flood of tears.

How you can’t wait for the time to come when you have none left.

You’d welcome the numbness at this point, greet it like an old friend and invite it in for tea. Anything over the pain and tears that won’t stop. The depression-fueled numbness that had filled you when Price and Gaz left, then Soap and Ghost would be a welcome relief at this point. Anything would be better than the pain.

You almost wish you were in a coma right now. Then you wouldn’t feel anything at all.

Dr. Keller puts the spoon back into the soup bowl before rolling the table to the side. She puts a hand on your head, gently stroking your hair as you cry. The room is silent aside from your sniffles, Dr. Keller not having to say a single word. The silence is almost a blessing. You’re tired of hearing words, of hearing people speak. There’s nothing anyone can say that will do anything to help you, to comfort you, to make it better.

There’s nothing anyone can do to make it better.

You’re so tired of being like this.

The sedative is kicking in before you even reach the airfield. She can see the way your head is drooping further and further forward in the car, your body jostling without any complaint. It had started kicking in before you even got into the car, as you offered very little resistance when Kyle helped her mauver you into the front seat. She chose Kyle out of everyone to help her in hopes it would be easiest on you. Your claimed alpha’s beta is a good place to start in rebuilding the bonds within the pack, and his calm demeanor certainly helps. He is a caretaker through and through, that beta trait prominent above the others in him. He would have made a good medic, had he gone that route.

Your chin drops to your chest as the car comes to a stop in front of the plane, your body slumping to the side against the door.

“She’s out.” Christine says, unbuckling her seatbelt.

“Makes this easier.” Kyle says, getting out of the car.

They maneuver you into the wheelchair, Christine easing your head onto your right shoulder to avoid aggravating the left. The less pain you’re in when you come out of it, the better, though pain will be unavoidable. Kyle pushes the wheelchair up the ramp of the plane, Christine following close behind. She’s glad she gave you the sedative before you left the med center to avoid as much pain as possible. She almost wishes she had given it to you earlier, as getting you into a sweatshirt had been a battle of its own. Though, the longer it stays in your system, the longer you’ll sleep through the flight. The longer you sleep through the flight, the longer they can delay the inevitable emotional storm of being enclosed in a tight space with your pack.

If you’re lucky, you’ll be out of it long enough for them to reach the cottage without incident.

John is waiting near the front of the aircraft, his eyes watching carefully as Kyle helps maneuver you into a seat. Even with the turmoil in the pack bonds, an alpha will always feel protective over their omega. There’s some things that can’t be undone, even in such a fragile state. Some instincts can’t be unlearned, no matter what.

“I gave her a sedative.” Christine explains as she gets you as comfortable as possible in the seat. “It won’t last the whole flight, but it’ll take a while to wear off regardless.”

“Is that more for her or for us?” John asks.

“Both.” Christine says. “Mostly for her. It helps with the pain of moving around, but it will also keep her calm in close quarters like this.”

“Here.” John says, handing her something. It’s a blanket, brand new by the feel of it. “Johnny made a store run this morning. It’s going to get cold in here, so he got the warmest one he could find.”

Christine takes the blanket, the fabric thick and soft in her hands. It’s a touching gesture, speaking volumes of their desire to still care for you despite everything, their willingness to do what they have to, to keep the pack together. “Perfect.” She says, carefully draping it over you and tucking it around you before John gets you secured in the seat.

“It’s going to be a long flight.” John says, taking a step back.

“It is.” Christine says, pulling out her thermometer. She takes your temperature, letting out a hum at the number that pops up on screen. “I need to monitor her temperature.” She explains as John gives her a look. “It’s been spiking when she gets stressed.”

“She's not quite out of it yet, is she?” John asks.

“Not quite.” She says, putting the thermometer back in her bag. “I’ve only seen two omegas successfully come back from that point, and I know the number across the board isn’t very high. It takes a long time for the body and the brain to get back to normal.”

“And on top of everything that happened...”

She stares up at him for a long moment. “She’s very strong. I knew she was a fighter, but to come out the other side even where she is now...” Christine shakes her head. “I didn’t want to say this at the time, but I was expecting the worst. When that call came in about what state she was in...” She bites her lip, holding the emotions back. “Her resilience and fortitude is what kept her alive. That and Simon’s courage to do what needed to be done.”

“I know.” John says, looking past her. “We all owe a lot to him.”

Christine puts a gentle hand on his arm. “You’re doing what’s best for her. No matter how much it hurts, no matter how much it goes against every instinct you have, it’s what she needs.”

“That’s all that matters to us right now.” John says, staring down at her hand for a moment. “There’s nothing else we can do, so it’s time we start putting our priorities where they should have been the whole time.”

Christine gives him a small smile. “I’m proud of you for that. It takes a lot to unlearn the things you’ve been told since the beginning.”

The corner of John’s lips twitch before his face falls into the emotionless mask he’s been wearing for the last few days. “It’s about time we get our heads out of our arses.”

“I can’t blame you totally.” She shrugs. “We were all just doing what the initiative was telling us to do. We couldn’t have known. There wasn’t any room to question it.”

“I wish we would have figured it out sooner.” He sighs.

“Things might have been worse if the truth did come out sooner. If you started digging into the initiative too soon, Shepherd might have gotten antsy and taken more drastic measures to stop the truth from coming out entirely.” She glances down at you. “I think this was all inevitable.” She turns her gaze back to John. “What happened, happened. None of us can change that. All we can do is keep moving forward with what we have right now.”

He stares at her for a long moment. “The more time passes, the more I’ve come to realize why Kate chose you for this position.”

The corner of her lips turns up in a smile. “Well, I am rather good at my job, which, among other things, involves advocating on behalf of omegas.”

John huffs. “Wish we would have listened sooner.”

“You can’t change the past.” She repeats, looking down at you again. “But you can change the future.”

You woke from your sedation about four hours from Helston.

Well, ’woke’ might have been too strong of a word for it. Your eyes opened, but you were still hazy, movements sluggish and entirely unaware of the world around you. You floated between sleep and awareness for an hour before finally gaining consciousness completely. Awareness took quite a while to return, though. Not until they were moving you to the car from the plane.

Even still you’re groggy, slumped against the door in the back seat of the car. You blink slowly, eyes unfocused as you stare out the window at the blur of green passing by.

“How is she?” John asks from the driver's seat, glancing up at the rearview mirror.

“Cow.” You say, blinking slowly as the car passes a field of cows.

“Still out of it.” Christine answers from the back seat where she's sitting next to you. Your response might have been enough to answer that. “Better than being in pain, though.”

“How long will it take for her to get out of it?” Kyle asks.

“Hopefully she’ll be more lucid by the time we get there, but it could take a few hours for it to completely wear off.” Christine says, wiping a bit of drool from your chin. “Probably not a bad thing. This is a big change, and with everything that’s happened, it’s going to take some time to settle in.”

“Things are going to be rough.” Kyle says.

“Yes.” She agrees. “Being enclosed in a small space with the people you want to see the least in the world isn’t an ideal situation. It’ll be an adjustment for everyone. I trust all of your abilities to adapt, though. Just don't go in expecting things to be the way they were.”

John's hands tighten around the steering wheel, his knuckles going white. Kyle cracks his window open, prepared for the thickening of John's scent in the air. Christine knows she hit a nerve, but it needed to be said. Even if you were open to forgiveness right now, even if they had chosen to go after you right away, things still wouldn't be the same. Things won't ever be the same. It is their fault deep at the root of it. Those cameras were put up because of them, you were taken because of them. You were chosen for the “initiative” because of them, because Kate thought you'd fit in well with them. Their decisions shaped your life, and will continue to shape your life.

Can you ever come to forgive them? Christine likes to think so. She has the hope that they can put in the work and regain your trust and earn eventual forgiveness. She knows you'll allow them to try once the initial hurt and emotions begin to fade, once the two of you put in enough work to start processing the trauma around the events that happened. It will take time. Probably a long time.

She'll be there every step of the way.

“Ashley did some shopping for us, picked up some stuff to get us until we can get into town.” Kyle says, looking at his phone.

“Good.” John says, his shoulders starting to relax. “Should wait a couple days before going. Get settled in.”

“She's still working on cleaning up. Probably still be there when we get there.” Kyle says, putting his phone back in his pocket.

“That's fine. We’ll probably have to utilize her a bit.”

“Doubt she'll complain.” Kyle says, looking out the window. “Be thrilled to have something to do besides work.”

You let out a quiet groan, shifting against the door. “Hurts.”

“I know, honey.” Christine says, carefully adjusting your left arm. “I’ll give you more pain meds once we get to the cottage.”

“We’ll be there in half an hour.” John says, glancing up at the rearview mirror again before turning his eyes back to the road.

The half hour seems to take the longest as you continue to become more and more lucid and aware. The pain sets in first, your brain picking up on those signals before anything else. John’s knuckles are white around the steering wheel as you begin to whine and whimper around every bend in the road and turn he has to make, every jostle of the car. Every instinct in his body tells him to pull over and comfort you, but he can’t. It’s more important to get to the cottage, and there’s no guarantee you’d even let him. It might make things worse.

The last thing you need right now is for things to get worse.

Christine breathes a sigh of relief as they pull up to the cottage, glad she can finally get you somewhere more comfortable. You’ve been in far too many uncomfortable positions today, moved around too much. She would have liked to keep you in Texas a couple more days, but she knew as soon as you were able to travel, the better. The sooner they could get off the grid, the better.

The sooner they could get out of Texas, the better.

Kyle is getting the wheelchair out of the trunk when Johnny and Simon pull up, not having been far behind. They likely took a turn around the back roads to ensure no one was following and to keep things from looking too suspicious.

Christine keeps you from slumping out of the car as she carefully opens the door on your side. You’re more awake than you were, blinking up at her with almost startlingly aware eyes.

“Crutch.” You pout when she pulls the wheelchair closer.

She gives you a look. “Honey I'm not sure you could even stand right now.” You may be more aware, but that doesn’t mean your body is working as it should.

You let out a defiant noise as you attempt to get your legs out of the car, trying to hide your grunts of pain and discomfort.

She's tempted to stand there and let you try, but she knows all hell will break loose if she lets you fall. She's not willing to take that risk, not to mention it will cause you more pain to get you up off the ground.

“Come on,” She says, stopping you before you can get your feet under you. “Nice and slow.”

You let out a quiet growl of indignation but you allow her to help you, your legs trembling as she eases you up. Kyle is there with the wheelchair, getting it as close to you as possible so she can sit you down quickly.

“Ow.” You breathe, eyes pinched closed as you breathe through the pain.

“I know.” She says, patting your good shoulder lightly. She's glad she put you in the sweatshirt before you left Texas. It's chilly outside, chillier than it was further inland a few days ago.

It's hard to believe it's only been a few days since you were taken. Barely even a week. So much happened in such a short period of time. It feels like it’s been weeks since everything started, but then again, it had been weeks since John and Kyle first left. It had been weeks since you had been around your whole pack together by the time you were taken. The deep depression you sunk into before the events of the last week had been draining you slowly for weeks before this. It had started before John and Kyle were deployed, back to that day when you revealed the cameras and the secret you had been hiding from them.

How long you’ve gone in such turmoil.

How far you still have to go.

The path up to the door is rocky and uneven, the wheelchair jostling as she pushes it up towards the door. She can picture your face, the way it has to be screwed up in pain. You're silent though, holding it all in. She almost wishes you weren't being silent about it.

The door is already open, light shining from inside as she approaches. Kyle is in the house already, having gone ahead to greet his sister. John is right behind the two of you as Christine turns to wheel you up the steps into the house. His eyes are on you, focused and ready should you fall.

Christine would never let you fall, and from the way your hand is gripping the arm of the chair for dear life, you probably couldn't anyway.

She wheels you through the entryway, the inside warmer thanks to a fire that's burning. It's a nice cottage, far nicer than she had been expecting judging from the outside.

Johnny lets out a low whistle as he enters behind John, looking around. “Yer parents own this?”

“It was given to our mum by our grandparents. They did some...renovations before they passed it on.” Kyle says.

“Yer tellin’ me.” Johnny says.

It looks new inside. New wood floors, freshly painted walls. The furniture looks like she would expect to find in an English seaside cottage, though. Kyle’s parents went to France for summer vacation instead of utilizing the cottage, and none of his siblings had wanted to use it, he told them. It looks almost perfect, like it came right out of a home renovation show. Kyle’s sister must have worked some sort of magic to get it this clean.

It is a very nice cottage. It’s small, the door opening right to the main area. There’s two couches and a chair in the middle of the room around a coffee table. To the left of the couches is a fireplace, the fire already lit and crackling. It looks original, likely having been untouched in the renovations. There’s a door to the left of the fireplace closer to the main entryway. A bedroom maybe? To the right of the front door are two doors, one on the far wall and one facing the front door.

The stairs are in the middle of the house, leading up to the second floor where there’s likely more bedrooms. On the far side of the main area is the dining area and beyond that is a sliding glass door. Around the corner on the far side of the stairs is likely the kitchen. She can see the fridge from where she’s standing. It’s new. Very new. Makes her wonder just how long ago it had been renovated.

“Everyone, this is my sister Ashley.” Kyle says, introducing the other woman in the room.

“Hello,” she says, giving everyone a wave and a dazzling smile.

She’s dressed simply in jeans and a t-shirt, her medium box braids pulled up into a bun on top of her head. They look a lot alike, her and Kyle. Tall and slender and stunning. They have the same smile and the same soft brown eyes. She's wearing scent blockers, but Christine can imagine her having a soft scent like lavender or something fresh like mint.

“There's two rooms down here, and two upstairs.” Kyle says. “The main bedroom is through there.” He points towards a door to their left. “I figure we'll give that to our omega. The bathroom in there has a walk-in shower.”

“Perfect.” Christine says. That will make getting you in and out of the shower easier at least, and you won’t have to go far to use the bathroom.

“You should take the other room down here.” John says, looking at Christine. “So you can be close in case of an emergency.”

And so you don't have to be too close to them, so you won’t feel like they’re hovering.

He doesn't have to say that part out loud.

“I put new sheets on all the beds.” Ashley says. “I also picked up everything Kyle sent on the list. Food, some clothes, some other necessities.”

You let out a quiet groan, Christine patting your head gently. You have to be exhausted and sore after the day. She should give you another dose of pain medicine like she said she would. You’re going to need it tonight.

“Let's get you laying down for a bit.” She says, wheeling you towards the door.

Kyle opens it for her, revealing a spacious room with a big window looking out towards the sea. You're going to spend a lot of time in front of that window, she thinks. The bed is in the middle of the room, and there’s two chairs facing the window. She’s almost tempted to sit you in one of the chairs, but laying down will be more comfortable for you right now.

You're still too out of it now to care much as she wheels you to the double bed. With Kyle's help they get you horizontal, Christine draping the blanket at the end of the bed over you. It’s not very soft, but it will do for now. She’ll have to get the guys to pick up some soft blankets for you when they go to town. She has a whole list of things starting in her head she needs them to pick up.

She leans your crutch against the end of the bed just in case you might need it for an emergency. She hopes you’ll yell first, but you always have been stubborn. Being mostly bed-bound has only made that worse.

“I’m going to go look through the things Ashley picked up.” She says, patting your leg gently. “Get some rest.”

Christine leaves the door open a crack as she exits, wanting to give you a little privacy as you nap, or at least she hopes you’ll nap. It’s going to be a rough adjustment, and you’re going to need as much rest as you can get.

“I’m assuming you’re Christine.” Ashley says, walking up to her.

“I am.” She says, giving Ashley a smile.

She can’t help but get lost in Ashley’s soft gaze for a moment. The Garrick siblings seem to share the same magnetic energy. There’s something almost ethereal about them. She could easily imagine them with glowing halos and angel wings. It’s almost like she’s being blessed with the opportunity to look upon her. She could spend an hour staring at Ashley’s face and not grow tired of looking at her.

“I picked up the items Kyle said you needed.” She says, motioning to the bags on the coffee table, pulling Christine out of her daze. “I couldn’t find the exact nutrient powder you asked for, so I got one that was as close as I could find.”

Christine glances through the bags. She was thorough, getting at least two of everything.

“I got warmer clothes for her too, since it can get chilly out here this time of year. Just some simple things for now until you guys get into town.” Ashley says. “I did some research too and I read that omegas like comforting things so I picked up some extra blankets and pillows” Ashley says, motioning to a couple bags sitting on the couch. “I also picked up this,” She pulls a stuffed dog from one of the bags, holding it up. “It was the softest one I could find. I thought it might help.”

A small smile forms on Christine’s face, her heart fluttering in her chest from the sweet, thoughtful gesture. Ashley doesn’t even know you, nor did she know exactly what happened to you, and yet she went so far as to pick up some comfort items for you. You have nothing right now, only the borrowed clothes on your back. All of your belongings are still on base, all of the things that you had built to make your perfect nest. Would you want any of them still? Or have they been tainted by the events of the last few weeks?

That Ashley thought to do this has warmth flooding Christine’s body. You can have some comfort now without having to wait for their trip to town. She almost feels the urge to cry. She wants to hug Ashley, thank her over and over for her kindness. Ashley has no idea how much her small act of kindness means, how much it's going to mean.

A smile forms on Christine’s face as she stares at the stuffed dog. “It’s perfect.”

You can hear it.

In the distance, the quiet roar reaches your ears as you’re dragged from the sweet arms of sleep. It must be a dream, or perhaps the sedative is still clinging to your mind, making you imagine things.

No.

You’d know that sound anywhere.

The effort to push yourself up to sit is a momentous one, every cell in your body protesting after a day of being moved and jostled. The last thing you want is to move right now, but you have to.

The pain meds have done little to help.

The crutch at the end of your bed must be a thousand miles away as you sit there and stare at it. The ache in your body only increases as you become more and more aware of the pain, almost as if it can tell what it is your mind is planning.

The door is cracked open, letting in a slit of light from outside. It’s dark in the room, the curtains pulled over the window. It’s a blessing compared to the bright yellow light outside the door. You welcome the darkness as your head begins to throb. You could call for assistance. You’d get more help than you needed. More help than you want.

No.

You need to do this.

The effort it takes to get standing nearly sends you back onto the bed. The pain nearly blinds you as your feet touch the floor, your body leaning against the side of the mattress out of desperation. If you fall, you’ll never be alone again. You can’t afford that. You don’t want that.

If you fall, you’ll never get up again.

The breaths out of your nose are short and sharp as you reach for the crutch, fingers trembling in the effort to fight the pain threatening to blind you. You’re trembling like a leaf in a storm as your fingers finally wrap around the cool metal. The rubber bottom drags across the floor as you tug it over to you, holding it against your chest for a moment.

Breathe. That’s what you need to do. Breathe.

In and out.

Nice and slow.

The pain is only a memory. The pain is nothing. The memories forming at the edges of your mind will take over and wipe out the pain and the misery. You just have to be sure. You just have to be certain.

You push yourself upright using the crutch, tucking it under your arm. You should go back to bed. You should rest.

No.

You need to know.

You need to be certain.

The first step you take nearly makes you sick.

It’s like watching a baby deer walk for the first time, knees wobbling, feet shaking. You lean heavily on the crutch, your determination the only thing keeping you from tumbling to the floor in a heap. That might almost hurt worse than forcing yourself to stand upright.

If you fall, you’ll never get up again.

Inch by inch you move across the floor, silently grateful for the socks on your feet. They allow you to slide across the hardwood, but they also pose a threat. Slide too far and you’ll lose your feet.

If you fall, you’ll never get up again.

The determination and your desire for certainty is what keeps you sliding inch by inch across the floor towards that strip of blinding light in front of you. It’s hovering before you, threatening you. How do you know there’s not one of them standing guard, waiting for you to try and leave? You can’t know. You don’t have a clue what’s waiting on the other side of that door. It could be nothing. It could be your entire pack.

Breathe.

In and out.

You take a moment at the door, resting your aching feet. Your body is throbbing from the effort to keep yourself upright, the sedative still numbing your brain and your movements. It’s like treading through honey, everything twice as hard as it should be. You can walk. You’ve done it before. You did it in the medical center.

You can do it here.

You use the crutch to push the door open more, your free arm still tucked in a sling to keep you from moving it. Reaching for it with that arm would have put you on the floor, would have caused more pain than you needed, would have made you fall.

If you fall, you’ll never get up again.

Breathe.

The light burns. Explosions of yellows and whites erupt behind your eyelids as you screw them tight against the sudden onslaught. The sun is in the room, shining its rays directly into your sensitive eyes. Your stomach churns, your fingers tightening around the crutch so tight your knuckles begin to ache. The oppressive light makes you want to recede back into the darkness of the room behind you like a vampire shying away from the light of day.

No.

You won’t be defeated by the harsh artificial lighting. You need to know.

You need to be certain.

The others are moving around. You can hear voices around the corner, voices upstairs with thudding footsteps. The air is thick with a mesh of scents, cleaning chemicals, and the burn of scent blocker. Your nose wrinkles at the sudden onslaught against your senses, your sedated brain making it all seem so much worse.

You need to know.

The hardwood floors continue and you use them to your advantage as you shuffle your way across the main area. The fire crackles as you pass, the popping of a log making you startle. Your feet slide again, your body pushing up against the crutch to hold yourself steady.

If you fall, you’ll never get up again.

Your target is dead ahead, a mile away but so close you can almost taste it. Just past the dining table and straight on till morning.

Despite your snail’s pace, no one seems to notice you shuffling your way across the house. It should make you upset, the fact that none of them notice you moving around, but instead it makes you glad. They’d try to stop you if they noticed you, turn you around and shuffle you back to bed. Or worse, they’d carry you.

How easily you could slip away, though.

Well...in theory.

Perhaps that’s why they ‘re not paying you any mind. How far could you really go in your current state?

Why would you want to stray from the only safe space you have?

The world outside is more dangerous with the state you’re in. Not just because of your injuries and your status, but also because you know Shepherd is still out there, and for all you know Graves is as well.

He could be waiting right outside the door.

No.

They’d know.

They’d protect you.

They failed.

You push past the fear in favor of certainty as you push forward, passing the dining table in your slow crawl towards the sliding glass door.

It poses an entirely new threat as you stand before it, staring out the darkened glass. You have to get it open. Getting it open takes strength and you’re down to one hand that’s trying to keep you upright.

You have to know.

You have to be certain.

You lean your weight on the crutch, ignoring the way it digs into your armpit as you reach for the handle. You click the lock, wrapping your fingers around the plastic before pulling. Your body screams with pain as you tug, the door sliding in the track as slowly as you had moved across the small living area. It’s almost as if it's mocking you.

It’s open only as wide as you need to crutch your way through, doing your best not to knock your left shoulder against the frame.

If you fall, you’ll never get up again.

Breathe.

You can smell it.

The salty sea air invades your senses, slipping up through your nose and straight into your brain. Memories come flooding back of childhood vacations back when things were simpler. Back when nothing mattered but the sand and the water and avoiding getting chased by your brothers carrying the piece of seaweed they found.

Polkadot bathing suits, bright red to be seen easily. Toes in the water, sand everywhere. The nap in the silent car home.

How simple life was back then. How easy life was.

Your heart aches for those days again. The days when you could exist without a care in the world, trusting your pack would keep you safe, trusting your family would care for you. Your mind yearns for that sense of safety and security again.

The world is grey as you hobble across the porch, the grey seeming to go on forever. You missed it, the chill in the air, the gloomy grey overhead. How you yearned for the gloom of England while stuck in the heat of Texas.

Anything is better than Texas.

Your forward shuffle pauses at the edge of the deck, your eyes looking out into the grey. Your breath catches in your throat as you stare out into the distance, the ache in your chest intensifying. It blocks out the pain in your body, numbing you to everything else as you stand there, legs trembling from the effort of going the short distance from your room to the end of the porch.

You can see it.

Emotions swirl inside of you like a hurricane as you stare out where the grey water meets the grey sky in the line of the horizon. Those emotions threaten to choke you as you stand there trembling at the edge of the porch. There’s a breeze, a cold one that bites through the fabric of your sweatshirt and into the skin below, but you don’t care.

You can’t care.

Your legs shake from the exertion, the neverending exhaustion that’s settled deep into your bones. It’s not just a physical exhaustion, but a mental one as well. It’s been a long week.

Only a week.

So much has happened in a week.

You want to sit. You want to sink down onto the porch and rest.

If you fall, you’ll never get up again.

There’s a pain in your chest as your breath catches in your throat. The emotions are whirling, tightening around your chest, squeezing your lungs until they feel like they might pop.

Breathe.

In and out.

You needed certainty. You needed to know.

You can hear it. You can smell it. You can see it.

A single tear rolls down your cheek as you stare out at the sea.

NEXT ->

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norikuna · 2 months ago

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SALVATORE — jujutsu kaisen x reader minors dni

prologue. → going on summer vacations with the jjk men and things get a little...hotter?

pairings. satoru gojo x afab!reader / suguru geto x afab!reader / nanami kento x afab!reader / choso kamo x afab!reader / ryomen sukuna x afab!reader / toji fushiguro x afab!reader

warnings+. non-sorcerer/jujutsu au, from the back, exhíbitíonism, mild food play, ríding, máting press, creámpíe, against the wall, oral (f. receiving), fíngeríng, hey even in a cave! reader is called good girl, princess, baby, darling, my love.

word count. 4.1k! song inspiration. salvatore — lana del rey

a/n. update #1 writing this fic had me looking up shit on wikipedia pages abt cities around the world, had me checking meteorology maps...tried to choose cities i've been to but i was still racking my brains. update #2 btw whenever i write smut like this i'm filled with outstanding self awareness and minor shame but thats the fun of it 😭 this is day no.3 of me trying to rewrite this all from scratch update #3 day 4! fawkkkk i wanna go on holiday too now. lmao if i was in the sukuna one, i would have been mad as hell, istanbul is stunning <3

mp3. everything looks better from above my king, like aqua marine, ocean's blue

TOJI FUSHIGURO — all the lights in miami begin to gleam 📍 miami, america

"o-oh, fuck. think she's really tellin' me to keep going like this, don'tcha think?"

your boyfriend is mean when he's like this. sharp, jade eyes narrowed as they take in the sight of your puffy folds swallowing him up over and over as he's stuffing himself into your sticky walls. and if you turn your head away, from where you're smashed against the pillow, you can see the floor-to-wall ceilings of the high-rise penthouse that offers an uninterrupted view of miami's glittering skyline.

"how - how, did you even get this place, hah, toji?" it's a wonder you can even get a coherent sentence out right now, your guts are practically being stuffed with inches of your boyfriend's veiny cock, and it's leaving you, well, delirious.

but with humble credit and thanks to what you can assume is your own nasty grip, toji's not faring much better either. his brawny frame is practically shuddering, and while you can't see his face in this position, you're certain that a sharp canine has sunk into his lip, and his breath is coming out in hulking groans.

"heh, you're n-not meant to ask questions like that, princess? gotta, ohhh, gotta keep some business s-secrets up my sleeve, huh?" and he's practically a beast right now, handling you on all fours of this king-sized bed, draped in silk sheets the colour of red wine, "just a reward for a-, haah, a job well done."

any job well done from toji was most likely something illegal, but you can't even bring yourself to care, not when there's a bucket of chilled champagne on the glass table to your left, and certainly not when his fat cock is smearing right through you, leaving a coil in your abdomen that only he can unravel.

you whine, feeling the fat tip of his cock practically rummage and make a home in your cunt, "toji, wan' more," and you're pushing the plush of your ass against his pumping hips, and you hear his sharp intake of breath.

a rough hand has snaked underneath you, creating a small gap between you and the bunched-up fabric on the bed, and his callous fingertips are now circling sloppy, messy circles over your clit, leaving you bucking in his hold.

"n-now, stay still, princess. not done with you yet."

SUGURU GETO — ciao, amore. soft ice-creams. 📍 amalfi coast, italy

you're not sure how long you've been trembling under suguru's mouth, but it must have been an eternity under the ministrations of his tongue.

the sun has been blazing high, casting a golden glow over this part of the private beach, hidden away from the towns bustling with tourists like yourselves who had descended upon the coast for the summer.

soft waves lapped in ebbing waves, the rhythm breaking the perfect stillness of the afternoon, in this wooden cabana, separated from the terracotta villas.

and no, your mind was nowhere near admiring the turquoise waters of the ocean, but rather your lover's mouth practically exploring every inch of your cunt like this.

the tapered tip of his tongue had long been probing around your fluttering pussy, taking in every last drop of your pearlescent luster that was practically dripping over his chin.

not to mention the absolutely sticky and languid trails of melting ice-cream, each biting cream drop that fell on your hot swollen folds getting promptly cleaned up by the one who was enjoying this sweet game.

"shhh! don't wanna get kicked off this beach, do ya, pretty?"

and suguru looks positively devious, his violet eyes gleaming with crude intent. his black hair is a tangled mess, long locks falling victim to your clawing nails that tumble carelessly over his bare back, kissed by the sun and glowing with a soft, rosy pink hue.

and when he smiles, the sunlight catches onto his lips, making the slick on his mouth sparkle and wink up at you.

"been - it's been an entire hour by now, can't you just let me cum," you huff, closing the plush of your thighs around his ears, boxing him in.

geto flashes you a mischievous grin, running a slow finger through your sopping folds, and lightly brushing over your entrance as you mewl again.

"where would the fun in that be, pretty?" he murmurs, "love seeing how wet this cunt gets for me, need to let me have my fun."

what a devil. clearly, getting under your skin is a sport for him.

you're hardly given a moment to breathe before he's jostling two thick digits right into the thick of it once more, in and out, in and then out, as his thumb find its home on the slope of your bare mound again.

"besides, we can take it slow for 'nother hour, can't we?" and now suguru's toying with your clit, and his teeth lean down to graze the swollen, throbbing bud, "gotta see just how much you can beg for me."

NANAMI KENTO — catch me if you can, working on my tan 📍 gold coast, australia

"w-wait, darling," nanami shudders under your touch, under your fresh set of nails raking small patterns over his neck, "anyone could just walk past here, y'know."

you curl your lip, before pressing your mouth in an open mouthed kiss to his stretched neck, warm and flushed.

you can feel the galloping thrum of his pulse beneath your lips, the heat almost intoxicating, mingling with the faint tang of the pool water's chlorine, and the scent of banksia and frangipanis in the air.

you can also feel his thick cock dragging through your walls, as you ram the weight of your hips over and over again. it seems like the shimmering skyline of surfer's paradise was just what nanami needed, after months of work, and you're determined to make the most of your time here.

he's got you bouncing practically like a ragdoll, heavy balls swinging up and smacking your skin in what little space remains between the two of you, and he's panting into your chest, "whatd'ya gonna do if someone sees?"

"mhm, don' care, no-one's here, nanami."

his broad arms loop around you in the pool chair, as you straddle the sizeable bulge that's making a tent in his briefs, "nasty, sometimes, aren'tcha?"

you smile, as your husband's large hands roam over your back, making you arch your back into his touch — as he deftly pulls at the tight knot holding your damp bikini top together.

"ah, don't get shy now. let me see these," and you can only nod hazily as he lets your tits spill out, and press up against his bare, chiselled torso, "wanted this so bad, just a minute ago, yeah?"

"s-still want this," and for good measure, you grind your hips down over his cock with even more pressure, feeling him jolt with a quiet 'fuck!' underneath you.

"haah, that's not fair, darling," and he's crashing his weeping, curved tip so far into you, that you're certain you're seeing stars on the saltwater horizon, "what happened to playing nice?"

you know you should be weary of the flicker of challenge that glints in his stern brown eyes, softened by the haze of your squelching cunt, "do y-your worst, otherwise what? can't keep up?"

a cocky smile curves over his mouth, and that's the wave of satisfaction you were looking for, hoping that he'd take the bait.

he leans further back in the pool chair, now with an arm wrapped lazily around your gyrating hips, but you can feel his grip tighten, stealing the humid air right out from under you, "we'll see who can't play nice when you're begging for my cock to fill you up."

CHOSO KAMO — all the lights are sparkling for you, it seems 📍santorini, greece

"hey, shh, shhh..."

choso's voice is a low rumble as he glides his thick, leaking tip down your slick core, and you shiver as the cool ocean breeze mixes with the warm slick gathering between your bodies, "w-wow, you're doing so good, handling it so well, my love."

you must have made a good choice, choosing this suite. one carved seamlessly into the tan-rock of one of the island's famous caves. and well, your sweet boyfriend has been fucking you so incredibly that you feel your eyes start to water, blear away from the pretty blue and terracotta accents on the mantelpiece.

his girthy cock sinking into you send shivers to your pussy that leave you fluttering and squeezing around him tighter, clenching around the veins as he sinks even deeper, so the thickened head is practically kissing your cervix, and filling you in ways you didn’t know were possible.

"d-does it feel good for you too, cho?” you gasp, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders, fingers playing with the soft choppy strands that fall around his shoulders, "this...this is what you wanted, right, baby?"

the pale mauve of his lips curves into a faint smile, and despite the sharpness of his thrusts making a home in your gummy walls, there's a tenderness in his shadowed, hazel eyes as his palm glides down your torso, cupping your tits gently, "w-would go anywhere in the world, if it was with you."

and he's looking at you with such love that you just cannot help but believe him when he says, no, shudders out a "you're so beautiful."

the sound of the water lapping against the rocks below fills the room, mixing with your soft whimpers, as the slow roll of choso's hips leave your puffy folds weeping. the thick, throbbing head of his cock brushes against your g-spot, right there, and you moan, lost in the sensation.

"god, y-you’re so good at this," he breathes into your ear, his voice hoarse and strained, and suddenly far more shaky, "ah - could do this forever."

"w-will you?" you whisper, eyes fluttering as you lose yourself in what is surely ropes of stringy white cum painting you lovingly inside, "wan' feel you all the time, cho."

choso's misty, flushed gaze locks onto yours, filled with a heat that makes your heart race, and fireworks shoot through your abdomen, "think you're g-gonna be my wife someday, yeah?"

you bite your lip, a shy smile painting your face despite the way that he's practically jostling inch after inch into your pussy, pressing into you like a vice, "really mean t-that, cho?"

"ahh, 'course i do," he shudders, brushing a thumb down the swan-arch of your neck, "now, hold onto me."

RYOMEN SUKUNA — dying by the hand of a foreign man, happily 📍istanbul, turkey

"huhh, oh my god! you're an animal," you huff at your fiancé, who's currently sprawled on the plush bed underneath your straddling thighs, under the sheer curtains that billow softly in the warm breeze from the open latticework windows.

and right now, sukuna looks like a mess.

and it brings you a great deal of satisfaction to see your usually composed and aloof fiancé so undone and disheveled, as he grins up at you — the black markings on his face creasing with the movement.

his rosy-pink hair is a tangled heap, but you can't resist running your fingers through the short, tousled spikes.

and his lips, which have been marking you up consistently for the past ten minutes, gleam glossy and full, as his crimson eyes lock onto yours with the smug satisfaction of a cat who's gotten its way.

he'd barely waited a mere minute after the two of you had arrived back to your hostel's room, from a whirlwind tour of the sultanahmet district, before he had pounced on you, and had practically tore your long skirt off.

you don't quite think it's worth mentioning that you've been pawing equally at your boyfriend in the same time as well, pulling his thick and lengthy shaft out of the confines of his boxers, and swiping a thumb over the angrily-gleaming tip.

"d-didn't even take a second to think about all the places we just saw? the history lessons, and - sukuna, were you even listening?"

by now, you're fighting back heaving shivers at the way the pads of his calloused fingers run under your top.

"hah! yeah, yeah. history and all that," he murmurs, low and amused, but his focus is clearly elsewhere, his lips now resuming their previous task of snapping at your torso, letting pretty berry-red marks beam.

you roll your eyes, though a smile tugs at the corners of your own glossy mouth, "y-you're impossible," and you try not to squirm as his forefinger and thumb on each hand pinch at a nipple under your top, "don' even know why i bothered bring this...this camera around. the guide said that these sights were o-once, oh fuck, sukuna, get a grip, said the sights were once-in-a-lifetime b-breathtaking."

"breathtaking, huh?" sukuna shifts closer to you, scooting you further over his wide lap, and his voice has dropped to a low and sultry whisper that sends a shiver down your spine, and leaves you aching, "i think you're breathtaking. wan' explore this," and here, he snaps at the elastic band of your lace panties, "instead."

"and besides, i was listening," and now, he's patting his sculpted, exposed thighs behind the plush of your ass on him, "the guide said that this city straddles two continents."

he's emphasising his words with a deliberate tap, clearly hoping you'd catch the awful word-play.

"say something like that again, and i'm booking the next flight home."

"hah, so now you hate it when i am cultured."

by now, his two rough hands kneading at you has left you...airless. thick heat has been pooling in your core, and you just can't help but let out a soft whimper, "sukuna…only wanted y-you to focus."

he shakes his messy head, laughter rumbling deep in his chest, under thick pectoral muscles, "no can do, brat. you’re my focus now. done enough sightseeing outside today, wanna do something inside."

"you’re impossible!" but you gasp as he skims a thumb over your cloying, dewy clit, making you jolt.

you know he must be in a rare, mellowed mood because he breathes, "impossibly in love with you," and it's quiet, teasing as the heat of his breath ghosts over your skin, "now tell me how much you want this, and maybe i'll think about giving you a different type of lesson."

franky, by now you want nothing more than to be filled with heavy, hot inches that curl into you, sloshing their way to the most sensitive spot of all, and sukuna must see that on your face.

"i -," you begin, but the words falter as he leans in, his lips brushing against your ear, and the weeping tip of his cock taps against the wet pool staining your underwear darkly translucent.

"just say it, brat. tell me how bad you want it, i'll even be nice this time," he urges, his voice a sultry purr, "just gon' give it to you as you ask, yeah?"

"wan' you in me, 'kuna," you finally admit, breathless, "i want you so much it hurts."

"good girl," he mutters, his eyes darkening with desire. "now you're getting the right idea."

you sigh, content, but then still your rocking hips suddenly, "but after this, we're still going out to the bazaar for dinner."

"for fuck's sake."

GOJO SATORU — like a boss, you sang jazz and blues 📍paris, france

you're not quite sure where exactly you should be training your ears, whether you should be listening to the sultry notes of a saxophone that wrap around the plush velvet booth where you and gojo are seated.

or the thick, clingy swish of his fingers practically bullying themselves in and out of your pussy. the air is thick with the scent of expensive cigars that make you wrinkle your nose, and fine whiskey (that makes gojo wrinkle his nose) and the sweet tang of your own slick, privately, just for the two of you.

your boyfriend sits close to you, his left hand tight on your waist, and the other working a fine instrument, bunching up underneath your ysl silk dress.

"baby, look at how your perfect cunt's talkin' to me," he's whispering, and you can hear the sheer glee in his voice, his breath hot against your ear.

meanwhile, your jaw is slack and you're doing your best to not meet his touch with a sultry, rhythmic grind of your own hips, but the knot is quickening and tightening within you.

but gojo just smiles, and you can see the blue in his eyes darken underneath his sunglasses that have slipped slightly down the slope of his nose, "but can't have everyone hearing this melody, can we? might think you were the main fuckin' attraction for the night and not -" he cocks his head to the quartet serenading the paris night sky, and the other patrons of this filthy wealthy club.

you just sink your teeth into your painted lip, suppressing a whine as he curls three fingers within you, reeling you entirely pliant and having you lean against his broad chest under his jacket, "b-but satoru, 'm getting close."

he's being awful, you think. and when he had pulled his hand out earlier, it had been entirely coated in a ribbon of your arousal, the slow syrup beginning to run down his slender digit, but he had parted his lips and let not a drop go to waste on his tongue.

the music is swelling, it's a jazzy crescendo that fills the air, and your gaze hazes and wonders, focusing on the open window where the eiffel tower stands ablaze in lights. soft gasps are escaping your lips, when gojo starts slamming his fingers up and up further, right up to his glossy knuckle, clearly searching for your g-spot.

and you are so glad that this booth is turned away from the rest of the club's patrons, for if they saw you, it would be no secret as to what exactly was going on underneath your gown.

"focus on me, love. just focus on how you're soaking me."

he's pressing his fingers impossibly deeper, stroking your walls in a way that make it impossible to think of anything else but him.

"gojo, please…" you breathed, struggling to keep your voice low, "what if someone sees?"

he laughs, pressing his mouth to your neck, and you know he's inhaling the new scent that you had picked up at the luxury flagship stores earlier, his treat.

"let them. paid good enough money to get in here," and now he's getting more insistent, practically ravishing your aching pussy now, "besides, they wanna say anything about it? i'll cut out their tongue."

"p-pretty sure that's, mmph, i'm sure that's i-illegal, 'toru."

"don't want your pretty head thinking about anything else right now, 'kay?" and god, it's one of life's greatest works, how he just knows how to work his magic like this, and the way that he's pinching, rolling and twirling his fingers has you convinced that the holy six-eyes technique, passed down in the sacred tradition of the gojo clan, is being put to nasty work.

sure enough, a little spark! there, and a bigger zap! against your clit practically confirms your suspicions, as does the unearthly glow you catch in gojo's wide eyes, and you can feel yourself hurtling towards a precipice, panting open-mouthed against him.

"dirty girl, you don’t want to make a scene, do you?" he says this like he was not the one who pulled you into this booth, and palmed his way up your slip-dress. like he's not the one who tore into your lace panties, and shoved them into his pocket.

"it feels so good, satoru,” you babble, barely able to contain yourself, as he scissors his fingers wide, nudging your walls apart, "i can’t — "

"then don't," he interrupted, his voice low and commanding, "just let it happen. i want to hear you, i wanna hear her too, but only if you can keep it down."

you nodded, breathless, watching as waiters in impeccable black-and-white attire glide between the tables, carrying trays of delicate hors d'oeuvres and glasses of dom pérignon.

"good girl," he murmured, his fingers curling just right, pushing you closer to that exquisite precipice, "now, be quiet and enjoy the moment."

just as he pinches your clit, you feel everything around fall away in shattering starfall. bolts of lightning shoot and splash through your lungs, stilling your heart, leaving your cunt pulsing with a life of its own, fluttering against satoru's fingers which still haven't stopped.

it's only then you realise that the band has stopped playing, and the other patrons of the clubs are leaning out of their seats, slapping their hands together in fervount applause.

but you can only stare, dazed and boneless from the remnants of an excellent fucking orgasm, as gojo leans in, just over the shell of your ear.

"how about we go back to the hotel room? wanna see an encore?"

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